#I wrote for so many hours though that is solely on me but damn the chapters are getting huge

[unrequitedloveletter]

Forever Never Would- Kaz Brekker 

Okay!! This is the second of two fics coming out and, while I wrote the first about two weeks back and I thought that it would take me forever, I finished writing this YESTERDAY, and I only got the chance to do a few edits before posting. 

This fic encompasses several different prompts from the 500 follower concert celebration, but hey! It’s my birthday fic and I love fics written in this style, so I decided I wanted to write one. 

Fic type- this is mostly fluffy, with a bit of angst and near-death thrown in there for funsies

Warnings- mentions of poison and stabbing, poor proofreading (we die like matthias helvar)

SEVENTEEN

Kaz found himself sighing as he woke, head lifting from one of the rare plans that he’d written down. Heists had been going awry lately due to a general lack of sleep, and the nap had snuck up on him. 

Well, it depended upon what one called a lack of sleep, really. Was three hours across seven days really a mere lack of sleep, or was it deprivation? 

Kaz didn’t know what he would call such thing as that, but damn it, was it good to wake up after several hours spent with his eyes closed. Even if those hours had been spent sleeping at his desk, they were ones that Kaz had to consider well spent. 

He glimpsed the window, noticing that it’d been left open and that it was displaying the last of the winter sunrise. He realized then, that he’d slept for a full nine hours. It was the most time he’d slept in much too long. 

He straightened his back, eyes going to the door as he heard it open.

“Morning,” you whispered. “I do hope you’re feeling well rested. Nina wants us at the Kooperom in an hour.” 

Kaz thanked you as you placed a to-go cup of coffee on his desk. “Let me guess, she wanted us there at eight bells, and you negotiated?” 

“I offered a box of the toffees that came in last week, and told her outright that it’s been difficult around here for a while,” you said. “She and Matthias have been in Ravka for three months and Wylan and Jesper will back me up if they ask. Inej will, too. She probably heard our conversation, actually. I noticed her sitting on the high point of a rooftop to get a good view of the Harbor during sunrise.” 

Kaz shrugged. “It’s better than her knowing that I’ve not slept much in the past while,” he said. “She’d offer me a sleep syrup that the Grisha Triumvirate are rolling out. Thank you.”

You shrugged. “You owe me a cup of tea, Brekker.”

“I’ll cover your breakfast and we’ll call it even?” 

That made you grin, and Kaz pushed aside the distinct way that his heart beat quickened and turned his gaze to his cane in an effort to ignore the slight pull he felt at the corners of his lips, the pull that he knew would’ve made him smile so widely that his face would’ve begun to hurt. 

“The deal is the deal,” you said. 

Kaz let a smirk cross his lips, solely for the fact that he couldn’t stop himself, as he met your gaze. “The deal is the deal.” 

You sighed. “All right. Drink your coffee, get dressed. Meet me down at the bar in thirty minutes, and if I’m not nursing a brandy, we’ll call it a miracle.”

“The water is working again, if you’re still in desperate need of a shower?” Kaz asked. The cold had frozen the pipes, and he’d only been able to get a reliable plumber out to the Slat the day before. “I’m guessing you used one of the many showers at the Van Eck-Fahey residence in the meantime?”

You scoffed. “Of course I did,” you said. “I could use a bit of water on my face to wake me up a bit more, though, so thank you for the tip about the pipes.” 

Kaz shrugged. “You and that electric kettle you’ve made space for in your room deserve a good bit of tea that doesn’t cost you eight kruge. Enjoy.”

“My tea and I certainly will,” you said, smirking. Kaz watched as you turned to go, some part of him not wanting you to leave. “Oh, and Kaz?”

“Yeah?”

“I put sugar in your coffee, and a dash of cream.”

Kaz scoffed. “That’s unnecessarily cruel, Y/N.” 

“As is the fact that I still have two of your shirts, but what adds to that is the knowledge you must have by now, the knowledge that you will never be getting those back.”

“Enjoy your tea.” 

“I’ll drink it plain in your honor. Luckily for you, it’s raspberry tea, so drinking it plain is no problem at all.” 

Kaz scoffed, head turning to his lap, grin spreading across his lips as he heard the door gently close behind you. 

He grabbed the coffee, drinking it anyway before he stood, headed back through his office and to his bedroom, where a fresh set of clothes and the promise of a warm shower awaited. 

-

Kaz found himself turning away from your gaze once again twelve hours later, as the two of you settled in an alcove amidst a bookstore that’d opened near Fifth Harbor. It was built by the merchant council in the hopes of drawing more of the academics from around the world, hoping that the academics would ignore the Barrel as a whole, ignore that the criminals in Ketterdam often travelled outside of the Barrel and the areas around it. 

“You and your jokes,” Kaz said as he schooled his expression back to what it normally was. “First, you make my coffee a sugary hell, then you steal two of my shirts and now, you’re cracking jokes at my expense.”

“I stole the shirts first,” you rebutted. “They’re comfortable nightshirts, Brekker. I won’t be judged.”

“I could lend you one of my sweaters?” They were patterned, looked like something that a grandfather would’ve worn. They’d been gifts from members of the Dregs, ones who’d moved on to bigger, more traitorous things in the year since they’d been gifted to Kaz as a lousy christmas gift. 

A few that had been gifted to him were just plain and black, and as a guy who’d fallen asleep in his button ups far too many times to count, he could attest to the fact that they were sometimes the opposite of comfortable. 

“You, Kaz Brekker, Dirtyhands, Bastard of the bloody Barrel, are currently in possession of sweaters?” 

Kaz scoffed. “Four. I own four of them, and if they don’t go to you, they will never see the light of day unless I find myself needing to sew myself a new pair of gloves.” 

“You’re not getting the shirts back.”

Kaz shrugged. “The Ice Court heist was six months ago. I’ve still got enough money left, buying two new ones is probably a good idea anyway. Take the sweaters, Y/N. I can imagine that they’ll look better on you.”

“I thank you for your kindness, then,” you said. You noticed Kaz’s pocket watch had fallen out of it, felt the cool golden painted metal against your pinky. Kaz watched as you took it, careful to avoid touching his thigh. You checked the time. 

“Getting late,” you said. “Sundown, abouts. Getting back to the Slat is probably a good idea. The Dime Lions and the Razorgulls have taken to jumping members of the Dregs over all of the feuding. They tend to do it before it gets light and after it gets dark.”  

“You’re going to stay here knowing that?” 

You nodded. “I need some time to think. I can handle getting jumped, if they’re smart enough to jump me at all.” 

“And if they have switchblades?”

“Then I get stabbed and stitch myself up after a bit of a walk in the moonlight.”

“I’m staying.”

“You’re going, Kaz,” you said. “I need to think alone for a bit. Please, just let me.”

“If you get stabbed--”

“I know. You won’t be the one to help me stitch my wounds. Go on home, Brekker. I’ll swing by your office with some whiskey by midnight if I’ve made it back safe, too.” 

Kaz huffed as he stood. “Fine.”

He didn’t turn to look at you as he walked out, only glowered at the ground as he left.

-

“You can admit it,” Nina said. “You’re allowed to care about people, Brekker. Even in the smallest capacities, you’re allowed to care.”

Kaz sighed. “You’ve noticed it, then?”

“Noticed what?” Nina asked. “The way that your heart races when they meet your gaze, the way that it always calms when you meet their gaze as we join together at whatever happens to the rendezvous point on one of your meticiously planned heists? The way that they’re able to make the one man who I never thought I would see so much as smirk in my lifetime, smile after they’ve cracked one of their jokes?” 

“Yep.” 

Nina laughed. “Of course I have,” she said. “Everyone who tells others that they’ve not noticed is telling a bloody lie.”

“I don’t care,” Kaz said. “I don’t.”

“You’ve cared about them since even before Inej joined the Dregs,” Nina rebutted. “You’ve known them since you were twelve. It’s fine to admit that you care about them, especially if it’s been half a decade.”

“I haven’t loved them that long, though,” Kaz said, like it would somehow come to matter.

“I have no doubt that you’ve been in love with them since you joined up with the Dregs and finally realized what love means,” Nina rebutted. “Seriously. Stop being an idiot or I’ll get Matthias to smack you upside the head over it.”

“He smacks me, I break his wrist.”

“You break his wrist, I stop your heart.” 

Kaz shrugged. “Fair enough.” 

Nina sighed, leaning back into the U-shaped booth the two of them had found themselves in. They were in the Crow Club, sitting on opposite sides of the booth. When the rest of the crows arrived, Kaz would stand, wait for the rest of the crows to file in, and sit on one end whilst you sat, arm looped through Ninas, on the other. 

The conversation would divert either to Nina and Matthias’ plans to go back to Fjerda in the coming months, Inejs voyages off at sea, or Jesper, how his training as a fabrikator was coming along.

Plans of eventual permanent residency in Ketterdam would be discussed amongst all the parties that frequently left it. 

Kaz would listen as you talked of going to Ravka, attending one of their colleges to further your education. Kaz would tell you to go, not mentioning that he would be awaiting your return or jumping at the first chance he got to visit. He would remind you that you had the money to go, and going, getting the education that you wanted so that you may stop having to use theft, arson, and other crimes as a means of income, was nothing if it was not even slightly worth it. 

You would give him a grin, Kaz would feel his heart skip a beat. You would crack a joke about how he would miss you too much, and he would once again reconcile with the fact that he had to deign himself to a lower level to tell you that it was the truth, that he would miss you an unfortunate amount if you were to go. 

He would reconcile that he would have to deign to a lower level to admit it solely for the fact that the people in Ketterdam, the criminals, in particular, saw love and romance as leverage. 

Criminals in Ketterdam saw the death of someones partner, their fiancé, their husband, their wife, their spouse, as a means of revenge. The cruellest of them did it just for the sake of doing it. The cruellest of them only saw it as a means to an end, the elimination of a threat as the threat drowned in both whiskey and their own grief. 

Eventually, the rest of the crows did come. It went exactly as Kaz had expected, and when you ended up sitting across from him on one end of the booth, him on the other, Kaz could only allow himself a moment of peace.

It happened exactly as he’d thought. Nina and Matthias were going to leave a week from then, an come back in spring. 

Inej was going to take six months to spend in Ketterdam, living at the Slat like she used to, getting Kaz the information he needed for a sufficient income. 

Jespers Fabrikator training was going well, and he and Wylan were in on the heist that was to be preformed the following month. 

You discussed going to Ravka. Nina encouraged it, Inej offered a ride there on her boat. Kaz talked about writing you letters in the meantime, said that he thought it was smart. If you pursued a business degree, there was a chance that you could help legitimize the business. If you ended up on the Merchant Council, you could hold a bit of influence, help the government sway things in the direction that favored the Dregs the most. 

You laughed, shook off everyones encouragement. You told Kaz that you would think about it. When asked why, you cracked the joke that Kaz expected. 

“You’ll miss me too much, Brekker,” you said. 

Kaz shook his head. “I resent how right you are about that.” Not the response he’d been expecting himself to deliver, but the one he delivered anyway. 

You scoffed. “Right. Sure,” you said, and then a layer of awkward silence settled. 

Jesper picked it up, asking about the heist that Kaz was planning, and things went back to normal. The conversation jumped from one thing to the next, both yourself and Kaz finding comfort in it, the fact that your friends could carry a conversation without either of you needing to interject with your thoughts for stretches that sometimes lasted more than ten minutes. 

Kaz met your gaze in the silence, and you met his gaze all the same.

A arrow shot him in the heart, embedding itself in his chest, and just like that, Kaz was once again the versions of himself that he’d always been when he would catch your gaze and all of it would come rushing back. 

He was once again the twelve year old who liked the way you smiled. 

The thirteen year old who knew that he would be willing to trust you with his life. The fourteen year old who did. 

The fifteen year old who stopped hating music played on violins because he liked the way that you danced. 

The sixteen year old who would go on night watches with you and catch himself liking the way the moon reflected in your eyes, catch himself looking at you instead of what he was supposed to fixate his gaze onto.

He was the seventeen year old boy who watched you almost die in the Ice Court even still, the one who passed you the bottom side of his cane, watched you grab on as he pleaded for you to just stay alive. 

Just hold on, he’d whispered. Hold on, please. I need you to hold on. I cannot do anything more with this life if you don’t. 

It was the one moment of vulnerability he’d experienced during the Ice Court, one of the only moments wherein one of his weaknesses came to light, but it’d only been the two of you in that room, the water flooding it from every direction. You’d been, quite literally, half dead. You couldn’t remember it, and so, the only people who had to face that memory were Kaz, and perhaps the personifications of whichever saints and gods watched over him. 

When the group of you slipped out, it was close to nine bells. The short walk back to the Slat was silent, unlike the hours of buzzing conversations that’d occurred beforehand. 

NINETEEN

You grinned as you walked into the Slat, finding Kaz at a table on the bottom floor, glass of brandy gently resting in his hand. 

You sat across from him and set your crossbody bag on the ground, watching him slide the brandy across the table. He watched you catch it, smirk playing on his lips.

“Welcome back,” he said.

You laughed as you brought the brandy to your lips. “Thank you very much. The Fjerdan palaces are no easy feat, but you’re you, so I have faith. I did a walk through during a series of Fjerdan festivals, but I also bribed someone on their staff to give me a copy of the blueprint. I know the layout, and provided that you have it memorized by the days of Hringkallah, you will, too. What’s the pay out?”

“Nearly a hundred million, spread across a crew of seven. Payout is 14.2 million. Triple what we made in the Ice Court with some change,” he said. “Not too fatal, I don’t imagine, but if it is, you’re welcome to blame me whilst you drown in your riches.”

You scoffed. “Do you mean to flatter me, Mr. Brekker?”

Kaz shrugged. “It comes with the description of the romantic part of this relationship, does it not?” 

You laughed, taking a sip of your brandy. “I do suppose it does, but then, so does the lack of black shirts you currently have in your posession.”

“I knew that was you,” Kaz said, shrugging like it was nothing. “I bought a few more this past weekend. My shirts tend to look better on you anyway.”

“So you do mean to flatter me, then.”

Kaz shrugged for a second time. “I suppose I do.” 

“And the boat for Fjerda leaves when?”

“Five days. I’ve given you the time off, so that you can relish your time in Ketterdam before leaving again. The voyage will take a week and a half. Nikolai sent us a few good boats. They came in last week. Engine powered, though the engines are slow. From there, getting to the palace won’t take long. It’s just a matter of timing it right and getting as much as we can.”

“You’ll tell me what we’re getting?”

“A few dresses that go for hundreds of millions on the markets. Ones that are said to belong to the queen, but any jewelry or things of significance that we grab are ours to keep or to sell,” Kaz murmured. “A tailor will tailor us enough to look like a few hringkallah guests and we’ll enjoy the rest of the night, get what we can from the venues, hope that none of the Druskelle catch us and kill us for it. The tailoring will wear off by the following morning, if the tailor is true to their word.”

“Wonderful,” you said. “Thank you, by the way. for the days off. I think I’ll sleep for most of them.”

“My bed is free if you need a spot that won’t make you feel as though you’re practically laying on a bed made of wood.”

“Thanks,” you grinned, finishing off the brandy. “I think I’ll head up now, actually. So much time spent at sea and all I can think to do is take a nap. I feel stupid.”

“You’re not,” Kaz said. “My bed or yours?”

“Yours, Brekker,” you said, laughing. “Might even steal a book from your shelves in the meantime.”

Kaz scoffed. “Next, you’ll say that you plan to drink my coffee.”

You shrugged as you got to standing, placing the crossbody bag on the table. 

“I know for a fact that you have a kettle, and you’ve been keeping my favorite tea in stock for the last six months. Might just use that.”

Kaz shrugged. “Do as you please.”

You grinned. “I will, love. Thank you.”

“It’s no problem at all,” Kaz said.

With that, you walked up the stairs, heading to Kaz’s room, grabbing a book and settling on the windowsill with it. 

-

Kaz kept telling himself that he had to look at the positive. The heist in and of itself had gone off with very few hitches. It’d gone well, really. The items that were supposed to be obtained were obtained and put back onto the ship. Everything was fine.

Until, in typical fashion, a mistake was made. A guard who’d been knocked out had woken up, and it was just happenstance that you were the first face he saw, the face he recognized as the one belonging to the person who’d put him into a headlock until he fell asleep. 

The result was what had Kaz wiping a tear off his face, not having meant to cry at all. A book was in his lap, but it was one he hadn’t even tried reading. He kept looking at you, watching you breathe in and out. 

You’d been a part of his life for seven years. Almost a decade. In those seven years, you’d come close to death twice.

Both times were at the hands of a heist that Kaz had planned, heists that came with monetary offers that were simply too good to refuse. The first time had been the Ice Court. The second time had been the palace of the Fjerdan royals. 

Kaz sighed, leaned back in the chair that he’d taken up. He would have to leave the room eventually. He could wish that he wouldn’t need to all he wanted, but food would still eventually take precedent. He would need to drink water, would need to force himself to leave the room and take in air through his lungs, air that didn’t grow stale after a few mere minutes. 

He looked at you again, felt his heart as it ripped in two.

Your relationship had been a series of close calls, an endless network of chances that the two of you had to save one another, chances that you took to avoid losing the other person. Still, you had come close to death twice. Twice, in seven years, felt worse than none in the six months beforehand. 

“Hold on, Y/N,” he whispered. “Please. I cannot continue to live as I am if you don’t make it. I need you to stay alive.” 

He grimaced almost as soon as the words had left his lips. He felt pathetic, almost. To plead with a dying person, to ask them to stay alive for his own benefit? It felt more selfish than anything that Kaz had ever done.

Kaz sighed, forced himself to stand and leave the room.

He could handle being selfish. He could handle feeling pathetic. Your death, it seemed, was the thing that he couldn’t bare to deal with. 

-

You sighed as you opened your eyes for what felt like the umpteenth time over the course of a week and a half. Nearly half of all your days had been spent hooked up to an IV and a feeding tube. The IV had the sedative that Nina had talked about whilst you found yourself awake. The feeding tube contained meal replacements to supplement until you were well enough to handle actual food. 

You were back in the Slat, you noticed. You were in Kaz’s bed, wearing one of the sweaters he’d given you two years before. Your throat was dry, but Kaz had never been the type to have a water carafe or cups on his nightstand, so you let it be as it was.

You forced yourself to sit up, pressing your back against the headboard as Kaz walked back into his room.

You watched him for a moment, seeing his gaze soften for a split second before relief flooded his expression.

“What?” You asked, grimacing at how your voice had sounded. You could tell that you hadn’t spoken in a little under two weeks. Your voice was hoarse with the dryness of your throat and the general disuse. “You didn’t seriously think you’d lose me, did you?”

Kaz smirked. “No,” he said, but just by his tone, you could tell that he’d been lying. “Do you need some water? I meant to grab a carafe today, but I spent too much time working.”

“Did the buyer pay up?”

“Yeah. Fourteen million kruge and some change are already in your bank account,” Kaz responded. “Do you need some water?”

“Water would be wonderful.” 

Kaz passed you a glass of it two minutes later, and when you took a sip, it was a relief.

“Thank you for trying to keep me alive,” you whispered after a few minutes had gone by. “I don’t know if it was you or Inej or maybe Jesper, but thank you anyway.” 

“I’ll make sure Inej gets word of your gratitude,” Kaz said. “Until next week, at least, you’re on bedrest.”

“I am not,” you said. “At least let me work a few shifts at Crow Club?”

“How bad are the wounds?”

“I hurt--”

“Then no.”

You laughed. You loved Kaz Brekker, but damn it all if he wasn’t stubborn. 

“Fine,” you said. “But, Mr. Brekker, know that it is now up to you wait on my dumbass hand and foot for the next seven days.” 

Kaz smirked, shrugged one shoulder, and took your glass from where you’d placed it on his nightstand.

“Can’t wait,” he said. “Rest up. You probably need it.”

“I resent the fact that you’re right,” you said. You’d spent nearly two weeks knocked out with a sedative, and you were still exhausted. “Bring me a bit of water, please? My throat is drier than the air in summer.” 

Kaz scoffed, but still you heard the sound of water being poured into your cup. He placed it on his nightstand and moved into the office section of his floor. You drank the water he’d poured, placed the cup on the nightstand again, and fell asleep after a few minutes had passed, listening to the sound of Kaz’s pen meeting paper and the rain as it pattered against the windows. 

TWENTY-TWO

You laughed as Kaz sat down next to you, adjusting the ring that you’d placed onto a chain in the weeks before. It wasn’t an engagement ring, but rather, the promise that an engagement would eventually happen. He’d given it to you to celebrate your five year anniversary, and the one he’d bought for himself had joined the chain onto which he’d strung his pocket watch when that chain had broken. 

He looked at the ring every single time he pulled the watch out, and you never missed the barest hint of a smile that crossed his lips whenever he noticed it.

“Don’t tell me you’ve done something stupid,” Kaz said, looking at Jesper, who clutched the whiskey he’d ordered like it was a lifeline of sorts. The three of you were sitting at a table in the Crow Club, having agreed to met there because Jesper had asked. He’d let Inej, Nina and Matthias know, having written them letters to tell them what he was going to tell you.

“I like think I’ve done quite the opposite,” Jesper said. “I proposed. To Wylan.”

“I have been waiting three years to hear those words befall your lips,” you said, slight grin crossing your face. “I fully anticipated you proposing to him when we were nineteen. You’ve been head over heels in love with Wylan since the Ice Court.” 

Jesper grinned. “I bought the ring shortly after the heist in Fjerda,” he said. “I was just waiting for the right time. Did it last night. Felt like I would explode if I held onto the ring any longer.”

“Have you picked a date yet?” Kaz asked. 

“June 23rd. About six months out,” Jesper said. “We wanted to give ourselves a bit of time to plan everything out, but we’re gonna keep it small. You’re both invited, as are Inej, Nina, and Matthias. Outside of the crows, the invites will probably only extend so far out as our parents and a few of the others in the Dregs. We still haven’t decided much more than the date yet, though. I wanted to tell you guys in person, and Wylan would’ve been here if he wasn’t at lunch with Marya to tell her.”

“Well, we’re both thrilled,” you said. “Drinks are on us next time we all get together. Congratulations.”

Jesper gave a breathy laugh. “Thank you so much,” he said. “I’m the happiest I’ve ever been, I think. I’m--it’s like--it’s weird, almost. I always thought that I would spend my life with him, but now that that’s concrete, it’s like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. I’m so excited to be married to that bastard.”

You laughed, and Kaz allowed a small smirk. “Well, if you need any assistance, just reach out.”

“I do need a best man?” Jesper asked.

“Abso-bloody-lutely,” Kaz said, nodding. “Of course. Thank you for asking to meet.”

Jesper shrugged. “Nah, no worries,” he said. The two of you watched him get to standing. “I’ve gotta get back home, but--”

“Congrats, Jesper,” you said. 

“Thank you,” Jesper gave you both a final grin before he left the Crow Club. When Kaz met your gaze, he looked almost happy.

“About bloody time, wasn’t it?”

You scoffed. “Oh, Brekker. Don’t even.” 

He laughed so low that only you could hear it, and the sound made you grin. 

“I love you, Kaz.”

“Ditto.” 

You scoffed once more, standing as you did. “I have to sign the contract on the new cafe. See you at home?”

“I’ll grab us dinner at seven bells,” Kaz said. “Any other things of note?”

“The contract for the cafe, the contract for the new pub, casing the house near the Zelver District, and signing the contract for the purchase of the apartment are all on my to-do today.”

Kaz nodded. “Eight bells, then.”

“I’ll bring you a coffee.”

“I’ll make you a tea.” 

With that, you left, grin pulling at the corners of your lips as you did. 

-

Six months later, you and Kaz found yourself in a small wedding venue that’d opened up near the Ravkan Embassy. You were stood behind Wylan with Nina and Matthias where Inej and Kaz stood behind Jesper. 

In the audience, there was Marya Hendriks, Colm Fahey, and a few of the members of the Dregs. Every single person in that room, save for Kaz, was smiling. Jesper had tears in his eyes, and Wylan looked like he was going to start crying any minute.

You felt your face begin to hurt from your grin as you watched your best friends of half a decade get married. 

Happiness in Ketterdam, happiness as a member of the Dregs, was something that was difficult to come by. You knew that you had to soak it up, that everyone else in that room was doing much the same. You would get drunk, probably, laugh, definitely, and that night would go down as one of the best nights of your life, though how couldn’t it? How could one not be happy, watching two people who clearly seemed to love each other more than they loved themselves get married? 

Jesper and Wylan said the ‘I do’s. They kissed, and the room broke out into applause as Jesper hugged his husband as tightly as he could. 

Conversations broke out amongst the attendees, and you all sat down to eat. After the meals came the dancing, and eventually, you found yourself standing idly, watching Jesper and Wylan dance, foreheads pressed together, smiles on their faces.

Your hand went up to the promise ring that was always around your neck almost absentmindedly, a grin crossing your face as you leaned back into the chair that you were sitting in.

“That’ll be you one day, I have no doubt,” Matthias said. “You look at them, and you know that those two are the happiest they’ll be until their honeymoon. You and Kaz are similar, I imagine?”

You flinched, laughing as you met his gaze. “I dunno, Helvar. I’m content where I am, I think.”

“Good,” Matthias nodded. “I anticipated this wedding way sooner than it’s happened, if I’m honest.” 

You laughed. “Everyone thought that they would be married with a kid by now. Two, maybe. Anika had her bets on that much.”

Matthias hummed. “Yeah, I think they’ll be parents by thirty,” he said. “I can see it that way, but I’m glad. They make sense together, I think.”

“They really do,” you said. “Yeah.”

“As do you and the ever so cursed demjin.”

“My partner is not a demon.”

Matthias only shrugged. “He might just be, Y/N. You never know.”

You scoffed. “You’re lucky I don’t hate you, Matthias.”

Matthias nodded. “Oh, I know. Incredibly lucky, I would say.”

“I would agree,” you said, shooting him a pointed look. 

He laughed. “Go find your lover.”

“Go find yours, Helvar.”

He stood, shooting you a knowing look as he walked away.

Eventually, Nina got you to dance with her, and from there, the rest of the night was spent drinking, laughing and just getting to experience the joy of not giving a single care in the world, not worrying about anything that was going on outside of the walls of the wedding venue. You felt great. For the first time in a long time, you felt great.

-

The following morning, Jesper and Wylan were on a boat to Ravka, where they would spend a month for their honeymoon. You made a good use of the day after you’d hugged them goodbye, having spent it casing a house that Kaz wanted to rob near the financial district. You made tea, you laughed with Matthias and Nina in the Slat, listened to Inejs stories that she’d collected in her voyages. 

