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1kook · 4 years

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commercial break ; SIX

this is part of my netflix & chill series this is foreshadowing for the next fic 👀

summary; Jungkook enjoyed pushing you down, indulging you in all your little fantasies, but he too had some he wanted to live out. warnings; smut in the forms of riding, penetration, soft sex rating; mature (18+) misceallenous; jungkook thinks a lot.... and they're not always pg things... word count; 1.8k

notes; i have been neglecting my og jk dream team couple so here we are! anyway please look [ here ] and remember this face ....

He’s never minded taking the reins before, but there’s something distinctly carnal that flashes in Jungkook’s chest when you ask to ride him that morning. The sun filtering in through the window beside him captures the entirety of your beauty on top of him, endless expanses of soft skin and dips and curves. “Pretty,” he sighs, hands on your hips. You’re so tired but so gorgeous, supple breasts bouncing in his face, eyelashes kissing your cheeks with each sleepy blink. Rarely do you push him down like this, hands on his chest as you whimper and grind yourself to completion, but Jungkook certainly wasn’t complaining.

In all the time he’s known you, Jungkook’s become quite familiar with your sexual prowess. You liked to play the opposite game with him, seduce him and push him until he snapped and took you over a table or cuffed you to a bed, all blessed experiences that he treasures very much. He loved how you sounded bent over the kitchen counter, or shoved against the sheets. If Jungkook had to pinpoint the exact moment his horniness skyrocketed, it was definitely the second his name left your lips in a breathy little whimper. He adored you and your body, liked taking care of you.

But every now and then… he liked to be pampered.

Jungkook enjoyed pushing you down, indulging you in all your little fantasies, but he too had some he wanted to live out. Blindfolding you and having you cum on a riding crop was definitely the highest on the list and that was done; after that incident he’s woken many a night with a rock hard cock in his sleep shorts like some dorky teenager fantasizing about his girlfriend. And on the nights you didn’t sleep over, he was forced to fend for himself, the tape recorder in his brain recalling every single thing that had happened that night.

But now it was time to move onto the next, and that next bullet point on his imaginary list was letting you fuck yourself on his cock with no help at all.

Most times you rode him you tended to give up halfway through. You started off strong, overexcited glint in your eyes as you rabidly fucked yourself on him. But your natural pillow princess tendencies (no shade) always won over, always had you softly begging him to help. He’s always been more than happy to, especially if it meant coming sooner, but sometimes Jungkook just wanted to be used. Wanted to be pushed down and taken advantage of, especially if that was at your hands. It was a concept that probably went against everything your sexual relationship was built upon; him being the submissive one was about as rare as you not play-fighting back. And still, Jungkook wanted more than anything in the world to see that side of you, that femdom, as Doyeon had so meanly teased him about once.

So here he is, partially living that fantasy as you slide up and down on his cock. You’ve got one hand on his lower abdomen, the other on the top of a thigh, working yourself against him lazily. It’s not at the intensity of Jungkook’s dreams, but it sure is a sight. “B-Bend your knee for me, honey,” you pant, and Jungkook does, pulling his leg up until you’re sloppily using it as leverage to bounce on him. “G-Good boy,” you rasp.

It’s that word, that wretched word that makes something in Jungkook go soft, throw the past year of training out the window. He likes to think he’s in charge— he is —but every now and then you use that word against Jungkook and it’s like everything is reversed and always has been. Like it’s always been you leading sex, you telling him how good he is, and not the other way around.

He groans, tightens his hands on your hips as you continue bouncing away. Every glide of your warm folds around his cock makes his heart lurch, makes him want to bury himself inside of you and never leave. Jungkook would never admit it to your or anyone, but there was this rather clingy side of him that reared its ugly head when you were involved. He never wants anyone else to see you like this, never wants anyone else to feel you like this, which is where his spiraling begins.

You see, below that being-pushed-down-by-my-girlfriend point was another, slightly overlooked point, that entrenched upon dangerous, almost taboo territory. And that was stuffing you full of his cum— off birth control —and watching you swell and swell until there was no way you couldn’t be pregnant. And Jungkook, for some odd reason, wanted that really badly.

A soft groan above him, a lazy smile on your face as you reach down to idly toy with your clit, pussy flush against the base of his cock now. He knows better than to tell you to move because it’ll break this tender moment, this unique experience of you using him like some glorified dildo like he so desperately wanted sometimes. So he shuts his lips, goes back to that other fantasy that is only fueled by the soft swell of your tits when you move.

God, they would get so big, he thinks. Would be so round, just like the rest of you, and bursting with milk. It’s for the baby, for the baby, he tells himself, but there’s image in his head, this so terribly wrong image, of him suckling your breasts, holding your waist as the milk drips down his chin and over your skin, senses overwhelmed as he does something he’s definitely not supposed to. But you’d be so sweet, his mind says, would be so sweet and... full of life.

Above him, you giggle deliriously, sweat dripping down the slope of your neck. For a second he wonders if you’ve somehow tapped into his thoughts, seen all his perverted fantasies, but then you’re looking at him with that adoring gaze that makes his heart burst. “Pretty boy,” you tease, rolling your hips forward until that cute little button above your slit is grinding against him.

Yes, he certainly was your pretty boy, your good boy— he was whatever boy you wanted him to be. Why? Because he was so in love with you that the mere thought of you not being his and him not being yours made him gag. He just wanted you, so soft and warm around him, for the rest of his life. Maybe a belly? Maybe a child? Jungkook wanted it all, and his dick throbs at the mere idea of you possibly giving him that and more.

He was completely lost in his thoughts, never to be seen again.

A muffled whimper, so airy that it takes Jungkook a moment to realize it came from him. He’s too riled up to feel embarrassed, simply rolls his head from side to side as you clench those puffy walls around him. “C-Cum inside?” he pants, “can I— can I cum inside?” You lean forward; the tip of his engorged cock brushes against a sensitive spot inside of you, pulling a sinful moan from your lips. “P- Please?”

You smile, so pretty and sweet, it makes his dick twitch. “Of course,” you murmur, small hand on the side of his face, hips rolling rhythmically. “Wh- what’s that thing you said the other day?” you shiver, sleek skin catching the rays of the sun perfectly. A glittering highlight decorates your body, and that only tightens the coil in his stomach until it’s springing up with insane force. “Baby?”

“Yes?” he grunts, every muscle fiber in his body needed to hold even the smallest semblance of self control.

A giggle from you as he dazedly looks up. “Not you,” you chuckle, leaning down to sweetly peck him on the lips. It’s so soft and gentle, just like everything else about you. It takes everything in his body to keep him stable. “Remember?” you purr, hot breathe flush against his skin. “You wanted to put a baby in me.”

His hips jerk, a moan spilling from his lips that he doesn’t catch fast enough. “N-No,” he mewls, turning his face away from you like maybe it’ll prolong his orgasm, maybe it’ll lessen the aching heat around his cock. He can’t possibly hear those words from your lips, not when he knows you’re on birth control and that that notion is physically impossible right now. It’ll plant a terrible seed in his head, ruin Jungkook for weeks.

But you’re nothing if not persistent, forcing yourself down against him as he begins violently blushing, trying to mask his excitement. “Baby?” you repeat, as if he’s a puppy hearing the words ‘outside;’ fuck it, Jungkook thinks, he was whatever you wanted him to be. “Wanna fuck a baby into me, Jungkookie?” you exhale, hot breath against his ear. His hips spasm a second time, send you rolling down his cock with those perky nipples flush against his chest. “Mmmh, come on, honey… need you to work for it.”

And work Jungkook does.

His hands wrap around your frame, pull you flush against his body. Feet against the bed, thighs tense, he begins rapidly thrusting up into the warm entrance of your pussy, where yours and his cum seep out together. It’s slippery and wet, but not wet enough — he wants to feel his cum around himself, feel it bulge inside your stomach until you physically can’t hold anymore. “G-Good boy,” you whine, lips raining down featherlight smooches along his jawline. “Doing so good for me, honey—“

You’re cut off by the earth-shattering orgasm that consumes Jungkook, an almost feral groan that tears itself from his throat. “Mine, mine,” he sobs, doesn’t recognize his own voice in his ears. “Gonna be mine.”

A stuttered reply as your juices join his, leak down his softening cock until the sticky sweet fluid makes him feel dirty. It’s not even 8 AM yet and he’s already covered in cum. But it’s worth it when you lean back with that pretty smile, push his damp hair away from his sweaty face with the practiced touch of an angel. “Did you like that?” you ask softly, not making to move off of him. In fact, Jungkook swears you squeeze around his quickly limpening cock.

Any other woman he thinks he might have been embarrassed, die from humiliation of presenting her with a soft dick. But with you, it’s comfortable. It’s sweet and soft, your silky folds milking the last of his cum straight out of his cock. Jungkook whimpers, head bobbing at your question. You cup his face in your hands, fingers like butterflies against his skin. He swears he could transcend right now.

Another languid kiss, tongue lazily toying with his until his mouth feels heavy from the saliva you push down his throat. The light filtering in through the window paints your skin in soft colors, makes him feel so warm and loved; he could die like this and not feel an inch of remorse.

#goldenclosetnet #networkbangtan #bangtanhq #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook fic #bts smut #mine

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uweiy · 3 years

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I'm intrigued by Love is Science? but know nothing about it. Can you give me a run down on what kind of thing to expect and who it might appeal to? Thank you!! 😁

Ooooo boi *gremlin smile* I'm glad you asked. You've entered the dragon's den, broken the dam and thus this post turned out to be a monster so I'm gonna link here another post from @accidentallyadramablog which imo gives a nice (and short) overview.

That said let's get into

Love is Science?

Summary :

Yan Fei is a the CEO of the Love is Science marriage agency, that matches people based on scientific data. Hsuan Yu, 8 years younger than her, is a promising young hairstylist who has been in love with her thoughout their entire childhood when she has only ever seen him like a little brother.

Unexpectedly they meet again. Between the way they've each built their lives and how Yong Yan Fei's ex husband still looms over Yan Fei's life, how will their relationship develop this time around ?

Now,

just reading that summary I know what you're thinking.

Indeed, if you have some experience with dramas, you might recognize some TYPICAL TYPICAL tropes – let's get them out of the way :

love triangle (though we all know who she is going to end up with don't we)

childhood friends

'noona romance'

And they are every bit as present and as trope-ey as you would expect.

However, as they say, the devil is in the details.

And particularly, in the side characters. Let me give you a quick rundown of the lot of them :

As such, we follow the stories of multiple relationships that develop parallel to one another.

The relationships

• Yan Fei/ Hsuan Yu : Not much needs to be added I think. Their storyline might be the most predictable but they are pretty sweet and heartwarming. pining for like 12 years though poor Hsuan Yu. Anyway you can enjoy it or find it boring or but you can't hate it.

• Mark/Ouwen : Noooow we're getting to it. Their dynamic is so... Refreshing and unique. Confident gay with a soft heart and dumb disaster bisexual I mean *chef kiss*👌delicious

After the disasters of their first meetings, it's a cat and dog relationship where Ouwen is the hsssssss don't touch me– cat and Mark is the golden retriever trailing after him not really realizing the rampage he's creating in Ouwen's heart. while Ouwen is like "Remind me why the FUCK I caught feelings again ?".

IDK it just has everything 'Enemies' to friends to lovers, (not actually) unrequited love, pining, sweet moments, jealousy, feelings realization, snarky banter... What more could one want.

• Cho Nai Hui / You Fu : they are. So. So sweet. Both are older and have experience, and as such they are not so naive or stupid as the youngsters. Them sharing their life experiences and going on dates like typically teenagers (in movies or TV shows anyway) would is refreshing to see and really really heartwarming.

• Liu Sheng Ying/ ??? Her ex ? : The show hinted at a wlw storyline and this arc seems to have JUST begun. Basically Sheng Ying's ex comes to Love is Science as a client and requests Sheng Ying as an advisor, while Sheng Ying still seems heartbroken over her. I can't WAIT to see how it develops.

The friendships :

Something I greatly appreciate is that both the romantic relationships AND the friendships have a great importance in the drama.

• Joanna and Yan Fei : Jo, queen Jo 👑. She's just here to gossip, get all the gossip and be the voice of reason and we love her for it. You can see how comfortable they are around each other and how they were there for each other during tough times and still are. Kudos to the actresses because I believed the characters were besties in a heartbeat.

