#you all must witness and appreciate the birthday boy

[lesbianballofgender]

Happy 55th birthday to our feral, light and fluffy, serious actor and truly just the nicest person: Michael Sheen!!

[ncteez]

Premium Boy-Toy (l.j)

the one where your best friend gifts you an entire man, and that man just so happens to be in high demand for everyone but you, until now at least.

ao3 | m.list | minors dni! | if you read it, reblog it.

requested by anon: “I don’t like getting off on my own.” + “No one’s ever touched fucked me like this,”

wordcount― 10.3k

pairing― stripper!Jeno x afab reader

content― switch jeno, rich/lonely reader, jeno gets kinda in a weird headspace after he cums lmao

note― congrats, you are witnessing the fact that i cannot defend that this is basically smut from start to finish. theres a lil bit of sugar baby jeno at the end tho so...um, also there's probably so many typos and way too many commas in this but to be fair i was in horny jail and just fucking going.

smut tags under cut:

smut tags: masturbation, jeno goes from having the power to releasing it to you completely, its very chaotic, stripping kind of, hand job, finger fucking, choking, sensitivity, edging but it’s his own fault, jeno talks a lot until he can’t anymore, titty sucking :D, protected sex

It was a gift, or rather, he was the gift. A down payment of $600 told you enough about the man who offers his services to lonely, sad, rich women who had no one to spend their money on. Your best friend had been taunting you with the idea for months. Since she heard of the infamous Jeno actually, even more so after she experienced him herself. She has mentioned how clean he is, how toned he is, how well he moves his body, how he teases just enough, and how he looks better in heels than she does herself.

You still can’t fully take that last part seriously. A male stripper in heels? Must cost extra for those who like that sort of thing, which is very clearly your best friend. Noted. Regardless, she had mentioned whispers from the elite women she associates with that sometimes he even gives an extra treat with his services, free of charge. What that treat is, neither of you know, but the implications are damning.

Even with all of the information being dangled in front of your face, presented as if the image should be more delicious than the century-old wine you have every night at dinner, you’re not interested. For the entire duration of her praising this all-amazing stripper, it hasn’t interested you. There’s shit to do and life to worry about, constantly actually. So, naturally, when she appears at your doorstep with an envelope in hand and yet another expensive bottle of champagne, you were wondering if you forgot your birthday because it wouldn’t be the first time.

She hadn’t pushed past you to come inside, she didn’t say a word actually, which was suspicious but kind of appreciated. Upon opening the small gift, it appears that she, herself, had dropped that $600 down payment in an attempt to force you out of being the stick in the mud that you are. The note states the date and time, which, curse her for knowing your schedule so well, and the demand that it’s your job to tip him and pretend to have some inkling of an interest.

So now, here you are. Waiting for that knock on your door and wondering why you even tried to look nice for a man coming to swing his meat in your face. Fucking unbelievable, you think, that there is a stripper out there that only does private parties, and your own best friend thinks you need it? You could have any dick you want, why the fuck should you have to pay just to look?

Surely, this man is expecting more than just you, alone on your couch with a sound system beyond his wildest dreams, one that you’ve only ever utilized when you need to watch a youtube tutorial on how to clean your windows the way the cleaner does. Surely, he’s expecting more than a woman who isn’t interested at all in this.

~

          To your dismay, Jeno appears to have already been told that you’re a nightmare to fluster or gain interest from. The first words he says to you when you open the door for him is, “She said you’d give me that look.” Still, even so, Jeno saunters in like he owns the place, and you can immediately tell he’s done this probably hundreds of times before. He appears comfortable in a place he’s never been, in a home probably much nicer than his own, finding his way to where his stage should be for the night.

“Big place. Looked smaller on the outside.” He says to your silence, looking around and placing his bag beside your couch.

“The smaller the better, sometimes it feels too big in here for just me.” You admit, watching him curiously as he pulls wires from his bag.

“Must get lonely.” Jeno shrugs, eyeing how stiff you are as he unravels his chords. “And, I assume, this is why I am being paid to be here.”

“This wasn’t my idea. Just so you’re aware.” You cross your arms, unimpressed by the man already.

“I was told that I need to show you a good time, I already knew you were new to this kind of thing.” He smiles, continuing to set up. “Besides, first-timers are my favorite to entertain.”

          Curiosity spikes again, only for a moment though. You really did think that the initial meeting would be different, less casual, even. Wasn’t he supposed to pretend to be a cop or something? Showing up and pressing play on a magical-appearing stereo that bumps the worst of music before gyrating at you? Instead, he’s here setting up and surprisingly, fully clothed in a tacky and ratty sweater with jeans that hug against his thighs. He doesn't appear at all to be a man that gets paid to take his clothes off for lonely hearts. You kind of want to ask him questions, but also you don’t think you should be learning more about him considering that’s not why he’s in your living room right now.

“Do you have mood lighting or are we doing this in morgue lighting?” He casually asks after plugging his laptop into your sound system and placing it on one of the various shelves. It almost makes you laugh.

You make your way to the wall, clicking the buttons on the panel to show him the various lighting options this room offers that you very rarely use.

“Perfect, that one.” He says from across the room, focusing his eyes from his laptop screen to you and your extravagant light switch. “A little lower.” He guides, knowing which lighting accentuates his toned body the best. You turn the nob a bit for him, wondering just how good he must be at dancing for women with houses like this.

“A little more.” He smiles.

          You dim the lighting just a smidge more, looking at him and the way he genuinely seems to be at ease.

“Right there.” He says in a gentler tone before focusing his eyes back on his laptop.

          You watch him tap his fingers across the keyboard, gliding around the little touchpad, and then, as if he’s the one who owns this house, he takes a step back and walks to your couch.

“Come sit, I’ll go get myself ready.” He smiles over at you as he pats the cushions. “Which way is the bathroom?”

Without a care in the world, you point towards the bathroom and decide he doesn’t need help getting there. Most people would be petrified of a strange man in their home, wandering the halls with the ability to come upon any room with unprotected goods. If he’s a thief of any kind, you can replace pretty much everything you own anyway. You don’t care.

Once he rounds the corner and you can hear the bathroom door close, you make your way to the couch and attempt to make yourself comfortable. Despite the countless naps you’ve had here on this plush and soft surface, you can’t bring yourself to find comfort sitting here right now. You’re curious about Jeno, yes, of course, you are. You’re curious about how much money he makes doing this, if he likes doing it, how he got started, what he does to advertise, and many other countless things, but you’re not entirely curious about how he does it. Sure, he’s attractive. Hot as hell, actually, but that doesn’t mean you should have to pay for attention from a man.

It almost feels like an insult from your best friend. Does she genuinely think you couldn’t go out right now and bag a man? Is this fun for her? A hobby, maybe?

“You overthink too much,” she always says to you, and yeah, perhaps she’s right. Maybe, since it’s going to happen anyway, you should at least try to enjoy it.

~

          Jeno stays in the bathroom for a good thirty or so minutes, and each of those minutes was like a nightmare in your head. You were back and forth between not wanting to be in this situation, to fighting yourself for being such a fucking bore. A very attractive man is preparing himself for you to look at. He’s going to come out here and do his best to turn you on, the least you can do is let yourself enjoy it. The very least you can do is tip him well and rub one out later after he’s gone and you’re on the verge of jumping out a window because you never make time to fuck.

          Fucking thankfully, the moment he comes out of the bathroom your brain adjusts itself into the right mind-state. You actually can’t look away from him even if you tried when he reveals himself. He isn’t dressed in anything that looks cheap, tacky, or even overly sexual. If anything, he looks expensive. Jeno genuinely looks like this is a place where he belongs.

          You can physically feel yourself react to him in his blazer and dress pants. Business is what got you to where you are today, but never have you found it sexy in any way, until now, at least. The suit looks much like what your team would wear in your company, shyly coming into your office and stuttering through their questions and need for approvals. Jeno isn’t stuttering in his suit though. He’s standing confidently at his laptop as if he hadn’t even noticed you staring yet.

          God, the way his abs were glistening in the dim lighting before he had turned away from you. The way the belt held his pants on his hips, begging to be unbuckled, the way the blazer widened his shoulders much better than his sweater from before. The smell that wafted off him was even prettier when paired with the image of him. He smelled like a sweet type of musk, something you’d be interested in drinking alongside your dinner on special occasions maybe. Assuming that scent is the reason his abs were fucking shining. Fucking body oil. He uses body oil.

          When he turns to face you again, this time with the bass of whatever song he had chosen to play accentuating each of his steps towards you, your cheeks start to heat up. He hasn’t rolled his body once and you’re already feeling like you could eat him alive, with the smirk on his face leading your eyes down to his neck, chest, abs, and that fucking belt.

“Good?” He asks, leaning over you and placing his arms on either side of you, gripping the back of the couch.

          Jeno can already tell that you’re going to be fun to play with. Such a harsh exterior from the beginning. To be fair, he was warned and prepared by your friend, which happens to be his newest client who tipped him more than anyone before.

          You nod to him, still eyeing his body in a shameful show of how much you did need this. What’s so bad about paying to look when he’s presenting himself like this?

“Rule number one,” He smiles, swaying in front of you and keeping his grip on the couch, mostly so that way you feel trapped and, hopefully, mesmerized by him. “I only accept bills of twenty, fifty, and one hundred. If you give me a fucking dollar, I’m leaving.”

          That’s not a problem because, despite your internal protests, you had only pulled out the bigger bills anyway. You nod to him, watching the way his hips start to swirl, too afraid to look up at his face because you know he’s looking down at you, intensely, probably.

“Rule number two.” He leans down, lowering his voice and blowing against your ear in a short breath. “Don’t touch me without asking.”

          You almost wanted to reach out immediately to touch him. You wanted to feel how slick that body oil was on him. You wanted the scent on your fingers for later. Mostly, you wanted to feel how warm he must be.

          This time he doesn’t wait for you to nod, because he can already see that familiar look on your face that he gets from most of his clients. This is why he’s so in demand.

“Rule number three.” He continues, pulling back and this time positioning his face in front of yours because this one is the most important. This one he needs you to look at his face rather than his body. “I won’t touch you unless ask me to.”

          What you’re not realizing at this moment is that rule number three isn’t one he often states. Sometimes, very rarely, Jeno is in a mood when he goes out on a job. He always has condoms with him just in case, but never intends to use them until meeting said client. She’s paying to look at him, not to touch him. If she piques his interest, he offers a third rule. If a client never hears of the third rule, they know that even if they ask to touch him, he wouldn’t allow it.

          Besides, the only reason he took so long in your bathroom is that his hand, for some reason, felt so good against his cock for the split second he had of tucking it into the most attractive position. He knew instantly that tonight was one of those nights, and hopefully, you take the bait.

          When you swallow and look him dead in the eye, he thinks you know what it means. He feels lucky that his cock is acting up. Lucky that your friend brought him to your attention, lucky that you’re looking so pretty and already so flustered by just looking at him.

          “Deal?” He finally says, tilting his head a bit and waiting for you to nod.

          You nod slowly, glancing down at his body again. He can tell you want him to start moving now, really moving.

“Is the song okay?” He asks, pulling back and bracing himself still against the back of your couch. “It was picked specifically for you.”

          You’re not entirely sure what he means by that, but you assume your friend must have told him what she thinks you like.

“It’s good,” You say, glancing away from his eye contact and suddenly feeling like a love-sick puppy in the way you feel so incredibly fucking shy right now by this man.

          He notes that you didn’t ask what he meant by the song being picked for you, but he doesn’t push it. He’s better at talking with his body anyway.

          Jeno begins to focus now, opting to start slowly and work his way up, specifically to work you up. He backs himself away from the couch, centering himself in your living room as he closes his eyes and stretches his arms up to loosen his body a bit more. Most of his clients love to see the way his muscles move as he stretches, so he hopes you’re of the same mind.

          This entire playlist is one he picks for clients like you. The ones he intends to let see all of him if they ask. The music is slow, the bass is strong, and each beat runs through his body in a way that makes him feel like he can move like he’s fucking you from across the room without so much as a touch.

          He’s at his best when this sort of thing happens inside of him, the eye contact is more intense, his hips are more pointed at a reason other than payment, and he feels his most attractive like this too.

          You’re sitting painfully stiff across from him on that couch, and he can’t help but keep a smirk plastered on his face for how lucky his other clients would think you are experiencing him like this for your first time of all things. He’s never attempted this with a new client, but god, look at you.

          His hips move on their own for the most part, he doesn’t have to think much when he’s getting into it. Jeno easily dances along to the music for you, not yet removing any amount of clothing. It’s the build-up for him, and he thinks it may be that for you too. Though, of course, if he leaves your house tonight with tips in his pockets and a hard, untouched cock, that’s fine too.

          You watch him, seeing the way the dim lighting of the room accentuates each little dip and rise against his chest and abdomen. He’s well-defined, with an immaculate body for this line of work. You find yourself understanding why he’s so favored in the group of lonely women.

          As the song begins to fade, Jeno appears to readjust himself. He watches you during the brief silence, a sort of fondness in his eyes making you wonder if he’s looking at you or if he does this for everyone. It felt intimate, and not at all like the silence needed to be filled with anything other than eye contact.

          For him though, a woman has never met his eye between songs. Usually, their eyes are glued to his chest, cock, hands, and neck– never his eyes. When the next song begins, he closes a bit of distance and skews his body so that you’re now watching him in profile.

          In some way, you have him feeling a bit flustered in the way you keep meeting his eye despite his body making a show for you. He’s never had to act with his face more than he has at this moment when he’s dropping to his knees during a bass drop, thrusting his hips forward in an attempt to make you imagine yourself bent over on the floor in front of him, you’re still searching his face.

          Only glancing down for a moment, he finds himself flicking his own eyes down, trying to guide yours somewhere else. He knows his job is to be looked at, to be seen, but this is far too seen for his liking, but when you gasp as his motions, skewing your mouth open slightly and gripping the hem of your dress, he realizes.

          The fact that this is your first time doing this is one thing, but the way you are experiencing it appears to be new ground for him. Typically, he speaks with his body, and it appears that now, he needs to portray some form of sexuality to you with his eyes. So, he does what you’re supposed to be doing.

          You watch him intently, not fully realizing that you’re not even watching him fuck the air in front of him. His eyes move from yours once again, this time to your body. He watches the way your fingers grip the fabric of the dress he would like to see somewhere on the floor later. He watches the way you slightly rub your legs together, almost too easy to miss. That alone was enough for him as his eyes bore holes into you, much like you should be doing to him.

          Jeno’s dancing turns more intentional, when he leans back on his arms, throwing his head back but keeping his eyes on you, he tries to show you what he would do to you specifically. You glance at his hips and the way he rolls them up, not even to the beat of the song.

          His blazer begins to slide off his shoulders by this point, and he continues his movements, watching the way your eyes take in the sight of his skin becoming more and more visible, you’re fighting now to keep eye contact as you stare at the way his abs flex when he presses forward. It’s a shame you’re not seeing his cock grow beneath his pants, honestly.

          With his blazer now pooled at his wrists, he finally pulls his eyes from you to try and regain his focus. He wants you so bad right now, and it’s bullshit because you’re supposed to be the one thinking like this for him. He can see that his movements are causing a reaction for you, but god, he’s practically masturbating himself against the inseam of his pants just to get you to say something to him.

          It’s time to turn it up a notch, the current song is soon to be replaced with another. His favorite song to dance to, his favorite song to fuck to. Because to be fair, by the time it hits the third song on this specific list, usually his clients are already shaking under him. Not you though, you’re holding yourself back, he can fucking see it.

          Ignoring the fact that it’s technically not time for him to move on to his next move-set, he leaves his blazer on your floor as he positions himself back on his knees, turning towards you this time and looking you straight in the eye. The fact that he’s hard and horny is enough to bring his confidence up enough to be seen in any way you’re looking at him.

          He’s slow when he does it, crawling a few steps closer to you. You watch his shoulders move in the light, his eyes dark, and his hair starting to fall from its perfected position. You don’t mean to, but you rub your legs together in a more obvious way at seeing him in front of you, coming towards you in such a way.

          Jeno looks smaller when he’s on his hands and knees, eyes looking up at you as if he could eat you whole. You wonder if your face reads the same for him, and nervousness begins to hit you again.

“You’re hot when you look down at me like that.” He says out of nowhere through the music, stopping in place and planting himself right at your feet. “I’d like to touch you for this next song, is that okay?”

          Never mind the fact that Jeno has never asked to touch a client before. He’s never had to ask. He can’t help it though; it doesn’t hurt to try right? Because his cock is aching in his pants, and he isn’t quite ready to wait for an entire two more songs to get them off just for you to see that he’s very much wanting to fuck you right now.

          On the other hand, you were so fucking fast to accept. Yes, yes, he can touch you. You want him to touch you. The entire idea that he’s just doing his job is so far in the back of your mind right now that you almost forget that he probably does this to most of the women he’s paid to see. Quite frankly, you don’t give a fuck.

          Jeno smiles at you as the current song finally begins to fade out. The silence is back and this time, you’re not looking into his eyes when you nod at him.

          He’s slow when he places his hands on your knees, rubbing up, up, up, until he’s able to lift himself from his knees and hover over you. Did he intentionally push your dress up your thighs? Yes. He wanted to see you rub them together in full shameless view for him. He wanted to know what his body does to you. Jeno stands hovering over you for a moment, hands staying on your thighs as he stares down at them as you do just as expected. For a moment, he forgets he’s supposed to be dancing for you, hell, he’s already shirtless and covered in oil.

“I’m going to get on top of you, okay?” He explains, removing his hands from your thighs and now gripping the back of the couch again as he did before.

“Do you do this for all of your clients?” You ask with a smile, suddenly and intensely into the man spreading his legs to prop himself up on your laugh.

          He shakes his head with a laugh, grabbing your hands and placing them on his chest.

“You can touch me, by the way.” He foregoes his own rule, not wanting to wait any longer for you to ask him yourself. “Just pull away if you don’t want to.” He adds, guiding your hands over his chest and down his abdomen.

“You didn’t answer my question–” You interrupt him, feeling your pussy drip against the fabric of your panties.

          He chuckles sweetly, stopping your hands at his abs and holding them there.

“No,” He admits, beginning to focus on the music now that he’s got your hands on him. “I don’t do this for all of my clients.” He adds, swirling his hips as he hovers over you, and avoiding eye contact.

“Oh, yeah?” You nervously chuckle back, feeling his muscles move beneath your hand as he thrusts his hips forward and back.

“You know,” He suddenly says, guiding your hands a bit lower. You feel the cold metal of his belt buckle against your palm. You think he’s going to stop there, like maybe this is just something he does to amp up the show or something, but no. He drags your hand down further until you feel the fabric of his pants rubbing harshly against it.  

          Your pulse begins to ring in your ears as you avoid looking to where your hand is right now, taking in a deep breath and shooting your gaze up to his. He’s not looking at you though. Jeno has dropped his head, staring at where he’s got your hand, and his hips are dancing into it, against it.

“I’ve never gotten this hard over a client that doesn’t want me.” He admits shamefully in a pathetic little laugh, bucking against your palm again to the beat of the song. “I can’t tell if I’m doing my job well enough,”

          You continue to watch him, and then you finally look at your hand. The sheer size of him rubbing against you is…it’s something entirely different than what you were expecting from this man. It feels forbidden; it feels wrong but goddamn. The man is masquerading his dancing so he can fuck himself against your hand right now.

“You’re doing so well, Jeno,” You finally say to him. The first compliment you’ve given him since he got here.

“Oh yeah?” He questions, lifting his head to meet your eyes again. “Unbuckle my pants then.”

          Despite this being a part of his job, he’s feeling a little desperate for you to do something on your own now, even if he has to tell you to do it.

“Show me how well I’m doing for you,” He raises his brows, now removing his hands from yours and running them up his chest. His hips continue to move on you, and he watches you as you hold your hand in place. “Come on, you don’t have to be shy, baby, I saw the way you were squeezing your thighs earlier.”

          Like a book, the two of you read the other at this moment. You’re not a woman of many words and he seems to understand that now, taking your single compliment and running with it. You do as he says, unbuckling his buckle and pulling it from his pants.

“Keep that with you,” He stresses, pressing his hips forward again as he continues his dance.

          Placing the belt beside you, you honestly have no idea what the fuck you’re doing, but you like it. You reach back to unbutton the pants, unzipping them just moments later. Then you still your hands, looking up at him with a curious face.

“Take it out, go on.” He says, “You know you can pull away if you don’t want to do anything, I’m not forcing anything. I’m asking.”

          You don’t even nod or pull your eyes away from him, knowing that you’re about to touch his bare cock as he sits spread across your lap. A lewd scene, one that feels both more intimate than you’ve ever been with another person, and also nowhere near as intimate as you need it to be.

          Jeno looks at you, so much eye contact becoming more and more comfortable for him as he learns what you seem to like. He can feel his cock spring free, the cool air rushing past his shaft and causing him to shiver on top of you. He still only looks at you during this moment, wondering why you’ve let your hands fall to his thighs until he sees that look in your eye again. You’re waiting to be told what to do. For some reason, he keeps forgetting that you’ve never had a stripper in your home before, let alone be seduced by one.

“Touch me,” He says gently, reaching back down to your hands and urging you to grab his cock. “You don’t have to move, I can do the rest–” He chokes out a groan mid-sentence feeling you grasp him in your fist with little effort or fear behind your eyes.

          Such a silent woman beneath him. He can only read you in specific moments, which is kind of nice. You’re hesitant but willing, and he wonders if he will get to actually touch more of you after this.

          Your hand is wrapped around his cock when he focuses his hips. He dances like he normally would for any woman during this song, it just so happens that he blatantly pretends to fuck to this song, because usually, he is fucking to this song. So, his dance is nothing short of fucking your fist. Still, he tries to keep up the act. He keeps his face intense, moving his shoulders and arms as if it’s easy for him not to turn the tables and position you so that your leg is on his shoulder and he’s rubbing his cock against your, hopefully, dripping panties.

          A struggle especially when you tighten your grip on him. He can see your pupils blow out, and he can see the way you’d probably ask for him to touch you much like he did, so he slows his hips a bit, intentionally thrusting slowly into your fist and holding back his own moans of pleasure.

“Sorry,” he says, trying to act as though he can’t see the look in your eyes and how it’s changed since he started dancing. “I don’t like getting off on my own.” He adds, now allowing his hips to still just to see if you’d pull your hand back.

          You don’t move your hand away, to his surprise, you are actually starting to move your fist on him.

“That’s good,” He groans, looking down at your hand. “It feels good,” He shakes a bit, shivering at the fact that you’re jerking him off now. “Can I stop pretending that I’m dancing for you now?”

          You chuckle at him, nodding with a confident sort of smile. It hit you quickly when you watched him chase his pleasure using your hand. He’s so hard and so incredibly thick, you’d be stupid if it didn’t turn you on. You’ve barely said anything to him and he’s begging for you to look at him, watch him, touch him. You feel powerful, and you’re used to that. It feels like everything has fallen into place despite this situation being far outside of your comfort zone. You’re finding similarities. Men beneath you, begging for your money, giving you all of their attention, apologizing for normal human errors. So, what if Jeno didn’t beg for your money, he’s begging for your hands on him practically, and apologizing for asking you to do it.

“No,” You say, and you can see the shock on his face. “Keep dancing, it’s what you’re being paid to do.”

          Jeno’s eyes kind of fall now as he nods his head. You almost feel his cock falter at the same time, but you move your hand a bit faster, urging him to do whatever it is that’s on his mind. You want to see if he will actually do as he’s told because you’re the one with the money.

          He does his best, and honestly, his best far surpasses some of the most notable dancers on the market in his opinion. It’s just a bit hard to continue this act when you’re gripping his cock in such a beautiful way.

“You’re not going to ask me to touch you more?” He asks meekly, almost as if he’s hiding his face from you now.

          You smile in response, pupils blown enough so that you can swallow each movement his body makes as he reluctantly moves to the beat. Honestly, your ears are ringing, and you don’t think you’ve heard a single lyric from the music playing since he placed your hands on him, but you think that should be a given.

“No wonder she liked you so much.” You start to speak, now loosening your grip on him just to see him frantically chase the warmth of the little circle your hand makes for him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asks slightly out of breath. “You thought, I let her get me off like this?”

          It almost pisses him off that you’d say such a thing to him, but then again, he didn’t exactly tell you that this situation is reserved for very few people.

“You’re talking a lot of shit for someone who couldn’t even look at me properly less than thirty minutes ago.”

          You skew an eyebrow at him, watching him fight for control as he pulls his hips back and shuffles back onto his feet. You glance down at his cock and the way it stands painfully erect and twitching at the sudden lack of friction.

“You’re talking a lot of shit for a man who needs to cum.”

          He stills himself, a blank expression turning to that of a devilish smile, eyes narrowing as he leans over you.

“Are you suggesting that you’ll make me cum if I stop talking?”

          You smile, spreading your legs a bit and feeling the stickiness that has formed between them as he was on top of you.

“You know,” You mock him slightly, watching his eyes glue themselves to your thighs. You make a show to spread your legs a bit for him. “She told me that some clients have gotten special treatment from you, I wasn’t expecting that they were the ones getting you off.”

          Honestly, it’s like he hit the fucking jackpot with you. Challenging him, mocking him with his cock out in front of you. If you so much as wiggled your pussy in front of him, he would instantly be back on his knees, letting you soak his face in whatever way you please.

“Go on, dance.” You say, “You’re still wearing your pants.”

          It’s almost like a game now, he feels. You know he’s trying to seduce you and it seems you’re enjoying the fact that you haven’t let him yet. He knows that you intend to let him, so yeah, fuck yeah, he’s going to play along.

          He raises a brow at you as he steps back, trying to ignore the fact that his cock is aching to be touched again. You still want your show? Good. He’ll fucking give you a show.

          Jeno does as he’s told, keeping his eyes on you the entire time. He watches the way your legs spread when he rubs his hands down his naked chest, straight down to his cock where he only briefly tugs at himself. He can almost see under your dress when you do it, but the lighting is far too dim to see what his act is doing to you just yet.

          When he saunters behind you, dipping his head by your neck and whispering the dirtiest part of the song into your ear, he can see your sharp intake of air, and he watches the way your breasts move with your chest as you do it.

          He stays behind you now, ghosting his hands over your neck, moving down your arms, and then to your chest. He doesn’t touch, because you still haven't asked yet, but he knows the hovering alone is enough. It’s like he can feel the electricity beneath his fingers clash with whatever you’re radiating back at him.

He continues to sing against your ear, leaning further forward to plant his hands on your thighs again because that’s the one spot you already let him touch.

“Spread your legs for me.” He gently demands between lyrics.

          Jeno watches for a moment from behind you, pressing his cock against the back of the couch the moment he sees your legs fall open. Your dress is hiked up past your waist now, enough that he can at least see a glimpse of the skin closest to your pussy.

“Ask me to touch you.” He says against your ear, trailing his fingers up your thighs enough to where he would need you to tell him to stop otherwise. “I just need to know that you want it.”

          It’s silent save for the music playing, and his cock is aching so badly by this point that each time he rubs against the couch he’s almost breaking down to fucking beg you to let him touch you. That alone could make him cum, but god, you’re so good at playing hard to get even if it’s blatantly obvious that he’s already got you. You’re fucking playing with him, and he can’t decide if he loves it or hates it. Your silence is so damning to his dripping cock, and his skin feels so hot right now that he’s almost forgotten that he was paid to be doing anything that’s not this.

“I’m not asking for it.” You finally say, breathing in deep by the way his hands keep rubbing higher and higher, to the point that it’s genuinely difficult to not ask for it. “I want to be the one granting permission, Jeno.” You lean your head back and rest it against the cushions of the couch, and he instantly moves from your neck to look down at you.

“Oh.” He says, having no issue at all to be the one to ask, beg, plead, or cry. Whatever it takes to get a feel of you.