You laughed, danced when someone broke out the violin. You were starting to accept it; after so long, after so many years spent in a limbo of moving from one painful thing to the next, happiness was in store. After so long, happiness was finally in store. It finally felt like something good. It felt like something achievable, like it had never been so far off as you’d thought. 

You turned, meeting Kaz’s gaze after a good thirty minutes had gone by. People were still dancing, the violinist still playing the dancing music as people sang old sailing tunes, but Kaz wasn’t amongst the crowd. He was merely standing by the stairs, slight smile pricking the corners of his lips.

“Having a nice time, Brekker?”

“Quite so,” Kaz said. “Seeing you get roped into dancing by Anika and Pim is always a real delight.”

You scoffed. “You love me and my pension to dance the minute I hear a happily toned violin song.”

Kaz nodded. “I do,” he said. “Really, I do.”

A grin picked up the corner of your lips. “Thank you,” you said.

“For what, exactly?”

“For being in my life for this long,” you said. “For falling in love with me. For being the guy who brings me tea when I’m sick. For being my best friend and my partner in literal crime for the last decade.”

Kaz shook his head. “The pleasure is mine.”

You shrugged. “I’m going to go upstairs. Make myself some tea, settle down with a good book.”

Kaz nodded. “I just have to talk to Inej for a minute. I’ll join you, make a coffee and go over some plans for the heist next month.” 

“Looking forward to it,” you said.

Kaz smirked. “As am I.”

You walked up the stairs pausing for a moment, and watched Kaz approach Inej as the violinist put their instrument away but the clapping, the singing and the dancing carried on even still.

TWENTY-FOUR

“This feels like a bloody meeting,” Jesper noted as he and Wylan slid into the booth. “What? Another heist?”

You were at the Kooperom. Breakfast had just been ordered, and it was mid morning. The seven of you had gotten into a U-shaped booth, and ordered coffees or teas to start out.

“It’s not a heist, Jesper,” you said. “It’s something different. It doesn’t actually concern criminal activity at all.” 

“What is it, then?” Inej asked, but she looked like she already knew.

“We’re engaged,” Kaz said.

“Since when?” Nina asked, grin crossing her face. 

“Last week. Bookstore.”

Inej grinned. “Took you long enough, bastard.”

“I was all too anxious, after I had Jesper design the rings.”

Nina shot Jesper a look. “You knew this was coming?”

“He gave me twenty thousand kruge for it nearly a year ago. I almost didn’t think he ever would,” Jesper said. “Congrats, though. I thought you would’ve tied the knot before we did.” 

Kaz shrugged. “I couldn’t find the right time. Eventually, I just brought it up whilst we were in that alcove in the bookstore that opened seven-odd years ago? I’d been carrying the ring around and it really was about time, anyway.”

“Damn fucking right it was,” Nina laughed. “All of us are married off now. Weird.” 

“Not married, just engaged,” you said. “Jesper, you mentioned that it was like--”

“A weight lifted off your shoulders?” Jesper asked. “Weird, but in the good way? Exciting, glorious, even?”

You laughed. “Yeah. That’s exactly how it feels.”

“Forever isn’t just an idea anymore. It’s bloody wonderful,” Kaz added. “I didn’t think I would like this as much as I do.”

Wylan scoffed. “Wait until you’re married. It gets even better.” 

Matthias nodded his agreement. “All saints. It really does, doesn’t it?” 

“We need to celebrate,” Inej said.

“We are,” Kaz noted, gesturing with a gloved hand around the table. “It’s a celebratory breakfast.”

“We’re meeting again for dinner,” Inej said. “Nina agrees with me on this.”

“She does,” Nina said. “Seriously. You two are getting breakfast, but Inej, Matthias and I will cover dinner.”

“Will we?”

“Kaz Brekker has been in a relationship for seven years. I didn’t expect it to last six months. We are, Matthias. The money from the heist in Fjerda all those years ago still hasn’t run out, anyway. We’ve barely made a dent in it since then.” 

“I expected you two to be married by nineteen, if that helps,” Inej said with a laugh. “Jesper expected you to be engaged by twenty, married by twenty-one.”

Kaz shrugged. “I like to take things slow. Seven years is slow enough, I think.”

You laughed. “Yeah. It’s felt like seventy sometimes.” 

“Damn right it has,” Kaz agreed. “Worth it, though.”

“More than,” you said. “I would do it all again if I got to be with you.”

“Oh, don’t get cheesy on us now,” Wylan laughed. “Seriously. It’s odd seeing it.”

You snorted, laughing for a minute before you took a sip of your tea. You and Kaz both let the noise of the Kooperom drown you out, let your friends fill up the silence. 

First, with discussions of wedding plans, the question as to whether or not you had a date picked out--you did. December 16th--and then whether or not you’d picked a venue, which you hadn’t done. 

The conversation tilted from one thing to the next. You listened to Inejs tales of the people she’d met on her voyages. You listened to her funny anecdotes with her crew members, laughed at the jokes she retold and asked questions about the places she’d visited. The big and small towns, the ones smack center on the maps and the ones so irrelevant that there was no place for them within any map you’d ever seen. 

Then, you listened to Nina and Matthias. You listened to them talk about Fjerda, about the Druskelle they’d converted out of Grisha hatred. You listened to Nina talk about the few spots in Fjerda where the food was decent, let Matthias drone on about a few new combat skills he’d picked up. 

You listened to Wylan and Jesper gush about how perfect things were with them, smiled when they mentioned that they’d adopted a cat who Wylan had named after a flutist he’d liked. 

You grinned when they mentioned the apartment that you’d bought two years prior, assured them that it wasn’t just collecting dust, though it had been. 

You and Kaz had agreed to sell it because of the fact that it’d gone so long without being used, and that was a pity in and of itself. 

And, after a short while, the celebratory breakfast was done. You all began to head back to the Slat, separating once you’d arrived. You and Kaz went to the floor you’d only been actively sharing for six months. Kaz got back to planning out a heist where you made yourself a cup of tea, grabbed a book, and settled on the windowsill. 

There came a point where you looked up, some part of you hoping not to meet Kaz’s gaze in the din so that you could have the chance to admire him for all that he was.

He was focused on the heist, glowering at a piece of paper as the cogs for the plan turned. You grinned softly, watching him think for a few moments.

“I don’t have something on my face, do I?”

“What?” You asked, snapping out of your reverie. “No.”

“Why were staring at me, then?”

“I’m admiring. There’s a difference.”

Kaz looked up, meeting your gaze with a smirk. “There is not.”

“There is.”

“What is it, then?”

“Staring is creepy. Admiring is loveable.” 

Kaz scoffed, pulling a gloved hand through dark brown hair that met the light of the sun and looked a bit closer to the color of dark honey. 

“You’re lucky I don’t have it in me to hate you.”

“I count myself lucky for that every single day,” you said. “I have as long as I’ve known you, Kaz.”

Kaz grinned, eyes turning back to the paper in front of him. “You flatter me.”

“I always hope to.” 

Kaz scoffed once more, and your eyes turned back to the book in your lap. Silence settled over the pair of you, though it was comfortable, as it always had been.

You grinned as you leaned slightly against the windowpane. The life that you lived, the romance that you had with Kaz, had been the way that you’d lived for seven years.

You couldn’t wait to get to live it forever.

-

In December, the two of you found yourselves in a a woody backyard of a house close to the city, though still far enough out for it be considered apart of the countryside. It was a house that you and Kaz had both agreed to purchase and spend a bit of time in every year until you were old enough that living amidst the hustle and bustle of the city was no longer quite so ideal. 

Kaz refused to turn into Per Haskell five decades on, so you both considered the purchase to be one on the smarter side. It clearly had been, though, considering that the backyard was the place wherein your wedding was to occur.

Due to Kaz’s touch aversion, though, you’d both agreed you’d do something different. Rather than a kiss, you would toast with champagne. It was a drink that was commonly found at weddings as things were, and it respected something that Kaz had been working on for the better part of a decade, though some days were certainly easier than others for him in that respect.

You’d chosen Rotty to officiate, and after the vows and the ‘I do’s had been said, after the rings had been placed onto yours and Kaz’s ring fingers, you toasted your marriage. 

After then, you filtered into the house, dinner began and you and Kaz both quietly slipped your rings from your fingers to either the chains that you kept around your neck or the ones that held the same pocket watch that had been in use for nearly a decade. 

You spent the night laughing, talking and enjoying the company of your friends. You let Jesper dance around your empty living room with you, laughed at his jokes and didn’t try to fight the urge to allow your hand to go up to the chain you’d kept around your neck for two years, the one that held your promise ring, your engagement ring, and your wedding ring. The three rings that meant the most to you. 

Eventually, you found yourself in the backyard, grinning as more people came out through the sliding door and engaged in conversations amongst themselves. 

You found Jesper next to you after maybe fifteen minutes, the both of you watching the sun as it began to set.

“I’ve been waiting ten years to see this happening,” Jesper said. “I was rooting for you from the moment I joined up. Kaz can pretend he hasn’t loved you as long as he’s known you all he wants, but none of the crows believe it. Not me, Wylan, Nina, Matthias, or Inej. Rotty says he thought you two were dating from the get-go, and Anika and Pim apparently placed bets upon the age you would be when you got married. It’s like--you two are the last pieces of a puzzle, the ones needed for the puzzles completion. You make sense.”

“I have loved him for more time than I will ever willingly admit,” you said, grinning softly. “I didn’t think that--this just feels like--I thought I would be dead by eighteen. Not married, not having lived nearly a quarter of a century. I feel grateful but also like I am indebted to the universe because of it.”

Jesper shrugged. “You’ve got good wine. Good people,” he said. “Drink, laugh, dance. You’re married, Y/N. It’s incredible. Don’t be afraid to enjoy it.” 

You gave Jesper a grin as Nina approached. 

“Forgive me,” she said. “But, as the one who nailed their wedding date to the T before they were even engaged, I think I might fancy a dance.”

Jesper shrugged. “I’m not their keeper,” he said. “I’m going to go find Wylan. See you lot in a bit?”

At that, both you and Nina nodded. 

You let Nina take your hand, let her whisk you out into the small crowd of people who’d been dancing along to the music of the violinist that you and Kaz had hired, let your heart be carried away with the wind as you moved. 

Eventually, somewhere in the midst of it all, you found Kaz. When you met his gaze, you caught a smirk dancing on his lips. 

The look in his eyes said all that he couldn’t say, and you knew that the expression on your face said all the same.

You let a hand drift up to the chain on your neck, finding your wedding ring easily.

You were going to live a life with Kaz Brekker at your side for the remainder of it. You were entirely sure that you had never felt happy as you did in that moment, your happiness feeling as warm as the blinding rays of sunlight as they shone through a window on a Saturday morning.

-

The following morning, you and Kaz woke in the same bed, a foot of space between you, as normal. The curtains had been left opened slightly, and as a result, you woke to the sun cascading in beams along Kaz’s frame, highlighting the sharpness of his jaw, the shape of his lips, the warm paleness of his skin. 

You grinned slightly, pressing the side of your head into the pillow as a grin began to fall onto your face.

“You’re staring,” Kaz said, voice raspy because he’d likely only been awake for a few seconds. 

You laughed. “I am not,” you said. “I’m admiring you.” 

Kaz scoffed. You’d had the discussion a number of times before, often switching places in such a discussion. 

“You’re staring,” Kaz insisted. “It’s creepy.”

“I’m admiring,” you said. “It’s loveable.” 

Kaz opened his eyes, and you felt your breath catch as you noticed how they caught in the light. They looked like seaglass, almost, the kind that has an astonishing color when they’ve been rinsed and polished just enough to make them all that more astonishing. 

“You’re lucky I love you,” Kaz said. 

“I know,” came your response. “I love you too, for the record. Always have, always will.”

Kaz grinned, one ungloved hand slowly reaching out, until his hand was hovering over yours. 

“I’ll be able to actually manage holding your hand someday,” he whispered. “I promise.”

You only shrugged, grinning a bit as you watched his hand move less than a millimeter closer to yours. 

“This is enough for me,” you said. “It’s more than enough, really. I love you for everything that you are, touch aversion included.”

A look of relief, and then one of gratefulness, and then one of love, moved across Kaz’s face in split second fractions of time, and eventually, you watched his eyes drift closed.

“I love you too,” Kaz whispered. “More than anything, if I’m honest.” 

You let your eyes close, too, grinning to yourself. 

In terms of husbands, you were pretty sure you’d won the fucking lottery. 

TWENTY-SEVEN

Kaz found himself relieved as he put the key into the lock of your small three bedroom apartment, one located near the East Stave. The relief only grew as he dropped his keys in the bowl to the right of the door, as he slipped out of his shoes, took off his hat and followed it by his coat before placing them both on the coatrack to the left of it. 

The relief was entirely replaced by love and admiration as he recognized the sound of your voice whilst you sang. It was an old Kerch tune, one that Kaz could remember Jordie singing as they walked the streets of Ketterdam.

He approached the kitchen, where he found you, humming the tune as you took bread out of the oven, somehow managing to do it one-handedly whilst a sleeping toddler was balanced on your hip. 

He let himself grin, not even trying to hide the fact that he was there.

“Who’s staring now, beloved?” You quipped. Kaz laughed, and as the sound met your ears, you could’ve sworn, some part of your heart had finally managed to find peace. 

“I’m admiring,” Kaz said. “There’s a very clear difference. darling.”

“You’re staring.”

“I’m admiring,” Kaz said as he walked further into the kitchen. Quietly, he took your son off of your hip and placed him in the small rolling crib that had been built in the living room, not having been moved since then. 

“You’re staring,” you said when Kaz joined you once more. “Admiring and staring are different things indeed, but I know what staring is, and you’re doing it.”

“I’m doing it lovingly,” Kaz said. “That, of course, is the distinction.”

You laughed, tilting your head back as you did, and Kaz could’ve sworn, it was the one thing to bring him solace, to help him find his peace, after a very long, very difficult day, of which both of you had plenty.

“I love you,” you said, giving Kaz a grin that managed both to set his heart ablaze and drown it in contentment. 

“I love you,” Kaz echoed. “I have loved you for a decade. I promised I would always do so three years ago. I have no intentions of breaking that promise. Not now, not ever.” 

You grinned, and yeah. Kaz was in love with you, wholeheartedly, just as he had always been.

You grinned, and yeah. Kaz knew he would love you as long as forever was meant to last, that he would love you even when it had run it’s course.

He just had to hope that forever never would. 

#kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker #six of crows #shadow and bone

[inariter]

Things Change-1 (Duskwood x Reader)

Masterlist:

Things Change-1

Things Change-2

Things Change-3

Things Change-4

Things Change-5 

                                                           --------

Things change, people change, everything changes eventually. Maybe it’s the result of one lousy mistake, maybe it’s because someone else decided to finally act, or maybe it’s the cursed fate on your life that just reels you right back. Hard to say in the end, especially when you’re pulled into a chaotic who dunnit between a group of strangers, their even stranger town, a psycho hiding behind a legend, and an awkward yet charismatic hacker. It’s like something out of a thriller film, something that sounds so impossible...

Yet here I find myself caught in this dangerous web, playing this twisted game. Questioning my every move...myself even. Wondering if there’s something I’m missing, if my memory isn’t as reliable as I thought it was or if there’s a secret about me that I don’t even know. Unsure whether I’m trusting the right people, if I’m letting them in all too quickly, especially him. 

But if anything, uncertain what awaits me...or anyone for that matter next? Pondering if we’re the next one to go. Or if fate has some other end for us?

So many thoughts ran through her head, unsure what to do or even think of it. All these sleepless nights, all these days fueled solely on coffee and energy drinks and yet (Y/n) still wondered how much it got her. 

Even as she gazed at her little evidence board, all the little connections, all the little clues, everything they’ve found up till this point pinned to this board of hers and yet it didn’t seem they were any closer to finding Hannah or the person behind this. And he just seemed to getting braver and braver with each passing second. 

Those supposed empty threats now escalating into actual actions. Jessy seemed to be the first victim (assuming what happened to Dan was a mere accident), that image of her laying helpless on the ground still burned in (Y/n)’s mind. And she damn well knew things would only get worse from here. 

She could only imagine what else he might do. That very though just drove her crazy.

“Come on (Y/n), think. What the hell are you missing?” (Y/n) pondered aloud, it was just like when she actually sat down and wrote the stories that roamed her mind. Just waiting to bleed out onto the paper, sure these events were inspiring her to pound out a book right here and now but she restrained herself from writing too much. Allowing only bits and nothing more, after all lives were at stake and this little investigation of hers required her full attention. Especially with Jake being rather disposed at the moment. “What’s the thing that’ll bring all this together? What’s his motive? Why Hannah? Why me? How am I the key to all of this?”

Even as questions swarmed her mind, desperate for any answer that’ll appear from the blue, nothing came. Buried memories she wished to resurface never would, no matter how much (Y/n) tried to unveil them.

“Fucking hell!” Papers went flying in her already messy study, scattering everywhere as an idea came to mind. A stupid idea yet the only one she could think of.

(Y/n) already knew Duskwood was only a couple hours from her and it’s not like the idea hadn’t crossed her mind before. She had it all planned out. She had the entire act she’d put on stained in her memory. Even what she would do in Duskwood without anyone ever knowing it was her. 

(Y/n) just never thought it would come to pass, not like this at least. In her mind it would simply be a surprise to all her newly found friends after everything eventually passed. But now..it seemed like the only option. 

After all, things change, sometimes without even knowing how much or how quickly they do.

Sighing, (Y/n) felt Jax brush her against her hand, worried that something was wrong; knocking her away from her thoughts. (Y/n) smiled at her lab, petting him to soothe his uneasy heart while solidifying what she had to do.

Even if she were to regret it later, (Y/n) knew the deed had to be done.

It had to be done, else she wasn’t sure how much longer she could sit back in the comfort of her home while all of them were thrown to the wolves.

And for now it’ll just be her little secret, among the many others she kept locked up.

#duskwood #fanfic #duskwood x reader #mc #mc x Duskwood

[hannibalcatharsis-zero]

I used to write some long stuff from time to time, but never like this

Reasons to smile chapter 10 (Kuroshitsji) - 9382 words Reasons to smile chapter 12  - 9208 words

Take me back to the sky that I’ve never seen chapter 2 (Shingeki no Kyojin) - 11629 words When your way is the only way chapter 3 (The Umbrella Academy) - 11183 words

I do know why and how though. Mandatory  Dresden by @hedera-helixwriteseruri​ reference because yes, it rubbed something off in me and I’m so glad it did.

#my writing #my fanfiction #I wrote for so many hours though that is solely on me but damn the chapters are getting huge #mywriting #myfanfiction

[voxofthevoid]

Being an extremely picky reader, I have a lot of sympathy for people who can't find the kind of fic they want to read, who don't resonate with many popular fanon, who have tastes that just aren't often addressed in most fic. The smaller the fandom, the worse off these woes, usually. What I don't give two shuddering shits about are the folks who make this the authors' problem.

Fanfic detractors love to say it's not real writing, but even putting aside the 101 ways that's total bullshit, the sheer act of writing takes time. At my fastest, I could write maximum 1200 words an hour; these days, it's closer to 500. Yet, you have so many writers churning out fic after fic, ranging from bite-sized bits to epic-length monstrosities. That's hours and hours of our lives. I set aside 2–3 hours a day for writing, and you can bet those add up fast.

So here you have these people creating scores of content for the hell of it, putting it up for free, and expecting damn near nothing in return. There are outliers, of course, but the general sentiment I've seen is that we don't want money, and we don't demand comments, though we appreciate the everloving shit out of them. At the core of it, writing fic is a labour of love, and fandom is a gift economy.

You know what's not a gift? Being a little shit in the comment/ask boxes of your local fandom writers.

It's fine, absolutely a-okay, spectacularly acceptable to not like or even viscerally hate any given character, trope, ship, or even specific fic. But listen, that's a you problem—and it doesn't have to be problem at all if you just click that pretty X and exit the story posthaste. The author won't even know you'd been there, and you're free to go wash out the taste of whatever fuckery made you nope out. If you're inclined toward writing yourself, you can even give the tried-and-true art of writing out of spite a go.

But, for the love of god, don't hop into the comment box and list all the ways in which the author could've made the story the one you wanted.

It's not your story. It's also clearly not for you. The writer wrote the story they wanted the way they wanted it. Leave it the fuck alone.

Some writers may ask for concrit; feel free to give it, provided you've nailed the constructive part of constructive criticism.

But their writing has typos and grammar errors: Shit happens, and we're not robots. Ignore it, or if you can't stand it, stop reading.

But it'd have been better if it was another ship/character/direction: That's your opinion, which will remain valid for only as long as it stays solely in your head. Again, stop reading. Exit quietly.

But the content is problematic: My brother in Christ, it was meant to be. We're not all pearl-clutching puritans. Stop reading things that upset you, especially if they're tagged!

Harassing authors won't get you the content you want. Nor, for that matter, will politely pestering them make them see the holy light of whatever crusade you're on. Most you'll manage is break the confidence of a fledgling writer or drive someone vulnerable out of fandom. And if that's your endgame, you're the kind of trash a handful of words from voxofthevoid.tungle.com can't change, so fuck you anyway.

Creativity begets more creativity. In every fandom I've written for, I started writing because, after a point, reading wasn't enough. I have specific tastes that don't always align with broader fandom tastes—for instance, I like out-and-proud sadists and writing my favs as tops/doms, whereas the predominant trends seem to favor the opposite. I also like very specific kinds of fuckery with my fluff, which are often hard to find. All that's fine. I have MS Word and the will to use it.

Granted, writing fic deliberately tailored to my tastes isn't the same as reading fic that's coincidentally tailored to my tastes, but that's fine too. I can be immeasurably grateful to the wonderful folks whose writing does strike a chord in me while also endeavouring to one day make someone say, "Damn, voxofthevoid, this is exactly the story I needed." That's what I want to give to fandom.

Others are free to think, "Yikes, voxofthevoid, you're fucked in the head," and be on their merry way; just don't make it my problem.

And if you, personally, don't have the time or inclination to be the porn fic you want to see in the world, there are other ways to encourage the kind of content you want to see. Participate in fandom exchanges. Seek out writers that take prompts or requests. Send positive encouragement (not rude demands) to the writers whose work you enjoy.

Don't throw a tantrum in the comment/ask box. It helps no one. It pisses off a lot of people. Nobody benefits.

Sincerely,

Someone who's very, very tired of seeing entitled shits make fandom a nightmare for everyone

#vox has opinions #constructive criticism #fandom culture #I am pretty sure I've said a lot of this in my other posts; alas they must be repeated #fresh rant brought to you by an year's worth of bullshit in my inbox; on my friends' works; and in fandom generally

[shotorozu]

I have so many cute, fluffy requests but lemme drop this one! I’d love to request head cannons of Bakugo, Shinsou, Kirishima, and Mirio being dared to lay on their crush’s lap. Y/N is chilling on the couch on her phone, unaware of this. So these bois fulfill the dare and of course Y/N is surprised but she always liked them and doesn’t think she’ll have an opportunity like this again, so what does she do? Place her phone down and gently rubs their head with one hand and cheek with the other with a tender smile and even calling them cute.

laying on their crush’s lap

character(s) : bakugou katsuki, shinsou hitoshi, kirishima eijirou, togata mirio

legend : [Y/N = your name] they/them pronouns, but a f! reader, quirk’s not mentioned

headcanon type : fluff

note(s) : i want to apologize for not uploading yesterday! i was quite hoarded with school work, but just so you know— i do see your requests :)) i also wrote this at 3am by the way so.. no proofread rn but i will later!

»»————-　♡　————-««

bakugou katsuki

ugh— first of all

bakugou is not one for dares. he thinks dares are quite useless, and irrelevant

however, it was either him; bakugou katsuki, being labeled a chicken or

laying his head down on Y/N— his crush. it doesn’t seem so bad to be honest

but.. the problem is that no one excluding the bakusquad has an idea of his feelings towards you

little did he know, you also harbor feelings towards him.

his pride.. can’t be hurt from something like this. nah, that’d be embarrassing

so he decides to go through with the dare.

after dinner, and briefly before he goes to sleep—

he enters the ground floor, and walks past the common room, where the bakusquad was just chilling at

you’re sitting beside them, just chilling on your phone— while listening to their antics

the bakusquad’s just staring at him, with a knowing look adorning their expressions

bakugou blinks, and he can sigh irritatedly— as he walks towards the couch, standing in front of you

carmine eyes practically glaring at you, waiting for you to notice his intense stare locked on you

with the bakusquad staring in anticipation, waiting for something to happen

you eventually notice (i mean, how could you not?) and you can only tilt your head “what’s up with you??” you question him with a light hearted tone

he doesn’t say much, only sighing before immediately dropping down and settling his head on your lap

you immediately grow flustered, suddenly aware of how soft his ash blond hair is (despite it’s rather.. spiky appearance)

the bakusquad’s just like “HOLY SHIT- he actually did it!” and it’s suddenly.. a lot more chaotic. 

the blond shifts his position momentarily, red eyes staring up at you as they scan your expression for any sign of rejection

taking in your sheepish expression, and the fact that you gave him nothing but a rather.. contagious smile, he takes that as a good sign 

but he’s surprised when you set down your phone, and attaching one hand onto his head- petting luscious blond pieces of hair

he blinks- genuinely pleased by this action and the bakusquad goes beserk

“is that good enough for you, dumbasses?” he asks switching back to his usual self, and they don’t give him much of an answer- only sending him cheeky looks.

when it’s time to go back to your rooms, bakugou suddenly breaks the silence.

“based off your reaction, i could say you like me back.” bakugou says it in such a soft tone, which is very out of character

you can only nod, and before you guys part ways, bakugou grabs the courage to grab your face and kiss you love the pining

hitoshi shinsou

it was definitely kaminari that asked him to do this, i mean.. when was it not-

recently joining the hero course in his second year, finally after working hard for his spot in the class- he became classmates with you

the person he’s been crushing on for the last year or so.

again, hitoshi’s pretty chill when it comes to dares and class games, but he’s not someone that would indulge in them regularly.

but kaminari, being quite the social butterfly he is, waltzed over to the recent addition to their class

and asked him to lay his head on your lap. since he was having his suspicions of shinsou having a crush.

shinsou’s thinking like.. “damn, he definitely knows. i mean, he’s probably the only person that knows.”

thing is, he’s probably the least bold out of all of these characters. 

like.. he kinda wants to do it because it’s you but he’s also considering your feelings

oh boy.. if only you knew.

and he doesn’t want to embarrass you either. so he's just having a heart time just finding the perfect moment. 

scanning the hallway of any people, he pads right across it as he enters the common room

he’s surprised to see you chilling on the couch.

you squeak out a small noise startled by the sudden appearance of another person, but they immediately calm down realizing it’s shinsou

“didn’t expect to see you there,” you laugh, and he could only chuckle at your reaction, as he stand next to the couch 

his stomach is practically swarming with butterflies, but he replies anyway “you’re not staying in your room?”

