#perhaps we could’ve worked things out without me trying too hard to “earn” their love

[jaevy]

your room was square

i once noticed from there

in your bed, as you slept

and i held my breath

everything had its own place

and i wondered what space would i take

in the order you kept

[messers-moony]

Moony Wants, Moony Gets | R.L

Paring: Young!Remus Lupin X Slytherin!Fem!Reader

Summary: Moony has a natural wanting for his mate making his possessiveness visible the closer it gets to the full moon. 

He was always jealous. Blame it on the wolf in him, if you will, but Remus Lupin was highly possessive. Especially over what’s his - maybe not even what’s his but what he wants. She was gorgeous and his perfect mate—long tuffs of h/c hair and gleaming e/c eyes that glittered in the limelight. There was one problem with her, though—one major flaw in her mess of perfection. 

Y/n L/n, cunning, ambitious, resourceful, and charismatic. 

That was the problem. Y/n was a Slytherin, and Remus was a half-blood Gryffindor. To make matters worse, her closest friend was Regulus Black - Sirius Blacks brother. Remus’ best friend's brother. But Remus couldn’t help it. Her voice was like a siren's call, and her beauty was a rival to Aphrodite, but she had the wisdom of Athena. Y/n was a perfect balance of everything. 

Closer to the full moon, his possessiveness became more of a problem. Sirius was noticing the low growl that would erupt from Remus whenever someone stepped close to Y/n. James saw the lingering glares left on any male within a six feet distance of her. Even Peter observed his green eyes turn a shade darker as if someone mixed black paint into his usually bright eyes. 

Y/n sat at the Slytherin table, a cup of coffee beside her as she spoke intently with Regulus. Meanwhile, a Gryffindor across the Great Hall was glaring daggers at the younger Black brother's head. Sirius nudged him, grabbing his attention. 

“Mate, you’re growling again.” Sirius whispered, and Remus’ cheeks turned pink, “Am not.”

James gave an unconvincing grin, “Mhm, totally.”

“I was not growling.”

“I think you were.” James replied, “Definitely was.” Sirius added. 

Remus sighed, pushing his plate away to lay his head on the table, “What’s got Moony all wound up?” James queried, Remus, deadpanned looking at the laughing girl across the room. 

“I think I know.” Sirius simpered, “Do you now? Don’t be a tosser.” James stated teasingly. 

“Turn around. Slytherin, talking with Reggie.” 

He turned and looked back at Remus with his jaw dropped, “No- fucking- way.”

“What?”

“She’s the captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team, you tosser!” 

“Oh…”

James snorted, “Yeah, oh.”

“Looks like Moony found his mate.” Sirius winked, and Remus groaned, “Shut up about it, will you?”

“Never.” 

It felt weird. James wouldn’t shut up about how brilliant Y/n was, how the Slytherin’s Quidditch team was able to make plays that no one else would’ve even thought about. Sirius wouldn’t stop offering to talk to Regulus to see if maybe he had any intel on her. Strangely enough, Peter was silent but had a guilty look on his face. Guilty sufficient for Remus to comment. 

“Why do you look guilty, Wormtail?” Remus inquired, and Peter's cheeks flushed pink, “She- Y/n isn’t- um….” 

“What do you know that we don’t, Peter?” Sirius queried, his voice harsh, “She isn’t what you think. That’s all I’m saying.” Peter stammered out nervously. 

James tilted his head at the blue-eyed boy, “And you know this how?” 

“She’s my ex-girlfriend.”

“Woah! Hold on a second!” Sirius exclaimed in shock, “When did this happen?!”

“Back in fourth year.” Peter informed, “She seemed nice enough until you start to get serious with her. Y/n’s sharp-tongued and extremely ill-tempered.” 

Sirius sniggered, “Sounds like Moony.”

“Oi!”

“Sorry!”

“So, what does this mean for Remus?” James questioned further, “It doesn’t mean anything. Just be careful. I don’t care if you date her. Means nothing to me.” Peter replied, putting his hands up in innocent. 

Remus stared at Peter with curiosity swirling. How much did he truly know about Y/n? How did he manage to date her? Nonetheless, it didn’t mean anything to Remus because Moony wanted her. What Moony wants is what Moony gets. Later that evening, after prefect patrol, he padded into the library to dismiss any working students. But there were only two students inside. They sat in a secluded corner of the library. Regulus Black and Y/n L/n. 

Was it envy? Was it jealousy? He didn’t have time to ponder. Y/n had her head laid on Regulus’ shoulder and both her arms wrapped around his one arm. Regulus had leaned his head on top of hers, wavy black hair intertwined with her h/c hair. Both their eyes were closed, apparent they were asleep—potion and Transfiguration books placed on top of the wooden table along with an open sketchbook. 

What was he supposed to do in this situation? Wake them up? If it was just Y/n, perhaps he could’ve, but Regulus was with her, and Regulus wasn’t too fond of Remus for being friends with his older brother. Madam Pince had already left for the night, either choosing not to disturb them or didn’t notice them. Remus saw the inkpot beside the Potions book, almost empty. It was Y/n’s inkpot because the ink wasn’t black. It was a deep grape color. 

Remus sighed and grabbed the ink from his bag, charming it the same color. Discretely he took hers and swapped it out with his. Leaving a piece of parchment on top. Remus left the library without another word. Waking them up was a risk he’d rather not take. But now, he laid in his bed wondering how she’d feel about the new ink on the table. 

The sun began to rise, and Y/n’s body felt stiff. Carefully she began to stir awake after noticing a body beside her. Opening her eyes, everything seemed blurry, but after blinking a few times, she recognized the library books and the person's scent beside her. Regulus, her best friend. Y/n yawned and pulled away from him, about to begin packing their belongings, but she noticed a piece of parchment that lay on top of her ink. 

“Noticed you were out. You can have mine.“ 

Y/n hummed appreciatively. She didn’t know who gave her their ink, but she was eternally grateful for them saving her a trip to Hogsmeade. Y/n poked at Regulus’ right side, and he eventually stirred awake. His curls disheveled and his body just as stiff as she was. Regulus opened his eyes and met her e/c ones. 

“Did we fall asleep?” He groaned, and Y/n scoffed, “What do you think, dingus?”

“No need to be mean this early in the morning, Merlin.” 

“Someone saw us last night, though.” Y/n stated, and Regulus noticeably jumped, “Who?”

She shrugged, “Not sure, but they left me a new pot of ink.”

“Lucky you.”

“Lucky me.”

Both best friends cleared their table. Y/n put her Potions books away, and Regulus put his Transfiguration books away. Y/n stared at the writing on the parchment she had received earlier that day. The handwriting was almost unrecognizable. It was messy and sprawled. Whoever this was did not have good handwriting or was in a rush. But the day carried on. In Potions, Y/n sat in the front while the Marauders sat in the back. Remus stared holes in the back of Y/n’s head. 

“She’s gonna notice if you keep staring at her like that.” Sirius muttered. 

Remus sighed and continued to write his notes. If he tried hard enough, he could make out her elegant purple ink from here. It always baffled him why she chose purple over traditional black - suppose it wasn’t really any of his business, but he couldn’t help but wonder. The familiar sketchbook sat on top of the desk as well; he could see doodles in the same deep purple color. Occasionally Regulus - who sat beside her - would nudge her to pay attention, gaining an annoyed groan. 

Potions class always smelt weird. It was a mixture of glue, seaweed, and salt. It was also constantly humid. It brought shivers down Remus’ spine. He noticed it doing the same to the Slytherin girl at the front. Remus craved nothing more than to wrap his robe around her, but he was too late. Regulus was already doing the action, which earned him one of her jaw-dropping smiles. Unconsciously he began growling again. This time, James smacked his arm. 

“Mate!” 

“Sorry…” 

Dinner was even worse. Y/n had yet to remove Regulus’ robes leaving him in a button-down white shirt and the usual uniform. Sirius was surprised at his younger brother's chivalry but didn’t speak much. The full moon was that night, and as dinner progressed, Remus only gained more possessive. James and Sirius gave up on trying to scold him. It was apparent Moony wanted - no - needed her. Slytherin captain be damned, Y/n was going to be Moonys. 

A dry winter night. As usual, Remus walked to the Whomping Willow with his three friends following him. Tonight was normal in the sense of his friends turning into their animagus,’ but the odd thing was letting him out of the shack. The werewolf and the dog ran around the forest together. The rat and stag lagging behind, allowing the two animals to play together. But a stick-breaking brought the attention of the werewolves to the new person. 

He could smell them. Hear their blood running through their veins. Their heart pounding at a standard rate. The dogs barking could be heard, trying to distract the werewolf. The scent was female, and she wasn’t scared. Instead, the girl approached with confidence sticking out her hand to the wolf. Padfoot barked loudly. Prongs backed down, looking nervous. Wormtail squeaked loudly. But she came with confidence and assurance. 

Moony growled, “Shh, shh, it’s okay.” She cooed, “You’re safe with me.”

The h/c haired girl knelt on the grass, “No need to be scared, I’m not going to hurt you.”

Moony hesitantly put his snout in the girl's palm, making her grin. His fur was soft to the touch, and his eyes turned soft. Her smile was beautiful, and Moony nuzzled his hand into her soft palm. She chuckled and patted him more. Padfoot barked excitedly and ran to her, but the werewolf started to bare his teeth again. 

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m yours.” 

The wolf seemed to calm down at her words allowing Padfoot to approach her. Smiling brightly, she pet both animals, “It’s okay, love.”

“My name’s Y/n. I didn’t know that there was a werewolf here.” Y/n greeted as Moony curled up beside her, his head on her thigh, Padfoot doing the same on the other side.

She caught sight of the other two animals and whistled for their attention, “C’mere.”

Prongs and Wormtail approached nervously, but Moony gave no sense of protectiveness. Y/n’s words resonated in his head over and over again, “I’m yours.” The wolf fell asleep beside her, Padfoot doing the same. Prongs approached, and Y/n patted the top of his head. Wormtail sat in front of her knee. They seemed at peace. It was the first time Moony ever felt at ease. They’d be lying if it didn’t make them happy. 

Y/n stayed up all night with the animals. Despite the animals not knowing, Y/n knew that the stag, rat, and dog were animagus’. The werewolf was unknown to her. The following morning when the stag turning into James, rat into Peter, dog into Sirius. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to find out who the werewolf was. When he turned back into a human with his clothes tattered. Y/n continued to run her fingers through his hair as he slept. 

“Morning, Marauders,” Y/n commented. 

“You’re- you-“ James stuttered.

She laughed, “Apparently, your moony really likes me.”

“Would you mind petting me again?” Sirius teased, “Maybe.” Y/n retorted, winking. 

Sirius laid down on her other thigh that Remus wasn’t laying on, smiling; she ran her fingers through their hair, “You’re a godsend, lemme tell you.”

James and Peter sat in front of Y/n, “What made you want to take a walk in the forbidden forest last night?”

“Just wanted some air.” Y/n answered. 

Remus groaned and began pushing his head onto Y/n’s hand, “Morning, Remus.”

The Marauders and Y/n had never seen him jump up that fast, “What- you- I- uh-“

“Didn’t know you were a werewolf.”

“I- uh…”

“Sirius, for the love of God, get off her lap.” James interject, slapping the boy on the head playfully, “But it feels so good.” Sirius drawled. 

James grabbed his arm and pulled him onto the grass. In the process, Sirius got a mouthful of dirt and grass, “You wanker.”

“Did I- erm- hurt you?” Remus questioned shyly, “Nope, I'm completely unscathed.” Y/n smiled reassuringly. 

Remus turned to his friends, “Nope! Y/n saved us all.”

“Are you hurt?” Y/n inquired to Remus, who took a quick look at himself, “I- I don’t believe so….”

Sirius blew a raspberry, “Thank Merlin! Dragging you to the hospital wing is bloody exhausting.”

Silence filled the forest until Sirius smirked, “You know, mate when you were talking about Moony wanting her. I thought you were joking. Turns out you weren’t.”

“Oi!”

“Oh, Merlin…”

Y/n chuckled, “Well, Moony is rather cute if I’m honest.”

Remus’ cheeks blasted with pink, and Sirius laughed. James shook his head with a big grin, and Peter looked amused with Y/n’s confession. Without hesitation, Y/n leaned over to kiss Remus’ cheek, making him hide his face flustered. She stood up and ruffled Sirius’ hand, gently rubbing her nails across his scalp, making Sirius try to lean into her palm. They all stared at her except for Remus, who was equally embarrassed and flustered. 

“If you’re looking for a fifth Marauder, I know the Slytherin common room password.” Y/n winked as she walked to the castle. 

[jiminrings]

yoongi grills stem koo’s ass <3

cold senior!y/n x stem major!koo masterlist :D

stem koo wants to explain himself and yoongi may not want to listen

"hyeji's never packed you a sandwich before?"

jungkook pales at the mention, mouth drying when he sees yoongi bring up the soft smile that doesn't comfort him at all

“the one that’s all knuckle?”

oh my god

IS THIS A RIDDLE????

yoongi tilts his head in amusement when this pathetic excuse for your past crush is calculating what he just said in his mind

what is a sandwich that’s all knuckle?? but it doesn’t even rhyme!!

aren’t riddles sUPPOSED to rhyme????

jungkook’s more than well-versed in stem-related problems that are just rephrased 237 times over and over so that it wouldn’t be as easy to solve

he can solve that!!!

but this!!! :O his mind is short-circuiting pls do not approach him

“hm?” yoongi’s smile patronizes him further and puts him on the spot, straightening his figure and jungkook’s quick to stop him from coming back inside your dorm

“i want to-“

“i asked you — have you ever had a knuckle sandwich?”

yoongi enunciates with so much clarity that kook finds his mind blanking, tripping over his words he hasn’t even formed yet

“i-is it-...” he stalls, trying to rack his mind for the bread he’s not sure he’s ever even heard of in his life, “i-is it like, a pork thing? uhm, t-the pig’s knuckle? and then you put it between, uhm, bread?”

,,,, laughable

jungkook’s supposed to be smart, isn’t he? or atleast that’s what yoongi thinks he’s supposed to be

lmao he would’ve laughed at the boy’s poor attempts if only he wasn’t furious at him

he’s dumb but not the endearing kind ://

“no,” yoongi drawls out, pretending to fish something out from his pocket

jungkook watches in intrigue, thinking that yoongi’s reaching for his phone to show him a picture of what it looks like

the hypothetical situation in jungkook’s mind is clearly not the one that happens

jungkook SHRIEKS as he stumbles on his heels backward — crystal clear to him that yoongi was not looking for his phone, but instead balling his fist and him being the receiving end

almost the receiving end

yoongi almost sucker-punches jungkook in a blink, fist literally a millimeter away from his nose and the only thing he could see at the moment is red

... red and jungkook’s wide eyes that have never carried this much fear up until now

“that’s a knuckle sandwich, kid. would’ve fed it to you if only y/n isn’t in the room right behind me.”

holy fuck

his heart is beating right against his ribcage and that shouldn’t be possible, fists closing upon themselves nervously as he tries to soothe his thumb so his mind relaxes

spoiler alert: it doesn’t work

jungkook’s mind is all over the place, even more rattled than it was when he takes a text without studying (he was so low he got a 98), but the only thing that’s clear is that you’re behind this door

“yoongi — mister yoongi, please. i-i need to explain myself, and if only you let me try, i can!! i swear. i’m not forcing you but-...”

there he is again

jungkook’s only been in his sight for like two minutes but his eyes are already sore

“why are you even here?” he scowls and even if the younger boy’s taller than him, every bit of his posture and demeanor at the bite of his words scream small, “why go all this length for someone you stomped on today, then have the gall to be a crybaby about it?”

he's speechless and it only serves him right, looking at his mudded-up converse and trying to focus on anything besides the guilt within

"m-my explanation," jungkook mutters, hands behind his back as if he's being scolded, “will you tell y/n?”

yoongi releases an agitated breath at him muttering your name

he dOESN'T get to say your name!! no!!! not after what he did to you

“i’m not concerned about you. what i decide to do or not, has nothing to do with whatever you say right now.”

kook solemnly nods, and even if yoongi's much harsher in your words compared to yours, the gravity of yours with him not being related to you cuts deeper

there's nothing else he could care about, actually

jungkook follows campus curfews to a T and would come home two hours earlier in the rare event that he goes somewhere

but now, he couldn't care less when the dorm master could just be there any second and he'd pass a hall monitor like usual

for the whole day, you were the only one that occupied his mind

"i know hyeji isn’t the one."

god, it was clear as day

he'll be the first one to admit that he can't read people very well, but he knew from the start that it's probably not hyeji who's been packing his lunchboxes

jungkook sometimes takes attendance in behalf of the professor because as much as he's shy, he's also a teacher's pet

the classes she shared with hyeji? she wasn't present everyday for the whole duration of two weeks, and how could it be that she still managed to make him a lunchbox if she wasn't present in the campus at all?

there was a probability that it could've been her, but it was so low that it sat right next to improbable

"i-i entertained the possibility briefly that she was, but then nothing was making sense the more i thought about it."

jungkook sometimes also checks papers because his professors trust him enough and he has perfect scores anyway, so he uses his own as his answer key

"i needed to interview y/n for an assignment, a-and a signature above a name was needed and it was just so familiar."

the moment he racks his head for hyeji's writing, it seemed fAR from the writing on the sticky notes on the lunchboxes

"then she seemed mad at me, but when i went to her on the field to try and confront her-" jungkook pauses and almost whispers the next part, the shame on his skin starting to seep into his bones, "she told me that we weren't related for me to feel hurt about it."

yoongi clenches his jaw, a pressure forming on the center of his eyebrows because he knows where this is leading

"a-and i thought it was hyeji again."

jungkook can't bring himself to be elated that it's been you the whole time because he might be a little too late; a little too late when he's already subjected you to the heartbreak you didn't deserve

"i-i didn’t know what clicked in my mind but i was just so hurt that-"

that's the fiNAL straw for yoongi

this has been him trying to keep his anger at bay the whole time, but this one!! this one he can't just accept

"you are a fucking asshole. honestly."

jungkook slightly winces with the sudden cussing, but it barely scratches the surface

"you think you’re the only one hurt? tell that to me who’s never seen y/n cry so hard before — or even cry at all."

his explanation wasn't an excuse and he knows it, but nonetheless, it tears him apart

"i’m sorry."

his lips quiver and he's trying sO hard not to cry in front of his senior, but yoongi doesn't feel even the slightest remorse for the kid

"i don’t care. you don’t apologize to me; you apologize to y/n. whether she forgives you or not, which for the record i don’t think she should, you cannot take back what you said."

if what jungkook said was eVER said to yoongi, given that he had the same circumstances as you did, he wouldn't know how to bounce back at all

it's a pain he doesn't wish to feel and he could only helplessly look at you who's trying to navigate it

perhaps you don't even plan to navigate it — knowing you, you're just gonna sail through it all to the point you're not giving yourself enough time to even realize that you already are

it was the same cycle of trying to move on without grieving through it properly that it hurts yoongi and seokjin and the tiny amount of people around you

"grovel at her feet. cry her an ocean. commit penitence. whatever you wanna come up with, no matter what, you do not make my y/n feel like she isn’t deserving of love."

you're family and yoongi goes above and beyond for family.

"i don’t care if you make up. i don’t care if you don’t. all i know is that in any other place besides outside the room she sleeps in, i’d hurt you like you hurt her."

jungkook almost wishes that yoongi punches him now and he won't even try to dodge it

"i deserve it."

"you do."

they whole-heartedly agree and it's the only time that yoongi can get behind jungkook's words

"i’m always gonna be on y/n’s side, kid."

there's no other way around it and as much as you know it or not, you've cemented your position in yoongi's heart unknowingly

"the only way that i’m gonna be on yours is when you’ve earned my utmost respect," he can't even see when that happens, crossing his arms across his chest, "and you don’t."

jungkook's tears are falling to the floor but they don't get on his cheeks, the sudden set of footsteps coming from his side making his head straighten and wipe his eyes immediately

he's the only one alarmed and he spares yoongi a glance, then to said person

yeah right that couldn't have been you :((

the guy who's approaching doesn't stop walking and he looks like.... he's uh,,, coming to where he's exactly standing????

he seems oddly familiar though

“oh, taehyung!"

where did he hear that name before??

taehyung stands at the same height as jungkook, maybe a centimeter or two taller, but he just couldn't stop looking at him from the corner of his eyes

yoongi's oblivious to jungkook's ongoing deduction, immediately engulfing taehyung in conversation

"y/n’s already asleep. i could do her part of the project-“

he offers because he recalls that right, you told him that taehyung's coming over to finish your shared project of a business plan late tonight

uhhhhh you're kinda zooted and going through it rOUGH so yoongi doesn't mind doing your contribution for you

“yoongi!! oh no man, it’s not what i came here for," he leans for a side hug, eyes landing on jungkook to drop a polite smile to acknowledge him

jungkook only slightly bows, confused but even more intrigued because he heard your name in the conversation

"i just uh, i just saw y/n crying while i was on my way home awhile ago, and i didn’t get to ask why, but i felt bad, so i came by to drop some cookies.”

oh

taehyung continues talking and it leaves yoongi and jungkook stunned, but he only focuses his attention on the former

“you looked like a hazelnut cookie kind of guy, so i baked some too!! is y/n allergic to peanuts? i put some too in a separate container in case she is.”

yoongi laughs and they go from there

IT'S LIKE JUNGKOOK ISN'T EVEN HERE!!!!

baby he's here he's nOT a hallucination!!!!

despite the fact that he's sticking out like and (unacknowledged) sore thumb, no one makes a move to take the conversation elsewhere

“thanks, tae. damn, you did all this yourself?”

yoongi whistles when he takes the tupperware opening it and almost watering at the sight

he doesn't mind baking cookies for you in case you wake up hungry, but taehyung really just did himself a nice favor without knowing it

he smiles softly, eyes narrowing in intrigue now that he realizes

"taehyung. no offense, but you’ve only interacted with y/n like once and it’s only for a project. why would you bake her uhhh 28 cookies?”

hehe

“35, actually :D”

tae interjects, waving him off when yoongi's jaw drops even further

“yeah, i know. i just felt so sorry for her — i’m not related to y/n but i just felt like i wanted to make her feel better.”

jungkook's jaw locks at this, his breathing becoming shaky all over again, fists balled this time

“it’s like,, economics!! i don’t actually know, maybe??? i’m in visual arts. y/n took over my part for me when i was sick-“

".... so you made her 30 cookies."

taehyung's the personification of a golden retriever and now that he thinks about it, jungkook reckons seeing him more than a handful of times

he laughs deeply at yoongi's rebutt and it may be in unfortunate timing that jungkook realizes he kNOWS him

he's in the same year!! he's the one that takes the portraits for the school paper and it's always his name in the credits

"good night, yoongs. hug y/n for me. tell her i'll take over her part, no questions asked."

taehyung walks away and he's perfectly content even if he didn't get to give you the cookies like jungkook thought he would

"night, taehyung."

yoongi looks at the retreating figure briefly, then looks at jungkook pointedly

he doesn't realize that he's still budging and listened on an entire conversation, dropping his head when yoongi points to the elevator

"bye, jungkook."

"good night, yoongi."

he feels hesitant to leave but it's probably for the better, putting his hands in his pockets still not enough to make his hands stop trembling

kook stops at the middle of his walking, turning his head to look back at yoongi whose mouth already has crumbs

"c-can i see y/n tomorrow?"

"i'm not her dad."

jungkook nods somberly, leaving it at that while his bulk of emotions consume him

he thinks all about the ways he could attempt to make it up to you, a million ideas in his head but his head doesn't hurt

his nose twitches at the lingering scent the cookies left, annoyed at the persistent smell and perhaps the boy that brought them

jungkook's never really liked cookies.

[otonymous]

⚠️ PSA: Everybody Hurts (When People Repost)

Hello @thebestaqua32​,

Thank you very much for your Ask.  I cannot tell you how much I appreciate the fact that you are reaching out to ask me for permission before actually doing so.  Unfortunately, I do NOT allow my work to be reposted by anyone other than myself, on any platform, whether it is Wattpad, Instagram, Twitter, etc.

What follows is by no means directed towards you, dear @thebestaqua32​, but I thought I’d take this opportunity to talk about something many creators (writers and artists alike) have been dealing with for a while now, and me, myself, recently.

Over the course of the past 3-4 weeks, I have found instances of my work being reposted to no less than 3 different platforms, once with attribution in difficult to see fine print with no links back to the original source of my work, and twice with absolutely no credit at all.  As you can probably imagine, it was quite upsetting to me that pieces I’ve worked so incredibly hard on was being distributed in such a manner, and a lot of time and energy was expended in order to rectify the situation — time and energy that could’ve been otherwise used to create more content for my lovely readers and followers.

Unfortunately, reposting without permission from authors and artists is a common occurrence, and some may not realize the damage doing so can inflict.  I seek here to try to explain why reposting in this manner hurts everybody, not just the content creator.

Argument #1: 

“How can I possibly hurt someone by reposting their work?  The more likes and comments I generate on this post of mine just means I’m giving them free publicity!”

This is something I’ve heard many reposters say in defence of their actions, and while publicity is definitely a good thing for content creators, that is only the case if the people consuming a piece could be bothered to check its original source — that is, if exposure is a guarantee of user traffic being driven back to the creator’s website, social media accounts, etc.  And oftentimes, especially in this digital age of “see it and forget it” fast-consumption, most cannot be bothered to do so — the action that is one-step removed proves to be too much of an effort, even if it is merely clicking a link.

Please also consider this: many creators depend on commissions to make a living.  This avenue of revenue has only become more important in current times because we are in the midst of a pandemic.  People are literally relying on these funds to pay their rent and feed and support themselves and their families.  The ability of a creator to support themselves is thus dependent on the size of their fan base or their numbers of followers.  If people cannot be bothered to check the original source of a piece of writing or artwork, this essentially cuts down on their potential earnings.  You cannot commission a piece from someone or support them if you don’t know of their existence.

This is especially so if things are reposted without proper credit at all, as was the case with one of my works.  The worst part was that the stolen piece was taken from a project where the proceeds from all commissions were being donated to charity.  In doing so, the thousands of people who liked this post had no way of finding out about this charity project, which means that even if they would’ve been interested in donating, they would not have known how.  In essence, this translated to less money being raised to help those who really needed it in dire times.

