#me watching as my friend opens their mouth to say the most atrocious words that would get them years of jailtime had we been in public

[py6oto]

DAY 5 - OUTSIDE

almost missed today too. i really need to stop leaving these for 11 pm

2023.10.05

[poguestarkey]

not in the same way- t.n.

back after a quick 8 month hiatus my b

decided to write a little blurb about reader not being in love with theo since i feel like it's always the other way around.

yes i am eating up the tiktok ideas of him being italian don't start w me

warnings: just angst on angst, destruction of a friendship, theo being sad (that's a trigger in and of itself tbh), sickly sweet adorable girlhood moment btwn the GryffGirlies, like one potty word, i plucked that one scene right out of TSITP don't come for me, horrifyingly unedited cuz i just dont care

theo nott x gryffindor!reader

-----

Dread.

That's all that washes over you when you finally meet his eyes. It runs ice-cold through your veins and you can practically hear what he's going to say before it even leaves his mouth. You're sure he can see the way your head shakes slowly as you realize because he reaches for your hand and holds it tightly between his. Not out of comfort, but as a plead.

Please, please don't do what I think you're going to.

Theo... oh, sweet Theo. Theo, with his huge blue eyes and endlessly large heart. Theo, always the first to celebrate the small wins with you. Theo, who in theory, should be the perfect man for you.

But Theo, who no matter how hard you tried, never made your heart sing the way your friends giggled about.

You never thought twice about the way his hands would linger over yours as he explained Arithmancy problems or how he always pulled you close in by the shoulder while chatting with his Slytherin friends, his fingers mindlessly tracing patterns into your sweater. His sweater. You've been friends since third-year, best friends. So many years of being close to him desensitized you to the constant comments of "That's Nott's girl," and "Would you look at the lovebirds!" They never hit home and you always scoffed them off with ease.

With ease, until last weekend in your dorm after an open-mic night at the Three Broomsticks. You and Theo had performed the most atrocious duet rendition of the new Weird Sisters song, "Why Can't You See."

"Y/N, do you even see the way he looks at you?" Parvati asked. Your head shoots up this.

"What?"

"C'mon, Y/N/N. The man is absolutely smitten with you. It's almost painful to watch, really," Lavender piped in, causing Hermione and Padma to sit up and join the conversation. Eyes widening, you realize who they're talking about.

"Theo? No... No, Theo and I are just-" You're cut off.

"Just friends. We've heard. A million times," Hermione sighs. "I mean Merlin's beard Y/N, you have to have noticed by now. Nott can't keep his hands off of you."

"'Mione, that's not- no, that's different. He just likes physical touch and that's fine-" You're cut off yet again by a slurry of teenage girls throwing evidence at you.

"-ever touch Malfoy-"

"-actually lights up when you enter a room, I've never-"

"-bigger heart eyes for you if they were cartooned on him in the Prophet-"

Your hands grow shaky and your breath becomes heavy in your lungs as the weight of what this means washes over you. Hot tears prick at the corners of your eyes and you fight the burn in the back of your sinuses with everything you have.

"Wait!" Hermione nearly shouts, and the cacophony of squeals and stories comes to a halt. "Y/N? Why are you crying? Are you alright?"

Her words make the first sob break out of your chest, and your hand shoots to your mouth to try and stifle the sound. Padma, ever the lover, is immediately at your side.

"I- I- I can't... I don't lo- if he really feels that way, it will destroy us," you cry, leaning further into her touch. Quickly, and with increasing amount of concern written on their features, the rest of the girls surround you.

"What do you mean, love?" you can't see her, but you know it's Lavender's breathy voice. "Isn't this a good thing?"

"No, no, no, no-" Your breath begins to hitch again, and 'Mione rubs gentle circles on your back. "Lav, him being in love with me is the worst thing that could happen."

"I don't mean to be insensitive, but the rest of us are quite out of the loop here and, er, well- why?" You let out a chuckle at Parvati's bluntness, but still felt the squeeze of the answer in your heart. You've known, deep down. You denied it as hard as you could manage but still, it creeped up on you, terrorizing your thoughts.

"He will never forgive me. I know he'll try so hard, but it'll never be the same, because he will never forgive me for not loving him the same way. Because he's done everything right. He is kind, and patient, and loving, and all of the wonderful things I've always said that I wanted but still, I just don't love him like that. And I want to- fuck, I want to so bad. It kills me that I can't. But he can never know that I know, because he will never, ever forgive me when I can't say it back." The last few words come out nearly inaudible as gasping sobs take over your body. "And I am so afraid to lose my best friend."

A squeeze from Hermione saves you from your thoughts. No one knows what to say, and Padma pulls your pillow and quilt from underneath you before grabbing her own, forming a pile on the floor. The corners of your lips perk up as you realize what she's doing, and soon the room is filled again with the sounds of girlish giggles and gossip and your four closest girlfriends do their best to keep your chin up for you.

The rest of the week, you can hardly look Theo in the eyes. You're not trying to avoid him, but every time you're in the same room you feel so overcome with guilt that it's hard to breathe.

On Sunday, you skip breakfast and hole away in the library under a stack of potions textbooks, shooing him away with a curt "Sorry, Teddy. Too busy."

Monday, you sit at Gryffindor's table for every meal and only speak in DADA to tell him it's his turn to practice defensive spells.

It's Tuesday night when you get the owl.

Y/N/N,

please talk to me. i need to see you, i'm worried. you're not alright.

i miss you.

-T

You write him back on the same piece of parchment, your shaking hands causing ink to splatter into tiny dots across his script.

I know. I'm sorry. Friday night.

Wednesday and Thursday are a blur of forced smiles to him and the burn of his stare from across the Charms classroom.

Friday comes, and you're damn near ready to pull Mrs. Norris' tail just to get a detention.

You know the exact bench in the courtyard he'll be sat at, and you count your paces as you walk. His eyes catch you and he swings his feet off the ledge, shutting his book.

"Y/N," He breathes, the sweetest smile on his face. "What's going on, cara mia?"

Every strategy you had for keeping him away from the elephant in the room goes flying out of your head faster than a Firebolt.

"It's nothing, really. Please don't worry. I know I've been distant but it's really nothing to be concerned about so-" your voice is getting louder and faster, a tell-tale sign that you're not telling the truth.

He cuts you off with your name.

"Y/N." You're eternally thankful that it's late enough that no one is outside with you. "Tell me what's happened. Please." His eyes grow even larger with pure concern and he moves his hand to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. You pull your lip between your teeth while thinking about how to respond.

"I just... Teddy, I can't tell you. I just can't. I promise it's alright, I just don't want to talk about it." You're lying through your teeth and you're sure he knows it too.

"Alright," he whispers, voice dropping. His hand hasn't moved from the side of your face since he fixed your hair, and his eyes move to scan the slope of your lips. You can feel the pit in your stomach start to form as you fear what's coming next. "You are the most beautiful thing on this planet, you know that?"

His thumb is tracing the plane of your cheek.

"Theodore..." He smiles at his full name, and his eyes start to close.

No.

No.

This is what you feared so much.

That you would lose everything over one moment, just like this.

He can't be more than a breath from your mouth when both of your palms find his firm chest and push him away.

"Wait- wait, Theo. No. I don't- I'm sorry, but I-" His eyes snap open, that beautiful blue full of confusion. "I'm sorry, Theo." You can already feel hot tears threatening to spill over, and your stomach is churning.

"I.... What?" He says it so quietly you aren't even sure he meant to say it aloud. His hands move from your face, now salty and wet, to run through his hair, tugging on the strands.

"That's what I've been off about. I've been scared that you're gonna..." You gesture wildly between the two of you, not sure what to call it.

"Kiss you?"

"Yes."

"Why would you be scared of me kissing you, Y/N?" He looks genuinely, honestly puzzled.

"Because... because I don't... I didn't know, and then this weekend the girls were all on about it and I had no idea what they were talking about, and they told me, and I just panicked, Theo. I had no idea." He's stood up now, and you're seconds behind him, standing still in the chilly air as he paces and presses his hands into his eyes. "If I'd known sooner, Teddy... I would've- I could've done something, I don't know, could've tried-"

He stops, now just in front of you. "If you knew?"

"If I knew that you felt that way-"

"I thought you knew!" The crack of his voice splits your chest in two, unaided by the tears beading in his eyes. You've never seen him cry. "I thought you knew! From the moment I crashed your cabin on the train, I thought you knew."

The two of you just stand there, staring at each other, as cold, biting raindrops start to fall from the sky. You fight to form words but absolutely comes to your brain and you can't do anything but stare at him as he continues.

He hasn't even opened his mouth to start the next sentence when you realize what you're going to hear. You can't tell if it's the rain or the pure dread coursing through your veins that's turning your fingers ice-cold as you shake your head "no" to something he hasn't even said yet.

"I've been in love with you since I was 13, Y/N/N." He's holding onto your hand with both of his like it's his only lifeline while he desperately spills words. "I am so in love with you. You turn my world. You are my absolute everything. It consumes me. I can't hold it anymore, Y/N," He cries. Your eyes are squeezed shut and it's a wonder you haven't broken his hand with how tightly you're holding it between you. "Please, please, please say something."

"I love you," He sucks in a breath and you open your eyes to meet his. "I love you so much, Teddy. More than anything." His hands are now on either side of your face, and your fingers are laced around his wrists. "But I'm not in love with you," You choke out, grip relaxing.

His forehead presses against yours and he does nothing to quiet to sobs racking his body as you pull him against you, wrapping your arms around his warm frame.

You whisper dozens of apologies and "I wish I dids" into his ear before he releases you and sits back on the bench, moving the thoroughly soaked book to the side so you can join him. His head is in his hands and his elbows rest on his knees, and you think that you've never seen him look so defeated.

Finally, you tear your eyes away from him and stare straight ahead at the ivy covered walls, praying that the silence swallows you whole.

It's practically deafening, actually, because the sound of his heart breaking is echoing across the stone.

Eventually, you speak up.

"I think... I think I should probably go, right?"

He picks his head up but doesn't look at you as he replies:

"Yeah, I think that's for the best."

[bluesylveon2]

vil and prompt 33?

Hi! Sorry for the long wait. It's probably not my best work but I tried. I hope that you enjoy the fic!

Prompt: 33.  you’re a nobody actor who comes in for a chemistry read for the part of my love interest but we end up arguing instead of reading [maybe I like that about you and demand for you to be hired or maybe I’m annoyed that you spoke to me like that so I say that I don’t want to work with you and they hire you anyway]

Note: Modern au and enemies to friends (not lovers yet)

Word Count: 857

Warnings: not beta read, possible OOC characters (Vil is mean for 90% of this), and possibly inaccurate theater knowledge (I watched Tiktoks on it)

"Rook, I have a dinner to attend in less than three hours. Where is this magnifique girl you keep talking about?

Rook sighed as he checked his phone for anything. I apologize, Roi du Poison, but she is on her way. I promise you, she is definitely the one for this role."

Vil rolled his eyes as he touched up his lipstick. "Her talent better make up for her lack of time management."

BANG

The door swung open, revealing a disheveled girl wearing the most atrocious color combination Vil had ever seen, trying to catch her breath. Vil sneered while eyeing her messy appearance. This was so the so-called upcoming star Rook kept babbling about? The one who supposedly matched him? Vil could not hide his disapproved stare as Rook approached the newcomer with a hug. 

"Ah, welcome, Madame Trickster! I'm happy that you made it safely."

The woman smiled and hugged Rook back. "It's good to see you." Her eyes looked over Rook's shoulder and landed on Vil's. "Oh my gosh! You're Vil Schoenheit!" She released Rook and ran up to Vil, who now had a neutral expression, and raised a hand to him. "I'm Yuu. I'm such a big fan of your work! It has inspired me so much to start acting!" She smiled, and Vil saw a golden aura coming off her. 

Vil stared at Yuu's hand before reluctantly shaking it. "Yeah, it's nice to meet you." He turned to the beaming Rook with a haughty look. "Tell me exactly how you know this potato?"

Yuu's mouth opened in shock. The aura broke like glass, and she felt a vein popping on her forehead, "Potato?! I have a name!"

"I watched one of her performances as a minor character in a short film. Her acting was magnifique! A 10/10 performance!"

"I see. Well, I hope your acting is better than your fashion sense. That needs some work." Vil muttered to himself, but it did not go unnoticed.

"What did you say?" Yuu gritted while marching up to Vil.

Vil crossed his arms. "I commented on your looks, Potato. That's all."

Yuu saw red. "THAT'S ALL? THAT IS NOT ALL OF IT, MISTER! I have seen how you looked at me since I entered, and I don't like your attitude towards me."

Vil scoffed. "Your inelegance will not be enough to stand next to me. It would help if you worked on it more to do that, or else you will look like a speck of dirt on my shiny crown. In fact, if you want my approval, then prove to me your worth."

Yuu felt a fire growing inside of her. She stared at him like he was crazy. "I do not need your approval for anything! I KNOW I am worthy enough to even be in the same room as you because SOMEONE-" Yuu pointed at Rook for emphasis, "-saw my worth, unlike you. I can't believe I actually looked up to you when you are nothing but a spoiled, bitchy, prick!" She pointed the finger at his chest during the last part. 

Vil narrowed his eyes while staring at the fire in Yuu's. "What did you say, potato?"

"I said. Fuck. You." Yuu immediately walked off, causing Rook and Vil to stare at her in shock. 

"Where are you going?" Vill called out as Yuu opened the door.

"Anyware away from you." With a final middle finger in Vil's direction, Yuu was gone. 

Violet eyes stared at where Yuu once was in silence. Vil felt the weight of his words crash on his shoulders after she left. He was used to people fawning over him, giving him gifts, or singing his praises. He had never met someone who talked back at him like that or called him names. Each word felt like a stab to his chest like he was the fair princess who got stabbed by the huntsman. 

"Maybe I was too harsh on her…." Vil whispered to himself, a guilty look on his face.

"Did you say something, Roi du Poison?"

Vil sighed, "No, I was just talking to myself. I will go to my dressing room and sit down for a moment."

---

A week later

Ring Ring

"Call from Rook Hunt."

"Answer it, Mira, and put it on speaker," Vil said while applying the nail polish coat. "This is Vil."

"Ah Roi du Poison! I wanted to share with you some good news!"

"What is it?"

Vil could practically hear the excitement coming from Rook's end. "I finally cast your love interest!"

This piqued Vil's interest, "Who did you choose?"

"Madame Trickster!"

If Vil was drinking something, then he would have choked right now. "YUU?"

"Oui! The chemistry was right there! Perfect for my movie! The banter, the passion, the love! It was all there!"

Vil's eyes went wide like saucers. "What?! Are you sure?"

Rook nodded, and his grin only grew brighter, "Oui! Oui! It was perfect! Just as I envisioned! It is perfect for enemies to lovers!"

Vil sighed as he set the brush down. "Rook, I need to ask you something."

“Oui. What is it?”

“Give me Yuu’s number. I need to apologize to her.”

Disclaimer: I do not own Twisted Wonderland and its characters. Those belong to Aniplex, Walt Disney Japan, and Yana Toboso.

©: This story belongs to bluesylveon2 2020-23. DO NOT modify, republish, or plagiarize my work.

[bestiesenpai]

youtuber Sukuna

I beg you to read the shitposts I made about this, they are delicious. You don’t have to of course but...if you loved me you would :) s/n = screen name, and I hope you chuckle at Sukunas screen name

Content warning: uhmhm lowkey incel shit(mean internet comments and whatnot)

part two --- part 3

Name: Sukuna. Age: 25. Height: 6 foot 5 inches. Occupation: toxic Youtuber, fitness trainer and hot guy.

Sukuna wasn’t exactly known for being kind. He wasn’t nice to others, rarely having anything good to say about anyone, and he’d made a successful Youtube career out of it. First starting as a fitness trainer at his gym, through encouragement from his clients and the notion of a quick cash grab, he started Youtube.

He didn’t care about it and that reflected in the quality of his videos and editing. He didn’t have consistent uploads, just filming and posting videos whenever he wanted, analytics be fucked. But somehow, that worked out for him, and he quickly found himself with over two million subscribers just frothing at the mouth for his next video.

And those subscribers were some of the worst people. Sukuna didn’t care about fostering a safe space online for others, not in the slightest. His comment sections were atrocious, both on his Youtube and his Instagram. It was full of toxic men one-upping each other constantly and dragging on each other for not being able to work out as much as Sukuna did.

Sukuna was a large part of why his fanbase were so toxic. He himself often made bad comments about others, whether fellow creators or people that happened to appear in the backgrounds of his videos, and on more than one occasion he’d been ‘cancelled’. None of that mattered though, all he cared about was shitting on other people and making money.

Sometimes he played video games and posted it, but not too often. Sukuna often stated he wasn’t so much of a fucking lonely loser that he’d play video games all the time, and so the gaming videos he did post were few and far between. He played angry shooter games and GTA, mindless button clicking he could get lost in for a few hours for a video.

Laying in bed one night after uploading his most recent video, one where he rages at 12 year olds on GTA online, Sukuna was just scrolling through his phone mindlessly. After he uploads video game content, like clockwork, he gets recommendations for gaming channels. He only watches a few of them, mostly leaving mean comments saying what losers they are, but one catches his eye.

He’s never been recommended this kind of video before. The thumbnail is light and bright with some pink aesthetic lights in the back. But the most enticing thing is the person in the middle, cute pink cat ear headphones on and a bright smile.

“Let’s see…” Sukuna mumbles to himself, mindlessly clicking the video. He hasn’t even read the title, he only clicked it because they were cute, and here he is nearly blinded by the bright setup they have.

“Hi everyone, it’s (Y/N) here and I’m really excited today! We’re going to be playing this new game I found!” Sukuna is immediately enraptured by the sound of your voice, watching how your face changes as you talk. His eyes drift off to the decor behind you, cute plushies and healthy plants, and some twinkling fairy lights. There’s books as well, and your chair is one of those ergonomic gamer chairs he has as well but in pink.

Sukuna watches the video dumbly, totally in the dark about whatever you’re doing, but loving it all the same. All he knows is that he likes the sound of your voice, and when you laugh and smile at a funny part in the game, it makes a light flush come to his cheeks.

It only takes one video for Sukuna to spiral into more of your content. He watches a video on your gaming setup, and he’s surprised that so much technology can come in pink. He watches a video on how you edit, a few of you cooking in your kitchen, and even a few vlog videos.

He quickly subscribes to your channel, and when you plug your social media, he immediately goes there. Pulling up your Instagram, he stares at your profile picture and almost audibly coos at you for being cute.

Your profile is just as cute as your videos are and Sukuna barely remembers to follow you before he’s going through your whole feed, liking every picture he sees. Sometimes he leaves comments, only one word though, ‘cute’. He’s never liked something so outright cute before, it wasn’t who he was and it definitely didn’t fit with his brand.

Falling asleep after following you on every platform, Sukuna wakes up thinking about you as well. And he also wakes up to hundreds of comments from all his accounts, bombarding him with questions and screenshots from last night.

‘SUKUNA WHY WOULD YOU LIKE THIS SHIT?!’

‘OMG Sukuna liked (Y/N)s posts!!’

‘Sukuna is so gross and toxic, you better stay away from (Y/N)!’

‘SUKUNA YOU GAY NOW’

‘EW why the fuck do you like this bitch?’

There were hundreds of comments that he waded through. Most were from his fans, expressing disgust at how many photos of yours he’d liked and wondering why he, Sukuna, most heterosexual alpha male on the planet, would like a pretty in pink Youtuber who had bubbly intros and whined when their animal crossing villagers wanted to move away.

Other comments were from your fans, some in awe that he would like you considering how much he said he hated overly cute things. Other fans expressed concern, worried what this might mean for their favorite Youtuber. Did Sukuna want to cause problems, potentially hurting you? He did have a reputation of bullying others, so this wasn’t far fetched.

Checking your Instagram, you didn’t make any comment about it. There wasn’t any update or anything, but on his end he was being tagged in endless Twitter threads with screenshots of him liking your posts and commenting under them.

“For fucks sake.” He grunted, clenching his phone in his hands. The amount of notifications he was getting were starting to upset him and he nearly threw his phone to get them to stop.

Ignoring his phone for the rest of the day, Sukuna went to the gym like he always did and trained with his clients. Some of them brought it up to him, asking him if he had a mind break last night and forgot what he was doing. Sending them harsh glares, Sukuna refused to talk about it.

“Oh my fucking god.” Sukuna nearly wailed when he got home, finally checking his phone. His name and yours had begun trending, and the hashtag #protect(Y/N) was also. Muttering angrily under his breath, Sukuna turned on Instagram live.

“Okay what the fuck!” He shouted, seeing the live become instantly flooded with people all screaming about you and him. “You’re all fucking annoying, you know that?” Glaring harshly at the camera, he read some of the comments that went by.

‘WHY’D YOU LIKE (Y/N)S POSTS FROM 2017’

‘Are you two secretly dating??’

‘COLLAB!’

“Who gives a shit why I liked their stuff, you’re a fucking weirdo for keeping track of me. And we aren’t secretly dating, dipshits.” Rolling his eyes, Sukuna scoffed as more comments came in begging for a collaboration. “And think about it you morons, why would we collab? Our shit is too fucking different, what would we even film about?”

Sukuna stayed on Instagram live for nearly an hour answering questions asking about you. Every time he had to answer that you weren’t secretly dating, he got a little more annoyed. Not at the comments themselves but at the fact that it was true; you didn’t even know he existed.

Ending the live in a huff, Sukuna didn’t feel any better than before, and it was made even worse by the fact that everything he said was being relayed to Twitter, and you were tagged in every tweet.

“These idiots!” Staring at his phone, Sukuna couldn’t believe what he was seeing. On your Instagram stories, you’d posted a q&a for your followers, and nearly all of the comments were about Sukuna.

“Hi everyone! No, me and Sukuna aren’t dating!” You said, laughing a little to ease how uncomfortable you were. “To be honest, I’ve never even heard of him before! As you know, my content is very...different from his, so our circles don’t exactly intersect. But I’m always happy to have new followers and potential friends!”

“Fuck me.” Sukuna groaned, cringing at how uncomfortable you looked having to address the sudden onslaught of questions. For once he wished he’d actually given a shit about his online presence, so that maybe one day your circles could intersect. He knew he scared you, he scared a lot of people, and this was just proof.

“Uh, Sukuna if you see this, hi it’s nice to meet you!” You said in the next slide, puffing out your cheeks and waving cutely at the camera. It made Sukuna blush, and he hated it. “Thank you for following me and liking my content! I was very surprised that you found me!”

“Of course I did, idiot, you’re fucking cute.” He muttered under his breath.

“I know a lot of people are asking for us to do a video together and I know our content is really different, so don’t feel pressured to respond or anything, but the offer is open! If you’d like, we can collab on something.”

“On what?” He asked like you were there.

“I cook sometimes, and I know you cook too! Maybe we can make a cooking video? You can teach me how to make healthy food or something!” Sukuna could tell a fake laugh when he heard one, and you definitely had one right now. “Anyways, thank you! Bye Sukuna!” But hearing you say his name cutely like that made him not care.

He nearly responded right away, accepting the collab offer now that you’d spoken about it, but he didn’t want to seem desperate. He watched through the rest of your Instagram stories, going back and replaying the parts where you talked about him over and over and his heart clenched every time when you said his name.

In the dead of night, Sukuna DM’s you after watching your latest video and leaving the simple comment ‘check your DM’s’.

“Fuck, what should I say?” He’s suddenly stumped as he looks at the keyboard. Typing and retyping a message, in the end all he can say is hi. He doesn’t expect a reply, ever, but when he gets a vibration on his phone two seconds later he jumps to read it.

(S/N): hi Sukuna! :)

(cursedgod): hey

Real fucking smart, repeating what he just said.

(S/N): is there something you wanted to talk to me about?

(S/N): I hope you haven’t been annoyed at all the notifications you’ve been getting!

(cursedgod): No it’s okay

(cursedgod): we can collab if you want

Good Sukuna, good. Play it cool, don’t let them know that your fingers are actually trembling because you’re nervous.

(S/N): do you want to?? I don’t want to pressure you! I know we’re pretty different haha

(cursedgod): yeah, let's do it. Cooking?

(S/N): sure!

Looking around his home, he was suddenly assaulted with the fact that he didn’t have any furniture. He barely had a proper bedroom, just a mattress on a bare frame and a dresser. His lounge room was the same with his computer setup in one corner and then nothing else. There was only a couch, a mounted TV and a fold out table and chairs for his dining room.

(cursedgod): I know a studio kitchen we can use, I’ll send you the address

Thank god he’d done promo work for a brand in a studio one day, otherwise he’d be fucked.

(S/N): awesome! I’m free next Saturday!

And just like that, it was a date. Well, a meeting. Sukuna knew it wasn’t a date, but his heart still thumped like it was one. Confirming the time, he ended the conversation with a curt goodbye and obsessed about it throughout the night.

When the day to meet you came, Sukuna nearly ran late trying to pick out his clothes. He’d never cared about looking good or presenting himself well in front of others, whatever version of him he turned up in was what they got. But for you, he wanted to try a little harder.

Waiting outside the studio space, Sukuna rubbed his hands together nervously. You’d messaged a day or two ago offering to put the video on your channel since it probably wouldn’t fit his aesthetic, so he didn’t have to bring his shitty camera equipment.

“S-sukuna?” Snapping his head up, Sukunas mouth fell open looking at your curious face a few feet away, an Uber driving off behind you. You were even cuter in person, just his fucking luck. How was he expected to act like a normal person when his recent obsession was here looking better than he could have imagined.

“Hi.” What comes out is a grunt, not the smooth word he’d hoped. He can see you eyeing him up, taking in all the thick and corded muscles of his body. It made his chest puff out a little, he worked hard for this physique and to have you so openly looking at him made him happy.

“It’s nice to meet you!” Sticking your hand out, you smiled politely at him.

“Same.” Shaking your hand with a firm grip, Sukuna could feel the difference in your palms. Yours was soft and nicely moisturized and he had callouses everywhere and a few cuts and scrapes.

Opening the door for you, Sukuna led you to the studio space he’d rented out. It was a clean and modern kitchen, not unlike his own, but it had appliances and looked actually lived in. Helping you set up a few camera angles, Sukuna felt a pang of nerves hit him in the stomach.

“Sukuna, can we take a picture together?” You asked before starting, and Sukunas brow furrowed deeply. Why would you want to take a picture with him? His expression must have scared you, because you quickly backtracked. “F-for promo for this video, on Instagram and stuff!”

“Sure.” God, did he feel bad or what. He shouldn’t have made that face at you, now you wouldn’t look him in the eye. Crouching down to get the right angle for you, Sukuna watched you pick a cute animal filter.

“Just do what I do.” Throwing up a peace sign, you cutely tilted your head from side to side and smiled. Sukuna tried to do the same but he looked awkward, and most of all he was blushing pretty bad.

You snapped a multitude of pictures, some at different angles and some with different filters, and in all of them Sukuna was blushing at least a little. He managed to smile more as it went on, even laughing at one of the filters.

“Thanks! I’m going to post these really quick and then we can get started!” Giving him a brief smile, you turned back to your phone and set about editing some of the pictures. Looking over your shoulder, Sukuna could see that he looked like a blushing high schooler meeting their idol for the first time and not a grown man.

Once the photos were posted and you tagged him in everything, it was time to start. Setting up your marks on the floor, you took a generous drink of water and cleared your throat.

“Are you ready for the intro? I’ll start it and introduce you, okay?” You’d actually prepared a script for yourself, and showed Sukuna as well.

“Okay.” Stepping in front of the camera, Sukuna bristled at feeling you so close to him. Your arm brushed his casually as you were fixing your shirt, and Sukuna was glad he’d worn his most expensive cologne for this.

“Hi everyone, welcome to today's video! As you know, I’m (Y/N), and today we have a special guest today!” Throwing your arms in the air, you motioned to Sukuna.

“Hi.” He nodded, barely cracking a smile. He could feel you looking at him like you wanted to say something, but he didn’t look.

“So, many people have been asking for us to do a collaboration and it’s finally here!” Clapping your hands lightly, you rocked on your heels and nudged his shoulder with yours. “Do you want to tell them what we’ll be doing today?”

“Uh-” The playful nudge you’d given him was enough to make Sukuna short circuit. “I-I-” He suddenly couldn’t remember how to speak. “Rice?”

“Let’s try that again.” You laughed. “Do you want to tell them what we’ll be doing today?” This time, you didn’t nudge him with your shoulder.

“We’re gonna…” the words were on the tip of his tongue, they wanted to come out and be spoken but he couldn’t do it.

