#physically he is the embodiment of boy next door

[caninecowboy]

i am thinking about chuck taylor again :/ i am also being horny on main about it (again)

[bella-goths-wife]

How the yandere bowers gang protects you

Warnings: sexual assault, revenge porn, physical abuse, murder, gore, emotional abuse, verbal abuse, manipulation, fucked up dynamics, forced relationships, MDNI

I do not intend to romanticise or normalise any of the themes I write about, I use them simply for entertainment value and do not encourage the replication of these actions!

Henry bowers:

You never really expected any aspect of Henry to be protective

You assume the hands that lay countless bruises on your skin to be the ones to shield you from the ruthless touch of others

But below the surface, there’s a part of Henry that yearns to hide you away from the ugliest parts of the world

Even if he himself is one of the ugliest aspects of your life

He pushed that part of himself down for the sake of keeping his composure while correcting you

He can’t go soft on you and allow disrespect now can he?

But there was always a firmness in the rule of never visiting his home

You assumed it was because he was embarrassed of you and didn’t want you to meet his father, when in actuality it was quite the opposite

But belch had dropped you off in a hurry at Henry’s when the rest of the group was out of commission and he had to get home quickly, and you couldn’t avoid the bowers residence

You knocked on the door only to be greeted by Henry’s father, who stared at you leeringly and suddenly you felt like a lost lamb backed into a corner by a rabid dog

Oh, how much did Henry’s gaze replicate his fathers in certain lights

When Henry saw the scene of his father looking at you with the look of an overjoyed dog at the sight of fresh meat, his mind couldn’t stop but to wonder about his mother

Suddenly, he felt like that helpless child watching his mother squirm and scream no as a the male embodiment of terror beat her and ripped her clothes

He felt the urge to run to you, to hide you in his chest and stroke your hair that he loved so much all while reassuring you that everything was okay

Like he wanted someone to do to him when he was a child

But instead, he responds in the only language that he could speak with his father as he yelled at him while pushing him away

He positioned himself in front of you as he purposely angered his abuser in order to distract his wandering gaze to you

He screamed at you to go home, allowing you to be alone for the first time in months out of desperation

You returned to your home and oddly enough, you couldn’t remember how to act normally in your own home

Your life was a constant performance of survival, how were you supposed to act while the curtain to your theatre were momentarily shut?

You just sat for hours on the couch and listened out for the next command or for your next warning and reprimand

For hours, just sat as still as a statue with tense shoulders as you awaited the next performance

You eventually went to bed around the same time that the boys would, much later then you did before them but for some reason their schedules had merged with yours and overtaken your thoughts

Henry entered your home a few hours before sunrise and creeped into your room

He was battered and bruised as he looked down at you in your bed, you couldn’t help but think about all the times he had left you in a similar state to try and ease your misplaced sympathy

You assumed he’d punish you for your rule break, but he just slowly climbed into your bed and laid his head on your chest

He commanded your hands to stroke his hair and for you to reassure him

Small tears escaped his eyes and wet your shirt as he commanded you to tell him that he was nothing like his father, that he was a better man

The lies felt like acid on your tongue as you reassured him quietly until he fell asleep

Henry was too far gone to ever understand that he didn’t break the cycle, he replicated it perfectly

Patrick Hockstetter:

You had been weird lately, Patrick had noticed

You had always been mopey and sad, but lately you were downright depressed

You neglected your personal appearance as you refused to eat or care for yourself in any way

This had caused Patrick’s attraction to you fade slightly, and that would not do in Patrick’s eyes

His sexual attraction was the only real feeling he felt, and it was his one true connection to you in terms of outside of his obsession

So Patrick decided to do some digging

He had found that some girls from school had been harassing you daily for the last few weeks during the few times you were without them

They had taken your clothes when you were changing in the ballet studio and had ruined the clothes you had handmaid, leaving you in only a towel

Luckily belch lended you his shirt but your humiliation lasted for days

The harassment didn’t stop there, they would put sharp tacs in your ballet shoes, loosened a balancing pole so that you’d fall when using it, called you all sorts of names

Now Patrick didn’t particularly care about your general well-being, as shown by his abusive and enabling behaviours

But when something affects his attraction to you, then it becomes a problem for Patrick

And you being in this depressive mood definitely affected his attraction, so Patrick took matters in his own hands

He decided to use what he knew and slept with each of the girls, roughly and painfully but with consent which was a curtesy he never offered you, before taking pictures of them on his camera and having the pictures developed

After a night of his usual forceful abuse, he showed you the pictures as some sort of twisted aftercare

The photos made you feel physically ill as you asked him why

He claimed he was protecting you, that those girls wouldn’t bother you now

All a lie, his motives were completely selfish

You cried at the pictures and he assumed you were jealous, so he assured you that he’d fix it

The next day he spread the pictures across the school, forcing the girls to isolate themselves out of humiliation

Patrick assumed the problem was fixed now and told you that you owed him

Despite the heavy guilt in your gut, you couldn’t help but find enjoyment in the fact the girls presence was no longer constant

Victor criss:

Victor was an observant guy, especially when it came to you

He memorised everything he could about you

He knows your routines, your preferences, your anxiety’s and your expressions

And he knew the minute that one of the male ballet teacher helped you stretch by grabbing at your thigh, that you were extremely uncomfortable

At first he tried to brush it off as a misreading of the situation, simply not knowing enough about a ballerinas strict routine

But he definitely did not misread the situation when he came to pick you up one afternoon and saw you cornered by your teacher with a look of absolute fear on your face

You practically ran to vic and held on to him tightly as you lead him out the building, something that only confirmed your fear as you usually repulsed away from his touch

He prodded you for answers but you became snappy with him and as he was about to reprimand you, he saw the tears that were close to streaming down your face with any more pressure

Vic was enraged

who was this piece of shit to touch you? Does he not know your owned? Does he not know your bowers gang property? Did he not realise that you were victors property?

Vic’s mind is made up as he drops you off with belch before making his way back to the ballet studio

He used your teacher as a pin cushion as he used his switch blade over and over and over until vic finally felt he had gotten his message through

He cut the hands off individually before skinning them and keeping the bones and hiding them away

He informed the rest of the bowers gang and they helped him stuff the body with rocks and watched it sink to the bottom of the river, never to be found again

They didn’t question him, they didn’t question his brutality, they just helped him clean up his mess

The same as what he’d do for them

Vic never told you what happened to your ballet teacher, but you inferred it from the context clues of the bones under his bed and the hidden away bloody clothes

All he asked for in return was a kiss and to be able to hold your hand without you looking sick

You tried your best

Belch Huggins:

There’s something surprisingly soft in belch’s protection

He’s the biggest in the group and most assumed to be violent, but he’s the softest out of the boys

His protection can range from small thin to big things

He expresses his protection in many different ways

He covers the side of the table if your grabbing something from underneath it, he walks on the side of the sidewalk closet to the road, he holds you hands or your clothes in public places to keep track of you

He even protects you in the gang sometimes by positioning himself slightly in front of you in a group setting, taking the blame for your mistakes and distracting the others from your actions

But there is always going to be a dark side to belch

And that dark side was brought out specifically by some drunk grabbing at you harshly on the walk home, not knowing belch was with you

Belch felt iron hot fury in his veins as he looked at the scene of this drunk bastard grabbing you so hard it could probably bruise your skin

Your a goddess in belch’s eyes, a slice of heaven bestowed upon earth and something he can indulge in and hopefully on day overdose on

And to see this drunkenly ignorant fool dirty your perfection with his disgusting touch? Well it set off a reaction in belch that he hoped you’d never have to see

He bashed the man’s head against the pavement over and over again as he felt every scream of pain was retribution for him disgracing the religion of you that belch follows so piously

The crunch of the mans broken nose against the floor brings belch back to reality as his eyes shoot up and meet your horrified gaze

You had seen belch commit violent acts before, you had been a victim of those acts many times

But those were all on the orders of Henry’s, this time was different

This act was committed with free will

Belch hurriedly tried to explain himself and begged you to not be afraid

You swallow your fear and horror as you hold his bloodied hands in yours and belch only looks down at you with practically heart eyes

You assumed that if you rejected him the violence would turn on you, and all though you were wrong belch was too blinded with awe to understand that

In his eyes you had just accepted the most ugly part of himself, proving that the pedestal he had placed you on was correct and you were the angel on earth that he thought you was

In your eyes, you had just dodged a possibly painful punishment

In reality, you had just tamed the beast with a gentle giant underneath the surface

[cheynovak]

Echoes and Shadows

Soldier Boy x F/Reader Y/N           

Warnings:  Fights, gunshots, mentioning of child abuse, ... 

Side note: English isn’t my first language    

Words:  3800 

Cursive are memories

*Does not follow the boys storyline * 

--    

Autumn of 1950, Soldier Boy, the embodiment of rugged heroism and Vought-American's premier supe, was summoned to a high-rise office overlooking New York City. The meeting was brief, direct, and left a bitter taste in his mouth.  

His new assignment: train a young girl named Y/N, a fresh supe with a "girl next door" persona. To Soldier Boy, it felt like a waste of time. Why did he had to train her, there had to be other tasks for the world’s greatest hero!  

When they first met, Y/N stood in stark contrast to the grizzled Soldier Boy. She had an optimistic gleam in her eyes and a smile that seemed permanently etched on her face. She was eager to learn, but Soldier Boy couldn’t stand her naivety.  

“Listen up, kid,” he grumbled during their first training session. “Being a supe isn’t about smiles and handshakes. It’s about getting the job done. And sometimes, it gets messy. I don’t think you can handle that."  

Y/N shook her head, determination shining in her eyes. “I can handle it. I want to help people, no matter what it takes.” Soldier Boy sneered. “We’ll see about that.” He was relentless in his training.  

Every day, he pushed her to her limits, both physically and mentally. Gruelling obstacle courses, intense combat drills, and brutal sparring sessions became her new routine. Whenever she stumbled, he was there with a cutting remark.  

“Come on, sweetheart, is that the best you’ve got?” he’d taunt. “Real heroes don’t get tired. Real heroes don’t complain.” Despite his harshness, Y/N refused to give up. She endured his gruelling regimen with a quiet resilience that began to chip away at Soldier Boy’s disdain. 

She didn’t just want to be a hero; she wanted to prove herself, and her perseverance was impossible to ignore. One day, during a particularly brutal training exercise, Soldier Boy pushed her to the edge.  

She was exhausted, her body bruised and battered, but she stood her ground. “Why do you keep doing this?” he demanded, his voice a mix of frustration and curiosity. “Why don’t you just quit? You’re too soft for this job.”  

Y/N met his gaze, her eyes unwavering. “Because I believe in doing the right thing. Because I believe in helping people, no matter how hard it gets. And because I know I can be a hero, even if you don’t believe it.” He rolled his eyes "Sure sweetheart."  

Months passed, and Y/N grew stronger, more skilled, and more confident, and as her confidence grew so did her abilities. Y/N seemed to be able to put up a defence barrier, holding back bullets, if she concentrated good enough, she could even use it as an extra force to her punches. Besides that, she healed quick and what time would tell, didn’t age. 

She always kept that kindness in her eyes, but it was now tempered with a steely resolve. She had become everything Soldier Boy had initially doubted she could be. One evening, after a particularly grueling session, Soldier Boy handed Y/N a cold beer.  

It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes. She stared at it for a moment, hesitating. "I'm only 18," she said softly, a flicker of doubt crossing her face. Soldier Boy scoffed, rolling his eyes.  

"Stop being such an uptight bitch all the time. It's just a beer." Y/N took the bottle reluctantly, the cool glass against her palm feeling unfamiliar and slightly intimidating. She hesitated, then took a small sip.  

The bitterness of the beer mirrored the bitter moments she had faced during training, the relentless drills, and Soldier Boy’s cutting remarks. They sat in silence for a while, the city’s night sounds filtering in through the open window.  

Y/N glanced at Soldier Boy, trying to decipher the man behind the harsh exterior. “Why did you agree to train me?” she asked quietly. Soldier Boy took a long swig from his own bottle before answering.  

“Didn’t have much of a choice. Vought’s orders.” He paused, his gaze distant. “But you’re not as hopeless as I thought." Y/N felt a small swell of pride at his words. Coming from Soldier Boy, it was high praise indeed.  

She took another sip, the beer tasting a little less bitter now. “Thanks,” she said with a little smile, proud of the first compliment her childhood hero gave her. Soldier Boy grunted in response. 

Present day 

Y/N had left the noise and chaos of the city far behind, finding solace in the peaceful rhythm of farm life. The fields stretched out in a patchwork of greens and browns, and the farmhouse, with its weathered wood and creaking floors, stood as a testament to a simpler, quieter existence.  

She was tending to her garden when she saw them approaching: a group of men, rough around the edges and clearly out of place in the tranquil countryside. Her guard went up immediately.  

Butcher, with his perpetual scowl, led the way, his intense gaze locking onto her. Hughie followed, looking slightly out of his element but determined. Frenchie and Kimiko were close behind, each with their own brand of intensity.  

But it was M.M., standing a bit apart from the rest, who caught her attention. There was a steadiness in his eyes, a calm that seemed at odds with the chaos that surrounded the group.  

Y/N straightened up, wiping her hands on her apron as they came to a stop in front of her. "What do you want?" she asked, her voice cold and wary. Butcher stepped forward, but M.M. gently placed a hand on his shoulder, signalling him to let M.M. handle it.  

Butcher hesitated, then nodded, stepping back with a reluctant grunt. “Miss Y/N, my name is MM, I, no we, need your help. Taking down Homelander.” Y/N crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing. "And why would I help you? I retired to the countryside for peace. "  

M.M. nodded, as if he understood. "I get it. Believe me, I do. But this isn’t just about revenge or taking down supes for the sake of it. We found out about a weapon, something that could kill Soldier Boy. If it can kill him, it can kill Homelander. And... it could probably kill you too. I presume you want to keep living?" 

She flinched at that, the reality of her vulnerability striking a chord she didn’t want to acknowledge. "Why should I trust you?" she asked, her voice softer but still laced with suspicion. "Because we’re trying to do the right thing," M.M. said simply.  

"We’re trying to protect people. And I think, deep down, that’s what you’ve always wanted to do too. You’ve got no reason to trust us, but we don’t have any reason to lie to you either. We need your help to find this weapon. If it exists, it’s our best shot at stopping Homelander. And if we don’t, a lot of innocent people are going to die."  

There was a long silence as Y/N weighed his words. She glanced at the other members of The Boys, reading the desperation and determination etched into their faces. Finally, she looked back at M.M., seeing in him a glimmer of the same hope and resolve that had once driven her.  

"Alright," she said at last, her voice steady. "I’ll help you. But only because I believe someone needs to stop Homelander. And if you’re lying to me, I’ll make sure you regret it." M.M. smiled, a genuine warmth in his expression.  

"Fair enough. We’re grateful for your help, Y/N." As they began to discuss their plan, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a pang of nostalgia. She had tried to leave her past behind, but it seemed the fight for justice had found her once again. And this time, she was determined to see it through to the end. 

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the farm, Y/N found herself alone for a moment, she agreed they could stay at her place for the night. She leaned against the porch railing, enjoying the cool breeze.  

Her mind wandered back to her time as a supe, a life that seemed so distant now. Hughie approached hesitantly, his hands stuffed in his pockets. He had a look of curiosity mixed with apprehension.  

"Hey," he started, a bit awkwardly. "Mind if I ask you something?" Y/N glanced at him, her guard momentarily lowered. "Sure, go ahead." Hughie shifted his weight from one foot to the other, looking around the porch.  

"I noticed there aren’t many pictures of you. Almost none, actually. W-why is that?" She laughed, a sound tinged with both amusement and bitterness. "Vought made sure the world would forget about me," she explained.  

"When I left, they erased almost every trace of my existence. Photos, records, everything. They didn’t want anyone to remember a supe who walked away from it all." Hughie nodded, taking in her words. "That's... harsh. But I guess I shouldn't be surprised, considering Vought."  

Y/N sighed, her eyes distant. "Yeah, that's Vought. Controlling the narrative, always." There was a pause, then Hughie asked another question that had been on his mind. "What was Soldier Boy like?" Y/N's expression softened, a mix of nostalgia and sadness crossing her face.  

"He was... complicated. A real hard-ass, tough as nails, and absolutely relentless. He could be a real jerk, too, always pushing people to their limits, addict... you name it.” A little pause, she added more a reminder to herself than to him, “But underneath all that, he was just... human."  

Hughie listened intently, sensing there was more to the story. "Did you ever get along with him?" She smiled faintly. "Eventually, yes. It took a while." Hughie looked thoughtful. "Do you think he would have been able to help us with Homelander, if he was still around?"  

Y/N shrugged, a hint of sadness in her eyes. "It's hard to say. Soldier Boy was powerful, but he had his own flaws and demons. He might have helped, or he might have made things worse. We'll never know." 

The next day they left for Russia 

The private plane hummed steadily as it cut through the night sky, its cabin dimly lit. The Boys were scattered around, each lost in their thoughts or quietly discussing their plan. Y/N sat by a window, staring out into the inky blackness. 

Butcher had a lead on the weapon that supposedly killed Soldier Boy, and they were heading to Russia to find it. As the drone of the engines filled her ears, Y/N felt herself slipping into a memory, a flashback to a mission that had happened decades ago in Russia, during her time with Soldier Boy.  

-- 

The mission was critical, a high-stakes operation deep in enemy territory. Y/N and Soldier Boy were tasked with infiltrating a heavily fortified facility to retrieve vital intelligence. The plan was simple: she would create a distraction as he got the job done.  

They had worked out the details meticulously, but plans rarely survived first contact with the enemy. Y/N had managed to draw the guards’ attention, using her powers to create enough chaos to give Soldier Boy the opening he needed. It worked, until she got shot multiple times.  

She found herself cornered in a narrow hallway, the walls lined with steel and concrete. There was no way out. Gunfire echoed around her, the sharp sound of bullets ricocheting off the walls. She took cover behind a weak force shield, her heart pounding.  

She could hear the guards closing in, their footsteps growing louder. As one hand shield her the other pushed down on her leg to stop the bleeding. "I’m trapped!" she shouted into her comm.  

"There’s no way out!" For a few agonizing moments, there was only static in response. Then, his voice crackled through. "Hold on, kid." The minutes stretched into what felt like hours as she waited, the sound of gunfire and shouting closing in.  

She fought off the guards as best she could, using her powers as offence instead to keep them at bay, but she knew she couldn't hold out much longer. Just when she thought it was over, an explosion rocked the hallway. The steel door at the end of the corridor burst open, and there he was. 

Soldier Boy, a look of fierce determination on his face. He tore through the guards with brutal efficiency, clearing a path to her. "Let’s go!" he shouted, grabbing her arm and pulling her to her feet. Together, they fought their way out of the facility, Soldier Boy covering her as they made their escape.  

When they finally reached the extraction point, she collapsed onto the ground, breathing heavily grabbing her leg. "You okay?" he asked, kneeling beside her, his voice uncharacteristically gentle as he tied on of his belts around her leg. She nodded, looking up at him with a mix of gratitude and exhaustion. "Thanks for coming back for me."  

He shrugged, but there was a softness in his eyes.  

--  

The memory faded, and Y/N found herself back on the plane, the steady hum of the engines replacing the echoes of the past. She glanced around at the faces of The Boys, each one focused on the mission ahead. She felt a renewed sense of purpose, a reminder of why she had joined them.  

M.M. caught her eye from across the cabin, giving her a reassuring nod. She returned it with a small smile. The private plane landed in a secluded airstrip in Russia under the cover of night.  

The Boys, along with Y/N, moved swiftly through the dense forest surrounding the remote facility where they believed the weapon that killed Soldier Boy was hidden. The facility loomed ahead, a monolithic structure guarded by heavily armed soldiers and state-of-the-art security systems.  

Butcher led the way, his eyes sharp and focused. "Alright, stay close and keep it quiet. We don’t want to alert the whole damn place." They approached the facility’s perimeter, M.M. disabling the security cameras and motion sensors with expert precision.  

They slipped inside, navigating the labyrinthine corridors with a mix of stealth and speed. But their luck didn’t hold for long. As they rounded a corner, they came face-to-face with a squad of Russian soldiers. For a moment, time seemed to freeze.  

Then, chaos erupted. Butcher was the first to react, launching himself at the nearest soldier with a fierce battle cry. His fists connected with brutal efficiency, taking the soldier down before he could raise his weapon.  

The sound of gunfire exploded around them as the rest of the squad sprang into action. Y/N used her powers to create a force field, deflecting bullets and giving The Boys a chance to take cover. She felt the familiar rush of adrenaline, her senses sharpening as the fight intensified.  

Frenchie and Kimiko moved as a deadly pair, Frenchie’s precise gunfire complemented by Kimiko’s lethal hand-to-hand combat skills. Hughie, still relatively new to the chaos of battle, ducked behind a crate, his heart pounding.  

He peeked out, firing his weapon at the soldiers, hitting one in the leg and causing him to drop his gun. M.M. took advantage of the opening, charging forward and disarming the soldier with a swift, practiced move. He turned, his eyes scanning the room for the next threat.  

"Y/N, cover us!" Butcher shouted, taking down another soldier with a vicious uppercut. Y/N nodded, focusing her energy to create a larger shield, pushing back the advancing soldiers. She could feel the strain, but she held her ground, giving The Boys the chance to regroup and counterattack.  

As the fight raged on, they moved deeper into the facility. The corridors echoed with the sounds of battle, gunfire, shouts, and the clash of metal. They fought their way through waves of soldiers, each skirmish bringing them closer to their goal.  

Finally, they reached a heavily reinforced door at the heart of the facility. Butcher and M.M. worked quickly to breach the door, using a combination of explosives and brute force. The door blew open with a deafening blast, revealing a dark, cold chamber beyond.  

They stepped inside, weapons raised, ready for anything. The room was dimly lit, the walls lined with strange, high-tech equipment. In the centre a large, metal cryogenic chamber, Butcher ripped the door off.  

"Bloody hell," Butcher muttered, lowering his weapon slightly.  

Y/N stepped forward, her eyes wide with a mix of shock and recognition. She froze for a second, unable to believe her eyes. There he was...Soldier Boy encased in the cryogenic chamber.  

The gas began to dissipate, and the machinery hissed as he torn the bands that had its grip on him. Ben’s eyes fluttered open, and he tumbled out of the container, gasping for air. "Ben!" Y/N shouted, rushing forward to catch him before he hit the ground.  

She knelt beside him, her arms around his shoulders, steadying him as he struggled to regain his balance. For a brief moment, their eyes met. She saw confusion and recognition flicker in his eyes, but it quickly turned to something darker rage.  

His expression twisted with fury, and his body began to glow. "Ben, it’s me, Y/N," she pleaded, her voice filled with desperation. But her words didn’t seem to reach him. The radiation started to build, the air around him crackling with energy.  

Before Y/N could react, Kimiko lunged forward, pushing her aside just as a blast of radiation erupted from Ben’s body. The force of the blast sent through the wall. The smoke and debris settled slightly, revealing Ben staggering through the chaos, his steps heavy and disoriented.  

His chest still glowed with residual energy, and he seemed to be in a daze, not fully aware of his surroundings. Ben, stop!" Y/N cried, her voice breaking with emotion. She took a step forward, her heart aching at the sight of him in such a state. but he walked away.  

As they returned to America, Y/N's mind was filled with a tumult of emotions. They had narrowly escaped Russia, but Kimiko's injuries weighed heavily on her. She watched as Butcher spoke to the team, his tone gruff and dismissive.  

"Soldier Boy isn't our problem," he said, his words cutting through the air. Y/N felt a surge of anger and frustration rise, she wanted to stay and find him. But she understood Kimiko needed help. “Why would he do that?” Hughie asked.  

Y/N’s mind drifted away.  

-- 

It was a late night, the night before the announcement of Payback as Soldier Boy's new team. Y/N had returned home after a long day of training, only to find Ben sitting on her couch, a bottle of whiskey in hand and a weary expression on his face.  

She couldn’t help but be annoyed at the sight of him. "What on earth are you doing here?" she asked, her voice mingled with concern. Ben shrugged, taking a swig from the bottle. "Figured you owed me one since I saved that pretty little ass of yours."  

Y/N rolled her eyes, "Fine. What's wrong?" As she settled onto the couch beside him, she couldn’t help but notice the sadness in his eyes, the weight of the world on his shoulders. "What’s eating you, Ben?" she asked, her tone gentle.  

Ben sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I'm a fucking disappointment" he said, his voice tinged with bitterness. “What?” Y/N asked before she listened as he opened up about his father’s abuse, the years of torment and neglect.  