So please, please, please do not think that the act of reposting hurts no one because that is simply not the case.  There needs to be a direct link between people that engage with the content and the creator, which is why reblogging on Tumblr is excellent (feel free to reblog any of my content here if you wish, dear @thebestaqua32​) and retweeting (without quotes!) on Twitter is great.  These are among the best ways to support us!

Argument #2: The act of reposting could potentially contribute to the decline of a fandom.

Imagine you spent hours, days or even weeks working on something — pouring your heart and soul into a piece — and when you finally shared it to the world, not much happened.  Maybe you got a few likes here or there, a couple of comments if you were very lucky.  How would you feel?  What conclusion would you draw?  Some might feel discouraged, others might stop creating altogether.

Imagine then, that same post receiving tons of comments and likes and legitimate shares because someone with a bigger following reposted it on their own social media account without your knowledge.  Imagine what you would’ve done with this information — the feeling that others loved and enjoyed your work and wanted to see more.  Perhaps it might’ve encouraged you to continue creating.

Case in point:

I wrote this letter.  And if I weren’t alerted to the existence of this post, I would’ve never known that thousands of others had liked my work.  Also, that’s 124 comments I didn’t get the chance to read.  Furthermore, this was a piece that was written for the charity project.  Imagine how many potential donors we might have received if people knew about its source.

Feedback is absolutely crucial to creators.  It enables us to discover what others did and did not like.  Not only can it serve as a compass of sorts to guide our artistic progress and work (and create pieces that can cater to the needs and desires of those who consume it), it is also a point of communication between members of a given fandom.  It builds community.  And without a strong sense of community, a fandom flounders and could eventually fizzle out.

Without content creators, there is very little for people to consume.  Please support all of us by not reposting our work, especially without our knowledge and/or permission.

With that being said, please accept a giant THANK YOU from me to you for reading till the very end.  It is very much appreciated. 🙏🏻💕

[mystic-sky]

A/N: here’s Part 2/4💘 I told y’all I’m gonna finish this and I will. this short series is NSFW. Enjoy 😭❤️

✨part 1 here✨ | ✨parts 3 & 4 on ao3 only✨

Some would say this was entirely unnecessary, perhaps even a little too casual for work. But you know when you have one of those really good friends you’d do anything for? The kind you’d spend money on without a second thought? That’s how you felt about Suguru. You could call him whenever you wanted and he’d come fix up your car for you, help you lift things, or just lend you his ear. He was an extremely good listener, and he was always there for you. It was hard to believe such a sweet guy could be friends with Satoru. It was also hard to believe how you could ever favor Satoru more.

You were incredibly excited to give Suguru all the things you had gotten him over the weekend. Then, like a raining brick shower, did you remember that he came to your work place, with Satoru, and you anonymously gave him a lap dance. And now, you have to talk to both of them like you weren’t shaking your ass in their faces the night before. Tough.

You questioned all your life decisions as you anxiously dialed Shoko. You told her it was urgent and that you needed help with the gift bags, as well as time for girl talk and morning coffee before work. 

When she arrived you graciously hugged her, whining and crying her name as you reached over the arm rest. 

“You didn’t tell anyone where I worked at, right?” You say, tear stricken and panicked as you peer at her through wet eyes. She shot you an almost betrayed look. When did you start thinking she could be that menacing? 

“No- are you crying? Jesus, what’s gotten into you?” She pushed you away, staring worriedly with baggy under eyes.

“Suguru and Satoru showed up to my other job last night.” You shrieked, leaning against the wheel of your car and burrowing your head in your arms. 

“I did have a blindfold on but I don’t know if they knew it was me.” You say, muffling your embarrassment. 

Shoko could’ve laughed a bit, picking up her iced coffee. 

“You always did talk about giving Satoru the dance of his life to put his pitiful attitude in check.” She said, unpackaging the straw and stabbing the lid.

“Shoko!” 

“What? Your words not mine.” She said smugly. 

“I mean that’s how I felt but then he actually showed up! And then he gave my co worker his number to give to me! He definitely knows it’s me!”

“Why would he give it to you again on a piece of paper if he knew it was you?” Shoko quizzed. 

“To fuck with me, obviously.” You mutter, sinking into the drivers seat. “That’s Satoru shit.”

She swished her coffee around, further mixing her creamer. “That does sound like Satoru behavior.”

“Shoko!” You whined again. “How the heck am I supposed to face him? Not to mention, I got Suguru all this stuff and I was so excited to give it to him. You think he knows too? And what if he didn’t know but Satoru told him? Ugh- my head hurts.” You say, taking up your coffee and plunging the lid with your own straw. 

“How good was your blindfold?” She raises a brow at you.

“I looked like Harley Quinn’s knock off stripper sister.” Shoko let a laugh, earning a grunt from you.

“Okay okay, so they probably don’t know. But I would just suck it up and act like you don’t know anything either. Like an ‘I know that you know that I know’ kinda situation? But you’re not gonna do anything about it- kinda thing.”

“And you could always switch jobs if you’re that mortified. Poor Suguru, and his gifts though. It seems like Satoru ruins everything for him.” She sighed. 

Shoko had a way of pretending like things weren’t as bad as they were, and though sometimes it bothered you, talking to her helped you relax.

“I forgot to mention I gave Suguru a dance.” You sink more into your chair, covering your face.

“Oh then they definitely know.” She teased.

“Shoko!!!” You whined again.

“I’m kidding! There’s no guarantee that they know or don’t know.” Shoko said, placing her coffee down. “I would fake it until you can’t.”

You wanted to crawl in a hole. Couldn’t you just live a peaceful life?

“I have to move away and change my name, it’s the only way.” You cried. 

“Let me help you get the bags,” Shoko said, stepping out the car and ignoring you entirely.

“I was only messing with you, they don’t know a thing. I overheard the two of them inside talking about how nice the place was. They didn’t mention anything in particular while I was clocking in.”

You panicked anyway. Why would they?

“Now up and out, you can’t hide in your car forever.”

You sluggishly climbed out the vehicle and opened your trunk. 

“If it makes you feel better I’ll ask them about it for you.” Shoko helped you gather Suguru’s gifts and you went inside.

Just relax, (Name). Be cool, be cool. 

You were dazed, deep in thought as you and Shoko walked through the halls. You never regretted giving anyone a lap dance during your entire dancing career. You honestly don’t know what came over you. All you wanted was to make Satoru’s mouth water. It’s not like you didn’t already have his attention with his constant flirting at work but still, why did you have to be so gutsy?

You set the gifts down on your desk, before slumping into your office chair. 

“Good morning!” You heard the white haired devil chirp through the door way, knocking ever so lightly on the already opened door. Suguru trailed in quietly behind him, greeting you and Shoko.

“Morning!” Suguru hummed, taking a delicate sip from his coffee. 

You shyly waved, before Shoko spoke. “How was your night out?” 

Breaking the ice for us all Shoko, I thank the heavens and earth for your existence.

“It was great! Wish you guys could’ve been there. Fanciest club I’ve ever been to, like ever.” Satoru spoke, shoving his hands in his pocket. 

“It was cool. I still would’ve rather went to dinner with everyone.” Suguru shrugged, setting his coffee on his desk. You watched Satoru approach your table, quickly changing the subject of conversation. 

“What’s all this?” He quizzed, looking down at your sheepish body in your chair. Did they really not know? Or were they possibly pretending not to?

“T-These are gifts, for Suguru,” you stand, feeling a bit more confident. The dark haired male perked up at you, before walking towards your desk.

“I told you not to get me anything,” he sighed. You could see the soft smile edging on his lips as he looked down at you. “And then you spoil me like this? People are gonna think we’re dating, you know?” 

You swore you heard Satoru scoff.

“Hush, I told you it’s not a big deal. Besides, you’re always helping me out without asking. You deserve to be spoiled!” You say firmly, hands on your hips. He blushed a bit, realizing he wouldn’t be able to argue with you if he tried.

“You never spoil me this much on my birthday,” Satoru pouted, quickly inserting himself between the two of you, both verbally and physically.

“You’ve got to make your mark on people Satoru,” Shoko said, taking a seat behind her desk.

“I spoil all my friends as needed.” You say, crossing your arms proudly. “If you were a little nicer, maybe I wouldn’t think twice about buying you a bunch of nice things. Besides, your mistresses spoil you plenty.” 

“Mistresses? What mistresses? (Name) it hurts my feelings when you talk like that.” Satoru put a hand on his chest, pretending to be offended.

“You have feelings?” Everyone but Satoru said this in unison, resulting the room to fill with heavy laughter. 

“Oooo so funny.” He said sarcastically, keeping the straightest face.

“If you’re good to me for the rest of the year I’ll get you something nice.” You say, soothing the wound you all gave him.

“But it’s not your birthday right now, is it?” You say, flipping your hair and shifting behind Suguru. You gave him a little push.

“Go head, open them!” You say excitedly. Suguru lets out a soft laugh, before digging into his bounty.

After watching him open his gifts while Satoru graciously recorded the entire moment for his Instagram, the white haired fiend sparked up an idea.

“So, since Suguru kept saying he wanted to do something with everyone I thought we could take a getaway trip this weekend to my folk’s place in the country side.”

“Just us 4?” Shoko asked. “And are you sure we won’t be bothering your parents?” 

“Oh no, this is their vacation house. They only go on the holidays. Also, Nanami is definitely coming!” Satoru cooed.

“That sounds like so much fun!” Shoko swooned.

“I haven’t seen Nanami in so long. This should be exciting.” You clasp your hands together delightedly.

“Why do I get the feeling you didn’t actually ask Nanami if he wanted to come yet...” Geto squinted at Satoru, who smiled childishly.

“Nanami loves me. He is coming by default.” He says proudly. “Speaking of, I have to go meet with him tomorrow to take care of some business. So unfortunately, I won’t be able to train with Megumi. (Name) do you think you could pick him up from school for me tomorrow?”

“The middle schooler you’ve been teaching? Why do I have to do it?” You ask, swaying your hips as you look at him.

“Because~” he sung.

“Because...?”

“He’s been talking about meeting you!” He gleamed.

“Has he really? Are you talking about me behind my back or something? How does the kid even know who I am?” 

“Of course! I’ve told him plenty stories about the all powerful (Name)! The mightiest jujutsu sorceress to date.” He was clearly just trying to flatter you.

“Fine, I’ll pick up the kid.” You roll your eyes.

“Yay~” He says, casually hugging you. He always did that, not that you actually minded. And you knew he knew it got to you every time, hearing him smirk as you push him off. You force back a blush as Suguru speaks.

“That didn’t take much convincing,” he smirks with him a bit.

“I just wanted him to stop talking.” You say, grabbing your purse. You could hear Shoko attempting to stifle a laugh behind you. 

“Anyways, I’ll see you guys later. I have a class to teach.”  You waved goodbye, on your way to cater to the class of second years you were currently responsible for.

You were finally able to relax, feeling like your dancer identity was safe. Now, all you have to do is forget the lap dance and pray to whatever God there is that neither of them would come back. You proceeded to take out your phone and text your club manager, asking for the weekend off. You were lucky she was so lenient. 

The work day lasted longer than you’d liked to, and you hadn’t stayed behind to chat with anyone. Shoko knew you were always keen on going home to shower and relax a bit before your shift at the club.

You were in the club locker room, just barely after 10pm. You wanted to ask Tasty for juicy details on Suguru. You were eager to know if he had texted her or had talked of coming back. Fortunately for you at the same time, she was off today. To you, this decreased the likelihood of seeing the dark haired male and his devilish best friend. That is, if he truly liked her enough to come back.

You were wearing a more revealing set this evening- a suede, pink two piece. You made sure your heel straps were tight enough around your ankles before walking out onto the floor to do your first 10 minute set of the evening. You spun on the pole, climbing gracefully. The higher you went, the more dollars being thrown. You slid down the pole, connecting your body to the floor with a split. You crawled lionlike towards the edge the stage, greeting some of your regulars who sat towards the front. Flipping your body, you get up smoothly ending the routine and collecting your bounty.

As you walked down the stage and made your way towards the bar, you could see the silhouette of a tall, white haired male, speaking to the bartender. His body was turned away from you, and he was ordering a drink as if he just got there. 

You knew it was him. You could recognize his cocky stance just about anywhere. You dropped to the floor, crawling away and earning stares from plenty of your coworkers and customers alike. Oh I’m definitely quitting, you thought.

You managed to crawl back towards the locker room. 

“This cannot become a routine,” you clutched your chest. It felt like you were having another mini heart attack like the night before. Did he just decide this was his new favorite spot? You could’ve sworn you were in the clear. And two days in a row?

He knows, he has to. Should you confront him? Twice was too many times. You almost can picture his smug face out there right now. You’re a bit angry that he had the nerve to come back again, but a portion of you, the little devil inside you- wanted him to watch you dance again.

Then you remembered Shoko’s words. Fake it until you can’t anymore. 

If he wanted to play, then you’d give him exactly what he wanted. You opened your locker, fiddling around through your costumes and head coverings. You took hold of the a pink masquerade mask you had left over from a theme night at the club a few weeks ago. 

“This should do.” You say, sliding on the seductive looking mask and fixing your hair in the the mirror.  You struck a pose, before flipping your hair in satisfaction and strutting out of the room. You walked past a few regulars, and made yourself comfortable by the bar area. You decided you’d dance around everyone but him. 

Satoru took note of your scent first, realizing your feminine force was behind him. He sipped his drink before spinning in his barstool to look at you dancing amongst the other customers. He adjusted his sunglasses, taking in the sight of you.

The set you wore was more revealing than the one from yesterday. He felt like he truly missed out the night before as he watched you drag your hand down the chest of a stranger, feeling a bit envious. His length felt tight in his jeans yet again. But he was a smooth guy, he knew exactly how to make you come to him. 

You noticed him get up from the bar, walking away from where you danced. You couldn’t help but get distracted and anxious. You didn’t want Satoru anywhere you couldn’t see him. You almost jumped when your club’s bouncer, Ravi, approached you in the middle of your mini lap dance. 

“Candy, the tall guy,” he tried not to point, “the white haired one with dark glasses wants a private dance.” Satoru approached the bouncer earlier when he first came in, pre-requesting a dance from you and tipping him a hefty amount for it. Though he’d explained he’d be fine if you declined it, he truly just wanted to see just how far he could get.

You stared at the thick wad of cash that stuck out of the pocket of Ravi’s dress shirt. You knew Satoru had the guts to ask you directly, but it was more so that he was that much of an asshole, who simply wanted you to approach him on your own.

Ravi then pointed loosely with his chin at Satoru, who had been sitting on the sofa on the other side of the club now.

You nodded, assuring Ravi you weren’t going to keep him waiting. You walked slowly towards him, he barely made eye contact with you. 

Fake it until you can’t.

“Hey handsome,” you lean over the railing, displaying your breasts right beside him. He perked up a bit, though he briefly watched you walk towards him beforehand. He sparks a grin, and you can see blue orbs peering ever so slightly over the edges of his glasses. 

“Hey,” he confidently sits back, not even shy about looking at your breasts.

“Have you been here before?” A classic conversation starter, but were you were  attempting to poke fun at the awkward situation. 

“Ahh, yes! Ms. Number One, from the private dancer line up. I was here yesterday with my friend.” He took a sip from his glass. “But I don’t expect you to remember. You’re a very busy, and talented woman.” 

You bite back a blush, “Thank you.” 

“A little birdie told me you wanted a private dance,” you maneuvered around the railing but still leaned against it. 

“Oh yeah,” he preferred not to waste time. He pulled a thick and wrapped stack of cash from his shirt and placed it on the table in front of you. You tried your best to keep your eyes from widening. The currency strap read $5000. 

“A private dance in the private booth costs a hundred.” You felt inclined to remind him as the both the stack and him stared back at you. “And if you wanted the highest package it’s $500 with champagne and refreshments included for the hour, typically for a group.”

“It says that on your website,” he nods, clearly already knowing the information. You almost squint at him before he speaks again.

“Also, I figured I’d pay you enough to go home for the night if you felt like it.” He shrugged. The Gojo family clearly had it well for him to just toss five thousand dollars at a stranger. You shivered when you remembered counting your earnings from the night before, two thirds of the pile being from Satoru. 

A part of you felt like ripping your mask off and asking him to go home. Your awkward silence made him stifle a laugh.

“Candy, baby girl, is somethin’ wrong?”

You knew he knew you were blushing, even with your mask. But you promised yourself one thing after leaving the locker room- you would bring him to his knees. And if  he wanted to play, you’d be sure to win.

“Alright hot stuff, come with me.” You used a finger to slide the stack towards you before picking it up. 

He grinned at you before you brought him to one of the private rooms. Everything was preset up considering Ravi saw you warming him up prior.

Satoru made himself comfortable in the soft velvet cushions and red lighting. You sat beside him, taking hold of one of the champagne bottles from the ice bucket. You popped it open, causing some of the foam to splatter onto your breasts and stomach.

“Whoops,” you said playfully. You always liked to tease with the exclusive dances. He bites his lip while he watches you fill both of your glasses, taking up one soon after.

“Do you guys have candy here?”

“Only mints by the bar. Did you want something sweet?” That’s so like him, you thought.

“Nah, mints don’t count.” He shook his head. “Chocolate anything?”

“We have chocolate-covered strawberries,” you suggest.

“That’ll do,” he clutches one of the heart shaped pillows, flashing smile.

You rung the bell on the wall, speaking into the microphone beside it to make the request before plopping beside him.

“You’ve got me for the hour,” you leant towards him, crossing your legs. “So let’s make it count.”

“I was hoping we could talk for a bit first,” he said, swishing the liquid in his glass. You almost panicked, but quickly spoke up.

“Sure, whatever you want.” You lean your arm on edge of the couch. It wasn’t uncommon for guys to request dances from you just for you to listen to their qualms for the hour. Although, you never pictured Satoru as the type to do so. Actually scratch that— you settled into the sofa, preparing to hear him ramble on about himself. You made sure to keep eye contact with him, making it known you were indeed listening.

“I got a thing for this girl— she’s amazing. She hates me though. Granted, I’ve been an asshole since high school. I think she’s into my best friend, although he promises me it’s nothing like that.”

“Have you tried flirting with her?” Satoru was infamous for being a casual, serial dater. You wondered who she could be. Just because you were in his inner circle didn’t necessarily mean this girl was you or anyone you might’ve known. But you couldn’t help but put yourself into perspective anyway. 

“Yeah, but she’s pretty mean though.” He grinned, “To me.”

“And that makes you happy?” You questioned.

“I mean, obviously it doesn’t.” He clarified, realizing just how crazy he looked in that moment. “Oddly enough, I’d like to think she likes me back a bit.”

“Sounds kiddish right?” He chuckles. “Like is she a middle schooler or something? She’s been playing hard to get for a while now.” 

You twitch your eye a bit, was he really that full of himself? 

“She probably doesn’t like you. You shouldn’t try to read between the lines. Have you ever asked her directly if she does?” You reason, trying to humble him a bit.

“Nah, I guess I’m just afraid to ask her the right way.” He cocked his head back, earning a confused look from you. You never knew Satoru could be afraid of anything. He was seemingly a fearless person and he was the most powerful jujutsu sorcerer to date.

“Could you elaborate?” You poked.

“She’s the only woman whose ever rejected me. Can you believe that?”

You’re partially amused, these truly were the thoughts in his head— you were sure of it.

“What I mean mostly is that I think she’s an idiot,” he chuckled. You almost broke into laughter.

“For rejecting you?” 

“No, no, no— well, maybe. I think she’s incredibly dense. I’ve known her for like 10 years. That or she just tunes out my advances.” He scoffs. 

“Everyone else knows it’s obvious I still like her. I think the reason why I’m never direct with my feelings, or the reason I boil it down to casual flirting is because I’m scared of her rejecting me again.” 

“The first time was when we were both seniors in high school. She told me to try again after I learned some ‘compassion’. It feels like she’s somewhat interested in me. And I hardly think I need to learn anything— but it’s been years since she said that.” He adds.

He hadn’t looked at you the entire time, sort of ogling at his drink before setting it down. 

He was unraveling in front of you, as a complete stranger.

“You get this a lot— the sappy talks, right?”

You nodded, “It’s no big deal.”

“I promise I’m not like this all the time.”

A clearer look inside Satoru’s mind was interesting, to say the least. You don’t think he acted this way on purpose. Perhaps, nothing has pushed him into such a corner for him to begin actively taking people’s feelings into account the way the average person might.

He huffed. “What would you do?”

You pondered for a bit, what would you do? You weren’t sure who the mystery woman he described was but you felt a little jealous, trying to wrap your head around the idea of him being this smitten over someone. He had given you a taste of himself, something he dared not to show you when you weren’t wearing the mask.

“Be direct next time you approach her. Stop playing around so much and tell her how you really feel. Nothing too grand, and try your best to understand her if she rejects you again. You’re a handsome guy, so it won’t be the end of the world if she does.” You explain.

“I don’t mean to sound insensitive by saying that last part either.” You added. Though his head was cocked back, his gaze shifted towards you. He hardly looked worried or sad at all. He shot you a toothy smirk, making you squirm in your seat a bit.

“I know that,” he finally says. There he was again, being his typical arrogant self. “If it doesn’t work out, you’ll see me back here again.”

Dear God, Satoru becoming one of your regulars? You didn’t know if you could handle that. You could just work in a different club. Lord, let this mystery woman scoop him up, and make your life easier. 

The thought of him coming regularly just to see you made you happy sort of, but you found yourself getting jealous for the days you wouldn’t work. Suddenly, you didn’t want anyone else dancing for him. It had to be you.

“Woah, you okay?” He tilted his head towards you. You held your cheeks in your hand. If you were a kettle, you’d physically be steaming.

“You’ve got a cute side, Ms. Candy. That’s precious.” He leant forward, glasses sliding down his nose a bit. No matter how long you’ve known him, he would still give you butterflies just like when you were younger.

The server entered the room, placing the strawberries that he ordered onto the table. You watched him take off his shades and hang them on his shirt.

“Fuck yes,” he grinned, picking up one of the chocolate covered fruits. You watched him take a bite, tugging on your own bottom lip. He slid his tongue between two fingers, blue orbs just barely glinting at you. He hummed in delight as you awed at him. Really, everything about him was perfect aside from his flawed personality. You would’ve been dating him already if you felt he’d be a good boyfriend. He was obviously and unfairly attractive. You were positive the sex would be good too, considering you heard more than satisfactory things. He was tall, and wealthy, and strong and talented. He was just a shitty person sometimes. 

Somehow you liked him all this time, he’s been the only man whose kept your interest. That’s partially because he was persistent, in the most attractive and appealing way. But you’re adults now, maybe you should stop playing around so much. 

Did you even have time to change your mind with this mystery girl in the way?

“I think I’m ready for my dance now,” he said smugly, breaking you out of your thoughts. 

“Of course baby. Just sit back and relax.” You had to remind yourself, you’re Candy right now, and not (Name). 

He sunk back into the sofa, spreading his legs as you got up and positioned yourself in front of him. He spreads his long arms on the head of the sofa, slight smile leaking at the corners of his lips. 

You swayed your body, giving him a show. It was finally happening. You were giving him the very thing you fantasized about since you started dancing. You climbed onto his lap, grinding against him as the music played in tandem with your hips. He seemed elated, and not even remotely ashamed of the growing bulge in his jeans. You were feeling antsy, watching him with his arms sprawled out like that.

“I don’t normally let people touch me during my dances, but you can if you want.” You weren’t supposed to sound so shy when you said it. 

“You’re being extremely generous, I’ll tip you again, for sure baby.”

You felt his large, hot hands connect with your back, running down the smooth skin. You smiled smugly, looking down at him. You grinded against him some more, feeling his bulge confidently poke against your sex.

All you ever wanted was for him to touch you like this. You were mad at yourself for holding out this long— why did his hands feel so good against your bare skin?

Possibly just because you liked him, and that amplified the experience. 

Lost in the moment, you felt your hands run through the smooth fade of his undercut while you humped his lap. The amount of stimulation this gave the both of you was astounding. You heard a soft groan leave his lips, rising color out of your cheeks. 

You brought a finger to the string of your outfits top, pulling it undone and gracing him with the sight of your breasts as you tossed the fabric on the sofa. He was sort of surprised, but his facial expression was nothing short of cocky. It wasn’t the first time a stranger stripped top-less for him, and coincidentally, making panties drop was his hobby.

“Oh~?” 

His voice was terrifically deep, you never knew he could drop an octave this low. You’d usually be talking up a storm, doting on your customers with compliments and saying appropriately reassuring things. The entire experience was weird, having your childhood crush grope you and nuzzle his face into your breasts hadn’t been on your to do list for the evening.

He hummed against the skin in the center of your chest, sending vibrations up your spine.

“I know I’m pushing it, considering this is nothing but a service agreement, but I’d be happy to make you feel good— if you want me to, that is.” 

You looked down at him, knowing the mask you wore couldn’t save you from him noticing the blushing look on your face. 

“Just what do you take me for?” You’re being playful about it, wrapping your arms around his neck so he knows you’re not offended. 

“A hard working woman. I envy the man who gets to spoil you.” 

You couldn’t think of a response, and you assumed he caught on due to the way your lips parted and no sound emerged. 

“Ohh-hoh??? There isn’t one, is there?”

He stole the show from you, and now you’re sitting in his lap like some sort of blushing sheep. 

“That makes me feel sort of special,” he purred, taking one of your nipples into his mouth. You let out a dainty moan, grinding harder against him. You were no longer grinding along with the music, just finding a rhythm that would satisfy the both of you. He grunted at your sudden change in pace, his searing hot breath against your skin.

“Is that a yes?” He asked, nipple between his teeth.

“What about the girl you like?” You found yourself regretting even saying that, considering you were supposed to be a neutral party.

“You jealous?” 

You suck in your bottom lip, barely forming a pout. He truly was an asshole to everyone. It didn’t even matter if someone was on top of him. Before you’re able to say anything, he speaks again.