“It’s okay, it’s okay!” Nodding reassuringly, you took a deep breath in and out, and Sukuna shakily copied. “One more try?” When he looked at you, Sukuna expected to see a hint of annoyance in your face, but there was none. You were just smiling softly at him, waiting for his answer.

“Yeah. I’ll uh, I’ll get it next time.” Stepping away from the camera, Sukuna took a drink of water and cleared his throat. Cracking the bones in his neck, he took a deep breath and came back. “Let’s do it.” No more fucking embarrassments.

“Do you want to tell them what we’ll be doing today?” You asked for the third time, slightly swaying your body side to side this time.

“We’re gonna make katsudon today.” Finally, the words he wanted to say came out.

“That’s right! As you can see, Sukuna is really fit!” You immediately hopped in, giving his arm a brief squeeze. “And he knows how to make a ton of healthy meals!”

“Mhmm.”

“So I asked if he could help teach me, and all of you at home, how to make it!” Smiling at the camera, you waited a few seconds before relaxing and turning it off. “Did you like that? We can refilm it if you want.”

“No, it’s okay.” Running a hand through his hair, he pointed to the bag of rice he’d brought. “Let’s get started on this shit.”

Taking fifteen minutes to film the two of you filling up the rice cooker, when it was over, you set about getting aesthetic shots of the other ingredients. Sukuna tried to seem casual off to the side on his phone, but he was really watching you.

Getting started on chopping the ingredients, Sukuna somehow managed to say the things he was supposed to without stuttering too badly. He was amazed that you could make the things he was doing sound so interesting, your narration as you held the camera and tried to do things yourself was impressive to the man that barely knew anything about cameras.

“Sukuna, I need help cutting the meat.” You whined, tapping the meat on the cutting board with a knife. “I don’t remember how you showed me.”

“Here.” Without thinking, Sukuan grabbed your hand with the knife in it and moved it for you. “You just have to move your wrist more, it’s not that hard.” Doing it a few times, when Sukuna felt your chest expand with air against his, that’s when he realized how close the two of you were. “S-sorry.” Immediately jumping back, he stared at the floor.

“Thanks!” Giving him a smile, you kept at it.

“I’ll fry the meat.” Stepping in as soon as you were done, Sukuna already had the hot oil ready. He was eager to cook and do something with his hands instead of - what he felt like - was awkwardly watching you off to the side.

“Okay!” Grabbing the camera, you focused on the pan. “You’re really good at this, Sukuna!”

“T-thanks.” Staring directly at the pan, Sukuna didn’t look away. Even with the hot oil popping up from the pan a few times and burning his fingers, he didn’t flinch at all.

“Ow!” But you did. Your hand had gotten too close, and when Sukuna flipped the meat, some of the oil had gotten on your hand.

“Shit.” Abandoning the pan, Sukuna was ready to drag you over to the sink for some cool water.

“I-it’s okay, it was only a little.” Shaking your stinging hand, you point to the food. “But I think the meat might burn.”

“Shit!”

Narrowly avoiding disaster with the meat, when it came time to cook the eggs, you made a joke about how you liked your eggs in the morning and Sukuna burnt them almost immediately. While not an overtly sexual comment, the implications of the words still affected him.

Somehow, he managed to make the dish come together and while his plated dish didn’t come out the best, yours looked at least halfway decent with overcooked meat and burnt eggs. The only things not messed up were the rice and vegetables, and even then Sukuna was surprised.

“We did it everyone, we made katsudon!” Holding up the bowls, you smiled big and nudged Sukunas shoulder again. “You saw we had a few mishaps along the way, but that’s okay, that’s what made it fun.”

“Yeah, it was fun.” Sukuna chuckled. Despite him being more nervous than he’d ever thought possible, he had fun cooking alongside you.

“Sukuna, will you try mine? I made it super pretty and everything.” Holding your dish up to him, Sukuna wasn’t expecting you to do that. Now he felt bad that his looked so ugly and like a teenaged boy made it; he almost said no.

Eating yours though, somehow it tasted better than he was expecting. It must have been how you prepared it, and the fact that you cared so much about the presentation. Eating it in silence, he let you eat in peace as well for a few minutes and compliment the food to the camera.

“Alright, that’s the end of the video!” Putting your bowl down, you turned to Sukuna. “I had so much fun today, thanks for filming this with me.” Now was his chance to make everything better. Putting his bowl down and bolstering himself with confidence, Sukuna threw his arm over your shoulder and pulled you close to him.

“Thank you (Y/N), I really did enjoy today. I hope we can film again soon!” He squeezed your shoulder and smiled really big at not only you but the camera as well. He knew he was blushing, he knew that even the tip of his nose was a nice rosy shade, but he didn’t care. If people teased him for it, then so be it. But he wanted you to know how he truly felt.

“R-really? You want to?” You asked, looking up at Sukuna from your place smooshed against his body.

“Really.”

“Aww, well you heard it here first everyone! Sukuna wants to shoot another video with me!” Clapping your hands a few times, you waved at the camera. “Okay, bye everyone!”

“Bye.” Sukuna waved too, waiting a few seconds before letting you go and turning off the camera.

“Sukuna, did you really mean it? You want to film another video with me?” You were in utter disbelief. All this time, he’d just seemed very standoffish, if not a little awkward around you. You were happy to film this video with him, he had way more followers than you and it would help boost both your channels, and to hear him say that just made it even better.

“Yeah, I was serious.” Sukuna spoke around stuffing his mouth with the food he still had left. He was more hungry than he thought, the nerves doing a good job of twisting his stomach during the video. Now that it’s over, he can finally relax.

“That makes me really happy.” Eating the rest of your food as well, you leant against the counter. “This is gonna sound kind of mean, but I was really scared to film with you today. I thought you were going to be really mean.”

“Shit, you did?” He grimaced, letting out a sigh. “Sorry I had you worried.” He could already imagine the comments you would get from his fans.

“It’s okay! You’re actually way nicer in person, I was surprised!”

“That’s good.”

“And you’re really buff, you have muscles in places I didn’t even know were possible!” You laughed bashfully at that comment, and avoided looking at him when he stared at you in shock. “I couldn’t help but notice…”

Were you checking him out? Had you been checking him out this whole time and he didn’t even realize? He had seen you eyeing him up when you first met, but were you looking at him like that at other times as well? Now he’d really have to watch your video to see if it was true.

“Thanks, it’s my job.” Could he have said that any lamer? “My job outside of all this, I mean. I’m a trainer at this fancy gym downtown.”

“Oh, I’ve seen some of your videos at your gym! I know which one you’re talking about.”

“You do? You’ve seen my videos?” If he wasn’t surprised before, he was now.

“Yeah, you know I had to do a little research beforehand.” You nodded, beginning to clean up the dishes around you. “And I know you’ve already watched almost all of my videos, so it only seemed fair.”

Did you have to bring that up? Now Sukuna was embarrassed again.

“Y-yeah, I did.” Clearing his throat, Sukuna helped gather the dishes. He took up washing them, another task he could do to get his mind off you. As you took down the camera equipment, he nearly broke several dishes and utensils from scrubbing too hard.

“I’ll call you an Uber.” He said when all was said and done and you were back at the front of the building.

“You don’t have to, it’s okay.”

“No, I want to.” Quickly calling you a ride, Sukuna fiddled with his phone a little more. “Uh, could I- could I-” His voice kept leaving him, and he had to cough a few times. “Can I get your number? I really liked your camera shit and I want to improve mine.” Okay, it wasn’t a total lie. He did like your setup and wanted to make his just as good, but he really wanted your number to potentially talk to you more about things outside of Youtube.

“Sure! Go ahead and type it in.” You were quick to give him your phone, a cute pink phone case on the back of it. Typing it in, he can’t help but notice the little devil emoji you add by his name. He wants to ask, but your ride is already pulling up.

“Bye!” Setting all your camera gear inside the car, you turn and wave goodbye.

“See ya.” Just as you’re about to close the car door, Sukuna gets a burst of confidence. “Text me when you get home, okay?”

“Okay!” And off you go. Sukuna watches the car drive off until he can’t see it anymore. He takes his time getting to his own place, eagerly awaiting your message with every step. But even when you do message him, all he can do is send a thumbs up back and nothing else.

It’s about two and a half days after that that you text him again, letting him know you’re done editing and that you’re going to post the video soon. It wasn’t a very long video to begin with, so the editing was simple enough. Sukuna replied with what appeared to be a lackluster ‘can’t wait’, but on the inside he was shaking. He’d already screenshot all the pictures the two of you took together and added them to a folder.

“Here we go.” As soon as the video went live, Sukuna watched it. He was mortified as soon as it started at the blush so evident on his cheeks, and how it stayed throughout the whole thing. He groaned at the part where he helped you cut up the meat, he almost wishes you’d cut it out. Every little detail that made him embarrassed was there, every little nuance of his actions you’d managed to capture and make it cute.

(Y/N): How do you like it??

You texted him after twenty minutes, eager to hear his thoughts.

(Sukuna): it’s good, good editing and stuff

(Y/N): yay! I’m going to read comments in a few hours, you should too! I bet people will be really shocked!

(Sukuna): yeah no doubt

Oh, he was definitely going to read the comments. Whereas you were going to wait for a fair few to come in before commenting, Sukuna frequently refreshed the page and read the new ones as they came in. You were right, a lot of people were surprised, but he also saw a lot of his fans as well.

‘Ew Sukuna really cooked for that bitch? They can’t do it themselves?’

‘Yeah, why do they have to rely on him? Useless as fuck lol’

‘Sukuna only did this to get laid, (Y/N) looks like an easy fuck’

All of those comments, and many more, made his blood boil. Usually, he wouldn’t care at all about the comments, letting them fester in his comment section and spiral out of control. But for you, it was different.

‘Fuck off and die you pieces of shit. Leave (Y/N) alone or say it to my fucking face’

Sukuna sent that message, along with a variety of other threats, to all the people that insulted you. He didn’t care that this wasn’t his channel and that you would deal with it in whatever way you wanted to. He needed to defend you against the unwanted audience he’d brought you.

Luckily, after seeing Sukunas messages, all of his fans backed off. They knew how serious he was about his threats and there were many rumors that he actually did go and beat people up who said things he didn’t like. No one wanted to be on the receiving end of his torment.

With Sukunas name attached to the video and his heavy presence in the comment section, the video easily went viral. It was easily the most viewed video on your channel, getting on the trending pages of several different platforms.

(Sukuna): hey

It’s nearly a week after the first video that Sukuna messages you, and the hype is still going strong, and your follower count grows greatly from it.

(Y/N): hi! What’s up?

(Sukuna): do you want to film a video for my channel now? We can play a game, I have a few

(Y/N): sure that sounds fun!

Oh how wrong you were. The game Sukuna chose was a scary game, a shooter game with scary zombies and a lot of possible jumpscares. He doesn’t tell you either, so on the night of filming - he insisted on it being nighttime to get the full scary effect - you were caught off guard.

“I don’t know about this.” You whined once you saw the title. The two of you were video calling alongside playing the game together, and Sukuna’s eyes flicked to your figure on the screen.

“It’ll be okay, I’ll carry you, don’t worry.” He had started filming as soon as he’d set up the game, and you were filming yourself as well for him.

“You promise it won’t be too scary?”

“If it’s too scary just close your eyes and I’ll protect you.” Smiling softly at you, he started up the game. The beginning was fine, just a quick introduction to the game, but as soon as things started to get moving, you were scared.

“Sukuna a zombie is eating me!” You screamed, frantically pushing buttons in an attempt to get it off.

“It’s okay!” He quickly got rid of it, and made sure to stay close to your character as the story progressed.

“(Y/N) stay by me, there’s about to be a whole lot of them.”

“Close your eyes there’s about to be a jump scare here.”

“Don’t worry about getting that item, I’ll grab it for you!”

Sukuna nearly forgot he was being filmed, saying sweet things to you to help encourage you and make sure you weren’t overwhelmed. There were many parts where you screamed in fright and Sukuna was there to coo at you and tell you it was okay. He made sure that your character never died, making sure to keep you close until the end of the game.

“Sukuna, that was so hard!” Squishing your cheeks in your hands, you looked at him through your phone.

“It was fun though, wasn’t it? I had fun with you.” Completely abandoning the game, he stared down at his phone with a soft smile on his face.

“Yeah, when there weren’t so many zombies.” You stuck your tongue out at him, and it made him laugh. Leaning his head into his hand, Sukuna grinned when you yawned.

“Aw, are you tired? Better go to sleep soon.” His voice dropped to a lower volume, like you were right next to him.

“I will.” You yawned again and it made Sukuna yawn as well.

“Get off the phone and go to bed, you’re making me tired too.”

“Fine.” Whining out the word, you waved sleepily. “Goodnight Sukuna, I’ll send you the video files in the morning, okay?”

“Night.” Waving back, Sukuna waited until you hung up to turn his stuff off as well.

In the morning, Sukuna was ready to edit. What usually took him a week to edit out of laziness, he took only a day to edit this video with you together. Rewatching the footage, he nearly gagged at seeing how soft his face got when he looked at you, and most of those parts were left in because he couldn’t stand to watch them and fix them.

(Sukuna): videos up

The next day, he messaged you. Once again Sukuna patrolled the comments, swiftly deleting any that said even a hint of a bad thing about you. There was less this time, what with Sukuna adding a warning at the beginning of the video threatening anyone that talked down at you.

This video, like the first, went viral. But for a much different reason. Since Sukuna was emotionally unable to deal with how sappy he was and edit those parts out, everyone got to see how soft he was for you. If the comments weren’t mean, they were screaming about how you and Sukuna must be dating now, because why else would he look at you and talk to you like that?

And much to Sukuna’s dismay, there were also fancam edits of you two together. Any clippable moment of him being sweet on you in the videos you’d made together along with the photos you’d posted on Instagram were edited together and posted on Twitter. You both were tagged in every single one, making sure Sukuna saw all the videos of you and him together. He saved all of them too, delighting in the way you looked with him with all those pretty filters.

By the end of the day, people were trying to put a ship name together for the two of you and he’s seen you repost a few fancams with cute messages of thanks as well. Seeing you receptive to the fans screaming about the two of you made him happy, even if he was still too nervous to text you about anything outside of Youtube.

As more comments came in, people on Twitter were begging him to do a vlog with you. You had quite a few on your channel, going to cafes or filming what your day or week was like. Sukuna had watched them all and was jealous of every single person that appeared alongside you.

(Y/N): hey I’m doing a live on Instagram if you want to join me! I know people really like us together lol it’ll be great for views

(Sukuna): sure

Did you want him to join now? He’d just gotten out of the shower and thrown on a pair of sweats, he wasn’t exactly decent. But he didn’t want to waste time getting ready only for you to end the live.

“Hi Sukuna!” You smiled and waved when he appeared on the screen.

“Hey.” He waved back, not caring about the angle he was holding the camera in. He saw hearts begin to fill up the screen and comments started to fly by, almost all in caps about the fact he was shirtless talking to you.

“Guys, don’t be weird! Who cares that Sukuna is shirtless?” You tried to stop them, but it was clear you were flustered as well. You weren’t looking at him, peeking at him through the screen a few times.

“God you’re all thirsty as fuck.” Sukuna finally looked at himself on the screen. He was shirtless and in bed, hair slightly damp and tousled on his pillow. Reading a few comments, he shot up. “Of course I’m wearing pants, you nasty fuck!” Storming out of bed, he stood in front of the only mirror in his house that wasn’t in the bathroom and turned the camera around. “See, look!”

“Oh.” Gasping softly, you were glad Sukuna didn’t notice you screenshot the live. Clad in only gray sweatpants, Sukuna’s freshly cleaned skin gleamed in the light of his bedroom and every single muscle and edge of his body was on display.

“There, told you I wasn’t fucking naked.” Rolling his eyes, he flopped back down on the bed. None of the comments had gotten any better, all of them talking about how hot he was and how you were so lucky to know him in real life.

“L-let's talk about something else.” You stammered, not showing your face on camera for a few minutes. Sukuna laughed at the comments teasing you for being embarrassed, agreeing with some of them under his breath.

“So, what the fuck are you all doing here?” Sukuna posed the question at the chat, but at you as well.

“Well before you came everyone was talking about you...and you know how everyone has been begging for us to vlog?” You started off slowly, peeking an eye at his face.

“Yeah?”

“I wanted to call you to ask how you felt about that?” How he felt? Why did you want to know?

“You couldn’t have texted me that?” That wasn’t necessarily what he wanted to say, but it made you chuckle, so it was okay.

“No! I wanted to ask so everyone could know!”

“I don’t mind it.” If you wanted to vlog with him, he would do it in a heartbeat.

“So…” Worrying your lip, you looked off camera for a few seconds before looking directly at Sukuna. “Would you like to be in a vlog with me, at a cafe? It’s outside the city, kind of far, but we can rent a car or-”

“Yes.” Sukuna interrupted, nodding his head quickly. “I’ll come. We don’t have to rent a car, I’ll drive.”

“Really?” The comments were just as shocked as you were. Sukuna never filmed anywhere but his home and the gym, this would be a monumental occasion.

“Did you want me to say no?”

“No!” You screamed immediately, nearly dropping your phone. “I just- I wasn’t expecting you to say yes!”

“Well I did.” Sukuna bit his lip, running a hand through his hair and flexing his arm. “So I guess it’s a date, huh?” His normal asshole confidence was back now that you were appearing through a screen and not right next to him. A surprised sound came from the back of your throat, and you nearly dropped the phone again.

“Y-yeah! A date!” It felt good to have you flustered for once and not Sukuna. Laughing heartily at you, Sukuna smirked at the comments.

“Was that all you wanted to ask me or was there something more?”

“No, that was it!”

“Alright.” Licking his lip and letting his tongue hang out of his mouth a little, Sukuna watched you bite your lip as well. “Well I’m gonna go, I got stuff to do, but I’ll text you later (Y/N).” Dropping his voice as he said goodbye, Sukuna left the livestream.

“Holy fuck.” As soon as his phone was off, Sukuna let out a breath he’d been holding in. His heart was pounding hard despite how confident he was in his actions. Flirting was nothing new to him, but with you it felt different and like he’d never done it before in his life.

He watched the rest of your livestream while he finished getting ready for bed, laughing at the comments still teasing you about getting flustered with him. The notifications for Twitter were going off as well, and he knew for sure that there were new fancams for him to check out later.

(Y/N): Sukuna!! You’re so embarrassing!

Texting him after your stream, your cheeks were still burning at the memory.

(Sukuna): hey, you said it would be good for views and it was

(Y/N): I know…

(Y/N): did you really mean it, about coming with me?

(Sukuna): of course. If I didn’t want to I would have said no

(Y/N): that’s good lol!

There was a lull in conversation, and Sukuna nearly fell asleep waiting for you to either text him again or for him to figure out what to say next.

(Y/N): so, a date huh? Are you going to bring me flowers?

Now he was awake. He didn’t expect you to bring that up again, and his eyes flew open. Sukuna’s fingers hovered over the keyboard, mind going blank on what to say.

(Y/N): lol just kidding! I know you only said that for the stream! I’ll text you later about the details, I’m about to knock out

(Y/N): goodnight :)

Well shit. Now he definitely wanted it to be a date.

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Just friends

Pairing: Sky x reader

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

After an entire night of sipping beer and looking for someone to connect with, Y/N finally found a guy that truly stood out. Tall, broad shoulders, dirty blonde hair that reminded her of a certain Specialist she wanted to forget and those eyes….Phew, those emerald green eyes that drew her in with their promise of a good time she’s been looking for truly captured her attention.

Standing a little too close to him in order to keep up a conversation with music blaring, Y/N allowed herself to lean into his lean body, his hand resting on the small of her back. His lips called out to her, or the beer in her system made it seem so. Whatever the case may be, she didn’t really care. 

Y/N wanted someone to feel close to and he looked like someone appropriate; similar to the very cause of the aching heart she’s trying to ignore. The way he looked at her showed he’s just as interested as she is, but his eyes kept glancing at something or someone behind them.

Irritated with his loss of focus, with her index finger on his chin, Y/N demanded his attention unapologetically.

“Ignore a fairy and she leaves.“ Y/N said with a light tone, but she hoped her pursed lips and slightly narrowed eyes were a warning he’d read.

Chuckling, the guy, Porter, nodded, licking his lips. Following his gaze, Y/N turns. Tossing her hair over her shoulder to make sure nothing obscured her vision, she gnaws on the inside of her lower lip.

On the far end of the room stood a handsome guy taller than Porter. He’s leaned against a wall, muscular arms crossed over his chest, hair floppy with blond bangs that fell on his forehead. He held a pensive look on his face, lips pressed together and dark blue eyes sending daggers Y/N’s way. 

Sky.

“Who is he?“ Porter breaks up the little staring contest with a question. Turning to him, Y/N gives him an innocent smile, shrugging.

“No one important.“ She informs him, placing a hand on his chest. Trailing it upwards, she holds onto his shoulder and looks into his eyes.

Raising an eyebrow, Porter glances at the guy and at Y/N once more, tilting his head. “Not a jealous boyfriend or anything?“ He questions, unconvinced by her previous answer.

Y/N sighs, faking a smile that never really failed to trick those around her; especially not him. She could never fool him, even when she tried. Somehow, he always knew better.

“Nope.“ She says, popping the P for effect. Feeling her heartbeat quicken its pace, she keeps that smile frozen on her face as if she had used her ice powers on herself, knowing it’s rehearsed to perfection.

“Does he know that?“ Porter asks, smirking. 

Rolling her eyes, Y/N let him go, moving out of his embrace. 

It took her a moment to stop herself from blowing up on the guy, annoyed by his constant questioning. She figured he’s a senior in Specialist training looking for a way to blow off steam that wouldn’t ask too many questions, but Porter proved to be anything but.

“Be right back.“ She taps his arm, turning around and walking towards the door.

Leaving the basement, she sits on the steps. They’re cold but she’s used to cold - she’s the ice queen anyway. She knew she’d have to be waiting patiently only for a short time. Moments later, the door opens again, the man who couldn’t keep his eyes off her coming outside.

“Took you long enough.“ She huffs, focusing her eyes on the ground in front of her instead of him. She didn’t have to look at him to know who it is. She knew by the sound of his footsteps, the left one always releasing a slight creak on the floorboards as he stepped with his entire foot while he only stepped with his heel on the right one.

Taking a seat next to her, Sky doesn’t look at her either.

“He’s not good enough for you.“ With those words, Y/N feels his piercing gaze on her. The emotion in Sky’s eyes is fathoms deep, yet they carry the warmth and life of the sunlit surface. They have a thousand hues of blue and a small touch of hazel radiating in softly swooping arcs and they leave Y/N breathless, as they always do.

Blood rushes to her face, turning up the temperature in her head to a dangerous level and it wasn’t from his eyes on her…it was that statement. His sentence had pissed her off enough for ice to swallow the steps they sit on; enough to lose control.

“You don’t get to say that.“ Y/N spits, standing up. Body rigid from anger, hands clenched so tight she felt her knuckles turning a pale color with a disruption in blood circulation. “Or anything to me. Ever.“ She turns to him with narrowed eyes.

Sky didn’t look away, no matter how cold her glare got. She hated how he could withstand it as it tore her apart.

“I only have your best interests in mind.“ Sky dares to say, fixing his tender gaze upon her as if his words were meant to calm the storm inside. His fingers twitch, like he can’t decide if he should reach out or keep physical contact to a minimum in fear of making the situation a lot worse.

Looking up in disbelief, Y/N releases something between a choked sob and a chuckle. Biting her lower lip to keep herself from shouting, her eyes fall back on the man before her.

“Don’t. Just…don’t.“ Placing a hand on her hip, she uses the other one to point her index finger at him.

“You said we were friends and then you kissed me! And then you told me we would never happen!” Shaking her head, Y/N sighs. “You can’t do this to me. You can’t stare down every guy I talk to or tell me they’re not good enough or...” Pausing, she stops before she breaks her own heart. 

She thought, ‘Friends don’t look at friends the way you’re looking at me now’, but what’s the point? He’s determined it means nothing. That she means nothing.

Standing, she points her finger at him again, “Stop. Alright? I’m tired of waiting, I’m tired of arguing! Just leave me alone.” 

Standing as well, Sky seems to have made up his mind and went for it. He grabs her finger, wrapping his hand around her entire fist with ease, pulling her closer to him. Flush against his firm chest, Y/N dares not look up, feeling his raging heartbeat through the palm pressed over his sternum.

“I never meant to hurt you. Do you know that?“ He whispers. His warm breath reaches her forehead, fanning away a couple of loose strands of her hair.

"Sky, I can’t do this right now.“ She feels her head spinning. Being so close to him was too much too fast. Especially after he broke her heart.

“You’re my best friend.“ Sky’s voice breaks, his chin resting atop her head. 

She could feel him pulling her closer, pressing his body against hers in a mock embrace, but she’s just a frozen statue in his arms. There is no way for her to relax. If she did, she’d break and she never wanted to break in front of him. Not again.

Placing both palms against his chest, ignoring the way his heart rushed with the contact, she pushes with all her might. Moving away as Sky stumbles backwards, Y/N turns her back on him. Feeling her chin tremble as his warmth leaving her body renders her as cold as the ice in her veins, her eyes close She never found the cold bothersome, not until she felt the warmth of Sky’s embrace and tender kisses.

“Yeah, well…things changed. You know very well how that came to be.“ Y/N’s response is surprisingly calm, but she’s certain Sky could read her emotions even without looking at her properly. After all, he knew her for so long…In a way, they grew up together.

“Why am I to blame for that, huh? I can’t help how I feel.“ Sky defends, lips parted as Y/N scoffs, turning back to face him.

She shakes her head slightly. It feels surreal that she has to have this conversation with him again.

“You left me standing there without a word. I poured my heart out and you had nothing to say! You couldn’t be with me? You’re not good enough? You can’t give me the answer I want? Well, guess what? I can’t give you the answer you want either.“ Y/N’s voice trembles as she speaks, feeling every muscle in her face clench under the pressure of keeping a straight face. Her entire body shakes, but she’s determined to keep herself centered.

Going to a dance with her best friend was meant to be fun and an experience she’ll never forget. However, the entire night she was stuck with Riven while the guy she wanted to dance with was away flirting with Stella, Bloom, everyone but her. She didn’t mind Riven, he’s definitely someone she considers to be very close to her heart, but she was in love with his roommate.

The guys took her home, Sky walked her to the door to make sure she got in safely. It gave her butterflies, but it was just who Sky is. He always made sure she was taken care of and protected. Always.

However, that night, Y/N was unsheltered, vulnerable in every way possible. She couldn’t keep her secret any longer.

Turning back, she looks at him, shaking. Averting her gaze to the right, only to focus it back on him, she wraps her arms around herself for reassurance.

“Everything okay?“ Sky steps closer, tilting his head.

Shaking her head as an answer, Y/N musters up some courage fueled by years of jealousy and heartache.

“Do you love me?“ She blurts out, slightly bouncing on her feet though the heels she wore made her feet hurt.

Sky smiles widely, rolling his eyes at her playfully before answering. “You know I do.“

Shaking her head furiously, feeling her heart beating so fast her head is pounding and her knees are weak, she explains.

“No, I mean. Do you LOVE me?“ she emphasizes, leaning on her right leg more for balance. She watches the look of realization cross his face, confusion taking place. He didn’t say a damn thing, just looked at her like she had uttered the most atrocious insult.

Blinking fast, she bites her lip so hard, feeling a metallic taste of blood in her mouth as a result.

“Sky, do you?“ Her voice cracks, the last part coming out almost as a whisper.

Sky stares at her, searching for an appropriate answer in her eyes in hopes of escaping this entire conversation, but he’s dead silent.

“Say something!“ She whisper shouts, desperate for a reply. She had opened up to him, completely vulnerable and at his mercy and all he gave in return was a lost stare and fast, shallow breathing by the way his chest moved.

Until he moved toward her, pushing her against the locked door. Before she has a chance to say anything, his lips capture hers and her eyes widen in shock. Arms wrapping around her waist gave her courage to entangle her hands in his hair, drawing him closer to her.

Breathless, she couldn’t think, she didn’t want to. Being in the moment, drowning in his tender, yet passionate touch was more than enough.

But as unexpected as the kiss was, so was the moment Sky broke it. He steps back, lips swollen and smudged from hers, even more kissable than before. He opens his mouth and Y/N’s ready to hear him say it back, to promise her they would try, but when Sky speaks, her heart breaks.