Ben's father was a formidable presence in his life, but not in the way a father should be. He was a hard man, cold and unyielding, his words like knives cutting into Ben's fragile sense of self-worth.  

From a young age, Ben was subjected to his father's wrath, enduring physical and emotional abuse that left scars both seen and unseen. His father's beatings were brutal and frequent, leaving Ben battered and bruised, his spirit broken.  

But it was the words that cut the deepest, the constant reminders of his perceived failures, the insults hurled at him like daggers. He was called weak, a disappointment, a disgrace to the family name.  

For years, Ben internalized his father's harsh judgments, believing himself to be unworthy of love or respect. He built walls around his heart, his rough exterior a shield against the pain and rejection he had endured for so long.  

He learned to bury his emotions deep, to keep people at arm's length, lest they see the vulnerability he tried so desperately to hide.  

Y/N had seen glimpses of Ben's pain before, but it wasn't until that night, when he had opened up to her about his father, that she truly understood the depth of his suffering. She saw the scars, both physical and emotional, that his father had left behind. 

She saw the pain etched into his features, the vulnerability he rarely showed to anyone else. And in that moment, she understood him in a way she hadn’t before. "Why did you put up with it?" she asked, her voice soft. 

Ben shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping him. "It’s not that simple, Y/N. You don’t just walk away from family, no matter how screwed up they are." Y/N reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder.  

"You’ve got people who care about you, you know that right?" As their eyes met, and Y/N saw something flicker in Ben's gaze, a mix of emotions surged within her.  

But before she could fully process them, Ben leaned in, his intention clear. His lips moved towards hers, seeking solace in the warmth of the moment. Y/N's heart raced, her instincts conflicting with her emotions. As his lips hovered inches from hers, her fingers landed gently on his lips, halting his advance.  

"Ben," she murmured softly, her voice tinged with regret. "This isn't a good idea." She had thought about this moment before, wondered what it would be like to be with him. But now, with him drunk and high on who knows what, she couldn't bring herself to take advantage of him in this vulnerable state.  

It wouldn't be fair to either of them. Ben's expression shifted from longing to confusion, then to frustration. He pulled away abruptly, his eyes clouded with anger and hurt. "Fine," he muttered, his voice thick with emotion. "Your loss."  

Y/N watched him go, her heart heavy with regret. She knew she had made the right choice, but that didn't make it any easier to see him walk away. She never wanted to hurt him. 

-- 

As she heard MM talking to Frenchie and Kimiko she looked over. Seeing how badly Kimiko was hurt.  

Knowing she needed to find Ben ASAP before he hurts anymore people. 

To be continued...

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[neoameba]

Heya there! We need some good old angst, so can you write an Yan!Aizetsu x reader, but the reader instead likes another clone ((Sekido)) and not him? :D if not that's fine! Take as longbas ya need ^^

I love this idea :P

"But you belong to me."

Yandere! Aizetsu x GN! Reader

Warnings: Angst! yandere behaviors, unspecified gender reader, self-degrading behaviors, possessive jealousy, manipulation, implied Sekido x reader, Aizetsu is just a cute kitten 😞

Summary: Aizetsu loves you so much... You treated his main body with kindness and are someone so good at heart, so pure, so fragile... He and his "brothers" have become very attached to you, even though you are a human. That clone treated you so well, and that's why when he found out you liked Sekido, he freaked out. He won't let you be with someone else. Never.

It was always the night the two of you met. And since it wouldn't be, the demon can't just come out in broad daylight. But that made it more special and the moonlight made it even romantic. The oni would climb the walls of your house and suddenly divide itself into four, each clone with its iconic personality.

And it was like that for a long time. Sometimes they arrived smelling of blood, but it didn't bother you. You lived in a place that was kind of far away from everything, so having their company was really nice. You spent hours talking to Urogi and Karaku, but especially Sekido and Aizetsu. They had such distinct personalities, it was funny.

But... You always noticed something strange about Aizetsu. Something that the other clones didn't have. He always leaned on you, physical contact was never enough and he hated it when you paid more attention to other clones. He cried, and sometimes even scratched you, when he wasn't saying bizarre things like "You do not like me? Don't I deserve your affection? Look at me..." He didn't even care if the other clones were judging him, although he didn't like the looks of disgust.

Despite that, you still liked him and he acted normally sometimes. But everything changed in just one night.

.....

The time for the routine visit had arrived, but unlike every other time, the clones were not at his door and neither was Hantengu at his window preparing to enter without permission. It was just... Aizetsu. He was already inside your house, without permission or prior notice. His blue eyes shone in the dark as always, but this time there was something more in that look.

You weren't even scared anymore, his presence was known to you. You just decide to let the boy/demon into your room like he and his clones normally did. He smiles slightly at you and silently sits on your bed, where he looks at you closing the door.

"Aizetsu... Where are the other clones?"

"Don't ask about them when it's just the two of us here. Do you want other people here? It hurts me..."

Again, he acts like anything you say about other people is a big deal. "Sorry, Zetsu."

His eyes light up when you call him by the nickname you gave him. Aizetsu's heart begins to leap with happiness, a very overwhelming feeling for someone who is only the embodiment of sadness. You sit down next to him, and he automatically moves closer to you, holding your hand.

"I just want to talk to you, [Name]..."

He says, looking down. Aizetsu didn't seem to have enough courage to look you in the eyes while he wanted to ask you something. He seems to have waited a long, long time for this.

"... Do You like me...?"

It catches you off guard, but you laugh softly. "Of course I like you, Zetsu. I like all the clones." But instead of being happy, he looks hurt, as if you had said something he didn't want to say. "You don't understand... Do you like me, [Name]?"

You stay silent, looking at him with slightly wide eyes. You were too naive to not realize that he liked you romantically, or was just focused on other things. You didn't want to hurt the oni, but you needed to be honest with him (and he would know if you were lying).

"... I'm very sorry."

He looks at you, as if surprised and scared. At the same time sad and enraged. "If not me, who then?" His grip on your hand tightens, and you could feel that at any moment, with just a little more force, he could break the bones in your hand.

"...Sekido."

"...Sekido...?!" He says, a low growl in his voice you could hear. He looked in shock, and his eyes were wide and starting to water. He remembers all the moments when your laughs were directed towards Sekido, when Sekido wasn't able to get angry with you even though he is the personification of anger, when the two of you seemed too close... A vein pops out of his head, and he pulls your hand towards him, making your torso almost fall into his lap. Your free hand holds onto the bed for support, as you widen your eyes at the situation. Your faces were almost glued together, and now you could see his eyes and expression more clearly.

“But you won't stay with him. You don't understand how much this hurts me, I thought you cared about me..."

His eyes started to fill with tears, and when you tried to say something, he covered your mouth with his hand. "You can't. You won't leave me." He says, pressing your face with the hand that covers your mouth. It was hurting you, his nails were almost penetrating your skin. Tears were streaming down his face and he looked devastated.

If it weren't for love, it would be for pain. You needed to be his, you were someone so good, so perfect for him... It hurt his heart that you didn't love him, so he would make you love him.

.....

And from that, he made a truth. He didn't join Hantengu and his clones again, he stayed in your house the whole time, clinging to you. And when you tried to tell him he couldn't do it, and that you wanted your privacy, he freaked out again. That sparkle in your eyes that you saw that fateful night comes back every time you dare to say something that makes him the slightest bit upset.

What about the other clones? Aizetsu told them that the two of you were dating, and consequently, Sekido didn't want to look you in the face anymore, anger took over him when he discovered that "you don't like him". Too bad, Aizetsu implied you were just being nice...

Karaku and Urogi visited you sometimes, but Aizetsu always kept you away from them, so they only stayed for a short time. You were his alone after all, why would you want other people in your house?

"You belong to Me." That's what he says quietly in your ear every night, wanting it to penetrate the deepest part of your brain. He would hug you gently, but the slightest mistake would create a crying, insane mess called Aizetsu.

Author's note (my notes :P)!

He is just a pookie wookie cutie pie.

I hope you enjoyed it and that it met your expectations!

[glasskey]

THT True Love and Double Trouble Remix Part 3

Welcome to the 3rd and final part of this remix. In the context of this love triangle Luke is the equivalent to the “home body” or the “boy next door”. For years and years now, in classic love triangle scenarios these slouchers have been “getting the girl” based on the lame-assed rule of “first dibs”. However our heroine isn’t beholden to anyone, SHE makes the rules, and as the infamous Dawson / Pacey / Joey love triangle taught us; the so called “diamond in the rough” is the everyday man’s worst fucking nightmare.

LUKE

Because Luke is the everyday man he presents a perfect vehicle for demonstrating the casual chauvinism experienced by women as a normal daily occurrence. Luke is a homebody with a desire for a wife and an idyllic family, and with this comes all the dynamics of it’s traditionalist ideals. Luke represents the average middle class male persona; educated but self-entitled and somewhat willingly complacent in his efforts to change his or societies attitudes to gender roles and dynamics. As such, the infringements of June’s initial freedoms are concerning rather than alarming and certainly not enough to motivate him into direct action. In Atwoods text Luke actually enjoys some of these restrictions of June’s former freedoms, as they allow him to assert his dominance, thus bolstering his own sense of self confidence. This character aspect has been somewhat downplayed in the series, but we do still see signs of it.

In Atwood’s text, Luke taunts Holly making light of her action against the patriarchy, in the series we see echoes of the two at loggerheads when Holly voices her disapproval of June and Luke’s marriage. Holly’s perception of Luke is as a trap of conventional traditionalism, a direct obstacle between June and her independence. Holly embodies the fight against a patriarchal society and the definitive independent woman. As such she is captured, enslaved and most likely killed off during the inception of Gilead. Moira also voices concerns that Luke will leave her if she cannot produce the child he so desperately desires, leaving June wondering; what if he sees her as primarily a walking womb? June’s insecurity at his faithfulness and her own abilities to provide a child cause her to continuously apologize, and minimize her own anxieties. Ultimately it allows him to take control, determining when they run and enabling his passivity to leave her trapped.

When June returns home she is far from the affectionate, compliant wife he once knew. She is distinctly uncomfortable in a world that somewhat acquiesces to Gilead’s will. She is enraged, vengeful and hypervigilant. After waiting many years for her return, Luke seems determined to “love whoever she turns out to be”, it seems almost defeatist to “let her go” after all this time. However he’s constantly challenged by the person who’s returned to him, and while there are moments of connection they’re tenuous and it’s doubtful that pre Gilead, he would have ever chosen to marry the woman he now knows.

Prior to Gilead’s inception the nature of the physical connection between Luke and June ranged from flirtatious to affectionate. Upon returning from Gilead, physical contact between Luke and June ranges from cautious to violent and finally settles back into a friendly affection. In contrast scenes of unrestrained climactic sex seems to have been reserved almost exclusively for Nick Blaine, drawing a sharp line between the two. In S5 we witness a spontaneously passionate sex scene between Luke and June, but the lighting and positioning hurtles you back to Nick and June’s heated, passionate exchange at the Boston Globe. As June turns away from Luke, it’s difficult not to conclude that June is reliving a distant precious memory. It’s a moment of passion triggered by their mutual hatred of Serena rather than any loving desire for intimacy. In the fading cold light he lies exposed as she remains covered, his attempt to reach her has failed once again.

I truly sympathize with Luke, to me it makes perfect sense that he would TRY and reconnect with June. That he would hope against hope that despite many years of separation and her obvious love for another man, that he might be able to salvage his marriage somehow. Throughout season 4 and 5 we witnessed a man clinging to the past, the moments he connected with June were when he spied the remnants of the woman he once knew, or when hopes of Hannah returning were raised. Maybe, just MAYBE, he hopes, he might be able to get back the family he lost on that icy road so many years ago. Throughout S4 and 5 Luke showed a deepening awareness of June’s altered perception of both him and their relationship. He expressed regret that he’d failed her as a partner and made ill-conceived attempts to redeem his short comings, he tried desperately to hold onto her and the dream of his family…..but it all seemed for naught.

As June bade him farewell at the train station we saw her pivoting from Ep 9 where she told him to let her go, to telling him to come find her. But the borderline disconnection of the last 2 seasons made it seem either like a sentimental goodbye, or an unrealistic attempt to suddenly reconnect these two characters fully. I was moved by the “goodbye’s”, but the “I love you’s” and “come find me’s” left me confused. Had I missed something? Had some immense edit had taken place to save air time?

Both Luke and Nick are cautionary tales but in decisively different ways. Luke is privileged and well educated, he works in a white collar job and he chose a passive role, doing little or nothing to act, at the inception of Gilead. He represents the willful ignorance and complacency of men who assume that power comes at no personal cost. He is a demonstration of men’s responsibility to, not only change their own gender biased beliefs, but be pro-active about changing those around them. In contrast Nick is poor, unemployed, with no higher education and he chose an active role. His position has a great deal to say about the ease of manipulation by the wealthy ruling class. His servile and initially diminutive role of action turns the larger wheels of power for Gilead, as Serena said: “we wouldn’t be here without him”. Both Luke and Nick illustrate the incredible destruction caused to ALL, by both the active practice and social complacency of gender bias. Both challenge our perceptions of guilt and innocence. The Handmaid’s Tale is known for its painfully accurate social commentary, and the inescapable truth is that whether passive or active, both of these roles can be equally devastating.

In S5 we see Serena confronting Luke with the reality of his inaction, provoking a rage filled response. Luke is seething with hatred for Gilead, but there is also an undercurrent of immense guilt and self-loathing for his own apathy.

Luke said nothing, did nothing, ran too late, lost his wife, lost his daughter…….there are consequences. Nick joined the Sons of Jacob, he took part in a right wing regime and he lost his country, his freedom, his daughter and the woman he loves……..there are SO many consequences.

Both of these men signify a journey that male attitudes and society at large must take in order to unstack the deck. Throughout the seasons we’ve seen both Nick and Luke’s painful personal journey of enlightenment, regret and their ultimate choice to change. It’s no coincidence that they BOTH now reside in the “purgatorial” Big House…..it’s time to show true sacrifice and pay the piper.

There seems to be a tendency to attribute a mantel of innocence to Luke for his passivity during the inception of Gilead, furthermore the idea that he’s EARNED some sort of expected devotion through the role of husband and provider. Ironically this attitude reflects the very archaic traditionalism that The Handmaid’s Tale kicks against time and time again. As Holly said, “now’s not the time for settling down, now’s the time to fight.” so when push comes to shove, if either of these boys want to tag along with our rebel, they’d better get ready to gear up and go underground. Rebellion waits for no man.

In story telling great lovers have something that for lack of a better term, could be referred to as “calling cards”. They act like talismans of their deep connection, and Nick and June have a LOT: their hand brushing, foreheads touching, ever present glowing lights, when Nick calls her name, her gasp and eyelash flutter at the mere mention of his name, and the touching of June’s neck. These “calling cards” seem so very conspicuously absent in Luke and June’s relationship, and as the seasons roll on, this is harder and harder to ignore.

The end result is that watching Nick and June fall in love, is like watching two people GENUINELY fall in love for the first time. Regardless of whether this portrayal is the result of June’s overly romanticized narration is irrelevant, the fact remains that Nick Blaine is quite literally being visually described as “the love of her life". In comparison the audience is fed somewhat ordinary glimpses of her life with Luke. The Handmaid’s Tale moves in circles, depicting the turning of seasons and as such June swings back and forth between these men. The end of the shows seasons always somehow cruelly reuniting and yet separating her from Nick. The rule of chances state that the wheel of fortune must finally turn differently this time. But I don’t trust these writers, I never have, they’re erratic and brilliant and you can never trust genius to be predictable. Whether Nick and June end in tragedy, sacrifice or victory is yet to be seen.

[royculkins]

the universal curse of sensitivity — igby slocumb (4)

part four: rigid cold meet liquid sunset

PART THREE

Pairing: Igby Slocumb x reader

Warnings: Drug use, underage nicotine use, neglectful parents, explicit language, adults messing around with kids when they shouldn't, and anything else that can be found in the movie Igby Goes Down

Summary: Troublesome kids will always reach to find love and acceptance, even if it means making a mess where it's unintended. They’re just kids, but the older they get, the worse their inner conflicts haunt them. They want to please, but long to be pleased. They’re dramatic and self-sabotaging, they can’t help it⸺its the universal curse of their sensitivity.

Tag List: @gaysludge @wsrizz @confusedoatmeal @b1mb0slvt @slvttyclementine @he4vens-ang3l @alexiagx @moosh-i

Authors Note: This took forever, thank you so much for being patient and understanding!! And I'm sorry that this chapter is kind of angsty and such, but I swear there will be a happy ending! The next part is the final part of this story, so it will be VERY long and make you feel a lot of emotions!! Thank you again for sticking by me I love you all!!

4.2K words

Igby Slocumb couldn’t hide the glow of contentedness that embodied him after sharing a first kiss with you. He had returned to your apartment multiple times since then, never sharing another moment of flourishing physical intimacy. The boy couldn’t complain, however, because he (and you, for that matter) had taken many drugs before, but the high never lasted as long as this one. 

Your time was spent as it always was⸺meeting him at the front door, sharing stories at the window, and smoking a joint before he would leave you with an unspoken promise of return. The only difference is the proximity of the two of you. So close that anyone watching would declare you lovers who spoke only a language the two of you understood. 

Nobody would assume that you were just two kids punished for wanting something unconditional and only finding it in each other. There was no rush to kiss again, no push to go further, and no lull in your connection. There only remained a buzzing harmony between the two of you that soothed both of you into a comfortable bliss. 

When Igby had awoken on the morning after he had seen you, he wondered if he’d ever escape the chasing smile that followed every thought of you. He had never met someone like you, someone who cared as absolute as you did. Someone who cared without a second thought or had the need to gain something in return. 

It’s all his family had ever done. Telling him what he needed to hear to get him to listen. It wasn’t until he found out about their schemes that he began to retaliate. He thought they’d realize what he needed, but they only held his necessities over his head. Making it impossible for him to live without them. He had been running ever since. 

From your apartment, you pondered the same thoughts. For so long, you felt you had been begging for someone to see your feelings and thoughts as anything other than a burden. Those you used to take bumps with would all nod along to your words but never truly listen. Your ‘friends’ would ignore your feelings and push you to focus on something else⸺which usually consisted of partying. And your parents, well, they were an entirely different story. 

They acted like the words that escaped your lips came in the form of pleading vomit. Begging them to see you as their child, begging for them to say they loved you, begging for them to stop you from destroying yourself. However, they only ever said anything to benefit the company and their reputation.  

Igby was the first person to argue with you. He was the first person who listened. The only person who had an opinion on you that exceeded your partying and your parent's company. 

The two of you were foreign to the feeling of intimacy like this—too familiar with the physical aspects that the emotional and intellectual parts had a confusing burn to them. With every conversation and every small act of kindness—the more the burn spread. Then, the two of you kissed, and a wildfire ensued. 

Living on the undying warmth and high, you had taken to skipping around your home, with a hum filling the once-haunted air. It was because of these distracting sentiments that you couldn’t feel the cold front making its way up the elevator toward your apartment.

You hadn’t expected any guests today. It wasn’t your usual days for tutoring; the groceries that were delivered had already come for the week, and it wasn’t one of your scheduled days for Igby’s return. The expectation of spending the evening alone had been shattered as a knock on the front door echoed throughout your apartment. You turned your head to look at it with furrowed eyebrows, expecting the person on the other side of it to walk away and discover that they had mistaken your apartment for someone elses. However, another knock sounded, this time louder and firmer than before. 

Rolling your eyes with a sigh, you take long strides toward the door to unlock it, only opening it wide enough to make eye contact with the unexpected visitor. Leaning your body against the threshold of the door, you quirk your eyebrow as you examine the unknown man in front of you. His blue eyes pierce into your own as you speak impatiently after a moment of prolonged silence, “Can I help you?”

The blonde boy smiles, a wicked smile, one full of intent and hidden annoyance, “I’m actually looking for someone. You wouldn’t happen to know where I can find Igby Slocumb, would you?”

“No, sorry,” The lie flows out of your mouth as easily as water runs. You go to close the door, but the boy reaches out and stops it before you can make him disappear behind it. His smile was replaced with a knowing smirk, his eyes blazing with passion as you unknowingly entered into a game he was interested in playing, “I know you’re lying.”

“Look, I have no idea who you’re talking about. You’ve got the wrong person.”

“Do I?” There was no genuine confusion, his words easily matching with the same type of sarcasm you had heard so familarly with Igby. 

It becomes quickly apparent that the man in front of you is related to the boy you have befriended, and it is because of that you continue to lie through your teeth. Even though the blonde had already found you out, you persisted. Nodding your head with a forced smile, you tried to close the door again, “Yeah, I do.”

“What would your parents think about you spending their company’s money on a weekly drug dropoff?”

His words caused your push on the door to freeze, leaving only enough of a gap for his icy words to send a chill down your spine. Subconsciously your back straightened as a shaky breath entered your nose. Slowly opening the door, you hold onto your hardened expression as he tilts his head in a teasing manner, looking up at you through his eyelashes as though he were innocent yet his smirk told the truth of his intentions. 

The boy clicked his tongue in a disapproving way, taunting you as he shook his head, “Aren’t you going to invite me in? Or should I send an anonymous message regarding your recent activities with my brother to your parents?”

Biting your inner cheek, you open the door further, staring past him as he glides past you with the grace of a swan. His entire persona was different from his brothers. While Igby walked with a slouch and heavy feet, his brother walked with his shoulders back and with posey, the training only a wealthy child who followed instructions could perfect. Shutting the door, your eyes followed the blonde as he looked at your apartment with a blank expression. His fingers trailed across your things as he examined every aspect of the new environment. He circled the area around you slightly like a predator to prey. 

“What do you want?” The question came out bitterly, you could taste the disdain sitting on your tongue as he continued walking around the living room, his blue eyes meeting your figure as he took a deep breath in, “You know what I want.”

Igby.

Shaking your head, you crossed your arms, “Look, Igby’s just some delivery boy. I don’t know him or where he is. He just drops shit off, then continues his job. There’s nothing more I could do to help you.”

The pale boy stops his continuous movement to look at you with furrowed eyebrows. For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out how Igby could get people to easily lie for him or defend him. Chuckling under his breath, the boy turned his body to face you, looking you up and down before sending you a fake proper smile, “Do you really think I’d be here if that were the case? Do you think I’d just blindly show up here? Ask you a question I don’t already know the answer to. Do you really think that I don’t know everything about you and my brother?”

You stayed silent, standing by your word as he once more slowly circled you. Making you feel small as his eyes pierced through you. 

“I’ll admit, you weren’t the easiest person to acquire information about. You have little to no friends, and you never leave this building, let alone this apartment. However, your doorman has quite a lot of sympathy toward you and isn’t shy about telling people about your sob story. The poor rich kid with a drug problem and neglectful parents who care more about their company’s future than the supposed heir to their fortune.”

Silently you curse the doorman and take back any mental apologies you had sent him when he was the center of a crude joke. Now, he seemed the utmost deserving of it all. Your gaze fell to the carpet beneath you before looking back up at the smirking man, who continued on, “He told me how often your friend came around and how happy he was that you finally had someone visiting you after months of seeing absolutely no one. Said that you spent hours together and that your little friend would skip in and out of this building with nothing but a smile on his face. He didn’t know that I already knew that, though. Bless his heart, he must not have many conversations seeing as he just would not shut up.”

“And neither will you, it seems,” You sigh as you sit down on the couch with an eye roll. Your face remained stoic as the blonde boy turned to stare at you with an amused expression. He had to hand it to his brother; he really knew how to pick them up. The kind of person with just enough sass to fight on their own and just enough loneliness to keep asking him to return. Nodding silently, the boy sat across from you, finally aligning himself to your level to appear as equals. Even though he’d never see you as such. 

Taking a deep breath, the blonde boy tilted his head, “I know who you are, so I guess I should introduce myself. I’m Oliver, I’m sure Igby has told you about me—.”

“He actually hasn’t talked much about you at all.” You admit with a shrug, “Just that you don’t understand him and that you have a habit of taking things away from him.”

Smiling falsely, Oliver chuckled over the very usual dramatics of his brother's tales, “You mean Sookie?”

You tried not to outwardly show your annoyance toward the older boy in front of you. His lack of empathy for taking away one of the only people his brother trusted didn’t sit well with you. Returning the false smile, you feel your eyes scrunch up as you speak, “I’m sure you’d know more than me.”

“I do know more than you.” Oliver agrees, causing your eyes to roll slightly and a small scoff to push past your lips. Leaning forward from his stiff position, the boy places his elbows on his knees, “The same way I know Igby more than you.”

“Why can’t you just leave him alone?” Your voice came out so soft and genuine that Oliver visibly winced, not expecting your tone to shift from sticky sweet sarcasm to sincere questioning. 