• Hsuan Yu and Mark : they are honestly... Such polar opposites you kinda wonder how they became friends but they are and it works perfectly.

Hsuan Yu still hasn't gotten he maybe shouldn't take Mark's advice, and Mark still hasn't gotten that he, definitely should take Hsuan Yu's. It also enables to develop a more playful and mischievous side to Hsuan Yu, giving him more depth?

• Ouwen and Sheng Ying: rivalry to reluctant solidarity to friends-but-i-will-deny-it-if-asked to just friends. IT'S GREAT

I also ejoy the fact that these multiple storylines are allowed to coexist. The romantic ones, the friendships, older, younger, m/f m/m and f/f like take your pick !! And tbh a WLW storyline ?????? These are so scarce I will take anything.

The recurring themes :

The show more or less subtly touches on some topics/issues, to which the dating aspect contributes to.

A non exhaustive list would be

Divorce, and how divorced women can be viewed as failures for some reason

How successful men over 30 are sought after but successful women after 30 are somehow deemed undatable

Preconceived notions and homophobia

And beyond the topics, there's just things like... Joanna not being interested in long term relationships nor wanting to get married, reporting sexual harassment, older people going on dates.... I'm not saying it's a groundbreaking activist drama –which is not really what I was looking for– I just appreciate the fact that it is a pretty mainstream drama and that these things are there.

Mad respect if you've made it up to here ! but we're not quite done yet.

The cast and crew :

The other element that made this drama stand out for me besides the side characters is the cast.

It might be weird that such a meta thing impacts the appreciation of the show but it did, for me at least.

📣📣TMI WARNING 📣📣

For me what happened is I stumbled onto Mark and Ouwen cuts on YouTube, then somehow onto the behind the scenes. They weren't subbed at the time so I could barely understand a word of what they were saying, thus I'm not sure what but something about how the rest of the actors, the director and the crew were interacting just told me it was a show worth watching or at least checking out.

📣📣END OF TMI📣📣

The cast honestly seems to have a blast and to have, how to say it, come together really well. It seems like most of them have become genuinely friends, or despite differences in personality have truly enjoyed working with one another and with the rest of the crew, and it shows.

Where it's lacking

In my opinion the show does have some aspects where it underperforms.

As previously mentioned, the main plot is kinda tropey, furthermore, in a drama typical fashion when something is about to get resolved, immediately something else happens. Nothing unexpected from a drama though.

The pacing : Some moments of the main plot especially dragged on, so I admit I skipped through some parts.

Because I feel so strongly about all the characters though, I don't really mind the previously mentioned points. I just think it's a shame because I feel like if it had been crafted a little bit better it could have made the show go from an 8/10 good drama to an 11/10 friggin amazing drama easy.

Lastly, there is a pretty unequal time distribution so Yan Fei and Hsuan Yu do tend to occupy the most part of an episode. However some episodes are more centered on some pairings (like ep 11 that will probably have an important Mark/Ouwen part).

Overall

it's a drama that warms my heart, as simple as that. It's not that deep, it's pretty funny, the acting ranges from good to excellent and I have taken a liking to a lot of the characters, which is what I think fuels my interest for the drama.

And I feel like it managed to attract a wide range of audiences because the romances and relationships are so diverse. Whether you watch the show for its entirety or for one aspect/storyline/character is entirely up to you and I feel like the creators of the drama are aware of it as well : and you can easily find subbed compilations about each specific pairing on Settv's official YouTube channel.

Take that aspect that you like–if you find one of course–and enjoy it, that is all ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

What's left to say besides.... 🎉🎊 Congratulations for making it to the end of this lengthy post !

#I add a tmi warning in the middle as if this entire post wasn't one lengthy tmi lol #long post #love is science?#戀愛是科學 #lian ai shi ke xue #tw drama #taiwan drama #taiwanese drama #honestly thank you for this opportunity to talk about it #it made me happy heh heh heh #oh and if anyone else of the 15 people who like the show want to add stuff share your thoughts or highjack this post go ahead #lis?

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creativeashproductions · 3 years

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Subconscious Match Making // Charlie Gillespie

Summary: Kenny brings in his niece Y/N and her band to provide a demonstration of the stage presence of a band. More than happy Tarnished Poets become mentors during the process of bootcamp. Charlie’s eye is stuck on Kenny’s niece; Kenny’s so powerful he subconsciously did match making

Warning: Swearing, talk about car accident, angst, and fluff.

Words: 4.6k

A/N: The song used by my fictional band is High Hopes by the Australian band Yours Truly.

Masterlist

Being part of the audition aspect of Julie and the Phantoms was unreal, especially being young with such an opportunity. The timing couldn’t be better with the band stationed stateside for recording; Kenny had presented the offer to mentor during auditions. The capacity as a musician mentor was alien, but you would do anything for the guy you considered an uncle.

Stopping briefly at the bathroom, you encountered one of the options for Julie that Kenny had sent in the PDF file of people auditioning. As you stepped up to wash your hands, you noticed her lips moving along to the song they had been given.

“Are you okay?” You questioned turning to face the teenager no more than fifteen at the most. Her brown eyes colliding with yours unable to hide the nerves, “You’re auditioning for Kenny Ortega’s show, right?”

“Yeah. I’m Madison.” The girl spoke, holding out her hand to shake, “Are you auditioning for Carrie?”

You smiled at her question, “No.”

Julie went to answer before the glance at her watch, startled her barely getting a goodbye out before she was rushing out the door. You went back to drying your hands before heading to the room Kenny had messaged you about. It was a large room with people sitting at tables and four people on stage. All in a circle speaking quietly, you took the opportunity to settle beside Kenny and your three band members.

“Hey Kenny.” You murmured turning to the man, the myth, legend Kenny Ortega himself. The man beamed at you as he had not seen you in months due to touring.

“Y/N! Sweetheart.” Kenny spoke, taking in the differences, the bags under your eyes gone from the last time he had a video call, “You look stunning as usual.”

You chuckled at his compliment, feeling he was right; sleep was definitely better when not on a travelling bus. Late nights now found at the recording studio with the band and less stress on being hounded by fans.

“So, what do you want us to do?” You questioned glancing at the quartet on the stage each keeping their attention on each other, “Who are they?”

Kenny glanced at his colleagues ready for the day to start, “This the first time they will be performing on the stage as the band. They don’t know yet. As being their age, I’d like you to show them the dynamic we’re looking for.”

You nodded along with Lachlan, Brad and Jay. Kenny’s happy smile directed you guys for a second before turning to the stage. Huddling with your bandmates, you started throwing out song choices, one the most challenging things.

“Okay. Before we have you sing Bright, I convinced my niece to join us while they are off touring.” Kenny told the actors gesturing to the band in a huddle unbothered at the lack of listening, “Okay.”

Turning as Kenny’s voice centred towards you, the people on the stage caught sight of you all; Madison’s eyes grew. She adored your music, and not recognizing you in the bathroom, burnt her. The other guys were less familiar with the band other than Owen who knew them through Madison and Savannah.

“This is my niece Y/N along with her band members Lachlan, Brad and Jay. Tarnished Poets this is candidates for the show Charlie, Jeremy, Owen and Madison.” Kenny gestured to the two separate groups who quickly switched.

With a vast amount of experience, the small stage revamped itself with the band’s personal instruments. People held to move the stage drums to replace with Brad’s drums behind the clear plastic with quick succession as the remaining members took their places.

Your dark wash jean jacket tossed to the side of the stage mere seconds before Lachlan’s fingers started the song off with shredding on his baby pink guitar. The room melted away from your mind as the four got lost in the music.

You got the nerve to come and say

That you’re not standing in my way

When we both know

Eyes closed you moved to the fast beats feeling on the top of the world as if nothing would knock you down.

The room was quiet aside from the music enthralling the occupants as this band shocked everyone but Madison and Kenny. This was precisely how Kenny envisioned Julie and the band would be like as the room burst into noise as if it was a concert. The stage was electrifying, and the actors couldn’t sit still with big smiles and bodies moving to the beat.

Well I’ve had high hopes up til now

And I was kinda hoping.

You could be my hero

At the lull, in words, the guitars and the drums wove through the room as you flipped your hair side to side concealing the expression. The music brought a feeling euphoria to you as it always had because nothing made you feel as alive.

You never stayed in one place when you weren’t cupping the microphone singing you jammed with the others. Cleaning removing the mic from the stand you move to face Brad through the clear screen with a grin. A smooth practised twirl you found yourself by the bassist Jay delving into the lyrics once more.

You can’t take it back

With all, I’ve tried

And I know that you can’t shape me

Moving back in fluid motion Lachlan and you switched places across the stage from Jay. Lachlan began his solo ending just as you circled back to your original positions. Everyone had watched Lachlan they missed your microphone being replaced in the stand.

As the song came to an end, you ended the last note bending to the side with the stand, every member leaning over to the floor. The guitar notes faded as the room burst into applause.

“This is what I want the band to be like!” Kenny called moving to the stage you hug you, “I knew I chose the right people. Did you see how they commanded the stage? They used the entirety, exploding with energy.”

Charlie’s jaw was dropped at how great the band was, they transformed the room into a concert, and you were damn good. Owen reached over and gently pushed Charlie’s jaw back up without looking; this move alone gave Kenny insight into the dynamic between the actors.

“Can you all come up here?” You asked the four actors moving aside for them as they stationed themselves you all wandered around, “Naturally you’ve all equally spaced yourselves out. That’s good because you understand you need space to rock out, but it comes with a negative.”

Lachlan stepped forth his accent, bringing the group to surprise, “But don’t stay in the box you’ve created. The stage is yours. You’re a band so interact.”

“Don’t play the music. Become the music you play, Luke doesn’t just love music. It’s in his blood and part of his soul.” You finished squeezing the arm of Charlie, eyes fractionally widening at the solid muscle. Charlie’s eyes glued to your eyes he didn’t notice as you gently pushed the white guitar into his chest.

“Show us Luke’s bond with music.” You softly spoke, backing away from the Canadian male turning on your heel to sit with Kenny again.

Your eyes couldn’t help but return to the male with the cut off shirt, and his hair pushed up out of his face. Suspenders connected to his jeans rolled above the brown boots. Your lips parted as Madison introduced the group.

“Hi, we’re Julie and the Phantoms I hope you enjoy.” The girl spoke before the group transformed in front of the group. They were no longer actors hoping for roles, but they became the characters they desired to play.

Charlie melted into the character of Luke with ease; it was beautiful and poetic. What they didn’t know was that they were, in fact, the band.

As the music died down, you relaxed into the chair as Kenny cheered with his hands high in the air with the entire room as they bowed. Kenny’s teasing grin glanced back as he approached the stairs to the huddled youth.

“I don’t know. Can we?” Kenny spoke to the audience amused with the anticipation of the stage.

“Do it!” You called out with a grin along with the rest of Tarnished Poets keeping your eyes on Charlie. His energy intrigued you incredibly.

“Yeah you are our band.” Kenny announced changing the lives of the official cast forever. The quartet exclaimed in response clutching each other close as if they had been friends for years instead of months.

Charlie’s grin fluttered your heart as you leaned back, watching the excited group knowing you would be watching the show when it came out.

The summer breeze was serene in the quiet area outside of the beautiful city of Vancouver, Canada where filming had commenced. Scheduling was perfect with the members of Tarnished Poets breaking off for the break. Lachlan returned to his family in Perth, Australia while Brad and Jay decided on a road trip in their home state.

You had accompanied Kenny to Canada for the first part of filming moving into a small house near the set. The home quickly became the hub of the cast with the close proximation to filming, you had even given Charlie the spare key. You two incredibly close.

“So, this is where you disappear to.” The teasing voice came from behind you. Glancing over your shoulder, you met the gaze of Charlie’s hazel eyes.

He moved through the meadow to the tree you found shade under with your guitar nearby. You always had a feeling the adventurous guy would find the trail to the meadow you frequented. His forest green shirt bringing out the green of his eyes that you adored. As if you were a character in a Tumblr story, you fell for him and wondered if he felt the same.

