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51faces · 15 days

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Inner Beauty

Dreamcatcher x 8th member

The sun cast a warm glow over Seoul as Y/N stood outside the towering entertainment agency building. Clutching her acceptance letter tightly, she took a deep breath. Today marked the beginning of her journey as the newest member of Dreamcatcher—a renowned K-pop group known for their unique sound and powerful performances.

As she stepped inside, the cool air of the lobby greeted her. Navigating through bustling staff members and trainees, she finally reached the practice room. Her heart pounded as she pushed open the door.

Seven pairs of eyes turned toward her.

"Ah, you must be Y/N!" Jiu, the leader, exclaimed with a radiant smile. "We've been waiting for you."

Y/N bowed deeply. "Hello, I'm Y/N. It's an honor to meet you all."

Sua bounced over, her energy infectious. "No need to be so formal! We're going to be sisters from now on."

Siyeon grinned. "Welcome to the family. Don't mind Sua; she's always this excited."

Handong approached with a gentle expression. "If you need help with anything, just let us know."

Yoohyeon winked playfully. "Especially if it's about avoiding extra practice."

Dami chuckled softly. "Don't listen to her. Hard work is key."

Gahyun smiled brightly. "Come on, we'll show you around!"

As they led her through the building, pointing out various studios and rooms, Y/N felt a mix of nerves and excitement. The members' warmth eased her anxiety, and she began to believe she might truly belong here.

Weeks flew by as Y/N immersed herself in intense training. Early mornings blended into late nights filled with dance rehearsals and vocal lessons. The other members were supportive, often staying behind to help her perfect challenging routines.

One evening, after a grueling practice, Y/N collapsed onto the dorm's living room couch. Curiosity nudged her to check the group's official social media. Her debut had been announced that day, and she eagerly read through the comments.

At first, the messages were encouraging:

"Can't wait to see what Y/N brings to Dreamcatcher!"

"Welcome to the family!"

But soon, the tone shifted:

"She doesn't fit their image."

"Why add someone who isn't as pretty as the rest?"

"Dreamcatcher was perfect without her."

Her chest tightened. The words blurred as tears welled up in her eyes. She quickly locked her phone and stared blankly ahead.

Jiu entered the room, noticing her distress. "Hey, Y/N, everything okay?"

Y/N forced a smile. "Yeah, just a bit tired."

Jiu sat beside her, concern evident. "You sure? You seem upset."

After a moment's hesitation, Y/N sighed. "I was reading some comments online. Some people think I don't belong."

Jiu gently placed a hand on her shoulder. "Don't pay attention to them. People are often harsh behind screens. What matters is that you're here because of your talent and hard work."

"I know, but it's hard not to let it get to me."

Jiu nodded understandingly. "I've been there. But remember, we're a team. Lean on us when you need to."

Despite her efforts to ignore the negativity, the hurtful comments became a constant shadow. During interviews, she could feel the unspoken questions. At fan events, she noticed subtle glances.

One afternoon, the group gathered for a photoshoot. As the photographer adjusted his lens, he murmured, "Y/N, tilt your head slightly to the left."

She complied, but he frowned. "Hmm, let's try a different angle."

Heat rushed to her cheeks as insecurity gnawed at her. Were the others noticing? Did they think she was ruining the shoot?

Afterward, in the dressing room, Sua noticed her silence. "You were great today!"

Y/N mustered a small smile. "Thanks."

Siyeon exchanged a glance with Handong. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine," Y/N insisted, quickly gathering her things.

As she exited, she overheard staff members whispering:

"She doesn't have the typical look."

"Maybe the company made a mistake."

Her steps quickened, the words echoing in her mind.

Back at the dorm, Y/N secluded herself in her room. The walls felt like they were closing in. She opened her laptop, hesitating before diving into online forums.

Threads upon threads criticized her:

"She's dragging the group's visuals down."

"Her talent doesn't make up for her looks."

"Why did they even pick her?"

A tear slipped down her cheek. The weight was becoming unbearable.

A soft knock interrupted her spiral. "Y/N? It's Yoohyeon. Can I come in?"

She hastily wiped her face. "Sure."

Yoohyeon entered, holding two mugs of hot chocolate. "Thought you might like some."

"Thanks."

They sat in silence for a moment before Yoohyeon spoke. "You know, when I first joined, I felt out of place too."

Y/N looked up. "You did?"

"Absolutely. I was convinced I wasn't good enough. But the others helped me see my worth. Let us do the same for you."

Y/N's gaze dropped to her mug. "It's just... hard to ignore what people say."

"I get it. But remember, those people don't know the real you. We do. And we think you're amazing."

A faint smile tugged at Y/N's lips. "Thank you, Yoohyeon."

"Anytime. And if you ever need to talk, I'm here."

Despite her bandmates' support, the negativity continued to consume Y/N. During rehearsals, she became increasingly withdrawn.

"Let's take it from the top," Dami suggested after Y/N missed a step.

Y/N nodded absently, her mind elsewhere.

As the music played, she stumbled again.

Gahyun paused the track. "Maybe we should take a short break."

"I'm fine," Y/N snapped, surprising everyone.

Sua approached cautiously. "We're just worried about you."

"Well, you don't need to be," Y/N retorted before storming out.

She wandered the city streets, the bright lights contrasting with the darkness she felt inside. Her phone buzzed with messages from the members, but she ignored them.

Finding herself at a quiet park, she sat on a bench, pulling her knees to her chest. Doubt and despair swirled within her.

"Maybe they'd be better off without me," she whispered.

Returning to the dorm late at night, Y/N found the lights off. Relieved, she headed to her room but paused when she heard hushed voices from the living room.

"She's not herself," Siyeon said softly.

"I wish she'd open up," Handong added.

"We need to find a way to help her," Jiu concluded.

Feeling a mix of guilt and isolation, Y/N retreated. Sleep evaded her as she tossed and turned, the voices in her head growing louder.

Unable to bear it, she grabbed her car keys and slipped out. The cool night air greeted her as she got into her car and started driving aimlessly.

Rain began to patter against the windshield. The city's neon signs blurred past as tears clouded her vision.

"Why am I not enough?" she cried, gripping the steering wheel tightly.

A sudden honk jolted her. Headlights blinded her as a truck veered into her lane. She swerved, but the wet roads betrayed her. The car skidded violently, crashing into a barrier.

The world went silent as darkness enveloped her.

Birds chirped outside the window as sunlight warmed Y/N's face. Her eyes fluttered open. Disoriented, she sat up, realizing she was in her room.

"But how?" she murmured. "Was it all a nightmare?"

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Stunned, she approached slowly.

Her reflection was different. Her features were refined, embodying every aspect of the societal beauty standards she'd been told she lacked.

"What... happened to me?"

Her phone buzzed with a message from Gahyun:

"Excited to meet you today! Welcome to Dreamcatcher!"

Confusion washed over her. Checking the date, she realized it was the day she was first introduced to the group.

"This can't be real."

Arriving at the company building, everything felt both familiar and new. The members greeted her with enthusiasm.

"Welcome, Y/N!" Sua cheered.

"Ready to embark on this journey together?" Dami asked.

Throughout the day, Y/N noticed subtle differences. Staff members were more attentive, fellow trainees offered compliments, and the photoshoot went seamlessly.

"You're a natural," the photographer praised.

During breaks, fans outside the building waved banners with her name. "We love you, Y/N!"

Her heart swelled. The acceptance she'd longed for was finally hers.

Weeks turned into months as Y/N embraced her new reality. Performances were met with overwhelming praise, endorsements flooded in, and her social media following skyrocketed.

"You're the talk of the town," Siyeon remarked during a rehearsal break.

Y/N laughed lightly. "It's all thanks to you guys."

Handong shook her head. "Don't be modest. You've worked hard."

Yet, amidst the success, a lingering unease settled in her chest. Memories of the crash and the pain she once felt began to surface.

One evening, she confided in Jiu while overlooking the city from the rooftop.

"Have you ever felt like something's not quite right, even when everything seems perfect?" Y/N asked.

Jiu pondered. "Sometimes, we chase after what we think we want, only to realize it's not what we needed."

Y/N sighed. "I thought that changing... everything... would make me happy. But I still feel empty."

"Maybe happiness comes from within, not from how others perceive us."

Y/N nodded slowly, her thoughts clouded with uncertainty.

As the date of her previous accident approached, Y/N's anxiety grew. She began experiencing vivid nightmares and moments of dizziness.

During a dance practice, she suddenly felt faint.

"Are you okay?" Yoohyeon asked, rushing to her side.

"Just a bit lightheaded," Y/N murmured.

"Maybe you should rest," Dami suggested.

"I'm fine," she insisted, pushing through.

But her condition worsened. Back at the dorm, she secluded herself, staring at her unfamiliar reflection.

"Who am I?" she whispered.

A knock on her door startled her. "Y/N, it's Gahyun. We haven't seen you all evening."

"Just need some time alone," she replied.

"Alright, but we're here if you need us."

Hours passed as she grappled with her thoughts. Overwhelmed, she decided to step outside for fresh air.

As she walked along a quiet street, the world around her began to blur. The dizziness intensified, and her heartbeat thundered in her ears.

The last thing she saw was the night sky spinning above her before everything went black.

The darkness was cold, heavy, and suffocating. Y/N felt herself floating, weightless and disconnected from reality. Faint whispers echoed around her, but she couldn't make out any words.

Suddenly, a light pierced through the void, and she found herself standing in an empty, endless white space. It felt dreamlike, yet unnervingly real.

"You’ve arrived," a voice spoke.

Y/N turned, her heart skipping a beat. A figure stood before her, shrouded in mist. Their form wasn’t human—an otherworldly presence emanated from them, something ancient and incomprehensible.

"W-What is this?" Y/N stammered, her voice trembling.

The figure stepped forward, their face obscured but their voice smooth and calm. "You’ve been living a lie, Y/N."

Her pulse quickened. "What do you mean?"

"You’ve been seeing what you want to see. What you think you need to see."

Y/N swallowed hard, fear creeping into her chest. "I don’t understand."

The figure raised a hand, and the mist swirled around them. "You wished to be beautiful, to be accepted. So, we granted you that wish. But it wasn’t real."

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. "What do you mean? My face—"

The figure’s voice turned sharper, cutting through her thoughts. "The face you see is an illusion, a reflection of your deepest desire. In reality, nothing has changed."

Her mind raced, unable to process the words. "So… all this time, I’ve been… the same?"

"Yes," the figure replied. "To everyone else, you’ve always looked the way you did before. The only thing that changed was your perception of yourself."

Y/N’s legs felt weak, and she collapsed to her knees. "No… that can’t be true. People have treated me differently. I’ve been more confident. Everything’s been better."

"Confidence, Y/N," the figure said, almost gently now. "That’s what changed. Your belief in yourself gave you the strength to rise above the hate. Not your face."

Y/N sat there, her mind a storm of emotions. The hate, the despair, the constant doubt she had carried—it had been for nothing? Her reflection hadn’t changed. It was her belief that had carried her forward, not some supernatural transformation.

"But why… why did you do this?" she asked, her voice breaking.

The figure remained silent for a moment. "Because you needed to learn. You needed to see that beauty does not define worth. That your strength comes from within."

Tears brimmed in Y/N’s eyes. "So, all this time… I was the same person?"

"Yes," the figure whispered. "And now, the choice is yours. You can continue this illusion, or you can return to reality—with the knowledge that you were always enough."

Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest. The weight of the decision was crushing. Could she truly accept herself as she was? Could she go back to being the person she had been—the one who didn’t fit the mold?

"I…" she hesitated, the fear of facing the world as her true self rising like a tidal wave.

But then she thought of her members—Jiu, Sua, Siyeon, Handong, Yoohyeon, Dami, and Gahyun. They had always supported her, loved her, not for what she looked like, but for who she was. They had seen her pain, her struggle, and had been there, through it all.

"I want to go back," Y/N whispered, her voice trembling but resolute. "I want to be me. The real me."

The figure nodded slowly. "Very well. But remember, the hardest battle is with yourself. Confidence doesn’t come from others. It must come from within."

The world around her began to fade, the bright light dimming until Y/N was enveloped in darkness once more.

Y/N jolted awake, her body drenched in sweat. Her heart raced as she sat up, gasping for breath. The soft light of the early morning sun filtered through her bedroom window.

She blinked, looking around in confusion. Was it all a dream?

Her reflection in the mirror caught her eye, and she hesitated, fear creeping up her spine. Slowly, she rose from the bed and approached the mirror.

The face staring back at her was… her own. The same face she had always seen before the "transformation." Her original features, unaltered by the illusion she had lived with for months.

A small, bittersweet smile tugged at her lips. It was her—truly her.

There was a knock on the door, and Yoohyeon’s voice called out, "Y/N, are you up? We’ve got practice soon."

Y/N wiped her eyes and took a deep breath. "Yeah, I’m up. I’ll be out in a minute."

She glanced at the mirror once more, feeling a sense of peace wash over her. For the first time in a long while, she wasn’t afraid of what she saw.

At the practice room, the atmosphere buzzed with energy. The members were warming up, stretching and chatting, but Y/N could feel a slight tension in the air.

"How are you feeling?" Jiu asked, walking over with a concerned expression.

Y/N smiled softly. "Better. I… I’ve been thinking a lot."

Sua raised an eyebrow. "Thinking? About what?"

Y/N hesitated for a moment before speaking. "About everything. About how I’ve been feeling lately. I’ve been really insecure, and I let the hate get to me."

Gahyun frowned. "But that’s understandable, Y/N. It’s hard not to let it affect you."

"I know," Y/N nodded, "but I realized something. I’ve been looking for validation in the wrong places. I thought that if I looked a certain way, people would accept me. But… that’s not what really matters."

Siyeon, who had been listening quietly, smiled. "You’ve always been enough, Y/N. We all knew that."

Yoohyeon chuckled. "You’re one of us, no matter what anyone says. Dreamcatcher isn’t complete without you."

Dami nodded in agreement. "We’ve got your back, always."

The warmth of their words wrapped around Y/N like a comforting blanket. She had been so consumed by the negativity that she had forgotten the love and support that had always been there.

"Thank you," Y/N said softly, her voice thick with emotion. "I don’t think I could’ve made it without you all."

Handong placed a hand on her shoulder. "You’re stronger than you think. And you’ve always had it in you."

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling with gratitude. "From now on, I’m going to try to see myself the way you all see me. No more illusions."

As days passed, Y/N found herself adjusting to her new reality. No more hiding behind an illusion. Every time she faced the mirror, she reminded herself of her worth. It wasn’t easy—old insecurities still whispered in the back of her mind—but she fought them with the strength she had gained.

The world outside hadn’t changed. Online hate still existed, and the standards of beauty in the industry were still demanding. But Y/N no longer felt crushed by those expectations.

During a fan meet, as she greeted fans with her bandmates, she noticed a group of fans holding a sign that read, "Y/N, we love you just as you are."

Her heart skipped a beat. She had seen so much negativity, but in this moment, she realized that there were also people who supported her, who saw her for who she truly was.

"Thank you," she whispered to the fans, her smile genuine and full of warmth.

As the event went on, she felt a new sense of freedom. She no longer feared judgment. She no longer sought validation from strangers. Instead, she embraced her imperfections and her uniqueness.

One night, after a long day of schedules, the members gathered in the dorm's living room. They lounged in comfortable silence, enjoying each other's company.

Y/N broke the quiet with a soft voice. "I never got to properly thank you all."

Jiu glanced over, confused. "Thank us for what?"

"For standing by me. For reminding me that I’m more than what people see on the outside," Y/N said, her voice filled with gratitude.

Sua grinned. "Well, duh! You’re our Y/N. We’re a family."

Siyeon added with a teasing smirk, "Besides, you’re stuck with us now, whether you like it or not."

Yoohyeon laughed, throwing a pillow at Siyeon. "Forever Dreamcatcher!"

Dami smiled softly. "You’ve always been enough, Y/N. We just helped you see it."

Gahyun nodded enthusiastically. "And we’ll keep reminding you if you ever forget."

Y/N’s heart swelled with emotion. She looked around at the faces of her bandmates, her friends, and her family. They had always seen her true worth, even when she couldn’t.

And now, she finally saw it too.

"Thank you," Y/N said again, her voice barely above a whisper. "For everything."

---

Many months passed, and Y/N continued to grow both as an artist and as a person. She had faced her demons, confronted her insecurities, and come out stronger on the other side.

The world outside was still the same, but Y/N was different. She no longer feared the opinions of others. She had learned to love herself for who she truly was.

And in the end, that was the most beautiful thing of all.

#dreamcatcher #kpop #yoohyeon #jiu #sua #siyeon #handong #gahyun #dami #female reader #dreamcatcher x reader #kpop fanfic #kpop x reader #dreamcatcher imagines

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prettyiwa · 2 years

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Relationship: Kuramochi x GN!Reader Content Tags: Fluff, Cursing, Best Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, Pre-Relationship, Mentions of Pro!Kuramochi Word Count: 1,450

You grip the hard plastic tighter as though holding it more firmly will give your character a boost in strength, ignoring the way the muscles in your hands yell at you for doing this for too long. It doesn’t work—never has before—and the health bar drains completely as her attack animation triggers before yours. The character falls to the ground and you wince at the death chime that plays as the screen turns black, not knowing whether you’re wincing at the dreaded sound that’s haunted you longer than you care to admit or because of the cackling of your best friend beside you.

Yoichi extends his hand, asking for the controller despite the tears forming in the corners of his eyes. But his laugh never fails to affect you, pulling at the corners of your lips as you lean back into your couch, getting comfortable to watch him attempt to kill this optional boss. His laugh dies, turning into a breathy sigh as he leans forward, shooting you a glance and a smirk.

“You almost had her that time.”

The moment the game loads, he’s pulling up the gear menu, looking to adjust your set-up to something more aggressive, unlike your defense build. You don’t even bother protesting, not when he’s teased you relentlessly for needing help with her.

“I almost had her the last three times, too.”

Hearing the pout that colors your voice, his smile widens, though he doesn’t pause in his actions. “Hey, but that’s why you called me for help, right?”

“Yeah, Yeah. I guess. Doesn’t have anything to do with the fact your games kept you busy or anything.” Nudging his shoulder with yours, you notice it for the first time.

He approaches the trigger for the fight and Yoichi’s smile starts to fade, presumably in response to a fight he knows will be tough. Outside of that, you find no acknowledgment—minuscule or otherwise—that he felt it, too.

Maybe it’s that you’ve seen this sequence at least forty times by now or maybe it’s that your frustration at losing makes you unwilling to watch (or maybe it’s something else entirely), but you find yourself unable to look away from Yoichi.

He’s comfortable beside you, completely at ease as he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he gives this fight his all, just as he would any other virtual fight. Eyes alight, watching with rapt attention while his fingers work overtime, he tries to pull off combos against her impeccable ability to interrupt his actions all the while you’re unable to look away. Something’s shifted, if not between you both, then definitely in you. There’s something different, something beyond the conventional dynamics of your friendship.

Your mind wanders, thinking about how… domestic this feels. More than that, but how you wouldn’t mind more. More of this—seeing more of him in between his games rather than the odd Monday here or there, more than a weekend or two spent together in what little off-season he’s provided. More than the casual affection you two toss each other’s way, if the subtle burning beneath your skin is any indication. More to your friendship.

The desire to rest against him is surprisingly strong, different than all the times that came before.

How long has it been like this? Is it new? He’s always been someone you can count on, someone who makes you laugh when no one else can, someone you look forward to seeing at the barest hint of the possibility. When he smiles, you can’t help but join. When he worries, there’s little you won’t do to ease his overactive mind. Is this a natural course of your relationship with him? An extension of something already there?

There’s a fluttering just beneath your ribcage that makes it difficult to breathe and your fingers ache in time with your thoughts. Whether these feelings are new or they’ve always been there, you don’t know and you don’t care—all that matters is that you’re aware of them now.

“Fuckin’ dammit!”

Again, the character falls to the ground as red tints the edge of the screen, fading to black before prompting him to try once more. His reaction has you smiling, watching him hit the button, not missing the opportunity to lament the 1% health that remained for her. As you open your mouth, ready to offer the same comment he offered you, he cuts you off.

“Don’t you fuckin’ say it.”

When you laugh, unable to contain your grin, needing to indulge in the humming beneath your skin, he can’t help but join, but release the breath he was holding. He goes through the process again—pulling up the gear menu, reevaluating what he has equipped, etc., etc.—while you watch, studying his profile as you accept this change, committing the image of him to memory.

“What the hell? Is there something on my face?”

“Hn?”

“You’ve been staring at me this whole time.” He keeps his attention forward, though you can tell he’s not reading the words before him, and you’re comforted by the knowledge that he does it to avoid making you uncomfortable.

A snicker escapes you the moment you make a decision and he glances your way. When your words get caught in your throat, he turns to better look at you, his concern making itself known. “Ah, sorry. I just… Um. Do you mind if I try something?”

His brows furrow and you think he might be holding his breath again because he’s gotta be aware you aren’t talking about the game. Tilting his head back like he does when he’s challenging someone, he asks, “What do you wanna try?”

Mouth going dry, you lick your lips, not missing the way his eyes linger on the movement. Steeling your resolve, you move forward, using his uncharacteristic stillness to pull yourself closer. The first position doesn’t feel quite right, so you keep moving until your knees are on either side of him and you’re hovering just over his lap.

A soft sound beside you has you pausing before you realize he’s set the controller on the couch to free his hands. Bringing them to your hips, he waits, leaving you both in a state of stasis, almost touching the other but not quite. You swallow thickly, wondering but for a moment whether he seeks to bring you closer or push you away, though something tells you it’s the former.

There’s wonder in his expression—wonder and mirth and hesitation—as he watches you, leaving you feeling like you’re the only thing that exists. His eyes flicker to your lips again as you wet them before leaning forward. Waiting with bated breath, you’re curious as to how this will change the trajectory of your friendship if at all. He lifts his chin slightly, almost like he’s trying to give you better access and you feel the corner of your lips twitch as you cup his face with both hands.

“Can I?”

Instead of answering you, he pushes forward, though that’s answer enough. Your lips brush together once, twice, little teases that make you want more. The kiss is hesitant, languid, treading unfamiliar ground with the person you’re most familiar. One of your hands moves, following the line of his neck until it rests on his shoulder as his hands finally land on your hips.

“Shit.” It comes out a little breathless as he presses his forehead against yours, fingers pressing into your sides before he opens his eyes.

Yeah, this feels easy, completely natural. The hunger you find yourself faced with isn’t desperate, pushing you until it’s sated, but something borderline patient and comfortable, if only because it knows it will soon be quelled. If only because it’s existed this whole time and has been quelled time and again. All the same, your face burns and your skin tingles where you two touch, the mark of something new.

“Was that what you wanted to try?”

“Something like that, yeah.”

“And? Satisfied?” His voice is a little shaky and you wonder what he’s thinking, whether he'll end up rejecting you.

“Mm. I’m not sure.”

“In that case, can I try something?” he asks, almost conspiratorially, lips curling and eyes shining in a way that eases your anxieties.

Your lips curl into a smile and his next breath comes a little easier. “Go for it.”

One of his hands slides to your lower back, pulling you closer, while the other moves to the back of your neck, guiding you until your lips meet his again. Smiling into the kiss, you swear it feels like a promise you’re more than happy to keep.

Daiya no Ace Masterlist

A/N: I couldn't shake this thought. It partially stemmed from wondering how Kuramochi would fare in some of the games I've been playing. Special thanks to @tyga-lily for fueling my Kuramochi thoughts.

#kuramochi x reader #kuramochi yoichi x reader #kuramochi youichi x reader #kuramochi fluff #daiya no ace x reader #daiya x reader #daiya no ace fluff #✒.ix writes #✒.try something #this is about god of war and the fucking valkyries btw #daiya.✒

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simplyotometrash · 3 years

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Hello! May I please request the brothers with a MC who just can't open recipients to save their lives? Like, they're always struggling to open a water bottle, or a pot or whatever. Thanks!!

As someone who struggles to open pickle jars CONSTANTLY, this is something I felt deep within my heart.

Brothers x gender-neutral MC

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None

MC Struggles to Open Things

Lucifer:

You hated the writing system in the Devildom.

More specifically, you hated having to dip your pen into an inkwell to write.

Why the fuck didn't they have normal pens or pencils? It felt so archaic compared to what you were used to in the human world.

What you struggled with even more, however, was trying to open ink bottles.

The caps were so tiny, you'd think it'd be easy!

You sat in Lucifer's study with him, his pen scratching away at the paperwork he had to finish.

His focus was not on his work, however. He couldn't help but notice you struggling with your bottle of ink.

He let out a low chuckle and took the bottle from your hands with ease.

"MC, if you cannot open something then brute force isn't going to get you anywhere. If you managed to open it the way you were holding it, the ink would have gone everywhere."

You puffed and rolled your eyes. You knew he could open the bottle with ease.

"I hate these things. I don't see why you guys don't have regular pens or pencils here. I can't open ink bottles without help."

He leaned over to kiss your temple softly.

"Then ask me for help, don't be a dummy."

He twisted the small cap off and set your bottle down in front of you.

"You get quite stubborn when it comes to asking for help. Stubborn pride, perhaps?"

You snorted and nudged him with your elbow. "Guess we're a perfect match then, eh?"

Mammon:

The two of you were out on a date.

Dates with Mammon tended to be very high energy if you didn't have an actual plan.

Today you guys had a plan. You went to the movies. There was a brand new film in theaters that Mammon was absolutely dying to see.

You guys got your popcorn, candy, and drinks and sat down in your seats.

This sounds like a great time, right? Wrong. The drinks, for some ungodly reason, were in cans unless you got water.

And you had a really hard time with the tabs on soda cans.

You tried to open it during the previews to no avail. You just couldn't get any leverage!

You would have asked Mammon to open it, but the movie started before you had the chance. You didn't want to be rude to other patrons.

So you thought you'd be able to get through the movie without your drink.

You were dead wrong.

It was halfway through the movie, you'd eaten too much salty popcorn, and your mouth was dying.

"Mammon," you whispered in the softest voice manageable. "I can't get my drink open."

"Why didn't ya ask me before the movie started?" He whispered back, though his tone was louder.

He took your can and popped it open for you, the loud hiss and crack earning several shushes from the demons nearby.

Mammon did start sipping on your drink because he had finished his, so you had to share that small can of soda with him.

You noticed a subtle change after that date.

Mammon would always open soda cans for you before you ever even tried. He would often open your drinks before his own.

Leviathan:

Your boyfriend was a known collector of all things related to his favorite fandoms and idols.

That now included cards. Think something along the lines of Pokemon cards except without the game aspect. They were purely for collection purposes.

These cards were all Ruri-chan cards. His absolute favorite.

That's why you two were swimming in card packs that he had bought in bulk the day they released.

"MC!! You should help me open these! We can sort them and put them into these awesome binders I got for them together!"

How could you deny that look of pure joy? Levi being excited was something you loved sharing. He was so cute!

But what was not cute was how you were struggling to open even one card pack. There wasn't much room to get a good grip to tear the packs open.

Levi had opened fifteen packs while you were struggling on your third.

"Levi," you whined and held the pack out, "I'm having a hard time opening the packs!"

He resisted the temptation to call you a normie as he showed you the best way to open the pack. "If you can't open them, then you can sit over here on my other side and sort them instead!"

Satan:

There had been a stray cat hanging around the House of Lamentation.

You and Satan were BEYOND excited. Lucifer agreed not to scare it off so long as you didn't bring it inside.

Naturally, you guys stocked up on supplies and rushed home to play with your new outdoor pet.

"Open one of those cans of wet food. I bet she's starving. Oh, we need to name her. And I need to text Solomon to come over right now."

Satan was practically vibrating with excitement. No one could rival his love for cats.

It was honestly so cute.

You picked up one of the wet food cans that had one of those supposedly easy open pop lips, like a soda can, and went to open it.

But you couldn't pry the tab up enough to get your finger underneath. You didn't even have long enough nails to help you with it!

"MC, everything okay," he asked, not looking up from the cat as he dangled a toy above her head.

"Yeah...well, I mean, I'm having a hard time getting this pull-tab to lift up. I can't get enough leverage!"

He chuckled and grabbed the can, popping it just enough so that you could peel it back.

"There. We can say we worked together to feed her."

You smiled and shook your head. You dumped the food into a bowl and put it down for your new cat.

You planned on bringing a knife or fork outside with you when you fed the cat so you didn't have to ask for help again.

Asmodeus:

The two of you were in his room with a brand new haul from your latest shopping trip.

Asmo wanted the newest nail polish that was on the shelves. Color-shifting nail polish!

"Pick whichever one you want, sweetheart, I can't wait to see how it looks on nails! I'm very excited to use the pink to teal on my nails personally."

You really liked the burgundy to purple when you saw the swatches in the shop, so that was the one you were going with.

Everything was all set up on a little table next to Asmo's bed. You figured you'd go ahead and open the nail polish now to make it easier.

Except it wouldn't open.

Try as you might, you couldn't get the cap to twist!

If it were your nail polish, you would have tried using your teeth. It wasn't yours, though. It belonged to your boyfriend.

"Asmo," you said in defeat. "I can't open the nail polish."

He laughed, petting your hair lightly before taking the nail polish.

"Normally you have trouble if there is dried nail polish on the rim. I suppose today you were just cursed to struggle with new nail polish, too!"

He was teasing you, but it was hard to be mad when he swooped in and gave you a sweet kiss.

He opened the nail polish with ease and sat across from you.

"Now, how about we get started with these nails?"

Beelzebub:

You were frustrated and upset. It was silly, but you were.

All you wanted were some pickles.

Why was this so upsetting though? Surely it wasn't that big of a deal. Had all the pickles in the house been eaten?

No! It was even worse than that! You were trying to open a brand new jar of pickles and the damn lid wouldn't budge.

You had tried everything you could think of!

Nothing was making that lid budge.

You tried using a butter knife to break the seal. It had no effect on the pickle jar.

You found rubber bands because that was a trick you had heard of back home. Failure.

You even tried gently whacking the lid against the edge of the counter!

Nothing was working!

Then came your saving grace. The person who wouldn't make fun of you for your plight. Your boyfriend. Beelzebub.

"Beel! I need help! I can't open this damn jar!" You eagerly handed it to him and he laughed, ruffling your hair with one hand.

He gave the jar a quick twist and the lid popped open as if it hadn't been stuck on there for ages.

"There you go, pumpkin. I just finished my afternoon workout, so how about we grab a few more snacks and go watch a movie together?"

Belphegor:

You had managed to sneak out of bed where you were napping with Belphegor.

It had been a really long day. Too many tests for your liking and then some after-school activities that you got roped into without anyone even asking if you wanted to join.

Belphie, true to form, suggest you guys nap in the attic for a while. He even gave you a back massage to help you unwind.

But you woke up sometime later absolutely parched.

Your throat was drier than the fucking Sahara.

It took a lot of effort to sneak away from Belphie's hold, but you managed to do it successfully.

Now you were faced with another problem.

You couldn't open your bottle of water.

You couldn't find anything small enough to wedge in there to break the plastic ring and no amount of twisting was working.

