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aquamarinescarlet · 3 years

Text

Don’t give up just yet

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word count: ~3.6k

Warnings: two curse word (I think), brief mentions of sex and cheating, angst (bare in mind these warnings don’t apply the way you think they do, you’ll have to read to understand)

Summary: The classic soulmate AU, sentences written on each other’s wrists, but with a twist.

Author’s note: This was basically an excuse for me to reinvent the soulmate AU with the wrist tattoos thing. It’s sorta angsty, but I just thought the ending was too funny. Just experimenting here, tell me what you think.

PSA: Dividers are the count down till the day: black is reader focused, red is wanda focused, gold/yellow is also reader focused, but I thought it deserved a little spark.

“You should call her, y’know.”

“Why would I do that? She made her point very clear.”

“It’s her wedding day, Y/N,” Mia reasoned, “and this fight was months ago, you have to get over it.”

You rolled your eyes at her insistence. This discussion has been happening every day for the past two weeks.

“I didn’t do anything wrong, why am I the one who should get over it?” You emphasized.

“He is her soulmate, and she is your sister, the least you could do is pretend.”

“Ugh,” you let out a guttural scream, “I can’t do this anymore Mia, I stand by what I said. That man is an asshole and this soulmate thing is stupid. I don’t trust him, no matter what the words on both their wrists say, and I’m not gonna watch her go down with this and not do anything about it.”

Mia didn’t respond, she knew she’d reached your last nerve. You watched as the woman left your office, sending a last sympathetic glance your way before walking into the hall.

Mia was right in some points, and you knew that. She was right about it being your sister’s wedding day and that you should be there to support her. She was wrong about you needing to be the one to apologize though. The way people manipulated their lives to fit this whole twisted Soulmate Theory made your blood boil.

The Soulmate Theory was quite simple: everyone was born with a sentence written on their wrists, popular belief is that those are the first words your soulmate will say to you. It was cute, and it worked most of the time, not for your sister though. Or at least you thought so.

Oli's soulmate was Isaac. They had met three years ago and eventually started dating. Oli was a firm believer of the Soulmate Theory and had never dated anyone before, so it was all new and exciting.

You started noticing the patterns roughly one year after they started dating. He was controlling her, discreetly, barely noticeable, but it was there.

First with clothes, Oli had made it a habit to always ask for his opinions on her clothing, and he would tell her he hated something, regardless of her telling him over and over again she had liked it. You made little comments here and there about his actions, mostly jokes but with some truth behind, she didn’t notice.

Second was friends, Isaac would always want to meet Oli’s friends, and if she went out with one he didn’t know he would make her feel guilty. You started giving more serious warnings, pointing out what he was doing more clearly, she didn’t care and called you crazy.

Third was her feelings, he had his mind set on what her role should be in his life. He praised Oli endlessly when she cooked or cleaned. Other than that, he didn’t care, didn’t pay attention to her stories, didn’t appreciate her paintings and drawings…

It got to the point where she wouldn’t want to paint anymore, when she was telling a story it would be without her usual excitement. Her smile no longer reached her eyes, she was constantly tired.

You confronted her about it, several times, but it was of no use. You’d point out the facts and she’d retort with ‘he is my soulmate, the universe bound us together, he wouldn’t do this to me!’

Three months ago was the last time you two talked. She told you he asked her hand. She knew you would be against it, she tried to ease you into the idea of her being with Isaac for the rest of her life. You weren’t having any of it.

After hours of screaming, arguing and loads of tears, she told you not to come to the wedding, and you said you wouldn’t.

It’s now four days from the date and you’re not going as long as he’s the one she’s marrying.

You stared at the words on your own wrist. ‘It’s you’. That sentence haunted you for years. What a stupid set of words for your soulmate to say.

As a kid you adored the Soulmate Theory, you paid meticulous attention to the first words you’d exchange with anyone, you made new friends nearly every day in hopes of hearing those words, but they never came.

Until they came. At first it was exhilarating, but the ones you said didn’t match the ones on the person’s wrist. You were extremely disappointed. And then you heard them again, and again, and again… It became almost routine. Every single person you met would say ‘it’s you’ or some variation of it.

You being who you are certainly didn’t help. During college you had started a tech company and now it had grown to be one of the biggest and most important in the field. The new inventions did win you several prizes and a lot of money. You were also stupid famous, being the young brilliant CEO and all.

Ever since, you gave up on looking for your soulmate. It seemed counter productive to get yourself all worked up just for it not to happen every single day. You made your peace with it, although a small part of you just wanted to meet said person.

The situation with Isaac and Oli helped. Seeing that it could end up hurting you made it easier to not fixate on finding your soulmate. Nonetheless, the desire was there; hidden, pushed to the back of your mind, but still there.

You just wished your sister could see it too, that the Soulmate Theory is not the solution to all her problems.

“Relax Steve, it’s all taken care of.”

“What about the flowers? Did you book the buffet? Did you check with the band? And the decorations? I saw some people didn’t RSVP yet, should I redo the seating charts?” Steve rambled on as Wanda just laughed.

“The flower problem is solved, the buffet confirmed, so did the band, the wedding planner is working on the decorations and redoing the whole seating chart seems… unnecessary, they still have three days to confirm their presence.” She reassured the man who was more stressed than her about the whole situation.

“Okay, sorry, I just want to make sure everything is perfect.” He huffed, taking a seat on the couch.

“It’s going to be perfect, don’t worry.” She couldn’t help the weirdness that surged upon uttering those words.

“How are you so calm?” Wanda just shrugged, not really sure how to answer.

Steve took a deep breath and gazed at the red head, offering her a smile.

“I’m going to sleep, all this wedding stuff has been stressing me all day.”

“Okay,” Steve made his way to his bedroom but she called him before he reached the hallway, “thanks for the help Rogers.”

“No worries.” He shot a last smile before disappearing.

Wanda found herself alone in the living room, the silence only making her thoughts scream louder.

She would be married in three days. It seemed unbelievable. After losing her parents, being experimented on at Hydra, fighting along Ultron, losing her brother and becoming an Avenger, she never thought she would have time to fall in love.

Yet, here she is. Although the feeling wasn’t quite what she thought it would be. It wasn’t exciting, or nerve racking. She felt no different than any other day of her life. Steve seemed like the one who was getting married, not her.

Vision is sweet and caring, she feels so happy around him. Then what is causing all these doubts to haunt her?

She knows what it is, she just doesn’t want to admit it.

Those words. Those stupid words painted forever on her wrist. ‘Don’t do this’. Ever since joining the Avengers she started using several bracelets to hide them, but they still burned on her skin every single day.

She’d heard of the Soulmate Theory at a very young age. Her parents had explained how those were the first words she’d hear from the love of her life. She would spend hours daydreaming all sorts of scenarios in which someone would say those words to her and they’d fall in love.

After her parent’s death, that stopped being her priority. At the Hydra base she’d only see her brother and a couple dozen different Hydra soldiers, too old and mean for a soulmate.

Gaining powers was a game changer. She was older then. Stronger. They finally allowed her and Pietro to leave the base and create chaos in Hydra’s name. “Do good” in Hydra’s name. She believed she was doing the right thing. She truly did.

Hearing her first ‘Don’t do this’ made her question everything. It came from a little kid nonetheless. A scared little kid. It must’ve been a mistake, she thought at the time. But that mistake happened, again, and again, and again…

When she joined the Avengers her eyes were opened to all the pain and terror she had caused. All the people she hurt. Then it dawned on her, what if one of those ‘Don’t do this’ came from her soulmate? What if she had hurt them, or worse, killed them?

The idea terrified her. So she hid those words on her wrist. A reminder of the evil she’s done and the love she’ll never have. She promised herself to never look for her soulmate, she already caused them enough pain, they didn’t deserve to get tangled in the mess that was her life.

And then Vision was created. Him and Wanda got along greatly. He made her happy. They fell in love, or at least that’s what Wanda told herself, that she fell in love with him. It was possible, there’s no rule on the Soulmate Theory that says you can only fall in love with your soulmate. Plus, Vision is not human, so he doesn’t have words written on his wrist, he doesn’t have a predestined soulmate, technically he doesn’t even have an actual soul for this sort of thing. They could be each other’s soulmate. A loophole on this stupid theory.

Why didn’t it feel like that though? Why was she questioning it so much? And why now? Three days before her wedding?

She took off the bracelets and stared at the ink, brushing her fingers lightly over it. She loved Vision, she affirmed to herself. She wants to marry him. This is what she wants. And she believes in these words, for a while. Long enough for her to fall asleep, turning off her brain from overthinking the situation too much.

Work has had you occupied all week. With back to back meetings and loads of paperwork to fill out, you’ve barely had time to think of anything else.

But now it seems like everything is done and you have more free time than you’d like.

You left the office early, not having much to do there anymore, and, instead of spending all afternoon home alone, you decided to go out for some coffee.

You were sitting on your usual table in the small coffee shop close to your place. It was calm, quiet and homely, a nice contrast between the places you frequent. The warm cup on your hands did nothing to distract you though.

The book you’d brought was long forgotten on the table as you glanced at your phone every few seconds. It’s two days till the wedding and, even though you tried not to think about it, you hoped your sister would text you saying she broke it off. It was unlikely, but wishing she could get some sense knocked into her wouldn’t kill.

You were so focused on your thoughts that you didn’t notice a woman glancing at you until you caught her trying to call your attention.

“It’s you!” She said, astonished, pointing to the cover of a magazine showing a picture of you.

Recognizing that issue as being a rather old one, you just nodded and offered the woman a friendly smile. She took that as an opportunity to approach you.

“Hi. Sorry,” she sounded excited and also nervous for bothering you, “I just wanted to say what an inspiration you are to women all around, to me especially. I’ve been opening my own business and seeing what you do has been such an encouragement to me. So, thank you!”

You were surprised by how nice she was. You’d expected her to ask you to invest in her business or something, like everyone who approaches you does, but she didn’t and it was a nice change of pace for once.

“What kind of business are you opening?” You asked. Listen to her talk would be a good distraction, plus, you could use the company.

“Oh, no, that’s ok,” she said, “I don’t want to bother you any further.”

“Please,” you urged, “I have the rest of my day off and I could use someone to talk to. Unless you’re busy, then I wouldn’t want to be a burden to you.” You laughed to ease the woman’s nerves.

“Sure?” You nodded and gestured to the empty seat across from you.

She accepted it and you spent at least an hour talking before she had to leave. It was a pleasant conversation, she praised your work but didn’t refrain from giving some interesting criticism on your business. The topic of an investment or a partnership never even came up.

It got your sister out of your mind for a while, although it didn’t last long.

Laying on your bed, your eyes fought to stay open, your mind swirling with all possible scenarios regarding Oli. She would be miserable if she went through with this, and you couldn’t do anything about it.

You love your sister, you care so much about her, but she refuses to listen to your warnings. You could swallow your pride and go to the wedding. You could try and support her. But that would just make an accomplice to her stupidity and you’re not going to just stand there and pretend that that’s ok.

You thought about texting her, way too many times. But your relationship is already rocky as it is, the least you could do is hope she gets some clarity on her own.

One day till the wedding. She’s 24 hours away from the happiest day of her life. Why is it, then, that Wanda doesn’t feel as happy as she should be.

She didn’t have to fake a smile, she was happy, but that smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

None of the others seemed to notice it. They just thought it was the nervousness of having everything set so the day could run smoothly. Vision even brought up the possibility of her having cold feet about it, but she denied it thoroughly, assuring him she wanted this.

And she does. She wants to get married, have kids and build up a family of her own. She wants it all.

It still seemed weird though. Like something was off.

“Steve just called,” Nat interrupted her thoughts, walking back into the room, “everything is set, prepped and organized for tomorrow.”

“Let’s try on the dress then.” Carol urged the girl to put on the piece of clothing for the millionth time.

It did her justice. Slim at the top and flowy at the bottom, accentuating all her curves perfectly. It wasn’t big and puffy but light and delicate. She smiled at her own reflection as the other women crammed around her to take a look.

“You look beautiful.” Pepper said in awe.

“She does, doesn’t she.” Laura agreed, even though she’s the one that helped her choose it.

Wanda didn’t say anything, just smiling and appreciating her own image, excitement growing on her chest from wearing it in front of everyone the next day.

The girls spent hours planning how they would do her hair and makeup. There were so many ideas, disagreements and arguments that Wanda was completely drained by the end of the day. She was happy though, to see her friends being there for her, eager to help and make sure everything was perfect.

It was nice to have people around since she lost so much throughout the years.

After the women were gone and she found herself alone, Wanda’s thoughts from the beginning of the day came back, hitting her like a train.

Was she really more excited about wearing a dress than about getting married? Was this a sign of her actually getting cold feet?

She shrugged them away, affirming to herself these are just stupid uncertanties people always get before their wedding day. At least that’s what happens in movies, so nothing to worry about... right?

Thankfully your work slump had subsided as now a gigantic pile of papers sat on your table. Some contracts had to be restructured and a set of stores had to be chosen to distribute your newest technology.

You thrived in that scenario, with countless reports and 2D drawings of the prototypes scattered about the room. Your mind was going a thousand miles a minute, seemingly unaware of the events that would take place later that day.

That peace, however, was short lived. Your brain short circuited for a second when you checked what had caused your phone to buzz.

Two voicemails.

From none other than Isaac.

It was right then that it dawned on you: Oli was marrying that asshole today. In only a couple of hours actually.

Before listening to the messages you started to record your phone screen, maybe he would try to threaten you or something and you could use that to convince Oli to break things off with him. It wouldn’t kill to be precautious.

The first one was sweet, although it almost made you gag, it was sent with good intentions. Isaac was asking you to go easy on Oli, regardless of your feelings towards him, you should be supportive of her and her decisions. Too pretentious for your liking, but sent with good intentions nonetheless.

The second one started awfully weird. Some muffled sounds, things you couldn’t quite make out. Until you heard a loud moan, your eyes going wide as you pushed your phone away from your face. Isn’t it technically ‘bad luck’ to see the bride on the wedding day? You didn’t have time to dwell on those thoughts as the voice on the phone started to moan each other’s names. The woman didn’t sound anything like Oli, because it wasn’t Oli. Isaac was cheating on your sister? And on their wedding day!?

Oh you weren’t about to just let that go. You stopped the recording, thanking your intuition, and quickly ringed Oli.

It rang once… twice… three times… and then voicemail. You tried at least four more times until you figured she just didn’t want to talk to you.

“Marie can you come in here please?” You called your secretary.

A few seconds later she popped her head inside your office.

“How can I help?”

“Can I use your phone!?” You sounded more exasperated than you wished.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to call your sister today?” Damn, that woman knows you too well. You sighed loudly.

“Please… I just…” You trailed off, sounding desperate this time around.

Thankfully Marie gave in and lent you her phone. You typed Oli’s number and rang it, several times, she didn’t pick up once. You were starting to get truly desperate now.

“Do you have the address?” You handed Marie her phone back.

“Here.” She handed you a piece of paper from her pocket.

It was on the other side of the city, at least a one hour drive. You quickly grabbed your coat, purse and phone, rushing out of the office, only being stopped by a hand wrapping around your wrist.

“Don’t do anything stupid.” You gave her a reassuring smile and a quick nod before making your way to your car. Marie has been working with you since the beginning, she always knew when you were up to nothing good. She also knew that when you set your mind to something, there was no stopping you.

The drive was excruciating. You kept making stupid mistakes and taking wrong turns. Everything seemed to work against you, being it: accidents, red lights, slow drivers, pedestrians. Even the birds chirping around were pissing you off.

You finally reached the venue and stopped the car messily in the front entrance. You quickly ran up the stairs, and almost tripped and fell when you heard the officiant was already performing the ceremony.

You reached the doors and yanked them open, hopefully interrupting the wedding before it was too late.

“Don’t do this!” You screamed at the top of your lungs, nearly breathless.

The guests all turned towards you, surprised. So did the couple on the podium.

Except those people weren’t Oli and Isaac. You recognized them, Vision and Scarlet Witch, or at least that’s the names they went for on television. You’ve seen them before, doing business with Stark had its perks, but had never been introduced.

You could’ve felt bad, but your stomach was a turmoil of faith and nausea. You were either really early or really late to stop Oli.

“Sorry,” you said, trying to catch your breath, “wrong wedding, carry on.” You turned around to leave, but not before noticing the bride glancing at her own wrist.

You didn’t get the chance to take a single step out the door before her voice filled the silence that had settled.

“It’s you.” You stopped dead on your tracks. Your wrist burning slightly, not the kind of pain to cause discomfort, just enough to be noticeable.

Those words.

Her looking at her wrist.

Your’s burning now.

You turned back around, earning all kinds of confused glances from the guests. Your eyes fell on the woman, a smirk plastered on your lips.

“Seems like this isn’t the wrong wedding after all.”

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #mcu #marvel #reader insert #wanda maximoff imagine #soulmate au

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ynscrazylife · 3 years

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Hey !! i love ur writing style <3 i wanted to ask you if you could write a loki x reader where the reader and loki have been best friends for a long time now and after he faked his death in tdw he knocks on their door and the reader and loki have an argument and then they kiss?? maybe like the scene in crimson peak “you lied to me” “i did” “you told me you loved me” “i do” smth similar? :)

The Greatest Deception | loki angst fluff fic

Summary: After Loki reveals himself to be alive, Y/N has some choice words to say. Loki has a question.

Authors Note: Thanks for requesting! Also, I want to say that I fully support and acknowledge that Loki is genderfluid. Seeing as this fic was requested with Loki having he/him pronouns, I will use those pronouns. (Also, I didn’t know which pronouns you wanted me to write since you mentioned they for the reader but typically I use she/her, so lemme know if you want that edited)

Request to be on a taglist (or multiple) here! (Taglists are at the end of the fic)

MCU Masterlist #1 | MCU Masterlist #2 | Main Masterlist

PSA: Do NOT copy, steal, translate, plagiarize, republish, etc any of my works on Tumblr or any other platform. Also, do NOT claim any of my works as your own. All of these works are either requests I’ve gotten that people have wanted me to write or original ideas I’ve had for works. If you happen to take inspiration from anything I’ve written and want to write something inspired by that, please a) ask me first and b) IF I say yes, credit me as inspo in your post by tagging me and link whatever work of mine that inspired you. Thanks.

header c @/someiconsx

“Lady Y/N?”

The voice was muffled through the door and the one in question rolled from her side and onto her stomach as she laid in her bed. A low groan emitted from the creature whose limbs were tangled in the blanket and sheets.

. . .

“Lady Y/N?”

A short knock-knock accompanied the repeating words, and Y/N had a feeling of that the lovely woman who she’d love to talk to at any other time wouldn’t stop until she replied.

She pulled herself into a sitting position, smoothed over her unruly hair, and finally pulled the covers up so her pajamas wouldn’t be seen and called out, “Come in!”

The woman opened the door and sent her a sheepish smile. “The All-Father has requested your present, ma’am,” she informed her.

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. “Do you know the reason as to why?” She quizzed.

The woman spared a quick, darting glance at Y/N’s window. “Well, the All-Father has requested all of the palace’s royals and higher-ups to gather in the courtyard. He is gathering local citizens for a, ah, play, and more would like, in this words, his ‘most esteemed confidants to enjoy,’,” she answered, subtly bouncing her weight from one foot to the other.

Y/N thought for a moment. This was the first time she was hearing that the King was holding a play — not to mention, the fact that the last play (if you could even call it that, because by Heimdall’s recounting it was horrific) was held before any of the children of Odin were born.

Just thinking about that caused a twinge to hit her stomach and for it to twist up. Loki. Odin’s youngest child and the one that had most recently left her, as he sacrificed herself to save his vaillant brother, Prince Thor. It had been weeks, maybe even a month, since Y/N had heard the news and had been resorted to a lonely, saddened version of herself. Loki was her best friend, the person she trusted more than anything and—no, no, who was she kidding? He’s more than that, and he deserves to be remembered as more than that by her.

He’s also the one that she loves, and has loved for at least the past year when she realized it.

Nonetheless, she had taken many steps to get through the grief of Loki’s dead — as had his father — and she wasn’t going to let all her hard work crumble down on one, singular thought.

“Very well, then. Please inform the All-Father that I will be there shortly, thank you,” she said.

The woman nodded and bowed her head before exiting.

Once the door had been fully shut and she could hear footsteps no more, Y/N crossed over to her window and drew back the curtains, not having missed the look at said window.

The sunlight poured into her room but the stage was indeed sent. Rows of fine chairs sat with rows of fine people in them. In front, Odin stood with a red curtain drawn closed behind him. His arms were gesturing wildly and he had a big grin on his face as he gave his speech.

Despite the curiosity that itched into Y/N’s face, she pushed it aside. She had never seen the King conduct himself in such ways, but alas, everyone grieved differently. So, she closed the curtains and got dressed for the day ahead.

— — — — — — — — — — — — —

The moment Y/N stepped outside, she could’ve sworn that there was already long beads of sweat trailing down her skin. She let out a huff but journeyed on towards the courtyard, as this formal royal wear was necessary and she had no intention of pissing off Sir Snotty-Dickhead — as she called him (he had some fancy and long name she couldn’t remember, in her defense) — who was Odin’s right hand man.

By the time she got there, Odin was still rambling on with his speech, but his sudden notice of Y/N saved the guests from boredom.

“Aha, the guest of honor! Lady Y/N, herself,” Odin announced, bringing his hands together in a clap and gesturing for her to come toward him.

She betrayed herself and her cheeks involuntarily reddened as all eyes laid on her. She approached Odin and curtsied out of respect, but her mind was full of wonderings of why she, of all, would be singled out.

“I’m sure you all know who Lady Y/N is, yes?” He began, briefly pausing before continuing. “If you sadly do not, let me tell you. Lady Y/N had been a friend of the royal family, specifically my child, Loki’s—” the name caused her to suck in a sharp breath, “—and she was granted the title of Lady to uphold the image of the palace and to complete very important Asgardian duties.”

Once he stopped talking and the crowd clapped politely, Y/N took the opportunity she was presented before it’s door could close and quickly went and sat in her seat, the only seat not occupied yet, in the front row.

Odin then began speaking against whilst he walked to the side, “Speaking of my dear child Loki, this play that has been put together is one designed to honor him and his heroic sacrifice. Without further ado . . . ” He let his words trail off, and the red curtain pulled open.

Y/N’s face contorted into surprise at the words, not expecting this to take place. Again, she reminded herself, everyone grieved differently, so she decided to give it a chance. However, as the play went on, she was quick to realize that honoring Loki wasn’t the intention here. The horrid acting could be excused but Odin himself allowing this mockery of how Loki died? Of how he sacrificed himself? Well, with every second that passed, her face heated more and more — and not due to the sweat — and she grit her teeth, just barely refraining from yelling.

The worst part for her came though when the actor who played Loki did a dramatic reenactment of his sacrificed and the actor who played Thor did the worst fake crying ever. Y/N turned to the others, expecting them to be just as enraged as she was, but was floored to find that no—they were laughing. And not just that, but Odin was having himself a chuckle as well!

Her fingers tightly gripped the edges of her chair and she forced herself to look straight ahead, just about able to hold in her tears until the play was over and the actors bowed.

— — — — — — — — — — — — —

Afterwards, while everyone was standing and giving Odin rounds and rounds of praises, Y/N stayed rooted in her seat. She couldn’t just let this go by as if it were nothing, but she was struggling to compose herself to confront him.

After a couple minutes of going back-and-forth, she decided, screw composure. She didn’t have to be composed. She was allowed to be angry.

So, she stood up and marched straight for him.

“All-Father,” Y/N said through grit teeth, forcing herself to curtesy, “I request your company in private, if I may.”

It took Odin a moment to tear himself away from accepting his latest comment, but the way he quickly glanced over at Y/N, she knew that he had not noticed — or perhaps he did not care — the state she was in.

“My apologies, Lady Y/N, but should I depart now, I fear I shall upset my comrades!” Odin said, ending his comment in a boastful joy, which resulted in laughter and cheers.

He didn’t wait for her response before engaging in another conversation, and Y/N’s lips remained tightly shut until she decided to just go forth and let her stuffed-up emotions out.

“Fine. I will say it in front of everyone, then!” She said, firmly and loudly, gaining everyone’s attention. “That was a pathetic excuse to remember Loki . . . It was an insult! You mocked him, your own child! How could you even— I . . . I just don’t understand . . . He sacrificed himself for your son and for Asgard and this is how you repay him? God. I expected much, much more from you for him because I . . . Let’s just say that we both love Loki, in our own ways, and I-I . . . I am very disappointed.”

Wanting to flee from the tears that were now streaming down her face and from the silence that was pounding, she turned around and she walked away, the realization that she had just confessed her love in front of everyone hitting her.

“Lady Y/N!”

Odin’s words stopped her in her tracks, but she did not turn around. Just stood. Waited.

“He told Thor, before he passed, that he, uh . . . He loved you, too.”

Y/N stared straight ahead, her hand jutting out to grab the pillar next to her to steady herself.

Loki loved her?

She didn’t stop the tears from coming this time. She let them, and the sobs, overwhelm her.

— — — — — — — — — — — — —

“Lady Y/N?”

The voice and the knock were much more stiff than they were this morning.

“Come in.”

Her response was devoid of emotion, much more curt than it was this morning.

The same woman turned the door’s knob and opened it, sending Y/N, who was curled up on her bed, head nestled into her knees, a wary look. “The All-Father has requested your presence at his quarters,” she said.

Y/N let out a small huff, in no mood to talk to the King after what had happened. She forced her head up and gazed boredom at the woman. “Is it an emergency?” She deadpanned.

The woman looked around the room and by her lack of response, Y/N knew that either she didn’t know or didn’t want to say.

She sighed. “I will be there shortly,” she said.

The woman nodded and wordlessly left.

After she did, Y/N stood up and went in front of her mirror, taking in her appearance. Her once brushed hair was now frizzy and in knots and her eyes were puffy and red. Angrily, she practically tore the hairbrush through her hair and dabbed at her eyes with makeup until the red could be seen no more. She had no intention of letting him see her this way.

