#the amount of times he asked something in general then ignored everyone else's answers then asked dream specifically...

[cleoluvrr]

Call Me (Rafe Cameron x Reader) I

SYNOPSIS: call someone else if you want that.

WARNINGS: mature content; secret relationship, verbal abuse, jealousy, general violence, manipulative behavior, explicit language, substance abuse & addiction, obsession, depiction of explicit sexual acts

masterlist

rafe always had a meanness to him, one that you’d never been oblivious to, though never really on the receiving end of it at first. the two of you would have petty banter, little arguments that would eventually reveal the underlying tension between you, but it was nothing more than that.

with others, however, you’d seen him be cruel–beyond cruel. your middle sister, just a couple years your junior, was friends with kiara carrera and those other boys she hangs out with by association. you’d heard the stories of his behavior, and while it may make you a terrible person, you really didn’t care. his business with them wasn’t yours, and you weren’t close enough to rafe to confront him about it. she’s never said he’s done anything to her directly, so what could you really do about it? it’s not like she knew you two even talked in the first place, so it was out of your hands.

maybe it was because of his strained relationship with his father, or the lack of relationship with his mother. it could be just how he is naturally; you wouldn’t be surprised.

however, you began to become a victim of his malice yourself at some point last year. you two weren’t particularly nice to each other, but there was something different this time. it used to be playful, but this time it was purposeful; at least it was on his end.

sure, rafe isn’t the most rational person in the world, but the amount of anger and frustration he was taking out on the girl he was secretly fucking was completely out of proportion. 

you asked him more times than i can remember; begging him to tell you what was wrong. even when you should have been mad at him for treating you like some bitch off the street, you simply couldn’t ignore the feeling of something being wrong with him. maybe you caught feelings for him and that’s why you cared so much, even when you shouldn’t have.

it was around the time you sister started staying out later, riding around town with her friends and stirring up trouble like she had no home-training. you were positive rafe had something to do with it, but never said anything about it. it wasn’t like he was answering your calls at the time anyway.

eventually, you just stopped talking. maybe it was inevitable, a natural occurrence from lack of mutual communication.

so when you saw him just a few dozen yards away for the first time in months, you weren’t sure how to feel.

you watch as he takes each drink to the head, shot after shot from across the room. his blonde hair that would have once been blocking his vision was now cropped short and barely visible from where you stood. the people around him encouraged the behavior, cheering him on every time he slammed the bottom of a shot glass back on the table.

he looked deceptively sober, but his body language was all the evidence you needed to know he had more than a bump of the cocaine some girl brought to the party. his alcohol tolerance was way stronger than everyone around him, the sloppiness of his friends completely opposite of his nonchalant demeanor.

that was one of many differences between the two of you. he liked to drink, get high, and do things that were far past the limits of legality that only someone with money and influence like him could get away with. you hated the feeling of losing control, of not being completely aware of what was happening around you, and would even never think of doing a fraction of the things he does.

yet, for some reason that you could never figure out, he piqued your interest. 

maybe it was because he was “bad,” and you were “good.” maybe it was his roughness that attracted you, or the way he did whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. rafe’s instability contrasted everything about you; it gave you a rush that you’ve never felt with anyone else.

“what are you looking at?”

you’re pulled out of the one-sided staring contest, the sound of your friend’s voice capturing your attention over the loud music. 

“what?” you said. you leaned down towards the shorter blond, ear in better reach of her voice.

“what are you looking at?” she repeats louder this time. her breath smells of alcohol, the pink whitney sitting in the bottom of her cup the clear cause of her slight swaying.

your eyes flicker back to the boy across the room for a moment, the sight of him leaning down to snort a white substance from the table beneath him making you cringe to yourself. your friend’s eyes follow yours, the green irises further revealed by the widening of her eyes.

“rafe cameron?” she says quite loudly, her voice carrying around the area as other people nearby turn to look at her in annoyance. “why the hell are you staring at rafe cameron?”

“say it louder, why don’t you? i don’t think russia could hear you.” your eyes tear away from him and return them to your scantily clad friend. “jesus christ, misty. you are so drunk.”

“you should try it some time.” she giggles, arm raising her cup in a cheer. you rolled your eyes at her and raised your own drink to your lips, the taste of cool water refreshing on your tongue. 

your experience with alcohol is slim by choice. the idea of not being in total control of yourself makes you more than uncomfortable, and the taste of the beverage did not appeal to you. you knew how to have a good time without the aid of alcohol or drugs.

“i’ll pass…” you say with a breathy chuckle. you pulled out your phone to check the time, the dark of the night beginning to drag on into the earliest hours of the morning. you were sure if you stayed out any longer your parents would send a search group.

the party hadn’t been much fun to me anyways, the celebration of your friend’s recent graduation not doing much to keep me entertained.

your gaze returns to the spot where rafe stood only to be met with nothing, the boy nowhere to be found in your brief sweep of the area. you look around the party from where you stood, head swiveling to find the blonde amongst the gaggle of kooks in the room. he has seemingly vanished into thin air despite being the most noticeable person in the place.

“hey, um…” you trailed off, head turning back to face a drunk misty. “i need to get home. are you ready to go?”

the girl shakes her head, finger pointing behind her to the familiar figure of her boyfriend. he was watching her closely, clearly on edge as his inebriated girlfriend consumed enough liquor to take down a grown man.

“jordan is taking me home with him.” she giggles again, eyebrows wiggling suggestively. you were sure he’d have her tucked into bed within the next two hours, whatever she thought was gonna happen would not be happening if he had anything to say about it.

“okay, girl. i’ll see you soon.” you pulled her into an embrace, the top of her head reaching the bottom of your chin as you lean down to hug her. you weren't sure how she wasn’t falling over yet–there wasn't much body for the alcohol she had befriended for the night to go through. “and lay off the liquor.” your voice was stern as you pulled away.

she throws the rest of the liquid down her throat in response, the bottom of the red solo cup left empty as crushed it beneath her fingers. you couldn’t help but to smile at her before turning away, her boyfriend now fast approaching before she got a chance to find the liquor table again.

stepping out of the party, you pull your phone from the pocket of your skirt to order a car home. it had completely slipped your mind that you rode here with misty and her boyfriend, instantly reminded of the fact that you didn’t own a car nor a license as you approached the front yard. the prices for cars at this time a night were more than you got paid per hour.

your head fell back in frustration, the warm summer breeze blowing against your bare legs as you ground out into the night sky. 

“y/n?”

the sound of your name sends a shiver down your back. you stopped dead in your tracks, as if the cool metal of a gun was being held to the back of your skull. 

your head turns in the direction of the familiar voice, eyes tearing away from the distant constellations in the night sky. lafe’s leaning against the side of his truck, a mixture of keys dangling around his finger.

“rafe.” you respond to him with his own name. “long time, no see.”

your feet carried you towards the blonde resting against the dark colored vehicle behind, eyes locked on the blue of his own. 

you could feel the sharpness of your teeth tearing into your bottom lip, the warm, bubbly feeling you got whenever the two of you were in the same room making a return. rafe’s eyes fell to the way you were ravaging the plump flesh, almost entranced by the sight. 

“how’ve you been?” the taller man pulls his gaze away and returns it to your eyes as he inquires. “heard you graduated, congrats by the way.”

“yeah, thanks.” you reply chipperly. “um…i’ve been alright. not a lot going on, to be honest. you?”

“same, same… he trails off awkwardly, the sounds of the late night filling the air between us. “hey, um, do you–do you need a ride, or anything?”

you shook your head immediately and raised your hand to show him the rideshare app on the screen.

“no, i’m good. i don’t wanna take you out of your way.” you smile politely at him as you speak. “thanks, though.”

rafe shakes his head and opens the passenger’s side door he was previously leaning on just seconds before. 

“it’s no big deal, seriously. you don’t live that far from me, i’m heading in that direction anyway.”

you stare at him wordlessly for a moment, eyes tearing away from him and flickering around the street around you. no one had exited the party after you did, at least not that you had seen. the ground was shaking beneath the two of you as the bass of the music continued strongly through the night.

you hesitantly take a step towards the car door being held open by the tall blonde, not quite sure if it’s smart for you to be around him right now. you lift yourself into the tall truck and plop down into the seat before your eyes set on rafe once again. 

the fist-stized muscle protected by your ribs feels as if it’s trying to tear your chest in half to escape just from the sight of rafe, unsure of how to behave around him anymore. 

shutting the door after seeing you settled inside, he makes his way over to the driver’s side. watching as he buckles himself in and starts the car, the roaring of the engine sent a vibration through the entirety of your being. 

“do you think you should be driving right now?” you spoke up after a minute of silence. his head turns fully to meet your eyes, his pupils large and eyes dark under the minimal lighting of the moon above.

his eyebrows raise at the inquiry before just barely furrowing them in confusion.

“you think i can’t handle my liquor?” he blinks at you in the darkness of the car, eyelids hiding and revealing the blown out pupils that had taken over the ocean blue of his irises. “you never had a problem with it before.”

your mouth opened briefly before snapping back shut, the words that left his own rendering you responseless. 

you and rafe had a long history together, though, if you were to ask anyone else that, they’d be taken by surprise. there had been plenty of times where you’ve let him drive around while he was far from sober, but it had been months since then. it had been months since you two had spoken, and it wasn’t really something you felt comfortable with anymore.

“okay, well it’s been a while and you’ve had a lot to drink tonight.” you eventually found your voice again, pointing out how long it’s been since you’d been in a situation like this one. 

rafe didn’t argue, instead choosing to shrug his shoulders wordlessly. he put the car into reverse and backed out of the driveway smoothly, the truck pulling off into the dimly lit street.

you sat in silence for the entire ride, the awkwardness in the air more on your end than his. the trees blew by on the side of the road, the leaves appearing to be nothing but dark blurs as you observed them from the window. rafe was not sparse with the gas, each sharp, fast turn leaving you more anxious than the last.

you could feel rafe glance towards me every so often, steely eyes burning into the side of your face and leaving behind a warmth in your cheeks that couldn’t be shaken.

it was when he pulled in front of your dark house that he finally broke the silence, leaving a question that you weren’t quite sure how to answer hovering in the cool air of the truck.

“hey, y/n?” 

“yeah?” you didn’t turn to face him, choosing instead to watch the windows of your house for any signs of life.

he sat wordlessly for a few seconds and you could feel his eyes on you once again, much more intensely than the first few times on the road. you were afraid to look back at him, fully aware that you would become lost in them like you did when you first met him.

“why’d you stop calling?” he asked. 

you blinked at the reflection in the window, his question echoing in your head. turning to face him, his eyes locked onto yours. they refused to let go, gaze leaving you trapped under the spell that it casts upon you. 

gulping soundlessly, you wet your mouth with the saliva collecting underneath your tongue as you prepared an answer. it felt as if the words had been stolen from your throat the moment you exchanged looks. 

“why’d you stop answering?” you said after finding your voice.

the feelings repressed began to bubble to the surface the longer you two sat in the enclosed space. you felt breathless, confused, and angry. not only at him, but at yourself as well. 

you let yourself become attached when you shouldn’t have, and because of that you had to suffer repercussions of unrequited feelings. you were angry because he left you hanging for weeks, but you let him. he treated you like shit, but you let him. you were never supposed to catch feelings, but you let yourself. 

that’s why you’re angry.

even with all of that, your heart never failed to beat out of your chest when he was near you. rafe didn’t even need to put his hands on you to leave you breathless. you should hate him, especially with how he treated you, treated your sister and her friends–but you don’t. you can’t.

that’s why you’re confused.

“i was dealing with a lot. i’m sorry.”

“that’s not really an excuse, rafe.” your lips pursed at him before rubbing together, the clear lip gloss coating them acting as a lubricant to prevent friction between them. “you didn’t want to tell me what was wrong when i asked, so you don’t get to use that card.”

rafe puts the car into park before fully turning to you, the furrow of his brow intensifying as he squints. shaking his head slightly, he opens his mouth to speak.

“it didn’t have anything to do with you, though.” he said. “i didn’t wanna drag you into my shit because it was…it was a lot. it was a lot and you didn’t need to be involved.”

“okay, and that’s fine.” your eyes flickered over at the dashboard’s clock to check the time, the number rising with each minute into the night. you turned back to him. “what’s not fine is blowing me off for months and then asking me why i stopped calling. you didn’t care to answer the phone when i did.”

rafes hand rakes over his buzzed head, fingers running through the stubble that replaces the golden locks that once held its place. he pulls his lip in between his pearly white teeth as he nods at you, tongue peeking through as they part to make space for the pink muscle. 

“you’re right.” he doesn’t argue like he usually would, the sudden accountability taking you by surprise. “that was kinda fucked up, wasn’t it? you didn’t deserve that.”

“no, rafe. i didn’t.”

he nods his head again and leans back against the cool, tinted window. his lids are low as he looks across at you, the intensity of his gaze causing your heart to leave bruises on your ribs from how strongly it pounded. you could barely hear anything, blood rushing past your ears and every breath shakier than the last.

stepping out of the car, rafe makes his way over to the passenger side door. you watch curiously as he crosses the front of the car, the street lights shining down on his broad frame. you don’t move when he opens the door, nor when he looks between you and your seatbelt expectantly.

your brows raise at the man briefly before the ‘click’ of the seatbelt fills both your ears, hands removing the snug strap from across your chest. you take the hand that he offers to exit the car, glancing up at your house again before taking it. nobody seemed to be awake but you still didn’t want to risk anyone seeing us this close together.

“nobody’s gonna see, y/n . calm down.” rafe’s voice so close to your ear pulls your attention away from the property and back towards him standing before you. 

you stepped down from the truck with his aide, but he didn’t move even once your feet touch the ground. instead, his hands moved to grasp your waist and pull you closer. the move felt so familiar yet so strange, but you accepted it rather than pushing him away. 

the warmth of his palms against your bare skin was intensified by the jolts of electricity felt whenever we touched. you could tell he felt the way you shivered in response to his fingers just barely gripping the soft flesh beneath them, thumbs smoothing over in a back and forth motion.

“i’m sorry i ghosted you. i was an asshole for that, and you know what? i deserve whatever you feel towards me.” you say nothing, but don’t push him away either. he takes that as a sign to continue. “but i hope you find it in you to forgive me, because i–i miss you.”

you nearly snorted as he uttered the sentence.

“you miss me?” you repeated the words back to him. “you sure know how to show it.”

“yes, i miss you.” rafe’s hold intensifies for a moment before going back to its previous state. “when i saw you at the party tonight, i–i didn’t know how much i missed your face. i missed your smile, your smell. i missed having you close to me and being able to hold you like this…”

the sound of him inhaling strongly shook you, his eyes screwing shut as he took in the combination of your natural scent and the gourmand perfume you wore. his fingers twitched against your skin as he resisted the urge to dig them deep into the flesh like he always used to. his chest rose and fell intensely, all but able to see his blood pumping through his jugular. 

“god, i fucking miss you.”

“rafe…” you called his name softly but sternly to pull him out of his hypnotized state. his eyes open but they’re barely focused. you weren’t sure if his pupils were blown because of the high, or because of you. “i miss you, too.”

the stillness between us remains until you broke it, the voice in the back of your head reminding you of the months spent trying to get over him.

“i miss you, but i can’t do this again.” you sighed heavily. “you fucked me up for months, rafe, and i can’t let that happen again.”

“it won’t happen again. i promise.”

sou shook your head at his words, tongue poking out just enough to taste the vanilla flavor of the gloss coating your lips. 

“no–no, rafe. no promises.” you let your hands fall to rest on top of his, watching as the sudden contact makes him shiver just as much as it used to when he did it to you. “no feelings–i can’t do that again.”

you pushed him away gently and stepped to the side, unsure of if you’d regret the words about to leave your lips next.

“if you wanna fuck, then we can do that.” your bluntness catches him off guard, head jerking back at the directness of the words. you’d never spoken like that before, and it shocked you as well. “but the lovey-dovey shit that we used to do? no more of that.”

“what?” rafe looks at you in disbelief, the vulgar language leaving him stunned. it was a rarity that you cursed–at least around him–, let alone said something so…intense. “what is that supposed to mean? ‘no more lovey-dovey shit?’”

you shrugged and pushed past him fully, feet carrying your body a few yards away before turning back to speak. he looked thoroughly confused and a bit hurt, but not as hurt as he left you when he ghosted you with a million unanswered questions and just as many ignored phone calls.

“it means if you call me in the night-time, i might pick up.” your eyes scanned for his reaction to the words left echoing in your own head for a moment, the heat of his gaze reminding you of the reason you needed to escape into the house behind you to begin with. “just depends on what you’re on.”

rafe was left standing in the dark of the early morning, bewildered and alone. 

[nights-at-crystarium]

Fragments - episodes 36-40 author notes

You can find similar breakdown posts on older episodes in my pinned!

I didn’t need to spend so much screentime on Titania fight, yet it was a fun personal challenge. I’d never written/drawn a cohesive fight scene before. The scripted ingame instances don’t leave much room for imagination, I wanted to stay away from the fourth wall, and make up a more immersive scene. How do you even make it look mildly interesting? You’d think, well, characters will just flail at each other until one of them dies, right?

So yeah the biggest challenge was creating the ebb and flow. What affects Vivi’s actions? Why wouldn’t he just murder Titania like any other opponent, and be done with it? I threw in a generous amount of inner pov (that I previously used very sparingly) and some silly tricks. The stakes are high, yes, it’s a Lightwarden vs WoD encounter, but Titania still retains their playful personality above all else. Vivi's here just to do his job, but he also knows that he's dealing with a fae.

The msq makes Titania stand out among other wardens, I capitalized on that and hc’d that they’re important to Feo Ul, and, by proxy, to Vivi. That instantly provided some emotional stakes, and an answer to why he doesn’t rush to kill them out of the door.

Vivi enters the castle in episode 35, and mostly runs in circles, analyzing his enemy, and even falls victim to illusions. This could’ve been it for him, but I daresay it worried none of us because we’re just at the beginning of a story about this guy, he’s THE guy in this universe not for no reason, he’ll manage.

No deep meaning behind "grasshopper", I just thought it's a bizarrely precise descriptor of both Vivi's long legs and dragoon jumps, and it fits the natural theme of the fight.

Vivi didn’t go in unprepared.

This line will be relevant again in like, 5-7 years from now :’>

More under the cut~

He always, always doubts everything, especially when it comes to his level of power. Self-nerfing. A light (heh) case of an impostor syndrome.

Everyone loved the bonk for meme reasons, Vivi simply bought himself some time to cast.

The Rainbow Sparkles of Believing in Yourself! And of something else, perhaps. I’m planting quite a bit of stuff for future, this one should take a mere year or so to pay off.

I hope this pose’s enough of a hint that you shouldn't be taking episode 37 too seriously.

Yes, he used his spear to ~cast~. And took a sailormoon pose. This's his, monoclass dragoon’s, interpretation of what the caster magic’s probably like.

Offscreen, Titania comes to their senses and shrills “so you wanna play rough?!”, Vivi ignores them, concerned with only one thing: did he succeed? How did the test of his custom spell go?

It only worked out because the both of them are idiots.

I like to emphasize that Fragments isn’t about retelling the msq, or big epic battles, but here, where I actually put my heart into it, I feel like I managed to pull off at least one epic beat you’d typically see in an action-focused comic. Super proud of this panel ;w;

This’s a standard panel divider I’ve used multiple times before, but it couldn’t be more visually appropriate here :3c

So, to recap. Vivi asks Titania if they miss the night sky. They do. Vivi brings the night sky to them, and lo, something actually happens. I illustrated this “something” as one of their eyes getting sort of cleansed here. This story suddenly takes a mahou shoujo (shounen, heh) turn, I appreciate that it may cause some eyebrows to raise, but I think it’s okay to take creative liberties like this in a story themed around identity, agency, and believing in yourself. If Titania’s so strong as to retain a tiny bit of their old self, to cohesively partake in a simple convo, then why can’t they return, even if for a brief moment, given the proper assistance.

An appropriate reaction to the wild bs that’s going on. Imagine inventing the tale of WoD in the First, only to witness THIS.

As about Vivi, he can save a soul when he genuinely cares for it. We haven’t seen him do this before. He does it for Feo Ul explicitly, implicitly as a self-reflection. He’s projecting so hard after realizing that Titania looks like him. He wishes for them what he'd wish for himself: to rest, to be treated with care and consideration. They don't only look like him, they're also unfree, tortured by something. Empathy or not, this’s the kindest fight Vivi’s ever fought.

I’m iffy about the canon talents that come with the Echo. You can understand any sentient creature, okay. What happens when you speak, does the other party feel the difference between that soulspeak and their native tongue? Does it feel off? Does it offend? I incorporated my own misgivings into Vivi’s thoughts about his Echo. He doesn't use soulspeak here out of respect and concern that Titania might not react well to it, throwing the entire plan out of the window. Thus he memorized quite a bit of fae words before the fight. This’s his way to mark himself as one of their people, or at least to show that he truly cares.

STAY TUNED FOR EPISODE 41

Vivien Doubter Rell. Also yay first nod!

Embracing his new duty, and possibly giving Titania the hug they deserve.

Look HE’S OKAY. For now. I just thought the hiccup would be a cute way to acknowledge the terrible power he’s just absorbed. The canon cutscene moves on unblinking, but here’s different.

Bracing himself for confrontation. Things might go awry. Or might not. Vivi doesn't know. Worst case scenario: this’s the end of his sweet lil friendship with Feo Ul. Do they like him, or a Titania-lookalike in him?

“Oh bugger...” big pets come with big responsibilities, my dear Feo Ul.

Just to reinforce his fae-ness.

Vivi had full control in this fight. Analyzed the enemy, successfully tested some crazy tricks, managed to have a heart-to-heart that resulted in getting a permission to kill Titania not with violence, but with mercy. So much could’ve gone wrong, but just didn’t. Vivi’s used to this, even if he constantly doubts everything, this’s how it always goes. He’s being flung at tasks with abysmal odds, somehow he emerges victorious.

I just like this panel so much okay.

This arc may feel slow, but it gives depth to Vivi and Feo Ul's relationship, and seeing them together in later episodes will spark even more joy.

Even after a warm moment they’d just shared, Vivi’s still wary. I broke out an analysis of what external influence, pressure to change means to him, please read this post if you missed it. YEAH TAGS AS WELL.

His expression here is an attempt to downplay the anxiety and swing the odds in his favor. What if Feo Ul insists and throws a tantrum? What if he has to become Titania right now, and there’s no way around this? Let’s make puppy eyes just incase, maybe that helps.

One more personal fav panel. There’s SO MUCH in this look. They’re on a threshold, about to become something else on Vivi’s behalf. Because they love him so much. They’ve instantly become friends because they don’t want anything from each other, just the company. Feo Ul’s such a breath of fresh air for Vivi, a new hope in a new world, where he’s (comparatively) a nobody, where people still have the potential to love him for who he is as a person. This’s why our crimson pixie gets so much screentime.