          Another long moment of eye contact has him trailing his hands higher than before, almost to the point that there’s no skin on your thighs to touch that isn’t your panty line or pussy.

“Can I?” He asks, leaning down a bit closer so that his face is mere inches from yours. “Will you take my fingers?”

          You could mistake this distance as something that should be closed between the two of you. Barely hearing his question at this moment, the only thing you want is to kiss him, and it hit you so fucking fast that you almost forgot he’s doing anything you ask of him.

“Come again?” You smile, blinking up at him.

          He breathes in, giving you the same smirk that appears on his face each time you entertain him a bit too much.

“Will you take my fingers?” He asks again, this time already moving his hands to trace up your panties and feeling the wetness seep through onto his fingertips. “You’re already dripping baby; I can imagine they’d slide right in.”

          Typically, you wouldn’t like being called that, but he’s done it twice now and each time it had your stomach in knots over it. His voice sounds like honey when he says it to you, and his darkened eyes only made it feel like there was some sort of desperation behind it. Finally, you press your hips up against his fingers.

“I’ll make you feel so good–” He continues, tracing his fingers up and down just to feel the sticky mess that’s there for him and him alone. “Moving your hips isn’t an answer though, baby.”

          You swear he can read your mind, there’s no fucking way he would say it like that without knowing how you just internally admitted to liking it.

“Yes,” You let out shortly, darting your eyes away from him.

          You can hear him release a breathy laugh and lay his head back beside your neck. His soft singing picks back up as he solely intends to listen to you now more than the music. He continuously presses his cock against the couch, holding his hips in place as he tenses his muscles throughout the time he’s spent in this position.

          Your hips lightly chase his fingers. They go up when his fingers trace down, and he can’t help but smile at the way he’s getting exactly what he wants despite your sudden change of personality towards him. He likes this version of you better, if he’s being honest.

          Jeno finally reaches around you and pulls at your panties, harshly tugging them down your legs as far as his arms can reach. He watches as you push them further down, kicking them onto the floor and relaxing back against the couch.

“Eager?” He tries to tease, but he knows you won't respond, and you dont. He just continues, now allowing himself to feel your bare pussy for the first time. Sure, he can’t see it in full right now, but sometimes just feeling was enough for him.

“You’re so wet right now—” He groans, pressing his cock against the back of the couch again, chasing any amount of friction he can have. His fingers slip into places he hadn’t even attempted to touch yet solely because of how wet you are. “You held out for so long.” He coos, teasing around your hole and chuckling at the way your breathing has grown a bit labored by this alone.

          When you grab his hand though, practically forcing him to drive his fingers into you, he’s taken by surprise. The warmth envelops his digits in a way that is audible and excruciatingly sexy to him. He doesn’t even attempt to hold back now.

“They really did slip right in–” He rasps against your neck, scissoring his fingers into you and feeling how you clench around them. His mind is racing. “I bet you could take my cock so well.”

          He’s talking to himself more than you right now, smelling your hair and becoming obsessed with the way you feel, look, and smell when you’re within inches of him like this. Better yet, he knows you won’t respond to a single thing he says but it doesn’t matter too much considering you’re starting to let out little whimpers.

“What was that?” He asks, running his other hand up your body until he gets to your neck. “Let me hear you, baby, make that sound again.” He adds as he pushes your chin back, resting his hand flush across your neck and practically holding you down that way as he begins to plunge his fingers into you.

“You can do it right?” He’s still talking, still humping your couch, still fucking you so good with his fingers. “Come on, do it again.”

          It’s like he’s working for it, and god, he’s doing so well. You can’t help it when you let out a choked moan, his hand straining your neck enough that any sound would come out strained and desperate. You can feel his grasp tighten against your neck as his fingers fuck faster, harder. His palm is placed so perfectly that you can feel your clit being rubbed harshly. It’s incredibly overwhelming.

“Yes, fuck–again.” He groans, bucking his hips forward and frantically lifting his head from your shoulder so that he can look down at you again. He’s heard you, now he wants to see how desperate you are.

          When you open your eyes again, all you can see is his face, all you can feel are his long fingers pressing in spots that haven’t been played with in a long time. You smell only his sweet, musky body oil, and jesus christ it’s hitting you in every spot that feels good. You can feel the cold metal of the rings on his fingers against your neck, and when he tightens his hand even more than before, another choked-out moan falls from your lips.

          You strain to keep your eyes on him through this moment of pleasure, watching the way his teeth appear and scrape at his bottom lip when you make noises for him. So, you do it again, and again, and again.

          He fingers only continue their aggressive assault inside of you, his palm rubbing harshly at your clit, and his other hand around your throat– honestly you could fucking sing songs to him in this moment.

“You’re shaking,” He comments, eyes flicking to your body. “Can you even breathe right now?”

          His smile is so fucking mean, knowing full well that you can’t breathe and only tightening his hand as hard as he thinks you can handle can after the fact. It doesn’t even cross his mind that you don’t want this, the way you’re moaning for him is all he needs to know that you’re into this, that you like being choked and fucked.

          When you moan out yet again, he releases his hand from your throat and leans down to your lips. He’s only a bit shocked that you don’t even hesitate to kiss him. What he wanted to do was degrade you, but now he’s just tasting the way you’re desperately trying to kiss him and if he’s wanting to be real right now, that was way better than his own idea.

          He doesn’t kiss his clients, but at this point, things have already lasted much longer and have gotten far more intimate than they ever have with those few lucky women. He’s never asked for it, he’s never gotten so much pleasure out of finger fucking them, and he’s not once ever fucked against a couch to chase his high.

          Pupils blown, he allows himself to kiss you, slowing his fingers unintentionally as he focuses on your lips and tongue. You kiss him better than he’s ever been kissed before and falling into it was terrifyingly easy. His hand moves on its own accord, cupping your jaw as he attempts to deepen the kiss past his comfort level.

          But he is comfortable, and that’s precisely what’s uncomfortable about it.

“You can take it, right?” He pulls back in a breath, waiting for you to open your eyes and look at him. “My cock, please.”

          Your eyes widen, somehow managing to forget that he’s been totally neglected through all of his. Are you really about to fuck this stripper? The man you were against meeting? The man who has $600 dollars in his bank account from your lovely, beautiful, amazing best friend? The man that you’re probably going to give the entirety of the contents in your purse to the moment he packs it up and moves on as if it never happened? The answer is yes.

“I can.” You look up at him, intentionally fucking yourself on his fingers now because it appears he’s stopped functioning altogether.

          Within a second, his fingers are out of you and his presence is gone. You lift your head to watch him, cock still out of his pants that are also still at his thighs. He goes directly to his bag, and as if he knew it was going to happen, he pulls out a condom and slips it on without so much as a sigh of relief.

“Oh,” You let out in a huff, disappointed.

          He raises his eyes to you as he lets his pants fall to his ankles and steps out of them but his face isn’t concerned nor bothered. Honestly, he has to be able to read minds or something.

“No, I don’t do this with all of my clients. I’m a man and I have needs. Needs that require protection sometimes.”

          You only nod, in awe of the fact that he knows what the fuck to always say. And just as quickly as he left from you, he’s back, lifting your dress and attempting to take it off of you.

“Can I see?” He asks, still tugging as he stands in front of you.

          Your pussy is aching, and you can feel the couch beneath you soaked through and probably leaving an embarrassingly large spot for you to cry about later because this fucking couch was expensive, but whatever. So is Jeno.

          Lifting your arms, he slips the dress off of you and instantly presses your breasts together as he stares at them. He doesn’t hesitate this time to snatch your bra off of you either, the second your bare nipples are perked up in front of him he’s got his mouth on one and the other being pinched between his fingers.

“Right here?” He mumbles around your nipple as he savors the quick moment of seeing you in full for probably the first and only time. “You want me to fuck you here?” He mumbles again, realizing that his question wasn’t clear in the first place.

          You don’t even care at this point, but, you’ve been sitting in this position for far too long and, more than anything, you want him to be the one looking up at you again. Just like when he started his second dance, crawling on the floor towards you and looking so small for such a cocky man.

“No.” you say, lacing your fingers into his hair and pushing his lips to your other nipple, just to feel the warmth of his tongue flicking against it.

“No?” He questions, sucking your nipple harshly and allowing it to pop from his lips as he looks at you. “Where, then?”

          You smile at him, finally sitting yourself up fully from the slouched, lazy position you were in. Your legs close as you stand to your feet in front of him, but he still dips his head to get his lips around your nipple again.

          Holding him there, your legs almost buckle at the way he slightly groans around it, sending vibrations through your chest and straight to your clit. You’re gentle when you shuffle forward, allowing him to continue his antics. Slowly but surely, you turn him around and back him up against the couch.

          Only now, when you push him back and his teeth graze against your perked-up nub in a sad release do you realize that he’s… needier than you expected. His brows are furrowed, not even paying attention to the fact that you’ve just shoved him onto the couch so you can straddle him, and it’s cute, actually. He was so intimidating when he came into your house, walking with confidence, dancing with intention, finger fucking you and choking you as if he had a right to do it. But now, looking at him, it felt good.

          As quickly as his brows furrowed in disappointment that your tit was no longer in his mouth, his brows lift right back up in relief when you plant yourself on his lap and grind against his cock.

          It’s the first slippery touch that he’s felt all night, and honestly, he’s been on edge this entire time. You grind against him so beautifully that for the first time, he’s completely speechless.

          “You’re really cute, I don’t think you realize that.” You comment, gliding against his cock and watching his hands reach out to grip your waist. “Really cute.”

          He doesn’t falter at all and instead melts into it. His cheeks are a different shade now as he leans forward to resume his antics from before. All you can do is grip his hair and let him. It’s been a long time since you’ve felt the head of a cock bumping against your clit, and you’ll never forgive yourself for not making more time for this.

          When his teeth begin to graze a bit harsher, and his hands start to push and pull you faster against him, you finally do it.

          Angling yourself perfectly, you slide forward, perk your ass out, and then pull him back by his hair to look at him. Already, the moment he opens his eyes and looks at you, he knows.

          He thrusts his hips up one time and feels the way your pussy grips around his cock with perfect aim. He slides in so fucking easily, so fast, that he’s almost seeing stars at how good it feels. He grunts heavily, feeling your grip on his hair tighten through your own overwhelming experience of being filled up.

          Both of you let out a long and breathy groan at the sensation, you couldn’t help it, you had to grip onto something and it wasn't intentionally his hair but god, he seemed to love it when you dio it. When you finally regain your senses, you pull at it again, tilting his head back so that you can see the expanse of his neck and the way it moves when he swallows hard.

“Move.” You say harshly, feeling the way his cock pulses in place inside of you, and at this point you want him to make good on what he thinks you can do. You can take his cock but can he handle your pussy? It’s looking bleak, but sometimes that’s more fun anyway.

          He whimpers when he squints his eyes at you, unable to fully open them as he loses himself to the feelings of euphoria and the pain of how harshly you’re holding his head back. Jeno didn’t think you could get any sexier, honestly, and as far as he’s concerned, if he moves right now, he’s going to cum. So, he doesn't. Instead, he smirks and lets his eyes close so that he can fall right back into the state of seeing nothing but stars.

          Frustrated, but incredibly turned on by the way you’ve completely lost him, you start to bounce. Each time your ass hits against his thighs, he moans, and each time you grind forward, dragging your clit into his abdomen, he tenses up for you, and it’s like he’s so here but not at the same time.

“Look how pathetic you are right now,” You whisper out, hearing the wet of your pussy echo through the long-forgotten music that’s playing. “You can’t even move.”

          All he does is nod his head at you with a lazy smile as if to insinuate ‘damn fucking right I can’t.’ He’s proud of it, but you’re not going to ignore the fact that his hands are still on your waist, gripping onto you so tightly that you fear he’s going to break his fingers.

“Keep going baby,” He somehow manages to say to you without a moan at all in his voice. “No one has ever fucked me like this,”

          There it is. This entire time he’s been begging to fuck you, at least that’s what you thought. His voice still sounds like honey and his cock feels impressively hard inside of you that you could probably feel him in your stomach if you were to press against it. He wants you to fuck him.

“Yeah?” You boast, feeling the power go to your head as you opt for grinding rather than bouncing. Your hips are erratic as he tenses up for you. You can feel your clit hitting perfectly each time and if you were to keep going, you could cum within seconds.

          You can’t even finish your thought when you look down at him. His eyes are squeezed shut and his mouth is open in a silent moan, you can see that he’s not able to take in a breath at all. You release his hair, watching the way he allows his head to fall against the cushions in what you can only assume is a pure euphoric high.

“Are you cumming right now?” You ask, out of breath.

          When he doesn’t respond and you feel his hips stutter under you despite remaining static since he’s gotten inside of you, you know that now is the time.

          You grind harshly, pressing your clit against him and rutting against his abdomen so that his cock is only slightly fucking into you while you chase your own high, but, alas, his fingers tighten on you.

          His eyes shoot open as the sensitivity hits him quicker than he would have liked, but you don’t stop. The pain is intense from how hard you’re going on top of him, but he can see you reach your high and the image alone lets him push through the sensitivity of his post-orgasm discomfort.

          Jeno seethes out praise to you as your walls squeeze against his softening cock. He studies your face, studies the way you try to close your legs around him despite being forced to stay open, and he thinks he might be a little too fond of the way your hands grip and squeeze his arms for leverage as you shake through the orgasm.

          It hurts, but it kind of hurts more when he knows it’s over. After all, it kind of feels like he’s been in this room for days. Surely, he’s stayed past his allotted time frame, and surely he’s given you something far more valuable than an expensive lap dance.

          When you slump over him, his cock is so fucking sensitive that he almost starts to tear up, but thankfully you were sensitive too it seems. You were gentle when you held the base of his cock, holding the condom in place as you allow him to slip out of you.

          The playlist comes to an abrupt end at just the wrong moment, because it forces Jeno to realize that he hadn’t stayed at all over his paid time frame, and now all he can hear is the way his breath is entirely too uneven to move and go home.

“You okay?” You ask, noting the silence and his struggle to breathe with you on top of him. He’s staring straight up at the ceiling, not blinking, face making no readable expression. “Hey, Jeno?” You ask again, tapping his cheek.

          He shakes himself out of it, eyes slowly moving over to look at you.

“That, um…” He tries to talk, genuinely, he does.

          The change in the atmosphere almost freaks out you, but you try to stay calm. You saw the way he lost himself there, despite it not at all being rough or incredibly kinky. You’re confused as to why he’s acting like this, and maybe you even feel a bit guilty.

          Without another word, you lift yourself onto your weak legs and stumble to find your dress. You throw it on so quickly, and it’s the only time you’ve ever felt the need to cover yourself so fast. Still silent, you head to your purse and grab every single hint of cash you have. Some two thousand or so.

          Just like that, you place the cash into Jeno’s hands as he comes back to himself.

“What’s this?” He asks, looking at the sheer amount of cash in his hand. It was kind of the last thing on his mind.

“Your tip.” You try to say casually, still doing your best to catch your breath. “You can shower too if you want.”

          Jeno nods, hoping to god that you don’t think he fucked you for money just now. No, he showed up for the money. Whatever happened after was because he wanted it, and he still does. Are you truly strictly business like this? You just handed him his rent for the month and then some, but for some reason it amazes him. As if he’s never been handed handsome sums of cash from drunken lonely women.

“Shower with me?” He asks suddenly, trying to lighten to mood from whatever the fuck just crept in through the silence.

          He feels comforted when you smile, nodding to him with a step forward.

~

Did Jeno end up spending the night free of charge? Yes. Did he try to have a serious talk with you in the early hours of the morning, about how this is not genuinely something he does? Absolutely.

Did you believe him? Surprisingly.

After the shower, the mood shifted into something that felt natural. He wasn’t just some stripper you could call over for a down payment of $600, he was Jeno, a man trying to make ends meet in a city too expensive for even you.

Wanted he was, by several women of course. You, on the other hand, feel the need to mend your lonely heart with him. Not to fall in love, nothing like that. If anything, you want to take care of him, and when he grimaced at your joke, calling him your “sugar baby”, he was quick to perk up when he realized you were being serious.

It was your turn to set the rules and, possibly, break them.

“Rule number one, come to me if you’re short on money. No, you don’t have to fuck me for it, but I’m sure you’d probably want to.”

He nodded happily.

“Rule number two, stop fucking your clients. If you need to fuck, come over. Just look pretty for them and come back to me, yeah?”

The way he nodded harder that time was a pleasant surprise.

“Rule number three.”

He gasps in a show of mock shock. “The forbidden rule–” He whispers, sinking further into your blankets with a laugh.

“If–” You pause, thinking hard about if you should even assume. You forego anyway, it’s a forbidden rule for a reason. “If either of us start to like, feel things, we have to actually communicate and see where we want to go from there.”

He nods again, a glint in his eye shining brighter than he realizes. This is the first time he’s slept at a client’s house, the first time a woman has ever gotten him so fucked up. You had him down bad. He thinks he should probably stop calling you a client as well. The short-lived title turning into something he always dreamed of, though he figured it wouldn’t have happened so quickly. Sugar Mommy.

[svchengss]

two halves | l.mh

PAIRING. mark lee x reader

GENRE. fluff, heavy angst

WARNINGS. major character death, grief

WORD COUNT. 2.4k

SUMMARY. right after his death, mark watches how you cope with the loss

A/N. i saw this one tiktok and it kinda inspired me to write this

// just to let you guys know, reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated !! thank you for reading :D

white walls, white room.

mark scrunched his face, his eyelashes slowly fluttering open, the dark brown iris adjusting the size of the pupils due to the brightness of the walls reflected upon it. a soft groan vibrating from his throat, he assessed his surroundings where nobody or nothing else is present. he looked down to inspect his clothing, hoping that it would give him any clue of this room or space he’s in - an all white outfit. this scene looks exactly like the one in the movies where the characters realize they are dead. except this time, he really is.

THE REALIZATION.

the muffled sounds of cries and sobs rang through his eardrums, triggering a reflex to wake up from the state that he thought was a slumber. he is lying on the hospital bed with the light blue clothing piece, faint light illuminating the space where people are huddled up around him. he waved his right hand in the air to let them - who he later remembered as his family members and friends, know that his eyes are already open. nobody moved even the slightest, the atmosphere being very much dead, scent of medicine intoxicating his mind.

then he saw someone who he holds very dear to his heart - you, enter the hospital room, dropping onto her knees as soon as she saw his state of condition. in an instant, he shot up from his lying position and ran over towards the crying you, shoulders shaking and all. bringing his hands to hold you in his embrace, not even a glance spared by you brought a hundred and one questions to him. why didn’t anybody acknowledge him when he woke up? why can’t you feel his touch?

“mark lee. time of death, 10:23 pm,” the tall doctor with glasses rested on the bridge of his nose announced before leaving the room, holding the clipboard close to his chest. mark gauged the monitor screen next to the bed, the line indicating his heartbeat is no longer showing spikes going up and down - instead becoming a flat line, deafening beep present with it. then he sees himself still laying on the white sheets, eyes still closed and no signs of breathing evident. a surge of panic rushed through his veins.

this can’t be real.

mark rushed into the bathroom, a surprised gasp leaving his lips. his body is semi-transparent, the shape of the toilet bowl can be seen through his left shoulder. his body shakes with terror, slapping himself in the cheeks multiple times just to make sure that this whole fiasco is just a nightmare.

oh my god. no, this is real.

mark stood in the back of the crowd, witnessing the funeral of someone and that someone being him. of course, he’s never expected to get the sight of his own service. his mother is standing beside you, her hands rubbing circles onto your back in an attempt to calm your mourning state. you’re still looking ever so pretty, a black chiffon dress on your body with white pearl necklace on your collarbones and your wavy black hair hanging down your shoulders. not that anybody else would notice, it’s someone’s death after all.

“stay strong, y/n. he will always be in our hearts,” the same rhythm of sentence in tones full of pity being directed towards you. mark’s sister enveloped you into a warm hug despite the chilly atmosphere, whispering comforting words into your ears before getting into the family’s car. you’re not going back home, not yet when you still feel reluctant to let him go.

“why did you leave me?” the only coherent words from your hoarse voice can be heard. mark, who is crouching next to you, is holding his tears back. instead, he sends a sorrowful smile - not that you can see him anyway. is there any way to let you know of his presence?

“goodbye, love. i’ll see you tomorrow. i promise,” you dusted the back of your dress from any dirt or debris, leaving a rose on his tombstone. the thing is, he doesn’t want to part from you. and that’s why his figure is seated beside you in the cab. he grazed his thumb on your knuckles, making you feel tingles rushing through. you pushed the slight thought away, you must be tired to be feeling things.

you slowly opened the door to your apartment, you and mark’s to be exact. the whole house is making those memories make their presence in the back of your head again. the kitchen where you two baked cookies for christmas last year. the bedroom where you snuggled upon his chest, not wanting to start your day just yet. the piano where he sang those cheesy songs for you. the living room where you slow danced at 3 in the morning. his favourite mug resting on the countertop, probably will not be used again. this whole situation is too overwhelming for you. you feel weak.

with each day passing by, you didn’t even miss one without a visit to his resting lot. you would tell him stories of how your day went or something that you read which would made him ponder. the words carved on it are already etched onto your brain.

mark lee. a son, a brother and a loving partner.

the clock hanging on the grey wall has it’s arms stretched out to display the time - two in the morning. you can’t sleep just yet, not having any for the past few days even. dark circles are appearing around your eyes, not yet recovered from the puffiness from all the crying. mark’s heart aches everytime he takes upon your state. he feels very guilty, not that death was his choice after all. it’s simply fate, a cycle of life, a destiny that every single creature on this planet will end up with.

you’ve taken the whole month off work, still feeling ever so helpless. in fact, you can’t even remember the last time you’ve stepped out of the apartment, the night before his passing perhaps? you’ve completely shut yourself out from any interactions - deactivating your social media, not accepting any calls. you just need time to heal.

as if you’re being controlled by some type of mastermind, you shoot up on the balls of your feet, pulling away from the couch. those images of you slow dancing with mark, hands in each other’s holds, your chin rested in the crook of his neck and being ever so engrossed in love are coming back more often now. you trudged to the vinyls arranged neatly on the shelf, picking one before placing it on the turntable - frank sinatra, one of his all time favourites.

holding your hands up at about his usual height, you start twirling around. you can almost see the outline of his smile, his features right in front of you. except, he is. he’s been observing your moves the whole night. mirroring your current position, as if you can really see him, it’s a miracle for him. overjoyed actually, he doesn’t realize the salty tears streaming down his cheekbones and so are yours.

“thank you for coming, dear. it’s a pleasure seeing you in what, weeks?” a laugh escaped the woman’s lips. you reciprocated her hug before stepping into the living room. it’s been a long time since you’ve been here, was it in january? mrs. lee had invited you over for a simple dinner, checking up on how you’ve been. you can see that the family is still struggling over his passing, the way his sister’s eyes are not twinkling as usual makes it hard to cover up the lie.

“you see, this was on his high school graduation day. he was very happy that day, doing all sorts of dances and stuff. finally escaping from hell as he said,” she giggled. she’s been displaying all sorts of memoirs to you, photo albums and photographs scattered on the wooden floor. to be honest, you’ve never seen these before. all smiles mark lee, easy to notice among the crowd. not that he’s changed, he’s still that boy now. mark just sat on the couch - his favourite spot, observing the throwback session going on. if he’s still here, his sister for sure is going to tease the hell out of him.

“he told us so much about you, you know? as if everything reminds him of you, that boy is lovestruck. really,” that sudden confession made your tongue dry, unable to find a perfect response. you were really that special to him.

“drive safe honey, you can come over whenever you want. you know you’re always welcome here, right?” mrs. lee handed you the small box filled with some things you’re going to keep. she kissed both of your cheeks, mr. lee standing behind her giving you a small wave. a small smile crept up onto your face before igniting the engine, turning your wheels out of the housing area.

the netflix show is playing on the television, the faint voices of the characters playing in the background. you’re sitting on the floor, flipping through the photo journal you two decorated throughout your one year of relationship. you can see his little scribbles and doodles, often a little dinosaur symbolising your always grumpy personality.

in one photo, a golden birthday hat is nicely placed on your head with him kissing your right cheek. you remember clearly, a surprise party for you last year. in the following ones, they are mostly candid shots - you blowing out the candles while he looks at you full of love, him eating a portion of your dish while you pout your lips. you would say it was the night of your life, spending it with the guy who stole your heart.

the next page of the journal is a shot of mark taking a photo of you in the park. you suppose it was taken by donghyuck? that one picture of you was stuck as his lock screen wallpaper for a while, you remembered getting so embarrassed over it. mark would give you the same excuse every time you questioned him about it, implying that the sight of you would light up his whole day. cheesy really, but that was what remained as memories of the past, tied neatly in your heart.

the rain trickling against your window eventually made you doze off to wonderland, creating the perfect chance for mark to browse through the journal in your hands. carefully lifting it from yours so that you won’t be stirred from your sleep, he settled down in the space beside your sleeping figure. slowly turning the pages, he smiled fondly at each photo holding a thousand moments that can’t be recreated ever again. some of them would make him giggle. he kneeled down slightly to place a soft kiss on your forehead, making you squirm a little due to the faint touch.

“give him a chance. i’m not saying that you should forget mark but it’s been months, you should live up a little,” yerim’s voice sounding concerned from the other end of the line. perhaps she’s right but you just need more time. but how much longer? you’re afraid you yourself have no specific answer for that enquiry.

you’ve been feeling better by now, welcoming people back into your life and carrying out the same daily routine of yours. going to work, buying groceries, going to the drive-thru and whatnot. of course, the void is still obvious - coming back home to an empty atmosphere instead of him waiting for you on the couch, sometimes dozing off, no more weekend cafe runs. but at least you’re trying your best. you bid your goodbyes before tapping the red button, ending the call. plopping the device onto the mattress, you stared at the white ceiling, deep in your own thoughts.

you should give him a chance. live up a little.

yes, you should.

getting hold of the phone and immediately opening the messages app, you searched for jungwoo’s number. he’s been trying to take you out for dinner for a while now. you still remember his exact words, whenever you’re ready he’s always there, waiting for you. you’re not really sure about that particular question but it wouldn't hurt to give it a try, right?

typing in the words ‘okay, sure’ is already a pressure for you but you still proceeded to press the send button. glancing at the clock showing the time, the notification ping redirected your focus onto the screen.

jungwoo: cool, is tomorrow night okay with you? i’ll drive, of course :)

tomorrow night. okay, tomorrow night.

an elegant red gown is wrapping your curves perfectly, a thin necklace with the seashell charm around your neck while your lips is decorated with the dark red tone, highlighting your poise appearance. hearing the doorbell ring, you tidied up the dresser as your eyes landed onto the picture frame holding a photo of you and mark. a sad feeling crept into your heart but you pushed it away, opening the door to reveal jungwoo in a black and white tuxedo.

you would say that the dinner went well, none of his questions or chatters crossing any borderline. he’s just so polite, even you are amused. feeling comfortable with his presence, the small gap in between is eventually closing down since you’ve learned so much about each other during the other few dates. one night completely changed it for you, him offering you a dance at some event he’s bringing you with.

you observed that his moves are slightly similar to mark’s - not completely of course, mark’s is very unique and very…mark-ish. for the first time ever in the recent turn of events, you flashed a genuine smile. one that is not just for show, one that only comes out when you’re truly elated, one that you only manage to give to certain. mark just observed the scene from a distance, admiring how you’ve managed to find the spark of happiness you once lost.

alas, mark saw his other half become full again with another, her eyes twinkling with the same joy but this time, it’s not him in the reflection.