“Sometimes I need to leave the city. I spent too much time in them.” You spoke, closing the notebook of the song you were working on. It wasn’t one you planned on using for Tarnished Poets, but instead something you hesitated on showing Kenny.

“I didn’t know you could play the guitar.” Charlie softly spoke gently, stroked the neck of the well-used guitar. Passed down from your mom who loved playing at cafes in her teens and into her early 20s.

“Probably because we perform with electric more often. Plus, I like doing vocals.” You spoke shuffling to face him, “So it took you over a month to find this meadow.”

Charlie chuckled glancing at the notebook with interest. He always wanted to know more about you from the moment he saw you.

“What are you working on?” He questioned slowly grasping the notebook in his hand. Usually, you would be shy and letting someone see an unfinished song. Still, something about Charlie never made you feel nervous.

“A song about regret over hurting someone.” You softly replied, moving to bring your knees into your chest thinking about one of the final devasting moments, “I’m kinda the female counterpart of Luke. I grew up in a small town where people had reliable jobs. I always loved music. My mom taught me to play the guitar.”

“Yeah?” Charlie smiled, wondering what a kid version of you would have been like. Your eyes raised to meet his.

“Her dream was to make a living out of her music, and she got rejected. A lot. I think she lost a part of herself when she gave up for a secure, stable job as an accountant. Didn’t mean she didn’t still love to play, so she taught me how to play as a hobby.”

“But you loved it like she did.” Charlie breathed picking up where the story would be going so he gently took your hand in his; something not unusual with you two.

“I posted videos of covers on YouTube and Lachlan saw it. He had moved to America to make his dream and closely, our band came together. We did some gigs around my hometown even making the long trips to the city.” You reminisced on the times where you were an underground band with a small following. Things went sour when you hit more immense success, “We had the opportunity for our music, and at eighteen we took it.”

Slowly you leaned into the body of Charlie relaxing as his arms encompassed you in a feeling of safety and warmth. His fingers tangling in your hair as he focused on your story.

“My parents found out, and Mom just exploded. We both said cruel things, and I left that night. We played gigs constantly, so I always pushed back, making up with her. Six months into the move, she got into a car accident.” You sighed nestling further into Charlie, “I wrote that song, but I couldn’t even finish it, but with Luke’s storyline, I think it would be perfect. I’m polishing it up to present to Kenny.”

“What’s it called?” He inquired, smiling as you shifted to lean your back against his chest to cradle the guitar in your lap.

“Unsaid Emily. My mom’s name is Emily.” Your words nearly buried under the soft notes from the guitar. Your lips opened to sing, but you didn’t have to. Charlie started it.

The emotion was raw in the air as the power in his voice brought you to tears, unable to do more than strum the guitar and harmonizing at one point. It was like Unsaid Emily was made for Charlie to sing. At that moment you knew, this was the song Luke needed to do for his mom in the show; however, it could be incorporated.

Overcome with an emotion you pushed to your knees to cup his cheeks as he trailed off the last word. The guitar keeping you from pressing your chests together to kiss you poured your feelings in the kiss. A kiss he returned with gusto.

“Whoa.” Charlie breathed, keeping his forehead connected to yours smiling as your eyelashes tickled his cheeks. Calloused fingers set the guitar aside as he tugged you into his chest as his lips drew closer.

Your lips parted as a tingle overtook your whole body as he lips caressed yours soft lightly you thought you imagined it. His mouth claimed yours in what might be the most passionate one you’ve ever had. Pulling away, you became aware your hands had flipped under his shirt with knowing.

“Thank you.” You spoke softly looking up through your eyelashes at the guy the grew as important as the band.

Charlie’s cheeks painted a soft pink set off by the hypnotizing brown of his hazel gaze as if you were his whole world. His eyes scanning all your features from the small scar in your hairline thanks to a table edge at six years old.

“For what?”

“Being you.” You replied tugging fists full of the green shirt to silence her thoughts with another fervent meeting. Yours arm coming to encircle his neck as his hands copied the move on your waist. Sitting on knees time slowed in the toe-curling kiss, he pulled away once more.

“I could kiss you forever, and it still wouldn’t be long enough.” Charlie spoke, keeping his eyes closed as his fingers pinched his skin. This was what he dreamed of, being able to hold you more than a few seconds of an embrace.

“How is this going to work? My band goes on tour when you’re at the end of filming.” You questioned nestling into his arms again. The future was scary when you both were incredibly busy with the upcoming months.

“I’ll fly over for a few weeks. See you in action.” He chuckled, pushing you away to stand up, “How about we start with dinner first?”

It seemed the universe took pity on a young couple when Charlie took you home to his family to meet. His parents and siblings being the only ones aware of the relationship. Tour came and went with Charlie, using the time before promoting JATP, attended before you flew back to Canada with him.

Being with Charlie was like breathing, necessary and beautiful. You got along with his family as he did with yours. It was remarkable how interconnected you became together in the months committed to the relationship.

“Hey.” Charlie spoke, kissing your cheek in your private home you were renting in the country of Canada. When whispers of the pandemic came around, you had flown from the house you rented in LA with a friend to home.

Charlie had had the same idea to return home to his parents’ home while you settled into a house further away from other people. Charlie walked the distance to your place, and when lockdown came into effect, the decision was, he would stay with you.

“Well hello.” You cheekily responded, resting your fingers on the sleep flush of his cheeks as the glazed look faded.

Charlie straight out of sleep was by far your favourite version of him with the genuine and raw unguarded emotions he displayed. In the nine months together, you had fallen for him swifter than Swiper from Dora could take items. Completely reciprocated on his side.

“You look happy.�� Charlie murmured tracing the path from your temple to the corner of your mouth. The boy with messy hair, he had started growing it out after Julie, and the Phantoms wrapped.

“I am.” You softly spoke, shifting closer to him, “I’ve never been happier than I am tucked away from the world in your arms.”

The flush of Charlie’s cheek no longer came from the nap, but from the attention, you placed on the actor. He could feel the love radiating from your heart just by the look in your eyes.

“I’m going to be incredibly cheesy and reply that I am holding my world in my arms.” He expressed leaning over to press his lips against your forehead raptured by the honour he had at loving you.

“The next few days will be hectic.” You articulated running your hands through the thick brown hair focusing solely on his eyes—the building excitement budding within the actor.

Charlie’s lips parted to reply when his phone vibrated on the side table, “One moment. It’s Owen.”

You shifted out of the camera view per the mutual decision to keep the relationship under wraps for the time being. You absolutely knew the show would be a hit and thousand, make that hundreds of thousands, of people, would crush on the character. By keeping the relationship quiet, it would increase the fanbase because some people honestly only care about looks.

“Hey Buddy!” Charlie beamed at his fellow quarantine hair buddy with over 3,000 kilometres between each other.

“Eh! Charlie!” Owen greeted just as excited at his best friend delving into a story of the recent lego build his mom had made.

“So, the show debuts in a few days. How do you feel about it? I’m excited but also nervous. First leading role.”

“I think people will relate to the show. I mean the music is amazing, and the acting wasn’t too shabby.” Owen replied just about to open his mouth when he slammed it shut. His blue eyes narrowed together, picking up on the odd background. He had to lean closer to his phone, “Either I’m suddenly eighty years old or your definitely not at home.”

“W-what?” Charlie scoffed eyes flicking to the surroundings completely forgetting he was in his girlfriend’s home instead of his parents, “I’m at home.”

“No! We’ve chatted so many times I could draw your family’s house blueprint with my eyes closed. That is a bedroom and it ain’t in the Gillespie home.”

Charlie moaned hanging his head, “C’mon buddy. I’m at home.”

“Charles Gillespie, you have sex hair.” Owen deadpanned unamused at the obvious and quite literally horrible dishonesty from the Canadian male. Charlie’s cheeks puffed as he blew air out of his mouth and taking the ‘L’ in the situation.

“One moment.” He spoke, putting his friend on mute and setting the phone down to create a black screen. The entire short conversation you had delved back into the songbook always on your person, “Babe, Owen won’t let it go.”

“Tell him.” You replied gazing over the rim of your glasses with a smirk scarcely visible to your partner. Your full attention returned to scribbling in the book while Charlie inhaled sharply; psyching himself up.

“Okay. I’m seeing someone.” Charlie admitted sending the blonde into screaming having been suspicious. Jeremy’s wife, then girlfriend, had tried setting Charlie up with countless refusals.

“Who is it?”

“Don’t get upset. I’m dating Y/N-“

“-like Y/N from Tarnished Poets? The musician from Bootcamp that completely made us look like toddlers?” Owen demanded gasping as Charlie panned the FaceTime to the girl under the blankets, “Holy shit!”

“I don’t know how I managed to get her date, but it’s the happiest I’ve been.”

“Hey Owen.” You acknowledged the blonde drummer with a shy smile and kind eyes that he had found numerous times on set. He looked up to you along with loving the suggestions and help Brad gave him on the drums.

“How long have you been together?” Wondered Owen with the cute little smile you found endearing. You felt happy that it was Owen that had pieced it together.

“Going on ten months now-“

“-and I’m only just now finding out!” Owen exploded jittery in his seat at the pairing he had wanted to get together since the unbreakable gaze multiple times on set, “God I love the world!”

“Just don’t tell anyone, okay? We want to keep this private; you wouldn’t have been told had you not figured it out.”

“More like hounded it.” Charlie muttered under his breath, slinking his arm around your shoulders as his right hand held his phone. You slapped the bare chest of the love of your life heart fluttering at the solid muscle as it always did, “We need to get together as soon as we can.”

“I’m so done. There’s nothing to do in Oklahoma man. So that photo from Tarnished Poet’s European tour was real?” Owen recalled the picture that had crossed his Instagram For You page a few months prior.

“Yeah. I flew over for two weeks having the best time watching my girl kill it on the stage, they destroyed the stage each performance.” Charlie gushed unable to hold himself from frantically telling Owen about you unfazed by your presence.

“Why am I so single!” Owen groaned flinging his head back, “Is it the whole living with my parents at twenty? Am I not established enough?”

“Nah, you’re just too boring.” Charlie quipped thankful he was out of reach of the taller boy earning a laugh from his side. Owen snickered with a quick retort to his fellow actor.

“Well I’d stay and chat, but my phone is at 10%, and I’m too lazy to find my charger.” Owen started waving as he hung up on Charlie without waiting for a reply.

Your lips twitched that the profanity that fell from your boyfriend’s lips at the abrupt end of the call. Owen was like that in the end, living in the moment to an extent. Charlie turned on his side to tug you into his side, uncaring of your task.

“You’ve slept enough.” You chortled at the clinging boyfriend you had.

“Do you think we should tell the cast? Owen will be bursting with the secret if we don’t” queried Charlie pining his gaze on the steadily flushing cheeks with a fondness, “They wouldn’t tell. I really want to brag about my hot rocker girlfriend.”

Your hand dropped the notebook to play with his hair, “We’ll just keep the relationship to close friends and our family.”

Too bad you didn’t place a bet with Charlie because two hours after the convo with Owen your phones harmonized together. Your iPhone showing Carolynn’s cute selfie while Jeremy called Charlie.

“You’re dating Charlie!” Carolynn practically screamed into the phone, completely excited, “Owen told Jeremy, and I have wife privileges.”

“Dude! How long?”

“Near ten months.”

“Damn, we missed so many chances for double dates, but hey now I know who you kept sneaking into the apartment. Not like the smug smirk, the next day and her stiff walking didn’t speak for itself.”

“Jer!” Charlie called out mortified yet also proud that you couldn’t walk the night after. Your reaction was to Jer’s blunt statement was to bury your face in Charlie’s neck, concealing the deep blush.

The two couples conversed a couple more hours before ending in the evening for food. The same routine would continue for the next few days with alternating between the cast. The day Julie and the Phantoms dropped on Netflix, you binged it. The acting was insane and the storyline paired with the songs? Beautiful.

The issue came when Episode 8 came with the tsunami of emotions as Luke shattered himself singing Unsaid Emily.

“Oh my god.” You sniffled shakily cupping your damp cheeks in your hands, “It hurts. He’s having this cathartic release while agonizing himself. His parents can hear him singing the song.”