So you had to shake your boyfriend awake.

He cracked an eye open, grumbling crankily at you. "What is it?"

"I can't open this."

He blinked before he began howling with laughter. Despite laughing at you, he took your water and opened it for you.

"There, MC. I can't believe you had such a hard time with that."

What a little shit.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me x reader #obey me fluff #obey me headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo #obey me beelzebub #obey me beel #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie #waylonwrites

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midgardianweasley · 3 years

Note

I‘d love to see you write an angsty fanfic with Natasha x reader (male or female is up to you) with a bad ending of your choice.

No pressure of course ✨

as requested Violet!! I hope it's okay<3

How could you do this to me?

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Natasha hasn’t been around recently and Y/N’s been really missing her company, but that changes when some CCTV footage is discovered.

Warnings: Cheating, swearing.

Word Count: 3.6k

there was an attempted proof read, but sorry in advance if i've missed anything!!

message/ask to be added to the taglist<3

Requests are open!

You weren’t surprised when you woke up to an empty bed once again, the space beside you missing a red-head assassin. You’d grown used to the sight of bedsheets spread lazily on your side of the bed, almost completely thrown off of the edge. It wasn’t unusual, however, the feeling of disappointment that lingered in your chest every morning never eased with time.

‘I’m just off to train, baby.’

‘I need to go and see Fury about this next mission, you go back to sleep’

‘I forgot to debrief the team last night, so we need to have a meeting this morning instead.’

‘Off to get some breakfast, my love. I’ll save you some eggs.’

Those were the typical reasons you received whenever you questioned where she was going in such a hurry in the mornings. You knew she was busy, of course you did. But, you missed the mornings when she’d pull you back into her chest, refusing to let you leave until you gave her a few kisses, which never ended up just being kisses, but you always gave in either way.

Now that you think of it, you can’t remember the last time she held you. Not properly. She used to hold you in a death grip, so tight that you could almost feel her heartbeat in your own chest. Nowadays, you were lucky to get more than a few taps on the back, it felt like you were being congratulated for something.

You’d always brushed it off, thinking that you must’ve been selfish for wanting so much of her attention, you had to be more understanding of how demanding her job is. It wasn’t like you never tried, you did, everyday. It would just be nice to feel her love for you a little more, even if it was just a quick peck before she left in the mornings.

“Hey Wan’, Hey Vis” You smiled at the pair as they stood at the kitchen counter, cracking eggs and buttering some toast. They loved cooking together, Wanda always told you how cute it was when Vision was trying to learn, especially after his fiasco with the Paprika.

“Hi Y/N, want something to eat?” Wanda handed you some toast, which you took gratefully, slowly munching on it.

Vision looked up as though to engage in conversation, when he then looked around in confusion. “Where’s Ms. Romanoff?”. You shrugged.

“I’m not sure, I think she’s training, I’ve not heard from her yet.”

You were looking at Vision, but it was near impossible to miss the sympathetic look Wanda was giving you. She knew about how you’d been feeling with Natasha not being around so much, she had tried to help, to hint to Nat that you’d been feeling a bit neglected for a while now, but she hadn’t gotten very far.

“Nat, nat, I just think that maybe you should spend a little more time with Y/N” It was obvious the assassin wasn’t listening to her, shrugging it off and trying to walk past the witch, only to have a hand pressed on her chest to push her backwards.

“Wanda, I need to go, I'm running late.”

“you’re always running somewhere. I'm sure Fury, or Tony or whoever you’re in such a rush to see, can wait. You haven’t seen your girlfriend in forever.”

“I saw her last night.”

“Crawling into bed in the early hours of the morning and sleeping next to her, isn’t seeing her, Nat.”

Her words fell on deaf ears as she watched her friend turn around and walk the other way. She could’ve used her powers to stop her, she didn’t see a point though. She wasn’t listening, and she couldn’t force her to.

“It's fine though, honestly! I can hang out with you guys today if you’re not busy?”

the couple shared a look of awkwardness before looking back towards you.

“Actually, we were going to go into town and do some sightseeing. You’re welcome to join us though!” She smiled, not wanting you to be alone, which you were grateful for, but you couldn’t intrude.

“No no, don’t worry! I think I've got something Tony wanted me to check out in the Lab, now that I think about it.” You didn’t. “You guys have fun though! take pictures!” You winked, knowing full well that your best friend didn’t believe you, she hesitated before nodding her head in agreement and beginning to walk off with Vision in tow.

__________________

An hour or so went by, you still hadn’t seen Natasha at all, or anyone, really. They all seemed to have disappeared to do their own thing, leaving you to find yours. So, you found yourself wandering into your lab, where you found Tony observing the screens with an endless amount of data changing every couple of seconds. You never really understood how he made sense of it all so quickly, but you’d always been intrigued nonetheless.

He must’ve sensed someone was there, as he broke away from his train of thought and glanced over towards you, fully acknowledging how your shoulders were slumped and your eyes lacked your usual sparkle. Tony alway had a soft spot for you, he’d known you for years, taking on a role similar to a father’s. Seeing you look so defeated recently, it’d hurt him a little more than he cared to admit.

Gesturing for you to come in with a gentle smile before moving and adjusting various chunks of metal on the table in the centre of the lab.

“Ah ah!” He tapped the bridge of his nose

“You can’t be serious! Tony I-”

“Nope”

“I’m a grown woman!” You laughed in disbelief at his

“Yes, you are, and I do not plan on taking said grown woman to medical because she got a shot of electricity through her eyeball. Put them on.”

You rolled your eyes, picking up a pair of the obnoxiously large lab goggles and put them over your face. He really took being a ‘father figure’ too seriously sometimes. With your goggles on, you took yourself over to where he stood, hoping to help him out somehow and keep yourself occupied.

You watched him move around blueprints on the screen above. “So, whatcha working on?”

“Well, remember that last mission we went on? How that ended?”

“Well, considering I had to get bullets removed for the last two hours, I’d say I remember pretty well.”

His face cringed slightly “Yeah, that’s the one. I’m basically just trying to layer the suits more, but keep the weight to a minimum so that there’s more protection, but the speed and mobility is almost, if not, the same.” He pondered, mind wandering off again to try and figure out how he could make this work.

Suddenly springing to action, he started assembling some pieces together, chucking some aside and reaching for different tools he required.

Looking towards you, he tilted his head “Can you pass me the-”

His sentence was interrupted. “Hey Tony, hey-” Banner. You didn’t mind Bruce, he was always quite quiet and polite most of the time, a little awkward, but, when you have a literal Hulk inside of you, it’s probably the least of your concerns.

You waved at the Avenger. “Hi Bruce” You gave him a friendly smile, for it to be returned with an awkward gaze, which he tried to quickly shove off.

“Yeah, uh, hi, Y/N. W-what brings you here?”

“Oh, no particular reason, I wanted something to do so I thought I'd come down, just pay a visit.” He nodded, acknowledging your words but appearing a little on edge, almost.

“Hey, you okay?” You asked “You look a little pale?”

“Yeah, yeah n-no I'm fine, just a-a bit tired.” He stuttered before suddenly directing his attention towards the man standing beside you. “How’s it coming along, Ton’?”

“Not bad, I have a wonderful assistant to help me out.” he nudged you playfully.

“Haha, yeah. She’s great. Anyways, you seem to have a good hold on things, so, I’ll leave you to it and come back later.”

Neither of you had managed to get a word out before Banner had walked out and was already out of sight. You turned to face Tony again.

“Was that- did you find that weird at all?”

“I find most of the people in this compound weird.”

It was a serious question, but you couldn’t help but let out a laugh at the millionaire’s response.

“I do pride myself on it.”

“As you should. You’re the weirdest one.”

“Hey!” You slapped his arm. “Rude!”

“I’m kidding! Now, pass me that screwdriver, goggles.”

Chuckling, you threw him the screwdriver and zoned out thinking about Bruce’s weird behaviour. While Tony was right, the majority of us are weird. You couldn’t stop thinking about how unusual it was, even for him. You put it to the back of your mind though, focusing back on what the man beside you was working on. You’re sure it’s fine.

________________________

You thought you were going crazy. First you had Nat, who was disappearing every chance she got, Then you had Bruce who couldn’t look you in the eye and when you finally believed it couldn’t get any weirder, you picked up on some strange vibes from Steve.

“Oh finally! I was beginning to think no one else actually lives here.” You approached Steve who seemed to be walking and talking with Bruce, both taking a step back when they looked towards you.

“Hey Y/N, we were just-”

“We were just about to go and have a shower. Training.” Steve cut in, earning himself a glare and a shake of the head from the scientist beside him, subtle, so you hadn’t noticed, otherwise you would’ve questioned it.

“Oh? You were training too, Bruce?”

“Well, I-” He glanced at Steve. “Yeah. Yeah, I, uh, wanted to get some combat down, just in case I needed it.”

“Considering our last mission, I think we all should.” the super soldier quickly added, sending you an enthusiastic smile, which you had returned. You went to speak again, possibly inquiring as to whether or not they knew where your girlfriend was, but you hadn't had the chance as the pair of them quickly rushed off, muttering something about catching you later, leaving you on your own, once again.

What the hell was going on?

_____________________

Feeling defeated, you trudged your way into your bedroom, just wanting to shower, get into bed and sleep, and hope for some form of normality.

What you hadn’t expected, was to walk in and see the back of a familiar figure sporting the black suit she practically lived in, tying her hair into a low bun and beginning to change into some more comfortable clothes.

You were dating, so it wasn’t new to see Nat changing, but you still thought it would be decent to make her aware of your presence. The small “ahem” was enough to make her spin round and flash you a smile, her pearly white teeth on show.

“Hi babe, i’m just changing for bed. You okay?”

The words felt so unfamiliar to you, having not heard them in what felt like forever. Still, you decided to humour it.

“Yeah, yeah I'm okay. A bit of a weird day is all.”

She laughed, returning to laying out her clothes. “Well, we are surrounded by some weird people.”

“That’s what Tony said.”

There was an atmosphere in the air that you couldn’t quite pinpoint. It had always felt comfortable with Natasha, you would describe her company as being like a safety blanket, enveloping you with warmth and a sense of security. This felt different. It didn’t feel familiar anymore, it was like you were face to face with a stranger and the more you looked at her, the more it upset you.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Natasha put her palms on your cheeks, bringing your Y/E/C eyes to meet her emerald ones in the process. You hadn’t realised that tears had fallen until the pad of her thumbs gently brushed them away.

“I just, it sounds so stupid.”

“Tell me.”

You let out a sigh, eyes beginning to dart around the room. “It just feels like I’ve never seen you, I don’t remember the last time we’ve spoken and it’s, it’s been lonely.” Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion at your response, lips falling into a frown, but you were quick to speak again.

“It hasn’t just been you though, I understand that work gets in the way, but, it felt like some members of the team were acting differently around me.”

“Really? Like who?”

“Well, I mean, Bruce could barely bring himself to say anything more than a sentence to me and I tried to speak to Steve just before I came here and he rushed off like his life depended on it. I don’t know, maybe I’m just being a bit paranoid.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing, Detka, I wouldn’t worry about it.” She whispered, hands pulling you forward with ease to bring your lips together. You smiled at the contact, you’d missed it.

You were so caught up in it, that you hadn’t noticed you were the only one smiling.

It wasn’t long before the both of you were interrupted by an electronic voice in the room.

“Miss Romanoff, Miss Y/L/N.” It was F.R.I.D.A.Y. “Mr Stark is asking for you both in the conference room.”

“Alright, thanks F.R.I.D.A.Y., we’re on our way.” Your girlfriend replied, rushing away from the kiss and leading you to the door.

Why was everyone in such a rush today?

_______________________

“So, I was messing around with some things in the lab, and I think I've found a solution to our suit issue. It’s still a work in progress because I'll need to tweak some things and then tailor them blah blah blah, but I thought I'd show you guys the latest. JARVIS?”

“Bringing up footage 182.”

While you waited for the video to be up and running, you took note of everyone sitting around you. For the most part, they looked tired, though you don’t blame them, it was pretty late.

Shuffling to your left, you held Natasha’s hand in yours, sending her a loving gaze before resting your head on her shoulder, just content that she was close by. She sat a little straighter at the action, careful not to push you off of her, but not entirely relaxing either.

The large tv screen lit up, a view from the corner of the lab came into sight where you could see Tony installing different wires and pieces of loose metal into the suit, watching it light up as he did so. He was in the middle of explaining what he was doing as the recording went on, when the screen suddenly turned to static, black and white lines taking over the screen.

“JARVIS?”

“Minor technical issue, working on it, Mr Stark.”

You caught Wanda’s eye across the table, a playful smirk plastered onto her face at the mishap, watching the billionaire get stressed over a television. You couldn’t help but laugh at the words flying from his mouth as he started hitting the remote, as if he was someone who didn’t understand technology.

It wasn’t long before an image appeared back on the screen, however, this wasn’t the same recording. This is from the gym. It focused on one of the square mats in the middle of the room where two people were sparring. One of which, you immediately recognised as Natasha.

The other person definitely wasn’t a girl, their hair was short and muscles so big you were worried that one slice would be the end. It zoomed in a little, and from the blonde hair and dark blue outfit, you pieced together who it was.

“Oooh, Black Widow and the SuperSoldier, one vs one. Now this should be interesting.” A previously tired looking Sam clapped his hands and leaned forward, now fully invested in the scene in front of him.

You turned to Nat, who now looked a little paler than she did before.

“You look like you’ve just seen a ghost, don’t tell me, you lost this spar?” You joked, expecting her to join in and tease you back. Instead, her face displayed an emotion you weren’t entirely sure of.

Before you could question it, you noticed the room fall silent. Not even a breath could be heard in the room. Your head turned slowly, meeting a mixture of shocked and sympathetic faces. And that was when you saw it.

Nat had kissed Steve, and he didn’t stop her.

If you weren't aware of your heartbeat before, you couldn’t be now, for it felt like it had completely stopped. Your jaw fell as your eyes filled with tears, only worsening the longer you saw the two of them on the screen. It was only turned off when a third person walked into view, not needing to ponder on who it could be, you immediately faced guilty stares. Three of them.

“You- you kissed-” You stuttered, incapable of forming a sentence towards your teammate. “And, you knew?” Your voice broke, tears now beginning to find their way down your cheeks for the second time as Bruce couldn’t bring himself to answer you.

You swiftly rose out of your seat, attempting to keep yourself composed until you could be alone.

“Baby-” Natasha murmured, trying to take hold of your hand, which you snatched back before she could lay a finger on it.

“Don’t.”

“Please-”

“Leave me alone.” You spat, speed walking out of what now felt like an overcrowded room.

You didn’t hear it, you’d left too early, but if you had stayed, you would’ve heard the team give Nat and Steve the scolding of their lives, mainly from Wanda and Tony, telling them how disappointed they were in them both. How they’d be lucky if you were to forgive them for what they did.

________________________

You don’t know how long you’d been sitting on your shared bed for. It could’ve been an hour, it could’ve been a couple of minutes. All you knew, was that you couldn’t stay in this room much longer, looking at the picture frames and the shared wardrobe, it just felt painful.

So, you walked over to your wardrobe and gathered every item of your clothing into your arms, lacking any care for if there were hangers or labels in the way, and chucked them on the bed and started to chuck it all into a suitcase intended for holidays but, you don’t see that happening anytime soon.

The sound of sniffles and rustling was all you could hear in the room, so much so that it was suffocating, and it didn’t help when you heard the door creak open.

“What are you doing?” A voice squeaked. Natasha stood beside the door, fidgeting with her fingers as she anxiously bounced from one foot to the other. You didn’t even bother to look up in her direction, focusing solely on getting out of there as soon as you could.

“Baby, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened, I didn’t mean it.” You scoffed at her attempt at an explanation. “I love you.”

That’s what made you whip your head to see her red and puffy eyes, if this was any other situation, you would’ve rushed over and engulfed her in a hug, tell her that everything would be okay and you’re there for her. Now? All you felt was anger.

“If you loved me, you wouldn’t have kissed him.”

“I didn’t know-”

You stood up straight, almost laughing at her choice of words. “You didn’t know? Bullshit. I’m pretty fucking sure everyone is aware when they kiss someone. Did you know when you were kissing me then? Or did you not know that either?”

“I wasn’t thinking.”

“I don’t think I care.”

She tries to step closer to you, only for you to take one back, holding your hand out, indicating for her to stop.

“No. no, you know what Nat, you don’t get to do this. You don’t get to treat me like a stranger for weeks, like I'm sharing a bed with someone I don’t know, for you to then kiss someone else and expect me to forgive you. You have no idea how I've felt these past weeks, blaming myself and thinking I was selfish for wanting your time. It’s funny, really.”

She looked away from you, regret taking over her features, both of you now having tear stains covering your rosy red cheeks.

You broke the silence once again. “Was that the first time?”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“Y/N-” She pleaded

“Answer the question, Natasha.” You spoke through gritted teeth.

Silence returned to the four walls.

“Get out.”

“No, no, we-” She stepped forward, only to halt herself when she realised what she was doing.

“There is no ‘we’. We’re done. I’ll have my stuff moved back into my room by tonight, though I'm sure it won’t make much of a difference to you.”

“I’m really sorry.”

“Whatever.”

She walked out of the room, hesitating slightly, wondering if it’s worth staying and trying to figure out whatever this is. She shook her head to herself, knowing she’d fucked up. There wasn’t a fight anymore. It was done.

Collapsing on the bed, the feeling washed over you again as the finality of it all set in. You didn’t stop though. You packed your clothes, your perfumes, all of your loose hair ties and left the room with only one thought on your mind.

Natasha won’t even notice the difference.

Taglist: @natashas-favourite-knives @wandaromanova

#Natasha romanoff #Natasha romanoff x reader #Natasha x reader #Natasha romanoff x Y/N #Natasha romanova #Natasha x fem!reader #Natasha romanoff angst #Natasha angst #Black widow #Black widow x reader #Marvel #Natasha romanoff imagine #Natasha romanoff oneshot #Natasha romanoff fanfiction #Natasha romanoff smut #Natasha romanoff fluff #Natasha romanoff x fem!reader

663 notes · View notes

hotwings0203 · 3 years

Note

fighter Bakugo is so mean!!…..write more of him plz 🤲 (ALSO I LOVE UR STORIES SO MUCHH❤️)

OOOUUUU TYSMMM I’m glad you’re enjoying him hehe

Alright let’s see here…

Tw:noncon, implied death, assault, gaslighting

He forces you to come to every one of his matches, after he has his way with you.

It doesn’t matter how brutal the fight is, it didn’t matter if you’re flinching every time his fists make contact with the poor schmuck’s face, knowing damn well that any day it could be yours. It doesn’t matter if he’s shaking off pieces of broken teeth from his hair while you’re clutching your stomach and puffing your cheeks, and it sure as hell doesn’t matter when others clamor around you asking if you were okay, if you needed a doctor.

None of that mattered, because in the end all those scenarios ended the same way: with one of his feet planted on the unconscious body below him, a fist in the air and a mean smile straight at you.

You weren’t allowed to excuse yourself to the restroom or close your eyes when the men around him scream and need at him to either stop the match or to keep going Bakugo, knock the bastard out.

And when he won the match-which was every time-he would make a beeline straight towards your cowering, backing-away form and yank you by your wrist into the office to let out his excess adrenaline.

Your cries could be heard from the entire basement.

On one particular day however, you stop your compliance. It’s when you catch a glimpse of Katsuki’s opponent for the next day.

He’s a young man, no more older than you were.

He’s a meek guy, his smile is oh-so reminiscent of the man you used to like before Bakugo put him in the morgue.

You can’t have a repeat of last time. He doesn’t stand a chance.

“What’s got you all quiet today,” he gruffly asks you as he wraps a hand with tape.

You bite your lip and look at your feet. What’s the best way to go about this?

“You, um…y’know that guy that you’re supposed to fight today?”

“Yeah, what about it?” He raises an eyebrow in warning.

But you continue nonetheless. It’s not like your destiny was flock to change, hed still fuck you up regardless of what you do.

“He just seemed kind of…young.” You stammer and avoid eye contact.

It’s hard not to flinch when he stops wrapping his hand and walks over towards you. He crouches to your sitting position on the bed and lowers his head to look at your gaze on the ground.

“‘That remind you of someone?”

Crap. He’s not as stupid as you hoped for.

This time, you do look up at him, eyebrows scrunched together in a pleading way, and he laughs in your face at your pathetic state.

“Lemme guess, you don’t want me to fight him?”

You nod your head.

“Well, what do I get out of it in return?”

Your eyes widen as you comprehend what he’s saying. Was there actually a chance he’d listen to you?

“Hello? Answer me dumbass.”

Oh, right.

“Um, what-what would you like?” Fingers cross behind your back as you pray to anyone listening that he won’t ask for anything derogatory.

It’s almost laughable that you don’t know him well enough by now.

Bakugo walks around the bed and settles himself against the headboard, legs spread and arms crossed over behind his head. He smirks at you and nudges you with his toe.

“Dance for me.”

“D-dance? What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he sits up and leans towards you, his smile all teeth and cutthroat undertones, “I want you to shake your ass on my dick and give me a lap dance.”

Fire rushes to your face at his crude choice of words. You open your mouth to argue but stop when his unwrapped hand flexes, bones popping in place as he inspects it casually.

He doesn’t need to say anymore to get his point across. But if you had any doubts as to who was the one who wanted a chance in the first place, he reminds you with a curt “You can always say no. I’ll let you walk out this door and you can just watch me beat the living daylights out of him,” he shrugs and says it so easily, so casually that you’d think he was informing you of the weather.

You swallow hard and shakily rise to your feet.

Katsuki already locked the door, so you don’t need to worry about anyone coming in. You look at him and take a deep breath.

“How do I, like, y’know.”

He stares at you for a moment and bursts out howling , the bellowing sound echoing across the small room and making your head ring.

You look at him warily as he lessens his laughter, and tries to address you.

“I knew it. You really are a brain-dead, numb cunt,” he says as he wipes his eyes from tears. “Just fucking- I don’t know, sway your hips back and forth and put it in reverse on me I guess. Arent whores supposed to be good at these things?” He leans back down comfortably and leers at you while you grimace and then back around, ass facing him.

You’ve only messed around on your own time in your room before, shaking it to slow R&B songs or fast pop ones. How do you go about this with no music?

But within a minute you gather yourself and toss your dignity away. You start imagining a beat in your head and do exactly as he instructed, swaying your sides left and right while moving your shoulders with whatever rhythm you deemed easy.

He stifles a snicker behind you, and you dig your nails into your palm. It was obvious he was trying to be completely silent just to amplify the awkwardness and humiliation tenfold, but dammit if this is what he wants then might as well get it over with.

You begin leaning forward and sticking your rear out more towards him, simultaneously rubbing your hands up and down your sides and flicking your hair with ease in his line of sight. You roll your head and roll your ass in a circle, praying it wasn’t too jerky.

Katsuki wasn’t laughing anymore.

Your confidence starts to grow again as you hear him softly inhale when you crawl backwards slowly onto the bed. You drop your hips low and arch your back, rolling your spine and lifting your ass back up into the air, shaking it in his face as best as you could.

You stay like that, letting it bounce slowly and then faster while you hear his breathing lick up. The sheets around you pull slightly towards him, and from the corner of your eye you can see his fists balling tbe covers, shaking slightly.

Looks like this was having more of an effect on him than you thought.

Just to sell it home, you lower your pelvis back and against his crotch as you begin grinding on him.

His shirts are silky and thin, and as you drag your mound up and down his imprint you can’t help but moan. The way your puffy clit catches on the elevations and ridges of his clothed dick, the feeling of his length swelling beneath your moist panties makes your head spin and all precautions are thrown out the window.

Your ass lightly claps together on his slightly thrusting hips as his breaths become pants. You feel his hands slide up your ass and onto your hips as he growls, “Teasing slut. And here you had me thinking you didn’t know what you were doing. Strip.”

Your body stills and you blanch. Your head clears a bit as his own body stops moving against yours, and you realize what position you’re about to be in.

Your head turns slightly to face him. “Kats-“

But he yanks your hair from the ends back until you’re scrambling for solid ground against his toned chest. Your fingers grab your torn strands and try to yank them out of his unrelenting grip. Your eyes well with tears of pain as he gets more aggressive with your subtle hesitation.

“I said, strip, now.” He shakes your head for good measure and you yelp when you feel more hairs ripped out of your aching skull.

“Okay! Okay, I’ll strip.” You blubber, snapping your head forward when he finally lets go.

You look back at him tearfully, hunching over into yourself as his hands guide your shirt up over your stomach and begin massaging your tits.

You hurry to take your pants off before he can wound you any more in his childlike impatience, and he grunts in approval when you’re down to your panties and no bra.

“Bend over.”

This time, you don’t argue when you go on all fours and his rough hand shoves your upper back down until you’re in an arch that’s satisfactory enough for him. He lets his fingers dance over your spine and linger when they get lower down your back.

Your upper body shakes with anticipation as all goes silent, save for his soft inhales. You can feel his digits run over the crack of your ass and lift the top of your panty line up, your labia and clit being pulled up as well.

Katsuki smirks as you weakly moan beneath him, and he tugs harder upwards just to see your ass follow in pursuit. He rubs his knuckles over the damp spot over your clothed hole and pushes in ever so slightly, just enough to make you keen and whimper.

Then, he retreats his touch.

The air is still for a moment or two as the cold absence of his touch fades.

You have no idea what he’s doing or thinking. For the second time, you try to turn your head towards him.

“Wha-“

Crack.

You scream so loud you’re sure your eardrums pop, but your focus isn’t on your poor ears, no, it’s on the raging hot burn across your right asscheek as his reddened hand swivels in its socket in a warm-up stretch. You’re experiencing for the first time what the hands of a fighter can do.

“That’s what whiny bitches like you get. And don’t you dare turn back around, otherwise I’ll whip you within an inch of your life.”

Your body freezes at those terrifying words, and you’re caught off guard when the next slap hits the same cheek. You yowl in pain and grip the sheets tighter before you, knowing that writhing away would mean so much worse.

Years of cute and open wounds and cells revealing just to open again and regrow have caused his hands to hold a similar texture to hard leather. There is no mercy, there is no soft reprieve they hold on their grasps, and you take each lashing with the reminder that he deals these kinds of blows to less fortunate men, men who don’t get a hold-back from Katsuki Bakugo.

“The next time you-crack- bitch about who I’m fighting-crack, crack- I’ll make sure to fuck you in the ring and let everyone- crack- have a turn with you- fuck, stop fucking screaming!”

He covers your wailing mouth with one hand and grips your throat in the other, bringing your head back to his seething lips.

“You wanted this, didn’t you? What’s wrong, why’re you crying so fucking much baby? Didnt you want to spare one more spineless bastard?” He croons in your ear and strokes your cheek with one finger.

You shake in his chokehold, terrified and in pain. You squeeze the tears out from your eyes and try to steady your breathing. He shushes your sobs and cooes when you hiccup against his palm.

“Hmm, Y/N? Whaddaya say, you wanna spare one more dickless wonder? Or are you gonna chicken out and save yourself?”

He chuckles darkly when you shake your head. He doesn’t need you to speak to already know your answer.

“Alright then, whatever you want. But just letting you know, I have the next match with him, so I’ll have to make this fast.”

And as he fucks you to oblivion, and fucks over his promise, you laugh to yourself for ever trusting him.

Because Katsuki Bakugo is not a lover, but rather, a fighter.

#tw:noncon #yandere bakugo katsuki #bakugo #bakugo mha #bakugo smut #yandere bakugo x reader #yandere bakugo #bully bakugou #bakugo imagine #katsuki bakugo oneshot #bakugo oneshot #katsuki scenario #katsuki smut #bakugo katsuki #katsuki x y/n #mha #bnha #yandere

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apocalypticgargoyle · 3 years

Note

Dream smut or fluff where reader and him are high key mean to eachotjer despite having so many mutual friends, but then something (very vague i know I’m sorry) makes them have to get close and the develop feelings? Sorry I’m shit at requests but thank you!!!

i know this is shitty im sorry akjsdh bls forgive me

𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑. ♘ 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

± warnings: dream being a dick, slight slut shaming, toxic behavior, vulgar/suggestive mentions and language, sexual harassment on a bus (not by dream, you can breathe)

⋆ song recommendation: When the Night is Over by Lord Huron

You pulled a blanket beneath your chin, yawning slightly at whatever the tv was playing. You only had it on in an attempt to drown out the noises coming from your roommate's bedroom as she smoozed her date. You were honestly shocked the two hadn’t moved in together yet with all the time they spent wrapped up.

Her door opened, her eyes widening slightly at the sight of you sprawled out on the couch. He marched toward you quietly, hovering over your shoulder. You peered up at her hesitantly. “What are you watching?” She asked, voice barely above a whisper. You furrowed your brows, opening your mouth to speak but she hurriedly cut you off. “Do you mind watching it at Nick’s instead?”

You raised your eyebrows. “You’re kicking me out again?” She gave you an apologetic smile, making you roll your eyes as you stood up and pulled on your jacket. “This would hurt less if they also paid rent,” you mumbled, with a small glare.

She thanked you repeatedly, holding onto your arm as you gathered what little belongings you needed for the night. “I promise I’ll make it up to you,” she courted, opening the door for you. “Tomorrow, dinner’s on me okay?” You sent her a tired look and she apologized again. She stopped you as you stepped out into the cold night, leaning through the space between the door and the frame. “Maybe you can cozy up to that Clay guy? You guys have such a good vibe,” she mocked, making you chuckle lightly.

You shook your head, waving to her. “Enjoy your night. Please, for the love of God, clean the bathroom afterward,” you called, hearing her laugh at your statement.

The bus ride was quiet due to the time of night and the weather, both of which you didn’t mind. You knew Nick’s house would be warm and loud. Before you knew it, you found yourself in front of his apartment door, kicking at the concrete ground as you heard someone stumbling to let you inside. The door opened swiftly, Clay’s large frame blocking the light from the kitchen. He leaned against the doorframe mockingly as he looked at you.

He wet his lips. “Who’s the lucky guy tonight?” He joshed.

You rolled your eyes, brushing past his body to get out of the cold. “Whoever’s dick you’re not sucking, I guess,” you quipped back, making him laugh darkly. You kicked off your shoes as he shut the door. “Where’s Sapnap?” You asked, shrugging off your jacket. You’d texted him ahead of time to ask if you could stay over, which he readily agreed to.

Clay sent you a smug look. “You guys have a fun night planned?” He made a gesture with his hand to insinuate you were there to give Nick a handjob.

You bit back a chuckle. “Why? You wanna join?” You shot back. He bit his lip and moaned pornographically.

“Cut it out, Dream,” Nick grumbled as he walked into the room. He pulled on your arm to follow him.

Dream scoffed exasperatedly. “Me? I’m not the one who started it!” He called after the two of you.

As Nick pushed you out of the room, you turned your head. “You most certainly did!” You answered. You heard him chuckle at your words as Nick shut the door to his room. You plopped down on his bed as he sat in his chair, swiveling to look at you. “Why does Dream pick at me so much?” You mumbled, fishing in your pockets for your phone.