“I…I can’t give you the answer you want.“ Sky spoke slowly, continuing. “You’re…you’ve always been out of my league.“ Taking a step closer, he keeps talking as she grimaces at the unwanted closeness. Moments ago, Y/N wanted him closer, but it made her queasy now.

“You’re just so…perfect!“ He exclaims, outstretching his arms in her direction.

She tries to step back, tensing up as she realizes she’s backed against the door already. She has nowhere to run.

“I’m not good enough for you. I will NEVER be good enough to be with you.“ Sky’s arms return to his side, understanding she’s not interested in any sort of touching.

She nods in disbelief, not believing his logic nor the words he spoke. “You don’t get to use that as an excuse. Especially when it’s not true. But if this is the way you want to handle things….Then this is goodbye.“ 

Barely holding back tears, she watched Sky turn around, leaving her broken and alone with her heart bleeding on the ground after he so carelessly tossed it from his hands.

What hurts is that he didn’t even try to fight for her to at least remain a friend. He didn’t even try to stay. He simply stole her peace of mind and stomped on her heart and left.

In the end, the night was definitely one she wouldn’t forget, simply not for the good memories.

“I just want you back.“ Sky’s eyes brim with tears he hadn’t shed in years, leaving her speechless, but firm as he continues. “I’m not me without you.”  

Y/N couldn’t give in. Sometimes you have to take care of oneself and this is one of those times. She gave him every chance and when it came down to it, he didn’t take them. 

“I wanted many things and I didn’t get any of them. I don’t blame you for not loving me back, Sky. I don’t. I just wish you would understand how it feels for me.“ She says softly, feeling a crack in the tall, icy wall specifically meant to keep him out of her heart.

“I never said I don’t love you back”, Sky breathes out as the door opened again, Porter stepping out. 

Porter’s eyes immediately find hers, showing his concern and caution. “Everything okay here?“ Porter asks.

Folding her arms across her chest, she releases a shaky sigh. Did Sky really just admit he loves her too? Was it serious or just a way to keep her close?

She can’t make that into something it’s not. Not again.

“We’re okay. No biggie.“ She plasters a smile that Sky could read as a fake one a mile away, but Porter seems to be clueless.

“Want me to take you to your room?“ Porter returns her smile, standing in front of her. She notices he keeps glancing back at Sky, unsure of what went down moments before he arrived.

“Unless someone has something against it?“ She looks at her former best friend, hoping he’d give her a reason to stay. One word would be enough, to say that he really does love her again. She saw him saying it in her mind a thousand times, but in reality, his lips parted without a single word leaving his mouth. 

He didn’t care that much after all. If he did, it wasn’t enough. It’s just not enough.

Taking Porter’s hand, she smiles genuinely now, pulling him along without looking back.

“Let’s go.“

And all Sky can think of as he watches them leave is that it might take his whole life to make it right, but he truly felt he did the right thing for her; for them. He never dreamed it would have broken their friendship. 

Perhaps he’s guilty for the kiss he’d have died if he didn’t feel against his lips that night, because letting her go without ever tasting her would haunt him forever. 

Joke’s on him - the kiss, she, would haunt him regardless. It was the first time he felt connected to anything, but he isn’t good for her. Not now when his father is back and adamant on ruining his life.

He must protect her from Andreas and he will. Even if it costs him everything.

PART 2

[parchmentedpetrichor]

➳april’s fool ♡

in which fred weasley is in love with y/n l/n, the girl he happens to tease and insult profusely for her attention. 

fred weasley x gryffindor!fem!reader 

word count: ±4.3k 

tw: food, fireworks, pranking, fred being a bully, tad bits of swearing

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my masterlist:D

ft. minnie, dumbledore and severus

yeah, your grandmama probably know me 

get more bottles, these bottles are lonely

it's a moment when I show up, got 'em sayin', "wow"

april’s fool 

“tomorrow is april fools,” dumbledore sighs. 

“you know what that means...?” mcgonagall asks, her voice on edge.

“the twins,” snape replies quickly, not even bothered one bit as he sips his dark coffee.

“and their pranks,” dumbledore dramatically rolls over in his armchair.

“okay and?” 

“they’re a hazard, severus!” mcgonagall replies.

“that doesn’t stop them.”

“what will stop them?” dumbledore ponders, eyes faint with interest. 

“you still have those weird buzzy fireworks right?” snape asks. 

“of course.”

“and minnie, you have the cake mix your grandmother gave you?”

“still in my cupboard next to the biscuits.”

“excellent.”

y/n l/n listens from the other side of the door, grinning. she’s been called to mcgonagall’s lavish office for some business she hopes isn’t trouble, but the conversation the three are deeply invested in piques her interest. 

she likes fun. the type of continuous laughter and uncontrollable fits of giggles at noon. that’s why she enjoys the pranks the twins play. they’re bold, sharp and reckless and have the undoubtable trademark of fred and george on them.

one too a many times she’s been on the receiving end of them. one time the twins had charmed the library so that she and other studious students could not find any books that they wanted or needed for a whole week. 

another time, her hair had been dyed bright pink. she wasn’t a fan of it, but tried her best to rock it. it worked. y/n had received many compliments on her bubblegum pink locks. 

she laughed it off a lot. whenever something quite embarrassing happened, it was usually funny. 

even the snide remarks the older twin always cast her way.

including the time he called her a blackhead. well, multiple times. 

“oi, l/n, looking like a blackhead.”

george had rolled his eyes at his brother before adding kindly, “at least you have nice hair. your tie’s always shiny too.”

she had just laughed, “at least i’ve got the blackhead looks to pull pink hair off, weasley, you can’t even pull off ginger hair, and thanks, georgie. love ya.”

fred had looked taken aback, but y/n still scowls at the memory. she gets she isn’t pretty, but there is a line you don’t cross when trying to insult someone.

he always calls her the most awful nicknames too; body parts that align with her name and random pieces of rubbish she isn’t bothered to remember.

she shakes herself of her thoughts and draws herself up, knocking thrice on the door lightly.

“come in,” mcgonagall’s calm tone beckons.

“good afternoon professors!” she chirps, smiling at all three.

they smile back. even snape. they’re big fans of the girl, who’s studious but mischievous. albus dumbledore has always thought that y/n’s eyes always look like all she’s seen is a beautiful sunset. 

“now you must wonder why i called you here,” mcgonagall starts.

“you see, how have you punished the weasley twins when they play all those pranks on you?” dumbledore eagerly asks. 

y/n gives a light laugh, “i just prank them back. i won’t get detention for this, right?” she jokes.

they laugh, “of course you will,” snape jokes back and for a second y/n is surprised that severus snape, the ever so cold potions professor, is cracking jokes. especially to her. 

“well then, i guess i can’t tell you how i prank them back then,” she drawls dramatically.

“no, no, do tell, we’re, what do you young people say?” mcgonagall pauses, “ahh yes! we’re all ears!”

y/n bursts out laughing, “okay, i usually do something that’s subtle enough but still very noticeable. they need to be anonymous too, or that’ll start prank wars and i’m only looking for short term pleasure really. one time, i dumped a whole bunch of polyjuice potion in both their little goblets. fred became george and george became fred. they were so confused.”

mcgonagall is impressed. 

“can you bake?” dumbledore asks and y/n shakes her head for a long time. 

“can’t bake for my sanity.”

“awesome. that is what i thought too,” dumbledore answers and y/n smiles. 

a single knock sounds. it’s proper and formal. 

“come in!” mcgonagall yells.

draco malfoy in all his glory steps into the room, eyes alight with concern, ever so indifferent. 

y/n knows him from quidditch. they’ve become relatively good friends, though she thinks he is very busy with his home life. she also knows that there’s more to him than the facade he has.

“afternoon,” he nods and gives a charming smile. 

“now, draco, i understand your mother had enrolled you in baking classes,” snape says. 

draco nods. 

“you must bake a cake,” mcgonagall hands him the cake mix.

she hands y/n the box of fireworks and winks. 

“good day professors! make sure to be at breakfast tomorrow!” y/n shouts, dragging draco with her to the kitchens. 

soon draco is laughing with y/n, at her atrocious puns and lightly placed jokes, finding himself very much happy. he’s not interested in her romantically, he simply enjoys her company. he’s even sharing some funny stories of his own too.

“...and i told him, to precisely fuck off.”

“so that’s how you deal with him!”

“oh no, he didn’t stop. he kept bugging me.”

“what did you do then?”

“i cast a muffliato charm on him.”

y/n bursts into laughter as they pass the gryffindor common room, quickly hiding the box of fireworks in her cloak as she spots two red heads quietly snickering by the fat lady. 

they notice the unlikely pair scurrying down the stairs. 

“hey, google eyes!” fred shouts. 

y/n doesn’t know fred well enough to decide if that greeting is dedicated to herself, so she continues upon her way. 

“weasley,” draco states. 

“huh?” y/n fakes oblivion. 

draco jerks his head in the way of the twins, where fred is smirking handsomely, leaning against the wall in a model-like fashion. 

george is shaking his head in dismay. 

“i said googly eyes!” fred shouts again.

y/n won’t lie, she thinks fred has undoubtedly good looks and his ginger hair is cute. he’s just a terrible person. to her, at least. she knows she’s biased, she’s often seen fred comforting ginny after a bad fight with a boyfriend, and from what she’s heard from alicia and angelina and katie, he’s funny too. 

she whips out her glasses and stares deadpan at him, before rolling her eyes and running with draco down the stairs, laughing like madmen.

they finish baking late at night, and waving her wand smartly over the cake, y/n produces a charm that will make the fireworks activate as soon as the cake is cut open. 

draco smiles as he pipes purple and orange roses, writing a ‘happy bday fred and george’ in chocolate letters. 

they add lots of sprinkles, hoping to seem like avid admirers of the twins. 

“does miss l/n and misters malfoy need any assistance?” a house elf asks.

draco just about opens his mouth to snap a ‘no’ when y/n gives him a silencing look.

“thank you rosemarie, but that is not needed, you are welcome to watch and talk with us though,” y/n politely answers, giving her a grin. 

the house elf sniffles, “miss l/n is too nice! rosemarie will make some hot chocolate for her! pretty hair!”

y/n laughs, “thank you very much, rosemarie. i think mister malfoy would also like some hot chocolate, with a tiny bit of firewhiskey, if that’s alright with you,” she winks at draco who just scoffs in reply. 

when they’re finished with the cake and the hot chocolate, y/n enters the gryffindor common room. angelina takes the cake and wraps it up in a box and nice wrapping paper. she sends it flying to the twins’ usual spot on the gryffindor table. 

“thanks angie!” y/n smiles, getting up from the cozy spot near the fire in the common room. 

“why are you going? we’re staying up till midnight for the twins’ birthday; wanna join?” angelina asks. 

y/n shakes her head, “i’m not too close with them, it seems like a rather intimate ceremony,” she keeps her words fluffy and light. really, she would join any birthday celebration, but she didn’t think she could handle the constant insults and annoying comments fred always made about her. and this would have been completely acceptable if she had done something to any one of the weasleys, but she hadn’t. she even regards ginny weasley as a little sister and was invited to one of ginny’s infamous slumber parties. okay, she might have a little crush on him for his joke-ish nature, but it’s nothing she can’t get over. he’s out of her league, for sure, she thinks. and terribly rude. she doesn’t understand why she still harbours those feelings for him. maybe because that time adrian pucey was mocking her for her ‘blood purity’ he stood up for her. or that time she hurt herself at quidditch and fred stayed up with her bandaging her wound. he cared when it mattered, she guesses. 

“i’m sure they would love you there.”

“fat chance,” she scoffs, “have a good night!”

she goes to her own dormitory up the stairs. she’s well known in gryffindor house, but for different reasons than the twins may be. although she’s close with angie and alicia, she’s not close with the twins. mainly because she’s always studying, playing quidditch, and doing prefect things. 

being on a quidditch team with fred weasley is bearable. mainly because she’s the captain. 

she’s stopped by a large hand on her shoulder. the owner of the hand swivels and suddenly a grinning fred is revealed. 

“where’re you going?” fred weasley’s annoying voice pronounces. 

“the sahara desert,” she snaps back dryly, “you’re in the way of my world exploration.”

“am i, really?”

“‘course,” she reigns her attitude in, “nice night, isn’t it?”

“for you? never.”

she scowls. fred watches in utter amusement as she takes a deep breath and charmingly smiles. 

“dearest freddie, will you please allow me to get to my dorm so i can have some sleep?”

fred’s heart skips a little at the nickname but shakes his head. 

“what’s the password?”

y/n sighs. “i don’t know. y/n is a blackhead. googly eyes. whatevers.”

fred lets out a loud laugh. y/n finds herself trying hard not to laugh with him. 

she turns around, ready to find her hufflepuff friend that has a spare bed in their dormitory, knowing fred is really stubborn.

“that’s not the password.”

“well, good night.” she walks off, before intensely diving in a style harry potter himself would be proud of, onto the stairs and running up the dorms laughing. 

fred stands at the bottom of the stairs, dumbfounded, his jaw hanging open. 

“close your mouth, flies will be caught,” he heard the giggling voice of y/n.

“close yours and you’ll look better,” he insults back. 

“oh shut up. we know i’m the prettier one. and that’s saying something.”

the next morning, fred and george wake up to presents, a rowdy common room, and a nice cake sitting waiting for them on the gryffindor table. 

for the first time, y/n takes a seat opposite them, her eyes alight with the familiar mischief they always held. she steals glances at the professors, who were beaming down with interest, as if they shared an inside joke. draco malfoy has an odd smirk on his pale face. 

all eyes are on them as they cut open the cake. with a bang, fireworks come flying out of the cake in all directions, sending crumbs and icing flying in the air and leaving soot on the twin’s faces. their ginger hair is covered neatly with white icing and the fireworks continue for a calamitous five minutes. everyone’s too busy laughing and trying to dodge the flying cake to see that y/n l/n and draco malfoy are laughing quietly in a corner together, both with spells like umbrellas. 

fred’s eyes, however, are trained on y/n, who’s rolling over in laughter. he quickly casts a scourgify on himself and george, and strides casually over to her and malfoy, the usual lazy smirk on his face as he hears ‘draco ohmygosh that was the best. your cake decos are on point! d’ya think he’ll ever bully me again?’. that confirms his suspicions. she did play this prank on him. and it makes him feel fuzzy inside.

his face then contorts into a frown. she thinks he bullies her? 

“i wouldn’t say he bullies you, y/n.”

he smiles. never mind.

“but it isss! i can assure you, there is absolutely nothing nice ‘bout being called a frame!”

fred snorts at the time y/n had been gushing adorably over a picture frame that was embellished with gold and bronze flowers to angelina. he had went over and in an attempt to catch her attention, said ‘you’re a frame’.

sure, he was good at flirting, but not to the girls he really really liked. 

“that’s fucking funny,” malfoy laughs. 

“oh shut it draco, your face is funny. but yeah, i should probably ask him to start fresh.”

he decides to interrupt their conversation. 

“ask who to start fresh?” he butts in. 

y/n doesn’t even look surprised, “in fact, you, fred, because i’m not really sure if i’ve done anything wrong to you or anything, and by my memory i don’t think i have and you keep being rude and stuff. if i have, i’m really sorry for it and i’m sorry that i hurt you and all. if we can y’know, start over, and maybe be friends?” she catches the unreadable look in fred’s eyes and hesitates, “or maybe not, that’s okay, we don’t need to!” she gives a small laugh, “er, sorry for ever bringing it up?”

the earnestness of her tone and the wistful look in her eyes makes fred fall a little harder. ever since he saw her nervously fiddling with her robes in first year, he’s been smitten. 

there’s a silence. malfoy has slipped off, the sneaky bastard. 

fred simply takes y/n’s hand, giving her a look as if to ask for permission. 

she swallows and nods. 

they’re in the courtyard, which is sunny and light. flowers are blooming everywhere. 

“can i kiss you?” fred asks.

y/n’s eyebrows go up. “what?”

“can i kiss you?” fred repeats patiently. 

“as in kiss? k-i-s-s?” y/n asks, eyes wide with suspicion and curiosity.

“yep,” he chuckles, “crazy, aren’t i?”

“yeah, you’re crazy.”

“really? can i kiss you?”

“i’ve never really kissed anyone.”

“i guessed that.”

her eyebrows furrowed in hurt, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“i’ll tell you if you let me kiss you.”

“there better be a good reason because i was saving it for someone special.”

“i need a yes, love.”

she huffs, “yes.” she won’t tell him that she has a crush on him, because to be honest, she still isn’t sure if this is a prank or not.

she surprised when fred tilts her head up ever so gently, a smile on his face.

this kiss is short and sweet. he tastes like cinnamon.

when they’ve let go, fred notices the light pink dusted over her cheeks. he smirks. 

“you have to tell me why you thought i’ve never kissed anyone,” she said, eyes flashing in deep thought.

“such a beautiful person as you does not deserve kisses from anyone.”

“...” 

fred took this as a sign to go on. “the reason i’ve always teased you endlessly is because i want your attention. i didn’t think you’d give it to me any other way. if you haven’t noticed, i’m in love with you. i think you’re absolutely beautiful, both ways. i love it when you frown and get annoyed, even if you rarely do, i love it when you study so hard your face makes this really concentrated look. i love it especially when you laugh and smile and joke and play pranks. even if they’re on me.”

“...” she was studying his movements. inside her brain, a frenzy was going on. part of her brain- the ever so optimistic part, was screaming happily, and the logical part was using body language to analyse whether he was lying or not.

eyes? their honey brown colour was glistening with affection and truth, an expression so dainty on his face. 

a quaint little smile was on his lips, a small one, a genuine one. it was different to all the other smiles she’d seen him smile. 

he wasn’t acting, she decided. if he was, he should take up a job in broadway. 

“y/n?”

her brows were furrowed. she’d never been confessed to as genuinely as this before. 

if they started this type of relationship would he still be mean and insult her all the time?

“i-i need time. to figure this out.”

he doesn’t look disappointed, she thinks. instead he looks down at her with... adoration?

“of course, sweetness, anything, i’ll wait for you.”

she smiles, “thank you, freddie.” 

☆

it’s been a few days since fred’s confessed to her. she’s still unsure if he was joking or not. why?

at this moment, she’s watching him giggle with angelina johnson. it seems like he’s forgotten everything and anything. he’s gotten closer to her. maybe he’s lost feelings for y/n? she can’t blame angie, she’s a wonderful girl. if he likes her, that’s fine too. suddenly her feelings for him become very clear. she like-likes him. and it’s a bit too late.

but maybe he doesn’t like angie in that way? maybe he’s still into her? 

y/n knows molly weasley raises her children with patience. she should trust that fred’s waiting for her. 

but then again, she’s never gonna be as special as angie johnson. she’s just a ever so polite and outgoing nerd. someone who’s foolish enough to prank. angie’s smart, confident and funny and terribly patient. and effortlessly beautiful. she’s got the true gryffindor touch. and angie’s been one of fred’s best friends since day one. she’s always gonna be number 1. 

that’s ok. she’ll accept it. she likes angie anyway. it was probably a joke anyway. 

she couldn’t be jealous, just a bit dismayed that it wasn’t genuine. whatever, she thinks. we can just go back to how we were before. or not. 

and it’s relatively easy. they never really saw much of each other anyway. she’ll get over this tiny little liking. 

it’ll just be like normal. none of this happened. none of it. she grimaces bitterly, damning fred for his stupid games. should’ve known this was another of his pranks. but his acting though, certainly very good. 

she smiles to herself.

“knock it off, y/n, you’re here to learn, not to love.”

and that answer, is satisfactory. 

she gets up from her spot on the gryffindor table rather abruptly, saying goodbye to her friends, and makes her way to the kitchens. she knows she won’t be alone, she’ll talk to hansel and gretel, the twins that cook with the house elves every dinner.

they’re cleaning up as she walks in, book in hand. 

“hi hans, g!” she calls, as she rolls up the sleeves of her sweater to help them with the dishes. 

“y/n!” gretel gives her a hug with soapy arms and y/n giggles.

“how are both of you?” y/n asks. 

“good, good, potions though...” hansel trails off and they all laugh.

“potions is always like that,” y/n agrees, “it’s supposed to be really hard for newts, so you can’t really blame the subject.”

“i’m thinking of dropping divination,” gretel says.

“yeah, that’s wise, gretel buns,” hansel teases and gretel scowls. 

“divination is an easy subject, gretel, you just need to make random stuff up. i saw this weird bear thing in polly’s tea leaves, it wasn’t in the textbook. i told trelawney it was a symbol that a stranger would come and whip polly off her feet, with a whip the colour of the rarest german emeralds, leaving her absolutely smitten. i got full marks,” y/n laughs. 

they laugh too, and soon a light flowing conversation is shared over cups of hot chocolate. 

this is repeated for quite a few days and y/n even invites polly, marla and lenox, her best friends, to join. it’s a delicate, nice kind of week, one that suits her current struggles. 

when the weekends roll around, hansel and gretel suggest that they all sit at the hufflepuff table. they share jokes and quips over the food, y/n reading a book as she bites happily into apple pie.

“pfft,” her lips upturn ever so slightly at the quote that the character makes. 

fred watches her from the gryffindor table, utterly confused. y/n’s been avoiding him. he sees the flashes of hurt that run through her eyes whenever she sees him, and the quick grin that’s far too fake that follows. she’s been reading a lot more and he never sees her anymore. 

he wonders what he’s doing wrong. so as he sees her walking with her friends to hogsmeade, he calls for her. 

“y/n!”

her friends giggle as they see him, but she gives him a fleeting glance and raises her eyebrows at them, shaking her head, before profusely apologising to each one of them.

she approaches him warily, with all practicality in mind. she leads with her heart, but her head protects her. 

fool me once, shame on you.

fool me twice, shame on me.

“you’ve been avoiding me,” he states.

“what would you expect?” she snaps, “isn’t this all a good laugh for you anyway?”

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

“you know what i mean, this was all a joke, wasn’t it? fooling my poor little heart which you know has a crush on you. my head simply won’t allow it. admit it, and we can both move on with our lives,” her tone is sharp and cold, her eyes burning with fury and hurt, “i may seem gullible, and i am,” she gave a short laugh, “but when i notice, don’t even try to lie.”

“this wasn’t a joke, love.”

“don’t call me that, and you and i both know it is. your acting though, absolutely superb!” 

“what makes you think this was a prank, y/n? you were the one who asked for time.”

“yes, and the time made me realise that i had feelings for you despite all the teasing AND the fact you couldn’t possibly be genuine!” y/n says exasperatedly, her fury dissolving quickly, “you looked so in place with angie and everyone that it’s so obviously some sort of fun thing you did to try to get back at me!”

“angie?”

“a-and everyone else.”

“angie?” fred’s eyes were amused.

“you know, angelina, as in johnson.”

“angie?”

y/n shrugs, “you did bring her to the yule ball last year.”

“angie??!!!” fred was full on smirking now, as if trying to receive a real response. 

“i think you like her, okay?! are we done here? i’d very much like a good book from f&b,” y/n sighs. 

“i’ll accompany you to flourish and botts. why would you think i like her? didn’t i just confess to you?”

“yeah but it seemed kinda...” y/n trails off, not wanting her insecurities to come off as compliment fishing, “kinda far-fetched.”

“meaning?” fred knows exactly what she means.

“you know!” 

“oh but i don’t,” he smiles innocently.

“well, you’re you!” 

“is that supposed to be an insult?” he asks, faking a look of hurt rather well as y/n looks alarmed. 

“no, no, as in, you’re nice to look at, and you’ve always insulted me and been so nice and cool to everyone. are you for real?”

“nice to look at?” a cocky grin is on his face now, much more noticeable than the slight blush that was creeping up his face.

“is that the only thing you could pick up?” 

“nice to look at? what’s up with me repeating myself today?”

y/n lets out an agitated sigh. he doesn’t know, he’s blunt and straightforward. she likes cushioning her words.

“y’know, handsome? good looking?”

“my middle names.” another smirk to conceal the blushing. 

y/n smiles. “of course, everyone knows it.”

it makes fred uncomfortable. her light tone is a bit menacing too. 

“only joking.”

“i’m sure everyone does know it, darling.”

y/n is too busy looking at the dog that passes by to hear him, rambling quietly to herself over the cute scottish terrier.

“sorry, what was that?”

“aren’t i cuter than the dog?”

“nup.”

“really?” fred casually slings an arm over y/n’s shoulders, having to stoop a little lower to reach her.

“i think so.”

“well i’ll tell you something love, i think you’re absolutely stunning.”

“some love potion you’re on.”

“uh huh, the love potion is called love, sweetness.”

“so you’re for real?”

“as real as you and me.”

“you’re cheesy. this isn’t a prank right?”

“not at all, i love you.”

“i-i don’t think i love you just yet, but i think it’s possible,” y/n bites her lip, anxiously awaiting his response.

she tilts her head to look at him. 

he’s beaming. he looks more handsome than ever, a sweet smile etched on his face as he looks down at her in utter adoration.

“you have a crush on me!” he pulls her into a hug and giggles like a little girl, kissing the top of her head.

she’s engulfed by the smell of burning wood and cinnamon and immediately feels safe in his strong arms. 

“how’d you say we go on a date? so i can show how sorry i am for all the times i called you googly eyes and played pranks on you.”

“i’ll check to see if the girls are okay with it,” y/n replies, turning her head to see her friends. they’re gone. 

“they are. i asked them to shoo off before i approached you. is that a yes?”

y/n nods, “of course, freddie.”

“i love you.”

she laughs, “you really are april’s fool.”

“i’m your april’s fool.” 

he buries his nose in the crook of her neck to stop her from seeing his blushing red face. 

[thefanfictionartist]

The Captain’s Paramour

A/N: I worked hard write this and would really appreciate any love you can give this story. I do intend to write at least one more part to this and would love to hear any feedback or requests that you all have! If any of you have a request for a one-shot, please feel free to message me!

Pairing(s): Tooru Oikawa X Y/N; Hajime Iwaizumi X Y/N; Koutarou Bokuto X Y/N; implied Aoba Johsai X Y/N

Summary

Growing up, Y/N knew that Tooru Oikawa was someone who intimidated her, regardless of her crush on him, and she opted to stay away. When they start college together and Y/N joins as team manager, Oikawa charms his way to being her boyfriend. Happy in the start of the relationship, Y/N has yet to wonder if she was right to stay away from Aoba Johsai’s captain from the beginning.

Word Count: 4.4k

Rated M for Mature; intended for 18+ audiences.

Warning: This fan fiction contains a toxic relationship and bullying. If you are not comfortable with manipulation, dub-con, degrative language, and otherwise abusive aspects, please do NOT read this. You have been warned. 

~         ~          ~          ~          ~          ~          ~ He was someone you told yourself to only admire from afar. Regardless of the fact that you had known him since the two of you could attend school. Even then, you hadn’t spoken much to Tooru Oikawa. 

It was intimidating to have him even look in your direction. 

He had a god-like presence that always shines too brightly when he smiles. His eyes had a way of singling out his admirers like a lion stalking his prey. On more than one occasion, you told yourself to stop going to volleyball games because you knew that if he ended up approaching you, you’d become a blubbering mess. At least, that’s how you always pictured it.

But rather than avoiding him at all costs, you couldn’t help to watch him at his practices and games. If there was anything that no one could deny, it was that Oikawa had a talent that was nearly impossible to beat. 

His talent alone had entranced you, and after years of watching him play in elementary and middle school, you found yourself applying for the manager position on Aoba Johsai’s boys volleyball team. 

Purely because now you had an obsession with the game. 

And since you’ve been so observant, you knew that you could at least help the boys on the team in a practical manner.

As a first year, you doubted that you would be accepted…

But after a week of waiting, you found yourself sitting in one of the school’s gymnasiums, helping Oikawa set up the net in the middle of the court for practice. You found that he was actually quite disarming in conversation, making it so that you could speak with him easily. Your anxiety about being around him slipped away with a single ‘Hello.’, and you weren’t sure if that unsettled you or not. 

When you applied to be Seijoh’s manager, you expected the long hours and dedication you’d have to put in. Actually, you welcomed the distraction it gave you as an extracurricular. 

What you didn’t expect was the disdain most girls had for you. 

Most girls at Aoba Johsai hated you and the time you got with who they considered to be the hottest guys in school. They’d blatantly ignore you and write cruel messages on your locker and desk. In the few times that any of the boys were present during these incidents, they’d come to your defense. And you couldn’t have been more grateful to have your team back you up. 

You would always assure them that the bullying didn’t bother you. It didn’t bother you much when you had friends on the volleyball teams all over the country, including the couple of female managers they had. 