Charlie tugged you into his side equally moved from the cinematic beauty Kenny’s team had done. Unsaid Emily was the most emotional piece of music you had ever written in your career; Kenny had fallen in love with it. His genius mind recreating the scene of Luke singing and changing his mother’s name to Emily.

“Sh.” Charlie soothed in your ear, rubbing circles on the small of your back crying along with you, “It’s just a show.”

“Where in the hell did you pull off that level of regretful sadness? Who hurt you.” You replied, breathing shakily as the scene. Your eyes still tearing up as Emily finally got a little peace back after losing her son twenty-five years in the past.

“I took inspiration from your story, and I watched a video with a bunch of people describing the last moment with their loved ones. Add some sad music and missing my family…well this happened.” Charlie explained gently pushing your hands away to wipe your damp cheeks in a soft smile, “You created the song. It’s your work that moved so many people.”

“I provided words and a melody. You provided emotion and bridge between Luke and the audience.” You retorted leaning closer to the Canadian boy so very much in love with him.

Charlie pressed another kiss to your forehead as you tried to pull yourself together but watching Luke and Julie try to touch? That shattered you even more. Luke deserved a hug, and he can’t even get one from his crush? Extremely tragic.

“Maybe we should write a song together.” Charlie suggested quirking up one eyebrow as his green eyes spoke volumes on his feelings no words could ever match. His long fingers playing your digits.

“I have a better idea.” You grinned, “I know season two hasn’t been confirmed but what if Jer, Owen, you and Mads write songs for the band? Give an authentic aspect to your characters and band. Do it together, in pairs and alone.” You breathed straddling him to ensure you had his full attention at the suggestion that lit a light in his eyes.

“You must be on to something.” Charlie acknowledged removing his phone from his pocket to use the group chat. In a few minutes, he had exciting suggestions for the song ideas, “I love you.”

“Love you too.” You replied, sitting back as he continued planning both via the group chat and FaceTime with the others.

Kenny was a genius both on screen and at matchmaking. As evidenced with Charlie and Kenny’s niece.

Tag List (PLEASE SEND AN INBOX TO BE ADDED! I CANNOT GUARANTEE YOU WILL BE ON THE LIST VIA POST COMMENTS!)

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#charlie gillespie imagines #charlie gillespie fanfiction #charlie gillespie x reader #charlie gillespie imagine #charlie gillespie #jatp fanfic #luke patterson imagines #caitsy and ash productions

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imkylotrash · 3 years

Note

Heyy, could I request a Saul x student!reader, of age, where they're in the middle of an argument and someone utters those three words, i love you, and clearly they've not said to each other before... ends with fluff? also angst first cuz we all love that (hides in the corner with my blanket)

I hope this is what you had in mind 💛

The day starts out good. Like really good. As in showering together, laughing when he creates a foam beard, hot kisses behind closed doors. It starts out good. By lunchtime, you’ve stolen several moments in empty classrooms and in empty corridors. Even though you’ve been together for almost a year now, it still feels like that honeymoon phase in the beginning of the relationship.

“I have to go,” you whisper giving him a final kiss before running to class. You’re not sure when things turn sour but when you return to his chambers that night, he’s definitely not in the honeymoon phase anymore.

“Something wrong?” you ask closing the door behind you. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed his entire body rigid. In the entirety of your relationship, you’ve had exactly one fight right in the beginning and it was so unimportant that you don’t even remember what is was about. But this right here is new territory. You’ve never seen him this upset.

“Saul?” you ask wondering if he even heard you. He looks so lost in his thoughts you’re not sure he’s even noticed you yet. Carefully, you walk in front of him getting on your knees so you can look at him properly.

“What happened, hon’?” you ask attempting to cup his cheeks but he pushes your hands away. His anger is definitely directed at you yet you have no idea what you could’ve possibly done in the last few hours since you saw him last.

“Did you tell someone about us?” he asks getting up to pace the room. You stay down trying to figure out how on Earth he’d find out that you told one friend. She promised she wouldn’t tell anyone and you’d been desperate to talk to someone. It’s hard not being able to talk to your friends about relationship subjects. Sometimes you just need a second opinion.

“I... I told-”

“So you did? Who?” He paces even faster not even looking at you as you slowly get on your feet. You have a feeling this is going to be more than just a calm chat.

“I told Amber. But she promised she wouldn’t say anything. I’d trust her with my life!” you defend her hoping he’ll believe you. There’s no way Amber would tell anyone. In the five years you’ve known her, she’s kept every secret you’ve ever shared.

“Clearly, she did. Because I just had to lie to Farah’s face and say that the rumours most certainly weren’t true.” You understand his frustration but you also think it’s a little misguided. You’ve kept the secret for a year at his request, he was the one worried what everyone would think despite him not being your headmaster. You were a fairy meaning you had nothing to do with the specialists and in turn with Saul. But he had remained adamant that he couldn’t date a student publicly, so you kept the secret.

“Someone must’ve overheard us then. I can vouch for her,” you say trying to think logically. There’s a lot of young teenage girls who harboured a crush on the soldier standing in front of you. You wouldn’t put it past one of them to try to ruin your relationship by telling everyone what they’d overheard.

“Why would you tell her in the first place? Why risk it?” he says trying to keep his cool. You know he’s not one to yell easily but the vein in his neck tells you he’s about to blow.

“I just needed to talk some things through,” you say weakly not wanting to admit the real reason why you talked to Amber. Not when he’s acting like this.

“What things could be so important that you’d risk this entire relationship?” he yells finally giving in to the urge. It’s the first time he’s ever yelled at you and it makes you feel incredibly small.

“I risk our relationship by having a private conversation with someone I trust completely?” you ask feeling yourself get angry too. This is so unfair. Maybe he doesn’t need to talk to others and consult but you do. And you should be allowed to do so with just one person.

“Yes! I told you I wanted to wait until you graduated!” he exclaims throwing out his arms in a real tantrum style. This is so far from the Saul you know and adore. How did today get so twisted?

“You better choose your next words very carefully,” you say trying to regain some of your posture. You don’t want to yell at him. You want him to calm down and have an actual conversation with you.

“You certainly didn’t pick your words carefully. Or we wouldn’t be in this mess.” Your brain is begging you to walk out and end this fight right now but your heart is telling you to stay and fix this.

“Mess? That’s what you want to call this? What is your problem?” you ask feeling your hands shake with actual anger.

“My problem is you blabbering to everyone when I told you to keep it a secret and you can’t even tell my why!”

“You want to know why I told Amber? What I needed to talk about?” you yell losing your cool once again. You are so over taking the high road. If he wants to insult you and yell at you, you’re not just going to take it.

“Yes!”

“Fine! I needed to talk to her because I wanted advice on how to tell you that I love you!” Deafening silence. Out of all the reasons you’d need to talk to Amber, he definitely wasn’t expecting this.

“You love me?” he asks very quietly compared to his yelling before. Of course the answer is yes, but right now you don’t. Right now, you want to walk out and never talk to him again.

“Not right now, I don’t.” You cross your arms waiting for him to throw another fit but he stays silent. You’re pretty sure you’d rather have him yelling than this state of shock. Is it so unimaginable that after a year you’d be ready to tell him that you love him? Is it because the feeling isn’t mutual? Maybe he wanted to keep it a secret because he never thought it would go further than a fling.

“I’m going to go,” you say not ready to hear all the reasons why he doesn’t feel the same. He grabs your wrist as you pass him causing you to stop. Even now his touch sends a chill down your spine.

“Don’t go. I’m an asshole.”

“You won’t hear me argue that.” It helps to hear him admit it though. You truly are sorry that word got around but you never intended for that to happen. You just needed advice from someone you could trust.

“Do you still love me after the way I just behaved?” he asks stroking your arm gently instead of gripping into your wrist. It’s such a small thing but it sends your nerves into overdrive. It’s always like this when he touches you.

“Of course I do. I just won’t be treated like that and be expected to take it.”

“You shouldn’t have to. I was worked up and you were in the line of fire. I’m truly sorry.” You take a deep breath just wanting this fight to be over with. You hate fighting with him especially when you only have so much time with him throughout the day. Mornings and nights are times where you should be cuddled up in the bed talking about everything and nothing.

“Well?”

“Well what?” he asks confused at the question.

“I told you I love you. It’s pretty natural to at least give some sort of response.” He laughs quietly looking straight into your eyes.

“Do you honestly think I’d ever say anything other than I love you too?” Finally, you can relax. You’ll admit this hasn’t been ideal, but you’re happy you got to say it. You’ve been wanting to for the last month just waiting for the right time. Turns out there never really is a right time for these kinds of things. You just have to throw yourself in the deep end and hope you’ll float.

“It’s nice to hear you say it though.” He leans in to kiss you and you let him. You don’t want to be mad at him anymore.

“I love you,” he whispers against your lips before kissing you again. He tells you a third time before lifting you up and carrying you to the bed. A fourth time before he carefully places kisses down your neck. A fifth time before he starts unbuttoning your shirt. You stop counting after that.

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

Tagging: @grey-girl @intoanothermind @artsyle @baueoud @glowingatdawn @anreeixcobra @kingunder221b @lflores2008 @alexiapayne12 @quuenofblacks @quarterback-5 @estelmei @bitchwhytho @music-of-melody

#saul silva x reader #saul silva gif #saul silva imagine #saul silva blurb #saul silva #winx saul silva #fate the winx saga #fate the winx club #fate winx club #winx saga #winx club #fate winx #fate

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iloveitwhen · 3 years

Note

jasonette but like siblings but like angst- like that whole trope where they are blood related and got separated, or they didnt get separated idk thats cool too i just want some sibling jasonette😅

Wow. ok. uhmmmm. this is a lot i think?? I got a little jk a lot carried away and this past week was super busy so i’ll finish the second part later??

Again... a lot...

Jason is walking home after another night at the bar when he sees a small woman, teenager? Slip into a dark alleyway and two men follow in after her a few moments later.

Jason curses and bolts across the street, what was this girl thinking? How stupid do you have to be to go into a dark alley where no one will hear you or care to help?

He jumps into the alley to find one man already slumped on himself on the floor and the other getting kicked in the teeth by army boots then falling limply.

Jason curses again, impressed this time. He scans over the men noting that they probably had pretty good concussions judging from the dent in the garbage can the first man was laying next to and the way the second guy’s head smacked onto the concrete when he fell. He lands his eyes back on the woman, no, definitely a teenager, with a smile on his face that instantly falters. The girl is in a fighting stance and waiting for him to attack so he quickly raises his hands to placate her.

“I’m not here to fight you, I saw you get followed and I was coming to help.”

“Nobody helps in Gotham,” she states, a dangerous edge to her voice that held a carefully hidden accent.

“Not from around here, are you?”

The girl narrows her eyes, “I was born and raised here, take a step further and you won’t be waking up tomorrow.”

Jason pockets his hands and smirks. He likes her, she’s a fighter, she reminds him of himself when he was younger.

“Ok. Just make sure you make it home safe. A girl’s going to get some unwanted attention at a time and place like this.” He turns around and crosses the street but as soon as he’s out of her sight he turns back and hides in the shadows to track her and make sure no one else tries to catch her alone. Just because she could handle herself the first time doesn’t mean she’s necessarily safe from the next attempt.

The girl exits the alley and starts toward the direction of Jason’s apartment calmly as if she didn’t just get attacked. At least that means less walking for him. After a few minutes she slips into another dark alley, of course she does, and Jason crosses the street again going into his own empty alley before pulling his helmet on and scaling the building. As he peers over the side of the building his helmet scans the area giving him feedback he would normally miss due to the horrible lighting and telling him that the alley was empty. He figured she had somehow gotten into one of the buildings and decided to go home by rooftops since he was already up there.

However, as he landed on the opposite rooftop his feet slipped from underneath him. Jason managed to roll out of it but before he could get his footing his hip was kicked into and he stumbled, tripped over a seemingly perfectly placed rock and smashed his head on the side of the stair house. Then, just as quickly as this all transpired, there was a body behind him, they hooked their fingers under his helmet and lifted it to expose his neck and press a knife with jagged points onto his neck. How did he know the knife had jagged points? Good question, it was, as previously mentioned, against his neck and piercing into his skin, drawing blood.

“Why are you following me?” a girl’s voice filters through his mask and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes. His mask let him know through the constant visuals that the voice belonged to a female in their late teens, not that he didn’t already know that.