— — — — — — — — — — — — —

Screw formalities, Y/N thought, as she walked straight into Odin’s quarters which composed of a small living room, a bedroom down the hall, an office, and a bathroom. She didn’t bother to curtsy or announce her presence.

When he finally and gradually turned around from whatever he was doing, a slight look of shock crossed his features, before he replaced it with a warm smile. “Y/N!” He said, but quickly corrected himself, “Lady Y/N.”

Y/N frowned and crossed her arms. “I hope that you have called me here to apologize,” she said, an icy edge to her voice.

Odin nonetheless looked at her kindly. “In a way, yes,” he vaguely said, before a magical transformation underwent before her.

His wrinkles disappeared, his beard disappeared, his grey hair turned jet black, and his clothes transformed into his usual wear.

No longer was the All-Father standing in front of her, but her best friend. The one she loved.

Taken by utter shock, Y/N instinctively stumbled back, her jaw dropping and her eyes widening. “What the hell is this?” She gasped out, not wanting to believe it at first. It was a cruel trick — it must be! There was no way.

“It’s me,” the mischievous deity said, a rare softness to his voice and in his eyes. He took a step forward, but then stopped himself. “I never died, I only impersonated my father.”

Y/N stared at him, angry tears coming to her eyes once more. “How?” She forced out, thinking that maybe she was dreaming. “Why?”

Loki looked around, slightly dumbfounded, as if he hadn’t expected anyone to question him. “I wanted the throne,” he answered, as if it were obvious and a perfectly acceptable reason.

Y/N stared at him as if he had grown two heads. To her, he might as well have.

“Oh, really? So you take over your father, trick everyone - me, your brother - into believing that you’re dead, you banish Sif . . . All because you wanted the goddamn throne?” She cried.

The cluelessness left his eyes and replaced itself with guilt, regret pooling inside him. He looked down, shoulders falling with a sigh.

“I’ve felt guilty tricking you ever since it had all went down. I wanted to tell you but, honestly, a part of me didn’t think you’d be that upset over my death. But you were really, so upset and I . . . I was lost. I didn’t know what to do. All I wanted to do was hug you and tell you that it was fine, that I was here, but I thought I’d screw up your emotions and hurt you even more,” he admitted.

Y/N just looked at him, her frown growing deeper. “That’s an awful excuse,” she hissed out, words laced with venom.

Loki immediately snapped his head up to look at her and his gaze held desperateness. “It’s not an excuse,” he said quickly. “It shouldn’t be. I’m . . . I’m so sorry. The last thing I ever wanted to was to trick you, and . . . I did. But today was the final straw. I couldn’t continue like that.”

Y/N took a step forward, having an inner battle in herself on whether or not to forgive him. “You lied to me,” she reiterated bluntly.

Loki nodded guiltily. “I did,” he agreed in a small voice.

She took a pause, taking in a deep breath. “You told me you loved me,” she added.

There was a brief moment of silence before Loki said, in the same small way but a little more firm now, “I do.”

Y/N kept walking, not even fully sure or convinced of what she was doing, but knowing that she needed to do it, until she was standing just inches away from him. They looked at each other for a couple moments, neither saying anything, until Y/N wrapped her arms around Loki. He returned the embrace.

“Never do that to me again!” She yelled through the tears that were now coming. God, was she tired of crying. Especially today.

Loki hugged her tighter, his own tears falling. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, and repeated that over, and over, and over again. “I’m an idiot.”

Y/N leaned back and cupped his face with her hands. The love she had for him overwhelmed her pain, and more than anything she needed him now. Besides, she could see his guilt. She could see the truth shining in his eyes. He wouldn’t do anything like this again, because he loved her. And she loved him.

“At least you’re self-aware,” she whispered through a sniff, taking a page out of his book with her joking remark. Before he could quip back (and she was sure he’d have an excellent one), she leaned forward and captured his lips in his a kiss. Loki smiled against her lips and wrapped his arms around her waist.

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problematicfavesareproblematic · 3 years

Text

NSFW with Chuck Grant

~ ~ ~

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Charles Grant is a walking example of “acts like a badass, is actually a softie” bc BOY, IS HE HARD (lol) TO GET A READ ON.

When you first start fucking, he doesn’t really have the instinct to stick around after and soak up the afterglow- mostly bc that’s not the dynamic that any of his previous relationships operated under, but also bc he’s like Lieb and doesn’t feel comfortable being vulnerable and potentially having you reject him. He only confidently leaves the first time, and then he judges whether to stay or not on how you look at him as he makes to get dressed after the second time you boink. If you want your space, he’ll go and be back the next day as long as you let him, but if you look even a little bit offended or hurt, he’s getting his ass back in that bed and doing whatever he can to get that sad look out of your eyes.

When he does stay, he’s down to give you whatever he can manage.

He’s all for slowly kissing you while trailing his fingertips up and down your side, but if you just want to sleep beside him he is more than cool with it (he’ll probably still pet you a lil bit after you fall asleep bc he’s soft for you but shh shh shh don’t tell anyone). The only thing he isn’t very good at doing is pillow talk, especially right after sex. He’s too worried about saying the wrong thing and fucking up what he’s managed to establish with you.

It isn’t until after he’s shot that he realizes how nice it feels to have someone else take care of him, and when you do so after sex it solidifies the fact that you don’t see him as a burden- you want him and you want to stay. Thank god, too. He doesn’t think he could recover without you (again, not that he’d ever tell you that)

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Your AhhhhhhHSSSSssssSSSSSs!!!!!!

Oh wow, look at you- owner of the cutest butt he’s ever seen. Can he put his hands on it? Can he squeeze it? Please please puh-lease can you let him watch it jiggle as he fucks you? If you’ve answered yes to any of these questions, then you’ve made each and every single one of his dreams come true.

He doesn’t discriminate in his love for butts- he’s an equal-opportunity appreciator of the Majesty of the Female Ass™. If it changes size throughout your relationship, he’ll love it even more. Absolutely shameless.

On himself? He likes his legs- especially his thighs.

He likes how strong they are, despite how much he hates Sobel for getting them to their current strength re: Currahee. But he gets over it quickly bc oh wow is he happy with their endurance while trying to keep up with you, both sexually and otherwise. The day he realized you could ride yourself to orgasm on them was the day he died and went to heaven and was sent back to sin again.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He likes cumming on your pubic mound and then watching it slide down your pussy, thank you very much. If you guys are trying for kids or in a position where you don’t have to worry about not having kids, he’ll cum inside of you happily but oh wow he likes watching it slide down your lower lips. BONUS POINTS if he gets to catch it on his thumb and either stick it in your mouth OR circle your clit with it in order to get you off one more time.

Also, you asking him where he wants to cum on you gets him hot under the proverbial collar.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He’d do literally anything for you if you’d let him put his finger in your ass. He will genuinely kill an individual of your choice if you let him put his cock there instead. What a perv (jk it takes a lot of vulnerability for some people to convey their wants and desires to their partners plz remember that this has been a PSA).

The one thing he’ll never actually tell you about... EVER is that for a little while after meeting you for the first time in Georgia, he started hooking up with a girl who he didn’t realize (until much later) bore a striking resemblance to you. He’d had to end the relationship when he straight-up called out your name when he came (he was a lil drunk, just tipsy enough to slip up) and full-on booked it out of there bc not only had he pissed the girl off, but his shout had woken up her family- namely her very angry father- and barely escaped with his life.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He’s had two lovers before you, but one of them was really experienced and patient and bless that woman. All he really has to do is learn what you like and he’ll commit it to memory.

And you better be damn sure that he’ll use that knowledge against you/for his benefit.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Doggy style for all the reasons mentioned before. Or reverse cowgirl. Or normal cowgirl. His hands + your butt= dream combo.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He can be goofy, but more than anything else he likes it when you’re goofy. Chuck can get a little too in his own head at times, which can lead to frustration/self-doubt- ESPECIALLY while recovering from his brain injury. You reminding him that sex is meant to be fun does him a huge favor, bc poor lamb will forget that every so often.

So please, nibble at his earlobe in that way that tickles him. Make a quip at the expense of one of your friends. Mock the silly sound of the moan you just let slip out.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He’s not going to groom unless you tell him to, but he also doesn’t feel like you need to groom for him, either. Chuck’s not afraid to admit how much his personal hygiene has improved since meeting you.

I can promise you that if you’re heavily invested in skin/hair care, he’ll probably be just as into building his own routine.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

You always have Chuck’s full and undivided attention during sex, but he won’t necessarily show it unless he gets the guy feeling/you tell him that you want him to be. He’s going to whisper sexy things into your ear, call you a good girl (if not his good girl), and do everything in his power (at the time, at least (he can get a little distracted if you’re doing something particularly sexy)) to make sure you feel just how appreciated you are. He gets more and more confident in his PDA as your relationship progresses, but when it’s just you two? You’ll never meet a bigger sweetheart.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Ok, so I’m deciding for you that mutual masturbation is a thing that you’re both into, m’kay?

I'm also making the executive decision that you really enjoy watching him get himself off. You walked in on him one time, before you’d had sex, and were so stunned that you just watched in rapt attention until awkwardly backing out of the room and slamming the door shut. He’d nearly cum right then and there, and it got you extremely aroused.

The next time you see each other, at some Georgia bar while on a pass, you offhandedly mention that you wish you hadn’t left and FROM THAT DAY ON he always lets you know when he’s feeling the urge and how you’re more than welcome to watch.

And when you do? It’s always a much shorter experience than he intends bc wow how hot are you?

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Frottage! Dry Humping! Grinding!

Allow me to explain:

In the months following D-Day, it was quickly understood that being on the frontlines meant having traditional forms of sex were no longer on the table (hehe) for you two. You’d experimented with rucking your trousers down your thighs, his thighs, both of your thighs, and each time it was a disaster (with one of the worst times ending up falling onto Tab after he’d inadvertently opened a door that Chuck had been fucking you against. Chuck had nearly thrown fists when Tab refused to look aware from your bare ass.)

So yall started grinding- quickly finding out that the bunches of fabric separating your bodies not only led to new forms of stimulation, but it also meant that you both started to utilize dirty talk. There’s something about your trembling lips at his ear, your warm whispers of ‘so good’ and ‘is this really all you need, Chuck? Me, writhing on you like this? What does that say about you, you desperate boy??’

Boy’s bought a one-way ticket to Boner City, USA.

PLUS! What a way to keep warm during Bastogne? Everyone is so jealous that they don’t have a super foxy megahot babe like you to grind upon.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Hmm…..is saying anywhere a cop-out? Because he’s down for anywhere, he’ll follow your lead and rise to the occasion. Such a perv i s2g.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

♫ YOOOUUUUUUUU!!!!!! ♫

You have this one eyebrow quirk you do when you’re in the mood, and it just so happens to be similar to the brow raise you give someone trying to outsmart you (which is another turn on for him- you putting some overly-confident sonofabitch back in their place after allowing them to mansplain at you for a little bit. First boner he ever got (since meeting you, obviously) came after witnessing you telling Joe Liebgott to stfu in cutting German after he’d made some off-color comment about your ass.)

So, more often than not, he'll get a little turned on when you argue with people. Maybe even when you argue with him- who knows? not me. (i totally do, and he totally is)

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Any sort of pain play, on either of you.

After being in genuine agony for so long while recovering from all of the surgeries, the idea of seeking any more pain out just doesn’t make sense. Chuck also doesn’t want to see you in pain- even if you’re asking him to make you feel it. You’d both suffered through the pain of hunger, frostbite, insect bites, sunburn, and just war in general (all of which had emotionally taken a toll on him bc he felt completely helpless and hated that he couldn’t do anything to take your hurt away).

Sex and pain just doesn’t go together for him. Sorry not sorry

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He loves having you go down on him, adores the way your eyes look up at him as if you’re challenging him to withstand your beautiful ministrations.

He also is a big fan of going down on you, but PLEASE PLEASE PUH-LEASE ride his face. Good lord.

He’s a sucker (teehee) for it- something about you using him like it’s all you keep him around for gets him hot. You also get this certain snarl on your lips when you are getting close that makes him lose his goddamn mind bc WOW YOU ARE SO ATTRACTIVE and HOLY SHIT YOU CHOSE HIM OF ALL PEOPLE? WOWOWOW.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He’ll follow your lead/body language in terms of pace. Most sex sessions shift between both slow and deep as well as fast and hard anyway, so he is a fan of both.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

A necessary evil, as far as Chuck is concerned. He’ll do them, and he’d be lying if he said that he didn’t enjoy the spontaneity of them, but he would prefer not to be rushed when he’s with you.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He was riskier until that one time Tab caught you guys, after which he chilled out. Which you are thankful for, bc you’ve spoken with Lieb’s wife and BOY have those two gotten into some embarrassing situations bc of how risky that kid is.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

The longest he's gone is 4 rounds (it was celebratory sex on VE day, with both of you in the best shape you'd ever been in and too high on relief to listen to your bodies. Ya'll were sore and dehydrated afterward but LORD was it worth it.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He’d be very open to the idea of toys! On you, he’s automatically cool with it, but it does take him a little bit to get his head around the idea of using toys himself. Again, 40s/50s= somewhat repressed discussion about deviations from the traditional male sexuality- but Chuck is more willing and ready to challenge the societal norms than most. Very sexy of him.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He always intends to tease you, but more often than not he gets so turned on that he can’t follow that intention through. You are aware of this and ABSOLUTELY weaponize this knowledge. Get it, fam.

During day-to-day conversation, however, you both tease each other constantly. It’s been like that since you’ve met each other- always making innuendos and one-upping the other and for some reason that never even went away.

When Chuck woke up and the doctors brought you in to see him, the first thing he told you was that you looked terrible. When you’d replied with a sniff, a smile and a “guess the doc’s were full of shit when they said there was no change in your vision, huh?”- Chuck had smiled so hard it hurt.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s a choked moan kind of guy. His face gets all scrunched up and his body shakes and he curses quietly under his breath (it’s vv cute and hot, FYI). he doesn’t even try and be quiet on purpose, he just seems to lose the ability to be vocal, tbh. If he’s drinking or if it’s been a hot minute since yall have gotten to do the do, he’ll probably be a bit louder. Like, maybe one loud cry of your name (see: the letter D)

It doesn’t bother him if you make sounds at all, just so you know. If anything, he likes that he’s a quiet cummer bc then he can hear any and all of your sounds.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

biting your ass while eating you out from behind is *bang* *bang* *bang* *click* *cash register noise*.

Especially if you squeal and smack at him after he does it.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Average in all respects but OH MAN does he know how to work it to his advantage. Get ready for a wild ride, my dude.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Higher post-war, tbh. Chuck had had to be on bed rest for so long that he thought he may never get the chance to have sex again, so he totally makes a point to indulge in you every chance that he can get (but he’s cool if you say no, too).

But, as I mentioned in ‘risk’, he’s not going to be humping your leg in public or anything (ok but imagine if you were a dom to his sub and you made him do that holy fuck)

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He does not sleep very well, poor bb. He will be asleep but his mind will be working through all kinds of things ranging from PTSD to what shoes he wanted to wear to dinner with your parents that weekend. Good thing there’s a remedy to this ailment- your pussy sex with you!

While he can’t konk out immediately, he is able to relax. He will allow himself to get lost in the rhythm of your breathing, the weight of your hand on his arm or your arm wrapped around his middle. He will sometimes nuzzle into you as you’re drifting off to sleep, and when you press a kiss to his forehead he finally feels safe.

~ ~ ~

taglist: @sunsetmando @televisionboy @now-im-a-belieber @tvserie-s-world @holdingforgeneralhugs @mrseasycompany @itswormtrain @mrsalwayswrite @happyveday

#band of brothers imagines #band of brothers x reader #chuck grant x reader #problematicfavesareproblematic

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bl--ankhaeji · 3 years

Text

Bed of Roses

Pairing~ Emperor!Taeyong x CivilianPharmacist!Reader

Genre~ fluff,, angst,, empireau

Warnings~ smut..like three different scenes,,fem!recieving oral,,handjob,,switch?Tae/Reader,,Talks of war,,mentions/slight descriptions of death,,mentions/descriptions of extreme illness,,Taeyong has PTSD and nightmares,,mentions of blood,,Taeyong has insecurites,,mentions of rotting flesh

A.N~ This is my fic for the taeyong gallery collab hosted by @alreadyblondenow I am releasing two days later than planned I am sorry for that. This fic is based off of the painting The Kiss by Gustave Klimt. Also big thanks to my mutual/beta reader, Xiami, @kjmsupremacist and the mutual who made this beautiful banner for me, Mylin, @suh-insane This is my longest fic so far I hope you all enjoy 😊 Oh and before I forget there is a whole like sort of surgery scene in here PSA I am no doctor, I know nothing substantial about medicine or medicinal practices. I got the inspiration for that scene from a drama so...(props if you can guess which one it is)

W. Count~ 12.5k

The screams of thousands ringing in the air is deafening. Buildings are burning to the ground from a ravenous blaze. A vibrant haze of orange and red covers every single object in sight. No matter where he looks there is someone crying; hell, even the sky seems to be crying tonight. Taeyong’s legs give out from under him, bringing the once-strong prince to his knees as his head drops, hanging lowly in shame. How had he let it get this far? What happened to his beautiful peaceful empire full of its joyous people?

War. That’s what happened. His father had gotten power hungry and bloodthirsty, a terrifying duo. He remembers sitting in the royal meetings listening to the decisions his father would make, hating every single one but not having the authority let alone the guts to stand up to him. Hurried footsteps bring the prince out of his memories as a peasant girl, barefoot and in a tattered dress, appears in front of him.

“Prince Taeyong!” she cries, tears rushing down her face as if trying to see who will beat the other to the ground first. The prince's head snaps up at her cries, looking intently at her face. Her once-beautiful features are now horribly damaged and scarred from what looks like a massive burn. The girl opens her mouth, words making their way out until they stop suddenly and are replaced with a blood-curdling scream.

It’s then that Taeyong notices the spear cutting through her flesh, beginning to protrude through her midriff before it retrieds back through her body. The girl’s now-limp body falls in a heap in front of the prince, her blood flowing rapidly out of the deep gash. In her place stands an enemy soldier. The soldier raises his sword and the two men quickly commence into a brief battle. Taeyong quickly overtakes the soldier, tearing him down almost effortlessly.

The tired male stands tall, chest heaving, almost completely covered in blood before he rushes back to the girl, cradling her in his arms, even though his subconscious already knows it’s too late. “M-miss, oh my god miss, p-please please wake up,” he stutters frantically, lightly tapping her face. “MEDIC!! HELP SOMEONE!” he screeches so loudly it feels as if it’s ripping his throat.

Countless people have died in front of him this whole time. Countless bodies lay around him–men, women, and children alike. Yet he’s hellbent on trying to yell for a medic that he knows isn’t there to help this one girl. Suddenly, he sees the girl's eyes flutter open. “My prince,” her voice barely whispers, her shaking hands reaching up slowly to softly cradle the prince’s tear streaked face. Suddenly the strength returns to her body, her hands, once gentle, now harshly gripping the side’s of Taeyong's face, nails causing what feels like permanent moon shaped indentures on his face. “YOU!” she spits.

Her eyes, once gentle and kind, tainted with fear, now hold an anger and bloodlust so intense it is almost suffocating. “You’re the reason I’m like this! You and the royal family caused this-this WAR. And for what reason, huh? Thousands of lives lost; all of my friends and family are now dead because of you. I’M EVEN DEAD NOW BECAUSE OF YOU!!” Her hands now tightly grip his neck. “If I have to die by your hands then you have to die by mine. You made this bed of thorns, now lay in it. DIE!”

“AHHHHHH!” An ear piercing cry leaves the man's lips as he now sits up in his bed scrambling to the headboard as if trying to get away. His clothes and bedding are drenched in sweat. His personal guard, Doyoung, rushes into the room, thinking there was a possible intruder from the emperor's cries. Even though this was far from the first time the emperor was plagued by night terrors, he could never be too certain.

“Your Highness, Your Highness please. Taeyong! Snap out of it; you’ll wake the entire empire, sir please.” Doyoung pleaded with the now sobbing man. “Your Highness, it’s okay it was just a dream, none of it is real.” The guard's large hand lands on the emperor’s back as he rubs soothing circles in hopes of calming the almost hysterical man.

The dream may not have been real but his pain was, the war was real. His sobs are deafening.

His people, his country. He failed them; he’s still failing them.

The once-cowering man now stands tall with an aura of elegance and power radiating off of him. After Doyoung’s fruitless attempts at trying to talk Taeyong into getting some help for his recurring nightmares, the emperor was due down in Neo City, sometimes referred to as N-City, the capital of the Neo Empire. At least once a month Taeyong comes down from the castle placed in the heart of Neo City and walks around greeting and getting to know the citizens of the city. Taeyong has always been very passionate about knowing the people under him and knowing how they live. He never wants to be an emperor that lets his people suffer while he lives extravagantly in the castle.

He figures that’s the least he can do after failing them once already.

He shrugs on his royal cloak even though he and everyone else knows that it’ll come off in no time once he joins the people. Taking a seat in the carriage across from Doyoung, Taeyong is handed his crown.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fuck fuck fuck. That’s all that you can think of as you race to make it on time. You’re so fucking late; how could you have let it slip your mind? The emperor always comes down around this time and you’re usually always in your spot on time, but you woke up late this morning after pulling an all-nighter preparing medicinal herbs for the elderly people down your street.

Your rucksack flops lifelessly beside your hip as you finally come to a stop, managing to make it to the spot in the nick of time. You had to deliver the herbs this morning and it almost cost you to miss seeing the emperor. Ever since Taeyong had taken over as emperor and started making his monthly visits, you always made sure you were there to be able to see him. You had a special spot you always occupied. It was the perfect spot where you could see him but not be front and center so that he could see you.

Indiscernible chatter and yelps of delight grow louder and more constant. The second you turn your head, an unmistakable crown floats atop the heads of an ample number of people. At that same moment you hear the emperor's joyous laugh, the beautiful sound bringing an uncontrollable smile to your lips. The crowd of people slowly thins out, finally allowing you to catch a glimpse of the handsome man, and you can’t help but to be taken aback by his beauty even though this is far from your first time seeing him. The first thing you look at are his eyes. Despite his entire demeanor radiating a bubbly happiness, you can see the truth in his eyes.

Taking in the appearance of the royalty, you notice the dirty cuffs on his white button up that sit rolled up on his forearms. Ahhh he must’ve been helping Mr. Young plant vegetables again. Your mind conjures an image of the older male who has the gall to make even the emperor plant vegetables for him and a small chuckle falls from your lips. Making your gaze up to his head, you take in the royal crown. You always wonder how the crown manages to stay rooted on his head despite sitting on it lopsided 90% of the time. A crooked smile that shines brighter than the sun graces the emperor's features and you suddenly feel your cheeks warm like a furnace.

Too caught up in your trance, you don’t feel the person bump into you until you’re already on the ground. The silence that greets you rings heavy in the air and isn’t broken until you hear a gasp, while at the same time feeling warm, nimble fingers wrap around your arm, gently lifting you from the ground. “Are you okay?” an male voice rumbles, a voice you’re no stranger to, a voice you were just delighted to hear mere seconds ago.

“I uh I-I ah-h y-y-yes-,” you stutter, struggling to form coherent words once you realize that the emperor has helped you up from the ground.

The emperor helped you up.

The emperor has his hand wrapped around your arm.

The emperor saw your fall... Dear God THE EMPEROR SAW YOUR FALL!

“I-I uhh YES-yes, I am fine,” you rush out, keeping your head down, refusing to meet the eyes of Emperor Taeyong, terrified of the judgement that might lie in them at your embarrassing fall. You quickly release yourself of his hold, scurrying away before he or anyone else can get a glimpse of your face. With your heart pounding in your ears and tears pricking your eyes you run back to your house as fast as you can manage, cutting your time to see the emperor extremely short. Hey, at least you have more time to prepare; you’re going to make things a little bit different today.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Your Highness.” Doyoung’s curt voice takes Taeyong’s attention away from the retreating back of the girl he just helped off of the ground mere seconds ago.

“Wha-–ah yes! Let’s keep moving, shall we?”

The sound of the horses' feet clacking against the stone ground echoes throughout the carriage. “Doyoung,” the emperor starts, looking almost wistfully out of the window. “Do you think that girl from earlier is okay?”

“I would assume so, seeing as how she had no trouble when running away as if she had just robbed a bakery,” he replied with a slight tilt in his voice.

“She did run away quite enthusiastically, didn’t she?” Taeyong can’t help the small grin that overtook his face at the memory of the girl. It was rather funny seeing her scramble away as if she had just committed a crime.

“Your Highness, we have arrived.” The coachman speaks from the outside of the carriage as it slows to a stop.

Despite the limited space, Taeyong stands, shouldering the heavy royal robe. The door to the carriage is opened by one of the royal guards, who proceeds to escort Taeyong to the steps of the palace. A sound of disdain falls from the guards lips and catches Taeyong’s attention. “What seems to be the problem, might I ask?” Halting his steps, Taeyong turns towards the guard and gives him his full attention.

Realizing the emperor heard him, the guard stiffens, stuttering over his words hurriedly, attempting to make sure the emperor didn’t misunderstand. “Ah—no, Your Highness. There is no problem; not with you, at least, it’s just there’s this girl that always comes to the palace every week, and it’s just really annoying to send her away all the time.”

Spotting a girl making her way up the palace steps, the guard and Taeyong watch as the girl encounters her first guard, thrusting the huge bouquet into his face then bowing, appearing to say something completely inaudible from this distance. Standing straight, she looks as if she begs the guard for something, a hopeful look etched onto her face only for it to fall after the guard says something in return. Seemingly giving up, the girl turns to leave the palace, only this time she hangs her head down in sorrow.