[mysterystarz]

ATSUMU AND SIXTH PROMPT FROM THE ENEMIES TO LOVERS GOODBYE hhdejdndbhedhsjdbejnddh

a menace (yours, always yours)

genre: fluff

pairing: miya atsumu x g!n reader

warnings: intentional lowercase, set in highschool

a/n: LIAAAAAA thank you so much for making a req <33 i hope this fulfills your expectations ;) — consider this my very HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ATSUMU AND OSAMU <33

reblogs are appreciated <33

you couldn’t stand miya atsumu.

it was so difficult to, especially when every interaction you had was a battle of wits, a constant push and pull between you. no matter how many words had been exchanged, neither of you had ever left feeling satisfied.

you weren’t sure how much more of this you could take, passing sneers and unassuming comments in the halls when inside…well, inside, what you felt for the blond haired setter was a bit different.

it was yet another day at inarizaki, the bells signaling the start of your next class as you walked inside. the windows had been open that day, the sunlight filtering through the blinds as you sat in your seat, awaiting atsumu’s fateful entrance through the door.

you remembered the first time he had walked in, smirk cocky and posture unassuming as he had slipped in the chair next to you with a smile. you had never believed him to be anything more than a celebrity then, knowing now that he was simply just a childish boy who really couldn’t stand the thought of losing to anyone, especially you.

a childish boy that you had feelings for.

“ya always take up so much space!” he grumbled, sliding into his seat and frowning, “why can’t ya just keep yer stuff to yer own side?”

“technically, i am,” you smirked, purposefully moving your backpack a bit closer to the line denomination of the aisle that had been made in the earlier days of the year. “why don’t you just organize better?”

“i’m already organized,” he sighed, “yer just a space hog.”

“no, maybe you’re just not adaptable.”

“cut it out y/n,” he groaned, “yer always so insufferable in the mornings.”

“you being here is enough of an excuse for me to do that,” you retorted, finding yourself grinning at the pout that rested on his face at that response.

it was cute. a bit too cute for your liking.

“ya think i’m cute?” he smirked, the confidence in his expression being enough to startle you. “my my, i knew that i must have had some effect on ya! good to know i was right.”

you…had said that out loud?!

“to rephrase: i think it’s cute that you’re never able to one-up me,” you exhaled, feeling your heart race at the situation.

you had been so close. so close to discarding every semblance of nonchalance you had crafted specifically so he wouldn’t get the impression that you were like all the other people who admired him.

“are ya sure?” he asked, his tone good-natured — a stark change from the almost accusing tone of his previous statements. “ya know, i would never put it against ya if ya did think i was cute. i think i’m great!”

you opted to simply ignore him, grabbing your notebook and beginning to write down the notes that the teacher had written on the board, paying no mind to the realization that perhaps, just maybe, he may be just as interested in you as you were him.

it was maybe that thought that had led then both of you to the back of the school, an occurrence far too uncommon to be ordinary. he never did this, never invited you anywhere.

there had to be a reason. you just…weren’t sure what it was.

“miya.” was all you offered as you leaned against the wall of the building, “why are we here?”

“take a guess. yer smart after all.” he didn’t seem to mean that comment with any malice, but the cheeky grin he wore was enough for you to know that was a jab.

“no, you’re the one who brought us here. if anything, you should be doing the explaining.” you stepped towards him, standing about two feet away before you saw him finally concede.

“ya know…when do ya think we changed?”

“changed?” you questioned, “what makes you phrase it that way?”

“i know ya felt it!” he attempted, gesturing his hands wildly. “there was a shift. something’s changed.”

he wasn’t wrong. you had felt the way your interactions had felt nowadays, as if the other was restraining the words they really wanted to say.

you’d know. you’d been doing that recently.

“nothing’s changed,” you huffed, “we’re still the same, aren’t we miya?”

you weren’t quite ready to admit what he was insinuating, the fear of rejection, and maybe much worse plaguing your thoughts.

it was much easier to maintain normalcy. that, at least, was something you could control.

“ironic, how the one thing we have in common, is the one thing that prevented us from admitting the truth.” he said, glaring at you.

“and what is that supposed to be?” you shot back, the sense of a challenge providing you a bit of fuel.

“pride.”

“what the hell is that supposed to mean?!” you argued, “yeah, we’ve both got pride. how does this prevent the truth or whatever?”

“because i like ya!” he yelled, eyes widening at the realization of what he had just blurted out. “and us always arguing and me wantin’ to win all the time kept me from saying that to ya a long time ago.”

you felt the addictive mixture of shock and relief flow through your veins at the sound of his words, the sheer idea of them enough to send your heart into overdrive.

he had liked you back the entire time?

“you’re an idiot,” you giggled, flicking his forehead. “that was so dramatic and for what?”

“i know ya love it just as much as i do.”

“shhhh,” you smiled, pecking his cheek, “i like you too. there, how’s that for getting over pride?”

“good, but i’ve got one suggestion to get rid of it a lot quicker.” he smirked.

“and what would that be?”

“move your backpack to your side of the aisle.”

“atsumu!”

so maybe pride was the reason the two of them had stayed rivals for so long, never stopping to think of the numerous possibilities that lay beyond that.

but one thing was for certain.

miya atsumu was a menace, but he was your menace, always yours.

©mysterystarz all rights reserved, please do not plagiarize, translate, or modify my fics in any way even if credited

taglist (send an ask or fill out form in pinned to join): @kousukii @kawaii-angelanne @haikyuutothetop @koushisbutterfly @catchmewiddershins @perqabeth @sunarinluvr @elektrosonix @shoyotime @milktyama @ebiharachan @kitacharm @carmillous @angelecho @maipxilia @fxckingshame @yesuraloser @setsunaia @tejxswini @uxavity @shookykookie30 @escapenightmare @stargirl2898 @kenmaslov3r @sscarchiyo @bokuatsubro @lia-miya

[eternally-writing]

memory lane | jjk

genre: fluff

rating: PG-13

pairing: Jungkook x reader

theme: boyfriend!au, one-shot

word count: 1.4k

warnings: implied sex before the story takes place

Synopsis: When you and Jungkook can’t fall asleep at night, you and him stay up chatting about past memories.

This was from a request by @carpediem1219​ (you can read the request here) !

If you have a fic request you can ask it here!

banner by me!

–♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡–

“Babyyyy, come back to bed,” groaned Jungkook, watching you move around in his bathroom.

You loved Jungkook, but you were not ready to risk getting a UTI for him so you left him in bed while you went to clean yourself up. Throwing on one of Jungkook’s shirts (which was basically a dress on you since you were so much shorter than him), you sauntered away from his sink.

“I don’t even know how you’re still awake babe, I definitely thought I tired you out tonight,” you joked as you plopped down next to your boyfriend, stealing some of the covers that were covering his lower half.

Turning over to face you, he gazed adoringly at your smiley self beaming back at him.

“Why would I need to fall asleep when I’ve got the girl of my dreams in front of me?” crooned Jungkook as he put his hands on your waist to pull you closer to him

You groaned at his cheesiness and lightly slapped his chest (you secretly loved it, but there was no way that you were going to admit that anytime soon).

You and Jungkook both led such busy lives, so you truly appreciated the quiet moments like this (which were few and far between). It felt like there was nobody else in the world but the two of you as you looked into each other’s eyes, simply enjoying the other’s presence. You felt like you were a character in a Hallmark movie; it seemed like such a fantasy to be laying in bed across from the man of your dreams, as if none of this could be real.

Instinctively, you brushed your thumb lightly over the scar on Jungkook’s cheek, rubbing circles into the small mark.

“You never told me how you ended up with this scar, Koo,” you said softly as you focused on the scar.

Jungkook chuckled, sticking out his pinky in front of you before beginning to speak.

“I’ll tell you but you have to promise not to laugh too much ok?” he said with his doe eyes staring at you.

You twisted your pinky in his, kissing the top of his finger as a promise.

“I was 10 and my brother and I only had one computer to share. He wouldn’t let me play on the computer before him so we fought until he scratched me on the cheek,” he said bashfully, scratching the back of his neck,

You did promise Jungkook you wouldn’t laugh too much, but you were having a really hard time holding it in.

“Seriously babe? All that just to use a computer? Good to know you were just as computer obsessed then as you are now,” you jeered at him (you were only slightly jealous of how much time he spent playing Overwatch with his hyungs)

You ran a finger over the small diagonal of the scar again, subconsciously smiling after knowing the story behind it.

“It must have hurt so bad - it looks deep” you said now with a frown.

“Well when my mom saw me crying with a bloody cheek she did let me use the computer that day, and she gave me ice cream too - I’d call that an absolute win in my books,” exclaimed Jungkook with a prideful smile.

Placing a chaste kiss right over the scar, you glow to him.

“That’s my boy. I love it - it’s what makes you you, yknow”.

Jungkook grinned and pulled you closer into his chest, rolling over so he was on his back, your head directly over his beating heart.

“Okay, an eye for an eye babe. What’s this scar about?” he inquired as he pointed to the small slice on your kneecap, pulling your leg closer to him at the same time.

“When I was in grade 1 the most popular thing to do during lunch time was skipping rope on the playground, and I couldn’t master the hand eye coordination to do it so I kept tripping.”

It was now Jungkook’s turn to giggle a little.

“Awe, my babygirl couldn’t skip rope?” he said with his voice teetering on a fine line between being sweet and making fun of you.

“So one time I tripped and scraped my knee on the pavement trying to jump rope and that’s when I got this scar. I remember crying on the asphalt for what felt like hours before my best friend at the time, Jangmi, found me. My mom didn’t get me to stop crying that day until she gave me 4 popsicles,” you said with a smile, looking back fondly on the early memory.

The gears kept turning in Jungkook’s head.

“wait… you can jump rope now though Y/N… right?”

You were definitely glad that you had your head on Jungkook’s chest at that moment since you could bury your head even further in his chest so he wouldn’t be able to see your embarrassed expression.

“no” you whispered out meekly, unwilling to say it any louder.

Jungkook gasped and pulled your head away from his chest, holding it now in his hands.

“Babe! that’s like a life skill!!” exclaimed Jungkook with a concerned tone, shouting way louder than anyone should after midnight.

With the way Jungkook was acting, someone would’ve thought that you were telling him that you couldn’t drive or ride a bike (you actually couldn’t do one of those… but Jungkook didn’t need to know that yet).

In the midst of his rant about the importance of knowing how to jump rope , Jungkook proposed a plan. “Tomorrow you and I are heading to the gym and you are learning how to jump rope!”

You mewled at his plan. “Babe, people have tried - I just can’t do it. You’ll have to live with having a  girlfriend who just can’t jump rope.”

Jungkook puffed out his chest and put his best cocky voice on. “It’s your lucky day Y/N. You’ve got Busan Middle School’s jump rope champion as your boyfriend to teach you.”

“Actually, Jungkook, I think it’s your lucky day. Even though I might not be able to jump rope, I do have some other special talents,” you said as you smiled smugly.  

Hauling your legs over his body, Jungkook brought your body so you were straddling him.

“Hmm, I think I might need a refresher babe. Care to show me?”

-♡-

With the moon as your only witness, you and Jungkook continued to share your favorite memories associated with all the little quirks on your bodies throughout the night.

You got to tell him all about the scar you got on your hamstring from your brief stint in competitive gymnastics, the scar on your ear from the first time you tried to curl your hair, and the scar on your back that you somehow obtained while baking a cake for your grandpa’s 85th birthday.

Despite it being the middle of the night, Jungkook still laughed and cried along with you as he heard your stories, loving the opportunity to get to know you better. Kissing each scar after each story, Jungkook smiled at how beautiful you appeared in the moonlight.

At the same time, you got to learn even more about Jungkook. Alongside the computer story, you learned that Jungkook had scars on his back from the time he swears he saw a shark while swimming in Busan (the rest of his family is 100% he just brushed up against a rock, but you know how stubborn Jungkook can be) and that he has scar on his left Achilles heel from the time he tried on his mom’s heels.

As the sun started to make an appearance in the sky again, your eyelids started to feel heavy. As you were about to drift off into dreamland, you heard Jungkook’s voice.

“you’re so beautiful - you know that right?”

Even in your sleepy haze, you still blushed at Jungkook’s sweet words.

“All these scars, all these things you try to cover up with makeup or hide, they all make you even more beautiful. I promise to never let you forget how beautiful you are to me Y/N,” confessed Jungkook as he ran his fingers softly through your hair.

The last thing you felt that night before you fell asleep was Jungkook placing a sweet kiss on your forehead.

You could only hope that Jungkook was as good at teaching people how to jump rope as he was at being an amazing boyfriend.

–♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡–

If you enjoyed what you read, please interact/follow! Thank you for reading♡

- Emily

[dracosathenaeum]

Soulmates i

Summary: Fate was cruel enough to make your soulmate Draco Malfoy

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1,320

Every witch and wizard once at the age of 16 will be eligible for a soulmate, this was common knowledge. Once the both of you are of age, when you first connect eyes with them, their name is printed onto your right wrist. It is cruel though; you could’ve met them any day before your 16th birthday but would never know until you met them again.

The Triwizard tournament wasn’t just for fun, but for soulmates to meet too. It was all everyone would talk during 5th year, the anticipation clear the second they stepped onto platform 9 and 3/4.

Every young witch had dreamed about the day they locked eyes with their soulmate across the great hall, or in a lesson. Usually 70-80% of witches and wizards found their soulmates during their school years, only a few were unlucky enough to have to spend their adult years searching too.

The most famous couple to date? James and Lily Potter, the Hogwarts sweethearts who died to save their son, what greater love story was there? Well other than Salazar Slytherin and Helga Hufflepuff or was it Salazar and Godric? The history books weren’t so clear about that.

Unfortunately for you, your birthday was in August during the school holidays and so it wasn’t until you returned to Hogwarts during your 6th year that you would get to meet your soulmate. You had spent all of 5thyear watching most of your year group pair off and get all lovey dovey, you were more jealous than anything, that you could admit.

Now two months into your 6th year, you stood next to your broom, ready for your match against Slytherin. You weren’t by any means a child prodigy, you just enjoyed Quidditch and practised hard enough to be able to make the team by 3rd year. Watching from the side-lines as your team got thrashed every year wasn’t enough for you, if Slytherin were willing to play dirty every game, you’d give them a taste of your own medicine.

Sitting on your broom, you waited for the whistle to blow, adrenaline coursing through your veins. Your eyes search the skies for the flash of gold that would signal the end of the game; your one and only goal. The whistle blew and the game started, you were hovering above the rest of the team, eyes scanning the air for any sign of the snitch.

It wasn’t until about the 20th minute that you finally caught sight of it, flying in front of your team’s stands. Your eyes locked with Draco Malfoy’s across the field, he was closer to it than you were, almost right behind it. Luckily it looked as though he hadn’t seen it yet, the Slytherin seeker had been watching you and not the snitch, probably just too lazy to find it himself.

You acted fast, racing towards the snitch; giving no time for Malfoy to catch up to you as you flew through the air. Soon enough he was hot on your trail, the wind blowing against the both of you. This is why you loved the game; the rush, the adrenaline, the satisfaction of finally spotting the golden ball. You were not letting Draco win this, with the scores tied up, this snitch would win you the game. And any chance of beating snotty Slytherin’s, you would take even if it was still early into the game.

The second your fingers closed around the tiny thing, you thrust your hand in the air, snitch visible between your fingers. Throwing your gloves to the ground, you kissed the snitch, the win allowing your house to go to the finals.

“Congratulations to Y/H for winning this match but a bigger congratulations to the new pair! Draco Malfoy and Y/N Y/L/N have just received their soulmate marks! I think we can all agree that no one saw this coming, but we wish you happiness for the rest of your lives! What a thrilling ending to the qualifiers!”

Your eyes practically bugged out of your head as your vision focused on your right wrist. Draco Lucius Malfoy was imprinted onto the smooth skin there, looking as though it was always meant to be there. Malfoy? Malfoy who you’d never even spoken a word to in the last 6 years? Malfoy who you watched bully countless students and that Potter had convinced everyone who would listen that he was a death eater? No, there had to be some mistake.

You flew to him, grabbed his wrist between your fingers and removed his gloves. This was the first time you had ever been so close to him, having never even shared a class together before. He was being oddly quiet though, nothing like the loud, cruel boy you often scoffed at in the hallways.

Taking off the glove, and him being surprisingly cooperative, you saw your own name scrawled across his wrist, the same font as his own name on your wrist.

“This has to be a mistake. I- I have to go.” There was no way, no way, fate would pair you up with Draco Malfoy. How could the gods be this cruel, they must have made a mistake? Someone like Draco Malfoy deserved someone like Pansy Parkinson, someone equally as horrible him. Not you, not you who was simply a quiet student who kept her head down and studied, never a foot out of line (well if you don’t count quidditch).

You landed on the grass and immediately ran towards your changing rooms, needing to get out of there as soon as humanly possible. It really didn’t help that you had the entire school as witness, you couldn’t hide forever, you knew that. But you sure as hell were going to hide for as long as possible.

Avoiding Draco wasn’t as hard as you first thought it might’ve been. Avoiding your friends, however, was impossible.

“None of us are really thrilled that he’s who fate paired you up with but give him a chance! I mean he’s your soulmate, you’re stuck with him whether you like it or not, you might as well start trying now.” You were going to throttle your friends. You loved them, you really did but they’d all found their soulmates last year, and none of them were notorious bullies or suspected death eaters. They were nice lads who got on with all of you well, you couldn’t imagine adding Draco to your comfortable little group and him fitting in.

“You guys don’t understand! It’s Draco Malfoy? The one who’s been hexing first years and who’s a massive blood supremacist? How could I possibly fall for him?” You didn’t know if you were more upset or angry, out of everyone why would fate pair you up with him? And why was Draco even trying, why wasn’t he just upset as you were. You weren’t blind, you caught him staring at you in hallways, at every meal in the great hall and at each Quidditch game. And in each place, you would bolt as fast as you could once you saw him start making his way towards you.

“Uh Y/N you might want to-“

“No! Look I love you guys and I really appreciate that you’re trying to help me but you’re asking me to do the impossible. How could anyone love him?” You had said your piece, feeling slightly guilty for shouting at your friends but at the same time it was as if a huge weight had been lifted off your shoulders. “I’m sorry for shouting at you guys, I'm just frustrated.”

“It’s not us you should be apologising to, love.” Liam pointed behind you and you turned to see a blonde figure walking away, hands balled up at his sides, head hanging low. Suddenly the weight on your shoulders that had just left was back, but heavier and it weighed down on your heart too.

“Fuck.”

PART 2 | PART 3

#A/N: credit to that one percabeth fanfic I read years ago where percy was famous and this was the soulmate trope. This will probably be a mini-series, only like 2 or 3 chapters long.

Taglist: @bbeauttyybbx @pipppaaaaalouisee @theslytherinprincessworld @fangirl-3d2y​ @tttyrus @scriptingslytherin @justmimithings @purpleskymalfoy​ @minigigglybabi @malfoyquinn @secretaccshh @obbrssession @whatwoulddracodo @thatoneniceslytherin​ 

[ecliptsukki]

a turned spirit ❧ bakugou katsuki / ground zero

navigation | music

➣ genre: angst

➣ warnings: villian!baku, unrequited love

➣ request: bakugou Is fighting the reader and the reader Kiss him to distract him to escape ( Sidenote have you ever watch Jennifers body

➣ a/n: hi, anon! unfortunately, i’ve never watched jennifer’s body but i have seen a few scenes before. if your request is correlated to the movie, i’m so sorry if the fic doesn’t turn out the way you want :((( also! since bakubro’s birthday is today (in the us), i decided to write a fic for him and so i saw this request! i tried to post it yesterday, but i got occupied with homework :/// if the center of the fic sounds like word spew, it probably is because it spaced out in the middle of writing it lmao. i promise i will work on the other requests waiting in my inbox, i just need time. thank you and enjoy!!!

Sirens were going off throughout the city; dark clouds of smoke wafted in the air. Some citizens were being calmly evacuated to a safer location, whereas others were watching the pro heroes fight the villain. 

A loud boom echoed through the streets of the city, attracting everyone’s attention. A flash of orange flames lit up the sky, followed by a hoarse shout. 

You would’ve recognized that voice anywhere, be it in your sleep or in a loud, crowded room. 

Oh how you wished you had Deku with you as of now.

“Happy birthday, Bakugou!” You and your classmates jumped out of their hiding spots, surprising the hot-headed peer.

He gave the group of you an unimpressed stare, hands shoved in the pockets of his low-waisted pants. The blonde gave the decorated room a once over before grunting a quiet thanks of appreciation.

“No need to be such a tsundere, Baku-bro,” Kaminari chirped, nudging Bakugou with his shoulder.

“Fuck off, Pikachu,” the black-clothing-clad boy grumbled.

“Cheer up, Bakugou! It’s your birthday, and everyone here set this up for you!” Kirishima placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

Everyone else in the class had began to roam the snack table or dance with each other to Jirou’s live music. You, on the other hand, held a neatly wrapped gift in your arms, collecting the courage to approach and give Bakugou the gift yourself.

Watching as the blonde sat himself onto the plush cushions of the common room’s couch, your feet carried you over to him, forcing you into one reality.

“What do you want?” His gruff voice spoke, staring at your frozen figure.

Lips trembling, you decided your actions would speak louder than your words, at the moment. Your arm stuck out, handing the gift to Bakugou. He looked at you, then the gift, gently grabbing the box away from you.

“Thanks,” he mumbled.

Internally panicking, you simply nod and hum, eyes focused on your feet. You scurry away as soon as you could, attempting to hide the obvious blush on your cheeks.

Unbeknownst to you, Bakugou was watching your frantic figure gather some water to cool yourself down. 

Cute, he thought, looking down at the custom-made, Ground Zero wrapping paper you used for his gift.

The sound of explosions neared you and the other pro heroes. Some heroes were too injured to fight or were helping the police escort the citizens away faster. Coincidentally, you were the only one who could fight. Luckily, unlike the other heroes, you already had experience fighting the inevitable explosion man.

“Go! Take them as far from here as possible. I’ll try to hold him back,” you shouted at the escapees and your fellow heroes.

You ran forward, closing in on the sound of explosions. You caught a glimpse of the smoke and orange flames and moved to get in closer range of them.

Once you could see the muscular man shooting through the sky, you activated your quirk, attracting his attention to you.

“Well if it isn’t my least favorite UA girl,” his voice echoed down the street.

“Bakugou,” you spoke in a low tone.

“How’s it going, L/N? I see you’re one of the top pro heroes now,” he smirks, little sparks lighting from his palms.

“You could’ve been one too,” you responded, ignoring his question.

“Yeah, I could’ve, but why tie myself down to boring rules?” 

The two of you were walking in circles, neither one willing to turn their backs.

“What about your dream of being stronger and better than All Might?” You brought up his childhood dream, hoping to draw out more time.

“Can’t you see? I am better than All Might. My power is unlimited,” he cackled.

You gulped, frowning at the man ahead of you. His appearance didn’t change much in comparison to when he was a high schooler. Now, he was the shell of someone you had fallen for once.

Scoffing, he spoke, “As much as I’d like to let you stall more time, I’ve got some people to show my power to.”

Seeing as he was ready to boost himself away, you ran towards him, grabbing his arm and trying to pin him to the floor. You wrapped your legs around his waist, legs coming down from behind him, knocking his knees down. Since he was on his knees, you swung yourself around him and pushed him onto his chest, cheek squashed against the floor. You pulled both his arms back, trying to pry his grenade gauntlet off of him.

With you straddling his back, you could feel him chuckle from underneath you, “You really think you can take those off? They were designed so that only I could take them off on my own accord.”

You ignored him, straining to pull of the big and heavy items. It was like taking them off would release him from some imaginary spell you thought up in your mind, like it would liberate your chained heart and he would come back.

Bakugou could feel your efforts beginning to weaken and took the opportunity to his advantage. With a slight roll of his shoulder, he managed to use the gauntlet’s weight to escape your grasp.

With you stuck in a heartbroken haze, you were too late to realize the villain overpowering you until you were the one under him. You stared into his scintillating ruby eyes, searching for even a fraction of the classmate you had mourned over losing. Tears pricked your own E/C eyes, spilling down your flushed cheeks.

For a moment, the blonde’s aggressive façade had faltered, his eyes quivering at the sight of your tear-stained cheeks. It was only when he heard the sound of a building collapsing on its weak infrastructure did he warn you once more.

“I suggest you get out of here before I have to hurt you,” he growled lowly, dismissing the bitter taste the words had left in his mouth.

Your mind was telling your body to move, to get up and fight, but your heart was telling you to stay, forcing you to gaze at his complexion much too long.

“No,” you whimpered, unconsciously. Your head shook, hand grabbing onto one of the man’s large wrist that was pinning you down. “Come back. I can- We can help you.” 

You were at your wits end, fighting against a once potential number one pro hero and an unrequited love. 

He harshly ripped himself out of your grasp, spitting out, “I don’t need your help.”

That was enough for you to accept the reality of the situation. Bakugou Katsuki was long gone; Ground Zero was no longer a hero. You must protect this beloved city and its people.

Glancing at the big city hall clock, you realize you’d stalled just about the perfect amount of time for the citizens to escape, meaning all you needed to do was hold Ground Zero back a little longer to ensure he wouldn’t locate the safe house.

Running full speed at the man ahead of you, you dropped to your side, sliding between his legs and flipping up to kick him to the floor. You could hear him elicit a dark chuckle before turning over and firing his blast at you. Fortunately, you were able to hop off of him and put some distance between the two of you.

You knew both close combat and long-range combat wouldn’t work on him. He was fully equipped when it came to his quirk. You, on the other hand, preferred to depend on your combat skills, and unlike Deku, your quirk didn’t increase the amount of force or strength in your attacks.

While you were busy thinking up a plan of escape, you felt your phone vibrate in its compartment in your bodysuit. Bakugou must’ve noticed your relaxed disposition because he began to charge at you, attacking you on all sides, leaving you trapped dodging his explosions.

“I guess some measly pro hero could be a good reward to bring back in replace of their lives,” he shouted, hands bombarding your space.

Your state of mind was panicked. You didn’t know how you were going to beat him, let alone escape. Only one idea popped in your head at that moment, and oh, how you despised it. Your thoughts screamed: “It’s not going to work!” “That only works in cliches!” “Oh my god, are you stupid?” Nevertheless, you had no other plans, no other ideas.

Finding a convenient opening, you leaned in smashing your lips against his, causing him to immediately freeze in his spot. The pink, cracked lips pressed against yours felt like it was out of a fantasy. No, his lips weren’t perfect and soft like a prince in shining armor’s, but his were with meaning: a tragic story made of his life that led to that exact moment.

Pulling away, you spared him one last glance before running out of his sight. He didn’t chase after you. He couldn’t because he knew if he did, he wouldn’t want to leave your side ever again, but he didn’t want the tied down life of a “savior” or a “hero.” Besides, there’s no way he would be accepted as a hero and let roam freely after all the chaos and havoc he’d caused.

Once a villain, always a villain... at least that was what society believed.

The two of you had different destinies with the lines of dark and light. Alas, there was no in between for you to share and no way to turn back the tables called time.

[mochis-interlude]

wristbound || giyuu

this is just a little thank you for 100 followers. i hope you’ll enjoy + feeback is always appreciated! <3

↠ pairing. giyuu x fem! reader

↠ genre. fluff, angst

↠ warnings. memory loss/amnesia, minor character death, murder, graphic scenes, blood, language, implied sex work (nothing explicit)

�� words. 11.2k

↠ summary. the little red bracelet you made when the two of you were nothing but kids, it reminded giyuu that he was always tied to your wrist.

not even your sudden disappearance could snap the wristband in two.

"[Name] didn't cause any trouble, did she?" Your brother, Haruto, was out of breath as he took a seat next to two raven-haired women who were your best friend's mother and his sister. The mother laughed, shaking her head as she already knew what happened; Haruto had once again lost sight of you and you ran away to them. Ran away to Giyuu, more specifically. 

"Not at all. By now, you should know that we love having [Name] over," she said, her blue eyes setting on the two children playing in the garden amongst flowers and butterflies. The mother's gaze softened with each passing second, heart feeling full and hopeful for her son's future. 