“i didn’t realize how late it was,” you smile, “what’re you doing down here?”

“just getting a glass of water,” shinsou replies simply, silently trying his best to calm down his racing heart, shifting to stand infront of you 

it’s silent for a few seconds, and it feels like forever. but shinsou concludes that he might as well do it now. 

there's no one here to question his actions anyway.

dropping down, he pushes his head onto your lap- which surprises you because you never expected hitoshi shinsou; your crush 

to just.. suddenly settle his head on your lap. 

you’re flustered, but you love how the peaceful look on his usually tired out face.

placing your hand on his head, fingers weaving through purple locks- you allow a moment to pass by 

breaking the silence, you speak “how cute,” 

shinsou raises an eyebrow at your comment, and stands right up- walking away from the cut short moment. 

“where are you going?” you ask, since how could he just do that and walk away so casually?? 

“getting water, like i said.” the corner of his lips turn up slightly. “i’ll see you later. maybe we could do this more.”

you don’t reply- and shinsou could only laugh at the way you owlishly blink “now who’s the cute one now?” he pokes fun at your bewildered- yet cute expression, and it’s not long before he disappears into the hallway 

the next day, kaminari experiences such a field day when he finds out he did it. he could tell by the sheepish look on your face.

kirishima eijirou

who’s the one that dared him? it was mina and kaminari

similar to bakugou, the bakusquad’s the only one that has a slight idea of your crush, and that includes bakugou 

to his dismay

so they dared kirishima to do this because it might just give you guys a head start. and they also wanted to see kiri’s reaction.

at first, kirishima was pretty reluctant regarding this dare, because.. how tf is he gonna do this??

is it unmanly to just.. walk up to you and plop his head right down onto your lap? 

what if he tarnished what y’all have? he wouldn’t say it’s a relationship yet, but your relationship’s at a pretty good place right now. 

it was bakugou that convinced him to do the dare because “just do it, idiot. it might do you something good for once.” 

he only said this because he wanted them to shut up ngl

so if his bestie- bakugou is telling him to a dare then.. it’s probably a sign to do it. 

shaking off the nervousness, kirishima walks off to find you- because the sooner the better, right?

you’re just doing your own thing, as you chill with mina on the couch. seeing the red head- mina sends a quick expression that practically tells him to go for it

kirishima gulps, nervously- and he enters the area, you’re suddenly aware of his presence. 

“oh, hi kiri!” you greet him casually, and he waves back at you, butterflies tickling his stomach. 

no need to feel nervous eijirou, just.. do it.

breathing in, he immediately kneels down on the floor right infront of you

you’re startled when you suddenly feel weight on your lap, and you’re visibly flustered seeing your own crush resting his head on your lap

mina’s making train noises right now, but she’s trying hard to not make a huge deal out of it (but how could she not, really? she’s tired of seeing both of her friends pinning over each other.)

“sorry, Y/N” kirishima apologizes, yet he doesn't see the slightest hint of discomfort. 

you laugh, smoothing your head over his head, his face practically rivals his dyed hair. “if you wanted to lay your head on my lap, you could’ve said so, cutie.”

wait.. so does that mean you like him too? 

mina couldn’t contain herself, as seeing the heavens as y’all interact. rip 

togata mirio

shy? that’s so funny. 

is that a thing with mirio togata? this is the same man that fought class 1-A butt ass naked. 

there’s no shame detected in his bloodstream. more like.. he just knows how to hide it well.

nejire dared him to lay his head on your lap, because she wanted the both of you to just “get together already!!” 

and she also wanted to see your reaction.

tamaki’s just like “uh.. won’t Y/N spontaneously combust though?” 

mirio legit has no shame, this guy is the sole definition of ‘where’s my hug at?’

would not care about the location because a dare is a dare. the next time he sees you sitting outside of school hours

he’s sitting on that lap. end of the discussion.

you’re sitting on the couch of the dorm’s common room, and you’re just waiting for a text from nejire and tamaki 

(since you and mirio aren’t classmates with tamaki and nejire, you guys try to meet up with each other as much as y’all can.)

mirio walks into the common room, and he’s glad to see you just sitting there. 

now would be a good time!

calling your name out cheerfully, he approaches you-”Y/N, hi!” he grins as he approaches you, nothing seems off. 

“hi mirio- wait,” your greeting is cut off short when he sets his head on your lap, humming immediately as he savors the pleasant feeling. 

“w-what’re you doing?” 

“laying on your lap! it’s pretty comfortable here. have i told you that yet?” 

you shake your head, experiencing a loss of words. 

he can only grin, eyes shimmering with joy- absolutely loving the expression on your face. 

“you’re too cute, mirio. if you asked me out right now, i wouldn't be too mad at the idea.”

blinking up at you, he asks “well? will you?” 

“of course.” 

nejire and tamaki’s watching the scene from outside, and tamaki had to restrain nejire from squealing too hard. 

thanks nejire :))

»»————-　♡　————-««

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading! 

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei. i only own the writing. 

do not steal my work :))

#bnha x reader #bnha x you #mha x reader #bnha x y/n #mha headcanons #bnha fluff #mha fluff #bnha headcanons #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou imagines #bakugou katsuki x y/n #bakugou x y/n #shinsou hitoshi x reader #shinsou imagines #shinsou x reader #shinsou hitoshi x y/n #shinsou x you #bakugou x you #kirishima eijirou x reader #kirishima imagines #kirishima x y/n #kirishima x reader #togata x reader #togata imagines #mirio togata x reader

[crab-instruments]

Media Engagements

Pairing: Wrecker x PAO Reader (pre-relationship or platonic)

Warnings: Fluff

A/n: PAO - Public Affairs Officer. I was inspired to write this drabble based on personal work experiences (that happened nothing like this lol). Maybe I’ll expand on the idea later, maybe I’ll forget I wrote it tomorrow. Though now I kinda just want a Star Wars show about a PAO trying their god damn best and absolutely at their limit.

“Oh, sorry I didn—“

You had bumped into someone in your attempt to get a better shot for your picture, but the man you stumbled into was much larger than you had expected. In truth, he was almost scary looking, but as a PAO for the newly formed GAR, you got used to out of the ordinary people.

You shifted the camera in one hand to the other and cleared your throat. “Sorry about that. I didn’t realize anyone was behind me.” The soldier was in charcoal and red armor, not any colors you had seen or photographed yet. He was also much taller and bigger built, which was more confusing since you should have been neck deep in clone battalions.

The large man took his helmet off just enough to reveal his face but still rested on his head. He also looked much different from the other soldiers you were used to. When you looked hard enough, you could see he resembled them, if the clones focused solely on body building and could grow taller by sheer force of will. He was missing an eye and had a scar to tell the story.

“You’re tiny! What are you doing here? Is that some kind of weapon? Are you training here too, ad’ika?”

“Oh, no, I’m a PAO taking photos!”

“PAO? What’s… a PAO?”

“Public affairs officer. Trying to tell the story of all this.” You gestured to the soldiers and equipment near you. “The public doesn’t know much and the Senate hasn’t really done anything towards explaining the clones, so I’m here to capture what it all is.”

“Oh! I’ve never seen one of you before. This is a dangerous place to be, they are testing some explosives—“

“EXPLOSIVES?? WHERE? That would be such a cool thing to shoot! How many tests are you doing? I want to get it on video too if I can.” You could not control your excitement to capture something interesting, even if it wouldn’t be approved for public release.

The large clone stared at you before giving a hearty laugh and leading you toward a safe distance. You learned his name was Wrecker as he got some questions about your presence.

As you tried to find a good vantage point, you were suddenly lifted into the air. Wrecker had placed you at the perfect height on his shoulders. You watched the bombs through your lens, enjoying the sight as much as you did listening to Wrecker whoop and holler after each one.

After you felt you had enough shots of explosions, Wrecker put you down but lingered near you. He seemed more interested in what you were doing but didn’t want to interrupt your process.

You meandered to the different training stations, talking to clones, getting their experiences, catching candid moments, and yelling at them for not using proper protection (you can’t release photos when their not using their masks during target practice!). While they seemed surprised by a ‘nat-born’ (as you had heard them refer to you as) giving orders to them, the didn’t seem to fall in line until Wrecker gave a little bit of incentive. You would always look back over your shoulder with an appreciative smile before settling back into your work.

Your job wasn’t easy, attempting to explain this entire mess with an optimistic spin and the hours you had to match with the soldiers who were designed for this burned you out. Luckily, Wrecker joked along side you and pointed out good photo opportunities. More importantly, he explained everything he could since you didn’t know the first thing about all the training.

The sun had set at the end of the day, but it had felt like a lifetime of friendship with the clone. You had a new appreciation for all of them, but Wrecker would hold a special place in your heart (and memory cards).

He had a shy look in his eyes and a hand on his neck as you packed up to leave.

“What is it, Wrecker?”

“Thanks… for letting me follow you around.”

It took a moment for you to realize he thought he had been… bothering you.

“Wrecker… I have gotten some of the best photos of my entire career today and I couldn’t have done it without you. Honestly, I was scared when I got the assignment, it feels like the whole war is really… real and I didn’t even know what to expect. Bumping into you was the best accident that could have happened.”

The smile the appeared on his face was one you wanted framed. You quickly snapped a photo and inspected it, smiling to yourself. It almost made you sad you were always the one behind the lens for a moment.

“I’ll be here tomorrow… see you then?”

📷📸📷

Everything tag list: @imalovernotahater @ladydiomede

📸📷📸

#crab writes #media engagements #drabble #sw drabble #tbb drabble #wrecker x reader #wrecker x you #tbb x reader #tbb x you #the bad batch x reader #bad batch x reader

[ophiuchus-interactive]

Originality, Criticism, and Entitlement

After joining the IF community, I've come to see (and experience) the accusation that there are IF writers who steal, copy, or even plagiarize another author's work. I'm going to explain why throwing such accusations around is harmful not only to the accused, but the community as a whole.

This is also an explanation as to why they're incredibly stupid criticisms, and unless there is actual, direct evidence that the work is being copied or stolen, it is not, as such "critics" want to call it, "ripping off" anybody.

(Long read)

Star Wars (1977) is considered by many to be the world's first real blockbuster, with such sensation and hype that even over thirty years since its original release date, it reminds a key figure in our pop culture and media today. In every form or fashion, Star Wars was groundbreaking in terms of cinematic storytelling and movie-going experience.

But Star Wars is nothing new.

George Lucas, the creator, has discussed many times over the years just how precisely the world of Star Wars came to be, and its origins go back much, much farther than you think.

George Lucas claimed that the idea of Star Wars was inspired by Flash Gordon serials, a comic book series that was turned into a TV show in the 1930s. The famous title crawl that appears at the beginning of every Star Wars movie?

Look familiar?

It is also a pretty well known fact that the Galactic Empire and Rebels, along with the battle scenes within the movies, also take heavy inspiration from WWII. Stormtroopers are German Gestapo, the X-Wings and TIE Fighters are inspired by WWII aerial combat: https://youtu.be/msb8OdvBBjU

There is a clear right and wrong that is written into the Star Wars universe, and that most assuredly comes from the material and real world events that George Lucas was inspired by; serial comics and shows of the 30s, 40s, and 50s, leaned heavily into black and white morality. This is why superheroes from that era like Superman or Batman were originally written as static characters. "Superman is invincible, that's not as interesting as the X-Men struggling with their place in society!" Well, yeah, that's because Superman was meant to be nothing more than a comic book character that allows children to act out their power fantasy- "you can't make me go to bed, mom! Superman doesn't go to bed!" etc. etc.

But Star Wars has inspiration that goes back even further than the 1930s. It goes back to ancient Mesopotamia.

The Epic of Gilgamesh is the world's oldest and most notable form of literature that we know of. It is an epic that describes the heroic journey of one Gilgamesh, told in five parts. This is the earliest known example of what is known as "The Hero's Journey" in literature.

If you have any knowledge of the first movie of Star Wars, you're well aware of the story beats that you can read out in this diagram, as well be able to distinguish the similarities it has with The Epic of Gilgamesh.

Does this mean that Star Wars ripped off The Epic of Gilgamesh?

No. It doesn't. Because even though the story shares similar story beats, and features a black-and-white morality, a sci-fi space opera is a far cry from ancient Mesopotamian gods battling with each other. George Lucas didn't read the epic in school and decide "ah ha! I know how I'm going to make money!"

He was inspired, and he took that inspiration and created a multi-billion dollar franchise that millions love across the globe. He wrote that story and directed that movie, he put in the blood, sweat (lots of sweat- they filmed in Tunisia) and tears to make something WHOLLY NEW, and yet in some ways...similar.

Humans are very complex creatures, and our brain loves nothing more than finding patterns in things. Why is there such a thing as the Rule of Three in literature, a rule that dictates the satisfaction the reader gets when a story has a plot that occurs in three parts? Why is there traditionally only three acts? It is, simply put, satisfying. This traditional three-part structure often times creates stories that may look or feel similar simply because of how it is structured. This is not copying. This is a literature technique that humans have been using since the beginning of language itself.

And this is why I have such a problem with the people suggesting that authors are "copying" popular works- no one solely invented story beats, no one invented the supernatural fiction, no one, singular person, solely created the concepts that we are using today. No one. Not a single thing written is wholly original.

Originality is overrated. We are products of our environment, our culture, our media we consume- if an IF writer has a story with vampires and other supernatural creatures, and the MC is a detective attempting to solve crimes, was that invented by the very popular Wayhaven Chronicles by Mishka Jenkins? No. Vampires in media are nothing new, detectives in media are nothing new, and if they so happen to exist in other stories, what of it? Did Mishka invent vampires? No. They're a cultural phenomenon that has existed in multiple civilizations at once. Did she invent detectives? Obviously not.

Mishka was inspired and so were countless of other IF writers to write a story that involved the supernatural. These IF writers may have similar story beats, they may have similar themes, but that does not make it copying.

You know what makes Star Wars or The Wayhaven Chronicles or any other form of entertaining media great? Innovation.

It is how the authors tell the story, and why it is being written that creates such vast differences in genres. Star Wars isn't The Epic of Gilgamesh because its just "in space", it is the magnificent, innovative storytelling behind Star Wars that makes it so unique in our minds. The cinematography, the storytelling, the dialogue, the acting- all of that hard work into making something worthwhile and good is what makes it so unique when comparing it to other media that feature the literary use of "The Hero's Journey".

We all have something to bring to the table, to tell our stories that have a piece of us inside them. They are influenced by our laughter, our tears, our horror, our love, our rage or terrible indifference. They are influenced by our passions, our delusions, and they are written because we wish it to be so.

Are all impressionists copying Monet because he popularized impressionism? Are all artists who paint in similar styles copying off of the one who created the style in the first place? No. They're not.

To accuse IF authors, particularly the INNOCENT ones of copying others is an unbelievably insulting and ignorant statement that disregards the author's creativity and free will to write whatever the hell they want. If all you have to see out of a story is the basic, bare bones elements to it, then allow me to speak for all IF authors out there and say:

You're missing the fucking point!

We've all put our hard work into not only LEARNING a coding language (which, surprise, not ALL of us know and have to spend HOURS figuring out) but we've learned a coding language to create a game for other people to enjoy, and we'll be damn fucking lucky if we're able to get any money off of our work that we have put in it.

This criticism becomes a form of entitlement real fast, as if a reader has any say as to the pace or way an IF story (or any art for that matter) is written.

Most of us are doing this because we love the idea of putting our work out there as an IF fiction for fun. Some of us have to work jobs, some of us have complicated lives that demand constant attention, some of us wish to do this as a living, but all of us?

All of us deserve the courtesy of being a creator that is sharing their work with the world.

The next time you decide to accuse an IF writer of copying another person, ask yourself if it's legitimate plagiarism or you're just someone who doesn't have the capacity to consider that literary themes, tropes, cliches, and genres, are not the same thing as "copying".

#renny rants #if fiction

[allyouneedisbuck]

Sole Survivor -> I

[eighteen plus blog and this fic holding eventual eighteen plus scenes mean minors should not interact with this story]

summary -> your first week on the island. alliances are made, rewards are won and tribes fall apart before they can even come together. [bucky barnes x female!reader]

word count -> 4.5k

warnings -> reality tv, some cursing, survivor references (tribe, tribal council, idols) past steve rogers x reader, non-enhanced marvel characters, jeff probst (please don’t sue me) some steve slander (steve i love you i’m sorry it was just so easy to make you the sweetest person alive and therefore a target)

notes -> there are more in-depth notes at the end! just want to say this is all for fun & not meant to be a serious fic!! just some fluff & humor as a break to any serious fics out there that you may be reading!

series masterlist here.

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《

Chapter I 𓆉 OUTWIT -> NEXT

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《

Bucky isn’t sure how he ended up on reality TV.

That’s all he can think about as his hand grips the side of the speedboat and he glances around at his fellow contestants.

His first application to Survivor had been a dare; One of his friends back home had made a drunken joke that Bucky wouldn’t last a day and well- Obviously, Bucky can’t really take a joke.

How was he supposed to know he would actually be selected? How was he supposed to know he would be a fan favorite...villian? Saying yes to this season was a no-brainer.

He wants the million dollars. He came so, so close last time. Runner-up wasn’t good enough. 

He had been handed a dark, red buff long before they had even stepped foot on the boat. He had wrapped it around his wrist, just like everybody else on this boat with him. His eyes move around slowly as he studies his new tribe members. 

The bright red hair catches his eye first, Natasha Romanoff, was considered the original Black Widow; It’s no shock to Bucky that she had been considered a villain. Her starting point was aligning with the men on her tribe and helping pick who she wanted out. It worked for awhile, she had them under her thumb, until she got a little too abrasive and was voted off shortly after the merge.

Clint Barton who Bucky knew was notorious for promising on his kids then stabbing his allies in the back; In the final tribal he had laughed and said they gave him permission. Somehow he had won. Him and Natasha had worked together, but he had been unable to save her after the merge.

His eyes find Tony Stark next, an original player, meaning had had never played a game with idols or tricks. Tony had won it all on the third season after betraying his number one ally in the vote that decided who he brought to final two. Bucky didn’t need to ask why he was a villain, it was obvious.

Bright red lips catch Bucky’s eyes next as he checks out Darcy Lewis. Bucky wasn’t actually sure if he considered her a villain, but he can see how it played out that way. She had kept her immunity idol secret from her alliance members and had jumped ship when it became clear her alliance wouldn’t win the numbers. She made it all the way to final three after winning puzzle after puzzle in the immunity challenges, she was more impressive than villainous, but sometimes they just needed some people to fill the cast.

Loki was the king of snake gameplay, but even Bucky could admit it got him far. His ability to tell people exactly what they wanted to hear is what handed him the million dollar prize. Bucky wonders if they called Thor too, they had been on the last season, Blood versus Water together.

There’s Stephen Strange who was probably considered a villain for his dry commentary, blunt confessionals and inability to keep his thoughts to himself. He was from the first few seasons too and he had rubbed a lot of people the wrong way, but Bucky found his blunt delivery humorous.

And then there’s you. You had originally appeared on Brains, Brawns and Beauty. Unshockingly sorted onto the Beauty tribe and gravely underestimated. Bucky thought you were definitely the prettiest he’d seen in that season and early on he could tell you would be a power player. No matter how many confessionals men did saying your charm wouldn’t work, they all fell for it, and you picked them off. Your tribe only lost one immunity challenge and you had controlled who had gone home. 

Steve Rogers had fallen in love with you that season and you had taken a page from Natasha’s book. When the merge had happened, you aligned quickly with the few girls left from the other two tribes. Then knocked the men out one by one. Steve, poor Steve, so kind hearted and trusting and it had been his downfall. When you had sobbed to him about the last three girls whispering about voting you out, he had given up his earned individual immunity. The four of you girls had laughed as you wrote his name down and Steve went onto the jury. 

That was the moment that coined you one of the most notorious, and your unanimous win later had marked you down in history as one of the best to ever play.

Call Bucky an idiot, but you’re who he wants to work with. He needs to work with people who will make it to the end with him. His original season he had come off too cocky to win. He had made the mistake of taking who he thought was a floater, but apparently had built friendships with everyone, and lost in a three to six vote. Bringing someone who knew how to play the game like him gave him a far better chance at winning. 

The heroes tribe are already on their blue mat when the villains disembark and make their way onto the beach. Bucky almost laughs when he sees Steve standing in the back, tall and broad as ever. Of course the fans loved Steve. Sweet, loyal Steve. He nudges your calf with his foot and you spin to look at him in surprise.

“Your lover is here.” He nods over to the mat, where Steve is staring straight ahead at Jeff Probst. You laugh with your head thrown back like it’s genuinely one of the funniest things you’ve heard.

“Didn’t you hear? It was a nasty divorce.” You smile before stopping in front of Bucky on the mat. Bucky snorts and drops his bag by his feet as Jeff calls for everyone’s attention.

“We’ve been doing Survivor for thirty seasons now. Fifteen years. Hundreds of people have played the game, yet the sixteen of you have made your mark as either hero or villain.” His eyes scan over the group before landing on Bucky.

“Bucky. You played this game six years ago. Season 18. How does it feel that even though it’s been that long, you’re still considered one of the most well known villains?”

“I’m a villain?” Bucky asks sarcastically as he looks around the beach. The crowd laughs and you look up at him with amused eyes. Bucky tries to ignore the flutter in his heart, damn you were good. “It’s all in the perspective, Jeff.”

Jeff laughs and nods before his attention shifts to Loki standing a few people away from you. “Loki, you’re our newest villain. Coming out of last season, how does it feel to be here with all these iconic names? Intimidating?”

Loki laughs and nods. “I guess so, yeah. I’m just so happy to actually play with people who love and respect the game the same way I do!” He looks over the group in a far more calculating manner than friendly.

“And heroes! Peter, you’re our newest hero on the tribe. Coming off a win that you got through heart and loyalty.” Jeff explains, like everybody here didn’t already know how much of a blatantly good guy Peter Parker was. Three years ago when given the decision to choose between a floater and his ally who was an equally as strong competitor, he had chosen to bring Ned to the final two. It had won him a million dollars. “You intimidated at all? Or should they be?”

Peter looks around bashfully. “Yeah! No, I’m intimidated, you know? I’m not the only winner here. These are all some strong people, I definitely will have to work hard to stay.” He answers humbly.

Bucky resists the urge to roll his eyes at the answer. “Okay. Anybody think we got it wrong? That you’re on the wrong tribe?” Jeff asks and immediately half the villains raise their hands.

The heroes and Jeff laugh. “What did we do, Jeff?” You call out in a flirtatious tone. “What’d we do that was so bad?” Bucky can’t see your face, but he would bet his life that there’s a pout there.

“Come on, Y/N.” Jeff says your name incredulously. “You are definitely one of the best, but you single handedly led one of the greatest all female alliances in the history of this game and picked off who you wanted one by one.”

You turn your head to look and the heroes tribe and Bucky can see Steve, Sharon and Shuri, all from your season, watching you. Bucky isn’t sure who made the worst move, Steve giving up his immunity and sending you to final three or Shuri for bringing you to final two with her. Loyalty could be your downfall or saving grace in this game, Bucky’s learned, it just depends on your jury. “Steve!” Jeff calls out. “Y/N. Hero or villain?”

“Villain.” Steve answers quickly with a forced laugh. You shrug and turn to look at Jeff. “I outwitted him. Is that being a villain or playing the game of outwit, outplay, outlast?”

Jeff laughs. “Okay, guys. Do you want to get to your first challenge?” The group looks around at each other extremely confused. It was rare a challenge was played the first day on the island, normally tribes were sent to begin working on shelter before it got too dark.

It’s a physical game. There are eight lanes, each lane has one weighted bag buried in it. In pairs of two, each tribe would go out to the selected lane and dig. Whoever brought the bag back to their tribe won a point and it was first to four points to win.

After an hour, it’s tied, three to three and the only pair to have not gone twice is you and Natasha. You’re against Shuri and Carol, Bucky is a little nervous, but he thinks you two can win this. Shuri was known for her agility and Carol for her strength, but Bucky had faith in your ability to play dirty. “Go!” Jeff’s arms drop down and all four women are darting through the sand.

Bucky can’t stop his eyes from trailing over your body, knelt down in the sand as you quickly dig. You had stripped off your shorts and long sleeve now only in your bikini top and bottoms, the red buff wrapped around your wrist.

He knows why it had been so easy for the men of your beauty tribe to fall at your feet. The way your legs look in the sand and sun has him wanting to kneel for you. He just hopes you want to work with him too.

Natasha pulls the bag out. Carol dives for her legs and sends her face first to the ground. Shuri follows soon after and both of them are fighting with Natasha as you stand back.

Good. Bucky thinks. Let them tire themselves out, then you have the strength to get it away and get the point.

Shuri gets the bag in her hands and makes a mad dash down the lanes, but your arm wraps around her waist and yanks her back into your chest as your other hand moves to yank at the bag.

Natasha gets up and holds Carol back with two hands around the waist. “Push, Shuri! Push!” Steve screams out. Bucky rolls his eyes at the nonsensical advice.

“Sweep her feet out!” Bucky’s voice overpowers the rest of his tribe. Your eyes meet his briefly. “She’s tired! She’s burnt out. She won’t get up quick enough!”

Your hands grip at the bag tightly and you swipe a leg underneath Shuri’s feet. Her knees give out and the bag is easily yanked away from her weak grip.

“Yes!” Your tribe screams as you reach the mat and Jeff calls out. “Villains win first immunity!” Bucky’s hand lands on your lower back and you turn to look up at him happily. He hopes you can see the praise in his eyes because that performance? That’s why he wants to work with you.

                                               You - Villain Tribe

“Looking at my tribe, we’re pretty stacked. We’re good. Heroes don’t have a chance.” You throw your head back in a laugh. “Is it awful I’m excited to take a million dollars away from Steve again?”

                                       Steve Rogers - Hero Tribe

“It uh- It sucks to lose. I hate losing. It sucks even more that we lost to the villains. I don’t want to vote any of our people out yet, we all deserve to be here. It just sucks.”

Day Two

You had underestimated how tense camp would be with men who had been used to leading their tribes in the past. Tony wanted to build shelter on flat land and Bucky thought sturdy trees for a sturdy base was more important.