Vivi really said XD

The next few episodes wrap up the Il Mheg arc, and focus on good vibes and celebration. ShB follows a rollercoaster formula where it makes you smile at something nice and sweet only to whack you in the face right after, and I’m trying to do the same :3c

As always, thanks for reading~

[mystic-headcanons]

Yoosung with MC who feels guilty about him getting hurt and going blind in one eye "for her" how do you think he'd deal with the situation and make her feel better

i love yoosung sm :(

you've been pulling away for yoosung for a few weeks now. it started with declining one or two of his calls and lying about being busy, but it progressively got worse. you weren't speaking to him as much, and you rarely saw him outside of chatrooms. (it got to the point of other members noticing and asking you if everything was alright between you and yoosung. you always lied and said yes because how could you explain the sheer amount of guilt that you felt? about how every time you saw him or spoke to him, you're reminded of the fact that you caused him to lose an eye? no, it was better to avoid him. better to pretend everything was fine.) there was also a part of you that was just scared. scared that he hated you, or that he’d grow to regret ever meeting you and you just…could not handle that.

it all came to a head when you pressed ignore on his fourth call. it’d been a long day and there was no way you could hide your emotions if you spoke to him. yoosung had this way of seeing through you, of picking up on your emotions no matter how hard you tried to hide them. whether it was because he knew you down to your bones, or because he was generally a very empathetic person, you weren’t sure. but you were sure that you couldn’t afford to speak about the guilt. if he affirmed it, if he told you it was, in fact, your fault, you don’t know what you’d do.

half an hour after you ignored yoosung’s last call, there was a knocking at your door. “it’s eight p.m.” you muttered to yourself, frowning. you were cautious as you approached the door, and with a mug in your raised hand, you flung open the door to yoosung with red rimmed eyes. he froze for a moment and looked between you and your hand with a raised eyebrow. “what? it’s late. i wasn’t expecting anyone.” you stepped aside and set the mug down as he walked in. you watched as he turned to face you; the circles under his eyes were noticeably darker and his hair was greasier than usual. the guilt began to eat away at your insides the longer you stared at him. was he not taking care of himself?

“can we…can we talk?” yoosung asked, and upon hearing the desperation in his voice, you had no choice but to nod. there was a moment of silence and you could tell that yoosung was forcing himself to gather the courage to speak. his mouth opened and closed a few times before he finally groaned in frustration. “are you trying to break up with me? you ignore almost all of my calls and barely talk to me in the messenger, but you’ll answer everyone else the second they text you. did i— did i do something?”

“no! yoosung, you did nothing. i didn’t. god, i didn’t even think how this would look to you.” you muttered the last part to yourself, but yoosung heard you. “yoosung, i promise you i’m not trying to break up or anything like that. i love you.” you averted your gaze from his and looked down before you spoke again, not wanting to see his reaction. “you lost your eye because of me, yoosung. i just. i feel so guilty every time i talk to you.” there was silence after you spoke, and a few seconds later you felt him gently grab your hand. “hey, no. the hacker is the one who did this, not you.” “but—“ “you’re not responsible for anyone else’s choices, my love.” yoosung interrupted you, and gently cupped your cheek. he gave a small smile as you looked up at him. “his actions are his own, just like how my actions are mine and yours are yours. i chose to go there with seven, fully knowing the risks. for you and for him and for the rfa.”

“…i’m sorry.” you said, reaching forward to hug him. “i was just scared that maybe you would’ve thought the same thing. that you blamed me too and wouldn’t want to be with me anymore.” you dropped your forehead to his shoulder as he held you, and the longer you were in his embrace the more you felt all the stress and worry and guilt melt away. “so talk to me about it next time. don’t just ignore me and ice me out like this. i love you, and i’m here to help you talk through these things.”

[doobnnoob-tf2]

hello!! how would the mercs react being in a escape room? 👀

Scout: he goes in, acting all cocky and saying he’ll have it solved in no time.  he finds one item quickly and that alone feeds his ego.  he spends the rest of his time in there with the coordinators having to constantly give him hints and remind him of his time limit

Soldier: he runs out of time after spending too long having to explain how it would have been impossible for him to be locked in this room.  these hypothetical captors would have never been able to get him in there, he’d have fought them off with his own fists!  send them in, he’ll show them what for!  the timer runs out and he refuses to leave, saying that they’ll have to send these so called captors to force him out.  the team has to step in and remind him it’s just a game

Pyro: they went in to have fun and then needed to be escorted out.  the puzzles were boring and they lost interest in trying to solve them and went to burn something instead as a means of bypassing figuring out the riddle.  they’re banned from participating again

Demoman: he has a blast.  he wasn’t sure about it going in but he winds up having the best time.  he finds some of the puzzles to be challenging and even laughs when he realizes how obvious the answer was after getting stumped on it.  he doesn’t really get immersed in the story, he has more fun just solving things

Heavy: he only did it because everyone else did and then pushed him to try it out.  none of the scares even faze him in the slightest and he’s generally unimpressed.  he thinks the story is flimsy at best and also he keeps looking at the camera and reminding them he’s a big man, he could escape through the door at any time and defeat the captors and be on his way without all of these extra steps.  he beats it in a decent amount of time but says it was too hard for him to get into it when he could have broken out many other ways

Engineer: he doesn’t get the best time in the slightest.  and that’s only because he kept stopping to inspect all the elements to the puzzles.  he’s getting ideas because now this just seems like a fun thing to make

Medic: he spends way too long griping about how unimpressed he is with the fake bodies / spooky elements.  this blood spatter is so unrealistic for this type of injury.  that’s how at all how a body would look after being gutted.  his time runs out and he ignores them and just continues

Sniper: he’s the only one who goes in there just to have fun and immerse himself in the experience.  it’s fun, he’s enjoying himself.  he only has to ask for a hint once because one of the codes got the facts wrong in order to solve the riddle.  he spends the next few minutes having to explain to them the difference between poisonous and venomous.  but regardless he actually enjoys himself and makes it through at a fairly decent time

Spy: he beats it in record time.  no one at the establishment is even sure how the hell he did it.  he just walked into each area, glanced around, and solved the puzzles without any effort at all.  and no, he didn’t stay to have his picture taken for their Wall of Fame at the end

[prodigy-if]

hello. it's me.

again.

okay, for my defense, i am curious and love to learn new things in general and your if has captured my heart and attention. i also love when people talk about their OCs so,,, yeah :) and yours are all so lovely, i love them very much :((

since i asked a lot of questions already, i told myself i would refrain to ask some in the near future and then i saw you reblogged an other ask game and i just went

like !!! there are so many good questions on these posts ?? questions i didn't think about prior to reading that lol but now i'm only left with unanswered questions and theories

that's why i'd like to know what sparks genuine, unadulterated rage in them? (question 19)

i chose this one because i have absolutely 0 idea of what the answers could be tbh. i'm not even sure all of your OCs could feel that way

i really don't want to be annoying or anything and i promise i won't flood your inbox

Please don’t feel bad about sending in asks! I love receiving them and am super glad that you are liking my characters enough to keep sending them.

Also I totally understand where you are coming from about the questions on the ask memes. I can’t help but go 👀 every time see one because they make me consider questions I would never think about otherwise!

You are definitely not being annoying! Feel free to flood my inbox whenever you like lol. I don’t mind at all (it gives me something to do in my spare time).

As for the question…

19.) What sparks genuine, unadulterated rage in them?

Marlon cannot stand people who are just willing to live in stupidity and ignorance. The amount of rage that he gets filled with by individuals who have the means to educate themselves and just choose not to is completely indescribable.

Isla hates when people invalidate her opinions and feelings. She is an incredibly intelligent individual (she was a child prodigy for god’s sake) and she knows her own thoughts and opinions on things. She can’t stand people trying to “correct” her or invalidating her.

Cyrus despises individuals who think they are above everyone else. Everyone has weaknesses and flaws and he can’t help but roll his eyes at the people who act as if they don’t. He absolutely cannot stand people like that. It’s one of the few things that actually gets under his skin.

Naomi cannot stand the idea of people she admires not liking/ignoring her. She always tries her best to present herself as an intelligent and nice individual so when people don’t recognize that, it fills her with a deep sense of resentment that she can’t begin to describe.

Kieran loathes individuals that are unnecessarily cruel. There is nothing that disgusts and enrages them more than someone being cruel or hurting others just for the sake of it. It’s why the felt so strongly about pursuing a career that can help people.

[veliseraptor]

Apologize if this is a weird question but how do you come up with cool summary for your fic? I’m a bit struggling with it. I have my plot, my story, my scenes written but can’t come up with a summary that isn’t plain or boring. I don’t want to put something like “character A notices character B is having a bad day, so character A cheers character B up by running them a nice bath” like… that’s telling what the story is about and it’s not “catchy” because I as a reader tends to not read anything with a summary that doesn’t grab my curiosity or a summary that just straight up spoils the fic itself.

You always have cool summary for you fic, so I thought maybe I could use a little advice, if it wasn’t too much of a bother. Thank you in advance.

oh, god. well, first of all I'm deeply flattered that you think I have cool summaries because I feel like my summaries are either (a) boring (b) uninformative or (c) overly flippant and tonally inconsistent with the work itself, so I'm glad they don't read that way! which...perhaps is a lesson in itself. you may think your summary sounds plain and boring but you also know the fic you're summarizing inside and out and are hyperanalyzing your choices in ways that a reader may not be.

beyond that...some of it I think is just practice. I've now been writing fic summaries for...15 years? and reading them for most of that time, as well. as with most skills, the more you do something the more you pick up about what you like/don't like from other people, what works for you yourself (which may or may not be the same as what you like to see). I know this is a frustrating answer, but it's honestly I'm pretty sure the way that I have "learned" to summarize.

the other thing is to...okay, I feel like I'm going to struggle to express this in anything approaching a coherent manner, but what a summary needs to do is sort of...zero in on what the point of the fic is. What is the center of the work? So, for instance, with the basic description you gave in the ask, I might look at that and go "so this is about character B having a rough time and character A taking care of them" and then go "okay, how do I express that in a way that's a little, for lack of a better word, jazzier?

so what I might go with could be something like:

"Character B is having a rough day, but character A is looking out for them."

and honestly for a really simple oneshot I might leave it at that. Sometimes you don't need to overcomplicate it! Sometimes a simple summary that just conveys the main thrust of the fic, and adding tags to clarify details, can be plenty.

if you're doing something more complicated - then I tend to look at something else in addition to the "point of the fic" that I mentioned above, which is the sort of...skeleton of the work? what it is about, at its most basic. so, for instance, for if living can be this (the main fic), I have:

When Song Lan confronts Xue Yang in Yi City, Xue Yang makes him an offer he can't refuse: Song Lan moves in. Xiao Xingchen stays ignorant (and happy). Nobody has to die. Three in a coffin house becomes four. This is, it turns out, not an easy adjustment to make. Xue Yang discovers that Song Lan moving in means living with Song Lan. Xiao Xingchen's reunion with his dear friend isn't going as smoothly as he'd hoped. Song Lan realizes that Xiao Xingchen has built a life without him in it. A-Qing is pretty sure everyone here has lost their minds. But they're going to make this work. Or die trying.

so you’ll notice that in this case I actually laid out a fair amount of the premise of the fic up front: the set-up and even some of the character dynamics, to give an indication of the kind of story I’m telling and what it’s about. But I’m not including any specifics, or information about what exactly is going to happen - I’m just - well, summarizing, in very general terms.

or honestly, if none of this is working for you/making any sense: you can always just pull a quote that feels compelling and like it provides some kind of hook, and lean into the tags to give more information.

(...honestly I feel a little like I do lean on the tags a fair amount to provide more information than I give in the summary, and one of the reasons I do that is that I as a reader often pay more attention to the tags than the summary - I will often read a fic with a relatively bland summary if it has promising tags.)

I have no idea if any of this is helpful. I do know there's a post out there somewhere that had, like, a formula/build a summary structure that was sort of fill in the blanks that might be more helpful than this rambling response, but I'm struggling to find it. If anyone has it at the tip of their fingertips and wants to link for anon?

[richincolor]

Review: If You, Then Me by Yvonne Woon

Summary: Xia is stuck in a lonely, boring loop. Her only escapes are Wiser, an artificial intelligence app she designed to answer questions like her future self, and a mysterious online crush she knows only as ObjectPermanence.

And then one day Xia enrolls at the Foundry, an app incubator for tech prodigies in Silicon Valley.

Suddenly, anything is possible. Flirting with Mast, a classmate also working on AI, leads to a date. Speaking up generates a vindictive nemesis intent on publicly humiliating her. And running into Mitzy Erst, Foundry alumna and Xia’s idol, could give Xia all the answers.

And then Xia receives a shocking message from ObjectPermanence: He is at the Foundry, too. Xia is torn between Mast and ObjectPermanence—just as Mitzy pushes her towards a shiny new future. Xia doesn’t have to ask Wiser to know: The right choice could transform her into the future self of her dreams, but the wrong one could destroy her.

My thoughts: Wiser is an app I could have really used in my teen years. In fact, I wouldn't mind having Wiser now. Decision making is so difficult sometimes and in this app, the artificial intelligence can definitely help with life choices through the information it gathers and logic. Xia is smart and driven, but sometimes she could benefit from some good advice. I really liked the AI part of the plot and it certainly had me thinking beyond the page and wondering about what we could have in the future.

The tech wasn't the only thing that had me thinking. Once in a while, there were exchanges that spoke to me. One character does something that they aren't proud of and in a message explains it this way:

"I like to think of myself as a good person, but then I do things like this and I wonder if my "goodness" is just a story I tell myself so I don't have to own up to the fact that maybe I'm just like everyone else--good when it suits me, and less good when it doesn't."

This was a book that kept my attention, but sometimes it was because there was a train wreck about to happen and it was hard to look away. The author pushed it a bit with how badly Xia messes up. The series of bad choices she makes really began to strain my belief. She even has multiple friends trying to intervene and she ignores all logic. That was one thing that distracted me. She's highly intelligent so it was difficult to believe some of the things she was doing and allowing although in real life, it's true that sometimes people seem to be on similar dangerous paths and cannot be reasoned with at all.

With all of the chaotic things going on in Xia's life because of her behavior, that left only a small amount of time on the pages for her relationships. The virtual relationship she had prior to arrival at the school seemed somewhat plausible, but the in-person time is pretty limited with both of the love interests so the romance seemed rushed.

Recommendation: Get it someday if you are a fan of contemporary books with a technology plot line. That part was the most intriguing for me. It's probably not one to grab if you're looking for a romance or rom-com though.

Publisher: Katherine Tegen Books Pages: 416 Review copy: From library Availability: On shelves now

[sheepwasfound]

a compilation of george wanting dream’s attention in the hot tub stream

[maraudersmap123]

Trouble (Theodore Nott)

Summary: Theodore Nott was trouble, and everyone knew it. But for whatever reason, she decided she didn't care. OR. Based on 'I knew you were trouble' by Taylor Swift.

Warning: Mentions of cheating. Not exactly got smut, but only because it's only like two paragraphs so dunno if it counts. I'll put a warning before this part so you can skip it if you'd like.

Word count: 4,142

Reading Time: 15 Minutes

***

Once upon a time, a few mistakes ago

I was in your sights, you got me alone

It was her first night out after her breakup, and to say she felt out of place would be an understatement. Her ex-boyfriend, Rodger Davis, had cheated on her after just under 2 years together, so understandably her confidence had taken a huge knock. Her friends had forced her out of the depression hole she had buried herself in for the past month, dressing her up in the sexiest dress they could find and doing her makeup and hair.

As soon as she had stepped foot in the Ravenclaw common room she took quick notice of Rodger and his new girlfriend standing in the corner. He looked all too impressed with himself when he saw that she had noticed it was the same girl she had caught him with a month ago.

"Ignore them, they don't deserve the attention," her best friend Marianne told her with a gentle smile.

"I know, you go dance I'll get us a drink"

A few hours later the pair of friends were verging on being drunk. They had found their other friends and were having a generally good time when she realised she had run out of whatever alcohol was in her cup. After asking if anyone else needed a refill, and finding they never, she departed and made her way to the drinks table. After only a couple minutes she felt someone moving beside her, their shoulders bumping.

Looking up at the boy beside her she felt her heartbeat increase slightly at the beautiful boy looking down at her.

"Having a nice evening darling?" He asked her with a small smirk. Something about the way he was looking at her and the use of the pet name left her unable to speak for a few seconds but she quickly recovered.

"Alright, you?" She returned, quickly turning back to the half-filled cup in front of her.

"Bit crowded," He answered, putting his cup beside hers for her to fill up before introducing himself. "Theodore Nott"

"Y/n L/n," He smiled down at her again when she turned to face him, his body being far closer than she expected.

"Are you needing the get back to anyone?" Whispered the tall boy as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. All she could do was shake her head.

Before long they found themselves sitting on the couch in the far corner of the common room, the furthest from the makeshift dance floor. Her friends had spied her long ago and given her a big smile to encourage her to move on. She could see in their faces however that they likely weren't pleased with the person, it was the same look they had given Rodger all those years ago.

"You look beautiful tonight," They were sat outrageously close as he whispered in her ear, one of his arms wrapped behind her back and the other hand rested on her thigh. She blushed at his words and caught Rodger's eye across the room. It seemed he and his new girlfriend weren't having as good a time anymore, as she tried to get his attention and he watched his ex with a jealous expression.

"I've had my eye on you all night you know," Theodore continued, she broke eye contact with Rodger and smiled up at the beautiful boy beside her. With little thought she pushed her lips against his, his hands resting firmly on her waist as his tongue slipped into her mouth.

"How about we get out of here," He mumbled against her.

I guess you didn't care, and I guess I liked that

And when I fell hard you took a step back, without me

After that night they started a somewhat relationship. It wasn't like he was her boyfriend, not really anyway. They had sex regularly and spent a fair amount of time together, but it all either led to or ended in sex. He never stayed long afterwards, and he never ever stayed the night.

It was a very different dynamic from what she was used to. Rodger had treated her like he loved her, though evidently he never did. He wouldn't just stay the night after they would sleep together but he would care for her also. However, she'd be hugely lying if she said the sex with Theodore was incomparable to that of her ex.

She had fallen quite deeply for the boy. He gave her very little to go off, and she couldn't work out for the life of her why she loved him when she knew fine well he was only meant trouble, but she did.

They had been seeing each other for around 3 months at this point. As far as the school was concerned they were a couple. A very sexually active one at that.

*Over 18 until next red text*

"Theodore" the pale bedsheets were bundled tightly in her hands, his pressed firmly on the mattress on each side of her head as he pushed himself back into her, a bead of sweat forming on his forehead as he increased his pace.

"Fuck I love you," He whimpered into her ear. The three words sent her over the edge in seconds and he followed closely behind her, leaving a trail of kisses down her neck as she started to come down from her long-coming high, the room finally growing quiet.

*Warning over*

He collapsed next to her on the bed and she looked up at him with somewhat hopeful eyes. They had never said anything like I love you to one another. Anything other than compliments on one another's appearances, especially hers, wasn't yet something they really did.

"I love you too," She whispered, gaining no response as he looked away from her. A few moments later, after he had fully caught his breath he pulled himself from the bed. He began getting pulling his clothes back on and a small frown fell upon her face.

"I'd better get going, see you later," He said with no hint of warmth in his voice. And just like that, he left.

Almost instantaneously she noticed him getting more and more distant with her. The sex had grown impersonal and he left, if possible, even quicker than he did at the beginning. She knew her friends were right, he was like every Slytherin boy, they were no good for relationships. And given his reputation, he was no exception but she couldn't bring herself to care enough to end things.

He's long gone when he's next to me

And I realise the blame is on me

Things had far from improved between the two, with every day he got colder towards her and more distant. However, one good thing that came out of the months after they exchanged 'I love yous' was the friendship she gained with his friends.

As their relationship deteriorated his friends made an effort, though clearly against his will, to include her in things. She was sure it was to do with her family being part of the sacred 28. Draco and Blaise were always somewhat nice to her, but her real friendship lay with Pansy Parkinson and Daphne Greengrass.

The pair sat in the Slytherin common room one night with his friends sitting around them. They were the last to occupy the room as everyone else had gone to bed, the girl hadn't yet begun to consider how she would get back to the Ravenclaw dorms.

"Did you take the notes for potions tomorrow?" Pansy asked her. She was cuddled up next to Draco on the loveseat beside the fire. If you had to guess which pair out of the six were in a relationship you would never guess Theodore and Y/n, in fact, they would likely be your last guess.

"Ye I did. I can get them for you tomorrow if you'd like," She told pansy with a small smile.

"That would be great, NEWT potions was the worst decision I've ever made" the brunette laughed and the Ravenclaw girl nodded in agreement

"Same, I knew it would be difficult, but merlin nothing like this" she laughed. She heard Theodore clearing his throat beside her and she glanced over. Pansy looked away from the pair quickly, not wanting to be involved in the conversation.

"Are you thinking of heading back anytime soon" raising her eyebrows at the question asked she shrugged her shoulders.

"It's getting pretty late and you'll end up with detention if you go back on your own. Let's go," He mumbled. She stood up, giving Pansy and Daphne a tight-lipped smile as they furrowed their eyebrows at her.

"Where are you going," Daphne asked her quickly, Blaise looking up from his book at the words and watching the couple curiously.

"Oh, I'd best get going before I end up with a detention" she responded simply.

"Don't be silly, stay here there's plenty of space" Pansy said with a confused tone.

"She'd best be getting back, we have classes pretty early" Theodore intervened causing all eyes to fall on him. Draco simply scoffed at his words, knowing he was making things more difficult for everyone as there was no reason she couldn't stay.

"Ye it's alright Pans, my roommates would worry anyway" gathering her stuff off the couch she looked up at Theodore who was watching her impatiently, clear he wanted her out of the room "I'll see you guys later"

Cause I knew you were trouble when you walked in

So shame on me now

Slytherin had won a quidditch match again Gryffindor and just like always, a party was thrown in the common room to celebrate. Y/n, Marianne, and a few of their other friends decided to go, having been invited earlier in the day by Pansy and Daphne.

"I'm happy that you're happy, honestly I am. I just worry" Marianne told her as they got ready in their dorm. The other girls had left earlier than them, having dates to meet.

"There's nothing to worry about Marianne" she assured and her friend simply shook her head

"He's trouble Y/n. He always has been and he always will be"

"There's nothing to worry about"

They eventually made their way to the dungeons and found their group of friends in the crowd on the dance floor. After a while, she turned around the scan the room for either Pansy and Daphne or Theodore. However, when she spied the boy she wished she hadn't.

He was sitting on one of the couch legs, with a small black hair girl standing between his legs with her tongue down his throat. The girl had her back to her so she couldn't recognise her, but she didn't care about her. She cared about Theodore who had clearly felt the eyes on him and looked up at the girl he had been sleeping with for months stood with her mouth agape and sad look in her eyes.

They held eye contact for a few moments before he turned his attention back to the girl in front of him and continued as though he hadn't just been caught. She quickly turned on her heel, leaving the room before anyone could stop her.

Making her way back to her dorm as quickly as she could she fell onto her bed, tears falling down her face. She knew it was only a matter of time, everyone did. He was Theodore Nott, after all, he couldn't keep a girl no matter how good she was, he always saw something better and had to take it.

He was trouble and she'd known it all along. After all, that's what she loved about him. He was trouble and she was used to peace.

No apologies. He'll never see you cry

Pretends he doesn't know that he's the reason why

She couldn't remember at what time she fell asleep, though she assumed it was late as she had heard each of her roommates return from the party, though they left her alone as she had her bed curtains pulled tightly shut. She was awoken by someone banging on her door and after glancing at her bedside clock she saw it was 2 PM, with further investigation she noticed that her roommates were nowhere to be found, obviously having long started their days.

Pulling herself from the warmth of her bed she wandered over to the door, opening it expecting one of her friends.

"What are you doing here," She asked when she caught sight of the tall brunette towering over her.

"What do you think I'm doing here," he asked with a smirk as he entered her room. He glanced at her bed as he walked towards it, then the box of tissues beside her bed that had been emptied, then finally turned back to look at her, rolling his eyes at the obvious signs she had been crying.

"What were you crying about," Theodore asked her, though they both knew exactly what she had been crying about.