Furrowing his eyebrows, the blonde boy scoffs, “He’s just a kid. He shouldn’t have the authority to be alone, especially with all the trouble he causes, that I have to clean up.”

The bitterness that lingered with his final remark caused you to look at him a little closer. Shifting uncomfortably under your gaze, a resemblance between the Slocumb brothers peaked through the cracks of their shared reactions to their role in their family. Both of them longed for control over their current situation because they lacked control over what they truly wanted. Whereas Igby wanted to feel seen, heard, and taken care of without being seen as a problem, Oliver wanted to be seen and heard without having to pick up after every mistake his family made. 

“Seems like a bit of a personal matter, doesn’t it? What do you want from me?”

“I want you to give Igby a message.”

You roll your eyes at the blonde boy's dramatics, “What exactly do you want me to do? Tell him to leave New York with you? Even if I tell Igby to go back home, he won’t. He’ll just pack up and leave again.”

“He’ll listen to you.”

“And what makes you think that?” You scoff as you cross your arms over your chest. 

“Because you’re his friend, and he wouldn’t want to hurt his only friend.” The cracks in Oliver’s demeanor had been sealed over, causing his smirk to return as his original plan unfolded before the two of you. You shook your head with confusion seeping through your expression as the boy stood up from his spot. Checking his watch before dropping a bomb in your living room, “If you don’t tell Igby to come home⸺I’ll be sure that your parents are aware of your recent spending habits. As well as any tabloid that wants to know what the youth of America’s wealth truly looks like.”

You stare up at the older boy with wide eyes and your mouth agape, your heart racing at the thought of your name and picture being spread across magazines in a negative light. Smiling down at you, Oliver grips your jaw in his hand, “What would mommy and daddy do when they find out their only child ruined their clean image? Hm?”

Letting go of your face, Oliver left you seated on the couch with a heavy heart that felt a pull toward two different directions. In one way, you felt the urge to protect what was left of your relationship with your parents, while the other side wanted to protect Igby from the trap of his family's curse. Opening up the door, the older boy smiled at your frozen state, ready to seal the final nail in the coffin before closing your front door, “Oh, and be sure to give Igby that message soon. Our mother won’t be around for much longer, and she’d like to say goodbye to Igby. You can tell him the cancer finally caught up to her.”

Horror fills your face as you turn to look at the now-closed door. Your once warm and hum-filled apartment settles back into its haunting nature of sadness and silence. Your mind racing as you stare at the phone in your kitchen. It wouldn’t be until almost two hours later that you’d pick it up off its hook and dial Russel’s number into the phone. With your eyes shut, you’d pray that your drug dealer would answer the phone and be the barrier of bad news. However, your luck had seemingly run its course as the sound of Igby’s voice floated through the phone.

He sounded just as he always did, and it only caused your heart to leap into your throat. The air from your lungs is unable to push its way out or pull more air in, causing your mouth to remain parted with slightly jagged breathing escaping into the receiver.  

Assuming that you were one of Russel’s drug-dependent junkies, the boy rolls his eyes and sighs, “Look, Russel’s out. You’re gonna have to call back later.”

Before he could hang up the phone, your voice finally breaks through the lump in your throat, causing it to sound breathier than usual, “Wait, Igby.”

Placing the phone back in his ear at the familiar sound of you, a smile breaks out on his face. His attitude shifted back toward the same one you had just before his brother's intrusion into your life. The warm feeling that followed every thought of you grew bigger as he fell back into your usual routine that typically occurred on a different day, “Hey. You run out of drugs already? I think we need to get you into a program.”

“Igby—.”

“No need to be embarrassed; all the popular rich kids have a rehab phase.”

“Igby—.”

“I just ask that you send me a postcard—.”

“Igby!”

The boy freezes at the urgency and sternness of your voice; blinking harshly, he lowers his voice, an unfamiliar serious tone sounding through the phone, “What? What’s wrong?”

“Does your mom have cancer?” Your voice sounds broken, like you’re clinging onto hope that he’d say no to your question. Like any sort of denial would break you free of this burden. 

“What? Where did you hear that? What—? Where—?”

“Does she?” You cut him off from his stuttering, balling the wire of the phone in your fist.

“Yeah, but how did you—? Who told you that?”

You release a shaky breath, tears brimming in your eyes, “Igby, you need to go home.”

Scrunching up his eyebrows, the boy scoffs before stumbling over his words, not understanding the sudden switch, “What? Why would you say that? Why, why would you—?”

“You’re brother stopped by my apartment today.” You whisper, causing his heart to drop further. They had gotten to you. Just as he was growing warm with affection and reassurance, their cold hands wrapped themselves around you and ripped you from him when he wasn’t looking. He knew he should’ve kept a closer eye on you. He should’ve made sure his family didn’t know you existed. He knew it was wrong to get involved and trust someone again, but he couldn’t resist you. You changed him, you changed his mind, and you made him realize that he wasn’t destined to be cold. 

“You can’t listen to him.” Igby rushes out, “Whatever he said to you, you—you can’t listen to him. He’ll say anything to get his way. Please, you have to—please! Just don’t listen to him!”

“Igby—.”

“No! Please! Just don’t listen to him! He always does this! He always comes in and takes everyone and everything that I care about and uses it against me! Please don’t let him! Please! Please! They take everything away from me! I can’t lose you! I can’t lose you too! Please, just–just—” Igby lets his head hit against the wall beside the telephone receiver and takes deep breaths as tears stream down his face. Your name slipped past his lips in pleading whispers along with small sniffs. “Please trust me. Please don’t let them do this.”

Your side of the line goes quiet, and he scrunches his eyes shut, knowing that you were slipping through his fingers. He could feel the cold running its deadly hands down his back, urging him to return home. Yet another part of him was ready to pack and run just as he’d done many times before. 

“I trust you.” You whisper so softly that Igby almost misses it. Sucking in a breath, the boy shoots up and stands up straighter, his knuckles turning white as his hand squeezes the phone. He whispers, “You do?”

“I do.” You nod, knowing that he can’t see you. And suddenly, that doesn’t seem appropriate. Looking around at the dimly light apartment, you take a deep breath, “I want to see you. Will you—will you come see me?”

“Yes.” His answer comes out before you can finish your question. He almost refuses to hang up the phone, scared that you’d change your mind, but you promise him you won’t, and he promises you that he’ll be there as fast as he can.

He makes it to your apartment in record-breaking time, rushing past your doorman and pushing tenants of the building out of his way to get to the elevator. He slams his finger against the button of your floor before pressing the close door button repeatedly until the doors slide shut in front of him. The boy's hazel eyes watch as the numbers move slowly, his legs bouncing with impatience as he feels the tug of your connection growing stronger the closer he gets.

No words were exchanged as the elevator doors slid open to reveal the two of you standing alert and ready for one another. Igby couldn’t refrain himself as he pushed past the doors before they could fully open, slamming his body against your own in a hug that said more than words ever could. No one had ever listened to him, no one ever fought for him, no one ever picked him.

Except for you.

His hands gripped at the fabric of your sweatshirt as if any sleight of hand would cause you to slip away from him. His nose buried in your neck, breathing in your smell as though it was essential for his right to breathe. A part of him wondered if this was real, but the feeling of your hand running up his back while the other rested on the back of his head made him realize it didn’t matter. Even if you weren’t real, if this wasn’t happening⸺he’d be willing to live in this fantasy forever. 

It’s unclear how long the two of you stood in the hallway outside your apartment, just holding each other in a way no one had ever held you before. Igby’s hands continued to grip at your clothes as you pulled him closer to you, if it was even possible, with your bodies already pressed against each other. 

It was the boy who pulled away first, his hands letting go of your sweatshirt to hold onto your face, his thumbs running over your cheeks as he took in your red and swollen eyes. You can’t help but notice the difference in the way Igby held your face then when his brother had done it earlier. The boy in front of you held you as though you were the most valuable thing in his life, holding you with such care that you were certain everything would be okay if you could just stay like this. When Oliver had your face in his hands, it was more about power. The need to appear superior to you and have your attention in his fleeting moment of control. Igby remained warm, whereas his brother tried to turn you cold. Taking a shaky breath in, Igby tries to speak steadily, but his voice shakes with anger as he thinks about what his brother did to make you, “Are you okay? What did he do to you?”

You shook your head as your hands came up to grip his wrist, leaning your face further into his embrace as you spoke, “Nothing, nothing. He just wanted me to tell you to go home.”

“I’m not going. I’m not leaving you.”

“He said your mom is dying, Igby.” Your eyes find his, and he pauses at your words before shaking his head, “We’re all dying.”

“Igby—.”

“No,” He argues back, his fingers tightening against your face to keep your focus on him instead of the haunting words of his brother, “She’s been sick for years. She’s just trying to get me to come home and do whatever she wants me to do.”

“They know about my parents.” You painfully whisper, causing his eyebrows to furrow in confusion. Letting his eyes scan over your features, the boy slowly puts the pieces together, causing his head to drop. Of course, they knew about your parents. Of course, they knew about the issues of your past and how it would effect your parent's legacy. Cursing under his breath, Igby licks his lips before looking into your eyes with tears forming in his own, his heart aching over the pain he had caused you, “I’m so sorry.”

Searching his eyes briefly, you shake your head and bring your own hands up to cup his face, his hands now falling to rest on your elbows, “Don’t be sorry, it’s not your fault.”

Before the boy could interject, you cut him off, “It’s not your fault, Igby.”

You hold eye contact in during a moment of silence before Igby slowly leans forward to let your foreheads touch, letting the warmth of your body ease his aching hurt into a pulling dull. You nuzzle against his forehead as your eyes close, letting your body relax against his in the same manner. 

“What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know. I just know that I want you to be okay.”

That night Igby stayed with you. There was no kiss, no sex, no pull to do anything physical. Instead, you held onto one another in comfort, your legs intertwined and your arms wrapped around each other as the night wished away your pain. Allowing for one night of warmth and comfort before being forced to face the reality of your situation. All you needed was this night, just this night, to say that you both officially knew what it meant to love without manipulation or fear.

┗━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━┛ ┗━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━┛

[firefly--bright]

blooming hearts.

jean kirstein x reader, reincarnation a.u.

chapter one - seeds.

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The universe hadn’t been the kindest to you.

To give credit where it was due, you’d admit that it did give you some things to be glad about. Sprinklings of joy in the winter weather, the perfect temperature of bath water, patience to practice things you enjoyed, smelling the crisp air of the oncoming spring paired with dew on new leaves. Things to be glad about, things to look forward to. but the universe – being an entity created by humans – was itself in the sense that it was cruel and took and took and took.

You didn’t know the physics of it all – you didn’t know the exact equation of the gravitational pull that led you into getting the strangest dreams at night with monsters with teeth that were the size of your torso, with ragged and haunting breaths that embodied death itself walking the earth as if it was theirs to take. The same equation, however, also gave you dreams of friends that would do the exact opposite of these giants. They’d smile and laugh and even if you couldn’t remember their faces or their names by the time you awoke, you remembered that you were loved. You had to remember that you were loved. You didn’t have much else.

Maybe it was the same damned equation with the same uneven answer that led to you getting accepted into the university with a familiar sounding name and an even familiar looking campus with large walls covered in vines and old architecture resting creakily on the ground, shops and café’s lining up to remind the students that life still waited for them inside the gates.

One of these shops just so happened to have him.

The door to the flower shop opened the same way it always did, the scent of all the arrangements embracing you in their warmth. The bell rung to indicate your entrance and like clockwork, he looked up from his phone, his back straightening as if he hadn’t expected to see you here even if you were here like the same clockwork.

In the surge of the new life you had gained access to along with your single dorm and limited possibilities, you decided to commemorate the occasion by buying one stem of flowers every alternate week. You couldn’t bear to splurge on those fancy bouquets with adornments made form thermocol beads dipped glitter and those fancy looking wrappings, but you could spare some money to buy the singular flower. And of course, with all things you touched and saw, you craved meaning to be attached to them. The first week you bought them was the first week you saw him as well – you bought a singular tulip to which he flashed a mildly confused expression. You had explained yourself in part-anxiety and part-excitement of what you were planning on doing. he had smiled softly and wished you good luck.

You saw him many times after that.

“can I recommend one this time?” he asked, his voice deep and snapping you out of your reminiscence as you turned to him.

You didn’t know his name; more like he hadn’t told you his name. he never wore his name tag because he deemed it creepy for customers and non-regulars to know his personal information, and despite the fact that you didn’t fit into either category, he still hadn’t given you his name, telling you that you’d have to work for it instead, an obvious tease and way to challenge you. you had taken it with grace, and due to the lack of information, you resolved to calling him “flower boy”.

His hair illuminated brightly, turning into gold threads as he stood infront of the bright afternoon sun, and even if the top of his hair was covered by a cap which you assumed was the only part of his uniform that he had to present, and a thin lipped smile that appeared everytime he asked you a question that he had mulled over in his head. His brown eyes appeared even lighter with the light, disguising themselves as pools of honey rather then their deep, woody colour.

You shrugged, trying to act nonchalant, leaning on the counter with your forearms. “sure.” His smile widened only slightly, and your nose tingled like you were going to sneeze but the action never followed. It happened everytime you were near him – one of those unexplained phenomena that you believed foolishly as a child, that people only vanished in the bermuda triangle because the universe was hungry, or that the ghosts that you were so scared of were only wants that were never fulfilled. Your nose tingled near flower boy because it wanted to, you excused.

He cleared his throat and pushed forward a small bouquet of five branches of flowers – deep purple with five petals and tightly packed on the stem, the tip littered with buds that were clambering to grow, tied with a bow made from twine. “theyre called purple lilacs.” He said, his hand fiddling with themselves on the table. “I don’t know their meaning, but they – well, theyre… theyre pretty, and they reminded me of you.” he speaks fast, as if he wants you to not know what he means, but you grab hold of the meaning as you always do before he can disregard it.

You give him a soft smile. “thank you,” you say, taking the stems in your hand gently, turning them over to observe as you ignore a tingling in your heart that was similar to the one on your nose but warmer and far more familiar, and its ironic because your body has never felt familiar to you but this action does. The simple fact of him saving you something as if it was nothing makes more sense to you than your whole being.

Your smile turns into a teasing one, “so you think about me, flower boy?”

He scowls, leaning on the counter just as you had, “I told you not to call me that.” He says, disregarding the first part of your assumptious statement, “im not some common market-boy. I have a name.”

You stifle a laugh as your smile widens in a way that feels familiar. “market-boy? What does that even mean?”

he waves a hand around, unsure of what he’s talking about himself, but you catch its meaning anyway, “you know, just some… some guy,”

“aren’t we all just some guys?”

“well, I for one have a name.”

“which you wont tell me.”

“take me out to dinner first.” he said, smirking as he looks at you and even if you want to believe him in his reality, you cant bring yourself to. no matter how familiar he makes you feel to yourself, your comforts lie in your hesitance on believing them.

“you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” you ask, just as teasing, just as hesitant to know the answer as he was. He pulls away from the counter, a smile still on his face as he rolls his eyes.

“whatever makes you sleep better at night.” He says, crossing his arms over themselves near his chest as if that would do anything to help the way his heart was fluttering.

in his delusions, it did. Keeping his arms near his body would mean that he could catch his heart before it flew to you like it wanted to.

Jean didn’t know what made him so hesitant into believing you either. Maybe it was the fact that the person his dreams were etched around was still out there somewhere, searching for answers just as he was, feeling like the half of something better just as he was. He couldn’t let them down, but he also couldn’t let you down.

And yes, at first he thought he was going insane. When he was a toddler and experienced unexplained dreams of those monsters with eyes that seemed to never blink and always watch him, stare at him as he glided away from them, the giants that ripped his best friend in a clean half and crumpled up the rest of his comrades into an undigested pulp on the floors of unknown land. But then he met marco, and everything made sense. Marco jutted his arm out on the first day of middle school and introduced himself, fixing his crooked glasses on his nose, telling jean of his name and all of a sudden a piece of the puzzle made sense. Jean told marco his own name and watched as marco also connected the dots, filled in a part of the page that was ripped out from jean’s hands. And then, soon enough, he met sasha and connie in high school, and he felt the page being glued back to the book, filling out the pages in ink. But half of his book was still left unsaid and unknown and he knew – he believed because he had to – that it had to be this stranger in his dreams, the other half of himself that he was sure was somewhere and he just wasn’t looking hard enough.

And yet here he was. Seemingly flirting with you. jean felt almost ashamed of himself.

but he knew you. over the three months you had collected flowers, you also collected parts of him that he wished he could’ve kept just for himself. And selfishly, jean kept his name from you because he didn’t want to know the answer. He didn’t want to be let down if it wasn’t you who kept dreaming about, and it made him feel disgusted in himself. But it was only natural how he was feeling. He couldn’t help it. His heart had always been soft, always been somewhere separate from his body, on his sleeve where it was far easier to access.

and ofcourse, because you were you – beautiful and human and far more real than the stranger in his dreams – you also kept your name from him.

He sighed with a smile still on his face as he pretended to ring you up. You looked at the purple lilacs in your hands with wonder and a small smile of your own. Jean tried not to stare at you too much. You eyelashes caught the light of the sun when you blinked, your lips a little chapped and beautiful and human and real, and he catches your voice when you whisper, “theyre beautiful,” and he agrees. You are.

He clears his throat. “it’s on the house.”

Your head snaps up, brows furrowed just as he looks away. “what? Why?” you ask. Jean shrugs, copying your action from when you first entered the store today, trying to act nonchalant. “’cause, uh, I mean, you- well, it came in with a big wedding order. Its not something we sell without request and there were a couple extra, and y’know. Yeah.” He says, the tips of his ears growing warm and he prays that you don’t see how he lies even though he knows you catch it anyway because youre you. he doesn’t tell you how he kept them aside just for you even if Petra had told him that they were quiet an expensive investment.

You breathe out a small laugh. “alright. Whatever you say, flower boy.” You say, and jean exhales the breath he had been holding.

jean realises how much he enjoys going against the morals hes been raised on when he relishes on the selfish butterflies he feels when you call him that nickname. Worse than all the sins in the world, jean thinks, because he keeps thinking about how it makes him feel and how its kind of a silly nickname but its only silly because youre the only one who calls him that and he’s the only one who gets to be called it. Its only silly because its makes him feel.

“again with the name,” he says, his hands folding ontop of his chest again, fighting the tingles in his heart and all over his lungs.

“im not going to pay for your dinner-“

“well, then, prepare to call me flower boy for the rest of your life, poppy.” The endearment tumbles from his lips before he can stop it, and your grin widens in surprise as you squint at him like he’s just confessed to the selfishness that he was beating himself up about. He cant help it – his nickname for you formed after the second time you came into the shop and purchased a branch of poppy and he looked at the stem and then at you and it just made sense.

A laugh bubbles up from your own lips, “poppy?” you question.

“yeah – well, you wouldn’t tell me your name and keep calling me flower boy-“

“as opposed to what? Should I call you Mr. worldwide?”

“yes, actually, id like that.” He says and your laughter spreads across his chest like fast-growing vines, and he has to laugh out of compulsion, he has to laugh to let out his breath as his chest constricted.

“im not calling you that,” you remark. He shrugs, “suit yourself.”

Jean watches as you pull away one of the stems, placing it on the counter. “here.” you say, presenting it to him.

its embarrassing how quickly his cheeks turn as red as your namesake, “for me?”

You hum in confirmation, “for you. don’t worry, its on the house.” You say, mimicking his statement with a smile. Flower boy took your peace offering and nodded, not looking up. You glanced behind him, the clock reading 4:37 – alerting you that your shift for work was going to being soon and you’d have to leave – an action that jean observed.

“I have to-“ “yeah,” he says, softly and it almost sounds like a plea. You ignore the tingling in your nose again, as you smile.

Before leaving the safe comfort of the four floral walls of the shop, you turn, “bye, flower boy.” You say, waving your hand lightly.

Jean has to put his hand to his chest to calm himself down.

He’d give you a daffodil next time, he thinks.

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[scarletttries]

Steven Grant (Moon Knight) Fluff Alphabet

Pairing: Steven Grant (Moon Knight) x Reader

Rating: Pure Fluff

Word Count: 4.9k

Author's Note: I appreciate it's been a few weeks since my last string of posts, but I wanted to post a few things this week and I felt like a cute sfw alphabet for my favourite moon boy would be a nice way to get back into the flow of writing :) So I hope you enjoy it, and consider my inbox open for other Steven Grant thoughts and requests, or for alphabets for the other characters I write for! :)

Steven Grant (Moon Knight) Fluff Alphabet

a - affection (how affectionate are they? how do they show affection?)

It takes a long time for Steven to build up to outwardly showing you affection; it starts simply with the smiles he gives you, the bright sparkle in his eyes as he listens to you speak. After successfully bumbling through your first few dates he finally grew courageous enough to gently lace his fingers through yours for the first time, squeezing gently as if proving to himself you were really there at all. Once he's taken that first bold step to hold your hand, you can guarantee sweet Steven is grasping at your sleeve every chance he gets.

In an established relationship Steven's affection would come through both soft touches and gentle words. A calm hand on your lower back while you stir his tea, the rest of his chin on your shoulder as he scoots behind you on his little sofa, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck as he cuddles up next to you to sleep. And endless little endearing phrases, "my love", "sweetheart", "gorgeous", all muttered softly with bright, beaming eyes as he looks at you with just as much affection as he did when his loving gaze was his only way to show it.

b - beauty (what do they admire about their s/o? what do you think is beautiful about them?)

Steven is the absolute epitome of beautiful, inside and out. Possessing seemingly endless patience, kindness and love, especially when it comes to you, Steven really embodies everything good in a partner.

When it comes to you, nothing escapes Steven's enamored stare. Whether he's drinking in the brightness shining from your eyes as you speak passionately, tracing a finger over your features, watching the perfect highlighting lines form on your cheeks as you smile, he's completely enraptured by your light. Whenever he looks at you, both the tiny details he loves to memorise, and as a whole, beautiful person, Steven is absolutely amazing by how perfect you are to him, prettier than he could have ever imagined a person being. And not just the way you look, but the way that you are. The easy way you reassure him, or make those around you smile even on days when it seems impossible, you bring warmth and joy wherever you go, and Steven admires the natural caring instinct that seems so deeply rooted inside you.

c- cuddles (do they like to cuddle? how would they cuddle?)

Once Steven is confident you are happy for him to touch you, and you won't get frustrated with him clinging to you at every possible moment, prepare to unlock full Koala boyfriend Steven. You can barely get through the door of his little flat before his arms are around your waist, shamelessly hindering your attempts to get your coat off. Steven won't sleep unless he's got his hands on you, reaching out or pulling you flush against him, and eventually even loses his focus reading unless your weight is settled over his lap in his favourite armchair. He's spent so much of his life alone, starved of physical affection, that now that he can have that whenever he wants to, he's always going to choose to be cuddled up next to you. Feeling your hands on him, a physical reminder of your love as you brush a stray curl away from his eyes and settle your hands at the nape of his neck, gives Steven the feeling of being whole that he's been missing for as long as he's known himself.

d - dates (what are dates with them like? do they plan them out or are they spontaneous?)

Steven would try to plan his dates, he really would. He'd want to hit all the textbook date spots, nice dinners, movies, cafes, all of which would be perfectly lovely. But all of your favourite dates with Steven are the ones that are 100% him, like begging the security guard to let him stay at the museum after hours for a private tour. Or the afternoon after you first start sleeping over where Steven drags you down a London street full of charity shops and thrift stores, insisting you pick out your own special mug and bowl to keep at his flat since "you'll be sleeping over all the time now! That is if you want to, not to pressure you or anything love, I just really like having you over." You two spend the whole afternoon running through every shop you can find before giggling home with your precious finds, including a black and gold teapot you immediately get brewing.

e - ending (if they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

I think Steven would do everything he could to make a relationship work, but if it really wasn't right it would break Steven's heart completely. He'd try and tell a partner the news as sensitively as possible, stumbling over words, sobbing himself before he ever got the words out. Luckily you'll never have to see that side of him!

f - fiancee (how do they feel about commitment? how quick would they want to get married?)

Steven would honestly be ready to commit from day one. He's so sure that you are the person he wants to spend his whole life, it only takes a few weeks until his flat no longer feels like home without you, his days feel empty unless you're there to fill them, and when he thinks about his future the only option for him is one centered around you.