Bucky was right, of course. You knew he was in construction, you had watched his season, and had seen the impressive shelter he had helped build. Tony just couldn’t get over himself, but that was no shock. You would use his pride as a chance to move forward in this game.

“They’re just being idiots.” You say softly as you and Bucky try to start a fire. Nothing is really working and the sun will set soon, defeat settles between you two. “Don’t let them get to you.”

You eye his metal arm. It had been what made him a favorite early on, way before he even got his villain marker. His story of a car crash that had resulted in the lost of his left arm and a generous doctor that had worked to give him this new age prosthetic.

“‘M not.” He mutters angrily as the smoke blows out and chance at a fire slips further and further away. “Just… fuck… Just annoyed at myself for not being able to get this.”

You look over your shoulder. “And at the fact that we’ll be sleeping in a shit hole tonight.” You shake your head. Bucky snorts and nods before falling onto his back and dropping the kindle that he had been attempting to light on fire.

Your eyes trail over his abdomen, put on display by his shirt that has ridden up in his new position. You bite down on your lip as your eyes trail over his thighs before you remember that the camera men are only a few feet away and caught every second of your staring.

You clear your throat and move to sit next to him. “I think we’d work well together.” You say just above a whisper. You glance over your shoulder again, but the rest of the tribe is too busy arguing over the shelter.

Bucky looks up at you hesitantly. “Yeah?” He asks just as softly. “Not gonna break my heart right?” He gives you a teasing smile that makes your breath catch.

You shrug and stand up, offering a hand to him. “No promises. I can’t stop you from falling in love with me.” You giggle, partly for the show of it but also because Bucky’s hand is huge in yours and makes your stomach flip.

He laughs and the two of you turn back and begin walking towards the shelter. Right before you reach it and have to go your separate ways, Bucky taps your back. “I think we would too.”

                                           You - Villain Tribe

“Getting my claws on Bucky first is the best thing for my game. He’ll be loyal to me longer than anybody else.” You smile. “And Bucky is the best guy here. Tony may be an OG but he played like thirteen years ago. Strange is kind of cold. Clint and Natasha played together, he’ll be loyal to her before me. And Loki plays a game too similar to mine.” You shrug like it’s a no brainer.

                                    Bucky Barnes - Villain Tribe

“I came to win this time, okay? No more aligning with underdogs. No more just physicality getting me to the end. I need strategy and she’s the best strategist to ever play this game.” Bucky smirks. “Just ask Steve Rogers.”

Day Three

It’s pouring rain by the time both tribes get to the challenge. Bucky had been right, of course he had. The shelter was weak and the rain was destroying it. It would need to be rebuilt when you returned to camp and he could only hope the rain stops long enough to allow him to build a real shelter.

“Heroes will be with me at tribal council.” Jeff explains. “So, today, you are playing for reward. Wanna see what you’re playing for?”

The entire tribe is huddled together in an attempt to keep warm as Jeff explains the challenge and reward. He lifts a cover to reveal a tarp, blankets, pillows and flint. Bucky almost groans at the sight. They needed this win. “I’ll give you a minute to strategize.” Jeff waves them off.

It’s almost every type of challenge in one. Physical, logical and strategical. Six members would build a boat from the pieces given then sail out to retrieve all the puzzle pieces from where they were clipped on buoys. Then bring them back to the remaining two members who would work on the puzzle. First to solve it wins.

“Darcy and I can work on the puzzle.” You say quickly with Darcy nodding along. Bucky and the rest of the tribe agree and get to their starting places.

It’s a crazy adrenaline rush when Jeff yells for everyone to go. “Heroes take an early lead!” Jeff narrates as they push their boat out onto the water. Bucky can feel his tribemates settle in defeat.

“Let’s fucking go!” He urges, forcing the last piece of the boat into place. He and Clint push the boat out before climbing in beside the rest of the villains. Bucky tries to drown out Jeff’s commentary, but it’s hard when every few seconds he’s pointing out the major lead the heroes are creating. “Nobody panic. They’ve got Steve on the puzzle.”

That gets a small, tense laugh out of the group as the heroes boat reaches shore again and the villains remain collecting puzzle pieces.

Hope fizzles in Bucky’s chest when he hears your’s and Darcy’s cheers and the arguing of Steve and Carol, both placed on puzzle and both having different tactics.

“The villains are coming from behind!” Jeff says in an impressed tone as they finally push their boat to shore. “The heroes just can’t figure out this puzzle and are losing their huge lead.”

“Yeah, thanks!” Shuri calls out annoyed from the sidelines as Bucky hands off the bag of puzzle pieces to you. You dump them out and you and Darcy immediately start to spread them out to look.

“Wow! Heroes just cannot get this puzzle figured out!” Jeff shakes his head. Steve and Carol continue to argue and yank pieces away from one another. “Villains have made a remarkable comeback!” You and Darcy seem to be communicating amazingly and pieces just fall into place. 

“Jeff! Jeff!” You scream out excitedly as Darcy stuffs the last piece into place and you two step back. Jeff looks at the puzzle for a moment before throwing his arms up. “Villains win reward!”

Everybody screams in excitement and Bucky immediately turns to you. “Fuck!” He says excitedly as you jump up, legs wrapping around his waist. He wraps an arm under your thighs and tries hard to ignore how good they feel wrapped around him. “Darcy!” He waves her over into a half hug. “Puzzle queens! Puzzle queens!” He cheers, the tribe following in suit.

They’re allowed to celebrate for a few more seconds as the heroes groan until producers force them back onto their designated mats. “Villains. Take your tarp and flint, pillows and blankets will be delivered once the rain stops.” Everybody rushes forward as you take the tarp and flint into your hands.

“Heroes I got nothing for you. Except your trip to tribal right now.” Bucky glances over his shoulder as the heroes stare at Jeff in shock. “Yep! You lost immunity on day one and have had two days to discuss, grab your stuff and follow me.”

Bucky and you laugh with each other as you make your way back to camp.

                                            Shuri - Hero Tribe

“I’m just so… I told them to put me on the puzzle. Put me! Who won three puzzle challenges her season? I’m just so angry. We had such a good lead and we lost it because nobody wanted to listen to each other and everybody wanted to be a leader. Now somebody who deserves to be here has to go home while the villains live lavishly.”

Day Five

Your tribe wins reward again.

After the shocking reveal of Carol being voted out at the first tribal council, villains are perplexed. Carol had been strong, furthest from being the weakest link who was usually voted off first.

You know that’s what being on the wrong side of the numbers will get you.

This time it’s fishing gear. It sends a morale boost throughout the tribe. You grin as you watch Bucky reluctantly walk ahead with Tony.

Tony had latched onto Bucky after Bucky had helped create a better shelter. And once they had secured the tarp and loaded in the blankets and pillows, it was like a five star resort to the already tired and hungry tribe.

You can see Natasha fall in line with you in your peripheral vision and try to hide your smirk. “You’re good.” She murmurs.

You look straight ahead and shrug. “What makes you say that?”

“You and Bucky almost never go off together. Barely talk outside of groups at camp. Really only interact during challenges.” She says quietly. The group is far ahead and most likely couldn't hear if you spoke in normal tones, but you appreciate her caution. “He’s wrapped around your finger though.”

You almost stop, but refuse to let her see you stumble. She was right, you and Bucky were exceedingly cautious when it came to associating with each other at camp. “You think so? He has a crush?” You ask softly. “He’s cute, right? Not too bad.” You feign ignorance.

Natasha smirks. “Yeah.” Her hand wraps around your arm and pulls you to a stop with her. “Listen. It’s Tony and Strange on one side. You and Bucky on the other. We’ve been winning, so nobody is going to admit their alliances, but I’d rather be prepared for our first loss.”

You nod. “What are you saying?” You knew Tony and Stephen would team up. They were both considered original survivors, coming out of the first few seasons and still working on understanding this new version of the game.

“Clint and I can be numbers.” She says steadily. You lick your lips. Clint and Natasha had done Micronesia together. He had been the only one to not write her name down when she was eliminated. She had voted for him to win. It’s not a surprise they had fallen into working together again. “We protect each other. Final Four, after that we’re on our own.”

“I’ll have to speak with Bucky.” You begin to walk again. “But that sounds like a good deal to me.” You give her a small smile.

                               Natasha Romanoff - Villain Tribe

“I’m not an idiot. I know Y/N plays this game loyal to herself only. But I’m playing a strategic game. Clint and I make it to the merge with her numbers then we can flip of we need to.”

                                           You - Villain Tribe

“Final four?” You scoff. “Please. Two person alliance versus two person alliance in the final four? I’m not trying to draw rocks. Four people is good and then we’ll make the merge and I’ll work my magic.”

“I’m gonna get some firewood.” Your foot knocks against Bucky’s ankle. When he looks up from his spot on the ground, you subtly nod your head in the direction of the jungle. 

“I can help. It’s getting dark, better two than one.” He stands up. Nobody acknowledges your exit but Nat, who smirks at you before looking back at the rice cooking over the fire.

You two walk in silence, making sure to be out of earshot before stopping to talk quickly. “Natasha and Clint want to work with us. Final four.”

Bucky looks over his shoulder in the direction of camp before looking back at you. “We can promise them the merge. Final four with a two person alliance as solid as their’s is suicide.”

You look up at Bucky and laugh. Did he think you were dumb? “I know that.” You say slowly. “We should just agree to the final four then get rid of them after the merge.”

Bucky huffs out a breath. “That’s smart, but how do you know we won’t be turned on if we vote them out? How do you know Darcy and Loki aren’t already four with Strange and Tony?” His nerves are reasonable, but they make you want to laugh.

You shake your head instead staring up at him with reassuring eyes. “They won’t be. I’ve talked with Darcy a little bit. Plus, Loki works the swing vote angle as long as he can. You watched him last season, it’s how he made it so far.” 

“Okay.” Bucky agrees slowly. “So, we work with Clint and Natasha and work on getting Loki as a swing vote? What if they turn on us? These people’s word means jack.” Bucky’s arm shifts and your eyes immediately trail over it curiously. Did it do that when he was nervous? Was it normal?

“Don’t worry.” You place a gentle hand on his arm, you wondered how the metal didn’t heat in the sun the same way a metal slide would. Questions for a later time. “There are hidden immunity idols, Buck. We just have to find them.”

You walk past him then, picking wood up as you go. The cameras stay on Bucky, who you can feel staring after you. 

Men were so easy.

                                     Bucky Barnes - Villain Tribe

“She’s… She’s got it all mapped out. To the end. She’s not playing this bullshit tribe first, individual later game. She’s here to win. It’s hot.” He blushes before his eyes widen in realization. “I could win this.”

Day Six

The immunity challenge is grueling. Large crates in the tribe’s color have to be rolled from one end of the field to the other by two people. Six crates in total and Jeff had evened the teams out so each tribe only had six people playing, meaning each pair would go out twice no matter what.

Tony and Darcy had opted to sit out, and each pair had to go out twice. Bucky knew this would kill everyone, it had looked downright brutal long before Jeff shouted Go.

Bucky can be the first to admit maybe the team didn’t strategize correctly when choosing pairs. While he and Loki were able to bring the first crate back before the heroes, Clint and Stephen slow the group down. Once the heroes build momentum, they’ve got the lead. You and Natasha struggle to catch up.

By the sixth crate, everybody is downright exhausted. Bucky can’t even comprehend how the heroes had gotten through all six crates so fast.

“Villains start your puzzle.” Jeff calls out. Bucky thinks this is worse than the running. These crates are almost as tall as he is and definitely weighed damn near close too.

Setting the first two in place would be fine, the last four? Pure hell. They had to be lifted into place and Bucky wasn’t sure his tribe could do it. Not when Steve was already lifting crates up for the heroes and sticking them in place like it was nothing.

“Heroes with a huge lead!” Jeff narrates excitedly from the sidelines. “Can the villains catch up?” 

“Fuck this.” Bucky mutters taking a step back. His back hits something soft - you. You nails trail up his spine and he shivers before turning to look down at you. “That piece then that piece?” You point out and Bucky turns to look.

Loki and Clint have the first piece in place. Natasha and Strange are pushing the second. Two pieces have to be lifted next and you seem to have cracked the code.

“You’re so smart.” He punches your shoulder affectionately before yelling out. He starts calling out directions and suddenly everything seems to have fallen into place. The villains tribe is quiet and works together easily while the heroes fall apart, again. 

“Villains win immunity!” Jeff calls out again and the heroes fall into dismay. Yelling and arguing with one another even more. “That means the heroes will once again see me at tribal council. I’ll give you the afternoon to discuss, head on out.” 

Bucky carries the immunity trophy back to camp with a bright smile. These first few days couldn’t have gone any better. A winning streak, set alliance, and final two plan?

He was winning this time. No doubt about it.

                                     Peter Parker - Hero Tribe 

“It just sucks because… because now they’re talking about sending Steve home instead of like - Sharon. She’s smart, but she’s just not the strongest person here and we obviously need a stronger tribe.” 

                                     Steve Rogers - Hero Tribe 

“A line was drawn in the sand last tribal. Scott, Wanda and I on one side. Shuri, Peter, Sharon and Thor on the other. Now it’s just who they want to go home and I hope it’s not me.” 

                                       Thor Odinson - Hero Tribe 

“There’s talk of Steve going home, but I… I don’t know if that’s what will be best for us. We need our strong players and he’s strong! I’m gonna talk to them and see what I can do. We just… We just can’t lose strong people. We’ll get our asses handed to us.”

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《

notes // you can probably tell, but until the merge, you won’t get inside on the heroes tribe. the focus of this is bucky & reader on their tribe. the confessionals are really you’re only hint to anybody else’s train of thought! i’m excited to explore this, it’s really just for fun & not meant to be a super serious fic. a break from harsh angst and all that! i hope you enjoy it, even just a little! the next part will have more to it & it will get more interesting! this is meant as an introduction, a season premiere if you will. :))

& if you’ve watched the real heroes vs villains season you’ll notice a lot of this follows after that set up, like the challenges and eliminations, but i’ve written it around these characters and personalities!

my writing is free & will remain free! but if you have the resources and enjoyed it, consider donating to my ko-fi :) & if that’s not possible consider reblogging or leaving comments! spreading my work or letting me know you enjoyed it means the world to me & lets me know i’m not shouting into the void!

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes au #james bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x female reader #survivor au #bucky barnes x fem!reader #steve rogers

[worldsover]

Dal Segno ft. Chuu

length ✦ 3570

genres ✧ music making; oral fixation; facefuck; subby!Chuu

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Composition is only fifty percent of the process, you've heard, but it's closer to ten for you. For the importance of a solid melody and chord progression with the right instruments and singer, a song becomes less than the sum of its parts with bad mixing because all that effort goes to waste when you can’t hear something, or when something is too loud, or when a certain je ne sais quoi is wrong. But you do know. You don't have to be a chef to be a food critic but it certainly helps. Avoid muddling the lows as it waters down the soup. Carve space in the highs to prevent too much salt from killing the taste buds. Have at most five sounds at a time or else the flavors clash. Focus on these basic techniques to guide you as repetition wears down your mind. Funny. Repetition legitimizes especially in music yet here you are fatigued by repetition as though you weren't down four cups of black coffee. Repetition legitimizes. “From the sign,” the translation reads. Notation, simply instructing a musician to return to a certain point in a piece. You recognize it as an intro song you wrote years ago.

Glass and foam separate the undersized room. Cheap ramen and dampness in the hot air contribute to the odor. You would keep the fan on, if it were worth the extra time filtering out faint noise from recordings. The only scent that keeps you sane is a slight strawberry flavor lingering in the room. Jiwoo. Your muse. A large clock holds both of its hands near one with the lack of natural light muddling whether it’s AM or PM. Studios were always underground man-caves whether they were discount rooms or the signature workspace of the biggest producers. Here you are in the former. Look down at the Macbook and all the wires, sliders, and knobs. Deep breath. “Take 63,” you say into the cheap control room microphone.

“Not good enough.”

“Again.”

“One more.”

Look up. Jiwoo sucks on a grape lollipop. You stare. Watching her fixated on getting all flavor out of the purple sweet derails your flow state. See, work had a rhythm. Listen, volume up, hotkey to copy this clip, volume down. The obvious innuendo sends you offbeat. That perky butt bending over to get a notebook filled with lyrics entrenches the folds of your brain. She didn’t have to wear that skirt. You’ve seen that skirt already and you wish she weren’t wearing it. Oh, you really wish she weren’t wearing that skirt. Guilt sets in. You’re a trusted coworker, she, a naive girl. It takes a while to find your groove again. Your stare has yet to cease until she finally returns the eye contact with candy still in mouth. Her pink tongue laps to secure all the sugar and red pillows engulf the ever-shrinking circle. Pop. Anyone else and it would be calculated action.

“Oppa." Her voice resounds in your monitor headphones. "I don’t know if these harmonies really make sense. Why did you write the second voice to cross down below the main line? Plus it goes so low."

“To be fair, you wrote both of those melodies and you said you wanted them in the same song. Tell me anywhere else they’d work.”

“Ugh, let’s figure this out later. Next song.“

Dozens of takes later and Jiwoo’s frustration causes her to make mistakes. Sometimes she even tries to start singing with the sucker in her mouth. For the character she plays, you know she’s a professional and that she can be better. Yet hours later, she still could not get the vocal runs right. Incomplete songs bloat your project folder: "Jiwoo - Mania", "Jiwoo - Look Closer", "Jiwoo - Untitled Idea 21". Just a small side project that the company approved during another ample period of break time between comebacks. That’s why the director didn’t even let you use the company’s facilities, instead opting to rent out this cheap closet of a studio. At least no one would be mad about the amount of time you spent recording together.

You shift seats from the leather office chair to the white lovechair, the only two pieces of furniture that fit comfortably in the room. Jiwoo follows suit and leaves the recording booth, really more of a phone booth in square footage, while she huffs and puffs on her candy.

“I’m tired, oppa,” she says.

“Me too, Jiwoo. May I remind you that I’m not getting paid extra for this. Are you gonna focus or what?” your voice just a few cents down, just a bit harsher.

“I, I’m sorry.” A lick anyway. Her meek tone disappears, “Ya! You know how good your royalties are gonna be. Sole producer and all that. Plus, here you are still doing all this work for me." Why were you working so hard on this? "You know, if you just taught me how to use Ableton-”

“Then I’d be out of a job.”

Jiwoo frowns, “Wow, selfish much? You could’ve joined me as a trainee.”

“Nah, no way. Fish dance better.”

“Shut up, oppa. You would’ve easily made it with your, um, musical talent.” She clamps down on the lollipop with her mouth.

“You good? What was that?”

“Let’s," she stands promptly, "get back to recording.”

Crack. Jiwoo bites down on the lollipop and throws the stick in the trash. In ten minutes, she nails the verse she spent hours trying to get right. It'd be really nice to know what catalyzed that rally. You'd ask but driving Jiwoo back to her dorm is quiet as usual.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Make a good impression on someone, anyone, on your first day as a mixing engineer. That’s why you returned to the Blockberry Creative building with an extra bar of Melona in hand. A simple bribery. Light beamed down between two skyscrapers on a short girl with long hair and strands of bangs adorning her forehead. She stood outside the lobby, introducing herself to every passerby. You had to pinch her cheeks, the intrusive thought screamed.

She scurried up to you. “Hi! I’m Kim Jiwoo and I’m going to become an idol!”

Ah, a trainee. You already knew she was destined to become one. Well, not literally, you weren’t in charge of that. But her overflowing charm was impossible to ignore. You had to tease her though, “Are you sure?”

“Hey! What would you know about that, mister?” she said.

You bit down on your mango. “Mister? First of all, I’m only a high school senior,” her lips rounded in surprise, “And second, I’m your new audio guy, and I know for a fact they’re debuting you girls in order of talent.”

“Woooow. Well, I’ll have you know, I have a great voice!” She certainly spoke lyrically.  “Wait a minute, I didn’t know they hired people that young.” You pointed at her. “Okay, I’m in high school too. But that’s different, idols start this age.”

“I guess. I’ve been making music ever since I was a kid, and they liked what I had,” you said and Jiwoo nodded in understanding.

She fluttered her eyebrows. “Sooo, is that mango ice cream for me? Oppa?” A little surprised she already called you that, but it sounded right.

“No, I have this unopened strawberry-” Jiwoo snatched the half-eaten cold treat from your hand, and started licking it. Trouble she would be.

You spent many recording sessions together, alone after all the other members left. She cozied up to you because her little musical snippets had to become full-fledged tracks and you helped her out every time.

Something changed over the years however. Your interactions became colder. It felt like you were the only one who she would respond to in a deeper voice. Jiwoo wouldn't pepper you with silly acts or mess around. Maybe she took you more seriously which is how you managed to make more songs together regardless. Then, you stood idly by and watched her debut. Who didn't love her? But when she was with you, you missed the playfulness, the ice cream and her riffing over your playful guitar strums. It turned less of a hobby and more of a job though you never regretted any second with Jiwoo regardless.

Under the Earth's largest natural satellite, you shared a simple meal in black bean noodles. She was still in her hippie outfit from the comeback, and you handed her your jacket since it was cold. You realized, there was something else there that you were too inexperienced to notice. Your bodies' radiation replace the chill in the air, a bubble with just the two of you eating on the grass in a park near your dorm. A cliche slurping on one noodle and Jiwoo pulled away. In embarrassment, like a damn anime character, she hiccuped. Good thing you didn't close your eyes when you leaned in.

“Wanna make an album together?” Jiwoo says.

“Sure.”

You threw away the noodles’ package and escorted her home. That was all you expected anyway. Fine.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

“That’s enough!”

Three goddamn weeks. It's been three goddamn weeks and you've barely made any progress.

Barge into the booth, slam the door shut and raise your tone, just below a shout, “I've had it up to here! You know how many of my songs have been mashed together in some unholy quest for your perfection? Just one unknown something is missing and either you start complaining or we move on to the next."

She backs up from the mic to the insulated wall but you continue, paying no heed to her, as you spout your piece to the artificially cold air, "You know how much time I’ve spent outside working on these songs? These are songs I’ve saved up over years. And you trash them like they’re nothing. How do you even manage to record LOONA tracks?”

Regret sinks in. This was your passion project as much as hers. Was it frustration from the recordings? Weeks of the same routine and it took until now for you to give in to your temper.

"It wouldn't even be that bad! If you could just one time, you could be cute or cheerful again with me, or,” Fuck. So stupid. You don’t have to take your friendships for granted like this. You’re lucky enough she treats you as much. “Hold on. Wait, I'm-"

Examine her face. It’s not sour and she hasn’t stormed out or even slapped you.

“No, no. You don’t have to say it. I’m. I’m sorry oppa.” She looks down. “I'm the one messing up after all." Her heartbeat a harsh snare drum. "And you. You're. Different. Looking at you always made me feel some, something funny. Not funny but? Ugh. I wish I could explain it.”

You hold in your confusion.

She blabbers on, “Like, are. Are you mad? I promise you, I,” A nervous breath, ”I like you. Okay?"

Your confusion grows like the length of your silence.

"I’m just acting how I really am with you. Do you want to maybe, I don't know, like," her voice decrescendos, "Um. Punish me?”

Your heart, your brain are deprived of blood as it all rushes down. Did you hear that right? Not an apology, not retribution, but a call to punishment? Misinterpreting her, the consequences would be dire but that damned demure tone for such an erotic request. Was Jiwoo the exact type of slut constructed in your mind? The one that made you feel sinful for even imagining. No, no, there's no way.

Too late. Jiwoo must have noticed the absurd bulge now. It had to be these Adidas pants today. Fuck it. Life can’t be lived fully without risk. Hopefully, the same switch turned in her mind. You remove all ire from your face and say in earnest, “Do you like games?"

She lights up a little. You sigh relieved.

"Let’s try…”, you say, ”Strip recording.” She lights up a little more, so you go on, ”If I mess up anything, the mix, the composition, the arrangement, I’ll take off a piece of clothing. Your choice. And every time you mess up-”

Jiwoo unbuttons her denim shorts and brings them down her tight legs.

“D- did I say now?”

However, with her resolve steeled, she continues pulling them. "So what? I did mess up, right?" she says coquettish. Deliberate the turn she makes when she bows down to remove the shorts from her legs, Jiwoo reveals a hint of her innie pussy on that same little ass that ran through your mind earlier. A small trace of her thighs glistens, the only thing reflecting the single lightbulb’s glow in the microphone’s abode. She turns back to face you. "Please. Punish me."

Step closer until Jiwoo backs up to the soundproofing. She’s an eighth note away from your face, flashing her beady eyes and a coy smile, ”Where's your underwear?" A little drop spills out onto the floor, "And why are you so wet, Jiwoo-ah?”

Red on her cheeks, like she only now realized her dishevelment in front of you. “You just… Something about you snapping at me. I don’t get it either. I knew you'd do it, some day, I wanted you to," she mumbles in her best efforts to answer you.

“Have you ever worn underwear to the recordings?”

Those efforts continue to fail.

"Oh, Kim Jiwoo. What do I do with you?" One of your hands grabs her cheek. The other crawls down her back to grab her cheek.

“Oppa… Do I have to say it?”

“I want to hear every." Smack. "Word." Smack. She slips a moan.

“Can you," she says, "can you use my mouth?”

You disguise your long pause as thought, teasing the bare skin of her ass with your exploratory fingers to bide time, but it's an expression of your shock. The interruption helps you come up with a more suitable punishment however.

“How about this then. Every time you mess up, you have to give me a blowjob. Call?”

“Call!” Once more, unprompted, she kneels down in front of you and claws away your track pants. You roll with the punches.

"Oppaa," with an pronounced pop and in a sing-songy rhythm, "I've always wanted to know, if your dick-" It certainly didn't need Jiwoo's dainty hands pulling on your boxers, as it would've sprang out on its own with how like diamond your cock is getting.

"Fuuuck," the first profanity you ever hear her utter, she lilts. "Please. Oppa. Fuck my face?"

After all she said, she could still surprise you. Bring your hips forward and just as you would've her pussy, tease Jiwoo’s lips with the head of your dick. She parts them open, starved, anxious.

Hold her by the chin. "Wait."

She freezes at the command. Again, like foreplay, rub her lips with that head making them turn redder and more plump. You sweep aside her bangs to see her begging eyes. More importantly, slide your dick up to her nude forehead to slap as a first act of retribution. “A-ah!” Jiwoo stutters as you slap her face with your manhood again and again. Bring your cock back down and she's already a mess without you even having entered her mouth. A little drool from her shut lips gently massages your balls while a bit of precum drools from your slit to meet those lips.