"Theodore don't" she begged him as he leaned around her and shut the door.

"No come on, what were you crying about" he pushed, she stepped away from him at this and he once again rolled his eyes "Y/n"

"I don't like what you did last night, in front of me," she told him, crossing her arms over her body in a somewhat defensive manner.

"And what exactly did I do last night," He asked, his voice clearly taunting her

"You know exactly what" She mumbled

"Please enlighten me"

"You kissed someone, right in front of me," She told him and he scoffed loudly at her words.

"I'm single aren't I?" He asked

"You embarrassed me" At this he stepped away from her, walking towards the door.

"If you're going to get so emotional over such stupid shit then it's probably best we don't see each other anymore. Not worth the effort" he mumbled before walking out the door, leaving her frozen in shock at his words.

Now I heard you moved on from whispers on the streets

A new notch on your belt is all I've ever been

After the breakup, if you could even call it that, she somehow stayed friends with some of his friends. It would be generous to say that she was friends with Draco or Blaise, but they would smile at her in passing and sometimes say hello. However Daphne and Pansy had become some of her best friends after the split.

They regularly told her that the entire group hated the way he had treated her and that she was the favourite of all his many ex's. She would brush this off with a small thanks, never lingering on it much.

They were sat in the great hall one afternoon, attempting to study for their upcoming mid-year exams. The boys were all off somewhere so they were left alone, able to sit together without it feeling weird.

"I saw a girl in the year below leaving the boys dorm last night," Daphne told them, gaining both Pansy and Y/n's attention.

"It couldn't have been Draco, I saw him leaving the common room right after dinner and he didn't come back until morning," Pansy told them, and Daphne nodded.

"It wasn't Blaise, he was still in the hospital wing for that broken wrist from the weekends game" Daphne added, and suddenly the trio fell very quiet as they realised what this meant and it sunk in what they had just told the Ravenclaw girl.

"Shit I'm sorry Y/n, I wasn't thinking" Daphne rambled on after a minute of awkward silence.

"Don't be silly, I don't care anymore. He's at free liberty to do whatever he wants. He always has been" she smiled at the girls in front of them, and they gave her a small smile back.

"He wasn't at free liberty to do whatever he wanted that night Y/n. He was your boyfriend and we all know it" Pansy whispered

"I know," She said "It's a shame that to him all I was, was an extra notch in his belt"

And the saddest fear comes creeping in

That you never loved me, or her, or anyone, or anything

In less than a month of breaking things off with her, Theodore had a new girlfriend. She was a year younger than them in Slytherin. Pansy and Daphne had attempted to hide the information as best they could, and with the help of Marianne, they had succeeded for a while. But of course, she found out eventually.

She had been walking back from the library early one evening when she heard loud giggling around the corner, she continued walking thinking nothing of it until she spied her ex-boyfriend and a girl clinging to his arm.

She tried to look away but couldn't seem to. He didn't look any happier than his new girl than she had ever seen him with her, or any of his previous ex's.

As she walked past him he caught sight of her and didn't let his eyes drop from her own until the new couple had passed around the corner.

She realised with deep sadness that he had never loved her. The same way he undeniable didn't love his new girlfriend. The same way he never loved his friends. She concluded that he had never loved anyone or anything in his life. He lured people in with his sweet-talking and his beautiful eyes, let them fall in love with him, then dropped them on the Cold floor to deal with the consequences alone.

I knew you were trouble when you walked in

So shame on me

Months had passed, he and his girlfriend had broken up, and she had seen another boy for a while in between, though it never lasted long. His break-up had been public, with the younger girl begging him to take her back in the great hall one morning in a very loud, hysterical way. It had been the talk of the castle for weeks.

Her fling on the other hand hadn't come to anything and had ended quite normally. They had gone on a few dates but decided it was best if they stayed friends. She also made amends with Rodger. He apologised for his actions and they decided to be civil, perhaps not friends but certainly acquaintances.

The summer holidays were upon them at last. It hadn't been a good year by any means. Dumbledore was dead and no one knew the state the world was about the fall into. The only bright side she could see was that her family was safely in the middle. She could return to school in September without the crippling fear many children were about to experience.

At the very end of July Daphne had a small garden party. She had invited a few friends, mostly Slytherins, however she also invited Y/n and Marianne. After much consideration, they decided to go. It was likely that by the time they went back to Hogwarts in September everything would have changed even further, and who knows where that would put their friendships.

Daphnes parents were one of the few sacred 28 that weren't involved in the pureblood supremacy that was doing the rounds at the moment, or else there was no way her parents would have allowed her to go.

"How have you been" Daphne mumbled after engulfing her friends in a hug.

"Oh alright," Marianne responded with a smile.

"As good as you can be given the circumstances" Y/n added, returning the hug.

Daphne lead the pair out to the large back garden and the girls let their eyes roam around, seeing who was around. Noticeably Draco Malfoy was absent, but everyone knew he would be. Pansy was sat with a few girls who looked, by the matching pale blue jumpers they were wearing, to be from Beauxbatons. across from her, there were a group of boys Y/n recognised from the years above her, Adrian Pucey and Terrence Higgs along with a few others.

Finally sat on a bench at the far end of the garden sat Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott. The two had their backs faced to the entrance so hadn't yet seen the Ravenclaw girls that had just arrived.

"How are they," Marriane asked, having watched her best friends face grow in concern as she observed the two boys.

"They've been better" Daphne responded sadly "but haven't we all"

"Y/n!" Pansy yelled from her place In the garden. She quickly ran up to her and she tried to ignore the eyes from the other end of the garden that had snapped to her at the call of her name.

She was suddenly engulfed in a hug and she quickly returned it.

"Merlin I've missed you" Pansy mumbled as she pulled away from the hug

"I've missed you too Pans"

After about half an hour she decided it was time to approach Theodore. He was still sitting at that bench with Blaise. Neither had heard her approaching them, so when she cleared her throat from behind them they both got a fright and jumped slightly. They turned to face her and Blaise broke out in a grin.

"Alright my favourite Ravenclaw" He expressed, moving around the bench to hug her. She had never received so many hugs in one day before.

"Blaise, how're you?" She asked warmly, though he could see that her eyes were firmly on the boy still sitting on the bench who had turned back around as to no longer face her.

"I'm good, I'm good. I'll see you later ye, I need another drink" He had clearly caught on that she was here to talk to Theodore not him.

"Ye, see you later"

She moved slowly to sit next to Theodore, not wanting to sit too close and make things uncomfortable. A silence fell over them and neither looked up, they simply looked ahead at the rows of fields in front of them.

"It's peaceful here, I like it" She broke the silence and he nodded from beside her

"Ye, the Greengrass's have always had a lovely home" He answered simply.

"How's your summer been?" She asked him. Though the question sounded simple it was quite clear she was really asking him if he was safe at home. He knew this.

"Alright, doing what I have to do" He responded simply

"Me too" She whispered. At this, he looked over at her and she wasted no time in looking back. He let out a small sigh before moving closer towards her, wrapping her arm around her shoulder and pulling her into a sort of side hug.

"I've been worried about you" He confessed and she just laughed quietly at what she considered a lie.

"I mean it Y/n" He continued quickly "No one heard from you for months"

The next morning she woke up to the sound of the birds outside her window and the weight of somebodies arm dropped over her bare stomach. When she looked down she wasn't surprised to see that she had in fact had Theodore over last night, however, she was surprised that he had stayed, for he never had done before.

"I missed you darling" he mumbled against her skin, leaving a gentle kiss on her collar bone.

"I missed you too Theodore" she whispered back after a few seconds of contemplating her words.

Before either could comprehend what they had said there was a tapping at her window that could only be caused by her owl Erwin.

"Please don't get up" He groaned in a tired voice, grabbing onto her waist to hold her in place.

"Give me a second Theo, it could be important" She responded, pulling herself from his grip with a gentle kiss to his temples as she walked over the window. Cautious of the fact she was naked and he was certainly watching her every move, she saw the smirk on his face.

Quickly grabbing the letter and giving Erwin a treat, she retreated back to bed and opened the parchment that seemed to be Daphne. Her jaw dropped as she read the letter. It started quite normal, telling her that Daphne, Pansy and Marianne hoped she got home alright but they know she's with Theodore so they assume she did.

But before she could even comprehend what she was reading things had changed. In a matter of words, the world around them changed once again. Theodore was reading over her shoulder at this point and had clearly just read the same sentence as her.

"Theodore The Minister of Magic is dead, the Ministry has fallen"

[novamirmirsblog]

Favourite crime pt 2

Natasha Romanoff x reader

Word Count: 2936

Genre: angsty fluff? or fluffy angst 👀

Request: yes

Warnings: swearing, mentions of cheating, slight coercion into sex (it doesn't happen tho)

Part 1 is here

A/n: The long awaited part two is officially here. I had lots of people who wanted the reader to move on, people who wanted them to get back together and people who wanted both. Thank you everyone for your INDECISIVENESS (kidding. ily). Also Emma was a randomly generated name - I'm sorry :3

Did I write this fic instead of sleeping? Yes. I have no regrets.

It had been a year since you moved back home. The seasons had come and gone and with that, so had your thoughts of Natasha. The same could not be said for the assassin. She had spent a blissful 3 months with Bruce before he had dropped off the face of the Earth and she was missing you. By the 5th month, she had stopped moping about and tried to find you. She searched everywhere but your town was large and unfamiliar and you didn’t want to be found.

Natasha both regretted what she had said and didn't. She regretted it because she realised just how much she adored you once she saw all the areas Bruce fell short in. You knew her better than she sometimes knew herself. You knew when to back off and when to put pressure on. You knew when she needed control and when you needed to take control. You knew when she wanted ice cream or when she wanted brownies. Bruce didn't. However, a part of her didn't regret those nasty things she said because she really didn't deserve you. You were everything she wasn’t, and she didn't know how to measure up to you.

She never voiced these concerns and so they festered and grew until she believed the only way out was to cheat. She knew that was the only thing that could drive you away. Natasha had told you all about her past, how she believed the Red Room had stripped her of her humanity – of her choice whether to become a mother. She knew there were other ways to have children - of course there were, but she hated the fact they had taken that option from her.

You were not like Natasha. You voiced your concerns which is why she knew exactly what to say and do to get you to hate her. Your previous boyfriend had cheated on you with your once best friend. You had watched as your father cheated on your mother and how that made her a hollow shell for a while, her never understanding why the man she loved could hurt her in that way. Supposedly, everyone models their future relationships on what their parents’ relationship looked like. Perhaps that’s why you kept choosing the cheaters. You were content with where you were. You had a forest, a busy town, and a beach all within a 15-mile radius of your house. You were far enough from civilisation that you could forget about reality for a while but close enough to occasionally dip back in whenever you wanted to.

You had kept in contact with Tony and Pepper, congratulating them on the arrival of Morgan and insisting that they should visit. You also continued to occasionally talk to Wanda when Carol was off world. Carol was overjoyed when she found out you had started dating someone new.

You had met Emma when you were taking a dip back into reality at the local supermarket. Her blonde hair vaguely reminded you of a woman you used to know, and you guessed that’s why you felt drawn to her. It wasn’t the electrical crackle that stole your breath away like your first meeting with Natasha, but it was something. Emma could occasionally be a little controlling, but you guessed that’s what normal relationships were like. She didn’t like you going to bars or pubs anymore and you certainly weren’t allowed in any clubs. You didn’t mind it too much as you hardly minded giving up a few nights out if it meant you could have something that resembled normalcy.

“Who’s that?” Emma asked, your face illuminated from your phone as the ding rang out.

“A friend. He’s bringing his wife and new baby over tomorrow and was reminding me to baby-proof the house.” You smiled lightly as you texted Tony back. You hadn’t mentioned to Emma that you were an ex-avenger, but it just kept slipping your mind.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Who is he? Where will he be staying?”

“I just forgot. Sorry. He’ll be staying here.”

“But you only have a single bed.”

“Yeah. I was planning to sleep on that and Tony, Pepper and the baby can stay in my room.”

“You mean our room.”

You said nothing, too engrossed in arguing with Tony about how under no circumstances will there be any celery in your house. Apparently, that was the wrong thing to do.

“Our room, right Y/n?”

“Um yeah.” You wave her off was apparently your second mistake, but you didn’t multi-task too well and so half answers were all you were good for while texting.

“I have been your girlfriend for 3 months Y/n. The least you could do is answer me properly and tell me what’s going on in your life.” She huffed, pushing your feet from her lap, and turning to face away from you, all of which you missed. You really weren’t having that evil green vegetable in your house.

“Seriously, what is even so important that you’re ignoring me right now!” Emma’s voice cut through the fog, and you looked at her with a blank expression. It was times like these that you really missed Na- No. You refused to go there. You didn’t miss her. You were over her.

“No celery.”

Emma threw her hands up in the air. “You seriously don’t see what’s wrong, do you?”

“No.” You tilted your head, confused at what your girlfriend was talking about.

“Well, I’m not just going to tell you! Jesus. You should know. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Emma stood up in a huff, making a lot of noise while getting ready to leave.

“Okay – bye” Your attention was bought back to the phone when Tony sent you a cute video of Morgan crawling about, probably as a bribe to get you to buy celery. You stood, watching the video a few times before you shut off your phone, finally getting around to babyproofing your house.

~~~~~

Babyproofing a house was a lot more work than you originally thought. You had spent most the night picking sharp objects up from baby-height areas and making sure you hadn’t left any weapons about. All the guns taped under tables had to be relocated and you found enough change to set you up for retirement. You just hoped and prayed there were no small beads for Morgan to choke on. You didn’t even get around to putting soft corners on the edges of tables and counter tops, but you told yourself that it was survival of the fittest at that point. The whole endeavour had taken most the night which is how you found yourself with only an hour till Tony, Pepper and Morgan arrived.

There was a knock on the door, and you saw that you were 15 minutes late. Luckily your girlfriend had arrived half an hour before so you figured she could let them in. You shouted down, telling her to get the door as you finished putting on your socks.

“Hiya baby!” You cooed at Morgan babbling in Pepper’s arms, watching as her chubby hands reached for your hair, grabbing on with a crazy amount of strength. “Oh my god you’re strong. Pep, are you sure she’s Tony’s? I’m pretty sure she’s as strong as Thor.” You laughed, looking over at Tony. Your face dropped into careful neutrality as you saw the redhead standing behind him.

“Of course she’s mine doofus. We had multiple paternity tests.” Tony winked.

You didn’t know what to do. You weren’t ready. Your throat went dry as you asked if anyone wanted any drinks, your girlfriend waving them into the living room. You prepared the drinks, and you felt a presence behind you, wrapping their arms around your waist, their head resting on your back. You hated it. You felt suffocated. You took a breath and handed half the drinks to Emma, opting to grab a wine glass and fill it with the wine you had been saving for a special occasion. It might not have been a special occasion, but you needed something strong to get though the next few hours and you knew this would do the job.

You made your way back into the living room and Tony gestured to Emma “I don’t think we’ve met yet.”

“I’m Emma.”

“Tony. This is Pepper, Morgan and Natasha.” Your heart dropped at the mention of her name, realising that she wasn’t some cruel hallucination but was in fact standing in your living room.

“Sorry. I forgot to introduce you all.” You smiled and took another large swig from your glass.

“Hey how come you’re the only one with alcohol?”

“Because you’re a parent now.” You rolled your eyes at Tony, feeling Natasha stare holes into your face.

“So I need it even more!” Pepper hit Tony as he said that, causing Morgan to laugh.

“Don’t worry about Y/n getting drunk, she can handle her alcohol pretty well.”

“We know.” Natasha finally spoke. Her voice bought back floods of memories and you realised you missed her voice – just the tiniest amount. “Who exactly are you to Y/n?” To anyone else, the question was flippant, like asking about the weather but you, Tony and Pepper could all hear the carefully laced venom within her words and while the question sounded like it was aimed at your girlfriend, you could tell she was speaking to you.

“Where’s Bruce this fine day?” You shot back, not letting Emma speak.

“My question first.” Natasha finally turned her gaze to focus on you.

“Why are you here?” You felt Emma’s arm slither possessively around your waist. Perhaps if it had been another day, you would have appreciated it but right now, you felt like you were drowning. She held you too tight, you couldn’t move.

“Ah.” Natasha wore a smug look on her face and yet her eyes flashed with hurt. You hated that she had found out information you weren’t willing to give.

“Why are you here Agent Romanoff.” You wanted- no needed her to answer you. You needed to know why she came to you. Then you looked at Tony. “Why would you bring her here?” Your voice was level, Morgan was pulling at your leg to get you to pick her up. You used that as an excuse to escape your girlfriend’s grip.

“We need you back.”

“So you bring your baby to try and bribe me back?” You ran a hand through your hair, lightly bouncing Morgan. “That I can understand but why bring her?” You waved at Natasha, feeling both her and Emma’s eyes bore into you.

“She’s part of the team too and you both need to get on.” Pepper said.

“You were in on this too?” Your throat felt tight. You couldn’t breathe properly.

“I’m sorry but who exactly are you?” Emma asked. Natasha scoffed at her, folding her arms, and rolling her eyes.

Everything was a little too loud and muffled. It felt as if you were underwater. The sun was too bright, and it made everything a little too hard to look at. You could see your furniture, but it wouldn’t stay in your brain long enough for you to fully register it. You placed Morgan on the sofa and took a deep breath, closing your eyes to focus. When you opened them again you looked straight at Natasha.

“I am not going to play nice with you. You broke me and now that I’m moving on you suddenly decide to show up? No. I don’t believe it. Why can’t you just let me be happy? Leave me alone. Besides, I thought I was a ‘fun little distraction’.” You spat at Natasha. You were tired of being the bigger person. She had hurt you and you wanted to watch her bleed. It’s why you leant over and kissed Emma harshly, why you let out a slight moan so Natasha could hear. It didn’t matter that it was completely fake because even though you knew you should feel satisfaction at Natasha’s hurt face, the twinge of sadness upset you more than you would have liked.

Natasha knew the kiss was forced. She knew it was, but it didn’t stop the knife digging deeper into her heart. You had moved on and she had to respect that. She had said some awful things to you, and you really did deserve someone much better than her. You stormed out of the house, saying that you were going for a walk, leaving your girlfriend to entertain your guests.

~~~~~

It was dark by the time you got back. You saw Natasha on the sofa and ignored her as you walked straight to the guest bedroom. All you wanted to do was curl up and sleep this horrible day into the past but unfortunately for you, you had a girlfriend sitting on the bed.

“This bed isn’t big enough for-” Emma cut you off with a rough kiss. “Emma not now-”

“Yes now. I want to remind your ex what she’s missing.” Emma went back to kissing you and you wanted to cry. You didn’t like her possessiveness, didn’t like her jealousy. With Natasha that had been fun but with Emma, it made you feel afraid.

“Emma seriously.” You grabbed her wrist, not letting her reach into your underwear.

Emma huffed and stepped back. “What’s your problem?”

“I’m really tired. Can’t we just sleep?”

“It’s your ex, isn’t it? Why is she even here? I can’t believe you were going to just let her stay here and not tell me!”

“I didn’t know she was coming!” You were both stage whispering, conscious of the fact there was a baby that most likely didn’t sleep all that often.

“Then kick her out!”

You said nothing. You couldn’t just kick her out. That wouldn’t be fair.

“Oh my god you still love her. You still love her and she’s in love with someone else. Or she was. Ha.” Emma let out a bark of laughter. “That’s so fucking rich. You know what, crawl back to her but don’t come crying to me when she fucks you over again do you hear me?”

“Emma that’s not- I don’t love her anymore. I hate her. She ruined my life.”

“You truly hate her?” You nodded at her. “Supposedly, you can only truly hate someone if you loved them first. We’re done Y/n”

“Seriously?! What? Because I used to love Natasha? Because I don’t want to have sex with you? Grow up Emma. I’ve loved people before you and at this rate, I’ll love people after you too. I’m tired. I don’t have to have sex with you. You can’t make me.”

“I’m your girlfriend! You’re supposed to want to have sex with me!”

“Well not when I’ve had a long ass day!”

“Guys, I think you might wake Morgan.” You winced a little at the addition of Natasha. You knew this was going to end badly.

“This is my fucking house!” Emma said, not lowering her tone.

“Actually, it’s Y/n’s.” Natasha calmly stated. She really wasn’t going to rise to the bait.

Your girl- sorry- ex-girlfriend, fumed next to you. “You know what? Have her. She’s so screwed over from whatever you pulled that I don’t think she can love anyone ever again anyway.” Emma seethed, grabbing her shoes, and slamming the door on the way out. The sound of baby Morgan crying echoed through the house.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” You ran your hand over your face, the exhaustion of the whole day catching up with you.

“No, it’s not. I betrayed your trust over the one thing I knew you couldn’t tolerate. I knew how hurtful cheating is to you and I did it anyway. I know it’s not an excuse, but I guess I just felt like you deserved someone more than me. Someone better.”

You said nothing. You were so so tired. You missed her and it ached, but you couldn’t forget what she had done. “I can’t trust you anymore.”

“I know but please let me try again. Bruce wasn’t worth it. He only made me realise how much I love you.” Tears were filling up Natasha’s beautiful eyes and you could see just how tired she looked.

“I missed you.” You whispered out, not wanting to break whatever was being formed

“I missed you too. So so much.”

“I can’t forgive you. Not yet, but…you can have one more chance Natasha. That’s it. You get one chance at my forgiveness.”

“Okay!” Natasha sniffled slightly “I promise I won’t mess this up.”

“I’m serious Natasha. One chance. I don’t play baseball. There are no three strikes.”

Natasha gingerly reached up to cup your face. “I won’t waste this.”

“Good because I never really stopped loving you and I’d hate to be a simp.”

“I think it’s a little too late for that dove.” Natasha let out a watery laugh.

“Excuse me?” You let out a fake gasp and wiped some of the tears from her cheeks.

“It’s okay, I’ll tell you a secret.” Natasha ushered you to lean closer and you did, she tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and whispered, “I’ve been whipped for you for as long as I can remember.”

You were looking forward to all the ways Natasha was going to make it up to you and hopefully, you’d get to give Bruce a good punch too. You both knew it was going to be a long road ahead but you both felt a little more ready for what lies next.

[x-chubby-reader]

Hey, how about hcs Ushijima,Terushima, Bokuto and Kuroo getting jealous when their chubby s/o being hitting on right before their eyes 🥴 what would they do? Might as well do nsfw a lil' bit? 🥺

Thank you! I love your works ❤🥰

 Jealous Haikyuu Boys + !NSFW!