“Don’t be.” He pressed a sweet kiss to the center of your chest, heightening the crimson hues on your cheeks. His soft lips unfortunately tore from your body when his phone rang. He slipped the thing from his jacket pocket, answering the call. 

“Alright, I’ll be there in 30.” He said finally after following subsequent huffs. He ended the call, looking back up at you with apologetic eyes.

“I’ve gotta cut this short,” he was pained to say it. He was having too much fun. 

“That’s alright.” You say, sliding your leg off him and finding your top.

He stood, straightening his clothes whilst muttering what you barely made out as ‘fuckin’ Nanami’ through his teeth. You almost laughed, as you tied your top back on.

“Candy, baby, I’m sorry. Guess I’ll have to come back again.” He looked too happy to say it.

“Before your confession?” You say smugly. “Or after?”

“No no, I’m a man of my word. I’ll come back only under those conditions I mentioned.” He says.

“I wish you the best of luck.” You say, crossing your legs.

“You’re rooting for me? You really don’t wanna see me again.” He chuckled as he towered over you, his blue gaze now covered by his glasses again.

“I’m always rooting for my customers.” You smile slyly.

His grin softened, and you wish you knew why he was looking at you like that.

“See you around, Ms. Candy.”

He waved goodbye as he exited the room, finally allowing you a some relief. Hopefully this chick doesn’t reject him, you thought.

Even though he probably wouldn’t come back, you thought about quitting and working elsewhere anyway. You tore off your mask, pushing your hair back out of your face.

You really didn’t want to have to wear one of these again.

[serendipityjxmn]

Chapter 11

TW: None

Words Count: 2.6k

Link to Masterlist

Link to Chapter 12

You think one day of rest was enough since you can walk perfectly well now without wincing. So you wake earlier than Jimin the next day, marvelling at his features for a few moments but also fighting the urge to punch him out of giving you sleeping pills so you could oversleep and not come to work.

But now that you’ve reached the office, you feel nervous. You don’t know how to face Minhyuk. You don’t know if you could even face him.

Luckily, you don’t see him at all throughout the morning. During lunch however, when you return to the office, you see him first before he does yet he just brushes right pass you. You feel relieved yet you can’t shake off the strange feeling.

And your hunch turns out to be right when Minhyuk starts being mean from the next encounter and forward. He gets angry at you for the smallest of reasons. He doesn’t quite look at you when he gives order and when you ask him to clarify things, sometimes he would glare at you. It also doesn’t help that as you get more nervous you tend to make more mistakes.

Work feels even more exhausting when you’re mentally stressed at workplace. You come home with a headache that one night.

As soon as you prepared Jimin’s dinner, you hunt for some medicines and brings it with you as you head towards the room at the end of the hallway which you’ve somehow turned into your small office area (and your husband doesn’t seem to mind so-). You sit yourself on the sofa and shifts through the documents. The expenses report from several departments submitted during today’s meeting aren’t due for review until Friday yet Minhyuk says he wants to see it first thing next morning. You know he’s just doing it to get back at you and he’d probably ended up stacking the files on his table untouched just like the last task which means you’re doing this for naught anyway but you don’t want to give him any chance of finding your fault so here you are.

Your head feels like spinning so you quickly gulp down the medicine and force yourself to start on your work. Half an hour into it though, you don’t realize when you had fallen asleep.

You wake up next day in your own bed, perfectly tucked in while Jimin sleeps soundly next to you. You sit up almost immediately.

You look at the sleeping figure next to you, his snores are very light, you note.

Unknowingly, you inch closer to his side. You’ve always loved his smell. He just smells like... him.

You’re pretty sure he tucked you in last night. Why does he pretend to be so harsh all the time if he actually cares for you?

Maybe it isn’t impossible to build a civil relationship with him. With your husband.

You stare at his features. You can’t deny it. Jimin’s really good looking. And this good looking man is your husband. Sometimes you still have trouble believing.

Your eyes fall to his lips. His plump pink lips looks very tempting. You briefly wonder if-

Don’t.

Don’t fall for him.

And at that exact moment, Jimin’s eyes shot open while simultaneously his hand grips your right hand that hovers over his face seconds ago tightly. You freeze completely, not moving a muscle because you know he’s doing it out of reflex and you don’t want to dwell on how he’s trained for that.

His stare at you is murderous and your hand move to retreat but he kept his grip vice like on your wrist.

And you could feel the intensity slowly rising between the both of you.

You could’ve sworn his face inches closer to you and you panic instantly so you back away and sit up. Without wasting another breath, you get up and disappear into the shower.

You panic at your desk. In light of this morning’s incident, finding yourself in your bed instead of the sofa as well the tense moments with Jimin, you weren’t in the right state of mind so you completely forgot about the report Minhyuk asks you to handle yesterday.

You gather your courage to tell Irene first.

“Ah the sales reports?” She says and you nod. “Mr. Park already handed it to me first thing this morning when he arrived. I went to see Mina just now and handed the reports to Mr. Kim as well.”

O...kay. You definitely don’t expect that but you can’t help but sigh in relief. Did Jimin take it last night when he finds you in the small library room?

“Wait. If you brought the files home last night, how does Mr. Park have it?” Irene narrows her eyes at you.

Shoot. “Um- I forgot I didn’t- I mean, I just realized I didn’t bring it home at all. My head was really spinning last night and I thought I brought it home, turns out I didn’t.” You fake a smile. “Perhaps Mr. Park saw it on my table.”

Irene huffed at your answer, perhaps contemplating whether to believe you or not. She doesn’t say anything after that.

You’re at Mina’s table, discussing with her about updates on meetings with R&D team as requested by your husband when Kim Minhyuk appears from his office room, storming at you with a furious look.

“Miss Y/N, what on earth do you think you’re doing?” He shouts at you, making everyone at the office look up and you feel small immediately. “Are you even doing your job?”

“I’m sorry Mr. Kim-“

“This!” He pushes a document towards you and you look down to see the sales report yesterday.

“Is there something wrong-“

“You fucking tell me.” He snarls. “Tell me, how on earth did you organize this? I don’t understand a single thing. Did you even do it?”

You remain silent. Because he’s right. You didn’t do it. But how can you say that? What would you say to him? That your husband, the president, the CEO arranged the report?

“I honestly have no idea if you’re coming for work or you’re just fucking around.” He hisses.

You literally hear the gasps from your office mate.

You draw a breath, trying to calm yourself to face Minhyuk. “I’m sorry, Mr. Kim if you’re not satisfied but-“

“Mr. Park.” Someone says. Your stomach lurch instantly.

Both you and Minhyuk look up. Your lung drops when you sight your husband standing few metres away, his hands in his pocket.

“Jimin.” Minhyuk addresses your husband.

Jimin’s eyes are on you and you look down immediately. Anxiety starts filling you up. Is he going to shout at you too?

He crosses the distance and stops short before you and Minhyuk.

“Minhyuk.” Jimin nods at him. “Do you mind if I borrow.. my wife for a moment?”

Everyone in the room gasps including you.

You stare up at him, eyes wide in shock. He wasn’t looking at you, he was smiling at Minhyuk although you know it’s entirely a facade.

You eyes flicker to Minhyuk. His expression is priceless. You’ve never seen him in a state more shock, what with all his constant smirk or flirty expression.

“Y-your wife?” He stutters.

Jimin steps closer to you then place his hand around your waist, pulling you flush against him that earns another gasp around the room. “My wife,” he reconfirms. Then towards you, he smiles briefly before he pulls you with him and leaves you at your desk before you could say anything as he walks back towards his office.

You’ve no idea what to say.

Everyone knows you’re his wife now.

And you’ve never felt so guilty towards Jimin.

Irene had never been this loud before, you think.

“Like what on earth- I really wouldn’t know! Like you know, with the way he’s treating you or literally everyone with his cold personality. Oh well, I guess that explains his stares at you.”

You stare at her. “He.. stares.. at me?”

“He does! Quite a lot actually. Caught him on a few occasions. You probably won’t notice them but I have eyes of a hawk.” She winks at you.

“You’re sure he’s not doing it to everyone?”

“Hmm he kind of does actually.. But with you- I don’t know. The look is softer, I think.” Irene says fondly.

You shake your head. “You’re exaggerating.”

“No, I’m not.” She sigh. “Why didn’t you tell me? Or anyone for that matter.”

You give her a small smile. “We wanted to keep it private. Don’t really wanna mix work.”

She nods at this. Then suddenly, her eyes widen at you then clasps your hand tightly. “Oh God! You really really have to forgive me.”

You frown. “You did something wrong?”

“Remember when you asked me about Clara Kim? Oh God- and I freaking told you she’s his girlfriend oh Lord- I’ve commited a huge sin, I know- and I’m so so sorry-“

You burst out laughing. She looks puzzled at first but then joins you. Then she turns serious. “But were you for real? You really don’t know who Clara Kim is?”

You bit your lips, unsure how to answer her. Then you slowly nod. “I don’t know.”

She looks at you in sympathy then leans down to whisper, “You think he’s cheating?”

You know he does. “No, I don’t think so. If he is, why would he let his wife be his secretary where she practically knows all his schedule?”

“Hmph. Makes sense, I guess.” She straightens herself then. “Okay. I’m going out to lunch. You coming?”

At that same moment, Jimin comes out. His eyes find you immediately. “Had your lunch?”

“I’m about to head out with Irene.”

“No- no Mr. Park. I forgot I actually had plans with my boyfriend. She’s all yours.” Irene says, already picking up her stuffs and standing.

You know she just made that up so you try as hard to give her the eye that you don’t wanna go for lunch with your husband now but she dashes off super quickly, leaving you with your husband.

“Come on.” He says.

You stand rooted to your spot, not budging. Jimin turns back to look at you. “I’m- I’m gonna have lunch with Mina.”

He glares at you and you almost want to cower but still holds your decision.

“Fine then.” He grunts then walks away. You heave a sigh of relief.

You don’t actually plan to have lunch with Mina. In fact, you don’t feel like going out at all. Instead, you sink back onto your chair. Your iPad in front of you flashes and you grab it instantly.

You feel your blood runs cold immediately upon seeing it.

You’re all over the news.

[REVEALED] Seoul’s most successful young CEO, Park Jimin’s wife identity revealed.

Mid this year, a large population of young women in South Korea had their hearts broken when arguably, Seoul’s most eligible bachelor, a young and good looking, successful CEO of the largest tech company, Park Jimin announced that he would be tying the knot with non-public figure woman, who’s identity remains closely kept secret.

But we finally know now who’s the girl that has stolen the heart of the heir to Parks Corporations. The woman is revealed to be __, 23 years old, currently working as secretary at Park Jimin’s own company, Bangtan Inc. It seems like the President wants to keep the wife close- much to the single ladies who’s working in the company’s heartbreak. The background of Park Jimin’s wife is yet to be known but whoever she may be, she must be reading a helluva of a prenup. Bagging South Korea’s allegedly most eligible bachelor, perhaps we can arrange a session to ask for a tip or two?

You wish the ground could swallow you whole.

Isn’t it illegal to be exposing informations of non public figure like this? Though you suppose the writer is trash anyway when he exposed your identity while clearly stating you’re a non public figure in the same line.

Wasn’t your marriage to Jimin suposed to be a secret and your identity kept hidden?

Yeah but then you yourself went to work at his company, gets harrassed that drive to the point of Jimin having to expose your relationship.

God. Both your index finger pressed each side of your temple tightly.

You’re contemplating whether you’re supposed to go back with Jimin so you decided to just go with him if he comes out of the office around the same time you’re off work but if he doesn’t then you’ll head home first and you desperately pray for the latter.

However, all hopes went down the drain when Jimin appears out of his room and only glares at you for a few seconds before you scramble to your feet and hastily packs your stuff.

And that’s how you find yourself walking timidly, very self conscious behind him as everyone stares at the two of you and you think it couldn’t get anymore embarassing at this.

Jimin is silent during the car ride. He busied himself with his iPad, leaving you fidgeting in the heavy silence. You decided to just man up and address the elephant in the room.

“J-Jimin..” you call softly. “I’m sorry it came down to this.. and now everyone knows you’re- I’m- um.. we’re-“

“Married.” He cuts you off.

You look up at him. He doesn’t look at you, his eyes still on his tab.

“We’re married.” He repeats. “Is that so hard to say?” He asks, finally looking at you.

“No- I me-“

“Nevermind.” He turns his gaze back to his tab and the conversation is over.

You don’t mean it that way but you just don’t want people looking down at him for marrying you, someone of no status and not even a decent upbringing background.

You play with the spoon on your hand, guilt still swallowing you whole. Drawing a breath, you look up at Jimin who’s drinking his glass of water. You’re both on the dining table, only sounds of cutleries can be heard.

“Jimin, I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean for all this to get exposed. I’m sorry.” You say softly.

His expression turns cold. “Are you?” He asks, looking straight at you with piercing eyes, making you recoil.

“What do you mean? I didn’t want this to happen either-“

“Yeah none of this would’ve happened if you just sit your ass at home, playing house or the perfect fucking wife.” He sneers. “Instead, you just have to work in my own fucking company, get yourself harrassed and left me with no choice.”

You want to answer him, that he’s being unfair because you didn’t ask to be harrassed but Jimin was raging so you stay muted.

“It’s dangerous, do you know that? Now everyone knows who my wife is and it’s fucking dangerous-“

“Why?” You cut him. “Tell me why it’s dangerous- Jimin who are you-“

He raises from his seat and leans down to you, face merely inches away and you swallow. “I’m a dangerous person darling.. I can snap your neck in two and you won’t see it coming.” He says as his fingers touch your neck, in an act that seems as if it’s caressing it but you know better. “And now that everyone knows who you are.. that means they can come and snap your neck too baby. But of course, you wouldn’t see it coming. And that’s what happens when you don’t listen to me. Not when I tell you to quit your fucking job, not ever.”

He raises again, standing upright before turning on his wheels and leaves you. You struggle to calm your erratic breath and nerves. And finally, you let the tears flow.

That night too, you wrote the resignation letter.

Link to Chapter 12

Posted on 210423 9:00PM

[dreamystuffers]

“happy birthday!” - xdj

summary: planning a surprise party with wayv can end only end in disaster

genre: fluff | idolverse au, mutual pining au, idiots to lovers, brithday au

length: 1k words

pairing: birthday boy!dejun x reader

warnings: profanity

note: thank u to @ezralia-writes​ for looking this over heh

part of my 100 ways to say i love you mini series + repost from my old blog! 

"You can come out now. I know you're all hiding." Dejun sighs as he tosses his keys into the bowl by the door.

The dorms stay silent for a moment before a sad whine is heard. Yangyang pops out of his hiding spot and stomps up to Dejun before shooting his dollar store confetti popper into the air above them.

"Dude you couldn't have even pretended to be surprised?" Yangyang tosses the used container aside and punches Dejun in the arm.

"Hey it's not my fault you aren't subtle." Chuckling, Dejun ruffles Yangyang's hair making the younger bat his hand away.

"We worked really hard though," Yangyang pouts. "____ spent so much time trying to get us to function properly and I bought cake and Ten-"

"Wait, ___?" Dejun's shock isn't subtle.

"Yup," You sigh as you stand up from your awkward crouch behind the dorm couch. "Surprise?"

Disappointment is the only word that can be used to describe your face right now. In fact you seem disappointed enough that Dejun seems to be regretting his own lack of enthusiasm.

It was not news to any of the WayV boys that you and Dejun had feelings for one another. Watching the both of you dance around each other was painful. So painful that when you had suggested to plan this surprise party for Dejun the boys had jumped at the opportunity to help out.

"Thanks," His reply sounds just as bad as his initial reaction and he fights the urge to smack himself.

Honestly you were shocked that the surprise aspect of the part had failed. All of your energy in the past two weeks had been spent delegating tasks and ensuring that everything ran smoothly.

I just don't understand how this could've happened. You think to yourself, letting another sigh escape you before your attempt to compose yourself. Despite your disappointment, you know that the whole reason you planned this was to celebrate.

"Happy birthday!" A small smile appears on your lips and Dejun can't help but coo internally about how cute you are.

"Thank you," He says, reaching out to you to pull you into a hug.

You gladly comply, shuffling into his open arms, his arms enveloping you and holding you tightly. Your arms loop around his torso as you bury your face into his chest and lean against him.

"Gross," Ten coughs indiscreetly walking towards the kitchen with the rest of the boys.

Kunhang snickers as he goes to set the table and you feel your face flush and your body stiffen. You and Dejun pull away from one another, both too absorbed in your individual appearances to notice the others' flustered one.

Soon after, the two of you find yourselves in the kitchen area with everyone else.

"What's this?" The birthday boy points at the paper sun dangling somewhat sadly from the stairs.

"A pinata that me and Yukhei forgot to fill." Sicheng says nonchalantly earning a glare from you and a loud protest from Yukhei.

"It's not that we forgot to fill it!" He looks down at his feet, a pout forming on his lips. "I just thought it came with the candy in it."

Yangyang's loud laughter can be heard from the kitchen at Yukhei's words and you can't help but let another sigh escape you, feeling bewildered by how terribly this party is going so far.

"How did you find out about the surprise party anyways?" The question leaves your lips before you can stop yourself.

Honestly, the question wasn't surprising to any of you and someone would've asked eventually. Everyone wanted to know how exactly things had all gone sideways. Perhaps it's the pout on your face or the fact that Dejun's always had a soft spot for you but he caves without giving you the teasing that the other boys would have received had they been the one to ask.

"Kun lent me his iPad and then a notification for an email titled 'cake for the surprise bday party' appeared."

Your eyes dart over to Yangyang who can only shoot a wavering look back at you. "What?" Yangyang breaks eye contact with you and turns to look at the floor instead. "I didn't know there would be people going through emails."

You feel yourself run through the five stages of denial in record time and simple settle on crunching loudly on the chips you had set up earlier.

"I'm really sorry about all this ___." Dejun wraps his arms around you and you all but melt into his embrace. "Is there any way I can make it up to you?"

Just as you're about to tell him that it's okay because it's his birthday, Kun shouts rather loudly.

"Just take her out dammit. You two have been pining like a couple of idiots and we all know you want to date!"

Your heart starts hammering in your chest and you wonder if Dejun can feel it from the way he's holding you. Perhaps he's too busy worrying about his own heartbeat to worry about yours.

"Oh my god," Yukhei groans before walking over to the two of you with the present you had packaged earlier. "It may be a bit early for presents but Dejun you need to open this right now."

The birthday boy looks rather puzzled but complies regardless, untangling himself from you to grab ahold of the bag. Reaching underneath the colourful tissue paper, he pulls out an envelope and a package of guitar picks.

You suck in a breath as he breaks the seal of the paper, anticipating his reaction.

The wide grin that settles on his face after seeing the big handwriting on your card that reads 'HAPPY BIRTHDAY PLS DATE ME!!" makes you laugh as he pulls you in to plant a kiss on your cheek.

"Best birthday gift ever." He smiles at you.

You can't help but giggle at this but your moment is interrupted in an instant.

"Ten lit the candles wrong and now the cake is slightly on fire!" Sicheng yells from the kitchen.

You sigh but grab onto Dejun's hand. Everything will be okay.

my requests are open for my 100 ways to say i love you and things you said mini series!

[ashenburst]

Enough of Our Disease

Cioccolata x Reader, uh... no real genre, 9845 words. Consider this a prolonged, realistic interaction with the psycho.

tw: manipulation, degradation, abuse, slight violence, blackmail, slight gore

However, just so you know, this isn’t as grim as some Cioccolata stories out there.

A new intern who had just been transferred to the clinic. Nothing more but a stranger. That was (Y/N).

And she was also a student. A brave little student who got a scholarship in Italy, and had the opportunity to work side by side with Rome's greatest doctors. Something she could've only dreamed of, and yet... it became reality.

The new surroundings were quickly conquered by her. She studied hard and long, and she had all that experience behind her to guide her to her bright future. And it wasn't just the mind that she had trained, but the charm as well. She gained favors of both other interns and doctors. It wasn't too hard – the method she used was old, but a trusted one.

She would always assume the best, and from that point onwards, the stranger would slowly diminish their unknown. So did this one. His name was Cioccolata – a sweet one, as (Y/N) humored. He was a surgeon, an excellent one, as she also noted on multiple occasions. A compliment or two would do no harm. Even in professional surroundings such as this one, where doctors were expected to operate almost mechanically, empathy was needed. Luckily, the atmosphere in this clinic was relaxed – and everyone inside was keen on keeping it that way. At least, between the workers.

The interns were welcomed warmly. The doctors, although they certainly had much to do, managed not only to pay attention to the students. Rather, they succeeded in meeting them better; they genuinely cared and dedicated themselves to meeting them better. Something (Y/N) could hardly believe...

The stress and the worry! A doctor had no option but to lose their connections with their patients, for not every life could be saved. And not every disease could be cured, and not every symptom could be eliminated. What could a doctor do, but their best? Even when a surgery would fail, and the patient would live on sick, and even when a surgery would result in death –

"Sir? Are you alright?"

Cioccolata lifted his head, evidently snapped out of deep thought. "I am...? Why are you asking?"

"I just... had to check," (Y/N) told, "it must be horrible, losing a patient like that." She sighed. She didn't know much of him at the time, but his expertise seemed unparalleled. She had seen it with her own eyes, on multiple occasions. This must've been a low blow to his career... and psyche, she believed.

The green haired male forced a chuckle. "I can handle it. Don't worry."

His antics were odd. Unusually calm, somewhat regal. Fitting to a doctor, one would believe, but certainly not typical in reality. This solemn approach of his remained intact in every situation, except, perhaps...

"You've got an interesting taste, dottore," Cioccolata pointed out one day. He had the habit of calling her dottore, for she acted like one more so than his colleagues. During break, he caught (Y/N) reading a particularly grim book. She raised an eyebrow at him, already grinning.

"You're a fan of Dostoyevsky's?" She would love to talk with one.

"I don't think I am, but I did enjoy some of his works. Especially the one you're reading right now," he stated, allowing himself a small smile.

"The Notes From The Underground surely has its appeal. I find it oddly... releasing, despite the book's theme," she began. She simply had to discuss it.

"You emphasize with the man?" The older surgeon inquired, still bearing that smug expression of his.

She shrugged. "I'd say I do. Don't we all?"

"Not all of us are equipped with the proper mindset."

"Or heart."

"Mind rules over the heart. You, an aspiring doctor, should know that of all people," he remarked, hitting a string he shouldn't have. Per se, mocking one's own life work would be a bad thing, let alone tampering with a topic so familiar to the other party. And it just so happened that it was that period of the month. The intern knew what to say.

"I don't think we're on the same page," (Y/N) countered, noticing the opportunity. "We've both started using metaphors and they don't mean the same to us, so it's pointless to lead this discussion any further."

His expression darkened. He was far from pretty – it would be easy to describe him as a repulsive man, even.

He lifted his face, gazing down to her. "Why impress me, dottore? I might tell on you and everyone will find out you're arrogant."

And she regretted ever trying to poke at his ego, just for a bit. Which is why her response was tamer. "You wouldn't do that," she said, stifling a laugh. Maybe he'd realize she didn't really intend to insult him.

"Indeed, but I could." With that, he abandoned her, in a state she'd dub as anxiety. She was never keen on making enemies, not with people like him – people who were intelligent.

Not only intelligent, but dangerous. Authority was in his grasp. He was one of the many people (Y/N) simply had to by liked by. Strangely, he turned out to be amused by her outbursts of boasting – she toned them down nevertheless.

She felt before she knew. A discomfort, creaking softly whenever she'd step on the wrong ledge. And oh, how sensitive she was to the sound. It would alarm her entire being, stiffen her whenever he was nearby. Her intuition would beg her to stay away, and she wanted to stay away – safely – for she wished no stress, no additional bothers in her life.

It was wondrous, whenever she'd look back at it. The way it started off, and the way it developed. Admiration, distance, provocation – and lastly, fear, laced with respect. In the spur of the moment, she found herself wanting to be liked by him. Just like her student self, meeting a new teacher. She wanted to leave a good impression, for it could only benefit her.

Did it benefit her, now? What did she get in return?

"This is Secco, my trusted assistant," Cioccolata introduced her to the young man. His wide, violet eyes stood out to (Y/N) – she could see how nervous his gaze was. And that was all she saw, for the remainder of his face was covered with a cap and a surgical mask.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Secco," she warmly spoke.

"Mm, same," he responded in his so, so unpleasant tone. (Y/N) couldn't believe it was him talking at first. It was as if – as if gravel was being pressed against her skin. It caused her much discomfort, but... she gave him an awkward smile. Then, continued with whatever job was at hand –

She couldn't remember the rest. The memory of the event faded along with that horrible stench of Secco's.

But Cioccolata's voice... steady as the torrents of his elaborating. She loved it. He'd point at the graphs, explain a correlation or two, then pose a hypothesis. (Y/N) was just one of the many interns, and she didn't want to believe she stood out – but by all means, she made it. In the hall, whenever a respected doctor would offer his guidance to the interns, she was one of the few who knew and understood.

It didn't come without a price. She'd been burdening herself with random facts and sublime methods for ages now. Not only did she stay longer at the clinic, just to linger around and do additional work... and talk with people there, too. Every day, a documentary would be watched or a book would be read. Her brain, buried even deeper into her profession. It gave her headaches. Plenty of them, in fact. But she knew she'd been doing the right thing.

This was the prime of her lifetime. All the sweat and tears she'd wasted so far were worth it. She loved her life, the life she earned. And she was loved because of it. Her parents would message her every now and then. She knew she didn't fail them.

And every morning, she'd wake up, look into the mirror and – smile, no matter how bad she looked. With all the circumstances the present was overlapped with, how couldn't she? Everything was good. Her job, her studies, her family and her friends – who she rarely contacted, for all of them were in a similar situation. She was overjoyed, for she knew they would succeed. Her heart was full... every aspect of her life was complete. She couldn't ask for more.

And so the daily routine continued. A bliss, simply put.

In retrospective, (Y/N) truly had no complaints. Objectively speaking, she had no right to ever dare complain. Which is why she'd beat herself to remain quiet whenever the slightest inconvenience would occur. Be it a bellyache, a quarrel, or additional work. Yet...