Gathering what could be classified as a humongous bouquet, you make your way to the palace, even though you know you’ll probably be sent away again. Having succeeded in finally getting them to at least take the bouquet, you can only hope it reaches the emperor. Usually you just give him a nice bouquet full of roses that grow right in your garden at home with a nice little card attached reminding him to eat and get enough fluids, things like that, but this time after seeing the emperor you know he needs more than just roses. You gathered up and put together a bouquet full of beautiful red roses, gladiolus colored a light pale peach, white poppies, and a bunch of basil sprinkled throughout the bouquet.

Each flower carries a significant meaning with it that you want to give to the emperor and even if none of your other bouquets got to him, you really wish this one will. Sitting down, you prepare to write the note that you would leave this time.

It’s me again, Your Highness. I saw you today when you went down to town, and you looked really tired despite the smile you put on your face for us. I do hope you are getting enough sleep while also keeping yourself fed and hydrated, otherwise if you get sick, who will lead us as well as you do?

As you can see, I gave you a little something different than the usual roses. Considering that you’re a busy person, I’ll assume that you don’t know these flowers or their meanings so allow me to tell you.

The red flowers are obviously the roses I have been giving you for the last year or so. The pink looking flowers are called Gladiolus and they symbolize strength and get their name from gladiators who fight with strength and honor. The white flowers are called White poppies; they symbolize peace and the remembrance of war. They got that meaning because they are usually the flowers that grow atop fallen soldiers' bodies after war. Finally the little green leaves sprinkled throughout the bouquet are called Basil; although usually used in food, they are also thought to bring peace while warding off negative spirits, symbolizing good wishes, wealth, and a happy home.

Now that you know their meaning, I hope you can understand why I gifted these to you. Till next time Your Highness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Closing the folded piece of paper, Taeyong lets out a breath before looking at the beautiful bouquet in his hands. He was surprised that someone took so much notice and cared so greatly about him and his well-being to do something like this. With a light heart and a small flustered grin, he places the card back in the bouquet, setting the flowers in a vase atop the vanity in his room, somewhere where he is sure he will get to see the flowers everyday.

Back to normal again this week, Your Highness. I do hope that you were able to receive last week's bouquet, but I know there’s a good chance you did not, just like you will not this week. Do not ask why I continue to deliver these bouquets even though I know that you have not gotten a single one. It is too much to explain over a single note. I hope you have eaten well and stayed hydrated throughout this week. I also hope you have been sleeping well. If not, one way I find that helps is lavender oil. You could take it orally or drink some lavender tea before bed. You could even keep lavender in your room to infuse the area with its scent.

That’s it for this week, Your Highness. Till next time

Closing the note from this week, Taeyong places it back inside of the bouquet, setting it down on his vanity. “Doyoung!” When you delivered today’s bouquet, Taeyong had made specific orders to ensure that it got to him this time. “Could you fetch me some lavender?”

So after the first time, every week Taeyong couldn’t help but find himself lying in wait anxiously just to get your bouquet and read the sweet little notes you left in them. He had made sure to keep every single letter. His room was so full of roses that he had to start placing them all over the palace, but not without making sure to get the little note always cuddled inside. Not only that, he even started to smell like roses and he couldn’t be happier. He soon found himself relying on the little notes left in the bouquets’ to get himself through the week. Even if it was the simplest message just telling him to make sure to eat, drink, and sleep properly it still means the world to him.

He would get so excited for the bouquets that he had even started to make his way down to the palace entrance when he knew you were coming. Doyoung would compare it to a dog waiting on their owner to get home. He swore one of these days he was going to stop being a scaredy cat and go out and accept the bouquet himself, but until that day came he would remain behind the palace doors.

The resounding gong of the grandfather clock echoed throughout the room, alerting Taeyong of the new hour. It’s not like he didn’t already know, though. “It’s 4 o’clock, I have thirty minutes till my roses come.” Signing the last of the documents, stacking them on top of his desk, Taeyong stands, stretching his lithe body in order to get rid of the stiffness in his joints. Walking around his desk, Taeyong makes his way through the door.

A monotone voice laced with sarcasm breaks the silence, scaring Taeyong. “I guess it’s time for your one-sided weekly date. Or is it one-sided since one brings gifts while the other just watches like a creepy stalker?” Doyoung questions, leaning against the wall next to the entrance whilst raising his eyebrow.

“N-no! I mean, yes, it is close to time for the delivery, but it’s not a date.” A light blush covers Taeyong’s cheeks as the word ‘date’ falls from his lips. “I was just leaving to go around the palace and see how everything is going, checking and making sure things are happening the way they should–y’know, kingly duties.”

Turning to face the obviously flustered king, Doyoung gives him a deadpan expression that screams mmhm sure. “All I got from that was that you admit to being a creepy stalker.” Taeyong’s mouth flies open, unable to give a coherent response. “Oops, look at the time! You should probably start making your rounds,” he says, walking out of the room, the sound of Taeyong’s incoherent ramblings drowning out as he walks away.

Sobering up from his conversation with Doyoung, he makes his rounds around the castle, steadily making his way to the entrance, keeping his eyes on the time. By the time he makes it to the entrance, he can see the girl making her way up the palace stairs, still a little dot in the distance. He can’t help but notice the way his hands begin to feel clammy and his heart rate slowly picking up as your face comes into view.

He remembers the first time he came down and was finally able to see your face clearly. He swears it was as if the world stopped. You looked more beautiful than any bouquet he has received from you. He was so flustered that he couldn’t help but to blush every time he thought of you. He knows because Doyoung wouldn’t shut up about the magenta red that spread along his cheeks at random times that day.

He was so focused on looking at you that he didn’t realize the rushed way in which you gave the guard the bouquet. All he knew was that one second he was staring at your face and the next your back as you lightly jogged away. Slight disappointment settles in his stomach as he realizes you didn’t even attempt to convince the guard to give the bouquet to him this time.

The guard walks over, handing the bouquet to the waiting king, not wanting to be gone from her post too long; she quickly turns around, moving to head back before the voice of the emperor stops her. “Wait!” Taeyong notices the tension in her body at the sound of his voice, “Yes, your highness?” she asks, voice shaking slightly.

“Where is the note?”

Turning back around, she faces the emperor. “What note, sir?”

“The note. The one that’s always in her bouquets.” Taeyong notices his voice came out sharper than he intended when he sees the guard flinch slightly. “I apologize; I didn't mean for that to come out so harshly. I just—there’s always a note that comes with her bouquets and-and there’s not one in here.”

“Ah, I don’t believe there was one in there, Your Highness. At least, I didn’t see one when she handed it to me.” Upon seeing the crestfallen look that sits on the emperor's face, the guard instantly offers to check and see if it had fallen off somewhere.

Not wanting to get his hopes up, Taeyong replies, “No you’re fine–it’s fine if you didn’t see it when she handed it to you then it must not have been there in the first place.” Taeyong can hear how disheartened his voice was. Deciding it’s time to go inside, he sends the guard off to go do what they were doing beforehand.

“Hey Tae, how was the–What’s wrong?” Doyoung instantly notices the somber expression placed upon the emperor’s face. “You usually are about ready to jump off of the walls and now you look like the baker just ran out of those sweet potato cubes you get when we go into town.”

“It’s nothing.”

Grabbing Taeyong’s shoulder, Doyoung turns him around so they’re face to face, “That girl didn’t say anything mean in that note she leaves in the bouquets did she? Cause if she did, so help me god- no so help her I will-.”

“Calm down, she didn’t say anything mean. She didn’t say anything at all. There was no note in the bouquet this time.”

“Oh. Uhh well, at least she still delivered the roses. Maybe something happened and she didn’t have time to write the letter,” Doyoung tries to reason, hoping he would be able to say something that would lift his friend’s spirit. Taeyong could tell Doyoung was trying his best to be supportive but there is nothing he could say right now that could make him feel any better.

“Y-yeah, maybe.” Not wanting to think about it anymore, Taeyong leaves for his room with a wave. At least he finished all of his paperwork for the day and he can just lay in bed.

Taeyong finds himself walking through a field filled with flowers without an end in sight. It’s not until he sees the outline of a person sitting in the field that he starts to speed up, hoping he could ask the stranger where he was at.

As he gets closer, the person begins to seem more and more familiar. It has him thinking, trying to figure out who it could be. As if the person hears him they turn around and he’s surprised to see you sitting in the field.

“Hello Taeyong.”

“Ahh hi.” Taeyong can feel his heart rate pick up almost as if it’s trying to jump out of his chest.

“Would you like to sit with me? The bloom is absolutely beautiful today.” Replying with a stiff nod, the usually confident emperor shyly takes a seat in the field of white flowers. Giving the seemingly flustered male a soft smile you pluck one of the flowers out of the field, lifting it up to your nose smelling the fragrant plant.

“Smells heavenly. Would you like to take a sniff?” you ask, taking the flower away from under your nose, handing it to the male opposite you.

Taeyong takes the small white flower out of your hand, lifting it to take a whiff. He immediately recoils as the putrid smell of rotting flesh infiltrates his senses, “Wha-” You snatch the flower away from his hand taking another whiff.

“Smells great, doesn’t it? I love the smell of white poppies.” It’s then that Taeyong’s mind remembers the white flowers that were in the first bouquet that he received from you as well as the meaning of the flowers. Finally taking in his surroundings, Taeyong realises that it’s not just a field of flowers but a field of dead bodies.

“Y’know Taeyong, I used to be sad thinking that I was going to have to go forever without ever getting to see these gorgeous flowers. But because of you and the war your family started, all of these dead bodies were able to sit here and grow some of the most beautiful flowers I have ever seen.” By now you have picked up a whole bouquet worth of the poppies, little pieces of rotted flesh hanging off of the bottoms, “Too bad I had to die before I got to see them.”

After hearing her last sentence Taeyong takes a good look at the girl, noticing that the white poppies she had collected were all from her body. “Y’know maybe you should die too so you can fully witness the beauty of these flowers,” you say with a slight tilt to not only your voice but your head.

Before he can question it you’re already driving a spear through Taeyong’s heart.

“Taeyong you look like absolute shit. Do you really think you should be going into town like that?” The bags under Taeyong’s eyes look bigger and heavier than the robe on his shoulders. It has been a week since you dropped off the bouquet without a note.

“Yes, Doyoung. It’s been a month, we don’t want people to worry.”

“Funny. You say you don’t want them to worry but you look like the living dead. They’ll worry either way.” The guard rebutts, crossing his arms sassily.

“Doie, I don’t have the time nor the energy to argue with you, just please can we go?”

“That’s just it. You always have time and energy to argue with me! Taeyong, it’s been a week; it was just one note out of hundreds. Who knows; maybe she just forgot to put it in the bouquet, but regardless of what happened you can't keep moping around and carrying yourself like this. You’re an emperor, for pete’s sake! What will you do when she stops bringing the bouquets?”

Taeyong freezes. What will he do? He can't expect you to deliver bouquets forever, can he? At some point you’ll get tired of it, tired of him, and what will he do then? Standing straight, Taeyong makes his way out of the palace, head held impossibly high.

“I- dammit Taeyong I didn’t mean it like-”

“No. You’re right, I can’t expect her to always bring the bouquets, that's selfish of me.” I can't always expect her to be here. It's selfish to expect her to be here. “Come on, we have people to see,” he says, climbing inside of the carriage.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Finally done unpacking your clothes from the last minute trip you had to take last week, you plop onto your bed, completely beat. One of the families you delivered medicine to ran out suddenly and you had to rush to their house so that their child did not die. You spent the rest of the week nursing the child back to health after they had to go without medicine.

The thing is, you got the message in the middle of making the emperor’s bouquet for that week and you didn’t have the time to make a note to put in the bouquet. Even though you know that the emperor doesn’t receive the bouquets at all, you still felt the guilt sitting in the pit of your stomach that entire week.

You don’t realize you’ve fallen asleep until you’re woken by a series of rushed knocks on your pharmacy door. Getting out of bed reluctantly, you grab your apron, tying it around your waist and walking to the door in order to go see who it is.

“Chamomile Pharmacy, how may I–” you start opening the door until you get sight of the person on the other side and quickly slam the door back in place. Why was Emperor Taeyong at your door?!? And why did you just slam the door in his face? Reopening the door, you start bowing and apologizing to the seemingly starstruck emperor at once. “I-I am so sorry Your Highness, I didn’t mean to do that, it’s just you caught me by surprise. I wasn’t expecting it to be you behind the door,” you hurriedly attempt to explain until Taeyong is knocked out of the way by his royal guard Doyoung.

“We don’t have time for this right now. You can have your little–whatever this is later. We need you to make more of this medicine for Mr. Young immediately. We showed up at his house right as he passed out and this was on his counter!”

Grabbing the bottle, you realize this is the heart elixir you made him some time ago, “Shit! Okay I’ll be right back. I need to go grab something out of the garden first,” You quickly tell the men, writing at the speed of light on a piece of paper. “Here, while I’m getting that I need you two to look and find these in that cabinet over there. I need everything ready for when I get back so I can quickly get this to him.”

Rushing out into the garden, you quickly sort through various plants until you find the two you’re looking for. You barge back into the pharmacy to see that Doyoung and the emperor got a little over half of the ingredients down. “Okay, even though everything isn’t down yet I’m going to go ahead and get started. One of you, continue to look for everything while the other comes over here and gives me a hand. We have to hurry.” You are so focused on getting the medicine done that you don’t even notice Taeyong handing you the supplies.

Finishing up the elixir and gathering all of the utensils, you stuff them into your rucksack and run out of the door. “We rode horses over here, it’s faster than on foot. Hop on Taeyong’s; we have to go,” Doyoung all but commands as he mounts his horse, already taking off. The adrenaline pumping through your system helps to keep you calm about the fact that you now have your arms wrapped around Taeyong’s waist and are currently on a horse with him.

In no time you’re riding up to Mr. Young's homely brick house, the one that he and his late wife built back when they were younger. Pushing your way into the house, you see the old man lying on a cot on the floor. Taking everything out, you lie it on a towel next to you on the floor and pull on a pair of gloves.

Quickly checking the old man's pulse, you let out a breath in relief that it’s still there but very faint. You take a pair of medical scissors and cut his shirt open. Grabbing the bottle containing the green elixir and a needle syringe you urgently but carefully extract some of the liquid from the bottle. At this point the silence in the room is deafening, but you’re only able to hear the white noise buzzing in your ears, blocking out any and all distractions.

You check and make sure that it’s the right amount before giving the syringe a slight squeeze, pushing a few drops of the liquid out of the needle. Taking a deep breath, you harshly stab the needle into the man’s chest, forcing the liquid through the needle, unknowingly garnering stiff gasps from those who are watching. You immediately retract the syringe only to place your hand on the same spot, firmly yet softly massaging it.

After massaging for a couple of minutes you sit back, bated breaths falling from your lips. “You can take him to his room now, he needs to rest. I’ll go make some tea for everyone.” Gathering your supplies, you take them to the kitchen to disinfect and sterilize them. Behind the doors of the kitchen you finally feel yourself calm down and it’s then that you notice the intense way in which your hands are shaking.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Everything was going fine, and he was almost done making his rounds with everyone. One of the last people he had to meet with was Mr. Young, the sweet old man who always made him help pick things out of his garden, and that’s when the day took a turn. Was it for the worse? Taeyong didn’t know yet. Walking in on the man passed out on the floor shook Taeyong to his core. When he and Doyoung finally noticed the empty bottle on the countertop, they read the label which stated the pharmacy where the medicine was from.

From there, they took two of the guard’s horses and were off to find the pharmacy. It’s there that Taeyong found you, though the circumstances were less than great. He still couldn’t believe you were right there in front of him, but the moment was over after Doyoung realized what was happening. Now that everything had calmed down and Mr. Young was okay, the fact that you were just a few steps away in the kitchen was eating at the emperor.

“I don’t get why you just don’t go in there and talk to her.” Doyoung spoke suddenly, sounding bored with his life after noticing the way in which the king fidgeted in his chair, eyes constantly flitting to look back and forth from the kitchen door to his feet.

“I mean, it’s not like she can do anything; you’re an emperor for god’s sake. Unless you want to continue being a creepy stalker, I suggest you go in there and tell her that you’ve been receiving her bouquets and you like them or some shit like that.”

“I-I can’t just barge in there and–”

“He only had jasmine tea in his cabinets, so I hope there’s nothing wrong with that,” you say, walking into the living room with a tray of tea-filled cups in your hands.

“Jasmine is fine,” Doyoung replied, simultaneously leaning down to pick up his cup. Taeyong suddenly couldn’t speak as you looked at him expectantly, wanting to make sure he was okay with jasmine tea. All he could do was look up at your glowing face with eyes that might as well be in the shape of hearts. “Ah jasmine is good for him as well. Forgive my liege, he's still a little shaken up from the situation.”

With a soft nod you turn around, moving to make your way back into the kitchen. It was then that Taeyong’s mouth and mind decided to move as one. “Wait! Where are you going?”

“Oh, uhm, I was going back to the kitchen. I figured you two would want to be alone,” you say, almost cradling the board to your body, gesturing awkwardly towards the door.

“You don’t have to. Why don’t you sit in here, with us?”

“I mean, if you’re fine with that.”

“I’m fine, I’m more than fine.” The words were out of Taeyong’s mouth before he could even process them fully. You move to sit on the other side of the loveseat beside Taeyong.

The sound of purposeful slurping provided by Doyoung barely sufficed at cutting the tension in the room. “I just remembered, we never seemed to have gotten your name?” Doyoung asked, ending the silence that layered the house.

Quickly swallowing the tea in your mouth, you reply “Oh, I’m sorry, how rude of me, my name is Y/n. I’m the owner of Chamomile Pharmacy.” You add a bright smile at the end.

“Owner, huh? You must really like medicine.”

“Hmm, I guess you could say that, but not really. I mainly just like flowers, and growing up I realized all the medicinal benefits they hold, so I figured why not make money and spend my life surrounded by what I love?” You sit back in the seat, seemingly comfortable now that you’re talking about a passion. “I get to help people while surrounded by plants all day; it’s a win-win.”

“Mmhm, that sounds lovely. Oh, Taeyong.” The king’s head practically snaps up at the mention of his name. Spotting the mischievous look in his best friend's eyes, his stomach practically dropped to the floor. “You love flowers as well, specifically roses. Don’t you, Your Highness?”

“I–”

“Yeah, I distinctly remember your love for roses starting after receiving a bouquet full of them every week.” Doyoung had no idea that this was the flower girl at first, but Taeyong could tell by the way he had been acting ever since you came around that he had come to piece it together–especially after you blatantly declared your love for flowers just a few mere seconds ago.

At his words, your mouth fell open in pure unadulterated shock. The emperor had been receiving your bouquets?! And he liked them? You had no idea how to feel with all of the mixed emotions flowing through you.

Wide eyed, you ask, “You’ve been receiving my bouquets, Your Highness?”

Taeyong is flustered when he replies, “Y-Yes I have, they are very… nice. Thank you for them.”

“He really likes the little love notes you put in them,” Doyoung adds, deliberately putting the word love in front of notes. At his words, Taeyong throws the harshest glare he could at the other man, wishing he could strangle him with his eyes alone.

While Taeyong was glaring daggers at the knight, you couldn’t help but feel sheepish. You thought you were giving those flowers away for nothing, only to realize that the emperor had been getting them and he liked them. Then you remembered that you had forgotten the note in your last one.

“Ah, I just remembered that I forgot to put a note in the last one.” You speak bashfully, lowering your head. “Well, I didn’t forget, per say, I just didn’t have the time–an emergency came up while I was making it and I had to hurry. I didn’t think it would matter that much since you weren’t getting them, but now I know you were, so I feel bad.”

“No, it’s okay, I understand. There’s no need for you to feel bad, things happen.” Taeyong finally speaks, not liking the obvious way in which you blame yourself. Standing up, he motions to a door, stating that he has to use the restroom.

The room sits silent at Taeyong’s absence. You still feel guilty, but before you can think too hard about it, Doyoung shocks you out of your thoughts with a question, “Y/n, why do you always give roses?”

“Hm? Oh, why roses? Well that's easy, because he’s The Rose Emperor .” Doyoung lifts an eyebrow in question. “Ah, I forgot that I’m the only one who calls him that,” you explain quickly. “Well, one of the reasons is because he has this beautiful rose-shaped scar right under his right eye. And I mean, he’s like a rose. Pretty and elegant and practically harmless to the unsuspecting eye, but he has thorns, which he uses to keep people away, thorns he uses to hide things from everyone, even those closest…”You trail off for a moment, thinking. “Hmm, if you think about it that way, wouldn’t that mean we're all like roses?” You speak nonchalantly, looking somewhat deeply into your cup of tea. “So that would make this world a bed of roses, wouldn’t it?”

Standing but a few feet away, hiding behind a wall, the man in question couldn’t help but overhear. The way you talked and the words you used to describe him made his heart pound. You sounded so sweet and genuine, and he couldn’t help but believe every word you said. His hand uncontrollably caresses the scar you mentioned. He never noticed that it looked like a rose.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Doyoung, I need to borrow some of your clothes.” Busting into the guard’s room, the emperor pants quickly, garnering the man’s attention.

“Wha–for what?”

“No questions, I just need them,” the young ruler says, walking into the man's wardrobe. “Oh and if you have a hat and mask, I’m going to take those, too.”

Taeyong’s presence in the shop is known as soon as he walks through the door, a bell ringing upon contact. Hurriedly pretending to scan the shelves as if searching extremely hard for something, Taeyong hears you enter the room through the back door moments later.

“Sorry for not greeting you as soon as you came in. I was doing a little gardening in the back. Is there anything I can help you with today?” you ask, simultaneously washing the slight dirt off of your hands at the sink.

Knowing it would be rude to not acknowledge you, Taeyong turns to face you, self-consciously tugging on the mask resting on his face, not knowing if he wants you to know it’s him or not. You walk over after drying your hands, ready to help the customer, finally getting a good look at the man’s mask-covered face. You freeze in your spot, not knowing if you are just delusional or if Emperor Taeyong is actually standing in the middle of your pharmacy.

“Uhh Your Highness..?” you question slowly, giving the stranger room to deny if needed.

“I–uhmm yes,” Taeyong stutters, taking the mask off of his face, revealing his apparently not-so-secret identity. Despite breathing just fine a few seconds ago, Taeyong seems to not be able to when you give him a dazzling smile. You ask him why he’s here and if he needs anything. “Yes, I’m here because I, uhh, need something to help with… headaches! Yes, I get headaches, y’know, from reading papers all day.”

“I have just the thing to help with that! I get headaches myself, and I find that the plant Feverfew helps a good bit. The plant itself can be a little strong and could cause irritation to the mouth if chewed, so I just grind it up and make a nice little diluted concoction with it, and it does wonders,” you say, grabbing the bottle containing the liquid, placing it on the counter, and making your way to the other side so you could bag the medicine.

“I must warn you, though–it can have very light side effects that can cause nausea, digestive problems, and bloating.” Finishing up you place the now bagged medicine on the counter sliding it over to Taeyong.

“Ah, how much do I owe?”

“Nonsense, you’re good, consider it the Monarch's discount.” Thanking you, the emperor grabs the bag, making his way out the door, “Bye, come again.”

After the first time, Taeyong continued to visit the store, each time for a different reason. He stayed a little longer each time he visited, finding himself wanting to indulge in your presence more and more. Even when you would go to the palace to deliver your weekly bouquets he would come out now just to start a conversation with you. You both would end up just sitting on the palace steps talking for hours on end.

Now was one of the times when you would sit outside the palace talking with the king.

“Your Highness, word was just sent in from the WayV kingdom, and there are forms to be signed urgently.” Doyoung addressed the young emperor, throwing an apologetic look at you for ruining your time together.

A breath falls past your lips as you push yourself up. “Oh well, I guess that’s my cue to leave. See you later, Your High-”

“Wait. Why don’t you come inside with me? This shouldn’t take too long.”

You and Doyoung gape at the emperor, both in shock. Wanting to hurry and get things settled, Taeyong passes both of your almost statuesque bodies. Doyoung offers to show you around while Taeyong does his work but the emperor quickly refuses. “I’ll do it when I finish.”

Grabbing your wrist, Taeyong all but drags you to his office. There are so many twists and turns that you have no idea how Taeyong didn’t get lost. “You can sit over there on the couch in the foyer. I have some books on the shelf over there you can read if you want. I'll be right here behind this desk.”

Taking in the extravagant office, you can’t help but notice how roses cover almost every single open surface possible. He really did keep every rose he got from you. Just that thought alone makes your heart pound so hard that you can hear it beating in your ears. Deciding you should do something before you look weird, you walk over to the shelf, surveying the books available to you.

You pick a book that looks good enough and sit down on the couch.You try to focus on the words in front of you, but the room is warm, and the couch is comfortable, and your eyelids begin to feel heavy. You didn’t realize you fell asleep until you felt Taeyong gently shaking you awake. The sun had started to set, casting a beautiful warm golden glow around the room.

Taeyong sat beside you on the couch, still grasping your shoulder as you both stared intensely at each other. You felt yourself slowly leaning towards the beautiful man, almost as if you were in a trance. Taeyong couldn’t help but take in every gorgeous feature on your face as it was surrounded by a golden halo.

Moving his hands from your shoulder to the nape of your neck he pulls you in, no longer able to hide the attraction he has for you. Your lips mingled in a dance only privy to them. Leaving the one on your neck the other moves to the side of your face, Taeyong positions you just how he wants and you couldn’t help but to give in to him.

It was as if his entire being consumed you and you had no choice but to follow his lead. Removing his mouth from yours he steadily transitions his lips lower splaying damp kisses all around your jugular. “Y-your highness, m-maybe we should stop.”

“Call me Taeyong darling and I don’t want to stop if you don’t.” he says, eyes flitting up to look at yours. “Do you want to stop?”

Feeling a fire burning in your stomach setting your lower regions ablaze, you know you can’t give him anything but the truth, “No, I don’t want to stop Taeyong.” Taeyong’s satisfied hum rumbles against your collarbone, “That’s my girl.”