Jiwoo mumbles as best as she can with you holding her jaw shut and your dick on her lips, "Please. Please. Shove your dick in me. I need you in my mouth."

You squint your rough eyes to command her.

Muffled still, "Oppa. Please. I. I need to taste you. You just, you're so thick and you're so long and cock is perfect and please I just-"  Loosen the grip on her chin to let her envelop the entire tip with her warm lips. "Mmmmm..." the moan resonates a saw wave and your stern resolve fades away on your first entrance into her face but it returns as her teeth rub against you. She quickly readjusts her jaw but it takes multiple attempts of you pulling out and her sucking you back until only silken lips hold your cock's head. Finally. A focused glint in her eyes. She endeavours to keep your tip in her mouth as long as possible.

You were mad at her earlier, weren't you?

Recall this anger and press yourself into her with all your hips' strength, working against the force of her lip's airtight suction. Saliva leaks to betray the seal. Jiwoo's prying tongue explores the underside of your cock but you reach an impasse while she's not even halfway down the shaft. You shove your dick deeper but to no avail and tears roll down her eyes joining the fluids coating her lips. Thus you exit back out. And back in you go to repeat and repeat and slowly increase your rate, becoming rough sex with her diligent mouth. All the positions you’ve imagined fucking her little pussy, you picture using her throat instead. Even in this compact studio, the couch, chair and desk would provide ample support for you to use her in many ways. The dirty thoughts inspire your speed right now. She slurps and gulps at every quick plunge but you realize her moans and rumbles aren't just incoherent reactions. You decelerate.

“Ah, ahhh, ahhhhhh… Ah’ve ahways- Hmph.” She slurs as she tries her hardest to communicate while her airway is blocked.

She slides up your cock to catch some air, “Thought about it- Mmm.”

“Your dick in my mouth and it’s just so pew, fect- Ahhh.” Jiwoo's lips let go gently then her tongue sticks out to lick up your cock and she shows off a trail of spit leading to your tip. A less patient man would’ve jerked himself off right there to grant her eyes and open mouth's unison request to feed on your cum.

Instead you retort, “You think you’ve earned it? Not even halfway down. Going nowhere, just like our recording sessions, huh?”

“Shut up!”

“Oof.” You’re already weak in the knees so Jiwoo's one handed shove sends your tailbone to the floor. Since you’re still dazed by her confounding strength, she takes initiative and kowtows her head into your lap to crawl down your cock with her tiny lips. Fondling your balls, Jiwoo starts from the furthest point she could muster on your shaft up to your cock head. Her tongue follows back and she starts playing under your tip to swirl that tongue around the most sensitive parts until it explores your slit. You buckle and groan. Jiwoo sucks and spits and sucks while she circles only the most minimal twisting motion of her lips on your head. This is the Jiwoo you know. Relentless. Only now your load is her magnus opus.

Her right hand strays downwards and her face on your dick blocks a full view but you can tell that hand is working as intensely as her mouth. As she strokes herself with more vigor, she starts humming a satisfied melody on your tip. In kind, your subtle grunts turn into full-bodied moans. You're a single measure away from your coda so you reach down and pull her off your cock by grabbing her neck.

You glare into her. “Desperate little girl, aren't you?”

Her breath is stilted and she's nearly shaking. “Please…” she sobs, ”You, you want it as bad as I do right?” Of course. “Won't you just cum for me?” Not now. Not when you have putty in your hands.

“You're making a mess. You can't take me all the way down. And I see that it’s not just your saliva coating the floor.” Point to the spot where she kneels, her drool joins a stain growing ever larger with a strand of juice from her pussy flowing as you continue to berate her. Then you point to her hand. Ha. “Were you playing with yourself using my pencil?”

“No… Wait!”

You back off. “Your top’s a mess too. Anyone can tell I just fucked your face.” You take off your black hoodie and give it to her. “I’ll see you tomorrow for our next session.”

“Wait, we didn’t book tomorrow, did we? Also, you can’t just leave me like this! Oppa!”

"I said, I'll see you tomorrow. I have to go,“ you remind her, ”Ha Rin’s picking you up. And give me back that pencil.”

She hands it to you, unable to meet your eyes despite hers lusting over your cock. You'll definitely use the alluring musk on it for later to save you from your self-induced blue balls. Exit the booth. Of course she barely waits to use your hoodie the same way since she doesn’t notice you lingering in the room. Instead of hiding the grey long sleeve that soaks her neck, your used sweatshirt covers Jiwoo’s face as her fingers make the mess on the floor larger.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

AFF, AO3

Swear to god I’m not just writing the cutest idols to write for. I mean maybe I am but also this answer from @nsfwtwicecatcher​ and all the subsequent pictures that I found of Chuu pouting inspired me. Also, this was a longer piece but I kept spinning my tires on it and decided to split it up, so look out for more.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Fermata, the aforementioned sequel

#kpop smut #loona smut #male reader #reader insert #title tracks

[coffeestainsandcashmere]

Let No Man Steal Your Thyme - (older Dramione) Part Five

I hope you enjoy this one! It features a surprise snooty owl (I wonder who could own such a creature???) and some well-meaning concern from a friend. And some banter. And an expensive lunch. Because Theo is extra and can’t help himself. And it’s 4.6k words long...

I also realised that, since I wrote the first chapter basically out of the blue and not really intending for it to blow up into a big multi-part story, I’ve messed up the timeline a little with Harry’s kids, so I’ll have to go back and fix that when it comes to a re-edit before it goes up on AO3, but for now, just handwave it, ok? :)

Finally, many thanks for your lovely owls, anonymous or otherwise, about this story and where it’s going! I was honestly floored by the feedback I’ve got, and thank you to those who’ve reblogged it and helped get it out there for folks to read. I have a very small following since this side-blog is fairly new, so all reblogs are very much appreciated. I did a quick doodle for the cover of the story which you can find here, if you’re interested in how I pictured Draco and Scorpius standing in the steam from the Hogwarts Express from chapter one.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

___

Far earlier on Monday morning than she was accustomed to these days, Hermione woke with a start and frowned, confused. Eyes dry and prickly, and hair absolutely everywhere, she sat up and looked around, straining her ears as she blearily tried to work out what had yanked her so unceremoniously from a deep and mercifully dreamless sleep. Her Muggle alarm clock silently showed 05:54 in harsh red numbers, and nothing had touched the wards or tried to get in, though there was something thrumming against them, like the lingering reverberations of a plucked harp string.  

The temporary stillness was shattered when a wild scrabbling of claws and the beating of enormous wings started up against her bedroom window. With a flailing shriek of surprise, she nearly fell out of bed, but after taking a deep breath, she stumbled out from under the covers to wrench the curtains open.  

“Bloody owls!” she began, but drew up short when she saw the unfamiliar bird waiting impatiently on the other side of the glass.  

There, battering its truly monstrous talons against the glass, was a colossal eagle owl. When it saw her, it stopped its fussing to perch haughtily on the brick windowsill outside and fix her with a fiery red glare. If owls could have raised their eyebrows, she got the impression that this one would have done it at the sight of her.  

“Yeah, well, it’s early. What did you expect?” she groused as she slid the window panel to one side and the bird looked around her bedroom with obvious disdain. Imperiously, it stuck out one leg, like a noble expecting a servant to remove a dirty boot, and she saw a rolled-up piece of parchment with a green wax seal and a green ribbon to bind it together.  

“Who do you belong to then?” she asked, going automatically to stroke the bird’s flight-ruffled chest plumage. It instantly hissed and nipped at her fingers, and she barely drew them back in time. “Christ! No need for that,” she gasped. She’d never met a postal owl as cantankerous as this one. “I usually give visiting owls a treat, but I don't think I like your manners one bit.”  

With the letter in hand, she slid the window closed again, leaving a gap just small enough that the bird wasn’t going to barge its way in. She wondered if it had been instructed to wait for an answer because it began almost immediately clicking its beak against the glass and hooting indignantly. 

“Manners makyth bird,” she snapped without looking up, and broke the unfamiliar wax seal on the letter.

It had a cursive ���M’ within a circle, but was otherwise unadorned. Unfurling it, she glanced at the name on the bottom and her eyebrows rose as her growing suspicions were confirmed. It was signed in a princely English roundhand by none other than Draco Malfoy.  

She snorted, glancing back at the bird who was doing its best basilisk impression from the other side of the glass. “Who else would have such a snotty owl?”

It hooted childishly at her again and she laughed.  

Dear Hermione,

I must beg of you to forgive the unspeakably rude hour of this correspondence, but I am leaving this morning for France by portkey for a couple of days and I had hoped to get your answer before I left. I should add now before you read any further — although with your kind heart I fear it may be too late already — that Cassiopeia here is not fond of physical affection, but is very partial to owl treats. She can be bribed into doing almost anything for food, but affection is sadly not in her nature, so please be careful with your fingers around her beak. The only reason I was able to get her to fly at all at this time of the day was to bribe her lavishly. She’s terribly spoilt, and for that, I’m sorry too.  

Hermione shot another look at the bird, who narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Cassiopeia, eh?” she said and the enormous owl bobbed a few times. “Prideful about your good looks then, are you? You should know how your namesake’s story ended then. But, I suppose you could be forgiven since you are an inordinately pretty bird. You’ll still not get a crumb from me after trying to take my fingers off though. I’ll be having words with Malfoy about that.”  

Cassiopeia ruffled her feathers and promptly turned her back on Hermione. The bird didn’t take off, so she returned her attention to the letter.  

I spent all weekend thinking about our evening together on Friday, but it will come as little surprise to you to learn that it has taken me all that time to muster up my limited courage to ask you to dinner at your next convenience. Naturally, I left it to the last possible moment to ask you. I have a place in mind in London, but it’s a little more out of the way than the restaurants on Diagon Alley. I have it on authority from the owner that you have never been there, and I would very much like to surprise you, but if you would feel more comfortable knowing in advance, then you can ask Theo while I am out of the country.  

Staggered, Hermione stared at the letter and found her vision swimming a little. Blinking, she was shocked to find tears blurring his formal — almost painfully formal — words.  

But how long had it been since anyone had actually asked her on a date? ‘Too intimidating’, ‘too boring’, ‘too work-orientated’, ‘too bossy’, ‘too driven’ were all things she’d heard at one point or another, and admittedly many of them from Ron.  

Thirty seven wasn’t even old - especially by magical standards - but she didn’t exactly have the same bright-eyed charms as someone like, say, Lavender did anymore. Hard work, and a draining marriage seemed to have sapped much of the youth and vigour from her. And, if she were honest, being replaced by someone supposedly ‘more attractive’ had damaged her more deeply than she cared to admit, even to herself. There were certainly days when she felt like a washed-up, burnt-out, dowdy old matron. She had crashed out of a sparkling career in the Ministry to run a scruffy old second-hand bookshop next to the newly-refurbished Florian Fortescue’s ice cream parlour.  

“Why are you even bothering, Malfoy?” she murmured aloud as she stared blankly at the letter in her hands. With looks like his — and a groaning Gringotts’ account if the rumours were to be believed, not that that mattered a jot to Hermione — he could probably have had almost any witch he wanted, his past and reclusive behaviour be damned. And yet he was asking her to dinner after having only met twice since they turned eighteen? Three times, she supposed if she included that brief encounter at the Ministry on the night of the attack.  

Perhaps he was lonely just wanted the company. Perhaps she was just… convenient; a chump with a soft spot for outcasts…

Before she let herself go too far down that unsavoury rabbit hole, she forced herself to read on, heart pounding. Outside on the windowsill, the owl had gone very still, watching her with curious, orange eyes.  

Please feel free to send Cassiopeia back with your response either way. I hope I have not overstepped or misread how things are between us now, especially given our history, but I find my thoughts returning over and over to our evening, and to that surprise lunch on the 1st of September. I’m not sure what I had expected when you asked me to join you that day, but I certainly hadn’t expected to enjoy myself as much as I did. In the years since I became Scorpius’ sole guardian, I have not sought the company of others, nor have I particularly enjoyed it when it has been inflicted upon me, but those two occasions spent with you have drawn me out of myself. You truly are a remarkable witch, and I’m more moved and honoured than I can express that you have given me even this much of your precious time already.  

Before I begin to ramble too freely, I think I must sign off here.  

Yours,  

D.M.  

P.S. Scorpius did write to me in the end. He has a detention already, and Potter’s youngest is also involved somehow… I will get more details from him anon, and no doubt a letter from McGonagall in due course.  

For a long time, Hermione stood in her bedroom, with her hair in a wild halo around her head and her scruffy old pyjamas hanging low on her hips, just staring at his signature.  

When Draco’s owl began to fidget and fuss again, she sighed and looked up. “Sit tight,” she breathed. “I’m going to get a piece of paper and if you keep quiet, I might bring an owl treat with me when I come back, ok?”

Cassiopeia narrowed her eyes and ducked her head suspiciously, but remained put on the windowsill, so she took that as a ‘yes’ and disappeared into her tiny study.  

Grabbing a biro from the chipped mug that served as a pen and quill pot, and tearing a sheaf of paper from a muggle notebook, she scrawled a note back to him.  

With that done, and before she could talk herself out of what she had just accepted, she returned to his owl with a treat. The bird mobbed her for it instantly, but Hermione scowled at her, snatched her hand back, and barked, “Wait! My goodness, you are spoilt. Let me attach this first, and if I manage it without you drawing blood or otherwise maiming me, not only will it be a flipping miracle, but you’ll get your sodding treat, alright?”

The bird went still with a tiny shuffle of her wings, and stuck out her leg.  

“Thank you,” Hermione said tartly.  

Cassiopeia took off with her note attached by the same green ribbon and secured with a basic sticking charm. The downdraft from her departure sent bits of accumulated detritus from the window ledge spiralling up into Hermione’s face, but she coughed and blinked, and watched the bird soar way up into the sky. The receding dot of her silhouette banked west, out of sight and in the eventual direction of Wiltshire and Malfoy Manor.  

Malfoy Manor.  

She’d hardly given the place any thought since that fateful night ten or so years ago when Malfoy had been attacked, a whole wing had been burned to the ground, and Scorpius had nearly been killed. They’d never said in the papers who had done it, and the Auror Office had been distinctly tight-lipped about it. Not that she’d really bothered to find out more, if she were honest. Once Malfoy’s little yowling mandrake had left her office in his father’s arms, she had been almost instantly reabsorbed with her own caseload, and Harry had never mentioned the outcome of the investigation to her. A twinge of gilt shot through her but she pushed it down. It was hardly a topic for dinnertime conversation either, so she doubted she’d find out immediately.  

She thought vaguely about clambering back into bed, but since she was up, she headed to the kitchen and put the kettle on for a cup of tea. It had been a while since she’d been up before dawn, and she had some paperwork to do anyway.  

Cassiopeia’s appearance was not the only unusual thing to happen to her that day. She had no visitors to the shop at all for the entire morning, but when the brass bell above the door did finally chime, she looked up from the desk at the back of the shop to find Theo striding in.  

“Hi, love,” he grinned, stepping deer-like over the stack of recent arrivals beside the counter and stooping to hug her where she sat. “Lunch. You and me. Now.”

“Theo, I have a shop to run,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I can’t just… leave. Besides, I brought sandwiches.”

“I will literally pay you the price of an entire chest of first editions to spend the next few hours in my company if things are that tight. Or I could just… buy you an entire chest of first editions,” he said, adding with his most dangerous puppy-dog eyes, “Seriously, please come to lunch with me?”

She flicked her wrist and the ‘open’ sign hanging in the glass-panelled door flipped over to ‘closed’. “I’m not accepting your money, Theo. What’s the occasion?”

He twitched slightly and then flashed her a grin; a combination that made her instantly wary. “Does a gentleman need ‘an occasion’ to ask a beautiful lady to lunch?” he asked, his brown eyes wide with feigned innocence.  

Hermione slowly raised one eyebrow. “You’re gay. And happily married. And that’s a terrible line. Try again.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t take my very best friend out,” he shrugged nonchalantly.  

Something was definitely up.  

“Draco Malfoy is, and always has been, your very best friend in all the world. Try again.”

“You,” he said, actually growling the word this time with comical frustration, “Are one very persistent witch.”

“Mmhmm. How do you think I made it to Minister by twenty-seven, darling,” she grinned, still without getting up from her chair. “Last chance or I turn that sign around and forcibly evict you from my shop.”  

Theo whipped his wand out from his inner jacket pocket like he was in a duel, and apparently vanished the offending sign from the door altogether. “There. Your threats are empty. Come to lunch with me.”

“Theodore Nott, you return my sign this instant.”

“Say you’ll come to lunch with me, and the sign goes back up.”

“I will not be threatened in my own shop!” she laughed, arms folding across her chest like a petulant child. “Put it back. Now.”

“Say you’ll come with me,” he said with a wide, playful grin, planting his hands on the counter and leaning his long frame forwards.  

She had to bite her lips to stop from giggling. The charming scoundrel knew she’d say yes anyway. “I’ll tell Dan you were bullying me,” she said.  

“Tell him; he’ll never believe you. He thinks I’m lovely. Come on, Hermione,” he added, softening from playful to plaintive. “I need to talk to you.”

“About what?”

“You and my ‘very best friend in all the world’, that’s what,” he said, and levelled her with a flat stare.

Her stomach dropped and she remembered the letter from that morning. And its contents. ‘…if you would feel more comfortable knowing, then you can ask Theo while I am gone’ Draco had said. He’d spoken with Theo about asking her out. She didn't know whether to be honoured or embarrassed.

Seeing her expression slip, Theo came round the side of the counter to stand beside her and leaned his hips against the wooden desk. “So you like him?”

“I… Why would that be a surprise?”

Theo blinked, and then his gaze flickered down to her left forearm. Everyone knew about the word engraved into her skin with the point of a cursed knife — she’d never tried to conceal it — but not many knew the real truth of just how the slur had come to be carved indelibly into her flesh. Theo was one of the few who did. “You’re really asking me why I’m surprised you like him?” he said in a hoarse whisper. “You, of all people?”

She took a very deep breath, held it, and then sighed. “Let’s go. You’re paying though. And I’m drinking.”

He managed a shy smile, and as they approached the front door of her shop his shimmering illusion around the sign dissolved to reveal it once again.  

“Cheeky bugger,” she smirked at him and he waggled his eyebrows disarmingly. An undercurrent of anxiety still lurked beneath his jovial expression though.  

A number of new restaurants had opened up in Diagon Alley, but Theo’s and Dan’s favourite was a sleek, modern establishment, quite different from the fusty old decor of the Leaky Cauldron or the other more traditional restaurants in wizarding London. It also sat overlooking the crooked columns of Gringotts, and was eye-wateringly expensive. Naturally, Theo was greeted by name at the door, and the pair were shown without fuss or fanfare to one of the nicest — and most secluded — tables.

With food ordered, and enormous balloon-glasses of wine in front of them, Theo fixed her with a serious look and steered the conversation around to the real reason for his impromptu lunchtime kidnapping. “He finally grew a pair and asked you to dinner then?”

“Mmm,” she nodded. “I take it this is… unusual for him?”

Theo tipped his head back and chuckled softly, sounding more tired than amused. “That’s putting it mildly, love. Until Friday, I had the devil’s own job trying to get dear Draco to leave his gloomy little manor house and come to anything. I had to blackmail him into coming to our anniversary, you know?”  

Hermione just frowned, not entirely sure if he was being serious or not.  

Theo let out a slow breath and stared into his wineglass, idly twirling the stem between long fingers. “Don’t get me wrong,” he said without looking at her, “I’m beyond grateful that he finally seems to be opening up to the idea of… being somewhat… vulnerable again, but…”

“You’re worried I’m going to hurt him,” she said quietly, and Theo bowed his head. “Theo, I’m… You know me. This isn’t just some one night stand with a rich, attractive bloke I met in a bar. I haven’t —” she leaned in close over the table and hissed, “I haven’t even had sex with anyone in years, Theo. Years!” She brushed an errant corkscrew of hair back out of her eyes, embarrassed.

His lips twitched at that, but his eyes remained stormy.  

“I’m not going into this lightly. I was honestly as surprised as you are, but I wouldn’t even be considering going on a date with Draco Malfoy if I wasn’t completely convinced that he was no longer the bratty little owl-pellet he was back at Hogwarts.”

At that, Theo barked such a loud laugh that the patrons at the tables nearby turned to look at him like he’d sworn in a church. He covered his mouth with his hand and snickered himself into silent tears for a good thirty seconds before she rolled her eyes and sat back with her glass in her hand, waiting for him to control himself again.  

“I’m telling Dan you called him that. And Pansy. They’ll love it.”

“Right,” she said, cheeks suddenly hot. “Well, as much as he might have been an owl pellet, let’s not have it become a ‘thing’, hmm?”

The mirth in his face simmered back down and he looked at her steadily over the rim of his wineglass. “Look, I care about both of you, and I can see this going two ways. One: you realise that the two of you actually have an awful lot in common, he takes you to increasingly fancy places for dates, you have lots of steamy sex, and finally settle down together. Two: the past gets in the way, you both say hurtful stuff you don’t really mean, and you both end up single and twice as miserable as you were before you went for lunch at the Leaky. Don't think I didn’t know about that, either,” he added.  

“You’re such a gossip,” she snapped.  

“I was being serious, Hermione,” he said, leaning to one side as their food arrived.  

She paused until the waiter had left but didn’t make any move to pick up her cutlery. “Are you looking out for him or for me?” she asked.  

Theo sighed. “Both of you. But…”

“Mostly Draco, huh?”

“He’s like a brother to me, Hermione. He was there for me when no one else was. You know the things my father did to me as a child, and Draco helped me through all of it. And ‘Cissa too. And I couldn’t believe it when he actually showed up at drinks the other night. Watching him, it… it was like the old Draco had come back to me. The nice ‘old Draco’, I mean.” His eyes glistened and he blinked rapidly, voice cracking as he continued. “After the attack, he shut himself away at the Manor with Scorpius, as if he could keep the whole world out just to keep little Scorp safe. I thought… I thought he’d never leave, Hermione.”

“You never talked about any of this,” she said gently, forcing herself to make a start on her linguine despite the fact that her appetite had vanished almost completely.  

Theo shrugged. “I guess… I guess I wanted to give him the privacy he craved, and to be honest, I didn’t think you’d be all that sympathetic to him after your history.”

At that, she scowled, but she could see his point. “Theo, I held his screaming infant in my arms for hours while he was being questioned by the Aurors that night. I saw his face when he came to my office for Scorpius afterwards.” She shook her head. “No one who saw him then could believe he was even a shadow of the person he had been at Hogwarts.”

At her words, Theo had stopped eating, fork held loosely between perpetually-ink-stained fingers even as it rested on his plate. “You did? He never said.”

She tried not to examine that last comment too closely. “Mm. Harry didn't know what else to do with him, so he brought Scorpius to me to see if I could quieten him down. In the end all it took was a handful of my hair and a few poorly-sung folk songs. But you’re missing the point, Theo. You could have trusted me with things that were worrying you. I would have listened to you.”

“I —” he cut off and cleared his throat. “I know. I’m sorry. I just… Aside from Dan, I don’t think I love anyone as much as I love him.”

It was Hermione’s turn to choke up a little, but she swallowed and said, “Then I can think of no greater accolade for his character.” She looked up at him and added, “So where’s he taking me then?”

“You said yes?”

“I did. I like him. And not just because he looks like a flipping marble statue brought to life. He’s thoughtful, and he always was extremely intelligent and articulate. I’ve really enjoyed talking with him this time around. I think… I think…” she pursed her lips and took a too-big gulp of wine. Luckily it all went down the right way, and she forged on. “I think… we could work. Or at least… I want to see where it goes, Theo.”

With a slow nod, Theo finally relaxed his shoulders and let out a shaky breath. “He wants to take you to The Foundry.”  

“I’ve never heard of it,” she mumbled. It wasn’t one of the ones in Diagon Alley, for sure.

Theo made a side-to-side movement of his head. “I’m not surprised. It’s…”

“Oh God, is it horrifically expensive?” she asked, eyes wide with a sudden abject terror. “Theo, if he’s going to take me somewhere hideously fancy for our first date, I’m going to back out right now…”

The corners of his lips lifted and he shook his head. “Not in the way you’re thinking. You have to know the owners to get a table though, and there are no menus. They’ll ask if you have any allergies, but other than that, you eat what they serve you.”

“Holy fuck, Theo…”

“Trust me, you’ll love it. The place used to be a bell foundry in the seventeenth century — hence the name — and it’s this gorgeous brick building with arches and vaults, and cosy little corners,” he added, raising his eyebrows. “You’ll forget where you are and be as comfortable as if you were in your own pokey little Muggle living room. I promise.”

She narrowed her eyes and took another gulp of wine. “I’ll take your word for it, Nott,” she said. “What should I wear?”

Without hesitation, he said, “That burgundy number you haven’t worn since Pansy told you to buy it.”

She blanched at that. “Theo, it’s…”

“Gorgeous? Revealing in all the right ways, yet modest enough to suit you? Dead sexy? Exactly the kind of thing that will make Draco lose his goddamn mind when he sees you in it? The kind of thing that will make him spend all evening simultaneously admiring you in it and mentally tearing it off you —”

“Theo, stop!” she hissed, flushing darker. “For God’s sake shut up!”

He cackled into the remainder of his wine, but refused to give any more sartorial advice.  

“Burgundy dress and heels it is, I guess,” she said, and the two of them focused on their food again.  

“I hope,” Theo said as they left a very leisurely two hours later, “I hope you don’t think I was too…” he jiggled nervously on the balls of his feet as he held the door open for her, “Overbearing…”

“I mean, you did ambush me, blackmail and threaten me into having lunch with you at the fanciest restaurant in Diagon Alley where I couldn’t reasonably kick up a fuss, and then proceed to tell me all sorts of heartrending stories about Draco and yourself…”  

When she saw the wounded look in Theo’s brown eyes, she stopped and turned to face him.

“Theo, no. You’re one of my best friends, and you clearly care about us both. Stop panicking,” she added when she saw the slightly wild light in his eyes. “You didn’t try to tell me what to do or who to see. You’re looking out for your friends, and making sure we’re both… serious about this. And I appreciate that.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and added, “But know that if you keep meddling beyond that, I will hex your bollocks off and make you explain it to Dan.”

“Understood,” he said with a watery smile. “I was worried I’d overstepped.”

“I’ll forgive you if you tell me one thing.”

“Name it.”

“Did you have the same talk with Draco about breaking my heart?”

His handsome, freckled face split into a blinding white grin. “I did.”

“Forgiven,” she said. “Now, some of us actually have to work for a living.”