“Making sure you got home safe,” he says carefully, weighing his options and trying to decide if he should let her feel like she got him or escape with a slight nick on his neck.

Eh. Jason preferred to not have a bleeding neck no matter how small the cut.

“Lies,” she hisses, digging the knife a bit deeper as a warning, maybe getting out sooner was a better idea. “What do you want?”

“Knife off my throat first,” he manages without pushing his neck further onto the blade.

A second later the girl releases him and jumps back with enough space between them to react if he ended up deciding to attack her.

Jason gives her a quick glance as he stands up, a hand to his throat to check for blood.

“I wasn’t lying-”

“You’re not fooling anyone you Red Hood wannabe,” she snaps. Jason just laughs in surprise, no one has ever accused him of being a Red Hood wannabe. He's the one who made the mantle into something to respect, something to fear. He stops laughing and levels a glare at the girl, his helmet telling him unhelpfully there was no match of facial recognition in any database.

“I am Red Hood-” he started to growl out but she cut him off again. The audacity.

“Red Hood wouldn’t have been caught by the person he was trailing, Red Hood wouldn’t have been caught off guard, Red Hood doesn’t have a stupid streak of white hair on his head. He may have been a theatre nerd but he wouldn’t do that.”

Wait what.

“What are you talking about?” But it was more of a demand than a question.

“You’re not…” she trailed off waving her hand in the air trying to find a word, “slick. Same jacket, same shoes, same build, yeah. You’re not fooling anyone.”

“Ok. Whatever, I’m going home.” He turns and starts jogging across the rooftop towards home. So much for helping out.

“Where is he?” she calls out after him.

“Right here, princess,” he spat before jumping to the other rooftop.

But as soon as his feet leave the building a big dark blue warbly hole appears and swallows him before he can react. Unfortunately for him the other side of that weird black hole was a face full of concrete.

“Prove you’re him.”

Oh this girl was something else. Jason shakes his disorientation away, he didn’t know how she did that, nor did he care but he was pissed. He swings his foot around and connects with her ankle, she falls as expected but easily bounces right back up and hops out of his range.

“Do that again and I’ll have to break my no killing kids rule,” he growls out, staring her down for a moment. Her face was finally lit by the dim yellow street lamps and he could see the entirety of her face and all the raw emotions she was trying to hide. For a split second familiarity passed through him, like when you see someone at the library then at the store a few weeks later or you see an old school friend ten years later and can’t quite place them. Jason dismisses the feeling and turns to go.

“Wait.” She says it so vulnerably that Jason gives her a chance, when he turns she pulls up her sleeve and shows off her forearm.

In the center of her arm is a faded black tattoo that was a writing symbol, but because of its name and one of its uses it was used to brand child soldiers in Gotham from a particular gang that Red Hood obliterated as soon as his first order of business in Gotham.

‡

It was the double dagger, or better known in Gotham as the death dagger. The children were expendable although highly trained and dangerous, they could give Damian a run for his money in the child assassin department. The tattoo was a reminder to the children and to the people they came across that they were soulless, emotionless, their lives and actions were not their own and they would give their lives willingly for the mission

Meaning who they were before was dead. No family, no connections, no one would notice if they went missing and no one would be able to identify their bodies if and when the time came. Sometimes poor families would sell one of their children and promise to forget them and to never contact them.

Jason was led to assume that this was another child soldier looking to thank him, or kill him. It was 50/50 these days, some of those kids just never recovered.

“So what is it that you want? You want my autograph across your head?” Jason asks dryly.

The girl just huffs and pulls her sleeve back down.

“I want to know if my brother is underneath that mask.”

I want to know if my brother is underneath that mask.

The words struck Jason deep in his chest but it only fueled his anger. He didn’t know why that hit so deep but he was not in the mood for this nor would he be at any time.

“Just because I ended that gang doesn’t mean we’re family. Go find your other assassin siblings to play house with.”

“Annette,” she calls after as he turns his back again. A strike of familiarity pulses through him and when he hesitates she continues, “that was my name before I was initiated. I was one of the first. Daddy’s little girl,” she was still talking louder than necessary since he hadn’t turned back around. “I’m the only one left from The 13.”

Right. The 13. That’s what everyone called the first batch even as they were killed off, they were the most ruthless being the oldest and were also the most aggressive in proving their worth. It was common to find a number from 1-13 placed strategically behind at the crime scene, whoever had the most successful missions would be highly rewarded, or so he was told.

“Do you remember?”

“I remember destroying that gang and their stupid leader and having to kill some of your little friends and I also remember The 13 died within the first year and a half and were easily replaced by their younger friends.”

“Do you remember me?”

“Look, kid,” he finally turns to look at her, “I don’t care, ok? Yay whoopdeedoo I saved you, get in line. It’s what I do, kill bad people and let the rest walk away. You’re not special.”

“Annette Marie Todd,” she says hurriedly, like it’s a last resort. “Jason Peter Todd,” she continues, “just you. Me. And a blitzed out Mom.”

Jason did not like this, he knew the Dagger Children were ruthless and expert manipulators but this was pushing it. He spun around to face her, ripping off his helmet, she already knew what he looked like and it was in the way of his death glare.

“You don’t know who you are messing with. If you really were a Dagger you’d know that I am not one to be fucked with.” He slides his helmet back on and without a backward glance he runs off to the next roof and continues home. Thankfully not another portal thing opens up in front of him.

———————————

Jason didn’t have a sister. He did not have a sister. He would remember having a sister. He would remember having a Dagger for a sister. But Annette was such a familiar name. And she had said her name was Annette Marie Todd. Todd.

No that’s stupid. Impossible. She was just messing with him, for all he knew she could have been subtly showing her face in random places for him to react to the familiarity of her face and she could have said the name sometime in the last few months for him to vaguely recognize the sound of her name but not place it.

But the Lazarus pit did alter his memories from childhood, it was like looking through a fog of red anger, or maybe it was always like that even before the pit, and it also completely wiped out other parts of his memory. But a sister? No. No way.

Hours of this, circling around the possibilities and shifting around on his bed trying to get comfortable until he finally drifted off in a very restless sleep.

Jason found himself in a familiar apartment, the one he lived in before his “mother” died. He looked around and it was more of the feeling of familiarity that convinced him where he was than anything else. He steps aside for a younger version of himself to run by him and turns to the window that led out to the fire escape and watches him climb out of it and close the window. Jason turns back around to see what Young Jason was hiding from. A man hands a thick envelope to his mother, Catherine Todd who had wrapped herself in a thin silk robe, her bony frame visible as well as her happy focus on the money inside that envelope. Jason couldn’t make out the man’s face but he turned around and grabbed the small hand of a little girl in pigtails. She turned her head and faced the window sending a smile but he couldn’t quite make out her face so he instead turned to himself sitting outside.

As he turned his surroundings changed but in his dreamstate he paid no mind to it. This time he was standing in an aisle of a store as a child. He looked around and found his mother dressed embarrassingly in a thin tank top and ragged jeans and flip flops. He feels a squeeze of his hand and looks down, his little sister is looking up at him and pointing to a rack of stuffed animals of Clifford the Big Red Dog that were suddenly there. He sends her a smile and looks up, intent on catching up with his mother and asking her to buy one but as he chases her his intent slips from his mind and instead he wants to taste the cupcakes he just saw. He opens a case and takes a bite but yelling makes him turn around and there is Batman towering over him. Instead of a tasty cupcake he is holding something thick and metal, a crowbar. He throws it at the man and turns to run away and jumps out of the parking garage and jumps into the air flying up. But he’s too slow, he tries kicking and swimming in the air to propel himself further away from Batman but a hand wraps around his foot.

Jason jerks awake, breathing heavy and feeling uncomfortably hot. This was much more mild than his usual nightmares, if it could even be called a nightmare, but it was bad in a different way. It wasn’t unusual for Jason to be getting chased in his dreams by one thing or another and it always ended before whatever or whoever was chasing him got him but it was getting a little old honestly.

His head was pounding so he slipped out of bed and poured himself a glass of water from the kitchen. As he takes a sip he recalls his dream and how he had looked down at his sister. But that couldn’t be right.

A searing pain in his head forces him to tighten his grip on his cup before it goes away again. Stupid head. Stupid dream. Stupid girl trying to get in his head.

As he lays back down a memory of clear grey eyes flashes across his mind’s eye.

---

Throughout the next few days Jason tries to ignore the headaches and his dreams of the young black haired girl with grey eyes and of getting chased which was more frequent and more urgent than he remembered them being. It was just all a big waste of time. At least the Dagger girl wasn’t trying to find him anymore, he didn’t know how he would react if she showed up again.

After another dream of getting chased, this time he was just so tired of it he got a few good punches in on the Bane/Joker demon that was chasing him when his phone buzzes, startling him awake. He ignores it in favor of a cup of coffee and checks the time on the oven that he never uses, it’s almost two o’clock.

His phone buzzes again several more times in quick succession. He finally heads over and clicks his phone on to see five messages from Stephanie.

Replacement’s replacement🤰

so u have a little sister and u never told me???

anyways shes at the big house and getting interrogated by bruce and i think hes ready to adopt her

hello

so rude

i mean it looks to me shes tellin the truth but like seems sus for obvious reasons and ur the only one that'll actually know so… hurry up??

Jason curses and rushes to grab his things before running outside and zooming to the Wayne Manor on his motorcycle.

welp i’ll add with another part soon that i havent finished yet but anywho let me know if jason is too ooc or something😁😁

#sibling jasonette #maribat #this is real late #sorry about it #is it angsty??#im not that great at angst #also tumblr was not letting me use the cool version of that symbol #just rude #btw I edited this feb.23 just so you know but not very big changes #i dont know if you care or not

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aitarose · 4 years

Text

SUNSHINE | MAKO

PAIRING: Mako x Kya’s Daughter!Reader [fem]

PLOT: Mako’s always had a little crush on Y/N. After all, who wouldn’t? But admitting it to himself? Yeah, no. Just the thought of admitting it to her? Even bigger no. He’d never consider confessing..right? based on these requests by anons

WARNINGS: fluff, mutual pining, friends to lovers

WORD COUNT: 2.3k

A/N: i love mako sm like you guys don’t even know. this man OWNS me fdjafdlsjk. also i got a little carried away with these requests and i took them to the next level so please enjoy :)

MY MASTERLIST

Mako was living his absolute worst nightmare.

Stuck aboard an airship with his two exes, his brother, his boss, and his boss’ ex with no opening window to jump out of?

The day was definitely not in his favor.

Every hour seemed to be the same.

Radio a call..hear about a new airbender..find the map..use the map..go to the town..get kicked out of the town..return to the beginning.

While Mako did love having a routine—he was bored of this one.

The only thing that made his day even slightly interesting was Y/N.

It wasn’t long ago when he had met the water tribe girl. They’d first spoken during the Glacier Spirits Festival in the Southern Water Tribe.

He had been introduced to her mother, Kya, through Bolin. His younger brother was so starstruck by Avatar Aang’s only daughter, that he couldn’t help but drag along her own daughter with him for the entirety of the festival.

Bolin spent the rest of the night proudly walking alongside the teenage girl, who had to have been at least two to three years older than him.

He went around and showed her off to all of their friends from Republic City, even if they already knew her.

“Don’t make a show of it, but I know the Avatar’s granddaughter. You don’t need to be wowed or anything, it’s no big deal.”

“Bolin, I’m literally her uncle.”

Mako was one of the very last people to meet the infamous Y/N.

It was right after his argument with Korra about the situation between her father and Unalaq. His emotions were all over the place, confusion and annoyance dominated his mood.

But all of his anger dissolved with one look at her smile.

It was at that moment when Mako decided that Y/N had a gift.

She could lift someone’s spirit with a single glance. Her eyes always glowed with positivity and her soul was the purest one he had ever come across.

Y/N could be compared to the rising sun. Just by existing, she radiated more light and goodness than the greatest man on Earth could ever achieve.

It had been a very brief introduction.

“Mako, my man!” Bolin slapped his palm over the firebender’s shoulder, a cheesy side smile pointed at the teenage girl standing next to him.

“This is my good friend, Y/N. Y/N meet my big bro!”