She loathed when people told her things she already knew. She loathed when people insisted on repeating the same formula over and over again, as if she were dumb – or as if she were ignorant enough not to know it already. She hated when people underestimated her and didn't let her prove otherwise.

But Cioccolata allowed her to.

"Your take on the symptoms, dottore," he tapped the chart. (Y/N) couldn't believe what she was looking at. The symptoms displayed were horrible – nausea, paralysis, loss of hearing – just what...

She blabbered the first ideas that came to her. "Brain tumor? No. Late stage of syphilis?"

"Indeed." She felt her heart fill with pride at Cioccolata's approval. "The universe is certainly unfair towards this patient, hm? He's a homeless man, the ambulance brought him in after some guy spotted him lying on the streets. I'm surprised someone even bothered..."

"Truly... horrible. No comment," (Y/N) muttered, not knowing what else to say. The day was long and she was tired beyond measure –

"Do you no longer care about your patients, dottore?" His question threw her off guard. Her eyebrows furrowed, and she shook her head lightly, all while staring at him.

"I do care about them? Of course I do?" Why was he asking those intrusive questions again? Outrageous.

"Oh. It's kicking in sooner than the usual," he nonchalantly stated.

(Y/N) kept staring at him. "What are you talking about?"

"The indifference. Or numbness. Whatever you want to call it. You simply stop caring... it's normal. In fact, it's an imperative, if you want to stay sane."

How could he say something so provocative? She understood where he was coming from, but talking about it openly was something else. It meant multiple things, and those things were... invasive. She remained silent, and luckily, Cioccolata let her.

This was why she felt uncomfortable at times. This man knew of no boundaries. But... that didn't have to be a bad thing. He was brave enough to talk about the things most people would consider morbid. Yet intelligent. Unique, rare – name it however you want, but (Y/N) enjoyed. Not to mention he was her superior. And he didn't treat her like she was beneath him. Almost as if she was his equal.

She was respected like never before. Not only by him, but by his colleagues as well. It would be an understatement to say she adored it.

One particular, fateful day, she forgot her wallet at the clinic. She hadn't realized it until night fell – she wasn't the most perceptive person, and she disliked this trait of hers. She'd have to get ready and go back to the clinic, which was a bother... and it simply went against her plans. Although she had none.

She was lucky. The lights were still on, and there were people inside, so she didn't attract much attention.

She tried to remember where she had been that day. What was her routine like? They'd been checking some patients, yes, in a more distant wing. She had to do some walking to reach it, and once there... she had to check all the rooms.

Strangely, there was nobody around. This meant she didn't have to justify herself to anyone, at least. But it certainly didn't make her feel too comfortable either. Being alone in those hallways, opening empty rooms – all of that made her feel as if she was doing something wrong.

Maybe she truly was doing something wrong. She barged into a room where lights were turned on.

"My apologies, I wasn't –"

Of course she wasn't aware. She wanted to vanish, erase her memory of the sight – she didn't want to be involved, she didn't mean it to happen, yet –

There it was, the massive crimson protruding through the clinical white, clawing at her sight. Organs, splattered around, begging to be forgotten and shoved into oblivion. Their owner, a man reduced to a hole, laying sprawled on the bed... long dead, long mutilated. And the two of them, her colleagues. The culprits and the criminals, all in one – a pair of monsters.

(Y/N)'s vision distorted. She saw it all clearly, and once the realization hit her, she froze, just for a second. She couldn't believe it. But all of her senses spoke otherwise, and the very moment those two monsters looked at her, their eyes – screaming shrill danger... they would get her.

So she slammed the door and began running. She didn't feel anything at all. Her feet were propelled forwards just like that.

But she was too slow. Far too slow. A shadow appeared in front of her – no, a man – leapt from inside the floor and rammed straight into her. By instinct, she tried to push him away from her – and she was successful. He fell... into the wall?

That was when she processed what she had seen. The man leapt from the floor. And that man was Secco.

Her one moment of hesitation cost her much; suddenly, something hit her legs, and she fell with a shriek and a loud thud. She would've continued screaming if a hand hadn't been pressed against her mouth. An oppressive weight shackled her to being immobile – she didn't even know what was happening. She just kept struggling, desperately, against it all.

Then, a firm voice that echoed throughout the hallway. "Dottore! There's no need to run. We're equipped to deal with these arbitrary intrusions, so it's no point."

These words imbued her with even more resistance. She swung her head, and managed to somehow set her mouth free for a moment. "Let me go – " (Y/N) tried to scream, instinctively, but she was muffled by Secco's hand. She bit on it, hard, making him whimper like a hurt dog. In her mouth... she felt his blood. It riled her up, and she tried to kick back and somehow escape Secco's grip – but she failed. How could a skinny, anorexic being like him keep her in check? This enraged her even further, and she tried to elbow him. In vain. As if he couldn't feel pain.

Then a specific object was brought to her attention.

A scalpel, right in front of her, in Cioccolata's gloved hand. She bit her lip till it ached. She knew she was done for, and this defeat... it was unimaginable, but she was going through it. Her own body turned lax as the realization washed over her. Lastly, she teared up, for she was utterly, completely, powerless.

"Shh, I'm not willing to send you to the other side just yet. Be good now so that you could talk back later," the surgeon spoke calmly, as if to ease the tense air.

She remained put. Her frame, a cage to her wild heart. Yet she was as still as a corpse.

"Calm yet? Wonderful. You are now allowed to speak," he said after observing her for a while. He slowly retracted the scalpel, as if to widen the distance between (Y/N) and her death. She knew he was in complete control, that her life was on the line, yet...

She didn't believe this was happening. To add to that, her emotions were late. She didn't feel anything a person should be feeling at the moment – or so she believed. She perceived her state to be too calm, to the point she got afraid of it.

"What was that," she asked. A stupid question, she immediately thought. But was there anything else she didn't know?

"You're getting curious all of a sudden," he spoke with inhuman vigor. "Be careful. You know what they say, curiosity killed the cat."

"But satisfaction brought it back," she stated, bold, for she had nothing to lose. Her heart skipped a beat – she was still far too calm about it all. Too focused, to sharply keen on living through her death.

"But intern, you'll be far from satisfied." His mask scrunched up, signifying the change of his expression. It was seen in his eyes, that glint and the wrinkles – he was smiling. (Y/N) redirected her gaze, wondering, just how much did he find it... empowering? Moreover, was his ego big enough to let her live? She prayed, oh, she prayed it was. But her prayer... dripped of hatred. The bold type of fear.

She gazed back at him, so insolent and so stupidly brave. Her expression must've portrayed cold fury, but her tone...

Her family. She needed to be there for them. How would her mother handle her death?

"I'll do anything," she pleaded, her voice meek.

"I don't need you to do anything at all," he answered, deafening all that was left of her hope. And in that moment, she thought –

She loved her life. She didn't regret anything. If this was her end... she had fared well.

Which is why she made peace with the guillotine of his scalpel. She even lifted her head to ease the blade's entrance. All while staring at her soon to be murderer with defiance unknown to her. Secco, behind her, let out a wheeze.

"It's a shame you aren't recording this, Secco," Cioccolata cooed, visibly satisfied. He didn't break eye contact with the intern beneath him. "It's a rare sight. Dottore, you might regret rushing into death like that. It isn't your time, not yet." He snapped his fingers, and with his other hand, he spun the scalpel in a teasing manner. (Y/N)'s gaze lingered on it just for a bit; she found it harder and harder to keep this façade going. It was evidently buying her time, so...

"So, the decision is on you," she said, although she had so much more to share – but her voice was weak, growing thinner with every word. If one part of her mask would fall apart, she knew, she would panic. Oh, the refined delicacy!

Every moment was wagered, as if it were a play of sorts. And she had to impress Cioccolata again. "Absolutely. I have complete control over your life. Both your status, whether you're deceased or not... and your job, as well as your freedom."

"What will you do with it?" (Y/N)'s question came out firm, luckily.

"Nothing. In fact, I believe it would be right to let you go. Wouldn't you agree, Secco?"

"Uwah," he responded in a breathy, low voice. It sent shivers down (Y/N)'s spine, for he... he didn't sound human.

And once that thing let go, (Y/N) got on her feet, rose to Cioccolata's level, and with the last ounce of strength, asked, "what will be of me now?"

"That's your choice," the surgeon responded. He lowered his mask with one finger, revealing an ugly grin. "Why aren't you running like a scared little girl you are?"

(Y/N) couldn't turn her back to danger. She simply couldn't. Facing her back to him, not seeing him, seemed like death to her – for something unpredictable could happen. She could imagine his long arm extending once again, and that scalpel being jabbed into her back. She felt the pain vividly, as if she was already en route to her demise. A ting in her back, annoying her already strained senses...

Why was she scared all of a sudden?

"I'm not scared," she told him, glaring daggers at that vicious visage of his. He merely gave her a mocking laugh. It did manage to belittle her.

"Whatever you say. Today must've been stressful, so I believe you should go home now," he dismissed her.

Could she really walk away? Was that what he was insinuating? Forget and walk away? Or did he want to follow her home and kill her there? No, no – he could've killed her already, if he wanted to. Then... was he toying with her? Certainly, and she hated him for it.

"Dottore? You should go home," he once again said, his tone darkening, "stress isn't good for health. See you tomorrow."

Her ears picked his annoyance easily. That was the moment when she actually got terrified – because she felt she got on his nerves and – he could get unpredictable – and it simply felt horrible. Her heart ached as it picked up its pace, her chest expanding for a brave inhale, and she finally took a step backwards.

She felt her expression twitch at last. She gave in. Cioccolata won, and he nodded in approval. The same way he'd nod at her whenever she'd answer correctly during his lectures.

Another step backwards. Her vision distorted once more, on its own – she was so sore, so tired of it all. Never in her life was she forced to handle such... terror. Once her vision cleared, she saw him gaze back at her, pale moonlight sharpening his ruthless features. He had never been uglier.

Third step backwards. She felt her eyebrows droop. She couldn't keep it up.

She turned around and ran. Nothing came after her. Never in her life had she felt such relief when she reached the doorstep to her apartment.

"Signorina!"

(Y/N) halted as soon as she heard that voice call out. Throughout the night, nothing caught her attention, yet this voice –

She turned around. It was a cop, running towards her. A laugh of pure joy escaped her. She was far too lucky.

"Signore, I have to tell you something – "

"Uh-huh, wait a moment," he said as he stationed himself before her, panting heavily. He hid something behind his back, (Y/N) noticed. An alarm went off inside her mind. But... she prescribed it to her state of panic, and steadied her train of thoughts.

"I believe this belongs to you," he said, lifting his head. One of his eyes was thus revealed from the shadows, and it peered curiously at the girl. She got nauseous at the sight.

He gave her the wallet she had forgotten in the clinic. She reached out to take it, hands trembling, as many slow realizations came to her. Only to be proven by the cop's statement.

"The court is no stranger to them, their connections are everywhere, and you will show up tomorrow, unless you want to die. That's what he wanted me to tell you."

She expected to die, once again. And she didn't dare blink, so she could witness her own demise. But the cop waved, smiled, tipped his hat even, and walked away as if nothing ever happened.

She went to bed that night, knowing she didn't do anything about it. Though... she did prepare herself. Took a knife and a phone to message her parents that she's in danger. And she didn't close her eyes once during that fateful night.

She wrote a paragraph to her parents. About everything. She couldn't believe the words she typed – everything was far too surreal. But there she was, reliving the entire horrid event as she explained it to her parents. They were both asleep, luckily... she didn't want to bother them, no matter how ridiculous it seemed, but she truly didn't want to be a burden. Having finished the entire story, she felt guilt creeping up to her. They shouldn't stress over her. She shouldn't stress them.

And from these thoughts she spiraled down to numerous justifications on why exactly she should bother them. But the first, original idea that reached her – that she was a burden – didn't abandon her nevertheless. No matter how hard she wanted to defend herself.

She was well aware that she was entering a nightmare. The only way to survive it for now... was to obey. Because they wouldn't hesitate to murder her. Not only because they wouldn't be punished for it... but because they just weren't human. They had those – powers, surely. Secco sprung out of the floor, and grabbed her, she saw that clearly. And if Secco could've moved like a ghost, what kind of power would Cioccolata have? The surgeon was fully capable of controlling Secco, as far as she had seen. So, he must've had something even worse...

The morning caught her off guard. Her mind must've been a wreck, then. Time passed way too quickly... and so neared her departure to the hospital.

For the first time in a while, she couldn't smile at the mirror. She couldn't even look at it. Somehow, she got ready, albeit sloppily, and left to her hellish internship.

She had checked her phone multiple times before she left. Her parents hadn't responded yet. Wonderful, that was one thing less to stress about.

Strangely, this clinic she entered... she didn't feel afraid of it. Not in the least. She expected she'd tremble at its sight, but now... she didn't feel anything. Once again, she began worrying if she was, so to say, functioning well. This was yet another one of those moments where she'd know what was the normative behavior, and her behavior wouldn't match. How could her heart remain so bleak...?

There they were. The interns. The perfect distraction. Now, if only Cioccolata would disappear from the face of the Earth...

She kept thinking about him while she chatted with other students. And she couldn't handle the anxiety that welled up inside her being. She began stuttering while she talked, so she stopped. Simple as that. But Cioccolata, that goddamned surgeon, where was he? Why did he need her alive?

More importantly, why was she so keen on living? She finally realized the paradox she was in. In the face of death, she was indifferent, but everything she had done so far was in order to keep her alive. She responded to that in no time. An absent smile found its way on her face. She was a coward. And when she saw she couldn't win against Cioccolata... her cowardice guided her to stay calm. Or was it egoism?

The lectures began soon after. And her wondrous superior appeared amongst other doctors. She felt her insides boil, twist and turn whenever he'd speak up. She wanted to kill him right on the spot. That monster. That... she couldn't even think of how to describe him. Yet the word God seemed to fit. He was a psychopath; he must've had an inflated sense of self.

What to do, what to do... what did he intend to do? Why was nothing happening? He didn't speak to (Y/N). In fact, he didn't pay attention to her at all. This only fed her worry, her... restlessness. And patience wasn't a virtue in this situation.

So she walked up to him some time afterwards. Faced him with a tough expression that she mustered out of hatred.

"Signore... what are you going to do," she asked him in a hushed voice.

"What are you talking about?" He feigned confusion.

"Last night you murdered someone and you almost killed me – "

"Are you insane?" He furrowed his eyebrows in visible shock. "What are you even talking about?"

"L-last night... you... and Secco... murdered that guy in..."

"Is this a joke? If so, you can do better," Cioccolata grumbled.

"I just wanted to know – what do you – what will you do with me." She stopped herself, noticing she was tripping on her own words. Dammit.

"I'm... going to give you a lecture today, just like every other day, and we'll have our coffee during lunch break. Just as usual. Unless you want me to be the subject of your nonsensical jokes."

That was when (Y/N) understood. He played dumb, so that the both of them could just... forget it. But he was probably aware that she couldn't forget it as simply. (Y/N) knew this, and she couldn't handle this... even worsened anxiety that was building up inside her. Because she had no idea what to do. But he, on the other hand...

He must've had a plan. And what was it?

That day didn't offer her the response she was looking for. She found herself practically glued to surgeon Cioccolata throughout her stay in the clinic. She was particularly observant of his actions, and he, somehow, allowed it. This made her feel even worse. He had nothing to hide.

She got home, and she lived through yet another sleepless night. This time, she talked with her parents all night long. They would figure something out. Even the police in her homeland was already involved. When it came to the Italian police, her parents insisted that (Y/N) contact them as well.

She said she will, but she couldn't. Cioccolata controlled them. He controlled the court. He... he had to be involved with the mafia. Even if he weren't... he was dangerous enough on his own. Secco... (Y/N) remembered it all too vividly. They weren't human.

The next morning, she was at the clinic once again. The reason: pure fear. Nothing was out of the ordinary except her eyebags... and unusual tiredness. She was completely unresponsive. She didn't utter a word during any lecture. Other interns made sure to point that out. Not out of spite, rather, out of sheer surprise.

Naturally, she wasn't keen on going home either. She knew she wouldn't sleep, again. Yet she decided to leave earlier than usual. She just couldn't handle it anymore.

"Dottore! Could you come with me for a moment?" She heard a familiar voice call out. With an exasperated sigh, she turned on her heel. She didn't have a choice. She began walking back to the building. At its entrance stood Cioccolata, waving to her, much to her displeasure.

"Signore Cioccolata, that woman is an intern," one of the doctors pointed out as he was leaving the clinic. Cioccolata smiled at him, whereas (Y/N) tiredly gazed upwards, her eyebrows slightly raised.

"But I'm certain she'll become a great doctor someday. No harm done in boosting the intern's confidence, after all," the green haired male explained. He was met with approval.

Oh, how fake his words sounded, only to her. She hated the fact she could see right through his acts, his psychopathic charm, whereas other people would just...

"Eh, I presume you're right. This one deserves it," the other doctor responded with a polite smile and bid his farewell to his colleague. Thus, only (Y/N) and Cioccolata were left at the entrance. And her stomach was already doing barrel rolls.

"What do you need me for?"

"Something that will earn you extra internship points. Follow me."

And she did. Not that she had a choice. Besides, this time, there were actually some people in the clinic, so he couldn't do anything shady.

But as he led her through the sterile atmosphere, her fears grew. He brought her to the less used wing of the hospital, and from there, reached the door that lead to the basement. He opened it. Down below... a somber line of staircase. Nobody else in the vicinity.

(Y/N) could've ran. Whenever she wanted to. The alarm wasn't enormous enough, not now.

"Coming, dottore?" Cioccolata beckoned her.

"No. I'm not going in there," she responded with a scowl, already on her tiptoes to turn around and run.

"Or what?"

She didn't get the opportunity to answer, because she was harshly pushed – and fell down the stairs with a shriek. Pain erupted all across her back, and her head – it pulsed hard once she finally landed, no longer tumbling. She couldn't even see for a bit, and the aches made her hiss, her jaw clenched in a desperate attempt to relieve her of the sensations. She looked up, and Cioccolata was once again above her.

His demand echoed against the desolate hallway. "Disobey once more, and I won't hesitate to make better use of you." His words imprinted in her memory with ease. She curled herself up into a ball, her gaze stuck on the mad doctor's descend. She prayed he'd let her live through her pain, the pulsating agony... but would he?

With every step he took, her eyes widened. And once he reached her, she expected him to kick her in her guts so hard that she'd vomit – and she could feel the phantom of this hit in her belly already. But he never did so. Instead, to her absolute shock, he offered her a hand.

And to her even greater shock, she took it. Got back on her wobbly feet, and firmly stood, thanks to him. She stared at him, her vision already blurry from the upcoming tears. Should she... thank him?

She didn't. Just in case. And he liked that.

He let go of her hand. Then, he pointed at the long underground hallway they had just entered. "Go in there and clean up the mess in the last room. That's your job. Secco over here will keep you company." All of a sudden, the mentioned young man protruded through the wall and made another one of his disgusting sounds. (Y/N)'s stomach twisted even more. She had so much cramps... and such an urge to vomit.

"Goodbye," Cioccolata chirped and left, walking up the stairs. She didn't respond – she put a hand on her mouth. She was moments away from spilling her lunch all over the floor.

"Go, clean the room. Kehehe."

She felt an acidic tang in her throat. Then in her mouth. In an instant relief, she vomited, making yet another disgusting sound.

She looked at her barely digested meal that now laid sprawled across the clean tiles. She was so weak. And Secco was laughing at her because of it.

"What was that?"

She felt her heart sink as another voice was heard. It was Cioccolata. The very moment she thought she got rid of him.

She backed away. She couldn't face him. Not again.

Her legs gave in. She no longer felt them. She could only watch as his shadow reappeared down the stairs, approaching her, about to...

"Eh? Secco, clean that up."

Secco didn't react positively to that. He whined and shook his head. This, Cioccolata noticed, and walked closer to (Y/N) and his assistant. But he neared his assistant instead, much to (Y/N)'s relief.

What happened next shocked her. The surgeon slapped Secco hard. The hit resonated against the walls, echoes filled in the silence, as well as (Y/N)'s drumming heart. She was terrified beyond measure. Her being was in such delirium that it would soon... it would soon... she couldn't even think about what would happen. The aggressor was still in her vicinity, and her focus was solely fixated on him. He could do the same to her. Nothing held him back.

But the green haired man soon left, not sparing a single glance on the intern.

(Y/N) didn't even realize how hard she was shaking. She looked at her hands, and they weren't trembling, no, they were violently shaking. She couldn't believe her own eyes.

"Disgusting. Bleh." She heard Secco grumble. Everything about this situation was ridiculous.

"You go clean the room. Come on."

His irritable voice got to her. Somehow, she managed to stand up, and make her way to the designated room. Inside, she was supposed to...

Clean up chunks of meat? Before she knew it, her gag reflex was activated again. She threw up a clearer vomit this time... it spilled and stuck itself on the floor. Another reek joined the already thick air. At least it would be easier to clean up, she thought to herself sarcastically.

Before her, on a table, stood, indeed, chunks of geometrically cut... undoubtedly, human body parts. She didn't want to spot any further details. Plenty of blood was there as well. How to... handle that? She spotted some bags on a tray to her right. Never in her life had she performed a more disgusting, degrading act than that day.

That was all. He didn't have her do anything else. In fact, he dropped some bitter words of praise as she was leaving. As well as some advice.

"Remember, alarming anyone will only make you bigger problems. I've got my own strings to pull."

Did he know? Her eyes widened in pure shock, and he merely smiled with one of his generic gross smiles. She remembered, of course. She remembered who she alarmed. So she nodded to her superior and finally went to her apartment in the dead of the night.

The shower she took afterwards revealed her all the bruises she gained that day. All she could do was exhale and acknowledge them.

She was offline all day, so once she got to use her phone, she saw that she had a bunch of missed calls and texts of her parents. She skimmed through them – no time to waste, after all – and she... she hated herself for doing that, but... she texted them that everything was alright. That she only had a nightmare that she thought was real, and decided to... yes, to test her parents. She wanted to see how they'd react.

Her parents didn't react positively at all. She called them (a video call, because they insisted to see if she was intact), and the tantrum that followed ruined her. They were worried sick, of course, and they'd already contacted (C/N)'s authorities and media... only to find out their daughter tricked them. Wonderful, truly wonderful. (Y/N) felt horrendous, beat, bad in every possible sense.

The numbness was kicking in.

She took the next day off. Called her parents. Somehow, they didn't respond. So, she called them again, and again. Nobody responded. Christ, what was going on...? They were online all the time, and the one time she needed them, they weren't there. The coincidence was too great...

No. Cioccolata couldn't have possibly reached out to them. They were in another country. If Cioccolata was that powerful, he wouldn't be dealing with (Y/N) like that. Unless – why, of course, he was a psychopath. Psychopaths don't make any sense. But still...

(Y/N) gave up. There was nothing she could do, except... run away? And let those two men do whatever they wanted to? Oh, she was in no state to bash her brains about it. Her head was too heavy, she couldn't burden it with more thoughts.

She was hopeless. She spent the entire day in a heavy slumber, akin to none before. Once she regained her consciousness, she realized, horror etched into her senses... that she didn't wake up in her room.

The light was too strong. Too... harmful to her sensitive eyes. They shot open, focusing quickly on their surroundings, all thanks to newfound panic. She was in one of those white rooms. She was on the surgical table. She was, she recognized quickly, she was in the hospital, and –

"Hello, dottore."

It was that voice. The one melody she despised more than any other. Right next to her. But she couldn't move her head, no, for some reason she was paralyzed –

"And goodbye."

The blade entered her sight just an instant before it landed on her heart. The agony forced out an inhuman wail from her. The shriek was a frail attempt of hers to cover up the pain. The sheer ache that took away her life. It made her limbs tense up, whitened her vision, forced her to wake up –

And she woke up. In her own room. And her heart was intact, alive like never before.

How long could she keep on living like this? It had only just begun, and she wanted to die already.

She got out of her bed and began packing her possessions. It took her only several hours to get ready. She had to leave this cursed place once and for all.

But all of her determination vanished.

This couldn't be happening. She closed the door to her apartment, and on the doorknob, there was a sticky note. On it, with an elegant handwriting, in – oh, the cliché – red letters, was written:

Come to the clinic as soon as you see this. I also urge you to take a look across the street, and spot a pair of young men seated in that restaurant. Their appearance is quite unusual, so you'll have no trouble spotting them in the crowd. Those are the hitmen who will take you out in case you don't come.

Take care, Cioccolata

She read every single one of those words with pure, unfiltered rage. What angered her the most was the ending note – take care, he said. He must've been smiling to himself, that bastard, as he was writing that. He must've been enjoying himself! (Y/N) wanted nothing but to see him die.

She turned around, her hair flipping as it followed her quick movement. Indeed, there, in the restaurant, were two particularly... odd men. One of them had long blond hair, and darker skin, and the other one had red, shorter hair. Both of them wore striking suits. And the both of them waved at her.

She clenched her fists in disbelief. So this truly was happening. She truly, once again, had no other choice.

Although it probably meant nothing, she threw a glance full of hatred at the two, opened her door and put the coffer inside. Slamming the door shut, then locking it, she was on her way to that hellhole of a clinic.

She turned around. The two men were following her. So, they really were keen on knowing where she'd go? Her sarcastic thoughts were so much louder than her heartbeat. Again, she was too calm –

And she stopped walking. Stared at that pair, even, with squinted eyes and an overwhelmingly hostile expression. How far could her spite push her? What did she even want to do?

She continued walking. What did she even do? She didn't know –

Her feet slammed against the pavement. Her aggression seeped all around her. She was turning senseless from the rage.

Even when she entered the clinic, the clean tile wasn't spared of her forceful steps. There weren't many people inside, she noticed – the night was coming. But where was that one psychopath she'd been looking for?

Someone tapped her shoulder and she turned, wide eyes, expecting to see him. Instead, the man who did so was one of the two who were following her. His visage radiated with tranquility, the tranquility she was in desperate need for. It shocked her, brought her rage to a halt.

"Strange, Cioccolata isn't here," he simply stated. His voice bore a calming note to it, something (Y/N) was sure to sense and luckily – take in.

"I don't really want to meet him either way," she responded with a forced laugh. She had to laugh. It released her of at least some tension.