It was something you reminded yourself of when the crude comments written on your social media did bother you. Although, the harassment progressed farther online with absurdly edited pictures of you on certain profiles. And the comments multiplied by the day, making it all the more worse.

When the remarks got particularly bad, you would hide yourself in the janitorial closet of the gymnasium, crying in the privacy of the vacant room. 

Having the girls at school, and only the girls at school, torment you was something you could deal with. 

But having strangers command you to die and tell you that you were worthless hurt you more than you could have ever expected. 

You were sniffling softly and nearly at the end of your tears when someone walked into the closet. Looking up at the shadow of whoever had come in, you wipe furiously at your damp cheeks, trying to erase the fact that you were just bawling your eyes out. 

“Oh- sorry, I’ll be out in a sec-” Speaking softly to the intruder, you stand up, taking a deep breath to calm yourself down. 

“N/N-chan?” Oikawa’s voice surprises you. 

“Tooru..”

“Why are you in here?” He takes a moment to observe your features and asks another question, “Have you been crying?”

Anxiously, you tuck a lock of hair behind your ear before fiddling with the ends of it. A sarcastic, curt laugh tumbles from your throat as your red-rimmed eyes find the linoleum floor. “Yeah..” You sniffle before adding, “Pretty lame, right?”

Before you have a chance to look at him again, Oikawa’s arms wrap around you in a binding hug. 

The jacket he wears feels cool against your skin and you find yourself leaning your heated cheeks against it, silent tears rolling down your cheeks from the gesture you’d never expect from him. 

“No.. No, you’re not lame at all, Y/N.” His mouth rests against the top of your head and you can feel his lips twist into a small smile. “Those people are gonna get what’s coming to them for being so mean to you, I’m sure of it. In the meantime, you should just ignore it, ya?” He leans back to look at you, thumb carefully wiping away one of your stray tears. 

“Maybe then they’ll get bored and find someone else to pick on.” He adds with his trademark dazzling smile. 

Nodding, you agree with him, leaning back onto his shoulder as he rubbed your back to comfort you. In that moment, your personal relationship with Tooru became much more than it was before. 

As far as you knew, Oikawa hadn’t spoken with anyone about what happened that day, but you did notice many things start to change. 

For one thing, the atrocious bullying had stopped quite abruptly and you now only had to deal with a few harmless glares during your classes. For another, Oikawa seemed to pay more attention to you. Not that you were complaining. 

He had a way of drawing you in and making you even more smitten with him, and he knew it. 

It didn’t take long at all for him to claim you as his girlfriend. 

And at first, you felt like you were walking on Cloud Nine. There was no way that you could’ve fallen any deeper in love with him. He was so considerate and gentlemanly and kind. He brought you on nice dates when he didn’t have practice and showered you with compliments all the time. And when he touched you, you felt a pleasure you could never imagine before. He made you happy. He did. 

Really. 

So you promised yourself that doing things like this wasn’t a big deal. 

Because Tooru wanted it. And you loved him. 

           - - - - -

“That’s right, baby girl. All of Iwa-chan’s dick in that pretty little mouth of yours.” Oikawa prompted you from the side of the room, sporting a sizable bulge as he watched the action. “I want you to make him feel really good, hm?”

Following Oikawa’s instructions, you force yourself to choke on more of Iwaizumi’s girth, your eyes watching as his head tilts back to let out a deep groan. 

Trying to evoke more of his noises, you wrap your hand around the base of his cock to pump the inches you can’t comfortably fit into your mouth. Behind you, Oikawa tutts, shaking his head. “Naughty girl.. You should know it’s improper to use your hands.”

Your scalp screams as he pulls you back with a fistful of your hair. A pitiful whimper leaves your lips which are covered in a messy amount of saliva. 

You fall into Oikawa’s lap weakly, the back of your head on his shoulder as he pries your legs open to display your arousal. As you attempt to close your legs, embarrassed that you’re so turned on in this situation, he hooks his legs between yours, so that his knees rest on the inside of yours. 

“Look at this Iwa-chan,” Tooru’s slender fingers slide along the puffed lips of your pussy, causing you to whine and grind your hips. 

Before you can receive any lasting relief, Oikawa pulls his fingers away from you, displaying the way your slick sticks and drips down his fingers. “She’s such a cock-hungry slut that she’s already dripping after sucking dick.”

His fingers dip down again, and this time he teasingly enters your twitching hole and pulls a moan from you. 

Oikawa starts to curl his fingers against you in a way that you know will have you seeing white. Skillfully he adjusts his wrist to reach deeper into you, brushing continuously against the sweet spongy texture of your walls. 

“Tooru- ‘M close!” 

And just like that, he pulls his fingers away, making you cry out. “Please, I wanna cum, Toru!” Your eyes brim with tears as you look at him, desperate for the release you nearly had. 

“That’s not my name.” His eyes are dark and he gives you a small smirk before saying, “If you wanna cum so bad..” He pushes you unceremoniously off his lap, relishing in the whine you give him. “You better beg Iwa-chan really nice.”

You look up to Oikawa from the ground, wide-eyed and begging. “Sir..” 

Giving Hajime a blowjob while Tooru watched was the original agreement and you weren’t sure that you much liked this spontaneous new plan. 

“Please, sir..” Your hands reached for his lap, intending to try pleasuring him so he’ll want to finish you himself. “I want you to make me cum, please.” Oikawa’s vice grip stops your hands before they are even close to touching him. The grip is tight enough it brings tears to your eyes, and you’re sure it’ll leave bruises for later on. 

“You heard me, pet.” He nearly spits in your face and you flinch at the nickname as tears collect on your lashes. “If you want to cum, you have to have Iwaizumi fuck you.”

He pushes you away with ease, letting you fall back onto your palms.

“So you better beg him hard.” His eyes flash with sadistic intent. “And before you even think about it.. There’s no way I’ll let you finish yourself tonight. I’ll tie you to the headboard if I have to insure it.” The smile he gives you doesn’t match his words.

When you turn to look at Hajime, you can see pity in his eyes. Like he can see just how uncomfortable you are with Oikawa’s behavior. 

But both of you knew that Oikawa wouldn’t let you leave until he got what he wanted. 

And that he got. 

        - - - - -

Events like that intense night with Hajime and Tooru became typical for you. And even though you had expressed your disinterest with being shared, you found yourself still wanting to make him happy. 

What started out as a normal relationship started to feel like ownership. 

You dwelled on how similar you actually became to the posts those girls used to make about you being a slut, and that just seemed to make you feel worse about yourself. 

So you would go to Oikawa again and again, seeking that warm comfort he gave you that one day in the janitor’s closet, crying your eyes out about how worthless and whorish you felt. And you’d be comforted by him for just enough time to make you feel okay before he would make you feel like a whore again; crying under him as he pounded you into the mattress. 

Then his pretty words would bring you snuggling up to him in bed as he told you how precious and special you were, and how much he loved you.

Even though you knew that you felt terrible and wanted to end things with him, you’d stay because you were in love, and because Tooru told you he needed you. 

You told yourself that he at least made you happy sometimes, and that it was normal for him to flat out ignore you after games because he needed to make his fangirls happy. It was understandable to a degree. A guy like him would need popularity to bring him where he wanted to go and you supported him one hundred percent. 

It wasn’t like you relied on him completely for happiness. 

You had friends for that. 

Most of your friends were from the boys volleyball league; people you had met during the many, many volleyball camps you had attended with the Aoba Johsai. 

You couldn’t have been more grateful for the frequent training camps in your third year, given the growing uneasiness you had around your own team. The only people on your team you felt comfortable around were the coaches and Iwaizumi, who was always respectful to you. 

After a while, you had caught on to the fact that Oikawa was making Iwaizumi feel like he had to do what he says, similarly to the way he makes you feel. 

Shortly after, you heard an argument break out between them and though you haven’t explicitly talked to each other about it, you knew that Iwaizumi had gotten fed up and told Oikawa he wasn’t gonna fuck his girlfriend anymore. And that Tooru should stop using me like a sex doll to be thrown around because it’s pretty clear that I don’t like it.

You had always thought of Iwaizumi as a protector and close friend. Someone who was gentle with the people he cares about. 

He always made a point of treating you as a gentleman should. 

In fact, most of the boys who weren’t on your team treated you kindly and warmly. It was truly no wonder that you enjoyed the training camps so much. 

Or nights like this one. 

When the second and third years from the prefecture would decide to throw a party. The presence of other school’s teams made you more comfortable with the environment. 

Finally you’re able to relax. 

“Hey, hey, hey, Y/N!” Bokuto’s voice makes you genuinely smile. You turn to look at him from where you stand on Kuroo’s porch, seeing as he was the one with the idea to throw a party during spring break. 

It takes you a second to realize that you haven’t seen Bokuto much in the past few months. 

But it’s like having the first breath of fresh air in a long time when you find him smiling just as wide as he had the last time you saw him. It’s enough to keep you floating, just like it always is. “Hi, Bo.” You answer without matching his energy, because you couldn’t scrape up the vitality to do so. 

His head tilts to the side and instead of pity, you see confusion in his expression before turning to lean your forearms against the railing like you were before. Your eyes simply watch the sky turn orange and fuschia as the sun sets, your face void of any expression except a small smile that Bokuto placed there.

“Uh oh..” You hear Bokuto approach you but remain looking at the evening sky. “I didn’t do something stupid, did I?”

A glance to Fukurodani’s ace has you softly giggling at the puppy dog eyes he gives you. He’s at your side, bent at the knees so he can be shorter than you, preparing to beg to be forgiven for whatever he thinks that he’s done. “No, of course not, Kotarou.” You shake your head at his words. “You’re nothing but an angel.” 

Your smile gets a tiny bit bigger as you pat his head, careful not to ruin the way he styled it. 

“Okay, then…” He brings his hand to his chin, straightening himself out to lean his elbow on the porch railing. Owlish eyes observe you carefully, a look of deep concentration etched into Bokuto’s features. It’s as though he thinks if he stares long enough, he’ll be able to read your mind. 

You look so much more dull and lifeless now than you had been when he first met you. You had bags beneath your beautiful eyes and your cheeks had sunken in a bit. What made him the most upset was how your eyes didn’t reflect your smile.

“I give up.. Why do you look so sad?”  His voice softly coos as he asks the question, head tilting with inquiry.

You shrug and give an unconvincing, “I’m just tired.” 

Bokuto is overwhelmingly unprepared for how depressed you sound. His smile falters with unease. It’s normally not so easy to read other people’s emotional states for him. He knew he could be dim-witted at times but this was not one of them. It was clear that whatever had you so down wasn't something you wanted to talk about. Regardless of how much he wanted to know, Bokuto felt it was his job to try to get your mind off whatever was upsetting you. 

In a few seconds, his smile is back in full force, wanting nothing more than to find a way to make you happy. 

“C’mon.” Bokuto holds out his hand for you to take, excitement flashing in his eyes. 

Now it’s your turn to be confused, but rather than asking questions, your hand slips into his and you let him pull you through the house to Kuroo’s backyard. Once you’re there, he lets go of your hand and runs to a playset that probably hadn’t been touched in quite a while. 

There are plenty of people lying in the grass and talking around the pool, filling the air with empty chatter combined with the music that flowed outside from the house. 

Your eyebrows knit together in a disapproving manner. “Bo..” 

The childish excitement he has when he sits on one of the two swings on the playset is admittedly a bit contagious. But, to save yourself embarrassment from accidentally breaking Kuroo’s childhood playhouse, you try arguing as you approach the volleyball player. 

“This is meant for kids like 10 and under, you know?” 

His eyes glint with competitiveness as he pushes himself back on the swing. “I don’t care, I bet I’ll still swing higher than you.”

Your eyes narrow and you quickly find yourself plopping into the other swing, quickly accepting the challenge. “Oh, you’re on, Mr. Owl.” Pushing off the ground with as much force as you can muster, your mind focuses solely on getting your own swing higher and higher. A grin spreads across your face, brightening your features as you allow yourself to have genuine fun. 

The rusted chains of the old swings squeak with sudden use, but luckily don’t show any sign of falling apart. 

Seeing as Bokuto’s body is dense with muscle, you find yourself soaring higher than him in no time; laughter seeping out of the both of you in a hysterical manner. “I win!” You shout as you reach the peak of your swing, glancing in the direction of Koutarou. Even though you can only see a blurred version of him, you can tell that he is wearing a look of utmost determination.

“No! I’m not even at my highest yet! Just wait!” He shouts eagerly and you concede.

“Fine, you have one more minute to beat me.”

In that minute, your eyes drift to the sky and appreciate the dazzling stars above. If you focus hard enough you start to recognize a couple constellations. The first thing you see is Orion’s belt, then the whole of Orion. 

As you pick out the stars of the Little and Big Dipper, you relax with the free feeling of your hair blowing back and forth with each rock of your legs. 

This is what you would imagine flying to feel like, and you get lost in the fantasy of having the power to fly away from the groping hands of your team. Although, you have no idea where you would fly. Maybe you find somewhere like Neverland and be able to live to your own whims and wishes. Or maybe on some desolate tropical island with natives who actually respected you. 

You’re so entranced with your thoughts that you don’t realize when you are genuinely airborne until you hear Bokuto’s voice shouting your name with panic. 

The impact with the ground comes just as soon as you’ve realized that you’ve tumbled face-first off the swing. “N/N!” Oikawa’s voice beckons you to look for him from where you are on the ground. When your eyes find him jogging towards you from the house, your cheeks burn with guilt at the thoughts you had. 

Bokuto’s at your side before Tooru and insistently, yet gently, squishes your cheeks in both of his warm palms to get you to look at him. 

Apparently you hadn’t been answering his questions while Oikawa's presence clouded your mind. “Hm?” You raise an eyebrow at Bokuto, telling him that you’re listening. 

“Are you hurt?” 

You bat away his hands and shake your head while brushing the dust from your knees, which had taken most of the impact. “M’ fine. Just scraped my knees a little.” A reassuring smile settles on your face, although it falls just slightly when Oikawa approaches your side. 

You could swear for a moment that Bokuto picked up on the shift in your mood when Oikawa appeared, but ended up just blaming that on wishful thinking. 

“I’ll go get some bandages.” The ace leaves you with the setter before you can detest.

Tooru remains silent in an eerie manner, and it takes a lot of courage for you to look him in the eyes. “Can you stand?” He reaches out to you with long slender fingers and when you grab them, a shudder runs down your spine from how cold they feel. 

“Yeah.” You answer, and within a moment you’re on your feet, being pulled into the kitchen by your tyrannical boyfriend. 

“Sit.” He motions to the island countertop and you obey, swinging your legs as you wait for Koutarou to emerge from the bathroom with the promised bandages. When he arrives, Oikawa swiftly takes the bandaids from him and bends down to apply them to your knees. 

Oddly, he seems to completely disregard Bokuto offering to help bandage you. In fact, it honestly seemed as though he were ignoring the ace. He must’ve gotten the same vibe, because within a minute Koutarou left the kitchen with Kuroo. 

“There. All better, right?” Tooru smiles as he gives you a kiss on the cheek, holding your hips to help you off of the counter. “Come sit with me for a while, hm?” 

His fingers swirl delicately at the skin peeking from between your shirt and shorts; you resist pulling away from the icy chill of his gaze and nod. “Yeah.” You agree and follow him into the living room, which was now clouded with smoke. It was hard to tell the exact source, but it was clear that a few of the people in the room were extremely high. 

After a few moments, the smoke was dizzying. 

You were never one to indulge in intoxication and you never really saw an opportunity where you would feel comfortable with it. The atmosphere of this room made you queasy, even more so when Oikawa pulled you into his lap on the sofa. 

He pulls you close against him, and for a moment you swear you feel like you’re suffocating. Your mouth becomes dry as you pull in an uneasy breath of pungent air. 

“ ‘Kawa, I need some water.” Your voice is small against the thumping music inside the house, but Tooru acknowledges your request. 

“Oi, Matsu!” The setter calls to his teammate from across the room. “Can you get Y/N some water?” Miraculously, the dark-haired middle blocker hears his team captain and within a short amount of time, you have a glass of water in your hands and chug it thirstily. 

Oikawa chuckles from behind you, wrapping his arms around your midsection. “Slow down babe, the water isn’t going anywhere. I promise.” He kisses the junction of your neck a bit more sultrously than you would like in public and you push your shoulder up to signal your apprehension with the gesture. 

He chuckles again, his chilling breath caressing your neck and making you tense. Another kiss touches the nape of your neck as Tooru snakes his hands to your inner thighs, fully intending to pull them apart. 

“Not now, Tooru.” You keep your voice quiet, not wanting to make a scene around so many people as your hands pull him away from your thighs. 

If he heard you, you couldn’t tell but it was clear in your body language that you were not comfortable. Oikawa, either ignoring your words or not getting the message, again latched his lips to your neck, this time nibbling to mark you. “C’mon, don’t you think our friends here deserve a show.” He cooed the words to you while his fingers nimbly began to unbutton your shorts. 

“No.” You push his hands away again and this time strain to get up and walk away. His strong arms easily pull you back down against an obvious bulge that grinds against you. 

“Tooru, Stop it.” Your voice gets slightly desperate, realizing that he really isn’t letting you go, and that your pleas are falling upon deaf ears. Writhing, you free yourself of his grasp momentarily before his hand is wrapped around your wrist to pull you back. 

“Oi- Shittykawa.” Hajime’s voice breaks Oikawa’s concentration and focuses the setter’s glare on his ace. “She said ‘No.’ So fucking stop it.”

With his focus on Iwaizumi, Tooru’s grip loosens and you take the opportunity to leave the vertigo-inducing room to find one that feels more safe. 

The house feels much bigger now than it did when you first arrived, and even after leaving the living room, you swear your surroundings are spinning. When you reach the front door, you hear faint chants reminiscent of a fight in the very background of your mind. Whether or not the fight was actually happening, you had no idea. 

All you knew was that there seemed to now be two door knobs that led out onto the porch. 

You blink and focus extra hard and end up grabbing for both of them. One of your hands ghosts through the imposter knob, while the other successfully twists and opens the door to the fresh air outside. 

Hope that the outside air would alleviate your symptoms quickly washed away as the wooden panels of the porch lurched beneath your feet, causing you to fall. Despite the desperate desire you had to get away from this place, you laid your feverish body on the ground. 

The only thing you could do against the spinning world was to close your eyes and hope it would go away soon. 

[emf005]

Anxious

Anxious

Sirius Black x Evans!reader

Warnings: a bit of angst, My terrible writing

You stared out the window of the classroom, enjoying the lovely pitter-pattering of the rain on the glass that was, much to your delight, drowning out the teacher. You had woken up with a severe headache that morning and were in no mood for classes, let alone Ancient Ruins with a ghost teacher. You had in no way, shape, or form, any need for-

“Miss. Evans.” Your head turned to the teacher who was, along with the rest of the class, staring at you. “Care to translate?” He motioned to the board which the class had begun to decode.

“Sure. ‘To everyone who wishes death in some form or another, drink from a goblet which has no master’.” He stared at you with a nearly angry face.

“That is correct.” he spoke through his gritted, transparent, teeth. “Please try and pay attention from now on.”

“Of course, sir. But, as you have just seen, I have been paying perfect attention the entire time. Please continue on with this painfully exciting lesson.” He stared at you for a moment more before gritting his teeth again and continuing on with the lesson. You turned your attention back out the window, blocking out his lesson yet again.

Lily, your twin sister, caught up to you at lunch and started to ask how classes had been going in her own cherry way that made you want to hurl. You were not the typical Evans. You were not a goody goody twinkle toes like Petunia. You were not a sweet flower like Lily, you were just you. Your family referred to you as the “Biker” which was weird because you had no interest in leather or motorcycles or teasing your hair up to atrocious heights. You had no clue why no one would let you just be, ever. You were a tired anit-social introvert who got social anxiety that resulted in you being overly sarcastic and awkward. Lily, was your opposite and was completely oblivious. Well, you couldn’t take it that day. No you most certainly could not.

“Lily! Just shut up! Please! I just lived my entire day, I don’t need to recite it to you! Christ all mighty woman!” She stared at you, taken aback by your sudden outburst. She opened her mouth to say something but the only thing that came out was:

“Oh.” After a moment more she mumbled an apology and walked away glumly. You felt bad. You had never yelled at your sister before. You had never yelled at anyone before. You barely ever spoke three words unless you had to, class that day being the exception. You were just so tired of everyone being on your case.

“A bit harsh, Evans don’t you think?” You turned and stared at your tormentor. A true “Biker” in your opinion. Or, technically “Greaser”. I mean, seriously, the shine on his hair from how greasy it was was truly a feat you had no idea how he managed.

“Shove off, Black.”

“Oh,” he said dramatically. “The hurtfulness of the words! How will I ever be able to move on?” You grounded your teeth and stared at him, hating how short you were. You blew a strand of brown hair from your eyes, getting your looks from your dad and not your mom.

“I said, shove off. I’m not in the mood.”

“Oh? And what's this? She knows more words than just ‘shove off, Black’?”

Sirius Black. Your tormentor since first year. You had no idea how the stupid little rivery started between the two of you, nor did you care. You hated him with all of your being, more than you hated most people.

You raised your middle finger at him and brushed past him. He scoffed.

“Best you got, Evans?” He mocked.

“Figured your hair was disgrace enough. Don’t need me to say anything to embarrass you when you got that mop on your head!” You shouted back. That got him to shut up and you scurried to the owlery to meet with Henry, you beautiful brown horned owl.

You scratched your owl’s head and he gladly rubbed his head against your palm with an affectionate and grateful hoot. You laughed lightly and sniffled, shoving the tears off of your face. You placed your head against his and took a breath in and out, composing yourself. The anxiety bubbling back down from the day’s attention.

“Well well well. What do we have here?” You froze at his voice. Had I forgotten to mention your other tormentor. Or rather, group of tormentors? “Little Evans and her stupid little owl.” Lucius said. You heard Bellatrix cackle behind you and a few more snickers. How many were there today?

“Heard you were a bit mouthy today, love.” Bella said, walking around you. She was so close you felt her breath on her neck and it caused a chill to run down your spine.

“Please leave me alone,” you whispered. Another cackel cut through the air and you jumped. Your owl screeched as a means of trying to protect you.

“Aw, Mr. Owl wants to protect his little bitch?”

“Leave him out of this!” You yelled. Getting protective of the only good thing you had ever had.

You felt a hand grab your hair and yank you backwards. You yelled as you fell back onto Lucius Malfoy.

“What did you say to me? Are you giving us orders?” You swallowed and before you could say anything, your owl lunged at Lucius and attacked.

He dropped you as a means to protect his face but the sound he let out let you know that Henry had gotten his target. Lucius had a small scratch on his face beside his eyes that had begun to bleed.

“You stupid beast!” he yanked out his wand and before you could do anything he shouted out his curse. “Petrificus Totalus!” He shouted. Your lovely brown bird dropped mid-flight and hit the floor with a thunk.

“Henry!” You yelled and began to crawl to him, only to be dragged backwards by your hair.

“Teach you and your stupid beast to mock me.” He grumbled and threw you against the wall of the tower. You felt something wet drip down your neck.

Is it raining out?

Your ears were ringing loudly.

Who's ringing bells?

And your vision was blurred and fuzzy all over.

“Get her Lucius!” Bella shouted and you felt a sharp pain in your side. You let out a noise that didn’t sound quite human, or animal for that matter. You saw your bird, his brown feathers and beautiful wings spread out and frozen in their place.

You let out another whine as he abused your body more. Where you had no idea. It all hurt at this point that it was impossible to pinpoint a designated spot.

“Hey!” Someone shouted. The abuse stopped, but your body still throbbed mercilessly. You heard footsteps and people talking, but you couldn’t make anything out. All you could focus on was how tired you had gotten and how badly your body ached.

Why was it hiring again?

“Hey.” someone said again and you felt someone gently grab your face, causing you to whine and try to pull away, but they wouldn’t let you. They just turned your face to get a different perspective. You whined and tried to pull away again.

“Prongs!” You heard them shout, making you cry out in pain. Your head spun. “Sorry. I’m sorry. You’re going to be f-”

“Henry.”

“What?”

“H-henry. My-my owl. Get him first. Is-is he ok?”

“Your a bit more hurt than-”

“Please.” You cried. “Please he’s my-he’s my only friend. Please get him first. Please.” He was silent for a moment and more footsteps made their way up the tower stairs. “Please… you whispered.

“Ok… ok.”

The noises coming from the owlery were not ones that should be and they were just the ones that made Sirius Black pick up his pace just slightly. Remus and James were waiting for him at the bottom. A five second trip was definitely going to take a bit longer.

He rounded the corner to find a mess of white hair focused on something on the ground. A mess of curly black hair egging him on. And three more stooges from the Slytherin house snickering in the corner watching it all happen. An owl was laid out frozen on the ground but he paid no attention to that.

“Hey!” Lucius froze and gave one more swift kick before looking over his shoulder and smirking.

“Well. If it isn’t Si-Ah!” Sirius yanked him away from whoever he was kicking and threw him towards the door. His dear cousin yelled at him but he just glared at her and the rest of them.

Lucius pulled himself off the ground and brushed off his clothes.

“Let's go. He’s not worth our time.” Lucius grumbled and scurried off. The Slytherins all glared at Sirius but left.

Sirius turned to see who it was they were bullying. The figure lying on the floor, bruised and bloodied, caused him to freeze. Y/N Evans.

He rushed to her and knelt down tilting her head so that he could get a better look at her face. Even worse than what he had originally thought. The sight caused him to cringe.

“Prongs!” He shouted. She cried out, loudly, and he froze before profusely apologizing. “You’re going to be f-���

“Henry,” she said weakly, making his insides twist. How badly had they beaten her?

“H-henry. My-my owl. Get him first. Is-is he ok?”

“Your a bit more hurt than-”

“Please.” She cried. “Please he’s my-he’s my only friend. Please get him first. Please.” Sirius stayed quiet for a moment. He swallowed and just stared at her. “Please…” she whispered desperately.

“Ok… ok.” He said. James had arrived at the stairs and ran to the two of them.

“What happened?” He asked, Remus right behind him.

“Not quite sure. Come on.” He lifted up Y/N and she groaned again.

“Henry.” Sirius sighed and shook his head.

“And bring the damn bird,” he grumbled.

You woke up in the infirmary, god only knows how long later. It was dark now, so you definitely missed lunch. It would explain why your stomach was doing flips.

Your body ached all over, inside and out. You sat up, holding a groan in as you looked around the room. Well, as much of the room as you could see. The white sheets separated your section from the other patients’.

It was completely silent in the room. Well, except for someone’s breath right next to you. You looked over to see the one, the only, Sirius Orion Black sleeping in the chair right next to you. You stared at him for a moment and opened your mouth to say something (like you would have) when you heard someone clear their throat in front of you.

You looked to the opening of your section to see Madame Pomfrey standing there with her cart. She looked you up and down before looking to Sirius.

“You have a good friend there, you know.” You stared at her, slightly confused. She walked in, pulling the cart with her. “He refused to leave until you woke up. Poor thing must have fallen asleep waiting for you.” She hesitated and looked at you very seriously. “Don’t tell anyone I said that. I have a reputation to uphold, I trust you understand that Miss. Evans.”

“Why did he stay? What even happened? I-I don’t remember-”

“He came in here with his friends, Potter and Lupin, carrying you and an owl. The owl was easy to fix, he’s resting back in the owlery, you on the other hand were a bit of a challenge.”

“But I still-”

“You were severely beaten by one of your classmates, it appears. Mr. Black was kind enough to bring you in. I told him that you would be fine but he was quite insistent that he stayed until he knew you were better. I’m surprised he’s stayed as long as he has. On second thought-”

“How long was I out for?”

“Three days.” Your eyes went wide.

“Three-but I-how?”

“Much blunt force to your head. But you are healing nicely.” You looked over to Sirius who was slouching uncomfortably in the hard chair.

“Why did he stay?”

“As I said Miss. Evans, you have a good friend. Or are you-”

“No.” You answered, still staring at him. “No we aren’t.”

“Hm,” she hummed, checking you over. “Well, I would reevaluate the situation if I were the two of you.”

The wounds she was worried about were fine for the evening. She told you to get some rest and she would recheck you in the morning. When she left, though, you didn’t fall asleep. All you could do was stare at your tormentor and wonder why. Why was he still here? Why did he save you from Malfoy and his pack? Just why?

It was just breaking dawn when Sirius started to stir. You had been preparing yourself for what you were going to do when he woke. You were going through your options and finding a nice way to thank him and ask all your questions. But by no means were you prepared to speak with him so quickly!

His eyes opened and you stared at the stormy ones with a blank mind. It took him a minute to register that you were awake. He shot up from his chair.