He'd try to hold back from expressing his aspirations at first, worried about scaring you off with his intensity, but he can only keep it up so long. Truly his adoration for you comes pouring out of him with every look, with every word, a constant reminder of just how amazing, wonderful, incredible he thinks you are. He'd start casually mentioning the ancient Egyptian rituals mostly closely tied to marriage, asking if you'd ever thought about it, desperately trying to gauge if you're on the same page as him. After a few less than subtle hints, he wouldn't be able to contain himself anymore, the words threatening to burst from his lips every time you smile his way. One night half way through a film, he'd be trembling beside you, watching the light from the screen dance in your eyes, losing his battle against his instincts as he silently drops to one knee beside you, pulling out the ring box he's been carrying on him at all times for the last six weeks. and launches into the monologue that's been building in his mind since the day you met, encouraged by the smile widening across your cheeks as he speaks.

g - gentle (how gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Sweet baby Steven is the gentlest boy you could imagine. He handles you like the single most precious artefact the museum's ever held, taking every opportunity to gingerly brush his fingertips over your skin, grounding himself in your company. Emotionally speaking he is even softer with you, constantly reassuring you when you've had a tough day, complimenting your kindness, your smile and taking every opportunity to make your day a little better or easier. He loves the soft way you speak to him, your patience, your ability to make him feel like he really is worthy of your praise and love, and he'll do anything to make sure you feel the same way around him.

h - hugs (do they like hugs? how often do they do it? what are their hugs like?)

Steven is a full teddy bear when it comes to hugs from you! Celebrating something good? Steven wants a hug. Feeling down today? Steven wants a hug. Having a completely average afternoon? You guessed it, Steven wants a hug. If he could spend his whole day pulling you into his arms, he would without a second thought.

And Steven's hugs are all encompassing. Arms draped over your shoulders or waist, soft wool of his jumpers wrapped over his hands as they grip whatever part of you they reach. His cheeks brush against yours as his warm breath floods your neck, his cosy scent all around you as he squeezes like he might never let go for fear you'll leave if he does. But when you squeeze back, planting a soft kiss on his neck and sighing contently at the contact, he loosens his grip a little, relishing in the security of your love.

i - injury (how would they act if they got hurt?)

Steven is a lot of things; sweet, intelligent, sensible, but dear god is he clumsy. Steven gets a minor injury about once a week, falling up some stairs, dropping things on himself, landing face first on the floor after slipping. He's almost used to having a few bruises at this point, so never seems particularly phased by his injuries until you start fussing over him when he comes home with a scraped elbow from tripping off the bus. You immediately start cleaning him up, peppering his face and arm with 'medicinal kisses,' his face absolutely beaming in disbelief as you ask again and again if he's sure he's okay. From that day on Steven is almost excited to tell you when he trips over, getting giddy from your affectionate first aid, so unused to having some care about him this much.

If the roles are reversed and you're the one sick or injured, Steven would be at absolute panic stations: Filling the fridge with soup, brewing endless tea, filling hot water bottles and making sure you don't move a muscle until you are back to peak physical condition.

j - jealousy (how jealous do they get? what do they do when they're jealous?)

While the more time Steven spends with you, the better he starts to feel about himself, that doesn't stop his insecurities getting the better of him when he sees another guy flirting with you. When he sees you talking to another man, laughing while you wait at the coffee cart to meet Steven, he stops dead in his tracks, all his doubts suddenly deafening in his mind. Of course other men notice you, you're gorgeous, he'd be an idiot to think he's the only person you'd notice. or be interested in. You could have anyone, and he has so little to offer in his mind, it was only a matter of time until you realised you had much better options. As he stands frozen in the background of this little scene he has no idea that all you can think about as you make polite small talk, is how excited you are that you'll be back with Steven soon. Luckily as you turn and spot him, the wide smile that spreads across your face as your eyes lock dispels those negative thoughts and has his heart bursting in his chest again.

k - kisses (what are their kisses like? where do they like to be kissed?)

Before you came into his life Steven couldn't remember the last time he kissed someone, but this hopeless romantic found himself wistfully watching romcoms and daydreaming about the day he'd find someone who felt that way about him. So when it got to the end of your second date, escorted back home like the gentleman Steven is, he was practically shaking like a leaf in the wind at the thought that the time had finally come for his fairytale kiss. He was so nervous, desperately trying to think about what to say, making sure he didn't trip or accidentally walk into the road without looking and that he barely heard you the first time you asked him.

"What was that sorry?" he blinked in nervous reply.

"I said can I kiss you Steven?" You asked sweetly, smiling brightly at his awestruck face, as he tried to pull himself together enough to answer you, this eventuality not one that he had considered even in his wildest dreams. And then he realised he was still staring silently at you, snapping out of his trance and nodding frantically as he fought the smile creeping across his lips, not wanting anything to ruin the moment. His lips are soft, hesitant as they press against yours, not wanting to go too far, still in disbelief that you could want him this way.

That perfect first kiss, followed his ecstatic giggles, and more enthusiastic second kiss, opened the floodgates for Steven's kisses. Every greeting, every good bye, every good night, always punctuated by his warm plush lips meeting yours, never missing an opportunity to pull you into his giddy embrace. His favourite place for your lips is right on his, but when you plant a soft kiss on his forehead, his cheek, his neck he can't help the blissful smile that spreads across his cheeks.

l - love language (what is their love language?)

Steven is a nervous little bug, with insecurities running as deep as they go, so I think Words of Affirmation would be on top for him. You'd put in the effort to make sure he always knows how interesting you find his historic lectures, how handsome you find him first thing in the morning, how incredible of a boyfriend he is to you. You praise him over and over, telling him the little thoughts as they pop into your head until one day he really, truly starts to believe them.

A close second for Steven would be Physical Touch, given how much of his life he's spent on his own. Having your hand gently interlocked in his as you walk through London, softly brushing your thumb over his skin absentmindedly as you talk would feel like a whole body comfort blanket to him, no matter how small the contact. He'd feel his previously blue and grey skies turn the warmest pinks and oranges the moment you settled into the seat beside him, draping your legs over him and resting your head on his shoulder, always letting him know you are right by his side.

m - mornings (how are mornings spent with them?)

Steven doesn't sleep too well, even with you by his side, so mornings are not his sharpest time. Expect lots of haphazard pawing at you to stay cuddled in bed with him, angry denials that you're definitely not both going to be late for work, only emerging from his duvet cocoon when you pop the kettle on. He'll shuffle slowly across the little wooden floor until he latches himself on to you, only starting to look slightly awake at the promise of you letting him join you for a morning shower.

n - nights (how are nights spent with them?)

Nights after work are usually spent at Steven's flat, him feeling much more comfortable in the place he's used to. He's often feeling a little low after work if his manager has been all over him, so coming home to you, filling the flat with music, or the smells of cooking, or just the warmth of your presence boosts him to a level of happiness he previously didn't think possible. Given the weather in London most of your nights are spent curled up on his sofa, you on Steven's lap while he reads, or legs intertwined while you watch a movie and he points out the historical inaccuracies, or if it's a romcom cries into your shoulder less than subtly.

o - open (when would they start revealing things about themselves? do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Even though he only remembers snippets of his childhood, growing up in that environment had some pretty deep effects on Steven. He spent most of his life being pretty solitary, guarding himself from others behind some pretty tall walls before you came into the picture. So even though Steven is totally smitten and immediately wants to keep you forever, he's just not convinced you'll stick around and he doesn't want to risk opening himself up to that hurt. So he tells you a little bit of information on each date, playing it safe, waiting for you to run in the opposite direction. But with every date you smile enthusiastically at the new information, and tell him a little something about you, and then keep coming back for the next date, interest never wavering. Until one night, late into a dinner date on your couch, and Steven's about to tell you the next fact about himself, thinking for sure this will be the night you realise you're too good for him, when he realises he has nothing left about himself to tell you. You've stayed through all his thoughts, and stories, and memories. You've stayed for him. And as he looks at your bright expecting eyes, he knows he can trust you with anything.

p - patience (how patient are they usually? what tends to wear their patience thin?)

For you, Steven has all the patience in the world, nothing is too much for you and he'll never get frustrated if you're late, or forgetful, or even occasionally thoughtless. No, Steven saves all his frustration for himself. He finds his temper getting shorter with himself now that he has someone he cares about waiting on him. You'll hear him cursing himself before you see him as he stumbles off the bus, twenty minutes late with no warning as he dropped his phone in a puddle at the bus stop. You'll be showered with an immediate flood of apologies, from the 'bloody idiot' until you slowly soothe your fingertips over the creasing lines across his forehead and tell him not to worry, cutting off his self-deprecating monologue with a reassuring kiss.

q - quality time (how do they like to spend with you?)

Stevens' dream day-off with you is two fold:

First spending the morning touring the museum without being shackled to the gift shop counter. He likes to give you the unabridged tour, telling you his favourite stories and theories from each of the time periods, drinking in your enraptured gaze as he talks. Then of course he likes to help you pick out a souvenir from the gift shop so he gets to have a positive memory associated with the place.

The second half of his dream day would be going with you to whatever makes you as happy as showing you around the museum makes him! Whether it's an aquarium, arcade, karaoke bar, clothes shopping, drag show, cat cafe, manicure, spa day, sports game - it makes no difference to Steven because he is 100% invested. He wants to be the enraptured audience for you that you are to him, knowing how much it means to him when you listen to his Egyptian lectures.

r - remember (what is their favourite moment in your relationship?)

Steven has a million happy memories with you but the one that plays on loop is from about your third date. You were sitting in a little cafe sharing cookies and hot chocolate, warming your hands on a crisp October afternoon. Despite clearly being there on a date together, the barista bringing attentive refills couldn't help throw a few flirty lines at a truly oblivious Steven. It would have made you feel a little jealous if it wasn't for the way Steven's gaze never left yours, every cheeky line completely innocently dismissed with a polite thank you. The walk home is peaceful and quiet as you both stomp on crunchy autumn leaves, and he works up the nerve to put his gloved hand in the grasp of your mitten. As you stand outside your door, you can't help but praise his chivalry with a laugh, "you're a real gentleman Steven, from walking me home to ignoring a pretty, flirting waitress." You're met by an echoing laugh as Steven shakes his head, "flirting?! With me?!"

You nod with a laugh, astonished he could have missed the less than subtle signs, "oh absolutely'"

"But I was clearly there with you! Why would she be flirting with me?!" He argued incredulously, completely unconvinced he would ever be the victim of flirting. In response you tug at the lengths of his scarf, stepping closer until your chests all but meet, replying with a sly smile and a cheeky glint in your eye

"Oh please. Like you don't know you're gorgeous." Closing the gap between your lips before he could think to deny it. As Steven relaxed against the soft embrace of your kiss, he could hardly believe the comforting warmth building inside of him; not only did you think he was gorgeous, but he believed you. And whenever he feels those doubts creeping into his mind, he remembers the sincere gleam in your eye as you first told him he was gorgeous, and he believes you all over again.

s - security (how protective are they? how would they protect you? how would they like to be protected?)

As much as Steven doesn't see himself as very brave, you best believe if anyone is giving you a hard time he's already there, ready to step in front of you despite the obvious quiver in his voice and trembling hands. This protective streak extends to making sure his umbrella doesn't allow a single drop of rain to touch you, at the sacrifice of his now-damp self, and insisting on seeing you safely home after every date, despite never expecting to be invited in.

The reverse is also very true, and you're the first to stand up for Steven when he doesn't feel like he can do it himself. Answering questions and speaking up when Steven gets frozen under the pressure, earning a warm, thankful hug as soon as he snaps back into reality. You often find yourself gripping his hand and steering the dreamy man safely back on the pavement as he wanders into traffic mid-ramble. You spend a lot of time taking care of him when he forgets to take care of himself, wrapping a blanket over his shoulders and ushering him into bed once the stars are out before he spend all night at his desk hunched over an ancient text, and Steven notices all these little gestures, further reiterating that he doesn't know what he'd do without you.

t - try (how much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Steven would absolutely give his all to dates, he's had a mental list a mile long of all the dates he'd like to take someone on, and now that he has you he can finally live his best romantic life, making sure you know exactly how much he cares about you, and appreciates the time you spend together. Poor boy is a little spacey so I think he is less good when it comes to anniversaries and key dates, but it's not because he doesn't value them, he just struggles to keep track of the time and day. But everyday Steven will put in the effort to prove to you how much you mean to him, doing every little thing he can to show his love: walking you to your tube stop in the morning even though it's the opposite direction to his bus stop, texting you without fail on his lunch break so you know he's thinking about you and if you need anything, getting a hot water bottle ready for the second you walk through the door on a rainy day, snatching away your rainy anorak in exchange for a cosy jumper of his that's been waiting for you on the radiator. He may be a day early with a birthday card now and then, but you won't trade it for the way he treats you like royalty every single day.

u - upset (how do they act when you're upset? how do they act when they're upset?)

Steven feels like you are so generous towards him with your love, constantly caring for and comforting him, that even though he hates seeing you upset he loves that he gets a chance to take care of you for a change. If he hears the tone of your voice falter, the upset sniffs you try to brush off as just down to the cold weather, he's straight there next to you, wrapping his arms around and letting you know that you're okay and that everythings going to be okay, no matter what's on your mind. And he truly believes that, he knows you're strong enough and smart enough to make it through any situation, but that doesn't mean things can't get bad for a little while, and he's all about being there for you while you feel however you're feeling, holding your hand through the lows, and helping you back to your feet when you're ready.

v - vanity (how concerned are they with their looks?)

I don't think Steven really thought much about his looks before you came into his life, going all out to put on his best (albeit slightly ill-fitting) suit for your first date. It was hard for him to mentally prepare for how good were you going to look for the occasion, immediately making him feel underdressed, but you told him that he looked really nice, and again on your next date, and the third, until he started to feel like he could just look his usual self around you, and even first thing in the morning you'll tell him he looks beautiful, and as hard as it is for him to believe you, he think the exact same thing waking up next to you, so maybe it was true, maybe he looks just right for you as he is.

w - wildcard (a random headcanon for them.)

Sometimes Steven completely forgets himself and just stares at you. If you're across from him at a little cafe table, or cuddled up next to him watching a movie at home, you'll feel his gaze on you before you really register it, and he'll be just fixated on your face, completely blank of any thought other than pure adoration. He doesn't mean to, he just starts looking at your face, and for a while can't quite believe how beautiful you are. He starts at the slope of your neck, following the curve of your jaw to your perfect, inviting lips, slightly parted, where he gets distracted by the lines of your nose, and the way they lead to your slightly flushed cheeks. By the time he's captivated by your eyes, you're looking at him but it's not enough to break him out of his spell as he really takes in their shape, the way the light bounces off them and back at him like a true heavenly glow. He sweeps his gaze across your brow, any faint lines exquisitely painted as if by a master artist, and he finds himself in utter disbelief of your beauty as he reaches out to brush the back of his hand over your cheek, oh so delicately, the soft contact enough to finally make him realise you're watching his every move, and suddenly he's embarrassed, worried he's made you uncomfortable with his leering, until those perfect lips turn up at the corners and find their way to his hand as he whispers, "You're so beautiful love."

x - x-ray (how easily are they able to read you?)

Given Steven's inexperience in a relationship, at first he misses a lot of the signals you think you are pretty clearly sending out. And honestly, with his nervous behaviour and difficulty forming whole sentences around you, it's difficult to get a read on exactly how he's feeling as well. So you'd resolve to be more direct, telling Steven your thoughts as you have them, telling him how your day really was, telling him how you feel, what you enjoyed most about your time together. And the more openly you communicated with him, the more settled he feels, reciprocating your direct communication, relieved to know what you were thinking. As you settle into your relationship more, there are certains things that become unsaid, but on the whole I think you and Steven are the type to just have very direct, honest, simple communication, and it works perfectly for you.

y - yuck (what things do you do that they hate?)

I can't imagine Steven finding anything about you to hate, he so completely appreciates your presence and everything you are, it's just unnatural for him to judge what you do. That being said if he puts the kettle on and you want coffee instead of tea, prepare to receive the Great British side-eye.

z - zzz (what is a sleep habit of theirs?) When you and Steven curl up to sleep, he loves having the comfort of knowing you're by his side, grounding him in reality and all things good. Unwilling to risk you drifting apart as you sleep, Steven will always tuck his hand into yours as you say good night, holding your hand softly as your eyelids flutter shut. If you turn over in the night you'll find Steven's hand firmly fixed to your shoulder or waist, always keeping you in arm's reach.

[mentallyshattered]

This is part 10 of the "What if Yuu didn't want to go back?" Series!

(I, the author of this work, do not consent to this work being crossposted/translated without my knowledge or used to train an AI, ever.)

Masterlist

"Are you sure I can't use the power drill?"

"I ain't known ya fer all that long, ginger, but I wouldn't trust ya wit' a feather if I didn't think th' clinic had 'n open spot."

"What the fuck is your problem?"

"Trappola," I start, doing my very best to embody Vil's aura of a strong mother giving a warning, "say that again, without swearing."

"The fuck?"

"We both know what a swear is. Do not play with me, Trappola."

"Okay, fine. Hey, lavender breeze, what is your problem?"

"Lavender breeze? Well, I ain't no hussy city folk- you wanna fight me, ya better say it outright, ya concrete coward!"

"Oh, I'm a coward? You're on!"

"Say it, ya toilet-fire-fer-hair! Say ya wanna fight! 'R are ya too much'f a ketchup addict t' talk?"

"Korrak, right? Where is he getting those insults?"

"B-beats me, Deuce."

"Uh... hey! Ace! Epel! Not the time!"

Epel momentarily freezes, recalling the stories of Crewel's punishments he's heard from other. Trappola, not so much.

"Deuce, shut up!"

Something in Deuce snaps. There's a wild look I'm his eyes, and he's, evidently, just as sick of Trappola as he should be. "You wanna fight, just say it!"

"Is that a challenge?"

"Not 'ntil ya say it is, ya pigeon poop patootie!"

"Okay, fine! I'll fight you both!" With that, Trappola punches Deuce exactly once, in the shoulder, before getting his shit wrecked on the lab floor. Korrak even summoned popcorn, which would've pissed off the "pigeon poop patootie" if he weren't so busy getting his ass handed to him.

"You got it, Sir!" By the time I look up to see who said that, a tall, buff wolf dude is heroically lifting our damsel in distress from the linoleum and carrying him to Crewel. They briefly discuss something, and then Trappola's knight in shining armor is leaving him in a chair and walking over to us.

Crewel, having started sooner, arrives first. "Well, I can't have my pups dogfighting. Who was involved?"

Wolf boy, who has now finished walking over and is standing next to Crewel, speaks up. "The other Heartslabyul and the Pomefiore with no familiar, sir. Those are the ones who were fighting him. The others were eating popcorn."

Crewel smiles. "You and you, not Yuu," he begins, pointing at Epel, Deuce, and me in turn, "detention. You are to clean all of the stations in this room, top and sides, after class. I will let you have dinner first. Do not open the cabinets or drawers when you clean them, but do wash the cabinet doors and handles."

Epel and Deuce nod. "Yes, sir."

Crewel seems to approve. "Howl, you will be joining them in place of Trappola. Make sure they don't fight again."

"Yes, sir!" Howl practically salutes Crewel. Well, he doesn't, but I'm pretty sure Crewel had to tell him not to do that at some point, because that poor wolf boy looks like he has to physically stop himself from doing some kind of salute.

Once Crewel walks off, Wolfie starts glaring at us- mostly at Deuce and Epel, but everyone gets a taste of yellow eyes boring into their soul.

I glance to my left. Korrak is frozen in place, seemingly out of fear. Wolfie takes notice quite quick.

"Hey, are you alright?"

No answer. Wolfie tries again.

"Hey, you. With the deep purple eyes that have hints of pale blue in them. I'm talking to you. Are you okay? Do you need to go to the nurse? I'm not gonna hurt you, okay?"

Looks like I misread Korrak's sudden lack of movement. Ever since he and Howl locked gazes and the wolf boy told him his eye color, my roommate has been blushing.

"Myaah, we have an assignment! Come on, I want a good grade!"

Epel just shakes his head and mutters something about "jus' don't know how t' be direct."

"Uh, name's Jack. Jack Howl. Nice to meet you, Mr...."

"K-Korrak. Korrak Dinik. It's, um, nice to meet you, Jack."

"C'mon, guys, we do have an assignment. And, Jack, I'll try not to get into another fight."

"Good. Deuce, right?"

"That's correct! How'd you know?"

"Heard the whole thing. Speaking of which, Epel, never insult people again. You're too good at it. Now, we need to find a way to use the drill that nobody would really expect."

Hey, I know this! "Flashlight."

"Drills have flashlights?"

"Yeah, so you can see where you're drilling. Just turn it on and you have a flashlight."

Korrak looks at Deuce, who nods and begins furiously writing on the provided paper.

"Now we can just screw around!"

"Question: why does the opossum talk more than the human?"

"Don't worry about that, Jack. But, hey, we get to slack off now! Mya-ha!"

Nothing significant happens for the rest of the class, but I did notice that, out of the three-sevenths of us who have fur, Jack's is the worst-kept. His fur looks very soft, to be honest, just... dusty. And like he doesn't put some fur oils on his brush before he uses it in the morning, which is what I expected, given that Pomefiore is the only dorm that makes a point of ensuring everyone and everyone's familiars are top-teir in skin and fur care.

Back at the dorm, however, Vil is waiting.

"Epel. I have been told you got into a fight today and that you are to return to Crewel's room after dinner. Explain."

"I didn't throw the first punch, he did. And he called me 'lavender breeze!' That ain't sumthin' 'e can git away with!"

"Who?"

"Trappola," I fill in.

"Oh, the claustrophobe from the entrance ceremony?"

I grin. "Yeah, him."

"And, Epel, are you hurt?"

Epel just grins. "Not at all!"

Vil nods. "Rook, make sure Epel returns to Crewel's room after dinner.

Rook appears out of nowhere with the typical "Oui!"

Dinner is salmon patties! Rook stops the mosh pit by the tartar sauce from becoming an all-out brawl, but someone still ends up with a black eye. Nobody gets in trouble because the kid tripped, and not a single punch was thrown.

As per usual, Vil makes everyone take something that isn't fish or tartar sauce, and we are not exempt. The cucumbers are good, though, as are the rest of the assorted veggies we wind up with. As some of the first people to get there, we get a load of carrots, which Grim devours the moment he's done with his patties.

The instant Epel finishes his food, he sighs. "Is he behind me?"

I don't have to answer. Once again, Rook just goes "Oui!" Epel puts his plate away, waves goodbye, and leaves. I toss in a "May the odds be ever in your favor!" That gets Rook to spend what I assume is the rest of the walk prateing about beauty. Because, hey, that's Rook. What else would he do?

Korrak goes to our bedroom and does whatever. I go to the bathroom, and, when I return, Rook intercepts me.

"Monseur Mystery, go get your phone and come with me." When I return, phone in hand, Rook says nothing more. Instead, he leads me wordlessly down the halls, and I recognize the route as the way to Vil's room.

When we reach the rather large door, Rook knocks only once upon it.

"Come in."

We do.

Vil's face softens when he sees me. "Yuu, I assume you may have trouble with setting up the phone?"

"I can't even figure out how to open the box."

"Alright. Let me show you."

[ladyartemesia]

TEASER: Kim Seokjin and the Mean Omega

Pairing: Nerd Alpha Kim Seokjin x Popular Omega Reader

Genre: A/B/O • Enemies to Lovers • (Sorta) College AU • Best Friend's Brother AU (Who is surprised? No one?)

Teaser Word Count: 3.6K

Teaser Warnings: A/B/O sexual dynamics • suggestive content

Rating: Explicit (18+) (Teaser is PG-13)

Summary: In the modern world, alphas are almost unheard of so why even bother learning about them? After all, as a spoiled (but reasonably kind-hearted) omega who is used to getting whatever she wants, you have better things to do. However, when unexpected circumstances throw you in the path of (extremely) nerdy and (probably?) shy Kim Seokjin, you're shocked to discover that he won't be wrapped around your little finger as easily as all the rest. Bringing that infuriating geek to his knees quickly becomes your personal mission in life... But it turns out that Kim Seokjin is not what he appears to be and the mean omega who eats beta boys for breakfast is about to get way more than she bargained for...

Author’s Note: This story would not be here without the love, support and friendship of my incredible support system. You talk with me, you laugh with me, you listen when I’m crying, and you read my chaotic drafts when I am ready to pull my hair out of my head in frustration. I love you all. @ppersonna @xjoonchildx @untaemedqueen @lemonjoonah. ALSO thank you to each and every one of you who encouraged me to post this story. This fic is dedicated to all of you as a token of my love and appreciation. Your support keeps me writing. Never doubt that for a second.

“...due to discriminatory anti-alpha policies in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century, alphas were nearly eliminated from the general population…”

You heaved a weary sigh and rolled your shoulders—stretching the buttons of your high-end Oxford shirt to their limit. The beta sophomore to your right whined audibly and you smirked.