"As for us, we didn't really want that guy to waste our time. And he's wasting it right now. Right, Tiziano?"

The other man, presumably Tiziano, nodded.

"But since you can't really go away, we'll have to wait here together," the red-haired man in front of (Y/N) explained. She nodded. They were so relaxed, and their relaxation got to her. The idea of escape seemed more... approachable, at that moment.

But before she could even figure her first step, he came. Forced her back into that state of –

Calm? Why was she so damn calm?

"Tiziano, Squalo, you didn't have to go that far, but your help is appreciated nevertheless," Cioccolata greeted with regality. The pair didn't seem too satisfied – and they even left without a word. Leaving (Y/N) alone.

She could run...! Right now! But those two, could they – yes, they could get her, dammit. She couldn't leave. But it wasn't over. Not yet. There were people all around her...

"Follow me," Cioccolata ordered, not bothering to hide his coldness.

It took (Y/N) all her strength to fight the embarrassment, but she began screaming. In the lobby, in front of everyone. As loud as she could. And everyone reacted.

The next thing she knew, she was falling. Then everything turned black.

Her consciousness slowly woke up her senses. Again, the white of the hospital, so assaulting and aggressive. This time, however, it was very real.

Secco and Cioccolata were in front of her. The assistant was meddling with some object in his hand, whereas the surgeon did something to the apparats beside a patient's bed.

(Y/N) screwed her eyes shut. She didn't want to be there... she wanted to postpone this, whatever it was, she just didn't want to witness it. There was a patient present, and he... he would probably die soon. (Y/N) recognized him to be the homeless man they once spoke about.

She moved her leg, making a massive mistake. She realized she was restrained, and that one slight movement made a sound – cluttering sort of sound – for she was tied to a metallic chair. Goodbye to her intentions, goodbye to her stolen time, Cioccolata and Secco now knew she was back.

The older man lifted a syringe, looking at its contents against the light. He then spilled it into the IVs that were attached to the docile patient's hand. (Y/N) observed him carefully; what was he doing?

He then asked Secco of the cameras were ready, to which the assistant responded with a weird sound, akin to his usual vocations. Sadly, that was when surgeon turned his attention to (Y/N).

"How long do you think he'll endure?"

"I don't know," she said. She didn't even want to think about it.

"Then, a different question. Do you think he would want to die?"

"If you intend to cut him..."

"No, before I get my hands on him. Do you think that he'd want to die, right now? While in his baby sleep?"

Did she hear him right? Her head was pounding, she couldn't focus on his words, let alone figure an answer. "If he wanted to die, he would've done it until now."

"You've got too much faith in his spirit, dottore. Maybe he's just a coward and he's scared to end it all."

She sighed. Why was he so damn insistent on talking? "...How would you know?"

"I don't know. Let's ask him, shall we?"

All of a sudden, he slapped the patient, successfully waking him up. The old man began making incoherent sounds, completely shocked because of the hit.

"Do you want to live?" (Y/N) could see the sadist's lips curl up in his newfound pleasure as he asked.

"...Of course I do! What kind of question is that?" Panic slipped through his tone. "What are you going to do...?"

"It won't change the outcome of your state, surely. Does the intern disagree with her superior that this man has contained the urge to die?"

"If I were you... I wouldn't be so sure, because of... existentialism," she recklessly responded, only to be laughed at.

"Likewise, for I'm certain I can thwart your oh-so educated mindset," he discriminated, only to turn to Secco and tell him to start recording. The patient was oblivious to what would happen.

Before she could realize it, he was cutting. He began the operation. And the man... he was fully aware of it. Awake, conscious, his senses functioning perfectly. Therefrom came his screams.

A long cut across the stomach. Ghastly red came from the wound. His bodily liquids ran free down his stomach, painting it warm tones of life being spilled. The larger the gash, the stronger his screams. He was in such agony that (Y/N)'s very guts tumbled.

The doctor continued his surgery. He opened the cut, he wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty. The same hands he had once used to save countless lives, the same hands (Y/N) would once kill for. And he began his work, enjoying the desperate cries of his patient. This only resulted in...

Pulsating intestines. Their crimson coating glimmered underneath the cold hospital lights. Each and every drop of blood that descended, hit the drums of polished tiles. Lifting the organ upwards was Cioccolata, who rejoiced at his trophy: the man's deafening screams, and his contorted face – amorphous out of sheer pain.

The sight remained implanted in (Y/N)'s mind. She forced herself to watch it, even though she could've closed her eyes. She simply gave in to suffering. She no longer cared.

And oh, Cioccolata was a skilled surgeon. He knew where to cut to keep his patient alive. He knew what to do in order to maximize the experience.

But a human body had its boundaries. The patient's spasms died down, and his throat turned dry. Until he convulsed one last time, marking his early departure with one final wail.

"You..." (Y/N) was speechless. After the realization found her, after she understood the gravity of this entire event – she regained her loathing. "How dare you... do that... You're a monster. You're the worst man on this planet," she muttered. It was satisfying to admit that, but at a cost too high.

It took Cioccolata only a couple of steps to reach her, lift his hand and slap her hard. Throughout the dizziness, the ringing in her ears and the sharp pain that faded from her face, she made out his words.

"I'll advise you, not as a colleague, but as a friend, to stay silent. If you thought you were aware of the consequences, I've proven you wrong. Something you very much dislike, don't you, dottore?"

He glared down to the pits of her very soul, and what he saw was right. He perceived her numerous faults; he knew her better than her very parents, and unlike them, he knew how to beat them. "...true."

"So don't talk unless you're talked to. It would be wonderful to have you too quiver and crumble on the table," he commented, earning no reactions from the intern. He chuckled once he realized that. And (Y/N), she was aggravated.

"You're enjoying yourself, aren't you?"

Those venomous eyes of his widened. "Aren't you? You partake in a newer form of research. You may deem it however you want, but it is, essentially, uplifting man above all norms. A borderless, maladaptive curiosity. Quick to devour, quick to digest. You will always be left with an insatiable hunger for more."

She understood him. And she would forever bear the heavy knowledge of that fact.

"But what of morals? What of society and its rules? Would you like to answer?" He questioned carefully, as if he was probing her. As if he was genuinely interested in what she had to say. And (Y/N) got to be listened to, for once – but she had nothing to say.

"You avoid those," she bluntly responded.

"I was hoping for something more poetic. You're always keen on making things different, outstanding. A pity, truly. You won't be able to do that anymore."

He would get rid of her. At last. She felt disgusted because she found solace in the fact, even for a moment. "You'll kill me. Is there anything –"

"You could do to live? No, you're in my hands, and I am an excellent doctor. Your own words."

She smiled at him. She had never felt such hatred toward another being.

"I promise I won't say anything," she mumbled through her clenched teeth.

"You will stay silent. I know you will." And he turned around.

"Secco. Bring her to room 79 and leave her there. We'll get to her once we clean this mess."

"Oowhooaa," the being gargled. It approached (Y/N) and released her of her confinements. She spotted the skin on her wrists to have turned dark, and once it was set free, she could feel it ache.

She couldn't resist Secco. Cioccolata was right in front of her, and Secco... Secco had his power that rendered him unbeatable.

So she let him, she let him guide her to her umpteenth death. She was as obedient as she could get. She just wanted this to get over with, for once – that was what her manic mind was currently telling her.

He pushed her in a dark room. There were no windows, for it was the basement, so once the door was closed and locked – (Y/N) was left in pitch darkness.

Every sound killed her. Gave her a heart attack, over and over again. Be it a footstep, be it the sound of instruments clinking, be it their voice. Every single thing impaled her eardrums.

She waited for it to get over. Waited long and patiently, shivering as her body grasped its final hours. She lived through her life all over again, multiple times, bid her farewells to her beloved ones. Prayed, that someone on the heavens above would hear her messages, and send them to the people she cared. Her monologues were pathetic, as she intended them to be. There was no need to hold back. She would soon die.

Then she started begging for something to occur. She could swear her ears would bleed soon – for she couldn't handle the announcements of the sensations. Always nearby, but never there. And she yearned for them to finally end, for her to live through her final agony, and finally die.

It was unbearable. She didn't want to die, she wanted it all to just end. But death was her only escape. Yet it wouldn't arrive...! For some reason, she was still waiting, for hours, for hours she'd been twitching and foaming, accepting her defeat over and over again.

And during the period when her thoughts died down and her body turned still, light entered her room at last. The foreign, the unpleasant light, that hurt her eyes – it would guide her to heaven, soon. Her mind enlisted a long line of metaphors, some of them making way into faint hallucinations. But all of them disappeared once he appeared.

"Dottore? What are you doing in here?"

Cioccolata's voice resonated with confusion. This in turn caused (Y/N) some confusion as well.

"You..." She croaked, and only then did she realize how dry her throat had been. How thirsty she had gotten.

"Yes, it's me," he responded leisurely. She saw his shadow enter and enlarge, coming closer to her. He helped her stand up, and (Y/N) noticed his nose scrunch up because of something – oh no. She realized once she heard she stepped into a puddle. Despite that, he seemed rather... peaceful. Cooperative even.

"Why am I alive?" She couldn't help but ask as he dragged her outside the dark cell. The air outside was so much better to breathe...

"Ah, getting overly curious again, are we, dottore?"

His tone. She didn't feel her legs for an instant. "Pardon," she answered reflexively. Her heart ached at this humiliation. It was slowly becoming integrated into her being. She wouldn't have it that way – or so she revolted inside her mind.

"That's no bad trait, mind you, dottore. I find myself indulging in my fantasies far too –"

(Y/N) landed a hit on his jaw. Pain shot through her arm – punching wasn't the most pleasant, but seeing Cioccolata in pain, hearing him wince, that was what gave (Y/N) life. He stumbled backwards, placing a hand on his jaw, and he glared at (Y/N) who showed zero emotions for his trouble.

"Is this assault, dottore? You're doing something illegal, you might get arrested," he warned, his calm voice a contrast to his bewildered expression.

How dare he, how dare he – (Y/N)'s mind turned into a whirlwind of protests, deforming her face into that of pure rage. She would see him pay. She walked backwards, fists balled up, ready to run away and grab anything to murder that monster.

"I won't fucking regret it, and I'll get you to jail with me, you monster," she growled, "or even better, I'll kill you. I'll fucking kill you. I'll – kithl –" Saliva began dripping from her mouth, interrupting her tantrum.

Cioccolata took the opportunity to speak up. "It appears you've forgotten. There's two of us."

That was when she felt something heavy on her back. It had to be Secco. The very moment she felt something on there, she elbowed him multiple times, hitting his ribcage, and hopefully his face as well, for she was aiming there. She wanted to see him suffer.

"Go away – knock it off, go away," she began, then roared, "FUCK OFF!"

The struggle wasn't in vain. Her elbows hurt, but she managed to get him off her back. Secco staggered backwards and fell with a wince – into the ground, vanishing. (Y/N) noticed in the corner of her eye, Cioccolata, approaching with steady steps.

"Don't fucking touch me, don't you fucking dare," she wheezed, hands in front of her to defend herself. And that was all. She was paralyzed, because...

Because she had never seen an expression so grim, so monstrous. He relished in his own apathy and it ruined him. Scarred every bit of his already hideous face. It was far too overwhelming for her.

Then came his turn to be shocked. His brows twitched, eyelids spasmed, as his gaze went above (Y/N). She was quick to follow it.

Behind her stood a... robot, as it seemed, donned in golden and similar colors. Similarly, a bright yellow aura radiated from it – and from (Y/N)... as well?

She felt his clawed hand land on her shoulder. "Run," the figure ordered... in her own voice?

"I've had enough of you," Cioccolata then said, each and every word of his stressed with undivided hatred.

But (Y/N) trusted this being. The instinct was quick. It was a solution deus ex machina, but at least it was there. So... she gathered what had left of her strength, and she ran upstairs. She kept on running. Outside, into the peaceful morning. Somehow, she didn't know how, but nobody interrupted her escape. It was fine. She made it.

She collapsed in the middle of the street as she dialed the police. She couldn't help but wonder if she was burying herself into something even worse.

No. The quiet beeps ticked against her ear while she waited for a response. It couldn't get any worse.

[theyreonlynoodlesmike]

hey love, you write angst so well!!! could I maybeee get something where one of the boys (probably paul or david tbf) cheats, and the readers just like... okay and forgives them. But it makes the boy think that they don't care about the relatonship but in reality the readers shitty past just leads them to accept all the bad thongs life throws at them. (This was very specific, so I understand if it's kinda difficult to write something out of it, sorry for how long this was)

Okay, so I didn’t know if I wanted to do this or not ‘cause I can’t really picture any of the boys cheating. But, if one of them did, it would be Paul. He’s my favorite of the boys, but that boy is the CEO of Doing Dumb Shit. Because this is so detailed, I’m turning this into a fic. Also, no happy ending to this one. 

Stupid Mistakes (Paul x reader) fic

Warning: Mention of past toxic relationships and cheating, angst

Word Count: 1357

Paul had known he’d fucked up. Of course, he hadn’t realized it at first. He’d been hunting with the boys, and they had found a tasty looking group of girls. None of the boys had stopped him when he’d gone up to flirt with them. They thought he was just hunting. Before he met you, he was the one they always sent to pick up girls. He could talk to anyone, unlike the brunette which preferred to stare at his meals until they came to him. The boy could lay the flirting on thick, even without a wingman. That’s what set him apart from Marko. The curly-haired blonde could flirt, but he wasn’t the chattiest with new people. He couldn’t think on the fly and have pick-up line after pick-up line flow out of his mouth. Even if girls outright denied the rocker, it didn’t break his stride or bruise his ego like it did with David. In fact, it would make him want them more. Paul was the perfect bait.

He was friendly, handsome, and easy-going. Girls wrote him off the minute they saw the haze in his eyes and heard his stoner laugh. He was unassuming. Nice. It helped that he looked like he’d stepped off a Motley Crue tour bus, and had a perfect smile to match. He’d offer some herbal supplement, and that usually got the girls off the boardwalk. He’d bring them back to the boys, pick his own meal for the night, and then the boys would dig in. Perhaps even get laid if the girls were willing enough. And his girl was willing. She hung off him the entire time they walked to the beach. He’d smoked one too many joints that night, and it didn’t help that this group of girls had brought their own refreshments. The minute Paul had tasted vodka on his tongue, he’d signed his own death wish. 

He’d slammed back shots with the girl he’d picked, and smoked enough to get even a vampire fucked up. The girl had leaned in, and Paul had been too fucked up to really think. He was drunk and he was horny, and his meal was exactly his type. It wasn’t until after he’d done the deed and finished his meal that the boys had given him judgemental looks. He wiped his mouth and said,

“What?” He genuinely didn’t know why they were staring at him. Did he get blood on his pants? It took a minute for the blood to sober him up, and then he realized. Shit. Old habits die hard, especially with vampires. He’d fallen back into his old routine and had forgotten one quintessential aspect of the past few months. He had a mate. He had you.

He tried to rationalize it at first. She was just a meal. He was drunk. She didn’t mean anything and she wouldn’t mean anything. He’d eaten her like it was no problem. You were his sugar. His puddin-pop. His gumdrop. His every nickname in the goddamn book. Plus a few that he had come up with himself. 

But when he saw you the next night, the guilt was killing him. He didn’t think he could ever feel so bad about something, especially with how he murdered people on the regular. He knew about your past and he knew he’d done the one thing he’d promised not to do. You hadn’t asked him to make that promise, but he still made it. He wanted to be different, but he wasn’t. He was an idiot. The king of idiots, he thought. He had a babe like yourself and he’d gone out and ruined it. He was sure you were going to break up with him.

By the time you two were back at the cave, he was ready to explode. The boys hadn’t followed them, and you assumed Paul just wanted some one-on-one time for the night. When you played with his hair and leaned in to kiss him, he’d stopped you. That was a first. 

You furrowed your brows. He’d been acting weird all night. He’d kept his hands to himself, hadn’t tried to flirt with you, and even seemed quiet for once. Now that he wasn’t trying to kiss you or take advantage of your alone time, you knew something was up. You knew something was wrong. The first thing your mind did was go to the worst case scenario. He was going to break up with you. He took a breath, and then his motormouth took off.

“I cheated on you and I’m sorry. I was drunk and I didn’t know what I’d done until it was already over. I swear, she was just a meal. She didn’t mean anything to me. She wasn’t even that pretty. Well, she was pretty, otherwise I wouldn’t have done it. I wouldn’t just fuck any random girl. Fuck, nevermind, just, I love you so much, and please don’t break up with me. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry-” He’d said it all so fast that he was already repeating a mantra of apologies by the time your brain had caught up with you. 

He’d cheated on you. It wasn’t the first time that it’d ever happened to you before, and it definitely wasn’t the worst. After so many bad relationships, this was actually fairly tame. It served you right though, for thinking that he’d be any different. It seemed that life was just filled with men that couldn’t keep their dicks in their pants. A sour feeling had settled into your heart, but you still said,

“I forgive you.” And then he stopped. He stared. He blinked. His motormouth had hit the breaks, and it seemed he couldn’t believe you were letting him off the hook so easily. 

“That’s it?” He asked. In all honesty, it didn’t make him feel better to be forgiven. He wanted you to yell, cry, and throw things at him. Call him every name in the book and make him grovel for your forgiveness. It would make him feel better if he had to earn it. To show that he’d hurt you and that you cared. Cared enough to not just look at him as if he’d done nothing wrong. Did you not think cheating was bad? Would you cheat on him? Those thoughts came rushing through his mind and it was a miracle that they didn’t leave his lips.

He watched you shrug, and then anger lit inside him like one of the torches in the barrels. 

“Do you even care about us?” Paul couldn’t control his mouth when he was in a good mood. When he was angry, all restraint flew out the window. You furrowed your brows, and said,

“Yeah. It’s just...I’m kind of used to this by now.” And then the terrible feeling came back in waves. It washed over him completely and snuffed out his anger. God, he was a piece of shit. Hearing those words were probably far worse than anything you could’ve yelled at him. “If anything, I should’ve expect it. This always happens to me.” You continued, and Paul wanted to stake himself right there. If it was day-time, he’d walk into the sunlight.

He ran a hand through his hair, and he realized something that made him feel terrible. He couldn’t date you after this. Not after what he’d done. Not because he didn’t want you, but because he wasn’t going to be able to make up for this. He was selfish and dumb. You needed someone with a clean slate. Someone that wouldn’t betray you even when they were drunk. He was an idiot, and you needed someone you could trust. He had already proven that he wasn’t that. 

When he told you that, then there were water works. There were only a few that came from you, but Paul was sobbing. He felt like a complete dick. He’d hurt you and now he was breaking up with you. But he had to. He had to set you free and let someone else have you. Someone who was better. Someone that wouldn’t make stupid mistakes.

((I hope you all enjoyed!! I’m telling ALL of you now that if anyone ever cheats on you, even if they’re as cute as Paul, DUMP THEM. We do not tolerate cheaters in this household))

[virtueangel]

limitless.

chapter eighteen.

wc: 2,090. original publish date: november 12, 2020. 

"Oh my god, finally," Vincent whines once JFK pulls his car into the parking lot.

"Hey, why are you complaining? I'm the one who just had to drive for three hours," JFK replies. "Besides, you could've chosen a closer destination."

Van Gogh gives Kennedy a warning glare. "Hey! No fighting today!"

John shrugs. "You started it."

Vincent takes a deep breath. "Perhaps we got off on the wrong foot." He unbuckles his seatbelt and leans across the centre console to give JFK a kiss on the lips, deep and slow.

Kennedy grins. "That's more like it."

The boys climb out of the car, and Vincent is immediately hit by a gush of icy wind. He pulls his letterman jacket tighter around himself, one hand flying up to his head to secure the bandages. His fiery orange hair dances in front of his eyes and whips him in the face. JFK smiles to himself, taking in the way the boy's freckles pop out against his flushed cheeks. He never really could deal with the cold.

"So, why'd you bring us to the ocean?" John questions, locking the car before turning back to Van Gogh. He bends an arm against his hip and holds it out to the smaller boy, who wraps his hands around his boyfriend's biceps. They step off of the concrete of the parking lot and onto the sandy beach, linked just like that.

"Because it's actually sunny today. I thought it might be nice."

JFK stifles a laugh, looking down at bundled-up Van Gogh. "And how's that working out for you?"

Vincent bats at Kennedy playfully. "Don't start with me."  

JFK leads them down the beach, towards a huge, barnacled rock close to the shoreline. The sand is harder and wetter over here, which Van Gogh is grateful for. He doesn't like when the dry sand collects between the laces of his Keds. It's such a fuss to clean out and it always stains the white laces brown.

The ocean is calm, but small waves still lap at the sand. The water fizzes and leaves sea foam on the beach, bits of rocks and shells and plastic trapped in it. The waves crash in a syncopated fashion, the sound a low enough hum to fall asleep to. Vincent gazes out across the water, smiling reservedly at the view. The sun reflects off of the emerald water, and the ocean seems to last forever. He imagines walking right into the surf with his clothes and shoes on, letting the waves submerge him and pull him into the abyss. What a heavenly way to die.

"I wish I knew where my sketchbook was," he murmurs, delicate fingers still wrapped around JFK's bicep. "I don't think I'd draw this. It's too grand for that. I'd paint it."

"In your sketchbook?"

Van Gogh shrugs, eyes still taking in the ocean. "I don't have a canvas."

John grins, but not in his over-eager toothpaste model fashion. He grins in contentedness, in reservation, in affection, in... love. "I'll be your canvas."

Vincent turns to the boy, sure he's joking. "I'm sure you'd love having oil paint on your washboard abs."

JFK laughs and shakes his head. "You're probably right."

The two stand there for some minutes longer, just basking in the shimmering sun and letting their noses fill up with pleasantly salty air. It's been so long since either of them have gone to the beach. Exclamation! is a landlocked town in a landlocked state.

"Do you want to take a walk?" Kennedy whispers after a while, hesitant to break the silence.

"I think that would be okay."

They start walking, slowly. They haven't gotten very far when Vincent says, "Wait."

JFK stops. "What is it?"

Van Gogh unwraps himself from John and bends down to untie his Keds. He slides his shoes off of his feet, hopping on one foot as he takes his socks off. He balls his socks up and places them in his shoes.

"You wanna carry those...?" Kennedy starts.

Vincent shakes his head and tucks them into a split in the rock. "You wanna take off yours?"

JFK bends down to untie his sneakers. He pulls his socks off, not bothering to remove them one at a time. He doesn't care if the bottoms get dirty. He balls the socks up and shoves them into his sneakers before handing them to Van Gogh, who stacks them up next to his own shoes in the rock crevice.

They resume their walk. Vincent slides his hand down JFK's arm until it meets with the taller boy's hand, warm and rough against his small palm.

"Your fingers are so long," JFK says.

Vincent giggles nervously. "That's such an odd comment to make."

John shakes his head lightly. "It's not a bad thing."

"I like the way my hand fits in yours," Van Gogh says.

JFK smiles, his insides melting, warm and gooey like a fresh chocolate chip cookie. "Good, because I like the way your hand fits into mine."

Vinnie speaks after a while, the fizz of the sea foamy waves suddenly deafening in the silence. "Can I ask you something?"

"Okay."

Van Gogh takes a deep breath, letting the rise and fall of his chest soothe him. "What's your favourite thing about me?"

Jack grins. "My favourite thing about you?"

Vincent nods.

JFK goes silent, taking a moment to think before answering. "There isn't just one thing."

"You can give me more than one," Van Gogh says, hoping he doesn't sound too hopeful as his mouth pulls into a giddy smile.

"I like the way you look in the mornings, when I wake up and you're still asleep. I like the way your hair falls over your eyes and the way the t-shirt you sleep in is too big for you and the sleeves go all the way down to your elbows. I like the way your cheeks flush pink in the cold, and I like the way you tie your shoelaces. I like the way you can focus so hard on the book you're reading that you don't even notice the world around you. It's like your book is your world. I wish I could do that. Fall into something, the way you do."

"It gets boring after awhile," Vincent offers. "Or sometimes I get too lost and it's jarring when you say my name."

"Well," JFK starts. "I'm sorry."

"Is that it?" Van Gogh asks after a second. "Those are all the things you like about me?"

JFK smiles. He opens his mouth and closes it, trying words out on his tongue before saying them out loud. "I like watching you when you pick at your nails. I know you probably don't mean to do it, but... I don't know. I guess there's this fluidity about it. Your fingernails are so healthy and long, it's just... god, I don't know. This is kind of embarrassing." The taller boy laughs at himself, his cheeks turning pink.

Gogh blushes. "You can keep going, if you want to."

John laughs goodheartedly, but intends to continue nonetheless. He's not done. He won't be done for a while. Every thought he's ever had about Van Gogh rushes back into his head -- they've been best friends since they were in grade school. But they were never really just friends, were they? All those Friday nights that JFK would spend at the boy's house keeping him company while his parents were away; all those times Vincent would call him in the middle of the night, begging him to come over because he couldn't fall asleep in an empty house and how JFK would always going over, no matter how late it was -- none of that is something just friends do. He thinks about every time Vincent's gaze would linger on him a split second longer than normal and how he always pretended not to notice. He thinks about how Vincent's is the only contact in his phone that is a nickname followed by a string of emojis instead of a mundane first and last name. He thinks about how he took books off of Vincent's bookshelf without asking just because he wanted to read the same words the boy had, just because he wanted to know his fingers were grazing over spines that Vincent's had. He thinks about the times he'd let Vincent paint his nails, about the times he'd let Vincent pick out his outfits for school. How both of them had thought their relationship was a friendship that everyone had -- how they'd neglected to pick up on the signs that everyone else had noticed long ago.

"I like the way you wear a yellow raincoat and matching rain boots when it's wet outside. I like the way you always put the pillows on your bed in the same arrangement, and I like the way you dance to music even when it's playing through your earbuds. I like the way you mouth the words to the book you're reading when you're concentrating really hard. I like the way you hold your pencil when you're drawing, like it'll float away if you loosen your grip even a little bit. I like the way you bend over when you're writing -- really writing -- with one elbow bent on the table and your fingers threaded through your hair. I like the way you actually use one of those little plastic hourglasses with the yellow sand in it to time yourself while you're brushing your teeth. I like the way you're the only person I know who actually brushes their teeth for two minutes."