“Y/N!” He was so loud it made your head spin. “Are you ok? How do you feel? What has Madame Pomfrey-”

“Why are you here?” you asked bluntly, cringing at the way it came out. He opened his mouth a few times before sinking back into his seat.

“I-I just wanted to make sure you were alright.” He stuttered. You couldn’t believe it. You had never heard anything but confidence in his voice, but now? Pain? Hurt? Worry? Unsureness? This was not the Sirius Black you had grown to hate.

You swallowed and shifted under his gaze. It was heavy. So heavy. Heavier than the canoe your uncle made you carry last summer to the lake.

“I’m fine.”

Why were your words so harsh? What was wrong with you?

You watched as he slunk back into himself further.

“Well then I guess-” he stood and panic took over your body. “I’ll leave.” He cleared his throat and pushed his hair back. You stared at the mop. Less greasy than it had been. There was no shine, it was instead like the night sky. Pitch black. So black nearly blue. It was actually mesmerizing. Naturally bouncy.

He had bags under his eyes and unease in his posture.

What was wrong with you?

He waited a second for you to say something but you never did. He hung and shook his head glumly before leaving the area. All you could do was watch him go. None of your questions answered and guilt was coursing through your entire body.

You were discharged a week later. Lily brought you your school work while you were in the hospital, but never really said much else. She still must not have gotten over when you had yelled at her, which you felt terrible about.

But now, freshly out of the infirmary, you were determined to set things right with her and Sirius. Although, you had been saying that for days now.

One day you tried to apologize when she had come to give you your work. It didn’t exactly go according to plan.

“Here is transfigurations, potions, herbology, and divinations. If you have any questions or need any help-”

“Lily, I’m sorry.” She paused and looked up from her folder.

“Sorry?”

“Uh yeah.”

“Sorry for what, Y/N/N?” You swallowed.

“For snapping at you, the other day. At lunch?”

“I remember. I’m not mad at you, Y/N/N.”

“You're not?”

“Not for that.” You stopped and stared at her.

“Then for what-”

“I’m upset that I had to find out that my twin sister has anxiety from someone other than herself.”

“You-”

“Know? Yes. I know, Y/N. Why didn’t you ever tell me? Did you feel like you couldn’t? I just… I don’t understand.” You stared at her for a moment, not knowing how to respond. Your heartbeat sounded in your ears and your breathing became restricted a little.

You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Lily just shook her head and sighed. Almost like she expected you to say nothing.

“Listen, Y/N, I’m your sister. Twin sister. Does that not mean anything to you? At all? You're supposed to be able to tell me everything. So, yeah, I’m a little hurt that I had to hear this from Sirius.”

“Sirius?”

“Yes.”

“Sirius Black?”

“No, Y/N. Sirius Dawson. Yes, Sirius Black! Why? Did you swear him to secrecy? I didn’t even know you two talked.”

“We… we don’t.” She looked at you, staring for a few minutes.

“Oh.” She stayed silent and looked down. “I… well… I’ll talk to you when you get out. At James’ game, maybe? On Sunday.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” She smiled and squeezed your leg. Then she got up and left.

The first stop you made, on this particularly snowy Saturday, was to the owlery. Henry came flying over to you the second you stepped foot in the tower. He hooted and rubbed his head under your own. You giggled and scratched under his chin.

“Miss me, did you buddy?” He hooted again and you walked over to the balcony to look over the snowy scene of the Hogwarts grounds. “Look what I brought you.” You unraveled the nut and seed cake you had in your pocket and held it up to him. Henry hooted happily and started to peck away at his treat. You laughed and set him on the banister alongside the cake.

The two of you sat in silence as you stared out at the scene. Henry pecked away happily and you sat there miserable. The gears in your head spinning faster and faster as you thought more about what Lily said.

You weren’t surprised Lily didn’t know that you had anxiety. You were surprised that Sirius knew. And even more surprised to hear that he had told Lily. Why? In defense of you? You didn’t understand.

Henry hooted before flying off the edge and to someone behind you. You never saw him do that to anyone but you before. To say you were a bit jealous that he left his cake unfinished to see whoever had walked in would be an understatement. But then you turned around.

He climbed the stairs up and up to the owlery. He came at the same time every day since Y/N had gotten hurt. Henry was a very dependent and protective creature. When Sirius came the first day, he was a mess. A flurry of feathers and in such a tizzy. Since he recognized him as one of the good guys from when she got attacked, he flew immediately to his shoulder. Since then, Henry greeted Sirius each time he came to visit, each time more friendlier than the last.

Today was no different. As usual, Henry flew immediately to his shoulder and nuzzled the side of his face in greeting. Sirius chuckled and rubbed his head. He started to walk to the balcony when he noticed that today was different. Someone was standing there watching him.

You were standing there watching him.

He swallowed and the two of you stared at each other awkwardly.

“Hi.” He said when he finally found his voice again. He was so relieved to see that you were alright. You didn’t like him, he knew that. He knew why, too. He just didn’t know how to change that. The sad fact in it all was that he loved you. He had always loved you and he knew he would continue to always love you.

“H-hi.” You said, he felt his heart skip a beat. Your voice was quiet and you were fidgeting with your hands. Merlin, you were perfect.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, slowly walking over to you.

“Fine, I guess.” You answered, scratching the back of your neck. You began to fidget and Sirius could tell you were about to run. He couldn't have that. He couldn't let you leave him again. He shouldn't have left the last time, he knew that and he regretted it.

You took a step and he jumped in front of you without a plan in mind. You jumped back, startled by his sudden movement. He backed down when he noticed how he reacted and caused you to receive even further.

“Uh, sorry. I just-I want to make sure you are fine. Completely fine, and all.”

“Um… Yeah. I-I’m fine.” The silence returned as Sirius waited. He didn’t want to push you to talk, but he was a bit desperate to speak with you. He had avoided you for an agonizing week. A whole week! Well, sort of. He would often sneak into the hospital wing in the dead of night when everyone, including you, were asleep. Not like a creep like he knew it sounded, he was just worried. He always was.

From day one he had noticed your anxiety, both him and Regulus suffered from it, in different ways but still suffered from it. When he noticed your closed figure and down cast eyes first year he knew immediately that you were not ok. He had tried to be nice to you, to ease you a little bit, but nothing he did worked. It all backfired on him. And I mean all I mean ALL. Everything he would say came out wrong and every gesture he did simply made you more uncomfortable. Some time around 3rd year everything turned hostile. Your anxiety had gotten worse and instead of just shrinking away you had a tongue that was sharper than a knife. For some reason, this drew him in even more. He had no idea what had caused the switch in you, but he could tell you had become worse from when you had left Hogwarts. Ever since then, he had watch you closely, occasionally teasing you since that was the only way he could get any sort of interaction with you.

“Sirius-” He looked at you with wide eyes eager to hear what you had to say, but you stopped, leaving your mouth open. He waited. “How… How did you know about my anxiety?”

He swallowed.

“And more importantly, why did you tell Lily?” He was silent and now you waited.

“Lily was… well, she was hurt by your reaction and wouldn’t stop… um…”

“Complaining?” He hesitated but nodded. You sighed.

“I… I got tired of listening to it and snapped, I guess. She didn’t have a response.”

“You stood up for me?” He nodded. “Why?”

“Uh…”

“Why would you stand up for me against my sister and the Slytherins? Why help me to the Hospital wing and insist on staying until I wake up. Why sneak in when you think I’m sleeping?”

“You know about that?”

“Do you know how impossible it is to sleep on those beds?” you smirk. He let a crooked smile lift the corner of his mouth. “But, honestly, Sirius, why?”

“I…” He cleared his throat and itched the back of his head, looking away. Was that blush you saw on his cheeks? “I just was worried about you.”

“Why? You don’t like me.” His head shot up, eyes wide with panic which startled you.

“That's not true.”

“It-its not?”

“No.”

“But all the bullying and…”

“It's the only way I could get any sort of attention from you.” You furrowed your eyebrows, itching your hand. He could see the skin about to open, so he grabbed your hand making you jump. He placed it at your side and let go. “Listen, Y/N. I like you. I understand that you probably don’t like me. But, I had no idea how to get any sort of attention from you. I never did anything out of malice, even though it sounded like it. Honestly, I’m sorry, Y/N.”

You swallowed not knowing if you should believe him or not.

“I would like it if we could be friends, Y/N. I know what you’re going through. The anxiety.. Maybe I could help you?” You bit your lip. Should you trust him? You had never trusted anyone like this before.” Please. Give me a chance to make things right.”

You nodded and he let out a breath, one he didn’t know he had been holding. He wouldn’t mess this up. He couldn’t. Not for anything in the world.

Hey guys! Hoped you liked it! Let me know in the comments. Also let me know if you want a part two!!!!

[ilooklikeaburntchickenugget]

Porcelain Doll

A/N: My first Steve story on Tumblr! And I think my first every Mafia AU for Steve ever... lets hope this goes well. Enjoy! Pairing: Mafia!Steve x F!Reader Word count: 2,909 Warnings: Mentions of weapons, swearing, angst.

(I don’t know the owner of this Gif, but it’s not mine. Just wanted to mention that.)

Being weaved within the world of mafia was a choice that you had willingly made.

When you said 'I do' you vowed to be with Steve til death do you part. Literally. Divorces were not only unheard of within the culture of bosses, it was a death wish. No secret could be leaked by an unhappy wife.

Granted, you had never dreamed of leaving Steve. The perfect man, who was stubborn at times, but you could always break past those barriers of ignorance he occasionally put up. In fact, you could bulldoze right through.

And you were the only one that could. Not Bucky, Sam, or Nat could compare to your ability to have that man breaking down every little secret he had stored in that mind of his. At the snap of your finger with him, your wish was his command.

You only had one duty to do, other than be faithful and loving to your husband: you had to oblige by mafia rules that were set for you. They weren't too overwhelming, it was a very limited amount. But it was enough so Steve could watch you like a vulture, if he wanted to.

And technically speaking, you could play his puppet whenever he pleased, and you wouldn't have the option to say no. He never enforced such power, always honoring your freedom and independence. But right now, he didn't have a choice.

"Babe, I need you to do this." He begged from behind his large wood desk, his study lit by antique lamps which cascaded their light onto polished mahogany surfaces.

"Steve, I will not be in another man's arms." You stated, fighting right back. Your arms over your chest, bottom lip easing out of it's hold with a pout.

"Sweetheart, you have to do this!" He elaborated, on the verge of defeat, his face now looking at the floor as his blue eyes scanned over his two feet, contemplating his next move.

"Do I have to though? Why not Nat, or- or someone else!" You threw your hands up in frustration. "I mean, seriously Steven, you cannot be for real right now-"

"Enough!" He rose his voice, the lion's roar booming through the room and ricocheting on the books and stained glass right into your chest. "You will be doing this. And you do not have an option." He emphasized, slamming his fist down. You flinched at the 'thump' that came as a result of the impact. He took a deep breath settling down, his gaze still facing downwards.

He took a few more breaths, moving his head up to meet your face. His eyes filled with a black void of heartlessness and atrocious intentions transitioned into a wave of calming blue, his pupils frantically searching your face as he realized he had scared you beyond your wildest thoughts. "Baby I-" He began but you stopped him soon after.

"I- I will do it." You choked out, your voice barely above a whisper, eyes filling with warm tears that began to fall gracefully down your cheeks, smudging your perfectly done makeup. You took a deep breath yourself, sniffling just a bit, before turning around and walking out of the study, arms now crossed tighter across your chest, and your feet setting off small pitter patters as you hurried yourself across of the rustic hardwood flooring.

Closing the grand doors behind you, Steve let out a sigh and a huff, turning around "Damn it!" He yelled, taking his large fist to the wall. He never intended to hurt you in any capacity, just like he never intended to punch that now crumbling hole in the plaster wall behind his desk, but mistakes happen. Only this was a grave mistake on his part.

You were rushing to your shared bedroom, quiet sobs leaving your mouth. Covering your face as best you could to try and prevent anyone from knowing, your ran up the glass stairs and to the second floor. "Y/N/N?" You heard Bucky's voice coo. You chose to ignore him and moved even faster than before to your room, where you locked the door. Crashing on the Egyptian cotton sheets, which swallowed you in great warmth and comfort, you sobbed into one of your sleeves, choosing not to subject your pillow to such a burden.

"What the fuck did you do?" Bucky marched into Steve's office, uninvited but not giving a thought to it. Looking behind where his boss and best friend sat, head in his hand, was the very hole in the wall Steve had just caused. “You idiot!” He scoffed, walking over and leaning over his desk. “Why was Y/N just running down the hall sobbing?” Steve took a heavy sigh, not looking up.

“I fucked up, big time.” Steve explained. Bucky rolled his eyes.

“So you told her?” He asked and Steve nodded. “How did you do it?” “How do you think, Buck?” Steve fired back.

“Judging by your crying wife and the whole in the wall, you fought.” “Yes, I fought.” He clarified, “I yelled at her. She fought back saying she didn’t wanna do it, I lost my patience.” “You stupid Punk.” Bucky laughed a bit, Steve looking up with a confused look, “You thought she would react any differently?”

“Well, maybe more cooperatively-” Steve began, but was interrupted.

“You’re asking your wife to go and flirt with your rival in a sleazy little dress that’s basically lingerie with a few pieces of fabric connecting it.” He sighed, “You’re asking the woman who loves you, who would literally die for you to go out with another man, and you expect her to be on board? If she reacted positively I would be more concerned.” “Well I didn’t think she would react positively, per se.” Steve rebutted, “Maybe just a little more willingly.” “You still don’t know a damn thing about women.” Bucky sighed, “You have the most loyal, loving, beautiful wife probably sobbing in bed right now because you scared the shit out of her. And you’re gonna sit here and just act like a fool?” He asked, “Why don’t you go apologize? That would be a good place to start.” “I probably should.” Steve leaned back in his chair, getting up and marching out.

He powered through your spacious and modern penthouse, making haste knowing the time was ticking. Approaching your bedroom door he took a deep breath, standing outside and giving it a soft knock. “Baby?” He cooed outside, leaning into the door to hear you soft sobs, “Doll?” He twisted the knob on the door, noticing it was locked. He sighed with annoyance. “Baby, c’mon now let me in.” “No.” You responded, holding your pillow in your lap like a child.

“Baby doll,” He softly said, “C’mon now, I just wanna apologize.”

“I said no.” You repeated again, this time more aggravation in your voice. He took a sigh.

“If you don’t willingly open this door up, I’ll open it up for you.” He warned. You huffed, still firm on your decision. “Fine.” He murmured, running back downstairs and into one of the side rooms, where he went in one of the drawers, picking up a key. Running right back, and up stairs, he placed the small metal object in the key hole, turning it and letting himself in.

You groaned, sitting back on the back of the bed, rolling your eyes. “Fuck you.” You spat out at him. He scoffed.

“C’mon babe, we both know you don’t mean that.” “Please,” You scoffed right back, “If I didn’t mean it then why did I say it?”

“Baby doll,” He sighed, smirking at you, “I love you. And I came here to apologize.” You pouted at him, keeping a straight face.

“Do you mean it?” You questioned, raising one of your eyebrows, looking at him. He nodded. “How do I know?” Your husband walked over to you, laying in bed on his side. You scooted further over to yours, trying to expand the space between you two.

“Baby,” He said softly, his words sounding like music to your ears, but you refused to look at him, “Sweetheart.” He said again, you still refused to move. He took your chin, softly in his large, warm hand. Moving your head to face his, he bent down and kissed you softly. Fireworks of tenderness exploded in your chest, as you hummed out of instinct. He smile lightly into the kiss.

“Because I love you, more than anything in this world.”

“Fine.” You reluctantly sighed, “I forgive you.” You stated, swallowing roughly. “I’m sorry I fought back, I should have gone with the plan.” “No, I understand why you did.” He nodded, “I shouldn’t have lashed out at you and let you see that side of me. You don’t deserve anything near that.” You nodded, leaning your head onto his shoulder. He tenderly kissed the top of your head, taking your smaller hand in his.

“How do you feel?” Bucky asked with a heavy sigh of disapproval as you looked in the mirror at this tiny black fabric that was a disgrace of a dress.

“Exposed, slutty, sleazy, whore-ish, should I continue?” You turned back to he and Steve, your husband clearly enjoying the view, taking his bottom lip in his mouth, “Hey!” You snapped at him, to which he escaped his trance, “Eyes on mine, not my ass.”

“C’mon now.” Bucky got up, sighing again in frustration. “We gotta go.”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms and walking out feeling beyond embarrassed for this apparel. A lot of mafia wives wore similar outfits to the one you had on, borderline stripper. You preferred classy and elegant, this was far from your cup of tea.

Getting out of the solid black car, you took a final deep breath, stepping out to begin playing your loose persona. Black pumps pattered on the ground as your walked into the mansion, your red lipstick curling up into a nice smile as you began greeting people.

The women were green with envy, their eyes filled with both red flames of jealousy and blue waves of fear. The men acted like dogs and pigs, looking you up and down like the cheap piece of meat you were acting out. You hated it, you truly did. Everything about the ordeal was already wrenching enough.

You were greeted by one of the server’s and a glass of much needed champagne. You wanted to down it, let the pain simmer away, but you slowly sipped as a proper lady would. Ironic with the outfit.

Looking around at the large ball room of people chatting, you finally found your target. His ridiculously untamed black hair, barely shaved face lined with wrinkles and harsh eyes were enough to let you know that was Brock Rumlow.

You walked over to him, a small smile on your face despite the pure growl underneath it. Making sure to jut your hips out a bit more, you immediately caught his attention.

“Well, well, well,” His voice echoed to you, as you kindly smiled now across from him, his suit not fitted well you noticed. “If it isn’t Mrs. Rogers.” “Please, Mr. Rumlow.” You played your character, “No formalities needed, Y/N, is just fine.”

“Hm,” He hummed with brief thought, “I thought the Rogers’ clan always took great pride in the name.” “Well,” You sighed, taking a sip of your drink, “Some things change.” “Oh?” He asked, “Like what?”

“Loyalty, trust, one’s pleasure.” You smirked, he clearly caught on. Fast.

“Pleasure, you say?” He inquired.

“You heard me right.” You sighed.

“So why’d you come to me?” He asked again, trying to act dumbfounded.

“You know why, Mr. Rumlow.” You stated. He hummed and nodded once.

“Follow me.”

He guided you through the winding whirlwinds of people, up one of the various grand staircases. Down the darkly lit hallway and into one of the bedrooms.

You didn’t want to jinx yourself, but so far this was too easy. Granted, it was Brock Rumlow. He was a loose cannon, the opposite of Steve. Steve ran a tight ship, the organization was established with concrete and stone foundations. Rumlow was some sticks put together. He left paper trails and greasy fingerprint all over his business, leaving Steve a laundry list of reasons to get rid of his rival.

His hands grabbed your hips, and as much as you wanted to pull away, you had to let him have you, if even for the next minute. You pretended to be okay, but no enjoyment was very much visible. He didn’t seem to notice. His hands reached down along your curves, moving and grabbing your ass. You could feel his breath reach your face, his lips inches away from yours.

It all happened so fast. One moment you were about to engage in a kiss with a man you despised, the next you were held at gunpoint in a headlock by the very same man. You opened you eyes calmly, looking around to see a dozen of Steve’s men from all angles, guns pointed at Rumlow’s head. The cool point of the weapon was on the side of your head, your hands tightly at your sides. “Let her go, Rumlow.” Steve walked in, staring at him. “If you wanna make it out alive, let her go.”

He harshly laughed, “Oh please,” He stated, “It’s not like I’d want to make it out alive by your dirty hands anyways.” “I’m pretty sure I’m not the one stealing other peoples property.” He barked, “So stop touching mine.” You remained calm, keeping your breath steady just like Steve had always told you to do.

The room fell silent. You could feel Rumlow’s fingers move on the gun ever so slightly, prompting you to know he was cocking it. With one easy move, you took your left elbow, smashing it into his chin behind you. He fell back with a groan, gun being thrown which you managed to catch with ease, like Nat had taught you. Cocking it yourself, you pointed it at the man now on the ground.

Looking back, Steve stood in partial awe and confusion at the site. You with the very gun you were threatened with now pointed at your attacker. “Take ‘em.” Steve stated, as numerous men went and grabbed him up, tying him with duct tape as he wailed for help. You walked over to Steve as he walked over to you, his fingertips tracing your jawline, “Are you alright?” He asked, face turning to concern. You nodded.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” He grabbed your waist, giving you a deep kiss, using one of his hands to run it through your once perfectly done hair.

“Where did you learn that?” He muttered, you lightly laughed.

“Nat.” You smirked into his ear.

“Doll you could’ve hurt yourself-” “Steve.” You insisted, placing one of your hands on his chest, “I’m not a porcelain doll. I married into mafia, I can’t be.” He sighed, looking away only for a brief moment of thought before turning back to you.

“I know you’re not.” He muttered, “I’m just worried.” You nodded.

“I know.” You caressed his cheek with your hand, “You always are.” You both lightly laughed, smiling at each other and lost in each other’s passion for one another despite little to no conversation taking place.

“Uh, hey boss.” Sam walked in somewhat awkwardly, knocking on the door. Steve turned around, hands still placed on your hips as your attention was now on Sam as well, “We might wanna go, like, now, so no one suspects anything.” “Yeah, right.” Steve dropped his hands from you, grabbing one of yours to lead you out one of the secret back doors and into one of the cars. You squeezed in next to Steve, him placing a hand on your thigh lovingly.

“So, when do I get a raise?” You gazed out the window at the various cars passing by.

“Your raise?” Steve scoffed, “What raise?” You sighed heavily.

“I did most of that job for you.” You rolled your eyes. “Got the target, took his weapon, got him on the ground.”

“Doll, it wasn’t that easy-” “It seemed that easy.” He sarcastically laughed.

“You’re insatiable sometimes.” He rolled his eyes.

“Using big words now, are we?” You turned to him, “I could use a bigger pay too.” “Fine.” He gave in, “What do you want.”

“A long weekend, just you and me, no work, in Napa Valley.” He gave you a confused look, “You heard me.” “Doll that’s a little much don’t you think-” “Four days.” “Sweetheart-” “Five.” “Honey I can’t-” “Six.”

“There’s not even that many wineries, I-” “One week.” “Fine!” He huffed, “One fucking week in Napa, no work no nothing. Excluding emergencies, where I will make it up to you somehow. Good enough?”

“Nat and Bucky need to be there too.” You retorted, “Staying at a different house, keep in mind.” “Babe, where will they stay?” “Steven, you have three houses out there, figure it out.” You scoffed.

“Fine. But that’s it.” He began, “This is your reward for your hard work.”

“Hard work? I would describe it more as flawless.” He eyed you, shooting a glare. “I love you.” You kindly smiled, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Now when we get home you’re gonna plan that trip, right?” “What do you mean I-” “Well, it’s not like it’ll plan itself.”

[rhysismydaddy]

Casual Ruin Pt. 1 (Elriel)

Elain’s part of the Damnation Series

Hello, and welcome to an unapologetically kinky, 90% smut / 10% plot mafia fic for Elriel. 

Blanket trigger warning for ALL parts (although the first is very vanilla and sweet): this is for adults and contains both sex and violence. If you are not a fan of those two things, or the mild combination of them, scroll along. It contains things that might be triggering. It’s a dark romance.

______________________________________________________

“Wake up, dolce mia.”

The words are a soft, accented whisper pressed against my ear during the darkest part of the night, followed by sinful lips pressing a kiss to my skin that jerks me out of my sleep.

Despite the rush of heat that floods my system, I keep my eyes closed and groan, pushing his face away. My body’s exhausted, and despite wanting nothing more than to wake up and let him make me even more tired, I need sleep. 

A rough chuckle escapes him, but he’s apparently inhuman, doesn’t need sleep, and isn’t giving up this easily. 

Dodging my weak attempts to push him away, he drags his mouth down the column of my throat, stopping to suck and nibble on parts that are especially interesting.

A soft sigh escapes my lips as he finds the junction between my shoulder and throat, but I still keep my eyes closed.

The cold metal of his chain raises goosebumps as it glints down the valley between my breasts, and his mouth follows, almost like he’s unable to help it. 

He’s all over me, scent surrounding me and making it impossible to truly fall back asleep, no matter how tired I am. 

He’s put my body through every possible sexual position known to man tonight, somehow pulling every ounce of pleasure from me.

But, like always, I want more.

He’s a drug, more potent than anything on the market, and I’ve come to crave the feel of him against me in the three weeks I’ve known him.

“Wake up, bellisima,” he murmurs, rough voice like a song that ignites a fire in my blood. 

I shake my head, and he smiles against me. I regret not opening my eyes a little, because while nothing about him is unattractive, his smile is something I could never get enough of and I hate missing it.

Calloused, scared hands ghost down my body almost reverently, and then he’s kissing a trail across my ribs, over my stomach, and up to my breasts. 

His tongue swirls around the peak of one, hand coming to mold the other to his touch, and I use every ounce of willpower to say still. 

I’m proud to say I make it a full two minutes before I can’t take anymore and give in. “Fine. I’m awake.”

I say it as if it’s a struggle to be awoken by him and not the best part of my day.

My eyes open to find his, the warm hazel taking my breath away like always. 

He gives me a slow smile, coming down to press a kiss to my lips. He tugs on the lower one with his teeth, then smooths the small hurt with his tongue. 

I can’t help the small whimper that slips out as his tongue meets mine, because I’m honestly powerless to the way he kisses me. 

Slow and deep and perfectly controlled, but also possessive and a little desperate. He’s a selfish kisser; he kisses me exactly how he wants, turning my head just right, nipping my lips when he wants, only breaking when I’m breathless. 

A  palm goes to my thigh, guiding it around his trim hips, then he’s grinding against me, letting me feel him against me, hard and ready and so tempting my eyes cross. 

I resist the urge to arch up into him long enough to tease, “Egoisto bastardo.” Selfish bastard.

“Egoista,” he corrects, smirking. 

I roll my eyes, caring less about adjectives and more about the feel of his hands on my hips. I roll my hips slightly, watching as the hazel of his eyes darkens to black. 

“Was there a reason you woke me up?” I ask innocently, reaching between us and palming him in a blatant attempt to drive him half as crazy as he does me. 

He nods and pushes into my palm. My hand instinctively wraps around him, and I guide him to the apex of my thighs, running the head of him against me in a way that makes us both shudder. 

He pushes my head to the side with his chin, then runs his mouth up the column of my throat, stubble making goose bumps rise in his wake. His teeth nip at my skin before he whispers roughly, “I want to fuck you, Elain. I want to feel you around me, hear you call out my name, watch as you come on my cock. So stop teasing me and let me make give us both what we want.”

I don’t respond with words, being completely unable to find them. I just tilt my hips and slip him inside me, watching as the brown in his eyes fades to black. 

Jaw tight, he pushes into me fully, causing me to arch up into him. My legs go around his waist, and he hums in satisfaction.

He pulls out the tiniest amount, then thrusts back in harder, pulling a moan from my throat. “You feel so good,” he praises, teeth finding my earlobe and biting down softly. I moan his name, my body on fire for him, and he murmurs, “I love the way you say my name.”

He pulls out all the way, then slams back inside me so hard I feel the reverberations in my hip bones. “But I want to hear you scream it.”

My head rolls back against the mattress, and I can hardly breathe around the feel of him inside me, filling me so perfectly. Somehow I’m still not used to it, not used to how it somehow feels so right.

My breasts bounce as he works me, sensitive nipples brushing against his chest with every thrust. His head raises and his eyes drop, watching. 

“Minchia,” he curses, reaching up to palm my one roughly. “Cosi bella.”

If he keeps talking in that husky, deep voice, I won’t last another two minutes. I’m already shaking, but I push the impending release away, desperate to make this last as long as possible.

He moves faster, hands sliding down to my backside to lift me up exactly how he wants. His pelvic bone brushes against my clit every time our hips collide, and it’s almost too much. A low moan escapes me as he kisses my neck, sucking the skin hard enough to leave a mark.

His hands tighten on my ass, and then his palm is connecting with my skin with just the right amount of pressure. I cry out, arms wrapping around his shoulders as I bury my face in his neck. 

“You liked that, didn’t you?” he growls, even though it’s obvious I did.

I nod, mouth too preoccupied with kissing his jaw to reply. 

Like always, he gives me exactly what I want, using the other hand this time to spank me. The sharp sting pushes me over the edge, and I yell his name yet again as I come.

He doesn’t come with me, just releases my ass to wrap one arm around my shoulders to keep me in place as he takes his own pleasure. His hips are harsh against mine, and I know I’ll be sore tomorrow, but I take everything he gives me and want even more.