His lips find their way back to yours, an involuntary moan falling from yours as Taeyong pushes his tongue inside your mouth. He takes his time exploring your mouth as if he wanted to get acquainted with every nook and cranny. When he took his lips away this time it was as if he took your soul right with him. A small discontent whine leaves your mouth causing the male to coo, “Aww look at my precious rose, so needy already.”

He plants a small peck on your lips pushing you to lay back on the couch, “May I remove your pants darling?” Giving him a small head nod he starts to lower himself down to your now wet core. Your underwear comes off right along with your pants and the slightly cool air hitting your hot core feels almost heavenly.

Lifting your legs on top of his shoulders Taeyong plants soft kisses along your pelvic region finally deciding to stop teasing he licks a long slow stripe up your wet pussy making sure to give a little more pressure right onto your clit.

Taeyong’s hands move to sit in the crevice of your pelvis, tightening his grip simultaneously bringing you closer to his mouth as he proceeds to contort his tongue between your soft lips as a pianist moves their fingers across the keys aiming to hit the right notes to make you sing.

Your voice cracks almost violently as endless moans drip from your lips like sap out a tree. Eyes sealed shut you can’t help but to see stars as Taeyong makes you feel like you’re on top of the world. His soft hair rests between your fingers latching onto the strands for dear life as you attempt to somehow ground yourself.

If he wasn’t holding you down you know for a fact that you would be humping his face akin to a dog in heat. “Fuck.” he moans between your legs sending vibrations all the way down your body. Suckling your lips between his as he looks up at your face scrunched in pleasure, “Open your eyes baby, look at me.”

You should not have had as much trouble as you did opening your eyes but after a few seconds you finally were able to do so. “I want you to focus on me baby, watch me eat this succulent pussy of yours until you cum.” One of his hands moves, transitioning to start rubbing your clit applying ample pressure.

His tongue starts to prod at the opening to the place in which you seemed to want him the most right now. The combination of his mouth and hands was too much and you felt your legs start shaking as you alerted Taeyong of your oncoming orgasm. “That’s it baby, cum for me. I want to see it.”

You didn’t even know your voice could go as high as it did in that moment. Your labored breaths were halted as Taeyong pressed his wet lips to yours causing you to taste yourself on his lips. “You still up for that tour?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Your Highness, there have been reports of an outbreak of some sorts. For right now it’s small but we have no idea what it is or where it came from.” Doyoung says, ending his report on current events.

“Okay, since this is something we have no prior dealings with we need to tread carefully. Get everyone who might be infected and make sure they’re getting proper care. Talk to them, see what their symptoms are and ask what they were doing before they got sick. Maybe we can try and piece together how you contract it.”

“Should we alert the public, Your Highness?”

“No, not for now at least. This is still manageable. We don't want to scare everyone for no reason.” Finishing up his duties, Taeyong starts to head to your house.

You had yet to talk to Taeyong about what happened that day despite having seen each other multiple times since then. Not like you regretted it or anything you just felt bad about Taeyong servicing you and you not being able to return the favor. You were interrupted in the middle of your naughty thoughts when you heard soft knocks ring against the door not to the pharmacy but to your house placed on the side of the pharmacy.

Answering the door you only expected to see one person on the other side of the door. “Hi Taeyong.” you breathe softly gazing at the male opposite you.

“Hello my rose.” placing a kiss on his lips you let him enter the room. Taeyong pulls two books out from his bag and you hurriedly rush over to where Taeyong sits on your bed grabbing your book as Taeyong pulls you onto his lap. Reading for a while your mind can’t help but to go back to what happened.

Taeyong can feel the air in the room change as you squirm on his lap. “Sweetie, what’s wrong?”

“Uhh nothing Yongie.”

Grabbing a hold of your waist Taeyong lowers his head to your ear, “It doesn’t feel like nothing darling.” His warm breath hits your ears as he slowly lets his tongue dart out and lick a stripe up the shell of your ear.

“I- just want to pleasure you as well. Last time you only focused on me and I want to return the favor.” you speak turning around in the male’s lap legs wrapping around his waist. You bring the male into a feverous/feverish? Kiss. You hear his breath hitch as you slowly grind down onto his semi hard dick, and you feel the grip he has on your waist tighten.

Moving yourself to Taeyong’s thigh instead of his entire lap. You maneuver his pants off leaving his boxers on. You slip your hand between your bodies reaching for Taeyong’s boxer clad cock. Lightly squeezing while massaging his length you lean forward gingerly planting kisses along his neck swirling your tongue on each spot you kiss.

“Shit Y/n.”

“You want me to take it out, Yongie? Do you want me to wrap my hands around your hard dick and rub you till you cum all over my hands.” you tease applying more pressure to his hard appendage, “Hmm maybe I’ll even let you watch me lick your cum off of my hands.”

“Oh Fuck yes.”

“That doesn’t sound like begging to me baby.”

“Hmm please baby, please take it out and make me cum.”

You grin, squeezing his now fully hard cock harder, “Well since you asked so nicely.” Your hand moves to the band of his boxers removing the clothing. His erect penis pops up, slapping the male’s clothed abdomen after finally being released.

You let a few drops of spit fall onto the palm of your hand before giving Taeyong what he wants, gripping him. You slowly start to work your hand up and down his stiff cock fluctuating the strength you use to grip it.

“How does that feel Tae? Are you enjoying yourself sweetheart?” you whisper in his ear speeding up your ministrations. A broken moan falls from the semi pouted lips of the emperor. The feel of your hand gripping his cock felt like heaven he could barely think.

The slick sound of your hand going up and down his dick was all that could be heard throughout the room. Taking your other hand you begin to not only stroke his length but also fondle his balls. “Ah, Y/n I’m not going to last much longer please make me cum.” Wanting to give him what he wanted you run the pad of your thumb along the underside of him and slowly massage the bundle of nerves just under the head.

As soon as you do, a whimper leaves Taeyong’s lips as his head falls forward resting on your shoulder. His mouth starts sucking on any pieces of exposed skin he can find and you feel him mumble against your shoulder, “I’m cumming.” His warm release falls onto your hands covering them as you try to squeeze out every last drop. Raising your hand to your mouth you lick some of the cum off of your hand tasting him.

“Fuck sweetie you’re gonna be the death of me.”

“Taeyong. It’s gotten worse. The illness has started spreading; our attempt at keeping it contained was a failure. While it did slow the spread, it did nothing to stop it.”

Slamming his hand on the desk Taeyong couldn’t help but to curse, “Fuck! Did you at least figure out how it’s contracted and its symptoms?”

“Yes, after questioning the patients it became pretty clear that it wasn’t contracted in any specific way. Almost all have reports of having been in public settings surrounded by a lot of people and said a few days later they caught a pretty nasty cold. Instead of it going away like a normal cold does, it started to get worse, pretty soon they couldn't move at all, not even lift a finger. After developing hot flashes, they start to lose the ability to speak, and you know they are about to die when they start to have rashes appear upon their skin.”

“Have you asked the doctors if they can find a cure?”

“Yes, we have already put them onto it, but for now there is nothing.”

Thinking about what he should do, Taeyong's hand comes up to scratch his jawline. He knows that he has to alert the public of the outbreak now. “Okay, since there is no discernible way in which they get it, we can assume for now that it is passed from excessive human contact. Doyoung, I need you to release a statement stating that there should be no excessive contact between everyone. If able to avoid big crowds then stay away.”

Writing the commands down in a notebook, Doyoung asks, “Anything else?”

“Yes, since it has gotten a lot bigger now, the public must be alerted, even though by now I am sure they have each heard their own variations of what’s happening. It’s better to tell them the truth than lie. We need everyone to be fully informed with correct information so that they don’t make things worse.” A tired sigh falls from his lips, “Release a doctor’s statement. I want the royal doctor to make a statement that will tell the public all they need to know about this new illness so they can protect themselves.”

“On it, Your Highness.” Doyoung says, turning around and quickly heading out the door. You were supposed to come visit Taeyong today. He's glad he gets to see you. You always make things better for him. You walk into Taeyong’s office to him writing something in a notebook. He was so involved in what he was writing that he didn’t hear you come in.

“Hey Yongie.” Walking over to the male, you see him raise his head from the paper, looking at you with a dazzling smile.

“Hello, beautiful.” Taeyong pulls you into his lap, “How was your day, my rose?” You start rambling on about what was going on at the pharmacy, and Taeyong finds himself zoning out looking at you talking animatedly about a customer you had today. It’s times like these where Taeyong realizes he could never live his life without you.

Taeyong has been really busy lately, dealing with the disease outbreak. You guys have hardly seen each other. New word had been put out about the disease after one of the people who are believed to have gotten it first were found. Sadly they were on their last string, but their family said something about them eating a strange fruit some odd days before they had gotten sick.

Business for you has practically skyrocketed, people hurrying to get all types of medicines just out of plain fear that they might contract the disease. Even though there is no cure yet, they still think that arthritis medicine will somehow help them.

You had secretly been working on your own attempt at creating a cure, wanting to help Taeyong and get some of the pressure off of his shoulders and wanting to help the people affected by this disease. Of course it has gotten nowhere, but at least you try.

You had asked Taeyong what the fruit that their family said they ate looked like in hopes of being able to find it and base an antidote off of that. He gave you the same description they gave him, but it didn’t lead anywhere. Noticing how empty the pharmacy had become, you felt it was the perfect time to go pick up some bread.

Flipping the sign and locking the door you head towards the bakery. Ever since the decree had been made for people to not group together, the streets had been the emptiest you had ever seen. Walking in, you couldn’t help but notice the other people that stood around talking waiting on their baked goods. Putting in your order, you stand off to the side.

“You know, they say that Emperor Taeyong has caught the disease.”

“What?! You can’t be serious.”

“Why would I joke about something like that?” the first lady says, looking well over offended. “I have a friend who has a cousin who has a brother who has a boyfriend that works in the palace.”

“Woah, so you basically know the emperor.”

“Exactly. I swear on it, the emperor has the disease.” You proceed to tune out the gossiping women on the other side of the room. You know that there’s a good chance the lady is lying, but what if Taeyong has the disease? He hasn’t come to visit in a few days. You feel your chest constrict at the mere thought.

You’re so distraught that you don’t hear the baker telling you your order is ready until after she walks up to you and hands you your bread. “Oh, uhh thank you.” Giving the lady a small nod, you walk out of the bakery.

When you get back to the house, you check for mail and find some in the mailbox next to your door. Picking it up, you notice the royal insignia on the envelope. Figuring it’s from Taeyong, you instantly start to tear it open.

Hello my rose, I don’t know how to say this to you, but I’m sick, really sick. I got the disease. I’m so sorry darling. Worst of all is I can’t even see you. I absolutely forbid you from coming here. Do you hear me? From now until we meet again, we can communicate by letter. I love you so much, my rose.

Love, Your Yongie

As your mind slowly starts to register the note, your knees instantly give out, bringing you to the floor of your living room. You can barely register the sting from the impact. You couldn’t help but let out a broken gut-wrenching cry. Your tears feel like fire as they run down your face. You clutch your heart; it’s as if you can feel it breaking.

Everyday Taeyong sends you a letter and everyday you put it in the pile with the others. It broke your heart every time you would put the letters unopened together with the others and never wrote a response back, but recently you had thrown your entire being into finding a cure for the disease. You couldn’t risk another breakdown like when you first found out, because every single second matters.

Every second you spend trying to find a cure brings you closer to a forever with Taeyong, and you couldn’t risk that. You still open and run the pharmacy like normal, but even then you spend all of your time asking customers everything they know about the disease and whatever anyone they knew who had it was going through.

Lately, the way you’ve been going at it was to find the fruit that supposedly started it all and find out why the human body reacts so badly to it. You just managed to find it yesterday while you were out in the forest for the third time hunting for it. You were planning to do some tests and see what you possibly can do.

A series of harsh knocks rain upon the pharmacy door and the irritation at the possible customer shows on your face. “I’m sorry but we’re clo–” Your sentence stops abruptly as Doyoung harshly shoves past you, the anger and tension in his body evident.

“You know, you have some fucking nerve. Taeyong is literally dying right now, he is fucking dying yet he still manages to write you everyday. And on days when he can’t muster the strength he gets someone to write what he says.” Whipping his body around he faces you, face scrunched in a horrendous snarl, “And you can’t even take the time to write a fucking letter back. All you do is sit in this pharmacy and play in your stupid garden all day.”

It’s then that he notices the pile of letters sitting neatly on your desk, a scoff pushes its way past his lips, “Oh my fucking god, you didn’t have the decency to even open them. Have you ever even loved him? Tell me. Honestly.” He stares directly into your eyes, the fire in them seemingly endless. “Or was he just some toy? A part in some plan you had to get rich and become an empress or some shit. Did you just use my best friend for your own selfish reasons?”

Your mouth opens, preparing to say something only for it to close again. Repeating that process multiple times you find out that there were no words you could say that would satisfy him. “And it’s funny because if that was your plan, then it worked. I know you don’t know but Taeyong planned to propose, he wanted–no, wants to spend the rest of his life with you. I wasn’t supposed to tell you, but oh well.” At his statement, your mouth falls open again, leaving you utterly speechless.

A moment of silence passes and a heavy sigh from the male fills the air. He stares tiredly at your desk, exasperated. “He’s dying, simple as that. Doctor says he doesn’t have much longer before the rashes start popping up. His estimate was at most two weeks.” With his face angled away from you, the tears that streamed down his face weren’t visible. “Do what you will with that information. I don’t have the time for this.”

Turning his body, Doyoung walks out the door, leaving a chill in the air. You don’t even have it in you to cry. Your sorrow runs farther than any river in the world, yet the thought that kept you from breaking down was Taeyong’s smile. Then you realized you would never be able to see it again if there was no cure. Swiping away the tears that managed to fall, you get back to work. Taeyong wasn’t going to die on your watch.

Your chest felt so tight, like it was squeezing all of the air out of your lungs. You could barely feel the shock of your heavy footfalls on the pavement as you ran like your life depended on it. The steps to the palace have never seemed longer as you ran, hoping you made it in time. Passing guards all were blurs as you swore you were running at the speed of light.

Making your way to Taeyong’s room, you see a distraught Doyoung crouched outside of the door. His silent cries cued your heart to fall to your aching feet. Barely able to get the words out you ask, “Am I too late, is-is he g-gone?” Your voice broke as you spoke those words. Doyoung doesn’t say anything as he silently raises his head to look at you. “I can’t be late. I-I found it, I found the cure. I have the cure to save Taeyong.”

Not able to withstand Doyoung’s gaze, you burst through the king’s bedroom doors, instantly spotting the palace doctor at his bed. Taeyong lays lifelessly on the bed, chest barely managing to move up and down. This was not the Taeyong you knew, not the man you fell in love with. This man was just but a shell of him. You had never seen his skin so pale, his face sunken in to the point where you can easily see his cheekbones you loved to rain kisses on.

“Doctor.” Your gaze shifts from the sleeping male to the doctor beside him, “He’s not… dead, is he?”

“No, not yet, but I do recommend you give your last goodbyes.”

Walking up the man, you forcefully push the vial containing the cure into his hands, “Here, this is the cure.” Broken stutters leave the man's mouth as he questions the integrity of your statement. “Listen, we don’t have a lot of time; just trust that it will work. I have tested it on five different people, all of varying ages, and four out of five of those people survived. The only reason the fifth didn’t was because they were too far gone.”

You update the doctor on what the antidote is and what it does. “The antidote is not a cure per say, it doesn’t get rid of the disease. I studied the fruit that the disease stems from and something in the DNA of it, let's just say it doesn't agree with something in our DNA, which causes basically an allergic reaction times 100. This antidote soothes the part of our DNA that reacts so badly, and that in turn stops the allergic reaction so that it doesn’t kill us. Now that I’ve wasted time explaining that to you, can we please get the antidote in his system?”

All of your talking caused the sickly emperor to awaken to your voice in the room with him. “Y/n, what are you doing here? I thought I told you to not come here. I-”

“Taeyong, calm down, baby, please. I am here to save you.” You nod to the doctor giving him the go for the injection. “The doctor is about to inject the cure for the disease into you, then you’re going to get better for me, okay?”

After administering the shot, Taeyong had fallen asleep again from lack of energy. It had been 10 hours and you sat every single one on his bedside, wanting to be the first to see him. In those 10 hours, you told the doctor how to make more of the cure so that he could get it to everyone, and Doyoung finally came into the room after hearing what you had done, and gave you a proper apology for snapping at you.

You feel a hand grip yours, and you snap your head up to see Taeyong looking back at you with a smile as big as he could conjure right now placed on his face. Quickly handing him some water, you start to question how he feels. Telling you he feels the best he has in weeks was good enough to satiate you for now.

When Taeyong had finally convinced you to lay in bed with him, you chose this moment to give him his answer.

“Yes.” A look of confusion covers Taeyong’s face as he wonders what you are saying yes to. “Yes, I will marry you.”

You and Taeyong decided not to have a huge wedding, instead choosing to hold a ceremony with just a few of your closest friends, but you did have to present yourself to the empire now as the new empress.

“Are you ready, my rose?” Taeyong asks, walking up behind you in front of the mirror, enclosing his arms around your waist. You turn around to look at him directly, taking in his attire.

“Why do you have such a heavy robe?” you question, noticing the heavy piece of clothing. You’d always wondered that whenever you would see him out of the palace.

Shrugging his shoulders, Taeyong plants a kiss upon your cheek, “I-I don’t know it’s just customary, I never thought to change it.”

“Well, for my first decree as empress, I declare that you get a new robe, a lighter one.” you say, dusting the imaginary dust off of his shoulders. “You don’t need to have such a heavy weight on your shoulders. You can tell it weighs you down. I don’t want you to overexert yourself.”

“Will do, my empress. Come, we have to go now.”

It was getting to the last leg of the parade the citizens held in your honor. You felt so welcome by everyone. You were expecting people to hate you because you weren’t already a royal before you married Taeyong. “How are you holding up, darling? I know these things can take a lot out of people.”

“I am fine, my love, just slightly tired.” You can’t help but wave at every person you see, feeding off of their enthusiasm. Overcome with emotion, Taeyong can’t help it when he cradles your face in his hands, lowering his head whilst tilting yours to give him room, and plants a loving kiss upon your cheek. Your cheeks were on fire at his public display of affection in front of everyone, yet you found yourself fully indulging in the kiss, closing your eyes in hopes of savoring the moment. The kiss caused an uproar within the crowd, the citizens ecstatic at the relationship between you both.

“Taeyong, what was that earlier today? Why’d you kiss me?”

“I’m sorry, baby. I couldn’t help it when I saw you and how happy you looked waving at everyone,” he explains pulling you into another kiss, but this time on the lips. Slowly the kiss becomes heated and you start pawing at each other's clothes, almost ripping them off. Taeyong plants kisses along your neck as you begin to fondle his soft manhood.

You feel Taeyong’s hand slide to your cunt rubbing your clit, “Looks like someones already ready for me. I wonder who made you this wet sweetie.” he taunts, slowly pressing one finger inside of you then a second curving them up and spreading them out in order to stretch your tight hole. Your low breathy moans fill the room bouncing off of each and every wall.

Pretty soon you both are ready, blindly walking yourself to the bed you land on the soft cushion with an oomph. Taeyong slowly grinds his now hard cock up and down your slit puposely prodding at your clit. You wriggle your hips silently begging the male to hurry up and put it in.

Giving into you because he was just as excited Taeyong finally slides himself in, his stiffness getting completely engulfed by your wet hot cavern. “Mmm, I’ll never get used to how well your needy pussy takes me in baby.” His slow thrusts simultaneously scratching that itch but just enough to make it come back for more.

“Harder Tae, I need to feel you wreck me.” Granting your wish taeyong stops the gentle loving strokes, swapping them out for a harsher more unforgiving thrusts. His hips smack yours as Taeyong puts what feels like all the power he has in his thrusts. You close your eyes and see stars as Taeyong fucks your soul out of you. His hands have an unforgiving grip on your waist, one going up to massage your breast, teasing your nipple.

Taeyong starts laying kisses along your body leaving purple spots in his wake. “ I want everyone to see that you are mine and I am yours forever and always.” Whispering in your ear, “Go ahead and cum for me baby, let everyone know what we’re doing so they can see who you belong to.”

You all but scream Taeyong’s name out in pure ecstasy as you cum the hardest you ever have to date. It felt as if you had been transported to another world. Taeyong cums right behind you filling you to the brim with his seed. “It’s a little too late to say this now but I think it’s about time we start thinking about children.” He says pulling himself out of your now swollen lower region.

“Oh my god shut up, I hate you,” you cry, out rolling your eyes

“I love you too, my rose.”

#nct taeyong #taeyong #taeyong x reader #taeyong fluff #taeyong smut #nct 127 Taeyong #nct x reader #nct taeyong smut #nct taeyong fluff #nct 127 fluff #nct 127 smut #nct u fluff #nct u smut #nct 2020 #nct 127 #bed of roses #MY STORIES

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pinoyrella · 4 years

Text

Haikyuu Boys Throwing a Rock At Your Window

Like you know that “trying to get the attention of someone” cliche mostly from those cheesy American rom-com films? Yeah THAT throwing rocks at your window

FT: Bokuto Koutaro, Ushijima Wakastoshi, and our one and only Miya Atsumu x GN!READER

GENRE: Mostly CRACK, Fluff (mostly Ushijima’s).

Word Count- Total: 4,900 +

Ushijima’s: 1,502.

Bokuto’s: 1,166.

Atsumu’s + Bonus: 2,297

TW: A lot of cursing, esp w Atsumu’s. there are a few slight NSFW jokes (im sorry im like this)

Quick PSA: (before we begin!!)

1. I just wanna thank my bb @babydontstoop for staying up w me until 3 am in the morning thinking of this stupid shit, love her so much we got more ideas coming soon!!

2. Also im so sorry the first half of atsumu’s is basically just inarizaki shenanigans, i don’t know why its there or how it even got to that, but imma just keep it there for the sake that maybe some of you guys might enjoy it and i spent so much time on it asdghkd ToT. i added a little “start” if you want to skip the the x reader content tho!! I hope you guys enjoy my first work!! MWAH ILY!! Thank you so much again!!

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Ushijima Wakatoshi

I feel like our ushi gushy would be in on it

But only bc Tendou influenced him telling him it's what ppl do nowadays

“Wakatoshi-Kun ur not throwing hard enough I don’t think she heard it”

And he would just look at him n be like “ok”

THEN THROWS IT W THE SAME STRENGTH HE USES TO SPIKE

AFSDGHJK RIP Y/N

It definitely did not only smashed thru ur window, it winds up denting ur wall

“Wakatoshi-kun~” Tendou’s cheerful voice pops into Ushijima’s dorm. “It’s time to give me back this week’s “Jump”! I brought a new one, it’s a bit different from what I’ve been giving you to read!”

“I’ve just finished reading “Removes Unnecessary Hair and Leaves Skin Feeling Silky Smooth” Ushijima replies monotonously with said manga in his grasp.

“You’re still reading the adverts? I told you last time to just focus on the manga.” Tendo takes the shounen manga from Ushijima’s hands and closes it. “This one is sure to keep you focused on the story this time! Plus, it may help you with your lack of romance situation.” He says as he plops a copy of a popular shoujo manga in his friend’s palms. “Anyways, I got to go, tell me your impressions later~” Tendo strolls out, letting the door to Ushijima’s dorm shut on its own.

Ushijima watches the door shut, before turning his attention back to the manga his best friend spontaneously left in his hand. ‘Lack of romance?’

The following day strolls around and Tendo is first to greet his friend. “Wakatoshi-kun~” Ushijima turns and greets him back with a low “good morning” before continuing his pace to class.

“So, tell me what did you think of the manga I gave you the other day?” The red haired man says, stretching his arms over his head, giving the stoic man a quirky smile as he makes his way to his seat. Ushijima opens his leather bag to take out the shoujo manga Tendo gave him the other day, handing it to his friend before replying. “It was pleasant.”

Tendo blinks before letting out a restless sigh, taking the pink-covered manga from his friend’s hand before plopping into his seat, head down to the desk. “ “It was pleasant?” What are we going to do with you Wakatoshi-kun, and to think I had hope when you told me you were finally going to confess to y/n.”

Ushijima stays silent, watching his friend.

Tendo looks up, a hand under his chin, before turning back to his buddy. “Have you thought of how you were going to confess yet?”

Ushijima lets out a low “no” before Tendo goes back to losing it over his friend. “That’s what the manga was for! I thought it’d help you come up with an idea…”

Ushijima stays silent, watching his friend break down once again. Before turning his gaze to the door, as you stroll in greeting your classmates a “good morning” before settling down at your desk. Of course you don’t go unnoticed to Tendo as well, he caught his friend turning his head towards your direction the moment you walked in. You give a small smile and wave to both Tendo and Ushijima, Ushijima giving back an awkward yet sincere small smile and wave. The sweet look of innocence and love linger on his best friend’s face, even after he turned around to face the board’s direction. Tendo can’t leave his friend unhelped, especially not with that god-awkward smile he gave you. Then pwoosh an idea strucks him.

“Wakatoshi-kun” Tendo whispers, catching the attention of his friend, before leaning into his ear.

“Tendo.” “Wakatoshi-kun!” Tendo sprints lightly towards his friend, both freshly changed into their casuals, after the day’s worth of volleyball practice. It’s barely half past 6:30pm, the two tall men stand outside your dorm’s building. “Follow me~” Tendo begins to walk off around the corner, stopping just a few windows down, then looking up, pointing towards a window that is slightly covered by (insert ur fav color) curtains, and a few stickers stuck to the glass of the window. The lights were on, letting them know you were in your dorm. Ushijima visibly tenses up after reaching where his friend stood. “Don’t worry, this is their room, I know those animal crossing stickers from anywhere.” Tendo reassures his friend. Ushijima slowly relaxes before bending down to pick up a rock. “Is this okay?” he asks his friend, just remembering the short flashback of what his friend whispered into his ear earlier that day.