This last part earns a stifled laugh from Van Gogh.

"But most of all, I like the way that you sing along to music in the car, how you keep your voice low because you don't want me to hear you but of course I still can anyway."

"Do I sound horrible?"

JFK shakes his head. "No."

Van Gogh smiles, looking away. He's never felt like this before, like... he's exactly where he's supposed to be. He isn't worried about being left alone on Friday nights, or insecure about the way he constantly reorganises his bedroom. For once in his life, he doesn't feel uncomfortable or like he needs to run away. He wants to fall, fall into JFK, and he doesn't need a rope for security.

"The ocean is freezing cold," Vincent says, because that's the only sentence he can reach for.

Kennedy grins and slides his arms out of his letterman jacket. He pulls his red and white striped sweater over his head next before unzipping his khakis. He stands in front of Vincent wearing only his white t-shirt and underwear. Vincent sighs and takes off his own layers until his outfit matches JFK's, and they walk into the surf, hand in hand.

"Jesus fuck, Jack," Vincent exclaims, a salty wave pushing into his thighs.

JFK wraps his arms around Vincent, pulling the boy close. Van Gogh buries his face in John's t-shirt, now soaked and smelling of salt. He doesn't mind, though. He'll take whatever warmth he can get.

Kennedy rests his chin on Van Gogh's head, kissing the boy's bandage every once in a while. He shivers a little bit, but he ignores the cold setting into his skin. He pulls Vincent closer, and the boy wraps his arms around JFK's midsection. John gazes out across the water as Van Gogh shuts his eyes against his boyfriend's chest.

The world is silent except for the calm lapping of the waves and the fizzing of the sea foam. Except for the temperature of the water, it is perfect -- no freights honking in the distance, no seagulls screeching overhead. Vincent slides his hands underneath JFK's shirt, feeling the warmth radiating off the skin of his back. His pale legs turn even paler as they erupt in goosebumps, but there's nowhere he'd rather be.

JFK lets out a low laugh from his throat, and Vincent draws back from his chest.

"What?" He asks, looking up at the boy.

John's face falls soft, and his bottom lip surrenders to the faintest trace of a quiver. "I'm in love with you."

Van Gogh shifts his bodyweight and leans back, curving his chin up so his mouth meets JFK's. They share a kiss, deep and slow, the salty ocean burning their bare thighs.

"I was hoping you might be."

It's the closest thing to I love you that he's ever given anyone.

[twoidiotwriters1]

Written In The Stars CVII (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: I’m not entirely pleased with this book, I could’ve added more stuff but it was already too big so I’ll just write 'em as hidden moments. The last two chapters are still a MASTERPIECE, i can’t wait for y’all to read them -Danny

Words: 3,467

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Listen to ‘Six Feet Apart’ -by Alec Benjamin

Chapter Five: Out of the Routine.

"You think he'll be all right?"

"Harry did nothing wrong– conjure a Patronus in the condition he was... that's impressive!"

"You can make one, can't you? What form does it take?"

"A dog of course," Sirius smiled. "A shaggy, fluffy lad..."

"Mine's an eagle– Matt could conjure a phoenix, but I guess you knew that..."

"So, Sirius..." Mel hopped on the table. "How was my mum when she was younger?"

"I was a loving, rational witch," The woman replied. "Next question–"

"You were loving all right," Sirius raised a brow. "But that wasn't it. I distinctly remember one afternoon when I said you were nowhere near as skilled as James to play quidditch... When you finally made it into the team –as a beater, mind you– you threw a bludger right at my face."

"It proved my point," The woman said. "However, I'm trying to teach this one better manners than the ones I had–"

"Doesn't seem to be working," Sirius teased.

"What I really wanna know..." Mel continued, interrupting their playful banter. "Who was the real heartbreaker of the group? Was it you, Sirius?"

"Me?" Sirius snorted. "I had a few dates but I didn't break hearts. People considered me too childish."

"They were right about that," Emily said. "I used to think James was the heartbreaker..."

"James was harmless! He spent years chasing Lily like a puppy– But of course, you wouldn't have noticed–"

"Remus was quite the catch too," She gave him a pointed look.

"Ah, yes– Remus," Sirius stammered. "Remus... you know what? I reckon we held him back from getting a few lovely girls back in the day."

"How come?"

"He would always think that girls were after us– You know, James and I– but I believe most of them were after him and Matt!"

"Can't blame them," Emily smiled.

"Ruddy was the heartbreaker, to be honest..."

"What?" Mel laughed. "My dad? The same bloke that spent years chasing my mother just like James with Lily?"

"He was in love with your mother, but the bastard was clever!" Emily scolded Sirius and he apologized distractedly. "He knew how to flirt his way out of detention!"

"Flirt his way out?" Mel couldn't believe it.

"Those eyes..." The woman sighed. "One look and a dashing smile and you were a goner! I was so glad when I discovered you didn't have 'em! Hard to say no when he was looking at you in a certain way..."

"She may not have his eyes, but she certainly got the look," Sirius smirked. "I could tell you exactly when I've seen her do it–"

"Padfoot, you're playing with fire," Emily warned him. "Teach that girl how to trick others and soon enough she'll have a group of fools under her command!"

"Is that so bad? Ouch!" Mel joked, earning a slap on her arm. "All right– I promise I won't use any tricks with you... What about school, though? You know some kids are bullies, this might come in handy."

"Sounds good to me! Here's what you do..." The man stood in front of her.

For the next hour, Sirius practised with her until Emily gave up and sat as well, sharing a few tricks of her own. By the time they walked out of the kitchen to do their chores, Mel was well versed in the tricks of the Marauders.

She promised that she wouldn't do any of those things for the fun of it, and never to a friend. Desperate times required desperate measures, that was all. She was aware of how she'd rambled for years about hating lies, but she also needed to convince everyone that her crush had vanished. There was no other choice.

Harry announced, looking much livelier than before, that all charges had been taken and he was going back to Hogwarts for another year.

"I knew it! You always get away with stuff!" Ron exclaimed.

"They were bound to clear you. There was no case against you, none at all..." Hermione smiled, but she was a bit pale still.

"Everyone seems quite relieved, though, considering they all knew I'd get off," Harry joked as Emily stood behind him, running a hand through his hair with pride.

"You've got your sense of humour back, then?" Mel asked. "Good, you were starting to get annoying..."

Harry gave her a look divided between amusement and doubt, he didn't know if she was joking. She wasn't planning on clearing things out either.

"He got off, he got off, he got off —!"

"That's enough, settle down!" Mr Weasley told his kids, waving a hand as if that could quiet them. "Listen, Sirius, Lucius Malfoy was at the Ministry —"

"What?"

"He got off, he got off, he got off —"

"Be quiet, you three! Yes, we saw him talking to Fudge on level nine, then they went up to Fudge's office together. Dumbledore ought to know."

"Absolutely– We'll tell him, don't worry."

"Well, I'd better get going, there's a vomiting toilet in Bethnal Green waiting for me. Molly, I'll be late, I'm covering for Tonks, but Kingsley might be dropping in for dinner —"

"He got off, he got off, he got off —"

"That's enough — Fred — George — Ginny!" said Mrs Weasley. "Harry dear, come and sit down, have some lunch, you hardly ate breakfast..."

" 'Course, once Dumbledore turned up on your side, there was no way they were going to convict you," said Ron, sitting down in front of Harry and putting a bunch of food on his plate.

"Yeah, he swung it for me," said Harry.

Mel leaned against the cabinets, examining him carefully. For some reason, Harry acting all giddy and happy only made her feel sadder. She wanted to look like that too, she wanted to pretend nothing was wrong and she was sure that if she were to try and sit next to him, Harry would let her. Still, part of her was hurting, Harry'd walked away because he'd gotten scared about the lifeline and true to his nature he'd tried to protect her.

The idea made her blood boil. Who was he to decide? It was her life! Not only that, but his stupid plan hadn't worked at all, now she could feel even more stuff than the previous year. To hell with pretending they were still friends. She moved away from the cabinet to leave the kitchen when Harry hissed, touching his scar.

"What's up?" said Hermione.

"Scar– But it's nothing... It happens all the time now..." The boy caught her staring and she froze.

"Well," Mel replied crudely. "You should learn to control it– Don't want that happening during class..."

"Mel! Don't be so unfeeling–"

"She's right," Harry agreed, giving her a hard look. "I don't want to give any more ideas to the Daily Prophet."

Sirius was acting like a child and it was driving her crazy. It was half selfishness and half worry. She wanted nothing more but to make Sirius realize he wasn't going to be alone nor unhappy. He had Emily, and Mel was pretty sure that they were on the verge of something.

Without Sirius, she was forced to spend more time with Ron, Harry and Hermione, because if she were to spent time with Ginny she would only think about Harry and their time together.

The twins were excellent distractions, but Fred was always trying to flirt and though it was a joke and wasn't making her uncomfortable, she was starting to like it. That worried her. She didn't want to ruin their friendship.

"You belong at Hogwarts and Sirius knows it. Personally, I think he's being selfish," She heard Hermione say one afternoon while they were cleaning more rubbish.

"That's a bit harsh, Hermione, you wouldn't want to be stuck inside this house without company," Ron explained.

"He'll have company!" said Hermione. "It's headquarters to the Order of the Phoenix, isn't it? Emily is here almost all the time! He just got his hopes up that Harry would be coming to live here with him."

"I don't think that's true– He wouldn't give me a straight answer when I asked him if I could."

"He just didn't want to get his own hopes up even more– And he probably felt a bit guilty himself, because I think a part of him was really hoping you'd be expelled. Then you'd both be outcasts together."

"Come off it!" said the boys.

"Suit yourselves. But I sometimes think Ron's mum's right, and Sirius gets confused about whether you're you or your father, Harry."

"So you think he's touched in the head?"

"No, I just think he's been very lonely for a long time," Hermione shrugged.

"I have to agree," Mel was dying to talk about her suspicions with someone apart from her uncle. "I think that's about to change, though..."

"What d'you mean?"

"I'm saying," She looked around. "My mother and Sirius are spending a lot of time together..."

They looked at her silently until Hermione asked, "Wait, you don't think..?"

"I do."

"And you're okay with it?"

"Mum's been alone for years, it's time. Even better if it's Sirius."

"Dunno," Ron said awkwardly. "Bit weird to think of Sirius and Em together, don't you think? Them being friends for so long... I mean, Sirius was friends with your dad, wouldn't that make things weird?"

"Why?" Mel frowned.

"It'd be like betraying him, wouldn't it?"

"My dad's dead, Ron," She replied bluntly. "Don't you think he would've liked to see my mother with someone that would treat her well? Someone he knew?"

"Maybe..." He shrugged. "I just don't see Sirius as a dad–"

"Whatever," She thought it had been stupid to think they would support her idea.

Harry opened his mouth to say something, but Mrs Weasley interrupted.

"Still not finished?"

"I thought you might be here to tell us to have a break!" said Ron "D'you know how much mold we've got rid of since we arrived here?"

"You were so keen to help the Order, you can do your bit by making headquarters fit to live in."

"I feel like a house-elf..."

"Well, now that you understand what dreadful lives they lead, perhaps you'll be a bit more active in S.P.E.W.! You know, maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea to show people exactly how horrible it is to clean all the time — we could do a sponsored scrub of Gryffindor common room, all proceeds to S.P.E.W., it would raise awareness as well as funds —"

"I'll sponsor you to shut up about spew," Ron muttered, Hermione didn't hear it.

"Have you guys gotten your letters?" Mel entered the boys' room. "You won't believe who's got her Prefect–"

The twins apparated, causing her to scream.

"You twats!"

"Sorry, Lady! We were just wondering who assigned the Slinkhard book," said Fred.

"Because it means Dumbledore's found a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher," said George.

"And about time too."

"What d'you mean?" Harry asked.

"Well, we overheard Mum and Dad talking on the Extendable Ears a few weeks back, and from what they were saying, Dumbledore was having real trouble finding anyone to do the job this year."

"Not surprising, is it, when you look at what's happened to the last four?"

"One sacked, one dead, one's memory removed, and one locked in a trunk for nine months," Harry counted with his fingers. "Yeah, I see what you mean."

"The dead one and the idiot without memory had it coming," Mel mentioned, sitting down on Harry's bed.

"What's up with you, Ron? What's the matter?" Fred approached the boy and read over his shoulder, his eyes widening. "Prefect?"

"Prefect?!" George got closer and snatched the letter from Ron's hand, the badge falling from it. "No way..."

"There's been a mistake– No one in their right mind would make Ron a prefect... We thought you were a cert!"

"We thought Dumbledore was bound to pick you two!" said George, pointing at Mel and Harry.

"Funny you mention it..." Mel said, but they didn't let her finish.

"Winning the Triwizard and everything!" Fred continued.

"I suppose all the mad stuff must've counted against him," said George.

"Yeah... Yeah, you've caused too much trouble, mate. Well, at least one of you's got their priorities right, though I must say, Mel, I'm a tad disappointed about you being a Prefect."

"How d'you know I'm one?"

"C'mon! There's no way you're not! Private lessons and all..." Fred walked over to Harry and glared at Ron and Mel. "Prefect... ickle Ronnie and Lady Dumbledore..."

"Oh, Mum's going to be revolting," George rolled his eyes.

Ron, who still had not said a word, took the badge, stared at it for a moment, and then held it out to Harry as though asking mutely for confirmation that it was genuine. Harry took it. A large P was superimposed on the Gryffindor lion. He had seen a badge just like this on Percy's chest on his very first day at Hogwarts.

The door banged open. Hermione came tearing into the room, her cheeks flushed and her hair flying. There was an envelope in her hand.

"Did you — did you get — ?" She spotted the badge in Harry's hand and let out a shriek. "I knew it!" she said excitedly, brandishing her letter. "Me too, Harry, me too!"

The twins turned to look at Mel with matching shocked expressions.

"No," Harry quickly dropped the badge on Ron's hand. "It's Ron, not me."

"It — what?"

"Ron's prefect, not me."

"Ron?" Hermione blinked. "But... are you sure? I mean —"

"How come you're not a prefect?" George asked Mel. "Hermione's clever– but you–"

"I've caused as much trouble as Harry," She shrugged. "And I would've told you so if you hadn't interrupted me! And yes, 'Mione, that badge belongs to Ron."

"It's my name on the letter," Ron straighten his posture as if daring her to speak.

"I... I... well... wow! Well done, Ron! That's really —"

"Unexpected?" said George.

"No! No, it's not... Ron's done loads of... he's really..."

"He's clever, brave, and has done nothing to prove he doesn't deserve that badge as much as Harry," Mel replied. Ron blushed furiously.

Mrs Weasley walked into the room holding some folded robes.

"Ginny said the booklists had come at last... If you give them to me, Emily and I will take them over to Diagon Alley this afternoon and get your books while you're packing. Ron, I'll have to get you more pyjamas, these are at least six inches too short, I can't believe how fast you're growing... what colour would you like?"

"Get him red and gold to match his badge," said George in disgust.

"Match his what?"

"His badge," Fred grimaced. "His lovely shiny new prefect's badge."

Mrs Weasley rose her face in slow understanding.

"His... but... Ron, you're not..?"

Ron held up his badge timidly.

"I don't believe it! I don't believe it! Oh, Ron, how wonderful! A prefect! That's everyone in the family!"

"What are Fred and I, next-door neighbours?" said George, huffing when his mother pushed him out of the way. Mel patted his shoulder, holding back her laughter.

"Wait until your father hears! Ron, I'm so proud of you, what wonderful news, you could end up Head Boy just like Bill and Percy, it's the first step! Oh, what a thing to happen in the middle of all this worry, I'm just thrilled, oh Ronnie —"

Mel laughed, incapable to hold any longer. Both twins were beyond displeased. What surprised her the most, was that she found herself pleased about not being a prefect.

"Mum... don't... Mum, get a grip..." Ron groaned as his mother continued to kiss all over his face.

"Well, what will it be? We gave Percy an owl, but you've already got one, of course."

"W-what do you mean?"

"You've got to have a reward for this! How about a nice new set of dress robes?"

"We've already bought him some," Fred lamented.

"Or a new cauldron, Charlie's old one's rusting through, or a new rat, you always liked Scabbers —"

"Mum... can I have a new broom?" When he saw her mother's look of uncertainty, he added, "Not a really good one! Just — just a new one for a change..."

Mrs Weasley smiled lovingly.

"Of course you can... Well, I'd better go get Emily if we've got a broom to buy too. I'll see you all later... Little Ronnie, a prefect! And don't forget to pack your trunks... A prefect... Oh, I'm all of a dither!"

"You don't mind if we don't kiss you, do you, Ron?" said Fred as soon as their mother left.

"We could curtsy if you like," said George.

"Oh, shut up," said Ron.

"Or what? Going to put us in detention?" Fred smirked.

"I'd love to see him try," sniggered George.

"He could if you don't watch out!" said Hermione.

Mel laughed along with the twins. She heard Ron mumble 'Drop it, Hermione' and she took pity on her poor friend.

"Enough you two!" She hit Fred's arm lightly. "Ron didn't ask to be made a prefect."

"We're going to have to watch our step, George," said Fred, pretending to be fearful, "with these two on our case..."

"Yeah, it looks like our law-breaking days are finally over," said George with a dramatic sigh.

The twins Disapparated after that.

"Those two!" said Hermione furiously, staring up at the ceiling, through which they could now hear Fred and George roaring with laughter in the room upstairs. "Don't pay any attention to them, Ron, they're only jealous!"

"I don't think they are," said Ron doubtfully, also looking up at the ceiling. "They've always said only prats become prefects... Still," he added on a happier note, "they've never had new brooms! I wish I could go with Mum and choose... She'll never be able to afford a Nimbus, but there's the new Cleansweep out, that'd be great... Yeah, I think I'll go and tell her I like the Cleansweep, just so she knows..."

Mel watched him rush out of the room.

"Harry?" said Hermione.

"Well done!" His voice sounded too happy to be genuine. "Brilliant. Prefect. Great."

"Thanks... Erm — Harry — could I borrow Hedwig so I can tell Mum and Dad? They'll be really pleased — I mean, prefect is something they can understand —"

"Yeah, no problem," He had his back to them, still talking with too much joy. "Take her!"

Mel waited until Hermione left with Hedwig, she waited until their friend closed the door... Harry straighten up from packing his trunk and sat heavily on the edge of his bed. He hadn't noticed she was still there and quickly covered his face with both hands as he grimaced.

She didn't know what to do, if this had happened a year back she would've held his hand and they would've found a way to cheer up. She wasn't upset about not being a prefect because her priorities had changed a bit since she was a kid, but seeing the disappointment in his eyes... They weren't friends, but she was decent enough to not walk away.

"I suppose you feel hurt."

Harry gave a start revealing his teary eyes to her, Mel continued calmly.

"If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine," She made her way to Ron's bed and sat down. "But I get it, my twelve-year-old self is rolling on her grave."

"I... I don't..." Harry stammered, then fixed his eyes on the corner of the wardrobe.

He stayed quiet for a few seconds before a bitter, sarcastic laugh came out. He shook his head slowly and cleaned his nose with the back of his hand.

"You're right– Ron didn't ask for this... I shouldn't..."

Mel wasn't going to pressure him. If he was going to talk great, if not, she'd done enough. The sound of footsteps brought them back and Harry composed himself at the speed of light. He stood up and fixed a casual grin on his face at the exact moment Ron burst into the room.

"Just caught her! She says she'll get the Cleansweep if she can."

"Cool... Listen — Ron — well done, mate."

Ron's face changed drastically.

"I never thought it would be me! I thought it would be you!"

"Nah, I've caused too much trouble," Harry admitted. "Mel's right, we're too far gone."

"I have to pack my stuff..." Mel stood up, patting Harry's shoulder but retreating her hand as if he were burning to the touch.

She didn't know what she could've said. That he wasn't completely alone, perhaps. That they could still find a common ground and talk, hopefully soon.

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@dee123ksha​ @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @kylosleftbuttcheek @reverse-hxlland @bloodorangemoonlight @omiwashere​ @t-rexs-world

[wickxdangels]

Travis Stoll Imagine; Dream Girl

Hello!! We are back this Monday with a Percy Jackson Imagine! I started reading the series last week and i’m currently on the third book which is so exciting! I love the Stoll brothers so making this imagine was so fun! i hope you guys like it! :) As always, I apologize if there are any spelling or grammar mistakes, please let me know! And also, thank you everyone for the support and the cute comments i’ve been getting on my other stories! I love you all xx (also, sorry i couldn’t find a better pic to place)

Pairing; Travis Stoll x Reader

Warnings; None

Request; Would write a Travis Stoll x reader who is daughter of Ares who’s Clarisse’s second in command/best friend even though they’re opposite personalities and Connor is so sick of Travis’ pining for her that he decides to get them together?

It was a bright, hot and sunny day in Camp Half-Blood; the satyrs were running in the woods playing hide and seek with the dryads, who turned into trees whenever they tried to steal a kiss from them. Young demigods runnings through the camp wearing those bright-eye-cramping orange shirts, some of the kids from the Hermes Cabin were picking up the locks from the Camp Gift Shop. It was pretty much a normal summer day like any other.

Y/n was sitting down on top of a wooden-table, cleaning and filing her sword, it was something she found relaxing and it helped to calm down her ADHD for a bit. Mid-cleaning, she felt a pair of eyes staring into her. This has probably been the fifth time she has felt it in this week alone. She quickly looked up, not finding anyone on reach staring at her, it was infuriating not knowing who those stares belonged to but she brushed it off, it was stupid to get mad at something childish like that.

“Attention, attention, campers.” The voice of Mr. D, the camp director, said as he walked close by to the campers. Lots of them stop what they were doing to look at the news he was about to say. “Today we will be playing Capture The Flag, in about two hours or so, you all know what to do, gear up and blah blah..” That earned the cheers of lots of campers, and Mr. D with a quick a wave of his hand he dismissed them as he kept walking towards the Big House, to play some pinocle perhaps, as he complained how teenagers were always so loud.

Y/n then kept filing her sword as a blonde haired and all girl walked towards her, Clarisse La Rue, her half-sister. “Did you hear that? We’ll finally get to have another reason to beat up some kids and get back our flag from the Blue team!” The girl exclaimed with a sinister smile on her lips.

Y/n simply chuckled at her words and nodded. “Indeed, sis. It’s been too long since the last time we played, that flag needs to be back on Ares’s Team.” she said as she blew on her sword, grinning at her sister as she nodded.

“C’mon, let’s go get something to eat before the game, my stomach is killing me.” Clarisse said as Y/n tagged alone.

Y/n and Clarisse were both daughters of Ares, god of war. They belonged to Cabin 5, where lots of her other half-brothers lived year-round just like both of them. Ares kids shared lots of physical attributes, like their muscular bodies and tall height, meaning all of them looked big and scary, a good pro when it came to war or simple games like the one they were about to play. But when it came to personality, both girls couldn’t be more different.

Clarisse was the designated Camp Half-Blood bully, she was the one that messed with the new campers, just like she did with Percy Jackson. She would find the tiniest of reasons to start a riot and just set the world on fire if she could, just like their father.

Y/n on the other hand, was a bit more calm. Or well, as calm as a daughter of Ares could get. She enjoyed battles, she enjoyed kicking butt from here and there but sometimes she would just get tired of the same old. She wouldn’t pick fights as much as Clarisse did, well, not now anyways. But whenever her sister needed a fighting partner she would be there without a doubt, not giving a damn who started the fight, simply being there to put up a good show.

Some feet away, behind a tree was Travis Stoll, whose favorite hobby has radically changed from picking-up locks or throwing the best pranks in camp with his brother, to spying on Y/n behind trees…or behind anything really. He saw as the girl of his dreams walked away with his most-hated-camper, who was no one else but her sister, Clarisse.

“I really can’t believe you’re still secretly pinning over her, Travis! It’s been what? Four, five years? Don’t you think it’s time to act like a big boy and tell her for once and for all?” His younger brother’s voice made him jump from his hiding spot as he turned around to face him.

“Connor! Do you have to be that loud all the time?” He cried out, grabbing his brothers shoulder as they walked out of the forests and towards their cabin. “And you know I cannot do that, she’s literally my archenemy’s sister! And best friend! Also, not to forget about her dozen of brothers with anger-issues!” Travis complained, sighing as he kicked a little rock that was in his way. “I don’t know why life has to be so hard!”

“Travis, shut up. Jeez, you’re always complaining, it’s been five years! Five of which I had to hear you whining about Clarisse and how she would maim you if you were ever to confess your feelings for Y/n…can’t we get over that? I mean, the day will come when she’ll maim you regardless of your confession or not..” His brother shrugged, placing a comforting arm around him. “Also, I have a bet going on with Pollux.. and for me to earn the money means that you’ll have to confess your feelings for her today…” Connor confessed with a grin on his lips, highlighting his elvish features who looked so much like his brother’s.

Travis stopped mid-way as he stared at his brother, a deadly stare to be exact.

“YOU DID WHAT?” He sort-of yelled at him, making his younger brother grimace a bit. “How much did you bet, though?” He slowly asked, bit interested after all, money was money.

“Around twenty drachmas and some hundred bucks..” Connor shrugged as he scratched the back of his neck. “Is that an ‘okay brother, I’ll make you win the bet’?” He curiously asked with a sheepish smile.

“Ugh, you’re so gonna share that with me. And you’re gonna do my laundry for a month! After all, I don’t know.. I might end up missing a limb..”

“You always love to exaggerate, Travis. Chill, things might turn good.” He shrugged at his older brother as he raised both of his eyebrows in a funny manner.

Two hours later, after getting something to eat and putting on their armors, the Ares cabin walked towards the centre of the camp, there the rest of their allies, Cabins Four, Nine, Ten and Twelve were already in position and armed with their respective weapons of choice.

The blue team stood on their left side, she could’ve sworn she felt the usual stare again and she just knew it came from the blue team. At least she was a bit closer to knowing who her stalker is.