My nails rake down his back, and he mutters a curse against my lips as he kisses me. His tongue meets mine, and I can’t stop myself from sucking on it, completely lost in him. 

“Fuck, Elain,” he growls, bracing a hand on the headboard I hadn’t realized was so close. His fingers are tight on my shoulder, lips brutal against mine, thrusts so hard I’m practically screaming.

But it isn’t any of that that makes release find me again. 

It’s him groaning, “Ti senti cosi bene,” then leaning down to press the rough translation to my ear. 

I come apart entirely, and it’s a miracle his lips stifle the helpless noises I make, otherwise I’d wake up my cranky old neighbor. Again.

I tremble beneath him as his movements get a little sloppy, then still entirely. 

He kisses my again as he comes, and it’s a rough, almost bruising sort of kiss that makes me want to do it all over again. 

He eventually slows to a stop, looking down at me with enough heat in his eyes I melt. 

“Fatto per me,” he whispers, running a knuckle over the curve of my cheek. 

My sluggish brain works overtime to figure out what he said, eventually finding the translation. 

Made for me. 

~Three weeks ago~

The opera house is unsurprisingly packed, opening night drawing in over two hundred well-dressed patrons. 

I had to pull together three months rent for the ticket alone, a ridiculous expense I’d normally never allow myself, but coming here has been on my bucket list for over nine years, ever since I first heard Cecilia Bartoli on a friend’s radio. 

I pinched pennies, picked up extra shifts, and only ate Ramen for the month leading up to my trip here--a real crime, considering my profession--so I could come. 

And even though I broke out in a cold sweat from the expense of this night, I have to say it’s already worth it. I have a huge smile on my face as I make my way through the lobby, stopping to look at the program and take in the portraits of the performers. 

By the time I go to enter the auditorium, there are only a few people left in the lobby. I want to use the restroom before the show starts, so I hurry up the stairs to the upper floor to look for it.

Except it’s nowhere to be found.

I search down every hallway, the stress of missing the show forcing me to almost jog. A man in a red jacket steps into the hall right when I’m starting to despair, and he turns to me and raises a brow.

“Excuse me... where’s the restroom?” I ask in the most atrociously broken Italian he’s probably ever heard.

His eyes skate over me from head to toe, then he says something back, way too quickly for me to decipher. 

I assume he’s asking if I have a ticket, so I hold up the crumpled paper I’ve been guarding for months and smile. 

He gives me a strange look, extending an arm and gesturing for me to follow. I nod, and we start off down the corridor, stopping in front of a plain white door. 

“This is the restroom?” I ask, not understanding why it isn’t labeled or anything. 

He mumbles something I can’t hear, seems to hurry me on, then opens the door and practically shoves me inside. 

And straight into a man’s chest.

Which makes this the strangest women’s room I’ve ever ventured into. 

He steadies me with two hands on my shoulders, and somehow I know, before I even look, that this man will be devastatingly handsome.

Too curious not to, I look up. And up, and up some more.

And I realize I was both right and wrong, because the man before me is devastatingly handsome, but he’s also so much more, to the point where those words aren’t enough to describe him.

He’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.

It’s a classic sort of look, one that will never go out of style and never be considered anything but perfect.

Hazel eyes rimmed in dark black eyelashes meet mine, narrowed at the edges with amusement. His full, all too kissable lips are turned up in a smirk and surrounded by a day’s worth of stubble I know would scratch at the fingers I’m tempted to run over it. 

He’s so tall my neck starts to cramp, but I’m a deer in the headlights, unable to so much as blink. 

He’s monochromatically dressed in black, from his suit jacket, shirt, slacks, and polished shoes. We’re still pressed against each other, and the differences between us couldn’t be more obvious. 

He’s sin incarnate, the perfect picture of a fallen angel, and I’m the naiive girl dressed in lilac and unable to stop blushing. 

His dark hair slips over his forehead as he leans his face further to mine, and for a strange second, I think he’s going to kiss me, but then he takes a step back and regards me with assessing eyes.

“Stai bene?”

The sound of his voice--a cool, deep balm that soothes my nerves--throws me for a second, but even my American self can understand that simple question. I nod.

His lips twitch. “Sei sicuro?” Are you sure?

I nod again. 

“Tu parli?” Do you speak?

My eyes narrow a little at the teasing note in his voice. “Si.”

“Cosa stai facendo qui?” 

My knowledge of Italian is limited to the Duolingo I’ve been cramming in the last couple of months, so I tell him I don’t understand. 

He waves a hand around us, his eyes growing a shade darker as he prowls toward me. He says something in a low voice, the tenor in his voice giving me goosebumps. 

“It was an accident! I was looking for the restroom,” I blurt when he takes another step toward me.

He stops. Understanding dawns. A smile breaks lose that threatens my sanity with its beauty.

“You’re American,” he says in surprisingly perfect English.

It isn’t a question, but I answer anyway. “I am.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m at the opera,” I state stupidly. 

His lips tip upward, and I mentally slap myself for the dumb response. “You are. But what are you doing here?”

Oh. For the first time since I was shoved in here, I take a look around. I’m in one of the dark boxes on the upper floor of the opera house, the ones usually reserved for royalty or billionaires or people willing to spend an entire paycheck. There are two seats, a table in between them, and a perfect view of the stage from the slight balcony. 

I gasp when I realize the lights are dim, meaning the show has either started or is about to. “Have I missed anything?”

“No. Now answer the question.”

God, he’s relentless. I sigh and explain, “I was looking for the bathroom, and a very unhelpful attendant pushed me in here instead.”

He tilts his head, eyes narrowed. Like he’s trying to tell if I’m being serious or something. Honestly, who would lie about going to the bathroom?

“Listen, Mr...” I realize I don’t know his name, so I just keep talking. “I don’t know why you think I’d lie and sneak in here, but I’m not, and I didn’t. And I don’t want to miss anything, so I’ll just head down to my regular seat and get out of your hair.”

With one last look at him, I make my way to the door. Only to be stopped by a large hand shooting out and a softly murmured, “Stay.”

I start to deny that knee-weakening request, start to tell him it would be crazy to sit here alone with a stranger. But then a woman steps onto the stage, and everything changes.

“Oh my God, it’s her,” I whisper, practically shoving him out of the way as I hurry over to the balcony. 

Cecilia Bartoli’s on the stage, wearing an elaborate gown, dripping with diamonds and confidence, effortlessly belting out lyrics I’m too dazed to even try to understand.

For a moment, I’m so lost in the music I don’t notice when a warm hand lands on my elbow and guides me to the chair behind me. I sink down, eyes still trained on the stage.

I’ve listened to her on my phone or the radio for so long that it’s surreal to hear her live. 

I’m breathless by the time the song ends, and it’s when I hear a deep breath I remember I’m not alone. “Sorry. I... I’m a big fan of hers.”

He presses a button on the table I hadn’t noticed and an usher immediately brings in a fresh glass of champagne and a tumblr full of amber liquid. “No apology is necessary. I’ve never met an American fond of Italian opera; it’s refreshing to meet someone with good taste. I’m surprised you don’t speak Italian, though, given your passion.”

“You don’t have to understand what someone’s saying to understand what they’re feeling,” I point out.

He grins like I’ve said the right answer to a difficult question. “True.”

The next song starts, a backup singer effortlessly building he crowd’s energy, and my gaze is torn between the man beside me and the stage. I want to stare at him and listen to him speak in that strangely sexy voice, but I’ve also been looking forward to this show for almost a year.

“I’d like to propose a deal,” he says, surprising me.

My eyebrows quirk at the practiced way he said that, and I debate if this is a good idea. Curiosity wins in the end. “A deal?”

“I leave you alone and stop interrupting your experience, and you agree to have a drink with me after the show’s over.”

I purse my lips to give the appearance of being deep in thought. “I could always just leave and sit in my own seat.”

He nods. “You could. But you won’t.”

“Awfully confident, aren’t you?” He should be.

He smiles, hazel eyes on mine as he takes a slow sip of his drink. For some reason, my stomach ties itself in knots and my thighs press together at the look in his eyes. He smirks like he knows what happened, and says, “You don’t want to leave. In the five minutes you’ve been here, you haven’t stopped blushing. And let’s not forget the spell of speechlessness.”

I blush again, making him chuckle. 

Then I murmur, “Fine. Deal.”

He takes my hand in his, shaking once and sealing it in metaphorical stone.

“Enjoy the show.”

Cecilia starts singing again before I can respond, and I become lost once again to the vibrato of her voice.

I don’t like all opera, and I don’t like all opera singers, but there’s something about her that makes you feel every single thing she’s thinking about while singing. It’s the rawest form of art I’ve ever experienced, and it’s impossible to look away while she tells her story.

That doesn’t mean I’m not overly aware of the man next to me.

His eyes are on me the entire time mine are on the stage, acting like I’m more interesting to watch than the show he undoubtedly paid thousands of dollars to see. His gaze burns a hole into the side of my face, but I can’t be bothered to care because I just can’t believe I’m here. 

The last song before intermission concludes, leaving the audience in suspense of what happens next, and I find I’m almost breathless as I watch the curtain sweep closed dramatically. 

A condition that does the opposite of improve when the man beside me says softly, “You’re beautiful, you know.”

“You’re charming,” I say back, my skin warming like it always does with compliments. 

He grins like that’s amusing.

“What’s your name?” he asks, facing me and crossing his long legs. I do the same, leaving less than an inch between our knees.

“Elain.”

“Elain,” he repeats, drawing the syllables out in a way that makes me bite into my lower lip. 

“What’s yours?”

He tilts his head, almost in preparation, as he answers, “My name is Azriel Pacino.”

He says it with finality, like he’s a person of importance and is used to being treated accordingly. I mean, it makes sense, considering the private booth we’re sitting in and the instantaneous service the waiter brought our drinks with.

I realize something I’d pushed to the back of my mind. “Why did the man from before bring me in here? He seemed like he was nervous or late or something.”

“He was,” he chuckles. “He was supposed to bring me my companion for the evening, and he was late.”

My jaw snaps shut. “Oh. So... you’re still waiting for her, then?”

At this point, she was very rudely late, but that’s absolutely none of my business.

He tilts his head and smiles, the sight too much for me and causing me to take a long swallow of champagne. “Are you asking if I’m single, Elain?”

My mouth opens and closes a few times to his amusement, but I end up whispering, “Yes.”

“I wouldn’t be sitting here with you if I wasn’t.”

I feel a strange sense of relief, but I don’t have time to read into it before the curtains sweep back open and the lights dim, meaning the show’s about to start.

More singers are with Cecilia now, their voices joining to create a sound so moving, I have to bite my lip to hold back the tears. Which grows harder as the scenes progress, and it becomes obvious this story will end in a tragedy. 

By the end, I’m helpless. My eyes are watering, and I have a death grip on the arm of the seat I’ve all but forgotten I’m sitting in. The last song is the one that breaks the dam, and when the performers bow and the lights come back on, my cheeks are damp.

I wipe them with the backs of my hands, then stand and clap so hard my palms hurt.

Taking another large sip of champagne to calm myself, I turn back to Azriel, finding him watching me once again. I normally would feel a little guilty about completely ignoring a man for over an hour, but hey, we have a deal.

“Was it everything you thought it’d be?”

“So much more,” I answer, laughing incredulously. “I’ve wanted to see her perform for years.”

A thoughtful look crosses his face, then he stands with fluid grace I could never hope to have and extends a hand. “Come with me.”

I remember our deal. “To get a drink?”

He shakes his head but offers no other explanation, and even though it might be a bad idea, I accept it.

Azriel pulls me from the booth and leads me down the hallway I ran through earlier, and I notice the people on this floor give him a wide birth, looking at him with round eyes. 

Maybe he’s famous here or something.

I shrug it off, deciding to live in the moment as his arm goes around me and his palm lands on my waist. 

We come to a stop at an elevator I hadn’t noticed, and once inside, he presses B instead of the button for the lobby. 

I’m confused as to why until the door opens and I see a flurry of people bustling back and forth, carrying props and costumes and other important stuff. 

My eyes shoot to Azriel’s, but he stays silent, just guiding me from the lift and down a narrow hallway. 

He knocks twice on a door, then opens it and tugs me inside.

When I glance around him to see what the surprise is, I almost hit the floor.

Cecilia Bartoli sits on a plush sofa, holding a martini and looking so beautiful and classy I almost start crying all over again. 

She looks up at us and raises an eyebrow, and I’m about to... I don’t know, apologize for barging in unannounced or something, when Azriel speaks.

It’s in Italian, so I can’t be sure what he’s saying, but then he tilts his head towards me and says simply, “Elain.”

She gets to her feet and comes toward us, bypassing him to grab my shoulders and kiss my cheeks. “Buona sera, Elain.”

I take a shaky breath, half convinced I passed out and this is all some elaborate dream. “Buona sera.”

“Did you enjoy the show?” she asks in heavily accented English, smiling at me kindly. 

“Oh, my goodness, yes. It was the most moving thing I’ve ever seen. I’m a huge fan of yours. I bought my ticket and have looked forward to this for months, and it was perfect,” I babble, not able to shut up in her presence.

“Gazie.” Her eyes shoot to the man beside me, and she asks kindly, “Would you like an autograph, dear?”

My mouth drops open, because I have to be dreaming. “I don’t want to trouble you.”

She waves a hand, grabs a program from tonight off the dressing table nearest us, and signs, “Elain, It was lovely to meet you. Cecilia.” 

Then she hands it to me, not possibly knowing how much it means, and says, “Come back anytime.”

I nod overzealously, too stunned by the events that have gone down in the last ten minutes to say anything witty besides, “Thank you so much. It was so wonderful to meet you.”

She kisses my cheeks again, nods to Azriel, then moves back toward the couch. He says something else that has her rolling her eyes, but he pulls me from the room before I can try and decipher it. 

As soon as it shuts behind us, I turn and smack his shoulder. 

He looks adorably confused, but I’m on an adrenaline high and don’t stop to appreciate the expression.

“I cannot believe you didn’t tell me you know her! Or that that’s where you were taking me! I could’ve... I don’t know, fixed my hair or something!”

Smiling, he smooths a hand over the slightly curled locks resting on my shoulder and shakes his head. “She’s an old friend of mine. It’s why I came. And you look perfect.”

I ignore the tingly sensation that statement gives me. “You’re friends with Cecilia Bartoli.” 

I say it as a statement, but it still sounds ridiculous. 

He shrugs. Shrugs. 

I shake my head in bewilderment, not knowing what else to do, and he chuckles. “Come with me”

I do.

He leads me upstairs and outside, then down the Sicilian streets until we find a beautiful, quiet bar close to where I’m staying. It’s candlelit and romantic and this entire night sounds like a fairytale. 

We take one of the many abandoned booths and order, then he leans back, drapes a long arm over the back of the booth, and looks at me like he’s content to do just that all night long. 

“Why are you in Sicily?” he finally asks as our drinks are being set in front of us.

I take a sip of wine and respond, “I start at the Culinary Institute on Monday.”

Two days from now, and I could hardly freaking wait.

“You must be a talented chef, then. That’s one of the most prestigious schools in the world.”

“I guess. What about you?” I ask, desperate to talk about him instead of me. “What do you do for a living?”

He pauses, takes a drink. “I’m in security.”

That would explain the fact he could blend in at a boxing match or a board meeting. 

“How is your English so good, by the way?”

Another pause, this one longer than the one before. “I lived in Chicago for a while.” I’m about to ask why he moved, or maybe why his expression got darker when I asked him that when he beats me to it. “How long does the program last?”

It’s my turn to pause and stall with a sip. “Just the summer.”

He nods, taking that in stride, even though it feels much more dramatic to me. Of course I’d meet someone handsome and kind and interesting when I’m only in town for three months, two weeks, and six days. 

Suddenly, I’m worried he won’t want to continue this date, knowing it’s all but pointless, considering I’m not here permanently.

“Stop thinking what you’re thinking, Elain.”

I look back up to find him studying me, hazel eyes serious. “You don’t know what I’m thinking.”

He reaches over and taps my bottom lip. “I know you’re frowning. And you’re beautiful when you frown, caro, but I much prefer your smile. So stop worrying about it and just enjoy the moment.”

“Okay,” I agree, vowing to do exactly that.

“Okay,” he parrots, taking another sip of his drink and tilting his head. “Why Cecilia Bartoli?”

I take a deep breath and try to think about how to phrase this. “My mom died when I was younger, and I lost my dad when I was fifteen. It hit me hard, and I couldn’t find the will to live, much less smile. And then one day, I was sitting outside the restaurant I was waitressing at, and our chef played a song by her.”

“And it was just... one of those life changing moments I’ll never forget. Her music got me through the hardest part of my life, and I’ve grown to appreciate it even more over the years.”

He smiles sadly. “Thank you for telling me that.”

I shrug, once again a little uncomfortable. “You’re easy to talk to.”

“So are you. I want to get to know you.”

We spend the next to hours talking.

We talk until the place is empty and I’m sure the owner is ruing the day we were born, but I can’t bring myself to stop. His dry commentary makes me laugh, his occasional smile makes my knees weak, and the way he looks at me like I’m the only woman in the world makes my heart pound.

The music is still playing, even though the bartender is nowhere to be found, and since I’ve had pretty much the best night of my life and am just tipsy enough to be bold, I stand and offer my hand. 

“Dance with me, please.”

His lips twitch, even as he says, “I don’t dance.”

I frown, and his eyes narrow. “Well, if you want me smiling and happy, I suggest you change your policy.”

He snorts but gives in, sliding from the booth and taking me in his arms gently. One of his palms is cradling mine, the other is on the dip of my spine, and for a moment, we simply sway to the crackly sounds coming from the old stereo.

We dance through the tables, and he turns out to be much better than I expected, twirling me and leading me effortlessly. Or maybe that’s just him. 

He’s obviously a born leader, someone who’s always in control, and it’s refreshing to be with someone confident but not overbearing. 

My head rests against his chest, and the steady beat of his heart soothes an ache in my soul I never realized I had. “You smell good,” I tell him, very matter-of-factly.

It’s a weird thing to say, but I kind of can’t help it. 

He smells like smoke and spices, the combination so addictive it’s all I can think about as we move together. 

The hand on my back moves to the back of my head, and it quickly shifts from dancing to being held in his arms. We’re still swaying, but it’s more of a hug, both of us simply enjoying the feeling of the other against us. 

His hand glides through my hair, and it feels so good I close my eyes. 

I try telling myself I’ve known him a handful of hours, but it’s no good. He’s somehow transitioned from a stranger to someone I’ve known for years, someone I’m comfortable around. 

So when he pulls back and mumbles, “I want to kiss you,” against my ear, I let him.

And when he walks me to the townhouse I’m renting, kisses me slowly, and gives me a business card with his number on it, I promise to call. 

____________________________

Part 2

@perseusannabeth @cursebreaker29 @a-bit-of-a-cactus @elriel4life @girl-who-reads-the-books @shinya-hiiragi @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @highqueenofelfhame @ireallyshouldsleeprn @rowaelinismyotp @nahthanks @ghostlyrose2 @lovemollywho @inardour @tillyrubes10 @claralady @tswaney17 @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @thegoddessofyou @awesomelena555 @booksofthemoon @greerlunna @jlinez @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @maastrash @aesthetics-11 @bamchickawowow @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace @elorcan-trash @emikadreams @swankii-art-teacher @biggestwingspan-az

[dynyamight]

omgomg 11 for bkdk!!!!!

send me a writting ask

11. Both of you wore the same ugly Christmas sweater to a party

“I absolutely love it!” Ashido squeals in delight.

“I fucking hate it.” Bakugou growls, jaw clenched.

While Sero and Kaminari are hollering and wheezing on the floor, Kirishima gives a soft, supportive smile. “Look at you.” He says easily, “Now, you’re an actual star, Bakugou”

When he said he’s the fucking the star of their group, Bakugou did not mean it literally.

With arms spread awkwardly, Bakugou stood in the living room in the most gaudy green, Christmas sweater, fuzzy all over. There were faux garlands going across around his torso and arms, with red and yellow bells jingling from them. The muscles in his chest and arms that he once was so proud of, terribly helped to widen the entire tree look.

And, right on top of his head, Bakugou has his wildly blonde hair, tousled, spiked, and gelled by Ashido’s hands. It created to give an illusion that his own damn head, was the fucking star.

“I’m not going.” Bakugou relents firmly.

“No, no!” Ashido whines, hugging him around his back. “Please! You will totally win the ugly sweater contest at the party. And, you know we need that prize money!”

“You mean, you need that prize money, to help pay rent.” Kirishima deadpans.

Ashido pouts in his direction. “Me. We. Same thing.”

Sero heaves a tired laugh, wiping tears off his cheeks. “God, the way he’s just T-posing, without realizing.”

Bakugou raises a brow. “The hell does that mean?”

Kaminari cackles, still rolling on the carpet. “Nevermind that!” He barely voices between laughs, “His hair! His fucking hair!”

“Don’t mind those two.” Kirishima reassures Bakugou. He places a comforting hand onto his tense shoulders. “We’re all looking ridiculous.”

Which, true. Bakugou scans over his group of extras, finally taking in their dumbass outfits.

Kirishima was a red brick chimney, with Santa’s ass sticking out in front. Ashido had an oversized sweater, stating in bold letters, “FEEL THE JOY”, and silhouettes of hands on each boob. Sero wore Santa with obviously red eyes, hitting a blunt, and the words “GET LIT” in this nice cursive. And, Kaminari had red solo cups stuck to his sweater, a walking beer pong table, for fuck’s sake.

“We’re the absolute worst.” Bakugou snorts.

“I swear, if no one goes all out like us, I will feel personally attacked.” Ashido sighs, letting go of Bakugou. Instead, she looks over her phone. “I texted Jirou to remind her and her girlfriend to go big, or go home.”

Sero sputters in another fit of laughs. “M-Momo in an ugly Christmas sweater! N-No way!”

Kaminari snickers right alongside him. “Momo doesn’t even wear anything ugly to begin with!”

“Well, there’s a first for everything, tonight!” Kirishima laughs, shaking his head. “If Bakugou’s going out as a damn stumpy Christmas tree, so can she.”

“I’m fucking stumpy?” Bakugou asks. That’s not-

“Okay, chop, chop!” Ashido claps to the group in the apartment, speed walking in her knee high boots to the door. “To the party, we go, everyone!”

On the cramped car ride, Bakugou tunes out the atrocious caroling of his friends, blasting Kaminari’s Christmas classics playlist. There’s a long night awaiting him, and he’s borderline doubting he can survive.

He usually doesn’t go to these late night, drunken parties. That’s more of, well, everyone else’s thing.

Bakugou would prefer to spend Christmas Eve by his quiet self, avoiding anything Christmas related, in fact. Just a day off work, cooking a nice, warm meal and watching his favorite horror movies under a heated kotatsu.

Alas, his friends begged him to attend this ridiculous Christmas party, instead, hosted by the damn, annoying Aoyama, of all people. Though, he is surprised the guy had the gall to extend an invite his way.

And, yeah, maybe he hasn't gone out in awhile, and actually was willing to show up.

So, here he is. Bakugou Katsuki, readying himself in a small ass car to get egg-nogged-wasted for the Christmas cheer, or whatever they say.

Besides, Kirishima offered to give a ride back home, if two hours into the party he still wasn’t feeling it. That’s his best friend, for fucking sure.

After passing the gates, the car rolled through the private community and pulled up to Aoyama’s residency, shortly after. There wasn’t any parking in front of the house, heavily decorated with lights, inflatables, and a fucking snow machine.

“We need a group photo with that!” Kaminari exclaims in the backseat, face smushing the window. From the passenger seat, Ashido agrees excitedly.

So, Kirishima had to move up a few houses down, in order to find an available spot for his car. The walk was a bit bothersome, the nipping cold, winter air bites at everyone’s faces and noses. But then, Sero yells for a race down to the front doors, undoubtedly to help the group warm up.

Bakugou won’t lie, he totally ran out of breath to those damn doors.

They all waited patiently for Ashido, last and stumbling in her heels hurriedly. It takes Kirishima walking back, and ushering her with his arm, so she can rush over safely.

“Gross, they’re actually cute together.” Kaminari sticks his tongue. Sero and Bakugou roll their eyes.

When Aoyama greets them, he blasts the whole group with a confetti popper. “Merry Christmas! Happy Hannakuh! Happy Kwanzaa! Happy Holidays!” He sings aloud. He shakes his whole body, ringing the bunches of bells that are all over him.

Bakugou feels a headache forming.

“It’s Christmas Eve.” Sero corrects, right beside him.

“Ah, well, tonight, it’s all the holidays combined!” Aoyama laughs, “Now, get inside! The heater’s blasted on, of course.”

And, hell, at least the damn heater’s nice.

Bakugou eyes all over the entrance way, pictures of Aoyama and his family plastered over the walls, with large garlands hanging between them.

The loud commotion of the party echoes from the living room, to his left.

“Here, we brought some drinks!” Ashido gingerly proclaims, with both her and Kaminari handing over the bottles of whiskey to Aoyama. “The essentials, duh!”

“Please! You even got my favorite brand!” Aoyama gasps.

Kirishima coughs over Bakugou's ears. “Yeah, that shit was expensive.” He whispers.

“It ain’t even that good.” Bakugou hisses back.

They both smirk at each other, before letting out airy laughs.

Bakugou lets the rest of his group go in front of him, before stepping over to the living room. Seated and standing throughout, different, unfamiliar faces were gathered together. Groups had already formed; a dancing and twirling circle, a card game circle, a conversation only circle, a drinking circle, and even a circle surrounding the tall Christmas tree at the corner of the room.

It doesn’t take long for the group to split.

Aoyama pulls Ashido towards the rest of the girls, huddled around the fireplace, sipping on hot mugs of chocolate. Kaminari hurries to his tired eyed, purple friend, Sero jogs towards Sato and Tokoyami, and Kirishima is surprised (read: jumped) by Testutetsu and his friends.

Which left Bakugou still standing by the entrance.

He slowly trudges his way around the living room, eavesdropping on the different conversations, in order to see if that’s the circle he wants to join.

But, even after overhearing and eying at the last circle, Bakugou decides he doesn’t want to join any.

Kirishima better uphold his damn promise. Cause, this shit is boring as hell.

He doesn’t know what compels him to do it, but Bakugou decides to grab a drink off the long table of assorted drinks and finger food, and simply sit on one of the couches. Oddly enough, no one was seated over to where he was looking.

Taking a red solo cup of who knows what, Bakugou starts walking around the crowd, and hurries to the open couch.

And, just his luck, he bumps into someone right as he tries to sit down.

Luckily, neither his drink, nor the other person’s, spill. But, as Bakugou looks over to his right, ready to offer a curt apology, he halts.

Staring back at him, was a damn idiot, in the same ugly Christmas sweater as him. And, on top of his head, he wore a springy star, jumping in the air.

“O-Oh, sorry.” The freckled stranger voices, woobly smiling. “But, I think one of us has to change.”

“You need to change.” Bakugou states firmly, settling down close to the armrest of the couch.

The grinning guy seats himself next to him, thighs pressing together. “Well, I arrived here first. So,” He shrugs teasingly, “If anyone’s changing, it’s you.”

Bakugou huffs, taking a sip of the beverage in his hand and trying to avoid any further conversation.

And, instantly, he almost spits that shit out.

“What the hell?!” He blurts. The sweet, sugary flavor of the obvious vodka-mix coats all over his mouth.

“Yeah, I took a sip, and that drink is a little too sweet for me, too.” The stranger chuckles, shaking his head.

“Who fucking brought this?”

Bakugou hears the stranger hum. “If I had to guess, it was probably that Ashido I spoke with a while ago.”

“Hell nah.” Bakugou defends quickly. “We came together. I would know.”

“Really?” The stranger’s face lights up, in recognition. “Wait, are you perhaps her boyfriend?” He asks excitedly. “She did say he's the most attractive person in the room.”

Bakugou snorts. “Hell nah. I would never.” He throws a nonchalant toss of his head over Kirishima's direction, where he was talking to a group of other guys. “Her ‘attractive’ boyfriend would be Shitty Hair, over there.”

“Sorry, sorry!” Bakugou notices he fumbles with his own red solo cup, in between his scarred hands. “I— There’s just so many people here, I only know a few.”

“I don’t know anyone else, other than my close four.” Bakugou clicks his tongue, “Fuck, I guess close five. Jirou and I are cool.”

“Well, you definitely know more than me.” The guy chuckles, “I just know Aoyama and Ochako.”