“Wakatoshi-kun~” Tendo calls out to his friend, then leaning in towards his ear. “I have an idea! Semi was telling me about this scene from a romance movie he saw last week. It’s what all the cool kids do in America to get the attention of the person they like!” Explaining the details to his friend, before the bell rang signifying that class has just begun.

“Yes! That rock looks perfect, now aim for their window!” His friend lets out a clap before shooting his fingers towards your window.

Ushijima adjusts his stance, getting ready to toss the rock towards your window. Tendo watches in anticipation, as Ushijima finally lets go of the rock after sending it flying up. The rock lightly taps your window, the two wait restlessly, feeling as 5 minutes have passed, but really was 30 seconds.

Tendo picks up the same rock from the ground and places it in Ushijima’s left hand. “Wakatoshi-kun, you’re not throwing hard enough! I don’t think they didn’t hear it.” The tall man nods as began to adjust himself once more, putting all his energy into the rock in his left hand, determined to grab your attention. but just as he lets go of the rock, the window opens, and reveals you standing there, looking down at the two boys confused. Tendo and Ushijima’s eyes widened at the sight of you, but it was too late, the rock was already tobe flying towards you. “Tendo-san? Ushi-” before you finish your sentence, you finally notice the rock launching in your direction, thanking your quick reflexes, you dodge it just barely. You turn and watch in slow-mo as the rock hits your closet door, leaving a deep dent and a scratch.

Stunned, you stare at the dent before walking over to pick the rock up, and heading back towards your window. “Really?” You say out loud in a jokingly sarcastic tone, holding the rock up for the two boys to see, while trying your best not to laugh at the series of events before you. You know this situation oh too well, especially from a certain scene after binge watching rom-coms with your cousin Semi the other week.

The two men just stare at you, with nothing to say, before Tendo lets out a burst of laughter. You gave in as well and began laughing with him. Ushijima lets out a low laugh.

“Stay there!” You yell down, before closing your window and making your way downstairs to meet the boys.

“Anyways, I got to go! Tell me her impressions later~” Tendo gives Ushijima a pat on the back before sprinting away from this whole situation.

Ushijima stays there, awaiting your arrival. He turns after hearing heavy pants, seeing you bent forward slightly, facing him with a hand on your knee, and the other still holding onto the rock he had unintentionally launched at you. “Jesus.. Sorry give me a second” Ushijima nods, staring at your figure. Although hair disheveled, out of breath and face as red as a tomato from having to run down a flight of stairs and around the corner to meet him, he still thinks you’re the most beautiful person he has ever laid eyes on. After a few seconds, you prop yourself up, eyes staring into his. Now it was Ushijima’s turn to turn bright red, in fact, realization hit him, it was just the two of you alone, behind a building, “oh how scandalise Wakatoshi-kun.” he can imagine Tendo saying that to him.

You two just stand there for a second, staring into each other’s eyes before you began. “I think you dropped this.” You tell him with a slight giggle. Ushijima lets out a small laugh with you, as he grabs the rock in your palm, your hands brushing against each other, making the stoic man turn redder. “Thank you.” he says softly. “Next time, just come to me, this is a little too cliche for the big old Ushijima Wakatoshi, no?” Crossing your arms, you gave him another smile. GOD was he captivated. If he didn’t have any restrain, he would have leaned down and kissed you then and there. His grasp on the rock tightens slightly, thoughts running before a small peck is felt onto his cheek. He snaps out of his imagination before noticing how close your face was to his. “But that was still, a very cute and very dangerous attempt.” You chuckle once again before stepping back.

“See you tomorrow in class Ushijima-san” You wink before turning back to your dorm.

Ushijima stands there bewildered. A hand going to the cheek you have left an imprint of your lips on. He has his best friend Tendo to thank later. If these silly cliches will lead to your sweet smile and a peck on the cheek, he can’t wait to continue the sweet gestures your future relationship has yet to come.

Bokuto Koutaro

My sweet sweet baby boy

He does NOT know his own strength

He uses a big rock too

You hear a panicked “AKAAAASHI!!!”

Apparently Akaashi tried to stop him after Bo told him of his scheme, but failed to, so instead of letting him go alone, he went w him to make sure Bokuto wouldn’t get himself into TOO much trouble. U kno supervisor n shit

“Akaashi!!!” Bokuto greets his underclassman, sliding into the seat beside him as the quiet man takes out his lunch, slowly unwrapping it. “Good afternoon Bokuto-san.”

“Akaashi! You know y/n right?! And you know how long I’ve liked them, and wanted to confess my feelings right?” Bokuto asks excitedly. “How can I forget, they’re in my class, in fact-” Akaashi leans a bit to the left, pointing his thumb backwards to his shoulder, showing you perched on your desk with your headphones in, eyes closed as you had just taken a savory bite from the meal you had prepared for yourself at home before class. Bokuto short circuits before he lets out a cry of despair, his head falling to the desk, before picking himself back up and shoving his face close to Akaashi’s. “Why didn’t you tell me!! Did you think they heard what I said? Akaashi I can’t believe you! You should warn me about this!!” He whispers before moving his eyes back to you, watching you serenely chew the food in your mouth, everything you do leaves him absolutely speechless, oh god how he wished he was the food in your mouth.

Before Akaashi could reply to ask his friend to move farther away, your eyes open and immediately dart towards the unfamiliar classmate in your classroom.

“Bo!” You immediately stand up, grabbing your lunch before making your way to sit behind him and Akaashi. “Try this! I made it this morning, it’s still fresh, say AH~” You hold your chopsticks towards his face, waiting for him to take a bite. It’s like the embarrassment and worry of you hearing him liking you left his head, he smiles at you before taking a bite of what is on the chopstick. He begins chewing, tasting the savory flavor of your dish, wishing he could wake up everyday to your cooking. “Y/n this is delicious!!!” He replies ecstatically. You giggle in response, using the chopsticks in your hand to pick off the rice stuck to his bottom lip, before dropping it back into your lunchbox, Bokuto unintentionally lets out a “NO!” as he lightly grabs your wrist, placing the chopstick back into his mouth to catch the rice. “Don’t waste it, it’s so good!” He pouts and you try to hold yourself from laughing at how adorable he is. “Bokuto-san, it was just a grain of rice.” “Akaashi! Don’t say that about y/n’s cooking!” He retorts. You let out another chuckle before digging into the bottom compartment of the lunch box, to grab another pair of chopsticks. “Let’s share yeah?” At this point, Bokuto remembers why he fell for you all over again.

“I have to use the restroom before lunch ends! Akaashi watch my stuff?” You ask the quiet boy, “Of course” “Thanks!!!” You say before sprinting off. “Bokuto-san” Akaashi attempts to call out to Bokuto, but he’s still in a trance as he watched your figure disappear out of the classroom and into the hallway. “Bokuto-san” Bokuto whips his head towards his friend smiling brightly. “Did you want to tell me something earlier about y/n?” He asks him. “YES! I have figured out the perfect plan to confess to them!” Akaashi sits, his face contorts into curiosity, listening to what his friend has in mind.

“Bokuto-san”

“And I’m thinking, I’d wait outside her window and-”

“Bokuto-san”

“I have this rock in my hand right?! I’ll figure the right time to throw and-”

“BOKUTO-SAN”

“AKAAAAASHI!! What is it? Did you get lost in my amazing plan?”

“Bokuto-san, this doesn’t..” He pauses for a second, trying to find a way to slowly put down his friend’s idea, after hearing how excited he sounds for it too. “I don’t think- why don’t you just tell them? Write them a letter... Or buy a bouquet of flowers or chocolate, something that isn’t.. Illegal..” He whispers the last word, it trails his mouth.

“Akaashi you don’t understand! Y/n’s different! They deserve a unique confession! They don’t deserve a regular and common confession, they deserve something grand! Something like my idea!” Bokuto replies happily.

Akaashi lets out a sigh. ‘Well at least I tried…

Wrong.’

And this is where Akaashi found himself on a Friday night, standing beside Bokuto in front of your residence. He had thought, if he couldn’t stop his best friend, why not at least supervise him, at least he could try to physically stop him if things get out of hand, right?

Wrong.

“Oi” Akaashi hears a familiar voice and turns his head towards the direction. ‘Konoha-san?!” Akaashi’s thoughts were interrupted by Bokuto greeting his other friend. “Konoha! You’re just in time, come on let’s go!” Bokuto lets himself past your gate. “What-” “Bokuto told me about his plan, I had to see it.” Konoha lets out a smirk before pushing Akaashi past the gates with him.

The three make their way to the side of the house, finding the window to your room before stopping. Konoha tries to suppress his laughter, and Akaashi stands there bewildered. ‘Holy shit Bokuto-san’s actually going to do it.’ He freaks out internally.

Bokuto dips his head to the floor, picking up the biggest rock he could find before turning to face his two friends. “Now, this is true romance!” He says excitedly, switching the rock to his dominant hand, and getting ready to launch, the veins in his arm protruding.

Konoha is trying, AND I MEAN TRYING, his best to not laugh too soon, a hand over his mouth and the other hand on Akaashi’s shoulder to ground himself. Akaashi’s brain realizes the situation, the veins popping from Bokuto’s arm, his beefy muscles flexing, his strength- and before he could- “Bokuto-san wait!”

SHATTER

Akaashi stands there in shock as Konoha falls to the ground in complete laughter. Bokuto stops functioning as he begins to slowly turn his head towards his two friends. “AKAASHI!!!” He screams in horror, Akaashi’s internal thoughts begin to spiral, thinking of what to do, and the laughter of Konoha’s is NOT helping.

You on the other hand, were located in the kitchen, when you heard the sound of glass breaking. You run outside in your pajamas, cooking apron and bunny slippers, and your trusty spatula still in hand as your weapon. Turning the corner of your house, you see them. Facing the three boys. “Akaashi? Bo? Konoha?” You ask in confusion. Akaashi’s brain is losing it, Konoha is laughing his ass off, and Bokuto stands there looking at you like a deer in headlights before jumping into you with his arms out. “Y/n!!! I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to break your window! I just wanted to tell you how much I love you with a grand confession but-” You wrap your arms around Bokuto returning the embrace, before your gaze turns to the two boys, then to the broken glass surrounding their feet, and finally looking up to your bedroom window, as you finally process Bokuto’s confession. “WHAT?!”

Miya Atsumu

This motherfker, “would do it on purpose but accidently”.

“Hey samu look how hard i can throw this rock”

He throws it and cracks ur window

He would RUN away, he be like “SHIT SHIT SHIT”

You bet Suna’s in the background recording all of this.

Gin’s the getaway driver bc he's prob the most responsible one of the four second years, or at least most likely to get their driver’s license first ykwim

“GO GO GO GO”

The Inarizaki volleyball club room is filled with chattering, the volleyball fanatics converse with each other. It seems a bit off today, a little too calm… before Osamu walks in irritated. The boys chattering dies down as they turn to the wing spiker, all is well until- “OI ‘SAMU!” There it is. The blonde strolls in after his younger twin. “OI!” “holy shit ‘tsumu shut the fuck up or so god help me im about to make myself an only child” “RUDE!” As always, the Miya twins make a grand entrance, every single day, right before practice. Before Atsumu could scream another word, he catches the gaze of Kita, the stares of daggers stopping him in place, reminding him where he is. Atsumu gulps and begins to get undressed.

The conversations between the boys continue where they were left, before the Miyans arrived. “Hey Gin, congrats on your driver’s license!” Akagi praises Ginjima before jumping to ruffle his hair. “Oh? Nice.” Suna congratulates. Aran comes around and wraps his arm loosely around Ginjima’s shoulder “This calls for a celebration, what do you say captain?” He turns to look at Kita, waiting for his response. “I suppose why not. Let’s get to practice.” He replies, being the first to head out.

Cut to the chase, the boys make their ways home to prepare for the “fun” evening that’s about to come. Ginjiima stops by each of his teammates' houses, picking them up, as saving the Miyas for last. “Oh my god” Osamu lets out frustration as he watches Ginjima pull up, Atsumu is STILL getting dressed. “5-more minutes my ass” He mutters before going out and making his way to his friends’ car. Osamu short circuits, counting the seats in the car. “Gin- what kind of car is this?” “This baby right here?” He steps out of the car and slaps the top roof. “It’s my parents’ old 2002 toyota alphard.” He says proudly. “There’s so many seats holy fuck.” He says before heading in, making his way past Aran and Kita, sitting between Omimi and Suna all the way back.

“Where’s piss hair?” Suna asks Osamu, buckling his seatbelt in. Ginjima made his way back inside as well. “Idk idc, hit it Ginjima.” The team lowkey lets out an internal sigh of relief. Ginjima starts the car and begins backing up before Atsumu comes running out in Osamu’s jacket. “WAITTTT” “NO GINJIMA GO!” Aran, Suna and Osamu yell. Ginjima not having the heart to leave his homie behind, stops the car. An audible grunt comes out of the boys. “Y’all be bullying me everyday :,( “ “Awh don’t say that, Omimi doesn’t” Omimi sitting there thinking. ‘No no I do, in my mind.’

“Whatever, let’s go!” Atsumu short circuits noticing the seats in the car as he opens the door. “Where.. Where am I gonna sit?” Ginjima turns around counting the seats, realizing he’s missing one more for the blonde. “Oh shit! I forgot to install the 8th seat, there's supposed to be one going in between Aran and Kita-san.” Atsumu blinks. “Well guess that means you can’t go.” Osamu bluntly lets out. “WHAAAAT” “Go on the roof.” Suna suggests. “NO NO DO NOT GO ON THE ROOF.” “WAIT I WANT THE ROOF!” “That’s a hazard and illegal” Ginjima, Akagi and Kita let out at the same time. “Why not just sit on the floor.” Omimi says. “It’s just going to be on the way there anyways.” “That’s a good point” Aran compliments. “That is also illegal.” “Shin just this once! Come on get in I’m getting hungry!” Akagi claps his hands and faces forward. Atsumu climbs in, and as he sits down he looks up behind him. Osamu sent a glare down towards his brother. “W-what?” “That’s MY jacket, isn’t it?” “NO IT’S NOT!” The poor blond is kicked forward by his brother. This is gonna be a long ride.

Wait. “Uh Gin.” “Yeah?” “Where are we going?” Gin pauses. “Where do you guys wanna go?” “Oh my god we really didn’t plan this through.” “MCDONALDS!!” “Oh! Good thinking Akagi-san.” “There’s a special with pokemon cards right?” “Ah, my younger brother loves collecting pokemon cards, I’ll be sure to get one for him.” Aran and Kita converse. “Turn and make a left on Kinugakecho Suma-Ward.” The team turns their heads to Suna. He then pans his phone to them, showing the address to the nearest McDonalds on google maps.

“8 happy meal boxes please.” Kita-san asks the cashier, he pays before seating with the others.

“Oh my god I’m so hungry.” Suna lays his head on the table “I’m so excited!!” Akagi jumps in his seat, “Thank you Kita-san” Ginjima thanks his captain. “You really didn’t have to pay for all of it, you should have at least split with me, it was my suggestion to go out and celebrate.” Aran signs laying his chin under his fist. “It’s no worries, it’s nice to treat my teammates out once in a while, even if I don’t condone this unhealthy diet. Just this once is okay.” Kita smiles and Omimi nods.

The food comes in and the 8 boys dig into their little happy meal boxes, in the style of pikachu. “Holy fuck these are so cute.” Suna be admiring the yellow box.“ ‘SAMU THAT WAS MY SWEET&SOUR SAUCE” “GROSS DON’T TALK WITH YOUR MOUTH FULL!” Osamu shoves Atsumu’s cheeseburger back in his mouth. Kita clears his throat and the twins silence. “We are in public please for once be decent.” Aran scolds.

After the meal, the boys sit in their booth content. “Omg guys, pokemon card unboxing haul lets go.” Akagi pulls out the little enveloped deck containing the cards, the other boys, besides Kita, follow. “You guys go ahead, I’m saving mine for my brother.” “Shinsuke” Omimi hands Kita the envelope. “He can have mines too.” Aran hands him over as well. “Yeah, I wouldn’t know what to do with it either, I’m sure your lil bro would love it.” Kita gives his two other seniors a sweet smile and thanks them. The five other boys begin to unwrap, and reveal each other the pokemon cards they got. “Yo can I have your Snorlax.” Suna leans into Osamu. “I’ll trade it for my packet of ketchup.”

The boys head out, Ginjima dropping Omimi, Akagi, Aran and Kita off in that order. Atsumu lets out a whine before the three boys that are left face him. “I don’t want this night to end yet.” The three turn to look at each other before turning back to look at their setter. “Well what else do you wanna do?” “Can we just sit and vibe together, we bros anyways.” Ginjima blinks before asking Suna if he would like to do as said plan. “I mean sure, Suna?” “I don’t mind as long as it’s chill with you.” “Osamu?” “ ‘S your car. Plus whatever this idiot does, most of the time there’s not much of a say in my case” He replies. Ginjima pulls into an empty parking lot of a park. Suna has control of the aux, playing chill music.

The moment feels really nice, just four high school bros, the homies, chilling and vibing at an empty parking lot, listening to Suna’s playlist, a bit past 9pm. These are one of the memories you will find to cherish after graduating high school.

Kodak Black’s “Heart & Mind” starts playing.

The four begin to sing to the song, yeah this is going to be one of those high school memories.

The three boys go quiet, letting Atsumu scream Plies’ chorus. Osamu whistles; “SHEEESH” Suna lets out a laugh. “He’s really feeling it” Ginjima joins in. Before the three begin to sing Kodak Black’s lines again. By the end of the song the boys fall into a pit of laughter.

--start of the actual atsumu x y/n part ToT i’m so sorry--

“Hey I wanted to tell you guys earlier, I think I’m ready to confess to y/n.” The setter admits, laying into the seat with a small smile. “They’re going to say no.” “‘SAMU!” “I’m kidding.” “Wow, never thought you’d have the balls.” Suna laughs with Osamu. “Did the song do this or?” Ginjima asks. “Quit ya teasin and hear me out! >:(“ Atsumu crosses his arms and pouts. “Okay okay sorry, but no seriously takes some guts. Have you thought of when you were going to confess to ‘em?” Osamu reassures his brother and asks. Atsumu pauses and puts his finger under his chin in a thinking pose, before a light bulb clicks. “How about right now?!” He says excitedly. “Right now?” Suna does a lil double take. “Atsumu it’s-” Ginjima looks at the clock in his car. “9:37 right now. 9:37 PM. PM!” “They could be asleep.” Suna butts in. “No-no listen, LISTEN GUYS!” Atsumu quiets his friends down before explaining to them the whole cliche scenes in those American rom-com movies. “That sounds so fucking stupid. I’m in.”

And this is how the four boys end up, in front of your house. “This feels so creepy and illegal.” Osamu shivers, feeling a bit cold by the night weather. “I’m pretty sure this is illegal, throwing rocks at someone's window I mean.” Ginjima furrows his eyebrows. “Tsumu you sure about this.” “It nerf or nothing!” “I think you mean it’s now or never.” “Same thing!” He argues with his brother. Suna has his phone out, ready to record whatever the outcome of this stupid and last minute plan is. The four make their way past your yard, trying to find your light colored curtains, indicating it is in fact your room. “I’m surprised you know where their room is.” “Yet he doesn’t know the quadratic formula.” “ ‘samu!” He hisses before bending over to pick up a rock. “Hey ‘Samu, look how hard I can throw this rock.” This level of confidence did NOT sound good. Atsumu begins to count down before the three freeze up, Ginjima and Osamu letting the reality of the situation sink it. “Wait Atsumu-” “DUMBASS WAIT” Suna standing there unbothered, getting everything on camera before.

SHATTER

The four boys stand in shock, even Suna taken back by the loud sound of glass breaking. He pans the camera to Atsumu before panning up to the window of your room. The lights turn on and you make your way to the window, at first startled but now pissed being woken up, but also now absolutely confused and horrified by the broken glass that fell from your window to the ground below. “SHIT SHIT SHIT” Atsumu begins to book it, grabbing Ginjima and Osamu’s wrists, Suna following, phone still in hand recording. As you see four silhouettes begin to run in the dead of the night, you see a familiar piss shade of yellow and a maroon jacket as they run. The four jump into the car before Ginjima begins to start the engine. Before they drive off, Atsumu takes out the McDonald’s receipt, writing a quick apology and his number before taking out his wallet and throwing whatever cash he had, running back to your doorstep and placing it under your welcome mat. “GO GO GO GO.” He yells as he jumps into the car, the four speeding away.

By the time you reach your front door in attempt to catch the perpetrators, you notice the wrapped up receipt under your welcome mat, pulling it out and unfolding it, revealing a couple 1 dollar bills and a single 5. Confused you read the note, the hand writing almost ineligible.

“Y/N IM SO SORRY IT WAS AN ACCIDENT, WELL PURPOSELY PLANNED BUT STILL AN ACCIDENT. PLEASE CALL ME SO WE CAN TALK THIS OUT I JUST WANTED TO TELL YOU-” The rest of his writing ineligible. You look at the phone number he left and his signed signature, with a heart beside it.

“What the fuck.”

Bonus:

Atsumu again bc he’s- I have no words for him (I love him so much but like its a diff kinda love ifkyky)

But imagine y/n having a brother and atsumu going to the wrong window

And busting a rock thru y/n-brother’s window

And the four just hear “WHAT THE FUCK” in a deep male voice that’s not urs, and the lights turn on and atsumu’s like-

He can feel the soul leaving his body

Bc that dumbass not only broke a window it wasnt even ur window

He dragged Gin out of the car and hit that pedal so hard leaving everyone but himself there on your lawn.

“Are you sure this is where their room is?” Ginjima asks worried. “This seems very very VERY dangerous and illegal.” “GIN! You’re startind to sound like Kita-san, relaaaax I know what I’m doin!” “Doesn’t sound like it” “‘SAMU!!” The twins bicker.

“Actually, I’m heading back to my car this is making me a bit queasy.” The sand-brown haired boy said before turning back to his car. “Up to ya, be our getaway driver yeah?” Atsumu gives a thumbs up before the Ginjima nods and separates from the three, leaving them on their own.

By the time they make their way to what Atsumu thought was your room. He’s already bending over picking up the biggest rock he sees“ ‘Samu, look how hard I can throw this rock!”

“Tsumu don’t-” It was too late. The blonde sends the rock flying to the window. Just as the rock makes contact, the glass shatters and Atsumu is left there in shock, Osamu and Suna as well.

A scream of “WHAT THE FUCK” in the deepest voice is heard emitting from the now open window. Now that can’t be y/n.

The lights turn on and before the two knew it, Atsumu was already booking it back to the car. Suna recording the speed Atsumu was at.

“Hey Atsumu, done already? Wheres-” The door to the driver's seat opens. Ginjima confused, he yelps when Atsumu grabs him and drags him out of the car, getting in and shutting the door before he starts up the engine. “W-WHAT?!” Ginjima stands confused before turning around to see Osamu and Suna run towards him. “GET BACK HERE.” The sound of your brother’s voice rings out and that was Atsumu’s queue to skrrrrt away. Leaving his three friends on your lawn. “TSUMU!” Good luck Gin, Suna and Osamu to deal with your now raging brother.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Extras: (IM CRACKING UP HELP) 😭

Author’s Note:

Guys I am so sorry I didn’t intend to let these fics drag out for so long, also for not making sense. ESPECIALLY ATSUMU’S. But thank you so much again for taking the time to read this, I really appreciate it even though my work is total shit like headass. If you have the time, please lemme kno what you think! I’d love to hear what you guys have to say! Anyways I hope you all take care and have a great time, stay safe! Hopefully my future work won’t be as shitty. I’ll work to it, thank you so so much again! MWAH I LOVE Y’ALL!!! 🥺💖

edit: rereading the first half of atsumu’s, i think i kno why i dragged that out, im just over here missing my high school homies a lil too much </3

231 notes · View notes

sunshinesukuna · 4 years

Text

just right

pairing: miya osamu x reader

tws: body insecurity, catcalling, self-starving

wc: 5.1k

prompt: Person A and B aren’t a couple, but A is crushing massively on B. A decides to change to get B’s attention, and while B doesn’t know about this crush, B starts to notice that A is starting to look and act differently... But B doesn’t like it and decides to confront A. What is the confrontation like? How does A react?

summary: the 6 things you want to avoid for him, and the 1 thing he wants you to avoid for him.

insp: GOT7′s Just Right, lovely - millz

special thanks to the betas that read over this @haikyuu-ink @fukuronani and @ardorwrites-hq-mha <33

this is a special love poem for all y’all that are going through something like this. psa: it gets better <3333

The lunch ladies were all flabbergasted when you skipped your usual side dishes and asked them to give you a piece smaller than your usual.

“But you’ll go hungry!” one of them said. You shrugged and gave them an apologetic smile. You turned your head to the side to avoid smelling even more of the scrumptious food in front of you. Instead, you focus your eyes on the small bowl in front of you. There’s some rice the size of a child’s fist coupled with a piece of fish smaller than an iPod shuffle.

Osamu pulls out his regular bento that he made himself after complaining that the ones you make weren’t enough to keep him fed throughout the day. There are three onigiris per usual. All three of them were meant to be for him, but you started nicking so much of them for yourself that he let you have one eventually.

So when you didn’t creep your hand from under his larger elbow to swipe at the snack, he stopped eating all at once. The onigiri hung suspended inches away from his ready mouth, locked in their place by your out of place habits.

He holds it out so tantalizingly in front of you, the human personification of the devil on your left shoulder egging you to take the snack from the plastic bag in front of you. Osamu doesn’t say anything, but the nudge on your arm and the small raise of his chin asks you soundlessly: “You’re not going to eat it?”

You shake your head and continue nibbling on the fish to savor the flavor for longer. Osamu tilts his head.