Y/N beamed, her teeth sparkling under the moonlight. She held out her hand in a friendly manner and looked straight into Mako’s eyes, unafraid of making eye contact.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mako.” She spoke whilst shaking his hand. “I’ve only known Bolin for an hour and I feel like I already know everything about you.”

Mako groaned in embarrassment. He was always flattered by how much Bolin looked up to him, but sometimes his little brother went a little too far.

“You had an hour? Let me guess..” Mako pointedly looked at Bolin, shaking his head in amusement. “He must’ve told you our entire life story by now.”

When she laughed at his blunt attempt at a joke, Mako’s heart soared right then and there.

It was like the fire inside of him had been ignited with gasoline. but instead of her water smothering his flames..they made the grow. Made them stronger.

Though Mako hadn’t realized these lurching feelings at the time. He did have a girlfriend after all, and he liked to think he would never intentionally cheat on her.

That didn’t stop him from admiring her from afar.

Platonically of course.

There weren’t many moments after the festival where Mako found himself alone with Y/N.

He had chosen to follow Korra to open the spirit portals and Y/N went off to tour the air temples with her extended family—and if he was being honest, he hadn’t had much time to think about her between fighting off evil spirits and breaking up with his girlfriend.

It wasn’t until after Team Avatar defeated Unalaq and Vaatu, that Mako’s mind returned to his unresolved and unrealized feelings.

With the spirit portals open, the world was new again.

Thousands of people were traveling, discovering places they never knew existed, and migrating to different nations.

Luckily for Mako, Y/N had been one of those people.

It had taken her about a week to move into her apartment in Republic City.

Her flat was quaint but cosy. It had views overlooking the busy downtown and bustling people, and she had easy access to stores and shops in the neighborhood.

There was nothing wrong with her new home, but it wasn’t like the South. In fact, it was nothing like the South.

Y/N missed her friends and colleagues. She missed the chilly wind that would slice through the air and freeze her cheekbones. She missed the animals and the overall energy that the South had.

But she was open to new beginnings and new friends—and her open mindset was exactly what led her to join her family and Team Avatar on the search for new airbenders.

Which is right where Mako had left off.

The airship was dreadful, dreary, and just plain boring.

His main source of entertainment was watching a cloud disappear from his view, and then preceding to find another one for his eyes to chase.

Luckily for him, Y/N was also bored out of her mind. She had no one to talk to on the ship.

Korra? Tempting, but intimidating.

Asami? Sure if Y/N was less hippy and more business mogul.

Bolin? Yeah, she didn’t want to go down that path again.

Lin? No way.

Her actual family members? Good option—but Tenzin was boring and all Jinora did was read old scrolls.

Y/N was at a loss, and the only person that seemed remotely interesting was the brooding firebender staring out of the window.

When she approached him, Mako was at a loss for words.

He had been thinking about this moment for awhile now, and had a pun filled pick-up line ready to go, but when it came down to crunch time, he stalled.

“Hey,” Y/N smiled, gesturing to the seat next to Mako on the iron bench. “Mind if I sit?”

Mako’s mouth opened to respond, but no words came out of his mouth. He sat there like a fish out of water, nodding his head silently.

Y/N shrugged her shoulders and happily sat next to the nineteen year old.

With her being so close in proximity, Mako’s brain flashed exe.error messages through his thoughts.

They sat in a comfortable, yet also awkward silence for a long time.

Every time Mako tried to get a word out, he stumbled. His nerves overcame his speech, preventing him from sounding the least bit cool.

Scratch that. They prevented him from sounding like an actual person and not a toddler that just learned how to speak.

After what felt like generations, Mako was saved by none other than his ex-girlfriends.

“We just landed,” Korra said, waving to the former probender and his companion. A confused look flashed across her face at the sight of them so close yet so uncomfortable.

Asami then poked her head around the corner, coming into view. “Are you guys going to come out or what?”

Y/N was the first to jump up, nodding her head enthusiastically.

She nearly sprinted to the exit—not because she wanted to get away from her encounter with Mako, she was just really excited to meet new people.

Mako heaved a deep sigh when she was completely out the door and out of earshot. It felt like he could finally breathe again without the stress of being in her presence.

“You like her?” Korra crossed her arms over one another, leaning against the wall as Asami stood by her side.

“What?” Mako stuttered, his face flooding with hues of red and pink.

“Why would you say that?”

“No Way!”

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about!”

Korra and Asami loudly laughed at Mako’s rambling, while they had both been hurt by his actions in the past, they had come to forgive him—and they wanted nothing more than for him to find his special someone.

“Okay, then.” Korra shrugged, pulling Asami out of the room with her, “Whatever you say, Mako.”

Mako dropped his face into his hands, pulling at his hair as he mentally beat himself up.

“But if it matters,” he looked up to see Korra still standing at the door. A genuine smile shown on her face.

“I think you two would be perfect together.”

As Korra finally left him to himself, Mako couldn’t help but think about how lucky he was to have a friend like her.

She was everything he didn’t need in a relationship, but everything he could’ve ever wanted in a friendship.

Eventually, Mako did manage to force himself off of the airship. He helped with the little show the airbenders put on to influence others to join the nomads and even fought a few bad guys while he was at it.

He was finally having a good day, until the little punk tried to steal his wallet.

“Wait,” he ordered, pulling Kai back by the neck of his shirt. Mako held out his hand expectantly and gave the younger boy a hard look.

“I think you might have something of mine.”

Kai smiled sheepishly before pulling out the firebender’s stolen goods.

“It must’ve fallen into my pocket, my bad.”

Mako glared at the new airbender. The stare he was giving Kai was so cold, it could intimidate a pack of polar bear dogs.

“Now listen here,” he bent down to Kai’s level. His tangerine eyes meeting Kai’s green ones. “I know your game. I used to be the master at it, actually—and let me tell you that it gets you absolutely nowhere.”

Mako sighed, he already saw so much of himself in the kid that he didn’t want him to go down the same hard path that he did.

“All I want is the best for you, kid.” He patted Kai on the shoulder before sending him off to join Jinora on the ship. “Don’t mess up this opportunity.”

There were times where Mako enjoyed being the big bad cop or the authoritarian figure, but this was not one of those times.

He just wanted Kai to have the best life he possibly could.

The life he had always wanted for himself.

Unbeknownst to Mako, his secret crush had witnessed the whole ordeal.

His pure-hearted intentions touched Y/N. Acts of kindness and wellbeing always found their way into her heart, and his act of good caught her attention in a very positive way.

It caught her attention enough, that she found herself standing right behind him.

“That was really sweet what you said back there.” She told Mako, who jumped in surprise at her soft voice.

“Yeah, I tried. I’ve been where he is before. I know how it ends.”

Mako felt much more comfortable now that Y/N had started the conversation. He wasn’t afraid to give his thoughts knowing that she was the one who wanted to talk to him.

Y/N let out a low breath. Her hair willowed in the breeze, her eyes shining under the sunlight. She looked like a lost spirit.

A beautiful lost spirit, Mako thought.

“I try, too.” She whispered to him. Mako could barely hear her voice, it was so faint.

“Sometimes being there for everyone else has its downfall.” Y/N’s sparkling eyes turned dim, sadness drowned her usually uplifting features.

“I spend all my energy making sure that everyone I love is happy, but then there’s never anyone looking out for me, you know?”

Mako did know.

He knew exactly how she was feeling. He’d raised Bolin since they were children.

If anyone knew the pressures of holding onto another person’s burdens, it was Mako.

“I’ve noticed that,” Mako said, stepping closer to the girl. He could see that her eyes were welling with tears, all he wanted to do was wrap his arms around her and make all the negative energy go away.

So that’s exactly what he did.

Y/N melted into Mako’s embrace. She felt his body radiate heat, he warmed not only her body, but her heart in an instant.

“I see you, with Tenzin’s kids.” Mako ran his hand down her back, comforting Y/N as best he could. “They look up to you more than they do anyone else. You’re really amazing, Y/N. I’m surprised you don’t hear it more often.”

Right then and there, Y/N realized exactly what she needed in her life—and it was Mako.

If she was being honest with herself, he hadn’t exactly caught her eye before.

She thought he was somewhat bland at the Glacier Spirits Festival and the whole double girlfriend situation definitely didn’t spark her interest in the firebender, but now here she was..

Crying in his arms, confessing her insecurities, and feeling heard.

She had never felt heard before.

“I think you’re really amazing.” Mako blurted out.

He cringed at his confession, hoping that she didn’t take it the wrong way. If there even was a wrong way to take it.

Mako felt Y/N grow still in his arms. His heart pounded in anticipation for what her next words would be.

To his surprise she pulled away..

Before pressing a deep kiss to his lips.

Mako immediately responded. His mouth moved languidly with hers, connecting in the most perfect way, as if they were meant to be.

His entire body nearly combusted. Her bright spirit combining with his fiery one.

Mako felt like sunshine was running through his veins.

She pulled away, giving him one last chaste kiss.

“I think you’re amazing, too.”

i love feedback pls give me some

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missinghan · 3 years

Text

aria of an assassin ⤖ lee minho

❖ genre : assassin au; fluff; angst

❖ word count : 6,2k.

❖ warning : mentions of blood & violence, explicit language

❖ summary : minho hasn’t been fazed for decades throughout his bloodied career until the next target happens to be a black cat and he’s suddenly incapable of pulling the trigger.

❖ note : okay, so it’s been a year? this tiny, stupid blog is turning one year old today? yea I couldn’t believe it either. this is to all of my mutuals and readers out there, I don’t say it enough but I truly appreciate each and every one of you 🖤 I wish I could have written something longer but due to school, this random piece will have to do for now.

❖ the sequel : with felix is out!

one.

“Shit.”

Minho grits in a hushed tone although all that has been accompanying him is the pitiful moonlight and icy breeze dissolving into every fiber of his skin. Every minuscule movement suddenly becomes too irritating to his eardrums. The hustle and bustle life of the city at night. Terrible traffic. Even the sound of his own inhales and exhales.

What is that thing?

He thinks to himself, proceeding to expand his eyesight with the pair of scopes; confusion soon flares into curiosity, then faint anger and dead silence. He swears his heartbeat just paused awkwardly like a broken record for a split second there. Such strange, or odd targets are no stranger to him; nor do they stir something inside the coldness of his rib cage.

Not an easy kill, they say. And not easy it is.

Because whatever he’s watching with his very eyes is a cat. A goddamn cat with a coat as sleek pitch as the dark canvas upon his head and piercing golden eyes. The peculiar animal walks with its head held high like it’s lording over everyone else—such self-reassurance, such radiance some humans cease to possess.

It’s dangerous, they say. But it’s a fucking cat! Irritation bubbles up at the back of his throat, makes his skin crawl, and causes a bark of profanity to leave his lips once more. Has it not occurred to his client that he doesn’t kill children and animals? When it’s clearly been written on the contract? In bold, underlined, and everything?

They could have at least given him more details on what he’s getting himself to this time.

An exhale. He packs up his things, pulls his black cap down a little, and leaves the top of the building without looking back. If he did, he would have seen those starry eyes boring holes onto his back.

two.

The road Minho is walking through is more than familiar. For one, he takes the same path every day to grab a drink at his go-to place—a vending machine near an old, plain high school.

It’s fair to say he knows every corner of the neighborhood like the back of his hand—from the dark alley where bullies beat up their classmates to the small stall of lemonade of a middle school girl who waves at him every morning. He never reciprocates though; it doesn’t feel right. The amount of apathy in his heart isn’t enough for him to act normally when taking lives is what he does for a living.

For two, he used to have a part-time job at that particular high school for an old request. Due to his conscience, he did go out of his way to take the kill outside of the school—causing a catastrophe in such an environment makes him uncomfortable.

Just then, he stops. His brow raises. Isn’t that…

The black cat slinks through the crowd of nosy students in the direction of where he too is heading. It raises its nose and gives the air a rough sniff, making a face as though the general stagnant with exhaust fumes stench of the city disgusts the entirety of its existence.

Watching it take a slight dip to avoid being hit with someone’s bag, Minho holds back every urge to come running at the creature and wrap his arms around its small figure. He wonders how long it’d take for the cat to reach its final destination because it’s definitely taking some sweet ass time to stride through the front of the main gate like a supermodel. Meanwhile, he’s stressed to the core as if the harmless high school filled with teenagers is nothing less than a battlefield.