“The hell? Then, why did you show up?”

“Designated driver.”

“..Fucking lame.”

The guy laughs out loud, and Bakugou enjoys the genuine mirth that slips through his lips. “I really was hoping my luck would help me meet people! But, uh, I guess it’s been a freaking lame night.”

Begrudgingly, not wanting to get up and grab a different drink, Bakugou willingly swallows down a gulp of Pepto Bismol. He lets out a quick cough. “Well, you met me.”

“..That is true.” He smiles back. “Pretty good luck I have, huh?”

“Bad luck.” Bakugou huffs, “It’s bad luck.”

“Oh really? Then,” The guy points at Bakugou. “Is your name Kyuu?”

Bakugou rolls his eyes, but is unable to hold back his laugh. “I’m not literal bad luck, dumbass.”

“Then you’re not so bad! I bet your name isn’t even that bad, either. Nothing is as bad as-”

“Bakugou.”

“Hm?”

Taking another sip, Bakugou looks back at those evergreen eyes. “My name.”

Those freckles scattered over his cheeks are covered by the red flush that slowly floods him. “Ah, m-my name’s Midoriya. Hi.”

“Hey.” Bakugou lifts his cup up. “Happy Holidays, or whatever.”

Midoriya smiles softly, before clinking his cup together with Bakugou’s. “Happy Holidays, or whatever. From one ugly Christmas tree to another.”

“Which, you seriously need to fucking change.” Bakugou reminds in fein resolve.

With a small push on his shoulders, Midoriya giggles, raising a quip brow. “Don’t start demanding, when your hair’s looking like that.”

"The fuck's wrong with my hair?"

"Everything."

Bakugou barks a laugh. "You got some fucking nerve. With your stupid dangly star."

"Perhaps, you could say our stars aligned, tonight." Midoriya shakes his head, blushing once more. He looks away. "Ah, sorry. That sounded way cooler in my head. Forget I said that."

Fuck. Fucking shit.

Bakugou blames it all on the Christmas energy, contagious and destroying him from the inside.

He blames the damn Mariah Carey that’s uplifting his own damn stubborn spirits.

He blames the smell of Gingerbread and Cinnamon, wafting in the air, and the toasty, cozy heat that wraps around him, snug.

Because, now his heart’s melting, over this damn idiot in the same ugly Christmas sweater as him.

[cotncandyboifics]

A Lovely Night: Chapter 6

AO3 Link

Masterpost

Chapter 1 ~ Chapter 2 ~ Chapter 3 ~ Chapter 4 ~ Chapter 5

Pairing(s): pre-established roceit & prinxiety, anaroceit, eventual anaroloceit, eventual intruality

Word count: ~4k

Story summary: Roman's boyfriends had had a rivalry since before either of them had actually met Roman. Running a bit late to a date night, Roman accidentally gets them to start dating too.

General CW: non-detailed description of an anxiety attack, non-detailed description of physical pain, food, kissing, potentially triggering descriptions of physical bodies, swearing, caps lock, school settings, s-xual innuendos, slight description of gore(imagery), vague descriptions of anxiety, Implications of an eating disorder, fatigue, dissociation, suppression of stimming, implied heavy restriction (ED), inner monologue-style anxiety description, eating, (will be added to as I write more)

Chapter CW: Implications of an eating disorder, fatigue, dissociation, suppression of stimming, vague description of an anxiety attack, implied heavy restriction (ED), school setting, inner monologue-style anxiety description, food mention, eating, (let me know if i missed anything please!)

Author notes: <<>>

...

Logan did not know what to do with himself. The past week had thrown him off his figurative rhythm far more than he could have possibly anticipated.

First, a lead actor who he'd already been trying his best not to look at - with his accursed pretty hair and handsome face and big muscles - decided to attempt to court him? Logan felt mocked. There is no conceivable possibility that such a beautiful - and might he add, quite pompous and bothersome - man would have any sort of real interest in him, romantically or sexually. He shuddered slightly. He really should have taken the apple his roommate had offered him for breakfast that morning, but it was too late now.

And wouldn't you know, just a week later, a - dare he say - equally pretty man with mesmerizing blonde curls and a cheeky smile takes an interest in him at his own school . After years and years of having never been asked out, no one having taken an even remote interest in him, not one second glance, Logan had two men asking after him in the span of a single week. Men who he found atrociously gorgeous, in fact. Logan pinched the bridge of his nose, glasses riding up his forehead a bit.

This alone would have been enough. But he just had to go into that little sewing shop for his dear friend Patton's birthday present, and that boy with the purple bangs who stumbled over his words and his feet was completely and undeniably flustered by Logan's presence. Perhaps he was simply experiencing an ego boost from his two previous encounters that week with pretty men, but he felt that the attraction the boy seemed to have for him was unmistakable.

And now here he was, pacing down the sidewalk toward the library, headed off to meet - Janus, if he recalled correctly - for their first study session. He didn't know what the hell he'd been thinking when he asked to meet Janus again, the very next day no less... perhaps he felt the need to seize the moment while it was present, or however the saying goes. Regardless, while his actions had been quite uncharacteristically spontaneous, he saw no logical purpose in redacting his decision; Janus seemed to be an individual with plentiful intellect, and studying with fellow students had generally proved to be a beneficial tactic in Logan's (albeit minimal) experience and (far less minimal) research. Meeting with Janus, even if it wound up simply being this once, should be no different.

Logan avidly ignored any simmering feelings that he wanted something more than to spend time with Janus just this once.

He was shaken from his thoughts when his phone started ringing in his pocket. He examined the screen, noting the time - 2:49 PM, he wasn't late for his engagement with Janus just yet - as he checked who was calling. It was an unknown number, but the area code was local. Logan frowned, pressing the answer button.

"Greetings, Logan Lattimer speaking."

-

Virgil was kind of panicking.

His boyfriends each happened to meet this super-cute space-nerd guy in the span of a week, and the second they'd talked to him they were all heart-eyes. Not that Virgil was complaining; the guy sounded really cute.

He knew first hand now, that he was in fact super cute . That was the problem.

Virgil's lunch break came and went, most of which he spent gnawing vaguely at a sandwich and staring anxiously at the contact card that had been in Logan's wallet. It simply had his full name and phone number on it, nothing else. He tapped it on the desk in front of him, glancing between the numbers and his own phone, set face-up beside his elbow.

And then his lunch break had ended, and he had several more hours of worrying before he had to convince himself to call Logan.

Something occurred to him, during those hours. Should he tell his boyfriends?

What would he even say? There wasn't much to tell, at least not that warranted calling them before he got home. If he was going to make any calls, there was one he was under obligation to make first. And if he were to seek comfort in them for his obligation, what would they say?

Roman was probably the lesser option; he'd been whining about Logan all week, and now that he knew Janus was meeting with him again today, tensions were especially high. He'd be no help whatsoever, Virgil was sure of it.

And speaking of Janus meeting Logan again today... that also meant no. Calling your boyfriend who was about to see the guy you were nervous to call made the situation all kinds of awkward. No, everything would be easier if he'd simply call him.

So, shaking his shoulders out a bit, he did. He stepped into the break room, grabbed his phone and the contact card, and dialed the number.

His thumb hovered over the call button for a few seconds too long. He cursed under his breath and looked away as he pressed it, bringing the phone to his ear. it rang twice, and then a slight static preceded a familiar voice.

"Greetings, Logan Lattimer speaking."

Virgil was glad he'd drew in a breath to hold when he'd pressed the call button, because he wasn't sure he could recall how to breathe properly.

"Hey, this is Virgil, um, from the knitting supply shop? Uh, you kinda left your wallet here..." Virgil managed to cough, voice not breaking as much as it could have. His chest felt cold and constricted, and he wrapped one arm around himself to fight off the burn of the icy spears stabbing through his lungs.

"Ah, hello Virgil. I am currently on my way to a separate engagement, however it should not take long. At what time would it be acceptable for me to return to your place of business to retrieve my belongings?"

"Oh, uh- I'll be here till four," Virgil stuttered a bit, surprised at how fast Logan jumped to planning mode, as well as realizing he knew the precise nature of the so-called separate engagement Logan was about to attend.

"That is adequate. I will make sufficient efforts to arrive before that time. See you then."

With that, the line disconnected, and Virgil was overwhelmed by the eerie silence of the break room. He glanced at a half-empty box of donuts their manager had brought in yesterday.

He could have said that the shop actually closed at six, and that Logan could get his wallet from Emile, but his train of thought hadn’t been screwed on properly when he’d been speaking, so he could grant himself a little slack- wait, he was mixing his metaphors now...

Suddenly, the door swung open, Emile peeking out from behind it.

"Virgil, could you get back out here? We've got a little rush," and he ducked out, gone as quickly as he’d arrived.

Virgil sighed, shuddering away his anxieties, grabbing a donut hole and popping it into his mouth before heading out to join his colleague.

-

Janus was sitting at a table set between the rows of shelves, reading pensively beneath a subtle desk lamp where Logan found him. He glanced up and smiled gently when Logan arrived, who set his things down beside a chair opposite from Janus'.

"Apologies, Janus, but I must cut our studying session short in about 45 minutes - i left my wallet at a nearby shop this morning, and must retrieve it before 4pm." Janus' eyes sparked with something Logan couldn't place, and he hid a smirk behind steepled gloved fingers. Logan gulped imperceptibly. "Perhaps we can set up another time to study as well- um, to make up for it, I mean?" He rushed his words out in a short breath, running his fingers through his hair to collect himself. Janus' smirk broadened very slightly, and Logan found himself watching the lines of Janus’ face as they shifted.

"It would be my pleasure." Janus averted his eyes for a moment, eyebrows furrowing slightly as he thought. “Perhaps we should exchange information, so that I might- so that we can settle on a proper time for another engagement.” Janus reached into his inner coat pocket, producing his phone and tapping away for a moment, before passing it to Logan. He took it carefully, recognizing a blank contact screen, and quickly entering his information into it. He handed the phone back to Janus with a tight smile, and Janus returned it, sliding his phone back into the same pocket before resettling himself in his seat more properly.

Janus set aside his book to pull out a few textbooks for their critical thinking class. "If we are cutting our study session that precisely short, that would provide me with a chance to surprise-" He faltered for a moment, tone changing, though it was so subtle Logan almost thought he'd imagined it - "a friend of mine after his shift. Now, where did your class get to in the lecture today?" He started thumbing through the pages of a particularly thick but small book, holding it by the spine with one hand.

"Ah... Professor Cauley was stopped short on page 461 when he became distracted with his electric pencil sharpener malfunctioning, and class ended a few moments later. He did inform us that the other class had made it to page 465, so if you need me to catch up to you, it should only take me a few minutes." Logan was rifling through the pages of his textbook intently, not noticing Janus' surprised expression.

Janus reached a hand out, cautiously setting his hand on Logan's wrist, just beneath his wristwatch. "Don't fret," he breathed, "it appears we share the same class period. If I recall correctly, Professor Cauley’s face went positively red with rage, and he nearly broke the poor sharpener worse as he tried to unjam it." Janus chuckled shyly through his words as Logan met his eyes, smiling after a moment.

“Fascinating. I wonder how I have not noticed you in class before?” Logan tilted his head very slightly, and noticed something swimming warmly in Janus’ eyes. They were quite a very lovely golden brown, he thought.

Janus shifted, looking down to adjust his own texts, but the smirk that was growing less snarky by the second never left his lips. “It is a rather large class. It can be easy to lose faces in the crowd. I’m not sure I can pick out more than three people with whom I share that  class if they were to pass me in the halls. But no matter.” Janus glanced at Logan’s textbook and notes, readying his pencil. “Shall we begin?”

-

Logan was talking animatedly as he hunched himself over his notes, Janus glancing up to watch his face behind its shield of deep brown bangs intermittently as he scribbled in his own notebook to (at least attempt to) keep up. Janus’ gaze was averted, however, when a repetitive chime sounded from Logan’s phone, sitting face down on the desk just beside his right forearm. He stopped mid-sentence, adjusting his posture and picking his phone up, flipping it over to view the screen. He sighed, deflating slightly, as he tapped the screen once, setting the phone back down.

“My apologies, Janus, but it appears that it is time for me to depart.” Logan stood, a colder, sharper version of himself taking the place of the one that holds a deep passion for learning. The beautiful ice crystal, despite its beauty, is still the twin of the icy shards that cut sharper than knives or spears, Janus thought.

Janus stood swiftly, joining Logan in his gathering of his personal belongings, shoveling his own texts into his own bag. “It is quite alright, I assure you, Logan.” They met eyes as Janus spoke Logan’s name, and Janus could swear he saw a subtle, blotchy pink settle in Logan’s cheeks. “I’ll be headed down Main Street, then. Perhaps-” Logan cleared his throat, glaring down and to the side at nothing in particular as he retried his statement. “I will be expecting to hear from you, Janus.” They walked side by side out the front of the library, stopping just past the doors to say their goodbyes. But Janus had a small realization, and felt the creeping suspicion crawling its way up his sides returning. He resisted the urge to shake or twitch it away, grinding his teeth a bit.

Instead of continuing to suppress his stimming, he cleared his throat, speaking to Logan. "I am headed down Main Street as well. I hope it is not out of- I hope that it isn’t inappropriate for me to ask, but...will you allow me to accompany you?" Janus asked, nearly moving to offer his arm to Logan, but deciding quickly that that was far too forward. He settled on spreading an arm out, gesturing to the concrete path before them that led to the sidewalk.

Logan offered a small smile. "That would be adequate, and not inappropriate in the slightest. I, I would enjoy your company.” A beat of silence, and Logan cleared his throat. “Just this way," and Logan set off, at an impressively brisk pace that Janus nearly had a hard time keeping up with, having been caught off guard.

They walked in stride with one another as they made their way down the street. Janus became increasingly suspicious of the scenario the closer they got to the sewing shop. From what he knew of Logan's situation, there was no conflicting evidence that would disqualify the possibility that Logan was headed, in fact, toward Virgil's workplace. Janus held his breath when they turned onto the very same block, watching Logan's body language soften as they did.

Janus took a deep breath, glancing at the sign of the sewing shop a pace or two ahead.

"Logan, there's something I wish to discuss with-"

Janus glanced at the sewing shop's sign once more as they passed, but didn't move to stop before the door until he realized Logan had done so, standing a bit stiff a few paces back.

"This would be the establishment I spoke of," Logan's eyes looked a bit hazed, vaguely pointed towards the door handle. He seemed not to have heard Janus’ beginnings of a confession. Janus’ eyebrow quirked ever so slightly.

"Interesting," he breathed quietly, and Logan met his eyes then. "Allow me." Janus reached a gloved hand out to open the door for Logan, bowing slightly as he held it open.

"Much appreciated," Logan commented, stepping through the doorway smoothly.

-

Virgil was sitting slouched behind the counter, typing random numbers into the cash register out of boredom. He was half considering going to bother Emile, but he was busy doing inventory. And besides, Virgil needed to stay behind the register in case any customers came in. One person behind the counter at all times, that was the rule. He sighed, bringing his hand to his face and tapping on the tip of his nose absentmindedly.

The bell chimed, and Virgil looked up from behind his mop of purple hair. His heart gave a few beats a bit harder than usual, and he felt his throat constrict slightly.

There was Logan again. And the whole rest of the world became background noise.

The line of Logan's mouth widened, creating a crease or two on each side. Virgil realized that not only was he staring at Logan's lips, but as well that Logan was smiling. At him.

"Hello, Virgil," He spoke softly.

"Hi," Virgil practically coughed, the scratch in his throat making it borderline painful to speak. "H-how was your, your day?" Virgil asked, pursing his lips as soon as his words had left them.

Logan inhaled, raising his eyebrows and averting his eyes from Virgil's intense brown ones. "It has been satisfactory." The door chimed again behind Logan as it shut, and Virgil suddenly recognized that there was another person in the room. A person whose presence felt immediately familiar...

"Ah, my apologies," Logan stepped to the side slightly, allowing the person to come into full view. There, with a small sheepish smile, stood Janus. "Allow me to introduce-"

"Logan, dear, that won't be necessary," Janus rested a gentle gloved hand on Logan's shoulder, and Virgil couldn't tell if he was about to pass out from gay panic or just regular panic. "We are... quite well acquainted." Janus smiled tenderly to Virgil, and Virgil's whirring brain slowed if only slightly. He was safe.

…but… was he though?

-

"Oh, is this the friend you spoke of earlier, whom you meant to come and meet? How coincidental, that we were on our way to meet the same person without either of us having any prior knowledge of it." Logan was caught up in his fascination so much that he did not notice Virgil beginning to hyperventilate, knuckles white as he gripped the counter, or the way Janus was watching, practically frozen.

But, as Logan's commentary came to a close, it was as though a flip switched inside Janus’ mind, and he quickly strode around Logan. He stepped quickly behind the counter and over to Virgil, all while nearly whispering little nothings like "oh oh oh," "hush now love," and "come here dear."

Logan's brain took a moment to catch up, and soon he was simply standing there, watching as Virgil clung to Janus' coat rather desperately. Virgil’s body shuddered in silent sobs as Janus wrapped his arms around him, tight and secure. Janus was still whispering to him, but it was inaudible to Logan now.

Logan didn't quite know what to do, and so he just stood there, feeling rather stuck for a long time. At some point, he set his backpack and the gift bag he'd gotten from this very store earlier that day down against the counter on the floor, folding his hands before him. At some point, he registered Janus giving him an apologetic look, which confused him.

And then Janus kissed Virgil on the forehead, pulling back slightly to look him in the eyes. Logan thought from the way Janus was nodding softly and the way their chests moved together, that they may be doing a breathing exercise. He couldn't focus on much else, so he tried to follow along and copy them as well. 4, 7, 8. 4, 7, 8.

Sooner than later, Janus was leading Virgil carefully back out around the counter, both looking slightly worse for wear, but at least Virgil was far calmer. Janus smiled meekly at Logan again, and he still couldn't quite understand what was happening. It appeared that Virgil had had an anxiety attack, but the way Janus had rushed to comfort him so quickly, the way he seemed to know exactly what to do-

"Here you go, Logan," Virgil's voice was a bit scratchy as he reached out his hand, Logan's familiar black leather wallet between his pale fingers. Logan cleared his throat.

"Thank you," He spoke a bit more quietly than he meant to. He suddenly felt his headache flare again in full force, and had to fight not to shake as he reached his hand out to retrieve his wallet from Virgil's hands. He barely succeeded, but Virgil seemed to notice something amiss - he was watching Logan's wary eyes with some mix of suspicion and concern.

Janus, however, had been staring at the floor, and did not notice Logan's onset of fatigue. He sighed, clearing his throat softly. "Logan, I suppose you deserve some kind of explanation. One I tried to give before we’d come in, but regardless." Suddenly Virgil's eyes were on Janus, and far wider than Logan thought possible. Janus just glanced at him, nodding gently, and Virgil's shoulders visibly relaxed. "Virgil and I are..."

Janus laced their fingers together, and Logan's vision went blurry, everything around him fading to static fuzz as he tried to remember to breathe. He'd eaten more than enough today for this to be happening, surely? ...Had he eaten today? He couldn’t recall. He could always remember ... He vaguely registered Janus still speaking in the background, but he couldn't care enough to force himself to refocus. He got the jist. He and Virgil were romantically involved, and Janus was interested in nothing more than a friendship with Logan. That was perfectly fine. He didn't mind. He forced away the roiling feeling in his gut and gulped down the sting starting to tingle in his eyes, forcing himself to nod.

"Understood," He blurted, voice a bit raspy. He turned toward the door, reaching for the handle. Before he fully exited, he threw over his shoulder, "I look forward to seeing you later this week, Janus. And thank you again, Virgil." And with that, he was gone.

He made his way down the block briskly, trying to shake the haze that clouded his vision. The only thing he could think to do was go and see Patton. He knew nothing worked magic on his body like a good black coffee.

-

"Virgil and I are..." Virgil looked down as Janus laced their fingers together, and looked back to Logan, whose face seemed to have gone paler than it normally was, which was quite horrifying to see. Considering Logan was already so white that his skin tone bordered on inhuman, now it was devoid of any pricks of red coloring and looked almost like an empty tinted gray, pronouncing his cheekbones and eye bags even more so. Janus looked between them, continuing after a moment, "...we have been romantically involved for several years now, and even longer with our partner Roman, who you may recall from the community theatre? He's expressed to us that he's quite taken with you, in fact... And I know this may be a lot to spring on you right now, but I thought you deserved to know... it felt wrong to pursue anything with you romantically when we- when you didn't have the facts straight, and even regardless, it's important for you to know that all three of us are-"

"Understood," Logan cut Janus off, nodding. He didn't speak harshly, in fact his voice was quite quiet, but it was curt and forward as Logan always was, and so cut through Janus' words like a frozen blade.

Janus looked at him in awe, and opened his mouth to speak, but Virgil gripped his arm before he did. Logan was already at the door. He glanced over his shoulder, but didn’t really look at either of them. "I look forward to seeing you later this week, Janus. And thank you again, Virgil." Janus and Virgil watched as Logan walked out the door and straight down the sidewalk through the shop window.

Emile, who apparently had been standing there for at least a few moments, cleared his throat awkwardly. Janus and Virgil looked at him in unison, matching exasperated looks on their faces.

"U-um, Virgil, I was just gonna check in, see if you've clocked off." Emile wrung his wrists between his fingers awkwardly.

"Um, no not yet," Virgil bit the corner of his lip, muttering a 'sorry' as he stepped past Emile and paced quickly to the back room to clock off. Janus stared blankly at the floor where his boyfriend had just been, eyebrows knit in thought.

"You feeling a-okay there, Janus?" Emile dipped his head a bit to get Janus' attention gently. Janus blinked a few times, engaging with Emile as he re-centered himself in the present moment.

"Yes, Emile, I'm fine, thank you," Janus rubbed his gloved palm with his thumb anxiously. He couldn't think of anything to add, so Emile smiled carefully, nodding and stepping away to resume whatever busywork he needed to attend to.

Virgil was back again shortly, his backpack slung over his shoulder. He gave Janus a strange look, some kind of combination of pity and sadness and confusion. At least, that's how it looked to Janus.

"Ready to...?" Virgil gestured vaguely towards the door, leaning into Janus' personal space a bit. Janus offered him his arm, clearing his throat and holding his chin high.

"Yes, love. Let's get home to Roman."

As they walked to the bus stop together, neither had any clue what they’d say to their Prince. He’d be distraught, they were both sure, and significantly more so than he already was, which would be… intense. Janus squeezed Virgil’s hand in his own slightly, and smiled somberly at him sideways.

They’d figure this out. They always did, eventually.

Janus took his time on the bus typing out a message to Logan, Virgil watching from the seat beside him as his head laid on Janus’ shoulder. Janus settled on something simple.

To: Logan L It's Janus. I'd love to meet up to study, or perhaps discuss other things, some time this week. Let me know if Thursday or Friday works better for you.

[oddsnendsfanfics]

The (Mis)Adventures of Kal and Moose – Kal-entine's Day

Genre: Fan Fiction

Pairing: Henry Cavill/Reader

Warnings: Fluffy Valentine’s Day

Rating: G

Length: Drabble

Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.  

A/N: Because everyone needs Kal and Moose in their lives. Happy Valentine’s Day everyone! 

Henry Cavill Master List

Valentine's Day.

A day of love.

A day of romance.

A day for couples to declare their undying love, while single people sat at home with a box of chocolate sulking.

For the last few years, Henry was the latter. He was no stranger to sitting home on “the most romantic day of the year”, feasting on some chocolate from a heart shaped box. Although he didn't recall much sulking.

You on the other hand, were never one to celebrate or sit in on Valentine's Day. Even single, you found an excuse to go out for the evening. Oh the looks you would get, while taking yourself out for a fancy dinner.

This year was different.

It was going to be low key, but no doubt still fun. The best part, Kal and Moose weren't home alone waiting.

“I'm going to need you to do me a big favour, okay pig.” Henry glanced down at Kal who was sitting by his side, watching every move Henry made in the kitchen. “You and Moose need to be the best boys that you can. No mayhem this evening.”

Licking his lips and yawning, Kal huffed as his tail thumped heavily on the floor. He was slightly insulted, when had he and Moose ever caused mayhem? They were the most perfect best boys, ever! What did Henry think he was doing, talking as if they were a couple of uncultured stray dogs.

Walking along the familiar street, you glance down at Moose, sniffing along Kal's street he huffed and picked up his speed. Almost there! A few more minutes and he would be with his best friend, romping and stalking that damn green ball that made that atrocious noise every time it moved. Tonight, maybe, just maybe, they would finally give that thing what it had coming.

“Are you and Kal going to be good?” You ask the unconcerned dog. “Hmm? Play with Kal's toys nicely and not tear Henry's house apart?”

Moose snuffled, whatever that meant. Of course they would be good, they were always good. Ugh, humans.

Stepping onto the front stoop of Henry's home, you asked Moose to sit while you checked to see if the front was unlocked. It wasn't surprising that you would simply walk in, if the door was unlocked. Henry rarely knocked at your place, most times he would be in the house and standing beside you before you took notice.

“Knock, Knock.” You call pushing open the door. Moose whimpers and yips, tugging on his leash. Unhooking his leash, you laugh when he jumps forward nearly knocking into Henry as he tries to get to Kal. “Remember boys, make good choices.”

“Good evening,” Henry smiles taking your coat and hanging it. “I uh, I'm glad you could make it over.”

“Of course, thanks for inviting us over.”

Wow, this was awkward. As much time as the two of you spent together, it shouldn't be this weird or awkward. Biting your bottom lip, you follow Henry into the house, stopping on the way to the kitchen to give Kal a nice scratch behind the ear. He and Moose were already at home on the couch, a few toys between them, as they happily sprawled out.

“Be good, Moose.” You wag a finger playfully at the red aussie, giving him a kiss on the nose. “Wow it smells good in here.” Inhaling deeply, you take a moment to appreciate the smell wafting from the kitchen.

Henry smiled proudly, quickly kissing your cheek. “Spiced fish and coriander rice, with peas.”

“Oh my god, this smells like heaven. Did you make this?”

“Of course.” Henry laughs slightly. “I can't promise it will be the best, but I think it has flavour.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” You tug at the sleeves of your sweater.

“Have a seat? Sorry to rush you, but I wanted to get this on the table, while it's still hot.”

“Are you kidding? I will never feel rushed when there is food.” Laughing you grab the bottle of wine from the cupboard, along with two glasses and tote them to the table. The usually cluttered table is clear of all debris, a soft grey linen cloth draped on top, along with an arrangement of rather lovely scented candles. “I like the look. Going formal are we? Shit, I should have dressed up.”

“Non sense, you look lovely.” Henry chuckled, he had put more effort into the meal and table than he had planned. All last minute of course.

“And you look...” You glance at his casual jeans and tshirt. “I like that red.”

“Flattery?” Cocking his brow, Henry held back a laugh. Teasing you. “You feeling okay?”

“I feel fine, now let's eat.” You gesture to the plates in his hand. The fragrant smell is torture, it should be illegal to make you wait to taste food that looks and smells that good.

Seated, you can't help but sit inhaling the aroma wafting from the plate in front of you. Evidently Kal and Moose have picked up that it is dinner time, their respective paw steps coming from the living room. Attempting to look innocent, Kal slides in under the table his large body bumping against Henry's legs. If he is trying to be stealthy it is not working out. Moose takes a bold approach, sitting a few inches from the table he lifts his head and sniffs.

A low growling noise, he licks his lips and bounces to his hind feet before sinking back down into a sit.

“Moose, go.” You wave him away.

“Kal, stop licking my ankle.” Henry shakes his leg, Kal's cold wet nose hiking up the cuff of his jeans. “Kal, go on.”

“Moose, you know better.” Eyeing the dog you can't help but smile. “Worse than kids.”

“I would hope my children didn't hide under tables licking my feet.” Bursting into a laugh, Henry shakes his leg away from Kal. “Kal, go on. Go on boys, I will feed you after.”

Dejected and clearly starving, the two dogs slink back to the couch. At least they had tried for a scrap or even a scratch. Ending their plans, they sulk the entire ten feet that they walk. Poor dears. How ever will they survive? Knowing that dinner is waiting for them, you feel no guilt or sympathy. Spoiled is the only word to describe the pair of them. Worse than children, getting everything they want and acting like they are ignored when they don't.

“If you ever want to quit acting, I think you have a career in culinary.” You compliment reaching for the riesling that Henry had nearly expertly paired with dinner.

“There is more, I have a raspberries and cream or...”

“Wait, there is more? Oof, I may need a moment to let this digest.” You laugh lightly. Henry had gone all out this time. “You have really spoiled me.”