“He’s jealous,” Nick answered absent-mindedly. “What's the date look like tonight?” He asked, referring to the reason you were there in the first place. This wasn’t the first time or the last time your roommate had kicked you out. It was becoming a more frequent occurrence for you to end up on Nick’s couch or at their place in the middle of the day with your toothbrush and a change of clothes.

You moved to lean into his pillows. “I don’t know, it's the same granola fucker she’s been hanging around,” you answered.

He rubbed his chin with a slight smirk. “There’s a subtle justice to knowing she’s still with that asshat,” he commented, making you snort.

A week later, you were on your way back to your apartment after a lecture when someone felt you up. It was the straw on the camel’s back for you as you spin around to smack the guy, stirring up a few of the bystanders. You’d walked the rest of the way home, stepping through the door to be met with your roommate and her hookup twisted together in the kitchen.

You clamped your hand over your eyes, mumbling about how you just wanted to take a nap when you were once again sent to Nick’s. You let subtle tears fall as you trudged your way across the city, hoping to get out whatever darkness you had to your attitude. The last thing you wanted to do was confront Clay looking like you did. He was like the troll with the keys to the bridge. That was really the only reason the two of you ever talked, so you knew he’d be waiting to berate you before you could get to Nick.

As you walked into the building, you spotted Clay carrying a large box, his hair slightly disheveled and his hands dirty. You knew almost instantly that he was probably attempting to fix the kitchen sink and got a call because of the size of the package. That sink had been dripping since they’d moved in, making it Clay’s mission to futz around with it every Friday afternoon. You tried helping him one time, only ending up with a deflated sense of confidence and the second wave of your childhood anger issues.

He nodded at you as you held the elevator door open for him. “What’s up, babycakes?” He chirped, popping his gum. When you hesitated to answer, he looked at you fully, scoffing. “Damn, walk of shame gone sour?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, inhaling deeply to try and calm your nerves. “I’m not really in the mood today,” you muttered, tucking your hands between your back and the wall.

He snorted, setting the box down between his feet. “You’re always in the mood! Isn’t that like your thing,” he continued to jeer. “You look like you had a fun night though-”

“Clay, stop. I’m serious,” barked at him. His expression twisting at your use of his name.

He raised his hands in mock defense. “Sorry, I thought we had---like a bit thing, um-” he cut himself off, awkwardly shoving his fists in his pockets. After a beat of silence between the two of you, the elevator came to a sharp halt on the wrong floor, the light switching to red. The two of you shared a look, knowing that the landlord was probably flipping the wrong switches again. Clay texted Nick to see what was going on.

It began to grow colder in the elevator, as it usually did. When it was off, the cold from outside usually seeped in through the elevator shaft. There was one time you were stuck in the elevator for a few hours with one of your neighbors and Karl when he had come to visit. Back then, the three of you played Uno on the guy’s phone. It was also summer, so the chill creeping up your legs wasn’t as intolerable as it was now.

You rubbed the arms of your sweater in hopes of generating some kind of warmth. Clay watched you carefully, his hands moving to grip the bar behind him. “Do you want my sweatshirt?” He offered. You shook your head, sliding onto the ground and hugging your knees to your chest. He hesitantly slumped down beside you, kicking his long legs out towards the door. The red light filling the space made his features look softer.

He nudged your arm gently with his own. “I know I’m not Sapnap, but…” he chewed on the inside of his cheek, shrugging slightly, “I mean, we’re stuck in here. We can talk about it.”

You blinked away the tears threatening to spill once again, your eyes burning and tired. “I haven’t slept with him, you know?” You stated, turning to look at him briefly before moving to sit cross-legged, planning with your fingers. “I’ve never even kissed him. I’ve never kissed anyone,” you scoffed. Clay was silent, but out of the corner of your eye, you could see him watching you intently.

Being this close to him, you could smell the smoky vanilla undertones of his cologne. The scent reminded you of a masculine version of the candle your aunt always burned when she went out for a night to spite her ex-husband.

Clay leaned his head back against the wood paneling, his soft blond hair flattening in the back to spread against the wall. You swallowed, sighing slightly. “I haven’t even had my first kiss yet and I’m getting groped on the bus and kicked out of my damn apartment because my roommate and her fucking boyfriend have to hook up on every surface. Nothing is sacred.” You shook your head, wiping away some stray tears with the back of your hand and sniffling pathetically. “You can keep making slut jokes, I don’t care. But I swear to God, I haven’t done anything with Sapnap. Or Karl, or Quackity. No one.”

He chuckled softly. “I know. That’s why I used to make those jokes,” he mumbled. “It was like… ironic humor. And then it got so far that the only way I knew you’d talk back to me was if I was fucking around with you,” he admitted. You chuckled slightly at his words, taking a deep breath.

“Oh, Dream,” you sighed. “I would have hooked up with you if you weren’t such an ass,” you chided. His laugh made you feel better. He held his hand out to you, more for support than anything, but as you laced your fingers with his, your heart eased, feeling safe beside him.

After a beat of silence, he spoke up again. "I can ride the bus with you now... if you want..." He offered, a shyness that seemed so foreign to his character shown through his eyes. "I promise I won't grope you," he joshed, making you roll your eyes.

"That's really not something we should be joking about," you mumbled, wiping away the rest of your tears on your sleeve.

His thumb brushed against the back of your hand soothingly. "I mask my awkwardness around you in dark humor. I'm sorry."

#dream imagine #dream fluff #dreamwastaken imagine #dreamwastaken fanfic #dreamwastaken fluff #dream x reader #dream x y/n #dream x you #dreamwastaken angst #dream angst #mcyt imagine #mcyt x you

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yanderart · 4 years

Text

Once you found Shouto on the Anti-Purge forums, it felt so wonderful to be understood. So comforting to finally have someone you could rely on...

So, when you got a letter notifying you of your selection for the Annual Purge later on, of course you went to seek his help.

Should’ve known better than to trust strangers online, though.

My fic/portrait convo for the Yandere Purge Collab, from the Lovesick Discord. And please check the rest of the m. list for other amazing works set in the same AU!

Under the cut is the actual fic (Todoroki x Reader, nsfw, dark themes, 10k), as well as the respective TWs. Hope y'all enjoy 🥀

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Tws: Usual yandere ones (stalking, manipulation, delusion). Dub-con/Non-con. Non-consensual Drug Use, aka Aphrodisiacs. Death threats and sexism (from randoms on the forum, not Todo).

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You couldn’t think straight —hadn’t been able to since waking up again. All you could recognize amidst the fog currently obscuring your thoughts was the longing, prolonged, and tangible in its hold over your being.

You felt hot all over, the flames licking at your skin burning brightly as you squirmed from your place, eagerly attempting to get closer to the cold reprieve emanating from the man that held you.

“Tell me what’s wrong, Y/N." One of his hands was steering you on his lap, the other one gently massaging your shoulders in a comforting motion. “I can only help you if you do."

If your judgment had not been overcast by the desire pushing away your self-awareness, then perhaps you could’ve heard the faint hint of amusement in his voice. Perhaps you would’ve thought to look up and finally encounter the content shine of his heterochromatic eyes.

“I feel…" speaking was laborious, your tongue impossibly weighty and your mind swirling with thoughts that escaped any semblance of coherence. “I feel hot all over. It hurts.”

The hand positioned around your waist went to search for one of your clenched ones, easily engulfing it in his grip as he nudged the side of your face with his chin rather tenderly. A gentle encouragement for you to stay attentive, anchoring you to the moment despite your dazed mindset.

“Show me then,” his low timbre tickled your skin, sending another wave of excruciating heat to wreak havoc inside your body, “Let me know where it hurts.”

With a stuttering sigh, you proceeded to press both of your hands to your lower stomach, gulping audibly before bringing them further down. Dancing just short of your underwear while your eyelids fluttered shut.

You knew your actions were out of character deep down. Even recognized the shadow of wrongness that distorted the current scene. You weren't supposed to do such things, weren't supposed to feel like that…

But the reality was that you were so excruciatingly warm by that point, and his palm felt so deliciously cold.

When you heard the dreadful siren going off in the distance, the instantly recognizable sound of the Purge starting at last, you were already too far gone to think of anything else but the fingers brushing against the thin cotton of your panties, so close to the evidence of your need soaking through them.

Your parents had told you not to trust strangers online once upon a time. You should’ve really taken their advice more to heart.

。。。。。

But first, perhaps a little tracing of your steps is in order —some necessary context to fully understand the extension of your plight.

You see, earlier that day you had woken up full of a peculiar mix of drive and determination. It was indeed Purge Day, the single day of the year you had grown to fear the most ever since childhood, and yet for once you found yourself oddly relaxed, filled to the brim with resolve instead of your usual nerves.

Which was already an unexpected turn of events, considering you had just gotten a letter notifying you of your selection as one of the accursed Darlings of the Night.

A gentle reminder that, if caught, your life would stop belonging to yourself for an entire dreadful year.

Because a Yandere had their sight on you now, or so the notice had informed you in impeccable typography. Anxious fingertips memorized the slight raise of inked words, inspecting every single detail the letter carried.

You had imagined a monster ready to pounce just outside your door then, fitting enough to be the carrier of your bad news. A preternaturally grotesque being, built from all the Yandere themed horror stories you had heard throughout the years.

And yet there you were, feeling safer in that instant than you had in years; Because this time you had a plan. He made sure to give you one you could easily follow.

Just like he later made sure to welcome you in with a kind smile and awfully persistent hospitality.

"Would you like a cup of tea?"

You should've known better than to accept.

。。。。。

In the present, fingers were now dipping under the elastic of your panties, ghosting across feverish skin and encouraging your whimpers to grow louder.

"Is this what you want, then?" The man's breath tickled one of your ears, rough digits gathering your slickness with practiced ease. And he sounded genuinely concerned too, as if your discomfort was not a consequence of his own machinations. "Because I wanna ease your pain, baby. Give you what you truly need."

He barely even touched you yet you were already struggling not to crumble, the desire governing your mind mixing with the new sensations to create a new delirious kind of torment.

Continuing to tease you, the man was relentless in his torture, barely even brushing over your neediest spots. A gentle press of his palm to stimulate you for a moment before pulling back, much to your shameful frustration; Better than nothing, but not close enough.

In his own way, though, he was urging you to speak up. Expecting you to demand what you truly wanted.

Yet as a retort, all you could come up with was gasping out his name, dripping from your lips like honeyed prayers as your hips fought to buck up against his hand.

A sound you afterward repeated a hundred times over. Chanted until its melody became engraved on your tongue and the man was finally caving in, sliding his fingers inside with a smirk.

He had known you'd end up caving, had planned for it for months now, and yet nothing had prepared him for the actual view.

。。。。。

Shou, actually, had been his username when you first met him. Once upon a time recited with a genuine smile and an eagerness to please, such a far cry from the anguished whines it would later lead up to.

You started frequenting the forum he inhabited a few months back. A place which happened to be a hidden corner of the internet for people who did not just stumble upon it, but actually sought it out. A part of the web where its occupants challenged societal norms and, against what society had tried to condition you all into thinking, chose to voice their taboo Anti-Purge sentiments instead.

Sentiments perhaps born either due to the inherent discriminatory nature of the holiday (why was it that Yanderes were accommodated for, while Darlings barely got a warning before they were made prey?), a need for contrarianism (when opposing open kidnappings, assault and other debauchery became an act of rebellion), or just a tenuous moral high ground which made it unbearable to stomach. Whatever the reason, it was your first time encountering such a density of like-minded peers.

Despite attempting to commit yourself to being a lurker, deciding to never post or reply to others, your days had still quickly become consumed by the need to read each and every topic. You were simply fascinated with this new dark corner of the web.

That was, of course, until the aforementioned Shou became the main focus of your attention, a dash of intriguing brightness to break the monotony of your existence.

And like moths rushing to the flame, your curiosity would be your undoing.

There was something about him that pulled you in (along with many others from the community, which tended to flock on his posts whenever he grazed the forums). His username was clearly just a nickname instead of a carefully crafted pseudonym; profile picture just an image of the back of what you all assumed to be his hair, dual-toned strands catching the light in a hypnotic way.

Truly, his disregard for anonymity within those parts was a bigger statement than you were expecting, almost as commendable as it was dumbfounding. There was the nature of his postings too, never subtle about his inclinations or ideas.

How to disarm and reutilize Purge Traps.

Most effective ways to incapacitate a violent assailant.

Government lies and why they matter.

Faking a BOPC (breach of purge code) and getting away with it.

There was little method to the madness that was his forum activity, besides the hint that he was evidently more knowledgeable about the subject than most. Plus the fact that he was proactive about his advice, actually seeking to teach others to fight back instead of just hide away and hope for the best. For another self-proclaimed Darling, Shou was ruthless with his methods —it was hard not to admire him.

And admire you did, keeping tabs of his sporadic bursts of activity and speeding to try and interact with him whenever you caught him online. You were, to voice it simply, simply star-truck by him (and perhaps becoming a bit of a fangirl).

Because whoever Shou was, it felt like he understood you. And so, against every ounce of your common sense or natural paranoia, you had finally decided to break your golden rule and reach out for the first time since you joined the niche forum.

And not to just leave a vague comment agreeing on public discourse, but to actually send him a private message. In your defense, how were you supposed to know the chains of events your actions would start?

Do you actually believe what you post?, had been your lame conversation starter.

Luckily for you, he did not leave you hanging. You made sure to send the message while he was still active, one of the few days a week you knew he devoted to his presence on the site (and wasn't it slightly creepy, how you had taken the time to learn his schedule by that point?)

I wouldn't be here if I didn't, dry, to the point and leaving you embarrassed to have even sent the first question.

Yet for some reason, something about Shou reverted you back into a middle school kid seeking to impress a way cooler senior.

Perhaps it was what he symbolized (a change for the better), what he appeared to be (everything you wish you were) —whatever it was, your fingers were frantically typing a reply as soon as his appeared on your screen.

I just think it's amazingThe things you know

How you share them with everyone

The way you see through the lies

I just think you're— , your digits hovered over the keyboard as you were about to type out the last sentence before quickly deleting it. Even in your excitement, you knew how obsessed you'd sound if you started complimenting him personally in your very first conversation.

So instead you sent your thoughts on his posts and awaited his answer with bated breath. A few minutes ticked by this time, your anxiety making you count down the seconds in mortified silence, slowly weighted down by your doubts until your notifications for the forum were going off again with a distinct ping.

I've seen your replies around. I think you're great too.

Whatever your hang ups for praising him directly had been, he clearly did not harbor any. As the prongs of nervousness alleviated their hold over your body, you struggled to see any problems with it either…this was a person you had come to idolize, and they thought you were great?

Your smile, while still anxious, was considerable while you quickly responded.

I'm just a n00b. Learning from the pros.

A moment of thought, biting your bottom lip as you decided whether to add a second message or not. Fuck it, you told yourself.

I wasn't even supposed to be posting anything, but you made me wanna reach out.

Was that too forward? Oh god, it was, wasn't it? You must've sounded creepy, must've sounded desperate and…

That's cute. Did my ramblings teach you anything?

An actual squeal left you then, sounding like it came from an altogether different person. You were an adult, with a career and responsibilities… Yet somehow, this stranger online indirectly calling you cute made you more excited than you were comfortable admitting.

Ofc. I didn't even know what a BOPC was before. Didn't know most of the purge traps you mentioned, either.

The spaces between replies were getting smaller, the conversation turning fluent as you both seemed to be staring straight into the screen, waiting for the other to finish typing.

So you really are a n00b then.

Shit, did you fail some sort of forum etiquette by admitting that? Somehow, the need to impress Shou was more palpable than ever.

And you clearly know your stuff. Makes me wanna up my game.

Be more like you, you left unsaid.

So am I your senpai then?

Your fingers froze just above the keyboards, eyes scanning over Shou's last message and reverted back to staring at his profile pic for a solid minute. You would've squealed again, if you weren't so taken aback.

You make it sound like I am, his second message lit up your screen, coming in quickly after your rare pause in replies.

I don't think that's bad, though. Third message from him, and you were close to fainting now.

Then in that case I suppose you are. You wondered whether Shou wouldn't think you were pathetic admitting that, or whether he had been honest by saying he didn't mind...

I've also noticed you agreeing with some of my more polarizing views.

A welcomed change in topics.

You thought to ask him which ones (most of his posts tended to have a polarizing effect, with people finding him either too radicalized or not radicalized enough), but before you could formulate the question you saw the twinkling circles symbolizing he was typing up another sentence.

Do you actually believe them? And now it was his turn to spit your words back at you.

Well, yah. You make compelling arguments.

Color me impressed then, the start of his new retort left your mind spinning. Never met a n00b like you before.

After his declaration, you found yourself writing and rewriting your answer, hesitating on your word choice, and yet pure elation coursed through your veins.

He said he's impressed with me, your brain kept supplying on loop. You had no way of knowing just how much of a lasting impression you were leaving.

I don't wanna stay one tho. I'd like to jump a few levels. Improve.

Barely a moment's notice before his last message provoked a noticeable hitch in your breath.

I can help you with that.

Which, as short of a reply as it was, left you giddier than would’ve been healthier to admit.

Perhaps it could be chalked up to your work shifts growing more monotonous and tiresome, your social life becoming a faint echo of what it used to be, or just the regular wear and tear from a too-plain existence —a routine where you didn’t tend to engage with life, but just passively watched it go by.

Whatever the true reason was, that night you went to sleep with such a wide grin that the apples of your cheeks had started to hurt from the exertion, infinitely excited after getting to talk firsthand with someone you had already come to admire by that point.

It almost made you self-conscious, knowing just how much it all meant to you, how such a small gesture on his part happened to mean the world to you.

But there was really no reason to feel ashamed or overzealous over your own reaction. If you could’ve seen Shou, you would’ve known you weren’t the only one smiling.

。。。。。

Almost as open of a smile as the one adorning his features right now, currently hidden from your view as his fingers set a maddening pace. Tortuously slow at first until his knuckles started brushing against your opening with each thrust.

All you could hear now were the wet sounds of your arousal facilitating his movements, motions whose only purpose seemed to be to drive you more rambling and disoriented by the second.

"Is this what you want? What you need, perhaps?" His usually calm voice was uncharacteristically affected as he gasped against your ear, the torture he was making you endure clearly getting to him as well.

You were much too preoccupied with the waves of pleasure and warmth overflowing your body to give a proper response, but your lack of one did not deter him.

If anything, your needy gasps and whines were the only encouragement he required.

"Don't worry, Y/N. I'll take care of you, make you feel good."

By that point, the hand that had been petting your hair had found its way to your sopping heat too, calloused pads circling around your pearl while the man continued feeding you his eager promises.

"I get you, baby. Just like you get me." So close, your entire body taut and ready to snap. "And you want me to take care of you too, right?"

You weren't conscious enough to understand the implications, your impaired judgment prohibiting you from reading further into the meaning of his words. He sounded so encouraging, so deceivingly tender despite stuffing you full of his fingers as you squirmed on his lap.

All you could do was nod furiously.

And later on, when your senses sadly returned, dedicated yourself to lamenting over which of your actions brought you down this unfortunate path.

。。。。。

Perhaps, your consciousness supplied, it had been the fact that you opened up so readily. That you had dared to share with a supposed new friend, things that should’ve better stayed hidden in the first place.

But goddamn it, you felt downright honored that he even considered you worthy enough to entertain in the first place. From the very first second, Shouto already had the upper hand.

During the first few conversations, the topics you two discussed were all closely related to the purge and your mutual hang ups with it. Concise and carefully typed out messages were exchanged, discussing opinions you had never expected anyone to be interested in hearing—not from you, at least.

But then, as the weeks slowly progressed, the subjects of conversation began shifting to both of your lives, to your occupations, hobbies, and, directly against the forum's policy for privacy, the people you two were outside the confines of your online corner.

Even without actually exchanging any real data or supplying him with your name or age, you found yourself starting to open up more and more with each day.

You told him about your grueling office job, the friends you hadn’t seen or texted in weeks, and the reality of an apartment which more closely resembled a containment cell than a home…

Revelations that you had kept hidden for so long, which now came pouring out without regard for how mortified they made you feel. You were conscious of the limits blurring between you two the further you kept going, of how you were telling him things best left unsaid, cramped and buried in a hard to reach place.

And yet, for some obscure reason, everything Shou represented made it impossible for you to resist the temptation to speak up, to demand to be heard for the first time in an eternity of quietness.

You’re pathetic, is what you expected him to say in return. Pathetic, weak, meager, and worthless. Anticipating him, somehow, to echo all the doubts and deeply held fears you carried inside.

Most of my friends don’t understand either, was instead the response you received. But most people don’t see what's wrong, what needs to be changed. You feel lonely because you do.

It wasn’t clear what you would’ve wanted to hear beforehand, the things you had fantasized someone would reply if you ever gathered the courage to share your anxieties. Whatever those expectations had been an eternity ago, they now vastly paled when compared to what your new friend was dangling in front of you.

It felt like he was giving an excuse for things you had always perceived as personal failings. If what he said was true, it would mean it wasn’t your social ineptitude that kept people away, your uselessness, or uninteresting personality.

It would mean the shadows around you could still be dispelled somehow, exorcising the silhouettes of a suffering that had become a regular companion in your day to day life.

Brandishing a courage that only anonymity could give you, your fingers were a blur on your keyboard as you tried to ignore the rapid heartbeat in your chest, the fear, and exhilaration from opening up for the first time in forever.

Something you would later regret a thousand times over.

And you do too, and it wasn’t a question, a nervous comment or a stuttered retort. With the aid of the text format, you could look as confident as you knew you weren’t. You understand as well.

You understand me, was the tacit meaning behind it. The prickling of unshed tears made it so you were furiously blinking, fighting against the downpour despite your eyes refusing to leave the screen for longer than an instant.

I do. More than you realize.

For all intents and purposes, your first mistake was indeed opening up.

And your second one was being naive enough to let him in. Seriously, why hadn’t you heeded your parent’s advice about stranger danger?

。。。。。

...If they could only see you now, coming apart at the seams and with the name of your tormentor being the only word you were able to string together.

"Such a beauty, and all for me," his praises accompanied you through the rough orgasm ripping through your body, lips kissing your forehead in stark contrast to the digits still pumping inside your heat. "Let me hear your voice, baby. Let me hear how beautiful my name sounds on your lips."

And you obeyed, because what other choice did you have. Mindless, broken, and oh, so needy.

You continued to audibly moan as your climax unwound, crying out his name in absolute reverence while Shouto's smile deepened against your skin. The chill of his touch was still as soothing as ever, calming down the embers of a lust that refused to completely die down.

When he finally pulled his hands from your core, you felt excruciatingly empty. But you were not given enough time to wallow in your despair, because who you once considered your friend was then grasping your face gently between his hands, leading your gaze to meet his—forcing you to witness the intensity and adoration present there.

"My Y/N."

Even in your deeply intoxicated state, the last few dredges of your senses supplied just how utterly abhorrent the situation was.

The sirens signaling the start of the Purge had died down a while ago, drowned out by your own cries of pleasure, but you could still see the remnants of the government logo still plastered all over the TV, its bright glow bathing you both in an eerily scarlet ambiance.

From the same weak place of coherence, a shiver of fear managed to break through your stupor.

"You're going to continue to be a good girl for me, aren't you?"

When he kissed you then, slow and almost ironically hesitant despite what had just transpired moments before, you couldn't begin to tell your body to refuse. Much to your own horror, you were soon eagerly kissing your tormentor back.

。。。。。

The second mistake leading up to your downfall, on the other hand, took a little longer to occur. It was after a few more weeks of conversation. You vented and talked way too much, while Shou listened intently and even rewarded you with a few crumbs of advice of his own.

So wrapped up in your new seemingly innocuous friendship you were in, you failed to recognize the magnitude of an event that should've sent you scrambling to shut off your monitor. A warning so loud it would've put the Purge sirens themselves to shame.

You see, with Shou's help, you were slowly becoming more of an active user around those parts. You didn't just stick to replying to his posts or lurking until he shot you a private message anymore; no, you were now officially a contributor, deciding to step out of your anonymity to share what you thought was a fairly interesting article. It was a rather long-winded thinkpiece on the morality of Darlings’ treatment after the Purge had ended—the reality of that year spent in captivity that most people tended to just brush under the carpet, all in the name of making the entire ordeal more palatable to digest.

In all your eagerness, however, you had failed to realize a very crucial detail, which was that the article was a whole two days old. Already an ancient text by forum's standards, apparently.

So with that in mind, of course you should've expected the hate, an outpouring of bitterness fit for a community of loners and acidic underdogs. You were on an anonymous forum on one of the darkest parts of the internet, somewhere most sane people actively stayed away from—Clearly, a rookie unwittingly reposting something was the perfect target for a lot of your bitter comrades. An excuse to finally take out all of their pent up frustration.

Fuck1ng pleb, thanks for copy-pasting the same post for the 55th time.

This is why we shouldn't let newbies post. Look at this mess @mods.

Time to hang it up, n00b. And by “it”, I mean your f****** neck.

i bet ur a girl, [Username]. u type like a b1tch.

And the icing on the cake for internet interactions, a myriad of wall spamming "KYS" being plastered all across the comment section, bold and daunting as they filled your notification box with the repetitions of hate. If you weren't so sure of your safety behind your screen, perhaps you would've felt intimidated.

As it stood, you were just embarrassed, mortified at the fact that you had seemingly botched your only attempt at leaving a positive first impression. If anything, it only seemed you had given everyone a common enemy to pick on for once...

Or that was, at least, until Shou happened to log in at exactly that precise moment. You knew he was usually busy around that day and time (he never actually told you whether he had a job, but you had surmised as much from your past chats), so his instantly recognizable profile picture and username popping up had you genuinely gasping at first. It was one hell of a coincidence, but you couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief at what looked to be your savior.

Everyone, stop getting your panties in a twist. This is why no new users end up staying, the environment is abhorrent.

It was vague enough not to betray the fact that you two weren’t just strangers anymore, as well as keeping Shou’s reputation as a lone wolf from completely shattering.

And a comment which, surprisingly, instantly dulled most of the incoming messages your post was being flooded with.

People respected him there, his status as a renowned user giving him a genuine sort of power and hold over the rest of the community. One of the first things you had recognized on the forums was the distinct hierarchical structures amongst its users, and there Shou might’ve as well be granted the title of mayor for all the weight his every sentence carried.

Or at least they did with the majority of the community. As in every place where large numbers of people gathered, there were always a few rotten apples just begging to be tossed.

and ofc ur whiteknighting for her, Shou The Great. shes sucking ur dick under evry single post u make

You cringed, studying the bitter user that had decided to be a contrarian and easily recognizing him from unsavory past encounters you witnessed. Although, if you were completely honest, this time you couldn't exactly say his words didn't carry a certain degree of validity.

Shou had told you he was glad that was the case with you, that his post resonating with anyone was one of the main reasons why he hadn't just disappeared from the site completely. But in reality, saying you weren't subtle about your agreement with his ideas would be an understatement.

You were like a puppy skipping behind him, trailing his interactions and always ready to write an eager comment backing him up. Yet you had never thought others actually paid attention to your mostly one-sided interactions, the occasional meager downvote or emote being the only thing that made you aware your comments weren’t just lost in the sea of spam Shou’s posts were usually showered in.

For the longest time, your support had just felt like leaving letters for the man to find. Letters you hadn’t even been sure had reached their target until a few weeks back...

Suddenly, the sharp sound of Shou's incoming reply drove you from your tribulations.

Well, maybe if you weren't such a crude man you wouldn't be permabanned from starting topics yourself. Although I doubt anyone would be sucking your dick either way, shitty ideology considered. [Image attached]

A grimace was quick to grow on your face as you aptly studied the picture Shou decided to close his reply with.

It was a screenshot of what looked to be someone's post history, a rather extensive list with alarmingly offensive titles such as "Why male darlings should be spared", "The purge is a form of cuckoldry" and “Feminist agenda: female yanderes and their biological advantage [Repost]". Almost all of them exhibited a tragic downvote ratio right as well, besides the red symbol signaling the posts had been archived by senior users or mods.

For someone who also loathed the terrible holiday, it was almost admirable how the man managed to be almost as detestable as the criminals you all rallied against.

But even so, what disturbed you the most wasn't the clear bigotry of the user, but the fact that that screenshot couldn't have been taken from public records. A user's post history was hidden, just another measure on the site’s part to keep people from recognizing too many details about each other and possibly endangering themselves.

No, it could only have been taken from inside the account. And judging from the other guy's quick reaction, you weren't the only one who came to that realization.

how the fck did u get that

I knew u were friends with the mods. fcking rats

By that point, everyone else had stopped clogging the comments and, you assumed, instead opted to settle down and attentively observe the events transpiring. Apart from the emote reactions and the rapidly rising number of upvotes on Shou’s comments, you had all become a passive audience to the public ridicule.

Although you couldn’t help feeling slightly disjointed by Shou’s behavior. Below your wicked sense of pride at having him defend you, there was still the whispers of your gut telling you the man was going a little too far, his actions spelling a more sinister meaning than just “having a friend’s back”.

You've been here for years, Minoru. Surprised you haven't yet noticed how much of a pest everyone sees you as.

Minoru? You did a double-take, going back to read the username of the guy Shou was arguing with. But he just had a randomly generated number as a pseudonym, same as you and most others, and with just a picture of some anime sneezing girl to distinguish his profile from the rest. No trails or signs of what could Shouto be referencing to.

Nothing but an option you preferred not to consider. But it couldn't be, could it? your friend wouldn’t...

fucking delete that right now, man.

this isn't a joke, DELETE THAT.

Only that the abrasive and desperate reaction told you everything you needed to know. Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest, shock mixing with equal parts horror and amazement you couldn’t even begin to try and disentangle. Because right that second, you were witnessing your friend breaking the forum’s number one rule with a front-row seat to the spectacle.

And he was doing it all in your name.

Then maybe think twice before you go out of your way to harass newbies. Or have you had too much time on your hands after being fired, is that it?

It was vague enough not to represent any kind of threat... if not for the context of the site. And yet you all knew the hidden message behind it, the warning for whoever Minoru was to understand Shou knew much more than what he was letting on. That he could expose much more than he was currently alluding to.

y are u even doing this, shou? y do u care wtf happens to this noobslut anyways?

Shou's reply took barely a moment to appear, lighting up your screen and, despite the slightly morbid nature of his protection, coaxing out a smile to adorn your lips. It was like a balm being applied to your worries, quieting down most of your incipient concerns in favor of rejoicing.

They're a friend.

For fuck’s sake, you even screenshotted that for posterity. Somehow, him acknowledging the new bond you two had openly felt like a milestone.

When a mod came in to archive the post and give everyone involved a stern warning later on, you were already way past your previous doubtful sentiments.

Instead, the last thing you did before going to sleep that day was to open up your private conversation with Shou and send a quick yet heartfelt message of gratitude his way.

Months prior, you wouldn’t have ever thought you’d be thanking anyone for semi doxxing another human being. How rapidly things were changing, though, and all while you got lost in the thrill of mattering.