“I work!” he squealed. “I work bloody hard up in the Department of International Magical Cooperation, thank you very much!”

“I know you do,” she conceded. “Not that you actually need a job, you filthy rich prick.”

Theo laughed long and loud, scooping her hand up in his and walking arm in arm down the bustling, cobbled street towards her bookshop. “And to think,” he chimed with a sidelong look down at her, “You used to be Minister for Magic with that mouth.”

“I know,” she said. “It nearly got me into trouble on many an occasion.”

Kneazel and Quill’s little sign swung jauntily in the breeze and Theo gave a slight bow from the waist when they stopped at the door. With anyone else, it might have seemed foppish and insincere, but with Theo, she knew he meant it. He was only silly like this with his closest friends.  

“Good day, fair maiden of the dusty bookshop,” he said. “And thank you for giving my idiot best friend a chance.”

Hermione nodded and smiled. She stood and soaked up the autumn sunshine for a while as she watched his retreating back, until he eventually disappeared into the Diagon Alley entrance to the Ministry and she slid back into the musty quiet of her little sanctuary.

Chapter Six

___

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter of friendship! Next time, Hermione and Draco go for that date...!! Things will start to gain momentum too, fear not. It’s not going to be an eternal slow-burn...

writing masterlist | Ao3

#dramione #dramione fic #draco malfoy x hermione granger #hermione granger x draco malfoy #draco x hermione #hermione x draco #theodore nott #hermione granger #let no man steal your thyme

[kinngxali]

“A story with Miu and the reader where the reader acts as Miu’s “assistant” in her inventions.”

okay so i had a super cool request sent in so here goes nothing, hope i don’t disappoint you !

•~•~•~•~•~~•~•~•~•

Miu and her assistant s/o:

warnings: swearing (are we surprised) & sexual innuendos

.

.

.

“Whatcha doin’, s/o?” Miu hopped onto an empty chair that was beside you, her head being supported by her arms. “Nothing much, Miu. Why, do you need something?” You turned to look at her, a warm smile on your face..., only to be met with her cheesy grin. “Great! I actually need your help with something, it’s a two-man job.” She winked at you as she held two fingers up, causing you to sigh. This wasn’t going to end very well.

“So, I rebooted it and brought some life back into this fuckin’ thing..” Miu rambled about her newest invention, but you didn’t listen to a single thing she said after realising that this was the same exact thing that had flown you up into the sky beforehand. “Miu, are you sure this is sa-” You were interrupted by her loud laugh. “Oh course it is, I’m not a fuckin’ idiot!” You reluctantly agreed as she set up the machine. It’s sole purpose was to get you from point A to B, but Miu had somehow made it into a massive canon. Even though it was an... unorthodox way of transportation, you didn’t think much of it. This is Miu, after all.

Miu wouldn’t fuck up again, right?

Wrong.

Oh-so wrong.

“Aw, cmon s/o, this is fun!” She screamed to you as you both fell towards the ground. All things considered, this is pretty tame compared to the other shit you’ve done with her, and you have done a lot.

You couldn’t help but laugh as she screamed in delight, her smile was so contagious.

After getting back down with the help of her jet pack, she immediately started working on a new invention, and you silently watched, intrigued with how she was able to do it.

“Screwdriver~”

“Gloves~”

“Dildo~!”

“Uh- what-?” You gave her a perplexed look, wondering if she was serious or not. “Just kidding! It might come in handy sooner or later though..” Her voice got quiter with each word, and she was highly concentrated, her lips pressed into a thin line. You noticed that she was holding a ridiculously big cigar between her fingers, which seemed to be a regular occurrence for you, so you had no choice but to go along with it. “S/o, report on the uh, fuuuck what’s it called again?” You shook your head with a small smile, trying not to laugh. “The rocket?”

“Bingo! The rocket!” She clicked her fingers enthusiastically, pointing over to the cluttered table.

“You know Miu, for the Ultimate Inventor, you do seem quite forgetful...” She shook you off with a wave of her hand as she sat down, analysing her blueprints. “Yeah, yeah. Say what you want, S/o, just know that you’re wrong.”

A smile graced your lips as you walked over to your cluttered work desk, which was placed on the other side of the room so you couldn’t bother Miu.

With a heavy sigh, you read through the progress report for the rocket, something that was becoming quite bothersome. “Progress report isn’t looking that good, Miu.” You swivelled around on your comfortable chair, skimming over the pages of the booklet. “We need to speed things up so we can finish it quickly.” You shook your head in disbelief, going to complain about how long it could take. “Oh whatever S/o, we’ve done inventions for transportation so many fucking times, one more time won’t hurt.” A smirk played at her lips as she placed down her comical cigar, and much to your surprise, she threw her head back, thinking of what you assumed was a way to speed up the progress. “I’m gonna go off on a whim and say... you’re stuck for ideas.” A gasp came from Miu’s mouth, and she stood up, dropping a few papers from the wooden desk. “I’m Miu fuckin' Iruma, I never get stuck for ideas!”

Seven hours.

It took you seven whole hours to get this damned rocket finished.

You collapsed onto your chair, exhaling dramatically as Miu paced around the room, seeming more motivated than before. Her hair was more disheveled, and her finger was resting on her chin, which only made you worry more. “Miu, seriously... we’ve done enough for today..” She shook her head, smiling at you mischievously. “Oh believe me, I’m fucking tired, but I’m-!”

“Miu Iruma... I know.” 

A moment of silence passed between the two of you, but it was interrupted by Miu. “Hey, S/o, let’s test out the rocket!” Just as you was about to refuse her offer, she grabbed your arm and dragged you over to the rocket; your eyes widened as she dragged you inside. “Oh my gosh, Miu wait-”

Before you knew it, you ended up nearing the stars once again, just like how the canon threw you into the sky; Miu was laughing loudly, throwing her arms up.

“Cmon, S/o, we’ve done shit like this so many times!”

“Doesn’t make it any easier on my stomach..”

Once you were back in the lab, you stood still for a second, feeling lightheaded. Miu, on the other hand, rushed to her desk in a hurry, gathering all the blueprints. “..Can finally put this shit away....” After gathering your thoughts and throwing up, you went to your small desk and grabbed the progress report, feeling a wave of euphoria wash over you as you wrote down ‘100%’ on the paper.

Miu came up behind you and threw her arms around your neck, rocking from side to side. “So, what next, S/o?”

“Sleep.”

•~•~•~•

in all honesty, i’m not very happy with how this turned out, so i’m thinking of making a part two.

also, i’m so sorry for taking like,,,, a month. ifeelsobad :(

- alicia

#this was in my drafts for so long #i’m so bad at writing omg #danganronpa miu #super danganronpa goodbye despair #danganronpa v3 #danganronpa x reader #miu x reader #miu iruma #danganronpa imagines #anime imagines #x reader #drv3 #drv3 kaede #drv3 shuichi #killing harmony #anime fanfic #danganronpa fanfiction

[justabstractthings]

Scrubs and Combat Boots Part II | Bakugo x F!Reader

Pairing: Bakugo Katsuki x Female!Reader

Warnings: Non-stop swearing of said explosion boy. 

Part One

A/N: In honor of Nurses Week, I wrote part 2 to my Bakugo x Nurse fic. This piece holds a special place in my heart because I’m also a nurse. I’m dedicating this fic to health care workers dedicating their lives to serving their community, before and during this pandemic. I hope you all stay safe and enjoy this piece. Let me know what you guys think!

Word Count: 2.8k

The second time you met Bakugo Katsuki you thought it was a total coincidence. 

You were a nurse working in the ER and you always noticed the same frequent flyers would come at least three or four times per month. They never left much of an impression on you. Well, except Bakugo Katsuki. The loud-mouthed hero always seemed to pop into your train of thought at least once during your shift. So, it had to be a coincidence when you saw him again two weeks later. 

That is until you found out he’s been harassing the other nurses and techs on the floor.

You had just finished transporting a highly critical patient to the Intensive Care Unit (ICU). You’ve worked a total of eleven hours now and you were a measly hour away from being able to go home and sink into your very comfortable bed. Just the thought of the soft covers wrapped around your exhausted body had you melting on the spot. 

Unfortunately, all of that changed when you heard the familiar explosions and aggressive shouts coming from the ER. When one of the other nurses gave you a pleading look, you squared your shoulders and marched right into the noisy trauma room. 

To say that the room looked like a war zone was an understatement. 

Your clean and organized trauma room had gauze bandages haphazardly decorated all around the room as if they were Christmas lights. Expensive pieces of equipment were knocked over as if a tornado flew in for a nice holiday.  Doctors, nurses, techs, and security were running around and yelling like chickens with their heads chopped off. 

Chaos. Total chaos.

Your eyes zeroed in on the culprit as he kept on swatting and growling at your coworkers. You let out a big sigh as you wiped some sanitizer on your hands and grabbed a pair of gloves from the wall. 

Just one more hour. That’s it. One hour.

“Touch me one more time and I’ll fucking blow your hands off!” 

Yep, that’s it.

Everyone kept their distance as they looked worriedly at the injured hero. They knew the kind of strength the young hero possessed. The wild look swimming in his carmine eyes promised danger.  They were hesitant to approach him any further. But you weren’t. You pushed your way to the front of the crowd until you stood face to face in front of the growling hero. 

“Ground Zero, I’ll be your nurse this evening. What seems to be the problem here?” 

As a medical professional, you were trained to assess your patients during the first sixty seconds of interaction. You noticed Bakugo’s breath hitch with every inhale, the strain of his muscles as they trembled with each explosion, and the visible blood pooling by his left hip. Bakugo didn’t seem dazed, which was a good sign to rule out any emergent head trauma. But you needed a more thorough examination to help your patient.

“I told them to back the fuck off,” Bakugo growled. “I don’t need any help from these shitty extras.”

You sighed as a pounding headache reverberated through your head. It was either due to your lack of sleep or the explosions that kept going off. Either way, one of them needed to stop. 

“I really don’t have time for this. Can you guys give us some space?” Your co-workers looked at you in disbelief and hesitantly left the room. One of the security officers stayed behind outside of the room. You scoffed. As if you couldn’t take care of yourself. “Now, are you going to let me help you or not?”

Bakugo glared down at you but said nothing. He watched as you smiled at him and gestured towards the hospital bed. The memory of you pinning him against the wall left a bitter taste in his mouth. Bakugo compliantly climbed onto the bed. He does not need another repeat of that incident. 

“I’m gonna need you to take off your shirt so that I can take a look at your injuries, Ground Zero.” You grabbed Bakugo’s chart from the counter as you looked over the notes from the other nurses. Just as you had expected. It seemed that the hero was sent to the ER after another nasty fight with a villain, but why come to this hospital when the villain attack was broadcasted from the other side of the city? You shrugged and left that thought for a later time. You had other pressing matters.

“Ground Zero, why don’t we-.” Your breath hitched as if an invisible hand constricted your throat that prevented the rest of your words from spilling out of your gaping mouth. In a snap, your mind went completely blank. You couldn’t process the image right in front of your face. You forced yourself to blink and look away, but it was impossible. 

You’ve seen hundreds of people without a shirt on before. It never bothered you because you were a nurse, for crying out loud! You’ve seen everything. You’ve probably seen more naked people than a prostitute. The human body was nothing new to you. 

But he can’t possibly be human.

Jagged scars and discolored bruises visibly littered his golden-toned skin, evidence of his grueling work as a pro-hero. The largest scar traveled across his chest, from his right shoulder to the bottom of his left rib cage. His toned abs rippled with each breath, taunting you for even having the audacity to look at them. When Bakugo leaned back on his hands, you swore his biceps noticeably grew in size with each flex and movement of his upper body. You tried to overlook the scars and burns that traveled up his muscular arms, but it was as if you were in a trance. 

Definitely not human.

The room felt noticeably warmer even though it was just you and your patient occupying the space. You clenched the clipboard in your hands as you tried to keep your palms from sweating under the blue gloves. The hammering against your chest made it impossibly harder for you to focus as your eyes traveled up and his scared body. 

Everything came to a halt when you noticed the teasingly satisfied smirk on Bakugo’s sharp jaw. “Something wrong?”

If it wasn’t the cherry red blush across your face, it was definitely how quickly you turned your back to him that made your thoughts plainly obvious. You cleared your throat and said, “Nothing. Just reading your chart.” 

The slight stutter in your voice didn’t escape Bakugo’s trained ears. He frowned when your attention wasn’t solely focused on him. When did he start caring about one nurse’s attention? He forced the thought to disappear as quickly as it had appeared. 

Bakugo watched as you continued to clean the room, inspecting each supply and deeming if it was usable or not. His eyes trained to your figure that fluidly traveled all across the room, caught in your simple trance. You held yourself in such a confident manner that the usually callous and vulgar hero was awestruck into silence. Similar to your first encounter, Bakugo found that he could not look away from your scrub clad figure. 

“Sorry about earlier.” Bakugo scrunched his eyebrows in confusion. “They shouldn’t have cornered you like that.” 

“Damn right they shouldn’t have,” Bakugo barked. “I would have blown their faces off.”

You hummed as you gathered the supplies needed to treat Bakugo’s injuries. “I’m sure you would have, Ground Zero,” you said teasingly. The annoyed glare focused on your back only made your smile widen.

When you were finished, you faced the eternally glaring hero. “Alright, Ground Zero. I’m going to take a look at you and then afterward, the doctors will come in and see you, okay?” You took his silence as an understanding. “Now, take deep breaths for me.”

When you placed the stethoscope on his chest, you could not focus on the sounds of his breathing. Your senses were completely overwhelmed by the sight of the rise and fall of his toned chest. You also made the mistake of taking a deep breath as you inhaled the intoxicatingly sweet scent of caramel.

As you continued your examination, you noticed more of his features than the last time you saw him. A quick flash of light showed a light halo of gold around his pupils that would normally be overwhelmed by his distinctive vermillion irises. His nose was slightly crooked, most likely from being broken too many times and improperly healed. There was also a small scar at the bottom of his right stubbled jaw. 

You prayed the pro-hero could not hear the distinctive thumping on your chest. This was a bad idea. He was your patient. You should not be enjoying his presence as much as you were. Any other patient would not affect you as much as Bakugo did. The exhaustion of working for nearly thirteen hours must have weakened your resolve. You did read that exhaustion can play tricks on the mind. That must be it. You were tired and that’s it. It definitely wasn’t Bakugo.

After concluding your assessment, you wrote down your findings on Bakugo’s chart. “Good. I’ll call in the doctors and they’ll take care of you for the rest of your stay.”

“You’re not staying?” Bakugo pursed his lips as soon as those words left his mouth.

“As much as I would love to hear you swear at my colleagues, I have a nice warm bed waiting for me at home. But don’t worry. I’ll make sure they take good care of you.” Before you stepped out of the room, you gave Bakugo one last smile, “Do you need anything else from me?”

Bakugo could think of a million questions he wanted answered but he shook his head and said nothing as he watched your retreating figure. A quick feeling of sadness enveloped him as you disappeared from his sight. 

The explosive hero growled as he was left more puzzled than the last time he was at this hospital. How can one woman have such control over him in the short amount of time you interacted. Was it your quirk? It had to be. You must have had a powerful quirk to affect him this much. More than ever, Bakugo was determined to see you again. 

And destroy whatever power you had on him. 

~

The next day, Bakugo trudged into his hero agency. He ignored the high pitched greetings the secretaries practically screeched at him. Bakugo welcomed the soft hum of the elevator as it carried him to the top of the building. After a dissatisfying visit to the ER, all he wanted to do was get some mindless paperwork done, maybe punch a villain or two. 

Or he could also find Kirishima and use him as an indestructible punching bag.

Speaking of Kirishima, when Bakugo entered his office, he found him lounging on one of the couches with his usual shark-toothed grin.

“Bakubro!” Kirishima leaped off the couch and went to greet his life-long friend. “Where were you last night? After the fight, you just disappeared.”

“None of your damn business, shitty hair,” Bakugo growled as he slammed his bag onto the desk. “The fuck do you want?”

“Damn, a little grouchy this morning.” Kirishima skipped towards his friend’s threatening figure. “Did Princess Bakugo not get enough sleep last night?”

Years of being best friends with said explosion hero taught Kirishima one crucial thing. It’s that if he was outright teasing the man, he better activate his quirk before Bakugo blew his face off. But that never stopped Kirishima from constantly pushing Bakugo’s explosive buttons.

Kirishima merely grinned as he noticed Bakugo seemed to relax a little bit better after letting off one explosion. The hardening hero plopped himself in front of Bakugo’s desk as he watched his friend furiously typing on his laptop. “Answer my fucking question, shitty hair.”

“Only if you answer mine first, blasty. Where were you last night?” Kirishima raised a brow, wondering why Bakugo has been a bit absentminded these last few weeks. Never has Kirishima seen Bakugo so preoccupied especially when it comes to hero work. When Bakugo answered him with silence, Kirishima sighed and decided on a different approach.

For better or for worse, Kirishima knew there was one thing that would help his best bro.

Kirishima grinned and stretched out his neck and back. “You leave me no choice.” Before Bakugo could even glance at Kirishima, the red-haired hero smashed his right fist into Bakugo’s cheek. Bakugo snapped his head towards Kirishima and glared daggers at him, a clear communication that death would be approaching said best friend. 

The explosive hero jumped out of his seat, not caring that his leather chair toppled against the hardwood floor. “Die!” Bakugo aimed a large explosion directly at Kirishima’s face. It caused the large windows to shatter and crumble against the sheer force of his explosion.

Thankfully, Kirishima anticipated Bakugo’s attack and hardened his skin to protect against the explosive impact. Before Bakugo could counter with another attack, Kirishima aimed his hardened punches for Bakugo’s face and torso. His grin widened as his anger-management-needing friend was backed into the corner of his office. 

Bakugo was quick to dodge but he found that Kirishima had become increasingly quicker by the number of knicks and cuts on Bakugo’s skin. He could not be on the defense for any longer. His pride refused to back down. Bakugo aimed a quick explosion right in front of Kirishima’s face to block his line of sight. In succession, Bakugo dropped down to the ground and swiped his legs from under him. With a victorious grin, Bakugo pressed his knee against Kirishima’s chest and grabbed Kirishima’s shirt. 

“You feel better?” Kirishima wheezed as Bakugo pressed his knee further against the red head’s lungs. 

The explosive hero glared down at his friend and released his shirt with a huff. “Fuck off, shitty hair.” Bakugo plopped himself on the one couch that wasn’t destroyed and stretched his legs out. The ash-blonde watched his friend practically skip towards him and sat on the table in front of the couch. He looked like a puppy waiting for his promised treat.

Bakugo groaned and wondered how the hell was he still friends with the spiky-haired idiot. “I was in the ER.”

“Like, out of your own free will?”

“Do you want me to fucking tell you or not?” Kirishima zipped his lip. “I was investigating a nurse that I think uses her quirk on unsuspecting patients.”

“For good or for evil?”

“I don’t fucking know,” Bakugo groaned and covered his eyes with his arm. He hated admitting any weaknesses he had, especially when he couldn’t figure out what was going on. “All I fucking know is that the ER nurse used her damn quirk on me twice-”

“Wait, wait, wait. YOU, Bakugo Katuski, Ground Zero, Lord Explosion Murder, went to the ER TWICE.” 

Bakugo let off threatening explosions from his hands and growled at the redhead, “Can you fucking shut up for once in your damn life, shitty hair? Do you want me to tell you or not?” Kirishima raised his hands in surrender and motioned for Bakugo to continue. “Yes, I fucking went to the ER twice.”

“Well, then what happened?”

Ground Zero lifted himself off the couch and paced around the destroyed office. “I don’t fucking know! Every time I see her I get this damned tingling feeling and my shitty heart starts racing. One second, I’m fucking yelling at all these damn extras, and the next, I’m not. Like all the rage and anger just fucking disappears and I don’t know what the fuck she did. I don’t know if her quirk is tactile, olfactic, or if it works like Aizawa-sensei’s quirk. So I need to fucking figure out what her damn quirk is and how powerful it is.”

As Bakugo kept working himself up, Kirishima merely observed his friend as a sly grin slowly grew on his face. 

Kirishima has been friends with Bakugo Katsuki for years. When something is wrong, Bakugo knows how to fix it, albeit mostly through violent means. He is quick to use his brain and his brawns to come out victorious in a battle. However, Kirishima watched his explosive friend yell and rant about a nurse. Unfortunately for Bakugo, this was unfamiliar territory. Fortunately for Kirishima, his friend was as dense as their fellow icy-hot hero. The outcomes were unknown, but Kirishima would be damned if he didn’t get to aid his friend’s “investigation”. 

“The next time she fucking uses her quirk on me, I’m gonna kill her!”

The redhead stepped in front of Bakugo and placed a hand on his shoulder, ignoring the explosive glare directed at him. “Whoa, dude. Calm down. Look, why don’t we talk about this more over lunch? I have the day off, so we can go to that curry place you like. What do you say?” The hardening hero flashed a shark tooth grin.

With a grunt and a roll of his eyes, Bakugo shrugged Kirishima’s hand off and stomped out the door. 

This was going to be interesting. 

#bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki #katuski x reader #mha #bnha #mha x reader #bnha x reader #bakugo fluff #bakugo sfw #bakugo fic #female reader #bakugo x female reader #nurse reader #fluff #sfw #my writing #just abstract things

[tbtssstuff]

Creative Soul || kth

↣ Summary: Art was all that you knew. Never really had time for anything else, but you didn’t really mind. Until you became friends with a man who frequented your convenience store and you start to wonder if art was really everything.

🎨 Seventeen: Winter Bear

↣ Pairing: Idol!Kim Taehyung x Army!Reader

↣ Genre: Social media au, Fluff

↣ Word Count: 2.4k

Masterlist

-TJ/ TacoAdmin 🌮

AN: I recommend listening to Winter Bear while you read this. I wrote it with that song on loop. It really makes things better.

“So he didn’t tell you where we were going?”

You shake your head as you watch Scarlett do her makeup. Taehyung was going to be pulling up to your apartment in about an hour so you had Jackie, Scarlett, and Vix up in your room to get ready. Mark, Lucas, and Victor were sitting in the living room waiting for you to be ready.

“But knowing them it’ll be a nice place. I would go with a semi formal look.” Jackie suggested, rummaging through your closet. They were all dressed, but you had yet to pick out an outfit.

“Semi formal?” You question. “Like you did?”

“Hey! I need to stand out if I want my future husband to take notice of me.”

He would definitely notice her that’s for sure. Jackie looked stunning in her tight, thigh length black dress with a see through crop top sort of shirt over it, black heels and adorned with gold jewelry. Her makeup was more on the heavier side, but it wasn’t over bearing and her dark hair was curled, tied into a side ponytail.

The other girls looked just as beautiful as well.

Vix straightened her newly dyed blonde hair and wore a light blue dress that stopped at her knees with a pair of white slippers. She really went for the whole Cinderella look, topping it off with a pearl barrette that held some of her hair behind her right ear and a simple silver necklace.

Scarlett wore a short flowy pink dress with a black belt and shoes to match. To complete her outfit had a black leather choker and a leather jacket. A real sweetie baddie. Her dark hair was curled and half of it was pulled back, secured with a pink bow. Scarlett was in the middle of putting on her makeup at the moment, which seemed to be a lighter touch, but with a bold winged eyeliner.

Compared to them, you weren’t so sure you could come up with something.

There usually wasn’t anything in your closet other than leggings and oversized hoodies and sweaters. Nothing screamed a nice restaurant date kind of outfit.

Johnny always said that you never looked good in dresses so eventually you stopped wearing them and even buying them. What was the point? You were not a dress person and that was fine. No matter how much you wanted to wear one and feel pretty, it was fine.

“Well I thought this would happen,” Jackie turned around and went to a bag she had brought with her, opening it up and rummaging around. “I remember that ass would tell you that you didn’t look good in dresses - which he is wrong by the way, you look beautiful - so I got one for you.”

“You what?”

After a second she pulled out a light blue dress with gold and dark blue flowers all over it along with a pair of black high heels. The dress was absolutely stunning, but there was a nagging feeling in the back of your mind that you would just ruin its beauty.

As if knowing your thoughts, which she probably could read your mind since she is your best friend, Scarlett glares at you through the mirror. “Oh no! No stop thinking what you're thinking. You will look amazing in that dress, Vix will do your hair and I will do your makeup. Do not worry about how much the dress costs. Jackie got it for you so you could wow your man and damn it you will. So get your cute little butt into that dress and come over here.”

You wanted to argue, but you knew it would get you nowhere. You were going to end up wearing that dress whether you liked it or not.

But you definitely liked it.

Once the dress was on, Vix and Scarlett started their magic. Scarlett worked on your makeup and Vix started curling your hair.

“Girls!” You all hear Mark call from your living room. “Are you ready yet? Taehyung is here and I can’t keep Victor from asking too many questions!”

“Hey!”

You laugh when you hear Victor try and justify his ever curious nature.

“Yeah! We’re coming now!” Jackie calls back and turns to you. “Ready?”

You nod. “As I’ll ever be.”

Vix and Jackie leave your room first, Scarlett sticking behind when she noticed your feet weren’t actually moving. “Come on y/n,” She laces her fingers with yours, easing your worries a bit, “Your winter bear awaits.”

You smile at how Scarlett calls Taehyung that. She knew that Winter Bear was your favorite song by him. It was the first song you had listened to after Johnny left you. The song that warmed your heart and stopped your tears.

The song that made you fall even more for the man that is Kim Taehyung.

Scarlett tugs on your hand and your legs start moving, leading you in the direction of your living room where you see Taehyung talking with your friends.

He stood there in the center of them all wearing an all black suit, his usual boxy smile adorning his face. You swear you have never seen a man so handsome especially with his new long, sandy brown hair. How did you get so lucky?

Your heart skipped when he finally looked at you, his eyes wide as they took you in.

“Wow.” You hear him whisper as he walks over to you, his hands coming up to lightly rub your arms, “You look beautiful.”

You smile shyly, looking down to avoid his gaze. No one had ever looked at you the way he did. “Thank you… You look handsome yourself.”

Taehyung chuckles and leans down to look at you more. “Thank you, but I would appreciate you saying it to my face.”

“Noooo.” You whine, shutting your eyes. “It’s embarrassing.”

Taehyung laughs and our friends join in, enjoying how embarrassed you were getting around your own boyfriend. But how do you not? It wasn’t everyday a man like Taehyung compliments you and all but demands your love and affection… Though now it was your everyday. Still you would never get used to it.

“Come on, the guys are already at the restaurant.”

With that you all piled into Taehyung’s car and were off to meet the rest of the group.