“...despite efforts to restore the genetic balance of designations, alphas currently comprise less than one percent of the population…”

Your back arched slightly as you crossed your legs, letting the absurdly short hem of your skirt ride up even higher. The poor boy you were tormenting shifted miserably in his seat.

How was he supposed to focus on a Human Biology and Designation Studies lecture when the living breathing embodiment of every sweaty undergrad’s fantasies was twisting her fingers in her hair and wrapping her pretty pink tongue around a strawberry lollipop right there in the middle of class?

“...unlike betas and omegas, alphas possess enhanced strength and the ability to compel other designations with their voice. Unmated alphas especially were often baselessly feared and distrusted...”

You knew exactly how you affected boys like him. You were a shameless tease who relished their attention and the power it brought you. Who needed drugs when driving a man mad with desire was a rush more potent than any high?

“...and that’s all for today so please read pages 450-466 in the text over break and remember to turn in your essay on scent and consent in intimacy—”

That poor sophomore looked like he had finally worked up the courage to speak to you, but you were already out the door and tearing down the hall toward your beautiful (and entirely platonic) counterpart, Kim Taehyung.

“Do you think Professor Moore is unaware that class is over at 3:25 or is he just torturing us for science?”

Taehyung shrugged, falling into step beside you with practiced ease.

“I mean I would torture you for free so it’s hard to say.”

The corner of your mouth quirked up at his characteristic dry humor, but the irritation at being held in that sweltering lecture hall for an extra ten minutes had frayed your temper.

“It’s the last class before spring break, I’m sure he was on some sort of twisted power trip.” You dug around in your purse for some chapstick, ignoring Tae’s amused snorting, “Alphas barely exist anymore and none of us are likely to meet one. Why bother learning what they can do?”

Taehyung tilted his head in amusement.

“You might be surprised.”

The final party before the beginning of spring break was always a laid back affair.

Many people had already caught planes to their various destinations, but your flight was scheduled for early tomorrow morning—leaving you with some time to kill.

Taehyung pressed his newest experimental concoction into your hand within minutes of entering the house (a surprisingly neat bachelor pad owned by two seniors, Jung Hoseok and Min Yoongi) and then darted back to the kitchen to craft more questionable alcohol potions like a deranged party warlock.

You had just found a comfortable place on the couch and were contemplating whether sampling your best friend’s mad scientist elixir would be worth the probable damage to your body when—

“H-Hello...”

It was that sophomore from your Designations Studies class. What was his name again? Jungwoo? Jinwook?

“Jungkook,” you smiled, delighted to have remembered before it became awkward. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

You motioned to the empty cushion next to you and the man in question scrambled over like he’d won the lottery.

“I—I know we don’t know each other well, but I noticed you were absent during Professor Moore’s lecture on intimacy and scent consent so I—” he blushed deeply, “I wrote the essay for you—and I brought a copy on my flash drive if-if you want it.”

Your heart melted immediately.

“Oh my gosh Jungkook, that is so sweet of you!”

Your gaze darted over his muscular form and thick brown curls.

Sweet indeed.

“I don’t want to miss out on the learning though,” you pouted, placing a hand on his tattooed bicep. “Can you explain it to me?”

Jungkook nodded vigorously even as his wide eyes fell to where your fingers were sliding slowly over his chest.

Scent consent was a pretty basic and universally known concept, but you really were touched by the handsome sophomore's consideration.

Why not give him (and yourself) a little reward?

“Um so basically if two people are involved in...intimate activities—”

You leaned forward to nip his ear lightly and he whimpered.

“Like this?” you asked innocently.

“Y-Yes. Like that.” He gulped. “In an intimate situation consent or refusal can be smelled. The scent of refusal or reluctance in intimacy is strong, unmistakable, and has a high chemical potency.”

“Is that so?” you drawled, sliding over onto his lap. Jungkook’s eyes rolled back into his head and you bit back a grin.

He was adorable.

“Uh-huh—it—oh my gawd,” (you were nibbling on his ear again) “it can immediately block sexual arousal and performance in the other partner. Meaning, if consent is not present, then it becomes difficult or—ahh” (his voice began to waver under your continued attention) “—or even impossible to continue with intimate acts.”

Your hand slid up to his cheek, bringing him closer till your lips were almost touching.

“Then what does it mean if I’m still so turned on right now?”

“It means,” Jungkook shuddered—nearly delirious with your scent, “that I really really want you.”

Across the room, Park Jimin chuckled as he watched you seduce his enthusiastic friend.

Jeon Jungkook was such a sweet kid.

Hopefully he wouldn’t get too attached.

“Wow... Some people are genuinely born blessed I suppose.”

Jimin turned to see Jung Hoseok eyeing the dimly lit corner where you and the eager young sophomore were exploring each other.

It was a rather...provocative spectacle. Not quite raunchy (you weren’t truly an exhibitionist)—just insanely sexy.

Jimin’s gaze lingered on the smooth curve of your thigh where Jeon Jungkook was currently holding on for dear life.

Lucky bastard.

“Ah you know how she is,” he sighed. “That boy isn’t going to get any farther than anyone else.”

It was relatively common knowledge that you liked to mess around but rarely—if ever— fully hooked up with anyone.

Jimin asked you about it once during a drunken game of truth or dare and you had just shrugged, mumbling something along the lines of avoiding STDs (which—to be fair—was at least part of your motivation), but the truth was a little more complicated than that.

In terms of experience, you weren’t a virgin, but... you hadn’t actually had sex in years.

You loved the chase, the foreplay, the build-up—the game of cat-and-mouse between two people who were attracted to one another.

But the final consummation was always so…

Wildly unfulfilling.

Every encounter left you frustrated. Empty.

Grumpy—even.

So you stopped bothering with it all together. (That was what sex toys were for after all.)

At the end of the day you were perfectly content being labeled a tease—it meant that people tended to know what they were (or rather weren’t) getting into when they rolled the dice with you.

Besides…it hadn’t even put a dent in your throng of admirers.

You were sunny, spoiled, indulgent, almost universally adored—

And you loved every minute of it.

“You know…” Hoseok took a long sip of his drink. “I always thought she would end up with Taehyung, but it’s been three years.”

Like you, Kim Taehyung was a trust fund brat and it was only natural that two beautiful and absurdly privileged people would gravitate to one another. You met at a freshman pledge party and had been an inseparable (and formidable) dynamic duo ever since.

The undisputed king and queen of campus.

Yes—maybe the two of you were a little self-absorbed at times, but it was hardly your fault that people tended to instinctively cater to the force of your combined looks, wealth, and charisma.

And it didn’t hurt that neither of you were ever intentionally cruel or unkind.

Just... habitually thoughtless.

(Though not when it came to each other. If anything your friendship was one area where you were both a little more human.)

Jimin shook his head.

“Nah that’s never gonna happen.” He tapped his nose. “They’re scent-crossed.”

Hoseok’s eyes widened.

“Really?”

Scent-crossed pairs didn’t smell sexually attractive to each other.

Like. At all.

No matter how physically or visually appealing an individual might be, it would be near impossible to form a sexual or romantic attachment to them if you were scent-crossed. Alphas, betas, and omegas were all subject to their noses first and foremost in the realm of attraction.

You and Taehyung smelled like comfort and home to one another...

But you were more turned on by a crisp cup of apple juice than you were his scent and the feeling was quite mutual.

He might as well have been your actual brother.

“That explains so much.” Hoseok snorted as he watched a drunken Taehyung do a flying leap on top of both you and Jungkook.

“Why is sunlight so offensive?” you croaked, dragging yourself and your luggage toward the boarding ramp next to an equally miserable Taehyung.

“The next time I book a flight before 9 AM, please shoot me,” he grunted.

Your parents were celebrating their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary with a month-long European cruise so your best friend had graciously invited you to spend two glorious weeks of spring vacation at his family estate.

The invitation had actually come as somewhat of a surprise because—for all your closeness—Taehyung was uncharacteristically tight-lipped about his family.

Not that he was deliberately withholding information per se… It was just that he never really brought them up beyond an occasional passing comment.

The one time you did ask him about them directly he sighed and said—

“We’re very close, but… I suppose we’ve just gotten used to being very private.”

There was clearly more to the story, but you were confident that Tae would share it if and when he was ready.

“My parents are in Seoul opening a new branch of the company. They took my little sister with them and my older brother has his own house so it will be just us.” He snuggled deeper into the first class seat directly next to yours. “We’ll hang out by the pool and chill during the day, then hit up some of the new clubs or whatever at night.”

“So… No one from your family will be there?”

Perhaps the invitation was not so surprising after all.

“Nope. Just you and me and thirty acres of ocean front property.”

You grinned.

“Perfect.”

“Whose room is that?”

The two of you were lugging your bags down the main hall of Taehyung’s expansive mansion when a strange hint of...something caught you right by the nose.

Your friend turned to find you frozen and staring curiously at a familiar door near the balcony.

His eyes widened, but you were too preoccupied to notice his momentary concern.

“That’s just Jin’s room.”

A firm hand wrapped around your wrist and dragged you away, but your eyes stayed glued to the source of the mysterious scent until you were around the corner and out of sight.

Your suite for the next two weeks was right across the hall from Taehyung’s. There was a whirlpool, a full bath, a balcony, and an ocean view that would rival the cover spread of any travel magazine.

Tae headed for the shower (to ‘wash the airplane off’) immediately after showing you the room and you were thinking of doing the same except…

Your mind kept going back to that door and the hint of scent you detected.

There was something… different about it.

It was faint—and far from fresh (which made sense considering that one of the few things you did know about Kim Seokjin was that he hadn’t lived in this house for years).

But still…

The need to smell it again pressed insistently at the back of your mind.

Suddenly the sound of Taehyung singing raunchy lyrics in the shower carried over through the walls and you found your feet moving almost of their own accord.

What Tae doesn’t know won’t hurt him, you rationalized, making your way down the hall toward Jin’s door. Besides—it’s not as if I’m going to steal anything…

You just needed to find that scent again.

By the time your fingers closed over the knob every one of your nerves was strangely—acutely—alert but nothing could have prepared you for what was waiting behind the door.

Oh. My. Gosh.

“What a colossal nerd.”

The room was covered floor to ceiling in Nintendo memorabilia.

Bright primary colors assaulted your eyes from all directions in the form of action figures, posters, pillows, and every other conceivable merch variety known to man.

In the center of the suite stood a large king-sized bed covered in a custom black couture toile-style Mario-verse bed set (that looked every bit as expensive as it was geeky) and a mountain of high quality Nintendo character plush toys.

Everything was simultaneously luxe and nostalgic—a rare combination of sophisticated aesthetic balance and childlike indulgence.

And the scent was there.

It was faint and covered under layers of cleaner and air fresheners, but still lingering just below the surface—too weak for you to get a really good whiff, yet potent enough to torment you.

You moved forward unconsciously toward the strongest source of the hypnotic smell—the strangely inviting expanse of Kim Seokjin’s mattress.

Suddenly the urge to climb—no crawl—across the bed itself and roll around in it like a kitten in catnip gripped you out of nowhere.

“What the hell?” you muttered, rubbing absently over the mating gland at the base of your neck.

Something very odd was going on with your body.

Your restless gaze zeroed in on one of the stuffed toys piled atop his pillows. It was a cute little mushroom man your brain recognized as a Mario character named ‘Toad’.

Take it.

Your mouth dropped open in shock.

You need it.

“Am I going insane?” you wondered aloud.

You have to take it.

Muscles in your hand began to twitch involuntarily. You bit your lip.

Bring it back with you.

Several minutes later a freshly washed Taehyung wandered over to your room and found you sitting perfectly still on your bed while staring off into space.

His head tilted in curious concern.

“Everything ok?”

You started a bit at the sound of his voice, but recovered quickly.

“Never better!” you chirped—almost too brightly. “Let’s go get some dinner, I’m starving.”

Then you grabbed his hand and pulled him down the hall toward the kitchen—shutting the door before he could catch a glimpse of his brother’s stuffed Toad doll stashed underneath your pillow

“...a critical water main rupture in the city’s New Market district early this morning has forced several residents out of their homes as flood water swelled up to nearly two feet. The governor declared a state of emergency and ordered hotels around the city to accommodate the displaced citizens. Crews are still clearing the water and assessing damages. We expect—

“Hey!” you shouted through a mouthful of cereal, after Your best friend switched off the television, “I was watching that!”

“And what you should be doing is getting ready for the pool.” Tae snatched your cereal bowl and dragged you by your shirt collar toward the stairs. “It is the first morning of our vacation. I’m not trying to waste any time. Now go.” He shoved you forward, smacking your ass for good measure.

You swatted back at him half-heartedly as jogged back up to the room where you enjoyed a surprisingly restful sleep last night.

Kim Seokjin’s door glared at you accusingly as you shuffled past—unable to let you forget that you had kidnapped it’s little mushroom man in an unexplained fit of kleptomania, but that was a problem for your future self.

The you of right now was going to zen out in the Kim family's premium glass-enclosed indoor pool (it was still a little chilly for the outdoor pool) with her best friend and bask in the simple joys of good company and no responsibility.

...Or not.

A few minutes later you bounced into the living room wearing a simple black tankini with a cute floral cover only to find Taehyung on the phone with his head in his hands.

“Yes, sir. I understand… I...I know this is my responsibility...”

That didn’t sound good.

After a few more tense moments, Tae hung up and collapsed backward into the couch with a heavy sigh.

“That water main break you heard about on TV this morning was the last straw between the province and its current contractor. They called an emergency meeting for new bids.”

Your heart dropped as you sank down beside him.

“Your dad wants you to go...doesn’t he.”

Taehyung nodded miserably.

“He can’t leave the Seoul opening on such short notice and managing government construction contracts is part of what I’ve been training for. This could be huge for our company.”

“Well...why doesn’t your brother go?”

“Jin is the brains behind most of our patented gaming and tech innovations. He wouldn’t even know where to begin with this sort of thing. Besides,” his lips quirked up in a rueful grin, “my brother doesn’t have the patience to stroke entitled geriatric egos for hours on end—which is likely what I’m going to have to do.”

The two of you headed back to Taehyung’s room where you helped him pack some suits and toiletries for his trip.

Naturally you were disappointed but...this was a great opportunity for your best friend to prove himself in his chosen field and you both knew it. In fact, he was already starting to brighten a bit.

“The meeting is about a hundred miles north of here. My dad’s secretary already handled the flight and hotel room.” His eyes darted around the suite to see if he was forgetting anything.

It was clear he was nervous, though you were sure he didn’t need to be. Kim Taehyung was a trust fund brat, but he was also talented and deeply passionate about his family’s company.

Someday this would be the norm. The two of you were stealing time in college, determined to live a little before the expectations of your powerful families transferred fully onto your shoulders.

It was becoming more and more clear, however, that your carefree time was slowly running out.

Mother had already spoken to you about potential marriage alliances and your father expected you to intern with his Vice President this summer just as your elder sister had...

Taehyung’s voice suddenly interrupted your bittersweet introspection and you couldn’t help but smile at how grown-up he looked in his suit and briefcase ensemble.

Everything was going to change, but not quite yet.

“They estimate negotiations should take around a week or so…” He walked over and pulled you into a tight hug. “There should still be some vacation left for us when I get back.”

“Hurry back then,” you mumbled grumpily into his chest and he chuckled.

“I will.”

Taehyung had been gone for less than twenty minutes when you decided that the best use of your time would be to eat more snacks.

The last thing you expected when you skipped merrily into the kitchen was to find it occupied by a shaggy-haired homeless man in glasses.

Your first instinct was to scream which caused the homeless man to drop the apple he was biting right onto the floor where it rolled around for a small eternity before coming to rest at his ankles.

Your second instinct was to grab a butcher’s cleaver from the nearby knife block and wave it chaotically at the intruder while shouting something along the lines of—

“You’ve made a huge mistake! My boyfriend is the biggest, meanest mafia boss in Seoul! Leave now and he might let you live!”

The homeless man continued to stare at you with a mixture of confusion and shock, but made no move to run away in terror like you were hoping.

So you tried again.

“Didn’t you hear what I said?! The last man who touched me drinks his steak through a straw now! Do the smart thing and leave before my boyfriend comes down those stairs and it’s too late!”

Infuriatingly, the homeless man was still not fleeing for his life and frankly you were starting to get frustrated. You drew in a deep cleansing breath and were prepared to issue another grandiose threat when he finally spoke.

“I’m sorry, miss. I... think there’s been some sort of mistake. Who is your boyfriend?”

There was no rational explanation for what came out of your mouth next, but it rolled off your tongue so smoothly and you didn’t even flinch.

“Kim Seokjin.”

For the first time in your entire exchange, the intruder looked truly alarmed.

Now that’s more like it.

“You’ve heard of him I see. He’s a dangerous man and my body belongs to him.” You slammed the cleaver down onto the countertop with a (hopefully) menacing slash. “Kim Seokjin doesn’t like when other men put their hands on what belongs to him.”

There was a long, unpardonably tense moment of silence…Then the stranger slowly reached forward and picked up a mobile phone from the table in front of him.

His eyes remained locked with yours as he pressed a quick series of buttons, brought the phone to his ear, waited a few seconds and said—

“Taehyung… Would you mind telling me why there is a half-naked, knife-wielding omega in our kitchen claiming to be my girlfriend?”

Hello! Please comment on this post if you would like to be added to the taglist!

You guys were all so wonderful, and encouraging, and excited that I literally got this teaser out in three days! If you like what you read so far, please let me know! I cannot put into words how meaningful and valuable feedback is to me. I truly treasure it! It fuels my creativity and keeps me writing. I would love to hear from you!

[apocalypticgargoyle]

Hii!! I was wondering if you can write a dream imagine where like you guys are secretly dating and you sometimes post you and dream holding hands but you never tag him so like people know that you are dating someone but no one really knows who and one day you and the guys were talking and you say something like “oh yeah my boyfriend gave me this this and this” and everyone else is all like omg that’s cute but sapnap is over here like “dude dream literally had that here yesterday” but like sapnap doesn’t say anything to you guys he just tells the rest of the guys that he thinks you guys are dating but has zero evidence so the next few weeks they are just trying to catch you guys and one day when they suspect that dream is cheating (when he was actually like asking your mom for your hand in marriage or something) the boys are all like “dude we caught dream talking with someone else I’m so sorry to tell you this” and like you and dream start laughing so hard bc it was your mom and you guys are like “yeah We’ve been dating for like a year now did we not tell you guys?” Or something like “oh yeah did we not make it obvious?” Idk if it made sense 😭😂

I'm ✍️✍️✍️✍️

𝐌𝐎𝐌'𝐒 𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄. ♘ 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

warnings: one or two swear words

You leaned back in your chair, listening to the conversation unfolding before you. You turned the volume up slightly as Sapnap began to tease you about your gaming techniques. You giggled as others began to weigh in, joking about this and that. George’s voice came in above the others. “Guys shut up, her boyfriend works for Microsoft and can get you banned,” he mocked, making you snort.

The image of Dream trying to figure out how to boil water flashed into your mind. “Yeah, he’s terrifying,” you chided.

Sapnap was the next to pipe up. “You can tell us you don’t have a boyfriend, you know. No one will care.”

“No yeah, I do. He bought me this shirt,” you defended, lifting the hem of your hoodie to show the group of them, earning a chorus of sarcastic cooing. Sapnap’s eyebrows furrowed slightly as if he’d seen it before.

George smugly grinned at you. “Oh, yeah? Does he go to another school?”

You snickered. “Shut up,” you mumbled, the chat switching to a new subject. Little did you know, Sapnap was texting George and the rest of them about his suspicions that this mysterious boyfriend of yours was actually Dream, knowing full well that he’d seen Dream buy that exact shirt a few weeks prior.

You’d been dating him for nearly a year, choosing to blatantly disregard any questions about who he was and vice versa. Most of your photos on Instagram involving him were vague and gave your audience more confusion than understanding. Comments about searching for your OnlyFans to see if they could recognize his voice began to circulate and your friends even fueled that fire.

You weren’t sure what Dream had told Sapnap all those months of secrecy, but somehow it seemed like the t-shirt was the first hint at your relationship. After he’d addressed his suspicions with the rest of your group, it was like a hunt to find out if it really was Dream or if Sapnap was just a few marbles short of sanity from one too many late nights.

In the midst of this wild goose chase, Dream was focused on getting your mom to warm up to him. She was a difficult woman to impress, but he was just as (if not more) stubborn than she was. It wasn’t that she didn’t like him, but he’d rather have her favor him over your past boyfriend and there was one she was determined to prefer over him until the end of time. You often joked about him getting close to you only for him to date your mother, which drove him absolutely sideways.

When she visited, he made dinner for all of you and―after studying for a week prior―discussed various books and authors she loved. It wasn’t until he exhaustedly brought up The Crown that the two of them finally clicked. He’d found her “g-spot,” you’d often tease.

After that, they were practically inseparable and he was the one that took her to lunch and sightseeing when she was in town until you got out of school. It was on one of these visits that Sapnap had spotted the two. She was talking Dream’s ear off about something, touching his arm to articulate her points and mockingly appraising him for opening doors for her without being asked.

At this point, Sapnap and the group were certain the two of you were together, therefore when Dream’s voice picked up on his radar and he saw him schmoozing an older woman, his stomach sank. He watched the two of them for a bit, not seeing much change in the way they communicated, but through the glass of the front of the restaurant, he was shocked that Dream was going behind your back in such a way.

That night the group was rather quiet, only a few mumbles from the others would pitch in as you and Dream basically had a conversation amongst yourselves. “So what’s the news. Why is everyone suddenly so mellow?” You joked, making a few of them chuckle awkwardly.

George cleared his throat. “Uh, we have to tell you something…” he muttered. “Dream’s talking to someone else…”

Your eyebrows perked slightly. “What do you mean?” You queried, Dream sending a silent what into the air.

Sapnap sighed. “I saw him with someone else earlier today. They looked like they were on a date or something…”

Dream laughed into his microphone, wheezing as he went about. “You bitch! I knew you were hooking up with my mom!” You joked, biting back your own giggles. You could hear the physical embodiment of a question mark ricocheting through the chat. “Dream and my mom are absolute besties. I wouldn’t be surprised-”

Dream drew in a sharp breath, his laugh making his voice barely audible as he cut you off. “STOP don’t encourage them!” He bellowed, struggling to breathe through his chuckles.

“What’s Dream doing with your mom?” George asked, tilting his head with a probing expression.

You wet your lips. “Since we’ve started dating, he’s been obsessed with being her favorite,” you jested.

“Since you’ve started dating?” Sapnap repeated to the group as if proving he’d been right the whole time.

Dream sighed, catching his breath. “Yeah, I’m at her place right now,” he spoke. “Hold on, I’ll prove it.” You let out a small chuckle as you heard him set his headphones down, followed by his footsteps thundering up your stairs before he was standing behind you. He briefly pressed his lips against yours in a greeting before leaning toward your microphone and sending a “hello from the otherside” to the group.

He leaned his arm against the back of your chair, you switching on your camera mainly because it was just the group of you. “I thought we were pretty obvious like you guys were just making fun of me because you knew it was him,” you stated.

Sapnap looked over his shoulder slightly as if he were listening for movement in his own home. “Wait, when did you leave?”

Dream scoffed. “I’ve been here all day. I literally woke you up to tell you where I was going.” Sapnap furrowed his brows in disbelief at this.

George was clicking away at his computer. “See, I knew I recognized your hands in the Instagram photos,” he mumbled. “I hate it here.”

You smirked slightly. “That being said, my boyfriend does own your guys’ server so he will ban you if you make fun of me.”

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 318: On Your Left

Previously on BnHA: The Hawksquad+Lurkers were all “well this sucks” and sat around a bit talking about how maybe they should actually come up with a new plan that is actually good, but then in the end they were like “nah.” Deku was all, “THERE’S SOMETHING INSIDE ME THAT PULLS BENEATH THE SURFACE!! CONSUMING, CONFUSING!! THIS LACK OF SELF CONTROL I FEAR IS NEVERENDING. IT’S HAUNTING HOW I CANT SEEM TO FIND MYSELF AGAIN. MY WALLS ARE CLOSING IN.” Just, literally that whole entire song. All Might was all “Deku you should take care of yourself, try eating a thing,” and Deku was all “BYE, ALL MIGHT,” and just LEFT. He left!!! What the fuck!!!