Ushijima, Terushima, Bokuto, and Kurro x Plus size reader

A/N - Hope I brought this to justice. I loved this idea a lot but I think they might have made them a little toxic- Also sorry for this being very overdue with writing, but as most of you know my motivation for lots of thing is shit. Also Thanks to @livieeee for basically helping to edit and give ideas for this. I also may add to the other characters NSFW as I accidentally gave Bokuto the most detailed part

Lowercase intended

Not proof read

NSFW included

Cursing

The Characters are all aged up for this Headcannon

Ushijima

we are all very aware about how blunt he is with things

not one to bottle things up

if he doesn't like something, he will voice his opinion

ushijimas blunt ass will sat whatever he wants if he deems that its true

doesn't everyone want to know the truth about things?

he also isn’t one to be easily jealous over things too

his confident ass knows that he’s got you in the long run anyways 

he has complete trust in you, your his rock

ushi knows that you wouldn’t go off to flirt with some douche just for the fun of it

the first time that he had ever found himself jealous was when you had dragged him out to your friends birthday party in college

he wouldn’t of even gone if you hadn't forced him out to be social and to make some friends with people his own age and should get out of the house for something other than practicing with the volleyball team he was on

since the party had been for your friend finally becoming of legal drinking age, of course there had been alcohol

oh i wonder how this liquid luck could get you into a predicament?

you had needed to go to the bathroom, so you gave your boyfriend a little wave before leaving

it should of only taken you about five minutes, and ushi knew that

so when you took over twenty he decided to go looking for you

while he was searching for your thicker frame, you had been quite preocupied with something else

there was this guy, completely drunk off of his ass, who wouldn’t leave you along

“are you lightning? because your my mc-queen”

 just really icky and shitty pick up lines

homeboy was so touchy too omfg like back up ass hat

you hadn't even noticed the amount of time that had passed until you felt a strong hand on your shoulder

boy did that make you jump

and he looked pissed

~Nsfw~

homeboy really said posessive~

ushi literally ripped you away into the bathroom as you had been stuck in the hallways for god knows how long

for once his touch wasn’t gentle with you, it was more rough and less caring

he’s so rough with you right now oml

to make the story short, you won’t be walking easily later

he wants to make you yell out, to show everyone in the premis know that you are his

“how about you let everyone know who you belong to, sweetheart~”

his buff ass literally is holding you up, just fucking railing into you

only stops when he deems that you are done

he even apologizes if he hurt you too badly

cleans the both of you up with one of the guest towels hanging, before walking you ever so gently out to grab a cab and make your way home

Terushima

while the two of you had been out shopping for god know what, you happened to spot an old friend

he was ole of those guy friends that were overly touchy, but you never had really minded it since he was just being nice

your friend had been very high energy and affectionate, but they always meant well

so your boyfriend, terushima, had just smacked a smile on his face and acted as friendly as could be

But he was jealous of all the attention you were giving him

hey you couldn’t help it, you haven’t seen the guy in years

hello? teru is your boyfriend, not this guy!

the look on his face when you exchanged numbers to meet up later

you would of thought that you had just shot his puppy dear lord

he was so god damn sad

“he’s totally trying to get into your pants y/n!”

“no he isn’t teru, he’s just being nice”

“y/n, no-”

your so oblivious to it 

terushima has two levels jealously

he goes from pout-y little kid to complete asshole in a matter of seconds

homeboy is black and white with his personality, there is no gray area with him

even though he isn’t one to keep quiet about something he doesn't like, he did it anyways for your sake

though he glared holes into him

eventually when he had left ho boy did terushima give you an earful

you heard even more when he found about how you made plans with before mentioned friend to have dinner

it was just so the two of you could catch up after the many years that you haddn’t seen each other

“its just dinner”

“y/n its like he’s trying to date you

“can you chill out?”

“no! what? are you dating him now???”

okay he can be a little high strung sometimes, but its something you can tolerate

~NSFW~

remember how you had given him your phone number?

yeah, that may be important

while you had been getting ready for your little ‘dinner date’ with your friend, teru had still been glaring at the back of your head

you could see his annoyed look from the mirror, but you payed him no mind

hey, he would get over it sooner or later

your phone decides to start ringing, and its the guy

teru looks at it, then at you, then back at the phone

he hits answer before handing the phone to you

you decide to start talking, everything is in a friendly tone

and then he decides to play around a bit

a little nip here and there, nothing more nothing less

just to see what his little doll face can handle

then soon he escalates it more and more

soon lurking hands become groping and nips became hickeys

though you had to pretend that everything was hunky dory on your side of the phone

homeboy on the other line didn’t even think anything of it

“hey are you okay?” he had asked once when you particularly couldn’t handle his stimulation

“y-yeah i’m great right now...”

his hand would slip and dip into places that you had forgotten about until now

just the smooth and slick friction would bring heat to your face, though 

that’s when teru had taken the phone back

“screw off your asshat, never call her again!”

and he never did, even if you say him in public, he would walk the other direction 

Bokuto 

the two of you had just been out window shopping and peaking into stores on a saturday

when a store employee had started talking about a popular television show that had aired yesterday, you hadn't thought anything of it

in your mind it would of been rude to ignore them completely,

what if they were just having a bad day and you little small talk and brightened it just a little?

you didn’t want to have something like that on your consensus 

bo had been standing beside you the entire time, and you hadn’t even noticed the way he had stiffened and almost seemed to puff up, like an owl

there had been one person who did notice bokuto’s uneasiness

baby boy had thought that the two of you had been flirting when he walked by

omg he looked so sad

he went from being all perky and happy to looking like a deflated balloon

it was pretty pathetic

sooner or later the worker had felt so awkaward that he left, that’s when you had noticed his discomfort

he had waved if off until the two of you had gotten home, then you finally cornered him and asked

“whats wrong?”

he just rolled his eyes to himself, “you should know!”

yeah just the buffering circle above your head for that one

you really had no idea

“i seriously don’t bo...”��

“yes you do, in the store that worker was totally flirting with you!” he had finally spoke out

oh...

that had made sense you guessed

even though you had apologized to him, he had still been down, even needy

~NSFW~

bo had just been clinging on you for the past hour

if your standing, he’s right behind you, just looming

he became a shadow or a lost puppy, following you everywhere

his arms always found their way to your generous waist, holding onto you as if you would be blown away if a gust of wind decided to make its way though your home

as you had tried to walk down the short hallway that connected your bedroom to the living room, bokuto had stopped the both of you

he looked down to you before grabbing your wrist

bokuto half dragged and half lead you to the shared room you both shared since you moved in together

he had pushed you, not carefully may I add, onto the futon bed

koutarou soon climbed on top of your plush frame, his face lightly dusted in a red hue 

one of his hands wandered down towards the plush button that resided between your thick thighs

the other had cradled the back of your head, pulling you back lightly so he could have more access to your neck and collarbones

bokuto lightly kissed your skin, it didn’t matter if imperfections or not

now this would have been more of a sweet moment if you hadn’t noticed the almost mocking circles you felt at your core

“am i good enough for you now baby owl?”

you would of answered him if you were able to form words, but the amount of stimulation that he was able to give you simply from the tips of his fingers was astonishing

damn boy he got magic hands

you had opened your mouth but no words came out

that had made the two toned haired boy let out a laugh

the only thing that you thought to do was to wrap your arms around his broad back

“speechless, huh” he had taunted you, a smirk on his face

he just kept up his happy little circles, the stimulation bringing a warm, almost butterfly like feeling to your abdomen

 it was if he filled an empty part of you, and you needed him to survive

the tightness in your core had started to bubble, feeling as if you were going to top off the edge and boil over

your former speachless self was soon a babbling mess, telling bo how much you did need him

and even after you had reached and passed your high, he hadn't stopped, he loved the way your words flowed from your mouth in light, breathless pleas

oh he wasn’t even done

play nice you two

Kuroo

out of the two of you, kuroo had always been the more jealous one

baby boy is passive aggressive about it too

he doesn't do the keeping it to himself kind of bullshit

just completely straight to the point

he dosent often become jealous either

kuroo trusts that you wont get flirty or ‘advance’ on anyone else, because you have him for that

why would you need anyone else when he’s right there?

he has the confidence that all of us are jealous of

you and i know that this boy gives little insults to almost everyone

just in a joking and playful way, because that’s just how he communicates to people

but if someone decides to push it

ho boy

mr. rooster man slowly gets more and more passive aggressive

literally they turn into thinly veiled threats

you could practically see the steam coming out of his ears

so imagine his reaction when the waiter at a restaurant had decided to get a little too cozy with interacting with you

kuroo had been sitting right across from you, a pissed off look slapped over his face

who was this asshole and why the fuck was he going after his little kitten?

he had kept his mouth shut but raised an eyebrow at your plush form

it was as if he was asking if you were going to let this guy keep his shitty advances up

you just thought he was being friendly, but according to kuroo he wasn’t

when he had figured that you weren't going to stop him, he spoke up

“lay off dickwad” his voice had been laced with the utmost hate, you had never heard him ever use that tone before

with that, he had grabbed you by the arm before leaving, not paying for the two glasses

~NSFW~

the two of you had gone home in his car

no words had been exchanged between kuroo or you

“you were so into that, weren't you y/n” the bed-head boy had muttered to you, almost in a mocking way

you couldn’t think of a reason on why he was acting like that, so you had just kept your mouth shut until he would drop you off at your apartment

his hand that usually resided on your plush thigh while he was driving was currently white knuckled on the the steering wheel

even though he was looking at the road, he looked completely pissed

no plea for him to talk to you would make him speak up, it was as if he was stuck in thought

even when he had dropped you off at your flat, he seemed to still loom over you

when you took out your keys, he took them from your hand and opened the door himself as if you were suddenly incompetent of doing anything for yourself

“need someone to do everything for you huh? just too dumb in the brain to do anything...” kuroo had sneered to himself

“okay what the fuck is your problem you asshole?” you had finally spoken up, really what was this jerks deal with you?

homeboy had glared at you before pinning you against the wall in your own home as if he owned the place, “oh so now you talk, you were so fine with that guy in the restaurant huh? completely preoccupied with him to forget that i was there...”

suddenly everything is making sense right now, the puzzel pieces are fitting together

homeboy was jealous and you had no idea, you just though he was being pissy for no reason

he just sighed, putting his head in the crook of your neck, “idiot...”

kuroo had finally turned his head to look up to you, a slightly sad look on his face

oh you felt like complete shit, homeboy looked so down that your heart hurt

you leaned your head slightly down so you could give the top of his head a lil kiss kiss

homeboy almost seemed to purr from the affection

he slung his arms over your shoulders, it was as if he was leading you into the minimal living room that you had

the two of somehow ended up on the crappy couch you had, him on top humming happily down below at you

sandwiched happily together

“i’m still disappointed in you...” he muttered, looking down at you

“oh bite me” though you paused before thinking, “how about i make it up to you?”

kuroo had smirked, “and how are you going to do that?” he questioned you

it was as if you had suddenly forgotten how to speak, a burning heat spreading from your cheeps to the bridge of your nose

lets just say that you did not expect that answer from him in the slightest-

his slender hand ran up the side of your torso, as if he was memoriizing the peaks and valleys of your figure

“i’m the only one who can make you feel like this,” kuroo had muttered cockily, staring into your eyes

he had no shame making comments like these, why should he?

his fingers snuck under the elastic material of the underthings you had currently been wearing, teasingly testing the waters and rubbing fether-like circles over your sensitive bits that were located on your chest

“are you ready?”

[ptergwen]

web of lies

take a leap. if you start to fall, the net will appear to catch you.

photographer!peter x journalist!reader || masterlist

w/c: 7.1k

warnings: swearing, one drinking mention, descriptions of anxiety, and angst if ya squint

summary: peter can’t stop holding your hands, betty and ned are the modern day bonnie and clyde, ned is a terrible guy in the chair, the osborn’s are up to something, and mj hates you all

a/n: y’all i’m super excited about this series like i haven’t had an idea i’ve really loved in months? so it’s good to be back !!! there are tons of things i have planned and i can’t wait to share them with all of you hehe i really hope you enjoy part one <3 happy reading

to be honest, which is what you do best, you’ve had a thing for peter parker your whole time at the daily bugle. you actually almost told him once.

a couple months ago, peter walked you home on a night you worked overtime. he’d came in last minute to leave some pictures on your boss’s desk. no one else but you was there, hunched at your computer in the dim office lighting. peter was pleasantly surprised to see you, yet concerned for your well-being. you had to put your finishing touches on a story.

he didn’t feel comfortable letting you travel alone at that hour. so, he went with you when you were ready. his company was more than welcomed. you told peter about your article while you two sat on the subway. he’d listened intently, your head resting on his shoulder and his arm around you. he made sure you got to your apartment building alright as well.

“hey, peter?” you’d asked, halfway up the steps. he was waiting until you were inside and safe to leave. “hm? you good?” he’d smiled sort of expectantly. “yeah. i... i wanted to say...”

your words got caught in your throat when he gave you the softest puppy eyes you’ve ever seen. you couldn’t do it. for some reason, you were too scared to confess how you felt. “thanks again for walking me home,” you’d settled on. he’d seemed disappointed that was what you wanted to tell him. nevertheless, he said not to worry about it before taking off.

that one moment perfectly captures it all; how yours and peter’s narrative plays itself out.

—

“we’ve got an update on hydra v. the people!”

“those freaky giraffes escaped the zoo... again.”

“shoot one more spitball and it’ll be your last.”

“does anyone have an aspirin?”

welcome to the daily bugle, where the chaos never ends and the calm never starts. you’ll find new york’s finest writers, publishers, and creatives of all kind right here. that would include you. you’re one of the top journalists in the whole building, according to mr. norman osborn. he’s the brilliant and slightly insane man who runs this place.

although it’s rare for someone in your field, you were hired straight out of college. norman read a few pieces you’d written and loved them so much that he offered you a job. full time, full benefits, no questions asked. there was something special about the way you wove your words together. your writing had its own voice. a strong voice, one the paper was severely lacking.

you’ve been with the bugle for just over a year now. it’s not the quiet, nine to five gig you were initially expecting it to be. you’re each very unique individuals in your office, and there’s never a dull moment because of it. your coworkers can be found hosting debates on the riskiest topics or tackling each other for blueberry muffins, and that’s just a regular tuesday. the place is stranger than strange. but, it’s become home.

thanks to mr. osborn being so accommodating, you actually settled in rather quickly. another big help has been the friends you’ve made. your first was michelle jones, who prefers to be called mj. she’s a fellow journalist with a wickedly dark humor that trickles into her writing. if you had to describe her in one word, it would be blunt. mj is as real as it gets, and also eternally loyal. she keeps her circle small, so you’re honored you get to be in it.

mj sits right next to you, which means you’re always talking through your days. that’s due in part to the way your office is set up. there aren’t any cubicles, tables and swirly chairs taking up their space instead. norman heard it was more progressive, probably from his son harry.

harry is about your age, only a couple of years older. he hangs around quite a lot, but doesn’t do much with his time besides that. according to norman, he’s still seeking out his passion. he’s banking on him finding a suitable career at the bugle. he’d like to pass this all on to harry some day, hopefully sooner than later. either way, you don’t mind having harry here. he’s super funny and friendly with everyone.

there’s also ned leeds, who’s an editor and reviews most of your pieces. he’s sweeter than candy, even when he’s ripping your grammar to shreds. on the rare occasions you’re not discussing breaking news, you two talk about movies. ned is a film buff and gives you the best recommendations. you’re convinced he was a critic in his past life.

last but so from least is peter parker. he only works for the bugle part time, since he’s still in school. you both graduated from your respective colleges the same year. peter wants to get his masters degree, though. he’s a photographer who’s aspiring to be a cinematographer. him and ned have their passion for the industry in common, and that’s what makes them such great friends.

you learned this and more from the times you and peter have partnered up on stories. he’s one of your best friends not only at the bugle, but in your entire life. the many long nights you’ve spent collaborating have brought you close to each other. they consist of drinking and deep talks, along with some actual work. he takes the pictures, you do the writing. you’ve been told you make a lovely pair.

peter says it himself, too. you’d like to believe he means it as more than coworkers. he’s so caring, and smart, and pure, and peter. yeah, you like him an awful lot. you can hardly stand the feeling of it sometimes.

the fact that you you haven’t come clean already is ridiculous.

“goddamn. not again,” you mutter out. “em, you better come look at this. it’s bad.” mj wheels over to you in her chair with a puzzled look. her eyes follow yours, landing on your computer. “leeds just sent this? to everyone?” she questions, your reply a short hum. you’re both staring daggers at the email your screen displays.

ned is responsible for assigning each journalist their own topics to cover. he’s been lacking a bit recently, having you write up think pieces on fluffy things. in other words, stuff that no one cares about. he asked you to compare oat milk and almond milk just last week. you’d hoped this week would be better, but here you are.

“this is ass. who does he think we are, buzzfeed?” mj scoffs at her own words. the daily bugle prides itself on being a reliable news source, on paper and tv. you’re starting to stoop down to the low level of your competitors. “he assigned me some tiktok dance trend. i’m not writing a single word about that app.” she sets her elbows down on the table, head in her hands.

“aw, why not? grandma mj isn’t down with the kids?” you tease and click out of the upsetting email. “i don’t write for kids,” mj deadpans. she pushes her glasses up on her nose. “what’d you get?” “the evolution of memes,” you gloomily reply. you’re surprised norman has been approving these topics. then again, ned is the head editor. he can do whatever he wants regardless of approval.

mj glares over at the kitchen, where betty brant currently resides. she’s making two hot chocolates instead of her usual one. “i blame her,” mj mumbles to you. your eyebrows furrow. “dude, what? betty is an angel. she doesn’t even work in editing.” betty is the bugle’s highest rated anchorwoman. her and her news team are on people’s televisions every night.

“no, but she has been spending a generous amount of time with leeds,” mj grumbles. she’s admittedly very nosy. the upside is that she tells you any juicy office drama there is. “my theory is betty’s making him give us crap stories so she can report the good ones.” she glances over at you to see what you think. “no way. that can’t be allowed... or legal,” you laugh back.

as if on cue, ned appears next to betty in the kitchen. he takes the extra hot coco that’s piled high with whipped cream. betty tucks a sheet of paper into his suit pocket and kisses his cheek, then he’s gone. you can only gasp as you watch this unfold. what has she done to poor, clueless ned?

“not such an angel anymore, huh?” mj smirks in satisfaction. “suddenly, she has red horns and a pitchfork,” you bitterly agree with your tongue in your cheek. betty waves to you two on her way back to broadcasting. mj gives her a fake nice finger wave, you ignoring her. “we can’t sit back and let this happen, em. we have to do something,” you decide. “let’s tell norman.”

uninterested, mj takes off her glasses and starts to clean them. “like he’ll believe us. yeah, golden girl betty brant is sabotaging the writer’s room,” she rewords her previous statement to put its stupidity in perspective. you throw your hands up. “she is, though! we literally watched it happen!” mj puts her freshly wiped glasses back on and sighs.

“i doubt norman would care, y/n. every newspaper to ever exist is corrupt somehow.” your pessimistic old pal has a point. however, you’re not so willing to accept it. “why can’t we be the first one that isn’t?” you offer a small smile. mj snickers, wheeling back to her own computer. “those are words of the innocent.” she’s already tapping her fingers across the keyboard.

“i thought you weren’t doing the tiktok piece,” you say under your breath. you’re slightly pissed mj turned you down, since she’s the reason you know about betty’s meddling. “i’m not,” mj answers sharply. “i’m gonna email quentin and ask if we can change our topics. happy?” quentin beck is another editor in the building. he’s not bad, but he is intimidating. no one typically goes to him as their first option.

“i’m thrilled,” you confirm and grin at mj to emphasize it. “thanks for stepping up. you’re forgiven.” “i didn’t realize i had to be sorry,” mj notes, this time in a playful manor. she shakes her head as she begins writing. “you and your morals.”

what you value most in your career is honesty, under any circumstances. of course, the other daily bugle writers are the same. norman strictly prohibits clickbait and crazy headlines because that isn’t real news. you leave that to companies like buzzfeed. you’re honest in the sense that you say whatever has to be said, what everyone else is too afraid to. you’ll speak your truth no matter who tries to stop you.

it didn’t used to be that way. there’s some childhood trauma that remains deep in the back of your mind. you’ve left that behind you now, having over a decade to cope with it. hey, they say the past is in the past. what’s important is your takeaway, that you would never let yourself or anyone else be silenced from there on out. never again.

quentin ends up giving you the okay to write different stories. he lets you and mj choose choose your own because he’s got “better things to do” and you’re “big girls.” what a peach he is. mj goes with how capitalism is continuing to provoke global warming. she has something to say about every major world issue, and you admire the hell out of her for it.

you’re a bit stuck when it’s time to write your article. it’s terribly ironic because you pushed for this. you aren’t too worried, though. the city is crawling with material, so you’ll find what you’re looking for eventually. lucky for you, some much needed inspiration comes skipping out of the elevator.

“morning, peter,” you hear liz greet him at the front desk. she’s your floor’s receptionist. her wisdom and patience keep this place going. “hi, liz. how’s it going?” he asks. “things have been quiet... mostly. can i do anything for you?” liz peers up at him. peter sports a shy smile. “uh, yeah. mr. osborn wanted to see me?” “right. hang on.” she nods, dialing his office phone number.

it’s endearing how peter calls him mr. osborn, seeing as the rest of you go with norman. he’s probably the politest guy you’ve ever met.

grinning, liz puts down the phone. “you can go in whenever you’re ready. good luck!” peter laughs nervously and turns to leave. “thanks, you too.” his face falls when he realizes his mistake. “wait, i- i didn’t mean to say that. that was stupid. you’re not-“ “it’s fine, peter,” liz reassures him. his anxiety makes him trip over his words sometimes. that, and he’s a bit dorky in general. you find it rather adorable.

you also wonder what exactly he needs good luck for. he’s not even supposed to be working today, so your curiosity as to what’s going on has been piqued.

“um, i’m gonna go now. bye!” peter rushes off, his face tinted pink from the embarrassing encounter. you’re hoping he’ll stop and talk with you for a little while, but he heads straight to norman’s office. your whole body deflates at that. mj notices from her peripherals.

“what’s the matter? missing your hubby?” she coos, her words dripping in sarcasm. “no,” you lie. “i’m... i don’t know what to write about.” ok, there’s some truth. mj gives you a couple pats on the shoulder. “ask parker for help. you two work... well together. don’t you?” this must be the zillionth time you’ve heard that.

“we do,” you murmur and glance at norman’s closed door. peter is hidden behind it. “i just don’t wanna bug him. he has finals soon, and whatever norman is putting him up to. it’s my job, anyway.” mj pokes your arm. “those sound like excuses to me,” she concludes, still jabbing at you childishly. “you really just don’t wanna tell him you like-“

“can you keep it down?” you hiss, yanking your arm back. “he’s literally right over there.” peter stands up and shakes norman’s hand. you catch it through the blinds on his window. “y/n, you were drooling over his mere presence only minutes ago,” mj prefaces, a smile pulling at her lips. “you can handle three little words. i like you, that’s it. spit it out already.”

you’ll never admit this to mj, but she’s right. you lost your momentum after your first failed attempt to say the three little words. you’re still not sure what stopped you. you’d shared the details of that faithful night with her, and she’s been pushing you to try again since.

the door to norman’s office opens, and out walks peter. he’s beaming after their conversation, which seems like a good sign. harry passes peter on his way in to pay his dad a visit. he claps him on the shoulder, peter happily accepting before continuing his stride back into the main office. it takes a moment to register that he’s coming towards you.

you quickly set your focus back on your computer so he doesn’t think you’ve been watching him. even though, you definitely have.

“y/n!” peter calls your name. he’s on the opposite side of your table, in front of you. “peter!” you match his tone. “i was just dropping by. i thought i’d say hey while i’m here.” he’s still grinning. “what’re you doing?” he looks cute as ever in an oversized and cream colored sweater. his curls are slicked back with a tad too much product, cheeks rosy. you gaze up at him when he rests his arms on the table.

“pretending to be productive,” mj answers for you, pressing her lips together. peter cocks his head to the side. “pretending?” “ignore her. she’s being a shit stirrer today,” you explain. “like every other day,” he jokes, earning a laugh from you. mj just tuts and keeps writing. “talk about me like i’m not here,” she mumbles to herself, then gets back into her article.