It had been an hour or two since you showed up at a very expensive looking restaurant, to which all of your friends choked at how much the bill was going to be and how they couldn’t pay for it, but Taehyung assured them that this was all on him. He wanted everyone to make a good first impression and this was the boys favorite place to eat.

You were impressed that Victor and Jackie didn’t squeal or faint when they saw Seokjin and Jungkook. In fact they smiled, greeting them like they would any regular person on the street. All of your friends were like that. You thought at least one of them would have freaked out, but they knew how important it was that they behaved as to not ruin anything.

They really were the best.

Throughout the night they all began to break off into their own conversations. Scarlett and Jimin were talking about some makeup line that was about to release a new pallet. You were happy to watch them get along especially because Scarlett confessed to you that she was nervous to see him after the Twitter thing. She was almost certain he was just messing with her, but when you saw how he looked at her when she walked in, you knew he wasn’t.

Vix, Hoseok, and Jungkook were in their own little world as well, but what they were talking about you didn’t know. All you could catch was Jungkook trying to impress Vix, which was cute, even though her attention seemed to be solely on Hoseok. He didn’t give up though.

Jackie was sitting next to Seokjin, laughing loudly at every dad joke he threw her way and even making a few of her own. At one point you heard her snort, which she tried to cover up, but Seokjin told her that he found it kinda cute.

You were happy that she was finally letting loose enough to snort around someone other than you and your gang.

Finally Namjoon, Yoongi, Lucas, Victor, and Mark were talking about music. While you knew Mark and Victor had no interest in making music, they listened to the two producers go on and on. You even saw a spark in Lucas’ eyes when Namjoon offered to teach him if he wanted. You pray that Lucas takes him up on the offer and finally finds something he could be passionate about. He’s always just floating along and not knowing what he wants to do and you just want the best for him.

“Hey.” You turn to see Taehyung standing beside you, his hand open for you to take. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”

Trusting that your friends would be okay if you stepped out for a moment, you take Taehyung’s waiting hand and let him lead you out of the restaurant and onto a little balcony.

You gasp in awe at the sight before you. Seoul at night and from this view was breathtaking. All the lights of the city seemed to illuminate the sky, turning from its usually dark color to a pale purple.

“Wow.” You breath, walking towards the railing. “It’s beautiful.”

“But still nowhere as beautiful as you.” You scoff lightly at his cheesiness. “I’m serious! You look so so beautiful in that dress.”

You turn to see that while his eyes were a very real serious look, his lips held a soft smile. You flush. “R really?”

As many times as he says it, you can’t seem to come to grips with what he’s saying. You? Beautiful in a dress? If Johnny heard anyone say that he would very loudly disagree.

‘Her? No way! Dresses are for girls who can fill them out, Y/n is more suited for large clothes.’

‘Don’t wear skirts, Y/n. They just don’t look good on you.’

All the times he has said things like that to you swims through your head and suddenly all you wanted to do was run away and tear the dress from your body. Once again Johnny has crushed your self confidence and he wasn’t even here.

Sensing the sudden change in your mood, Taehyung once again offers you his hand. “Why don’t you come dance with me?”

“Huh? Dance? But there is no music.”

“That’s never stopped me before.”

You shake your head, a sad smile forming on your lips. “I can’t really dance, Tae. Trust me, it isn’t pretty.”

“Nonsense!” Taehyung takes your hand and pulls you against his body, his chin resting on your head. “Just sway with me.”

You struggle against his hold even though you knew it was futile to try. The last time you danced with someone was Johnny and he yelled at you for stepping on his toes one too many times. You didn’t want to experience the same thing with Taehyung.

“Tae, really.” You finally wiggled your way out of his grasp, but when you looked up at his face you could see the sadness and worry in his eyes. “I’m sorry…”

And now the moment was ruined. The once happy time you were having ripped from underneath you. This was why you didn’t date. Didn’t share your time with anyone other than your friends and your paintings. Your insecurities always got the best of you and the mocking voice of Johnny fought its way in.

Not wanting to further the awkwardness, you step away from Taehyung and try to go back into the restaurant, but he quickly snapped out of whatever trance he was in to grab your wrist before you got too far.

“Come on, Winter Bear, please? It’s just one dance. I promise it won’t be so bad.”

You froze hearing the nickname. Yes you and him call each other a multitude of cutesy nicknames, but this one actually meant something to you. Something he couldn’t have possibly known.

Turning your head, you look at him wide eyed. “What did you call me?”

Worried that he said something he shouldn’t have, Taehyung quickly dropped your wrist. “S sorry it just kind of came out. If you don’t like it, I won’t call you that again.”

“No no… I like it.”

You sigh, this time reaching out to take his hand into yours, relieved when he intertwined his fingers with yours, and step forward to rest your head on his chest. “I’m sorry, Tae. It’s not you it’s me - or more so it’s Johnny.”

“Johnny? Your ex?”

“Yeah.” You nod. “You see, he’s always said things about me and to me that eventually I started believing.”

“Like what? If you don’t mind me asking that is.”

“Not to wear dresses, they didn’t look good on me. Always yelled at me when I danced with him because I stepped on his toes. And many other extremely hurtful things and after a year and a half of that you start to believe it.”

You could feel his grip on your hand tighten, a signal that he was getting pissed, but you continued talking.

“So when you tell me all these sweet things I have a hard time believing them.”

“Y/n…”

Taehyung lightly pushes up your face with his other hand, his features hard and serious. “I promise I will never make you feel like that. You are the most important person in my life and I will do anything to keep you. I love you.”

Tears fill your eyes and they flutter shut as Taehyung leans in, his lips pressing against yours. The spark there was undeniable and you could feel all of his love behind it. Taehyung really did love you and you loved him just the same.

Taehyung slowly pulled back, his eyes now soft and full of love. “Now dance with me, my Winter Bear.”

“Will you sing that song for me?”

Without a word, Taehyung pulls you close, his arm wrapping securely around your waist and begins to sway. Soon he started singing for you.

“She looks like a blue parrot. Won’t you come fly to me.”

You close your eyes, sinking further into his hold and being lulled by his voice.

Completely and utterly in love with the man before you.

Tag list: @ego-allie-bap @brightchillstar @lovelyseomin @tangledsparkles @pureshinso @3sriracha @kisskissshutmydoor @leafyturtle @nxtrogers @eleganttravlercloud @ladyartemesia @littlemeowyoongi @thelilbutifulthings @aviwasabi21 @ireallylikeyourwriting @xannybill @kimmalik​

#bts social media au #bts social au #bts x reader #kim taehyung x reader #taehyung x reader #bts imagines #bts scenarios #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #creative soul #tacoadmin #tbtsstuff

[katcadecascade]

Reader Study (Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint Oneshot)

*spoilers up to chapter 79

Summary: 

“Your face is getting red, Kim Dokja.”

“No it’s not.”

She didn’t need to use lie detection.

Han Sooyoung clapped her hands, peering down at him with a wide grin. “What kind of fanfics did you read?”

Kim Dokja is both impressed and exhausted by the fact that he’s surviving in the apocalypse.

Most of that credit is due to him being the sole reader to know about the webnovel that just happens to become is new reality. There’s still a lot of confusion on how that came to be. Kim Dokja has encountered character from the novel, the deadly scenarios, and even people who were never a part of this once fictional world.

“Are you finally taking a break from your airbending training?”

There were other readers. They didn’t stay with the novel like he did so his title as sole reader remains.

Techniqually…

“Stop ignoring me.” Despite that, Kim Dokja tried his best to ignore his current companion. She continues, “I know what you’re thinking. ‘Why can’t I learn the Way of the Winds skill?’ Its because you’re not the protagonist Kim Dokja.”

Han Sooyoung. The first Apostol, she read the most of the original Three Ways to Survive the Apocalypse aside from his truly. Except she does know a lot more about the novel than others.

Because she plagiarized it.

Or not as she claims every time he calls her out.

Either way she knows about the world. That means she’s dangerous if left alone. Hell, she’ll gather up another cult like what she did with the Apostles and Prophets.

So since Kim Dokja has been separated from his companions, living in the consequences of a kingless world, he struck a temporary contract with Han Sooyoung until the next main scenario.

He’s really regretting his decision.

“Maybe I’ll ask Lycaon to teach me to be an airbender since it’s so important to you. I probably have the SSS grade talent you lack.”

“No.”

Someone needs to learn the Way of the Wind skill to go against the Disaster of Questions. Kim Dokja doesn’t trust Han Sooyoung with that power and the original protagonist is nowhere nearby to get this skill in time.

Logically, he thought he should get the skill but apparently, Lycaon has deemed him void. Despite that, Kim Dokja tried to train with the wolf monster. So after a good few hours of nothing, he finally took a break and is lying flat on his back in the remains of the business district.

“You’re a real rat bastard, Kim Dokja.”

“And you’re a real rat plagiarist.”

“I didn’t plagiarize!” She’s sitting away from him but close enough to kick his foot. “Everything I wrote I saw in a dream and from that point on my novel became popular due to my own writing skills. It became so popular I even got fanfics!”

“I can’t believe you’re bragging about that. They’re probably not even good.”

[Han Sooyoung has activated the skill ‘Lie Detection.’]

[‘Lie Detection’ has verified his words as false.]

“Oh?”

Why did he open his mouth? It’s been a long day of (futile) training under Lyacon. The world is in more ruin because of his choice at the Absolute Throne scenario. He’s away from his friends. The Disaster scenarios are arrive in a few days. Kim Dokja is with the one other person who has read his favorite novel in depth.

Ways of Survival didn’t get popular, it lost a lot of readers. In other words, it never got any fanfics.

But Han Sooyoung’s SSSSS-Grade Infinite Regressor did get a plethora of fanart and fanfics.

So maybe one night curiosity got the better of Kim Dokja and searched for some fanfics of a protagonist very similar to Yoo Jonghyuk.

“Your face is getting red, Kim Dokja.”

“No it’s not.”

She didn’t need to use lie detection.

Han Sooyoung clapped her hands, peering down at him with a wide grin.

“What kind of fanfics did you read?”

Kim Dokja has been lying back, slowing regaining his breath from training. He only has enough stamina to simply roll over and face the opposite direction.

Han Sooyoung merely scooted over to his other side, still grinning.

He turns again.

“You read the steamy fics,” she accused.

“I did not.”

[Han Sooyoung has activated the skill ‘Lie Detection.’]

[‘Lie Detection’ has verified his words as truth.]

“Boo.”

“Did you read your novel’s fanfics?”

“Of course not! That goes against an author’s ethics of copyright.”

He just stares at her.

She glares, “I’m not a plagiarist.”

Kim Dokja would love to have the lie detection skill right now.

Han Sooyoung rolls her eyes and offers up, “Occasionally I’ll check the number of fics and see what the most popular tags is. That’s about it.”

A dangerous expression washes over her face as she remembers what exactly the most popular type of fic is. He can see her calculating the probability of Kim Dokja ever reading those type of fics.

Han Sooyoung stares at him with an open mouth smile.

“You, Kim Dokja, may be one of the strongest incarnations, a pain in the ass to me, the dokkaebi, and the constellations, but in reality,” she snorts at that word, “you are weak.”

She didn’t even need to ask. And yet Kim Dokja already feels defeated.

At least he did not admit it aloud.

No way will Kim Dokja verbally admit that he read self-insert fics as the protagonist’s lover.

It gets a little more worse when he remembers he read female self-inserts before finally scavenging the he or they pronoun fics.

But look at him now.

He’s in his favorite novel and met its protagonist.

Kim Dokja wouldn’t call their first introduction a ‘meet cute.’

No way does any of their encounters qualify as romantic. They fought and disagreed and their last encounter ended with Kim Dokja punching Yoo Jonghyuk into unconsciousness. If anything, Kim Dokja’s aim to be Yoo Jonghyuk’s companion is a fantasy.  

Han Yoosong apparently thinks otherwise.

She mockingly pats his shoulder with comfort, “You must be living your fics. Charming your way into Yoo Jonghyuk’s cold barriers.”

“He wants to kill me.”

“Yeah but has he yet?”

Despite the fact that Kim Dokja could come up with many reasons, he says nothing.

Yoo Jonghyuk could’ve killed him at the bridge, at the stations, and, well maybe not at the Throne because of Kim Dokja’s strategy. Every time Kim Dokja said something or did something to convince Yoo Jonghyuk that they are equals and needed each other for upcoming scenarios.

They have yet to ever be on the same page without annoying the other.

And yet Kim Dokja expected this.

It’s the one thing many self-insert fics lack.

As much as Kim Dokja secretly enjoyed the gooey romance orientated stories, none ever measured up with the real stubbornness of Yoo Jonghyuk.

He’s a protagonist who has suffered and thrived and flourished and dealt with impossible odds and despaired and will eventually reach the ending of this story.

Kim Dokja stayed with him for three thousand chapters. Now he wants to stay with Yoo Jonghyuk to… to…

Ah… he got too caught up with the self-inserts fics. A lot of those ended with marriage or something equally domestic.

That’s not an ending deserving of Kim Dokja.

All he wants is for Yoo Jonghyuk and the tohers to make it to the end of this story.

“Hey, you lost in thought about kissing Yoo Jonghyuk?”

“No!”

[Han Sooyoung has activated the skill ‘Lie Detection.’]

[‘Lie Detection’ has verified his words as false.]

She raises an eyebrow, smirking.

“Only because you just said it.”

“Sure,” she smiled like a liar.

Somehow it is the opposite smile of Yoo Jonghyuk’s smile when he threw Kim Dokja off the bridge and into the sea serpent’s mouth.

It’s frustratingly easy to remember how the last sunrays of the normal world is casted behind the protagonist. Seeing that damning smirk finalized the reality Kim Dokja is in.

This wouldn’t be Three Ways to Survive the Apocalypse without Yoo Jonghyuk.  

This wouldn’t be Kim Dokja’s favorite novel without Yoo Jonghyuk.

This wouldn’t be Kim Dokja’s life without Yoo Jonghyuk.

So if Kim Dokja indulged into a few reader-insert fics where Yoo Jonghyuk fought by his side, survived by his side, was happy by his side, then call Kim Dokja a hopeless romantic.

“You are a hopeless romantic.”

“Why?” He demanded, less embarrassed and more worried if Han Sooyoung read his thoughts.

“I was there when Yoo Jonghyuk came bursting through the room before the Throne scenario. His eyes were only on you and you just exploded with sunshine.” She sticks her tongue out in disgust.

“I did not,” he shuttered, finally sitting up to defend himself with the little dignity he has left. “Sunshine?”

Han Sooyoung nods as if her words are obvious. She crossed her arms and scowled, “You read too many self-inserts.”

Kim Dokja shuts his jaw. If he says nothing she would not use lie detection.

The results are the same though.

Han Sooyoung laughs meanly, “I don’t blame your taste. Well he’s not for me but I guess he could be a real heartthrob.”

Kim Dokja sighs instead of agreeing.

Technically, all those fics were derived from Han Sooyoung’s protagonist.

As for Kim Dokja’s protagonist, he never got the creative drive (or sacrifice his dignity) to ever write his own self-insert with Yoo Jonghyuk.

Kim Dokja is a reader first and foremost.

And yet he still ends up inserted into Ways of Survival trying to overcome the scenarios, to outsmart the dokkaebi, and to eventually face off against the constellations.

All the while being Yoo Jonghyuk’s companion.

That last one is a work in progress.

“How many fanfics I’ve read doesn’t matter,” Kim Dokja says to Han Sooyoung, but it’s mostly to remind himself too.

“Oh I don’t know about that,” she smirks. “I think we’re in a classic canon divergence story.”

He scratches his chin, “That could be true.” As Han Sooyoung grins triumphantly, he says, “Maybe you didn’t plagiarize. You just wrote a big fanfiction.”

“Hey!”

He slow claps, “What a devoted fan.”

“At least I’m not in love with the protagonist.”

Kim Dokja nearly chokes, “I’m no-“

He shuts up before the display message appears.

[Han Sooyoung has activated the skill ‘Lie Detection.’]

She bats her eyelashes. “I’m waiting.”

“I hate you.”

[‘Lie Detection’ has verified his words as truth.]

“Because I’m not Yoo Jonghyuk,” she said, undefeated.

“Would you drop it?”

“No because it’s kind of flattering. You read fanfics of my novel and it has prepared you for the real deal! So what have you’ve done so far to capture his heart?”

“I’m not going to capture his heart.”

“Why not? He’s already obsessed with you.”

“Why would you think that?”

Han Sooyoung shrugged, “I’m a writer. I see things.”

Kim Dokja just blinks and lies back down.

“Don’t you want to know what I see?”

“Absolutely not, Han Sooyoung.”

“Imma tell you anyway.” His cry in protest is ignored. “In a crowded room where nearly everyone is killing each other, the time limit for the qualifying kings is ticking away-“

“You don’t have to describe it. I was there.”

“…and there! Fashionably late and very dramatic, the last king arrives but he pays no mind to anyone except one-“

“That was the one and only time you’ve seen us together and it was very short.”

“Nah uh,” she shakes her head, “My beheaded avatar. Yoo Jonghyuk practically presented it to you like a cat presenting their kill.”

Kim Dokja opens his mouth and closes it, having nothing to counter that simile.

“If you think I know little then what does that say about you?” She counters as if this is a riddle. “Kim Dokja believes he hasn’t made an impact on Yoo Jonghyuk? The only one who dares to upstand him, shouldering on herculean challenges, and hindering the plans of a great author?”

He frowns, “Are you insulting me or complimenting me?”

“Insulting because you’re too stupid realize that not only are you in a fictional genre, you will easily fall into a romance genre.” She angrily clicks her tongue, “How did an ugly guy like you get a hot harem?”

“My friends are not a harem.”

“Sort seems like it.”

Kim Dokja rubs his eyes, too tired of all this nonsensical conversations.

“My point is,” Han Sooyoung pokes his forehead to make sure he’s paying attention, “that you’re really becoming a reader-insert story. That usually leads to getting dicked down by the protagonist.”

Kim Dokja buries his red face in his hands.

“I’m just saying!”

“Then stop talking!”

“No way,” she pauses for a moment and taps her forehead, “where was I going with this again?”

“You decided to stop talking,” Kim Dokja said in hopes that this conversation will end.

“Nah,” Han Sooyoung waves her hand flippantly and then suddenly snaps her fingers with a grin, “Oh yeah, I was going on about the fact that Yoo Jonghyuk is in love with you like how you are in love with him.”

He just stares at this awful woman and quietly says, “He wouldn’t.”

“Must I repeat all the things I’ve told you?” Fortunately, she doesn’t but instead says, “You’re becoming way too important to a lot of people, including your protagonist.” Han Sooyoung grins, “I’ve read enough fanfiction to know where that goes.”

Kim Dokja unfortunately has read enough fanfiction too.

“Well Han Sooyoung, you’re wrong because the next time I see Yoo Jonghyuk he will likely kill me.”

His confidence does not change Han Sooyoung’s mind. “I think he’s trying to find you at this very moment.”

“To kill me,” he reinstates.

“But,” she flashes a smile, “if he doesn’t kill you immediately, it could be a sign.”

Again, Kim Dokja says nothing to argue against that because… well…

Han Sooyoung interrupts his thoughts with a singsong voice, “Sign of love!”

He stands up and goes back over to Lycaon to try training again, thoroughly ignoring the woman’s complaints.

Everything Han Sooyoung said has some misguided truths. This is the apocalypse. Everyone is depending on someone stronger to survive.

But this isn’t just any other apocalypse, this is the a story Kim Dokja knows from beginning to end. In spite of whatever future awaits them, he will do everything he can to use his knowledge to save everyone.

It’s almost expected that there will be moments where he did not see things coming.

For example, Yoo Jonghyuk showing up and not killing him.

It’s mostly because he’s poisoned.

Oh and the fact that the Disaster of Questions is waking up.

After buying their Midday Tryst and agreeing to the Oath of Existence, Yoo Jonghyuk agreed to not harm and instead cooperate with Kim Dokja for the time being.

All at the price of that Yoo Jonghyuk can hit Kim Dokja once.

Kim Dokja has no idea if this is a sign of love or not.

Maybe he’ll find out once that hit comes.

#my fic #kim dokja #han sooyoung #omniscient reader's viewpoint #orv #orv fic

[beyond-the-mirror]

The Blue Eyed King’s Gift

Oof! After an eternity incredibly long time I’m finally back to writing! This one will be a three part fic to accompany the Fairy Tale AU one I wrote with Dante x Fem!Reader.

Can you guess which tale I got inspiration for this fic? I won’t include it in the tags for now, but as the story progresses you will start to get the idea of which tale it is.

Warnings: Slight violence against children. Don’t worry, it’s nothing too serious.

Story under the cut.

IMPORTANT EDIT: I decided to make this a four-part fic rather than a three-part, mostly because I realized that the second part may be a little too long to be included in just one chapter.

Part Two - Part Three - Part Four

............................. 

Part One

"(Y/N)!! Where the fuck is my breakfast?!!"

Your father yelled from his bed chambers in such a loud volume you swore the entire house trembled in fear at his wrath. Letting out a defeated sigh, you hurried up placing all the served plates and the warm teapot on the tray before heading upstairs.

Life hadn't been easy at all for you, especially these recent years. Ever since you had memory, your father has been a cruel man to both you and your poor mother, the only reason she had ended up marrying him was because of an arrangement both their families had agreed upon. He was the sole heir of his family's fortune, but needed to marry a woman in order to keep their status unblemished. Eventually your grandparents passed away and your parents received the inheritance, the only problem they didn't take into account was their son's unmeasurable greed and hedonism. Soon enough, your father had wasted pretty much all your fortune in alcohol, unsuccessful business deals and gambling, reducing all your family's possessions to merely a modest but still pretty chateau in the countryside and a few valuables.

You still cried at the memory of your mother wilting away on her bed due to a most terrible illness, the medicines she needed to recover were far too expensive, not that the price mattered much since your father wouldn’t even bother to pay for them anyways had they been any cheaper. Alcohol and gambling were far more important for the man than his dying wife.

"Finally! I swear you're doing this on purpose." Your father scowled from his bed as you placed the food tray on his bedside table. "Do you wish for your own father to starve to death? Talk about an ungrateful child. Get out of my sight already!"

You only resigned to silently nod before leaving, the harsh words from your father never failed to hurt you deeply, cutting down your heart so much you weren't able to mutter a single word to him.

A few tears threatened to escape, but you forced them down. A new day full of possibilities was right before you, so you wasted no time in collecting some of the many fruits and vegetables you grew by yourself in your own garden. This year had brought an exceptional harvest, your crops would certainly make a great profit at the town's market.

Unlike your father, the townspeople respected you and treated you with utmost kindness. Often would they offer their help knowing your situation, something that you would forever be grateful for. You promised to yourself that one day, shall your economy ever recover that is, you would repay them to the last penny for their unwavering support.

After another successful day at the town market you decided to return home, all your produce sold out and now replaced by a small satchel of silver coins, some of them spent in meat, spices and bread for cooking meals at home.

It was a simple life, but you were happy with what little you had. Now if only your father weren't so cruel and abusive...

.............................

"C'mon V! Let's explore over here!"

You were in the kitchen when a soft giddy voice in the distance caught your attention.

"Wait Nero! I don't think it's a good idea to stray further. What if Father becomes worried?" A second voice answered back.

Peering out the window, you noticed two little children playing not too far from your chateau's front yard. Both had pristine white hair, one of them seemed to carry a black kitten in his arms while a blue bird was perched on his shoulder. It was a rather endearing sight and an odd one too since they weren't familiar to you at all, not many people lived in the countryside area you resided in. Perhaps a family recently moved nearby without you noticing.

"Don't worry V, after all he sent Griffon and Shadow here to look after us. Look brother," One of them pointed at your residence with the small wooden sword in his hands. "I found a tiny castle!"

"Whoa, what a lovely house! Do you think a tiny princess lives there too?" The other brother pointed out. You couldn't help but giggle at their adorable antics as they approached your yard.

Reaching for some of the pastries you had bought earlier, you decided to grab a few to give to the brothers. You were about to reach for the back door when-

"GET OUT OF MY PROPERTY YOU BRATS!!"

As soon as you stepped out, you witnessed your father in a very drunken state harassing the poor children. "I SAID GET LOST NOW!!!"

You watched in absolute horror how he harshly grabbed one of the kids by his arm before throwing him to the ground, prompting his brother to wield his toy sword in an attempt to defend him, but ultimately failing as he was backhanded so roughly he too fell to the ground.

"NO! FATHER STOP!" You immediately sprinted to them, basically throwing yourself over harm's way as you shielded the children, pulling them away from your father's relentless attacks. Even the black cat and the blue bird that accompanied the kids had started attacking him, effectively helping you keeping the man at bay as you hugged the kids protectively.

"Damn animals, GET AWAY FROM ME!" The man struggled and flailed against the bird and the cat, missing every strike as he was too drunk and unfocused for their agility.

"Please father, you're completely inebriated and you will only hurt yourself and others. Just go back to the house, please?" You implored doing, your best to calm him down until he finally relented.

"Fine. Food better be ready soon though or you're sleeping outside tonight." His words came out slurred as he stumbled back inside.

Letting out a sigh of relief, you turned to the young twins in your arms, kneeling down before them to check for any wounds they may have gotten. The poor little ones were crying, a few bruises and cuts on their knees and faces.

"It's okay little ones, the bad man is already gone." Gently wiping their tears away, you comforted them until they calmed down. "Are you alright?"

"I-I think so... How about you V?"

"I... I’m fine. That man was so scary though."

A sigh of relief escaped you as you determined all the wounds were minor and merely superficial, nothing you couldn’t handle quickly.

"I'm truly sorry for what happened. Please come inside, let's get your wounds treated."

.............................

“Much better now, isn’t it?”

It didn’t take long for you to finish cleaning and disinfecting the boys’ wounds. Luckily yout homemade medicinal balm was already working wonders, their skin already healing considerably.

“Here! A gift for being the bravest boys in the world.” You handed each one the pastries from before. The brothers’ eyes began sparkling at the sweet treats before them, they didn’t hesitate for a second before grabbing them and taking a bite.

“Thank you so much lady (Y/N)! These are so delicious!” they happily ate their pastries, even sharing a bit for their company animals too.

“I’m glad you like them. And you don’t need to call me lady by the way, just (Y/N) is fine. May I know your names too?”

“I’m Nero!” The twin with short hair and blue eyes answered.

“My name is Vitale, or V if you prefer.” The twin with shoulder-length hair and green eyes replied. “Oh! And these are our friends Griffon and Shadow!” V hugged Shadow close to his chest while Griffon perched himself on Nero’s shoulder.

“A pleasure meeting you four! Does your family live nearby by the way?”