Tsutako's eyes followed her mom's line of sight curiously and found her younger brother proudly showing you the butterfly he caught by sheer luck. However, your eyes were glued to Giyuu's face instead of the butterfly. The corners of her mouth tugged upwards as she imagined a future for her younger brother where you were by his side through it all. "They'd make a great couple when they're older, no?" 

"Pardon me?!" Voice high-pitched, Haruto choked on his spit and ended up coughing into the sleeves of his haori. You with that boy? Impossible. Just after you were born, he promised father to take care of you, to protect you! What could a boy like Giyuu do besides catching pretty butterflies? 

Haruto was about to protest, his overprotective side over you kicking in, but he was left with an open mouth and every word dying on his tongue when your laughter bounced throughout the garden. It was a rare sound he usually didn't hear. The most Haruto would get out of you was a chuckle and a half-hearted smile which you put on like a carefully molded mask. 

You were so small and so, so young when your eyes witnessed a monster eating your parents, blood covering the place that used to be such a loving and warm home. Crimson stained the walls and the floor, organs lying about like furniture. Haruto was able to chase the monster into the early sunrise and brought its end. 

Haruto never thought you'd remember that event. 

Yet there you were, vibrantly laughing with the Tomioka boy until tears would brim your eyes, until you used up all of your energy and fell asleep in Haruto's strong arms. Maybe being with Giyuu was the equivalent of salve for your soul. 

Maybe, Tsutako was right. When the two of you grew up, you'd make a fine couple. 

"Yeah..they would," he finally agreed. 

"Here! I made these for us!" Your small hands revealed two crimson bracelets made of simple thread that you had gotten in town with your big brother. A toothy grin stretched your lips apart, revealing that one of your front teeth was missing; pride and joy was written all over your face. 

With wide eyes, Giyuu reached for one of the bracelets, looked at the gift and then back at you. "Why? It's no one's birthday today," the raven-haired kid said with an innocent tilt of his head. It wasn't that Giyuu didn't appreciate your gift, it was quite the opposite! But he also knew that your brother made just enough money to bring food to the table, so he couldn't help but feel guilty that you spent money on a gift. 

"So you never forget me, silly!" Your laugh filled the garden rich with various flowers and vegetables growing from the earth. Taking the bracelet from Giyuu's grasp, you carefully tied the simple thread around his wrist until it casually sat against his skin and wouldn't slip off. 

Forgetting you sounded ridiculous to Giyuu ㅡ why would he ever forget about his clumsy best friend? He didn't quite understand, and yet, maybe his heart did, because without realizing it, Giyuu tied your own bracelet around your wrist. The knot was far from perfect, but it was enough. 

"Besides, you must always remember that I'm never far and always with you, okay?" A blush sat upon your cheeks as you intertwined your pinky finger with Giyuu and brought them up to eye-level, tying him into a promise of a lifetime. Your heart desired nothing more than to spend a life filled with your best friend and your big brother. 

"P-promised.." Giyuu's heart fluttered, his face heated up.

But happiness was a sandcastle. 

It only took 3 months for the waves to come crashing down and take the lives of not only your brother, but Giyuu's family, as well, leaving the two of you orphaned.

However, just because you were a girl, didn't mean that Urokodaki went any easier on you. How often had you found yourself getting knocked on your back, although all you could do was blink? Incredible, you thought to yourself each and every day, even challenging Giyuu and Sabito to practice your falls and build up strength during the night until your body was bruised, possibly even ached at the mere thought to move any more.

It was a fortunate stroke of luck that Urokodaki found Giyuu and you wandering through a small village in search of shelter, taking the two of you in along with a boy named Sabito. He raised the three of you into fine swordsmen while also making sure that you had enough to eat, a place to sleep and everything that came along with a place called home. 

Despite the harsh training, you always had fun and treasured each day you got to spend with the two boys who were like brothers to you. It was the small moments making you laugh and suffer alike; like Urokodaki throwing Giyuu into the river to "become water" or how the old man smacked Sabito's stomach whenever the tension in his stomach wasn't enough for the breathing techniques. 

One night before the final selection, the warmth of flames and the smell of soup filled the space just outside of Urokodaki's small home with the three kids gathered around the small fire. It was a starry night filled with an exceptionally rich moon, the view accompanied by the sound of laughter. 

"They say you are what you eat but [Name] still isn't soup," Sabito chuckled as you slurped your tenth bowl of soup empty until no drop remained in the pristine bowl. The peach-haired boy was convinced that you had a bottomless pit as a stomach, he was always astonished at the amount you managed to eat in one sitting. 

"You say that like I ate a lot," you pouted at Sabito's small poke, but never took it seriously. Shoulders casually shrugged it off while you were basking in the warmth the small fire provided. Although it was far from being cold, the breeze in the mountains was still chilly and liked to nip at your cheeks. 

Next to you, Giyuu laughed and the glow of the flames dipped his face in an orange hue, making your heart jump within your ribcage. Painfully, you had come to realize that as you grew up with Giyuu, the boy made your heart flutter in a way which certainly wasn't fair. Perhaps..you did have a crush on your best friend, but you'd never say it out loud. 

"[Name], you ate more than Sabito and I combined." Giyuu's laughter died down as he brought his own bowl to his lips and sipped the steaming broth Urokodaki had cooked just for the three of you.

Whenever everyone gathered to have dinner and Sabito would be amazed at your appetite, it reminded Giyuu of all the times you'd come over to his family's place and eat with them. Haruto would scold you for eating too much, Mother would laugh and gladly make you another plate while Giyuu would always give you the veggies he didn't like. 

"It's called having a healthy appetite, Giyuu. Your points are invalid," you declared with a dismissive wave of your hand and snickered as you saw your best friend's shoulders slump at your words.

Peaceful moments like these were rare with the training you went through daily and the upcoming final selection made every day a little bit more tense. Of course, you were aware of Sabito's and Giyuu's polished skills and had confidence in your own swordsmanship, but it was a fact that no one knew what would happen in those seven days. 

"[Name] isn't wrong about this." Urokodaki put some extra wood into the fire, flames licking at the bork and effectively melting the layer away. The Tengu mask made it impossible to look at Urokodaki's face, but judging by his tone, the former Hashira had to wear a serious expression on his face. 

"Let me tell you one thing. Just like humans, demons gain their strength from the humans they consume. The more a demon has eaten, the stronger it is." Everyone listened to Urokodaki's words with perked ears and curious eyes as if they could study the information like a book. "Some demons devoured so many that their bodies are deformed. It ranges from mere horns to multiple body parts and extreme growth spurts."

"If they're stronger, their neck also gets tougher to cut, right?" Sabito still cupped his empty bowl to warm up his hands. He didn't sound nervous at all, if anything, he was nothing but confident in himself which was something you admired. Sabito was like a strong boulder that one could always rely on. 

Urokodaki nodded his head. "Yes."

Giyuu saw the way you unconsciously bit your bottom lip, how your nails dug themselves into the ground and fingers occasionally fumbled with a bit of grass. Whenever you started feeling insecure, you'd always bite your lip or the inside of your cheek, a habit of yours which Giyuu had caught on to years ago. 

As Giyuu got older, he grew more hesitant at holding your hand in a reassuring way. Although Sabito would never tease him about it, there was something special tickling in his belly whenever he reached for your hand. It made red rush to his cheeks, but the smile you gave him afterwards was worth the embarrassment he felt. 

"Thank you," you mouthed, Giyuu exhaled shakily. 

You made his heart feel too funny with the tiniest of things.

Footwear left deep prints in the muddy earth, high trees and thick bushes made it hard to see what was next, but you had to push through whatever lurked around the next corner. 

After all, this was the second day of the final selection. 

It was all about surviving 7 days in a forest filled to the brim with demons who were close to starvation. Kill or be killed, it was. 

You were lucky not to have encountered any nasty demon and only had to worry about what you should eat next, but you thought of it as a bad omen. There was no way in hell the three of you could have so much luck and even if that was the case, it felt like those two days, devoid of any fight, took up all the luck you were supposed to have in one lifetime. 

"Watch out, it's slippery!" Sabito ran down a small hill and nearly fell, but caught his balance just in time. He swore he saw a squirrel which he could cook later, but the animal sure was quick to run away from being eaten. 

You were right behind Sabito, but much more careful than he was and slid down the hill on instinct. It had rained the entire day, so of course, the ground would be slippery, muddy and filled with puddles.

"Ah!"

Looking back, you saw Giyuu sitting on the wet ground and pressing a hand to his forehead. You went back, wanting to see what had gone wrong, but as you got closer, you saw blood severely dripping from his forehead, over his eyelids and down his cheeks. Not even his sword was to be seen anywhere; he possibly lost it just now. 

"Giyuu, can you walk?" You offered him your hand which the boy gratefully took, but he couldn't seem to properly pull himself to his feet, his gaze seemed fuzzy, unfocused. 

Scanning the area, you saw a small rock with fresh splatters of blood on it. So that was why.. 

A heavy trauma to the head. No wonder Giyuu was somewhere between unconsciousness and reality.

"Don't worry, we got this." Calmly, you examined the bleeding wound and pushed the uneven fringe out of the way to get a better look at it. Giyuu hissed when your finger brushed over the injury. "Sabito, can you watch out for demons? Just in case."

Sabito pulled his sword out of its sheath and protectively stood in front of Giyuu and you, one arm stretched out to his side to block the view of you patching up his friend. "Got it." 

What were you supposed to do without any bandages? You scanned the area in hopes of finding something, anything that could slow down the bleeding, but all you saw was earth, leaves and some bushes. Stupid, to think that you'd magically see a pharmacy in the woods. 

Then, your eyes settled on the sleeve of your haori. It took you no longer than a moment to unsheath your sword, cut through the fabric and tightly tie it around Giyuu's forehead who groaned in pain. "I'm sorry," you mumbled and finished the improvised banades up with a tight knot. 

You were about to help Giyuu back on his feet, but at once, the ground shook beneath you in rhythmical periods. 

"There's something!" Sabito breathed more to himself, but you were able to catch it with your senses suddenly heightened by the incoming rush of adrenaline. Giyuu still applied pressure to his injury, his sight switching from complete nothingness to what was happening around him.

Instantaneously, your eyes widened in horror at the demon that was trudging towards the three of you and giggled as it swallowed another kid that he managed to eat. 

He was deformed to the bone, several hands hugged its tall, green body. Eyes, disgustingly big, stared at Sabito, then you and Giyuu before his hands began scratching at his skin in an anxious, excited manner. 

"Ohh! Urokodaki is feeding me even more kids than usual this time! I bet the three of you are delicious! I can only imagine the face he'll make when three students won't make it back to him!" 

Sabito planted both of his feed into the ground, the tip of his sword pointed at the demon's neck. "[Name], you protect Giyuu. I'll lop off the head." As soon as the words left Sabito's mouth, Giyuu was about to protest but stumbled back into your body, your arms catching him before he could trip, again. 

"Be careful." You nodded at Sabito and took a defensive stance right in front of Giyuu, holding the blade right next to your head while your hands were grasping the handle tightly. As blue eyes watched your back, watched his two best friends fight, Giyuu felt as helpless as the night his family got massacred. 

All he could do was watch. 

Perversely large hands dashed at Sabito who leapt through those which didn't radiate murderous intent and cut off the hands aiming for his body. He jumped on one of the demon's arms, dodging a fist coming his way by ducking low and sliding along the green skin. 

You blocked a fist with the help of your sword and got pushed back a few meters before you twisted the handle in your grasp, abruptly slicing through the fist from below. "Are you okay, Giyuu?!" 

As much as you wanted to take a look back and check up on him, you absolutely couldn't take your eyes off the battle or else, the demon could get Giyuu or even the both of you. 

While you were stepping in puddles of blood, cutting those disgusting hands off and had to focus on not taking a lethal hit, you still worried about Giyuu. It made his heart clench painfully in his chest. If only he knew where his sword was, then he'd force himself to fight alongside Sabito and you!

"Don't worry about me, [Name]!" 

You were so busy concentrating on what was happening in front of you that you failed to notice the one hand underneath your feet. Before you could even think about using a breathing technique or leaping up into the air, the hand wrapped itself around your ankle and threw you away like you were nothing but a fly. 

"[Name]!" Saito and Giyuu shouted your name in unison, watching in horror as you flew farther away with each second. 

You desperately stretched one of your arms out in the desperate hope of being able to grab on to a branch and get back to the fight, but it was wishful thinking. 

"I'll come back!" You cried out until your vocal chords protested and nearly gave in. The air in your lungs became needles. "Until then, survive, got it?! You must survive!" 

"Whatever you do, you've got to survive!" Hands clinging to the katana you carried with you, you screamed at the top of your lungs one last time. Bit by bit, your friends seemed to become dots. "Survive! Sabito! Giyuu!"

Sabito clenched his jaw, teeth grinding against one another as anger bubbled deep within his heart and threatened to spill like an overflowing sink. 

He charged at the demon with a yell and got so very close to the neck, ready to chop it off when his blade suddenly snapped into two. 

Giyuu watched in horror as the demon used Sabito's surprised state to his advantage and smashed his friend's head in. 

All he could do was watch. 

All he could do was run.

Agonizingly, your body collided with the hard ground and filled your mouth with blood, several cracking sounds travelled throughout your body like electricity. As you gasped for air, you nearly choked on your own blood and coughed it out, a crimson puddle lingering underneath you. 

You didn't know where exactly you were nor did you know how long it'd take you to get back to your friends, but you had to find a way. No matter how much your body ached, no matter how loudly every fiber of your body screamed at you to stop, you couldn't. 

It was through pure will that you managed to bury the tips of your fingers into the dirt and drag yourself to your blade lying a few meters in front of you. Your view was blurry, but you still managed to make out that the Nichirin blade Urokodaki had given you had snapped in half and it had you mentally laughing. 

He was going to break your bones, wasn't he? 

"Just a little bit.." You croaked out with your hand desperately reaching for the handle of the katana. Just a little bit more, just a few more centimeters and the handle would be back in your broken hand, but just before you could even touch it, your arm limply fell to the ground. As much as you wanted to move, forced yourself to go that one extra step, your body didn't listen.

Gradually, black hugged the corners of your view and the ability to hear slowly faded into nothing. No longer could you feel the ground below you or smell the scent of the trees surrounding you; opaque came to envelope you and drag you to the depths of unconsciousness. 

Tears rolled down your cheeks, dampening the earth below you and eventually soaking the collar of the haori you wore. You had promised Urokodaki to come back, you had promised to live a long life, you had promised to stay by Sabito's and Giyuu's side and now, you couldn't even promise to move your finger. 

"Giyuu.. Sabito.. Forgive me, but I won't make it back.." 

The last thing you saw was the moon reflected in the broken blade and the red bracelet firmly wrapped around your wrist.

Three days had been spent looking for you in hopes of finding you only injured, but still alive. Three days without a clue of where you could be, but Giyuu clung to the slim hope of you lying somewhere in these cursed woods, unconscious but well. 

It was that thread of hope that kept his hand glued to the blade, kept his head up and forced his gaze to look ahead. 

Feet had run through countless rough patches until blisters hurt Giyuu, but he simply ran through them until his feet got sore and he would be damned if he stopped running at that very moment. After all, persistence and determination would pay off, right? The strong-willed would always be rewarded after going through hell and back. 

Nearing a river, Giyuu spotted a broken katana as well as smudges of blood on the ground and immediately slid down the small hill he was on. In his rush, he stumbled over his feet and fell to his knees right next to the blade which he knew was yours. 

The thread of hope finally snapped. 

Frantically, he scanned the area for any sign of you being alive, but all he found was the dried puddle of blood and the snapped Nichirin blade Urokodaki had given you just before heading off for this damned final selection. 

With shaking fingers, Giyuu picked up the handle of the sword, hot tears streaming down his face. "[Name]..?" His voice was fragile, on the verge of breaking with every second spent in deafening silence. Giyuu couldn't find it in him to get up, his knees felt like broken mirrors which would stab into his flesh and force him to kneel, regardless of what he desperately wanted to do.

"Please, this isn't funny!" The raven-haired boy called out and tears began blurring his vision, sniffles and choked back sobs rocked his body. "[Name]!" Giyuu hugged the handle of your katana to his chest as he curled up into himself and sobbed into the new day that had just begun. 

Why did the universe take away every person he loved so dearly? 

First, it was his family, then Sabito and you that got ripped from his grasp, lives he treasured more than anything else, people who he would've died for. 

"[Name].. You promised to come back.." The boy murmured to no one and let his eyes travel to the wristband you had made so many years ago. It was physical proof that you were always with him and never far, that he would never forget you and that your lives were intertwined like the sun and the moon. 

"Give me [Name] back.."

It was at this moment that a Demon Hunter of higher rank called out to a whimpering Giyuu and brought him back to where the final selection started, a place filled with beautifully blooming wisteria. 

Everyone came back. 

Everyone except for you and Sabito. 

How was Giyuu supposed to face Urokodaki after this?

Lead flowed through every single vein as Giyuu dragged himself back to Urokodaki's home, body heavy with the strain of surviving for 7 days straight, but compared to the gilt gnawing away at his heart, it was bearable. 

If only he hadn't gotten injured, then maybe Sabito would still be alive, standing right next to him with an equally aching body but still smiling through the pain because they would've made it. 

If only Giyuu had gotten to the river a bit earlier, you'd be swooning over Urokodaki's food and excitedly tell the elder man about all the achievements and experiences you gained. You, too, would be alive and smiling. 

The young boy stopped dead in his tracks as his blue eyes spotted Urokodaki chopping up some wood with an axe which the former Hashira dropped when his gaze fell upon Giyuu. 

Sadness lingered in Urokodaki's nose and was quick to mix with relief of still being alive, yet Giyuu reeked of regret, grief and sorrow. He couldn't blame the young boy. Urokodaki knew how attached Giyuu was to Sabito and you. The three of you would always train together, share food among one another like you were siblings and cut worries in half simply by being present. 

Giyuu was desperately trying to bite back new sobs and tears, since Sabito would be the one to say that a man should suffer in silence. On the other hand, there was you who looked so upset when he once tried to hide an injury from you.

"Stop acting tough." You had once said.

The entire sky came crashing down on Giyuu as he felt his teacher's arms wrapping around him to welcome him home, to express gratefulness that he made it back. 

"Sabito and [Name]!" Giyuu could no longer hold his tears at bay, they freely rolled down his cheek like waves crashed into the shore. It was too much and yet not enough. "Urokodaki-san! They.. They..!" His voice broke a little more with each word that Giyuu tried to force out of his throat, but the lump of sorrow cut through his vocal chords. 

"I'm glad you're back," was all Urokodaki managed to say and he hoped it'd take a bit of weight off the young boy's shoulders. He feared that if he tried to speak any more, he would cry more than he already was, as well. During the time as a teacher, Urokodaki had lost so many of his students who grew on him ㅡ Sabito, Giyuu and you were no exception. 

Sadness poked around deeply in his heart, but it was Urokodaki's duty to make sure that his student wouldn't be overcome by his current despair. He knew Giyuu would be able to overcome his sorrow and grow into a good person. 

But first, time needed to heal the wound which was still bleeding so heavily. 

Giyuu rubbed his eyes dry with the sleeve of his haori, took off the small bag he carried on his back and showed Urokodaki the broken blade which had belonged to you. "Do you.. Do you think it can be fixed?" 

Urokodaki took the two parts into his hands and was surprised at how jaded the blade was. It didn't even cut his finger like it was supposed to and the color had disappeared from the sword like it had never been wielded by anyone in the first place. "That can be arranged. I'll ask Haganezuka."

Two weeks passed when Haganezuka arrived with two swords in his hands and nearly lost his mind when Giyuu said that he wasn't a dual wielder and only needed one blade. 

"You little..! What do you mean you can't wield both?! It'd be disgraceful not to wield both Nichirin blades!" Haganezuka screeched loud enough for his voice to echo through every corner of Mount Sagiri. It took so long to make the broken sword look like it had never been broken and this brat didn't even think about testing it out! 

Giyuu never pulled the blade out of the sheath as you were the one who should do it and witness the change of colors with your own eyes. "I'm sorry." It wasn't necessary to let the swords smith in on the details when he was a stranger. A weird stranger, at that. 

"Sorry doesn't cut it!" 

Despite the strange encounter with Haganezuka who was oddly dedicated to his craft, as Giyuu would put it, the sword was always held close to his heart. It was a reminder of the life Sabito and you gifted him, that he should work harder to be able to protect those around him. 

When Giyuu climbed through the ranks and was able to afford his own estate, the first thing he had hung up was the sword you fought with.

It was 8 years later when bare feet danced on the wooden floor like water flowed through the river. No unnecessary steps, elegance connected every single move like stars made up beautiful constellations which left people in awe each and every time. 

Several women watched with parted lips and sparkling eyes as this person was a constellation herself, someone they could learn and profit from if they watched closely enough. But they knew that this level of accurate and controlled movements required not only effort, but talent as well. 

When feet ceased to float and the music humming in the background died down, one woman in particular ran up to the young dancer, manicured nails squishing the full cheeks together. "Isn't she amazing?" Mizu nearly squeaked with pride and reddened cheeks while receiving agreeing nods from the other women. 

Mizu was an oiran living in Yoshiwara, a red light district. She was rather beautiful with her opaque hair kept into a bun and held together by golden hairpins, her lips painted crimson and fair skin, although most of her pale skin was thanks to the help of make-up. 

"[Name] really is amazing," one of the women said smiling, her palms on her lap as she agreed with Mizu. 

Such praise was often thrown your way only because Mizu was in the room. No one dared to openly point out your mistakes and actively help you improve your skills, so you had no choice but to ask the women yourself when Mizu was out of hearing-range. 

This issue wasn't the only thing keeping everyone on the edge of their seat. 

Whenever a severe mistake happened, that woman was sure to disappear within the next night. Stomping could clearly be heard, you swore the mere sound gave off a murderous intent so intense that it left you shaking underneath the security of your blankets. 

When asking if one of your fellow workers could also sense the blood lust every once in a while, they said no. Apparently, they couldn't feel the immense anger creeping throughout the house like you could which left you confused. However, the fact that your senses were so sharp and sensitive to blood lust made you wonder if you had lived a different life before you woke up in Yoshiwara. 

Actually, you were sure that you had lived differently before finding yourself in Yoshiwara, but your memories were erased. Proof of your previous lifestyle were your calloused palms, the small scars on them which the other women always pitied you for as it apparently wasn't fit for a lady to have rough palms. 

Then there was this wristband which you wore for a reason long forgotten.

All you could remember was your name when you one day woke up on a tatami mat underneath a safe roof with several women in the room. You couldn't answer a single question regarding your past, the years of your life suddenly drowned in black as you tried your best to remember what happened, what caused the pain in your body, but it was no good. 

"Thank you for your kind words. If you'd excuse me." As you turned around to leave for the bathrooms, you felt Mizu's eyes on your back and you knew that she had nothing but love swimming in her dark eyes, and yet, you sensed something much deeper, so much darker lurking within them that a shiver rolled down your spine. 

One woman responsible for today's cleaning stood next to the highly-respected oiran. "Wherever you picked [Name] up from, it's a gift you found her. She might as well take your place someday, Mizu-san."

A gift you were indeed, but the way you danced bugged Mizu. It reminded her of the fighting techniques of Demon Slayers. Filthy. "Yeah. Who knows what might've happened to her if it was someone else that found her.." Mizu brought the sleeve of her kimono up to her lips, hiding the lower part of her face and tilted her head to the side as she watched you disappear behind shoji doors, briefly remembering where she had found you nearly a decade ago.

"Oh my, what a poor thing." Mizu knelt down to where you laid on the ground, your breathing was shallow and your hand outstretched as if reaching out to the sword in front of you. Manicured nails pushed your bangs out of your face and traced the bruises along your cheek and neck, feeling that your jaw was, indeed, broken. 

"You'd look beautiful without all these ugly stains," she mused while twisting a strand of your dirtied hair around her index finger, crimson red lips frowned at the miserable state you were in. So far gone, you couldn't even hear her voice, feel her touch.

Reaching behind her head, Mizu took two hairpins out of her hair and styled your hair into a bun, the hairpins keeping the look somewhat together. You reminded her of the daughter she once had before the small child suddenly died. Mizu desired nothing more than to have her daughter back and you were the perfect fit. 

"You'd make a beautiful oiran, one day. Maybe I should make you my daughter." Mizu smiled into the night at the thought of having a daughter, such a stunning one, too. With her, you'd be better off than with those filthy slayers if the sword in front of you was anything to go by. She could give you all the riches you desired, all the kimonos, money, men and women you could ever want. 

Those Demon Hunters could only offer you death. 

"From today on, you'll be my lovely daughter," Mizu cheered and poked at your cheek to maybe gain a reaction, but all she heard was an incoherent mumble of names she had never heard of. Unimportant, these people no longer mattered. 

Carefully, Mizu picked you up with a smile and disappeared into the night.

The water was pleasantly warm against your skin as you washed the heavy make-up off your face, several colors went down the drain and no longer stuck in place like a mask. Luckily, you didn't have to show your face to any outsider that night, or else the amount of make-up would suffocate you. 

A sigh escaped through your lips when your eyes landed on that red wristband, the threads wet and soaked with water, but still perfectly intact. You didn't know why, but your heart always ached a little whenever you thought about its origin and the possible memories connected to this little item. 

Maybe someone important gave it to you? 

Maybe that someone was looking for you and could help you regain your memories! 

Ah, what were you thinking? Stuff like this only existed in romantic novels. 8 years had passed and no one had ever looked for you, you were certain of that. No had ever asked around for you, no one had ever put up a picture of your face, no one had cared enough. 

Whenever you'd ask Mizu about where she found you and what you did before joining the house she lived in, she brushed you off, saying that it was time for your Japanese class, time to practice calligraphy or dancing, when in reality she only wanted you to be distracted and busy. 

"Maybe I should give up and just live with it..," you mumbled into the towel as you dried your face. At least, you would no longer anger Mizu or make the other women nervous when asking anything regarding your past. 

Having made up your mind, you trudged back into your empty room. No matter how many paintings you had hung up, no matter how many clothes filled your wardrobe and no matter how much jewelry Mizu made you wear on your hands and neck, it was empty. 

You were lucky to live, but were you really alive or simply a shell of who you used to be? 

After countlessly tossing and turning, your body finally found some rest and dragged you into a deep slumber.

Streets filled with people were never one of Giyuu's favorites. He preferred executing his job in the mountains where he wouldn't have to hide his sword from the police and didn't have the stress of potentially having to protect a large number of people if a demon was to show up. 

One good thing about cities was the food. The steaming bowl of ramen warmed Giyuu up from within as the chilly evening breeze nipped at his cheeks, tinting the flesh a faint shade of red. 

"It's almost unbelievable that a demon is supposed to be here. Right, Tomioka-san?" Shinobu sat next to Giyuu and enjoyed her own portion of food. Just behind her back, people chattered away and children played tag with each other, from somewhere further away, she could even make out the faint strumming of an instrument. 

Apparently, a demon was hiding somewhere in Yoshiwara. Every few months, women, prostitutes, to be more specific, suddenly disappeared and had never been seen again. Of course, the rumor of those women losing her footing had spread, but this was as waterproof as paper. 

Those women had never shown signs of wanting to run away with a man. Love letters were never found nor did they suddenly receive a good amount of money or saw someone especially frequently. 

"Demons can hide anywhere." Giyuu's ears picked up how some men asked for some lady's services and briefly, the thought of a demon hiding in a brothel crossed his mind. However, he had never heard of a demon seeking refuge in such business since those places were too crowded to commit a proper murder.

"You're not wrong about this." Shinobu sat back in her seat and put her chopsticks on her empty plate before something caught her attention. What was this red bracelet around Giyuu's wrist? Had it always been there or did he get it recently? 

A teasing smile tugged the corners of her lips upwards as she rested her chin on her palm, an index finger pointing at Giyuu's wrist. "Tomioka-san, did you get that wristband from someone special? I didn't know you were the type to be so romantic!" She chirped. 