“I may be bias, but I think you deserve it.”

“Oh really? And why is that?”

“I have my reasons, all which are very good but escaping me in this moment. Trust me, when I say, I thoroughly enjoy getting to make you dinner. It's nice having someone to spend time with, especially today. It's been a while since I've had someone to spoil on Valentine's.” Henry picked up his glass, taking a drink of his wine. Licking his lips, he coughed lightly. “The last few years I have been making today all about Kal. Kalentine's Day, if you will. A nice bath, a good grooming, extra time at the park.”

“Sounds like a great way to spend the day.”  

“It may be a bit late for the park, but I could offer a nice bath. Perhaps a foot rub?”

“All would be acceptable, as long as you don't take Kal's approach. I'm not much into having my feet licked.” You can't help yourself, it sort of slipped out. Nearly choking Henry in the process. Wine sputtered from his mouth, avoiding spitting it on you, he manages a napkin. His face red and his chest heaving with a silent laugh.

“Noted.” He gasps, caught between surprise and laughter. “Well, dessert then?”

Henry had tried to clear the table without your help, as if. Little good did it do, the second he stood you were on his heels carrying your plate into the kitchen. He rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything about it. He had learned not to argue with you, it would be futile. Keeping his protests silent, Henry watched as you loaded the dishwasher, humming quietly.

Dessert plated, Henry motioned for you to lead the way to the table. As nice as the table looked, you were more than happy to relax on the couch - even if it meant kicking Kal and Moose, the poor souls, to the floor. Diverting course, Henry followed, the two of you chatting about the latest family gossips. He was telling you about his nephew Oscar, when you gasped and stopped short.

Nearly bumping into you, Henry caught himself and both of the desserts that he had in his hand. On the floor of his living room there laid the evidence. All around were pieces of red and brown material. White cotton stuffing littered the room and the look on Moose's face told you nearly everything.

“Moose,” You groan looking at the stuffing flung around the room. The Aussie looking innocent, yet the clump of red material in his mouth is giving him away. “You tore up Kal's stuffy.”

“Stuffy?” Henry's eyes widened. “Oh shit. Shit.”

“What? What's wrong?” You watched as he placed dessert on the coffee table, rushing the to tall shelf that sat behind his couch.

At least he still had the flowers, well shit. His face fell when he found them smashed to the floor and trampled.

“Well,” He rubbed the back of his neck, gesturing to the mess in his living room. “Happy Valentine's Day. I had planned on giving you a present, but...”

“Oh, Henry.” You squeeze your eyes shut. “I'm so sorry. I... Moose!”

“No, no. It's fine. It's not entirely his fault.” He glanced at Kal, holding the head of the teddy bear in his mouth, “There is only one of them who could have reached it. Eh, bear?”

“Boys,” You sigh and shake your head.  “Wait,” You glance curiously at Henry, giving him a sly smirk, “did you say you got me a gift? It's not my birthday. Nor it is Christmas.”

“No, but it's Valentine's Day.” Henry shrugged debating to salvage the gift or move on. “I wanted to do something nice, since....well.”

“Oh! Right.” You can't contain the smile that overtook your face in seconds. “I um, I honestly thought this was just us having dinner as...well friends?”

“And it can still be that, absolutely.” Henry nodded. “I don't want to impose or push anything.”

Stooping to pick up a few pieces of what used to be a teddy bear, you scratch Kal behind the ears and take a seat on the couch. "You're not imposing anything. I just didn't know what we were. Or if we were anything. I thought that I'd come over as a friend and...you know what, let's not bother with this now. We can talk later, sit let's have dessert. I am dying to try this raspberry cream.”

Henry sits beside you, reaching for the dessert bowls, to find one empty. “Moose,” he looked at the dog with red cream on his snout. “I swear to god,”  laughing, he hands you a spoon. “Care to share?”

“Well, well, well.” You take the spoon shaking your head, playfully. “Henry Cavill is sharing dessert?”

“They destroyed your present and this is the only dessert, the least that I can do.”

“I wouldn't be against that bath,” You scoop some of the cream from the bowl, “but no feet.”

“No feet.” Henry laughed, his chest rumbling and his eyes crinkling. “Got it.”

[post-nuclear-sweetheart]

Weight of the World (1 & 2)

Patches interacts with the NPCs of Firelink Shrine, while an abusive Ashen One is away.

Every now and again the familiar sound of armour clunking up the worn stone stairs of the shrine would stir Patches from thought. They would approach him with a silent glare and voicelessly inquire about his inventory and would either purchase something, much to Patches’ delight, or would abruptly walk away, followed by his belittling words.

There was a period of time the Ashen One didn’t return for an unusually long time, and in that time Patches watched the drifters from his perch, high above in the shrine. It was amusing to watch the blind bird with snowy white hair and long ash-stained robes stumble around the shrine and stub her toes on the steps and walls. She would let out a breathy squeak each time she gently collided with something, feel around with her arms and finally take her place somewhere. No one spoke with her directly, all except the Ashen One, but there was one time Patches did descend from his perch to interact with her.

The Fire Keeper sat along the steps of the inner circular shrine, fiddling with a loose strand of thread from her robes and quietly hummed to herself. Upon hearing the shuffling of greaves, she lifted her head and called out, “Welcome home, Ashen One.”

But her small smile faltered. “Ah, thine footfalls art lighter than mine Ashen One.”

Her observation took Patches by surprise, considering he was taller and no doubt heavier than the Ashen One. He looked down at his outfit and realized it was the iron greaves and boots he wore that gave him that clunky armour sound, but the fabric shirt he wore on his torso and nothing else helped his footsteps sound lighter.

Patches let out a chuckle. “Huh. Not very blind for a blind girl, are we?”

The Fire Keeper visibly recoiled. “Thoust a wicked one; begone.”

“Aw, now, now,” he crouched low before her, levelling his eyes to where hers used to be. “what has that horrid Ashen Tart been telling you?”

“They told’th me of thy trickster ways, and how thee would betray thy own compatriots.”

“Trickster?” Patches couldn’t help the manic grin growing on his face. “Oh, absolutely. Spot on, in fact. Now, what’s all this about betraying my friends?” He mimicked a hurt tone. “I would never do such a thing, bird.”

“I don’t believe thee. I am told’th thee did cast mine Ashen One’s true friend down a well, and that yond thee donn’d his armour and pretended to be him.”

Patches playfully shrugged, not that the Fire Keeper could see it. “Alright, I admit, I did that. And how remarkably easy it was to get him to strip that laughable armour off - but I digress. Old boy and I made up. We’re all friends now!”

She didn’t fully believe that he made amends with the poor, jolly knight, but his truthful admittance is what caused the Fire Keeper to ease her suspicions of him… for now.

She craned her head to look up at him. Patches whistled and gave a little wave, and her head followed the sound to look straight ahead. She jumped slightly in surprise.

“Thou art a solitary being. What mad’eth thee come down hither?”

“Oh,” Patches rubbed the back of his bald head. “I had enough of being a fly on the wall to the goings on here. Thought I’d come down,” the Fire Keeper could hear the grin on the face in his tone. “stir up some trouble.”

The Fire Keeper’s lips contorted to a grimace of disgust. “Is’t within thy nature to disturb the delicate balance of those who seek’th solace hither?”

“Hear me now, bird,” he said. “I ain’t the one to meddle where his nose don’t belong. You’re better off giving that question to your beloved Ashen Tart.”

“Just as thee has’t nay business stripping yond po’r knight of his armour, and disturbing our contenders.”

The toothy, almost malicious, grin fell from Patches’ face for a moment, before awkwardly chuckling, “Not one to pick up on sarcasm, are you? I didn’t actually mean I’d cause trouble-“

From her seat on the semi-eroded stone steps, the Fire Keeper stood to her full height. Not as tall as Patches, her figure and aura possessed a cursed air around her, and managed to send a fright through the tall pale man. “Thou shan’t spread any mischief whilst thou take’th shelter in the shrine, lest thou wishes to face wrath.”

Patches held up his hands in defense. “Alright, alright! I read you - loud and clear!”

Satisfied with his answer, the Fire Keeper took her seat once more on the eroded steps. “Then thou art most welcomed.”

But Patches remained to stare down at the Fire Keeper. After several, silent moments passed, the Fire Keeper’s idle humming halted. “Oh, does’t the vagrant have more to say?”

“Yeah.” His light and spirited tone evaporated to a dour mood. “I see a lot that goes on here.”

“Oh?” The Fire Keeper entertained him.

“And I see how that Tart treats you.” He said with a vindictive tone. “The way they slap you around with every new shiny toy they find. You don’t have to take that.”

At his confrontational language, the Fire Keeper recoiled slightly. “I am surprised thee care enow to approach’th me, but it doest not matter, for I cannot die so easily.”

Patches huffed at her complacent attitude of remaining nothing more but a servant to the next Lord, and a training dummy. “Death doesn’t matter much, but you’ve still got feelings. How’d that last beheading feel? Not great, eh?”

The Fire Keeper pursed her lips, and remained silent for a moment, before speaking in a quieter voice, “I… Mine own feelings matter not. I understand’th mine place in the ordinary; what mine fate hast becometh.”

Patches went to speak, but the soft, shaky voice of the Fire Keeper kept his words at bay. She clutched at the worn fabric of her ash-stained sleeves. “Wicked One,” she sounded pained. “prithee, grant me solitude.”

He hesitated, staring as she drew herself inward, but he knew when it was time to leave well enough alone. Wordlessly he stepped away, interested in the dark figure in armour that resembled a gargoyle peeking from the archway to spy down below, further into the shrine.

But the Fire Keeper called quietly after Patches. “Thy concern is appreciated, O Wicked One.”

-

Eygon of Carim - a knight dressed in armour that resembled some sort of horrific creature - watched a pale maiden, wrapped up in creams and whites, from above. Irina, the one Eygon was so devoted to, sat upon what seemed to be the only dry patch of stone in the moist darkness of the shrine’s lowest floor.

Patches had seen him before. He entered the shrine to visit her from afar a few times, merely to silently observe and see if she was alright in the care of the Ashen One. Once satisfied, he would sulk around the outside of the shrine before taking off somewhere else.

This visit didn’t seem to be like his others, Patches noticed from where he spoke with the Fire Keeper. Eygon moved slow and carefully, as not to disturb the joints in his armour too much. He didn’t call out to her, didn’t engage or make himself known. He stood in the shadows, spying on the poor blonde girl. Patches had no issue playing along with Eygon’s silent act.

It was after a few more moments of peering down at the nun, who slowly swayed her head and hummed, that Eygon stepped away from the arch and crossed his arms.

“What business have you to bother me?” His deep, rumbling voice flowed from the open mouth of the gargoyle helmet he wore. “Go kiss someone else’s ass. I’m not in the mood for your foolery.”

Patches tilted his head and smirked at the Carim knight. He knew exactly what that tone meant; he was defensive. Like he was caught in the act of doing something he’s ashamed of. “Know of me,” Patches kept his voice quiet, much like the knight’s own voice. “wittol?”

A low growl resounded from within Eygon. “You’ve made a number of enemies. Seems like you’re in the market for another one.” Eygon reached behind him, never moving his head from gazing at Patches, for his atrociously large hammer that leaned into the corner he stood in.

But there was something about Carim knights that Patches was intimately familiar with. Rude, crass and as prickly as they were, not often did they enact wrath upon others who caused petty offense.

Patches crossed his arms and shrugged. “All you knights with your maidens you’re all so devoted to - how’s a bloke not to think you don’t slave over her feet? But not you, eh?”

Patches stepped quietly, closer to the archway to gaze down at the nun, Irina. He pulled himself back to face Eygon. “Not with an evil creature like that.”

“Obvious, isn’t it?” Eygon whispered. “A pitiful failure. Nothing but an attraction to perverse darkness, but even a woman cursed as her deserves her dignity. Begone.”

Unbothered, Patches complied. “Alright, then. No sense in talking to you. Your lady down there,” Patches had begun to make his way towards the stairs that descended lower into the shrine. “seems more apt for conversation. Maybe I’ll-“

Eygon slammed his impossibly large hammer down dangerously close to Patches, kicking up clouds of ash and debris. His hammer shook the ground, and sent an ear-shattering bang echoing throughout the shrine.

“You won’t touch her.” Eygon seethed, lifting his head to stare directly into Patches’ eyes. “Not without a fight.”

“Ashen One?”

A soft voice called out, just loud enough for both men to hear. “Ashen One,” she called again. “is that you?”

Eygon hoisted the hammer back up the rest against his shoulder. “No, my lady. It’s only me.” He spoke louder towards the archway.

“Oh, Eygon,” her voice lifted in tone and sounded much happier than the dreary inquiry she had before. “it’s been so long since you came to visit me. Won’t you come here, please?”

Patches noticed the subtle way Eygon’s form turned frigid. A grin formed across his face, turning upwards in a most evil way. “What’s wrong? Don’t all you Carim knights dream of ravishing your lady? Or, is it that you’re right scared of her?” Patches purposefully forced out a laugh that dripped with venom. “Oh mate, you should’ve stopped being scared of the dark when you were a kid.”

“Say what you wish,” Eygon threatened in a low tone. “but I will kill you. Not now, but upon our next meeting I’ll separate the flesh from your oversized head. You’ll have wished you’d eaten your words.”

Eygon pushed past Patches, making sure to collide his armoured shoulder with his, and descended the stairs to where Irina spent her days.

Patches watched, silently above, in the shadow of the stone archway. The dark knight firmly planted the top of his hammer onto the ground, before kneeling before the pale nun. “What is it you needed, Irina?”

“Touch me, please.” Irina held up her hand in the blank space in front of her. “I- I have tremendous news.”

Eygon stared at the warm, soft palm Irina offered to him. She appeared simply angelic; the lit candles beside her created a heavenly glow around her in the dark, but all Eygon saw was the amplified darkness that plagued her eternally. He didn’t move, and was silent for too long.

Patches noticed his hesitation had turned into an uncertain withdrawal. It was clear to Patches now: this knight wasn’t just scared, he was terrified of her.

“Eygon? Where have you gone?” Irina’s outstretched arm faltered, but at his name, Eygon answered.

“I am here.” He pressed the palm of his gauntlet against her’s, and Irina’s fingers closed around his hand, feeling the intricacies of the design.

“It is you.” Irina whispered. “I am… I am glad it’s you. This Ashen One, he gave me a tome that felt most terrible against my fingers.”

Eygon stiffened. “Tell me you did not read it.”

Irina shook her head, and gave her knight a demure smile. “I did not. A woman - a witch - stopped me before I could. She guided my hand to a tome that tickled me with its radiance.” She gave a quiet, gleeful chuckle. “It’s bountiful light seems to have staved off the darkness that nibbles upon me. Perhaps my path towards becoming a Fire Keeper is not lost.”

A Fire Keeper. This information surprised Patches. He had assumed she was nothing more but a broken nun - a dirty cleric, but she was nothing of the sort.

“Eygon,” she started. “I know my curse wards you away from me, but the darkness is not in my presence. May I touch your skin?”

“...Are you so certain you feel the absence of the dark? Remember my oath to you.”

“I remember clearly. No, it seems gone. I feel positively elated.”

It was true that her smile turned up more than usual, and a healthy flush was present in her cheeks. Eygon pulled his hand away from hers to unclip the clasps of his gauntlet, and pulled it off to reveal his bare flesh. Experimentally, he placed only the pads of his fingertips against hers, then slowly enveloped her hand in his.

Irina let out a breathy gasp. “Oh, oh Eygon, you are so warm. I never could have imagined you felt this way. I can only wonder what you may look like.”

Patches grimaced at the sickly sweet scene unfold before him, and stepped away before he became a witness to the lovelorn fools’ potential union. Lovers were items that already made his stomach twist in knots, but secret lovers? He nearly vomited at the thought. There was one thing that stuck with him through all of that snooping; the corruption the new Fire Keeper nearly fell to by way of the Ashen One.

Perhaps the world could have done well with the loss of one more holy person, but the loss of a fire attendee? No, Patches knew where his hatred began and ended, and this betrayal was another strike against the Ashen One for him.

[firefliesintheskyline]

A Poem In Flowers

PAIRING : Nicky x Joe

PROMPT : Flower Shop AU

(now on ao3 !)

“Oh-oh, he’s gonna pay for that!”

“Booker, we can’t just barge in, we don’t even know how—“

“He stole them from you! Isn’t it clear enough?”

Nicky frowned, listening to the loud voices coming from outside. It was usually a quiet neighborhood, especially at that time of the day.

“Let’s just go inside!"

He was startled when someone opened the door of his flower shop with more strength than needed.

“Booker, can you please calm down a little? You’re going to scare him.”

Nicky looked at the guy who had just spoken, feeling more intrigued than afraid. The fact that the newcomer was also incredibly handsome was definitely a plus.

“Mr. Di Genova, I believe?,” the other man said, in a pissed and totally unfriendly way. Nicky took an instant dislike to him.

“Yes, it’s me. Are you here for a bridal bouquet?"

Not-nice jerk was caught off guard by his question, while cute-dude just chuckled. Of course, Nicky couldn’t help but find it extremely endearing.

“No, we… Okay, let’s start this properly. Nile, my assistant, came here a couple of days ago to pick up a bouquet for my wife.” If Nicky didn’t like this 'Booker' guy before, things only got worse after the last sentence. He appreciated the fact that Very Handsome Man (well, wasn’t his crush escalating quickly) seemed to give his friend a very nasty look at that. “There was a little card attached to the bouquet, a card that contained a short poem.”

Nicky nodded briefly.

“Yes, that’s my customers' favorite part of the bouquet and the very reason why they keep buying here.”

He felt a wave of pride while saying those words. After all, It had been his idea when he had first opened the shop, and he wasn’t going to take lessons from some uneducated asshole just because the guy couldn’t stand poetry.

Extremely Attractive Man (yep, that was it, no going back) gave him a contemplative look, almost as if he was trying to make sense of… something.

“Well, isn’t that nice? Stealing someone else's art and then using it to make a profit?,” rude-dude retorted.

Nicky felt his blood run cold. He didn’t like the tone nor what was being implied, and he was starting to get extremely pissed.

“Look, I’m sorry for Sebastien here, he can be very nasty when he wants.” Nicky noticed that Unbelievably Hot Guy had also Incredibly Nice Lips and Absolutely Gorgeous Eyes, and he was almost starting to forget why he was pissed in the first place, while oh-so-not staring at him. “We just read the card and found it  very similar to… well, one of my poems. And since it wasn’t signed, I just wanted to understand what was going on, find out if maybe someone was taking credit that wasn’t theirs?”

The revelation had Nicky almost drop his jaw. He knew he should focus on the accusation, but all he could do was stare at the guy who was apparently responsible for keeping Nicky up more nights than he could remember, thinking about the brilliant mind behind those perfect words.

“I actually bought them," was all that came out of Nicky’s mouth. 

He realized that maybe he should have added more when the two friends shared a look, seeming rather confused.

“I haven’t published any of them, yet.”

“No, I mean… they were in a jar. I bought the jar.”

For a couple of minutes, there was only silence in the shop. Poet Guy - who was still very hot and still without a damn name to go with his face - opened his mouth a couple of times, but didn’t seem to know what to say, until his eyes widened. Nicky was pretty sure he’d had some sort of epiphany, and he wasn’t the only who had noticed.

“Joe? Joe, are you okay? What is he talking about?”

Joe - Nicky was secretly beaming, he'd finally gotten the name of the man who would haunt all his future dreams - looked very close to an existential crisis.

“Do you remember during college, when I used to live with Andy?” Sebastien nodded, but Nicky was too concentrated on Joe to even notice. “Well, there was this big red jar on the table, in the middle of the living room. Whenever I was struggling with a short poem, instead of throwing the paper away, I would just fold it and put it in the jar.”

Well, if those were Joe’s definition of failed poems, Nicky couldn’t wait to find some way or another to date this guy just so he could read the good ones.

“When she moved in with Quynh, she took the jar with her. I didn’t even realize at first, and after a while I sort of forgot about it. I also didn’t really care because I was sure she’d keep it, since she took it in the first place.” Joe seemed lost, and looked at Nicky as if he was the only one who could make sense of it all.

“If it helps, I can tell you that I bought it from a woman, long hair, mischievous smile, who said she was glad her wife was away for a while so she had time to get rid of the - and I quote - “atrocious bloody colored vase”?” Nicky finished the sentence with a sheepish smile, feeling himself blushing all of sudden.

“I don’t know what I was expecting, but this was definitely not it.” Sebastian shook his head and looked at Joe. “I don’t even think we can force him to stop, since technically he did buy the jar."

“I will definitely stop if Joe is uncomfortable with it.” Nicky raised his voice, slightly insulted by the insinuation. “I would never try to harm or profit from someone else’s work. Especially if that someone is an amazingly talented poet."

Joe was staring at him, looking entranced.

“But you said it yourself, this is what makes your customers coming back. I wouldn’t want to be the one to do the damage to you.”

Nicky was so going to marry this guy. On the spot. Damn it, he would even accept the obnoxious dude as the best man if he had to.

“Maybe we can work out a good compromise?” Nicky’s voice softened, almost as if he was about to share a secret. “I could still put the cards in the bouquet, but with your signature underneath each poem. And I’d give you a percentage over it, of course.”

“I, uh,” Joe’s cheeks were turning a lovely shade of red, and Nicky was torn between feeling pride in being the one who was actually responsible for that and wanting to melt at the sight of it, “what can I say, you do make it sound like a win-win situation. But, as I was saying before, those aren’t exactly poems I feel very confident about.”

“So why not write some new ones to go along with my bouquet?” Nicky knew, deep down, that he was pushing his luck, but he'd found that he really didn’t care that much, especially if he could find a way to get Joe to come back to his shop.

“Oh my God, I’m done. I’m not gonna stand here any longer watching the two of you shamelessly flirt like teenagers.” Sebastien threw his hands up in the air and started walking towards the door, turning around only to yell at Joe, “if you get laid tonight, remember to send me a 'thank you' note!"

“Once again, I really, really do apologize for him. He can be unbelievably crass, but he’s a good friend.” For the first time since he'd entered the shop, Joe gave Nicky a full-on smile, all teeth and dimples. And that’s when Nicky realized, once and for all, that he was utterly fucked.

“No problem,” Nicky let out in a croaked voice, finding it rather difficult to put together a coherent though, “I hope you’ll consider my offer.”

“I most definitely will.” Joe ran his fingers through his hair, looking almost embarrassed. “Maybe we could talk about it over a cup of coffee? I know a place nearby.”

And that’s how they ended up in the coffee shop owned by Quynh, who was absolutely delighted when they told her the whole story and didn’t even try to apologize to Joe, since she had just given him “the single most exciting meet cute of his entire existence”.

(Two years later, at their wedding, Booker and Quynh were still arguing over which one of them was responsible for such a lucky encounter. Nicky secretly spent his days thanking them both).

[cacti-are-like-flamingos]

Texted Love

Henry Cavill x Fem! Reader

Part 7

Central Masterlist | Texted Love

“Twitter’s going wild for you guys,” Terry quietly mumbled. His hazel eyes glued onto the screen of his phone like always. It’s a good thing you recommended him using Night Mode for all of his app usage considering that he was always on the damned thing. 

Glancing to him through the mirror, you arched a groomed brow, “Oh? What are they saying?” Your mouth barely moving as you silently watched your makeup artist, Gigi, line the boundaries of your lips.

“Well now there’s a #(Y/n)isoverparty but it’s been hijacked by both Kpop stans and your fans. It’s just a bunch of people wishing you and Mr. Cavill, “ his voice becoming more suave and teasing, “...the greatest of lucks in your relationship.”

You frowned, “What relationship? We’re just friends.”

There was a small pause in between your answer and their reactions. You watched in pure confusion as the two individuals halted in their actions and instead, opted to peer at you as though you had suddenly sprouted another head like some Hydra beast.

“Girl I know you did not just say that.”

“Not even a pause? A moment of hesitancy before you uttered the atrocious word friends? Are you fucking kidding me?” Your two friends spoke simultaneously. Their expressions anything but happy.

You blinked, not having expected this reaction in the slightest. Deepening your frown, you looked down to your lap. Your hands no clasped together as your thumbs fiddled with each other, a somewhat bashful expression taking over whilst a heaviness settled in your chest.

“Is this your Avoidant Attachment style talking?” You lightly punched Terry in the thigh, a slightly offended look on your face. You stared at one another for a moment before you looked away, a small pout on your lips as you quietly uttered, “...perhaps.” 

Seeing your childish ways, your dear friend dismissed the makeup guru out of the room with the promise of having drinks and paying for them afterwards. The room was dead silent as either of you awaited for the young woman to walk out the door. Upon finally hearing the door closing, Terry turned back to you. You couldn’t see his face, since you were still looking away, but you knew how he was looking at you.

He was disappointed.

“(Y/n), look at me,” you tried standing your ground. Refusing to meet his eyes but you knew you had to. You were a full-grown adult and full-grown adults have to address certain issues even if they don’t want to. Clicking your tongue, you slowly turned your head to face him, your eyes taking their sweet time to meet his own.

You swore the hairs on the back of your neck rose after catching sight of that look.

“He’s good. He’s really good,” you could feel the tears swarm the corners of your eyes.

“I know...”

“And you deserve to have good in your life.”

“...I know,” the tears that had pooled in your eyes now streaming down your cheeks.

“I need you, just this once, to trust someone.”

“...” you failed to choke back a sob. And with this, Terry took his leave. Hoping that the words that lingered in the air would echo within the walls of your mind.

...

He knew something was wrong. Ever since he had awoken there was this nagging feeling at the back of his head that told him something was wrong with you. He desperately wanted to make sure you were okay but he hadn’t found the time of day to shoot that simple ‘Are you okay?’ text. People were just continuously badgering him with things --- one after another, they would just come. There seemed to be no end to the madness.

Having finally had enough with the whole ordeal, he had informed his assistant to inform the staff not to disturb him for the next hour or so. Partly because he now had a headache that was soon turning into a small painful migraine and mainly because he was worried about you. His little night owl had yet to send him a text. 

That was what worried him the most. It was almost a whole day without any communication, and while he quite literally understood that sometimes neither of you could converse much due to the chaos of the other’s career --- a simple hello would always be shared no matter what.

Throwing his jacket onto some other piece of furniture, the actor plopped himself down onto a nearby couch. His head leaning back into the cushions as he took that moment of solitude to refresh himself and to calm down the rapid beating of his heart. Slowly but surely, his anxieties began to quell. 

Letting out a small yet deep exhale, he calmly reached out for his phone. Flicking it on, he frowned at the lack of any messages from you. 

He was sure.

Something was wrong.

Opening the Messaging app (your relationship had graduated from Instagram to actually exchanging phone numbers), he pressed your name. You were always the top name.

He typed then he erased then he typed and then he erased.

How should he approached his concerns for you? The best and most effective way was to just send the simple direct question but after months of having known you, he quickly realized that confrontations weren’t really your thing. 

So how should he go about this?

Then it hit him.

...

“Pizza for (Y/n)?”

You looked up from your script, brows furrowed together the instant you heard you name. 

“Eh, me?” You spoke, confusion decorating the beauty of you. With a flustered look, the delivery-worker walked over to you, a shy smile on their lips to which you confusedly reciprocated.

“I have a pizza for you,” you tilted your head.

“But I didn’t order a pizza...?” The worker paused.

“No, this order was placed by a...,” the worker briefly looked over to the receipt before speaking, “...a Henry Cavill? Superman...?!”

Calming down from the sudden revelation, the pizza worker awaited for your reply, and so upon not receiving any, they dared themselves to look up. Only to be blinded by the dazzling sight of your beaming smile.

“That fucking idiot knows the way to my heart,” you muttered under your breath. Grabbing the pizza box out of their arms, you tipped and thank the worker. Your smile never fleeting.

It was then that the pizza worker remembered the online request, “Oh, he also wanted me to say that he hopes your doing okay. He was worried about you for some reason, so yeah.” With that said, they left.

So you stood there, staring at the concrete floor with a shocked expression on your face. The pizza box still in your arms and the heat of the meal burning the pads of your fingers.

“He was...worried about me...”

...

Taglist:

@peachy-aisha @josiejosie0 @alwayshave-faith @hista-girl @sleepyxcoffee @akropodeti @artsxpe @ju-lehnsherr @jessyballet @snowbellexx @fanfictionaddiction99 @barikawho @thummbelina @amberparker18 @tinawritesstuff​ @doozywoozy​ @summersong69 @melannie77 @banana-tree-freddiemercury

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