“anyways, i thought you didn’t work today?” you ask to take the attention off yourself. also, because you’re curious. “oh! get this.” peter perks up even more, if that’s possible. he has energy like no other. “you know alex in broadcasting? betty’s camera guy?” “what about him?” you wonder. “he called in sick earlier this morning, with the flu or something.” he’s oddly excited to announce this. that prompts you to make a funny face.

biting back another smile, peter elaborates. “mr. osborn needed someone to fill in for him, so he picked me. i’ll be here all week.” it makes sense, since peter knows how to work a camera and does so wonderfully. you give him a celebratory push at his chest. “peter, that’s amazing! this is the perfect way to transition from pictures to film, right?” he’s nearing his finals at school, which consist of more movie-like projects. the news will be great practice.

then, he’s off to hollywood. you’ll put that out of your mind for now.

“exactly! i think it’ll be a good place to start. the pay isn’t bad either.” peter wiggles his eyebrows at you, you giggling once again. you do a lot of that when he’s around. that’s going to be more often now. “plus, i get to see you. everyone wins.” he squeezes your hand that was just on him. your heart begins to thump. “except alex,” you challenge, playing with his fingers. “but, for real. i’m happy you get to do this and that we’ll be spending more time together.”

“thanks, y/n/n. me too.” peter grins and leans over, taking a peek at your computer screen. there’s a blank word document on it. “you never told me what you’re up to,” he chuckles. “guess mj was right... nothing.” “i’m always right,” she chimes in from next to you. you look between the two of them with a scowl. “i haven’t found my story yet. i don’t know, this never happens.” peter nods as you share your dilemma. “no good ideas are coming to me,” you murmur.

“they will. you have a way of attracting things.” he licks his lower lip, your heart completely stopping this time. “well, i gotta go set up for rise and shine with betty brant.” he waves his hand like he’s presenting his words. that’s what betty calls her morning news segment. “be careful with her. she’s being really sketchy these days,” you warn peter, mj grunting in agreement.

confused, peter purses his lips. “really? ned says she’s a sweetheart. they’ve been going out for a while.” mj pops her head up and adjusts her glasses. “did ned also tell you she’s bribing him to give her all of our scoops?” she’s asking rhetorically because she already knows the answer. of course he didn’t. “it’s one thing to not like her. you’re just making things up now,” peter huffs.

mj kicks your foot under the table. “i told you no one would believe us. not even peter gullible parker.” “it’s benjamin,” he corrects her. “whatever,” she brushes it off, resuming her work.

peter does tend to be sort of naive, to only see the good in things when there’s plenty of bad. you’re the same in that way, unless you hang around mj for too long.

“is that true? betty’s stealing your stories?” peter turns to you and asks. you gesture to your screen. “i don’t have one, so you do the math.” he hums sympathetically. he’ll listen to you, never mj. “i’m sorry. thanks for telling me, y/n. i’ll watch out for her.” he bends his fingers to look like goggles, putting them around his eyes. you sigh lightheartedly.

“are you twenty two years old or twelve?” mj remarks, but not without a comeback from peter. “you’re, like, eighty five. worry about that.” they’ve had this type of banter for as long as you’ve known them. it’s equal parts amusing and exhausting. “don’t be late on your first day.” you snap peter out of it with a knowing smile. he returns it.

“i hope something crazy happens so you can write about it.” he’s walking backwards now, towards the elevator. “see you later, pete,” is all you say back, yet another laugh threatening to escape you. “see you. bye, michelle,” peter says just to bug her. “it’s mj,” she groans without looking up. he shrugs. “not so fun, is it?”

after peter is gone, you try to get back into work. or rather, you try to start your work. what he said about you having a way of attracting things keeps ringing in your head. was he flirting? no, he couldn’t have been. peter parker doesn’t flirt. words aren’t his strong suit, and you have countless memories that prove this to be true. earlier with liz, for example.

you’re probably reading way into this. peter was simply doing what any good friend would do and gave you advice.

it’s late in the afternoon when anything worth mentioning happens again. peter is still with betty, as far as you know. they’re probably preparing for the nighttime news now. all you’ve done since seeing him is nibble on snacks and bug mj, who’s almost done with her story despite your distractions. this is really bad, considering your deadline to submit is at the end of today.

you’ve never missed a deadline.

mj emails her work to quentin while you repeatedly bang your head on the table. she hits send before deciding to entertain you. “whatcha doing over there?” she cautiously prompts, powering off her computer. “trying to get an idea. i’m desperate, if you couldn’t tell.” your voice is muffled. “i could.” mj grabs your shoulders and pulls you back so you’re sitting up. you childishly pout.

“y/n, the only thing that’s gonna give you is brain damage,” mj says sternly, then softens her tone. “why don’t you ask for an extension? norman gives me them all the time.” whining, you slump down in your chair again. “yeah, but you’re you! we do things differently, have different expectations put on us.” she’s back to cold mj after you say that. “alright. at least i did something today besides pine over that little-“

mj’s insult for peter is interrupted by harry. “ladies, what’s shaking?” he comes up to you two with a the hint of smirk on his face. you manage a nod to acknowledge him. “oh, hey... harry,” mj unenthusiastically replies. she’s the one person who isn’t really a fan of him. “not much. y/n was just having a tantrum.” “she was not,” you dismiss her. “it’s work stuff. you know your dad.”

harry clicks his tongue in a teasing way. “yep, the grind never stops in this joint. boss man is...” he does the sign for cuckoo with his finger. you laugh a little at that. “in a good way,” you add on. mj only watches you two, blinking blankly. harry gives you a definitive pat on the back. “before i forget, he wants to see you.” that gets mj talking. “norman?” she questions. “your dad?” you choke out at the same time.

“who else? he said you two have to talk.” harry flashes you a weary smile. “have fun in there, old sport.” you’re too busy biting the skin off your bottom lip to respond. “mhm... she will,” mj speaks on your behalf. even she sounds worried. saluting you both, harry leaves to go pester your other colleagues. you’re completely and totally fucked.

“that’s it for me!” you grin sarcastically, freaked out by harry. “i’m fired, aren’t i? i’m definitely about to get fired, and it’s all because-“ “relax!” mj cuts off your rambling. she reaches down and grasps at your wrists. “get it together, y/l/n. you’re the best we have, okay? you aren’t going anywhere.” your grin becomes a frown. “then why does norman wanna talk to me? and, why don’t i have a story?”

mj always has the answers, but this time is the execption. she lets out a breath. “i don’t know. you’ll go find out and tell me what happens.” there’s no use protesting. you’re going to have to face whatever you’re about to at some point. “ok,” you give in, defeated. “i’ll be back soon, i hope.”

the walk to norman’s office feels like a walk of shame. mj can do nothing but sit back and observe it. if this ends the way you think it will, you’ll be collecting your things and won’t ever return. norman is a kind man, and he’s usually pretty understanding. he doesn’t mind the workplace shenanigans as long as you get your job done. unfortunately, you haven’t today.

you hear your boss’s booming voice when you approach his door. inhaling deep, you knock on it, and the room goes silent. “come in,” norman responds after a few seconds. mustering up a smile, you open the door to be met with your doom. “hi, am i interrupting something?” you check. “not at all! you’re just the person i wanted to see. sit, sit,” he beckons you over. he’s not using his angry voice, so maybe you’re in the clear. you enter the room as told.

you’re shocked to see a terrified peter is already in one of the chairs. he visibly relaxes a bit now that you’re here. what the hell is happening? whatever you were expecting, this was the last thing.

taking the armchair next to peter, you sit facing norman’s desk. you nudge his arm to get his attention. his big brown eyes lock with yours. “what’s going on?” you whisper. “no idea,” peter whispers back. the two of you turn to norman again when he claps his hands. he’s plopped down into his cushy leather seat.

“so,” he begins, gaze flicking from peter to you. “you kids know why you’re here?” “is it because i missed my deadline?” you blurt out. you’re once again a nervous wreck. peter doesn’t speak, just winces. “not that. although, i did hear from ned that you turned down his assignment.” norman flicks at a post-it on his desk. “i asked quentin for one instead. me and mj,” you explain, peter’s eyes going wide.

“you talked to quentin? that guy’s bad news,” he murmurs to you. “how so?” norman questions, since it’s his employee. “he- he, um,” peter clears his throat before answering, “he’s super critical, you know? hates all my pictures.” “i love your pictures,” you assure him, the corners of his lips turning up. “your style is so cool. yeah, though. quentin’s pretty bitter.”

considering this, norman drums his fingers on the desk. “i’ll look into that. but, that isn’t why you’re here. i’m letting you off the hook this time.” your whole demeanor changes and a huge weight lifts off of you. “really? you are?” “i have a scoop of my own that i want you to cover,” he continues, peter bumping your knee happily. a toothy grin takes over your face.

“since peter will be sticking around for a while, i want him to join you.” norman waits a beat in case you have any questions. it’s been a minute since you last worked together. peter laughs in disbelief. “you want me to take over for alex and do this?” norman nods proudly. “y/n will need the extra hands, if you have them.” “yes, sir. i do,” peter immediately confirms. “my last class is next thursday, so i have the time.”

“wait, so you’re almost done? that’s awesome!” you bump peter’s knee this time. “yup, all that’s left is finals... and studying.” he mindlessly takes your hand, lacing your fingers together. you’re enjoying his gentle touches. “thank you so much, norman. seriously, i appreciate this a lot,” you tell him and mean it. “hey, no problem,” he chuckles at your eagerness. you grip peter’s hand tighter.

“what’s the story?” “ah, yes. the most important part,” norman starts, peter sharing an excited look with you. “how familiar are you two with spider-man?” his excitement fades at the question posed. it’s unbeknownst to you, caught up in the moment. “uh, same as everyone else, i guess,” you casually reply. “how come?” “he’s your subject.” norman points at you both. “you’re gonna study him over these next few months.”

peter’s hand goes limp in yours, and he gulps hard, throat feeling dry. “you mean, like, an exposé?” “no, no. there will be no exposing,” norman clarifies. “i’m sure he wears the mask for a reason.” that settles peter only slightly. you’re not sure why he’s so tense all of a sudden. “what’s our aim here, then?” you steer the conversation.

“see what new york’s favorite hero gets up to every day, how his life is beyond the crime fighting,” norman further describes your task. peter exhales a shaky breath, shifting away from you in his seat. the golden sun hits his face and reveals a bead of sweat dripping down it. you stare at his figure in worry. “you okay, peter?” “fine. i’m just... hot,” he murmurs back. his sweater does look pretty heavy, so you concede.

getting back to norman’s story, you grimace at the idea. “do you really think people will want to read that? for lack of a better term, it sounds kind of...” you pause. “basic.” “i thought the same thing at first,” he surprisingly agrees with you. “harry pitched the idea to me this morning. you won’t believe it! the other night, he caught spider-man hanging outside his window.”

“harry... harry saw him?” peter squeaks out. he uses the wool material that feels like it’s swallowing him to dab at his forehead. “he stopped on his balcony. must have been pretty late, the kid’s a night owl,” norman says about his son. your face lights up as you listen to him. “he took some shots of spidey in action, when he swung off. i saw a few. they were pretty great.” he’s grinning at his son’s success.

“maybe he’ll get into photography with you, pete,” norman suggests. peter gives him a weak smile in return. “we’d be happy to have him.” he usually has a lot more to say about his career than that. his behavior is starting to genuinely concern you. “anyway,” norman gets back on topic, “it got me thinking. how much do we really know about this guy? we’re supposed to blindly put our trust in him?”

you’re beginning to see the appeal now. you’ve written your share of pieces on the avengers and their methods, tackling the same questions norman just asked you. spider-man shouldn’t be overlooked, especially when he operates so close to your home. this could be another revolutionary superhero story in the making. and, you get to bring peter along for the ride.

“you know what? this has a lot of potential,” you smile at norman, then peter. he has his phone in his lap, fingers flying across the screen. it must be something important. you’ll discuss with norman while he takes care of that. “we could make it a weekly thing, about spider-man’s adventures. find out what we can about the man behind the mask...” peter shoots up in his seat. “without taking it off,” you finish, putting his mind at ease.

“see, i knew you were gonna love it! it was a blessing in disguise, you missing that deadline.” norman bangs his fist on the table with a hearty laugh. “what do you say, peter? you still in?” peter slips his phone back in his pocket. his tongue pokes out to wet his lips. “oh, of course. i can’t wait to work with you, y/n/n,” he speaks in a monotone voice, adding on, “again.”

something is definitely bothering him, and it isn’t the weather.

“i gotta go. betty needs me upstairs, so,” peter moves to get up, his body stiff. you assume that’s who he was texting. “thank you again, mr. osborn.” he’s rushing out of the room just like that, until you call after him. “um, don’t you wanna set a time to meet up? so we can get started?” you reasonably ask. “i... i really gotta go. find me later,” peter tells you, giving you both a tight lipped smile and running off.

“the dynamic duo is back!” norman announces to you. you’re disappointed you can’t share that sentiment with peter.

he’s absolutely booking it down the stairs, not bothering to wait for the next elevator. this is bad. this is a nightmare.

peter went from having one of his best days in a while to the worst in not even a full round of work. today started off fine, and got better when norman promoted him. it got way better when you came along. he saw your smile that makes his insides tingle, heard your laugh that’s the prettiest sound to grace his ears, held your hand that he never wants let go.

things went a bit downhill after that. betty was pushy and yelled at him a lot, demanding he only film her good angles for the segment. you and mj weren’t wrong when you told him to be careful.

later on when he saw you again, everything was okay. he was physically shaking as brad told him mr. osborn requested to see him. brad is mr. osborn’s assistant. a try-hard for sure, but good at his job. why did mr. osborn call him in? did betty complain already?

they’d been sitting in mostly silence, save for small talk until you came knocking on the door. simply being next to you was enough to ground peter and his racing thoughts. it was enough, then it wasn’t.

the whole day had gone to shit after he found out you were going to be writing stories about his alter ego. not only that, but he was helping. during the pitch, he’d texted ned to meet him in the bathroom. he was really anxious and needed a friend who understood why.

ned accidentally found out peter is spider-man last year. it’s a long story that involves peter hiding from some bad guys in the building and ned shrieking so loud the lights flickered. they’re cool now that peter talked things through with him. his secret has been kept, from what he knows.

pushing open the men’s bathroom door, peter is a mixture of sweat and ragged breaths. he’s panting from his fast descent down the staircase. he takes in his disheveled appearance using one of the mirrors. his styled hair is now damp and undone, hands trembling and palms sweaty, chest heaving. here’s his daily reminder that anxiety is not cute. as if he didn’t know.

his stupid, gigantic freaking sweater is only making things worse. it’s suffocating him. no one else is in here, so peter pulls it over his head and tosses it to the ground. he’s got a t-shirt on underneath that happens to be black. what a convenient day for him to wear the hottest material there is.

peter splashes his face with some cold water next to try and cool himself down. that doesn’t do much for him. his face still feels like it’s on fire, but now it’s wet. he takes his hands through his mop of curls, backing away from the sink.

“fuck. fuck, fuck, fuck,” peter repeats to himself. he’s silent for a moment, then rage overcomes him. he kicks open a bathroom stall. “shit! i can’t do this. what am i supposed to-“

the door creeks open, so peter shuts up in case it isn’t ned. it thankfully is, and he wears a deep frown at the sight of his best friend. “dude, what happened? you look...” “terrible. i know,” peter finishes for him. he tugs at his locks in another attempt to tame them. ned approaches him carefully. “you’re not, like, dying... are you? because betty was telling me you have to-“ “of course you were with betty,” peter exhales in frustration. “no, ned. i’m not dying.”

in ned’s defense, the text he received was very alarming. all peter wrote was, ‘EMERGENCY. SOS.’

“i mean, yeah. it was my break.” ned sits on the ledge by the window, close to peter. “you do the same with y/n.” the mention of your name upsets peter all over again. he hides his face in his hands as ned watches. “if you’re not dying, then what’s the problem?” ned finally asks. “me and y/n...” peter removes his hands from his face, meeting ned’s worried eyes. “mr. osborn wants us to do a project together.”

“uh, peter? you’ve been saying how much you miss her forever, dude! you’re not excited?” ned snorts at him. he means well, but he has no clue what he’s talking about. “no. it’s supposed to be about spider-man,” peter answers angrily. this isn’t the support he was hoping for. realizing the severity of the situation, ned gets serious.

“oh... but, you’re still doing it?” he questions. “i didn’t have a choice,” peter scoffs out. “i can’t let either of them down.” “you’ll expose yourself!” ned escalates things further. “it’s not like that. we’re gonna follow spider-man around and post updates on him,” peter says, technically in the third person. he’s given an are you insane? look from ned.

“you are spider-man! and, no offense, but you’re not so good at hiding it,” ned refers to himself finding out. “how are you gonna be in two places at once?” damnit, peter hadn’t thought about that yet. he can’t be taking pictures of spider-man and swinging from building to building simultaneously. “i- i’ll figure it out,” peter stammers, unconvincingly.

ned looks him over in a disapproving way. “jeez. you’re really putting your life on the line for this girl-“ “woman,” peter interjects, not loving ned’s attitude towards you. “have some respect.” unfazed, ned gets up from the windowsill. “speaking of women, remember betty? you’re still on the clock,” he changes the subject. peter nearly forgot he has to go film her segment.

“i’ll head up to her now,” peter gives in. he scoops up his discarded sweater, not bothering to check his appearance again. ned follows behind him to the door. “we wrote her script together, you know,” he gladly informs peter, who already knows from you. “not really a flex,” peter mumbles his response. “peter, lighten up.” ned hits at his shoulder. the two of them exit the bathroom.

“you’ll figure this out later. i can always help.” he shoots him a sugary sweet smile. “thanks, ned. for talking with me and everything.” peter doesn’t smile back. they do a quick bro handshake, then they’re going their separate ways. “have a good show, dude!” ned yells back, to which he doesn’t get a response. peter doesn’t have it in him.

he allows himself to take the elevator back up to broadcasting. he’s so drained from the several anxiety attacks he endured. while peter waists for the elevator, he contemplates all the issues he’d better solve. it’s a relief to hear it ding because it brings him back to earth. that doesn’t last long because both you and betty are there when the door opens.

you’d each had the same idea, to find peter. unlike betty, your intentions were good. you asked liz if she saw peter leave. she told you he went downstairs, so you did also. betty was already in the elevator when it got to your stop. she was looking for him because, you guessed it, he had to record the news. the small space was filled with tension as you and betty occupied it.

“perfect. we’re going right back up,” betty beams, motioning for peter with her index finger. “hop in!” “coming,” peter does as told, going to stand between you and betty. she presses the button for your floor and theirs. the doors close. “pete?” you speak up, voice soft. “you kinda ran off earlier. i thought you were with betty.” “clearly, he wasn’t,” betty sneers.

you’re less concerned with her and more with peter. the sweater he looked so huggable in is now folded in his arms, his face splotchy and jaw clenched. he must have gotten triggered by something back in norman’s office.

“are you sure you’re okay? you... you can talk to me about it.” you take a step closer to peter, your doe eyes searching for his. he meets them with a tiny smile. at least, it’s real this time. “i’ll be fine, y/n/n. ‘s nice that you came to check on me, though.” “don’t mention it.” your arms loop around his neck and bring him into a hug. peter hugs you back by your middle, chin resting on your shoulder, breathing out in relief.

you keep your hands on his shoulders when you pull back. his stay on your sides, a lopsided grin now crossing his features. “spider-man...” you quirk an eyebrow. “how are you feeling about that?” “should be cool,” peter somehow maintains himself. “i’m mostly looking forward to doing it with you.”

listening in, betty joins the conversation. “what’s happening with spider-man? anything i should know?” her hand reaches into her bag and emerges with a notepad. does she ever think of her own content? “she’s nothing if not persistent,” you grumble to peter. chuckling, he pulls you into his chest. if he didn’t hold you back, you would’ve pounced on her.

“we’re gonna do a piece on him,” peter tells her. “you can’t copy or steal this one because it’s already been approved,” you contribute, smiling smugly as peter holds you tighter. betty is taken aback. “are you accusing me of stealing? who said i-“ “ned ratted on you... sorry,” peter says in a sing song voice. squealing, you jump away from him. “he did? we were right?”

“mj’s never wrong,” he reiterates. “mj knew about this? oh my god, i can’t believe her!” betty stomps her foot. “we got you on candid camera.” you make a clicking noise with your mouth. peter mimes taking a picture to back you up. “alright, alright. i won’t do it again,” betty mumbles, turning away from you two in annoyance.

“finally!” you hold up your hand for a high five, which peter gives you. “we really do make the best team,” he hums. your fingers intertwine with peter’s, and he lays his palm flat against yours. he prays extremely hard you don’t notice that it’s sweaty. you do, but you couldn’t care less.

“i was wondering when you’d wanna start our... research?” peter asks you, his lip between his teeth. “you were saying something earlier. maybe we could make a schedule.” “how elaborate of us that would be,” you tease. that earns a breathy laugh from peter. with a knowing smile, you put your free hand back on his shoulder.

“what are you doing tonight?”

-

peter parker taglist

@saturnpeter @tpwk-grande @itstaskeen @missyouhollnd @becicamina @dummiesshort @zspideyy @watchitimreadinghere @my-patronus-is-mabel-pines @dpaccione @karispotters11 @theofficialzivadavid @thehumanistsdiary @kelieah @aayaissaa @petersgroupie @annab-nana @tayyx @swtltlmrvlgrl @magicalxdaydream @haoluvver @kjune113 @captainamirica @marvel-dork98 @emmastarz @killingbxys @viriditie @misshale21 @veryholland @liliswifts @tommydarlings @rebelemilu @peterspideysense @cr-uelsummer @dreamy-clousds @quaksonhehe @quxxnxfhxll @blackbat2020 @babyblue19 @falconxbarnes @zachary-s @dirtytissuebox @dracoswhore007 @heavenlyholland @thsquad @etheralholland @dhtomholland @awh-lilies @tomshufflepuff @multifamdomfan12

-

if i forgot you please lmk!

[arcadejohn127-9]

Could you do the Brothers and undatables reacting to MC being poisoned and finding out that Micheal was trying to kill them because he was jealous that MC was close with the brothers. Let me just say your work is great the way you describe the situation before going into the reactions is really interesting. Thank you so much!!!!

I already had this ask half way done but Tumblr decided to delete all my work due to buggy WiFi - I'm currently in pain 😭

I don't know much about poison so bare with me, I just looked at the basic symptoms and went "I'm smart" I've passed out after being ill or just in general quite a few times when younger so I had faith

This also has a bonus Michael part! I've decided to add his response to the boys reactions in its own format or else each one will just have a repeat of the same Michael Response

Warning: angst, implied vomitting, attempted murder, fainting, spoilers of lesson 37 and 16, gore on Michaels part, long

"from Michael...?" You questioned outloud, unsure on how to feel about the parcel you've found.

Your relationship with the angel wasn't a defined one. You didn't hate him but you didn't like him either; there was always something about his presence that made you fearful. You choked it up to be just internalised fear due to hearing the brothers experience of the celestial realm and angels.

You've never met him in person; the first conversation you had of him was when you stabbed yourself with the dagger instead of Lucifer. You saw the light and he spoke to you, surprised and shocked at the love you had for the demons. Even then you never really got to speak to him again, he was a mystery. You've sent a few letters and he's returned some and Simeon is a link between you two. But other than that? You didn't really have a relationship with him.

So why? Why would he send you a gift?

You looked inside to see a packet of apple pieces and herbs inside of a snack shaped teabag. You admired the unique shape and couldn't stop a small smile appearing. It was definitely cute! And you finally got to use the new kettle and cups barbatos got you.

You decided to text Simeon, telling him to thank Michael for your gift. He was surprised by this but agreed, happy you two were connecting.

Whilst your new tea brewed you were trying to figure out a way to repay his kindness. Sure it was simple small gift but he was reaching out - you were giddy! Hopeful this meant he was fully on board to the exchange program.