“Attention Campers, let’s get this over with.” Mr. D’s voice resounded through the crowd, besides him stood Chiron, who acted as the referee and was there in case anyone needed medical help. “For tonight’s game of Capture The flag, the blue team is lead by Annabeth and Percy, who have allied with Cabins Seven and Eleven.” He rolled his eyes as he then proceeded. “And Team Red is led by Clarisse and Y/n, who are joined by the remaining cabins.” He was too lazy to mention all of the cabins but it was no surprise coming from him. “You all know the rules by now, the creek is the boundary line, and the entire forest is fair game. Magic items are permitted, killing and maiming—much to my regret—are not.” He sighed as he tiredly placed his hands on his waist.

“I’ll be close by in case anyone is in need of my assistance.” Chiron commented as he looked at the campers in front of him.

“I believe Travis will be needing your assistance later on, Chiron!” Connor joked, making some of their teammates chuckle as Travis could only blush at the statement, he looked towards Y/n, hoping she wasn’t staring at him now, but much to his luck, she was chuckling along with Clarisse who had a deadly stare at him, making him shriver.

“Yeah, yeah. Well kids, off you go now! Shoo!” Mr. D said as he waved his hands, both of the teams were now running towards the forest and the hills.

The Ares cabin took the lead of the rest of the cabins as they ran towards their different positions, some of them were on border patrol duty as other were hiding behind bushes or trees, waiting for the other campers to come by so they could jump on them.

“Y/n, guard our flag! I’ll try to steal theirs!” Clarisse grinned as she ran off towards the lake, Y/n could only chuckle as she grabbed tightly on her sword and ran towards their red flag, ready to fight anyone who came in sight.

As she ran towards the forest, she could see her brothers fighting with the other campers, or well, the enemies. Her battle reflexes came in handy when someone was about to jump on her but she swiftly avoided her, bringing her sword up as she fought a blonde-haired girl from the Athena cabin, quickly disarming her before sending her flying backwards towards a tree with a hard kick on the chest. She’ll definitely be needing some ambrosia after this, she thought.

She chuckled as she kept running, she had missed the feeling of the air hitting in her face as she ran, the way her instincts would work whenever someone was attacking her, the balanced weight of her favorite sword in her hand.

One of the guys from the Apollo cabin came after her, making her chuckle when she easily avoided one of their arrows as it landed on a tree. “That wasn’t very smart, was it?” She asked with a smirk as she then ran towards him and before he could take another arrow, she kicked the bow out of his hands. “Bad choice.” She said before bringing the sword up, the kid was quick to avoid a hit before he tripped backwards on a branch, she was about to keep fighting as one of her brothers came to her.

“I’ve got this punk! Go protect the flag!” Her brother said before she nodded and smirked at the kid.

“Well, you’re just in luck!” She winked at him before running through the forest once again, making sure to avoid any distractions on the way.

Her feet were fast as she ran, ducking whenever she saw an arrow being shot at her and jumping whenever she would meet with a camper passed out on the floor, not many minutes later and the flag was already in her sight, she came closer to it, checking her surroundings for any enemy in sight.

Not many seconds had passed when she heard some steps coming on her way, she quickly jumped on top of a tree branch hiding, she saw as a guy came close to the flag but did not grab it, instead he looked around as if searching for someone.

She then took the advantage and jumped on top of him, making him land with his back on the floor as she had him trapped between her legs. “Huh, a son of Hermes. I thought it would be one of Athena’s kid the one who would come for the flag.” She said as she brought her sword up to his face, he looked just like every other Hermes’s kid, elvish features, curly hair, tall and kind of cute.

“No! Wait! I’m not here for the flag..” He confessed, having her so close to his body made him shriver, luckily his face was already red from the game if not he would be blushing madly.

“You are aware that we are playing Capture The Flag, don’t you?” She chuckled as she stared at him, her eyes looking directly into his blue ones as he felt the shiest he has ever felt in his life.

“Y-yes, yes! What I meant it’s that, I’ve been meaning to confess you something..” He said as she stood up, holding a hand out for him as he slowly grabbed it, she pulled and helped him stand up.

“Okay, now you’re kind of creeping me out, Travis.. What is it?”

“How.. how do you know who I am?” He asked, kind of surprised she didn’t mistake him for his brother, which happened quite a lot.

“We were friends, remember? When I first got here, you were one of that befriended me. I stayed in your cabin for some weeks before Ares claimed me. We used to play pranks on the Aphrodite kids so much that you thought I was one of Hermes kid’s as well.” She said chuckling as he nodded, he remember those times. That was the time when he started to develop his current huge crush on her.

“I.. I didn’t know you remembered that.” He gave her a bright smile as he scratched the back of his neck in a shy manner, something she thought she had never seen before on any kid of Hermes.

“Of course, I do! Now, what were you going to tell me?”

“Oh! That! Well, you see—” sadly he was too slow and too immersed on their chat that he did not see Clarisse flying at him, knocking him off his feet as they rolled down on the floor.

“It was you!” Clarisse yelled as she threw some punches at him, he luckily evaded some but not all of them, so he groaned when she had delivered a square punch to his right eye.

Now that’s gonna leave a nasty bruise, he thought.

“Clarisse! What are you doing? He was gonna say something to me!” Y/n said as she ran towards them, trying to pull her sister off of him.

“It’s him, y/n! He’s the one who’s been lurking behind trees and staring at you!” Clarisse said with disgust as she stood up from top of him, delivering nasty glances at Travis.

“Oh.. so you’re my little stalker, huh?” Y/n said with a smirk on her lips as she looked at Travis, helping him stand as he slowly nodded, grabbing onto his side as he looked embarrassed.

“Okay, I’ll have to say that that wasn’t the smartest thing to do.. but yeah. It was me.” He confessed to her, giving her a little smile as she stared at him. “And besides that, what I wanted to say it’s that… I like you, like, a lot.” he said. “A crazy amount probably, and I know you may not like me back! Knowing that I’m your sister’s most hated person in this camp besides my brother.. and Percy..” he explained

“This is disgusting! Completely disgusting!” Clarisse gagged at the scene in front of her, she has always disliked the Stoll brothers even more after the little prank they pulled on her few years ago.

“I.. I’m quite shocked, actually.” she confessed, her cheeks tinting a light red but when she was about to actually reply to him, she saw how another figure behind Clarisse and Travis took the chance of the flag being unprotected and quickly snatched it.

In the background, all could hear a horn being played in signal that the game has finished.

The result? Blue team were the winners, once again.

It turns out that, Travis’s younger brother Connor, knowing that he was going to confess his feelings towards Y/n, seized the opportunity of us being entertained by his brother’s confession to grab the flag, it was all part of his plan.

Which helped to ignite even more, the hatred Clarisse had towards the Stoll brothers.

The whole game ended up quite quickly after that, with the campers of the blue team cheering for their new victory and the red team growling at them and cursing them out.

Y/n never had the chance to talk to Travis in that moment, seeing how Chiron with other campers, took the injured ones towards the infirmary to help with the wounds.

That’s when Y/n knew it was now or never. She escaped from the celebrations of the night, walking towards the infirmary to check on the wounded Stoll brother. She walked through it, looking at some of the demigods sleeping on the beds and other being taken care by Argus and some dryads. Once he saw the familiar curly hair, she walked towards it, grabbing a pack of ice a girl was carrying towards him. “I can take it from here.” she explained to the girl as she just nodded and left.

She then walked to his bed, sitting down at the edge of it and softly pressing the ice pack on his already-bruised eye. “Who knew.. that purple eye really suits you.” she softly spoke, waking up the prankster from his nap.

“Y/n? What are you doing here?” he asked as he quickly sat up, groaning from the pain as he realized it wasn’t a good idea after all with his bruised ribs.

“Clarisse really did a number on you, didn’t she?” the girl said as she softly helped him to lay down once again, slowly. “I’m sorry about that, she can be easily carried away by her emotions.”

“I really can’t believe you two are sisters, you two are nothing alike.” he said, wincing as he laid down. “You’re gentle and understanding, meanwhile Clarisse would throw a punch at literally anyone who crosses her path.”

“Well, that’s because I have never really fought with you, you know? When we are in battle, that’s when we are scary alike.” she chuckled, holding the ice pack on his eye as they talked. “So.. I never really replied to what you said to me back there.”

“You don’t really have to. I know it must’ve been silly, I just couldn’t really hold it in anymore, you know? You’re so beautiful and so strong! And you love pulling pranks on people, which is so hot! And whenever you’re fighting you’ve got this beautiful frown that—”

“Could you shut up for a second?” she said quickly before a smirk appeared on her lips. “I know I’m hot and all of that, but I just really wanted to say that… I think you’re really cute.” her smirk turned into a smile at him as she looked at him, he could’ve sworn his insides were on fire, which could’ve been due to the punches he’d got but he knew it was because of her smile. “And I would like to see where this could go..”

“Wait! You’re serious, right? This is not a prank, right? Cause that wouldn’t be so hot..” He explained making her giggle. “It’s not a prank, you dummy!” she interrupted him. “I like you, like, a lot.” she smiled, saying the exact words he had said to her back in the forest.

“Oh! Wow! I— I really, don’t know what to say! Jeez, I think I’m blushing again!” Travis confessed with his cheeks flaming red as he looked at her.

“Shh, don’t talk.. Less words and more…actions.” she smirked before laying the ice pack on the bed and slowly leaning her face against his, until their lips were touched; she was careful to grab his cheek, not wanting to hurt his purple eye as he returned the soft kiss she laid on his lips.

It was all he ever dreamed, kissing her felt like drinking ambrosia, her lips tasted so sweet. His stomach felt like the excitement he would get before pulling any prank, multiplied by a hundred. He just knew that this was it. This was all he ever wished for. This was the girl of his dreams.

That was it, until a wave or realization fell over him as she softly pulled away from him. “Oh, gods! now Clarisse is so going to murder me!”

That only made her laugh even more. “Leave her to me, she’s really not that scary, I promise.” she assured him. “Now, what did I say about talking?” she asked.

“Oh! Yes, yes. Less words, more actions, got it!” he smiled mischievously as he then pressed his lips against hers once again.

“Oh, I forgot to ask. What’s the bet Connor has goin on with Pollux about?” she asked, looking at his eyes for a bit before raising his brow.

“Oh, now you shut up. I’ll explain later, I’m badly injured and I demand more kisses.” he said with the cutest little pout she has ever seen, she rolled her eyes. “It’s just some bruised ribs.. and a bruised eye.” she joked before wrapping her arms around him and kissing him again.

[svnflowervol666]

Hiii I just read all your writings and I LOVED THEM 💖💖 So can you write a lil blurb where it's Y/N's birthday and he does some cute shit for her

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: tiny mention of smut (at the end)

Author’s Note: I absolutely ADORED writing this one. Thank you so much! Requests are open, so drop an idea into my inbox if you’ve got one! Take care and tpwk.

Just as she was finishing up her makeup in the bathroom before work, an unflattering photo of her longtime boyfriend wearing a bright green face mask illuminated her phone screen, signifying that he was trying to facetime with her. The photo always made her laugh no matter how hard her day had been, so she’d set it as his contact photo.

“Hello my beautiful boy,” Y/N sang when the call adjusted and she could finally see Harry’s face smiling at her from ear to ear.

“And hello to you too, my beautiful birthday girl!” Harry exclaimed right back.

Much to his protest, Harry had ended up smack dab in the middle of a North American tour on his girlfriend’s birthday. He’d tried his hardest to schedule a break in between today so he would be able to spend some time with her on her special day, but it didn’t end up working out and both Harry and Y/N were fairly bummed about it. 

“Thank you, love,” she grinned into the camera, making Harry’s heart soar. 

“Ye’ getting ready f’ work?”

“Unfortunately,” Y/N faked a pout, “Should be an easy day, though. What about you?”

“Just got back to m’ hotel room. Show tonight was great. I wish you could’ve gotten off work to hop on tour for a few days.”

“You know how my boss is,” Y/N sounded somewhat sad and it made Harry’s chest feel tight knowing how badly she had wanted to come visit him.

“Hmm,” Harry pondered, “’M starting t’ think she’s got a crush on me n’ that’s why she never gives you any days off.”

This made a laugh blossom from deep in Y/N’s belly.

“Everyone’s got a crush on you, bubby.”

“Too bad I’ve only got eyes f’ you. Anyways,” Harry quickly moved on to the next subject.

“I’ve called you to tell you where I’ve hidden your birthday present.”

“Harry,” Y/N scolded him, “I told you not to get me anything.”

“Yeah, well, ye’ know I wasn’t gonna listen. Love spoilin’ ya. It’s in the back of my underwear drawer. Should be a little velvet box.”

Y/N rolled her eyes at Harry to which he blew her a cheeky kiss through the screen in response. She grabbed her phone while she traveled from the bathroom into their bedroom and began riffling through Harry’s intimates drawer. 

“Quick question, H. Why your underwear drawer?”

All Harry could see of Y/N was her forehead while her fingers moved past his folded up boxers and dug for the small gift.

“It’s the only thing of mine you don’t steal. Figured it’d be least likely t’ be found if I kept it in there when I left.”

“Touche, my love. Alright, I’ve got it. Want me to open it now?”

“It would kinda make sense to, now, wouldn’t it?”

“You’re such a smartass.”

“You love me anyway.”

She chuckled as she propped her cell phone up against her bedside lamp so Harry could see her reaction when she found out what was inside. When she removed the small metallic bow that was placed on top, she lifted the lid and her expression turned into one of confusion and uncertainty.

“Is this the ring that you lost a few months ago?”

Indeed, it was. It was Y/N’s favorite out of the hefty collection of rings that Harry hoarded. Sometimes, Harry would let her pick out which rings he wore and her eyes always landed on that one. She was never able to give him a reason other than she was simply drawn to it; the way it danced in the sunlight when his hand stuck out from the covers in the morning, the way it accentuated his perfect, long fingers. 

Or perhaps, there was a reason why she loved it so much. This ring in particular was one that Harry had purchased from a local jewler when they were on a holiday in Greece. That very same night, Harry had gotten wine-drunk (more like wine-wasted) and had confessed a secret to her. 

“You know something, Y/n?” he drunkenly babbled whilst wagged his finger adorned with his new ring in her face, “I’m gonna marry you one day.”

She’d never bring the memory back up to Harry, however she was never able to forget that night or his ring waving itself right in front of his face. It was just another one of those moments where she knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that Harry was the one for her. Knowing this, one could have seen why Y/N had gotten rather upset when Harry had revealed to her that he had “misplaced it” and had no earthly idea where it had gone. Unbeknownst to her, Harry hadn’t actually lost it at all.

“It is. I didn’t actually lose it. I know ye’ love it, so I had it sized down to fit your finger. Do ye’ like it?”

“I love it. Thank you, Harry.”

Y/N felt her eyes instinctively well up with tears. She hadn’t told Harry, but she always had a hard time whenever he was gone for prolonged periods of time. The bed was always cold, her meals didn’t taste as good, and there was no one there to hold her when her day went less than ideal. Knowing how much thought went into a gift like this only widened the hole in her heart that appeared every time Harry left for tour.

“Aww, don’t cry, lovie. Not on your birthday.”

Y/N gently wiped the corners of her eyes and shook her head, “I’m good. Promise. Just miss you a lot is all.”

“Miss you too, baby. I wish I wasn’t so far away from ye’.”

“It’s only a few more weeks, right? I’ll survive,” Y/N stood up from where she was sat on the bed and straightened out her blouse before picking the phone up from the nightstand, “Guess I should probably head out now.”

“Alright,” Harry reassured her with a wrinkle in his brow. 

He absolutely hated knowing that his girl was upset. Not only because it was her birthday, a day that was all about celebrating her, but because he was on another continent and couldn’t be there to soothe her.

“I’ll call you again tonight. Sound good?”

“Sounds great.”

“Have a good day, Y/N,” Harry said sincerely.

“I’ll try.”

They exchanged one last loving look before Y/N ended the call and left the house she shared with Harry to go to work.

Her day wasn’t half as bad as she’d envisioned it to be. Upon arrival, her coworkers greeted her with her favorite coffee and donuts accompanied by a plethora of multi-colored balloons tossed about the office space. Everyone was extra nice to her and offered to take on some of her paperwork for her, which she certainly didn’t mind. Around lunchtime, she received a massive delivery of canary yellow sunflowers from the one and only, Harry Styles. Attached to the bouquet was a simple note card that read, For my sunflower on her special day. -H. This earned her a series of hoots and hollers from the other employees at the office (and she almost swears a scolding look from her boss), which she promptly brushed off and continued on working.

On the long drive home, she’d chatted with her small, close group of friends about the outing they had planned for her that weekend. It was mostly about the bars they had planned on going to and about how wasted they knew they were going to be, but even the playful banter in between them couldn’t manage to pull Y/N out of the funk she was in. Sure, she could put on a happy face and act like she enjoyed the attention she was receiving for her birthday, but none of it really meant much when the one person she cared about most wasn’t there to celebrate with her.

When she opened the front door she was hit by the overwhelming scent of aromatics coming from her kitchen. She hadn’t cooked anything this smelly in at least a few days and she certainly didn’t recall smelling it on her way out the door this morning, so her senses were on high alert. Her finger hovered over the emergency button on her cell phone as she rounded the corner, only to be greeted by a tall, curly-headed man-child boiling pasta in his periwinkle-colored bathrobe.

“Harry?!”

“Fuck,” he cursed aloud, “I didn’t think you’d be home this early. I thought I’d have it all done before you got here.”

Typical Harry. The boy’s got big ideas, but his ability to pull them off seldom comes to fruition.

“Well, don’t just stand there. Come kiss me, stupid.”

Harry took a few long strides over to his girlfriend and engulfed her in a bone-crushing hug and kiss, one that left her breathless and feeling full of love. His lips worked passionately against her own and the tip of his tongue prodded at her bottom lip, just the way that he knew she liked. When he pulled back from holding her mouth against his, he saw that she was really crying this time, unable to stop the flow of salty tears from running down her cheekbones and down her chin.

“What are you even doing here?” she asked Harry as he wiped her tears with the pads of this thumb. “I thought you had a show tonight.”

“You see, Y/N. Time zones can be a beautiful thing. I found out I could make it here with a few hours t’ spare before my next show, so I hopped on a plane right after I got off the phone w’ you.”

“You didn’t have to do this, Harry.”

“But I wanted to. Hated seeing you upset this mornin’.”

He noticed she was twiddling the ring he’d gifted her this morning around her finger, to which he raised her hand and inspected it with his own eyes instead of through his phone screen.

“Looks good on you, dunnit?”

Y/N nodded her head, still unable to comprehend that her boyfriend had flown across the globe to see her on her birthday. There weren’t many people on this earth like Harry, and she had never felt happier to know that she had the privilege of being loved by one.

“I love it, H. I really do. Thank you. For all of this.”

She moved her hand away from Harry’s face to kiss his lips once more.

“How long are you staying?” she continued.

Harry sighed, “’ve got to leave at 2am to make it to the show on time.”

“That’s alright. Any time is better than no time.”

“Exactly,” Harry agreed with his love, “So why don’t ye’ go upstairs and change while I finish cookin’ so we can make the most of it, yeah?”

“Yeah, I’ll be right back,” she pulled him in for a third kiss before reluctantly leaving Harry’s side to take off her uncomfortable work clothes.

Just as she ascended the steps that led to their bedroom, she heard Harry call out.

“Actually, don’t bother! It’s not like you’ll have your clothes on for very long anyway!”

[miss-tc-nova]

My Hero - Katsuki Bakugo x Reader

Well...Gonna dabble in something outside of my usual KH. I love so many of the characters, I hope to write more in the future. 

Music inspiration: Dangerously by Charlie Puth

~~~~~

              By the hand, I lead my guest up the steps towards the daunting throne. Her grip holds tight, nervous and afraid. I can understand that sentiment, feeling the anxiety bubble in my own chest. This is my zenith, the epitome of my years of careful planning. This will be the end.

              She takes a seat and the metal crown lowers, fitting carefully around the extremity she’s been fostering for years now. Once it’s in place, I take another look, noticing the fidgeting in her fingers.

              “Would you rather we postpone tonight?” I ask, genuinely concerned. I’m honestly just as nervous as she is; for all I know, my fear might’ve prevented me from moving forward tonight, so I put my emotions aside and follow her lead.

              “No.” In her single word, she’s confident; despite the tremor in her voice, she’s determined to see this through. “Whether it’s now or later makes no difference. This is the best choice for humanity.”

              A soft smile tugs at my lips. “You’re a true hero.” I attach a pair of cuffs to her wrists. “We’re almost done. Let me know if it’s uncomfortable.”

              “Yes.” There’s a pause. “How does this work again?”

              I step back to examine my work. “This machine will amplify both our quirks, allowing us to reach the entire world. Still sound like a plan?”

              She nods, silent in her sullen steadfastness.

              With my guest ready, I make my way towards the control panel nearby and begin making my final preparations.

              I’ve spent so long preparing for this exact moment. A storm of pride, anxiety, and anticipation swirl in my chest. I could scream to the whole world right now, but I must wait until the end to celebrate. I’ve sacrificed a lot to get here; blood, sweat, and tears have gone into my ambition—and I’ve given perhaps more than I should have.

              I can’t dwell on that thought; there’s no going back no. I made my choices and it’s too late to regret them.

              The room shudders.

              Tearing my attention from the panel, I look to the door at the far end of the room. A second rumble shakes the walls, even from its distant origin. There’s no mistaking what that is.

              Now on borrowed time, I pick up the pace, terrified of the fact I have no chance to double check my work.

              “What’s going on?” she asks, clearly uneasy in her vulnerable position.

              I don’t want to worry her but I can’t lie—honesty is the only reason she’s put her faith in me.

              “He’s here.”

              My hands race across the board, though I must admit that his known presence slows me down. It takes everything in me not to panic or slip up, but I’m simply not fast enough.

              He arrives.

              The door bursts open like a pressurized can. A furious predator—he steps into the room. Those molten ruby eyes instantly find me, subjecting me to that vicious snarl he wields. Only I know him well enough to see the veiled panic in that expression.

              “Hands up!”

              I lift my hands. Careful cooperation is my best move here. The hero holds all the power; nothing would save me if he decided to end me here. I have no henchmen, no allies, no back up; everything hinged on the secrecy I let slip somewhere. Now it all hinges on ragged memories.

              “Step away from the controls!”

              His name slips from my lips. “Katsuki…”

              “Shut up! It’s Dynamite to you!” he snaps. “Now get down here before I blow this whole place to hell!”

              “Wait. Please, just listen.”

              “No!”

              “I-”

              “I SAID NO!”

              Another blast destroys a wall of unused equipment. With all the authority granted to him by his title and power, he points at me.

              “I have no mercy for villains—especially you! Not after you left!”

              “Let me explain.”

              “You had your chance to explain and you chose not to. You disappeared without a word—no text, no note, nothing. And then you show up five years later on my fucking criminal report?! Stealing machinery and kidnapping people?!”

              My teeth clench. Katsuki has every right to be angry at me after how I left.

              “I would’ve done anything for you. I would’ve given up being a hero for you!” That hurts like a slap across the face. “And you just left. You left me to become a villain! Did you even care about me?!”

              “Yes!” My answer couldn’t leave my mouth faster. “Yes, I loved you; so much that it still terrifies me. I never wanted to leave you, but I had to. We wanted very different things, Katsuki.”

              “You could’ve talked to me. We could’ve worked something out.”

              “Your dream was to be the number one hero and I didn’t see you giving up that dream any time soon.” I gesture to him. “And look where you are now—standing at the top as the most powerful hero in Japan. But I never wanted anything to do with your world of heroes and villains.”

              “I knew that,” he snaps. “I know that you hate heroes but I made a promise! You didn’t think I could keep my word?!”

              “We were fifteen. We were naïve and you made a promise you didn’t understand.”

              “Bullshit I didn’t understand!”

              “Then you would keep it even now?”

              His scowl falters. This is my gambit—my only hope in stalling my failure—but it comes at the price of opening old wounds.

              My sight blurring, I demand, “Even in the face of everything I’ve done, you would keep that promise?”

~~~~~

              “Katsuki, stop!”

              Against my wishes, he bites harder. A yelp escapes me, finally convincing the young man to release me.

              With a self-satisfied smirk, he wipes away the saliva dripping from his mouth. I glare, dragging a sleeve against my neck.

              “You’re so mean.”

              His hand takes my chin, forcing our faces only inches apart. Dark allure fills his voice and he says, “No, I’m possessive. You should know that by now.”

              That simper nearly has me taking the bait, but I want to play this game. “You’re lucky my shirt collar will cover it up.”

              “Oh yeah?” Bringing his face closer, grazing my lips with his soft, smooth ones nearly causes me to cave. “I can change that.”

              “Don’t you dare.”

              “Or what?”

              I want to give, to feel his lips against my skin again, but I also want to win. Hands against his chest, I push him back. What I didn’t realize was that his bed was directly behind him and he pulls me down on top of him. I make my escape, sitting up to frown at the young man. He flashes another grin, one far rarer, with sincerity and softness—one just for me. He’s rough and stubborn and sometimes mean, but he’s everything I love.

              And that’s a problem.

              “Okay. Sheesh. I’m sorry.” His thumb presses between my eyes, smoothing out the scorn. “Just stop making that face.”

              Letting my eyes flutter shut, I soak in the feeling of his palm against my cheek. A soothing serenity rolls through me, giving me all the comfort I never had before. I lived in fear my whole life, but Katsuki could make it all melt away with a single touch—forgotten but not gone.

              A jolt of icy guilt settles in my stomach. There was a reason the make-out was so heated.

              I reopen my eyes to stare at him.

              All that softness vanishes. “Don’t give me that look.”

              “We can’t avoid this conversation forever,” I say, slipping to the side.

              With a huff, he sits up. “I don’t understand what the big deal is. So what if I want to be a hero. Why should that have anything to do with us?” My gaze drags away, however, a firm hand pulls it back. His eyes are hard and determined. “If I can’t avoid the conversation, you can’t either. So spill it; what’s the problem?”

              Pulling back, I take a moment to focus my thoughts. Katsuki and I met by chance, literally stumbling into each other on the street. Due to the nature of the bad day, I broke down, but I guess that abrupt act is what earned his pity. He sat with me until I could calm down. We passed by each other a few more times before he eventually asked me on a date. I fell hard, becoming entirely infatuated. But of all the things we spoke about, our prospective careers were not one of them until today.