“You’re not going to eat it?” Osamu says out loud. Atsumu stops his blabbering from across the table and puts his chopsticks down.

“Oh? What’s this? Our gluttonous (Y/N) isn’t eating that much anymore?” Atsumu asks. You wrinkle your nose at the other twin. Osamu’s still holding the onigiri. He makes it look like an object worthy of being your Holy Grail, perhaps even better than that. It takes all your resolve to hold back from running to the lunch ladies and demanding seconds.

“I figured that you would be tired of me stealing your food all this time, so,” you pushed his outstretched hand away from you, “you can have it this time.”

“But I don’t want it,” Osamu says. He slides the unwrapped onigiri back to you and opens another one.

“You can give it to Atsumu,” you say, sliding the snack to the other side of the table.

“Yeah, ‘Samu,” Atsumu says, using your nickname for his twin. It drips in mock sweetness that would make anyone grimace. Atsumu mockingly opens and closes his hand, even though there’s a mountain of rice and enough vegetables to feed an unwasteful family for a month on his own plate. “Give it to Atsumu.”

Osamu rolls his eyes at his twin and looks back at you. Like he’s going to give the fruits of his hard work to his no-good twin. His eyes widen again as he taps your elbow with the onigiri like you’re a stray cat deprived of warmth.

“You don’t have to give it to me, ‘Samu. I’m fine.” The groaning of your stomach says otherwise. Osamu looks at you with his ‘I-told-you-so’ eyes. You bat your eyes and open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. He holds out the piece of onigiri again.

You chew on the last mouthful of rice, sucking out all the flavor from the grains before swallowing it and putting down your chopsticks. Osamu keeps eye contact with you as you rise from the lunch table, looking like a puppy that had been kicked to the streets by its beloved owner.

“I’m on a diet,” you mutter, as you make your way back to class alone. “See you at practice later.”

Osamu stares at your retreating back, before finishing the onigiri that was meant to be yours.

Osamu forgot the name of the female idol a minute into the interview. The other boys in his class had been raving about her since class began. The minute the teacher left to go to the office, it was phones out and social norms out the window apparently, as they ogled the beauty giving the interviewer a way too good view of her legs.

He balances the pencil between his lips and nose as he eavesdrops on the conversation. He catches glimpses here and there of who they’re talking to, but they’re not enough to pique his interest. Truth be told, Osamu would much rather like it if the ones talking to each other in close proximity on a loveseat were you and him.

“Yo Osamu!” one of his classmates, Osamu has better things to know than his name, calls out with a slap on his back.

“Are you a fan of her too?” the classmates asks. Osamu twirls the pen around his fingers silently, not feeding into the question.

“There must have been something you liked about her,” one of the boys says, leaning on Osamu’s desk. Osamu has half the mind to tell him to move his arse to the dumpster where it belongs.

“She…” Osamu shrugs saying the first things that come to mind, “has a cute laugh, I guess. Doesn’t snort like those comedians on game shows,” he says. Of course, he doesn’t mean it, he just hopes that the boys will go away if he makes a dry comment.

The boys thought that Osamu couldn’t even digest the basic mechanisms of a laugh at the end of the day anyway, so they rolled their eyes and went back to happily watching.

You stare at your hands as you listen to his words on the other side of the class.

“And then she slams into the wall, face first. When I saw her through the window, I thought she was Peppa Pig reincarnated as a human, without the pig,” Atsumu jokes later at practice.

A smile breaks out onto your lips, widening into a hearty laugh. You’re about to slap your thigh in mirth, but are suddenly jolted back to reality when you catch a glimpse of Osamu.

You laugh, but your signature snorts and chortles are gone, replaced with a tinkly giggle that makes Osamu want to punch people who laugh like that. And the wide smile on your face is hidden behind your hands, what’s up with that? But since you’re the one that’s laughing, he clenches his fist and squeezes his knee to redirect his excess tension.

You keep it up for the rest of practice as you continue with your duties as manager. The first-years that see you as their friendly senpai chat you up as usual. Osamu has more pressing appointments, like the ball hurtling towards his face at 75 miles per hour, so the face of the fella that’s making you cover up your pretty little laugh automatically stamped onto the ball in Osamu’s mind, as he spikes the ball back with a deathly force.

Osamu’s always been content with the circumstances he was born in, but right now, he wished that he was born with a superpower. Telekinesis, more specifically, so he can ward off the hands that cover your mouth and the vocal cords that constrict the laughter that is so uniquely you.

Maybe that’s why he’s thinking about you much more than he usually does.

He doesn’t pay much attention to how much of it he’s giving you until Atsumu brings it up later on the way back home.

“Ya’ was staring at her so hard I thought your eyes were ‘bout to pop outta your ugly face,” Atsumu says. Osamu isn’t fazed, having faced almost 17 years of the same insults over and over again from his twin that just never seems to learn any new ones. He keeps walking.

“We have the same face, Einstein,” he retorts. There are a few minutes of silence between the twins as they pass the scenery of Hyogo. But curiosity gets the best of Osamu.

“Staring at who?” Osamu asks, finally getting his twin’s insult.

“Ya got the nerve to call me Einstein but can’t figure out something like that, eh?”

Osamu stops right in his tracks. Atsumu keeps on walking but stops as well when he realizes he’s left behind his twin. Osamu gives Atsumu a blank look.

Atsumu clicks his tongue. “(Y/N), ya’ dummy. From the way you were lookin’ at her, I thought she ate one of your snacks or something.” Atsumu rests his head between his hands.

“Not like ya’ would ever let anyone hurt her.”

You had anticipated what was going to come ever since the bus had dropped the team off at the beach. The boys of the volleyball team were overall respectful men, but they were teenage boys, at best. You caught their lingering stares and the way they would fight for the court nearest to the biggest gaggle of girls on the beach.

Which is why you had come prepared.

The boys rush into the sea one by one as they strip off their jerseys into the sand. You shake your head as you pick them up one by one. You roll up the sleeves of the crewneck to make it easier to reach below, but the sheer insulation it’s giving you is making it hard to take a step.

“Come on out (Y/N)! We’ll feed ya to the sharks!” Atsumu shouts from where he’s paddling in the surf.

“How about I feed you sand and rocks in your rice later tonight?” you holler back. Atsumu instantly goes slack-jawed and camouflages himself amongst the sea foam and other beach-goers.

There’s exactly one jersey missing from the bundle you have in your hand. Huh. All the boys should have finished practice by now. You scanned the beach line, looking for any black shirts in the distance. All of them were swimming in the ocean shirtless by now.

Except the one looming over your shoulder right now. You jump back at the sight of his shadow standing intimidatingly above you, but you reel back once you get a peep of his ash hair.

“Aren’t you going in the water, (Y/N)?” he asks. There’s a stick of fried squid in his hand. “You worked really hard back there, you know.” The combination of sudden confrontation and the crewneck’s heat-trapping material has you sweating a flood.

“I’m fine just sitting here, Osamu. You can go play with the boys if you want to,” you say. Osamu gazes at the water that reflects the sunlight so perfectly it mimics freshly polished diamonds. He rubs his chin in thought, before turning back to you.

“What are you going to do in the meantime?”

You settle back on the chair you had put in a shady spot before everyone else was even up. It took a little pocket money and some convincing, but the guy that owned the shaved ice stand right in front of the chair had saved it especially for you. You hold up the book on the table.

“Calculus.”

“In this heat?”

“Just because we’re at the beach doesn’t mean I can slack off on my studies.” You flip open the book. “You can just leave me here. I’ll be alright.”

Osamu looks at the sea, then back at you. You’re praying to the heavens above that he’ll just go play, so you can get this damn thing off without having to worry about any of them— especially the twins— seeing. It’s the first time you would be exposed this much around them anyways. You really should have brought a lighter and looser shirt along with you.

“Then I’ll stay here with you,” Osamu says. Shoot.

“Y-you will?” He nods. “Sure you don’t want to go cool off in the sea? Or get some food? You should really go out in the sun, you know. Everyone’s been asking me if you’re alright because you’re so pale.”

“Do they?” You curse at yourself as he pulls over an unused chair from an unoccupied table. Osamu sets it in the sun, inches away from where you’re sitting in the shade. He props up his leg. “This counts as tanning, right?”

“I guess,” you mutter.

Osamu puts his sunglasses on and goes back to eating the stick of fried squid. From time to time, he glances at your sweaty body. It was 30 degrees outside and you insisted on wearing the team’s winter crewneck? Some heat tolerance you had. Or probably it wasn’t your heat tolerance. Osamu wouldn’t know, seeing as he was interrupted by loud hooting.

“Nice bikini, sweetheart! Sure you don’t wanna share some of that with me?”

“I would tap that!”

“Major babe at 10 o’clock!”

Surely that couldn’t be the team. They had been raised better than that after a whole school year spent drilling the Peeping Toms of the team harder than ever, courtesy of their kickass manager: you.

Thank goodness it wasn’t. A group of boys around your age paraded around just a few meters from where you sat on the beach. Their noisy brags sent a young toddler screaming back to his mother and a poor dog back to the ocean. The crowd parted like the Red Sea for them as they made their way down.

“What about her, bro?” a scrawny one asked the tallest, most likely the leader of the group. They stopped just in front of the shaved ice stand you were lounging at, waiting at their friends to finish their transactions.

“Which one?” the leader asked.

“The one near the table.” You looked up. The boy was pointing a long, thin finger your way. There was no one around where you were sitting except for Osamu.

“Nah. Bet she’s not worth it. I wouldn’t go for her, and I feel sorry for the bros that do.”

They were talking about you.

You fished around in your bag for your sunglasses. Shoot, you had left them at the inn this morning. You settled for putting a hand on your temple in hopes that they wouldn’t see your eyes.

But you would be lying to say that it didn’t hurt. The one thing you were trying so hard to avoid during your stay at the beach now thrust on you when you didn’t even ask for it? After all you had taken to avoid it?

The lump in your throat was getting bigger and bigger by the moment. Maybe you should remove yourself from the situation. The boys already knew what time their curfews were and they were in good hands. You shut the book and put it back in your bag. Osamu pulls down his glasses to see you getting ready to go somewhere.

“Where are you going?” he asks. Osamu stands up again. Please don’t follow me, please don’t follow me.

“I’ll be—” your voice cracks. Shoot. “I’ll be back at the inn if you need me.” Before he can ask you any more questions, you turn on your heel and make your way back.

“Hey, say that again,” a voice says. It’s soft, but pillows used to suffocate people to death are also soft. It’s Osamu.

“Say what?” the leader asks. “You her boyfriend?”

You freeze in your tracks and take a peep behind you. The boys are chest to chest, Osamu having the advantage of height by only a few inches. The boy isn’t fazed at all. He smiles at Osamu,but it’s poison honey that would make anyone want to slap him across the face.

“I can hook you up with some chicks way out of her league. You could do it, man. Come on,” the boy says.

“Shut your trap,” Osamu retorts.

“You’re just salty ‘cause you couldn’t find a chick hotter than her.”

Things are going to get worse. Without looking back, you make your way back to the safety of the inn.

Maybe Osamu was lying about the scars on his knuckles.

Osamu loses his sanity at the same pace the clock ticks. A few more minutes left. Maybe he should go get some fresh air out in the hallways. The hallways are almost empty, save for a few last-minute stragglers that rush to get to their classes on time. With everyone that passes, the feeling of dread eats him up as he worries that you’re not going to make it.

“Morning, ‘Samu!” someone greets from behind him. The early morning sunlight on your face made it look like you had a rosy tint on your cheeks. As you stepped closer, Osamu realized that if he stroked a finger across your cheek, it would definitely come back absolutely stained with blush.

There was also a light sheen of pigment on your lips. Not like the normal shade of your lips weren’t perfectly kissable. But Osamu would digress.

“Are you wearing makeup?” Osamu asks. You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You just…” Osamu gestures at your face, now caked on with makeup that you usually wouldn’t wear. “This is why you were late?”

“No! I actually—” But then there’s a knocking on the table at the front, and everyone is back in their seats in an instant. The bespectacled teacher surveys the room. His eyes linger a bit longer on your bedazzled look, but they flit away just as quickly to the open book in hand.

“Today, we’re going to talk about ideal types,” the teacher says. A few people in the back snigger, but the teacher pays them no mind.

“Miya Osamu! What are you looking for when it comes to a partner?” You roll your eyes at the classes jeering, but find yourself leaning back to hear Osamu’s answer. Osamu looks up at the ceiling.

“Someone… quiet? Maybe so I don’t have to deal with all their bull—” Osamu’s just bs-ing it of course, but there are people in the class that hand onto his every word like it’s the actual truth. Yourself included.

“Language!” the teacher snaps.

“In accordance with the reading material, does anyone know the reason why we have ideal types?”

“Yes, (Y/N)?”

“We have ideal partners whose natural defenses contradict with our own. If we’re shy and quiet, we tend to pursue people who are aggressive and pursuing, for example.”

“Good. Can anyone tell me how this would have protected us in the past?”

“Yes, (Y/N)?” the teacher asks again. The teacher sighs, even though you see no one behind you raising their hands. From your peripheral vision, you catch Osamu laying his head on his hands. He stares out the window like he’s bored with class… or perhaps bored with you?

“I... was just stretching, sorry.”

“Very well then.”

The second you put your hand down, Osamu looks back at the teacher. Did he not want to hear you yammer on again? He did say that he liked quiet girls.

All the more reason for you to turn it down a notch.

So you do, during math, when you clearly have a final result of 25 written clearly on your paper. Yet when the teacher asks for answers, you fumble with the pencil on your desk to make it seem like you’re working.

And again, during science, when your group in lab has finished the experiment yards above everyone else. But you stall and crumple up the paper near your chest, and only hand in the result once another group has gone and given the teacher theirs.

And again during History, when you give another lame excuse that your report on Date Masamune isn’t finished, just so you wouldn’t be the only one presenting in class that day. Osamu clearly sees the papers with “One-Eyed Dragon of Oshu, Date Masamune,” on the title page, but says nothing.

He doesn’t really do anything. It’s your life after all, why should he tell you how to live it? But he would be lying if he said that he didn’t miss your quick answers to the teacher’s questions, always summing up the points better than the teachers.

In the end, he leaves you be and ignores the feeling in his gut he gets whenever he sees you wearing more makeup than you usually do. That is until he’s passing by the teacher’s office on his way to practice and happens to spot you. It’s unlike him to care about other people’s business, much less snoop into them, but Osamu finds himself stalling at the water fountain next to the door even when his own bottle is still full.

“I just think I ought to hold back a bit. Everyone probably thinks I’m a bit overbearing, so i’ll just… tone it down a bit,” you say. Tone what down?

“You don’t need to, (Y/N),” someone, probably your science teacher, replied.

“It’s alright, sir, I promise.”

“Really? You seem to have changed a little this past month.” Pure facts. Even though he never said it out loud, anyone would have noticed the way you put on more makeup and started to become quieter and quieter.

“I haven’t, really.”

“You’re also starting to become more tardy, (Y/N). Is everything alright back home?” You chuckled.

“Everything’s fine, sir, it really is.”

How believable.

The final straw that breaks the camel’s back comes a few weeks after that. Coach looks over at the boys that aren’t playing on water-refilling duty, their manager absent and nowhere to be found.

“Where’s (Y/N)?” the coach barks at the second years. Aran shrugs and looks expectantly over to Atsumu and Osamu.

“Sick. Stomach flu,” Atsumu says in the middle of his set.

“And no one’s gone and checked up on her?”

“Her mom said that (Y/N)’s “not in the mood for entertaining guests,” or whatever excuse she has for missing that killer math test yesterday.” Atsumu puts in air quotes for emphasis.

It’s Osamu’s turn to serve, but his legs don’t seem to want to move anywhere. They’re anchored down to the floor by the thought of none other than you. You were generally healthy, with no other severe conditions that would knock you out for a long time. And Osamu was with you for the past few days. You hadn’t eaten anything sketchy, albeit you did eat a lot less than your usual portions.

He shrugs it off and slams the ball to the other side of the net.

The bell screeches from up above, the savior melody of bored students who are aching to eat and spend some time away from the teachers.

“Hey, (Y/N), wanna go get some…” You heed him no mind, the only acknowledgment of his presence a slight bump on his shoulder as you walk out into the hall. That’s odd. Osamu steps out of the classroom to call your name out into the hallways, but you’ve disappeared under the wave of students heading for lunch. Rather than embarrass himself, Osamu decides to go eat.

He has half a mind to go get you from your other friends to go home when the sun starts to dip against the Hyogo sky. A raised eyebrow graces his face as he is told that neither your friends can be able to locate you, what with your bag and other possessions gone from your lockers.

Practice is another pain in the back to deal with, harshened by a new realization. It’s been dawning on him for a long time now, but he’s hesitant to take any action without further proof.

Osamu lays a hand on the doorknob of the locker rooms. There are whispers outside the door. Normally, he couldn’t care less for other people’s business—tea was where Atsumu truly shined— but of course, it just had to be your voice on the other side of the door.

“Why can’t you just give it to ‘em yourself?” Atsumu asks. If this was going to be a scene straight out of a cliche teen romance, Osamu would make a run for it. You click your tongue.

“Just because, Atsumu. Give it to him or I’m not leaking the answers to tomorrow’s chemistry quiz to you,” you reply back.

“If this wasn’t my twin, I wouldda cast you out to the streets already, (Y/N).”

“He’s better off not seeing me, okay?”

Oh. Well, now all the puzzle pieces have fallen into place.

You’re cornered. Why does coach have to have this day of all days to direct his frustration at Osamu. Maybe coach’s anger wasn’t really that baseless though— Osamu constantly missing his serves and crooked spikes would be enough to irk any volleyball player enough to make him run laps around the gym. And since it was getting late and everyone wanted to go home, who else to better oversee Osamu’s punishment other than their sweet manager?

“And… 100,” you call from across the hall. Osamu crouches on his knees and pants. With heavy, laboured steps, Osamu trudges all the way to the wall next to the bench where you’re sitting. And promptly makes himself comfortable just a meter a way from you on the wooden tiles. You furrow your eyebrows at him from on the bench.

“Hey, (Y/N),” he asks almost lazily. You grip the bench seats. Please don’t drag this out, please don’t drag this out. Osamu turns his head slowly to fix his eyes on your shaking figure. You spy the door over at the edge of the gym, wondering if you can make it before Osamu’s athlete reflexes can catch up to you.

But your neck moves on its own, turning your head around to make direct eye contact with your former best friend.

“Take ‘yer makeup off.” Osamu says it like a command, the tone of his voice alone enough to make you reach for your eyebrows that you had so painstakingly labored over this past morning to look presentable… for Osamu.

“What?” you ask. With a click of his tongue, Osamu rises up from his position laying down on the floor and moves to where you’re sitting. He doesn’t break eye contact as he puts either hand on the sides of your hips, effectively caging you inside his arms. You can feel his heavy breaths on your forehead.

Osamu looks up at you. For someone like him, he looks disoriented as can be. Pupils widened, breath turning shallower, and sweating even heavier.

“Why’re you doing this, (Y/N)?” he mumbles. “You’re clearly uncomfortable under all that makeup, and I can tell you wanna punch the daylights out of that girl for making fun of Isaac Newton’s wig.”

He catches himself, realizing that the volume of his voice is growing steadily louder and louder, and that you’re shrinking in your seat. Osamu sighs and takes his hand off the bench. The air is now fresh, but Osamu’s musk is still enough to make you dizzy with images of his face only a hair’s width away from you.

You’re not sure if you hate it.

“I-I’m sorry?” you ask Osamu, who has now taken a seat on the bench right next to you. He leans on the wall, only eyes moving to look at you. Osamu shrugs and takes a swig of the water bottle on the bench before dropping his head in between his legs.

You scoff. Osamu, being the one to say all this? The nerve this boy has. The mental wall that is the dam to your emotions breaks.

“You really are dumber than Atsumu, eh?” Osamu perks up at the sound of your voice. “You know why I didn’t go to school for those two days? I burned myself on my hair straightener, because I didn’t want to take a chance to let you see me like that!”

You let the neckline of your sweater fall, the purple, rectangle burn still as clear as day on the skin of your neck. Osamu’s eyes widened. He raises a hand to touch it, but the likes of an invisible lasso hold him back from getting anywhere near you.

There’s a burning behind your eyes. The ground under you felt like a waterbed, wobbling with each step you take. This was not how you planned your first confession would go, but here you were.

“It’s because I like you, you dummy!” you cry, standing up.

Your words echo throughout the empty gym. If it didn’t echo through Osamu’s mind, then you were—

“I’m the dummy here? Tch, yeah right.”

Osamu looks to the sides of the hall like he’s planning an escape route. Well, no way to escape this situation now. You’re both mice in a trap, lured by the cheese that is your feelings, and pinned down by the current circumstances. He locks eyes with you for a second, before his eyes find something more interesting to look at— your lips.

“Only an airhead like you would go on to change themselves just so I would like them,” Osamu rises up to his full height, “when I already do in the first place.”

“You… what?” you ask.

“I like you.” Osamu can’t seem to make a decision on wether to look at your eyes or not. “But fuck that, if ya think ya gotta change yourself for me, then I’d rather not date at all.”

You scoff. So all your efforts had been for nothing?

“But you said you liked quiet girls! And—” Osamu raises an eyebrow.

“You believed that?”

“What else was I supposed to believe?” you screech.

There’s a large hand that’s harsh enough to send the hardest spikes across the net, yet gentle enough to toss the most careful sets and decorate the most delicate pieces of food in his bento. It’s on your cheek, wiping away tears that you didn’t know were there.

Hands lead up to muscular arms that greet you as you step inside his comforting embrace. There’s nothing except the sound of muffled crying through the halls. He does what he can, patting your back and offering his sweaty jersey as your handkerchief. If anyone walked in the gym right now, he would have given them a glare to send them running away for as long as they could run.

“That I like you just the way you are.”

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ddullahan · 4 years

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Here's a prompt I've been thinking about writing but never will Ruby finds that whenever she checks out a book from the library its been checked out before by a W.Schnee as well. Like every book she chooses. So she's suuuper curious as to what type of person she is. She thinks theyre really similar because they have the same tastes in books.And they meet and she finds out that Weiss is nothing like her at all.And cute shit happens? Idk I didn't think this through 😂