Blue irises gazed at the red threads laced into one thick wristband which was usually hidden underneath the sleeve of his uniform or haori, so no one really ever saw it. "It's nothing like that." Despite his nonchalant words, Giyuu couldn't help the small smile tugging at his lips. 

"Eh?! Are you smiling?!" Shinobu could hardly believe her eyes and felt a shiver run down her spine. This was..scary. 

"..We're here to look for a demon, aren't we?"

Attentively, you sat close to a river, eyes wide and scanning the area for a familiar mop of black hair tied into a low ponytail. From afar, you could hear an old man giving someone the instruction to become one with the water in order to master the breathing techniques. 

Just a moment later, a yell echoed through the mountains followed by a noisy splash and the yell got cut off. 

"___-san really threw him into the river, huh," you chuckled as you remembered how you nearly drowned the first time the elderly man tossed you into the river like a rubber duck. Now it was the boy's turn. 

Minutes of silence filled the space around you, only the water flowing in front of you filled the tranquil space and then, several gasps shattered the peaceful atmosphere. 

The boy you had to look out for coughed up water as he dragged himself out of the river, his body soaked to the bone and what was that on his hand? Blood? He possibly cut himself on a stone underwater. 

Leaping up from your seated position and jogging over to your friend, you gave his back a few firm smacks until he breathed normally again. "I feel like ____-san really wants to kill us," the boy looked up at you, but..you couldn't see his face. It was black. 

"Speaking of dying. What was that on your hand?" you spoke and tried to get a look at the boy's hand, but he quickly hid his hands behind his back, pressing the back of his hands against his lower back. "___, show me!" You insisted and eventually, your friend showed you the cut on the back of his hand. 

The cut wasn't deep, but it still bled profusely down his wrist. Clicking your tongue, you reached into your pocket and revealed simple bandages which you always kept with you in case you got injured. "Why didn't you tell me you were hurt?" The boy saw the upset look on your face, brows furrowed and your eyes scolding him. 

Wasn't it his friend that said that a man should bear his pain in silence? 

"I'm sorry, [Name]," he avoided your gaze, focusing on the bracelet you had once made for him, instead. It was better than having to bear the disappointment in your eyes. 

"Stop acting tough." You tied the bandage around the boy's hand a bit too tight, making him flinch at the pain shooting through his hand. It was unusual for you to be so rough. "I'll always find out if you're hurt."

In a cold sweat, gasping for air, you suddenly sat straight in bed. Your heart pounded against your ribcage, your sleepwear was drenched in sweat at your neck and back, the fabric clung to you like a second skin. Putting a hand on your chest, you tried your best to control your breathing, but the more you tried, the more you could feel a headache stinging in the back of your head. 

Whatever you just saw, it was a mere dream, right? Yet, one could usually hear names and see the faces of the people appearing in a dream, but whenever names fell, they were muted. Whenever you saw a face, it was covered in black. 

They were nameless, faceless people. 

Perhaps, this was a memory? 

"Crap," you hissed as the stinging got to your eyes like a migraine and roughly pushed the blanket off your body as you got up to maybe talk about it with Mizu or someone else. Yes, you promised not to bother anyone with your dreams or past, but this left your hands and mind shaking. 

Carefully, as to not make any noise, your bare feet padded along the wooden hallways, every shoji door was shut and no light was on, indicating that all of the women were busy with men downstairs. What a pain, you thought. Keeping married and single men pleased at night was something which never appealed to you, even though Mizu had raised you to possess the needed skills. 

Lost in thought, you nearly missed how the light of several candles lit up a single room, the shoji door wasn't even fully closed. You finally found someone! 

"I'm sorry for bothering you this late at night, but I was wondering ifㅡ"

You were greeted by the sight of blood being smeared across the wall and pooling right at your feet, bones sticking out from the corpse of the woman who had praised you earlier. Your head screamed at you to run, but your body didn't listen. It was itching to reach for something that wasn't strapped to your hip.

"It's a shame you had to see me like this, [Name]." Opaque hair was loose, red lipstick got replaced by the dead woman's blood which was also dripping down claws.

Mizu tossed the corpse away from her and faced you, slowly approaching you with cold steps. Her pupils were no longer round but resembled that of a cat. Smirking, she watched as your legs trembled in fear when she delicately cupped your face in her hand. "I promised myself to never eat you unless you saw me killing someone. But maybe it's exactly because you are my daughter that you'll be extra nutritious."

Horns made of bones stuck out from Mizu's head, resembling the ears of a bunny. At that very moment, you heard a voice inside your head.

"Some demons devoured so many that their bodies are deformed. It ranges from mere horns to multiple body parts and extreme growth spurts."

"Demon!" You gasped, pushed Mizu away from you with all the strength you had in your arms and made a run for it. Splinters dug into the soles of your feet, but you didn't care. What mattered was your survival, your life, the life Haruto and Tsutako left behind for you! 

Wait, Haruto and Tsutako..? Who..?

You stopped dead in your tracks, the sound of Mizu's traditional heels rhythmically clicking against the floor haunted you. 

Fleeing downstairs was no option. Innocent lives could easily be taken by Mizu and there was no way you could protect all of them when you couldn't even properly protect yourself. Panic-stricken, your eyes found nothing but paintings decorating the walls, a mere fan and a..

A katana!

Grabbing the katana from the wall, you held it with both hands as tightly as you could, the tip pointing at Mizu's neck. 

"You're hilarious, [Name]! Don't tell me you're remembering now when it's too late." Mizu pushed some of her hair behind her shoulder as she laughed at your poor attempt to take her down. However, it seemed like your body was beginning to remember whatever a fragile human once taught you and it wasn't like you had completely forgotten how to move, either. 

A laugh shook the demon's shoulders as she stretched her palm out and let a bone grow from her skin. Mizu pointed the sharp bone towards you, shooting it in your direction with the expectation to heavily injure you and kill you in the end. 

What she didn't expect was the way you vertically cut through the bone, letting drop to the ground uselessly. Your jaw was clenched, eyes wide open with sweat trickling down your forehead and the katana in your hand like it had always belonged there. 

"I don't know what you're saying, but I know that I can't let you live!" Zooming right in Mizu's face, you aimed for her stomach to weaken her, but she was faster. Grabbing your head, she effectively put you off-balance and rammed another bone into your side as if she saw no daughter in you. 

"You've always had a funny side to you, but right now, you're looking like a jester. You, killing me? Not even you are that dumb." Mizu wore an unimpressed expression as you fell to your knees and coughed up blood. Hastily, you ripped a good amount of fabric from your yukata and tightly wrapped it around your waist to slow down the bleeding. 

The demon never stopped you. Sooner or later, you'd faint and die from blood loss. This was nothing but a fool's attempt to desperately prolong their end. 

"That katana can't kill me. As a former Demon Slayer, you should know that only a Slayer's blade and sunlight can kill a demon." A swift kick to your face had blood dripping down your nose, but your palm wrapped itself around Mizu's ankle tight enough to make your arm's veins pop, tight enough to prevent her, a demon, from moving.

"Breathing Techniques make it possible for a human to gain demonic strength themselves. But unlike demons, a human's stamina is limited."

Within a moment, Mizu's ankle was in your hand, her blood flowing down your forearm as you tossed the cut off limb away. Immediately, you pulled her into a close-range fight, but the several bones beginning to stick out from her body pushed you further away with each step you took. The sharp bones left cuts on not only your face, but your arms and legs as well. 

"I don't care if it can't kill you! I refuse to go down without a fight! I'll simply keep you busy until the sun rises!"

Searching for that demon in Yoshiwara was a lost cause. 

No one had any suspicions or those people were just too scared to talk, fearing that they might mysteriously disappear, as well. The tension in Yoshiwara spread far and wide, yet there wasn't even the trace of a demon to be found. 

"We can't talk. Otherwise, we'll disappear, as well."

"Those women are said to have lost their footing, but.. No, it doesn't matter."

"..Whatever are you talking about?"

Excuses upon excuses. But Giyuu could hardly interrogate simple passengers and ask them about the existence of a being which they were unaware of or didn't believe in. 

Frustrated, he shut the shoji door of his home and sighed. 

Suddenly, a shrill clink bounced off the plain walls of Giyuu's home and as he raised his gaze, he saw the Nichirin sword ㅡ which was supposed to be yours if you had survived ㅡ on the floor, the steel shone in the moonlight peeking through the windows of his home. 

His heart felt heavy as he wondered what color your katana would have become, how you would've wielded it, how bright your smile would've been if you had had the chance to receive it. 

Giyuu picked the colorless weapon up, wanted to put it back on its place at the wall when suddenly his kasugai crow landed on the window sill, cawing so loudly that it made his ears ring. 

"[Name] who was assumed to have died in the final selection 8 years ago, needs backup fighting a demon!" The old crow impatiently bounced around, wings already spread and ready to take off. "Hurry to Yoshiwara! Hurry, hurry! " 

"[Name]..?" Gradually, Giyuu's usually calm gaze widened and filled with infinite questions while he was wordlessly staring at your sword. Why were you alive and how in the world did you survive? Why did you never come back? What held you back? 

With a flick of his wrist, he hid the plain Nichirin blade in the sleeve of his mismatched haori and was out of his home faster than the crow could perceive. 

The Hashira couldn't be late. He couldn't be late, again. 

This time, he'd be the one to protect you.

"Get out of here!" You cried to the people who had been very obviously enjoying themselves with alcohol, food and women until Mizu had kicked you through the floor which was also the ceiling of the floor below. 

No one seemed to fully realize what happened, reality only kicked in slowly when they took note of your battered form and Mizu coming down the stairs as elegantly as ever, but the blood on her and the aura she radiated created nothing but fear. 

All of a sudden, they screamed and ran, talking about a monster possessing their beloved lady who was attempting to kill one of their own. 

Making sure that everyone got out safely was a mistake. You didn't even realize Mizu leaving her spot on the stairs as she was suddenly right in front of you, way too close to be considered a safe distance. Crap, there was no way you'd get out of this unscathed. 

The bone sticking out from Mizu's palm aimed for your right eye, ready to pierce through your skull and put an end to the prosperous life you could lead thanks to the demonic woman. In an act of despair, you swung your katana vertically in an attempt to cut off her arm, but Mizu just smirked as the blade got stuck, not even budging a centimeter, anymore. 

This was it. This attack would be your downfall, you thought. 

"Water Breathing. Second form: Water Wheel."

You stumbled backwards, falling on your knees and all your eyes could catch was Mizu's arm suddenly dropping to the ground along with the katana stuck in her flesh. Blood stained the carpet an ugly red, a loud hiss came from Mizu's direction, her pupils shaking and mouth unusually quiet.

"A..H-Hashira..?" Claws digged into the flesh of her palm bit by bit, her fist shook and goosebumps were scattered across her skin. Just the mere aura of that Demon Slayer terrified her; he was way too calm and yet she could feel racing anger bubbling underneath the surface. No, she couldn't let a mere human intimidate her. What ridiculous excuse of a demon would get intimidated by a man wielding a sword? 

Hashira..?

Looking up, you saw the broad back of a man wearing a mismatched haori but what stood out to you was the red wristband he wore. It looked like the one around your wrist but could it be the same? What were the odds of two strangers wearing the same red bracelet? Impossible. 

A sudden sting in your head interrupted your running mind.

"Besides, you must always remember that I'm never far and always with you, okay?" A blush sat upon your cheeks as you intertwined your pinky finger with Giyuu and brought them up to eye-level, tying him into a promise of a lifetime.

Fingers tangled themselves into your hair, pulling at the roots. 

"Stop acting tough." You tied the bandage around Giyuu's hand a bit too tight, making the boy flinch at the pain shooting through his hand. It was unusual for you to be so rough. "I'll always find out if you're hurt."

Panting, you closed your eyes shut until it hurt. Why did you feel like you knew the man in front of you?

"Whatever you do, you've got to survive!" Hands clinging to the katana you carried with you, you screamed at the top of your lungs one last time. Bit by bit, your friends seemed to become dots. "Survive! Sabito! ...

..Giyuu!" You finally yelled the man's name out like he was the answer to everything you had been looking for, like he was the missing piece to the puzzle of your life. Unknowingly, tears freely flowed from your eyes, making the cuts on your face sting and burn.

A quick move of his wrist was enough to flick Mizu's blood off his sword. "Don't you dare touch her!" Giyuu wasn't one to lose his calm demeanor often, but what he absolutely couldn't stand was the ones he cared for getting hurt, bruised, made to suffer. 

You wiped the blood trickling from your mouth away with the back of your hand, lips tugging themselves upwards as you pushed yourself up to your feet once more and stood next to Giyuu. "I'll fight with you. This is a personal matter."

Giyuu was about to protest, tell you to leave this place, but the sharp shimmer cutting through your eyes immediately took down every word that was on his tongue. Never had you backed down from a fight, never had you let anything break you, never had you ever given up. 

Wordlessly, he let the katana he hid in the sleeve of the haori, slide into his palm and handed it to you. As soon as your fingers were wrapped around the handle, the blade turned into a clear baby blue, several shades lighter than Giyuu's Nichirin blade. 

"I'll handle the bones. You go for the head."

Giyuu dashed ahead while you cut your way through the maze of bones sticking out from wherever Mizu desired, her attacks got rougher as if she was suddenly frightened. Good. "You brat! Do you really think one more person would be enough to claim my head?!" Mizu stomped her foot once. 

That stomping.. You were familiar with it. 

It'd occur once every few months before a woman would go missing without a trace. This action always frightened you as the murderous intent in it was so overwhelming that unconsciously, tears would brim your eyes.

Quickly, you grabbed the back of Giyuu's haori and slid to the side with him before several rib-shaped bones dashed up from the ground, their sharp tips shining underneath the chandelier. If you hadn't been so familiar with Mizu's blood lust, you were sure you would've been pierced pork by now. 

Thanks to the sliding, you had gotten close enough to Mizu, giving you the perfect opportunity to chop off her head before she could cause any more pain and damage. "Go!" You cried out loud enough for your voice to crack and swung your blade at Mizu's face to slice her horizontally, the demon stopping your blade with her bare hands. 

"Water Breathing. First form: Water Surface Slash." 

Giyuu had gotten behind Mizu and let his katana cut through the flesh of her neck, the head of the oiran sliding off her shoulders and her body collapsing to the ground. "Impossible!" She screeched in nothing but anger and disappointment at you. 

"You ungrateful bitch! I saved and raised you and this is how you repay the favor?! How dare youㅡ!" Tears streamed down her cheeks while you were looking at her with a drained expression. Bruises and cuts stained your skin, not to mention the stab wound in your waist which was still bleeding. Bangs hid your eyes from her view, the smell of ash was strong in your nose.

"I'm very thankful that you raised me, gave me food and a roof above my head. I will never forget that. But making humans suffer by letting them die a painful death, eating them without a shred of guilt in your guts.." The grip on the katana's handle tightened in anger, sadness and grief as you remembered your brother, mother, Tsutako. All those people who were so brave and kind and dead. "Savior, Mother, whatever you are. I absolutely won't forgive you for this!" 

"Do you think that matters?! You're nothing but a whore I raised! You, too, won't go to heaven and I'll wait for you in hell!" Before Mizu could spit any more words, her head and body dissolved into nothing, not even the ashes remained. 

Slowly, you turned around to face Giyuu, a peaceful smile lingered on your lips as you stumbled towards the one your heart had been missing for longer than you could think. Strength left your hand and the katana Giyuu had tossed you earlier fell to the ground. "Giyuu.. I'm so happy you survived.." You tripped over your own two feet, about to fall, but it was okay. 

Giyuu caught you. 

"[Name], I.." He spoke, but soon noticed that you had fallen unconscious with your cheek pressed up against his chest, eyes closed and breathing so calmly in his strong arms. Serenity was written all over your face, despite the dirt, cuts, blood and pain you went through. You were at peace with Giyuu around just like when you two were children. 

His stoic mask shattered as he pressed your unconscious body flush to his and buried a hand in your hair, his knees giving in and meeting the floor with a dull thud. "I'm so sorry I didn't find you earlier." Giyuu buried his face in your neck as he softly cried against your skin, a wave of immense relief hitting him at once. 

At least, you weren't dead like the Hashira believed for nearly 10 years. 

"I swear I'll make sure to protect you."

The sun was warm on your skin, gentle eyes focused on a blue butterfly which had entered through the open window and rested on your index finger. Its small legs tickled you ever so slightly and you struggled to hold in a giggle at the feeling. 

After having fallen unconscious for a day or two, you woke up at the Butterfly Estate where three very sweet girls awaited you coming back to reality; you learned that their names were Sumi, Kiyo and Naho. They brought you everything you needed and frequently kept you company. 

With your eyes opening once more, you also regained your memories. You remembered everything from the day you lost your parents, to the training with Urokodaki, Sabito and Giyuu, to the point you had desperately tried to reach your katana and passed out. Although a little bit of regret lingered at your soul, you couldn't find it in you to be upset with yourself. 

Life continuously knitted several paths for one to take, but it was up to several strings of fortunate and unfortunate events alike which path they'd lead one on. 

Anyone could say you were unlucky to have lost your memories and had to part ways with the ones you loved the most. But if you thought about it, you were very lucky. So very lucky that Mizu had taken you in, that she fought you and that a string of fate decided to intertwine Giyuu's and your path once more. 

The butterfly on your finger flew away as the shoji door slid open and revealed no one else but Shinobu who had watched over your physical and mental state after the confrontation with Mizu. The Insect Hashira was incredibly kind and you felt like you developed some kind of friendship with her. 

As she sat down on your bed to give you the last bit of medicine you had to swallow, you couldn't help but notice her eyes lingering on your wristband. 

"How come you like Tomioka-san?" 

You nearly choked on the pills, heat warmed up your cheeks and the tips of your ears while you stumbled over your words like a child tripped over rocks. "I-I what?! It's nothing like t-that, Shinobu!" Comically, you shook your head and threw your arms around as if that would convince the dark-haired woman. 

"Oh? But Tomioka-san has the exact same wristband and when I asked him about it, he smiled. Do you know how scary that was?"

You couldn't bite back the laugh that ripped through you at Shinobu's words. The fact that Giyuu seemed to smile so rarely that it was considered creepy when he did it, was both ridiculous and funny to you. 

On the other side of the shoji door, Giyuu wondered what could possibly make you laugh so much. He didn't ponder too much on it since this was a sound he hadn't heard in so long and was actually quite fond of. Not that the Water Hashira would ever say that out loud. 

As Giyuu stepped inside, he was immediately greeted by your warm smile and despite the bandaids on your face and bandages around your arms, he was taken aback at how pretty you were. Even after 8 years, you still made his heart feel a certain, funny way with little to no effort at all. 

"I guess I should leave the two of you alone. Although I can't deny that I'm surprised you like Tomioka-san enough to willingly be alone with him."

"I..am not disliked by people."

"That's all you have to say?" Shinobu wondered out loud and left the room, the shoji door closing behind her with a dull thud bouncing off the warmly-colored walls. 

As Giyuu sat with you on the bed, you couldn't help but notice that his facial features got much sharper over the years, his demeanor became stoic, but you were quick to figure out that Giyuu hadn't grown jaded. Those he cared about, he would show his emotions to. 

"Giyuu, Iㅡ" 

Whatever you wanted to say got blown away as you suddenly found yourself in Giyuu's arms, your chin resting in his broad shoulder while his hands grasped at your clothes as if you were to disappear if he held you any lighter. "All this time, I thought you were dead."

Wrapping your arms around the tall Hashira, you easily melted into the heartfelt hug and felt relief as well as happiness prick at your eyes. You couldn't cry now. "I'm right here, Giyuu. I told you I'd never be far, remember?" Each syllable was a bit shakier than the previous one, but it made the feelings in your heart only grow firmer and deeper. 

Affectionately, you wrapped your pinky around Giyuu's and brought the two intertwined fingers up to eye level while resting your forehead on his own. You basked in the closeness with the one you'd been aching to meet, swam in his calm aura and felt your heart skip several beats as if it had fallen.

A lump found home in Giyuu's throat and effectively cut off any word he could dream of saying. He wasn't used to anyone getting this close to him, wasn't used to someone being affectionate and gentle with him. And he certainly wasn't used to seeing your serene face after so, so long. 

But he liked it. 

"I'd never forget," Giyuu quietly confessed and felt your breath fan over his cheeks, a delicate smile tugging at his lips as the promise from your childhood was renewed. It was the first time you had seen Giyuu smile and contrary to Shinobu's words, it was the most beautiful thing you had ever laid your eyes on. 

Step by step, the sun began disappearing behind mountains and dipped the sky in a beautiful mix of orange, blue and pink. Soon, the stars would light up the sky and the moon would shine brightly. 

But with the sun setting, it also meant that demons were about to crawl out from whatever hole they hid themselves in. 

"Grab your sword, [Name]."

"Huh?"

Giyuu knew he was about to weave you into a life which could never be described as safe or domestic, but he never forgot that you had already decided to become a Demon Slayer when you two were children. He had seen the way you fought, backed him up and sensed a demon's blood lust. 

After all this time, you never truly forgot who you were. 

"It won't take long until the demons come out. Let's go." 

You nearly fell from your bed as you hastily reached for your sword and a bit of confusion lingered in your mind. Just what was Giyuu thinking? It was hard to tell with his face barely moving like it used to.

"I never officially passed the final selection," you sighed and looked at the sword in your grasp which was once broken, lying right in front of you. "I can't just go with you..can I?" 

Giyuu could feel doubt and insecurity seeping from you which definitely wasn't characteristic for you. When you fought Mizu, you were hell-bent on defeating her, despite the injuries you took. Was it guilt from back then making you doubt..?

"What happened 8 years ago is unfortunate, [Name]." Pitch black bangs threw a subtle shadow over Giyuu's eyes, but his voice was, dare you say, soothing. "But if you still want to fight, then I'll train you until the next final selection. Going on patrol with me is considered training."

It was okay for you to become a swordsman once again, right? Urokodaki didn't put you through hellish training and taught you everything he knew just for you to quit. With Giyuu's help, you could surely put an end to the existence of demons. Yes, you could do it! 

Confidently, you strapped your Nichirin blade to your waist, grabbed Giyuu's hand and pulled him through the hallways of the Butterfly Estate until you were finally outside. "Then what are we waiting for? Training is about to begin!" 

Faintly, Giyuu could hear Shinobu, Aoi and the three girls bid their goodbyes. His eyes fell down to your hand holding his tightly with the wristbands nearly touching one another. 

Perhaps, you were really bound by the wrist and though the red threads got heavily tangled along the way, it never got severed.

[taetaespeaches]

“Want me to kiss it better?”

taehyung x reader (oc) genre: fluff word count: 2.8K

a/n: In honor of Tae’s birthday, let’s find out how our two little soulmates met, shall we? Back in March of 2013, Tae and Peaches/reader met randomly on the street, and well, look at them now. I hope you all enjoy, and thanks so much for reading! :))

p.s. and happiest of birthdays to the absolute love of my life, sir Kim Taehyung. Here’s hoping that the dearest boy has a happy year because he is so deserving of it <3 

“I just got you a coffee,” you teased into the phone, Taehyung groaning on the other end, vocalizing his distaste for the stuff. Giggling at his reaction, you pushed through the café doors, the cold air hitting you with a gush of wind. “I thought you were outside,” you noted, looking down the sidewalk, peering through the crowds of people making their way to work.

“Huh?” He said, trying to pretend he didn’t hear you to cover up the fact that he was late.

“Tae,” you groaned, a passerby looking your way at the mild annoyance in your tone, you immediately shooting them a small smile and a bow. “How far are you?”

“Not far, just wait for me outside,” he told you, his breath becoming a bit bated as he must have started running to make it to you. “Don’t move,” he yelled into the phone, a smile overtaking your face.

“Stop running, you dork,” you giggled. “I’ll be here.”

“Good. Stay put,” he added.

“I just said I’d stay put,” you defended, looking at the two cups in your left hand, trying to figure out how you could take a sip of yours while holding the phone to your ear with your opposite hand. “I wouldn’t have to stay put if my boyfriend would show up on time,” you jokingly complained just before using your hand holding the phone to lower your face mask below your chin.

The man huffed through the phone before letting out a breathless yell. “I’m coming, Peaches,” he shouted. You giggled both at the sound of him but also the image you conjured up in your head of the man zipping through crowds of people, his dark locks flowing as he yelled into a phone.

Leaning down, you tentatively took a sip of your drink, immediately wincing at the hot temperature that startled your tongue, as well as the shockingly sweet taste. Inspecting the drink, you realized it was Tae’s hot chocolate. “I told you to stop running,” you commented into the phone, Taehyung’s breathing being his only response. “Do you want me to hang up so you can have a proper go of it, Usain Bolt?”

“No,” he breathed out. “Stay on the line, I miss you,” he said cutely, you scoffing at the affection.

“You wouldn’t have to miss me if you were on time, my Dearest,” you teased him.

“I’m sorry,” he whined, dragging the word out. “Let me live,” he added in complaint, you smirking.

Watching as people walked by, the sound of your boyfriend’s struggled breathing in your ear, your focus was suddenly pulled down the street when a loud, “Peaches,” rang out in both the phone speaker and the cold winter air.

Several people looked toward the man as he waved at you, slowing to a walk, but he didn’t acknowledge any of them, his adorable gaze set on you. The mask was covering the bottom half of his face but it did little to hide the rectangular smile he was hiding underneath, his happiness showing in his eyes.

Appearing in front of you, you couldn’t help but chuckle at his winded state. “Hi,” he greeted you happily, despite his current breathing troubles, leaning in to kiss your cheek but forgetting about the mask on his face.

“Hi, Dearest,” you giggled, holding out his drink for him. “Be careful,” you pouted as he took the hot chocolate out of your hands. “That burned my tongue.”

Pulling the mask under his chin, he gave you a wide-eyed look. “Want me to kiss it better?” He asked, leaning in to press his lips to yours, you giggling into the affectionate action as you kissed him back.

“You’re ridiculous,” you told him, setting your hand on his abdomen as you held him at a distance. “You’re gonna be photographed kissing me and then we’ll be the couple of the new year,” you pointed out, the man pouting at you.

Taking a sip of your coffee, you held his gaze until he relented and took a drink of his hot chocolate, humming in satisfaction. Swallowing the drink with a gasp of content, he grinned. “You know, this is where we first met.”

“I remember,” you giggled, sliding your hand from the front of his stomach to the side of his abdomen, holding onto his coat.

Looking down to your feet, he nodded. “Your shoes are clean this time,” he commented, you rolling your eyes as you thought back to your first meeting with Taehyung, the hectic morning forever changing your life in the best way you could have ever imagined.

Missing the bus was really just the cherry on top of your shitty morning. Not to mention the iced coffee you bought just minutes prior was knocked out of your hand by a power-walking passerby, the drink falling to the sidewalk and splashing all over your combat boots.

Reaching down to pick up the near empty cup, the busy morning work crowd kicked it all about, causing you to chase it around in a hunched-over position, your gaze darting to trail the object, trying to follow it as it absolutely should be recycled. Finally tracking it down, you grabbed it quickly and stood up, your face immediately heating as you became very aware of all the people who just witnessed you chase down a to-go cup like a fucking dork.

Staring down at your coffee stained shoes, you made your way down the sidewalk, setting the cup in the recycling bin gently, your heart racing at the possibility that you were still being watched by someone. Judged.

All you wanted to do was catch your bus and go to class. It was only the second week of university and there you were, already missing lectures. After a restless night, you thought coffee was necessary for a much-needed caffeine buzz, but the line was so long and you felt awkward leaving the middle of it as your bus quickly approached on its route.

So, you missed it. And now if you went to campus, you would have to walk into that lecture hall and draw all those eyes on you, and that was just something you weren’t too thrilled about that particular morning. Being shy was one thing. You had been reserved your whole life; you knew how to manage your introverted nature. But there were days when you just felt more insecure than most, and it was definitely one of those days.