But you soon would regret drinking that tea. It was so sweet you couldn't stop drinking it; your lips only leaving the cup of a second of breath. It was addicting. The herb covered apples pieces gave it a nice slight bitterness. But it wasn't overbearing but didn't make it taste like sugar in your mouth.

As soon as the last gulp came down; something came up. You hunched over as your stomach churned, a disgusting taste forcing itself up your throat. Your vision growing blurry as you stumbled out of your seat, the light in your room feeling like knives to your eyes. You tried closing them but the effect didn't change. You were barely hunched over on your side releasing everything in your stomach. It stung your throat, your stomach feeling painfully empty.

There was this invisible feeling telling you to go to sleep. You wanted to obey but the light felt too painful. In your dazed state you shakily texted the groupchat a sloppy "help me ASAP, my room" before letting your body go limp, heaving as you just laid there, dragging a nearby jacket over your head and let your vision be consumed by the darkness.

Lucifer:

He's heart broken

How did this happen? You were fine and now you're not moving

Your breathing was faint against his neck as he held you

He saw the parcel and connected the dots, Eden's tea

It was a death sentence for any human, a treat for demons and a punishment for angels

He's started a war once, he can do it again

Whilst he knew he couldn't enter the celestial realm he demanded that Michael show himself

When his demands went unanswered, he was ready to break all rules

"He's gone too far, I don't care for his reasons! I WILL DESTORY THE CELESTIAL REALM IF I HAVE TO! HE WILL ANSWER ME!"

when you received a cure all his angers washed away with relief

Happy to have you awake again even if it was for a few moments

Mammon:

FLASHBACK ARE STRONG

All he can think about his how you looked like in the past; dying in his arms

He immediately went to blame belphie but almost tripped over the parcel

He's an idioit but he knew what this tea was

Becomes feral with rage and overly protective of your unconscious body

He's hunched over by your side at all times just growling at anyone who comes near you

He wanted to hurt Michael but he wanted to stay with you

He'd talk to you and tell you how he was going to get payback

"I should of known he'd do something-! I'll never forgive him- DON'T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT!!! I'M DOING THIS FOR THEM!"

As soon as you get the cure he's hugging you and telling you how much he missed you

Levithan:

When he found you, his heart dropped

It only got worse when he found the parcel and realized what Michael has done

he will remind the celestial realm why he is an admiral of hell's navy

He spends time by the sea communicating with any creature he can get; telling them if things go down he'll need them to flood the gates of heaven

When he isn't planning war he's with you, playing games, trying to ignore how dead you looked

He would remind you what buttons to push when your chatacter didn't move

"YOU THINK I'LL JUST LET THIS SLIDE??!! HE'S KILLED MY BEST FRIEND!"

He broke down sobbing when you woke up after getting a cure

He was convinced you were dead but here you were, alive and awake

Satan:

He's a detective nerd so of course he scoped out the scene

When he found the parcel and Michaels name - oh boy

Never met the man and pities him for letting their first meeting be the angels demise

It wasn't long before he had to be detained

Screaming and tearing up anything he could, yelling at his brother's for falling

He blamed his brothers, he blamed Michael and he blamed himself

Hated being locked away from you, would course more of a fuss when he couldn't see you

"I WILL KILL EVERY ONE OF YOU IF YOU DON'T LET ME GET TO THAT DAMN ANGEL!! I HATE YOU!"

He's only calmed down when you are given a cure and he's told you're alive

Is finally allowed to see you and he holds you tight

Asmodeus:

When he found you he was sobbing

It only grew worse when he found out what happened

In Denial

Not of Michael, he believed that but in denial you were dead or were dying

Kept insisting you were just tired and sleeping

Destroyed an entire room when one of them insisted you weren't sleeping

He'd help you get ready and pamper you, telling you it's okay and you can thank him when you feel better

Would be seen wiping your face often in hopes it'll get rid of that death like appearance you have

"They're fine but Michael won't be, when my precious darling wakes up I'll make sure they know I'll make everything better."

When you bad your cure he started crying and laughing, telling everyone he was right

Clinged to you and let you sleep

Beezlebub:

He found the parcel almost immediately

And went into a rage - we all know how his hunger tantrums are

Would've destroyed the whole house if he wasn't restrained

Guilt

So much guilt, his shoulders are always sagging

Sits by your unconscious body so he feels like he's protecting you

Has tried kissing you awake

Hoping you'll wake up like a fairy tale Character and everything will be fine

"I'm going to kill Michael and I won't let any of you stop me....protect (Y/N) For me."

Was so happy and relieved when you got the cure, sticking to your side at all times even when you were awake

Belphegor:

He was quick to help you into bed and on your side

When he found the parcel he was ready to murder

His rage towards Michael massively outweighed his hatred for humanity - even Lucifer!

Beel couldn't keep control of him mostnofnthe time unless he got forceful, belphegor stuck in a headlock screeching bloody murder

Stress sleeping

Like many of the brothers he develops two modes: calm or PLANNING MASS MURDER

Whenever he gets overwhelmed he just forces body to shut down and sleep besides you

"Michael will face me again, I won't let him kill anyone else that I love! He got Lilith killed and he can't do the same for (Y/N)!"

As soon as the cure was found he was by your side

Letting you rest and watched over you

UNDATEABLES↓

Diavolo:

Found out through the brothers

Sees this as an act of war against the peace he's working for

He was normally sweet and forgiving but it seemed Michael wanted to rip to his last nerve

Demanded for every reliable demon to search for a cure

Even had Solomon try to make one

"Barbatos, what is the possibility of Michael coming down to the devildom or the human realm? I want 'discuss' with him what his actions have caused."

As soon he he found out you were alive and safe

He didn't stop his plans but let himself have time with you

Barbatos:

So much guilt

Like holy shit

Is just constantly questioning how he didn't prevent this

Asked permission from the lord to just change the timelines so this didn't happen but the brothers were against it

They demanded they didn't avoid this situation and let Michael face punishment

That he couldn't refuse, he was angered by the angel's actions

More than he would ever show

"humans are so fragile and their time is so limited - that's why I'm never going to let anyone cut theirs short again."

Was part of the cure search party, he led the group

Once you were cured he stayed with you

Acting as your butler and made to check each of your foods and drinks

Solomon:

It wasn't a wise decision to piss off a wizard with stupid amount of pacts

To think an angel would do such a thing

But whilst Everyone lost their temper and searched for a cure

He was wondering - why did it happen

He was ordered asked to make you a cure

He was able to do it but the real cure was also found - giving you extra cure wasn't going to harm you

But he did plan to harm Michael

"you'd think he was smarter than this, he didn't even hide he was the one who did it but all it does is make my job easier."

nursed you until you woke up

Making sure you had mini cures to completely magic it out of your system

Simeon:

When he found out he was stunned

Betrayal - that's all he felt

How could Michael do such a thing?

But he knew Michael was a cruel angel, many having to drink Eden's tea as punishment

It burned their insides and had any poor soul sobbing for mercy after a gulp

"Michael you fool, you can get away with things in your league but you've involved the three realms into this....I pray you do not make your demise harder for yourself."

Was apart of the cure search party

Soothed you when you finally woke up, telling you it'll be okay

Let you rest as much as you wanted

Luke:

They tried to hide it from him but he kept demanding to see you

He wanted to know why everyone was acting strange

When he finally found out he was broken

His mentor

His idol

His everything

The person who always went for permission and knowledge

He thought so highly of him but he's hurt you

He's done more than that! He's tried to kill you!

He's been sobbing for days and locked himself away, he couldn't bare to see you after his once visit

He believed you were dead and they were just keeping your body

"Michael....why....why would you do this.... I thought you loved your brother's....I thought you were kind..!"

When he found out there was a cure he begged to help but they wouldn't let him

He only got to see you when you woke up and he was hugging you, crying

+ bonus Character↓

Michael:

The angel knew they'd be upset

But 9 demons wanting his blood? One wizard ready to cause mayhem and even his own kind wanting his downfall?

That he didn't expect

In his blind jealousy he didn't expect they'd all care for you this much

Thinking apart of them would be relieved you weren't there

But no

"You were my brother's before you were their partner, I'm simply doing what is right! It was their time to meet him and finally stop controlling all of you! YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO LOVE ME! I'M YOUR FAMILY! WHY ARE THEY MORE IMPORTANT?!"

He got his answer

His wings torn to shreds, chunks of flesh bitten off him and slashes all over his body

He was left in human world bleeding and barely recognisable

They didn't hold back

He dread to think what the rest of them would do when they find him

[mandoinevarro]

WILL BUY STOLEN GOODS FOR LOWER PRICE

Rule Maker, Rule Breaker: Chapter 1

Words: 8.4k 

Rating: E

Warnings: shooting, non-descriptive death, SMUT, fingering, mentions of masturbation, AND masturbation now that I remember, penetration, creampie! just general filth, gambling?

a/n: SO literally nobody asked for this, but I decided to turn NO REFUNDS into the prologue of a short series (you don’t really need to read NO REFUNDS, it’s only for context.) Anywayyys heavy feelings, heavy plot, heavy smut. Have fun. 

……………

Maker, you need to start cheating. That way you wouldn’t be in the middle of a staring contest with your cards, like you can change their colorful drawings and numbers if you only glare hard enough. You’ve never been particularly good at sabacc, but a little luck wouldn’t hurt, especially since this is the third round in a row you lose.  Duma deals the last couple of cards across the coal black table and stacks the deck, signaling the start of the game.

Well, you suppose it doesn’t really matter; you doubt your sabacc buddies have better hands. These days, everyone in Nevarro is short on luck. Luck and food and water. Others are less pessimistic: As soon as Greef Karga glances at his hand he leans back on the carcass of a cantina booth and slaps his belly. “Ha!” he bellows, “by the end of this round, you filthy gutter womp rats will have to borrow from your womp rat mothers to pay me.”

“Quit bluffing, Karga. We know you don’t have shit,” Cara mutters. She picks up her cards and pulls a face like she bit on lemon, but still the veteran goes all in, pushes forward a couple of stabilizing coils, an identity beacon you could’ve sold at a decent price some months ago and—maker—even a pouch of nova crystal dust. Nobody here is stupid enough to gamble with food, but you’re surprised that even nova has lost its worth and been demoted to casino chip status. “This place smells like shit.”

“Bad bluff, piss-poor trash talk too,” you taunt. “Looks like all that time doing business with Imperials smoothed your brain, Karga.”

“Ex-Imperials,” he corrects. The ex-Guild leader slides a few more credits to the center of his ex-cantina’s table. “We live in a jolly Republic now, didn’t you hear? You’ve been liberated.”

“Fuck ‘em.” Duma turns her head, spits on the melted floor. “Can’t eat liberation, can I?” She throws a few more worthless credits onto the growing pile of nothing. At least, for now, it’s nothing. Credits and ship parts and every other type of currency haven’t meant anything but props in Nevarro for five months, when the siege began. That whole mess with troopers and Greef and Cara was bound to bring some repercussions—aside from making Karga’s cantina look like a volcano erupted inside. For five months, Imperial forces have surrounded the planet, and for five months, food and resources haven’t been allowed inside. They won’t let up, rumor has it, until they find the culprit: one particular Mandalorian with a valuable asset. They think he’s still hiding somewhere in the planet, but you know better. You watched the Razor Crest’s fly off-orbit and leave everything behind. Everything and everyone.

“This place smells like shit,” Cara repeats.

“Not shit,” replies Duma, “ash.” She picks up a card from the deck with long fingers. “You never did explain how that Mandalorian managed to torch this place.”

Cara’s sabacc face melts. Her fingers tighten and bend her cards as she exchanges a complicit look with Greef. “Never said it was Mando.”

“Who else? I was there in the first shootout. That hunter was fierce.” Duma dons a wolfish smile, because this is how she always wins: She plays with people, not cards. In fact, she abandons her hand face-down on the table and—oh no—gives you a once-over. “You knew him well, didn’t you?” You almost want to show her your garbage hand so she doesn’t bother trying to throw you off your inexistent game.

“Swung by the store a couple of times,” you answer as casually as you can manage and pretend the most interesting book is written on your cards. “But we weren’t exactly chummy, if that’s what you’re asking.” Creeping warmth attacks your face and there’s no stopping it. Shit.

“Funny, could swear I saw him leaving your store more than a couple of times.” You feel Duma’s eyes piercing into your forehead. “Pretty late at night, too.”

“Is that so?” Cara pipes with a lopsided grin.

“I thought you two were…friends,” Duma adds.

“Yeah, well,” you mutter, “you thought wrong.” Friends don’t leave friends to their luck in the middle of a fucking siege. It’s the same prickly thought that’s plagued you since you watched the Mandalorian take off triumphantly. It’s a stupid feeling. He was under no obligation to take you with him. You didn’t lie to Duma, you two weren’t friends. You couldn’t even call what you had a fling, even those require some degree of making-love-below-the-stars, quoting-passages-of-Naboo-Nights-to-each-other romance. Flings are shooting stars. No, your…thing, whatever it was, did not belong to the heavens. It was earthy. Human. It was counting credits and arguing about fuel prices or old modulators. It had weight—too much, apparently, to escape gravitational pull and fly away with him on the Crest. It was doomed to planets, both feet planted on the ground.  

Still, you remember times when earthy was good. There was never anything airy or celestial in the way he’d take you. The shoved clothes, the harsh grunts, the rough hands, the pleasure, it was all palpable and primitive; earthy was dirty. Your furtive encounters had beating heart of their own, and there was always hard evidence left behind in case either of you ever needed a reminder: marks on the skin, ripped clothes, stained bedsheets. The bruises he left always took too long to heal, as if his touch enhanced your mortality, made you more human. Stars, those moments are what you miss the most. Five months is a long time to be neglected of touch—six, actually: five months since the siege, six since he last came to you. Earthy expires.

It’s not like there’s nobody in the planet willing to help you soothe your needs; quite the opposite, actually. Lately, it seems like handjobs are the new Nevarran handshake. Just last week you caught Cara feeling up some pretty market girl in an alley. You saw her, she saw you, you rolled your eyes, she grinned and got back to work. You were almost offended. Everybody’s screwing their time through the siege, while you’re left with nothing but reruns of filthy memories with the Mandalorian. You just know nobody but Mando will do. You replay your moments with him like a sad, mental porno on the nights you spend trying to get yourself off. Trying and failing, like having to put out a fire by spitting on it, because the only person in the galaxy with a hose is too busy playing hero lightyears away.

“Last round. Place your bets,” Karga announces and pushes a few more trinkets forward. Cara follows, and you pat around your pockets for something to lose. It’s all just rusted metal anyways. Only…shit, the last three games drained you. And Duma reads it on your face like you’ve got “BROKE” written all over your forehead.

“All out, huh?” She reaches down the table for her bag and drops a beskar pauldron on the table with a thud. A Mandalorian pauldron.

Cara purses her lips and balls a fist, but Greef shoots her a warning look. As if cantina brawls could make this place look worse.

“Still can’t believe you didn’t take anything that day,” Duma continues, shaking her head. “Regret it?”

“I’ll regret it,” you answer and go fish, as if a new card—the right card—could fix a life’s worth of bad luck, “when you learn how to chew beskar.” That earns you a signature “Ha!” from Karga and a cocked eyebrow from Duma. She can arch her eyebrows all she wants, but that much is also true. You don’t regret leaving the Mandalorian covert empty-handed.

You were the first on scene that day. After the smoke cleared, the remaining imps left to lick their wounds, and the Crest flew away, you went to check on Karga’s child, his pride and joy. You were met with a gruesome scene. The cantina, Nevarro’s most sacred landmark, had been reduced to its black skeleton, third-degree burns all over, gone. It sounds dramatic, but the cantina used to be the closest thing to a place of worship on this planet. God Booze was dead.

You kicked around the bar’s guts, until you found a gaping mouth on a wall, leading down, down, down into Nevarro’s entrails. Finding purgatory would’ve surprised you less than what you stumbled upon: an underground tunnel, an abandoned covert, and a sinister, unguarded pile of Mandalorian armor. Stars, it would’ve been so easy. You could’ve hoarded the spoils and stashed them away for better days. That amount of beskar could’ve bought you a one-way ticket out of this dumpster and an early retirement. But when you lifted a helmet, it stared back. It was blue and definitely not his, but Mando was all you could think of while you studied the helmet’s unique curves and creases. You heard his exasperated sighs when you got on his nerves, his moans when you’d touch him. And you just couldn’t do it. You sat back and watched as this skughole’s scavengers crept into the tunnels to pillage. Easy as that, everyone in Nevarro but you and Cara now has a beskar toy or two. Soon enough, this planet will house the wealthiest corpses in the galaxy if the siege is not lifted before reserves run out.

Karga clears his throat. “Well, ladies first. Let’s see those cards.”  

Duma ignores him. “You know,” she tells you, “I’ve more beskar than I know what to do with. I’ll trade you a vembrance for a couple of ration packs.”

“And what am I supposed to do with a Mandalorian vembrance, play dress up?”

“The cards,” Greef urges.

“You’ll be rich.”

You snort. “The rich don’t starve.”  

“Give me a break, we both know you’ve got portions to spare.”

Elbows on the table, you lean forward and closer to Duma. She sniffs weakness like a Corellian hound, and if you falter she’ll sink her fangs. “I’m not interested in your fucking loot.”

“Cause it’s stolen? You never had a problem with that before.” She mimics your move and leans closer. Karga fiddles with a coinage of calamari flan, like you’re both Canto Bight slot machines and he’s trying to decide where to put his money. “What, did you grow morals all of a sudden? Or maybe, you’re too worried of what your Mandalorian friend would think.” You flinch. She smirks. “Oh my, what would the disgraced hunter, code-breaker, cult member say—”

The tiny noise of Karga’s coinage clinking on the table is not enough to distract you from the verbal beating Duma is laying on you. But his voice—like he got the air knocked out of him—is enough to grab your attention when he murmurs, “Ask him yourself.”

Cara, Duma, and you turn to Greef Karga, who stares saucer-eyed at the window. All three of your heads move simultaneously, guided by the line of his eyesight. Outside the window, on the deserted street, stands a trooper barking orders. It’s one of those in all-black armor, the extra trigger-happy ones with a side of god complex because they think the change of color magically makes their aim less shitty. His blaster is drawn (surprise, surprise), and on the receiving end of its barrel…

Maker’s fucking mercy.

You don’t even see the blaster shot, only smoke snaking out of a hole on the shiny breastplate. The trooper plummets to the ground like his puppeteer cut off his strings: no last steps, no resistance. Now, anyone else would’ve walked away from what’s clearly worm food without a second look, but one does not become the best bounty hunter in the parsec by taking chances. A mountain of unpainted beskar looms over the corpse and kicks the blaster off the imp’s limp hand. The Mandalorian sheathes his own weapon—that blaster you’ve tweaked and polished so many times you know it as the palm of your hand—and scans the perimeter for danger.

You don’t tell your legs to move, but they don’t need the command. You find yourself trailing behind Cara, Duma, and Greef, rushing for the door. Outside, all four of you stumble and stop on your tracks to blink stupidly at the Mandalorian, the way children stare wide-eyed at soldiers on military parades. But this warrior stands grander than any Republic or Imperial officer you’ve ever seen. He’s clad head to toe in silver beskar—except for one armorless thigh that makes his other leg look even bulkier. His old armor, the one you used to shine and buff, is gone. This one you’ve only seen from afar, on that day he crashed the imps’ safehouse, and later when the battle broke out. You know it’s him, but in this new getup it’s easy to doubt. Maybe he’s a stranger. Maybe he won’t recognize you.

The Mandalorian studies each of you one by one, his hand near the blaster in case he spots any enemy faces. The hand twitches when he sees Duma—she doesn’t have the cleanest reputation around here—but she’s shocked and unarmed, so his arm relaxes. To Greef and Cara he gives short nods that they return.

And then you. He actually takes a step back when he spots you, like you pushed him square on the chest. The helmet lingers on you and tilts, shamelessly rakes over every feature like he’s memorizing you. You hold your breath. It reminds you of the day you met, that weight on your chest from knowing you’ve been seen. That’s how you know it really is Mando: Whenever he stares at you, you feel it in your bones.

You realize the moment’s dragged out for too long when Karga clears his throat. The spell breaks.

You and Mando look bashfully away from each other. You squint up at the clouds, your hands stiff on your waist in a forced, generic, looks like rain! pose. He turns to his boss (ex-boss? enemy? You never asked for an update on Mando’s most recent status in the Guild) and mutters a short, “Karga.” To Cara he’s warmer, offers a comradely clasp of hands and a pat on the shoulder. “Good to see you again.”

“You too,” Cara drawls, as she stares suspiciously between you and Mando. You squint harder at the clouds. “Didn’t expect you back during a siege, though.”

“I have to…” he spies a furtive glance at Duma and lowers his voice, “I’ve something to do here.”

Duma rolls her eyes and clasps her bag across her chest. “Don’t worry, Mando. I’ll leave you girls to catch up on the hot goss.” She strides into the cantina (probably to bag the bets, the asshole), and goes back outside.

She points at the window of a crumbling building. “Careful with snitches.”

You glance back to the window. Nothing. Jerk. Duma’s not above a made you look moment, apparently. You turn back to her but she’s already disappearing into an alley.

Cara waits until she’s gone to grab the Mandalorian by the arm. “Mando, where’s the…” she glances at you and hesitates. You fold your arms and raise your eyebrows at the veteran. If she expects you to leave graciously like Duma she’s got another thing coming. You’re actually very, very interested on the Mandalorian’s hot goss. Especially it comes with an explanation as to why he left you stranded here. Even though he doesn’t owe you one. Technically. “Y’know,” she finally says and drops her hand. “The asset.”

“On the ship. I need to get back.”

“You, my friend, need to lay low,” Greef says with a raised index. “Every imp in Nevarro will be looking for you. Maker—” he spreads his arms “—they already are! And someone must have heard the blaster shot. You have ten minutes or so until an Imperial squadron gets here. The, uh, asset will be fine.”

“The asset,” Cara exclaims, “is a ch—is…is delicate. He can’t just leave it on the Crest!”

Mando interrupts their game of taboo. “Cara,” he starts, “you go to the ship and check on…the asset. Please. I landed where I did last time. I…I’ll lay low in the covert.”

“About that,” Greef mumbles. He looks at Cara for support, but she steps back and raises both hands: You say it. Greef sighs. “They…they found the tunnels, Mando.”

The helmet crooks slowly to study Karga.  “Who’s they?”  

“Everyone. Half of Nevarro is living down there, you…you can’t go back.”

Silence.

You imagine all four of you go through the same checklist: Even if Cara didn’t already have a top-secret assignment with whatever the asset is, she doesn’t have a place of her own yet. Every week, she crashes on one of her sweethearts’ couches. On their beds, more likely. There’s no way Karga is letting him near his house, not after what happened at the cantina. That leaves…

“Stay with me,” you blurt before you can really think it through.

≈

The cramped storage room you call a home sits a story above your store. It’s four walls and only the essentials: a bed, an armchair, a table, a stove, and the only detached room is the refresher. It’s enough for you. But the Mandalorian looks like he squeezed into a dollhouse when you usher him inside and close the door behind you. He stands in the middle of the room, all fighter’s bulk and grandiose armor, like he’s afraid he’ll break something if he moves. As if he’s never been here before, which couldn’t be further from the truth. The apartment may be small, but it’s so filled with memories you could turn it into a museum of your dirty escapades with him. And if you look to your right, you’ll see the armchair where he sat while I went down on him on a stormy night.  

“So,” you say and lean against the front door, “business or pleasure?”