Thanks for sticking up for me. It meant a lot, you typed feeling slightly lightheaded, drunk on the idea that anyone would think you worthy of having your back.

You thought Shou went offline after dishing out his not so thinly veiled threats, but somehow he was back again in an instant, the sound of notifications going off shaking any remnants of your exhaustion.

Anything for you, [Y/N].

You were so tired, it didn't occur to you that you hadn't yet shared your real name with your friend either.

That night, for once, you fell asleep with a twinkle in your eye and the image of Shou's multicolored locks dancing against your eyelids. Imagining, ever so briefly, your fingers trailing down the back of a neck you now had memorized from analyzing his profile picture.

And, while you slept with your phone clutched to your side, you also failed to notice the peculiar sound of your own camera going off, the soft glow from the red light beside your lense bathing your features in its subtle illumination, flickering against your eyelashes and the lingering grin on your curved lips.

You truly looked angelic like that.

Suffice it to say, Minoru never bothered you again after that day. In fact, his name disappeared from the site not too soon after.

。。。。。

But now, to continue the grueling task of giving a context for your inevitable end, it is necessary to jump a month further into the future, barely a week from the excruciating present.

Because it was then that the last strike finished nailing the coffin of your proverbial undoing, burying you under the weight of your own ignorance.

You got your notice in the mail on the Day of Announcements, an inconspicuous letter lacking any further distinction beyond a scarlet government seal emblazoned across its front. But even before you opened and read the message, you already knew of its contents—easily recognizing the image before you from several of the varied posts you had seen floating around on the forums lately.

Purge Notice!!! Help needed Urgently.

Just got my letter. Do I stay hidden or fight back? [Open poll]

Third time getting mine. AMA about my methods.

The range of how you had seen other users reacting to their own selections was diverse, with some of them being more experienced while others, such as you, had just gotten their first letter ever. If things played out differently for you, then you were sure you would've been another one of the numerous panicked voices, awkwardly trying to maneuver their way out of their new situation.

And maybe, then, your odds wouldn't have been so completely fucked from the start.

As it stood, as soon as you laid eyes on the notice, the first thing you thought of was how quickly you could boot up your computer and open the forum’s private messages. Because, for the first time in forever, you were overwhelmed by the feeling of someone else being there for you.

Shou was your friend, had earned that spot fair and square after months of listening to you venting and sharing deep discussions; faster than you could even realize it, and so it was only natural for you to seek his help once the news of your selection for the new yearly Purge reached you.

He had even threatened another user for your sake, for fuck’s sake. So, really, what harm could come out of relying on someone you were sure was trustworthy?

Maybe it was too late by that point for you to snap out of it, but it was almost amusing seeing you being so easily deceived.

Just another reason why you needed him, certainly.

。。。。。

Already told you I'd have your back, had been his immediate reply barely an instant after you attached a candid photo of your hand holding up the envelope. Whatever you need, I’m here.

His lack of hesitation was palpable through your screen, heart hammering in your chest as you were faced with a kindness you had thought yourself undeserving of not long ago.

As soon as you closed your mailbox, you had immediately raced to send him the message, completely foregoing telling any of your other friends or family members when you doubted they would even understand you in the first place. Shou had been right when he told you people just didn’t want to see the truth, even if it slapped them right in the face, leaving dark imprints in the shape of their narrow mindedness.

But he was there, he was letting you know as much, in his own words. And for what felt like the hundredth time in the past few months, you felt incredibly lucky to have stumbled upon the Forums in the first place, to have traced whatever fortunate path had led you to find him—the one person able to distinguish you in a world you always thought you blended straight into.

Thank you, Shou, for everything. And at that moment, you really had been truthful, so much so that there were tears prickling at your eyes, an overwhelming feeling of gratitude drowning you with its intensity.

Indeed, your final mistake had been your desperate need for acceptance. A need that had, in the end, cost you everything.

You can call me Shouto now. No use for nicknames anymore.

Amidst the chaos of your life possibly crashing down all around you, somehow his revelation put a trembling smile back in your face.

Then allow me to repeat: thank you, Shouto.

Np, Newbie. Told you I'd help you level up, didn't I?

His teasing managed to garner a small stuttering laugh out of you despite the dreadfulness of your situation.

But you couldn’t help it. Somehow, every reply Shouto sent you only served to wrap the illusion of safety tighter around you. So tight in fact, that you should’ve started worrying about suffocating.

。。。。。

On the other side of the screen, the man with the multicolored hair couldn’t help but keep staring at the picture you had sent him earlier.

He was transfixed, eyes almost unblinking as they refused to separate from the image. The way your fingers tentatively held the letter up for the picture was simply adorable to him. Beautifully naive.

It wasn't like he hadn't seen your face before, like he hadn't already memorized the texture of your skin and the everlasting trace of a frown always threatening to dampen your mood. He read your expressions like poetry, every mole and scar furthering the securing of his interest.

But this was the first picture you had actually chosen to send him out of your own volition, the final symbol of a trust he had worked so tirelessly to earn. Used to catching prey as he was, the man wasn’t entirely sure when you had turned from a game into a priority, from a priority into the only thing he could even make himself care for.

And it didn’t help that it was his letter you were holding, too. His formal declaration of pursuit.

With time, Shouto was sure you would find it in yourself to appreciate the beauty of such irony.

But, for now, what he really needed to do was buy some tea. Couldn’t have your own stubbornness ruining your first encounter, could he?

。。。。。

In the coming weeks, your friend aided you and even coached you as you jointly planned for the horrific holiday, not only suggesting ideas but tracing the safety measures needed for them to succeed. You really had no reason to doubt him by that point.

That evening, after you finished letting Shouto know you were back from work, you made sure to pack all of your supplies into an inconspicuous bag you had acquired for the occasion. Whoever your Yandere was, it was best to not give any hints of your new acquisitions, just in case they were already stalking your movements.

Shouto had helped you devise the list, mentoring you in your selection of weapons as well as self-defense arsenal—what brands of pepper spray to get, which ammunitions were most efficient and reliable, even what kind of clothing was the least troublesome if the need to escape ever arose. If you had been sure he knew his craft before, now you were surprised at just how vast his wisdom genuinely was.

After the last few finishing touches of preparations, you were already on your way to the direction you had both agreed on (supplied by him, approved by you). There were several hours until the start of the Purge still, but the adrenaline swimming through your bloodstream was already considerable.

Shouto had suggested you visited him for the Holiday, quoting how the measures in place for his home made it nothing short of a fortified vault, impossible for any outsiders to break into (and for anyone to break out of, but let's not get ahead of ourselves).

With that in mind, how could you have refused his offer? Your place was barely an excuse for an apartment, windows that didn't entirely close, and feeble doors that could be easily broken into. Even if you weren't partly driven by the curiosity of meeting your new internet idol turned friend, it would've been foolish to decline.

So in a few hours, you were sporting a nervous smile on your face as you parked your car in front of the largest apartment complex you had ever encountered. It was luxurious in a way you had only seen staring back at you from a television screen, marble, and gold accents giving you the impression you were about to step into a drama set instead of visiting an online friend.

Before the surrealism of the entire situation could begin to set in, however, you noticed the young man sitting on the ample stairs of the building. He had an air of effortless elegance, tall and lithe, yet sporting a black turtleneck which hugged his frame and made it clear just how much sheer strength hid behind his movements.

And he also sported the same peculiarly colored locks you had already memorized from the last few months, the light softly reflecting on them proving to be an even more impressive show when admired live.

You were dazzled for an instant, wondering if, somehow, this entire thing was a prank and the Shou from the forums had just schemed his way into making a fool out of you in front of a handsome stranger. Way too convoluted, yet entirely too plausible to your bewildered self.

Until the man lifted his eyes—as beautifully dual-toned as his hair, and catching sight of you standing just beside your recently parked vehicle.

"Y/N," he was sharply climbing to his feet as he called out your name, the shy hint of a smile in his lip contradicting the monotone cadence of his tone. "Good to finally meet you."

You had first been under the impression that the Shou you knew was cold, the way he interacted with others on the site reminding you of an emotionless robot at times, but the man addressing you seemed like he was ripped straight out of a stereotypical rom-com.

Maybe he'd be the aloof, tormented heir? Which, in your fantasy drama land, would make you the nearly illiterate and poor love interest. Your feelings of inadequacy only grew at the comparison.

Almost cute, how that had been one of your greatest worries once upon a time. How foolishly eager you were to be liked back then.

"Shouto." The name still felt somewhat strange on your lips, even after he had insisted you started calling him that. "It's good to meet you, too."

He was by your side in an instant, taking your bags from you swiftly and shutting the door to your ride. From this up close, it became considerably harder to disguise your staring.

Even the scar which covered his left eye, a splash of reddish textured skin, somehow came across like yet another enhancer of his appeal. An underlying harshness which you couldn't help but be intrigued by.

"Your hair looks even better in person."

And leave it to you to once again find a way to screw first impressions. You were chastising yourself a mere second after the words left your mouth.

But Shouto only sent you that same hint of a smirk your way, his eyes appearing genuinely pleased at your praise. If he thought you were a weirdo and was regretting ever inviting you to his house, then he was a good enough actor for you to be fooled.

And fooled you he did, but with completely different intentions.

"You look just like in your pictures," came his serene retort not long after.

Which you assumed was a joke, keeping in mind that the only photo you had ever sent his way had been of the Purge letter you received a few days ago.

Laughing lightly, you tried to ignore the nerves tugging at your chest before catching up with him on the steps of the building.

As you giddily barged straight into the open jaws of the beast, it once again struck Shouto how utterly unsuspecting you were. How you trusted him so wholeheartedly.

He couldn't wait to see it all come crashing down.

。。。。。

Inside his honest to god penthouse, your previous feeling of insufficiency only became more severe.

The interiors were decorated sparingly, albeit fashionably. Filled with different muted shades and being unexpectedly traditional in the way they were designed. It was a stunning abode, even if you couldn't help but mentally point out how utterly unlived in it appeared.

There was not a single cup, shoe, or book out of place, everything perfectly polished and organized to the point that you felt hesitance as your sock-covered feet continued making their way through the place.

"Make yourself at home," Shouto told you most matter-of-factly. If you weren't so sure of his intentions by now, perhaps you would've thought he was being sarcastic.

Without any of your belongings to distract yourself with, you instead gravitated towards what you could see of the kitchen through one of the sliding doors.

It was very modern despite the rest of the aesthetic the penthouse sported, shiny stainless steel and spotless dark countertops. It should've looked out of place when paired with the carpeted floors, wooden furniture, and sparse pieces of classical Japanese art…

Yet somehow, it strangely fits. Just like his owner, you supposed, thinking back to the oddities that amounted to his unique brand of appeal.

And you really needed to stop thinking of your friend like that.

When you heard the door to the apartment being audibly locked with a resounding click, you instantly stopped your fingers grazing the smooth countertops. Your instincts flared up with worry for a moment, right before you forcefully willed yourself to calm down.

After reminding yourself of the true reason why you were there, the exhale you released next was one of clear relief.

"Want something to drink?" Shouto appeared in your line of sight again, hands buried in the pockets of his pants and looking like the picture of composure.

You felt embarrassed once again, knowing he had given you a free pass to roam but still somewhat self-conscious about intruding on his space.

"You don't need to make me anything. I'm fine." Your timbre was apologetic, not used to slipping into the role of a guest just yet.

He seemed strangely dissatisfied with your answer, closing some of the distance between you with a presence that had you almost flinching back for a second.

There was an intensity in his gaze, something which you could not quite yet place.

"But I want to be a good host. So let me." He appeared very serious about it, too, with his face growing stern as his peculiar eyes bore into yours.

Not wanting to cause further distress, you imagined relenting would be the best course of action.

It was like you were molded to be the perfect Darling, so wonderfully meek and gullible.

"Okay then. Water is fine."

Yet Shouto shook his head, still somewhat dissatisfied with your answer.

"Tea it is." His phrasing allowed little space for argument. "I know you mentioned liking a few brands before, so I took the liberty of stocking up on them."

A surprising burst of laughter broke through your anxious feelings then, drawing Shouto's eyes again from the particular cabinet they had drifted to as he mentioned the beverages.

He looked at you puzzled, an unasked question written all over his otherwise blank expression, and so you decided to reply from the surge of unexpected amusement you were experiencing.

"It's only a night, Shou," you didn't even realize you had slipped back into his nickname, too entertained by how much he had apparently overdone his hospitality. "There really wasn't any need for you to go buy my favorite teas."

His eyes blinked quite slowly your way, his expression back to his vacant mask before a smile reappeared.

"I wanted you to feel welcomed," he supplied as he approached the cabinet he was eyeing before, dedicating himself to searching for whatever kind of flavor of tea he had in mind.

In response, you just shrugged your shoulders with another chuckle.

"And I didn't get you anything. You're making me feel even more out of place."

"Nonsense," he cut you off in that deadpan way of his, hands rummaging through the most ridiculously vast tea collection you had ever seen. And then he added, decidedly quieter, "today is supposed to be about you, after all."

Too bad you didn't pick up on it.

When he ushered you back to the salon with barely a wave next, pointing at one of the cushions arranged around the short-legged table, you decided to follow his suggestion and wait there while he finished brewing the drinks. By now, you understood the futility of offering any kind of help when he was still so intent on properly welcoming you.

So, curious as you were, your eyes continued to inspect each and every inch of the apartment, drinking up all the pieces of info you could observe, that you didn't even think of the potential dangers of letting a stranger fix you a cup while you weren't looking.

Unbeknownst to the other, you were both actively counting down the seconds until the Purge started, minds lost to your own inner turmoils from opposite sides of the suite.

And for entirely different reasons, you were both filled with anticipation.

。。。。。

Meanwhile, finally back in the present after retracing the steps that guided you there, it was becoming increasingly hard to compartmentalize the chaos brewing inside you.

Shouto’s lips were the personification of hunger against yours, an inescapable gluttony to mark and consume every single inch of you he could encompass.

After a hint of understanding returned to your body post-orgasm, your vision and the sensations you endured were becoming disturbingly vivid. It was impossible to conceive anything beyond his hands ridding you of your flimsy camisole, palms cold in comparison to the heat you felt, splaying against your sides and slowly making their way up the sensitive mounds of your chest.

“All mine, baby.” You barely registered his teeth nipping at your bottom lip until a shock of pain snapped you out of your trance.

He bit you, and quite harshly too, but when you tried to instinctually pull back his response was to hold you even tighter. Before you could attempt to voice your complaints, his tongue was darting out to clean up the droplets of blood he spilled.

“Out of all the Darlings I’ve played with, you’re the only one I’ve ever even considered keeping, you know?”

And now that had you freezing, even amidst the cloud of desire still muddling your cognizance. His arms pressed you closer still, forcing you to bury your face against his chest, completely unphased by the bloody mess your mouth had morphed into.

Had he tricked others before then? Was that the reason why he was even on the Forums in the first place?

You wanted to ask him what he meant, wanted to demand explanations for a phrase that had dread closing around your neck like a noose. But whatever he slipped into your drink to keep you so awfully responsive and pliable, also appeared to make forming any complex sentences incredibly hard…

Shou, ever the receptive one, caught onto your change in demeanor rather aptly. His face nuzzled your hair softly, humming a calming melody as if you were a scared child who could be so easily reassured. Meanwhile, his hands hadn’t abandoned your breasts, still tenderly kneading them with a touch bordering on worship.

“But I’m glad you weren’t my first, baby. Means I could be all ready for when we met.” He rocked you both as he rested his back further on the sofa, opening his legs wider below you and forcing you to settle closer to his clothed groin with a whimper.

Your arms reached out to grasp his shoulders while you tried to stabilize yourself, the strain of his erection resting snuggly against your still sensitive slit.

"Helped me to know when to pull back," he kept confessing, purposefully thrusting into you while he kept lovingly massaging your chest, fingers twisting your hardened peaks to coax a new kind of mewl to be uttered against his skin. "Wouldn't want you to break now that I've finally found you."

The fact that your bodies seemed to fit so perfectly, even in your impaired state, was not an irony lost on you.

Abruptly, Shouto stopped fondling your breasts in order to maneuver your face again, both of your stares meeting in a vehement standoff before he continued.

“I’ll make this as close to perfection as I can, I promise you.” And you got a direct view of the vulnerability in his uniquely colored eyes, the nature of his words clearly heartfelt despite the atrocities they alluded to.

As you heard him drag his zipper down, the hand clutching your jaw trembling in anticipation, you couldn’t help the new wave of warmth spreading through your body, negating all the fear and anxiousness warring inside you in order to shamefully expose your baser desires.

Now that whatever had been clouding your judgment was pulling back slightly, your thought process had begun to snap back into place, overflowing you with a terrible sense of shame at your own reactions.

He gave you something earlier with your drink, you were sure of it, and yet you couldn’t help but still be horrified at just how much you were enjoying it. Once you felt the flushed head of his cock placidly rubbing against your thigh, the sounds leaving your mouth weren’t ones of complaint, peril or dissent.

Quite the contrary, actually, and it only made Shouto grow bolder.

As the hand clutching your face grew tenser, gripping you with force before tugging harshly, you got the hint. Now painfully following his lead, it wasn't long before the previous pressure against your legs was now resting directly against your cunt.

The pre-cum already gathered on him mixed in with your still oozing arousal, smearing the span of your outer lips as he lightly teased you one last time.

You were so mortified by that point, that if he had offered to end your embarrassment right then and there with one of the several weapons you knew he kept, you would’ve been very inclined to accept.

“... I didn’t even think there was such a thing as 'The One' before, actually.” You hadn’t even realized the man was still talking, ardent whispers getting lost on the intensity of the situation.

His eyes were searching your face, a satisfied twinkle lighting them up as soon as you returned his stare of your very own volition. Perturbed, you wondered if his delusion made him see anything beyond a twisted mix of lust and fear reflected back at him.

“But I now know just how wrong I was, Y/N.” So sure of himself, tone back to the stern cadence you previously associated with him for a moment, gripped by a gravity befitting of his obsession. “Indeed, I think you were always meant to be my darling… don't you agree?”

To your credit, you did struggle to speak up, to gain back the control over a body which had stopped listening long ago. Too bad you only managed a single pitiful word out.

“Shouto…”

But before you could even fathom attempting a better response, he was breaching into you, sheathing himself with an ease you wished you could overlook, turning your voice from an anguished plea into outrageously labored moans.

You had once thought Shou had been interested in you because he somehow perceived you as anything but pathetic, but you were beginning to think it had been your weakness which drew him in all along.

So deliciously frail, that even a predator like him had been driven with an urgent need to protect you. To break you down, just so he could be the one to build you back together.

As he started fucking you with shallow thrusts, hips bucking up from the sofa while he tenderly guided you until your body was mimicked his motion on its own, you couldn’t help but be the most disturbed at his oddly affectionate ways.

As awful as it sounded, now that your mind had awakened from its stupor all you wanted was for him to bend you over and abuse you, manhandle you and mistreat you in a way which unequivocally screamed assault. You wanted bruises painting your skin, proof that you hadn’t just willingly given up and facilitated your own ruin.

He was humiliating you despite the pretty words he decided to disguise it as—showing you how easily he could own you and even make you enjoy it, drug-addled drink or not.

But as his mouth latched around one of your hardened nipples, sucking generously until his name was once again fast on your tongue, you also couldn’t deny the crystal clear responses you were giving.

You could attempt to lie to yourself later, could swear it was all a delusion born out of the deranged man's mind, but the particular brand of your screams was unmistakable.

When your own hand reached down to facilitate your release, you knew you were already acting beyond what you could've previously attributed to the drugs. Toying with your bundle of nerves, you rested your forehead against Shouto's shoulders, tears from the pleasure mixing in with the subjacent agony of your guilt.

Why did it have to feel so good? And how far did the drugs truly affect you? Or had they just peeled back your inhibitions perhaps, baring you until all you had were dark desires and no self-control to contain them.

You still tasted blood inside your mouth when your walls started clenching around his cock, the coppery flavor entirely too vivid on your tongue. Hearing his own choked groans gasping against your chest, you felt his mouth abandoning your bud with a pop before his kisses were trailing a path back up—eager in their search of your face, your lips.

You were still cumming by the time a lascivious kiss connected you two again, unwinding in his grasp until his hands were the only thing keeping you whole.

“Even if I wasn't taught how,” he began promising while his rhythm grew frantic, barely resisting the allure of your core fluttering around him. “I promise I’ll love you, Y/N. Love you so good, you won’t ever want to leave when the next Purge comes.” He was getting increasingly excited by his own words, imagining a future where you did not need the aid of a little cup of tea to eagerly kiss back. “I’ll fuck you every day, fill you up and show you just how much I care. How much you matter.”

Faced with his degenerate promises, all you could do was gasp out his name one last time, perhaps seeking to express your reticence, perhaps oddly excited by the image he was painting.

You indulged him in the pitiful sound of your whimpers molding around its syllables, and it wasn’t long before you were coaxing him to join you with an orgasm of his own.

He actually came inside, you recognized inwardly after the aftershocks of enjoyment now quieted down to a lull, a new type of dread quickly following the realization. His cum was still shooting in hot ropes, stuffing you to the brim with the intent and purpose of a man bent on marking you, owning you.

But Shouto was so loving as he kissed you time and time again, painfully reminding you of just how nice he could be for you, how gentle and attentive. It made the lines between your tormentor and a traditional lover blur even further, the confusion clouding your sense not merely born out of narcotics any longer.

You had been so preoccupied with a monster outside your house once. A creature ripped from the kind of movies that were ripe with cheap scares and considerably cheaper thrills.

But monsters never were like that in real life, were they? As the man continued to cradle you in his arms like the most vulnerable of creatures, you were suddenly struck by how glaringly obvious things should’ve been from the beginning.

Because your Yandere’s obsession had not come with claws and a row of sharp teeth. No, it came instead with a suit of deception to hug its frame, the bait of acceptance, and the promise of a reliable ear to comfortably listen. It arrived with whispers that assured you that you were not alone, that it was not you who was flawed, but the world for not welcoming you.

It dangled everything your little heart desired, so by the time you were reaching out, you were simply too distracted to notice the dangers of the abyss you were throwing yourself at.

Luckily for you, Shouto had made such a void his home. And for however long it took you to consider the darkness as your own, his was a kind of hospitality that no amount of your struggles could ever hope to wear down.

And if the worst came to pass, if you kept stubbornly refusing and fighting despite your odds? Well…

He could always brew you another cup of tea.

-------

Well, I can finally rest now 💀

This monster of a one-shot took me a lot longer than expected, so I ended up being a lil later to the collab that I would’ve liked. Either way, I’d really appreciate hearing any feedback or opinions on either the fic or art (or both?)... I swear that’s what keeps me motivated ;___;

So fr, thanks to everyone who takes the time to let me know your takes! y’all are the bests of the best 🖤 And speaking of bests of best, special thanks and gratitude to the actual angels who helped and gave me feedback for both the art and/or fic @reinawritesbnha , @drxwsyni, @wootato, @snappysnapo and @coyambition. Don’t catch me seeing y’all drop your crowns bc it’s on sight 😠 👑

#bnha fanart #todoroki #yandere todoroki #todoroki x reader #bnha imagines #bnha #mha fanart #bnha x reader #todoroki fanart #todoroki smut #todoroki shouto #todoroki shoto #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #anime fanart #bnha smut #bnha art #artists on tumblr #just art tingz

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ladyfogg · 3 years

Text

Another Round

Fic Summary: You and Colin have been avoiding each other ever since the two of you were interrupted the other night. However, when Mare calls you to come to the bar to pick up Colin, you’re left with no choice but to deal with a very drunk Detective Zabel. Love Exists Masterpost. The Evans Fics Masterpost.

Fic Rating: Mature

Pairing: Colin Zabel/Female Reader

Warnings: Language, mild spoilers

All you want is a quiet evening at home.

The investigation into Erin’s death had shaken everyone to the core in Easttown, and you are no exception. In a place where everyone knows everyone, to have such a sudden and violent crime happen is enough to put the citizens on edge. You are feeling it and you sure as hell know Mare is feeling it. You’ve been doing everything in your power to be there for her and do what she needs but it’s hard since you’re not a full-blown detective. At least, not yet. You hope to be one day once you’ve had enough training and gone through all the proper channels.

For now, you’re content on being Mare’s trainee. Well, more like assistant but technically you’re a trainee. Actually, your exact title is Junior Detective but it makes you feel like you should be wearing a badge made of construction paper attached to your shirt by a safety pin. So you stick with trainee. Though that hasn’t stopped Mare from calling you ‘Junior’. Whether it’s to keep you at arm’s length or she just enjoys annoying the shit out of you, you’re not sure. You assume it’s a little of both.

Anyway, back to the quiet evening thing. You’ve been home for a few hours, settled into your tiny apartment with a slew of snacks and the latest crime docuseries on Netflix when your phone goes off.

You see it’s Mare and immediately pick up. “Hey, everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah everything’s fine.” You can barely hear her over the background nose. Tons of people are talking over each other with loud music thrown into the mix. “Sorry to call you so late but I need you to come down to the bar.”

“Do we have a lead?”

“Not exactly. It’s Zabel.”

Instantly your heart drops and you get to your feet, immediately scouring the floor for your discarded shoes. “Did something happen? Is Colin alright?”

In the background, you hear, “Heeeey, hey, Mare! Is that her? Are you calling her? Lemme talk to her.”

You hear her struggle for a moment before telling him to knock it off. “He’s fine. Just drunk as shit,” she says once she manages to get the phone back from him. “Can you come pick him up and take him home?”

“Oh, um…alright.”

“Is that a problem?”

“No. No, not at all.”

“I just figured since you two—”

“Oh we didn’t end up…we haven’t…” You stop yourself from going any further and embarrassing the both of you. “I’ll be there in five minutes.”

Ever since Mare interrupted you and Colin about to go at it in his hotel room, things have been more than a little awkward. Despite confessing how much you like each other, neither you nor he has made another move. Before it was spontaneous and a spur-of-the-moment decision, fueled by passion and excitement. By now, you have lost yourself in your own head and you get the sense he has too.

The two of you can’t even make eye contact without him quickly looking away and blushing. It’s adorable, yet incredibly frustrating to say the least. But the case is more important and you’ve been more than happy to forget about the embarrassing incident.

When you get to the bar, you’re faced with a vastly different Colin than you’re used to. The second you walk through the door, he calls your name excitedly and stumbles over, beer in hand.

“Oh my gosh you’re here,” he slurs, throwing an arm around your shoulders. “Mare! MARE! She’s here!”

“Yeah, I know, Zabel, I called her.” Mare’s face is as stoic as ever, and yet you can still see the corners of her lips twitch up into an amused smile.

“You wanna shot?” he asks you. “Yeah! YEAH, let’s get shots! Imma get you a shot!”

“No, Colin, I’m good,” you say but he’s already stumbling away. “Colin? Colin! Oi, whatever. How long has he been like this?”

“Since I got here,” Mare says, shoving her hands in her pockets. “Sorry, I thought you two were…I mean, the other night…”

“Nothing happened,” you say. “Since, you know, you interrupted. Things have kind of been awkward and we haven’t really talked about it.”

“Well, he’s certainly in a talkative mood tonight,” Mare says as you both watch Colin flag down the bartender and loudly ask for two shots. “Just make sure he gets back to the hotel in one piece, alright?”

“Will do, boss.”

“Thanks, junior.”

“Ugh, you know I hate it when you call me that.”

She smirks, patting you on the shoulder as she walks by. “I know.”

You make your way through the crowd to the bar where Colin is currently leaning. “Come on, Colin. I’ll take you home,” you say.

“Not before you do a shot with me!” he insists.

“Can’t, I’m driving. Besides, I think you’ve had enough.”

“Come ooooonnnn,” he slurs, nudging you with his shoulder. “Just’the one lil one? Then I’ll go…scout’s honor!”

You can’t help but chuckle, not used to seeing him so carefree and silly. After a moment of contemplation, you ease yourself onto the nearby stool. “Fine. Just the one.”

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Colin exclaims, sitting next to you. “Shottttsss!”

The bartender slides two shots over and you make a subtle motion for him to cut Colin off. He gives you a nod of acknowledgment, slyly swiping Colin’s half-full beer bottle as he moves on to take care of someone else.

“Okay, okay, okay, we need a toast,” Colin says, handing you one of the shots.

“Oh really? To what?”

“Hmmmmm…” Colin’s face scrunches adorably as he tries to get his drunk mind to think. “How ‘bout to us?”

You raise your eyebrow. “Us?”

Colin leans in close, pressing his forehead to yours, his voice dropping low. “Us. You know, me an’ you.”

“Didn’t know there was a me and you.”

“Could be. Should be. We did almost…you know.” He leans in close to your ear and loudly whispers, “Have sex.”

“Yes, yes we did almost have sex.”

“So?” he gestures with his shot, spilling some in the process. “To us?”

“To us then.”

You clink your shot glass against his before knocking the drink back, trying to hold in a cough as the liquid burns your throat. “Dear god that’s strong.”

“YUP.” Colin slams his shot glass down on the countertop, then winces when he realizes what he did. “Oops. Is’okay. S’not broken.”

“And we’d like to keep it that way,” you say, sliding the glasses off to the side. “So, what you say I take you home?”

“Wait, wait, wait, not yet. Let’s talk.” He puts his hand on your arm to stop you from standing. “We need’a talk.”

“About?”

“I’m sorry about the other night,” he apologizes, head slumping on your shoulder.

“You don’t have to apologize, Colin. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“But I did. I did. I should’a talked to you about it after but I chickened out.”

“Yeah, well, I could have talked to you too. I guess I also chickened out.”

“Here’sa thing. I jus’…you’re soooo beautiful and I get all tongue-tied around you and say stupid shit and I know you’re going to realize there’s someone better for you, and I just…”

Realizing he was way too far gone to be having such a serious conversation in the bar, you slide your arm around his waist. “Hey, hey, let’s talk about it later, okay? Come on. Let’s get you home.”

“Home’s too farrrr.”

“I meant your hotel room.”

“I don’t like it there. Take me to your place.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I won’t try anything. Swear. I jus’…I don’t wanna go back to my empty hotel room.”

Your heart aches at the puppy-dog eyes he gives you and you find yourself relenting. “Fine. But you’re sleeping on the sofa and I’m not cleaning it up if you get sick all over yourself.”

“Thas’fair.”

You help Colin settle his tab with the bartender and then you escort him out of the bar, your arm still around his waist. His arm goes around your shoulders again but it’s mostly so he can attempt to walk straight. Eventually, you are able to load him into your car before climbing behind the wheel. The shot didn’t do much of anything and with your place being so close, you know you’re okay to drive.

Colin reclines his seat back, shutting his eyes. As you make your way towards home, you’re sure he’s fallen asleep until you hear, “Y’know, y’er really pretty.”

You smile to yourself, keeping your eyes on the road. “Thanks, Colin. I think you’re pretty too.”

“Really???”

“Yes.”

“Ugh, I’m so stupid. Should’a called you for a date the day after all that happened.”

“It’s okay.”

“NO! No is’not. I ghosted you.”

“Colin, I don’t think it’s ghosting if the other person doesn’t reach out to you either.”

“It’s not?”