As you pondered over what to do, whether you should brave the staring eyes and go to class or just call it a day and head back to your apartment, you made eye contact with a young man, seemingly around your age, beaming brightly at you through the flow of people.

Quickly averting your gaze, you grabbed your phone out of your pocket, checking the time but mostly avoiding the man’s stare. He was cute and looked sweet, but he put you on edge. Not in a threatening way, but rather, it felt as though he saw through you. And that was intimidating. You didn’t want to be seen.

Trying to put him out of your mind but failing, you quickly realized that despite the way he looked at you as if he knew all about you, you would probably be seeing the kind face of the stranger in your dreams, forever imprinted in your memory. He was intriguing, which was saying a lot for you as people rarely made an impact on you, especially with just one glance.

But his smile was one of if not the best smiles you’d ever laid eyes on and suddenly, you found yourself sneaking a glance at the man to get one more look. However, when you peered up, he was nowhere to be seen, and weirdly, your heart dropped a bit. You just wanted one last look to ensure the image in your head was an accurate depiction.

Frowning, you scanned the crowd. On the verge of giving up and accepting that he was just a one-glance stranger, or maybe even a figment of your imagination, a voice suddenly greeted you from beside your form, your head darting in the direction, falling upon the adorable man. All he said was “hello,” but the tone of his voice took you by surprise, the timbre much lower than you would have expected from the youthfulness of his features.

“Hi,” you said tentatively, suddenly feeling shy by his presence.

“I like your backpack,” he randomly complimented, your hands instinctively gripping the shoulder straps and tugging it closer to your back. “It’s cute.”

A light, single breathy chuckle left your lips as you craned your neck to look back at the bag. What a strange compliment. “Thank you,” you spoke softly.

The man stayed silent for a moment, his smile wide and pretty as he stared at you. However, his eyes were scanning your features. Curiously. Appreciatively. Almost as if he was taking everything down in his mind so he could remember you for years to come.

“I’m Taehyung,” he told you, reaching his hand out for you to shake. Staring at the limb, feeling too shy to take it, he giggled boyishly. The sound was adorable and you were extremely fond of it instantly. Putting his hand down, he cocked his head at you. “Can I replace your drink?” He asked you, your entire body heating in embarrassment as you realized he witnessed you not only drop the coffee, but watched as you chased it around the sidewalk. “Are you embarrassed?” He asked you with wide innocent eyes, a small bashful smile forming on your lips.

“You could say that,” you said. Or you could say you wanted the sidewalk to open up and swallow you whole.

“Don’t be,” he smiled brightly. “It was cute,” he added. The compliment wasn’t spoken as a man trying to flatter you into bed or even on a date, but was rather a genuine thought that popped into his head, so he simply spoke it. His directness, and how unaware he was of it, was intriguing, and you quite liked it.

“It needed to be recycled,” you said softly, your voice quiet, due to the mortification.

Nodding enthusiastically, he beamed. “I know all about recycling, I’ve been doing it since I was born,” he spoke proudly, and though you knew he was joking, he said the comment so seriously it had you nearly bursting out in laughter. Holding it back however, you only gave him the satisfaction of your breathy chuckle.

“I’m sure it was amusing to watch me chase the cup down,” you commented with a smirk.

“I only laughed a little,” he said, lifting his hands up in mock surrender.

“A gentleman,” you teased, surprised by how quickly you were warming up to the stranger. Well, a sort of stranger. You did know his name.

Another youthful giggle left his lips as he nodded in playful confirmation to your statement. “Chivalry is my middle name. Stick by me if you want to be treated like a lady,” he joked.

“And if I don’t want to be treated like a lady?” You playfully retorted, you body heating in embarrassment at your own comment though Taehyung’s eyes sparkling in amusement, his smile only widening even more.

“Too bad,” he replied with a grin. “Now, can I replace your drink?”

“If you insist,” you nodded with a small shy smile, just before holding your hand out and telling him your name. “So you know what to tell them when you order my drink.”

“Right,” he nodded, taking your hand, his palm warm and soft against yours. As cliché as it was to believe it, it felt like his hand was meant to fit with yours. But no, that’s too cheesy. Dropping your hand suddenly, he started toward the café, leaving you standing there watching him. Turning around to face you, he gestured to the establishment. “Coming?”

And strangely, you were. Without a word, you simply walked toward him, and made your way into the café with him, shoulder to shoulder. Little did you know, you would be going with him anywhere and everywhere from that day on. Quite happily.

“And this time I’m buying you a drink,” you smirked. “Oh, how the times have changed.”

“Only because you insisted,” he frowned, the expression making your smile widen.

Bringing your hand toward his face, you booped his nose. “It’s your birthday,” you pointed out with a smile. “And I enjoy treating you,” you informed him. “Plus, I’m not a poor college student anymore, I’m a slightly less poor professional now,” you pretended to gloat, Taehyung giggling as he leaned toward you, pressing a couple quick kisses to your cheek.

“Damn straight you are,” he said proudly. Staring at each other, he watched as your smile gradually fell from your face, his eyebrows pulling together in question and slight concern. “What’s wrong?” He asked.

“Nothing,” you shook your head, “I just-”

Taking a moment to gather your thoughts, you sighed. Taehyung watched you carefully but patiently, his tongue poking between his lips to wet them.

“About being a professional,” you cocked your head to the side. “What if I told you I’m not happy with my job and it’s not getting better?”

Taehyung’s expression morphed into one of consideration as he peered into your eyes. “I would say you’re young and if you want to try something else, what better time than now?”

“You think?” You asked, appreciating the way his hand found the side of your face, as his thumb gently soothed over your cheek.

“You should enjoy your work,” he told you. “You have too much passion in here,” he tapped against your temple to indicate your mind, “and in here,” he used his other hand that held the drink to poke a finger against your heart, “to not enjoy what you’re doing for a living.”

Giving him a small smile, you nodded slightly. “I’m scared though,” you whispered.

“I know, Peaches,” he told you understandingly. “But that’s ok. It’s ok to be scared.” You nodded quickly in agreement, Tae’s lips quirking up. “What’s not ok is for the most vibrant person I know to be stuck in a job that doesn’t fulfill her,” he added, locking his gaze with yours to ensure you felt how much he meant the words he spoke.

“You’re sweet,” you complimented quietly.

“I just believe in you,” he countered. “And I’ll be here through every step of the way as you’re finding what you truly want to do,” he assured you.

“I know, Dearest,” you nodded.

“You better,” he smirked, just before bringing his lips to yours and kissing you a little too passionately for the public setting. But as your fingers threaded into hair at the back of his head, you lost yourself in the affection, not giving a damn about where you were or who was watching. “I’m going everywhere with you,” he whispered against your mouth when he finally got ahold of himself and pulled back slightly.

“And me you,” you told pressing a quick kiss to his chin. Nuzzling your face against his neck, Taehyung smiled at the small pecks you left to his skin. “Happy birthday, by the way,” you giggled, lifting your head to look at him. “Sorry to be all doom and gloom on your day,” you rolled your eyes at yourself.

“You could never be doom and gloom, Peaches,” he assured you. “And thank you,” he beamed, kissing your forehead quickly. “This will be the only gift I accept today,” he held up his hot chocolate, “So don’t even think about surprising me with anything else.”

“Oh, that’s cute,” you teased. “You think you have a say in how I spoil you?” Glaring at you playfully, you scrunched your nose in response. “You’re really gonna like one of the surprises,” you noted, Taehyung’s eyebrows raising to show his piqued interest. “Want a hint?” You asked, your boyfriend nodding slowly as he wet his lips again. “It’s at my apartment and it involves lace and silk,” you whispered near his ear with a smirk, just before pulling your mask up.

“Well those kinds of surprises are ok,” he teased making you giggle at him.

“Of course they are you horndog,” you joked, Taehyung pulling his mask up as well before wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“Only for you,” he continued teasing as you both started walking toward a nearby park to continue your simple date.

As you walked away from the very place you first met Taehyung, who was draped over you affectionately, you mentally thanked the asshat who knocked your coffee out of your hands back in March of 2013. For he changed the entire course of your life. And now you had Taehyung, right beside you everywhere you went. You would always have Taehyung.

[macbetha]

below the cut, you'll find an interest check chapter for quatervois, a nancy drew pc fic. it's francy and also my idea of my absolute dream game. please let me know what you think and enjoy!

+++

After Ned breaks up with her and she loses her father, Nancy struggles to find her old vigor for detective work. While on vacation in London with Bess and George, Nancy accepts the urgent invitation to return Blackmoor Manor. Her English getaway quickly turns into an investigation once Nancy realizes the true reason Nigel Mookergee asked her back to the moors. Finding Deirdre Shannon at the manor under the same pretense only sets Nancy’s nerves further on edge. It isn’t until the Hardy Boys show up in Blackmoor that Nancy gets a glimpse of who she once was. With a manor full of suspects and a glass heart cracked open, Nancy is determined to find the truth.

Dear Ned,

How are you? It’s been a while. I’ve always started off my letters telling you about my latest case, but I’m not on one right now. I’m sure that’s hard to believe. Bess and George have whisked me away to London. I’m sure you would love it here. This is the first time I’ve seen Bess and George since I sold the house in River Heights. I stayed with Kyler and Matt in Ireland for a while. I needed a change of scenery. Their daughter just turned two. I’m somewhat jealous I’m happy for them. Anyways, I miss you I hope you’re doing well. I’m sure New York is lovely at Christmas time. I hope Stephanie is I wish Stephanie well How is Stephanie? I hope Stephanie is doing all right. I appreciated the card Stephanie sent when dad passed away. Warm regards, Merry Christmas, Love Nancy

She stares down at the letter as if the red ink were her own blood. It feels just as wounding, seeing her emotions made physical in the words on the paper. Only when a tear splatters on the page does she break free from her trance to the past. Nancy is the only person in her hotel suite, yet she works to rid the evidence like one of her own suspects. She pulls her feet up in the desk chair and crosses her ankles, holding the arch of her right foot – it recently became the victim of her latest culprit. Nancy’s foot got caught under the getaway car’s tire, and she is lucky to even be able to walk after the event. Months later, it’s stiff as hell with the most intense cramps she’s ever endured. Heart racing to forget the night it happened, she focuses on the snowfall out the window – counting little sparkles of snowflakes, though the world blurs when she squints. The doctor thought her failing sight as well as the daily headaches were on account of being hit in the head so many times.

She busies herself with choosing a postcard to send Hannah and Nancy selects one with a cat dressed up as a royal guard. The cuteness puts a smile on her face, however small – she hopes it’ll do the same for Hannah, but there is no telling. Nancy had the gut-feeling Hannah was lying about recognizing her the last time Nancy visited the nursing home. Torment swirls like wind to fallen leaves. She doesn’t have Hannah or Togo to come home to. Togo passed just before Nancy’s thirty-second birthday, and Carson fell ill soon after that. Nancy looks to her hotel bed where Mr. Woogle Woggle sits tucked between two pillows. It seems he is the only one that hasn’t left her. A knock on her hotel door reminds her that is simply not true. Nancy rights herself, fixing her posture to the stance of someone passionate, and she opens the door. Bess and George greet her with blazing smiles; Nancy gives silent thanks for their presence in her life. She would still be in Scotland with Kyler and Matt, had Bess and George not insisted to take her on a vacation. Nancy imagines that their insistence was due to them wanting to keep Nancy from spending Christmas alone on the road again like last year. “Nancy,” Bess stresses. “You’re never going to guess who we ran into in the lobby!” Horror strikes dull and loud in her ears. Surely, it’s not Ned. Please, don’t let it be Ned. George says, “Give you a hint: they were involved in one of your cases.” Nancy’s despair leaves her throat tight. She glances down the hallway, preparing to yank Bess and George into her room and dial her Cathedral contact to get them set up in witness protection.

“That didn’t narrow it down at all, George,” Bess says with a roll of her eyes. “Nancy’s been on hundreds of cases.” Nancy’s strain creeps into her one word: “Who?” Bess and George beam. “Maya Nguyn!” ++

Nancy follows Bess and George to the elevator in a hurried stupor. No thoughts can she conjure as she steps free from the elevator walls which seem to close in on her; Nancy marches into the lobby and notices a woman in the crowd of tourists. She stands with her back to Nancy, her hair drawn up in a bun, and her chin is lifted high with no time for games. Maya turns around and her bright red mouth stretches into a smile. “Nancy!” “Maya,” Nancy huffs in disbelief. She tenses in Maya’s sudden embrace before all but falling into it. This is something good I did; Nancy cherishes with shut eyes. This is someone I helped. When Maya pulls back, Nancy says, “What are you doing all the way out here? You said in your last letter, you were still in Washington.” “My house is technically there,” Maya nods. “But I get to work on the road more these days.” Her brows crease over a sympathetic smile. “Bess and George tell me you’re kind of in the same boat.” Nancy shrugs, struggling to hold Maya’s concerned gaze. “It’s just easier,” Nancy lies. Maya seems to see right through it, but she doesn’t speak on it. Nancy will have to thank her later. George says, “Maya offered us free tickets to a play she’s reviewing tonight and get this – it’s at the Globe Theater!” “Remind me what’s so special about a globe theater,” Bess sighs, checking her nails. “Not ‘a’, Bess, the.” George shakes her head. “The Globe Theater – well, technically it’s a reconstruction of the first one, but it’s where Shakespeare wrote his plays.” “It’s the opening night of a new play,” Maya explains. “And Nancy, you’ll never guess who the star is.” Nancy cannot take anymore guessing games. “Brady Armstrong.” Maya blinks. “Well – yes, actually.” Nancy frowns. “Wait, really?” “Yes,” Maya laughs. “I’ll be conducting an interview with him after the show if you want to go backstage and chew him out for all the stunts he pulled back in the day.” A spark of vigor heightens Nancy’s senses. That doesn’t sound bad at all. Still – “Are you sure we won’t be a distraction or –” “Nancy.” Maya’s hand falls on her shoulder. “You saved my life. You’re the furthest thing from a distraction.” Gratitude floods her before Nancy nods. “All right, then.” +++ The walk to the Globe would be depressive what with the sky being the color of a soaked napkin, but the Christmas decorations lift everyone’s spirits. Nancy limps by a shop playing Christmas oldies through the open door and she is borne back to her father listening to records over cocoa on Christmas morning. She tries to push the memory from her mind, then she thinks of building snowmen with Ned and having snowball fights that turned into the sweetest kisses she’s ever received. The music won’t stop. There are three Christmas trees in the display window and their flashing lights strike pain behind Nancy’s eyes. She pants through a sensory overload before someone squeezes her hand. Maya smiles in understanding as Bess and George walk obliviously in front of them. “It’s hard,” Maya says. “This life on the road. You pick up a few habits.” Nancy squeezes her hand in thanks before tucking her own in her peacoat’s pocket. “I want to enjoy this,” she admits quietly. “But I think the holidays are always hard.” Maya nods. “It won’t be this way forever, Nancy,” she promises. “I’ve got my fingers crossed for you.” Cross your fingers, there’s a story behind this door! Nancy swallows around the lump of panic in her throat. She plasters on a smile. +++ The theater is packed with noise and touching and all-around boisterous patrons. They find their seats in the crowd and Nancy doesn’t watch where she’s going – she must keep her eyes on the open ceiling to remember how to breathe. She sits down at the end of the group and Maya passes out programs. Quatervois, the title reads. Bess says, “What does that mean?” “It means you’re at a crossroads,” Maya says. “A turning point.” “Sounds a little dramatic,” George grumbles. Nancy traces the swooping lines of the title with

her thumb, repeating the process until the lights go down. The masked chorus emerges from the shadows and gives a synopsis: Down from Olympus a great hero emerges, Mighty in his strength and courage! A choice he must make Shall he ignore fate? Will he choose love, Or follow his destiny there-of? When Brady saunters on stage in an impossibly short silk chiton, it’s an out-of-body experience for Nancy. He still hasn’t grown his ponytail back, so Simone could very well be in the audience right now. Nancy rubs her aching temple at the thought. Brady begins his journey as the character Diogenes, a demigod that was supposedly – according to the play’s plot – written out of ancient Greek mythos. Diogenes must defeat those who want to leave him forgotten in history, lest he admit that he can’t win this fight and live his life like everyone else. Nancy assumes the play’s ending too soon. She imagines this will be a droll experience written only to paint Brady as a glorious hero that can conquer anything – but she is quickly surprised. Brady is stabbed in the final act and addresses the audience in a wail: And so my story ends a breath too early, No time to even be weary! The moon shall pass over my corpse, And the sun will beat down on my ashes with no remorse. Today, I have failed my quartervois Alone, forgotten, and lost. When the curtain falls, Nancy’s mouth is parted in disbelief as a tear burns down her cheek. They don’t receive a proper goodbye with Maya since the rest of the crowd is bustling toward the exit. She does have time to say that Brady is producing a new television series and will be scouting some locations further into Essex; Maya will be following the film crew there for test shoots. She embraces each girl individually and holds Nancy for a beat longer, whispering, “You’ll call if you need to talk?” “Of course,” Nancy says by impulse. “Same to you.” +++ Nancy is proud of herself for going out, but when she closes the door to her hotel suite, her back thunks against the wall and she must take deep breaths for several minutes. She decides to treat herself to a bubble bath even though it’s nearly midnight. She rolls her hair up into a bun and looks at it in the mirror, how haphazard and messy hers is in comparison to Maya. Nancy isn’t jealous – but she can’t help but notice when people are thriving. She wants to figure out how to do it herself and hasn’t found the cure yet. The bath is claw-footed and deep. Nancy sinks into the steaming water before goosebumps rise on her arms, and her freckled skin blushes in the heat. The water does wonders for her foot. She eases her head back on the lip of the tub and nears a light doze when her cell phone rings. It rests atop a stack of towels by the tub. Nancy wipes her damp hand off before looking to the screen. Frank Hardy. Nancy answers and taps the speaker button to relax back in the tub. “Hey.” “Hi, Nance,” Frank says, his voice a familiar balm after such a stressful time. “What’s going on?” “Things aren’t too different from last week’s call,” Nancy smiles. “But I’m on vacation with Bess and George.” “Oh wow! That’s awesome. I hope it’s been fun.” Nancy’s glazed eyes blink. “Yeah,” she rasps. “It’s nice.” She clears her throat, searching for her old enthusiasm. “But what about you? How’s Joe?” “Same as usual, a pain in my ass.” Nancy chuckles before a distinctive lift raises Frank’s voice. “We’re actually getting ready to get on a plane for a case – but I wanted to make sure everything’s good with you.” Nancy’s hand closes in a fist on her raised knee. “Gosh, it’s been so long since I’ve been on a case.” “Not really. You just took a few months off to stay with Kyler, right?” “Yeah, but that’s the longest I’ve ever gone without a case since I started.” “I’d give you ours if I could,” Frank says. “Really not looking forward to such a long plane ride. Oh, they’re calling for our gate – but do you want me call you when I land?” Gratefulness is a warm glow in her heart. “No, that’s okay – but

thank you. Be safe on your trip and tell Joe I said hi.” “Can do.” Frank pauses. “I – tell Bess and George I said hi.” “Can do,” Nancy repeats. She chews her lip. “See you soon?” She feels foolish for saying something when Frank is headed to a case. While the weekly phone calls have kept Nancy sane, it would be even better to see the Hardy Boys. “I’ll make it happen,” Frank promises. “See you, Nance.” After they hang up, Nancy struggles to get out of the tub with her swollen foot. She gets into a pair of sweats and wraps up some ice in a washcloth, then holds it against her foot. Nancy mulls over her conversation with Frank, wondering how much of her poor mood could be due to not solving a mystery. With a deep yawn, she tosses the soaked washcloth in the wastebasket, not able to walk to the bathroom to put it in the sink. She cuddles up to her teddy bear and flicks the lamp off when her phone rocks to life on the nightstand. Bewildered, Nancy turns the lamp back on to look at the screen. The number is unknown; she sees her hand tremble around the phone. She lets the call go to voicemail before the phone vibrates to life once again. Bracing herself, Nancy answers. “Hello?” “Yes, hello – I’m trying to reach a one Nancy Drew?” The voice is British and eerily familiar, like Nancy heard it in a dream. “This is she.” “Splendid! Oh, you wouldn’t believe the trouble I’ve gone to in order to find your number.” “Sorry? Who is this?” “Why, Nigel Mookergee. We met at –” “Blackmoor,” Nancy whispers. “Nigel, hi. What’s going on?” “I’m afraid the manner of my call is not a jovial one,” he says. “How should I explain this? Well, I suppose from the start. You see –” He sighs. “Don’t tell anyone I’m speaking of this, but the Penvellyns have fallen into a bit of… financial trouble.” Nancy says, “’Financial trouble’?” “It’s certainly not my business to spread, but yes. It’s not that they are a poor family by any means, but one diplomat’s salary is not enough to keep up a castle.” Nancy sits up, grabbing a pen and notepad from her bedside table. She jots as Nigel continues. “The Penvellyns began to host historical tours at the manor – much to Mrs. Drake’s dismay, I might add. Jane wishes to expand the business to the paranormal side of things, and I don’t quite agree with the idea myself, but she insists it’s just what the manor needs.” Nancy finishes scrawling and says, “So, you’re working for the Penvellyns now?” “Yes. I’m afraid there’s been some situations – inconsequential events, if you will – that need a glance over.” Nancy arches a brow. “You mean an investigation.” “Ah, such a serious word. I simply want to make sure we are fully prepared to expand the business.” Nancy’s eyes narrow. “Right. When would you need me there?” “As soon as possible -” Nigel catches himself. “I mean, at your earliest convenience.” Nancy glances over her notes, running her hand over the page filled by red ink. She closes her eyes against the sight and says, “I’ll be there tomorrow.”

thank you so much for reading! please let me know what you think and stay safe. and please consider following me here and on twitter! xoxo

[circuscarnage]

Birthday Escapade.

A Malleus Draconia and reader birthday fic.

Words: 2488.

Coloured banners were strung up on the walls, decorating the Diasomnia dorm in an almost welcoming glow. Black and green lines of fabric, embroidered with the inviting message of celebration. What had once been a room of polite gathering, had transformed into a much liver scene. Purple vines stuck out from the ground, acting more as decoration to the party, mimicking the witches of thorns power. Tables covered with delectable food as far as the eye could see. Edible works of art displayed for anyone to reach out and take. The most lavished of cakes being saved for the main table. The centrepiece of the room, almost impossible to miss, was a black sign coated in thorns, spindling a twisted birthday wish. Lilia had wasted no expense making sure everything was perfect. He had planned the entire thing. After all, this wasn't just anyone's birthday. It certainly was a change of pace for the normally dark and dreary castle.  

The entire Diasomnia dorm seemed more colourful than usual, and not just aesthetic wise. The sombre atmosphere was lifted with the sounds of delightful laughter and idle celebration. Students of the dorm gathered in the main foyer, enjoying themselves as they chatted away to their fellow classmates without a care in the world. However, the most important aspect of this celebration was missing.

Malleus Draconia was no where to be found. 

His guards, Sebek and Silver, had been scouting the dorm trying to find their lost master. They had checked down every hallway and searched all the rooms. Not a single stone was left unturned nor a speck of dust lingered in the process. They were at their wits end. Sebek's voice boomed throughout the dorm, ricocheting off the stone castle walls. Malleus's name sounded akin to thunder as it stormed every inch of the perimeter. It was uncertain which would give out first. His voice or the other students eardrums. 

You, however, knew better than to waste time on searching Diasomnia. If Malleus had fled, there was no way he would stick to the confines of the dorm. That was just too simple. Begrudgingly you left the Diasomnia dorm and headed back towards the hall of mirrors. When thinking of a safe heaven, there was only one place that came to mind. You knew exactly where he would be.

Ramshackle. It was very different compared to the other dorms. A shabby and old building that was as creepy as it was comforting. An uneven fence carved from iron surrounded the perimeter, acting more like a cage, warning those who pass by not to trespass. The vacant space and lack of activity made people wonder if it was simply just unfinished or abandoned. It certainly looked run down, even more so before Azul had it refurbished to extend his business. Luckily for you, that plan never came to fruition, so you could keep the haunted mansion you called home. 

As you approached, you could see the last remnants of winter still holding onto the Ramshackle dorm. Snow melted into the ground, slowly decaying into the soil as the seasons begin to change. The sugar coated season sluggishly torn away to be replaced with another. It wasn't hard to miss him. His raven black hair and pointed horns stuck out among the crisp white scenery. He stood against the decaying tree, leaning into the wood as if he was trying to merge himself into the plant. He was looking across the garden, but turned his head around when hearing your approach. "Ah, human." He greeted you casually, giving an affirmative nod of his head. "To what honour do I owe you this visit?" 

"Where have you been?" You questioned him, finally making your way up the steps and standing in front of him. He seemed taken aback at your forceful question. Why, he had just greeted you with a polite hello and you were already interrogating him. "The party has already started, and you're not even there!"  

Malleus quirked his head to the side. "Oh, was that today?" There was something different about his voice. The way his words lingered in the air, laced with a playful tone that spelled mischief. You looked down at his attire. Black dress shirt with a white suit jacket over the top. Black and green sash. There was no way he dressed up like that on a whim. This surely couldn't have been a coincidence. Malleus noticed your stare, lingering on his outfit for a little longer than necessary. "Must have slipped my mind." 

"Please don't tell me someone forgot to invite you to your own birthday." You hated to think he was acting like this because of some kind of petty vendetta against you. It wasn't anything new that people often forgot to invite him to events, whether that be the dorm leader meeting or social gatherings, but his own birthday? That must have cut deep.

Malleus chuckled. "Fuhuhuhu. That would be quite entertaining, wouldn't it? Forgetting to invite me to my own birthday. How quaint." He waved his hand. "No, I received an invite. I was even enjoying myself. And I appreciate how much effort Lilia put into the décor. I've just never been the one to enjoy these types of parties. It just feels so... Strange." Malleus looked down at his attire, emerald eyes observing the trinkets that decorated the white jacket. The handmade broach that resembled the curved horns that stuck out from his head. The black and green coloured badge that all to obviously drew attention to the date. Reminding everyone within a mile radius just who the special birthday boy was. He was used to being adored in lavished clothing, being of royal decent, so having an outfit that was traditional for many others was relieving. 

"The concept of birthdays... Forgive me but I've never embraced them fully, never needed to." You gave Malleus a quizzitive look, tilting your head a little to the side, imploring him to elaborate. He understood your plight and began to explain. "Compared to humans, fae live for an unnaturally long time. Our lifespans far surpass your own. Why, generations from now I'll still be alive. Wise with time and knowledge. Watching over the world behind the thicket of thorns. And you'll-" He stopped mid sentence. There was no need to continue. You both knew where you would be generations from now. Malleus blinked, the slightest glint of sadness present in his eyes. Possessing the power of longevity was something that many craved to have, but needless to say it did come with its consequences. The burden weighed on the back of his mind like an oncoming storm. 

Malleus cleared his throat, "Very strange indeed. You humans celebrate yearly the date of your birth, yet to us fae it is nothing more than a number. Even though I wish I could feel the same connection to it that you do. Maybe then I wouldn't feel such like an outcast..." Malleus blinked as he felt something touch his head. Unconsciously his hand had reached up towards his horns, bringing attention one of the many aspects about him that was different to humans. He was proud of his fae heritage, but always felt like it held him back when trying to forge connections. "Tell me, human." He brought his hand back down. "Am I forever cursed to be an outcast from a gathering? Even one of my own terms? I'm always one to be vacant, not on my own accord. My invitation being left blank while others have been sealed. So forgive my absence when for once I'm expected to be there."