Today on BnHA: Endeavor is all, “maybe if Deku didn’t listen to All Might he’ll listen to me instead.” Deku is all, “[doesn’t listen to Endeavor]” because, well, yeah. The Vestiges are all, “surprisingly, even we are a little concerned -- maybe you should get some rest, kid.” Deku is all, “((Ò ‸ Ó)).” The Vestiges are all, “holy shit.” Deku is all, “[wanders the ruined city streets terrifying the populace on account of him looking like Shelob had a baby with one of the Nazgul].” Some shriveled-up puppeteer villain asshole is all, “HORIKOSHI SAID IT’S MY TURN TO ATTACK DEKU TODAY SO I AM GOING TO SUMMON MY FRIGHTENED HELPLESS ATTACK MOB!!” Kacchan is all “WHADDYA MEAN THEY FOUND THE NERD!!! -- oh wait, that’s me, I found him. I found the nerd, you guys.” And just in time, too. I was about to owe a whole lot of people a whole lot of dollars.

so I have been super good about spoilers this week as always, but let me tell you guys, for the past 36 hours my dash filters have basically been nonstop “manga spoilers” this and “bnha 318” that, and so I’m coming in with a fair amount of hype here. your move, Horikoshi

oh, good! they got Endeavor to call Deku to try to talk him out of it. what a great and wonderful plan

“listen up kid, you haven’t slept since March and you are basically a walking biohazard right now, I’m just telling it like it is. didn’t you get shot like three times?? and there was a whole thing about how you urgently needed medical attention?? and supposedly we gave it to you, but I mean you haven’t even changed your clothes and don’t seem to have any fresh bandages or anything, so did we?? did we, really?? and also we all got blown up yesterday, so yeah.” hmm he’s making some reasonable points here you guys, but you sure do go on and on, Endeavor

oh he says foreign aid is finally on its way! I’m sure they’ll be very helpful. I mean in fairness they can hardly be worse than the home-grown heroes at this point

hey Enji, could you maybe try appealing to Deku the sixteen-year-old human boy, as opposed to Deku The World’s Last Hope? he does have value beyond his quirk. I know that’s always been an incredibly difficult concept for you to grasp, but could you maybe TRY, jesus

and also we’re worried about you as a person?? you’re just a kid and you’re pushing yourself way too hard?? you were going to say that part next, right. why the hell didn’t Hawks make this call instead

“don’t worry about me... I’m completely fine” Deku you do understand that saying it over and over again doesn’t actually make it true

and again with the rush!! all the rush rush rush!! we’re running out of time, we can’t let AFO and Tomura keep getting stronger, I have to end this now, there’s no time to rest, etc. etc. etc. just the constant pressure of this whole big countdown on top of everything else

holy shit, you KNOW it’s bad when even the Vestiges are telling him to chill

these guys are basically the walking talking embodiments of self-sacrifice; if even they’re telling him he needs to take five, then he must seriously be like half a step away from death’s door

OH SHIT LMAO

DIDN’T EVEN LET HIM FINISH HIS SENTENCE BEFORE HE SENT HIM INTO THE FUCKING SHADOW REALM WITH THAT FUCKING LOOK. HOLY FUCK. DIDN’T EVEN KNOW IT WAS POSSIBLE TO DIE TWICE. SHIT

(ETA: so I’m pretty sure this was just Danger Sense activating and so he cut them off to go do more hero stuff, but I’m gonna go ahead and stick to my original interpretation anyway lol.)

anyway so how’s everybody doing. we all good? En, you good? Banjou? Shino? I’m imagining you guys all curled up in a little ball on the floor right now lol. can’t say I blame you though, no shame

lmaoooooooooooo

“SHEESH.” sheesh indeed, lmao. “what in the FUCK was that”

see, this is why y’all need Kacchan. you need someone who’s not going to back down from him no matter what. if it’s a matter of out-stubborning Midoriya fucking Izuku, then there’s only one other person on the planet capable of that, and we all know it. don’t pretend like you don’t. I am not going to shut up about this! we’ve had our hurt so now what about SOME COMFORT, DAMMIT

“I’m afraid that he’s becoming influenced by my conscience” nah are you kidding Nana this is all 100% made-in-Japan pure original Deku right here

see, Banjou gets it. “that kid, he’s totally going on his own.” exactly. this was so inevitable it was basically scientific law

“well I for one don’t see the problem with Deku being so obsessed with saving everyone else that he pushes himself until his body and soul literally fall apart” okay, whose speech bubbles are these?? we’re about to have words

lol of course

well you always did prefer the direct route didn’t you. but even you can’t possibly think this is okay lol

dark AU!Kacchan please tell us more about your badass doomed timeline in which everything went to shit and you apparently had the same character arc that Deku is having right now except it somehow made you sexier instead of turning you into a rabid t-rex. I have so many questions

oh so now you want to help??? well -- good, actually. sorry if that sounded offended just now lol

(ETA: so at first when I got to the end of this chapter I was wondering if Katsuki B. had somehow summoned his alternate-universe counterpart through trippy OFA space telepathy lol. but in the original Japanese there’s no reference to “we”, so this appears to be a mistranslation. this line should probably read more like “if there’s something/someone out there that would be able to complement/complete the current Midoriya Izuku [it would be]…” which, oh hello, is that Horikoshi once again reaffirming that Deku and Bakugou complete each other lol. “guess what guys, the Vestiges ship it too" heck yeah. they know what’s up!)

look how admiring his boyfriends are. HORIKOSHI GIVE US THE REST OF THIS BACKSTORY ALREADY GODDAMMIT

“meanwhile somewhere in the depths of the ruined city, Deku was having a dance-off with the villains”

I like how the villains all have this “AHH WHAT THE FUCK” kind of body language to them lol. I mean if it were me, and an eldritch horror suddenly clawed its way from the shadows with its writhing glowy tentacles and pants-shitting nuclear death stare, I would probably just die on the spot. no need to stick around. only pain awaits

lol for a minute I thought this was Can’t Ya See-kun and I was like “WHAT A FASCINATING CROSSING OF PATHS” but it’s just some random girl

he seems genuinely confused lol

Deku it’s because you look like something that crawled out of a sewer drain, sweetheart

lol they just took his word for it?

so trusting. even though they’re immediately hauling ass anyway just to be safe lmao

“my appearance is frightening to others” no shit Deku it’s because you look like a fucking alien exorcism. you look like a Lich that got caught up in an oil spill my dude

NO NOT THE CHOSEN ONE ANGST AGAIN

I RAN OUT OF ESSAY JUICE FOR THIS ALREADY HORIKOSHI!! I’VE BEEN TALKING ABOUT IT FOR MONTHS NOW WHAT TOOK YOU SO LONG!! BUT ANYWAYS, GOOD!! I MEAN, BAD, THOUGH, OBVIOUSLY. BUT YES

“ENJOY THIS MONTAGE OF DEKU BATTLING A RANDOM KAIJU AND WANDERING THE WOODS LIKE A DERANGED GREEN BABA YAGA” okay yes but sir, exactly how much longer is this going to go on. if it’s a matter of you wanting to make sure we get it, let me assure you that aside from a few stray chuunis who think that Deku embracing the Darkness is the coolest thing he’s ever done, all of us here in fandom fully comprehend that this is Not Good

-- OH SO IT’S LIKE THAT

really. with the flashbacks to his loved ones’ smiling faces and everything. not even gonna try to aim above the belt, huh

AND NO KACCHAN??! NO CLASSMATES?!?! IS HE PURPOSELY NOT THINKING OF THEM??? OR ARE THEY BEING SAVED FOR THE NEXT PAGE??? SO HELP ME, IF THE NEXT PART OF THIS SENTENCE IS “CAN PROTECT THEM”, OR EVEN WORSE, “CAN SEE THEIR SMILING FACES AGAIN”, I...

WHAT DID I JUST SAY

(ETA: my man did Sero and Kaminari fucking dirty lmao. I miss their smiling faces too omg.)

the sheer, unparalleled irony of him saying this while he stands there looking like the gargoyle demon from Fantasia got crossed with an umbrella that got struck by lightning. Deku :(

oi who the fuck is this clown

is he controlling this mob with his evil hair. “what if I made an exhausted, running-on-fumes Deku battle a brainwashed mob at Ground Zero.” Horikoshi do you just have like a checklist of horrible things you want to do to your protagonist

easy there Sasori

well joke’s on you buddy because he’s apparently “completely fine”, so

“here’s to hoping that you know more about AFO’s location than the others” jesus christ Deku you really have hung your mercy out to dry huh

now he’s forcing his mob of terrified prisoners to attack Deku ahhhh. sucks to be them. at least they’re not being controlled by bees

so Deku is saying that Sasori’s control can be broken with “physical trauma.” similar to Shinsou’s quirk I guess. but so does that mean he’s gonna have to hurt them? ( •﹏•)

NO NOT MORE SAD EYES

“DEATH BY EMPATHY!!!” HORIKOSHI NO

fuck. he looks like he’s on the verge of passing out

this is what happens when you nerf a character’s self-preservation stats in favor of spamming their bone-breaking stats instead. NOW ACCEPTING BRAIN CELL DONATIONS FOR A BOY IN NEED!! with your loving generosity we can hopefully help him live to the ripe old age of seventeen

OMGFGGG

YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

[grabs your hands] ლ(*꒪ヮ꒪*)ლ [swings you in a circle] へ(ﾟ◇ﾟへ)

THASSSSSSSS WHATSSSSSSS UPPPPPPPPPP

HORIKOSHI REALLY SAID FUCK THAT MASK (ノ°ο°)ノ YOU FINALLY LEARNED!! IT’S CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT!!!!

JUST FOR YOU KACCHAN, HORIKOSHI LEFT THIS ONE BAD GUY WHO’S STILL WEAK TO FIRE. GOD BLESS

IT’S YOUR COUNTERPART, KATSUKI B!!!! HOW WE DOIN OVER THERE IN THE TRIPPY COSMIC OFA SPACE REALM LOL. DO WE BELIEVE YET, FANDOM???

LIGHTS!!!!

INSTANT RESULTS!!! IT’S SUPER EFFECTIVE!!!

(ETA: imagine what this must look like to Deku though. he’s been caught up in this dark cloud of despair and exhaustion that’s been building up over... I’m gonna go ahead and say “weeks”, because yeah. and now he finds himself here, in the place where All Might’s legacy ended and the torch was passed to him. and the world is in ruins, and he’s surrounded by frightened people who are all trying to hurt him -- because who isn’t trying to hurt him, these days -- and he’s scrambling to figure this all out, but meanwhile the weariness is finally starting to catch up to him, and so he’s basically just standing there in a fog of complete and utter misery.

and then all of a sudden through that haze, he hears the one voice that’s more familiar than any other that he knows. like, I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he thought he was just imagining it at first. Kacchan showing up to save him right when he’s at his most desperate and feeling the most alone. Kacchan, showing up to save him.

this is the person he always looked up to as a child (to be fair he was quite a strange child lmao). the person who was even closer to him than All Might. the person he always thought was amazing. and bam, here he is now. appearing in the sky out of nowhere to one-shot the bad guy with a single blast (which, btw, that was his armor-piercing attack too lmao dslkjlk take it easy there kiddo). like, that must have felt absolutely surreal to him, especially coming at a time when he’s already half-delirious and barely hanging on to reality. he must have really thought that he was losing it there for a second.

but he’s really there. it really is him. and for this brief moment -- before the rest of the situation catches up to him, and he remembers about all of the fucked-up AFO stuff, and remembers why he was so afraid and why he was pushing everyone away -- for just this one brief moment, he’s too exhausted and stunned to do anything except to just react. just stands there, looking up at him in awe.

and you know, it almost reminds me of...

just. you guys. the character development. the freaking character development. someone who brings reassurance. someone who shows up and makes you think, “oh, it’s all going to be okay now, because [person] is here.” the role reversals. the growth. the payoff!! because who is the one person who always had faith that Kacchan would one day grow up to become an amazing hero like that. WHO IS IT. YOU ALREADY KNOW.

omg. anyways, bless you Horikoshi, my feels which have been on backorder since fucking September have finally arrived lmao. yes, good, thank you. worth the wait. it is always, always worth the wait. fuck yeah.)

“LOWFRIES” SO YOU’RE TELLING ME THE WHOLE GANG IS HERE, AHHHHHHHH (º̩̩́⌣º̩̩̀ )

BEAUTIFUL. WONDERFUL. SENSATIONAL. I DON’T EVEN CARE THAT JUMP IS ON BREAK NEXT WEEK. THIS RIGHT HERE WILL SUSTAIN ME

[archived-kin]

solomon deserves a husband so i'm giving him one (it's you)

note from kin: i don’t know HOW i’ve managed to get this out so soon after my last piece but i do know that it is a miracle (now watch me disappear for like a month lmao)

anyway there’s a severe lack of content for the boys in this fandom and therefore i am here to try to mitigate that!!

(as a heads up, this is sort of an au version of obey me’s story?? there’s no exchange program, and the general human world doesn’t know about the devildom or celestial realm, apart from sorcerers and similar special cases. solomon and simeon both still visit the devildom, though - solomon because he has a sort of job at the r.a.d., and simeon as an ambassador sort of thing for the celestial realm. the r.a.d.’s also less of a school and more of an organisation?? i haven’t really fleshed it out haha)

fandom: obey me!

character(s): male! reader, solomon, mammon (briefly), simeon (briefly)

pairing(s): solomon/reader

warning(s): blasphemy??? solomon disses god really briefly and that’s about it

genre: fluff!!!!!!!!!

As a general rule of thumb, Solomon doesn’t believe in destiny.

He’s lived long enough to know that, no matter what he does, the universe does not care about him, much less have some sort of plan for his future. The course that the world takes isn’t affected by some grand puppet master pulling the strings; one has to force the so-called path of fate in the direction they want it to take if they want something. Solomon knows this better than anyone.

It’s as much a downfall as it is a strength - as much as power as he’s amassed over the countless years, his constant need to challenge the universe’s power has lead him down a path far from humanity. There had been a time when he was like every other human on the Earth, when he was still young, full of hope and determination and promise, believing earnestly in some God high in the sky who would guide him through his life.

He shudders to think what sort of insufferable fool he’d been back then. An almighty God? Don’t make him laugh. The ruler of the Celestial Realm is incompetent at best, and a downright childish brat at worst. He doesn’t know how the angels put up with him - though he supposes his realm-smiting power is part of it. Why the universe chose to place such power on such a being’s shoulders will always be beyond him.

Long as it has been since he had been so naive, Solomon has learnt his lesson, to say the least. He’s seen people come and go, witnessed kings and queens reign and fall, watched on as friends and family live and die. It’s a truth that he’s been forced to learn across the years of his long, long life, a curse that he brought upon himself the moment he gave up the purity of his soul in pursuit of magical arts. 

He supposes he’s always had an insatiable thirst for the unknown - to play all his cards out front, to tempt fate’s hand, to jump into the void and hope to find ground beneath his feet when he lands. It’s that sort of reckless abandon and hunt for knowledge that has led him so far down this path, through so many years, across so many sleepless nights. The world continues to swirl around him, always changing, but Solomon refuses to be swept away. Because, even in the tumultuous movement of the universe, there has always been one constant that keeps him anchored - you.

The night he'd first met you isn’t as clear in his mind as he would have liked. He wants to be able to remember everything - the way the soft blue light of the will-o’-whisps had lit up your eyes in the dark of the night, the way that your hand had felt in his as you greeted him with a handshake, the way that you had said his name for the first time - in sharp detail, but Solomon knows better than to hope to recall something so long ago so perfectly.

He’d still been relatively new to a sorcerer’s life at the time - excited and determined and a little too full of himself. You… well, he doesn’t remember exactly, but he does remember thinking that you must be the most handsome being to exist. The you of today would probably shake your head and dismiss the past you as an obnoxious high hoper, but Solomon has loved you for so many years that he’s never been able to think of you as anything less than perfect.

There are times when he wondered how he managed to stumble upon such luck. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that Solomon has has had truly insufferable periods over the years he’s known you, and he’s always considered it a miracle that you still chose to stay. Even through all the restless nights and the exhausting trips, even after all of the clashes and vexation, you have refused to give up on him.

He had asked you once, in the aftermath of an argument spurred by his inability to confide in you and your own frustration with his refusal to communicate. He remembers that night so vividly that it might well have happened just yesterday - the frustrated shouts, the shattering of glass, the warmth of your arms around his shoulders as he finally collapsed on himself. He doesn’t know what your face had looked like as he stuttered the question out in stuttering breaths, head buried in your shoulder in an effort to conceal his tears, but he imagines that it had been soft.

“I’m not going to leave you to yourself,” You had told him matter-of-factly, stroking his hair with such fondness  that it still sometimes brings a tear to his eye when he remembers it on particularly long nights. “And I’m not giving up on you, either - not now, not ever.”

Solomon had been unable to speak, too choked up by his feelings and the sudden, overwhelming love spreading through his entire body to reply. He’d only sunk deeper into your embrace, wishing that the moment could last forever.

I wonder if he still remembers that…?

“...lomon! Anyone home?!”

He jolts up from the table he’s sitting at so abruptly that he nearly knocks his head right into Mammon’s chin. The Avater of Greed, however, reacts quickly, and hops back before Solomon can break his jawbone.

“Jeez, you’re off on a different planet today,” He comments, setting his hands on his hips as Solomon shoots him the sort of look that tells him that he’s not particularly enthused about his presence at the moment. “What’s up with ya?”

Solomon isn’t quite sure how to answer. Sorry, I got distracted thinking about how perfect and lovely my husband is and how I’m the luckiest man in the entire world - nay, the universe - to have him. He nearly physically shudders at the thought of how much teasing he’d receive if he answered like that.

Instead, he chooses a much safer and still technically true option. “Just thinking about going home today.”

Mammon nods in understanding, pulling up a seat next to him and throwing himself down into it without much grace. “I feel ya. S’ been a long day.”

“You’ve barely done anything today,” Solomon quips flatly, not particularly impressed by the demon’s attempt at… empathy? Relatability? Either way, it isn’t working. “I doubt it’s been that hard.”

“Now, now, Solomon, let’s not be rude,” interjects a soft voice from behind them. Simeon is still dressed in his fancy envoy cloak - the one so long and heavy that it trails along behind him like a bridal train, decorated with a number of elaborate golden charms that jingle as he moves.

Solomon attempts to shoot him a slightly annoyed look, but it’s kind of hard to stay irritated by one of the literal embodiments of holiness and light, even if he wakes you up at very unholy hours of the morning to help him figure out how to answer an email. Solomon isn’t ungrateful for the new age of technology descending on humanity, but he’d like it a lot better if it hadn’t somehow reached the angels as well. The amount of times he’s had to tell Simeon that he needs to actually turn his D.D.D. on before he starts calling someone is… embarrassing, to say the least.

“You’re back in the Devildom, I see,” He observes as the angel pulls up a seat and sits beside him. “Did Michael send you down again?”

Simeon nods with a smile. “There were some arrangements that needed to be made with Lord Diavolo. Naturally, I volunteered.”

“Naturally,” Solomon echoes, raising a brow at his friend. “I don’t suppose your biases had anything to do with your decision?”

“Well, they may have had some effect,” Simeon answers with a shameless smile and shrug, beginning to undo the tassels of his heavy cloak and draping it on the back of chair he’s sitting on. He’s still wearing all of his regular clothes underneath it - including the other, much smaller cloak. Solomon wonders how he hasn’t somehow melted in the heat.

“When’re you gonna start heading home, anyway?” Mammon asks, beginning to pick at a loose thread on his jacket sleeve. “It’s gettin’ late.”

Solomon blinks and looks up at the clock. “...ah, you’re right. In that case, I'll get going now.”

Mammon shoots him an odd look as he pushes himself up from the table and reaches for his bag, managing to hoist it onto his shoulder with some effort. He’s never been particularly good at heavy lifting - you’re usually the one helping him carry everything around the house.

“Oi, oi, what’s the rush?” the demon asks as Solomon adjusts the weight of his bag and starts heading for the door. “You on a timer or something?”

“I promised [Name] I’d be home earlier tonight,” is Solomon’s slightly absent-minded reply as he fiddles about in his pocket to find his transportation charm, nearly losing his balance and dropping his bag in the process. “I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

Mammon watches him in clear confusion for a moment as he pats down his pockets, mumbling a quiet curse under his breath as he realises that he’s left his charm at home again. How many times this month does that make it now...? He supposes that he could always perform a teleportation spell, but knowing his luck with those, he’ll probably end up somewhere in Morocco again.

“Oi, Simeon,” Mammon hisses to the angel, who cocks his head slightly to the side and leans over so as to hear him more clearly. “Who’s this ‘[Name]’ Solomon’s talkin’ about?”

“You don’t know?” Simeon blinks at him in blatant perplexion - as if he can’t even fathom the idea that Mammon might not know who Solomon’s talking about. “He’s talking about his husband.”

There’s a long moment of silence. Then—

“Solomon has a HUSBAND!?” Mammon practically shrieks, completely flabbergasted. “I thought he was totally, like, the forever alone type!”

“Don’t tell me you’ve never noticed?” is Simeon’s bewildered response. “Who do you think Solomon is always talking about buying groceries for?”

“I thought he was just buyin’ them for himself!” Mammon fires back, looking far more ruffled and shocked than he probably should be. He whips around to look at Solomon, who’s flicking through the little packet of blank charms he keeps on him at all times in an effort to find the right one to create a temporary transportation charm. He’s had to do it so many times this month that he’s already beginning to run out. “You’re married?!”

“Of course,” Solomon answers vaguely, briefly raising his left hand, allowing Mammon to spot the soft glint of a ring around his fourth finger. “You’re not?”

“Wh— ‘course I’m not!” Mammon exclaims, positively scandalised by the very concept. “Why would I get married, huh?! It’s a waste of time and a waste of money!”

“Think whatever you like,” Solomon dismisses him easily, which only seems to irritate Mammon further.

Finally having found the right blank charm, he plucks it out and begins carefully tracing patterns onto it with a single glowing finger. He’s dimly aware of Mammon furiously whispering to Simeon in the background, with the angel responding in kind, most likely sharing some exaggerated story from back when the three of you had worked together - when Solomon had accepted a job from the Celestial Realm. The details of the whole thing are a little fuzzy to him now, long as it has been, but he’s almost completely sure that Simeon somehow still remembers the whole thing flawlessly.

“How old even is he?!” He hears Mammon hiss.

“I’m not so sure myself,” Simeon replies, placing his chin in a thoughtful hand. “Let’s see… their two millennial anniversary’s coming up in about two years, and I remember Solomon saying that they got married when he was around two hundred or so… which means he’s about twenty-one hundred years old.”

“Holy shit,” Mammon mutters in disbelief, turning glance at the sorcerer as he starts folding down the corners of his charm into the right shape. “Humans aren’t supposed to live that long. How’s his husband still alive, then?”

“That isn’t really a question for me to answer,” Simeon shakes his head slightly. “I suppose you can always ask him yourself if Solomon ever brings him to work with him.”

“I doubt it,” Solomon speaks up for the first time since announcing his departure. “He’s usually busy during the day. Besides, transportation charms make him queasy, and I’m not making him walk all the way down here.”

“Aren’t you a wizard?” Mammon asks, scratching his head. “Just do one of ya fancy teleportation spells. Why d’you need a charm?”

Solomon sighs. He hates to admit it, but he can’t be bothered to make up some other reason to cover up for himself. “I’m afraid that teleportation spells aren’t actually particularly accurate. We could end up somewhere in the Pacific if I’m not careful.”

Mammon looks thunderstruck. “Then what about all those times you’ve teleported us?! Don’t tell me we coulda ended up in, like, the Archaic Pit or something?!”

“Well, it was always a possibility,” Solomon shrugs in reply, finishing the charm with a deft flick of his hand. “You’re a demon, I sure you could have handled yourself.”

“But…!” Mammon crosses his arms and turns away like a grumpy child. “Hmph…”

“Do say hello to [Name] for me, will you?” Simeon requests as Solomon turns to open the door, ignoring the sulking demon sitting beside him. “We haven’t been able to talk for a while.”

“You text him every day, don’t you?” Solomon asks, shooting him an unimpressed look. “I’d say that’s conversation enough.”

“Now, now, there’s no need to be stingy,” Simeon countered with a smile, tilting his head slightly to the side and leaning forward. “Besides, one misses the presence of an actual person after a while of nothing but electronic communication... especially texting is so difficult. Tell him he’s always welcome to come around for some tea - Luke would be happy to see him.”

Solomon shakes his head, but makes a sound of affirmation nevertheless. You had mentioned that you’ve missed seeing Simeon since he’d started the whole negotiator businesss, and he isn’t the sort of person to deny you the company of a friend. “I’ll let him know. Anyway, I should really be going now…”

“Have a safe journey!” Simeon calls after him as he swings the door open and sweeps out. Solomon waves a hand over his shoulder in response, then disappears down the corridor, most likely to a quiet spot in the courtyard to use his charm. He’s been banned from using them indoors ever since he accidentally shattered one of the fancy artifacts in the assembly hall and sent hundreds of shards flying everywhere. Apparently Barbatos is still finding tiny pieces of glass in the crevices of the floor.