“Not really. Pretty sure that just ignoring each other.”

“Oh. Okay good. Well, not good we ignored each other. Good you didn’t think I ghosted you. Cuz I would NEVER do that to you.”

“Good to know.”

“And you won’t do that to me. I know you won’t. You’re too sweet. You wouldn’t break up with me two weeks before our wedding.”

Your heart sinks when he says this. Chancing a glance at him, you notice how sad his eyes are. Truth be told, you don’t know much about Colin, mostly because with the intensity of the case, the two of you haven’t had time to properly get to know each other. But his drunk words are way too specific to be a hypothetical scenario.

“Is that what happened to you?” you ask tentatively.

“Yup. Not sure how it happened. Or why. She just woke up and said, ‘hey, I’m not in love with you anymore’. And I’m like ‘s’ok, can I put my bagel down first?’…” he babbles, head rolling to the side so he can look at you. “Jus’ like that. Done. No more.”

You reach over to take his hand. “I’m sorry, Colin. That’s…that’s really shitty.”

“Isn’t it? I mean…I don’t know wha’ happened. But…whatareyou gonna do?” He squeezes your hand and brings it up to his lips so he can place a sloppy kiss on your knuckles. “We’ve been driving for a loooong time.”

“It’s been five minutes.”

“Really?!”

“Just close your eyes. We’ll be there soon.”

“M’kay.”

Not long after, you pull into your driveaway, letting go of his hand so you can park the car and shut it off. You sit there for a minute, admiring his side profile as he lays there with his eyes closed. He is a handsome man. You can stare at him all day. Every time he greets you with that wide smile, your heart skips a beat and your stomach does a little flip-flop thing.

He must feel you staring because he opens his eyes and gives you a crooked smile. “We there yet?”

You smile back. “Yeah, we’re here. Let’s get you inside.”

“Okaaay.”

With you guiding him and doing most of the work, you help Colin up the walkway to your place, pausing now and then when he sways and puts too much weight on you. Once inside, you dump him onto the couch before going back to lock your front door. Briefly, you pause to send Mare a text letting her know you’re both safe, before shutting your phone off and tossing it onto the counter. You shrug out of your coat and shoes before rejoining Colin in the living room where you left him.

“This is a nice place,” he says, sprawled out on the couch with his head nearly hanging off the armrest. “Looks homey.”

“If by homey you mean small, then yeah. It’s real homey. Come on. Sit up so we can get your coat off.”

“Tryin’a strip me down, you saucy minx,” he slurs, leaning forward as you try to pull the long coat off his arms. “I know your game and I accept.”

Laughing softly, you manage to wrestle him out of the coat before he flops backward. “No games tonight, Zabel.”

“Fine but at least a kiss?”

“That’s definitely not a good idea.”

“Jus’a lil one…come on, lil kiss…” he says in a soft voice, trying to lean in. “Jus’a peck. Lil smooch.”

Still laughing, you gently force him to lay back down. “Not while your drunk. Maybe in the morning if you’re feeling better we can have a little smooch.”

“Been thinking about kissin’ you for days,” he admits as you start to untie his shoes for him. “And picturing you on top of me. That was nice. I liked that. Let’s do that.”

You toss him a grin as you slide the shoe off his foot. “Like I said. Maybe…If you’re a good boy.”

His smile widens and he wags his eyebrows. “I’ll be’a good boy for you.”

After ridding him of his other shoe, you tuck a blanket around him. “Sleep it off, Colin. We’ll talk in the morning.”

“Wait, wait, wait, don’t go,” he urges, grabbing your hand as you make a move to stand. “Not yet. Don’t go yet. It’s jus’…I wanna talk to you.”

“Okay. About what.”

“Everythin’. Anythin’. LIFE! Let’s talk about life.”

“It is way too late and you’re way too drunk to talk about life.”

“It’s just…the thing is…I’m getting to that age, right? I’m getting to that age where I’m starting to look at my life and I’m going…well, here’s what I thought it would be and…here’s what it actually is…” He throws his hands up with a sigh and a shrug, letting his thought hang there.

You’re all too familiar with that feeling. And yet, you have no idea how to respond. He’s not the only one looking at his life and wondering what the hell. There you are, living in the same town where you grew up, a detective in training living in a shitty, tiny apartment with neighbors who press their noses to the window every time you set outside. You haven’t had a relationship in years, mainly because you know every single guy in town and have grown up with them. The thought of dating and settling down with any of them does not appeal to you in the slightest. Never did. Not that that’s the only way to live your life but it’s something you would like to do someday. With the right person.

“Am I making any fucking sense?” he asks, more to himself than to you.

“Yeah, yeah, you are.” You reach up to lay a hand on his cheek. “Get some rest, okay. I’ll be just in the other room if you need me.”

“Mmm, okay. Rest sounds good. Sleep good.”

He rolls onto his side, taking your hand with him and almost pulling you across his body. You manage to wiggle free with a chuckle. By the time you get up to shut off the living room light, he’s already snoring.

You have too many questions and not enough answers. This man, this big hero detective that is supposed to help solve the case seems just as lost and alone as you feel. You wonder if that’s why you were drawn together. Two lost, lonely souls who found each other among such darkness.

Too tired to go down that train of thought, you slip away to your room, wondering just how much Colin will remember in the morning.

#colin zabel #evan peters #mare of easttown spoilers #love exists

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spacedikut · 4 years

Text

“would you please put your tongue away” ; spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid (criminal minds) x f!reader

summary: spencer can’t handle how good you look in your dress. he also can’t handle another guy asking you to dance. 2760 words

a/n: taken from this prompt list :)

“…It’s highly inappropriate.”

Someone waves a hand in front of Spencer’s face and he’s brought back to reality – surrounded by people from every FBI department in a far too bright room with champagne that is certainly not worth the amount it costs and in a suit that is a little too tight.

“What?” He asks.

“I said,” Derek grins, “Would you please put your tongue away.”

Spencer raises an eyebrow at that, “My tongue is firmly in my mouth, Morgan.”

Derek gives a scoff. He wishes Emily was with them to attest, but she’s across the room, beside you, stuck in a conversation with some “important” person that Hotch made a point to tell the team to suck up to.

“If Y/N can’t feel your stare burning a hole in her back, when she turns and sees you drooling she’s sure to know you’re obsessed with her.”

In panic, Spencer wipes his mouth just in case he is in fact drooling. That gets a hearty laugh from Derek, and Spencer huffs indignantly, “I am not obsessed-“

“When you saw her all dressed up earlier you had to leave the room, Reid. That isn’t a platonic reaction.”

“Well,” He stutters, glancing over to you and scanning your bare back, “She looks- she-“

“She took your breath away, man. It’s okay.” Derek gives him a pat on the back and smirks at him, coughing to cover a chuckle when Spencer glares at him.

“And who is this majestic being that took Doctor Reid’s breath away?” It’s you, Prentiss and JJ trailing behind, delicately holding a champagne flute in your left hand and a business card in your right.

Spencer flounders, taken off-guard by your approach and the close-up view of you in your dress. He doesn’t know much about fashion, let alone dresses, but God do you look like something straight out of a movie. To him, you’re the embodiment of all the love poems and romantic monologues that his mother used to read him. He always wondered what the beauty all those writers saw looked like, and if he’d ever see something so celestial, and then you walked into his life.

He’ll never recover. Especially when you keep reminding him how perfect you are.

“Someone’s been networking,” Derek nods to the business card, noticing Spencer’s struggle and swooping in to save him. Derek loves to tease Spencer, it’s his favourite thing to do, but there’s always a time and a place, you know?

You fiddle with the card, “A little pretentious, but he mentioned having some paperwork trouble and I offered to help. I thought if I got in his good graces he’d help us keep the jet.”

Just then, the band at the back of the charity event plays a slow tune, everyone coupling up to head to the dancefloor. Before you or Spencer can react, Derek is dragging Emily away and JJ goes to find Will, but not before all three of them send some kind of subtle gesture to Spencer – Derek winks, Emily raises her eyebrows and looks between you and Spence, and JJ nudges him as she passes.

Spencer’s entire body locks up. He can’t do this. Whatever this is.

When he doesn’t move, you offer him your hand, “Would you care to dance, Doctor Reid?”

His body eases and he can’t help but smile because you’re you, “It would be an honour, Miss Y/N,” He laughs, gently wrapping his fingers around yours.

You tug him onto the outskirts of the floor – being in the centre is both of your worst nightmares – and Spencer’s other hand falls to the small of your back, pulling you close. You’re chest to chest, your arm falling in place around his shoulders, but even with heels on he’s still got some height on you. You sway to the music in perfect sync, like you’ve done this a million times, and your eyes subconsciously close from the comfort of being in Spencer’s arms and the feel of him against you.

You concentrate on your feet for a few beats, too shy to look him in his clear, brown eyes. When you finally look up to meet his gaze, you can’t help the soft smile that appears. He’s already looking at you.

Spencer returns it, smile equally as fond.

The lights of the room reflect in his eyes – it’s as if they’re twinkling, like stars, and it’s utterly mesmerising. For a second, you forget you’re at a fundraiser event, on business, surrounded by your team and people from all departments and all positions. You feel like you’ve been whisked away to some faraway land, maybe somewhere that isn’t filled with killers and evil, and you and Spencer are lovers simply enjoying the night and eachother’s company.

“You look beautiful,” Spencer whispers, as if he doesn’t want anyone else to hear you. You wonder if he feels the same way you do.

“Thank you. I was waiting for you to compliment me.” You tease.

“Oh? Does my compliment mean that much?”

You giggle nervously. You love when he teases you back, when he has this confidence that always surprises you.

“More than I’d like to admit,” You say, “But I did also spend all day getting ready, so I want my hard work appreciated.”

“Well,” Spencer swallows, eyes flickering to your collarbones and neck and everywhere on you, “Consider your hard work appreciated. Not just by me, either. I think I’ve got a lot of glares being shot at me right now.”

You break eye contact to survey the room. There’s definitely a good number of people staring at you, but you refuse to believe they’re all jealous of him. He looks dashing in his suit, hand-picked by Rossi himself, and you know you’re not the only one to notice. You see the beauties dotted around that keep checking him out.

Another ballad begins so Spencer keeps you close. He scans the side of your face, how your nose peaks and the makeup you’re wearing illuminates all of your features. He’s hopeless at makeup, too, but the colour of your eyeshadow(?) suits you perfectly. You always look perfect, he realises. Being ethereal comes naturally to you.

“Excuse me,” A voice interrupts.

Both of you snap towards him. Travis.

Travis works in.. a department. A stupid one, probably. Spencer thinks Travis sucks.

“Hi, Trav,” You smile. You like Travis – of course you do. You’ve known him longer than you’ve known Spencer, so how does Spencer stand a chance?

“Evening, Y/N. Evening, Spencer.” He gives a polite smile.

Spencer returns it with his jaw set.

“Could I steal you for a dance, Y/N? Just like during our graduation ball?” His eyes are hopeful, and Spencer looks at in you confusion. What graduation ball?

You agree shyly, “Sure, Trav. Is that okay, Spence?”

He doesn’t know why you’re asking him – you both know Spencer’s too socially awkward to say no. So he nods, gives a tight lipped smile, and sharply turns to walk straight towards the bar. He doesn’t want to see Travis gently grasp your hand and pull you close, just like he had done.

But he’s not jealous.

“Water, please.” Spencer says to the bartender.

Someone slides up beside him. He glances at the shoes – Italian leather – and he knows it’s Rossi. He’s standing with a whiskey in his hand and a pitying gaze.

Spencer takes a big gulp from his glass of water like it’s a shot of straight vodka.

“You know he’s gonna make a move on her.” Rossi announces. Spencer takes another gulp.

“What?”

“I overheard him and his friends. They were in the academy together, and after seeing her tonight he’s decided now it’s time to make a move. Even stopped me to ask if she was single because he saw how close you two were out there.” Rossi shrugs as he takes a sip of his drink, gaze burning into Spencer as he does it.

Spencer knows what he’s doing. He’s trying to rile him up, get his feathers ruffled, for him to, what? Fight Travis on the dancefloor? Run up and steal you?

“I’m sure…” He starts, slowly, “If someone, say, Emily, who disappeared outside, had a sudden emergency… Y/N would drop Travis in a second.”

Spencer looks at him. Rossi raises his eyebrows.

“Excuse me.” Spencer says.

Rossi grins as he watches Spencer almost charge towards you.

There’s a hand on your shoulder and you know it’s Spencer, and when you turn he’s out of breath.

“Emily-“ He pants, “I think she’s- she’s sick. She’s outside and asking for you.”

“Oh, God,” You gasp, hands immediately leaving Travis completely to instinctively grasp Spencer by his arms, something you’ve always done.

Spencer’s heart warms at your concern – of course you’re so genuinely concerned for one of your best friends. Could you be anymore perfect?

“Let’s go, Spence.” You glance at Travis, feet already moving, “Sorry, Travis, it was lovely to dance with you!”

Travis watches you flutter away, knowing very well that that was his once chance and he lost it. It doesn’t take a genius to work out that Spencer is lying – at least a little.

Travis could tell Spencer wasn’t happy when he asked if he could dance with you. The unimpressed look in Spencer’s eyes whenever they made eye contact solidified that.

Travis can’t blame him, if he’s honest.

Outside, the cold is starting to set in, but you’re too panicked to notice or care. Your head darts left to right, searching for Emily. You spot her, in her stunning red dress, and go to call for her. But then she laughs, head thrown back, and takes another sip of her drink.

She’s fine.

You turn to Spencer, confused, “I thought she was sick?”

He looks sheepish and you laugh as he says, “I may have told a little lie.”

“Spencer!”

“Sorry.” He doesn’t look sorry.

“Well why-“

“Since we’re here, why don’t we go look at the fountain? I saw you eyeing it when we arrived.”

You want to ask why he interrupted you and Travis, but you’re not given the chance. Spencer’s large hand holds the tip of your fingers and he gently pulls you towards the stone fountain, where it stands with several tiers and the soothing sound of running water. There’s a statute in the centre – a woman wrapped in some kind of shawl.

“My guess,” You say, arms crossing, causing Spencer to take a sharp intake of breath, “Is the statue is based on the forlorn sculptor’s lover.”

Spencer’s body deflates as releases a deep breath. He thought you were onto him and why he ruined your dance.

“Actually,” His hands move to emphasise his point, “One of the most common purposes of sculpture is in some form of association with religion-“

“Why did you interrupt Travis and I?”

Uh oh.

“Did I look uncomfortable?” You wonder, “Because I can handle myself, Spence.”

You tried to resist asking again. But something about what he did bothers you – if you didn’t want to dance with Travis, you would’ve said no or made an excuse to not have to. If you didn’t want to be around Travis, you would’ve walked away from him. No matter what, you could’ve dealt with it yourself. Does Spencer disagree?

He licks his lips out of nervousness, shakes his head and mumbles a, “No, that’s not it.”

You turn to face him. His hands are in his pockets and he’s staring at the ground as he shuffles his feet. Rossi will have a fit when he sees the shoes he hand-picked have marks on them.

“I needed to get you alone. I’m sorry.” Spencer squirms. He can’t make eye contact.

“What?” You ask, brows furrowed, “Why? Is something wrong?”

“He was..” He trails off and clears his throat, “He was gonna ask you out. I couldn’t- didn’t want to let that happen.”

Your confusion increases. So he does think you can’t handle yourself?

There’s a spark of frustration in you, then. You’ve dealt with being underestimated and babied basically your whole life and Spencer knows that. He also knows you’re a trained FBI agent that has saved his skin more times than you care to count – he knows better than anyone that you can handle yourself.

So what the fuck.

“I appreciate the concern,”

Spencer winces at your tone. This is… not going well. Not going how Spencer wanted it to, or planned. Not that he had a plan beyond getting you and Travis as far away from one another as possible.

“But I can guarantee I do not need you to loom over me and scare boys away, Spencer. You’re not my father.”

Your tone is biting and Spencer moves closer to placate you.

“That’s not what I meant, Y/N, I’m sorry that’s- I know you can handle yourself. Very well. I still have the scar from when you thought I was a robber in your house-“

“You shouldn’t have tried to sneak up on me, Spencer Reid-“

“Rossi overheard Travis saying he was gonna make a move on you and it was like I went on auto-pilot and I could hear the blood pumping in my ears and-“

“I can take care of myself, Spence.”

“I couldn’t let it happen because I want to date you.”

He looks at you then, gaze so intense you feel frozen where you stand. He continues.

“But I’m sorry if you were planning to say yes to Travis and I… came in and ruined it. Maybe you’re into him and I just… delayed the inevitable for no reason other than to humiliate myself.” He gives a tight lipped smile, rolling onto the tips of his feet and then back on the heel.

You let out a breathy laugh in disbelief. “I wasn’t going to say yes to Travis, Spence. It’d be pretty damn rude for me to date him when I very much like and want to date you.”

His eyebrows shoot up and he gives a toothy, hesitant smile, “Really?”

“Yeah, really.” You step closer. Spencer can’t take his eyes off you, not that he’s been able to at any point tonight, but now you can tell he can’t help but ogle at you.

It makes you feel fuzzy inside, that mix of excitement and nerves that you always get around Spencer.

“Well, what should we do about that?” He teases, but some anxiety shines through. He’s genuinely asking.

“Would it be okay if I kissed you?” You ask.

He sputters, “Uh- yes. That would be completely okay.”

“Well then,” You smile, “Come here.”

As if you’ve done it a million times, Spencer’s hands cup your face as he tugs you towards his lips. Your hands find his waist, softly gripping him as your eyes flutter shut and you feel Spencer’s lips for the first time.

Why does it feel so natural? So right?

Spencer has to pull back a couple of seconds later because he’s smiling so wide. You can’t resist and kiss his nose, and he giggles. He giggles.

God, you’re so in love with him.

Spencer glances at the statue standing at the top of the fountain.

“You think she’s angry that we’re kissing in front of her?”

You hum in consideration, “Definitely jealous. I mean, not everyone gets to kiss the most handsome guy at the ball.”

He can’t help but blush, and although you have a teasing tone you both know you genuinely mean it.

From where you’re standing you can still slightly hear the sound of the band inside – some kind of smooth jazz is being played now, nice and slow.

You turn and offer your hand to Spencer, just like before, “Another dance, kind sir?”

Spencer gives you a cheeky smile, “As long as you promise no Travis-like interruptions this time.”

He pulls you close, definitely closer than before as your lips nearly touch and you can feel his breath, and you rub the tip of your nose against his. “No Travis, no one, just us.”

“And the voyeur statue,” He gestures with his head towards the fountain.

You both look, and your hand leaves his shoulder to flip her off.

“Back off, hag.” You joke, and Spencer laughs at your absurdity.

Then you dance, for the second time, to the music that flows out from inside. Under the moonlight, with the twinkling stars, Spencer is convinced this is the closest to Heaven on Earth. With you, in his arms, dopey grins and loving stares.

God, he’s so in love with you.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #mine #i thought i liked this but then i left it for a day and now my opinion has DRASTICALLY CHANGED #decent idea. terrible execution

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marvelatthetwilight · 4 years

Text

Good to be home.

A/N: Just a quick one while I sort out some follow up pieces.

You had missed your brother immensely in the 5 years since you had been home. You were 7 when your mom left, and your dad moved you both back to La Push hoping that being back at the reservation would help you both, growing up as part of a community. Your dad gradually grew distant, starting to drink more and more. Sometimes he could be gone for days at a time, leaving the two of you to fend for yourselves. You relied on each other for everything. It was a shock when, at 13, your dad decided you should go back to Tacoma and stay with your grandparents, claiming that he couldn’t care for two teenagers, and that your brother was “easier” to deal with.

And so, the two of you were separated. Partners in crime, peas in a pod, best friends, ripped apart.

When your grandparents passed away, you finally had the money and the means to move back to La Push, reuniting you and your brother Paul once again.

~~~

“Y/N Lahote as I live and breathe!” Jared Cameron came bounding over to your car as you pulled up to the address Paul sent you.

“Paul has NOT stopped talking about you coming home, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so excited” Jared smiled as he opened up the passenger door and helped you with your bags.

“Jared, you look so grown up! You used to be so weedy! What happened?” You stared incredulously at him, he had grown at least a foot since you last saw him, had filled out and become muscular, nothing like the Jared you were expecting to see.

“Ha! If you think that’s something, just wait until you see your brother.”

You followed him into the house which you understood to be Emily and Sam’s. They had offered to let you stay with them whilst Paul was still finishing his house he was building for himself and Rachel.

As you entered the kitchen you were greeted with a hug from Emily, you recognised her from the photos Paul had sent you over the years. Emily was closely followed by Kim, and then Rachel, who you had spoken to on the phone almost everyday since you had planned to return home.

“Y/N! We are all SO excited to see you! Paul and I have so many plans for us!” Rachel jumped with joy, excited to spend time with her new “sister”.

“So where is my brother? I was expecting him outside waiting considering the amount he has been bothering me with questions about my arrival this week” Rachel looks over at Emily before saying; “he’s out doing some errands with Embry and Sam, they will be back soon, let’s get you settled!”

They gesture for Jared to help with your bags, and he picks them up with ease before leading the way to the guest room.

“This is going to be so hard keeping everything from Y/N if she is staying here, it’s going to be right under her nose. The boys aren’t subtle at all.” Emily whispers to Rachel.

“I know but that’s why we are in charge of keeping her busy! At least until Paul’s house is ready, then it’ll be easier.” Rachel replies as she starts walking towards the guest room, not realising that you had hung back to ask Emily a question away from Jared, unintentionally hearing their conversation.

~~~

An hour later you are in the kitchen at Emily’s dining table, bonding with the girls over your love of cooking, discussing your favourite bands. But you couldn’t stop thinking about what you had overheard. What were they keeping from you?

At that moment, Paul appeared at the door, an enormous smile on his face.

“Y/N!!!!!!!” He ran towards you, lifting you from your seat, into a bear hug. Oh how you had missed his hugs. Although you don’t remember them being this warm.

“I can’t even begin to explain how excited I am that you’re here, I have so many plans, we can go to the beach, go for a hike, I can show you the house, you can choose how to decorate your room..”

“Maybe give Y/N a chance to process what you’re saying before you keep going there Paul. I’m Sam, it’s so good to finally meet you, I’ve heard so much about you” Sam holds out his hand for you to shake, you choosing to ignore that and pulling him in for a hug instead. Woah, it’s not just Paul who feels like he’s burning up. They’re like heaters.

“Obviously I have to hug the man who’s helped my brother out so much. Thank you for everything you’ve done.” Sam smiles at this, before turning his attention to Emily, pulling her in for a hug and peppering her face with kisses.

“...thanks for running off Paul, Sam can you please explain to this idiot that just because he’s one of the fastest wolves in the pack doesn’t mean he needs to run at full speed all the time?!...oh...erm...” everyone’s heads turn to face the two new people who have appeared at the door, seemingly unaware of your presence until it was too late.

Paul’s face turns red with anger, you recognise this quickly from the stories he had told you over the years. Rachel is quickly to his side, arms around his waist, forcing his eyes to her own, speaking to him softly and calming him down.

You look again to the two men still standing in the doorway.

“Erm...hi. I’m Quil, and this idiot is Embry. Sorry, we forgot you were coming today Y/N, please ignore Embry, we have a running joke with Emily calling us all wolves because we act like a pack and we eat her out of house and home”. He laughs unnaturally at this, glancing at the others who join in, catching on that this should be funny.

You smile tightly at him, something is definitely up here. Then you turn your attention to the guy you now know to be Embry. You vaguely remember Embry and Quil from school, friends of Jacob Black’s, you were in the same year but not friends, but you don’t remember him looking like this. Why are all of Paul’s friends so muscly and tall? You definitely didn’t remember Embry being this handsome, he definitely would have stood out more. It’s like Sam has a type for his friends, another thing to add to your list of suspicions, as well as this bizarre reference to wolves. What is going on?

You realise that Embry is staring at you, his eyes are unfocused and he looks like he has completely zoned out. You cough slightly, drawing him out of his trance, attention back to you. His eyes are soft and warm, his face breaks out into a huge smile as he reaches out his hand.

“Hi, it’s so good to see you again Y/N, we’ve heard so much about your time away, erm, I’m Embry.”

You take his hand in yours, he’s so warm, why are they all so warm?

“I remember you Embry. You, Jake and Quil were like the three musketeers, always together!”

Embry smiles at the fact you remember him, and nods his head at your statement.

“We still are, don’t know what I would do without them!”

A growl sounds out from across the room, a quick cough coming from Sam stops the growl suddenly. You turn to see Paul, still with Rachel wrapped around his waist trying to calm him, shooting daggers at Embry.

“Oh this is great! I am SO looking forward to you getting out of this one Embry!” Jared laughs and claps Embry on the back.

“Paul, Embry, outside now” Sam states sternly, the two men quickly following him out of the house. You follow them with your eyes until they disappear into the tree line.

Everyone looks awkwardly at each other, before Emily suggests you help her with dinner. You agree, nodding, hoping that someone at some point will explain to you what the hell is going on.

~~~

The guys finally return an hour later, both Paul and Embry smiling as they playfully push each other walking back towards the house.

“Paul’s let him off far too lightly. I wanted Embry to at least come back with some bites...” Jared stops as Kim nudges him in the ribs.

“Can we speak to you outside Y/N?” Paul says, giving you a look and motioning outside.

You follow him out, and they both walk a bit away from the house towards the open space behind them.

~~~

You now find yourself standing next to Embry, a giant grey wolf standing in front of you.

Apparently, they really are all wolves, and you vaguely remember stories like this when you lived in La Push when you were younger. You just assumed they were nonsense, just silly stories to keep people in line with the threat of wolves and cold ones.

But they were all true. So this is what everyone was keeping from you? But, if they were going to tell you anyway, why was this all a big secret?

You turn to Embry, to see him watching your face carefully. His cheeks flush when he realises he has been staring again.

“So, this is why everyone has been acting strange around me all day?” Paul’s wolf nods and Embry speaks up.

“Yes. We weren’t allowed to say anything about it, so it had to be a secret. But...something changed that means we can now tell you.” He looks embarrassed again, and Paul huffs like he is unhappy about what has been said.

Embry flashes him a look, and Paul stalks away back to the tree line he emerged from minutes earlier.

“Can we sit? I feel like we should be sitting for this.”

You nod, still suspicious and then you both make your way to a small bench close to the house.

“So...one of the perks, I suppose, of our wolves is that we imprint. Erm...and imprinting is basically our way of finding our soul mate. It’s like a pull, we don’t want to be away from them but ultimately, we just want them to be happy. ...It’s not always romantic soul mates, it can just be a friendship...whatever the imprint wants from us basically” he shuffles in his seat, glancing at the floor, scuffing his foot in the dirt.

“Ok...so that’s what Paul and Rachel are, imprints, that’s why she was able to calm him?”

Embry nods.

“And Jared and Kim, Sam and Emily? They’re imprints too?”

Embry nods again.

“So...why are you telling me this? What has changed for me to now know your secret?”

Embry’s face flushes at this question. He was hoping you would have caught on and he wouldn’t need to actually tell you.

“Y/N...” Embry looks up, looking deeply into your eyes, willing you to understand.

“Oh...” you whispered, he was saying that you were his imprint. You thought about this carefully. Embry. “You’re saying that I’m your imprint?”

Embry nods a final time. Hesitant about your reaction.

“But we can be whatever you want us to be, it doesn’t need to be anything else.” He looks away again, hoping that you want what he wants, but not wanting to push you into something you aren’t comfortable with.

You can admit to yourself that you do feel a pull towards him, more than just a friendship you think.

“Erm...maybe we take it slow? But, I think...I want...”

You look up at him, his eyes full of love and something clicks inside you. You lean forward, closing the space between you. He looks shocked but he closes the space again until your lips are inches apart. He waits for you to take the final move.

Your lips touch briefly, and your body tingles at the touch, a shiver running through you as you move apart and the contact is lost. Wow.

“I definitely want to be more than friends Embry.” You whisper to him, leaning your forehead against his, your lips still close.

“I am going to make you the happiest girl in the entire world Y/N Lahote.” You smile and kiss him again.

I could get used to this, you thought.

It’s so good to be home.

A/N: so this wasn’t as short as I thought haha. Got caught up!

Taglist:

@volturidoll13 @clearwater-hoe @like-rain-or-confetti @teampaul @fatiguing-thoughts @wallwriterstuff

#embry call x reader #embry call imagine #embry call #paul lahote #jared cameron #paul lahote x reader #twilight #twilight imagines #twilight x reader #Paul Lahote x sister

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mypersonmyg · 4 years

Text

Tebori Tapioca | JJK

**beautiful banner made by @monvante <3

pairing: Jeongguk x reader

genre: fluff, strangers to lovers, love at first sight, tattoo au, tea shop au

wc: 15k

warnings: language, slow burn???

summary: a shining beacon in a sea of monotony OR you just might believe in love at first sight

a/n: hi friends, umm so yea this is a fic i’ve been cooking up for a while and as seems to happen with most of my fics there’s definitely room for more but i didn’t wanna go overboard because the last time i did no one read womp womp...

ANYWHO there’s still very much room for this universe to grow whether it be drabbles, smaller oneshots or whatever so if you have requests pls send them !! for this au or any others

honorary tag: @gukssunshine

masterlist

Sunlight filters through an open storefront, natural light shading the room in incandescent glow, the honk of horns just overstating the chirp of the birds perched in overarching trees that line the street. Lights are still lit, strung throughout branches despite the hour slowly inching toward noon.

Your pencil taps a worn pad, the hundredth rotation of the dormant rectangle of sheets providing no more inspiration than ninety-nine and below. You shove the contents along a desk littered in your crumpled defeat, legs kicking to the wooden surface with comforting intent.

It’s not unusual, the stray of your eyes to the shop just a few buildings from the florist decorating the opposing side of the street. A work in progress, a work almost in completion. It’s become a game, the guessing of its contents, the colorful display before it’s displayed intriguing to many passersby. You’re close to pondering a new theory when Jimin interrupts with his entrance from the back, reciting safety to Namjoon’s latest masterpiece.

He whistles an impressive tune following the departure of a satisfied client, rounding his occupied desk and knocking your feet from his cluttered surface. You don’t have time for the countered glare of offense before his words are zeroed in as if he’s been waiting to direct them long before now when your guard is readily disarmed. “You have an office for a reason, why do you always have to sit at my desk.”

“It’s a nice view.”

“I’ll admit that my delicate features leave nothing to the imagination, but I’m tired of cleaning up after you.” His words are emphasized by his hand’s routine swipe, piles of paper tumbling to the can beside him in rapid succession. Your eyes roll, Jimin’s fingers already beginning to type away on his desktop while your pupils track the delicate arch of his digits and your ears listen to the satisfying click of keys. The consideration of locking yourself away in your office trapezes along the wide expanse of your mind, but before it’s made up Jimin is speaking again, this time with an air of factual superiority. “A tea shop.”

“Hmm?”

“The shop down the street, it’s a tea shop.”