"Tsunotarou-" You had to stop yourself, almost biting down on your tongue. Now possessing the knowledge of his name, it seemed needless to try and use the old nickname you gave him. It was sentimental, in a way. A name that only you could call him. A name made up on the spot yet seemed to fit a little too well. It always made your heart flutter whenever you used it. The way Malleus's eyes would light up in amusement, entertained by the fact anyone would ever consider calling him something so simple. Sometimes it was hard to conceal the corners of his mouth twinging upward in delight. You apologised and corrected yourself, "I mean, Malleus." It was an easy mistake to make. The way his actual name slipped off your tongue somehow sounded wrong. You had gotten a little too comfortable with that nickname. You hoped Malleus wouldn't mind.

To your surprise, Malleus grinned. A slight chuckle slipped between his lips. He was more taken aback by the fact that had felt the need to correct yourself then the use of his nickname. He was aware of your caution, and reassured you. "You may address me however you wish, child of man." Malleus turned his head to the side, looking off into the distance, and placed an hand thoughtfully on his chin. "I must admit, I have grown quite fond of that little nickname you call me. I do not mind being called that name," His attention was brought back to you, dazzling green eyes locking with your own. He huffed out a small laugh. "If you are the one to address me, that is."

You nodded your head, secretly gracious that he was allowing you to continue using that name. But you needed to address his previous statement. "It's understandable that you would feel this way. Being ostracized from a group can be quite intimidating." You sighed. "Trust me, I've been there. And sometimes it feels like you'll never truly belong." Malleus raised his brow. Were you trying to help him feel better or worse?

"But believe me when I say that the people there want you to be there too. They want you to enjoy yourself just as they have. And..." Your words trailed off. Your own voice getting quieter and quieter until even you couldn't hear it anymore. Words did not fail you at that moment. It was clear what you wanted to say. Whether or not you had the strength to say it was a different matter. Your eyes were in agreement, preferring to look at the ground below you rather than the person in front. Was it really that difficult to show your own emotions? You did genuinely enjoy your time together, and wanted it to last longer. Yet somehow whenever you tried to express this fact to him, something always stopped you. A defence mechanism that instinctively held you back. You looked back at Malleus. He stood still, patiently waiting for you to continue. You were thankful for his tolerance. Giving a curt nod of your head, you took a deep breath in, and exhaled. "...I want you to be there. I want you to be happy, on your special day." 

You braced yourself, ready for any sort of negative response. But as you waited in anticipation for a verbal reply, Malleus gave none. Instead he began to laugh. A slight chuckle that started out as a growl, but then gradually grew into a light laugh. He brought his hand up to his mouth, trying to cover it up, but he would have to try harder than that to stifle this laugh. You were confused. Was it something you said? Did it sound condescending? Needy? Selfish? That wasn't your intention at all! You just wanted to give him some reassurance.

His laughter eventually died down, allowing him to breathe steadily again. "Child of man, how presumptuous of you." A light titter escaped from his lips again. Whatever he had found entertaining about your statement, he clearly wasn't done. You furrowed your brow in suspicion as Malleus calmed himself yet again. "I do not need a celebration or to be surrounded by guests to be happy." He took another step closer, towering over you like a gargoyle, but it was not intimidating. The soft look on his face quelled any fears of threatening nature. It was actually quite surprising how peaceful he looked. "With you, I already am."

You had to turn your head away at that, letting out a small squeak that sounded more attune to a quack. Hearing such a genuine sentiment from him felt like wildfire had struck your heart, and it felt like it wasn't going to subside anytime soon. It was wishful thinking, but you hoped you didn't make your answer too evident. However, giving such an obvious expression meant it was easy for him to pick up. Malleus smirked at your reaction. Instinctively he placed his hand upon your head, smoothing his thumb gently over the grooves in your hair. He thought it was cute. Like a docile pet receiving praise.

You waved his hand off of you, not needing to feel anything more at the moment. You had wasted enough time standing here. It would be best to return the birthday boy back to his dorm. "I think we had better get back, your guards are in a frenzy over your disappearance." Malleus let out a small sigh. It was time to return to the party. After all, he wouldn't be considered a very good host if he was missing for the entire event. How else was he suppose to show he was worthy of peoples trust if he did not throw a good party? He was ready to return to the dorm, with you accompanying him. "Yes, I think I've troubled them for long enough."

You laughed, thinking about Sebek and Silver stumbling over themselves trying to find their dorm leader. Lilia wouldn't be too bothered, you thought, if you returned Malleus in time for his celebration. Turning around on your heels, you lead the way back towards the gate, eager to return to the party. At last, you could finally have a piece of that delectable looking cake. It had been on your mind the second you stepped into the dorm.

Before you could place a hand on the gate, Malleus called from behind. "And human?" You stopped in your tracks and turned to face him. He stood still, refusing to move unless he spoke. His face bore the same amused express, but this time it was different. It was gentle. His eyes holding nothing but appreciation for the human that stood before him. Someone who didn't see him as the terrifying figurehead of the Draconia family that so many made him out to be. Someone who wasn't afraid around him. Someone he was very thankful to have met. "Thank you, for seeking me out." He stepped forward, now walking by your side. It felt good for him to have someone beside him that didn't cower in fear nor turn away in intimidation. It made him feel accepted. "And for escorting me back."

[whatamidoingwithmylifeman]

MK 11 Nozomi vs Canon intro fight dialogues part 2

I FINALLY GOT EM FINISHED!

TW/CW for: Trauma, kidnapping, hints of abuse

Nozomi, Melantha, Shariah, Nyx, Michiko, and Fuyuka all belong to me

the rest belong to midway/NRS

ENJOY

Nozomi: Shariah is nearly done healing if you would like to see her.

Baraka: I will believe that when I see her myself Goddess!

Nozomi: What did I just say?

-

Nozomi: Hey, does it ever occur to you that I have a mother?

Baraka: You’re still Quan Chi’s spawn.

Nozomi: Yeah but I’m also Fuyuka’s spawn!

-

Nozomi: I am here to help!

Baraka: We don’t need your help!

Nozomi: That’s not what Kitana said.

---

Nozomi: I appreciate your gratitude Ms. Cage.

Cassie: Don’t sweat it. Just call me Cassie.

Nozomi: Oh? So who’s the humble one now?

-

Nozomi: Out of my way Cassandra!

Cassie: What has Raiden ever done to you!?

Nozomi: Didn’t he get your mother killed?

-

Nozomi: I am a mother trying to help her daughter. Move please!

Cassie: And I’m a daughter trying to save her mother!

Nozomi: I promise you, Sonya won’t be hurt.

---

Nozomi: Go home aunt Cetrion.

Cetrion: Nozomi, please don’t do this.

Nozomi: I said, go home!

-

Nozomi: Did you know the truth too?

Cetrion: Only the One Being knew the soul you harbored

Nozomi: But did you know of his plan to contact that soul?

-

Nozomi: Aunt Cetrion trust me, Rain would never hurt me.

Cetrion: He has a lot to prove before I believe that.

Nozomi: And here I thought Mom’s judgment was enough for you.

---

Nozomi: My mom isn’t weak!

D’Vorah: Then why does Kronika want her erased?

Nozomi: Cause my mom poses a threat to her!

-

Nozomi: Tell your new master that if she touches my world, I’ll erase her instead.

D’Vorah: This one would like to see you try.

Nozomi: Watch me!

-

Nozomi: Want to know a secret D’Vorah?

D’Vorah: And what would that be, Nozomi?

Nozomi: I’m not scared of you either.

---

Nozomi: I’m more than a demi-goddess, Erron.

Erron: Well what in tarnation are you?

Nozomi: A whole mess

-

Nozomi: Erron I’m not good at anything

Erron: Who hurt you?

Nozomi: A lot of people.

-

Nozomi: I have it in for a lot of people Black.

Erron: Would those happen to be the same people who hurt you?

Nozomi: Yes. And no.

---

Nozomi: You seek revenge?

Frost: Give me the ideas grandma!

Nozomi: First, who are we going against?

-

Nozomi: In all seriousness, your mom said you do have a temper.

Frost: A temper that’s saved me!

Nozomi: A temper that has also hurt you.

-

Nozomi: I am ageless, yes.

Frost: Then you must be older than Kronika herself!

Nozomi: Do you not know how agelessness works?

---

Nozomi: Don’t worry about me uncle Fujin. I’m fine.

Fujin: I am sorry we didn’t get to Gae before he got to you.

Nozomi: He’s dead. We don’t talk about him.

-

Nozomi: You wanna know what my other goal is?

Fujin: Yes! Please, talk to me.

Nozomi: There is no other goal. There is only revenge.

-

Nozomi: I must admit, I will miss some people when I go.

Fujin: What is stopping you from staying?

Nozomi: A lot of things Uncle Fujin. A lot.

---

Nozomi: Then you can oppose him?

Geras: You. You are his mother.

Nozomi: I may harbor her soul, but I am not Khaos!

-

Nozomi: If I have three daughters, I won’t let them be eaten.

Geras: You might not be able to avoid that fate, Nozomi.

Nozomi: That will be one fate I won’t repeat!

-

Nozomi: Tell me Geras, does Kronika mess with my memories?

Geras: It is the back and forth from your world to ours.

Nozomi: That’s impossible!

---

Nozomi: I never answered your question did I?

Jacqui: What question?

Nozomi: The one of my disappearance after seeing my dad get decapitated.

-

Nozomi: The family matters my mother is attending is not one I wish to go to

Jacqui: Why not?

Nozomi: I might see him again.

-

Nozomi: Not my mom, but the sword she wields.

Jacqui: The famed Reaper of Nebulas?

Nozomi: The very same!

---

Nozomi: You made sure to put the books back right?

Jade: I am borrowing one right now

Nozomi: Nobody takes books from mother’s temple!

-

Nozomi: Platonically means out of friendship

Jade: Oh! What strange language you gods have.

Nozomi: That’s actually an Earthrealm term.

-

Nozomi: I suggest Melantha. The Goddess of Death herself.

Jade: There is more than one Death deity?

Nozomi: Yes there is.

---

Nozomi: Bold of you to assume we have family get-togethers in the first place, Briggs.

Jax: You’re right. My bad.

Nozomi: No worries Briggs.

-

Nozomi: Oh yeah? Name one other time I lost my shit!

Jax: When your daddy got his chopped off.

Nozomi: Name another time!

-

Nozomi: I don’t think Rain wants to go with me

Jax: Long distance relationships can be hard.

Nozomi: Long distance?

---

Nozomi: No. No. Cage, Quan Chi is my dad by birth.

Johnny: What about Raiden?

Nozomi: He’s my dad in spirit.

-

Nozomi: If you think me controlling lighting is weird just wait til you see the other elements I control.

Johnny: Are you the Avatar?

Nozomi: I need to watch that with Lao again.

-

Nozomi: You don’t get enough recognition in Hollywood Cage?

Johnny: Not anymore.

Nozomi: Ouch!

---

Nozomi: There are variants to my name depending on the characters used

Kabal: The what?

Nozomi: At least according to Earthrealm customs.

-

Nozomi: I’m not saying Kristy lied! I’m saying, did she say it was me?

Kabal: Well, not exactly.

Nozomi: So why am I the first person you went to?

-

Nozomi: No I do not make em revenants like my dad.

Kabal: Then what do you do?

Nozomi: Have you met Michiko and Reiki?

---

Nozomi: Why does my potential union to Rain interest you?

Kano: Bloke owes me a lot of money

Nozomi: And you think I’ll help pay for that? How cute.

-

Nozomi: I’ll teach you a lesson you’ll never forget!

Kano: Eh sorry teach. School’s out for the summer.

Nozomi: Welcome to summer school Kano!

-

Nozomi: A Devil, a Goddess, or a Titan.

Kano: What do all those have to do with me?

Nozomi: Pick whichever you want to call me, but you’re still paying your debt

---

Nozomi: I’m gonna miss you.

Kitana: Won’t you stay?

Nozomi: I’ve stayed long enough

-

Nozomi: Your friend Jade cares a great deal for you

Kitana: Her, Mileena, and Nyx are like my sisters.

Nozomi: Nyx says hi by the way.

-

Nozomi: Mileena is worried you don’t care for her

Kitana: What!? I need to invite her over.

Nozomi: Better do it fast

---

Nozomi: Nyx wouldn’t hurt Shariah, Kollector.

Kollector: And you believe that?

Nozomi: I’ve witnessed that

-

Nozomi: My debts aren’t always of the monetary kind, Kollector.

Kollector: What do you mean by that?

Nozomi: It depends what they offer.

-

Nozomi: Look, whatever went on between you two is none of my business.

Kollector: Could you atleast talk to her for me?

Nozomi: Fine. But you owe me.

---

Nozomi: He is my dad in spirit

Kotal Kahn: Then who was your dad in birth?

Nozomi: Quan Chi.

-

Nozomi: If you must no, Shariah has made a full recovery

Kotal Kahn: I’m glad to hear this

Nozomi: So are several others

-

Nozomi: Do you still wanna see that card trick?

Kotal Kahn: I would actually.

Nozomi: Great! You won’t be disappointed!

---

Nozomi: Ok wise one! Then who would be a better match for me?

Kung Lao: Liu and I are still going over the list.

Nozomi: You two made a list!?

-

Nozomi: Does Jin want a magic trick done for his birthday?

Kung Lao: He said, and I quote, “If she could poof me up a boyfriend that would be great”

Nozomi: Unfortunately, I am not that talented.

-

Nozomi: I’ll miss you so much Lao

Kung Lao: Why do you have to leave?

Nozomi: I can’t stand being hurt anymore

---

Nozomi: You and Lao made a list!?

Liu Kang: Ah. Has he told you who’s on that list?

Nozomi: No, but now I wanna know.

-

Nozomi: Liu, how could I forget the little boy who insisted on holding my hand all the time?

Liu Kang: I really wish you hadn’t reminded me about that.

Nozomi: Why not? It was cute!

-

Nozomi: I’ll miss you a whole lot Liu.

Liu Kang: Please don’t go!

Nozomi: I have to protect myself somehow.

---

Nozomi: Good news! She’s made a full recovery!

Mileena: Then I’ll throw a celebration for her!

Nozomi: Be careful. She needs to take it easy.

-

Nozomi: Didn’t think you cared for his happiness

Mileena: Rain’s been a good friend.

Nozomi: Well color me shocked.

-

Nozomi: Have you been over to Outworld to see your sister?

Mileena: I’m scared she’ll send me away

Nozomi: She won’t. Trust me.

---

Nozomi: I may harbor her soul, but I am not Khaos!

Nightwolf: Deny as you might, she made her home in you.

Nozomi: I didn’t ask her to!

-

Nozomi: Bad things happen to me a lot, Nightwolf. It’s nothing new.

Nightwolf: Why are you so comfortable with it?

Nozomi: I’m not. That’s why I’m leaving!

-

Nozomi: Raiden is a good dad.

Nightwolf: He cares a lot about you.

Nozomi: I know he does.

---

Nozomi: Please. What is there for him to brag about?

Noob Saibot: Your ability to fully restore a life.

Nozomi: I forgot he was there for that.

-

Nozomi: There is a difference between rage and hate.

Noob Saibot: Not for Michiko.

Nozomi: Perhaps she hasn’t had the chance to fully express that.

-

Nozomi: I am aware where my cousin has chosen to stay.

Noob Saibot: So you’ll take over the Brotherhood of Shadow right?

Nozomi: I thought you wanted to do that.

---

Nozomi: Tell me, why does everyone forget that I am also Goddess of revenge?

Raiden: Cause we’re not used to that side of you.

Nozomi: There are a lot of sides to me you aren’t used to.

-

Nozomi: Trust me, Rain will be a good husband

Raiden: For his safety, he better be the best

Nozomi: Hey! Enough with threatening my fiance.

-

Nozomi: I will miss you the most, dad.

Raiden: I promise you, I will do a better job protecting you!

Nozomi: You’re Earthrealm’s protector dad. Not mine.

---

Nozomi: If you don’t want to come with me then maybe we can try long distance?

Rain: But my darling, I would be too hurt without you by my side.

Nozomi: Then join me! Please.

-

Nozomi: Yeah, I don’t trust Hotaru either. He might get stab happy again.

Rain: Then let me go with you Nozomi.

Nozomi: I don’t wanna risk your health my love.

-

Nozomi: Rain, I don’t want worshipers or followers.

Rain: But you deserve them.

Nozomi: Not really.

---

Nozomi: What impression do I give Hanzo?

Scorpion: You give off a kind and caring one Nozomi.

Nozomi: Didn’t think I did.

-

Nozomi: By that description you gave, I say you like Michiko too!

Scorpion: Ahem. No!

Nozomi: I see you blushing Hasashi.

-

Nozomi: I’m still mad at you for killing my dad!

Scorpion: But wasn’t he found hiding in the void?

Nozomi: You’re lucky he was!

---

Nozomi: Rain won’t hurt me Shang.

Shang Tsung: I will trust your word for now Nozomi.

Nozomi: And I thought we were friends.

-

Nozomi: But being elusive is like second nature to you.

Shang Tsung: Not with you my dear friend.

Nozomi: Have I had that great of an effect on you?

-

Nozomi: How could you help her!?

Shang Tsung: Nozomi please. I did not know the One Being had you.

Nozomi: But she did! And you helped her!

---

Nozomi: Touch the sword and I will take your soul!

Shao Kahn: So the little welp wants to follow in daddy’s footsteps?

Nozomi: Follow? I perfect steps not follow them, Shao.

-

Nozomi: Brainwashing someone isn’t loving them Shao!

Shao Kahn: And what would you know of love?

Nozomi: A lot fucking more than you!

-

Nozomi: First you snap Lao’s neck and now you wound Shariah?

Shao Kahn: Is the short one gonna do something about it?

Nozomi: I’m gonna kill you over and over again!

---

Nozomi: Surprisingly, not a lot of people are in my debt.

Sheeva: That is a relief to hear.

Nozomi: In fact I collected my last debt a few hours ago.

-

Nozomi: Good news! Shariah is fully healed!

Sheeva: Then we shall celebrate her recovery!

Nozomi: She does need to take it easy.

-

Nozomi: Is there anyone you want me to bring back?

Sheeva: I have healed from their deaths. I’m alright.

Nozomi: If you change your mind, you know where to find me.

---

Nozomi: I don’t think there will be a wedding

Sindel: By the gods, what happened?

Nozomi: Rain doesn’t want to come with and he doesn’t seem up for long distance

-

Nozomi: Shairah has healed completely!

Sindel: Good. Shao Kahn is still paying for what he done

Nozomi: Done and done!

-

Nozomi: Do me a favor, and don’t get corrupted again.

Sindel: Trust me. I am sticking to Edenia.

Nozomi: Good. Pulling you out of the corruption was a nightmare

---

Nozomi: Shariah is now fully healed.

Skarlet: Tanya and I thank you.

Nozomi: No need to thank me.

-

Nozomi: I’m taking you up on that offer!

Skarlet: Where is he?

Nozomi: Probably loitering around Raiden’s Sky Temple.

-

Nozomi: Consider us be-friended.

Skarlet: This is perfect!

Nozomi: Let’s start blood-bending!

---

Nozomi: I am not a sadist. I don’t enjoy torturing people.

Sonya: So just killing them?

Nozomi: Precisely.

-

Nozomi: I’m not sticking around for anyone, Blade.

Sonya: Why not?

Nozomi: I have been hurt too much.

-

Nozomi: There are a lot of things you don’t know about Kronika.

Sonya: I’m betting there’s a lot I don’t want to know.

Nozomi: According to mom, yeah.

---

Nozomi: She was still processing what happened.

Sub-Zero: The old grandmaster was a fool to allow Shen to train her.

Nozomi: Had he really not known what Shen was doing?

-

Nozomi: I’m a titan by origin of my birth Kuai.

Sub-Zero: Then you could’ve taken down Kronika!

Nozomi: Well I wasn’t able to!

---

Nozomi: I can’t risk being hurt again.

Shinnok: I promise you, I will up the guards in the Netherrealm.

Nozomi: I’m not staying.

-

Nozomi: Uncle Shinnok, Rain’s not gonna hurt me.

Shinnok: I have a torture room with his name if he does.

Nozomi: Uncle Shinnok!

-

Nozomi: If I don’t get to, tell aunt Charu I’ll miss her

Shinnok: This is like losing my sister all over again.

Nozomi: Hey, I’m not gonna be trapped anywhere.

---

Nozomi: Dad, I can’t stay.

Quan Chi: Isaac won’t hurt you again.

Nozomi: It’s not just Isaac!

-

Nozomi: I don’t think there’s gonna be a wedding.

Quan Chi: Ah so death is the flavor of cake Rain wants.

Nozomi: Dad!

-

Nozomi: I know seeing loved ones go is hard, but I’m not dying.

Quan Chi: But I’m afraid you will.

Nozomi: My heart’s not as bad as it was.

---

Nozomi: You can try, but you’ll die before you even reach me.

Hotaru: Don’t underestimate my tracking abilities, Nozomi.

Nozomi: I’m doubting your attentiveness Hotaru.

-

Nozomi: I still haven’t thanked you.

Hotaru: For what?

Nozomi: For helping Rain find me when you did.

-

Nozomi: If you make my cousin upset one more time, I’m taking your head.

Hotaru: Not if I take yours first!

Nozomi: Oh it’s on!

---

Nozomi: My sword is sharp too.

Reiko: I prefer your tongue.

Nozomi: Well you won’t be keeping yours!

-

Nozomi: Out!

Reiko: I didn’t even get a chance to speak.

Nozomi: I don’t care. Go!

-

Nozomi: You being told you were a blood God ain’t impressive.

Reiko: Aww darn.

Nozomi: Besides, what’s a God to a Titan?

---

Nozomi: My son. I am so sorry.

Meat: Why do you have to leave?

Nozomi: I can’t stand being hurt again.

-

Nozomi: You won’t get flesh. I will make sure nobody gives you any

Meat: You can’t do that if you leave.

Nozomi: I can’t heal if I stay.

-

Nozomi: Hey good news son. Shariah is fully healed.

Meat: Oh good. I was worried for my friend.

Nozomi: She was worried about you too.

@deepinthefog @yuvononik @merplderpl @tora-lotus @ls-double-spoiler @irrelevant-subjects @toomanyf4ndoms7 @starneko123 @loverofthewindgod @dontunderestimatemypoison @feistyfandomthings @harrissa-hoe @catornek @doodlewagonbug @calcium1790 @daddydestrey

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

“Happy Birthday, Liza- Malleus,” Mac corrected themself obnoxiously, not even bothering to hide the snicker that escaped their lips. “It’s nice to see you out and about instead of brooding around ruins all the time.”

They held up an oddly shaped gift, one that looked a bottle with a strange cap. “It’d be rude of me to show up at a birthday party without a gift, so here’s my present to you.”

Their eyes twinkled mischievously, and they grinned brightly, handing the gift over. “I’m gonna go grab some cake, okay? Try not to cry too much when you see what I got you.”

.

hi mac

came for the malmal booba, did you? 😒 ch-check below the cut for that

“Child of Cheese and Noodles... Mac. It is a joy to see you in good spirits.”

The fairy prince dipped into a bow. He angled his head to peer at you, his luminous green eyes searing into your soul, and a playful smile upon his lips. “You act as though I spend all of my free time loitering in questionable locations. Were that the case, I would not be standing here before you.”

“That being said, I appreciate you being present at my festivities. Ah, and you’ve even procured a gift for me.” Malleus laughed, picking the oddly shaped gift from your hands. “Surely this item will bring fewer tears to my eyes than the birthday cakes Lilia has made for me.”

He waved a hand. “Run along, now. Fetch yourself a slice of cake. Converse with the other guests. Enjoy yourself.”

You scurried off toward a buffet table without so much as a wave back. The heat of Malleus’s gaze followed you the entire way.

A single though emerged in the back of his mind: the little beastie had not changed, had not forgotten him. You had the same sharp wit, the same skip to your step, the same dorky grin.

... I am glad.

Malleus turned his attention to his present. With a single tug, he undid an emerald ribbon, then tore into the wrapping paper to expose...

... a spray bottle.

A single spray bottle, with a haphazard doodle of himself slapped over a label which read: LIZARD DEFENSE: Works on All Lizards and Geckos Guaranteed!

Malleus’s eyebrows hitched. “This is...”

He cautiously unscrewed the spray bottle and wafted some of the liquid inside to his nostrils. The pungent fumes of rotten eggs, onions, and garlic decked him in the face. Malleus recoiled in horror, pinching his nose to ward off that awful smell--

--and bumped right into an unsuspecting guest.

They yelped and flailed their arm, the reflex knocking the still open spray bottle against Malleus. Lizard repellant splattered all over his torso, wetting his undershirt and suit jacket.

“Hey, Liza--Malleus. I’m back. Did you cry about your pr--” You stopped dead n your tracks, mouth gaping.

He was drenched. The damp fabric of his shirt clung to the contours of his well-defined chest and outlining his cleavage and giving way to a chiseled tummy. His pectorals seemed to be especially perky--large, round, and firm like ripe fruits.

Beads of sweat formed on your forehead.

Your mind? Blank. The platter of cake in your hand was immediately forgotten in favor or something far more fascinating. Namely...

B-Booba...

Malleus glanced down at his appearance and grimaced. He took a single, audible intake of breath, then exhaled. A plume of smoke erupted from his nostrils, setting off an abrupt, hot wind around him, sending you and nearby guests flying back--your plate hitting the wall.

Somewhere in the attic, Raven screamed.

“M-My cake...!!” you wailed, scrambling to salvage its remains--

The birthday boy stood in your way, arms folded and looking none too pleased. “Mac. Where exactly do you think you are going?”

Into your booba, apparently.

They were right in front of your face, they were all you could stare at.

More sweat pooled on your forehead.

“You must take responsibility for your actions,” Malleus warned, his voice stern and vaguely menacing, “Were I a complete and total monster, I would strike you down with lightning for your flagrant transgression. However...”

He suddenly sighed, closing his eyes--his words, softening. “I am feeling rather merciful today. I will accept your assistance with drying off in lieu of a birthday present.”

Malleus extended a hand. “Come along, Child of Cheese. The sooner this situation is rectified, the sooner we may return to the celebration.”

[rosyfingereddawnn]

only the black rose (chapter 3)

pairing: jimmy page x layla porter (oc)

warnings: vague sexual references, two mentions of keith richards and a whole lot of fluff. also poetry about jimmy page because i’m a simp.

words: 3.4k

summary: in the blink of an eye, it’s 1975 and layla’s suddenly joining led zeppelin for their north american tour. throughout the chaos, the band take a liking to her, she builds friendships with the boys, and love blossoms. but all good things must come to an end.

author’s note: not beta’d as always! this story does follow a playlist of mine, because i put too much thought into things. also this chapter is full of jimmy moments (finally) so i hope you enjoy :)

masterlist

playlist

chapter one

chapter two

----------

“He’s coming!”

Hushed whispers echo through the studio as amps become hiding spots, and instruments camouflage the people crouched behind them, anxiously waiting. Layla finds herself kneeling next to Bonzo and Jonesy, Robert a few feet away, giggling silently at the anticipation.

Feeling for the leather handle of the prize slung over her shoulder, Layla smiles wide, excitement dancing in her eyes like a perfect waltz. Hearing soft footfalls on the tiled floor drawing near, a charged silence falls over the studio. Sun-kissed curls poke out from behind the amps to spot the intruder. With a subtle nod to hidden companions, chaos erupts.

“Surprise!” A chorus of voices yell in near unison, startling the intruder, who puts a hand to his racing heart.

“Happy birthday, Pagey.” Robert trots up to his friend, grinning impishly at the stunt he had pulled. Jonesy and Bonzo follow suit, hugging the guitarist, while Peter lumbers out of his hiding spot, knees groaning from his crouched position. A pat on the shoulder and smile gracing his face, Peter wishes the man a happy birthday as well. Minutes pass, packed with greetings and formal well-wishes, until misty green meets warm brown once again.

“Happy birthday, Jimmy.” Layla starts towards the man, pulling him into a familiar hug, his unruly curls brushing her cheek like the soft caress of a lover. The hands that wrap around her back finally feel the handle of the weathered guitar case, and he pulls away, confusion creasing his handsome face.