              “My parents died during a fight between a hero and a villain.”

              When there’s no response, I peer up at him. He stares as if trying to understand. I probably should’ve kept my silence, but it’s out now.

              “The small town was practically leveled when they were done, including the shop my parents were in. And I was at home watching cartoons when the news came on. I got the worst phone call of my life that day.”

              “That must’ve been one tough villain.”

              Katsuki’s never been great with his emotions, that I understand; so, dealing with my baggage must be incredibly awkward for him. What I don’t get, though, is how blind he is.

              “The hero did just as much damage as the villain.”

              “Come on. Part of the job is to protect people. I bet-”

              Interrupting his defense, I meet his gaze with a hard glare. “It was the hero that killed my parents.”

              Unfazed, he replies, “So that’s it? You think all heroes are gonna do that?”

              “Can you promise me they’re not?” I’ve cried over this many times before, but that hit of resentment never hit quite this hard. “He destroyed my entire town—killed half the people that lived there! And do you know what happened to him?!” He waits for me to answer my own question, an uncomfortable scowl on his face. “Nothing! That fucker got off scot free with a slap on the wrist! My family, my neighbors, and friends! They meant nothing but a slap on the wrist!”

              Those warm palms are at my face again. “Hey, calm down.”

              Tearing away, I know I’m long gone. “What kind of society is willing to destroy thousands, maybe millions of people just for the sake of some hero’s shit reputation! How is that fair to the people who are dead?! How is that fair to my neighbor’s elderly mother with no one to take care of her?! How is that fair to the guy engaged to my friend’s sister?! HOW IS THAT FAIR TO ME?!”

              “It’s not. But that’s not all heroes.”

              “You can’t prove that!”

              In one swift motion, a firm hand shoves me down onto the bed. Through my tears, I glare at the boy pinning me. His eyes burn with determination.

              “Like hell I can’t!” he says. “I’m gonna be the best damn hero the world has ever seen and that means I’m gonna show you what a real hero is.”

              He doesn’t get it. “Katsuki-”

              “No. I mean it.”

              From that look and the tone of his voice, I know he does, and that fact douses the indignation festering in me.

              “Whenever you need me, I’ll save you. Because I’m gonna be your hero.”

              “You shouldn’t make irresponsible promises.”

              “It’s not irresponsible if I mean it.”

              There’s no getting through to him; he’s as stubborn as ever. Still, even while I know we want different things, it’s nice to think that there will always be someone on my side.

              I hate the hope in my whisper. “Really?”

              “Don’t you dare doubt me.” His forehead presses against mine. “No matter what happens, I’ll be your hero.”

~~~~~

              “Well?” I demand. “You still want to be my hero? Even though the whole world says I’m a villain, would you still protect me?!”

              “That’s why you’re doing this? Because one asshole hurt you?”

              “Hurt me?! He took my family! He destroyed me!”

              “He’s dead!”

              “So what?! He rotted in prison until the day he died and then five more took his place! But I can prevent millions-no, billions of people turning out like me!” I hold my arms out. “This is me trying to make the world a better place! I caused you to suffer and I deserve to be punished for that. But you’re a hero and your job is to do what’s best for the people. That’s what I’m doing! The only difference is that I don’t care if I have to be the villain to do it.”

              I take in this hero for possibly the last time. Seeing him wavering comes as quite a surprise. Still, behind it all lies the person I fell in love with—he hasn’t changed a bit. The number of times I dreamt of giving up and crawling back to him, even if just to suffer his wrath, is innumerable. No one made me reconsider everything I knew about this world like he did and I almost gave it all up for him. s

              But I couldn’t let go of my animosity.

              “I’m sorry.”

              I turn back on him, continuing my procedure at the control panel.

              She calls out to me. “Look out!”

              A series of blasts fill the air, and for a second time, I’m interrupted before I can complete the process. He snatches my shoulder, shoving me up against the machine. One of those deadly, explosive hands presses against my throat. Frantic fury fills those eyes; he’s acting on pure instinct. I wouldn’t be surprised if it all went black in the next second. However, he simply stands there, his crushing grip holding me in place while he glowers at me. I deserve his wrath and that injects a fresh wave of guilt into my brain but, ultimately, I know I wouldn’t have done anything different.

              My heart stops while a blaring ring fills my ears. The guilt had nothing on this. Tears immediately begin spilling over, showing every weakness I have. His lips smashed against mine are rough and desperate, as if this is his last resort.

              My remorse enflamed, I try to push him off, but Katsuki’s tightens his hold, turning from forceful to choking. In seconds, my strangulation forces the kiss to end. I grasp at his wrist, but I didn’t have enough strength to force him off before, let alone now in this state. This is probably the end.

              “I hate you,” he says darkly. Tear prick in the corner of his eyes.

              “Kacchan!”

              If I wasn’t screwed before, I am now. Leaping into the room are top heroes two and three: Deku and Shouto.

              “Midoriya?” My guest turns mortified.

              Deku calls out to her. “Don’t panic, Eri. We’re here to save you.”

              Katsuki lets me hit the floor. While ragged gasps pull air into my lungs, I fight my panic. I’m so close; I only have a handful more commands to put in, but that’s not going to happen with these three. My hand slams against the floor; I failed.

               Suddenly, a hand takes my arm, forcefully pulling me to my feet. I don’t even fight against it; there’s no point.

              “So fucking much.”

              My gaze trails along his arm and to his face. There’s no longer anger on his expression, but something more intimate. I’ve seen this look before, on the anniversary of my parents’ deaths, on the day I met Katsuki—pity. And I hate it.

              His grip relents but the palm remains open to me. I only have a second to decipher this gesture because the other two are getting closer. I glance one more time at that pity, wondering if he did understand all those years ago.

              I may be signing my own death warrant, but at least it’ll be by his hand.

              Resting my hand in his, I feel the connection being made that grants a person access to my quirk.

              Without a word, he turns towards the stairs and raises his hand. Shock flashes on their faces before a blast—larger than I had ever seen from him—sends the two heroes back to the bottom.

              “What the hell are you doing?!” Shouto yells.

              Deku instantly understands. “They used their amplification quirk on him!”

              “But why is he fighting us?!”

              “I don’t know…” The young man braces himself for a fight. “But if we don’t stop them, everyone in the world is going to lose their quirk.”

              Katsuki looks to me, his pity replaced by the sincerity and softness he shared only with me. The reality of his choice is starting to set in, and the magnitude of his sacrifice hits my resolve hard. He meant it—he understood and he meant it.

              It only takes him four words to break my heart.

              “No matter what happens.”

[viking-raider]

Bound Pt. 4

Summary: You and Henry are on your Honeymoon in Venice, Italy. It starts out a bit rough, but ends on the greatest note.

Pairing: Henry Cavill/Reader

Word Count: 1,916

Rating: G - Fluff, Arranged Marriage, Floof!

Inspiration: Bound: Pt.1, Pt.2, and Pt.3.Originally requested by an Anon.

Author’s Note: I am really enjoying this! I hope you are too!!

Tag List: @jennylovelyheart, @peakygroupie, @jessevans @MITZWINCHESTER @rosie-loves-things, @ohjules, @mary-ann84, @omgkatinka, @hm-fck, @the-freak-cassie-131, @heelsamizayn, @agniavateira, @cap-barnes, @romyr4, @michelehansel, @katiebriggs004-blog, @badassbaker, @sweetsistergingerspice,@thisisntmyrightera​, @authentic-bish-face​, @rizeandvibe​, @severuined​

Between the flight and crappy sleep the night before, You and Henry stopped long enough to grab something to eat, take Kal on a walk and check-in to your hotel room, before face planting into bed and sleeping til the next morning. You whimpered feeling Henry's strong arms wrap around your waist and hug you back against him. The pair of you had shared a bed in some capacity since the night you used him as a body pillow, but you weren't intimate beyond kissing either. You were use to feeling how hard Henry was in the mornings, the man was a cuddler, not that you minded, cause you loved cuddling as much as he did. But, the difference in feeling it this morning was that fact you two were officially married and on your honeymoon, it was generally a common practice to have sex on your wedding night, but that didn't end up happening, with how tired you both were. Now, that it was the morning after, you wondered if Henry would expect it, now. He shifted against you, pressing his lips to the back of your shoulder for a long moment, before letting you go and getting out of bed, padding into the bathroom. You moaned again as Kal jumped up on you, excited and probably needing to go to the bathroom, himself.

“Kal, get down.” Henry called softly, coming back into the room. “I'll take you out in a second, let me get dressed.” he told Kal, as he paced around Henry's legs.

Henry got dressed, bent over you as you drifted back off to sleep and kissed your temple, before putting Kal on his leash and taking him out, going for his morning run as well. You were still asleep, when Henry came back an hour later, so he almost closed the bedroom door and stayed in the sitting room with Kal, watching the news and ordered himself some breakfast. He looked up as the bedroom door opened and you stepped out, pulling your hair up into a bun, and smiled brightly at you.

“Coffee?” He asked, motioning to the still hot pot.

“Please.” You nodded, still sounding very sleepy as you sat down beside him on the couch. “Thank you” You said, rubbing your throbbing temples and took the cup of coffee Henry poured you.

“You all right?” Henry frowned, seeing how dark your eyes were, a shade they only were, when you were starting to get a migraine.

“Shitty sleep, airports and Kal snoring straight into my ear all night.” You eyed the offending Akita, who looked at you like he didn't understand a thing.

“You sure that was Kal, and not me?” Henry teased, getting up and going into his luggage.

“I've learned the difference in tone.” You smiled around the rim of your cup. “You snore like a whisper. Kal snores like he's trying to talk over a jet engine.” You laughed, then winced as it made the pressure in your head hurt more.

“We didn't pack any of your migraine medicine.” He said, looking through your luggage next.

“Fuck.” You groaned, sighing and dropping your head back against the couch.

“Don't worry about it.” Henry told you, moving to pull the curtains on all the windows closed, plunging the room into darkness, minus the light from the tv. “I'll go get you some.” He said, kissing the top of your head, pulling on his shoes and going out to the store.

You grinned and blushed after him, only looking away as Kal hopped up on the couch beside you and rested his head on your lap. Like Henry had, Kal had learned your tells as a migraine started to bother you, and always cuddled and stuck close to you through them. “How did I earn you two fabulous boys.” You asked, petting his head, then rolled your eyes. “Through an arranged marriage, that's how.” You corrected yourself, but shrugged. “Maybe it's not so horrid after all, just don't tell your daddy that. Not yet, at least.” You warned Kal, who just looked up at you.

“Four stores, later.” Henry said, holding up the box of migraine medication you took.

“Henry, you shouldn't have gone through all that.” You said, shaking your head. “You could've just gotten me some aspirin.”

“Knowing you, and your migraines, you'd have to take the whole bottle of aspirin to feel any better.” He argued, opening the box, popping two of the small pills out of their bubble packaging and holding them out to you. “and that's seriously bad for your liver.”

“As the doctor orders.” You teased him, washing the medicine down.

“Doctor ordered a few other things, as well.” He told you, setting the bag he was carrying down on the table. He pulled a white bottle out of it and held out to you, still pulling things out of the bag. “So, you stop drinking my Rosemary water.”

“Hey, if you didn't want me to get hooked on it, you shouldn't have given me a sip of it.” You told him, opening the bottle and taking a few gulps of it.

“I'll remember that the next time you're thirsty.” He smiled, pulling out a small purple bottle.

You tilted your head at him, as he pulled you up and sat down on the couch, then sat you back down between his legs. He opened the bottle, and you got the delicate scent of lavender. Pouring some of the contents into his hands, Henry slipped his hands up the back of your shirt and started rubbing your back, massaging the Lavender oil into your skin. You moaned softly, relaxing and closing your eyes at the amazing feel of his big hands working the skin and muscle of your back, making it melt beneath his palms and feeling the tension of the last few days, the flight and your migraine go away with it.

“Why are you an actor?” You moaned, resting your hands on his thick thighs. “and not a masseur for the Gods.”

“I am one for a Goddess, if that counts for anything.” Henry laughed, moving his hands to your shoulders and the back of your neck.

You giggled, “Sweet talker, as well.” You teased him, hanging your head forward.

Henry smiled at you, feeling you completely relax under his hands and felt better knowing that you did. When he finished you laid back against him, turning your face to kiss the underside of his jaw. He wrapped his arms around you, propped his feet up on the coffee table and rested his cheek against your forehead, watching tv with you, his thumb gently caressing your side. Both of you were more than content to relax in the hotel room, cuddled together on the couch and watching whatever, only interrupting to take Kal out to the bathroom and order food. You fell asleep at some point in the late afternoon, and he carried you back to bed, tucking you in and letting Kal cuddle with you as he went back into the sitting room, pulling his laptop out of his bag. He sat back down on the couch and started searching for things to do around Venice with you, and set a couple of things up for you both to do, over the next couple of days.

“Where are we going, Henry?” You asked, taking his hand as you followed him through the streets of Venice.

“You'll see, love.” He smiled back at you, squeezing your hand.

Henry led you down a small street and out near the waterways of Venice. Down a stone walkway, there was a small dock and a long gondola, with its gondolier waiting on the dock. Henry extended his hand to him, shaking hands with him, then smiled at you with a raised brow. You smiled back at him, giggling as he helped you into the boat and followed, sitting beside you as the gondolier pushed the boat away from the dock and propelled it down the waterway. You marveled at the architecture and buildings, enchanted as you glided under a stone bridge, and looked to Henry, who was looking at you, and grinning. You blushed and turned your face away from him, but let him turn your face back towards him, licking your lips as he leaned in, he didn't kiss you though. You looked into his blue eyes and felt your enchantment over the city around you transfer to him, breath catching in your throat, and leaning in closer to him, transfixed.

“I love you, so much, y/n.” He whispered to you, caressing your cheek with the back of his knuckles. “I wouldn't, and don't, want to be with or married to, anyone else on this planet.”

“Oh, Henry.” You blushed, even harder, feeling his love for you, like it was a solid thing, and perhaps it was. That solid thing of love, was Henry himself. “I doubt, anyone's ever loved me like, and as much, as you do.” You brushed your fingers through his hair. “I honestly, don't know how you put with me, or why.” You chuckled, getting a bit choked up.

“Because, you are so lovable.” He whispered, pressing his forehead to yours. “And sweet, and precious. You're altruistic, you push yourself to be better, you challenge those around you to be better, to be their best self, without even knowing that you do. You're generous to everyone and thing, no matter who or what they are, or are not. You're beautiful, inside and out. Every bit the woman I've dreamed of.” He closed his eyes, taking in your warmth, scent and presence. “Even when, you think you're being a brat.”

“Which is often.” You giggled, softly, overtaken. “Fuck.” You huffed, gulping as he opened his eyes, and cupped your head in his hands, seeing the tears in yours. “I'm probably going to regret this later.” You whispered, clutching his jacket in your hands.

“Probably.” He chuckled, wiping at your tears.

“But, I love you too, Henry.” You finally admitted to him, biting your lip.

His smile faded, looking at you with wide eyes and a shocked expression, before his face broke out into the biggest smile you'd ever seen on his face, a tear dripping from his right eye. He let out a short breath, before kissing you with amazing passion. You held on him as you kissed and the gondola took a sharp corner. You hadn't felt this good, or alive, in an extremely long time, and hated yourself for taking so long to let it, and Henry, into the protective fortress you'd built around your heart and emotions, all your life.

“I thought I was excited, when I found out about marrying you.” Henry panted against your lips. “And happy as all get out, when we married. But,” his mouth worked, but no words came out, he had none, nothing could describe how overwhelmingly happy he was.

“I know.” You told him, brushing away his tears. “I get it, you don't need to say it.” You assured him, resting your forehead on his again and closing your eyes. “I love you.” You sighed, saying it without thought, but full of emotion.

Henry grinned, closing his eyes too. “I love you, y/n. Now, and always.” He promised.

[wellhellsbelles]

hey! i love everything you write and can't wait for the next chapter of ttroywh. i saw you're taking prompts and i was wondering if you could write one i saw in @rickibowen saying that riley and maya go to the bachelor and riley's supposed to fall in love with lucas but falls in love w/ farkle who is the camera man/editor of the show and she always tries to make him laugh by making faces during one on one interviews and so, while lucas and maya fall in love w/ each other

hope you don’t mind me cutting it short! i don’t know much about the bachelor and would’ve liked to expand more but the internet is not good at gleaning info on the process 😅 so here’s my take on as much of that au as i could!

enjoy!

Farkle took the dumb job by chance.

 Well, he did apply for it, but he never thought he’d actually get the job. In all honesty, he figured his small degree in video production wouldn’t end up fruitful, that it was only really a backburner type of deal. He still did believe that—he was going to pursue something in science, that he was adamant of. He just needed . . . a break from it (“Even geniuses need to take care of their mental health,” his mother had told him.) So he pursued videography, something that had become a sort of hobby to him, and when the summer arrived and he needed cash, he figured he’d apply for this job just for kicks.

Farkle never believed he’d end himself up on the set of The Bachelor, not in a million years.

It was sort of surreal, the whole atmosphere that followed such an illustrious television show. Farkle never bought into the appeal of the show, especially since it seemed silly to drag all these girls along just for some pretty boy to tell them they weren’t “the one”. It just seemed cruel, but then again, who was he to judge? He was earning money off of taping their dreams getting crushed, after all.

The first day on set was a barrage of sensory overload—so many voices, faces he needed to commit to memory, an itinerary of equipment he’d be handling . . . there was just so much. He was halfway tempted to run when he started becoming overwhelmed, but he remembered himself, breathing in and out until he’d maintained a sense of calm.

Farkle could do it. He would do it. There was no way he was backing out now.

The preparation for the show was massive, but then the first day of filming arrived right under his nose. Profiles he’d studied of both the bachelor and the ladies he would be choosing from were going to quickly turn to reality, no longer just faces on a page. He knew he wouldn’t be making friends or anything of that ilk, but he did want to at least talk to people, especially since he’d be the one on the other side of the camera for most of the shooting.

Farkle was going to be the main guy they all report to when it’s time to film their confessions, maybe secrets that would be aired on television but no one else on set would know until later. No one but him, which he was well aware was a heavy burden to carry. But then again, it was reality television—who said anything anyone reveal was actually real? The contestants weren’t getting paid for anything, so truth was muddied at best.

But somehow, despite all of this mess being, well, a mess, Farkle could still say he was excited at the prospect of taking part of something big. This was his shot at obtaining a glimpse a slice of a life he’d never experienced before, and he couldn’t wait to see how it all turned out.

 //

 “I can’t believe you talked me into this dumb mess. This is your fault,” Maya groaned from beside Riley as the other girls with them in the limo talked animatedly.

“My fault? How was I supposed to know they’d pick both of us for this show? Besides, you’re the one who submitted your application while we were drunk! You could’ve backed out at anytime and you know it, Hart,” Riley said accusingly. “Besides, we’ll have fun! You need some in your life.”

“I feel like I’m being pimped out by a bunch of white guys to another white guy. I hate this,” Maya slumped down further in her seat. “And they took my phone, too! How am I supposed to entertain myself?”

“Don’t you draw? Just do that. I know you brought your sketchbook,” Riley suggested. Maya shook her head.

“Nope. Not going to happen. I am not advertising my art for the world to see. One of those dumb cameramen are going to sneak up on me and do it without my permission, I just know it.”

“Suit yourself,” Riley shrugged, turning her attention to the rest of the girls in the car. She knew there was a camera in the car with them and that the producers would prefer it if she engaged in conversation about the bachelor, but she’d rather just lay low. She’d try and play it up for them later after she’d seen him up close and personal.

But Maya did have a point. Why was she doing this again? It really was a decision she made on a whim, but unlike Maya, her decision was made completely sober.

The Bachelor had been one of her favorite guilty pleasure shows that she watched over the years, but she had never once entertained the idea of actually becoming a contestant. Perhaps it was when her long-term boyfriend broke up with her that spurred her interest, maybe she just needed something new and this was it. Whatever the case, she had been picked along with her best friend, and wherever Riley went, Maya followed.

She couldn’t be too mad, anyhow—the bachelor they had picked was incredibly handsome.

His name was Lucas Friar, born and raised in Texas. Everything about him sounded like a dream come true, but she kept a smidgeon of skepticism about him just in case the show had encouraged a little truth bending for the sake of appeal. Still, she couldn’t deny that his extensive list of positive qualities all seemed a little too good to be true.

He sounded like a true, southern gentleman, the kind that would meet you at the door and talk to your parents before escorting you out on a date. A lionhearted and loyal friend, the testimonies in his profile had mentioned. A guy who is just so down to earth you can’t help but fall for him. Loves animals of all kinds and is working hard to become a veterinarian. His experience of being raised on a farm spawned his interest in animal care.

If Riley could swoon, she would. She still might, after meeting him.

For the rest of the ride, Riley tried her best to pitch in with the “bachelor talk” the other girls were participating in. She wasn’t too terrible at it, but getting Maya to participate was another thing entirely. Despite making it onto the show and agreeing to be there (Riley told her she didn’t need to say yes to being a contestant! At this point, she’s almost certain Maya agreed for her own personal agenda that Riley’s not privy to), she refuses to play along.

After what felt like an eternity of a car ride, they made it to the mansion they’d be staying at for the duration of their stint on the show. They asked Riley to be the first one out of the limo, something that floored Riley.

First limo, first out—they had a good feeling about Riley, was what that meant. She’d watched enough of The Bachelor to know that the first person to meet the bachelor was important; it was his first impression, the real start of the show, and it meant the producers were rooting for her.

So, no pressure.

Her meeting with Lucas passed by her in a flash, but she had a good feeling about it. He found her slight awkwardness endearing and by just interacting with him, she felt as though there was a certain energy between them. Of course, she’d never been the best at reading situations, but something told her that it was right for her to be on The Bachelor.

After meeting him, she waited in the main room as the other girls got to have their own interaction with Lucas, trying to not feel nervous as they all piled in together. They chatted amongst each other, but Riley couldn’t help but notice Maya hadn’t joined her yet.

Must be the producers, she admonished in her mind.

She wasn’t allowed to keep wondering, however, as a distraction was sent her way. One of the producers walked in, announcing that they were going to start filming confessionals and called Riley up to be the first.

“We just need you to talk about Lucas a little, maybe your experience so far,” he explained as he ushered her off to another room. “Be yourself, but also realize this is television, yeah?”

“So be myself but not really myself?” Riley blurted. The producer nodded.

“Bingo, you’ve got it. Now go in there and kill it.”

With a slight push, Riley entered the confession room, the door closing shut behind her. There was a guy already in there scrawling down notes onto a clipboard, his focus undeterred until the door closing alerted him to her presence.

“Oh, sorry about that,” he muttered, setting the clipboard down. He turned toward her with a slight frown tugging at the corners of his mouth, and Riley couldn’t help but feel bad for him. It seemed less like he was trying to be a professional and more like he didn’t want to be there at all.

“Hey, I know this is a weird request, but what’s your name? I’d like to get to know everyone around here, even if I just last a day,” Riley said. The cameraman’s stormy blue eyes lit up in surprise.

“You want to know my name? No one wants to know my name,” he told her. Now it was Riley’s turn to frown.

No one here wanted to know his name? But he was helping make the show. Was the whole production team for The Bachelor really that callous?

“Well, I do. Here, I’ll start—I’m Riley Matthews,” she beamed, sticking her hand out towards him. He hesitated a moment before enveloping her dainty hand with his, the warmth comforting.

“Farkle Minkus. I’ll be your cameraman for a lot of this run, but mostly just the confessional stuff.”

“Glad to have met you, Farkle.”

After breaking the handshake, it still took Farkle a moment to gain his footing and Riley couldn’t blame him.

“Okay, so you’ll sit at that seat right there,” he gestured in front of him to the empty chair, “And you’ll have to give me a moment to set the lighting right on you and then make sure sound is good.”

Riley did as she was told, waiting patiently in her seat as he shuffled about the room. She observed him scrambling about, heart warming at the awkward way he appeared to be moving. It reminded her of herself when she was anxious.

After a few minutes, Farkle was ready, giving her a countdown to begin.

“Just start talking about your first impression of Lucas, okay?” he instructed.

“Okay,” Riley nodded. She watched in silence as he started the countdown audibly, switching to counting with his fingers when they reached three. Then two, followed by one.

Showtime, she said to herself.

 //

 At the end of the first night, Maya was the first to get a rose. Riley wasn’t surprised one bit—Maya had a sort of charm about her and people couldn’t help but be drawn to her. It always surprised her when that happened, and that night was no exception to the rule. As someone who was also competing, Riley couldn’t help but feel a touch jealous, but more than anything, she was proud of her friend.

Despite Maya receiving the first rose, though, Riley did get quite a bit of time to spend with Lucas. He was shy and reserved, yet cheerful and inviting, and they got along quite well. If Riley was a spectator, she’d bet good money on herself.

But her time outside of filming scenes was spent hanging around Farkle. He didn’t really believe her when she said she wanted to get to know the people working on the show, so she was determined to prove him wrong, especially since she just kept being picked by Lucas. Each day, she’d greet Farkle when she’d spot him by the refreshments table set up for the crew, she’d ask how he was when he was there to film her confessions, and just do her best to cheer him up since he always looked down.

“You know you’re going to get me fired, right?” he asked her one day after they filmed a scene. “You keep making faces at me and I’m trying so hard to not laugh but I swear, Riley.”

“Is it making you laugh?” she said, curious.

“Yes, oh my god! They’re going to have to cut so much of that out not just for your dumb faces, but me interrupting their audio,” he groaned. Riley smiled.

“Good. Then I won’t stop!”

“Relentless, Riley Matthews, that’s what you are. And a pain in my ass.”

Riley liked getting to film The Bachelor, but as the days passed by, she had a feeling it was less because of her wanting to be on the actual show and vying for Lucas’ attention, and more due to the fact that Farkle was there.

And if halfway through the filming process Lucas ended it because he’d picked Maya (and she picked him too, shockingly), Riley couldn’t find it in her to be sad.

She had found Farkle, after all, so really she was the true winner of the game.