“You sound pretty confident,” You hum, eyes darting to the window, turquoise staring back in the fashion of awnings and fresh paint bordering a wooden frame. The sleeves of your sweater bite at your wrist in comforting fuzz, a slight itch along the skin to pull you from quaint interest. “What makes you so sure?”

“Just a feeling, it’s got that certain ambiance, you know?” Jimin’s hands wave with the impression of the ambiance so to speak, his eyes squinted in that way you so adore. The thought crosses your mind on many occasions, to compliment his subtle beauty, but the knowledge of his playfully arrogant counter always draws you from speech.

“Or because we ran into the owner on our way in this morning,” Namjoon chirps in kind, strolling to the lobby, his own pad in hand. He neatly tosses it to the desk, fingers skimming through unkempt hair. “Nice guy, said he might drop in for a consultation sometime.”

“Consultation? Sounds big,” You muse, hand finding your abandoned pencil to drag faint strokes along your page, though even the slight draw brings grimace to your features, dulled in the shadow of your palm pressed to your forehead, easily nudging wisps of loose hair. Namjoon shrugs, a non-committal range of motion, his neck craning over your shoulder to sneak a peek at your lack of a work of art.

He doesn’t speak on it, simply taking in the unfinished strokes, presumably in an attempt to reassure you in the midst of inspiration long lost. You're prepared to assure him that there’s no need for forced encouragement, but he moves on, collapsing onto near plush without a word.

“Says he’s been thinking about it for a while so I told him we could help him out. He also invited us to his opening, said he'd save some tea for us if we’re busy.” Lips pull back, dimples accenting Namjoon’s heavy cheeks.

You’re unsurprised by his amicable tale, recalling your fresh steps into this very shop just a few years prior. Your body was bare of ink and your arms bore only a flimsy book with hopeful sketches. He’d taken in your wide eyed glance and the disappearance of your bottom lip to the gnawing confines of your teeth. His towering height and newly trimmed hair taunting you within the daunting shadow that filled your frame through the doorway.

You chuckle at past memories, wondering how you could ever fear the gentle giant, his lips pulling into ready grin as he showed you to the very desk before you now.

“What’s so funny?” Namjoon calls to you, Jimin halting in his current endeavor to glance the smirk stretching your cheek.

“Nothing, just thinking. Was that your last client for the day?” You grab for the sign-in ledger, finger trailing the thick page, pinky tugging at the pulled edge of a worn corner. Your smirk flips to a frown poorly withheld, the page filled with Namjoon only reminding you that your own supplies need only be sanitized to prevent the collection of dust.

“Yeah, I figured we’d just close shop early today.” Jimin swipes the ledger with a tisk in your direction, not blind to silent thoughts.

“It’s noon, what if someone wants a walk-in?” Your gaze slides to the clock, hands ticking slowly along the round wall piece. It’s not unreasonable to assume someone will come in seeking art of the bodily variety, and your hands itch to prove your worth, even if it lies within an album long binded.

“Then I’m sure they’ll still want it tomorrow.” Namjoon shrugs, his hands folding over his chest forcing the bulge of recently buffed arms. You almost make a joke about the possible tear of the t-shirt hugging his frame, but refrain out of refusal to partake in the pursuance of sure to follow antics. “Besides, it’ll give you more time to work on that.”

You follow the tilt of Namjoon’s hair, long grown out from his routine refusal to take time from his day to get a trim. You often joke that he’ll be gallivanting with a tail soon enough, his thick locks nearly shoulder length as it stands. He often finds himself shaking it from his peripheral with the wrong angling of his head. He motions to your barely done sketch, the page glaring at you with a mocking disgust.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m gonna do.” You drip sarcasm, pad tossed to your bag and jacket jerked to waiting arms.

~*~

Off-white trim borders the wall of a shop nearly complete, Jeongguk checks and double checks a list stored in the confines of his mental. Aside from constant fear of the opening of doors without the steady flood of patrons he’s eager for business, hard work finally paying its due.

He’s only in for the morning, the steady tick of his wrist a reminder to snap from his obsessive habit, sure that he’ll receive word from Taehyung that he's on his way to drag him from the building. His grin rivals the glare of the sun as his eyes travel a building come together. His hand falls to his arm in dramatic pinch to ensure that his eyes aren’t filled with hopeful deceit.

It fits, he thinks, stepping out onto the walk, key slotting into the door to ensure security. His shop melds perfectly with the heavily lined street, animated tapioca unfinished in the window somehow making sense with the neighboring extravagance of bloom at the near florist and the samples of ink from the tattoo shop across the way. Even the simple thrift shop with it’s objects of interest decorating the window compliments his simple display.

Opportunity hasn’t struck to visit his new neighbors, though he did stumble into a chunk of the owners of one of the shops. He found surprise in the ease with which conversation flowed, his mouth like the babble of a brooke despite the nerves that skipped like pebbles in his stomach and his heart that beat a million miles a minute following their friendly departure.

In his stupor he nearly misses the float of voices a ways down the quietly milling street, but the recognition of a melodic tone draws his gaze.

“I’ll take you for ice cream.” Jeongguk recognizes the voice that seeks to entice as Jimin, though he doesn’t recognize you.

“I’m not a child you know.” Your statement is grumbled, the words echoing that of a childlike pout. Jeongguk can see the movement of your arms as they reach to a playful shove, the rhythmic shift of Jimin’s feet looking routine even from a distance. You choose not to acknowledge Jimin’s coo, his fingers poking at your protruding cheek as if to say Oh but aren’t you?

Jeongguk watches with interest and the initiative to work up the courage to bring acknowledgement to his presence and perhaps introduction to who he expects is the other third of the tattoo shop. You and Jimin are too caught in bickering to notice the figure just feet away, your fingers pinching Jimin’s nose with a countering taunt.

“Can’t I just treat you to a nice frozen treat? I don’t recall that being a crime, but please enlighten me.” You pinch the bridge of your own nose, the scent of freshly packed soil wafting from neatly situated pots.

You spot the poke of pink from one of the tall and timid plants, though you imagine the fragile nature is only by way of visual, Yoongi always diligent with his seedling evolved friends. You make note to beg him to allow the purchase of a precarious plant, an act of teasing to stem from your track record, the memory of shriveled begonias bringing even your shoulders to lift in cringe.

“Are you still talking?” Your gaze shifts back to Jimin, his flow not conscious to your unconscious senses.

“So rude, you should be thanking me for the extra time off.”

“As if I need more time off, but fine, I suppose I can let you treat me as an apology for your ratty transgressions.” You tut. Were your ears peaked and footing less strayed you would’ve noted the distant chuckle of Jeongguk, still standing dormant outside of a dimmed shop.

His thoughts of hurried introduction came to halt with his notice of you. Your voice held a playful jab when you spoke, Jimin’s reactions only animated enough to draw slight attention from your raised tone. Despite your fussing dialogue, your posture was slouched just a tad and your hands fisted into snug jacket sleeves to mimic paws. Jeongguk decides he’d be hard pressed not to be endeared by you in the slightest.

“Wow, I thought I was gonna have to come here and drag you out by the ears.” Hands clap Jeongguk’s shoulders, Taehyung rounding his frame, grin gentle as he regards with relief. “I swear you’d probably live here if I didn’t keep you at bay. What are you--oh she’s pretty.”

The two watch your retreat, your hand easily clasping Jimin's, the swing of connected wrists appearing natural with your stride through the afternoon chill. Jeongguk ignores the flare of his cheeks at the notion of exposure, thankful that Taehyung doesn’t make a show of his ogling.

“Yeah, looks like she’s taken though...you wanna get ice cream?” Taehyung scrunches his nose, wind kissed cheeks held between gloved palms. His scoff is inward, Jeongguk’s suggestion appearing nothing short of ridiculous as the two are swept by a wind that’s particularly biting. While Taehyung shivers, Jeongguk doesn’t appear to mind, hands shoved in his pockets, heels rocking along cracked concrete.

“Do I look like I want to get ice cream? It’s freezing out here and not everyone radiates the warmth of a furnace.”

“Well unlike you, not everyone is so dramatic.”

“Whatever, just get some when we get home.” Taehyung lightly shoves, legs turning in the direction of his car, parked on asphalt, freshly coated by summer’s end.

Jeongguk stares after the winded trail of a billowing pea, your bobbing figure rounding a corner and straying from widened eyes. He sucks through clenched teeth, opportunities knock having been missed at the hands of Taehyung. The clench of fists in pockets goes unnoticed as he rounds on planted heels and makes his way to the car, Taehyung happily staring from the passenger seat waiting with a grin dripping sincerity.

“You definitely owe me for this.”

~*~

You twitch along with the consistent drip of a leaky faucet, the tap of digits on worn ceramic offering a release to limbs without proper use. The biting chill in your toes is only minutely cured by the pilling of four blankets, barely thick enough to rival the wool knit socks Hoseok gifted you last christmas.

You find pause in the sun setting from the window, dim lighting pouring through weak curtains. Your tongue prods at the confines of your mouth, frosted by forced treat and abandoned with the recommendation of a mug of hot cocoa which now rests lukewarm in your clenching palms.

You force your mind to yield, racing in a direction opposite the self destructive course that usually remains dormant until you lay to rest for the evening. Hands numbed by the interference of a numbing chill met with the warmth of a mostly empty mug nearly spilling when your right palm jumps in the direction of your phone, perched on an end table composed of chipping wood and stains too set to resemble anything but a dark pool, a picture puddle fit for galoshes in adolescence.

You wonder if Yoongi’s taken his plants in, the set of cold not nearly the condition for any pending life surely. Though you quickly pull back, recalling a conversation following another mishap, your plant lying limp before the attentive florist, his cheeks rosy from the heat lamps and the temperature set to ensure maximum growth year round. It was with passion that he waxed about the difference between certain plants and the amazing circumstances of their survival.

It was with half amused grin, your head lopsided along the freshly painted door frame that he assured you that if a plant can survive the harsh conditions of the season of cool there was surely one meant to survive you.

You glance to the succulent placed on the sill overlooking your sink. You had been indignant at Yoongi’s insistence that you take it, almost begging that he give you one of the smiling pink numbers reflecting in the window rather than the less impressive green poking from the dirt of a tiny hand painted pot. Yoongi’s reaction was much the same, innocence painting his rose blushed cheeks as he explained the beauty of every plant, sure to continue on until you gently removed the pot from his fingers.

Now the once shy note of green was large enough to cover your palm, a bright spot in the dark of your apartment, falling apart at the hands of purposeful ignorance from an absent landlord.

A sharp tap against your front door draws your gaze, pointed as if to break the barrier of solid wood. You don’t notice the spill of your drink until warmth slips through your sweater, arm jerk sending the mug careening to shatter. The pieces decorate the floor with a colorful tap to pair with the running of dark liquid along the hardwood.

“Shit.” Words muttered in haste, one of many blankets piled in swaddle is heaved to the floor, your legs lifting you from the chair and gently to clothed knees. Cocooning the glass in the thick material you stand to full height when another tap draws you. Your hands tug at your sweater, the seep of the liquid already beginning to set in and your skin grows irritated from the unwanted intrusion. “Coming!”

You glance to the spot where chocolate dances along the edges of your braided rug, the centerpiece itching to soak up what it can manage of the chocolatey drink, already dreading the work of scrubbing to prevent permanent damage. Making your way to the door your feet stride in a half walk half slide along hardwood, tripping up due to the soiled bits of fabric sticking to your feet and resisting a usually easy trek along the hardwood. The pull of the door is a surprise, an unfamiliar face staring back at you with a geometrically flattering smile.

“Hello…” Your words are drawn and rasped, a mixture of the lack of dialogue and settling curiosity.

“Hi, I’m Taehyung.” There’s no deterrence from Taehyung at your lack of reciprocated enthusiasm, just the shake of locks, shaggy and shielding his eyes that appear to glisten in the flicker of the hall lights. His eyes brighten in recognition, though you can’t seem to separate his stare from the reflection of his shocking irises and simply accept his hand as it slowly extends.

“Y/n. Is there something I can help you with?” You attempt a glance around his ever present frame in hope for an explanation, but the notion is non-existent so you wait as he gathers his own. You don’t miss the wandering of his eyes to the open of your apartment but don’t call him on it, an entrance composed of nothing more than a table and a crooked portrait gifted by Jin. You can hear his distant cackles as he positioned it just perfectly before the door.

“Actually I was gonna ask you how to work the heat in this place, but you look about as warm as me so…” He shifts on his heels unsure, taking in your heavily bundled appearance.

You tug once more at your stained sweater, your face heating with recollection of the soiled garment still clinging to you, now with more fervor from the added moisture. Your thick socks are layered over a pair only slightly less so and your legs appear heavily padded under two pairs of dense sweats. “You must be new here.”

Taehyung shrugs, half a step taken in retreat. He tilts his head just so, gesturing to the vacant hall, a door half ajar allowing the flood of light to illuminate the peel of ancient wallpaper. Not for the first time you wish you’d taken Jimin up on his spare room. “Yeah, just officially moved in today. We’re down the hall, heard the apartment’s been vacant for a while and it seemed nice enough.”

“But no one told you that the heat only works correctly on a good day, sounds about right.”

“And our shower--”

“Leaks?” You finish, the distant drip from your kitchen just audible over your speech. Your thumb pushes against the bow of your pursed lips, teeth grabbing hold of roughened skin whilst you watch the turn of cogs tumbling before you.

“Yeah...should I call the landlord?” His brows knit at your nonchalance, thumb jerking to his apartment. You almost chuckle, covering your outburst with a quick tilt of your head. The simplicity of the suggestion seems only to add to the hilarity of the situation.

“Sure, but I’d recommend investing in a space heater and keeping a couple of tools handy. I’m not wearing four layers to make a fashion statement.” Your fingers drum along the frame of your door, the gentle tap carrying between you in soft silence. “Well...welcome to the building and sorry to be the bearer of bad news.”

“Guess someone had to be,” His throat clears in chuckle, hand tugging at the sleeve of his hoodie, the strings hanging lopsided where his hood lay half scrunched at the base of his neck. His thumb lifts to trace the corner of his mouth, shifted in that same grin that greeted you minutes prior, though this time your return is swift and without the same haze that accompanied his unfamiliar presence. “Thank you. I appreciate your help.”

Taehyung turns on his heel at the pace of the gears turning in his brain, swift stride carrying him back to his door, yours clicking shut along the shells of his ears. He pushes into his residence, door squeaking on hinges as it closes in his wake. Straight for the living room he makes haste with lengthy stride, spotting Jeongguk who swallows the couch with his body, spread as much as the lengthened cushion will allow. He peeks from his curtain of hair, dangling at the angle of his head, blinking with the poke of a follicle gently prodding his pupil.

“So?” He pushes up to a sit, nearly knocking his phone from the arm where it’s perched without care. His shoulders shake from the mix of cold and anticipation, mistaking the grin that Taehyung sports as a triumphant mission.

“Oh this place is spectacularly shitty, my friend. Looks like we’ll be snuggling like penguins if we wanna get warm tonight.” As if to punctuate his vivid explanation, Taehyung slides dangerously close to where Jeongguk remains sitting, legs brushing as he sinks into the already heated seat.

Jeongguk nudges to the sharp of Taehyung’s shoulder, encouraging him further inward with a defeated groan. He’s sure he catches the scent of something similar to carpet that’s been left to mildew, but he attributes it to imagination. Somehow this very apartment seemed a saving grace just a month ago. “I knew we should’ve splurged on that loft. Why are you smiling?”

“Hm, so that girl that you were staring at earlier, you know her?” Taehyung doesn’t shy from his urge to throw himself over Jeongguk’s lap, ignoring the squint scrutiny from above. He pokes at the underside of Jeongguk’s chin, teasing a reaction from him, grimace evident from the suction of his cheeks.

“Not exactly, I know the guy she was with though. They own the tattoo shop, why?” Taehyung braces his head with one hand, the other grabbing hold of the string dangling from his clothes, rolling the aglet between agile fingers. He ponders the thought of revealing that just beyond moth eaten wallpaper and the cracks of a concrete hall you await just a few doors down.

“Just a question. You didn’t think I would just leave it, did you?” Jeongguk’s nose scrunches because he did in fact find that avenue favorable among the chosen. Taehyung pats his muscled thigh with a patronizing shake of the head, hair already tangling with the push of his heavy skull to Jeongguk’s tough jeans.

“So what, she’s cute, not like I know anything about her. I’m more concerned with making it through the night without contracting pneumonia or risking the complete freeze of my limbs.”

The two seem to scoot closer at the thought, Taehyung now pushed against Jeongguk’s abdomen. They paint quite a picture on their second hand furniture, couch in need of stitching at the seams and the questionable stain that inhabited it upon arrival nipping at the press of Taehyung’s socked feet into the cushion.

Fatigue abandoned the task of unloading boxes that litter the expanse of open flooring and leftover furniture. Their energy fueled endeavor long forgotten along with the memory of comforting warmth. They both ponder the idea of retreating to respective rooms, but find it would be a miracle if they could manage to pull themselves from half comfort, abandoning the hope of body heat against the chill of the shared space.

Audible groan travels the four walls when a gentle fist beats against the door. Taehyung shoves at Jeongguk’s shoulder, a silent appeal to the younger to make sacrifice and leave their cocooned warmth. Jeongguk won’t be swayed, his arms easily finding the weight of Taehyung’s side and nudging enough to send him careening to the floor with a resounding thud.

Grumbles and groans of the incoherent leave Taehyung’s mouth, amused giggles falling from Jeongguk whose legs are now pulled to drink in the heat left behind. Taehyung stops for a moment, thinking that his timely trek was wasted, opposing party’s fist meeting wood no more. He gently opens the door, head ducking around the corner, foot stepping out only to stub into something surely placed for such an occasion as his physical reckoning.

He foregoes subtly, mouth unhinging and curses falling akin to rocks from a cliff side, the echo bouncing against concrete and soaking into the slips and edges of the silent walls. Jeongguk ambles around the corner with concern etched features, the draw of his eyes landing on his roommate, leg at an angle and clutched whilst he leans against the doorframe.

Jeongguk squeezes past, kneeling to pluck the sticky posted from the top of what appears to be a space heater. His eyes scan the crisp note, glancing down the hall with the knowledge that the perpetrator is surely long gone. “Dude, you good?”

“Stubbed my fucking toe,” Taehyung strains. Jeongguk let’s him sulk, hiding a purposeful grin from the dramatist leaning over him. “What is that anyways.”

“Space heater.” He passes the note, Taehyung scans it quickly with a hum. He doesn’t miss the look he’s receiving from Jeongguk, aware of the name scribbled along the tiny parchment. “Was nice of them. What did you say anyways?”

“Nothing really, guess I’m just a natural charmer.”

~*~

“Will you tell her that she should just move in with me like I suggested in the first place?” Jimin snags on the thick of Namjoon’s t-shirt, pulling him from his task, resituating his glasses along his face rather than the slide to the tip of his nose that seemed a regular occurance. You choose to ignore the commotion, back to sweeping dust and scattered leaves from the entrance of the shop.

Your living situation, less than ideal, often leads you to Jimin’s door, his spare room rather drenched in your deposited belongings. It’s his futile mission to persuade you to trade up from your desolate one bedroom with it’s desperate calling for tlc and take permanent residence in his humble abode just uptown.

It’s foolish not to consider, but you always find the scrape of your teeth roughening the budded surface of your tongue when he turns to you with his grin of sweet saccharine nearly once a week. You don’t know what it is about the cracks that seem to shimmy further up the walls with each passing minute or the breaks in the tile that beg an earthquake decades off, but you aren’t quite ready to part with it.

“If you want me to stop coming over just say so,” You huff, fully aware that’s not the case but sure it’ll throw Jimin for a curve with enough distance to keep him at bay.

He sputters, releasing Namjoon with a gentle shove, “That’s not it and you know it! I just don’t see why you stay there, it’s so...broken.”

“I’ll have you know that I-”

“Have lived there since you came here blah blah blah, we know. Oh hey, a customer! Would you look at that,” Jimin’s over enthused response following a set of feet flooding through draws your next words to thin air, replaced with a well meaning grin. His perked posture slumps when he realizes that it is not in fact a patron looking to empty their wallet. “Oh, it’s just Hobi-hyung.”

“Thanks for the sunshine,” Hoseok counters, elbows covered with a patched overcoat resting along the edge of Jimin’s desk. Though his words hold a tinge of sarcasm, he’s all smiles as he regards you. Much like Namjoon he sports his frames today, wide and rectangular perched along the bridge of his nose. From the opening of his coat you smirk at the peak of a bright yellow sweater, an animation practically dancing along the expanse of his chest.

“Guess it’s a good thing that’s your job,” Namjoon pats him on his way to his office, returning with a box overflowing with garments and books. It’s not unusual that the two of them exchange goods, Hoseok’s thrift always looking for ways to fill the shelf.

It surprised you in the beginning, the flow of people who seemed to always leave his shop holding something to their chest like it was the world stuffed into a novelty bag. That was before Hoseok insisted that you visit yourself, sure you’d find something of interest. He wasn’t perturbed by skepticism, it only seemed to fuel the glint of a thousand galaxies that flared in his concentrated stare.

You’d ambled the lot for a good thirty minutes, fingers gliding along shelves so sturdy it came as a shock that he installed them himself, the wiggle of his elongated fingers when you recited the thought still fresh. It was the belief of Hoseok, in his own words, that there was a magic in places like his. A magnetic pull that would lead you to just the thing you need, often times things he himself didn’t even know he possessed.

“The rest is all in good fun,” He’d finished with that smile that rivaled the shine of the largest star glistening from above.

Your magic was nestled in the thick of it all, buried beneath someone else’s waiting fortune. It was the far corner that drew you, something about it just a shade darker than the rest of the large room. You’re unsure what possessed you, ignoring the insistence of magic cycling through the heavy air conditioning as you pillage through a pile of neatly folded quilts and the random placement of a busted stereo.

“Find something?” Hoseok appeared, head resting just over your shoulder. Your crouch betrayed you and were it not for quick reflexes and a helping hand the bust of your ass was sure to find the floor. Hoseok stood with a pool of change shaking in his palm and his neat smile waiting for you to putter around with your find.

“It’s just a necklace, nothing special.”

“Still, take it, you never know.” He was insistent that you leave with the silver chain, an onyx pendant dangling from the end and even more so that, rather than pay him, you admit that there’s something in the air. You agreed, but your reluctance was only truly squashed when you found yourself adorning the necklace more than your usual jewelry reserved for occasion.

“Hey, did you guys hear about the tea shop opening up?” Hoseok plants himself on Jimin’s desk, ignoring the playful glare burning a hole in his side. Namjoon rests the box on the ground next to him with a grunt, clear on Hoseok’s intention to linger as long as time will allow rather than collecting his treasure and hurrying back to his own place of work.

“Jimin and I met the owner yesterday, he seems like a really nice guy.” Namjoon fills before Jimin has the chance to allow his jaw to unhinge, no doubt planning to flaunt his basic knowledge like privileged information.

“That’s nice. Rumor has it he specializes in boba.” You would chuckle were it not for the wild look in Hoseok’s eyes, his hands painting imaginary rainbow before slotting through the pockets of his coat. His feet steadily tap tap against the tile, the gentle nod of his head not at all unusual but nonetheless intriguing. “It’ll be so nice not having to drive a town over just to have a nice tapioca pearl.”

“You know they sell those, you could make your own.” Your words are all but lost on the eccentric businessman, his tactic to avoid information displeasing to his interests taking full effect. His body angles, half hiding a chuckling Jimin from your view. Sliding the broom to the near closet, not unaware of leaves sadly crumpled against the tile from Hoseok’s timely entrance, but not bothered enough to scoop them into the waiting bin, you make haste to your office slipping between the door slightly ajar. “Right. Well I’m gonna go try to get some work done.”

You release a stuttered breath upon the gentle click of your door, mumbled dialogue just barely pushing through the thick wood. Air puffs your cheeks in half contemplation, silence stealing the inspiration that seemed to dance before you, brain now only half awake as time seems to dwindle at the speed of sound. Instead of the reach for a waiting pad and the scatter of ballpoint colors staring from your desk unused and impatient, you grab for a volume that seems to scream from the near bookshelf.

It begs the recollection of time well spent, a pang in your chest follows a rushing to the surface as if air tearing from lungs lacking capacity. Your full weight collapses to your chair, recently upgraded at Namjoon’s insistence that nursing the squeaky four wheeler that threatened to collapse with the wrong release of breath violated his own moral codes before the hushed mumble about legal repercussions. You aren’t complaining, the upgrade makes you feel like a permanent staple, especially when your mind is convinced that layoff is imminent.

Your fingers trace the smooth cover of hardback, reckoning with the ache to feel the crisp of unturned pages and avoid the buildup that follows suit. It’s the not knowing that tugs at the precipice of your flowing mind, wishing for diagnosis from a stagnant flow of a previous gold mine.

Your ears peak at the surge of voices layering the lobby, though your mind squashes the urge for a slip back into the throw of pleasant chatter. You draw a drawer, fishing for half tangled buds, slipping them into your heightened canals to drown with the sounds of your latest fix.

~*~

The lift of Jeongguk’s gaze as heavy feet carry him past the fluorescent sign of Uhgood Tattoo and through the ringing entrance is subtle enough as doe eyes scan the lengthy space for a feminine form. He’s met with null, but the snag of his pupils on a wall of intricacy almost distracts from the loiter of men staring straight for him and Taehyung who is decidedly less preoccupied.

“Jeongguk, nice to see you again!” Namjoon booms over every voice in the room. His arms are half open in eager acceptance and Jeongguk leads Taehyung to the settled group, one last sweep still leaving him wanting for an introduction or a glimpse at best. “We were actually just talking about you.”

“About me?” His tone toes between surprise and unease, lips puckering in the shape of ‘oh’ and steps stuttering against the crunch of leaves slipping along linoleum.

“Yeah, Hoseok here was just saying how excited he is that you moved in. He owns the thrift shop just across from you.”

Hoseok doesn’t need much introduction before he’s centered in front of Jeongguk, smile glinting and hands reaching for the younger man with much fervor. Jeongguk would find the proximity daunting were it not for the friendly face reflecting in his widened irises. His chest rumbles, glad to place a face to bright signs and eccentric displays.

“Nice to meet you, we’re all glad to have a new face on our little strip. I’m especially glad to have an excuse to save myself from Jin’s questionable experiments in the kitchen.” Hoseok’s hand has yet to stop its steady shake of Jeongguk’s, too caught in words, leaving his mind’s body on its own. “Feel free to drop by my shop anytime, I love seeing new faces. Plus-”

“Here we go…” Jimin cuts, feigned exasperation coating his pitched tone before he excuses himself to the back of the shop. His exit isn’t swift enough to hide the exasperation of the puff of air that gaps his lips.

“There’s a special kind of magic in a shop like mine and because you just moved in the first trinket is on the house!”

“Oh magic? Taehyung’s really into that stuff, we’ll stop in sometime.” He gestures to his friend whose hands are shoved to the thick of his sweatshirt, lips pushed inward with the suck of his cheeks. “This is him by the way, Taehyung, he’s my partner of sorts at the cafe and my roommate.”

“Yeah, though the last one is questionable at the moment. Nice to meet you guys, this place is sweet! Do you do piercings by any chance?” As if by pure luck Jimin’s stepping back into the room, his eyes set ablaze with passion by the innocent inquiry.

“Piercings are my specialty actually, I can pierce any and everything!” His hands clasp to Taehyung’s shoulder, glad for excitement out of the realm of files and spreadsheets. Taehyung, surprised by the eager response, can only seem to nod along to the spew that falls from Jimin’s lips that near miles per minute. “Are you interested? I’d be happy to show you our collection.”

“This could take a while,” Jeongguk is startled by the presence of Namjoon somehow closer than before. Jimin is still spouting about his work to his potential client, Jeongguk takes in Taehyung’s features in search of a signal for help, but only finds him painted with interest and intrigue at the bundle of knowledge that is Park Jimin. Namjoon gestures to a hall along the far wall, a couple of paintings half crooked beckoning them forth. “We can talk about those tattoos if you’re interested?”

The buzz that surges in the cavity of his chest is answer enough, companied with the vigorous nod of his head, curls bouncing against the frame of his cheeks. “That would be great!”

Namjoon easily falls into the roll of guide, leading the two down the hall and past a couple of doors tightly sealed. The walls are a dark shade, set aglow by the heat of fixtures hanging overhead. Even in the dim setting, Jeongguk finds his head swiveling in every direction, thirsting to take in every inch of the place. In his haste he nearly trips over a section of flooring slightly raised, likely the result of settled foundation over many years. He decides rather quickly in favor of the building, the character of the interior clashing rather nicely with the updated signage on the outside.

‘We’ve got a few different stations for working,” Namjoon speaks up, drawing Jeongguk’s attention back. “We do them in the section off the side of the lobby if the customer is comfortable and it’s nothing major, but we also have private rooms that we as the artists like to use depending on the project.”

“That’s what these rooms are?” Jeongguk reaches with a pointed finger, tracing the expanse of the wooden frame, chipped and roughened, to a closed door. Rather than plaquing to decipher between the various enclosures there are framed sketches posted outside of each, nothing a newcomer like himself could pick up on, clearly contributed by the owners.

“For the most part, there’s my office and Y/n’s, and a storage closet but this is where the magic happens.” Namjoon allows Jeongguk a path to his office, door shutting in their wake with a dull thud.

It’s less decorated than Jeongguk was expecting, the barely bare walls outside of the office building up the anticipation of the canvas that must be spread within. Instead there’s nothing put bright white, almost blinding compared to what he’s seen so far. There are a few framed photos of Jimin, himself, and you; all smiling in various scenarios of glee. Other than the placement of a decently sized shelf in the corner and the desk perched along the adjacent wall this office gives no indication of Namjoon’ s labyrinthine line of work.

Even so, Namjoon appears highly intimidating as he takes a seat at his desk, gesturing Jeongguk to the comfortable chair across. Jeongguk is well aware that he doesn’t mean to give the impression of a boss, straight backed and fingers laced over mahogany, but that doesn’t make it any less so.

“So!” Namjoon speaks with triumph, his gauntlet the toss of the pen that had previously dangled from the fold of pierced ears. “You have any idea what you’re looking for in the ink department? I figure we can start with graphics and then discuss placement to see who the best fit would be for you.”

“Best fit?” Jeongguk leans forward, boots squeaking obscenely on the tile beneath. His cheeks flush at lack of knowledge, feeling as if the words spewed were foreign when in reality it was a jolt sent to the creases of his spine and straight to the red soaked appendage in his upper chest. While he’s entered this room with the assumption that Namjoon would be his sole artist, there lay a chance that the two of you will come face to face.

“Yeah, Y/n and I are both good at what we do but of course we both have our specialties. So we like to decide our clients that way sometimes.” Namjoon’s explanation leaves him none the wiser to hidden meanings and the hopeful perk of Jeongguk’s shoulders.

“Oh. I haven’t met Y/n yet,” He wonders if you rest behind one of the many doors leading to this one, sketching away on what he’s sure can only be a masterpiece. “Is she around?”