“Layla, is that a guitar? I didn’t know you played...”

“This isn’t for me… It’s, uh… It’s your birthday present.”

“You…”

“Well don’t just stand there gaping at her, Pagey! Open it for God’s sake! She picked it out herself!”

Hands quivering almost imperceptibly, long fingers reach for the clasps of the case, snapping them open with a click. A soft gasp permeates the tense silence as the lid is opened, revealing the beautiful instrument. Lifting it out of the case delicately, Jimmy’s face fills with awe, eyes shining, clear ponds of morning dew. Running a hand down the neck of the guitar lightly, Jimmy looks back at Layla, then at the instrument once more, mouth opening and closing like a floundering fish.

“Layla… It’s… Thank you so much.”

“Of course, Jimmy,” Layla whispers almost shyly at the gratitude of the man before her, “I hope you like it. I saw it and thought it was perfect for you, but obviously you don’t have to use it if it’s—”

She is cut off by the sensation of long arms around her once more, cradling her as though she was a precious gift. She is once again surrounded by the dusky sweet scent of smoke, pine and citrus. Ebony ringlets tickle against her cheek once more, and she is home.

“You know,” Jimmy starts, voice a calming rumble against Layla’s cheek, which is pressed to the tall man’s chest, “I may not be great with words. That’s why everyone else writes the lyrics. But believe me, petal, I’ll never forget this.”

“Petal… That’s a new one, Jim.”

Layla and Jimmy jump apart then, laughing shyly at the intrusion. Hands wringing together, desperately searching for a distraction, their eyes meet once more. Twin blushes rise on their faces, and they turn to face their friends.

“Well, I do believe it’s time for the cake!” Peter claps his hands together, signalling the end of the awkward moment that had transpired, “Boys, let’s go get everything ready. Except for you, Pagey. You’re the birthday boy, we’re not gonna let you lift a finger to help today.”

“But—”

The only response is the patter of footsteps against the floor, signalling their exit. Layla chances a look at the man next to her, and finds him looking back once again. Mulling it over in her head, she decides to ask the question she’s been contemplating since the beautiful guitar was uncovered.

“Jimmy, you said you weren’t great with words,” Layla breathes out, hand rubbing at the back of her neck, eyes downcast, “Would you be able to play something for me? You obviously don't have to, but—”

“Layla, I’d love to. I need to try this beauty out anyways, might as well do it while you’re here to witness it.”

A smirk sits familiar on his stubble-dusted cheeks, dimples just visible. It’s obvious he was joking, but the thought of him playing something solely for her, on the guitar that she gifted him, was a lot for the young woman.

“Do you have any requests, petal?”

“Not really, but I’m sure anything you play will sound amazing.”

“Oh, you flatter me too much,” A hand moves to the crown of his head, graceful fingers scratching nervously, a betrayal of the man’s attempt at nonchalance. Jimmy stops then, cogs almost visibly turning in his brilliant mind. “… This will have to do.”

He sends a smile to his companion, and launches in, a flurry of beautiful chords resonating from it’s polished wooden body. Layla is in awe, watching his deft fingers slide across the fretboard with practiced ease, never missing a note. It’s when he starts singing, quietly, under his breath, that Layla’s eyes shoot up to his. Jimmy’s eyes are closed in pure concentration, a small smile dancing playfully on his lips. She can barely make out the words that float from his mouth, until he hits the chorus.

“God only knows what I’d be without you…”

He opens his eyes then, a smile growing at the open-mouthed expression of the woman next to him. He hums the rest of the song quietly, smirk never leaving his face until the very last note. Taking a deep breath, he turns to the woman, ducking his head slightly, the confidence leaving as though it had never been there at all.

“So… What did you think?”

“Here’s what I thought, Jim,” Layla says, a mischievous smirk of her own present on her face, as she stands looming over the guitarist. Soft lips meet the apple of a stubbled cheek, a sharp inhale of air punctuating the complete silence of the studio. Layla moves back, taking in the shocked expression on the angelic face of her companion, “Now, I think it’s time for a birthday celebration, so I’ll meet you in there, birthday boy.”

Layla, walking to the door, chances a look back at the guitarist and find him in the same position, staring off into space dazedly, a hand pressed to his cheek. Layla laughs lightly under her breath, and leaves the room. She finally meets up with Peter and the boys, who take one look at the smile that hasn’t left her face, and snicker amongst themselves.

“So, Layla, what were you and Jimmy talking about? Anything important that we should know, birdie?”

“Nothing at all, Bonzo. I do appreciate the concern, really, but don’t you worry your million dollar heads over it.”

“You know, that smirk isn't very reassuring, little dove. How do we know you didn’t break him somehow? I told you that outfit was gonna be a lot for him.”

“Well, I’m glad that someone had the balls to do something about the tension between you two, but I didn't think it’d be you, Layla.”

“And why not, Jonesy?”

Jonesy’s reply is cut short by the clacking of shoes on the floor, approaching the group. They look over, and Jimmy, seemingly recovered from the shock of lips meeting skin, walks into the room with a large smile creasing his pristine features. Taking hold of the glass of champagne Peter passes him, Jimmy tips it back.

“Tough night, Pagey?” Peter jokes, sipping from the glass in his hand, smiling as wide as ever.

“Not at all, Peter. Actually, my night got even better,” He sends a subtle glance over to Layla, confidence back in place, “Let’s get this party started.”

----------

What feels like daggers appear to be piercing her head as Layla awakes, mouth feeling like a barren desert. She turns over and is assaulted by the bright morning light, and shields her eyes from the onslaught. Finally adjusted to the sunlight streaming through the open windows. Layla takes in her surroundings, confusion evident on her drowsy face until she remembers the events of the night before. Jimmy’s birthday at the studio. The impromptu performance, the first sip of Jack Daniels burning its way down her throat like a kerosine blaze. Then it goes hazy, flashes of booming music and drunken dancing pound invisible fists against the inside of her head.

Layla, arm resting over her eyes to block out the world for just a little longer, misses the light click of the door opening, and startles when cold, callused fingertips press like droplets of rain to her sleep-warmed cheek. She looks at the offender, and sees wispy dark hair framing a porcelain face. Kaleidoscope eyes gaze into hers, a content smile resting on rose pink lips.

“Good morning, petal.”

“‘Morning, Jim.” Layla yawns, subtly pressing into the hand that now cupped her cheek.

“Are you feeling any better? Didn’t think a spitfire like you would be such a lightweight.”

“I’m gonna choose to ignore that comment,” Layla grumbles, wincing at the light chuckle Jimmy lets out. “I’m feeling a little better, thanks.”

“I’m glad. There’s some coffee waiting for you in the studio if you’re up for it. I’ll, uh... let you get dressed.”

Layla immediately becomes aware of the friction of the soft blanket against bare skin. The woman was left in her undergarments, thankfully, but the clothing she had been wearing from the night before was nowhere to be seen. Layla gasps, grasping at the retreating hand, the guitarist turning around to acknowledge her, cheeks blushing scarlet as he glimpses her exposed shoulder.

“Jim… Did we…?”

“What?”

“...”

“Oh. Oh, no. Last night, you indulged a little too much in our selection of drinks and, well… spilled about a litre all over your clothes,” Jimmy says, smirking at the woman in front of him. “I took you up here, and got the clothes into the wash. Don’t worry though, I turned around. There’s a change of clothes on the end of the couch.”

Layla laughs, squeezing the thin hand clasped in hers in thanks.

“Besides, petal, you deserve more than a drunken birthday fling. I’d kick myself if I didn't do this right.”

At this, the guitarist turns around, and walks out the door. Layla’s eyes bore into his retreating back, mouth hanging open at his admission and quick retreat. Standing finally, her eyes find the change of clothes on the end of the couch, just like Jimmy had said. A pair of black slacks, and a familiar silk shirt, a deep maroon in colour. Slipping them on and tying her hair into a low bun, she slips out of the room. The decadent smell of coffee tickles her nose as she walks on to the studio, and, nearing the door, she is met with the ever-present sound of laughter.

“Ah, look who finally decided to grace us with her very presence. I’m so honoured.”

“I’m just here cause I was promised coffee, Jonesy.”

“Cold, little dove. I thought we had something special here.” Fake tears are wiped from sun kissed cheeks, Bonzo and Jonesy hiding their smirks beneath their hands. Jimmy, who had been tasked with the making of the coveted coffee, looks over at the woman, chuckling softly.

“Well, blondie, if we had something special you’d have known that I need coffee in the morning to function,” she takes the steaming mug that the guitarist hands over, and takes a sip, a dreamy look on her face, “Jimmy is automatically the best out of all of you. He can make a great cup of coffee, and that’s enough for me.”

“Sure, that’s why he’s your favourite…”

“What was that, Bonzo?”

“...”

“Exactly what I thought.”

“Note to self: don’t talk to Layla before morning coffee. Got it.”

“Finally, you’re learning!”

The sound of footsteps approaching punctuates the end of the conversation, and Peter Grant rounds the corner, smiling ear to ear. Spotting Layla in the mix of his boys, Peter sends her an amicable wink, which earns him a grin in return.

“Good, you’re all here. Layla, are you all packed, dear?”

“Yep, all packed.”

“Wonderful. Our plane is due in just a few hours, so we’ll stop by your flat on the way. Next stop: Netherlands.”

Cheers sound from around the studio as the excitement for the upcoming tour ramps up. Peter silences the group, laughing, a tell-tale smirk settled on his lips.

“I must say… I think you’ll all find the ride there quite enjoyable. Even you, Pagey.”

----------

“A private jet?!”

“Her name is the Starship, but we’re accepting suggestions if you have a better idea.”

“Peter… This is…”

“Didn’t think it was possible to make the birdie speechless, I only know one person who can,” Bonzo meets Jimmy’s eyes then, a blush rising on the latter’s pale face. “Good job, Grant.”

“How did you even afford something like this?”

“My dear, I did mention that this was a very famous band, did I not?”

“Well, yeah, but… I was expecting like… The Black Keys level of popularity, not like, One Direction.”

“... Who?”

Layla catches Jonesy’s gaze, and when the man shakes his head minutely, eyes wide, she knows she messed up. Shit.

“Uh… Exactly! You guys are good, sure, but I thought you guys would be like… more underground, or something.”

Good save.

“Little dove, we’re like… one of the most popular bands in the world at the moment. You know, you really did pick a good day to almost get a concussion. Who knew that our Mr. Grant would be there?”

“Oh god… Boys… what if she had been snatched up by The Rolling Stones instead?”

“I have heard that Keith Richards has been getting all the women lately…” Jimmy says, hand moving to rub at his arm in mock anxiety, callused fingers catching ever-so-slightly on the lush green silk of his shirt. The mischief written all over his face exposed the ruse.

“Okay,” Layla starts, a smirk growing on her face in anticipation, “As much as I actively avoid saying it… you guys are pretty great. I’m glad I met all of you, and I won’t leave you for the Rolling Stones. How was that?”

“Acceptable.”

“Very sorry to interrupt this lovely moment, but the Starship awaits.” Peter says, smiling sheepishly at his intrusion, hand raised to show the majesty of the plane before them.

Piling into the aircraft, Layla is met with sleek silver and dark upholstery, yet another inkling as to how famous the boys really were. Strolling through the aircraft, Layla is stunned by the presence of a fully stocked bar, expensive spirits gleaming in the waning morning light. Walking to the comfortable sitting area, she gapes at the beautiful fireplace to her left.

“Is that safe?” she mutters under her breath, eyes wide as saucers, amazed at the level of luxury. This jet is more expensive than anything she’s ever seen, and she gets to experience it with her boys. As much as she’d like to return home, to her own time, this is a pretty great experience.

A sudden tap on the shoulder of the woman in question snaps her out of her thoughts, and, finally raising her eyes to spot the offender, she is greeted by the handsome face of Jimmy Page staring right back at her.

“Hey, petal. Do you mind if I sit with you?”

“Well…,” Layla jokes, giggling when she spots the hesitant look on the man’s face. “I’m just kidding, Jim. Of course, take a seat!”

Plopping down onto the couch beside her, the guitarist turns his body to face Layla, his full attention on the young woman beside him. Knee to knee with him, Layla can just barely smell the expensive cologne the man wears, mingling with the scent she now associates with the man: light accents of pine and citrus infused with warm, heady tobacco. Layla looks up at Jimmy then, and is struck by his beauty. His ebony ringlets fall to his shoulder, and, backlit by the afternoon sun streaming through the open plane windows, gives the impression of holiness. A sprinkling of subtle freckles look like stars falling across his cherubic face, and his eyelashes frame his perpetually tired eyes like a precious work of art. His eyes, a deep vivid emerald that she could get lost in forever, search the woman’s face, and it is when she looks down to study his angelic lips that she sees he is trying to speak to her.

“Earth to Layla,” Jimmy says, smiling shyly once he realizes that Layla was staring. He’s not as used to this silent reverence as he had expected. “Hello, is anybody in there?”

Shaking herself out of her reverie with a nod of her head, chestnut curls bouncing with the movement.

“Sorry, got a bit…. distracted… What were you saying, Jimmy?”

“I could tell, petal,” Jimmy scoffs, not unkindly, and Layla can see a pink tinge rising on his cheeks. “I was just wondering how you were doing. I mean, with everything that’s happened, of course.”

“You’re sweet, Jim. I’m… doing much better than I had expected,” Layla says, eyes softening as they roam over the worried face of the man next to her. “I woke up after the accident and thought I was done for, and then I met Peter, and… you, and the boys, and you were all so incredibly kind to me. I’m still trying to find a way to repay you guys.”

Her eyes stray from his face, then, to meet her shoes, preparing herself for what she is about to express.

“I know I can be too sarcastic, and I hold my cards too close to my chest, but I really do appreciate all of you. Even if I don’t always say it.”

Layla lays her hand on his then, looking into his eyes earnestly. Placing his own hand on top of hers, warmth seeping from one to the other, he shakes his head vehemently.

“Petal, you’re not some kind of burden that was left outside our door. I’m… We are glad we found you when we did. You’re not going to get rid of us that easily, Layla.”

“Damn, that was my goal.”

“I knew it. There’s another talented, devilishly handsome band you’re affiliated with, isn't there?”

“Jimmy, how do I say this… I’m so sorry. It was Keith Richards. I was lying to you guys earlier.”

“Just as long as it wasn’t Jeff Beck, or I’d have to have a talk with him.”

Smirks grow slowly on their faces, and they let out twin giggles, unconsciously drifting closer to one another. Their laughter soon fades, and they are left enraptured with each other once again, eyes never straying from their gaze on the other. Finally, Jimmy breaks the eye contact between them with a forced cough, and the pair turn away, hands still clasped absentmindedly.

Layla chances a look at the guitarist, who is apparently set on never looking at her again. Noticing how their hands are still interlocked, she gives his a light squeeze, and he looks over once more.

“Jimmy, I just… I really do want to thank you. For checking up on me, and for making me laugh, and just… Thank you.”

“Layla, it’s my pleasure,” Jimmy says, reaching a faintly shaking hand to push back a stray curl that had fallen in the woman’s face. “I care about you, and I want you to be happy. If I can make that happen for you, then I’m going to do it.”

Speechless, Layla can only squeeze his hand once more. Finally noticing the slight tremors that run through it, she looks up at Jimmy, whose jaw is clenched tightly, tension clear on his face.

“Jim, are you alright? Your hands are shaking…”

“Oh, I’m fine, petal. I just get a bit nervous on planes is all. It’ll pass.”

An idea comes to Layla then, and she stretches out her legs, shifting forward once more.

“Put your head in my lap and sleep through it, so you won’t be a bundle of nerves the whole time.”

“Layla, it really is fine—”

“Jimmy, just do it. You’ll never relax otherwise.”

“...Fine.”

Jimmy’s head comfortably placed on her lap, Layla threads her fingers through the tastefully messy curls, and, minutes later, Jimmy is out like a light. Satisfied, she leans back, hand still buried deep in the raven locks, and dozes off as well. The pair sleep on, oblivious to the snickering of the rest of the band, and the shutter click of Robert’s camera.

----------

taglist: @jimmys-zeppelin @salixfragilis @timetraveller4 (let me know if you want to be added!)

[treasureswordsgirl55]

What I Gotta Do

Character: Sam Wilson

Pairing: Sam Wilson / Fem!Reader (OC)

Inspired by (song): What a man gotta do? - Jonas Brothers.

Warnings: Nop. Fluff. First meetings. Mentions of COVID-19. Flirting. Post!TFATWS.

Author’s Note: Hello! Hello! I hope everyone’s well 😃

Ok, this is the first fic that I write with our new Captain America, Sam Wilson.

Short story: I heard that Jonas Brothers song and think in Sam in the moment. And I thought: Why not?

That moment I realized that I love write with Sam. It's a lovely character that deserved the world.

This is the first part of the fic, so at night maybe post the other part.

I hope you like it and thanks you for your replies! Always are appreciated!!! XOXO 😘😘

bbb-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Part 1

You ain’t tryna be wasting time on stupid people in cheap lines, I’m sure, I’m sure…

I’m not tryin’ to be your part-time lover. Sign me up for that full-time, I’m yours.

I’m yours.

- Excuse me, My friend sent me on a commission - I hear that voice in the distance and I feel that deja vu as if I had heard it before. I even have the feeling of knowing it.

- Name?

- James Barnes. The girl who always serve him knows him as Bucky.

Jenny laughs and mutters something I can’t hear. Wasn’t the sad-eyed boy outside? I focus on the cake in front of me, trying not to make mistakes in the new colors that identify Captain America, who was now the new obsession of all the children of the country.

- Charm, they are looking for you - Jenny enters my field of vision and I just raise my hands showing her that I have the shield in them and I was not going to leave it to deliver an order - It’s no excuse. You must go.

- Would you do me the favor of delivering it yourself?

- Nope. Go and then you’ll thank me.

She gently takes the sugar shield from my hands and hands me the package with Bucky’s order.

I shake my head as I leave the kitchen and look around for the avenger’s possible delivery, but none of them fit the guy. Most of the men were keeping an eye on the people they were chatting with, and there were none waiting on the other side of the bar for the order.

- Tam? - My best friend turns around and as soon as I show her the package, she is simply pointing to the door with a “happy birthday” smile.

What the hell is wrong with her?

The sound of the door bell makes me look and as I put the green package on the table, I feel my cheeks start to heat up. The object of my deepest desires was there.

Captain America was at the bakery looking for a damn cake for his friend.

Oh my god … I think as I try to remove my blue apron, which is full of traces of cream of white and red colors, but I feel that the knot in my back becomes impossible to remove and I give up with a sigh.

“Ok, Charm. You have to calm down. He is the man you dreamed of the last few months, so you must behave like a decent woman since he will not respond as he usually does in your dreams”

- This is mine? - I lift my head quickly as Sam sees me with a smile and nodded at my apron - Nice color combination. I like it.

God save me from that. Why do I feel like the world is reeling?

- Sure, if you’re here to pick up Bucky’s order - I push the two small boxes towards him while he puts the cell phone in the pocket of the brown leather jacket he wears and walks a little closer to the bar. Hell, he was even more attractive in person, and I wished for a second that the image of him in his suit didn’t invade my thoughts.

That was my damn weakness.

People knew who he was but we all knew that he was too private a person to bother him on the street. That’s why they only came over to pat him on the shoulder or simply bowed their heads to him.

- Yes, I’m babysitting.

We both laugh and I bite my lip, hesitating whether to ask. It was customary for Bucky to spend his mornings here, and that he didn’t come is very strange to me.

- Is James okay?

Sam laughs as he leans calmly and confidently on the bar and lets out a heavy sigh, as if something about that question bothers him.

- I could say yes. He has the “cold” - I nod when I notice that he refers to the Covid, that disease that kept us on edge for so long and that today was considered just another cold - He asked me to come for his order on my way home.

- Shouldn’t you be isolated?

That question comes off my lips like I’m talking to Jenny, and I shrug at that rush of confidence.

- No, because contrary to what many people believe, I do not live with Buck.

I laugh as I feel Sam’s gaze on me and that attention makes me even more nervous, in a way that I find charming.

- It’s not exactly what he says. If you are that friend that he talks about so much, he says that you are not one of those who share things.

I hear him curse as he looks away and waves to those watching him at a table in the distance. The four young women who see him smile at him as if it were a trophy they want to get, something that I notice makes him feel uncomfortable.

- I’ll rip off that bastard’s arm.

I barely pushed me away with my hands up and he tries to get closer, perhaps preventing me from walking away if he could get past the bar. Which wouldn’t be difficult for him if he’s used to jumping off a building.

- That does not sound good at all - I approach while I extend my hand towards him, who takes it without even hesitating and a spark seems to jump in the place where our hands are joined - I’m Charm, by the way.

- Sam, Bucky’s “tight-fisted” partner.

- It’s hard not to recognize you.

I wanted to let go of his hand but he wouldn’t let me apart.

- So you know who I am?

That dazzling and shy smile made me realize that Sam Wilson is not one of the men to be good for popularity. Rather, they escape from it.

- It’s hard not to know when a man with a bionic arm comes to breakfast every day and talks proudly that his partner is Captain America - Sam drops his head while smiling and I feel my heart melt like butter in contact with fire. That gesture seemed to me the most adorable - Besides that you are the new obsession of everyone around here. Children love you.

- Just the kids? - The tone of his voice changes and I feel that he becomes softer when pronouncing those words. Was that some kind of flirtation? - You’ll make me feel really bad if it’s just childish fanaticism.

- That’s what the cakes I decorate every day say. Your admirers range from 2 years to 15 - I admit while trying not to laugh at the expression of feigned disappointment that appears on his face, I even maintain the image would be regarding my childish analysis and in a moment, I push my hand away for more than wish the warm contact - My nephew Katriel loves you. And he’s only 3.

He nods as he looks around.

- Buck always talks to me about this place, especially how well they treat him … And sometimes, he only talks about you sometimes - He approaches over the bar, as if he wants to keep that between us - I think he wants to have you alone for him.

I blush at his words and shake my head.

If you knew ….

- If that were the case, it would be a shame if he is getting his hopes up, since I’m interested in someone else.

I play with a small envelope of green tea in my hands and if I even doubt it, Sam takes it from me, he approaches to ask Tam for a pen, who sees him as if he were a delicious sweet as he hands it to her, and write something on it before putting it back in front of me.

- I would like to continue with this but I feel in my pocket Bucky’s insistence on why I’m not in his department with the blessed cake.

I looked down for a moment the paper and I see a number. His number.

- Actually, they’re cupcakes.

I see him roll his eyes as he smiles at me and indicates the tea bag between us as he takes the two boxes in one of his hands.

- In fact, tomorrow maybe I’ll try again these delicacies that have enchanted a certain white wolf.

- They will be waiting for you.

I respond by trying not to get my hopes up about seeing him here tomorrow and even try to appear indifferent, but something gives me away because he gives me a mischievous smile as he walks away from the bar.

- I’ll only come if you are here, darling.

- And why are you so sure I’ll be waiting for you?

- Instinct. I think there may be something important between us.

- That’s how they all begin … - He frowns at my words and I shrug as he remains still.

- I’m not like the others.

- I don’t know you.

- But you will.

- Whatever you say, Mr. Trust. Or should I say, Mr. America.

Tam, who is pouring coffee next to me, lets out a laugh and mutters under her breath “America’s Ass” that makes me choke on my own laugh.

- I heard that, girl - We both blush at that proposal he makes to Tam and after pointing her out to her, he indicates to me as if I were guilty of something - You remain as a witness, Charm will marry me.

I gasp for words to rebut that, but my brain fails for a second and I just shake my head. I sure look like an idiot.

- Whatever you say, Captain.

- You will do it. You’ll see - Something in his words makes me shiver and I don’t doubt that. It seemed like a promise he was willing to keep.

And worst of all, instead of freaking out, I liked the idea.

- Didn’t you have to go, Sam?

- I’ll come for you, darling. As many times as it takes - he walks to the door after saying goodbye to Tam and just gives me a smile that could melt any woman on the road - And one more thing, don’t make plans after work. You already have them with me.

His scream is heard all the way to the kitchen, which makes Jenny come out of it with some pieces of candy tangled in her hair that I don’t even want to ask how they got there and for the first time in a long time I feel the stares of everyone present about me.

- Is that what I think it was? Did Sam Wilson just ask you out?

- I never said yes - I try to avoid looking Jenny in the eye because unfortunately she knew of my infatuation with Sam and she would see that the idea of ​​a possible date was very tempting for my mind and my heart - Besides, he will give up easy .

- I don’t believe that him is the type of men who give up the first time. It seems one of those who insist until he get what he want.

- I don’t see it that way. Maybe it won’t even get anywhere. Besides, he doesn’t know that tomorrow is my day off.

Jenny rolls her eyes as she hands me another sugar shield she just entered the kitchen and indicates the shield as if it were a spellbound object.

- Don’t forget you’re talking about the new Captain America. Giving up, we both know, is not an option for him.

And time would prove her right.

[greyias]

The way you said, "I love you": In a letter

Inspired by the toys you can find in the cockpit of Satele’s ship during Chapter 12 of KotFE, and a possible explanation for their origin.

At nearly six years old, Theron Shan was an exemplary student, despite not yet being able to successfully reach out to the Force. Ngani Zho was sure that would come eventually. Everyone blossomed in their own time, and perhaps Theron would just come into his own a little later than others.

Even without a firm grasp on the Force, Theron was extraordinarily talented in other ways. Within just six months he’d mastered the concentration techniques of the Order of the Sacred Circle — at five years old no less. It took some a lifetime to master that. In many ways, he was lightyears ahead the younglings back on the temple at Coruscant. Indeed, Theron was destined for great things — all he had to do was put his mind to whatever he wanted to accomplish.

And yet, destiny or no, he was still a child. And sometimes that meant making time for the smaller things.

“This is for me?” The boy blinked at the box.

“Yes, it’s a gift.”

A gift missing the letter that had been addressed to Zho: A vendor was selling these at a market, and I couldn’t help but think that Theron might enjoy them. I think he’s the right age for them. You may let him think its from you. I am sure he would appreciate that. — Satele

Not for the first time in reading one of her letters, Zho let out a long sigh. He understood his former student’s reluctance to reach out personally. After all, he had witnessed firsthand the unfortunate events with Tasiele, and knew that part of her reasoning was self-preservation — and perhaps in her own way, trying to spare his young charge of having to go through a similar trial. Still, from the way they both asked about each other, in their own indirect ways, it was clear that both mother and son wanted something of each other in their lives.

However, for now, Zho would focus on the present. In both senses of the word, as Theron seemed to reach his end of patience with the box and tore through the flimsy wrapping job to pull out a pair toy droids. Zho couldn’t help but quirk a brow at the choice in toys, as he wasn’t sure he would have picked out a HK-model nor a destroyer droid for a little boy to play with. But Zho had not been that age for a long time, as Theron’s eyes lit up as he pulled them both from the small box.

“These are the latest models, they’re so expensive—how did you get these?”

“Why, in the mail of course,” Zho said simply, trying to thread the line between answering the question honestly, and respecting Satele’s wishes. He tried not to think about the fact that she must have spent quite a portion of her living stipend on extravagant gifts on the same day each year.

“But shouldn’t I be meditating? Its sunrise on Corsucant—”

“I believe the sun will still rise tomorrow. Besides, my boy, its your birthday.”

“Oh, right.” Theron’s brow furrowed. “I kind of forgot.”

“Go on and play,” Zho nudged the boy. “I have some correspondence to catch up on. We’ll pick back up on your lessons after lunch.”

Needing no more encouragement, Theron grabbed his latest treasures and leapt away with them. As Zho pulled out a datapad to begin writing out a reply to Satele, he could hear the excited noises of a child at play. Apparently according to the six year old, HK droids now roared like a reptiloid. He paused in his typing, watching the energetic youngling bounce about with a smile.

It was a good day.