BRUH WHAT THIS IS SO FUCKING CUTE I went ham on this lmao thank you so much for the prompt idea!! I picture Ruby and Weiss in their twenties in this as a PSA lol ---------- The library was solemn that afternoon. Ruby wandered the stacks, breathing in the paper and leather from the shelves around her. The tips of her fingers skimmed the spines, silver eyes drifting over with no real clarity behind them. She pulled a book free from the shelf with the title The Beast of Vale, automatically flipping it open and skimming the inside cover. Someone sneezed with the force of a gunshot in the distance and Ruby nearly dropped the book, a flustered apology whispered out of sight. She recovered with a soft giggle, tucking it under her arm. Arching up onto her toes to glance at the other covers, there was a second sneeze and another hasty apology. Ruby bit her lip to stifle another laugh, pulling a second book free, Dust Below Dawn, and set to reading the inside cover. She pinched that to her side too, reaching for a third book - and a third sneeze rocketed through the quiet library. She heard a soft swear nearby and shuffled her books into her hands, curiosity pricking at her skin. She slunk to the end of the aisle, poking her head around the corner. “Bless y-” She choked off mid-sentence, her eyes widening. The woman seated amongst the thick red leather couches was far too pretty to be real. Stark white hair draped over her shoulders in silk waves, braided at the temples and leaving the rest to fall loose. White bangs framed her brow, partially covering a thick pale scar over her left eye. Most of her face was covered by a pale blue handkerchief furiously rubbing at her nose, but Ruby could still catch the gem blue eyes squinted against the pressure. They matched the dark and light blues of her three piece suit and matching heels. She had a sleek looking laptop on the coffee table in front of her, a lipstick stained coffee cup set beside it. Accompanying the laptop were several blue-bound books stacked as far away from her as possible, without the threat of them falling off the small table. The woman sniffed daintily, catching Ruby’s movement and hastily folding her handkerchief back into her inside pocket. “Oh -” “Oh um -” Ruby stammered at the same time, nearly jumping out of her skin as those blue eyes focused completely on her. “Did I -” “Bless you!” Ruby blurted out in a panic. The woman paused, blinking at her. “...Thank you..?” “You’re pretty - Welcome!” Ruby squeaked, her heart pounding so hard she was sure she could feel it through the books clutched to her chest. “You’re pretty welcome. Yep.” An almost invisible smile pitched the corners of the woman’s eyes, amusement coloring her tone. “Pretty welcome. That’s a new one.” Ruby flushed red to the tips of her ears, a clumsy little laugh bursting from her, unchecked. “Well I’m uh, a new one. New-new person, I mean. We’ve never met before. So I’m new. To you.” The working percentage of her brain immediately wished to crawl into a hole and never come out again. Thankfully, her flustering seemed to amuse the woman further, prompting a light, stuttering laugh from her red lips. Ruby was surprised with herself, amazed she was still standing beyond the force of that smile. “You are.” The woman said evenly. Ruby immediately wished she’d worn something nicer to the library, as the weight of those blue eyes skimmed over her attire. Big black boots and black rose stockings lead up to a simple short black dress cinched at the waist and deep red cardigan thrown haphazardly over her shoulders, the tattered ends reaching down to her ankles. The soft red sleeves were pushed up her forearms, black bracelets around her wrists and a simple black choker wrapped around her throat. She didn’t bother with make-up that day, and she bemoaned it silently. “S-so um.” She shifted awkwardly, the woman’s eyes snapped up to hers immediately, the words sticking in her throat. She swallowed and tried again, clutching her books tighter for sanity. “A-are you um. Okay? Those were some pretty powerful sneezes.” The woman’s spine stiffened a little, crossing her legs at the knee. Her hands folded over on her lap. One of her heels drifted a little loose, cruxed at the ball of her foot. She had the presence of someone three times her actual size and Ruby could only watch the transformation in awe. “I’m fine, thank you for your concern. It seems I’m mildly allergic to the dust in these books. And not the useful kind.” Her lips pursed in the semblance of a frown. “Oh, that’s tragic.” Ruby flushed back up her eyes. “I-I mean, not tragic tragic. Just, um. It sucks you can’t smell the paper without sneezing.” “Yes I...thought the same.” She tilted her head, a few strands of her hair curling over the sharp line of her shoulder. Ruby wondered absently if meeting someone gorgeous was supposed to feel like dying. “Have you read those books before?” “These?” Ruby looked down at the books in her hands like she’d forgotten they were there. Honestly it was hard to remember anything now that she could breathe. “Uh no, not yet. I was planning to check them out though.” “Dust Below Dawn is enjoyable, as long as you don’t mind egregious prose and flowery alliterations.” The woman hummed, her spine relaxing as she reached for her coffee cup. Ruby tried not to stare too hard as her pale throat bobbed with a sip. “Wow, words.” Ruby murmured under her breath, shell-shocked that she’d missed her entire sentence. “Alternatively,” The woman continued, either ignoring or missing Ruby’s lack of attention, “The Beast of Vale is a masterwork. The author spent a dangerous amount of months near Mount Glenn just researching the properties of the city and grimm surrounding.” Ruby snapped out of her daze, glancing down at her copy of The Beast of Vale in wonder. Her feet were moving before she even realised it, cardigan sweeping out in a flutter behind her as she dropped into the opposing red couch. She leaned over the books now relocated to her lap, leaning forward eagerly. “Wow so you’ve read both of these before?” It was only after a beat of silence that Ruby realised how pink the other woman’s cheeks were, how wide her eyes had grown. “I- well yes. I wouldn’t know anything about them if I had no interest.” “Do you research the authors of all the books you read?” Ruby asked curiously. “Only the ones I care deeply for. I like knowing the process involved.” “That’s super neat!” The woman blinked like she’d just been blindsided. “Thank you?” “On a scale of one through ten, what would you rate Dust Below Dawn?” Ruby bulldozed on through the conversation, gaining confidence now. “Six.” The woman replied, almost startled by her own quick response. “The Beast of Vale?” “Nine.” “Okay okay, how about - are these books yours too?” Ruby prodded the small stack closest to her, careful not to jostle the stained coffee cup. “They are.” “Have you read them already?” “...Yes.” The woman’s flush crawled higher on her cheeks, her sharp scar imperious amongst the pink. “Okay,” Ruby flipped the top book over, skimming the title. “What would you rate - oh hey, I’ve read this one! What would you rate Atlas Knights?” “Ugh, two.” The woman wrinkled her nose. “I read it faster because I wanted it over with. The main character was unbelievably whiny.” “I dunno, I was under the impression she had a hard time expressing herself.” Ruby hummed, flipping the cover over to the library checkout slip. She found her name, R. Rose, and another below hers, W. Schnee. A bit of recognition itched at the back of her mind. The woman scoffed. “Well what rating would you give it?” Ruby’s attention switched on a dime. “Mm… probably a five.” Ruby frowned. “The world was cool. But if the main character had a hard time expressing herself, the author also didn’t give her a chance to be better. It’s like, she’s saved by her knight, but still a brat. The other characters all know she’s a brat, but none of them talk to her about it. She isn’t given a chance to be a person, she’s just given a flaw and stuck with it for the entire story.” The woman hummed in reticent agreement, reaching for her coffee again. Ruby pointedly didn’t watch this time, sliding the book aside to look at the one underneath. She made a little curious hum under her breath. “I’ve read this one too. What did you think about Song of Ice and Rust?” “Probably rated a seven or eight. I enjoyed the twist immensely.” Ruby looked up at her with a bright grin, heart thundering uncomfortably in her throat. “It was so good, wasn’t it!?” She received a small but genuine smile for her enthusiasm. It made her feel like she could fly to the rafters. “The dragon really sold it for me, I wasn’t expecting it to be the ancient king.” “Gods I read that and almost screamed - it was like three in the morning though so I had to contain myself.” “That must have been hard for you.” The woman said with false sympathy, though her smile remained curled. “Hey! I’ll have you know Miss -” Ruby glanced on the inside of the cover, finding again her name and the same W. Schnee underneath. “Schnee, I’m perfectly capable of containing myself.” “This conversation has proved otherwise.” She replied smoothly, though a bit of stiffness had returned to her spine. Her gaze seemed to be searching for something, but Ruby wasn’t really sure what it was she wanted. Shrugging it off, she moved on to the last book on the table, a small frown gracing her face. “Man this is so weird, I’ve literally read all of these.” Ruby said, tilting her head curiously. “We must have similar tastes in literature.” “We must…” Ruby squinted at the inside of the cover, spotting the same W. Schnee below her name. Something itched at the back of her mind again. She dropped the cover closed, swinging open Dust Till Dawn’s cover. There was the same simple cursive of W. Schnee. “Have you read The Nevermore’s Quarry?” Ruby asked, suddenly, looking up at her. She knew full well that book wasn’t anywhere near their little table. The woman blinked, leaning forward curiously. “Yes, I have. How did you-?” “The Harbinger Sons?” Ruby asked, silver eyes widening. “...Yes?” The woman looked equally as mystified. Her eyes drifted above Ruby’s head in thought. “Have you read Of Bones and Evil?” “Yes,” Ruby breathed, her grin growing wider by the second. “Fortune’s Fallacy?” Ruby just nodded, her entire body lighting up with a different kind of energy. “What in the world…” The woman murmured. “I think you might be my library soulmate.” Ruby said. She had no idea someone could turn so red in such a short time, admiring the flush under the woman’s scar. Ruby was almost entertained, watching as she sputtered in the cutest kind of fluster. “Y-you can’t just say that to someone!” She stammered. Ruby’s confidence came roaring to life. She pouted. “So that means I can’t ask you out either?” “I- what.” Blue eyes blinked rapidly, the very picture of an error message written in human form. “I thought your name looked familiar. I’ve been reading the same books as you for almost a year straight.” Ruby tried not to show how much her palms were sweating, nerves shuffling in cold versus the warm wake of her momentary confidence. Predictably, her mouth started running without her permission.“I think we have a lot in common and I’d like to get to know you and maybe possibly talk more about books when I don’t look like a scrub. You’re like, other-worldly gorgeous and you’re so far out of my league but my sister says I can’t write anything off without trying it first and I figured I’d try it out y’know, benefit of the doubt and holy moly I’ve been talking for way too long-” “You only know my name from the books we’ve read?” The woman spoke it more like a statement, almost like she couldn’t believe what she was saying. “Um. I mean I’d like to know your first name. But, yeah.” Ruby gave in and brushed her palms down the front of her skirt, fingers starting to shake with adrenaline. “Weiss.” She replied absently. “Weiss Schnee.” Ruby’s lips twitched into a nervous smile. “Ruby Rose.” Weiss gave her a once over, the astonishment fading into something entirely different. Her gaze carried a weight to it that had Ruby’s palms sweating double time, her twitchy fingers immediately fiddling with her red cardigan. “...Alright.” Weiss gave a slow, smooth smile. Ruby almost passed out. “Wh- really?” “Do you have a pen on you?” “I- yes!” Ruby all but evacuated the library ten minutes later, a number written on the back of her hand next to a clear, red lipstick stain. She nearly ran into a pole, but she knew it’d be ten thousand percent worth it. She couldn’t wait to see the look on Yang’s face.

#i'm sorry it's so long but i took it and fuckin ran like the wind #i love these prompts #thank you so much astraskylark #you've fueled my whiterose obsession #rwby #whiterose #ruby rose #weiss schnee #ask prompt #fic prompt

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addictedtostorytelling · 3 years

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I’ve been meaning to thank you. When CSI: Vegas started I decided to do a GSR highlights rewatch and had made it into season 7 when I came across your meta about the tonal inconsistencies in season 4 and I was like wait. I’m missing so much of the drama! The angst! The anguish! The quiet pining and little moments that make GSR so captivating in the first place! So I decided to rewatch the whole show from the beginning. Not only has that been great fun, but now that CSIV is over… (1/2)

(2/2)… I still have many seasons to look forward to! So thank you so much for all of your contributions to the fandom, but especially the metas. They’ve inspired me to pay closer attention and think deeper about the show. I first got into CSI in junior high, and between CSIV and your work it’s been a joy to get to know Grissom and Sara on deeper level now as an adult. One of these days I’ll think of an interesting question to ask you, but for now, thanks and all the best!

hi, @clintbeifong!

thank you so much for your kind message! i'm so glad to know that my meta has been meaningful to you.

one of the things i love most about csi/gsr is how much there is to pick up on on subsequent rewatches. i'm right there with you in being someone who watched the show for the first time starting when i was in junior high school and then came back to it as an adult, and it really does hold up; because of all of the subtext, there's so much to discover the second or third time around, especially from a more "grown-up" perspective. like you say, there are many great quiet moments throughout the original run.

i hope you enjoy your rewatch! should you ever think of a question, let me know! i love talking shop.

p.s., i've really been enjoying your new fic!

also, psa for everybody: i'm still out of town without much internet access (and will be until 01.06.22), so these answers are running on queue.

#answered #clintbeifong

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ynscrazylife · 3 years

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Loki request (spoilers)

Reader is a variant who got captured by the tva, they're sent to trial and Loki saves them from getting killed bc he still owed them a favour. Morbius gets confused bc those two dangerous variants know each other, turns out they were best friends in their original time line. Now Morbius has to babysit two sarcastic assholes. Double trouble ensures.

Double Trouble | l.l fluff fic

Summary: The request.

Authors Note: I fully acknowledge and support Loki being genderfluid. In this fic, I will be using he/him pronouns for Loki since those were the pronouns they’ve used for Loki in the show so far, indicating that at the time this fic is set, Loki’s genderfluid identity is of a man. Should those pronouns/identity change, so will the pronouns for my fics. I do not intend to be harmful in any way so if this is harmful to the genderfluid community, PLEASE let me know!

Request to be on a Taglist (or multiple) here! (Taglists are at the end of the fic)

MCU Masterlist #1 | MCU Masterlist #2 | Main Masterlist

header c @dearcardan on twitter

Yeah, Loki was definitely not taking any of this seriously. At this point, he theorized that the Avengers were laughing their asses off on this elaborate prank they were playing on him, and he decided to just wait it out. It had to stop at some point, right? There was no way that this “TVA” bullshit was actually, in any way, real.

At least . . . He believed that until he saw a familiar face.

Mobius had just saved him from being reset to the original timeline and they were walking out of the courtroom just as the doors opened and two TVA agents were walking another “criminal” in. Loki still wasn't buying this elaborate scheme so he didn’t really pay this new person much attention, until he heard the judge speak.

“Miss Y/N Y/L/N - am I correct?”

Loki froze, eyes traveling to the “criminal” passing him. He first thought that Thor had set this part of the prank up, but he knew his brother didn’t really understand how mischief really worked. Plus, Loki could tell Y/N wasn’t an illusion.

. . . So that meant she was actually here.

“Hey, wait, can I see this trial?” Loki whispered to Mobius, who glanced back at the judge and raised his eyebrows skeptically at the brunette deity. Loki added, “I just want to see a little more of how this place works, okay?”

Mobius was sure Loki was onto something and after a couple moments of thought, he agreed. At least this would give him a chance to get to know this troublemaker better, and they both shuffled into seats.

“You are correct, madame,” Y/N answered mockingly, a big grin on her face as she walked up to the podium. She then looked around in an exaggerated manner. “Well, do I get a lawyer or what?”

Loki smirked and the judge scoffed. “How do you plead?” The judge asked, dismissing her questions.

“What ‘crimes’ have I supposedly committed?”

“You have been accused of creating an alternate timeline that does not fit into the main continuum. You snuck into Odin’s vault using your Asgardian abilities and when you used the fake Infinity Gauntlet and, in your attempt to enchant the Gauntlet to work like the actual one, you accidentally travelled forward in time and created a new timeline,” the judge summarized.

Loki smiled, amused and proud. He only wondered what led her to this.

“In my defense, I heard that my friend was in trouble and wanted to help out,” Y/N said with a shrug.

“Well, the enchantments were not supposed fully work. They were meant to just backfire on you and knock you unconscious, where you’d be imprisoned in the dungeon. But then you tried to use another powerful object in Odin’s vault which created a Nexus event, messed with your enchantment on the fake Power and Time stone, and here you are,” the judge explained.

“If I wasn’t meant to do this - why didn’t these ‘Time Keepers’ control my actions and make me do something else?” Y/N asked, changing the subject.

“I am not going to entertain you any further. In your previous statement, quote: ‘In my defense, I heard that my friend was in trouble and wanted to help out’ You have admitted your guilt and will now be reset,” the judge declared sternly.

Immediately, two TVA agents grabbed Y/N harshly and began to drag her away from the podium. Loki, who at this point had connected the dots that he was the friend she had been trying to help, knew he owed her one. He couldn’t just let her be reset and then be imprisoned. So, thinking rather quickly, he leapt up from his seat and shouted, “No!”

All heads turned to him. Y/N’s eyes went wide, not having spotted him, and Mobius was beginning to regret his decision. Loki turned to Mobius. “You need me to help you with this ‘sacred timeline’ stuff. I’ll only do it if Y/N stays,” he said, panting.

Mobius caught an angry look from the judge but his gaze settled on Y/N. After a couple moments, he sighed and relented. “Fine.”

Y/N and Loki cheered and she broke out of the agents’ grips, running to Loki who picked her up and hugged her. “That’s my girl,” Loki said, proud of her for her prank.

Mobius internally groaned. This was going to be a long day.

———————————

“So how do you know each other?” Mobius asked as he walked in-between the Asgardians, leading them to his office.

“Y/N’s been my best friend, partner in time, ever since I was little,” Loki said, grinning.

“Got it,” Mobius said, frowning. He could only imagine the mischief they had conjured.

———————————

After reviewing both of their files, Mobius had to step out for a second, leaving Loki and Y/N alone. “Let’s try to break out,” was the first thing to leave Loki’s lips.

Y/N rolled her eyes. “And suppose we do, how the hell are you gonna get the Tesseract back? Plus, I won’t wanna be imprisoned on Asgard,” she reasoned, quickly shutting the idea down.

Loki huffed. He was bored. He wanted to do something.

And he had something to do when Y/N stood up and started walking around. With a smirk, he grabbed the remote controlling Y/N’s collar and clicked it, immediately sending her back to her seat.

She turned and glared at him, and he just smirked, innocently shrugging. “I wanna have fun,” he said.

Y/N rolled her eyes and cautiously stood up again. When nothing happened, she walked around a bit more, and Loki let her . . . Until he got bored again. With another click, she reappeared on the other side of the room, in mid-walk.

Before she could protest, Loki did it again. And again. And again. He finally stopped when she got out the words, “CUT IT OUT!” and laughed to himself.

“You asshole,” Y/N grunted, beginning to walk towards him, but skidded back when Loki clicked the button just one more time.

“Oops. My finger slipped,” Loki smirked.

Y/N glared, but being reset made her lose her footing, and she tumbled to the floor, causing her best friend to cackle. Annoyed, she ran at him and managed to push him off his chair, tackling him to the floor. They rolled around, neither one gaining the upper hand for too long, until Mobius re-entered, saw the chaos, pulled Loki to his feet, and grabbed the remote, resetting Y/N so she was back in her chair.

“Hey!” Loki exclaimed, pushing Mobius off him. “No one controls my best friend!”

Y/N couldn’t tell if he was being serious or not, but smiled nonetheless. Mobius glared and grabbed Loki’s remote, resetting him so he was back in his chair. He then turned to them both.

“I’m beginning to agree with my colleagues that this-” he gestured to Loki and Y/N, “-was a bad idea.”

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raendown · 4 years

Text

If you read my stories, read this

Hi, this is a PSA that I am a human being.

For a while now I’ve been aware that some people have been going to @copyninken as a sort of gateway, asking her to introduce them to me. If that were all it was that would be fine, adorable in its own way. However, it’s come to my attention that things have escalated to the point where people are genuinely driving my best friend mad. She is not my PA, she is not my secretary, and she is very sick.

Please stop bothering her.

Speaking to her will not get you in contact with me and it will not get your prompt chosen. Frankly, I find it kind of insulting that some of you would per se accuse me of lying by assuming that she is the “random number generator” I use to choose my SSC prompts. I google for one and use a random result. It’s not that complicated. When I said I was trying for fairness for everyone I meant it - which makes it doubly uncool of anyone who tries to bribe their prompt in through someone not even involved in the project.

I am and always have been a human being. I’m even very friendly! If you would like to say hi or shoot ideas around then please please please just leave my friend alone and come talk to me directly. I don’t bite. My messages might be scattered sometimes because I’m working nights but I always try to be nice.

There is also a second issue I would like to address which is very important but involves fewer people. Yes, it is true that I am getting married, although my wedding has unfortunately been delayed by the quarantine. And yes, it is also true that some of my tumblr friends are attending the wedding, something I am very excited and grateful for since this requires them to spent a great deal of time, money, and effort. But that does not mean there is an open invitation for all and sundry to attend.

My wedding is not a meet and greet with the author. It is my actual real life wedding day in which I expect to celebrate with family and friends. There are endless people on tumblr that I would love to meet in real life. If there were a convention or social event where I could meet each and every one of you that would be amazing, I would attend in a heartbeat. My wedding is not that day. Unless I have already formed a friendship with you, my wedding is not the day where I will be in a place to meet with anyone. This is my actual real life, guys. I’m not going to be focused on Naruto and fics. I’m going to be celebrating starting the rest of my life with the man I love. That is going to be a very busy day for me and it makes me very uncomfortable to think there would be people there neither me nor my fiance have ever even spoken to.

So tl;dr I’m a human being. For the love of Yevon I’m just as much of a gremlin as any of you. I write stories about imaginary magic ninjas and I leave my clothes around and I drink juice from the jug. Just...respect my boundaries and talk to me like a normal person. I swear I am one.

Thank you for listening.

#rae rants a little #personal stuff #i wouldn't be on tumblr if i weren't a gremlin #you can slide in to my chat here or on discord #or send an ask #and i will always be polite #feel free to share this around #so everyone knows i really am a real boy #okay girl BUT YOU GET MY POINT #i've only hammered it in a LITTLE bit too much yeah??

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xbeautifulunseenx · 4 years

Text

The NYADA Vegans Club

Summary: A cute guy catches Blaine’s eye and draws him to a meeting of the NYADA Vegans Club. Except Blaine is very, definitely not a vegan.

Read on AO3

"This meeting of the NYADA Vegans Club is now in session!"

Blaine jumped as the sound of a gavel hitting wood cracked through the air. The NYADA Vegans Club? Had he heard that right?

When he had followed that hot freshman guy into the room, he'd hoped it would be a meeting for something much more in line with his interests. He couldn't honestly sit through a meeting of a club that actively promoted not eating cheese for a guy he knew nothing about. Could he?

"I see many new faces this year, so let's go around and introduce ourselves. I'm Jay, the president of the NYADA Vegans. I've been a vegan for six years. And you?" Jay gestured to where Blaine stood half in and half out the doorway. "Will you be joining us?"

Blaine saw the hot guy give a small laugh at his expense as he tried to decide whether he was coming or going.

Coming, he decided upon making eye contact with his new crush.

"I'm Blaine and being vegan is something I've dedicated my life to."

He didn't know where the lie came from, but there was no taking it back once it was out. He watched as the guy's friend —a cute, small, brunette — poked his arm and made no secret of winking pointedly in Blaine's direction.

Introductions continued around the room until Blaine learned that the hot guy was named Kurt, a baby vegan of just 6 months, and his friend was named Rachel, a fellow lifelong vegan.

Blaine hadn't given much consideration to what might happen at a vegan club meeting, so he couldn't say he was surprised when anti-animal product PSAs began playing on a large screen in the room. Shortly after the videos ended, they were instructed to break, and when the meeting resumed, they would be writing letters to local restaurants encouraging the use of more vegan products.

With the excuse of wanting to stretch his legs, Blaine walked over to where Kurt and Rachel were helping themselves to cups of almond milk and dairy-free cookies.

"There he is!" he heard Rachel whisper loudly to Kurt. "Say hi!"

"Oh my god, Rachel, way to be discreet. Hi," Kurt said, extending his hand toward Blaine. "I'm Kurt, and this is Rachel, who has yet to master the art of subtlety."

Kurt's hand felt warm and perfect in his. "Blaine."

"We remember. The lifelong vegan. Impressive."

"Yeah," Blaine said, trying not to wrinkle his nose at the lie. "Thanks. So are you two freshmen? I think I recognize you from orientation."

"Oh phew," Kurt pretended to wipe his brow. "I thought I recognized you from orientation, too, but I didn't want to be the first creep to admit it."

Blaine blushed and looked at his feet, trying to figure out how to run from the room and never see Kurt again without looking like too much of a loser.

"Relax, Blaine." Kurt laughed and put a reassuring hand on his bare forearm. "I was kidding."

"Oh thank god, I thought I was going to have to switch schools."

They all laughed at Blaine's dramatics and continued on with a light conversation. Blaine was thrilled to notice that Kurt's eyes lingered on him as they spoke, and that he laughed the loudest at Blaine's jokes.

They chatted through the letter writing activity and stayed long past the end of the meeting, discussing their histories with show choir and their favorite musicals and what their upcoming college career could hold in store.

When they finally parted to go home to apartments on opposite sides of the city, Blaine couldn't deny that following Kurt into that meeting was the best dumb choice he'd ever made.

Blaine went back for the next meeting, and then the next. The subject matter may have been less than stimulating, but the scenery was gorgeous and the conversation wasn't bad either. He and Kurt were having a great time getting to know each other, but neither came right out and flirted openly or made plans outside of Vegan Club. Instead, they sent each other looks with dopey smiles on their faces when they thought nobody was paying attention, and blushed bashfully when they were caught.

When it became clear that neither of them would be making any moves, Rachel took it upon herself to intervene. She invited Blaine over for a five course vegan meal at her and Kurt's loft, and he accepted immediately.

While Blaine saw the merits of vegan products, and had even thoroughly enjoyed some of the snacks offered at Vegan Club, he couldn't say he was looking forward to an entirely vegan meal. But he was one to try anything, and since Kurt — who somehow got more attractive every time they saw each other — was involved, he would definitely be trying Rachel's feast.

"Blaine's here!" he heard Rachel yell from the other side of the door. He tightened his already too-tight grasp on the wine he'd had his roommate buy for him and waited for someone to answer his knock.

The heavy door slid open, and Blaine couldn't decide if he should stare at Kurt or the apartment. Kurt, as usual, won out.

"You look amazing," he said as he pulled a surprised, but flattered, Kurt into a hug.

"Thank you, so do you."

"Your apartment is incredible," Blaine gushed, looking around. "It's giving me chic RENT vibes."

"Kurt decorated most of it," Rachel told him from her spot by the stove. She lifted the spoon she was holding. "Broccoli vegan cheddar soup! Are you ready to eat?"

It turned out that vegan cheddar was not exactly Blaine's preferred cheese. And that meatless meatloaf wasn't his preferred entrée. There was a little hope for the vegan strawberry cheesecake. At least, it looked mouthwatering.

"Kurt made this one," Rachel announced as she set the plates in front of them. "He worked on it all last night, so I'm sure it will be wonderful."

Blaine took a bite and closed his eyes with the overwhelming deliciousness of the cake.

"Wow, Kurt, I've never had a vegan dessert so good. You've got to share the recipe with me!"

Kurt shook his head. "Sorry, secret family recipe."

"Oh well, guess you'll just have to keep making it for me, then," Blaine teased. He stood and headed to the kitchen. "Shall I get the new bottle of wine from the fridge?"

"No!" Kurt said, a little too loudly, pushing back from the table and beating Blaine to the fridge, standing in front of it. "You're our guest. Please sit and I'll get it."

Blaine returned to the table to find Rachel trying her best to hide a laugh, but he didn't ask.

After the dessert plates were cleared, they settled on the couch to watch a movie. At first, Blaine had thought Rachel was acting as Kurt's wingman by asking him to their apartment for dinner and a movie, and that she'd do the classic "I'm going to bed" and slip away to leave the two men alone, but she never did. She stayed the entire movie, curled up on the other side of Kurt. Blaine rested his hand on the couch next to him, inching his way toward where Kurt's hand lay, brushing their fingers together every so often and sending a jolt of excitement though his arm. He wanted to chance putting an arm around Kurt, but with Rachel so close, it would have been awkward.

By the time he hugged the two roommates goodnight and left, Blaine knew he couldn't waste any more time. He was going to ask Kurt out.

———

After enduring another excruciatingly boring Vegan Club meeting, Blaine finally asked Kurt on a date. His heart soared when Kurt said yes without hesitation.

That Saturday evening, Blaine and Kurt met in front of the student center on campus. After overtly admiring each other for a few seconds, Kurt spoke up.

"I'm really glad you had the balls to ask me out. I put on a good show of confidence, but when it comes to boys, that's all it is — a show. If you hadn't asked, we'd probably still be staring at each other all cutesy and pretending we only like each other as friends two years down the road."

"I'm glad too, then. I'm not afraid to make big moves. They almost always backfire on me somehow, but…" he shrugged. "Can't win if you never play the game!"

Kurt gave a laugh-snort. "You're like a walking motivational poster."

"Kurt," Blaine said, looking at him seriously. "You've gotta risk it to get the biscuit."

Their laughter carried them all the way to the restaurant, a small bistro tucked away from most of the nearby foot traffic.

Cozied up in the round, plush booth where they were directed, the waiter interrupted their conversation to take their order.

"I'll have the house salad with balsamic vinaigrette and a cup of the vegan minestrone soup, please," Blaine said, longing for something more substantial, but selecting the only vegan options on the menu.

Kurt gave him a weird look, then ordered for himself. "I would like the filet mignon."

Blaine's smile faltered. "What? Kurt! Are you falling off the wagon?"