“Why didn’t Solomon ever say anythin’?” Mammon asks Simeon after a moment of quietude. “Seems like the sorta thing you’d mention.”

“Solomon’s a private man,” Simeon says with a shrug. “Besides, he and [Name] have made plenty of enemies over the years, and you’d be shocked by how quickly names and locations can spread…”

“Does he mind us knowin’ about it, then?”

“Well, personally, I’ve known for a while,” Simeon answers, “And I’m sure the others will have worked it out by now - Solomon’s always finding ways to mention [Name] in passing. But no, I’m sure he doesn’t mind. He’d say something if he did.”

Mammon nods and goes silent for a little while. Then he asks, “What’s this [Name] like, then? Must be some guy if Solomon liked him enough to put a ring on him and keep him for that long.”

“Well, let’s see…” Simeon drums his fingers thoughtfully against the tabletop. “He has quite the penchant for raising deadly plants, he hasn’t gone more than a full month without exploding something or another for about five centuries, he takes clocks apart in his spare time, he likes his coffee with a touch of vanilla, he collects cursed books, he makes a lovely butterscotch-cinnamon pie, and he works as a curse breaker for hire.”

It takes a moment for Mammon to process all of the information that’s just been dumped on him. “...sounds like the kinda guy Satan would get along with.”

“I thought so as well,” Simeon agrees. “Their house even reminds me of Satan’s room, in a way… [Name] is quite the avid reader.”

“What, you’ve been?”

“Only once,” Simeon’s eyes flutter closed for a moment as he reminisces. “Quite a long time ago now. I wouldn’t know where to find it even if I wanted to go again, though - it’s always moving.”

“Do they move house a lot, then?”

Simeon shakes his head. “Oh, no, no. They’ve lived in the same house for centuries - it’s the house that moves itself.”

Mammon pauses. “...what?”

“The building,” Simeon clarifies. “They’ve got an enchantment on the whole thing that makes it change locations every couple of weeks or so.”

“But… why?”

Simeon shrugs. “[Name] doesn’t like staying in one place for too long.”

“Still, isn’t that a bit much…?” Mammon pulls a face. “They could always just travel, ya know…”

“As Solomon said, transportation talismans make [Name] feel queasy,” Simeon explains. “And he prefers not to use teleportation spells when it comes to him, just in case they end up somewhere dangerous.”

“And he doesn’t care about the rest of us ending up somewhere dangerous?” Mammon huffs and collapses forwards onto the table.

“Well, you can’t really compare the two,” Simeon says patiently as the demon continues to mutter indignantly under his breath. “He’s his husband, and we’re essentially just his friends from work.”

Mammon opens his mouth to make a rebuttal, then thinks about it for a moment and changes his mind. After a moment, he comments, a little less resentfully, “Well, you’d think he’d at least introduce us.”

“He’s been planning to for a while, actually,” Simeon tells him. “Give him some time and he’ll probably bring it up on his own.”

Mammon nods. “He’d better!”

“I’m home.”

You look up from the book you’re reading and hop down from your seat on the roof just in time to see Solomon emerge from the back garden, looking noticeably dishevelled, with leaves decorating his head like some sort of fancy accessory.

“Welcome back!” You greet him happily, setting the book aside and moving forward to start picking the leaves from his hair. Solomon smiles softly at you as you take his bag in one hand and start pulling him to the front door with the other. “You forgot your talisman again, by the way.”

“I noticed,” He laughs, gently removing your hand from his upper arm and wrapping his fingers around it instead. “Why else do you think I ended up in the hedges again?”

“It’s a wonder that you’ve had to make these temporary talismans so many times and you still haven’t gotten one right yet,” You tease in reply, nudging him in the shoulder. “How many points is that on the tally now, then?”

“Ten for the basement, seven for the roof, and eleven for the hedges now,” He answers with a small pout as you laugh. “Honestly, you’d think I would have learnt my lesson...”

“You never do, love.” 

The door creaks as you and your husband enter the house, only to immediately be greeted by a bundle of scales hitting you head-on. You manage to keep your footing and steady yourself on the doorway; Solomon isn’t so lucky, and ends up laying spread-eagled on the floor with about two hundred kilograms of excited adolescent dragon purring on his chest.

“Looks like Triton missed you,” You comment with a bright smile, setting Solomon’s bag down beside the umbrella rack and leaning over to give the dragon a scratch behind his left horn, just the way he likes it. He rumbles happily and jingles the little bell around his neck at you. “Isn’t he getting big?”

“I saw him this morning, [Name],” Solomon wheezes from his position on the floor, somehow managing to reach up and tickle Triton’s chin with one hand despite the dragon’s weight. “He can’t have grown that much in ten hours.”

“You never know!” You tell him, reaching up and wrapping your arms around Triton’s neck. He coos in a delighted fashion and raises his head, setting it heavily on your shoulder. Solomon uses the brief lightening of the weight on him to take in a deep breath as you allow your dragon to nuzzle furiously into your neck. “Dragons are unpredictable, you know.”

“Believe me, I do,” He sighs tiredly as Triton blows out a pleased puff of hot air and knocks the clock off the wall again. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind, Triton, I’d quite like to get back up again.”

The dragon blinks and raises his head from your shoulder, glancing down at the sorcerer that he’s crushing under his weight. Then he huffs and turns away again.

“Oh, you—!” Solomon curses as the dragon seems to press even harder into him. Your laughter rings out across the hall, and while he’d normally take a moment to admire the sound, he’s a little preoccupied. “[Name], stop laughing and help me!”

“He’s like a rebellious teenager!” You splutter helplessly in reply, voice still trembling slightly out of mirth. Triton makes a happy noise as you reach up and rub his scaly cheeks, his ears fluttering slightly. “Awww, you’re really growing up, aren’t you, baby? Your poor dads are really going to have their work cut out for them, huh?”

“Hey,” Solomon calls reproachfully from beneath Triton’s enormous chest. “Your husband’s still being crushed down here.”

“Oh, right!” You click your tongue and give Triton a meaningful look. He grumbles but obeys nevertheless, hopping off of Solomon (though not without knocking all the air out of him by using his chest as a launchpad) and scampering off, most likely to go play with the salamanders that have set up shop in the storage room again.

“I’ll never understand how you manage him so well,” Solomon sighs as you bend down to pull him to his feet, rubbing at the sore spot on his chest. “He never listens to me.”

“Aw, he loves you, really,” You reassure him, taking his hand and pressing a comforting kiss to his knuckles. “He just likes roughhousing with you.”

Solomon shakes his head, wanting to complain further about the big lizard that the two of you had adopted six months ago after the last one grew up and flew the nest, but then he sees the smile on your face, and he feels the flicker of irritation in his chest die down almost immediately. It’s at times like this that he’s really reminded of how absolutely worth it all of the nonsense he has to put up with at work is - because, at the end of the day, you are here, with your warm eyes and your lovely smile, with your comforting hands and your warm embrace, and there is no road too long to walk if you are waiting for him at the end of it.

“I know,” He sighs, tugging off his shoes and stepping into his favourite pair of slippers - the ones with the little cat faces printed on them that you’ve charmed to always maintain a perfect temperature for his feet. He glances at your own feet and notes that you’re wearing your matching pair as well.

The two of you have long since set up a routine for this sort of occasion, and you both fall into it with unconscious ease. Solomon changes into something more comfortable while you put the kettle on in the kitchen, and the two of you inevitably spend so long snuggled up together on the largest armchair in the living room, unwilling to leave the warmth of each other’s presence, that the water cools down, and you end up having to put it back on again. Then you sit together at the table, you with a coffee with a dash of vanilla and him with his favourite chrysanthemum tea that you always brew just the way he likes it. Sometimes you’ll sit side by side, shoulders pressed up against each other as you show him the specifics of your latest curse-breaking commission, and sometimes you’ll sit across from each other, holding hands across the tabletop as he tells you about his day.

Today it is the former, but Solomon can’t help but zone a little out of the detailed deep-dive you’re giving him about the intricacies of the spell that’s cursed this teapot to shoot its contents at anyone who attempts to fill it. It isn’t that your explanation is boring - quite the contrary, in fact; Solomon could probably listen to you describing the most mundane or trivial of things on loop for the rest of his life and be perfectly content with it. No, it’s more to do with the fact that this is the first time he’s been home before dark in a long while, and he can’t help but revel in the fact that he can spend time with you like this again. Of course, there’s something wonderful in coming home to be able to collapse into bed beside you and bury his face in the crook of your neck, drifting to sleep as you burrow closer to him even in your sleep, but Solomon can’t run off of that forever - he needs to see you with your eyes open as well, after all. 

“You’re not listening to a word I say, are you?” You ask as you note the far-off look on your husband’s face. You’re not offended in the slightest by the way he starts at the directed question, evidently guilty, but you are a little puzzled. “Is there something wrong?”

Solomon’s mouth falls open slightly, then shuts again. There’s something about the way you’re looking at him so earnestly that makes his heart stutter like nothing else. Honestly, you’d think he’d be used to this after nearly two thousand years, but it seems that he’s still as weak for you as he was on the very first day of your marriage. “...I suppose I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”

“You always have a lot on your mind,” You counter softly, giving his hand a brief squeeze. “Come on, you can tell me.”

He laughs quietly, bringing your linked hands up to his face and gently holding yours to the side of his face; you, in turn, unfurl your fingers from around his and rub his cheek affectionately. After a moment, a fond smile pulling at his lips, Solomon replies, “I’ve… missed you a lot this week.”

You pause in mild surprise, but it quickly turns to endearment as Solomon presses his body even closer to yours. The hand that you’re using to hold your mug of coffee moves to settle on his shoulder as you pull him closer. “Really now? What a coincidence. I’ve missed you lots as well, love.”

He chuckles a little bashfully, his cheeks flushing. It seems that your ability to fluster him hasn’t declined even a bit over the years. He’s still well and truly besotted.

You can’t help but find it rather amusing that, despite already having spent a good hour and a half or so in the living room, bundled so close together in the blankets that you could feel his breath on your skin, the two of you are still nestling so close together now. You suppose it’s the effects of a week with much less contact than usual.

You lean forward and press a kiss to his jaw before pulling back again, reaching for your coffee and taking a sip. Solomon exhales softly, pulling his own drink towards him and draining the last of the tea in a single mouthful.

“You know,” He says, setting his empty cup down on the table. “One of my coworkers was asking about you earlier.”

“‘Coworkers’,” You snort at his choice of language, earning a reproachful poke in the side as punishment. “Come on, just admit that they’re your friends.”

“Fine,” He sighs. “One of my friends, then - Mammon, the one that Lucifer’s stringing up all the time.”

“The one with white hair?” You recall, thinking back to the group photo that Simeon had sent you a while back. “He’s the Avatar of Greed, right?”

“That’s the one,” Solomon nods. “Apparently he never noticed that I was married.”

“Well, you can’t really blame him,” You say, giving him a playful nudge. “Honestly, the way you keep your mouth shut, you’d think I was some shameful secret or something.”

Solomon looks scandalised by the very idea - it had only been a little joke, but his eyes flash with such affront that it’s almost as if someone has genuinely called you such a thing. “Of course not! I’d never—”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, I was joking,” You cut him off before he can get more riled up. Solomon calms down quickly once you set a comforting hand on his knee, though he still looks a little indignant. “I know why you don’t like talking about us much, but really, it’s okay. They’re your friends, aren't they?”

He hesitates, then nods, releasing another deep sigh soon afterwards. “I suppose. There isn’t much I can really do about it at this point anyway… according to Simeon, most of them have somehow figured it out already.”

“They’re probably a lot smarter than you give them credit for, Sol,” You hum, reaching up and brushing a stray lock of hair out of his eyes for him. “They’re demons, after all. They’ve lived even longer than us.”

“Believe me, they really aren’t.” Solomon shakes his head, a frown pinching at his brow at the very memory of the amount of things that his coworkers have done recently - some of the most notable being Diavolo setting an entire flock of geese free in the courtyard for an ‘experiment’, Levi quite literally throwing himself out of a window just to win a bet against Mammon about who could get down the stairs faster, Asmo causing a stampede in the main hall by dropping and shattering a bottle full of a powerful aphrodisiac potion that became even more powerful once released into the air, and Lucifer accidentally breaking one of Solomon’s favourite cauldrons when he’d transformed into his demon form and inadvertently smacked halfway across the room it with one of his upper wings.

“I’d really love to meet them some day,” You sigh, swirling the contents of your mug around. “They sound like fun.”

“Trust me, the trouble isn’t worth it—” Solomon attempts to reason with you, but he gives up laughably quickly as you pout at him in protest. “Oh, fine. But don’t blame me if you get sick because of the charm again.”

“We don’t have to use the charm,” You shake your head. “Just do a teleportation spell!”

“You know that that’s risky,” Solomon sighs, chucking you under the chin and leaning forward to kiss the tip of your nose. You laugh as he draws back again, a pleased smile rising on his face at your reaction. “We could end up anywhere.”

“You’ve teleported them a bunch of times, though, haven’t you? And you haven’t ended up in Texas or the Sahara Desert any of those times!”

The resemblance to his earlier conversation with Mammon and Simeon is almost uncanny. “That’s different. I was still teleporting them within the Devildom, not across an entire realm barrier… and besides, I can afford the risk with them. You’re a different story.”

You pout again, shoulders dropping in defeat, though it doesn’t escape Solomon’s notice that his sentiment seems to have appeased you at least a little. “...guess we’ll just have to use a transportation talisman, huh…?”

“That’s your only option if you really want to visit, yes.”

You go quiet for a moment or two, nose wrinkling and face scrunching as you think it over. Solomon doesn’t mind the lack of conversation - he entertains himself by studying your features, wondering for perhaps the millionth time how he managed to find someone like you.

Finally, a determined look rising on your face, you nod and proclaim, “Then I’ll do it!”

Solomon cocks his head slightly to the side. He can’t say he’s surprised by your eagerness, but he had expected it to take you longer to make up your mind. He opens his mouth to say something, but tou answer his question before he’s even asked it, a skill that you’d managed to pick up within the first year or so of knowing him.

“I really wanna see what you actually get up to when you work,” You explain, looking a little sheepish. “You’ve had a job there for nearly two years and I’ve never even said a word to the people you work with.”

Solomon laughs. “It isn’t usually a requirement in the workplace. Wear appropriate uniform, bring any equipment you need, introduce your husband to your coworkers within the decade…”

“Still, I’d feel bad if I didn’t at least meet them,” You say. “Besides, I want to see Simeon as well. You said he’s working down in the Devildom for a bit as well, didn’t you?”

“Why are you so eager to see him, huh?” Solomon’s tone is light and teasing, so you know not to take him seriously as he puts on an hurt expression. “I’m offended. Your dear husband’s right here and you’re thinking about some angel.”

“Oh, stop it, you,” You shake your head in slightly exasperated amusement as he runs a finger down his cheek in lieu of a tear. “You know it’s not like that.”

“Isn’t it?” He pulls an exaggeratedly petulant face and pretends to turn away like an upset child. “Sometimes I feel like you love him more than me.”

“Simeon’s a lovely guy, but you’re still the only guy for me, you doof,” You tell him, tapping fondly at the cheek he’s turned to you with your free hand. Solomon obligingly turns back around to look at you, a grin pulling at his mouth. “Why would I marry you and then stay here for two thousand years if you weren't?”

“I guess I always assumed it was out of pity or something,” He jokes in response, leaning forward and briefly brushing his nose against yours. “And, just so you know, you’re the only guy for me as well.”

“I’d better be,” is your lighthearted reply as he pulls away. After a moment, looking at him expectantly, you begin tentatively, “So…?”

He sighs, but gives you a smile nevertheless. “I’ll ask Diavolo. He probably wouldn’t mind if I brought you without asking first, but Lucifer definitely would.”

“What’ll we do if they hate me?” You ask. “Do demons actually eat humans?”

“They wouldn’t dare,” He replies firmly. “Not if I have anything to say about it. Besides, they won’t hate you. I doubt anyone could.”

You laugh and drop your head to rest on his chest. “You’re too nice to me, love.”

Solomon turns to wrap both his arms around your shoulders, setting his chin on the crown of your head. You smile into his jumper, looping your own arms around his waist and pushing yourself closer to him.

“I’m not just being nice. Honestly, [Name], you’re kind of the most perfect man in the universe.”

[pure-kirarin]

Slow & Steady [P2] [Sabo x f!reader] (+18)

Genre : Romance - Smut - Bestfriends to lovers General warnings : Alcohol consumption - Dark themes - Swearing - S m u t - possessiveness - Mention of ex-relationships - jealousy

A/N : This is really different from my usual writing style but I am experimenting. Please tell me your thoughts and don’t hesitate to ask to be added to the tag list :) AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/31877203?view_full_work=true

In the last chapter --  «-Enough playing now, you're going to sleep. -B-but ! This wasn't what I asked for....You're really a coward after all...You virgin... » He carried you to his room, putting you on the bed and sitting next to you. «-I'd love to prove you wrong. However, it would be better if you were in a state where you'd be able to recall how good I am. If you want me to fuck you this badly then maybe ask me when you're sober.

Part I - Part II

Part II  -Yeah yeah...Pff..You're no fun Sabo. Things were finally getting interesting ! »

He smiled seeing that you were now calmer. You started to yawn and bury your face in his pillow. He loved to see you getting so comfortable in his room. He really needed a cold shower after your little show.  -Goodnight (Y/N). I'll sleep on the couch. You can get comfortable. -Are you crazyy ? You gonna leave me alone like this ? Let's sleep together~ -Come on (Y/N), you're a big girl. You could sleep alone for one night, would you ? Translation : I don't want to spend the whole night with a semi. And you're dangerously flirty, and I have wanted you for years and now I have to abstain.

-Pleaaaase. You said looking at him with puppy eyes. He rolled his eyes placing a hand in his hair. God.damn.it.

You won again. Like every time. * * *  You opened your eyes hardly next day, feeling something hard against your thigh. You looked at the ceiling

Oh...I am not in my room...Where the fuck am I ?

you turn around only to discover the embodiment of Adonis to your side. A light beam was lighting up Sabo's face. He looked like an angel as his beauty couldn't be that of a human.

Was he always this handsome ?

You didn't know, in fact, you have never had the occasion to wake up in his bed. Wait, in his bed ? This realization came slowly as your head was still foggy from yesterday's consumption.

You looked down, the thing that was pressing against your leg was indeed :

his thing.

You frowned, blushed, pulled away, put a hand on your lips repressing an internal scream, all of this in around three seconds. You then tried to calm down, telling yourself that it was very normal for a man to experience this kind of morning unconviniences, and that Sabo was a man, after all. Even if  you have always seen him as a bestfriend, he was still a man that is capable of physical attraction.

Now that this internal monologue was done with, you felt a bit calmer, but that didn't answer your question. You got out of bed, trying to recall what happened after going in the bar. And it came back. All of it. Without any mercy for your feelings.

You wanted the ground to swallow you whole. Your only wish was to disappear which meant : calling Nami. You headed out of the house, not even having the courage to face your bestfriend.

« Namiiiii -Uh ? What's the matter ? -I fucked up. I fucked up really bad. -Oh yeah ? Tell me about it. -Wait, why do you seem excited ? -O-oh I'm not excited. Come on tell me. What else could you have possibly done ? -I asked Sabo to fuck me. -Wait what ? You could hear Vivi ask Nami about what happened and her answering « She asked Sabo to fuck her ». -Nami ! Don't go on telling everyone about this. I'm on my way. -For starters, Vivi isn't « everyone », she's my girlfriend. And I'm here waiting for you to tell me what happened. -Wait, I'll come at your place. This can't be discussed over the phone. »

You hung up on her. Ten minutes later, you were at her place. Extremely confused. Nami was painting her nails bright red on the bed while Vivi was sitting comfortably on a chair. You let your whole body weight fall on a lounge pug, tourmented.  «-So tell me how you and Sabo ended up fucking. She emphasized the last word in a way that made you almost choke on air.  -We didn't actually. Nami and Vivi both sighed in a synchronized « Ah » of disappointment. -So hmm...I don't remember clearly. I was really drunk-- well that you're aware of and...And Sabo didn't want to leave me alone so we went to his place. Ace was at Thatch's so we were alone. We hugged and he comforted me. Then I started teasing him, and I don't know what I was thinking, but I kissed him, and then I asked him to fuck me. -Wow that escalated quickly. Said Nami as she continued painting her nails.

-Well, I was heartbroken, I needed something, someone, and he was there, and you know Sabo, he's a good guy ! I don't know what's worse, the fact that I asked him to fuck me or the fact that he said no.

-Oh god I'm so so sorry

- Nami please don't make things worse for me.

-No offense, but you're so dense. Sabo has always been into you. Do you want him, or do you not ? I know that going right into a relationship after a breakup is a bad idea. But honestly it's worth giving it a shot. He's a really good guy. Try dating someone nice for once.

-I don't know, he has something unsettling about him. Like « almost too good to be true » you know ? Added Vivi.

-Ohhh~ I see. Honestly, I always thought that he was a bit prude and hella vanilla. I mean, yes, he's my best friend. But he has never talked about girls to me or about sexual stuff. So I just assumed that. I never thought that he'd be packin' like that. You said as you popped a lollipop in your mouth.

-Ah ? Was it really that impressive ? asked Nami, genuinely curious.

-Yeah. On a scale from 0 to doflamingo he's a solid eight point seventy five. (*)

-Oh gosh. I understand why you're so worked up now.

-That's really...precise. Added Vivi, a bit horrified.

(*) [ The dear reader might need this clarification ; Doflamingo was Law's uncle, he sometimes came to pick him up after uni with his luxurious lamborghini. He wore extremely tight pants that left little to the imagination. And he was most known among your clique for having a nine incher. It was a running joke wether to know if Law got his uncle's genes. Needless to say that this joke wasn't to Law's taste. Now back to our adorable Y/N. ]

-So. I really don't know what to do. I am still heartbroken. -And horny. Added the ginger. -Yeah, that too. I'm afraid of ruining our friendship. -Listen dear, said Nami as she was closing the nail polish bottle, if you're not going for it, someone else would. And trust me, that girl Koala is upping her game. She's going to steal him right in front of your eyes, just like this - and she snapped her fingers. -Oh, and then, you can forget about being « best friends ». Said Vivi adding fuel to the fire. -Yeah, once he's gonna start dating, he won't have too much time for you-- and then, that Koala girl, my god, she seems extremely possessive ! -No way, your voice was detached, trying to act is if you weren't worried, Sabo has never dated any girl before.- -Yes but he seems to get along with that girl. And to be honest, she's kinda cute.

-Nami ! Vivi pinched her forearm playfully, pretending to be jealous.

-That hurt ! And don't be jealous, you know that you're my only one~

-Hmm...I prefer that. Vivi laughed. You started caughing reclaiming for their attention.

-Attention please ! We're discussing my dick-appointment here.

-Jesus you're really annoying, (Y/N), just go for it already.

-How much did he pay you to tell me this huh ?

-What ? He didn't pay me ! You're just always getting your heart broken. I'm just trying to be a good friend.

-Say that you are trying to get rid of her~ Jokes Vivi.

-Vivi, don't expose me like this- Nami plays along while laughing.

-I hate you girls ! You say as you throw a pillow on Nami. The ginger starts complaining that you messed her Nail polish, and the whole scene metamorphosed into a pillow fight.

* * *

You spent the whole day with the girls, chit-chatting about boys and girls and playing stupid games. You felt way more comfortable now, less ashamed. However, you were surprised because you didn't get a message from your bestfriend. You wondered wether he was mad at you, it wasn't in his habits.