He moves to stand to the side of the window opposite the front door and his glove moves the old washed out curtain to the side to peer into the street. The sun is setting, and the last streaks of light paint the beskar with warped yellow-orange streaks that stay as still as an undisturbed pond. So this is how he wants the evening to go: quietly and with a reasonable amount of distance between you. Disappointment knots in your stomach.

“Business.”  

You open your mouth to cut into the silence, but you’re all out of words. Maybe you’ve lost your touch. It used to be so easy to tease him, but now…a heaviness seems to weigh down on his shoulders, some heightened sense of duty. But also determination: He stands taller now, prouder, like he woke up one day and knew exactly what he needed to do and why. Whatever that purpose is, you’re pretty sure it doesn’t involve you. You’re a detour, and not even the fun kind, judging by the space between you. Maker, this man used to pounce on you. Has the siege really battered you up that much?

“Been busy?” The sudden question startles you. He’s never been one to break the ice, that was usually your job.  

“Sure.” Nope, not at all. “Store and all.” You closed the store three months ago. Turns out nobody buys equipment for their ships when they can’t fly past the atmosphere. “Plus, somebody needs to keep Karga distracted from his mourning. You owe him a cantina.”

“He told I did that?”

“Just a guess.” You move a couple of steps forward, like you’re approaching a nervous lothcat. When he doesn’t move away, you sit on the armchair, a little closer to him. “You like that flamethrower too much.”

“That what you four were doing in there?” The helmet moves to the side so he can spy deeper down the street. Always careful. “Assessing my damage?”

“No, just sabacc. Different kind of damage.” He’s making small talk. The Mandalorian, whom you’ve overheard have conversations solely based on grunts and sighs, is chatting with you. He’s not just answering out of politeness, he’s prompting you to go on, to keep running your mouth. That’s something he said once between thrusts, perched over you right on this floor: Keep running your mouth, see what happens. The memory warms your neck. Maker, not the point. The point is, before, he always said you had a smart mouth. Sometimes he’d chastise you for it, other times he’d encourage it. And you used to have the suspicion (or, let’s face it: fantasy) that he actually liked it. That somewhere hidden, beyond his pride and honor’s jurisdiction, he enjoyed the teasing and the banter, the challenge of having to deal with you. Better yet: More than once it crossed your mind that he got off on it, too. It’s been a long time, but some of that might remain. Maybe you’ll take his advice: keep running your mouth, see what happens.

You sit straighter, arch your back a bit just in case he’s watching. “You interrupted a round with your little stunt.”

“Yeah?” The helmet doesn’t move, but his hand runs up the curtain, considering. “Sorry. I bet you were winning.”

That makes you smile. It’s a dig at you. Far and wide across Nevarro, your uncanny ability to lose every single game of sabacc you play baffles locals and foragers alike. Yes, you know you suck, but the game amuses you anyways. You like the trash talk, the double-guessing, the bluff-calling. So much so that you forget to actually play. But what’s important is he’s teasing you, and that’s more than charted territory with him, a match you have a shot at winning. Okay. Game on.

“I was, actually.”

He huffs. “Don’t believe you.”

“Then I don’t believe you’re here on business.” Pause for effect. You can almost see a question mark form in a cloud above the helmet. You lean forward and lick your lips, lower your voice. “I think you missed me.”

You’re used to the helmet’s features remaining impassive, so you don’t look for clues on there anymore. Mando’s hands are more telling. You want to believe you actually see his fingers twitch and clutch the curtain a little tighter, that he takes too long to answer. That’s what trying to read him is all about—blind-guessing and wishful thinking.

“Don’t know about that. Six months and two weeks without your cons, I’m almost rich.”

Down to the week, huh? “Okay, if you want to make it about money we’ll bet on it. Twenty credits says you missed me.”

“Last time I was here you weren’t a compulsive gambler. Store’s doing that bad?”

“Last time you were here,” you coo, “there was a lot less talking involved.” You stare into the visor, and pray he can’t see the desperate hope in your eyes.

Your prayers are answered. In a way. Mando ignores you, doesn’t even look at you.  You hear your clumsy attempt at seduction buzz around him like a one-winged bee, crash into the unmoving, unmoved Mandalorian, and fall to the floor in a pointed-lined spiral. You’re so embarrassed you want to step on it. Well, that settles it. Six months is apparently enough for a Mandalorian to lose interest.

“And store’s doing fine,” you lie to try and sway the conversation away from that lame innuendo that missed its mark. He really just wants to talk, then. No big deal. It’s fine. “Nobody gambles for money anyways.”

“Then why?”

You shrug. “Why do you hunt?” He’s never told you, but you saw him chase down a bounty once. He was ruthless, sweating adrenaline and with far too much stamina to only be chasing a bag of credits. “For the risk. The thrill.”

He lets your words float for a second. “You get a thrill out of losing?”

You roll your eyes. “I only lose cause everybody knows my bluff.” That is, except you. “You need to know someone to know their bluff. Greef and the others already know me too well. You, on the other hand.” You smile. “If you and I played, I’d get to keep so much of your stuff you’d think I’m half Jawa.”

And, only then, he seems to tense. That stupid throwaway line is what makes his spine grow visibly rigid and his hand drop from the curtain to his belt, where the leather of his glove creaks with how tightly he clutches the buckle. White and blue streetlights that reflect on his armor glide around like it’s water instead of beskar, and they’re your only indication that he’s shifted slightly. Slowly, so slowly you expect his neck to creak like a door, the Mandalorian turns away from the window to look at you. He holds there quietly, and you feel ants running down your back…stars, you’re nervous. For the first time in a while, he makes you genuinely anxious.

“You’re saying I don’t know you?” he rasps under the helmet. No, not really, but if it gets a reaction out of him…

“All I’m saying,” you start, summoning all your strength to keep your voice from faltering, “is you’ve been gone too long.” You try to make it sound a bit playful, but the words come out tasting bitter when you remember the sharp little edge that’s been digging on your side. He left you here, it whispers, he left you here and didn’t bother looking back. But a heavy boot suddenly drops forward and you’re forced to stop nursing your grudge to try and predict what Mando’s next move will be.

With every step he takes, you’re instinctively swallowed deeper into your armchair, until he’s looming over you. Stars above, the sheer size of him is enough to block out most of the artificial light coming in, and you’re left to squint in the blue twilight. Maker, you don’t remember him this big, this intimidating. Five months ago you would’ve smirked and opened your legs wide. C’mon, I don’t bite unless you ask, you would’ve teased, but now…now you think maybe you are the one who doesn’t know him anymore.

But some things never change, and having him so near still makes your thighs press together. If anything, this new foreignness, the inherent threat of a bounty hunter in your home that never quite poked the right nerve before now pulls on your most sensitive areas. It propels your heartbeat on a sprint. His arm moves, and—oh, you want him to touch you.

Visor trained on you, Mando points to the floor instead. “You hide your credits here.” To illustrate (or just to rub it in that he knows) his boot presses down on the loose tile and shifts from side to side. The sharp sound it makes irritates you less than knowing he found the fox clever hiding spot you used to pat yourself on the back for. “You don’t keep them in the store because it’s too easy to break into. The security panel downstairs is broken, but the one up here works fine.”

You can almost hear his proud smirk under the helmet. There’s a reserved side to him, sure, but bastard can be arrogant when he wants to. And no, you have no idea how he found the spot, but you’re not about to admit it.

“Congrats, boy scout. You can spot a busted panel and you have flat feet. Want a badge?” Your irritation brings back some of your old snark, but you still flinch when he moves closer and his legs brush against your knees.

“You also keep expensive parts inside the stuffing of this—” he takes a tiny step forward and frames  your knees with his legs “—armchair.”  Your blood freezes at his words, but it abruptly runs hot as the city’s lava river when you realize how close he stands now. His legs press against the armchair and there’s nowhere to go. You’re cornered.

A leather glove moves close and you hold your breath, before you realize he’s only toying with the tips of your hair. But his fingers dig deeper, tangle on thicker strands and, without warning, give a short but firm tug. It’s a tiny pull, but maker’s mercy, you feel your core pulse. And then, before you can regain some lucidity, his fingers dip lower, where the tips trace a slow line down your nape. He draws featherlight circles on that spot between your neck and your shoulder that he knows makes your toes curl, and—stars, it’s just been too long—you whimper.

“Still so sensitive here,” he whispers.  

Once, this shielded man knew his way around your body like it belonged to him. You thought that part of him was lost, that he forgot, that he’d truly been gone too long. Those fears dissipate when his palm curls around the back of your neck to hold your gaze on him, while the thumb of his other hand brushes your lips. You know the drill—you open your mouth and give the orange tip some kitten licks. Mando huffs: You can do better than that. Maker, it should be a red flag, how quickly you comply. That urgent need to please him that had never, ever felt so crucial. An O forms in your lips before you can stop them, and his thumb pushes down on your tongue deep and deeper. You should play hard, make him earn it, bite him. But his finger starts to retreat and you panic—no, he can’t change his mind, not now. You seal your lips, trap him inside your mouth and suck. But his grip on the back of your neck grows beskar stiff, and he forcefully removes his finger…only to glide the spit over your lips. Just like that first time.

The visor looms closer to your face, and you catch a ruptured sigh, the pleasured kind that these four walls know so well. If Mando wasn’t holding you down, your chest would balloon with satisfaction and you’d float. His thumb trails down your throat, wetting its path and no doubt feeling the vibration when you chuckle. He cocks his head to the side in a silent question.

“You owe me twenty credits,” you explain, your breath clouding the helmet’s surface. “You did miss me.”

Mando crouches lower, where his helmet brushes your nose, and gropes the tops of your thighs with those wide palms you’ve been dreaming about for weeks.

“Yeah? You like bets?” You’ve never heard his voice so coarse, scratchy like week-long stubble. Did he change the settings of his modulator? Or is it just rash, pent-up need? “Then thirty credits says you’re fucking soaked.” His fingers butterfly higher up your thighs, almost at the apex. Your legs jerk.

“That’s cheating,” you gasp.  

He takes one glove off and settles the covered hand on your hip, while the other disappears between your legs until—stars—he cups your core through your pants. You mewl and he hums when he feels the hot, damp fabric.

“I still win.” He presses the heel of his palm right into your clit and grinds it back and forth. Oh, if you thought you were wet before. The pressure, the friction, him—it all scalds you from head to toe like a fever, but you chase it, greedily push your hips into his palm. His fingers flatten along your slit and grope you tighter. “Gonna pay me? Doesn’t have to be credits.” He pushes viciously into you with that wide, hard palm, preening at the little gasps that escape you. Whimpering, you let your eyes fall shut and focus on something sprouting in your belly. Stars, you’re close—how the fuck are you so close already? It must be all the repressed desire, all that time. Fuck, you’re close—

The Mandalorian halts. You’re eyes flash open to see him straighten and step back, take his other glove off to stuff it snug between his belt and his hip, and remain still as a building. Still catching your breath, you study him head to toe, scanning for a sign of what went wrong. He’s clutching his belt, his stance is too smug. This isn’t him fighting temptation, he’s toying with you. Maker help him, you’re going to kill him. Some corner in your brain reasons that it’s kinda fair, as payback for all the times you messed with him. But in the forefront of your mind pulses the climax he just denied you, cast aside and angry.

Before you know what you’re doing, you push yourself off the armchair. “You—”

Mando beats you to it. A hand on your shoulder and a vembrance across your chest, he lunges forward and slams your back against a wall. He hovers over you, tightly pressed against your body. A fleshy, hard bulge covered by his pants throbs against your belly. Of course. You forgot how much he likes it when you look like prey; how much he enjoys the hunt, whether he admits it or not. The hand on your shoulder trails down to cup your breast. You squeeze your eyes shut and let out a shaky exhale.

“You need it bad,” he breathes as his fingers massage your chest. The movement shifts the fabric of your tunic, brushing it against your nipple. You roll your hips to try and stimulate him, to show you’re not the only one worked up. His erection twitches and you smile.  

“You—mmm—you’re projecting.” You grind again to prove your point, but he catches on to what you’re implying and retaliates by shoving his hand inside your cleavage. Stars, you have to punch down the moan surges up your throat when he pinches your nipple.

“You missed this,” Mando hisses, and whether he’s trying to convince you or himself, you don’t know. What you do know is he’s plotting to settle this stupid inkling of a bet in his favor. He wants you to admit you missed him so he doesn’t have to. You know, because it’s exactly what you are trying to do.

You sneak your hand down his torso, aiming for the hem of his pants—but before you can get even with him, he crushes his hips against yours and traps your palm between them. And he’s not done—he wedges his thigh between your legs and rubs it up and down, drags your clit just right. Your mouth gapes in a silent moan as white hot pleasure lights up your spine. You want to get away from it but, maker, his forearm is still stiff against your chest. Even when you grab the vembrance with your free hand it doesn’t budge. You’re trapped between him and the wall.

“Can take care of m-myself just fine,” you croak as a last attempt to hold on to your dignity. “At least when I’m alone I don’t have to fake any orgasms.”

Yeah, it’s a low blow. A dirty fucking lie too, but desperate times call for desperate measures and all. Good news is it gets you a reaction—he immediately stops moving, as if your words punched him off balance. Bad news is you hit a nerve—his breathing becomes harsh like a bull’s, so much so that you expect clouds of smoke to come out from under the helmet. The Mandalorian creeps closer to your face and his forearm digs deeper into your chest. There’s a promise of danger in the dark visor that makes your pulse race, and a primitive instinct blasts emergency sirens. Maker, this won’t end well for you.

Just as you’re about to backtrack and whisper you didn’t mean it, Mando lets go of you—only for a split second, before he grasps your shoulders and turns you around to push your front into the wall. You jerk back on instinct, but he flattens a palm between your shoulder blades and squishes you right back against it.

The helmet rests right next to your ear when Mando growls, “You expect me to believe that?” His hands drop to your hips as he replaces the pressure on your back with his chest. His body weight holds you in place, and he rocks the hard outline of his erection along your ass. “That I don’t make you cum, you little fucking—” You curl your back as much as his body allows so he can stroke himself tighter against you. He groans and kneads your cheeks, moves the flesh in tandem with his thrusts. “I shouldn’t let you tonight, t-teach you a lesson.”  

The mere suggestion feels devastating enough to let a pathetic whine tumble from your lips. Before, you could’ve turned this into a game, held out a little longer just to watch him break first. But you’re too pent up, too desperate, too sick of waiting. Your fingers hook on the hem of your trousers and push them down. Mid-movement, he traps both of your wrists in one hand and keeps them pressed against your lower back, while the other one gets your pants the rest of the way down, underwear too. You barely have enough time to step out of them before his free hand reaches between the apex of your thighs. You’re sticky, leaking around his fingers, and pushing back against his crotch like you’ll drop dead if he doesn’t fuck you.

“Fucking wet, fuck…” he mutters. His fingers follow the heat and your pussy clenches around nothing. Stars, if he just moved higher, a little higher where you’re hot and soaked and throbbing for him. But he takes his sweet time, molds the inside of your thighs like clay, pulls the flesh, squishes it together, until you’re writhing against him and leaking down your leg. Your vision blurs. “Can—can I…?” He lets his index finish the sentence, teasing at the edges of your outer lips.

Even with the side of your face against the wall, you manage to nod. “Yeah,” you breathe.

Two fingers slide around your folds and you gasp. Mando moves slowly, collecting your arousal and coating his fingers. Your breath catches when the tips finally push into your entrance—only a fraction before they slide back out, so the rest of his palm can cup along your cunt and drag more slick behind it. He’s strategically avoiding your clit, though, and with both arms behind your back and at his mercy, you can’t reach for it yourself. Fuck, you…you only need to hold on a bit more, he’ll get bored of his game soon enough. That’s it, just a little longer. You waited six months, no way he’s making you beg after a few minutes of teasing.

The Mandalorian eventually pulls his fingers away from your thighs and curses under his breath. You hear the familiar rustling of fabric and a divine zip that fills your eyes with tears of relief. Fucking finally. You brace yourself and relax your pelvic floor in preparation, but it’s barely necessary—you’re so ready for it. Your cunt is open and weeping, he can just slide it in. All this time, with nothing substantial inside you, your lower muscles pump and twist painfully with demanding want. Even with his size and in this position, you’re so turned on he might even be able to bottom out. Fuck, he doesn’t have to move much, a few good pumps and he’ll have you cumming, easy. Stars, what’s taking so damn long—

A modulated, battered moan and a wet noise make you turn your head over your shoulder and look for the source. The low light makes it difficult to make out shapes, but there’s no mistaking what you find below you. Hand wrapped solid around his cock, Mando is jerking himself off. With your cum as lubricant. While he treats you like a piece of furniture he’s only gripping for support. A chemical cocktail of lust mixed with fury spikes your blood.

“Is…wh-what are…what the fuck do you think y-you’re…”

“Say it,” he spits between his teeth, “say you f-fucking need me.”

No, no fucking way. As much as the words burn on your tongue and your clit tugs and begs, you’re not saying it. He left, not you. You waited for him. You turn your head as far back as your neck allows without snapping a ligament and look straight into the visor. And pointedly curl your lips inside your mouth, sealed.

Your act of rebellion lasts a good ten seconds.

“You’re so fucking difficult,” he snarls. He stops tugging on his cock, and for a moment you hope he might indulge you, push into you and stop the masochist torment you’ve talked yourselves into. But when it comes to Mando and you, it’s never that easy. Still not releasing your wrists, he grabs the base of his cock, glistening with your stolen juices, and rubs it up and down the swell of your uncovered ass. You gasp, let your lips part and your gaze fall to where he’s rubbing up against you and refusing to push inside.  

He's not going to last long. Swollen and a strangled purple, the head of his cock dribbles warm precum and smears it on your lower back. The veins on his length throb against your ass, and stars, they’d feel so much better inside you. The Mandalorian’s grunts and groans ring more frustrated than lost in pleasure; it’s not enough for him either. He’s torturing you and himself just to prove a point, while you refuse to speak the magic words just to keep your pride. Desperate tears threaten to spill, but you shut your eyes to push them back. Either of you could put an end to it, right now. Maker, it’s on the tip of your tongue: I need you. Spit it out, end it. I need you, Mando, I need you, do whatever you want with me. It doesn’t matter that you abandoned me in this shithole, that you discarded me like faulty equipment, that you didn’t even have the decency to tell me—

The thrusting stops. When you open your eyes, you find the visor fixed on you, cocked slightly to the side, like there’s writing on your face. Mando’s grip on your wrist softens, his frustrated panting slows. Maybe he sees the unshed tears, or maybe your face really is that transparent, because he takes pity on you. Gentle palms on your shoulders, he turns you around to face him.

Night has fallen. Fragments of fluorescent light pour inside through your worn out curtains and give the helmet a fuzzy silver halo. The rest of the armor is shiny black, smudges of light here and there. His head moves around the features of your face, one by one, taking its time. Showdown’s over. He’s not playing a game anymore, not trying to get you to break, he’s just…studying you. Staring his fill of you farewell-style, even though he just came back. It hits you that you don’t know how long he’s staying this time. You open your mouth to ask, but stop yourself in time. If he leaves, he leaves. He doesn’t owe you any explanations.

But when he curls an arm around your waist and holds you against the wall and his cold breastplate, it doesn’t feel like goodbye. It feels like old times—pre-siege, pre-battle, pre-everything—when he confidently grabs your left thigh, sinks his fingers into the plump flesh, and hooks it on his lower back. You drape your arms around his shoulders and hold him closer. You’ve always liked the bulk of him against you, it makes everything feel more real. Buried on the crook of your neck, you hear him sigh when he lets go of your thigh and blindly searches your cunt. With your leg around his back you’re completely open for him, so it takes him no time to find your bud. He presses against it and rubs it in slow but tight circles that make your legs cramp.

You push down on him, demanding more. He groans and complies, inserts one finger and continues rubbing on your clit with his thumb. Maker, this has no right to be so good. He’s doing pretty much the same you’ve done to yourself these past months, but with Mando there are never any ghost sensations, no what ifs. It’s all here and now, and you swear you feel the pleasure of his fingers picking up speed in every corner of your body. He has you moaning and rocking your hips, dripping down his hand, and when he starts rubbing you harder and tighter, you finally whine a tiny, “Please.”

The Mandalorian doesn’t need to ask what you want, but he moves his helmet to look at you square in the face, check if you mean it. You stare droopy-eyed into the visor and nod: yesyesyesyes. Mando groans and grips you tighter. Maker, he’s right, you need it—need the bruises, need his cock, need all of him.

“Fuck,” he breathes. His hand leaves you to grab his cock and guide it to your entrance. He moves it around your lips and brushes his tip against your clit as he looks for your hole in the dark. It doesn’t take long for the head to poke right outside where it needs to go. “Fuck, I don’t—don’t think I can hold back, don’t want to hurt you—”

“Stars, please,” you whine, “I want it rough.” You want it more than rough. After six months, you want it fucking depraved, but neither of you is going to last long enough to make it elaborate. Maker, you don’t care. Right now, you don’t care for risky positions or clever techniques, you want him.

He groans and pushes inside—only the head, still testing, but your walls immediately grip him tightly to hinder any attempts to move away. That’s not what you should’ve been worried about. Fingers tight around your waist, Mando pulls you down as he pushes up. Stars. The brutal thrust reaches the end of you and then some more. Fuckfuckfuck. The dull bam of your skull hitting the wall is suddenly drowned by a slicker, filthier sound coming from between your legs. His length begins to pull out, your pussy complains the whole way, and you can almost hear the Mandalorian gritting his teeth through the sweet torture of feeling you squeeze around him…and thrust back up—harder. He likes the pace and sticks to it—fast, rough, deep, repeat—while you make sounds like you’re choking on air. Stars, it has been long. Long enough to partially forget his size, his fucking girth, currently filling you to the brim and punching high little sounds from your throat.

“Mmmando,” you sob.

Mando groans in response, snakes a hand down to your clit and rubs with the same wild abandon as his pounding. Maker, your memory was never this fucking good. No matter how many details you recalled, there’s nothing compared to the real, human meat of his cock pulsing urgently inside you, hitting your cervix, making you whine. Nothing like his fingers around your waist, or knowing there’ll be bruises tomorrow. The pleasure has teeth, carries a painful bite, but it’s exactly what you need. That tangible grit in his thrusts and his fingers is the missing piece. Your muscles start cramping, you pull him tighter against you—Maker, right there, you can feel it. It reaches your head and makes you dizzy, sheds light on some hidden, shameful words.

“Mando, I…”

“I—fuck—I n-needed this,” he grunts and brings his hand down to feel where his cock is inching out of you, like he has to double check it’s actually happening. Thrust. “Used—used to d-dream about you.” Thrust. Three fingers now push into your clit and draw frantic shapes. You clench your jaw, feel the hot tide in your belly rise faster. Thrust. “Wake up so f-fucking hard—cum in my pants.” Thrust—thrust—thrust.

Maybe it’s his words, maybe the rough pace, but something holds a flame to the dynamite building inside you and it explodes. Maker, your head’s going to burst. You moan long and deep into the spot Mando’s ear might be. Your legs shake, your arms cramp. Months’ worth of frustration gush hot and wet around him, as he babbles encouragement: There you go, just like that, make it fucking good. Your walls are still fluttering, your ears are still ringing, you haven’t even ridden out the last of your climax when his hips pick up the pace.