"I need to tell you something." Kurt turned to Blaine, their waiter temporarily forgotten. "I am not now, nor have I ever been, vegan. I was only at Vegan Club that night because I promised Rachel I would go with her to the first meeting. Then I couldn't stop going because of...well, you."

Kurt's face looked terrified, like he was worried Blaine might up and leave the date due to his confession. Instead, Blaine laughed.

"Oh, thank god!"

"What?" Kurt seemed confused yet relieved.

"I've never been vegan a day in my life either. I'd noticed you from day one of orientation and I thought you were the cutest guy I'd ever seen. So I followed you into Vegan Club without knowing it was Vegan Club, because I thought you'd be more likely to go out with me if we shared interests."

"Oh my god. You can't be serious." Kurt was wheeze-laughing so hard he collapsed into Blaine's chest. Blaine put his arms around Kurt and pulled him closer before remembering the waiter who was slowly backing away from their table with an amused expression.

"Wait!" Blaine called. "I'd like to change my order to the six cheese pizza, if that's okay."

That only made Kurt lose it even further. "I can't believe this." He settled down enough that he straightened out and looked into Blaine's eyes. "You're perfect."

"You're perfect," Blaine responded.

"And we're perfect together," they sang the Wicked line at the same time.

The magic of the moment led them into a tender first kiss that knocked them sideways until Blaine pulled back just enough to whisper, "That amazing cheesecake you made last week wasn't really vegan, was it?"

#klaine #klaine fanfiction #beautifulunseen fic #strangely the only thing I’ve been motivated to write recently

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eves-library · 4 years

Text

How to Lose a Man in Ten Days AU//Bucky Barnes x Mexican!Reader Latina!Reader

Chapter One: The task

Summary: In the hopes of saving her friend’s love life from being publicly exposed Y/N takes on the task of writing about her love life while leaving her out of her article.

Word Count: 1668

Warnings: Mention of breakup and some stereotyped characters (?)

PSA: PLEASE READ First I want to thank @allaboardthereadingrailroad for the opportunity of participating in her Diversity Challenge. I gotta admit I haven’t read a lot of latina!reader or mexican!reader. This was not only a challenge for me to write but I took it as a chance to read stories with that certain type of reader too. The reason I haven’t read too much of these reader inserts is that I don’t always feel identified with the way latina!readers and mexican!readers are portrayed. This is my version of a reader I feel identified with being a Mexican girl. I still left the reader mostly uncharacterized, but there are certain hints here and there that are a telltale for the reader’s background and culture. It will be more evident as the series progress. Finally I just want to say that I took the decision of writing the reader this way because I believe we cannot encapsulate a certain type of girl just by mexican or latina, we share a nationality and culture, yet just by changing states (here in Mexico) traditions change and sometimes the difference is a lot.

A/N: I’ll be posting a chapter every 3 days. Enjoy

Y/N finish tipping on her computer as Natasha read over her shoulder, “With not only families being torn apart but human beings being treated like animals, the question of immigrant laws being changed should not be a question but a pressing matter.” Y/N turned to look to Natasha as she finished reading, “What do you think Nat?” Natasha gave her a smile and a shoulder squeeze, “I believe it is one hell of an article and I would print it in a heartbeat, but I am not Lana and she will never print it.” With a defeated sigh and her face falling, Y/N saved the document and closed the tab, “I can’t believe I busted my ass to get a master’s in journalism at college just so I could be ‘Y/N How’? Maybe mom was right and I should have not left home.”

Y/N turned her chair completely so she could look at Natasha face to face as Natasha leaned on the bearly there wall that separated their cubicles, “I think you should send some of your work to a big new’s paper, I’ve told you hundred times,” Natasha said to Y/N and before the girl could say anything in her defense, Mandy or “Mantis” as she liked people to call her popped her head next to Natasha on the division of the cubicles “Ladies, don’t forget we have a staff meeting in thirty minutes!” she said softly and as suddenly as she had appeared she disappeared, Natasha was the first to speak up in a low tone so not to be heard by anyone but Y/N “How does she always manage to sneak up on us!” and once again before Y/N could speak up Mantis appeared, “Don’t forget to bring all your good vibes and ideas!” she pipped in before she left for good, prompting both Y/N and Natasha to laugh.

As their laughter died Y/N stood up looking around the office of cubicles “Have you seen Wanda today?” Natasha turned her gaze directly to Wanda’s cubicle and found it empty of her things, “No, I don’t think she has arrived yet,” Y/N looked at her wristwatch and sighed, “Okay, it is my turn, you go get us a coffee.” Y/N went to grab her coat and purse and as she was making her way out of the office Natasha called for her, giving her a bag with samples, and Y/N grabbed a dark red jacket from a passing cart of clothes used for photoshoots.

Y/N arrived at Wanda’s apartment in less than 10 minutes, she knocked on the door two times before Wanda finally opened up, a small fake smile on her face which lasted for two seconds before tears started streaming down her cheeks once again, “Oh sweetie, come here, what happened?” Y/N questioned as she stepped in and hugged her friend, Wanda sniffled and cleaned her tears before speaking as she let Y/N walk inside her apartment. “Vision, he broke up with me last night!” Wanda said as her eyes filled with tears once again.

Y/N walked in to check the state of the apartment, and just like Wanda, it was a little disheveled, especially the area where the couch was and where Wanda had been watching rom-coms and eating icecream. Wanda then walked past her and directly onto the couch but before she could lay back down again, Y/N grabbed her arm pulling her in the direction of her room, which Wanda did, only protesting a little before Y/N finally asked, “Oh, honey, I’m sorry but you can’t let a guy get you fired at work! Come on, I promise after we are done at the office we’ll come back and watch all the rom-coms you want I’ll even get you my grandma’s special hot chocolate you like so much!” Wanda’s eyes glinted at the prospect of Y/N’s offer.

Y/N went through Wanda’s closet getting a pair of tight black dress pants and a loose black blouse that will look great with the dark red jacket she had brought from the office, and as Y/N was looking for the perfect heels to go with the outfit Wanda plopped down on the bed, “What is wrong with me Y/N? Why doesn’t anyone wants me?” Y/N turned around and took a seat next to Wanda on the bed letting Wanda rest her head on her shoulder, “Listen to me, there is absolutely nothing wrong with you. You are a beautiful, talented, successful woman, that when she falls in love she does it fast and deep. Sometimes that scares men, which makes it their loss because you, my dear, are a great catch, and you’ll find a catch too.”

Wanda smiled softly up at her and Y/N gave her a squeeze before getting up, “Now get dressed! we have fifteen minutes before the staff meeting starts, and I’ve brought samples!” Wanda chuckled and in less than five minutes the two of them were on their way back to the office, Wanda finishing her light makeup on the taxi cab.

The two of them arrived at their building with three minutes to spare, time enough for the elevator ride up. They met up with Natasha at the doors and each took a cup of coffee. As they were making their way into the building Natasha asked what happened and Wanda told her Vision had broken up with her, “Did he gave you any explanation?” Natasha asked and Wanda let out a long sigh, “Just the same, it was not me, it was him, but I really thought he was the one you know?” Natasha turned to look at her with skepticism “Wanda, you dated the guy for a little over a week!”

Wanda blushed a little over Natasha’s comment, “Maybe… but I just had a feeling you know?” Both Y/N and Natasha chuckled at Wanda’s expense and Wanda blushed harder. Y/N shrugged and send a wink her way, “It’s okay Wanda, it’s only that your heart loves easily and lightheartedly if guys don’t know how to realize that it is on them.” Wanda smiled at her and they soon arrived at Lana’s office, everyone taking their place around in the couches and seats.

Lana entered the room at last and her authority voice boomed around the place, “Good morning family! Shoes out everyone!” Y/N turned to her right to see Wanda and Natasha sitting down and taking their shoes off as Y/N did the same. Once everyone in the office was settled, either on a couch or the floor, Lana spoke again. “How are we doing for this month’s number?” Mandy was the first to raise her hand, going on about an article on plastic surgery and how it ruins people’s life “it is kind of gory but surprisingly… optimistic.” Mandy ended with a smile on her face, Lana went on asking everyone in the room and suddenly it was Wanda’s turn, who had an off look on her face, probably still thinking of last night’s events with Vision.

Natasha nudged Wanda lightly just to bring her attention back to the meeting at hand and Lana kept on looking at her expectantly “I’m sorry Lana I had a bad night,” she started and Natasha explained shortly, “She got dumped.” Wanda turned to glare at her and Natasha mumbled a silent “Sorry” Wanda turned her look back at Lana with an embarrassed and sad smile on her face. Lana smiled at her with a surprisingly empathetic look before she spoke “I’m so sorry, isn’t it sad everyone?” She asked and everyone in the room started nodding and mumbling soft “sorrys.” Lana then looked down at the notebook on her lap before she spoke again “Write about it, and get it off your chest” Wanda turned to look at her and started protesting “Lana I’m sorry but I can’t do that, it is my personal life!” Lana looked up and smiled again “Of course, you’re right,” and she looked around the room “Who wants to write about Wanda’s love life?”

Wanda was so shocked by the lack of empathy her boss was showing that she just opened and closed her mouth trying to figure out a way to protest and then a hand was raised, Mandy enthusiastically asked for the opportunity “Great, you’ll do it, Mandy, what’s next?” Lana said and Wanda finally spoke up, “I’m sorry Lana but I can’t let Mandy write about my personal life!” Natasha and Y/N had been watching everything unfold before them and suddenly Y/N had an idea, “I’ll do it” she said and Wanda turned to look at her as if she had stabbed her in the back and Y/N continued “I won’t write exactly about Wanda, but she’ll be… my inspiration.” Y/N said and Lana was intrigued, she made a sign with her hand motioning for Y/N to continue, “Look at Wanda, she is a beautiful and strong woman, yet she has trouble keeping a relationship,” Wanda looked confused and a little bit hurt, Y/N mumbled a silent “Sorry” her way before she continued “So… I’ll write about the common mistakes girls like Wanda make when they first start dating,” Lana considered it for a moment before she spoke, “I like it, yeah, you’ll date a guy and then lose him.” Y/N nodded trying to work for a title “Yeah! I’ll call it ‘The Common Mistakes of Dating…?’”

Lana stayed silent for a couple more seconds “How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days!” Lana noted it down on her notebook and was about to move on when Y/N asked “Sorry Lana but why in ten days?” Lana turned to look back at her “Well five days is too little of time and we print in eleven days, so it has to be done in ten days.” Y/N nodded and the meeting went on.

#MarvelDiversityChallenge #Bucky Barnes x Mexican!Reader #Bucky x Mexican!Reader #James Bucky Barnes x Mexican!Reader #Mexican!Reader Insert

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morgana-ren · 4 years

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Im. I love you? Your answer to that ask is beautiful, also I forgot about the other meaning for weed for a moment and got confused like, 'is morgana-ren a stoner? Beefy weed muscles???' and now i cant help but imagine stoned Shiggy. Specifically him forcefully shotgunning his captive because hes bored and if hes getting stoned she might as well too. Laughing at her when she gets spacey. This is a fun train of thought lol, thanks for inspiring it

I am a ridiculous and incoherent person. My first instinct is to literally reply with complete gibberish to most things. Shaming me has absolutely Z E R O effect because I have no shame. I’m a ridonkulous person. Last time I got high, I just laid in bed singing “Secret tunnel, secret tunnel” for like 3 hours.

To be fair, I would also do that completely buttfuck sober.

Gods I wish I had a gif of Shig smonkin some donk wods, but since I don’t, you’ll have to settle for me writing it.

PSA after the fact: I AM SO SORRY IT GOT A LIL CREEPY BUT TO BE FAIR, IT’S ME AND IF YOU SENDIN ME SHIT YOU KNOW YOU HAVE TO BE REAL FECKIN’ SPECIFIC OR ELSE I’M GUNNA MAKE IT CREEPY also weed hits me way different than it does most folks so it’s really hard for me to be able to accurately describe how it might be to anyone else. SO imagine this is supervillain quirky weed he has special made to calm his...uh,.. never ending rage. also it’s ridiculously longer than I planned. cause I get carried away. anyway love you!

His room is dank and smells like mold and must.

Tight metal bindings cut into your wrists, leaving you raw with crusted blood despite the fact you stopped fighting days ago. Your tailbone feels bruised from constantly shifting on his worn down carpet, your legs prickling and aching from inactivity.

He’s kept you bound here for a while, handcuffs looped through the foot of his bed. You’re not entirely sure how long, since his ratty blackout curtains make it hard to see daylight. He’s got them taped down, blocking out all but the tiniest slivers of light. Like most of his life, his room exists in total darkness.

Time has little meaning here.

He doesn’t leave you alone often, only really exiting the room to bring you food which you refuse to eat. Most of it has been kicked into the corner, the soft buzz of fruit flies accumulating more and more by the day. It frustrates him, but he’s keen on reminding you that he’s patient. You’ll relent eventually.

Truth be told, your willpower is starting to give. Your body is stiff and sore, head perpetually aching from crying. His moods are like whiplash, one second crooning to you how special you are to him, the next backhanding you and calling you a stubborn bitch. You don’t know what he wants from you. If the fates were merciful, he’d get it over with and just kill you.

Ending your life doesn’t seem like it’s high on his list of priorities.

He’s facing away from you now, tinkering with something on his desk by the light of his various computer monitors. You can’t make out what it is, only that he’s been at it for the past ten minutes. Grateful as you are for his lack of attention, it always makes you nervous when he gets preoccupied. It usually means he’s working on some new and exciting way to break you.

You take comfort in the momentary peace, some temporary reprieve from the invasive leer of those horrid crimson eyes scanning over you in the darkness. Whatever he’s doing, there’s nothing you can do to stop it. Only steel yourself against what he gives you when he’s finished.

He reaches into his desk, pulling out a plastic bag of something you can’t make out. All you know is when you hear the ziplock open, a strange scent floods the room. It smells vaguely familiar, but between your fucked up headspace and even worse situation, you can’t really bring yourself to care.

Leaning against the little metal bed leg you’re imprisoned against, you realize just how heavy your eyes are as you rest the back of your head on his threadbare mattress. Fighting off oncoming waves of pulsing anxiety takes most of your energy reserve, and bouts of sleep tend to come few and far between when you’re sleeping in the den of a predator.You’re so tired, so worn down, and you don’t know what else he could do to you that he hasn’t already done or planning to do. It would be a lie to say you hadn’t considered saying that to him, but you feel like tempting the universe or him isn’t a great idea right now. Either way, your eyelashes feel like weights dragging you under into the sea of sleep.

You’re almost there when his chair squeaks and you jolt awake, that overwhelming sense of dread coming over you. Your instincts blare and somehow you just know his eyes are on you again, waiting for you to acknowledge him. He wants your attention, and he expects you to give it.

Dragging your exhausted lids open when you know you’ll have to see that terrifying man is a burden you haven’t grown accustomed to having quite yet, but it’s one you bear anyway. Besides, you know that if he thinks you’re ignoring him, he has no problem forcing you to look at him. It’s easier to just give him what he wants. He hurts you less that way.

So you do, and just like you expected, he’s simpering down at you, holding something you can’t make out in his hands. Gulping comes on impulse; he looks far too pleased and that never bodes well for you.

“Do you know what this is?”

He holds it out and it takes you a second to make it out in the dark, but you know that basic shape.

“I-is that a pipe?”

“At least you know that much.” He gives you a cheeky lip quirk, making heat rise in your cheeks. Palming it in one hand, he uses the other to fish in his pocket, one finger carefully pulled outside the kangaroo pouch of his jacket. Following his movements, your brows furrow and curiosity almost wills you to speak. The words stall in your mouth, however, when you see him pull a cheap lighter out between two fingers.

He flicks it a few times with his thumb, sparking the light and sending small cinders dancing across the his lap. After a few tries, it finally holds. The light across his face only makes him seem all the more sinister, exacerbating the shadows that reside in the craggy, marred flesh of his cheeks. The flame dances in his pupils and the orange tinged shine glimmers off the edges of his weirdly perfect, jagged teeth. It’s extremely unsettling.

He lets the flame die, picking his pipe back up and tapping it on the desk once or twice.

“I don’t do this often. I usually prefer to keep a clear head.” He lazily arches back in his chair, inhaling the dank stench of the sticky green plant packed in his pipe before returning his gaze to you. “But in some cases, I find it can help you relax.”

Bringing the pipe to his face, he wraps his chapped lips around the bit and sparks the lighter again. You watch as the flame is sucked toward the bowl, igniting the contents and bringing them to a dull simmer.Thumb twitching on the carb and pinkie pulled away, he inhales, letting his head lull back on the seat of his chair. After a few seconds and a suppressed cough or two, he leans forward and exhales, sending a splay of thick, billowing smoke directly into your face.

You turn your head, watery eyes clinging shut, but it’s not enough to keep the acrid stench from clogging through your sinuses. It constricts your throat, compelling an instinctive cough from deep in your chest. Whatever it is he’s smoking, it’s strong.

His high pitched laugh echoes off the barren walls of his room as you scrunch your nose and try to disperse the smoke pooled in your face. When the air finally clears, he’s leaning toward you, arms resting on his knees with the pipe in one hand and his lighter in the other. The little embers still burn beneath the lip of the bowl, little grey spirals rising up from the still burning plant clusters.

He holds it out to you (as if you could take it with your hands restrained behind your back), hyena-grinning as you scowl up towards him.

“You should try a little. It might make you a little more-” Pausing, he pretends to be in thought. More mockery, you really wish you were desensitized to it by now. “-friendly.”

“I would have been friendly if you hadn’t kidnapped me like some sort of psychopath!”

He rolls his eyes at your outburst, languidly pushing himself off of his dilapidated computer chair and crouching down next to you instead. You know better than to kick at him, he won’t hesitate to break your legs to keep you in line. All you can do is stare at him nervously as he shakes his shaggy pale hair out over his forehead, still sporting that unnerving expression. His scarlet eyes burn arguably brighter than fire from the pipe, and exponentially more threatening.

He moves a little closer into your space, bringing the piece back up to his lips and lighting it up once again. He takes a deep inhale this time, even deeper than the first. Chest puffed and breath held, his lanky arm reaches out back behind him places the still-burning pipe back on the desk, gaze never leaving yours.You figure he’s going to blow it in your face again, either to be annoying or to try and give you some sort of shitty second rate high to make you more malleable.

It’s obnoxious, but not even close to the worst thing he’s done to you.

Yet, his cold, dry fingers grab at your jaw, forcing you to keep your attention on him. A chipped nail from his thumb prods at your lower lip and you realize he wants you to open your mouth. You could tell him to go fuck himself, but that only gives him what he wants, if only for a moment. Instead, you choose to glower at him.

If looks could kill, he would probably keel over, but unfortunately you live in a world where he has the upper hand. He squints at you, something you know would be equally as furious as your own grimace if his features had the freedom to express it. The fingers on your chin clamp down, digging into your soft skin in a bruising grip. The more you defy him, the more he punishes you, and his large hands have more than the power they need to cause you pain.

Eventually you feel your jaw start to crack. You try to hold out, try to stay your ground, but it becomes too much. Between his brutal strength and your already weakened condition, it’s no use fighting him on something he really wants.

You open your mouth, if only to cry in pain, and he immediately crashes his lips against yours.Teeth clack as you try to shake him off, but it’s too late. He’s breathing his air into your lungs, caustic mixture of the taste of the weed and the bitter scent of his breath swirling deep inside you. You try to heave it back at him, but the damage is done. Smoke barely seeps from the tiny cracks he allows between your faces, and your need to breathe is stronger than your ability to fight, so eventually, you relent.

You gulp the air he gives you down, just wanting him to get the fuck away from you. You can feel his lips quirk in a smile as you fight the urge to spit up from the foul scent of his exhale, ripped and bloodied lips scratching against yours. Eventually when he does pull away from you, you go into a hysterical coughing fit and between your bouts, you can hear him cackle.

You finally manage to calm yourself, but whatever it is he’s made you inhale, it’s strong. Stronger than anything you’re used to. Even second hand, your head is already humming, and you can feel your chest tighten against your will.

“You feel it, don’t you?” High pitched giggling and a weirdly gentle brush of a hand across your buzzing, swollen cheek. You go to swat him off, hissing in pain when the metal edge round holding you back cuts into an already existing cut. “Soon you won’t have any fight left in you at all.”

He leaves you alone for a minute, door clicking behind him. You catch your breath in his absence, eyes scanning your surroundings. You look for something, anything he has left within your reach that you can use to escape. It’s what you do during the exceedingly brief moments he’s not around, and so far, it hasn’t yielded any results, but you refuse to give up.

The curtains likely mean that there’s presumably a window behind there. If you can just get free, you might be able to jump out. Problem is you’re stuck with your hands restrained behind you on a metal bed post. It doesn’t matter how much you kick and scream, no one ever comes, so it’s probably safe to say whoever is below or above you doesn’t give a shit. You need to get out of these cuffs.

He smokes, at least occasionally. He’s probably got a bobby pin around here for scraping. If he’s anything like your mates, they probably litter the floor. To be fair, even if you get one, you don’t really know what to do with it. You could try your hand at lockpicking?

Heh. Hand. Get it? Cause all those hands?

Focus.

The biggest problem right now is the handcuffs. Technically, you could get out of them, but you’d have to disjoint your fingers to do it, which takes away from your already pathetic chances at escaping. It hurts to move your wrists, let alone yank on them. Why the fuck did this asshole have handcuffs anyway? Unless he’s doing some kinky shit in his down time. You wouldn’t put it past him, he’s obviously a weird guy. He seems like the type to be into some dirty stuff. You don’t know who with, but there’s probably villain fuckers out there he could find and take advantage of. Gross.

You audibly laugh.That’s funny.That’s really funny. You don’t know why, but the thought makes you giggle uncontrollably. Your mind refuses to stay on track.

Fucking focus!

Somewhere far away, you hear the door open and his heavy footsteps off to the side of you. Too late. You’re still laughing.

“Hey Shigaraki-”

He’s leaning down next to you, fucking with something behind you. Your hands. He’s messing around your hands. He’s cold. Why are his hands always so goddamn cold? Is that why he’s a villain? Cold hands? That would make you a villain too.

Your head feels several sizes too big, and you can’t help but think about how he smells like dust. Everything feels slow. You can feel your heart pumping. You can hear it too.

“-You should like, just let me go.That would be kinda cool. My hands hurt.”

You don’t notice they aren’t even cuffed anymore, or that he’s scooping you up in his arms and gently placing you on his bed.

“Don’t try to fight, now. You need a tolerance to before it’ll feel normal. You’ll only hurt yourself, and that would be such a shame.”

You can tell he’s mocking you again, but you just chortle because the words are processing like a slurry. The back of your head feels so soft. It’s definitely not the awful metal he’s made you crick your neck on the past little while. He’s touching your arms and it tickles. Flashes of his face play in your mind a little slower than they’re probably actually happening. It’s terrifying, but the fear doesn’t register. You wanna touch his face. You bet it feels funny.

You can hear the click of handcuffs again, and you know he’s cuffed you once again (so rude), just somewhere new now. Your fingers grip and you feel metal bars. A bed frame. Again. Uuugh. You kick your feet a little and they bounce off the mattress. Bouncy.

There’s a weight shift near your feet, and before you can really understand what’s happening, he’s on top of you, face hovering less than an inch above yours. Your cheeks are burning as his flaxen hair tickles and curtains you, and no matter how hard you want to, you can’t stop staring at his eyes. They’re so fucking intense you swear they scorch you. Like an abyss, you feel yourself being swallowed inside them as they stare long into you. Hate. Rage. So much embodied negativity you can practically feel it. Panic blooms in your chest but your body is reacting too slow. All you can do is squirm.

“Shh-” He’s caged your head in his arms, and his breath is glossing your cheek, just as sour as before but somehow you know what’s about to happen is much worse than forcefully smoking you out. “This’ll be much better for you if you relax and give in. Who knows? You could even enjoy it.”

He grinds his clothed pelvis into yours, and while somewhere inside your head, sirens are blaring, all your body can process is pressure against your most sensitive area. You whine, and he takes the opportunity to press his lips to yours again. Your mouth is slack and moist, so it’s nice and easy for him to slide his slimy, disgusting tongue down your throat. With your brain short circuiting from both shock and whatever he’s made you consume, your body doesn’t have enough control over its facilities to fight back.

He kisses you long and hard, if you can call whatever he’s doing to you kissing. It’s more like he’s trying to devour you. Sloppy, wet, and possessive, like he’s trying to choke you with his essence. It could have been a minute. It could have been hours. You don’t know.

When he does finally pull away, you can feel your stomach lurch as he laps at the string of spit that connects you to him, but you only blink your eyes wearily despite your extreme bodily reaction. You feel sleepy, or more accurately, your eyelids feel kinda heavy. Really heavy. Something visceral is telling you to stay awake, to keep fighting, but you just can’t. You can hear yourself speak but you don’t even know what you’re saying. You don’t remember.

“You’re cute like this, all spacey and stupid.” He flicks your forehead and your eyes flicker back open, but only briefly. “I guess it hit you kinda hard, huh? Sorry about that. I should have warned you. It must’ve slipped my mind.”

He presses his mouth to yours again, a little softer this time. You’re almost out at this point, everything feels so heavy. So sluggish. You barely feel his long, thin fingers glide slowly up your shirt.

“I think you could come to like it here with me if you stop being stubborn. But that’s okay. I forgive you. Like I told you before. I’m patient. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

#Shigaraki #Shigaraki x Reader #tw implied noncon #drugging???#slight somnophilia #kidnapping #sorry weed actually hits me different than it hits other people #and when I tried to do research on how to accurately portray it they basically said you cant lmao #HE GETS YOU HIGH AS FECK BOI #It's special villain quirk weed dont ask lmao #this ended up ridiculous #just like me #it's doing that thing again where it cuts off the read more JUST under the ask #will someone send me a picture for how it shows up on your dash? Am I the only one seeing this?

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