You decided to message Ace [click for conversation] [ (Y/N) : Heyy amigo is Sabo ok ? Did he tell u smth abt yesterday ? Ace : Ouch, your hurting my feelings, </3 Only talking to me to ask about my brother~ Yea hes okay why tho ? (Y/N) : Ooo kay. He's home ? Ace : He is. Why don't u directly text him ? (Y/N) : Don't tell him I asked. Btw I didn't forget about those 10 bucks you « borrowed » from me. Give it back.] He didn't answer. You sighed and decided to go see Sabo to settle things down. It was the first time that you were embarrassed to see your best friend. You dressed up in a black skirt and t shirt. You didn't usually pay attention to your looks when you went to hang out at Sabo's, but you were really stressed out and what the girls have said about Koala made you scared of losing him. After all, you had some abandonment issues. You had to settle this down once and forever. You arrived at the guy's place, it was an apartment not so far from your own student flat. You knocked on the door and Ace opened : -Ohhh, (Y/N), he whistles, lookin' like a girl today huh ? -What are you implying you dumbass ? Where's Sabo ? -He's in his room with Koala.- -Wait what ? Koala ? What is she doing here ? Ace raised an eyebrow then said amused ; -I don't know, go ask him yourself. -You're useless as usual. -Always so sweet. You on your period or something ? -I didn't forget about my twenty bucks by the way. -I said I'm goin' to pay you back alright ? Now go talk to Sabo. You and Ace were always teasing each other in a brotherly way, but in reality, he really cared for you, it was just your usual way of communication. But it was true that knowing that Koala was in Sabo's room put you in a bad mood. You knocked on the door with a knot in your stomach. Did they start dating ? Was Sabo interested in her ? These ideas were torturing you. But why did you care anyways ? It was none of your business. He could date whoever he wants. You opened the door but there was only Sabo relaxing on his bed, still fully clothed. « - Sabo ?-Oh, (Y/N), what brings you here ? -Why ? Do I need a reason to see my best friend ? He sits on bed looking at you. He doesn't fail to notice your cute outfit, it was different from your usual sweatpants and hoodies, the way it complemented your figure was almost too much for him. Just that sight was driving him insane, but his face didn't betray his emotions, like always, he acted friendly, not an ounce of lust in his dark ebony eyes. You took place next to him. He smelled good, you thought. The same fresh minty smell as last time. Did he always smell this good ? -(Y/N) ?Huh ? Is everything okay ? His voice seemed concerned.He cared for you. And you had those stupid immature and posessive thoughts. Get a grip of yourself, (Y/N), you thought. -Oh yea-- wasn't Koala here ? Ace told me you were with her.

You tried so hard to act like you didn't care, but he knew you like the back of his hand. But still, he played along. -Hmm..Yes. She just left. I was going out as well. He says with a sweet smile, looking at his watch. You couldn't help but make a disappointed face. -But Sabo I wanted to - I'm really sorry (Y/N), let's talk later. He ruffles your hair and you close your eyes as he does so. You felt stressed out. What happened exactly ? You felt intimidated in his presence for the first time. You wanted him to stay and talk this out. It was a bit awkward for you now. You never thought too much. As he was going out of the room you held the fabric of his coat tight in your hand ; -Sabo- -Hum ? Need me to drop you somewhere ? -N-no. You let his sleeve go, realizing what you have just done, I'll stay a bit then go back home. Don't worry about me. -Alright then. See you later ? -Yeah. See ya. ]

You looked at Sabo go away and you followed him shortly after. Meanwhile Ace was sitting on the couch and watching some movies. You went back home and was quite tormented. It wasn't the right time to worry as you had your assignments and studies to deal with. On one hand, you didn't even have the time to think of your ex boyfriend and his cheating but on the other, you felt like you were let down by Sabo. But why ? He didn't do anything. He just found himself a new friend and a potential new girlfriend.

He didn't even talk about her, but why where you so upset by him meeting her ? After all, he had the right to date just like you always did.

A few days have passed and you didn't get the chance to talk to Sabo. Your exams were getting closer and closer and you didn't feel ready.

Usually, Sabo would help you with your assignments but you were too scared to ask. You realized how much you relied on him and how he has been always there for you.

Who were you exactly to him ?

Maybe you took him for granted.

As you were on your bed looking at the ceiling and trying to collect every drop of motivation in your system to study, you heard your phone ring. It was Sabo's ringtone ! ----- Tag list : @vemuabhi @chloe-abbacchio @mwls-garden @soanywaysistartedsimping If you wanna get tagged just ask for it :)

[batsandbugs]

The Great IKEA Game

Chapter 5: Vent Shenanigans and Keurig Conversations

AN: Okay, this is the last that anyone is going to hear of me for two weeks. Then I’m out of school and will be ready to crank out some more chaos. Until then, I hope you guys enjoy!

Television shows made navigating through vents appear much easier than it was in real life. Then again, they also made being a superhero look easy too, and Marinette was painfully aware how that was false. 

Her knees and back ached from crawling through the low ceiling vents, and though she wasn’t claustrophobic, she was decidedly cramped. And if that’s how she felt, Damian, at more than half a foot taller, had to be doubly suffering. She asked how he was doing.

“I've crawled through far more pleasant vents before,” he replied seriously. “If we could continue quickly, we’ll come out near another vent gate in about ten or so minutes.”

They continued in silence until they came to a fork in the vent.

“Which way?” asked Marinette.

Damian hesitated. “I didn’t see this on the plans.”

“So, you don’t know.”  

“I did not say that.”

“So which way do we go?”

Silence.

Marinette sighed and closed her eyes, poking for the pooled energy inside herself. Being the Guardian of the Miraculous had helped her innate magic to grow in leaps and bounds, but it was her Ladybug powers she ultimately searched for. After being bonded with Tikki for so long, certain… qualities tended to bleed over. One such ability was making decisions infused with good luck. It wasn’t easy, but it was one she had been working hard to master.  

A glimmer of magic burned in her chest, and a fleeting whispered voice told her to turn left. She smiled in the dark of the vent.

“Left,” she said confidently, “we go left.”

“Why?”

Marinette’s smile turned into a smirk, even though Damian couldn’t see her. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”

“You wouldn’t be the first to try.” The quickness made the reply appear casual, but Marinette could tell by the steel in his tone it told more truth than intended.

‘Who the hell did I team up with?’ her brain once again asked.

“Let’s leave me off the list,” she said, bypassing the dangerous remark with a gymnast's grace. “Come on.”

She crawled around the corner and, after only a moment’s hesitation, heard Damian follow after her.

Silence reigned for another minute or so before far in the distance they spotted light.

“Oh, thank the Kwamis, an exit,” Marinette muttered.

Damian grumbled behind her. “None of this appeared on the plans.”

“Learn to roll with the flow.” The light grew stronger, so she flicked off her phone flashlight. “Chances are it didn’t take your brothers too long to track me back to our hiding spot. They probably know we’re in the vents. If they found the same plan you did…”

“They won’t have any clue about this.” She could hear the pleased smirk in his voice.

“Exactly.”

The light flooded upwards from the vent floor. The slats in between large enough to view the room below. Marinette crawled over it and maneuvered herself around to face Damian.

“Nice to see your face again.”

The dim light from the vent illuminated his face. “N-Nice to see yours too,” he said. It was at that point, it dawned on Marinette that Damian's view the whole way through the vent was an up close look at her butt. From the heat radiating off her cheeks, it was likely her face was as red as his. She was torn between laughing hysterically and curling into mortified ball and never emerging.

Instead of either of those rational actions though, her mouth, her stupid, stupid mouth, decided to betray her.

“Enjoy the view?” she asked with a grin. ''What are you doing?' She yelled at herself, that was the last thing she wanted to utter.

Damian, if it was even possible, turned redder, and coughed lightly. “You have, uh, your bottom is quite shapely.” By the end of his confession, his voice was a high-pitched squeak, more appropriate for a preteen, then an adult. It took every bit of self-control for Marinette to keep from falling apart laughing.

“Thanks, I exercise,” she responded cheekily. A familiar magical hum settled in her breastbone. Her connection to the Kwamis magic. Marinette held back from rolling her eyes, even as her inner panic grew. One of the Kwamis was helping her to flirt. Probably Plagg judging by her cheesy replies.

‘They are the physical embodiments of the powers of the universe, and they choose to help me flirt. What even is my life?’

“It's working well,” replied Damian, with more of a teasing tone than an embarrassed one, although his cheeks still appeared redder than normal.

“Yeah, well…” Marinette sat there struggling for a reply, when noise from below cut off their impromptu flir- teasing session.

“I swear to God, if I find out who caused the mess in the Market Hall, I'll strangle them with my bare hands,” complained a voice from below.

Marinette winced when she saw Damian looking at her with a raised eyebrow. She hadn’t meant to cause that much damage.

“Oh, come on, Ian, it’s not like it was unscrewed on purpose. A bolt probably loosened and the shelf got bumped into. Blame it on bad luck.”

“Well, can I strangle bad luck then?”

Marinette held back an undainty snort. Plagg's constant whining and complaining coming to mind. ‘There I certain days I definitely want to.’

“I don’t think so. I’m more worried about the giant cart pile up.” At that, Damian raised a second eyebrow, and Marinette shrugged, she didn't controlled what the Bad Luck Balls did. “We’re gonna need to test all the carts to check for any more loose wheels, that’s gonna take forever. Anyway, are you headed home?”

“Yeah, I’m half an hour over the end of my shift,” responded Ian. Marinette could see two people moving around in the room below. “Ooh look, someone brought in doughnuts! You want one Casey?”

“No thanks, still trying to stay on that diet. I just came in here for a drink and then I’m back out on the floor.” The sound of a fridge door opened. “See you next week.”

“Yeah, you too Casey.”

The sound of another door opened leaving the room below silent once more.

“Shopping carts?” Damian asked, half-amused, and half bewildered. “I didn’t hear about that.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Escape was the highest priority, okay?”  

“When would you find the time to accomplish that?”

Marinette hesitated, there was no good explanation to give that would satisfy him. She wouldn’t tell him about the Miraculous or the Kwamis. It was her job, no her duty, to maintain their safety, and after everything she had fought for, bled for, nearly died for... no matter how comfortable he made her, there was no way he'd learn about what she could do. Especially when she had the feeling he was far more than meets the eye. Which didn’t leave much in the way of a good excuse for what she did and how.

Then, as if understanding Marinette’s great need for a distraction, their stomachs rumbled in unison. They looked at each other for a moment before laughing.

Marinette huffed, wiping away a tear of joy from her eye. “Okay, we need to find food to eat.”

Damian nodded. “The food court is a no go now; Drake will monitor it even more closely than before. We could find a vending machine?”

An idea popped into Marinette’s mind. “Or… how about the doughnuts?”

“Huh?”

She pointed down. “This is the breakroom. Ian mentioned doughnuts.”

“That would be stealing.”

“As opposed to the twenty other things we’ve stolen over the course of the past two hours?”

Damian rolled his eyes. “I can back pay those.”

“So, we’ll send them a box of doughnuts once we’ve won. I’m sure the IKEA employees will understand the doughnut's sacrifice to a worthy cause. Besides, breakrooms have coffee machines.”

Damian sneered. “Coffee from a machine will taste will taste like swill.”

“Didn't you say your brother dragged you out of bed at eight this morning? Coffee means caffeine, which means energy.”

He tilted his head and contemplated it for a moment. “Fair point.” He looked at the grate. “It’s probably a ten-foot drop. Can you handle that?”

Marinette had to refrain from rolling her eyes. She had free fallen off the Eiffel Tower before, she could handle a measly ten-foot drop. But Damian wasn't aware of any of that of course. “Yeah, I can do that.”

He dug into his pocket and pulled out the laser pen. “Back up, it’s going to get hot in here.”

Marinette averted her eyes while Damian cut the grate away with the laser, the heat making the metal vent shaft turn into a furnace. She wiped away at a bead of sweat forming at her brow. The grate gave way and clattered against the floor below. Damian put away the laser and gave her a quick smirk. He slipped his legs into the hole where the grate had been and jumped to the floor, landing with a soft thud.

Breathing a sigh of relief at finally leaving the cramped vent, Marinette maneuvered her legs to dangle over the vent opening and slid out, bracing herself for the landing.

But instead of meeting the floor, she found herself caught in mid-air. Damian had her in his grasp, holding her off the floor by a few inches with his strong arms snug around her waist. Their eyes caught and the air between them grew thick with tension. His bare hands brushed against a sliver of her exposed back, the contact sent shivers up her spine.

Neither of them breathed for a brief moment.

“I told you I could handle the drop,” Marinette said, her words barely above a whisper.

“I know.” Damian’s voice matched hers. The look in his eyes impossible to decipher. His arms tightened for a moment, before letting her slip-free.

Marinette smiled, resting her hands against his arms. “Thanks.”

Damian opened his mouth, hesitated, then closed it. He stepped back, effectively breaking the bubble around them. Marinette pushed the rapid flutter in her chest away. She could deal with it later when she was far removed from crazy games of hide-and-seek, and dark-skinned boys who made her too comfortable to be safe.

She turned and looked around the room they had dropped into, finding it, thankfully, empty. The last thing they needed was security getting called on them. Spotting the counter with the box of doughnuts on it, Marinette smiled.

She walked over to the box. “Well, it’s no Parisian artisan pastries, but I suppose the chain-restaurant swill will suffice,” she teased, looking back over her shoulder at Damian.  

“Ha, ha, very funny,” he deadpanned. Heading over to the coffee machine to start a new pot. She turned her attention back to the box, the words Krispy Kreme printed on the front in large green letters, several doughnuts still inside.

“Which one do you want?” she asked.

“Anything with chocolate.”

“You have excellent taste.”

“I strive too.” That made Marinette smile. It was such a Chole-like response. She had to make sure never to introduce the two of them.

Marinette pulled out a few doughnuts and put them in the microwave. They would taste much better warm. After a few seconds, she brought the plate over to Damian staring at the ancient coffee machine with distaste.

“Here, you take this.” She pushed the plate of warm doughnuts into his hands. “And I’ll deal with this.” Grabbing a filter to place the pre-crushed coffee grounds into.

“Tt, why don’t they use a Keurig?” he asked with a sneer.

“Uh… because it’s a breakroom in an IKEA?” Marinette was shocked to find a breakroom at all. She’d figured employees would have to lean against the wall if they wanted a break, before being prodded into moving again by their superior. At least, she thought that was what Americans did.

Damian scoffed. “Everyone uses Keurig.”

“Even you, Mr. Machine coffee tastes like swill?”

“No, Alfred makes our coffee in the morning French press style. I do occasionally steal Drake’s Keurig out of his room when he hasn’t slept in four days to watch him cry though.”

“Damian!” she exclaimed.

“What? It’s for his own good. At that point he’s more likely to make a mistake, he needs sleep, not more caffeine.”

Marinette's thoughts flickered to her own Keurig she bought before she left Paris and the number of times she had played out the exact scenario Damian described. “Coffee is a lifestyle.” She grabbed two paper cups and placed one underneath the machine as the coffee dripped.

“It’s a crutch. Drake is a grown man, and he should, mlph-” Marinette cut him off by shoving a chocolate doughnut into his mouth. He glared at her.

“Getting between a determined person and their coffee is a criminal offense and should be punished.” She grabbed a doughnut for herself taking a bite of the sugary pastry. It tasted nothing like her parents’, but her empty stomach didn't care, so it would do. “Who’s Alfred by the way? Another brother?”

Damian took half the doughnut out of his mouth, swallowing the rest. “Most people wouldn’t dare to take the liberties you do with me.”

“Good thing I’m not most people,” Marinette responded with a smile. “You’re avoiding the question.” She took the cup out, now full to the brim of steaming hot coffee, and replaced it with the second.

“No, fortunately, I have no more brothers. Although my father likes to pick up strays so who knows if we’ll obtain another. Alfred is our butler.”

Thankfully, Marinette hadn’t taken a sip of coffee otherwise she might have done a spit-take. “You have a butler?” She had gotten the impression his family was pretty rich, and she was used to her friends having personal staff, but never failed to shock her when this level of luxury was mentioned so casually.

Damian shrugged. “Tt, butler, pseudo-grandfather, the only reason our family functions even semi-normally; same difference.”

Marinette shook her head in exasperation. “If you say so.” She pulled out the second cup, handing it to Damian. He took a sip.

“If mediocre had a taste…”

“Oh, shut up and drink it.”

They devoured their meager rations in silence, going back for seconds on both doughnuts and coffee. Marinette was by no means full when she finished, but at least her stomach wasn’t threatening to eat itself anymore.

“So, where do we go from here?” she asked.

Damian pulled out his phone. “The store closes at nine, which means we either have to avoid my brothers for eight more hours, or…”

“We have to knock them out of the game completely.”

“Exactly.”

“So, are we gonna actually knock them out, or should we just get them kicked out of the store?” She would normally try to avoid the use of excessive force on civilians, but from the few hints Damian had dropped, Marinette figured his family was used to a higher level of insanity. Living in Gotham must have that effect.

“Effective and vicious,” commented Damian, “I like the way you think. As much fun as it would be to knock them out, getting them kicked out is probably the better method. We have… family plans for this evening that potential concussions would make difficult.”

“Who’s our first target?”

“Drake,” said Damian without a moment’s hesitation. “He’s their eyes and ears. The other two are still good at hacking, but he’s the best. Get rid of him, and Grayson and Todd will be scrambling to recover. Plus, he’s the least likely to put up a fight.”

With a plan made, they erased their presence from the breakroom, hiding the lasered off vent grate and discarding their trash. Once confident the coast was clear they snuck out of the breakroom, and into the bowels of the back hallways, leaving nothing but doughnut crumbs and the smell of coffee in their wake.

It was time for the hunters to become the prey.

Tag List (closed, sorry) 

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[tsumuki]

haikyuu boys as different types of love languages

a/n basically the boys i think most embody the 5 basic love languages; super random but

physical touch as sugawara koushi

constantly touching you in some way whether it be patting your head, holding you hand, rubbing your back

greets you with a hug and kiss every morning and every night when he drops you off

also guides you by having his hand on the small of your back in the hallways, so it’s not as obvious as holding hands

but in private he’s all over you, laying on top of while you have your arms and legs wrapped around him, when you’re cooking he’s hugging you from behind, or when you’re working he’ll take your hand and use the excuse “i can type with one hand”

“koushi i cant breathe” you say as he lays on top of you, in attempt to cuddle you.

“it’s okay you can die like this” he says as he nuzzles further into your neck. you hit his back lightly, letting out an airy laugh. his warmth spreads through your body and you inhale his scent.

he gets up and looks at you as he flips you over, so now your laying on his chest and straddling his waist. “better now?” he says with a cheeky grin.

you feel your cheeks heat up as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling his face closer, teasing him as your lips brush against each other.

“so that’s how you wanna play?” he questions as he quirks his brow, he moves his hands lower to your waist pulling you even closer.

“two can play at this game babe.”

words of affirmation as oikawa tooru

oikawa is no stranger to self doubt and insecurities, but since he knows what it feels like, he never wants you to feel that way

tells you everyday that he loves you, even if you guys are fighting, he will make an effort to send at least a text, reminding you that he loves you

reminds you every morning how beautiful you look, definitely a great hype man.

knows that his fan girls can be a lot sometimes, so he puts in extra effort to reassure you he only has eyes for you

you felt pathetic, crying on your boyfriends bedroom floor pouring out your insecurities. his fan girls were so beautiful, thin, and what were you?

his heart aches as he wraps his arms around you, cooing in your ear. if he could take the pain away he would, but he can’t. so he speaks up instead,

“baby, you know what i love about you?” he waits for a reply, continuing when he’s met with silence,

“i love when your eyes light up when you talk, or how you look when the moon lights your face when we walk at night.”

he hears your cries start to soften, his heart warming as he continues.

“i also love how your cheeks lift when you smile, or how your hair flows when you let it down” he kisses your head,

“baby i could go on, but we’d never stop. i know how you’re feeling, but if you remember anything i tell you tonight, remember, you’re my world. if only you could see yourself from my eyes, you’d love yourself beyond compare. and i’ll always be here to remind you of what you’re worth”

he kisses the top of your head and lifts your head up so you meet eyes, “okay?”

“okay.”

quality time as kenma kozume

introverted bby so he prefers staying in with you, usually orders food and listens to you ramble about your day or whatever else is on your mind

isn’t the most talkative, but a great listener. when you’ve run out of things to talk about you two just enjoy each other’s presence while doing your own thing

always makes an effort to walk you home after school so you can spend more time together

will sometimes show up to your house unannounced and lays on your bed while you do homework or talk to your friends

you don’t have to be talking to each other, but he’s comforted knowing you’re around

“hey babe” you say as you enter his room, he greets you back as you make your way to his bed. he lifts up his arms allowing you to rest your head on his lap.

“how was your day” he says, eyes still glued to his monitor. you rub his thigh and start your ramble about today’s stories, but then you stop. worry creeping in about talking to much and potentially annoying him since he was gaming.

“why’d you stop, i’m still listening babe”

although it’s small, you can’t help but feel your heart swell knowing you’re not a bother to him, even with your constant rambling.

not long after you two fall into a comfortable silence and you get up and pull out your work from your bag and mindlessly start. you notice kenma starting to dose off, soon he’s the one who rests his head on your lap.

you sigh contently as you bring your hand to his hair and play with the ends, he hums when he feels your touch. you smile as you push your work the the side and you close your eyes as well, dosing off as well.

you can always finish your work later, you think to yourself as you slip into unconsciousness, your hand still playing with kenma’s hair.

acts of service as iwaizumi hajime

isn’t the best with words so decides to let his actions do the talking

does small things like walking you to class even if his class is the other way or walk you home even if he’s tired from practice

i also believe he’s a great cook, so he prepares lunches and snacks for you while he’s making his

also when your sick he’ll pick up your work from your classes, prepare some food for you, and will care for you while you’re sick

or when you’re stressed w school or work he’ll tidy up your room / house so you come home to a clean space so you’re able to relax. overall motherly af

everything was falling apart. no matter how much you tried to balance out your school, work, social life, and clubs it never worked out, something was always overlooked and missed.

you received many texts and reminders from iwaizumi to not over work yourself. although you knew you should’ve told him, you hid it from him, not wanting him to worry. he has been working so hard with his work, that you don’t want to add any stress. so you put on a smile.

you groan as you clock out of work, making your way back to you and iwaizumi’s apartment. once you get home you’re met with a delicious aroma. you’re confused, to your knowledge iwaizumi had been working late tonight.

you make your way into the apartment to be met with iwa’s back to you, as he cooks something on stove. you scan the apartment to see your books and papers organized and everything that littered the floors and tables, put away and tidied.

you exhale contently, your heart swelling at the sight as he turns around and pulls you into his arms rubbing your back. the simple act makes your eyes water.

“i know how stressed you’ve been. you don’t have to hide it” is all he says, and your few tears turn into sobs. he stays silent as he continues rubbing your back trying to sooth you, letting you know he’s here. once your tears dry he kisses your temple.

“i have a bath running for you babe, wash up and we’ll eat when you’re done” he says as he kisses you again, “and i’ll bring your clothes, they’re in the dryer”

you feel your eyes water again, not because of stress or sadness, but because you can’t contain how much you truly love him. you smile and nod, pulling him to hug him again.

“thank you so much.”

gift giving as akaashi keiji

mans is a sucker for cheesy romantic stuff

brings you a bouquet every time you guys have a date, isn’t necessarily the biggest bouquet but makes an effort to bring you one every time

goes ham when it’s your birthday, christmas, valentines, etc. holiday? you better prepare to be bombarded with gifts.

also loves taking you shopping. you always tell him he doesn’t have to buy you anything but insists. and when you see something you like but decide against getting it, he’ll buy it for you the next day

even small things like when he’s walking home and he sees a stuffed bear, he’ll buy it for you saying “it reminded him of you and he absolutely had to get it” or picking up your favorite snack and bringing it to you at much

you always tell him he doesn’t have to get you anything to be happy but he insists, that doesn’t mean you don’t shower him in gifts as well

you’re rushing through your apartment as you’re putting the final touches on your outfit for you and akaashi’s date. you jump when you hear the doorbell.

you swing the door open to be met with a face full of flowers. you blush at the sight, no matter how many times you’ve received flowers from him, you’re still flustered. you gesture him to come in, taking the flowers from his hands, thanking him.

“hey babe you look great” he says as he kisses you on the cheek. you smile back as you put the flowers into the vase with the preexisting flowers.

“you know i’m gonna drown in flowers one day if you keep getting me them babe” you say in a joking tone, he chuckles with you, “at least you’ll die a beautiful death” he retorts, laughing as you lightly hit his shoulder

he smiles as he takes both your hands, looking you up and down, “beautiful absolutely beautiful” he says, voice full of admiration. your heart swells at his simple words. “only for you” you say with a smile resting softly on your face.

“you know what would make it better though?” he asks, you shoot him a confused look and he reaches in his pocket pulling out a small velvet box.

your eyes widen and heart drops as he reveals a simple ring. he laughs at your obviously shocked expression, “hey it’s just a promise ring,” he starts, worry slightly seeping from his words, “don’t worry, this is just as a reminder, that i’ll love you forever” he finishes as he slips the ring onto your finger

you feel your eyes slightly water at his words, feeling overwhelmed with your emotions. cupping his cheeks and pulling him in for a kiss.

“so promise you want drown in my flowers before i make it a real one” he says with a cheeky grin

“promise.”