Is it testing him?

Something is oddly unsettling about an animal staring straight into his eyes. Paranoia fuels the forgotten irritation inside his chest, sets out to make him actually think those golden eyes are memorizing every inch of his feature. Then, they soften with what seems to be exhaustion, its tiny head turning and its tiny feet take it skipping gently away from the scene.

Minho finally acknowledges the knot inside his stomach and the breath he’s been holding. With a harsh gulp, he no longer takes notice of the fact if his cap is hung low enough or if he’s walking too quickly. For the first time in long, a rush of adrenaline hits him hard enough to make him speed walk through the herd of chatty teenagers.

Questions naturally pop up as his shoes kiss the ground, his shadow sprinting into a dark, though familiar alleyway. Was he hallucinating? But he’s been getting enough sleep and eating well. What makes him so certain that it was the same cat? Instincts or some sixth sense bullshit perhaps. If it was the cat that’s assigned to be killed off in a week, what’s so dangerous about it? And how long has he been running for? Seconds? Minutes? Hours? And to where?

“You.”

Half-way through trying to keep his thoughts off of his face, Minho stops himself when a rather feminine voice echoes through the narrow space. Unsure of whether the voice was reaching out to him, his legs stop moving while his eyes are peering through the dark. Much to his heart’s dismay, shivers run up his spine when something comes in contact with the warm flesh of his neck.

“What’s your name?”

Slowly, with his hands on the back of his head, he turns on his heels. “Excuse you?”

You retract your gun-shaped fingers into the pocket of your jacket, phlegmatic eyes gazing at him through the thickness of the night. “I want to know your name,” you try to make your point clear, utterly unfazed.

Minho stares you down for a good five seconds. Neatly dressed in the school uniform, an oversized jacket thrown over your body but no backpacks. There’s a name tag being embroidered onto the fabric in red “Shin Yuna - 1A”. Whoever you are, he’s certain that isn’t your name. That name doesn’t even suit you. That isn’t your uniform.

“What’s the point?” he questions, hands dropped to the sides in slight relief.

You tilt your head, expression neutral. “I have a habit of collecting names of people who tried or are trying to kill me. It’s quite relaxing to write it down on a list actually. You know, easier to keep track.”

He’s trying hard to not let any impulsive urges overthrow the rational side of his brain. Everything suddenly twitches in slow motion. His silence seems to bore you. Your eyes are more dead than angry, more done than irritated. Like you’ve been through this shit one too many times already to care.

“At least say why you’re sent to kill me.”

That, Minho can answer within a blink of an eye. “They sent me because I don’t exist.”

Your gaze glistens with a glaze of boredom. “Everyone said so.”

“Yeah, no shit Sherlock. Where’s your house, kid? I’ll walk you back. It’d be a pain in the ass if your parents found out how you’re wandering alone after school,” he brushes it off like you’re a slight nuisance (which you are). His heartbeat spikes up once at the mention of family, one that you’ve acknowledged with ease.

Your arms are folded over your chest now, to cover up the sudden stab of sympathy inside your chest. “There’s no need. I don’t have a place to go back to nor do I have parents who will nag me for staying out late.”

His mind automatically blackouts along with his senses, blurred with such peculiar feelings swirling at the pit of his stomach. You make it sound like it’s not that big of a deal like you’ve utterly been numb for so long. It’s tragic but understandable. This isn’t the first time he has witnessed a story like yours—your parents, dead or alive, he does not know; by the sound of it, you’re an orphan. Another unfortunate being to graze this planet like himself. This means you can’t afford school, so that uniform really doesn’t belong to you.

“You still haven’t told me your name.”

“It’s Lee Know. Call me Lee Know.”

“Don’t bother trying, Lee Know. No one has ever made it. They never did.”

You didn’t mean to expose anything about your life to a total stranger, or specifically an assassin. However, nothing matters when you most likely won’t meet him again nor will he succeed in taking your life. Even the fact that he chose not to give you his real name amplifies how much shit he does not give about you. You don’t expect anything more honestly.

“Alright, we’re done here,” you feign enthusiasm before clasping your hands together. “Go home. The sun is already going down.”

Strangely enough, Minho can only watch as your shadow shifts to the outline of a black cat before dipping into the depths of the starless night.

three.

To Minho it’s always just another day in the office. Except his office is a windy rooftop overlooking the mark’s exact location. His tools—rather than a computer—is a state-of-the-art rifle with a telescopic lens. A silencer isn’t very important since traffic and people are more than enough to drown out any suspicious noises. Most will mistake it for a back-firing van. He takes aim with no more qualms than one would gossip about a colleague, then pulls the trigger while thinking about what to order other than Chinese for lunch. When the work is done, he carefully packs everything up into an inconspicuous rucksack. And leaves the scene, like a phantom.

It’s always been the same boring, bloodied cycle.

Yet something’s changed since Minho met you.

He used to maintain a cool detachment to his targets. His conscience prefers not to think of them; whenever he does, it’s as if they’re already dead, mobile meat bags waiting to be laid on a cutting board. He doesn’t like to think merrily of his job, he doesn’t see it as helping them meet their destiny. None of that bullshit. To put it more nonchalantly, everyone will die one day. Minho considers it as a good way to go. Oblivious and in pain for one moment before completely gone the next.

Simple. Convenient. Much less agonizing than this brutal world.

Although that doesn’t mean he isn’t traumatized by the amount of blood that has stained his hands. On good days, he might get three to four hours of sleep. Bad days, few minutes to none at all. Terrifying nightmares gnaws at his soul every night, the ugly scar like a reminder of every single one of his sins. He can’t force himself to lose his sanity like any fools out there going down the same path.

“Shit…” Minho mutters, running a rough hand through his hair. He didn’t sleep well last night—like every other night; hence the bad temper and bitter taste at the back of his throat.

After a deep breath, he stares at his Hecate II with mischievous eyes—those of a hunter framed in the expressionless face of an executioner. His blunt hands are steady as they lift the shiny weapon over the concrete of a rooftop, drawing out a dry shot in his mind.

Through his scope, he watches as you’re crossing the road in your human form before stopping abruptly in front of a random tree. You then proceed to squint your eyes and look up in the opposite direction. Minho unknowingly holds his breath, waits for you to release your iron gaze, and move on with your life. But his expectations don’t prevail.

“What the fuck?”

Without much patience, he curses before shifting his scope to the same direction only to find another shadow creeping around on the balcony of a nearby building. No time to think of a rational solution—killing them is an ideal one—Minho feels his palms growing sweaty when a small, peculiar object comes flying toward his way. His head quickly moves away before the bullet pierces through his scope, shattering the glass completely.

“Son of a bitch,” he lets out a shaky breath. Crimson starts to drip down on the side of his cheekbone, but he can care less.

Because that’s the least of his problem right now.

Another subtle ‘bang’ can be heard in the distance, like a broken record scratching against his eardrums. Kid…! Minho’s heart collapses in realization.

four.

It’s not hard for Minho to do research on quite an amount of vital information about you. When he saw your body dropped to the ground lifelessly and an ambulance immediately drove by to pick up your body, he knew things weren’t going to end just like that.

“Don’t bother trying, Lee Know. No one has ever made it. They never did.”

He isn’t a believer, has never been one. Yet when he managed to take out your kidnappers in that ambulance, your weak breaths startled his heart and shook his mind into awareness of how serious the situation is. After that, he tracked down the hitman who delivered the hard blow, put a bullet through his brain, and found an USB full of detailed information about your existence. Which just makes things a whole lot more complicated to understand.

Apparently, you’ve been ‘killed’ one too many times before—there are photographs of your supposedly dead body in a bag, thrown into the deep, dark woods, other times into a nameless river. The thing about you is that you were once an experimental subject to your own biological parents who are sickeningly vile scientists. At the age of nine, you fell down the stairs and had a big gash on your head. They never knew because your wounds were quick to heal themselves. However, your whole life was flipped upside down when they saw you shapeshifting into a black cat while running around at the playground.

From then, your life became a living hell behind cold metal bars with needles stuck in your arms and strange pills being forced down your throat almost every day. Their sudden change only nourished resentment through time until you managed to cut down the laboratory’s power supply and fled from your own home.

You have no one to lean on. No place to go back to. No nothing. And you’re just a teenager.

Minho feels awful.

Usually, he isn’t the type to be empathetic nor does he have the energy to. It’s very out of character for him to let his emotions linger on a homeless kid with some supernatural abilities that will make his life that much more dangerous. Because to him, more often than not, people tend to give their condolences only to forget after brief moments of grieving. At the end of the day, it isn’t their own problem, it isn’t their own life. But now when it comes to you, Minho feels a strong sense of responsibility that if you end up dying, it’s on him.

It’s stupidly conflicted, it really is. His job—blowing people’s brains out—is the sole reason why he makes a six-digit amount of money for every job. Therefore, he isn’t sure what picking a random kid up from a fake ambulance and bringing her back to his shabby apartment is going to do him any good.

“Ah, you’re awake.”

You hate the fact that you can recognize that voice.

Just then, you wake as if it’s an emergency, as if sleeping has become a dangerous task. Your heart is pounding loudly inside your ears, the sound echoing listlessly to the pit of your rib cage. It’s always like this. It takes you some time to calm your nerves before gathering what exactly happened the moment you blacked out.

Right, you think to yourself, groaning slightly while pushing yourself up. You were shot right in the chest, and your body was probably discarded somewhere. After that, you’d grab a hitchhiker so they’ll drive you back into town. Like always. The only difference, this time though, is Minho placing your limp body on his bed with a blanket to warm you up.

His face appears within your eyesight when you’re done adjusting your vision to the bright room—you’re not used to this much light around. “You look calmer than I expected,” he mentions.

Minho grabs your face and scans it over. “Let me see. Did your wounds close up properly?”

The tender action, which has become weirdly natural to him although this is his first time, accidentally triggers something inside you. Your hand automatically slaps his away. It is an upfront refusal, but it doesn’t surprise him. He only offers you a comfortable moment of silence before placing a tray on the wooden nightstand.

“Eat up. I’m not going to feed you,” he cocks his head toward the bowl of porridge with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

You glare at him in suspicion. “Bringing me home. Giving me a bed to sleep on. And even food to eat. What are you trying to get at?”

“Nothing. I didn’t kill you only because you’re too young for my moral code,” he pretends to roll his eyes, voicing monotonously.

A frown adorns your tired features. “So you’re going to kill me when I get older then?”

“Probably,” Minho smirks faintly with a cock of his eyebrow. “That depends if you still remember my name, Y/N.”

One thing after another, this assassin only continues to baffle you. He was just going to shoot you the other day and now he’s giving you food? Preposterous! To put it simply, you’re unprepared for such kind actions, such gentleness from someone who takes lives for a living. You’re unprepared for dealing with people in general because they detest anyone who’s different from them—your kind, the kind with supernatural abilities and all. Hence, you’re left unwilling to befriend anyone and would rather be alone for the rest of your life.

Until such twisted moira pushes you to—what was his name again? Not his real name, the made-up one that he uses in the underworld.

You speak up softly after feeling safe enough to let your guards down, “Lee Know, was it?”

“It’s Lee Minho.”

“Pardon?”

He only smiles, “My real name. It’s Lee Minho.”

five.

“Y/N! A little help over here?”

“Coming.”

“Y/N, go check the fog machine!”

“Got you.”

“Y/N, can you put these boxes over there?”

“Alright.”

That’s all you’ve been doing for the entirety of your boring day. Getting yelled out at, having people ask for help nonstop, and responding with a two-word answer at max. You’re not complaining—they pay you well enough, the job is more on the down-low side because you’re nothing but a mere stage crew for an above-average theatre studio. So you simply hoist the three final plastic boxes into your arms with a jerk of your knees and place it where they asked you to. Thanks to your parents, their experiments along with skeptical-looking substances have efficiently enhanced your general strength and agility.

Another crew member perks up when you plop the heavy stack of cardboard boxes down with a loud thud. “Oh, can you carry those lights to stage left too?”

“Sure.” You could have pretended to pick up one box at a time and to drag your feet across the stage with difficulties to avoid being used. But you’re too lazy to repeat the same cycle two more times, so you really don’t have any other choice here.