“Let me—let me cum inside,” the warrior pants, “let me f-fill this cunt…I—I haven’t since—fuck, I didn’t—”

“Yes,” you gasp, “yes, please, Mando, cum, cum inside—”

There’s no space left between you, but Mando finds a way to squish you tighter against him as he pounds into you for a few last moments, until you hear a strangled grunt, and a half-forgotten warmth pools inside you. The extra lubrication drives his last thrust as deep as your body allows. A few more lazy thrusts inside you, short and stunted as you take his load inside you, before he stops. A warm string trails down your leg, and—stars, he’s leaking out. How much did he cum that it didn’t fit inside you?  Fuck.

You take turns panting, whimpering, listening to each other’s heartbeats slow to a semi-normal pace. The Mandalorian moves away from the crook of your neck to meet your glossy eyes. He doesn’t say anything, but you think will. You can almost hear his mouth opening, words boiling and rising in bubbles up his throat—

Zium!

It’s your imagination. It’s your ears ringing from that orgasm, your mind making stuff up. But. You could swear you saw a red flash glade right past your cheek. And from the way Mando’s helmet cocks to the side, you know he saw it too. You turn your heads in unison, to see smoke coming out of a hole a breath away from your ear. It takes both of you too long to put two and two together, and—before he can pull out—more of those red flashes are raining down on you.

…………

Edit: Chapter 2 let’s goooooooo

Taglist: @rosetophighlander​ @hellomothermoon @newyorksins​ @leo-moon​ @benedrylcumbersnatch

[mikalara-dracula]

Hii :3 i love your blog, can i have headcanons of ayato, Subaru and shuu having a big crush on a girl but the girl doesnt like them back :3 thanks

When their crush doesn’t like them back

ft. Ayato, Subaru, and Shu

Hi there, Anon!

Aw, thank you, I appreciate that. Thank you so much for requesting as well! Tbh, I think I may have overdone it with how much I wrote here, but I was just so inspired lol. Hope you enjoy reading it. Feel free to request again anytime. :))

Parallel post: When their crush doesn't like them back (ft. Reiji, Laito, and Kanato)

Ayato:

Oh boy, he’s not going to take this lightly--oh no, not at all.

Ayato was literally raised to think that he’s the best out of his brothers and anyone else.

So, you not liking him back is not something he’s not going to accept . . . at least, not easily anyways.

However, before we get to the negative, let’s begin with how all of this started.

Ayato first noticed you at cheerleading practice.

(Okay, so I’m not sure if their school in DL necessarily has a cheerleading team, but considering the students play sports, there’s a chance that there might be, but let’s just imagine that there is one for this scenario.)

Anyways tho, you were busy practicing the cheer choreography for the next basketball game, and with Ayato being on the school’s basketball team, he noticed you practicing from far away as he was practicing on the court with his team.

He grew interested quite quickly to know who you were; the way your uniform displayed itself against your body, the gleam that sparkled in your eyes as you cheered with the rest of your team. From that point on, he was determined to get to know you and make you his girl.

Since he likes to make a grand entrance, how he met you was staged with a few of his guy friends since he wants to leave an impression.

You were standing in the crowded hall with your group of friends, just talking about the most random of things whilst you held your textbooks for next period until a guy with a hoodie ran past you and knocked you over, making you lose your balance as you started to fall.

To your luck though, someone swooped in and caught you before you could hit the ground, his red locks falling into his face as he held you securely in his arms, pulling you upward to help you stand on your feet again.

You were shocked. Not being able to hold back gratitude for saving you from such a fall, you’d thank, “Thank you for-,”

“No need to thank me, babe . . . . The name’s Ayato by the way.” He’d smirk, walking off to join his group of friends that were waiting for him at the end of the hall, soon cheering him on as they rounded into the next hall knowing that it had all gone according to plan.

Through witnessing everything that happened, everyone was whispering and gossiping about it in the halls. This would lead one of your friends to comment whilst giggling with the other girls in your group, “Wow Y/N, he’s quite the keeper.”

“He just saved me from falling, not death--honestly.” You’d remark, finding this to be blown out of proportion as the girl gang simply laughed at your reluctance to overreact like everyone else was--you just weren’t that type of person.

Now that you knew who he was, the game was definitely on.

He tries to impress you in lots of ways.

Such as with his basketball skills when he’s practicing with his team or during an actual game since you’re cheering for his team.

He’ll literally point to you from a distance every time he makes a shot, leaving you to blush while you’re standing at the side with your cheer team.

With him being quite cocky, he definitely tries to make you laugh.

During school hours, if you’re busy in the halls getting ready for next period, he tries to get your attention from afar--even if it’s from the other end of the hall--with the rest of his guy friends, a smirk on his face as he blows a kiss to you from a distance, leaving you to blush.

Eventually through him trying to impress and talk to you so much, he takes the opportunity to ask you out.

And of course, with you not having feelings for him, you’d say no.

He was expecting that you’d say yes, so getting rejected was really strange to him, but of course, he wasn’t going to give up that easily.

Since he has a major crush on you, he’s going to be insistent about going out with you.

Like, he’s not taking no for an answer.

He’d constantly harass you in the halls or in class about this, saying to stop playing hard to get when you’re making it perfectly clear that you have interest in him at all.

He’ll even pass you notes in class asking about the same thing or try to get your attention in class by whispering your name while everyone is busy and mouth ‘you look hot today’, leaving you to turn around in your seat and frown as this was getting annoying, his arrogance being a turn-off.

With being desperate, Ayato will even go as to steal your cheerleading uniform from your locker and hold it for ransom.

There was one time where you were walking to the girl’s locker room to get ready for cheer practice, which meant changing into your uniform. You were already late due to talking with a teacher after class, so you knew the locker room was empty since it was after school and most students had already gone home, and that your team was already practicing without you.

You went inside and opened your locker to find that the uniform was gone. Instantly, you questioned where it could have gone since you had just washed it yesterday and had placed it in there this morning before school had started, but a familiar, yet annoying voice soon rattled your thoughts.

“Hey babe, looking for this?”

You’d turn to see Ayato walking toward you, the uniform in his hands as a smirk displayed itself on his lips. You literally almost screamed knowing he was in the girl's locker room as this was not a place for him to be, your privacy feeling disturbed.

“Ayato, give it back.” You’d say, trying to take it from him, but he would be quick to hold it up high and out of your reach as you gave your best attempts to jump and grab it.

“Not so fast, sweetheart. You’ll get this back on one condition.”

“Fine.” You’d retort, feeling tired from all your attempts. “What is it?”

“Go out with me.”

“Ayato, how many times am I going to tell you that it’s not going to happen?”

“You can try to deny me all you want, but a girl has never said no to yours truly.”

“Well this one has.” You’d hiss, jumping up high enough this time as you finally grabbed hold of it and yanked it away from him. “I don’t know what it’s gonna take to make you understand that I’m not interested.”

There was an awkward silence between the two of you and you thought he would just leave. You were going to walk away and change, but you noticed he just continued to stand there. Being fed up with this, you’d hiss, “What?”

“You’re already late for practice. You’ll get there a lot faster if you let yours truly help you with your uniform.” He’d grin.

“Get out!” You’d scream, pushing him in the direction of the door.

It took an endless amount of attempts, but he’d eventually get the message that you just weren’t into him.

Once Ayato came to terms with himself and that you had no feelings for him, he basically ignores you at all costs.

For example, if he sees you in the hall, he’ll look or walk away and pretend he doesn’t see you--you’re basically erased to him.

Even if you tried to pull him aside to talk to him to work things out and just be friends, he’d simply brush you aside, hands in his pockets as he’d mutter ‘tch’ before walking away.

“Tch! How can she not like yours truly? . . . . Whatever. It’s her loss. She’ll never find another guy like me.”

Subaru:

Oh my, for him to like someone is quite difficult since he’s not even a fan of himself.

However, there was something captivating about you that caused this vampire’s undead heart to throb.

He hated the fact that he had feelings for you since he doesn’t want to feel weak for anyone, but you made him feel things in ways he couldn’t explain.

Every day at school was the same to him until he saw you. You were new to his school and the teacher introduced you to everyone and this was when he took note of your existence.

Since Subaru is a loner, you really had no idea who he was or that he even existed at first.

Just like everyone else, you would walk right past him in the halls, but it’s not because you were rude, you just didn’t know him and it would be strange to just start talking to someone you didn’t know without a reason.

He on the other hand noticed everything about you--your every movement, the way your smile would gleam, the way your style bewitched him along with how your intelligence astonished him during class discussions.

How you noticed him though was quite the opposite of ordinary.

You were once walking through the crowded halls at school and witnessed a physical fight taking place in the middle of the hall with two male students, Subaru being one of them as everyone huddled around to watch.

You saw the way his fist collided with the other male’s face as he sent him to the ground, several teachers soon arriving as they broke up the fight and sent both of them to the principal’s office.

At that point, you knew who he was and everyone was talking about that fight for weeks. Due to this, you heard rumors about him as well--about how getting in trouble was common for him due to him getting in fights with students in the past and that he was quite brash in general, but you weren’t one to judge.

Now, returning to him having a crush on you.

When in class with you, he will stare at you but will look away quickly since he doesn’t want to take any chances on being noticed by you or anyone else. The last thing he wants is for someone to suspect that he has a crush on you.

You were once assigned to be his partner in class and let’s say he was a nervous wreck about it all.

He was a lot meaner than usual, mostly because it’s a defense mechanism he uses to demonstrate his tough exterior so no one can take advantage or hurt him.

But deep down, we all know that this bby car is a total softy :’)).

Since you both had a project to complete together, you both met up in the library to prepare for it. You were both looking at the textbook to find the information you needed when your hand accidentally brushed against his. He instantly withdrew it, muttered ‘tch’ as he walked away to hide the blush that bloomed on his cheeks. This left you confused, but you decided not to question it since he was quite the enigma.

I’ve cannoned this in the past with @liannelara-dracula that he likes to corner you when you’re alone, especially during break, so he can have a small conversation with you.

He may say something slightly perverted to flirt tho ;)).

Through knowing each other, you like waving to him in the halls as you’re walking to class with your friends, your endearing smile dawning on him quite incandescently.

He’d never wave back at first, always muttering his infamous ‘tch’, and was usually just annoyed by your kindness, but with you not withdrawing your gentle nature, he soon started to grow a bit more comfortable with this.

When he reached this stage, he’s always taken back by you saying hi to him casually like that. He doesn’t really know what to do, a minor blush appearing on his cheeks as he'd slightly, but very awkwardly, lift and wave his hand, quickly looking away from you to avoid eye contact.

Your friends, however, would take note of you saying hi to him and would constantly be asking you as to why since he’s bad news and isn’t very approachable.

“Guys, he’s just misunderstood. It’s not like we really know him and we can’t just judge by what’s on the surface.” You'd say.

He really isn’t the type to just confess due to fear of rejection and his feelings grew more and more as he got to know you.

You really brought a lot of fun and joy to him, something he isn’t too familiar with due to his upbringing, in fact, he even started to smile a little bit each time he saw you.

Even his brothers took notice of his new behavior, a certain fedora-wearing vampire wanting to know more than what was on the surface when they were all riding home together once.

“Fufu~, what’s with the new attitude, Subaru? Why the smile? Is it about a girl?”

“Tch! Shut up!” He’d retort, looking away from all of them as a minor blush appeared on his cheeks, leaving them all to laugh at him.

Later on though, Subaru caught on to the idea of you not liking him back due to seeing you kissing your boyfriend in the halls one day.

He was crushed in all honesty and ended up recoiling back into his old life of being lonesome.

He rarely talks to you now. Since he knows you have someone else, he doesn’t want to bother with getting to know you any further since it would just hurt him more.

He’d also be a lot meaner and irritated than usual. In fact, it wouldn’t be surprising if he’d get into more physical fights due to his anger towards this situation.

He hates the idea of you not liking him back . . . but to be honest, he kind of expected it because he thought it was something that was too good to be true.

“It only makes sense that someone like her is already taken . . . . Tch! Like she’d ever date a piece of shit like me.”

Shu:

Considering his childhood trauma, for him to take an interest in someone is quite rare and almost unexpected.

Especially since he believes that if anyone associates themselves with him, they either end up dead or are left in a really bad situation they can’t get out of.

It took him a while to realize his feelings for you. He honestly just kept denying them for the longest time, but he accepted them later on since you were always on his mind.

However, even though he's realized them, bear in mind that he is an ass about his feelings since he always tries to push them away. This is mostly due to his experience with Edgar since it left quite a mark on his childhood.

Anyways, Shu first took notice of you during homeroom--which he actually bothered to attend for once xDD--and noticed you sitting in the far corner writing some things down in your notebook whilst your ears remained attentive to what the teacher was saying, your beauty being captivating to him.

By him not going to class a lot of the time, he wasn’t too familiar with a lot of his classmates. But with you being in homeroom hour, he actually started to attend it a lot more because he found you interesting—the way you focused throughout the period as you listened to instructions and paid no attention to the other boys who sought your attention when the teacher was either too busy teaching or doing something else.

By seeing you a lot in homeroom, he’d notice you in the halls whenever you were either conversing with your friends or going to your locker to grab the stuff you needed for your next class.

The way your hair would whip every time you turned, the sound of your laughter echoing in his ears every time you and your friends joked about something.

It was all so amusing to him, something he wouldn’t typically see.

With you piquing his interest, he wanted to make himself known to you. In other words, he wanted you to talk to him in some way, so he staged an opportunity.

You were running late to class one day. Since it was on the second floor you had to use the stairs, but you soon stopped when you saw someone occupying one of the steps that prevented you from ascending, his figure asleep as you recognized it to be Shu.

You had heard of Shu before due to his family name and because he was so popular with the girls, along with the fact that he always skipped class, but you never paid him much thought since you had your own clique of wholesome friends.

Since you were already running late and that was the only way to get to class, you’d politely approach him and ask him to move, but of course, he didn’t give a response or budge.

You supposed he was in a deep sleep, so you reached out to tap his shoulder, his eyes snapping open as he’d quickly grab your wrist, preventing you from giving him a nudge.

“Huh, touching a man you don’t even know. That’s quite lewd of you.” He’d smirk.

His remark caused you to slightly blush, “That- that’s not- I wasn’t doing anything like that.”

“Huh, surely doesn’t seem like it.”

You grew pretty annoyed as you’d send him a frown. “Look, can you move? I have to get to class. I’m already late and you’re making me get there even later.”

“You being late isn’t my problem. If you wanna pass, just pass.”

You’d sigh taking his suggestion, taking a step forward as you attempted to skip over the step he occupied. As you stepped over, he lifted a leg causing you to trip and land on the landing, pain traveling through your body as you shot him a glare knowing that what he did was on purpose.

“Hey! What the hell?! You did that on purpose, you jerk!”

“You’re imagining things. First you trip and then you wanna blame your clumsiness on me.”

He was so lying, and you knew that for sure. You didn’t just imagine it. You literally saw him do it.

“But you-,” You’d sigh, knowing it was going to be pointless to continue arguing with him, plus, you had a class to get to. “Whatever, I don’t have time for this. I have to get to class.”

As you’d leave, he would make a perverted remark about your skirt, a blush rushing up to your cheeks as you’d walk away and up the next flight of stairs to get to your class.

After class, your friends had asked why you were so late and you had told them about your encounter with Shu. They were in awe at the story and even teased you about it.

With that incident, things only escalated, especially with his endless flirting. He honestly gets a kick out of it.

Since he skips class a lot of the time, if you happen to pass him in the empty halls as you walk to class or elsewhere, he’s going to say something to you for sure.

This can range from him making more perverted remarks about your skirt, or your panties if he’s laying down; even going to the point of teasing you about being perverted when you’re not.

That motha.

He even accuses you of bothering him when he’s the one who started the conversation.

Says that you ‘walk too loud’ and that you’re spoiling his music because of that reason.

You’d grow fed up with this and with being so distraught about it, your friends would be bound to ask what was bothering you. You’d mention why, but they would only find it amusing considering who he is. After all, Shu isn’t really known to give much of his attention to anyone.

“Y’know, if he’s talking to you in the halls for no reason, that says something. He only talks to girls he has an interest in.” One of your friends would say.

“Interested my ass!” You’d retort, rolling your eyes. “He’s such an ass. He’s just some spoiled rich kid that’s probably never worked a day in his life.”

Honestly, Reiji would love you on account of this xDD.

I’ve also cannoned this with @liannelara-dracula that even though he’s lazy, he would take the time to get to know your schedule and show up everywhere you’d typically go.

And then, he’d accuse you of stalking him since you’re always running into him.

Since he’s pretty perceptive, Shu eventually noticed that you didn’t like him through one incident that he took note of in the hall one day. You were walking and you ran into your crush, your heart racing as he stopped to talk and say hi to you. You were pretty good friends with him and he was just the sweetest guy ever. You always felt butterflies in your stomach whenever you were around him and deep down, you hoped that things would change between you two eventually.

To Shu, it was plain as day that you liked someone else. He’s centuries-old and definitely knows how this stuff works, he’s not stupid. Plus, the asshole he was also listening to your heartbeat when you spoke to your crush, making it far more evident to himself that you had an interest in someone else.

By knowing about your crush, he does use it to piss you off. He’ll act like an even bigger ass now because he knows you don’t like him.

“Y’know, it’s never going to happen.” He’d tease, his infamous smirk being evident.

“A girl can dream.” You’d retort. “You seem to do it all day, so why can’t I?”

Based on his fear of someone getting hurt because of being involved with him, he’d never tell you that he liked you.

Is actually pretty accepting of the fact that you don’t like him, and to be honest, he thinks it’s better off this way due to his fear of destroying something he would later on cherish, but yet, he still carries on with being an ass towards you since it amuses him.

“You’re better off without me. Dream all you want about that guy, but I know he’d never satisfy you the way I could.”

[wonlouvre]

hiii i love your writing so much! i wanted to request maybe a junhui + reader barista au >< the plot can be anything i'm just a sucker for fluff aaaa

hope you have a great day <33

you | w. jh.

pairing: barista!junhui x g.n. reader genre: fluff warnings: mentions of food (please tell me if i missed anything!) word count: 1.2k+

💌: i am currently working from home and finally managed to finish this! thank you so much for requesting anon! i hope you like it:’)

The coffee shop you frequent has a newly hired barista. You assumed that said barista is new because ever since you started taking comfort in their coffees and pastries while studying, this is the first time you’re seeing the tall and handsome man. He’s really handsome, you have to admit and emphasize that. Most especially up close, where you can fully grasp almost every detail of his sharp features; you can tell he’s out of this world. 

“Hi! I’m Junhui,” he happily greets before taking the cap off of the pen he’s holding, “What can I make for you today?”

Junhui. You remember his name and his voice. If you can fall in love with the sound of a voice, it would be his. 

You reciprocate his happiness by answering his question in great delight (pretending you don’t have two final papers due by the end of the week). You notice how Junhui’s smile grows as he gets your order down. Although he really won’t be making your drink as he takes charge of the cashier, you don’t mind. After punching in your payment, he hands you the coaster that would buzz once your order is ready. You thank him and leave a generous amount of tip. 

Not because you’re trying to impress him or give him any special treatment. You just think he deserves it. Actually, everyone in this coffee shop deserves it for how they have given you a place to study comfortably and at the same time a place to have fresh brewed coffees and baked goods. Junhui is now a new addition to the staff that you’re grateful for. 

The first meeting with Junhui was good and you thought you were off for a great start. You thought he would remember your name, your usual order or maybe even your face. But to your dismay, he doesn’t.

At all. 

It’s a little disheartening. Just a little bit. You’re pretty much torn on how you feel about him anyway. For one, you’re used to the regular baristas here greeting you every time you come in. It doesn’t matter what time or day it is. But, how come Junhui doesn’t even glance up at you unless you’re talking to him directly? 

On the other hand, you also don’t know why you have so many high expectations for him. Do you fancy him? Or are you just attracted because he’s handsome? 

Nonetheless, you ignore your disappointment and continue going to the coffee shop like how you always do. What you feel doesn’t matter anyway. What matters at the moment is you getting through the semester without any failing marks so that you can get the stress free vacation you’ve been yearning for.

You can always go to the library, but a warm cup of coffee and a decadent slice of chocolate cake is too good to turn away from. 

“Hi Junhui,” you shyly greet as you stand on the counter with your wallet at hand. 

The coffee shop is quiet right now as it is almost nine in the evening. You haven’t been going during your usual late afternoon study session due to circumstances so you haven’t seen Junhui on his regular shift. But tonight, it seems like he took the night shift. This is the first time you’re seeing him after a while. 

“Hey.” Junhui smiles, his pen ready. “I’ve been excited to see you all day.”

That last sentence makes you blink in confusion. Huh? You look behind you and the rest of your surroundings to check if he’s really talking to you. When it’s just really you that he’s talking to, you silently point a finger to your chest, confirming if it’s really really you that he’s talking to. 

Junhui only laughs. “Yes, you. Now, what can I get for you?”

You narrow your eyes at him. “What have you done to the Junhui of this place? Who are you?”

“Y/N, are you going to order or not?”

You gasp in horror (dramatically). “Did you just say my name?”

Junhui rolls his eyes. “You know what, no free cookies for you tonight.”

“No!” You hold a hand out in surrender. “Okay, okay. One cafe latte please.”

That night was both amusing and bewildering. You have no idea where the sudden turn around came over Junhui, but you will take it. 

From then on, Junhui’s smile is a little different and you can see it in his eyes. He still rarely calls your name but when he does, it’s genuine. He still asks for what you’ll be ordering, but it doesn’t bother you anymore. 

“I think scrolling through every Instagram story is not a good idea if you really want to get at least an eighty on that essay.”

In this particular study session, Junhui has kept an eagle eye on you. He’s not taking any excuses from you when he clearly ordered you to not touch your phone in exchange for a free slice of cheesecake. 

You pout when Junhui picks up your mug, pouring the refill he promised when you reached three hundred words. “Can’t I take a break now and have the cake?”

Junhui gives you a “in your wish” look while planting his other hand on his hip. “Nope. Your goal is to finish tonight so all that’s left to do is to review and revise.” 

“Since when did you become so strict,” you grumble and return your attention back to your laptop. 

“Ever since I started giving you free pastries, that’s when,” he replies and takes the chair opposite your side. 

You scowl. “I can always pay. You’re the one that’s declining.”

“I’m not complaining,” Junhui says and picks up one of your notes. 

Junhui admitted later that it was hard for him to approach you differently from how he usually addresses every customer in the coffee shop. Not because he doesn’t like you. Of course not. It was difficult because just like you, he found you cute and even cuter whenever he hears you call his name or whenever he sees your happy smile as you tell him your order (even though he already knows). 

Junhui’s guess is you make him speechless and that he gets stuck with his regular programming as a cashier slash barista catering to the caffeine needs of everyone. As much as he wants to be your Junhui, he can’t help but be blown away by you, your face, voice, presence.

You.

However, when you started to visit the cafe late and during his off, he knew he needed to change and develop your awkward encounters into something else, something intimate and affectionate in the sincerest way possible. That’s how he ended up finally and excitedly calling your name. 

That’s also the beginning of the best relationship you could ever ask for.  

“Shouldn’t you be going back to work?” You ask, confused as to why he’s lounging around. 

“Sweetheart, my shift ended thirty minutes ago.”

Your eyes widen, immediately looking at the time. It’s way past ten and you’re still here. Way past closing hours. Way past Junhui’s shift. You can’t believe you lost track of time. 

“I’m so sorry,” you apologize and quickly gather your belongings. “I didn’t notice the time.”

“Hey, hey,” Junhui calls and holds your hand to stop. “It’s okay. Calm down.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You pout and zip close your backpack. 

Junhui just gives you his signature grin and waves a hand. “I told you it’s fine.”

“Is that your excuse to keep me to yourself and stare at me all night?”

Junhui giggles. “You got me.”