“Yeah...I don’t wanna disturb her though. Maybe she’ll be in the lobby when we’re finished here.” Namjoon’s words are sincere though his eyes seem to drift far off, their target the window over Jeongguk’s shoulder, shadowed by the growth of a large tree, branches dwarfing the ground outside. His trance is but a moment, focusing once more on the man before him. “What did you have in mind for your tattoo?”

“Well, actually, I was wondering if you guys use the tebori method here? I know it’s more widely used in japan, but I don’t really see myself heading over there anytime soon.” This shop isn’t the first that Jeongguk has scoped in hope of an artist with an extra element of technique, the buildup for disappointment resting in a rehearsed expression. He watches the myriad of expressions that Namjoon cycles through, almost as if the answer rests against the tip of his tongue, but he’s unsure if it’s the correct one. “It’s totally fine if—”

“We do.” He speaks without much expression save for the way his spine seems to cave inward as he continues to think. Jeongguk isn’t sure whether he should continue speaking, choosing instead to study the tilt of a pen on the desk, threatening to roll to the floor if it dances any longer at the edge of the surface. His nerves itch to grab for the object for some form of reprieve, afraid that the pending clatter will disturb Namjoon’s steady concentration and perhaps the calm mask that he appears to be sporting.

His head tilts a tad, curls falling over one pupil, the other spying Namjoon as if zeroing in on a target, nearly scrutinizing the pensive thinking with his galaxy gaze. He can see that just past the roof of Namjoon’s head there lies a single divot in the wall, nearly tricking the bump of accidental furniture, but Jeongguk’s own fist clenches in recognition, thumb tracing the jag of his knuckles.

“Y/n is the only person here that can tattoo with that particular technique, she’s amazing at it really, I’m just not sure if she’ll be up for it right now.” Namjoon’s words seem to pain him to utter, a strained longing in his voice that’s indecipherable without context. Jeongguk only nods along, curiosity curbed by his unyielding sense of etiquette in a situation that doesn’t wholly concern him. His feet are already pressing against the flooring, prepared to push to his feet and exchange pleasantries and assurance of no hard feelings, but Namjoon doesn’t seem quite through, leaving Jeongguk’s position to an awkward one hanging from the edge of his seat. “I don’t wanna speak for her though, so maybe you two can talk.”

“Okay, should I set up an appointment?”

“No, I think I heard her leave her office, she’ll probably be in the lobby. I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you now.” Namjoon’s mouth is once again split in dimpled grin, leaving Jeongguk’s head to a spinning akin to a child’s top. He’s led from the room, paying extra attention to the hall, ears itching to pick up a tone much higher than those in the lobby he left only a short time ago.

Contrary to Namjoon’s inference, the lobby is emptier than when they left, Jimin and Taehyung the only ones left milling about. Their speech mimics old friends, Jimin poking at Taehyung with the smile of someone who knows something that no one else does, Taehyung simply replying in kind with half grin.

“I thought I heard, Y/n.” Namjoon directs his voice at Jimin, fingers tapping the surface of his desk whilst his eyes take inventory of the shop. Jeongguk wonders if he thinks you’re hiding behind one of the plants situated in the corner, waiting for the perfect moment to catch them off guard.

“Mm, she left. But not before this one got his flirt on,” Jimin’s elbow catches Taehyung’s rib with a sharp jab coloring his words. Taehyung doesn’t allow this to phase him, standing to his feet with a shrug of nonchalance.

“Not flirting, we just happen to know each other. You done here?” He aims at Jeongguk stepping with purpose toward the door. Neither makes eye contact, the subject of interest not particularly left to the category of unmentionable, but leaving them both awkward and stiff.

“Uh, I think so.” Jeongguk slants so that Namjoon is well in his sights, already typing vigorously on his phone screen. “Should I schedule something or…?”

“Don’t worry about it, I have your number so I’ll just have Y/n give you a call to see when you guys meet.”

Jeongguk stands a moment longer, his toes tapping to the leather roof of boots so chunky they seem to swallow him from toe to ankle, the footwear attempting to take from his lengthy form and failing miserably. He turns mid-step when Taehyung slaps lightly at the sleeve of his jacket, urging him to step beyond the threshold. He lifts his arm to half wave, mumbling pleasantries, barely audible of the steps that echo in his ears with each pace onto the desolate sidewalk.

Jeongguk heads toward his own shop, missing the realization of the lack of paired steps with his own. Several paces behind him, a subtle guilt dressing the plains of his cheeks, Taehyung tugs at the wear of half chapped lips, wondering if the broach of a hazy subject is necessary. He catches Jeongguk easily with a jog, nearly stilling him mid-stride but saved from the extra physicality by the passing of a car.

“You know...Jimin was just joking.” Jeongguk’s brows lift, clearly only just catching sight of his constant companion, his own thoughts carrying him along the street without a wayward glance. His eyes widen, unsure of Taehyung’s intentions or the direction of the current topic. “About Y/n, I mean. I don’t really know her and we don’t flirt.”

“Wouldn’t matter if you did.”

“Yeah, sure. It’s just—look I know you saw her the other day and I’m willing to bet the only reason you haven’t mentioned that you’re intrigued is because you thought she was dating Jimin.” Taehyung treads, careful to avoid the gaze of reddened cheeks, Jeongguk’s hand raising to a nudge at his soft lobe, the other clenching and unclenching in denim blue, nails scratching the rough of fabric with each clasp. “Well clearly they’re not dating, so it wouldn’t be a bad thing if you did like her is all I’m saying.”

“Like I said, I don’t really know her. I think she’s cute, from a distance anyways, but I don’t think that’s any reason for a declaration.” The gentle tick of the crosswalk draws Jeongguk's attention on the present path to the opposing side of the street, ignoring the gentle tick of his chest.

A shining beacon in a sea of monotony. The words that filtered like a mantra, dressing the walls of his clogged brain, overflowing from files and dancing with the fires in tipped bins. Taehyung’s words extinguish the licking flames, if only momentarily, with meticulous reassurance.

A pocket of vibration, dark and clinging to his chilled skin, is notification for incoming correspondence. His steps skip, tripping along asphalt, saved only by the subtle grasp of a steady hand. His thanks are dropped without hesitation, hand slipping from fabric confines with the heavily encased lifeline pulsing with power.

From: Unknown [ 2:25pm]~is this jeongguk? namjoon gave me your number, said you need a consult?

From: Me[ 2:26pm]~yea...this is y/n im guessing?

His eyes pierce the screen, undressing the words with precision, ensuring he doesn’t make a fool in reply. He wasn’t prepared for the quick interception of the conversation he’s still processing, inner workings too focused on what’s straight ahead, not minutely prepared for Namjoon's speedy deliverance.

From: Unknown [ 2:30pm]~ding ding ding. im pretty much free whenever, so let me know what works with you and we can meet to discuss what you need and whether im the person for the job

From: Me[ 2:33pm]~ how about tomorrow around this time?

From: Unknown [ 2:34pm]~ cool. let’s meet at the park around the corner

And now, he waits.

~*~

The first thing you noticed was his approach, a confidence in his stride yet eyes that tried and failed to hide the glisten of steady orbs and the kiss of wind landing atop the surprising density of his cheeks like the piling of new snow. Your legs were crossed at the ankle, bare skin grazed by the cool of grass half dried by the desert chill, hands gripping the accumulation of sleeve inched to the open of your palm whilst your lips curved in mimic at the pout of his own, unintentional but perfectly protruding with the tracking of your steady tilt.

If one were to ask about the slight tremor in your hand or the subtle inch across inches between, you would fail to mention the metaphorical personality of your pulsing appendage and the ooz of liquid red abandoning the organ overflowed to trace the expanse of veins humming with the melodic string of laughter yet to abandon the space since he first spoke. You were immediately taken with soft speech and stolen glances, the professional tossed aside when you asked him to meet you, altogether forgotten when he said hello.

The pulsing was stunned only momentarily when he withdrew, hand disappearing into deep pockets to pose leather-bound pages and the hesitant stretch of muscles, the quick twitch of his neck the line of a rod, drawing you forward with each gentle reel of innocence. Now you sit, tangled in silent adoration, dripping admiration for the collaged pages, soaked in brilliance.

“These are yours?” You stroke the page with the ease of your pointer, his head tilting, hair framing, whilst he nods in a lopsided grin. You don’t notice the glue to your cheek, his eyes steady studying you while you study the glide of his hand with jet black against the white page.

He wonders if you catch the nerves, the steady vibration of his unsteady palms, gentle leap of muscled thigh and the brush of your leg with each accidental inch closer. The proximity did him in, your face from a distance only a picture on a page, face to face giving him the overwhelming sensation of the walk through a gallery filled with seven wonders, their spectacle meaningless without the promise of you.

He pretended for a moment, between laughter and brushes of innocence that he’s known you a lifetime, the thought only pulling at his metaphorical strings because he wishes he had. Your voices echo is sure to leave him wide eyed and ceiling bound for nights to come, imagining the galaxy as you, white expanse the only thing keeping from the grip he so wishes he could establish on the slip of your time here.

He knows it’s insanity, thoughts that won’t leave him be, the closeness driving him further to the edge. It’s the reason for his transition to the journal, the reason you’re perched in the grass with the whipping wind and dead leaves skirting around you.

“It’s just some ideas I have, I jot them down so I don’t forget. I was hoping we could work on them, flesh them a bit more…” Your gaze leaves the page, magic dwindling a sum, aghast at the audacity in his words. You withdraw, clenching fists to rationalize the wait for rejection on your behalf.

“Why me? I mean, you’ve seen Namjoon’s work, he’s great.”

“He said that you’re skilled in the tebori method. I’d like them to be done in that style and not many people can. Plus, I’ve seen your work too, it’s just as amazing.” Jeongguk notes the deflation, not unaware of Namjoon’s warning. He’s tempted to pry, but reverses hoping to stumble upon neutral territory, already missing the strain of your muscles in smile. “But obviously it’s only if you’re comfortable. I don’t mean to put you on the spot.”

“You’re not, I just...can I think about it? I know that’s so incredibly unprofessional of me but—”

“Take as long as you need.” Jeongguk decides immediately he doesn’t need an explanation, that your rumination is the promise of another rendezvous, high hopes lifting him over the horizon of the midday sun, skin aching for the glow of golden hour.

You already know you’ll say yes, outright rejection never an option, the flicker of expression alight in your left receptacle more than reason to feel him once more. The physical is through the page, but the metaphorical is the connection of souls, the cliché of one person and the hope of renewed ardor.

“I promise I won’t be long…” The words hang, heavy in the air between and with more meaning than your intent. You’re led away by the weight of obligation, required assistance from Jimin to cover the desk, legs like infant limbs after an hour unmoving.

Jeongguk follows suit, still chewing the words before spewing his own right back. The same weight and familiarity in his soft deliverance.

“I’ll be waiting.”

And now, you climb.

~*~

“How was your date?” Jimin is already setting up his station, eyes not sparing a glance, concentration wholly reserved. His vibration is palpable, though you don’t immediately notice, the feeling still finding stringed limbs when you reach your seat behind the desk.

“I was meeting a client,” You speak hollow and unconvincing, the magic coursing through your veins begging to differ. Wonder is silent, eyes latching to the single eye muraled to the wall, imagining it to glisten like Sirius reflecting in the night sky, musing how one day could build a coherency of such magnetism yet still be held at arm’s length.

“Oh really? It’s just that, I never meet my clients at the park...” His voice is a hum, settling an array of options for the post pierce browse. “—it’s certainly a bonus that said client is very handsome and already seems pretty interested.”

“You’ve never even seen us in the same room, I just met him today.”

“Whatever. I assume he’ll be coming around a lot more.”

Your fingers grasp the nearest instrument, ballpoint clicking in time with the tap of your toe against the leg of the chair. “I don’t know if I’m gonna agree. I don’t want him to be disappointed in the result.”

“I know you think you’re old news, but the fact that you didn’t say no is reason enough. There’s clearly a part of you that wants to, so why not take the plunge?”

“I can’t say yes just because I feel some strange attraction to him. That would be inappropriate,” Your mind barely registers the entrance of figure three, a client you presume, the sign-in ledger already halfway across the desk when Jimin speaks again.

“So you are attracted to him?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Yes you did,” Your pen clatters, nimble fingers swooping it in your absence, Taehyung’s smirk a playful gleam to counter your startled posture. He greets Jimin as an old friend, the two waiting for you to catch up, the slouch of your spine and the configuration of the scene pulling you back into the current take.

“You’re the one getting a piercing?” Wheels push the foundation, abandoning the desk in favor of the plush leather Taehyung has already sunken into. You believe he feels at home, the decorative jewelry already hanging from his lobes the badge of a pierced veteran.

“Yeah, I figure it’s time to expand my collection.” His hand brushes the lengthy edges of his dark locks, leaving ample space for Jimin to reach his target, the depth of his gaze landing on your arch over the chair’s arm. “I’m assuming your meeting went well?”

“What do you know about my meeting?”

“Why do you think I was here yesterday? The piercing was just a bonus,” He pokes at the tray beside him, the light smack of Jimin’s hand drawing him back to the confines of his lounge. You try to connect dots lost in the fray of day to day. Taehyung is not entirely new to you though still unfamiliar, but you don’t recall the mention of Jeongguk during his earlier visits.

“So you guys know each other then?” Your disbelief finds Jimin, his hand’s busied with extra sanitation and his lips focusing hard to keep his face straight. “I’m assuming I’m simply the last to know, okay then.”

“It’s just circumstance really, I’m the one who came to your door, you were in your office when we came here yesterday and he was in Namjoon’s office when you came out. I promise he wasn’t avoiding you, quite the opposite actually.” You’re too intrigued for embarrassment, your attention handed tenfold to Taehyung, his head slightly tilted while Jimin readies to pierce him.

As of late the stench of disinfectant would trigger a memory you were fighting hard to shield from the surface, but the idea of not knowing more of Taehyung drives it from your mind, currently on one track and unwavered by anything that’s not Jeongguk. Even so, there’s a haze, or perhaps the attempt of common sense forcing you to look past the filter of brights to truly grasp reality.

“We’d never met before today, how could he possibly be looking for me?”

“We actually saw you a few days ago, before you and I officially met. You and Jimin were leaving the shop and he seemed pretty distracted by you, but he thought you two were dating.” Your laughter emits in breathy sighs, muddled by the fluttering in your abdomen, Jimin’s lips smug, shoulders rounded.

“Easy mistake, we’d make a cute couple.” It would be a fib to deny that it’s the first time it’s been thought that you and Jimin were more than friends. His neighbors foolishly believe your late nights are spent anywhere save for the couch, silver screen glaring back at your glued lids.

You watch Jimin work, ignoring the bore of Taehyung’s eyes, his focal point to ignore the sharp sting of the needle. He barely flinches, your own body lurching in slight when the needle meets puffed skin. His hand clasps your wrist, pulling you closer, examining the bare skin in earnest.

“You don’t have any tattoos...none that I can see at least.” He notices, jumping to your eyes and back to your arm. He leans forward when Jimin steps away, gathering his studded collection of earrings, reflecting with golds and silver. “That’s pretty interesting considering you give them to other people for a living.”

“Astute observation. I do not have any tattoos visible or otherwise.” Taehyung kisses his teeth, easily opting for a pair reminiscent of chains. You look for judgement, but there’s none in his study of the colorful space, just a curiosity he’s not sure he should breach. “I’ve always wanted one, but I was too scared. Ridiculous but true.”

“Scared of needles?”

“At first maybe. Scared of the permanence of it all. It feels like such a big responsibility, to me at least, to decide what to get tattooed and I’ve never gotten to a point where I could just do it.” You think back to pages bound by leather with frightening immediacy, the conviction with which the they screamed at you almost haunting if not for the beauty of it. Chilling in the details of sketches, moments in time grasped so eloquently. A part of you is certainly jealous, but the other part is so irrevocably drawn to depth and desire. “Hey, Taehyung, is Jeongguk still at his shop by chance?”

“Actually I’m supposed to be meeting him for ice cream after this so he might already be there.” He pulls his device from his jacket, squinting at the screen, thumb gliding in swiftness. “You guys should come!”

“Oh we don’t wanna—”

“I’m in, I’ve been craving a good scoop,” Jimin leaves no room for disagreement, his limbs already at full speed to hurry cleaning his station. “We don’t have any clients and Namjoon is out of town for the day, so I think we’re good to close up. Plus, you can tell Jeongguk you’ll take him on.”

“I never said I would,” You slide back into your jacket, tucking your limbs into the sleeves. The sky has darkened significantly since the dusting of rays that splashed your skin as you sprawled the grass barely an hour earlier.

“You never said you wouldn’t.” The two are like stooges, already mastering the collaborative effort to challenge you.

“Have fun with your ice cream, I’m, hopefully, going home to a heated apartment.”

~*~

Jin has been talking to Jeongguk since he entered, the recognition of the new young entrepreneur on the strip catching his attention without pause. He’s a nice guy, his energy something Jeongguk would appreciate on any given day, but he was hoping for a moment of collection before Taehyung arrived.

He’s stuck on a blur, the low heat of his skin and the canals of his ears, yearning for the vibration of laughter and soft words spoken beneath the breeze. It was easy and good, an hour lost, an hour found. He would’ve laid there in the grass for hours after your departure were in not for the chill that crept in so easily without you beside him.

He wonders if it was a mutual feeling or if your reaction was just polite, a business tactic. No. Not you, you’re not the type to pretend, he knows even if he doesn’t know. Your sincerity was like a sickness, spilling from your every crevice, pouring out with your every phrase. He’s sure even you don’t notice the significant way you carry yourself, impossible to turn away from.

“Hey, Jin, talking Jeongguk’s ear off I see.” Jeongguk breaks his stare from where it concentrated on the ink already eating his skin, Jimin standing over the booth with Taehyung chuckling beside him. “Maybe give him a break and take out order?”

“There’s a counter, Park Jimin, and—” Jin squints in the direction of the counter, a small line waiting for their treats of the frozen variety, though not many people are keen for the cold in the midst of winter. “—yup there’s definitely someone up there waiting just for you.”

“Ha ha, leave him alone, Jin, his mind is already occupied plenty.” Jin slides from the booth, Jimin immediately taking his place, Taehyung sliding in after him.

Jin feigns reluctance when Jimin recites his order, all around friendlier when Jeongguk and Taehyung do the same. Jimin turns his attention to the other side of the booth when Jin sidles off, already choosing his next target. “Where’s your head at?”

“Hm?”

“We just talked to Y/n, I hear your meeting went well, prospects are high. She seems interested,” Taehyung’s speech is backed with encouragement, Jeongguk’s lip quivering, but winning the fight against his impending smile, intent on not giving himself away too quickly.

“She said she’d think about it and I’m perfectly okay with that.” He thinks of your promise, the thoughts skirting past the surface for a sign, a signal that the more he feels is exactly the meaning behind your words. His rang true, he would wait and be content. He would be prepared to have you work as his artist and end things there, but the weight in his pocket and the recollection of your eyes doubled in size leaves room for the want of more.

“She seemed impressed with you,” Jimin adds, chin rested in his palm, reading for reaction. “The fact that she’s considering is a really good sign. For her and for you.”

“It all just felt really natural,” The two watch as Jeongguk’s eyes glaze over just thinking about the exchange. “Almost like we…”

He trails, face heating, his thoughts almost betraying him. He’s relieved when a server comes bearing dishes, thanking them aloud with pleasantry and inwardly for saving him from himself. The relief is short lived when two sets of eyes beam at him like he’s an amusement, waiting for him to continue.

“Almost like you…”

“Nothing, it’s really stupid. She’s really great, I’ll be lucky if she decides that I’m worth it.” He covers lamely, shoving his spoon past his lips, letting creamy vanilla coat his tongue and ease his mind.

“Trust me,” Jimin mumbles, swallowing his own hefty scoop. “She decided that the moment you sat down.”

~*~

It’s unclear what brought you to this stool some nights later, half buzzed and wondering if you’ll have to call Jimin to drag you home. Your mind hasn’t completely fogged, liquor light with mercy, heavy consequences no doubt pending for the morning to come. A break, you’d decided, hands and knees stained with product, trying in vain to work the stain from your carpet, the smudge faint but not enough to miss your eye.

The crowd is surprising, though you wouldn’t know as you don’t often go to the place with the metaphorical bad stuff, your own brand of lunacy dancing in boxes lacing your cabinetry. You recall the draw of drinks from mugs and Jimin off-key when you’re sliding more bills than you prefer across the counter. Moving is without appeal, head to the counter the way to go.

“Hey, you okay?” The voice is familiar, worth the work to lift your head. Jeongguk looks down at you, his hand placed to the bar, eyes wide with concern.

His own stumbling through the door of the room with the dim lighting and the absurd amount of sports playing in every corner was boredom. Taehyung had plans and he was left alone to the drone of the television, the shop in need of a break from him. The dishes already glistening from his tenth wash despite the lack of use. A spot of dust enough to send him into a frenzy. From Jimin the name of the dive was briefly mentioned, in relation to what he couldn’t say, the topic never picking his brain from the moment it was first spoken.

Now he’s glad he wasn’t a horrible companion, the sight of you hunched over reason enough for his half listen. He notes your solitude immediately, drawn to the side of the bar rather than the thick of it all, two glasses empty before you.

“Jeongguk!” Your tone is uneven, eyes looking watered under the lights, your smile brightening in his eyes. He can’t help but to return, lowering into the stool so your faces are level. “I didn’t know you were here.”

“I just got here actually and I saw you so…”

“You came for me?” If you were less influenced the words would have remained nothing more than a thought, passing in a sea of others you could never muster courage to speak. Though you’re not sure that a post buzz reflection will make you wish they were any less materialized, the way his features soften like a fertilization for the growth of your thudding heart.

“I—yeah, I came for you. Are you ready to head home?”

“You don’t know where I live,” You say the words, knowing you’ll go anywhere with him even if he doesn’t. You let him guide you from your stool, his touch soft, never too much.

“You know, I’ve got a pretty good idea.”

~*~

He lingers outside of your door, adoring the small struggle you have with lock and key, about to lend a hand when your triumph catches him, arms lifting over your head, turning to him with a smile. “Come on!”

“You want me to come in?” Taehyung will be home soon and he has no way of explaining that he’s at your place that doesn’t involve some teasing on his best friend’s end of it, though it doesn’t matter when you latch on to the sleeve of his jacket and pull him past the threshold.

The biggest difference between your place and theirs is the lived-in aspect. He would say that it’s cute, but it’s too simple a word. It seems you prefer mood lighting, the flip of a switch igniting fairies strung to the base of the ceiling. It suits you, who’s already stumbling toward the kitchen expecting that Jeongguk is hot on your trail. The décor is simple, a few paintings on the wall, rugs and cozy furniture.

“I’m sorry if it’s cold in here, it’s always kind of cold in here,” You mutter, grabbing two mugs and giving life to your kettle. Jeongguk recalls that you were no longer in possession of your space heater, taken by Taehyung and himself and still unreturned. He debates running over to grab it, but your hand once more on his wrist, drags him to the sofa erasing the thought of walking out of that door. “Thanks for bringing me home, I promise I’m not that wasted. You don’t have to be so nervous.”

“No, I’m not nervous! Not because you were drinking anyways…”

“So you are nervous...why?”

“You make me nervous...in a good way!” He’s quick to regroup, noting the fall of your features, hating that it’s because of him. “It’s completely insane, but from the moment I saw you I…”

“Me too.” Jeongguk’s previously averted gaze rushes to meet you, already staring back. He doesn’t need to ask what you mean, confident that what you feel is what he feels. Confident that it doesn’t matter how insane it may sound. “It’s so crazy, but when I saw you yesterday something just clicked and I thought maybe it’s because you’re ridiculously attractive but then we talked and it was so natural.”

“I’m glad it wasn’t just me,” He takes a chance, hand sliding to yours, resting against your thigh. Your fingers tangle without stutter, the position meant to be, so full of warmth and understanding. “I saw you with Jimin a few days ago, I couldn't stop staring."

So long is spent staring, enjoying each other and the mutual affection that's like an aura engulfing you.

"Where exactly do we go from here?” Jeongguk tugs at his bottom lip, another quality that fills you with warmth.

“Why are you opening a tea shop?”

“What?”

“We’re practically strangers, I don’t even know your last name actually. So, if there’s some weird predestined love at first sight phenomenon going on here, I’d like to know everything about you before we proceed.” You click, smile a contagious thing, one that Jeongguk would be remiss not to embrace wholeheartedly. “So why a tea shop?”

“Well first, my last name is Jeon—”

“Jeon Jeongguk…” He watches you test the words against your tongue. “Cute. You’re cute.”

“Anyways,” He blushes. “I’ve always loved making tea. I learned it at a young age and then I started experimenting and decided that this is what I wanna do. I figured focusing on boba would draw more people in, but I also wanna expand on what I already know.”

“Well if anything, Hoseok will be there at least twice a day.”

“What about you?”

“I think I can make time, though you are really out of the way I might not be able to swing it.”

“I’ll pick you up, or better yet I can just bring it right to you,” He offers, amused but truthful. “No, but I mean how did you get into tattooing, and how did you learn tebori?”

“Ah…” Your eyes find one of the frames hanging nearest the window, a landscape that Jeongguk can barely make out aside from the distance of neon. “Well, I was studying abroad actually, in Japan. I was an art history major and I didn’t really know what I wanted to do so I thought getting away would help me figure it out.”

You think often about the day when your current occupation seemed so foreign, your adolescence always filled with imaginings of galleries under curation, days filled with frames and packed schedules.

“One of my classmates convinced me to go out with her one night because she wanted a tattoo and I wanted one too, so I didn’t really see why I shouldn’t go. She got hers first, a flower I think, and while I was watching the artist I was just blown away by the technique.”

“Tebori?”

“Mmhm, of course I’d seen the regular ink and needle, but this just seemed to me something on a deeper level and I fell in love with it. It’s probably the most insane thing I’ve done to date, but I finished my degree abroad and stayed in Japan to learn and now I’m here.”

“Why’d you come back?”

“It just felt like it was time...sometimes I wish I hadn’t or that I could go back to visit. Like it’ll remind me what it felt like in the beginning, make me feel like less of a failure. I'd actually get my tattoo.”

“You’re not a failure, we just have patches sometimes. You’ll figure it out, we’ll figure it out.” The steam of the kettle startles from the moment you're quick to exit to the stove, mulling words and recovering from the embarrassment of exposure over the steaming water. “You know, I don’t have tea so I hope hot chocolate is okay?”

“It’s perfect,” Jeongguk accepts his mug and the packet of mix, stirring it in time with his breathing. He’s left to the obvious blushing of his cheeks, musing his circumstance, sharing a drink with the perfect anomaly. He’s ignored the constant stream of vibration from his pocket, no interest in removing himself from the cozy bubble. “So this place is pretty shitty, I would know and I’ve only lived here about a week. Why do you stay here?”

“You live here? Wait...you and Taehyung are roommates, duh sorry. I’m still trying to catch up.”

“Yeah, thanks for the space heater by the way. I’m pretty sure I would’ve given in the first night if I had to sleep in the cold.”

“Ha! No worries, sometimes I do give in and I stay over at Jimin’s place. But I’m just not ready to let this place go yet, I guess. It’s not great, but change is hard and I’ve been here for so long.”

You're close along the counter, space invaded without invitation, gravitation controlling your every step. The rest of the night follows suit, closeness and appeal. You enjoy words and laughter, ignoring the possibility of the responsibility the next day alludes.

Somehow you find yourselves in your bed, faces close and bodies tucked beneath the thick duvet. You're glad the heat isn’t working tonight, Jeongguk wrapped around you like a boa, slowly falling into the depths of unconsciousness, the conversation lulling with each random topic. Your throat is strained from laughter and your brain is filled with more than it thought possible.

Inches are now centimeters and you’re snails inching toward the finish, certain but uncertain if the light of day will change the result of your exchange.

The morning following you wake much the same as you slept, tangled, breaths mingling between. Jeongguk is still snoring, blissfully unaware of the authoritative knock echoing from your front door. Hands pushing at your eyes, feet tingling against the cold flooring, you swing the door with an annoyance you’re prepared to unleash before you’re met with Taehyung.

His eyes are half frantic, neck craning to see around you.

“Taehyung?”

“Hey, I’m sorry to bother you, but have you seen Jeongguk? I’ve been trying to reach him since last night and he’s not answering.”

“O-oh...um he’s here, let me get him,” You mumble, allowing Taehyung, his eyes softening and features squinted, to step inside. You leave him standing in the living room, ignoring the knowing smirk, head bowed as you step into your bedroom.

You regret the gentle shove of his shoulders, and the hushed “wake up” that slowly but surely draws Jeongguk from his sleep. He looked peaceful, full of youth with his eyes stapled and breath steady rising and falling. His eyes are puffy when he raises, confusion laced features recalling that he wasn’t in his own home.

His arm extends, patting your side of the bed, unaware that you were the reason for premature awakening. “Hey sleepy head.”

“What are you doing up?” He finds your hand, grabbing hold in an attempt to pull you back to bed. Though you would be more than willing, Taehyung is sure to have heaps to say already, no reason to add fuel to the fire already blazing in his pupils.

“Taehyung is here,” That catches his attention, eyes darting to the door half open. “He said he’s been trying to reach you. He’s waiting in the living room, I’m sorry if you didn’t want him to know you’re here, I panicked.”

“No it’s fine,” He assures, sliding from the bed, the same chill that ate you catching him with bare feet. You follow him back out to Taehyung, who’s taken it upon himself to peruse the space, currently examining the coffee table with it’s day old mugs. “Hey, I’m sorry I didn’t get back to you.”

Looking between the two of you, your hand finding habit at Jeongguk’s shoulder, he shrugs. “No biggie, just thought you might be in a ditch or something. Turns out I was very wrong, so I’ll leave you to it.”

“I’ll just come with you, I should probably shower and change. I’ve got some stuff to take care of before the opening. I can’t believe it’s only a couple months away.” You drop your hand, leaving him to it, an awkward and unsure feeling settling in your stomach. It’s clear that Jeongguk is a bit embarrassed, not that you’re own emotions haven’t caused the sting of a heat in your cheeks. You wait for him to follow Taehyung, who’s already waved goodbye, hands in his pockets as he stalks away.

Jeongguk isn’t so quick, turning to your ground bound pupils, fingers drifting to the trace of your jaw and nudging you to greet him. You’re taken by the lack of hesitation when his lips meet yours in kiss, short and sweet, altogether unexpected. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” You coo, fingers brushing his cheek gingerly, rewarded with one more peck before Taehyung is groaning in the hallway, effectively tearing Jeongguk from you to catch up.

~*~

You’re warm, for the first time in a long time you’re warm, from your chest to your veins, head and toes, and it’s all because of Jeon Jeongguk. His departure wasn’t the last of him, the next few months full of meetings planned and spontaneous, your phone alight with too many notifications, every one taken in with the same adoring smile and your own obsessed response.

You would stop by Hoseok’s blessing him with a coffee, happily listening to his rambling about the horrendous new flavor Jin had him and Yoongi test the other night. Across the street you could just see Jeongguk through the window, lips pulled in concentration, pen scribbling on the pad in front of him. Though it was cute, you couldn’t help but to attempt to cheer him up, his eyes immediately finding you after he’s read the little note sent to his phone.