Nero nodded as he kept chewing on his pastry. “Our house is just north from here actually, but Papa doesn’t let us go out often.”

Oh?

“And why is that?”

“Well...” V started, looking a bit down. “Father is very protective of us, that’s why he only lets us play outside as long as we stay close to the house. But today we tried convincing him to let us go explore a little bit farther, it was difficult but he finally agreed as long as we promised we would be alright...”

“I really hope he doesn’t get mad at us after he finds out what happened.” Nero added worryingly. Their saddened eyes really plucked at your heartstrings.

You knelt down so you could look at them in the eyes. “Don’t worry my children. How about I write a note to your father explaining the situation? I’m not sure if this would help much, but at least he would know he has my word that no harm will come to you. And if that doesn’t work, I could always go and meet him personally to get to an agreement.”

“You would really do that for us?” They looked at you expectantly, and when you nodded your answer, their faces lit up in so much joy that they unexpectedly enveloped you in a hug. You chuckled before wrapping your arms around them, returning the hug.

.............................

Since the brothers wanted to continue playing, you allowed the children to stay for a few more hours while you finished cooking. You let them keep playing in your garden, a place where you knew your father wouldn’t spot them and risk another scene like the one before.

Politely excusing yourself to your little guests before leaving to deliver your father’s meal. Luckily this time he received his food without saying much of a word, a very welcomed improvement from this morning’s rant.

As you returned to your guests, you noticed they were looking at you in concern.

“(Y/N), is that man really... your father?

“Yes, he is. Why the question?”

The glanced at each other briefly before V continued “Why did he treat you like that? I thought fathers were supposed to love their daughters...”

To say the question took you a bit by surprise would have been a underestimation. You simply sat down at one of the wooden benches, not knowing exactly what to say.

The brothers sat down next to you, each one by your sides.

You fumbled with your words, tears already pricking your eyes before you managed to control them.

“I know he is not exactly a good man, he made many mistakes in the past that cost our family so much… But, despite everything, he is still my father. Maybe I’m wrong, but I want to think he still has a good heart deep inside. That’s why I can’t give up on him. I stay with him in hope that one day he would finally change for the better.”

You forced a smile so you wouldn’t make the children worry anymore about you, and yet they managed to see through your façade. Their little arms wrapped around your waist and hugged you, an attempt to give you some comfort for the pain you were going through daily.

A warmth unlike no other enveloped your entire self, maybe it was cuteness of the situation or the great empathy of this wonderful children felt for you, but it felt so soothing how peace seemed to overtake you at the moment.

It was strange, yet so familiar. Like a distant memory of better days gone by.

.............................

The sun was about to set in a few hours, so you decided it was time for the children to head back home before it became dark.

As you had promised the brothers, you wrote a note for their father apologizing for the incident that happened and gave it to Nero. You also packed a few slices of fruit in a pouch for them to snack on during their trip back home.

“Um (Y/N)... can we come to your house to play again some time?” V asked in a shy voice. Both he and Nero had so much fun playing and staying with you, for them it felt that they had genuinely met a new friend that day.

“Of course little ones. You can come here and play whenever you want, as long as your father agrees to.” You ruffled their pretty little heads, making the brothers giggle.

“We promise to visit as often as we can! Right V?”

The younger one nodded his head enthusiastically.

And so, Nero and V departed. It was odd, how the chateau felt a hundred times emptier without them despite just meeting them earlier.

They were both so sweet and innocent, you just hoped their father wouldn’t get angry after reading your short letter. It would be a shame if the boys got punished for something that wasn’t their fault.

Going back into the kitchen, you cleaned a bit before tending to the plants at your garden, wondering if your new friends would soon brighten your day again with their presence

.............................

At the throne of a majestic palace, an all-seeing orb conjured at his hand, a demon king watched over his two sons.

The day they were born, he vowed to The Creator above that he would always protect them, even if that meant giving up his own life, he would gladly pay the price if it guaranteed they would keep living theirs in peace.

His kingdom may not be a vast one, completely isolated from others, but the land was prosperous and peace reigned over everyone. The king knew his sons would grow safe and sound behind the powerful barrier that surrounded the kingdom, but he couldn’t help a small seed of doubt that gnawed at his chest.

He feared for the day curiosity would awake in the hearts of his twins. They would want to know everything about the outside world, their innocent minds not knowing how cruel and dangerous it could be. The king often taught them of the outside world through the many books and scripts in the royal library, but he was afraid that would not be enough for his children.

So when that morning they had insisted of going beyond the barrier, no matter how much he had prepared himself mentally for this moment, his heart still ached with worry.

But he wouldn’t take their freedom away. Doing so is one of the most horrifying acts one could bestow upon another.

So the king allowed them to venture beyond their home. He had to let them fly, not clip their beautiful wings.

However, as much as he wanted to trust his sons, his concerns were bigger. He tasked two servants to keep them company, knowing that their eyes would keep guard on them. Using his demonic power, he summoned an oracle that would let him watch over them from his throne.

He watched as they approached a small chateau outside the forest, they were happy and playing along the way which brought a smile to his usually stoic face.

That contentment was gone in an instant.

A drunk man stepped out of the house and attacked his sons, scaring them and making them cry.

The king immediately stood from his throne, his fists tightly clenched as his eyes filled with immeasurable wrath and ire. He was about to unsheath his own sword to open a portal and go there, ready to end the miserable man’s life, when another figure ran into the scene. A woman who shielded his sons from the attacking man.

And when he finally managed to look at her face, he froze, almost dropping the sword in his hand.

For she looked exactly like-

… No. It couldn’t be her.

And yet there was a tenderness in the way she treated them. The way her soft hands cleaned the boys’ tears and kindly healed their wounds. The way she offered them a few pastries with a sweet smile in her face and warm light in her eyes. It was rather endearing, how this woman gained his sons’ trust in just a few minutes.

Releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding, the king sat down at the throne once again, attentive to what the oracle revealed to his eyes.

Maybe the outside world wasn’t so dangerous after all.

#devil may cry #fairy tale au #Vergil Sparda #vergil x reader #vergil x you #reader insert #fanfiction

[maria-scribbles]

glitter + crimson (let’s start a riot)//part one

“and that’s sailor, our resident mermaid, shell collector, surfer chick, and all-around ray of sunshine. she’s always down for a kegger at the boneyard so she can show off her dance moves; they’re not the best but she doesn’t let that stop her from getting down. her mom owns the surf shop on the beach, that’s how jj and i met her when we bought our first boards when we were ten. she’s been part of the crew ever since.” ~john b routledge

pogue sailor flynn just wants to have a great time with her friends this summer and try to ignore the fact that her flight-risk dad took off again to gamble his life (and her family's savings) away in atlantic city, leaving her with a mom who doesn't know how to cope. between surfing at the beach and cruising around on the hms pogue for hours, it's easy to keep her mind off her shitty home life. what isn't so easy though, is trying to deny her feelings for her best friend, jj.

summary: the pogues hit the beach for a day of sand, surf, and shells. sailor commandeers a hat, willingly participates in cardio, makes bank, and has a heart-to-heart with jj.

word count: 4k+ 

ship: jj maybank x oc (sailor flynn) 

warnings: mentions of abuse/neglect/parental abandonment, swearing, fluff, a lot of flirting 

a/n: hi there! i’ve had this little plot bunny in my head for a few weeks now and it wouldn’t leave me alone so here we are! this is the first piece of writing i’ve posted in a very long time so i apologize in advance if it’s terrible. i’m planning on this whole thing being at least eight to ten parts so get ready for the long haul! i actually split this into two parts cause my word count was insane and way too long for one post lmao. let me know what you guys think! title comes from “glitter & crimson” by all time low. also this is unbetaed, so i apologize for any mistakes.

another quick thing: i tried writing this with sailor as an unnamed or y/n reader but it just wasn’t the best. i adore fleshing out characters and i had so many good ideas for her backstory and personality that she kind of just wrote herself and i went with it. i hope you all enjoy reading about sailor as much as i enjoyed writing her!

~Masterlist~

part two | part three | part four | playlist

gif credit goes to @heapass​

part one: catching waves

The beach has always been special to Sailor; the soothing crash of waves against the shore, the warmth of sand under her feet, the comforting feeling of salt drying on her skin. It’s where her mother taught her to surf, where her father taught her to dive, where her friends taught her that family didn’t always mean having shared blood. It’s her home, her place, her safe haven. Nothing is more perfect than a day at the beach with the pogues, her board, and a bucket for shells. 

Today is shaping up to be one of those days. The weather’s balmy, the water’s clear, and most importantly, she hasn’t seen these many perfect shells in quite awhile. Sailor reaches out and grabs the delicate golden scotch bonnet from the ocean floor, inspecting it closely for any cracks or holes. When she finds none, she smiles and runs her fingers over its smooth surface, marveling at the way the sun’s rays filter through the water and make the entire shell shine brilliantly. Although she sells most of the shells she finds at her mom’s surf shop (or gifts them to her friends), this one’s going to be proudly displayed on the shelf in her room. 

She scans the sand for her next target before pushing off from the floor and heading to the surface where Kiara floats on her board, legs dangling in the water as she watches the rest of their group surf. 

“Kie, check this out! It’s a scotch bonnet!” She exclaims, placing the shell beside the half full bucket in front of her friend. Resting both arms on the board, she lets herself take a quick breather as the other girl gently picks up her treasure and turns it over in her hands. 

“Holy shit, how do you always find the good ones?” She asks, gently putting it into the bucket with the others as Sailor shrugs, tucking a wet strand of red hair behind her ear. 

“You guys always say I’m part mermaid, so...” Kiara rolls her eyes and splashes her friend, who just laughs. “Are you done now? We can’t let the guys have all the fun.” 

“Almost, there’s a gorgeous whelk down there that I have to have. Be right back!”

She dives before the dark haired girl can reply, swimming down twenty feet to where she spotted the shell. When she was younger, she used to find the pressure on her ears a bit painful but now she hardly notices, instead focusing on the muffled sound of the waves above. Down here it’s just her and the water: peaceful, quiet, and oh so beautiful, infinitely stretching out in front of her. It used to scare her, the vastness of the deep ocean, the secrets lurking in its depths, the unknown. Now, it brings her comfort. Inspiration. Hope.

She plucks the shell from the sand and heads back the the surface, where three more boards have joined Kiara’s. She swims straight under Pope’s, knowing he’s the most ticklish of the group, and runs the tip of the whelk along the sole of his foot. His yell is so loud she can hear it clear as day under the water and she laughs bubbles as his board wobbles before he topples over with a splash. The other three are still laughing as she surfaces beside her fallen friend and feigns shock.

“What happened? Did he touch a fish again?”

“Oh ha fucking ha. So funny.” Pope deadpans but he’s smiling as Sailor holds his board steady so he can climb back on. “I’m surprised you actually touched my foot, Miss Feet Are Disgusting.”

“First off, smelly, dirty feet are gross. And second, I didn’t,” She replies, pulling herself onto JJ’s board without warning and laughing as he nearly falls off just as Pope had. She sticks her tongue out at him as he shoots her a mock glare and shifts closer to he for balance, their knees knocking together.

“This did, here.” She holds the shell out to Pope, who inspects it like Kiara had done earlier and nods in approval before passing it off to John B.

“It’s...nice, right? It’s a good one?” He asks as he hands it over to Kiara. She meets Sailor’s eyes and shakes her head, mouthing ‘boys’ while carefully placing the whelk in the bucket.

“Seriously, JB-”

“Whoa, wait! I don’t get to see it?” JJ pouts, crossing his arms over his chest and Sailor fixes him with a flat look.

“I seem to remember that you, like a damn child, dropped and broke the last one I let you hold.”

John B laughs so hard he nearly falls off his board while Pope and Kiara glance at each other and hide matching snickers behind their hands. JJ has the decency to look embarrassed as he pleads with her and she tells herself that the slight flush creeping up the back of his neck is just from too much time in the sun, nothing more.

“Hey, I said I was sorry for that and I meant it! I swear I’ll be more careful, please, Sail?”

Trying her best to ignore the little thrill she feels at the sound of her nickname coming from his mouth, she relents with a sigh, “Fine, on one condition.”

He looks at her expectantly as she holds up one finger and points at the black hat turned backwards on his head.

“Gimme that, I can feel my scalp burning as we speak.”

“Holy shit, you���re such a fucking ginger,” He laughs but pulls the cap off anyway, running a hand through his blond hair before fixing it on her head properly, the bill facing forward and giving her eyes a much needed break from the bright summer sun. She only hopes her face feels hot as he lays one hand on her knee and holds the other out to Kiara, palm up. “Fork it over, Kie.”

Kiara hands it to him with a roll of her eyes and then fixes Sailor with a pointed look that the redhead pretends not to see; instead, she watches JJ carefully turn the shell over in his hand before holding it aloft, like Rafiki held Simba in The Lion King.

“Listen up, class- especially you,” He says, the hand resting against her leg pointing at John B, who looks affronted at being called out, much to the amusement of the rest of the group, “This here is a lightning whelk and yes, JB, as a matter of fact, it’s a great one. No holes, minimal damage, and defined markings. Ten out of ten would recommend.”

He passes the shell to Kiara with a satisfied grin as everyone sits in stunned silence, just bobbing up and down with the waves until Pope finally says, “Damn. Better watch out, Sailor! We’ve got a new shell expert in town.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so. I’m not giving up the crown that easily.” As the others burst into laughter, she turns to JJ and pokes him in the side, asking, “Since when you know so much?”

The look he gives her is all mock offense, but his blue eyes are soft as he says, “I always listen when you talk, you know.”

His answer catches her so off-guard that she tries and fails to form a coherent reply as her face flushes before settling on giving him a sweet smile, which he returns with a playful tug on one of the tiny braids in her hair. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Kiara staring at them with a devious smirk on her face and she knows she’ll be hearing about this later.

“Enough shell talk- no offense, Sail,” John B says, steering his board toward the waves. “We’ve got surfing to do.”

Sailor waves her hand dismissively then reaches over and grabs the bucket from Kiara. “None taken, I’m just gonna drop these off at the shop real quick and I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll go with,” JJ says, popping up onto his knees and turning his board toward the shore. “After all,” He yells toward the rest of the pogues over his shoulder, “you guys need all the practice you can get!” He winks at Sailor and she laughs as she turns to face forward, pulling her legs onto the board and placing the bucket in her lap while the other three flip him off in perfect unison.

The two teenagers paddle toward the beach together and catch a small wave that shoots them straight to shore. JJ holds the board steady as she hops off and then touches his shoulder in thanks before they walk toward where Sailor’s own board is propped in the warm sand with their things. She puts the bucket down and kneels beside it, carefully digging through the haul to find the scotch bonnet.

“There you are, gorgeous.”

“I didn’t go anywhere, babe.”

She snorts at JJ’s quip but doesn’t give him the satisfaction of looking up from wrapping the shell in a small towel and placing it in her backpack (she does blush though, and hopes he doesn’t notice.). As she stands to pull on her shorts, the redhead can’t help but glance at the lightning whelk, sitting pretty in the sand where she put it while looking for the bonnet. It really is beautiful, a ten out of ten as JJ put it, and damn it, she just can’t let it go to some touron who won’t appreciate it. So before she can change her mind, she kneels again to wrap it in another towel and gently nestles it alongside the other shell.

“Chop chop, time’s a wastin.’“ He says, grabbing the bucket with one hand and holding the other out to her; she rolls her eyes but takes it anyway and lets him pull her to her feet, muttering, “Jesus, you’re impatient.”

“It’s all part of the charm. Come on, race ya!” After a quick squeeze to her hand, he drops it and takes off running toward the shop without warning, leaving Sailor scrambling to catch up as she yells, “If you break those shells you’re buying them, Maybank!”

The duo weaves through the crowd of tourons and natives alike, ignoring the dirty looks thrown their way as they run by, kicking sand up in their wake. Fifty feet ahead stands The Sandbar Surf Shop in all its salt-weathered, sun-bleached glory, all but two of the rental boards gone from the stand out front. Alison sits on a stool with one of them on her lap as she waxes it, the boom box resting on the floor beside her blasting The Beach Boys as usual. She looks up in surprise as Sailor bounds onto the deck and slaps her hand against the shop’s door a few seconds before JJ does, both teenagers out of breath.

“Sweet victory!” The redhead shouts, sending a quick wave toward Alison, who returns it with an amused smile and watches the blond roll his eyes, holding the shell bucket close to his chest like a football.

“Victory my ass! I saw you jump over that cooler and that’s cheating.”

“Oh, I cheated? Who gave himself a head start? Oh yeah, you!”

Alison returns the now waxed board to the rack and wipes her hands on a spare rag. “Sounds like you both cheated, so no one wins.” She says with a shrug, chuckling to herself as they both stutter excuses and follow the older redheaded girl into the shop, empty sans for a young boy browsing the display of shells.

“I’ll get your mom.” She says to Sailor before heading through the beaded curtain to the back room and she’s grateful. She doesn’t think she has the strength to go back there anymore.

“I was carrying extra weight,” JJ says, placing the bucket onto the old surfboard-turned-counter and then leaning his back against it, “so I think the head start was justified.”

Sailor props her chin in her hand and drums her fingers along the board’s worn surface, her eyebrow raised. “And I think my jump was justified considering I had some ground to make up from that head start so...”

“Agree to disagree.” They say together, sharing a quick smile before he picks a pair of heart shaped glasses from the stand and puts them on, looking at her over the neon pink frames as he asks in a high-pitched British accent, “What do you think, darling? Too much?”

“No, I think they’re quite dashing!” She bursts out laughing as he strikes a vogue pose, then spins and dramatically leans back against the counter. “Rock that pink.”

“Hell yeah, fuck gender norms!” He says loudly, both middle fingers raised toward the roof.

“In this house, we stan non-toxic masculinity-” she starts, but she’s interrupted by a stern voice from behind the counter that says, “If you’re not going to buy those, put ‘em back, kid.”

Sailor’s mother sweeps into view and stares pointedly at JJ, who hastily stands up straight and returns the glasses to their place on the display as Alison silently heads back outside, shooting both teens a small, awkward smile.

“Sorry, Mrs. Flynn.”

Sailor wants to tell him there’s nothing to apologize for, that he did nothing wrong, but she knows he already knows that, so instead she just scoots a little closer and presses her hip against his. His hand moves to rest on her lower back in thanks and her whole body feels the sparks from his touch.

“I-I found some good ones today, Mom.” She says, pulling shells from the bucket one by one and lining them up on the counter. “A few coquinas, some scallops, a whelk or two...”

She trails off when Carmen doesn’t respond and looks down at her hands, twisting her fingers together anxiously as her mother inspects each shell. her face blank. JJ’s thumb starts to run tiny circles on her back and she concentrates on the feel of his ring, warm and soothing against her bare skin, instead of the fact that her mother hasn’t even glanced her way yet. She hasn’t looked her in the eye in almost three months.

The silence is thick in the air until Carmen finishes her evaluation and gives a small nod in her daughter’s direction. “Good job.” She says, heading to the register and pulling out some cash before counting out five twenties and holding them out to Sailor, her eyes fixed on a point somewhere over the teenager’s shoulder. She swallows thickly and takes the money with a near inaudible thank you, slipping it into her back pocket before grabbing the now empty bucket and nudging JJ toward the door with her hip.

As she’s about to cross the threshold she pauses with one hand on the door frame and turns back, asking, “Hey, Mom? Are...are you gonna come home tonight?”

Carmen’s brown eyes only meet her green ones for a split second before she looks away to fiddle with the register and Sailor can’t help feeling the dull stab of disappointment as she says, “Oh, um, I don’t think so. I’m pretty busy here with, uh, inventory, bookkeeping...”

(That stab used to be sharp as a knife, cutting her to the bone, but she’s almost gotten used to the pain.)

“Oh, right. Just...text me if you do, okay?” She takes one last look at her mother, bathed in the cool shadows of the shop that’s tearing her apart before turning and stepping back into the bright sunlight without another word, her throat tight. She’s not sure Carmen was even listening anymore.

“See ya later, brat.” Alison calls to her as she lets the screen door swing shut behind her with a slight bang. The older girl may not be related to her by blood but she’s most definitely Sailor’s honorary big sister, having babysat her for years in addition to working at the shop, so she waves to her with a small smile and a “bye, ho” before joining JJ on the beach.

The duo slowly starts walking along the water together, a stark contrast from their earlier mad dash and Sailor’s mind races with a million thoughts, most of them her hating herself for foolishly putting a scrap of faith in her mom once again.

“Whoa, you okay? That bucket’s not going anywhere, promise.” He says, pulling them to a stop with a gentle tug on her elbow and reaching down to take it from her clenched hand. She doesn’t even realize she was holding it that hard until she sees the little half moons pressed into her palm from her nails and she sighs, rubbing them away with her thumb.

Opening up has always been something Sailor struggles with, even with a friend group as close as the pogues. She’s the one who’s all sunshine and good vibes, the one everyone goes to for cheering up, the one that’s always...happy. She’s the friend who listens, the open ear, the trusted confidante. She knows all her friends struggles: John B’s fear of being abandoned that often keeps him up at night, Kiara’s terrible guilt over leaving her friends behind during her kook year, Pope’s feeling of drowning under his dad’s impossible expectations, JJ’s abusive household that has him convinced he’s not worthy of love. Every secret she holds close to her heart, guarding them with impenetrable walls that no one can break through.

The walls protecting her own secrets, though? They may be strong around the others but they crumble like sand when she’s alone with the boy standing beside her, his hand still holding her elbow as he starts drawing circles on her skin once again. Talking to JJ has always come easy to her, almost infuriatingly so, and she has no qualms about calling him her best friend. While the other pogues know she’s been having some problems at home with her flight-risk dad and indifferent mom, none of them know almost the full story like he does, just as none of them know exactly how horrible his father really is.

(She knows. She’s seen the aftermath far too often and has been there each time, cleaning cuts, soothing bruises, holding him in her arms and never wanting to let him go.)

“I just...don’t know what to do anymore.” She can feel him watching her as she talks and she avoids his gaze like her mother avoided hers, instead staring out at the ocean. In the distance, she sees one of their friends -Kiara, she thinks- drop in on a wave while the other two look on a little further away. “She won’t even look at me and I don’t know what I did wrong.”

“Hey, it’s not you, got it? God, you’re...perfect, Sail.” JJ says softly, so soft that the crashing surf nearly drowns the sound of his voice as the water washes over their bare feet. Sailor curses the fact that she blushes so easily because her whole face is on fire at his words, and she’s so distracted that she almost misses what he says next.

“Your mom’s always, uh, weird when your dad dips. It’ll be better when he comes back.”

Her heart clenches in her chest. If only it were that simple. She turns to face him and meets his eyes, blue as the ocean, open and honest, and sends him a smile that lacks its usual brightness. “I think you might be right, J. For once.”

His thumb stills on the crook of her elbow and she knows he knows she’s not telling him everything. She feels like she should say something, anything- apologize, explain herself, just tell him the damn truth- but before she can even open her mouth he says, “Listen, I get it.”

She can feel the hand on her arm start to slip away and she grabs it between both of hers, her voice tight as she says, “No, you listen. Today’s been...so perfect and I don’t wanna bring everyone down with my problems.”

“You know they won’t mind.”

(She does, but that’s beside the point.)

“I know they won’t, but I do.”

It’s her turn to run her thumb in circles on the back of his hand now as she continues, “I’ll tell you everything later, okay?”

“You don’t have to-” He starts but she smiles, genuine and bright this time, and cuts him off.

“I want to, J. And I will, promise.” Like a child, she holds her pinky out expectantly. He quickly glances down at her hand and then meets her eyes again before finally returning her smile, showing off that dimple that makes her heart skip a beat, and hooking his finger around hers.

“Come on, we’ve got waves to catch and friends to show up.” He says and just like that they’re back to normal. Sailor’s hyper aware of the fact that her pinky is still linked with JJ’s, but he doesn’t pull away as they start walking back to their things again and she can’t help but hold on a little tighter. She doesn’t think he notices until he walks a little closer, his shoulder brushing hers; out of the corner of her eye, she sees him smile and feels herself mirroring him without a thought, her cheeks turning as red as her hair.

Talking with him may be the easiest thing to do for her, but flirting comes in a close second. It’s natural: the teasing, the casual touches, and especially the clothes stealing (a good fifth of her sweatshirts probably actually belong to him). He’s the biggest flirt she knows, with that bad boy swagger and killer smile that make all the giggling touron girls fall over themselves to get to him. She tells herself it’s fine, that she’s so not jealous, when he dances with them at keggers on the beach, whispering things in their ears that make them blush, taking their hands and leading them away to dark corners or the spare room at the Chateau. After all, there’s the one golden rule of their group: no pogue on pogue macking, so friends is all they’ll ever be, all they can be.

She tells herself she’s fine with it, really. Being his friend is better than being nothing at all, and she wouldn’t trade his friendship for the world. Deep down though, she’d give anything to kiss him again -the first time was when she was eleven and JJ had just turned twelve, awkward yet sweet, the day she first saw the full extent of his dad’s abuse- but she holds herself back, unwilling to ruin the relationship that means so much to her. And sometimes, like now, she thinks (hopes) that he’s holding back, too.

Their pinkies linger together when they come to a stop at their things, both holding on just a bit longer than what’s considered friendly before their hands drop away. Sailor feels his eyes on her as she pulls off her shorts, money still in the back pocket, and stuffs them in her bag.

(So she just might’ve taken them off a little bit -okay, a lot- slower because he was watching, sue her.)

“I hope you know this is mine, now.” She points to his hat before freeing her board from the sand and waiting for him to do the same, hand on her hip.

“It looks better on you, anyway. Here,” He says, taking a step closer and reaching up with one hand to turn the cap backwards. “Don’t want you to lose it.” His finger brushes along her jaw when he drops his arm and she feels her breath catch as she replies, “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

JJ smiles at that, then nods toward the waves. “Race ya? I’ll play fair this time.”

“Nah, but I’m glad you can admit that you cheated!” She says, pausing for a second to laugh at the way his jaw drops before she takes off running and leaves him hurrying to catch up. “I’m proud of you!”

“I changed my mind, I want my hat back now, Flynn!” He yells after her and she just laughs harder as they splash into the ocean.

-

tagging some of my fave writers ❤: @pogue-writings​ @o-b-x​ @jjbabyouterbanks​ @heywards​ @obxsummer​ @jjmaybanky​

let me know what you think!

#outer banks #jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x oc #jj maybank fic #jj fanfic #jj x oc #obx fic #my fics #outer banks fanfiction #jj x reader #jj maybank x reader #obx imagine