You would be sick with yourself if you were the one to witness the affection radiating from your expanse, but you couldn’t care less how many times Jimin fake gags or the small lecture you endure when Yoongi delivers flowers later in the day. You hold on to the feeling and you hope that it feels like this all the time.

“What are you working on?” Namjoon steps into your office, no other reason than his own boredom swallowing him whole, much like the cushions when he collapses into your sofa.

“Just some of Jeongguk’s sketches…” You noticed rather quickly the familiar book resting on your bedside table after your first night together, no doubt placed by Jeongguk before sleep could find him. You spent the morning getting to know his art better, so you could try to make it exactly what he wanted. You only just got around to transferring the sketches to your own notebook, hoping to have something to show him at his opening.

“He’s really good for you. I haven’t seen you this eager about sketching in a while.”

“You think so?”

“What, you don’t?”

“No, I just...I don’t want you to think I’m completely insane for jumping into this so suddenly. I mean, I think it’s insane that I could be so completely sure about someone so quickly and I think the world of you, so I don’t want you to be disappointed…”

He laughs, whole hearted laughter fills your office and you’re not positive how you should respond. Your hands are unsteady on your pen, ready for him to completely crush your soul, back to the same girl standing in his doorway all those years ago.

“Honestly, you give me way too much credit.”

“What do you mean?”

“The night that you showed up, I was wondering how I was even gonna keep this place open. The building wasn’t the most friendly looking, most people walked right past, the outside giving them the impression that the inside was just as decrepit,” He sighs, head supported by the arm of the chair, eyes holding the ceiling in place. “When you showed up I was seconds away from telling you to get lost, then you handed me your sketches and you looked so hopeful. You were my last chance, so really I should be thanking you for being so spontaneous, especially if it means you’re happy.”

“Wow, why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“I didn’t want to put more pressure than you already put on yourself. Plus, it doesn’t really matter now, does it? We’re doing pretty good, and that’s what’s important.”

The revelation is a motivation, your grip on the pencil tightening, strokes light and even on the page. Namjoon doesn’t say much more, silent inspiration while he falls into slumber, the only reason he ever finds himself meandering into your space.

“Knock knock,” Jeongguk peers around the corner, your finer flying to your lips, the other gesturing toward Namjoon, dozing peacefully. “Sorry, does he do that a lot?”

“Oh yeah, he pretends he wants to know what I’m up to then he’s out like a light before I’ve finished speaking.”

“I’ll have to try it sometime—”

“Watch it,” You warn playfully, sneakily closing your notebook so he can’t see. “What’s up? I figured you would be too busy filling orders for little ole me.”

“Never, and I want you to try this! I was thinking I could add it to the special menu. I know everyone is into the whole lemonade with boba thing which we do offer but I was trying to make a tea that’s more on the fruity side than the tea side because I know some people are put off by the tea taste, ya know?” He watches you uncomfortably closely, your face trained to be as neutral as possible while flavors explode, traveling to opposing ends of your mouth, battling it out, but ultimately left with no winner.

“You know, I appreciate the thought and I’m sure if you work on it some more it’ll be perfect but…”

“It’s disgusting.” He finishes for you sighing in defeat, collapsing in the chair across from you.

“No!” You round the desk, his arms ready to accept your slide into his lap. “It’s not disgusting, it’s just...not quite blended yet.”

He takes the to-go cup, sipping his own concoction. You wonder if he tried it at all before running over here, his habit of trusting your initial judgement extremely endearing, but unnecessary. It stems only from your admittance that you weren’t the biggest tea drinker and that you’re one of those lemonade with the boba people. His mission became clear, he couldn’t stand to see you walk into his shop knowing that you’ll be leaving with sugared lemons squeezed into juice. He has to make you the perfect tea if it’s the last thing he does.

He was set on making it for the opening, but to no avail, the sign flipped, his employees brewing away, his drop here only partially out of the necessity for his favorite taste tester. “It’s disgusting,” He decides immediately, fighting the urge to spit it back into the cup. “You have to stop being so nice to me, it’s cute, but I want you to yell at me like you yell at Jimin.”

“I don’t yell at Jimin!”

“You yell at Jimin all the time, lovingly, but there are voices raised.” Namjoon rubs at his eyes, tugging at the shirt riding at his abdomen. “We goin for tea or what? I swear people are gonna think we’re out of business with how often we close early.”

"Yeah, can you just give us a minute?" You try your best to be discrete, nodding toward the notebook on your desk.

"Yeah...Jimin and I will just meet you there." He leaves you, door clicking in his wake and you turn to Jeongguk with a ready grin, eyes wide with excitement.

"Is this one of those things where I should knock everything off of your desk? If so I'm down, but this is a weird time…"

"No! I have a surprise for you." You pull his journal from it's position beneath the stacks of paper on your desk. "You left this at my place your first night over."

"I've been looking for this! I was embarrassed to tell you I lost it, but it turns out you're a klepto." He teases, taking hold of the pages. "So you decided to hold it hostage?"

"I wasn't holding it hostage, I was working on…" You lift your sketchbook, flipping to the appropriate page. "These."

They aren't complete, but you want his first impression and suddenly you understand the tea thing. It's a radically different medium, your shared art actually pending ink on his body, but you don't want to go too far only to disappoint. He leans against the desk, not speaking, just staring, expressionless.

"If you don't like them we can talk about what you want changed, I just tried to make something I thought would fit what you've already got going."

He finally looks up, eyes glistening, your stomach doing flips. You're too afraid to ask what he's thinking, so you continue to wait, hoping he'll speak up soon and that you didn't insult him with your vision.

"I love them."

"Really? You don't have to worry about hurting my feelings, it's your body you know."

"Really, you're amazing. This is better than I could've hoped and I can't wait until it's permanent." His words are firm with sincerity, notebook laid to the side in favor of pulling you into his arms. "How am I supposed to compete? I can't even make tea for you."

"Relax, your tea is perfectly fine! I just enjoy the occasional lemonade. Come on, we'll go to the shop, you can make me whatever you want and I'll love it."

"Deal, but...I-we have a surprise for you as well."

"For me?"

"Yeah, I was talking with the guys the other day, we were talking about you..."

"You and the guys? This should be good."

"It is, I promise." He produces an envelope from his pocket, no scrawl on the outside, more mystery than you're ready for. “I was thinking about what you said that first night, about wanting to remember what it was like in the beginning.”

“What did you do?” You tear into the envelope, fingers moving so slowly you fear the skin will catch in the thin edges. What you pull is far from what you imagined, a ticket printed blue for a week’s time. Jeongguk stares at you expectantly, waiting for some form of reaction, but you’re not sure what to say. “This is a plane ticket…”

“Yeah, to Japan. We want you to go back and we knew you wouldn’t do it unless we planned it for you.”

“You guys didn’t have to.”

“We wanted to, I wanted to. The way your eyes lit up talking about that time in your life, I would do anything to give that to you again. So we want you to go to Japan, do something for you.” His lips land on your forehead, breathing you in while you process the unexpected gift. It’s more than you could ever imagine, but there’s a single string, dangling with uncertainty. You figure the only way to eliminate it is to pull full force, risk sounding ridiculous.

“What about you?” Jeongguk’s face scrunches in confusion, the inquiry the last thing he expected. His thoughts were far from himself, not naive enough to think his mind would be focused anywhere but you while you’re gone, but never thinking it would be a reason you’re unsure about going. “I don’t mean to sound stupid, but I’d miss you too much.”

“You can call me everyday, any time of day. I’ll be there, you don’t have to worry about me not being here waiting for you.”

“Or...you could come?”

“Oh, you want me to? I figured you’d want to do your own thing, not have me weighing you down.” Your arms find his waist, head resting against his chest, giggling at the prospect of Jeongguk being anything more than a comforting presence.

“Of course I want you to, I wanna show you everything.”

“I’ll have to figure things out with the shop, but—”

“Oh, wow I’m so selfish. Of course you can’t just drop everything to come with me, I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking.” You shake your head, silently scolding your inconsideration. Jeongguk grabs hold of your shoulders, stopping you mid step, hand halfway to smack your forehead.

“I would love to come, I just have to talk to Taehyung about it. I’m sure he wouldn't mind taking on a little more responsibility. Actually he’ll probably pack my bags for me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. I’ll probably have to catch a later flight, just to get things taken care of.” He thinks aloud.

“I think I can manage a few days on my own.”

“I promise I won’t be long.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

And now, we smile.

#bangtanuniversity #bangtanidx #bangtanarmynet #thebtswritersclub #jungkook x reader #jjk x reader #jeongguk x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #bts fluff #jjk fluff #bts au #jungkook au #bts s2l #jungkook s2l

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xxdragonwriterxx · 4 years

Note

Hi! how about one where Levi and his fem s/o sleep together for the first time and reader finds out that Levi sleep talking about how much he loves her and that he's very lucky to have her in his life. The next morning when they wake up reader teases him about it and he's very embarassed? Thank you so much, I’m sorry for my bad English. I love you❤️

A/N: Hello anon! 💕Thank you so much for requesting, this idea just had my heart melting and I loved it because I sleep talk all the time (when I actually manage to sleep) so it was fun to write based on experience (curtesy of my sis & friends telling me about my sleep talk endeavors). I’m sorry it’s taken so long for me to get it out to you, my ADHD has been really out of control lately. I really struggle with it sometimes, so I hope I didn’t keep you waiting for too long. I’ve also been having horrible migraines on and off for the past couple days so that’s what the beginning of the story was inspired by 😅. Thank you so much for your patience, I really appreciate it. Also your english is absolutely fine, love! I hope this is what you were looking for! ❤️

🐉Song Recommendation: “The Ghost on the Shore” By: Lord Huron” 🐉

~~~

🔥Woman of My Dreams 🔥

(Y/N) knew she was supposed to be working, helping Captain Levi with his massive load of paperwork, but she couldn’t focus for the life of her, too distracted by the pained look on her captain’s face. He must’ve felt her watching him, because he glanced up at her, his eyes distant and slightly glazed but narrowed, silently telling her to get back to work. She scowled at him and turned her gaze back to the stack of proposals in her lap, chewing on the end of her pen as she attempted to refocus on the words in front of her. Despite her best efforts, her mind kept straying back to the raven-haired man at his desk, his occasional grunts and annoyed sighs alerting her to his struggle.

(Y/N) was always in awe of her boyfriend’s work ethic, constantly left wondering how someone with so much stress could still manage to push forward. He never seemed to fail at anything he tried, and he constantly pushed his mind and body to the limits, foregoing the need for rest and food in favor of getting everything done in one night. But while that part of her would always be proud of him and his ability to do so much, another part of her hated it. She hated how he’d sacrifice his own health for the sake of others, pushing himself until his body nearly shut down. Tonight, was one of those nights.

She knew Levi had a horrendous migraine. He was usually prone to the headaches that seemed to crack the skull open, but this one seemed particularly awful. He was constantly massaging his forehead and his eyes were unfocused and filled with pain. Tiny whimpers and groans would occasionally escape him, showing her just how much it was affecting him. Levi was usually able to push through the pain and suffer in silence, but this migraine of his seemed intent on making him as miserable as possible. He hadn’t finished more than two pages of work since they had started, and it was clear he was nearing his breaking point.

Knowing his preference for powering through the pain, (Y/N) usually left him to his own devices when he had a migraine like this, trying to make his life easier in more subtle ways like bringing him tea and helping him with more paperwork than usual, but this time, she refused to ignore it. It was clear he was too stubborn to admit he needed to rest and someone had to look after him and make sure he didn’t kill himself.

Setting the remaining reports off to the side, (Y/N) stood from his couch and made her way over to her lover. Before he could react, (Y/N) leaned over and snatched the pen he held from his grasp, throwing it behind her so it could land randomly somewhere in the office.

“(Y/N)! What the hell?” Levi snapped, his voice raspy and filled with exhaustion.

“I’m tired of watching you work yourself to the bone. Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

Levi shook his head, “(Y/N), I’m fine.”

(Y/N) crossed her arms, “Like hell you are. Now, stop being stubborn and step away from the desk.”

“Don’t forget who you’re talking to, (Y/N),” Levi said darkly with a huff. “I am still your captain.”

“Well you won’t be anymore if you overwork yourself to death,” (Y/N) retorted. “And don’t forget who you’re talking to. I’m your girlfriend, which means it’s my job to worry about your wellbeing, especially if you refuse to do it yourself.”

Levi glared at her, but he was secretly touched by her sentiment. It had taken him a while to get used to the feeling of being loved and cared for, but once he had, he had grown greedy for it. He never showed it, still uncomfortable at the idea of being vulnerable around others, even his own lover, but he would always love how she doted on him, how she made him feel like he was worth something. That if he died, he wouldn’t just be mourned because humanity had lost its strongest soldier. He would be missed, remembered for the man he was rather than just how society had painted him to be. His eyes roved over her usually kind face, now twisted into a frown as she glared right back at him, refusing to back down without getting him the rest he needed. He honestly didn’t know why he was being so stubborn, he knew she was right, but he still struggled to accept her help, almost feeling weak for succumbing to something as trivial as a migraine.

As if she could read his mind, her gaze softened and she let out a gentle sigh. Moving around his desk to stand behind him, she leaned down and laid her hands on his shoulders, squeezing and massaging the muscles with her firm fingers. Levi was embarrassed by how quickly he reacted to her touch, immediately leaning back into her grip. His head lolled against the back of his chair and his eyes closed in bliss, temporarily ignoring the blistering pain in his head.

“Feel good?”

Levi hummed.

“See? Accepting help doesn’t make you any less of a man. Getting the rest and relaxation your body needs doesn’t make you weak by any means. Everyone needs the proper energy to take care of themselves, you especially. You’re too important to lose, especially to something as pointless as self neglect. So please stop working tonight, for me.”

Levi was silent for a moment, fighting with himself over the urge to finish his work anyway or fall victim once again to your undeniable charms as well as the insistent demands of his own body. Just as he was about to open his mouth, ready to attempt one last refute, a fresh wave of pain washed over him, making him gasp. A hand flew to his head, his teeth gritted in pain as his very skull seemed to throb. Through the haze, he vaguely felt (Y/N)’s hands tighten on his shoulders and knew there was no way he was going to get out of this. Once she had made up her mind about something, there was no changing it.

For once, Levi didn’t fight it when (Y/N) guided him to stand from his chair, biting his tongue to keep from gasping in pain as the sudden movement made his head split. He stumbled and started to fall, only to be caught by his lover, the strong woman bearing his entire weight as if he were nothing but a feather. A light blush made its way to his cheeks despite the pain that was starting to make his vision blur. He knew he shouldn’t be shocked, she was in his Special Operations squad for a reason, but she never failed to impress him with her unexpected strength. (Y/N) walked slowly and carefully, making sure to avoid jostling him as she made her way to his bedroom. Nudging the door open, (Y/N) picked her way over to his bedside and pulled the sheets back before gently easing him onto the mattress, ignoring his protests when she began stripping him of his uniform.

His blush got a little darker as she worked on removing his clothes. Their relationship wasn’t new, but it hadn’t been very long either, and they still hadn’t crossed the boundary of physical intimacy yet. He knew she had no ill intent, but it still didn’t stop him from feeling relatively shy at the thought of her seeing him without his uniform.

(Y/N) felt butterflies in her stomach with each article she removed, but she shoved down her embarrassment and awe at his breathtaking form and focused on making him as comfortable as possible. She stopped once he was finally stripped to his boxers and neatly folded his uniform to place on the lone chair in the corner of his room, knowing it would bother him all night if it was thrown around half-hazardly.

Levi’s soft groan of pain brought her back to his bedside, and she quickly shimmied the blankets out from under his legs so she could throw them over his body, taking the extra time to tuck him in as comfortably as possible. As soon as he was nestled beneath the soft blankets, (Y/N) moved to his bathroom to get him some water, holding the glass to his lips for a few sips to help lessen some of the pressure in his head. Finally, she left to grab a small bucket to place beside him just in case he had to vomit in the middle of the night, knowing it might be difficult for him to reach the bathroom if he was dizzy and disoriented.

Placing her hands on her hips, (Y/N) surveyed her work, nodding once she was satisfied with his set up. Flashing him a sweet smile, (Y/N) turned for his bedroom door, her eyes soft and full of love as she watched him.

“Goodnight, Levi, I hope you feel better,” She said, opening the door and stepping through it.

“(Y/N).”

(Y/N) paused, her hand on the edge of the door as she peered back around to look at him, “Yes?”

“Stay with me. Please?” Levi asked, the blush on his cheeks getting even darker as he averted his gaze.

(Y/N)’s eyes widened in shock. She and Levi had been dating for nearly six months and yet he had never asked her something like this. She knew they were going at a slow pace, she knew Levi struggled with expressing his emotions, but she had always been content to go at whatever pace he was comfortable with, knowing he was still very new to the idea of a relationship. It had taken him several weeks for him to even get to the point of treating her differently than the other soldiers on his squad.

She had never doubted his love for her, even when her friends had seemed skeptical in the beginning. She could see it in his eyes, but it had taken him a long time to be able to express those hidden feelings physically and vocally. She didn’t mind, she was fine with being patient and had waited for him to come to her, allowing him to have the time he needed to find his words and indulge in discovering his own love language. It was fun in a way, a little adventure between the two of them. It made every new sign of affection from him mean so much more than normal; every head pat, every kiss, every hug, making her feel as if she had just conquered the world.

It was because of those experiences that she was able to understand the importance of this moment. Her shy, reclusive, severely touch-starved boyfriend asking her to share his bed with him, exposing that vulnerability to her, albeit innocently, was a huge step in a new direction for him.

The thought made her nervous, not wanting to impose on his personal space or make him uncomfortable with her, but it also filled her with immense pride. He trusted her and only her to be around him when he was at his most vulnerable.

Swallowing her anxiety, (Y/N) nodded and shut the door again. Picking her way across the room, she quietly maneuvered her way to his bedside and slid beneath the covers beside him, trying to make as little noise and movement as possible to avoid causing more pain to his head.

Levi grunted a little as he shifted onto his side, facing away from her while she reached over to the bedside table to diffuse the lantern flame, bathing the room in darkness. Levi felt (Y/N) shift until she was laying on her side, facing his broad back, the covers pulled up to her shoulders.

“Goodnight Levi,” (Y/N) murmured.

“Mmm, goodnight,” Levi muttered, the pain in his head coupled with her soothing presence making him drowsier than normal.

(Y/N) smiled when she felt Levi fall asleep, his light snores and gentle breathing filling the otherwise silent air. She was glad he was finally getting some rest, but she knew she would be up for a while. She had had insomnia for as long as she could remember and knew it would be a long time before her brain would shut up long enough for her to get some rest. It was that shared trait between her and the Captain that had allowed her to get close to him in the first place, late night talks with tea leading to moonlit confessions on the roof of their headquarters.

(Y/N)’s smile widened at the memory, and how uncharacteristically nervous the normally stoic Captain had been when he had turned to her that fateful night and practically spat his feelings at her. She knew how hard it had been for him to admit them to her, and she had a small inclination to say that Erwin and Hanji may have been the ones to force him to do it, but that just made the memory all the more special to her. It showed her that he really did care for her, that he was willing to lower his carefully structured walls and bare his battered heart for her alone. It was why it didn’t bother her that he didn’t shower her with compliments. It was why she was never disheartened by his lack of physical or vocal affection.

She’d be lying if she claimed she didn’t get a little lonely sometimes, and she couldn’t say she didn’t sometimes wish he could call her beautiful without hesitation, but she didn’t let it get to her. She loved him, and she knew he loved her, so she’d wait for however long it took for him to grow comfortable around her, even if that meant she had to reel back her own feelings for a while.

Closing her eyes, (Y/N) was trying to coax sleep to take her when a sudden quiet murmur made her open them again. She waited, wondering if she had imagined the noise, when she suddenly heard it again. It was soft, and very quiet, but it was no doubt the voice of her lover, muttering something. She knew there was no way he was talking to her, he would’ve spoken louder than that if he was.

The thought made her stifle a surprised giggle as she suddenly realized that Levi was talking in his sleep. She knew he’d be embarrassed if he found out she was listening, but she couldn’t help herself, her ears straining to try to catch some of the words. Silence settled over the room once more for a moment, nothing but the distant sound of the wind blowing outside filling the air, but soon enough, the murmurs started back up again, more recognizable words spilling from his lips the longer he talked to himself.

“No…, that’s not…mmm.”

“S-Stop that!”

“Mmph, no… I’m not...”

(Y/N) stifled another laugh as Levi started getting feisty in his sleep, turning to face her with a slight frown marring his features. His eyes were still firmly shut, confirming that he was indeed sleep talking, but the argument he was having with some unknown person in his head seemed to only be getting more intense.

“That’s not true!” Levi suddenly shouted, his voice raspy and muffled by his pillow.

“What’s not true, Levi?” (Y/N) whispered, deciding to tease him a bit. She knew he would probably be annoyed later, but this was a once in a lifetime opportunity, she wasn’t about to pass it up.

“That’s not true.” Levi said again, his voice lowering in volume but hardening in tone, “Of course I show affection!”

(Y/N) brought a hand to her mouth and bit her knuckle, trying to keep her giggles from waking him up, “Oh, really? When do you usually show affection?”

Levi’s frown deepened and his jaw tightened, “I show affection when I’m with (Y/N).”

(Y/N) blinked, not expecting her name to come up in this midnight conversation. Lowering her hand from her lips, (Y/N) sat up to rest on her elbows, her eyes sparkling as she looked down at her sleeping lover.

“How do you show (Y/N) affection?” she asked, curious to see what he would say.

Levi let out a quiet, defeated sigh, his frown disappearing into an expression that looked unexpectedly like guilt.

“Listen, Hanji, I…” Levi trailed off for a while, the air thick with (Y/N)’s curiosity. So, it was Hanji he was talking to in whatever dream he was having. The thought spiked her curiosity even further, making her heart pound in her chest. It wasn’t uncommon that Levi would be annoyed with Hanji, so the argument at the beginning of his dream made sense, but he almost never talked about his relationship with anyone but Erwin, not trusting the energetic scientist to keep from teasing him and spreading rumors about them. She knew they were together of course, that was impossible to hide from her, but he always denied her details whenever she asked.

“Shit… I… I can’t believe I’m about to do this…” Levi muttered, a slight scowl reappearing on his features.

“Do what?” (Y/N) whispered.

Levi took a deep breath, his fingers curling around the edge of the sheets to squeeze in his fist, as if he was being forced to do something unpleasant, “Hanji, I need your help.”

(Y/N) had to fight to hold back a genuinely shocked gasp. Even when he was just dreaming, she had never imagined in her entire life that she would hear that sentence come out of his mouth. She suddenly wondered if she was the one dreaming, and this was just some elaborate scene her brain had made up.

“Um, sure, Levi, what do you need help with?”

A deep breath rattled from the depths of his chest, “How do I... show (Y/N) proper affection?”

“What do you mean?” (Y/N) asked breathlessly.

Levi grunted in his sleep, his knees rising beneath the sheets to curl against his stomach. “Do I really have to explain it, Hanji?”

“Yes.”

“Fine, you idiot,” Levi grumbled, “I just… I just don’t know how to show her how much she means to me. I’m so fucking lucky to have her. She’s been so patient, so amazing, never complaining about my inability to be romantic, but I’m tired of being unable to be there for her. I’m tired of looking around at the other couples around us and seeing how loving they are, only to know that I can’t do the same for her. I’ve had enough of treating her like a normal cadet on my squad. She deserves so much more than that, she is so much more than that. She shows me every single day that I am loved and cared for, and it makes me sick that I struggle to do the same.”

(Y/N) had her hand back over her mouth again, this time to stifle her sobs instead of her chuckles. Her eyes were lined with silver as she gazed down at the love of her life, her heart thundering pleasantly in her chest. While it was true that she had never had a problem with waiting for him to get more comfortable with her, she couldn’t deny the feelings of elation she was feeling with every word that poured from his mouth. It didn’t matter that he was asleep, it didn’t matter that he didn’t even know he was talking to her. All that mattered was that he was finally saying the things she had secretly burned to hear for months.

Levi sighed, “I just love her so damn much. She’s the woman of my dreams, and I don’t think I can go one more day without her knowing that…”

Swallowing the sob that threatened to crawl past her lips, (Y/N) brushed his raven bangs to the side and leaned down to give him a sweet kiss on the forehead.

“Believe me, Levi. She knows.”

The small smile that appeared on his face made it impossible for (Y/N) to hold her tears back this time, the warm, salty liquid sliding down her cheeks to land with soft taps on her pillow. Despite the fact that his eyes were still closed, (Y/N) gave him a watery smile of her own and reached over to wrap an arm around his waist, pulling herself closer to his warm chest and curling into his body.

“I love you too, Levi,” she murmured before closing her eyes, the smile still on her face as she fell asleep easily for the first time in years.

____________________

Levi could feel himself slowly being dragged back into consciousness, but for the first time since he was a little boy, he didn’t want to wake up to the slightly more bearable hell of the day. Usually, what little sleep he got was riddled with nightmares, screams of his comrades as they either begged him to save them or blamed him for their early deaths. He was usually plagued with dark, bloody thoughts and visuals that made him wake in a cold sweat, his stomach swirling so violently he was occasionally reduced to emptying the remnants of his dinner in the middle of the night. He never enjoyed being tired or facing the titans day after day, but at least the real world kept him busy with training and paperwork, keeping his demons at bay.

But today felt different. He felt warm, comfortable, as if the sun’s rays were cuddling him in a warm nest. He felt content and unafraid of closing his eyes for the first time in years. A part of him was suspicious of the change, tempted to open his eyes and find out what was making him feel so comfortable, but the bigger part of him didn’t want to leave this unexpected bliss so soon, afraid that opening his eyes would chase away the feeling before he could truly relish in it.

He sighed through his nose, nuzzling his pillow in an attempt to coax his mind back into the warm embrace of sleep when a sudden movement against his bare chest made his eyes snap open, ready to rip someone to shreds. His stinging words immediately died on his tongue when his silver gaze snapped to the (h/c) haired lump nestled against his skin. Ah, that explained why he had slept so well, even with a migraine, which had thankfully disappeared overnight.

Levi couldn’t help the smile that curled at the edges of his lips, the look in his eyes softening as he watched his love sleep against him. An innocent, giddy sense of wonder filled him at the sight of her, his heart pounding in his chest. He had never had a woman fall asleep against him before, many people finding him too cold and standoffish to find comfort in him. But here she was, the most gorgeous woman in the world, cuddled up against him as if he were a warm pillow, her hair splayed out over his chest like tangled silk.

She was so fucking beautiful. He couldn’t get her out of his head. The past few months had been the best he had ever had, his life now full of love and happiness and soft laughter. As he stared at her, his heart about to burst out of his chest, Levi couldn’t help but reach out to her, his fingers brushing her cheeks ever so softly, making his skin tingle with how soft she was.

His hand immediately drew back when she scrunched her nose cutely, her eyes squeezing shut as her mouth opened in a wide yawn. A part of him felt sorry for waking her, but as she opened her glittering (e/c) eyes to look up at him, the other part of him felt more satisfied at seeing her cute expression.

“Good morning,” (Y/N) mumbled, her sleepy, raspy voice sending a jolt of something electric down his spine.

“Morning,” Levi said, unaware that his own deep, husky morning voice was making (Y/N)’s stomach flutter with early morning butterflies.

“Sleep well?” (Y/N) asked.

“Surprisingly, yes,” Levi said, moving his arms from around her body so he could stretch them above his head with a satisfying crack.

“It sure sounded like it.”

Her comment made him pause and glance at her, the mischievous look in her eye making a wave of nervousness course through him.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, nothing,” (Y/N) purred, causing his anxiety to spike, “I was just unaware that you talk in your sleep.”

Levi froze. He talked in his sleep!? He didn’t know he did that! He supposed it was normal for him to not remember the event, and he had never slept beside another person in his life, aside from his mother when he was a toddler, so it made sense that he had been unaware of this unexpected habit, but that didn’t erase the anxiety that swirled in his gut.

“O-Oh?” Levi asked softly, cursing his stutter.

“Mm hm,” (Y/N) said, her smile only widening as she watched his reaction, her eyes glittering playfully.

“Um, what did I say? It better not have been something stupid,” Levi muttered, trying to fight the blush that threatened to rise to his cheeks. He almost didn’t want to know, but with the way she was smiling at him, it looked as if he had said some revealing things.

“Well, you were arguing with Hanji for most of it,” (Y/N) said, watching with a deviant smile as her boyfriend relaxed, an obvious expression of relief on his face.

“Tch, I do that when I’m awake, idiot.”

“You also said you were head over heels in love with Eren Jaeger.”

(Y/N) couldn’t hold back her laugh when Levi started choking on his own breath, his sharp inhale of shock getting caught in his throat.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” (Y/N) said with a cackle, smirking even more at the dirty glare he threw her as he coughed, “It was a joke, I promise!”

“Fucking hell, brat…” Levi muttered, covering his face with his arm.

“You did call me the woman of your dreams, though,” (Y/N) said quietly once her giggles had subsided, a light blush dusting her cheeks despite herself as she recalled the wonderful memory.

Levi didn’t choke this time, but his eyes did go wide, his lips parting in shock. He knew she was being serious. Immediately, Levi was filled with a confusing blend of joy and horror, happiness that he had finally gotten the chance to tell her his true feelings about her, even in sleep, and horror that she had found out in the way she did, while he was unconscious and having an argument with Four Eyes about god knows what. Levi couldn’t fight the blush that rose to his cheeks, his skin stained red as embarrassment washed over him.

He didn’t know what to say. He was floundering, trying to think of something, anything to either confirm his sentiment or try to divert the conversation, but nothing was coming to mind. His brain was blank, nothing but the pounding of his heartbeat in his ears overwhelming his senses. Suddenly, a soft hand grasped his wrist, gently tugging on his arm until he had removed it from covering the silver eyes she loved so much. Leaning over him, her eyes were glazed with unshed tears as she locked her gaze with his, showing him all of the emotions she couldn’t put into words before leaning down to kiss him.

He unintentionally let out a groan when her lips met his, his tongue immediately reaching out to dance with hers as they tasted each other, slow and sweet and loving. When they finally parted, both of them gasping for breath and smiling as if they had just found the way to world peace, Levi saw that a few tears had escaped to stain (Y/N)’s cheeks.

“I love you, Levi Ackerman. I love you for you and all of your little quirks, and I always will.”

Levi felt himself get choked up, but he swallowed past the lump in his throat, focused on making the goddess in his arms feel the same way she made him feel.

“I l-love you too, (Y/N), y-you really are the woman of my d-dreams.”

Levi hated that he stuttered, but he let out a sigh of relief as he finally managed to push the words past his lips. (Y/N) choked out a joyful sob as pride filled her chest like a roaring lion, making her skin glow as if she were something from a fairytale, taking Levi’s breath away. Sitting up, Levi met her half way for another soul-searing kiss, his heart calling out her name as he allowed himself to relax with the kiss, melting into her affection as if he were dipping into a warm sauna, his heart throbbing for the woman who was his entire world.

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