Nevertheless, you suppose it’s not entirely bad to do all of this heavy handiwork. Because it keeps your mind off of unwanted things, such as Lee Minho for example. Lee Minho, the assassin, not the actor—you’d gladly fangirl over that certain celebrity rather than admit that you actually enjoy the hitman’s abrupt presence in your life.

The fact that you know he will find you even if it means traveling to the ends of the Earth and back doesn’t help to ease your insomnia. So for the past few days, you’ve been working extra hours along with picking up a job at a florist in hopes of not bumping into him. Stupid. You know it is. But how can you deal with a self-esteem crisis because the idea of being a burden just irks you so much?

It’s like you’re hopelessly proving that you don’t need anyone when you, in fact, want that kind of unconditional love that every other human yearns for.

After helping your colleagues out with the lighting, you simply sit behind those thick curtains until the show is over. Then, you head out, find a place to sleep, and head to an old lady’s place to pick up new clothes to change into for the next day. Since she’s been treating you with nothing but kindness, you’ve tried to pass by and helped her out at her son’s antique store too.

Your routine is supposed to go that way and stay that way. You won’t die because you don’t like overworking yourself. You’re doing just great.

“Hey, Y/N! Your brother is here to pick you up!”

Throwing your crewmate a blunt wave, you find your way out of the school’s theatre through a back door without shifting the expression on your face. You don’t have any siblings. And your colleagues don’t know anything about your family background either. So it, unfortunately, boils your guesses down to one.

Despite knowing who it is and why they show up, you open your mouth to speak, “How did you find me again?”

Minho shows up with a more casual version of his working attire—instead of the fully black, monochromatic outfit, he’s changing it up with a leather jacket, white t-shirt and jeans. He leans on his shiny motorcycle smugly like he knows something that you don’t, in which you very much dislike.

“Young lady, I’ll have you know that being an assassin helps me appear at places to do things I’m not supposed to do,” he ignores the fact that your question was purely rhetorical and chimes.

You attempt to throw him a glare which isn’t intimidating enough. “Call me ‘young lady’ one more time and I’ll put my foot where it’s not supposed to be.” Who are you kidding? He’s a hitman when you’re just a kid. Pigs would be flying by the time you managed to physically shoo him away.

“Am I supposed to guess where that is?”

“Enough. Go to work. Get out of here. Leave me alone.”

“I’m sorry, are you encouraging me to kill people?” Minho gasps, acting shocked and appalled. Clearly, he’s not good at it despite sharing a name with a well-known actor.

You can only retort harshly, “Don’t put words in my mouth, you ass.”

“Come on, kid. Let’s go get something to eat.”

“Why?”

His hand automatically reaches for your forearm. “Don’t people eat for pleasure? What’s wrong with you?”

Your heart leaps in, anger perhaps, pupils shaking when he closes in on you. Upon your reaction, Minho retracts his arm immediately. He should have thought better of it; you’re probably too traumatized to be dealing with him right now.

At that, your eyes round at the remorse on his face and you could have glared him off right then and there. But somehow, your basic human manners overcome your usual snappy self, letting you think that maybe he means no harm. Maybe he’s checking up on you one last time before going on about his life. You shouldn’t be too riled up about it just because he tried to kill you once.

Minho catches the familiar anxious gaze and sighs, “Okay, we don’t have to get something to eat. I’ll give you a ride back. Do you have somewhere to stay the night?”

It’s rotten work, whatever he’s trying to do. So you shake the harmless tingle inside your chest away before pushing past him. “No,” you answer dryly and leave.

six.

You go to work sick the day after because you couldn’t find a place to sleep in and had to make do with napping in front of a tattoo place. Yes, napping; because when you finally shifted into your cat form and allowed your eyes to rest, the sky started pouring waterfalls. The rain had soaked into your shiny black coat, making it frizzy and luring the sickness up your spine the moment you tried finding a different haven.

No one notices. No one.

Not even the mask, the extra layer of sweatshirt nor your hushed coughs every now and then. Despite downing the cold pills early in the morning, you’re only burning up harder by the second. Oh, you know! Maybe they just don’t care, that’s it. Because calling in off for work due to a minor cold isn’t a valid reason. However, you’re still shivering on the inside and burning on the outside. Enhanced genes or any of that bullshit isn’t enough to prevent you from getting sick like any other student. Perhaps something wasn’t complete, or they’d messed up somewhere. Perhaps that’s why they’re trying to get you back.

How foolish of you to think somewhere deep down, they still want you back. With a reason as blunt as you being their child.

Drowning in deep thoughts, you almost crash into a pile of boxes filled with equipment when your foot gets tangled to a random cable. Your eyes automatically screw shut as you wait for the impact but it never comes. Only a gentle pair of hands on your shoulders did. From that point on, you can’t hear or see properly. You don’t even have enough stamina to register who’s holding onto you so reassuringly. Whatever is happening gets hazier by the tick of a clock. It’s either you’re hallucinating or Minho is giving you that mirthful scowl of his.

Yep, you’re definitely hallucinating.

“Why didn’t you call in sick for work?”

“That’s a stupid fucking question.”

A frown adorns his perplexed features as his glassy eyes skim your face. He has a really pretty smile, he should smile more, you think. His hand latches onto your burning forehead, slides down on the side of your cheek with such grace as though he’s caressing you. A grumble leaves his lips at your dreadful state. This is why he should have never let you go in the first place.

“Come on, kid. Let me help you,” Minho says before giving your arm a light tug.

You don’t like what you just heard. “I don’t need your help.”

“You can barely walk.”

“Who said so-” As if on cue, he lets go of your arm bluntly. Caught off guard, your legs go weak without any remaining strength. You stumble and would have most likely fallen on your face if it weren’t for his grip on your arm. A gasp comes out inaudible when he hoists you upright, not planning to let go any time soon.

Minho scratches the tip of his nose with his ring finger, sniffing lightly. It seems like he’s arguing with a younger version of himself. He now knows how it felt like for those caretakers back then.

“You did,” he says with the same smirk when you woke up in his apartment for the first time.

seven.

That’s the only time you’ve ever allowed someone to help you with something. But Minho had to constantly check on you every two seconds, not wanting you to fall asleep on his bike while it’s speeding down the highway like a gust of wind. For a moment there, he really thought you would slip away into the night as he tried to find his keys because that’s just how you are.

Minho is no doctor, but he doesn’t go to one for a cold or a really bad fever. He can manage, he tries to convince himself.

After testing your temperature and giving you something new to change into, he slaps a cool gel patch onto your forehead before heading off to the kitchen to cook up something. You need to be full to be able to take your medicine anyway.

In the act of resting on his bed, you decide you can’t take staying in the same spot anymore so your body perks up in a sluggish manner. The aroma of home-cooked food wakes your senses almost immediately, causing you to look over at his busy figure by the marble counter. You think it’s endearing how he hasn’t bothered to change into something more comfortable. But he instead threw an apron over his working attire and dived right into the cooking process.

You have always felt like you were missing out on something whenever you looked at Minho. Perhaps it was how his striking eyes stared at you, whether mischievous or else. Perhaps it was how his lips were turning down most of the time with less than affectionate words.

Or it’s plainly how he has been trying to hide that he actually cares.

“Hungry?” He tilts his head to the side playfully once his sixth sense starts kicking in.

You can only nod. “Yeah.”

It takes Minho a lot of convincing yet you won’t let him feed you. Like hell, you would. Therefore, with helpless eyes, he watches you from across the table. He doesn’t laugh or get annoyed when your shaky hand drops the spoon and splatters the soup all over the table. His hand simply reaches for a piece of paper towel to clean up the mess, tossing it into the trash bin later. The same cycle repeats in comforting silence until you finish the entire bowl. The soup definitely wasn’t five-star worthy. But it’s enough to warm you up inside and out. Of course, Minho chooses to let the dishwasher do the job—his hatred for doing dishes is always at its finest.

Then, like the other night, he has already passed out on the table with a blanket draped over his body when you step out of the shower. Instead of plopping the weight of your exhaustion onto his bed this time, your legs stay frozen like cement on the floor while your eyes take in his reclined figure under the thin fabric. Minho is sleeping with his head buried in his arms, his glasses and messy files abandoned to the side. He’s definitely not a heavy sleeper because he doesn’t snore; only feather-like breaths can be heard through this endless beat of silence. The faintly blinking light from his laptop makes you feel exposed so you push yourself toward the balcony.

A hiss comes out hushed and quiet when your feet come into contact with the cold tile floor, bringing you across the studio apartment with small tiptoes. You peer over your shoulder, gazing at the only available source of light. Unconsciously, you ball your fists.

With a soft sigh, you slide open the glass door and step out to bathe yourself in the comfort of the moonlight. Despite the chilling air of the night, something warm fills up your lungs like an overflowed cup of wine. It suffocates you a little until the knots in your muscles and mind loosen; a sense of relief washes over you—you haven’t felt that in years.

Nothing makes sense.

A hitman hired by your parents shouldn’t be putting a roof over your head, tucking you into bed nor feeding you. Minho barely knows you; and your knowledge about him as a genuine person isn’t enough to convince you that this is reality. Because after years of wandering the streets, being tossed around like trash with plenty of a series of unfortunate events, you’ve made it a habit to sink into yourself.

So the longer you stay here, the more you’ll get attached to him. And the more you get attached, the more he takes away your default instincts to turn your back on everything.

Guilt wells up inside your chest as though it’s an old habit, a setting by default. If you ever try to go over the moderate line, you will break.

Holding back a croaked sob, you know that once you let it go, tears will only start flooding. With a push of your muscles, you effortlessly hoist yourself up the metal railings in one go. The wind combs through your hair like an empathetic hand but you ignore it, Minho’s sweater closing in on your skin.

You should leave, you try to urge yourself. You should jump off and dive into the depths of the night, let the allure cradle you in its emotionless arms.

Because after all, despite all those eyes on you out there, you’re ultimately alone within.

A foot dips out into thin air once the slump in your shoulders goes weightless. Immediately after, an incredible force pulls you by the ankle, and to the ground with a loud thud. Minho falls onto his back harshly, groaning slightly with you on top of him.

He knew what you were trying to do, he saw it the other night with his own eyes. Even under the knowledge of your capabilities, Minho still feels a rush of panic rising inside his chest. It’s only until his arms fully have a hold of you does his racing heartbeats slow down. Supernatural abilities or none, you’re still sick. And he’d be losing his mind if he woke up to an empty bed tomorrow morning.

“Don’t ever do that again,” he speaks with trembling vocal cords, in a tone you’ve never heard before. Strict but mellow. As though there’s a race inside his mind but he’s desperately trying to keep his cool. It’s fear. The moment he’s introduced to the idea of losing you—it’s genuine fear.

“Minho, I can’t die. Didn’t I tell you—“

His grip squeezes you in a breath tighter, cutting you off completely. “The fuck were you thinking? You can’t just jump off the balcony like that!”

“I already told you. I can’t die. Minho, I’ve done that plenty of times before,” you furrow your brows in a troubled manner, unsure of how to react.

Minho widens his eyes at you in sheer disbelief. Shock riddles his senses and gets the best of him. So now he’s fussing with his hands, incoherent profanity leaving his lips non-stop within the next thirty seconds or so. He’s usually very calm, collected, calculating, and cold. This is very unlike him. It makes you wonder why he’s acting this way. He knows that you can’t die from jumping off a building. So what’s there to worry about?

“You’re such an idiot! Try doing that again and I’ll kill you with my own-“

You truly don’t know how important you are to him. Frankly, he hasn’t even realized that yet.

“I’m sorry,” you say, pulling him closer. Since you’re bad at resolving any kind of conflict, you opt for the most rational solution—going with his flow until he’s calmed down. “I won’t do that again, promise.”

His lips fall agape at your words. He wasn’t expecting that. And even when you see how he’s reacting to your sudden change, you decide it’s no time to back down. This might be the only time you could show him that you’re at least grateful for everything he’s done.

He’s quieted down now. And when he manages to speak again without tripping over his own words, his voice comes out as a whisper. “Hey kid,” he looks down at you, wanting to stroke your hair but drops his hand in sheer defeat. “You didn’t answer my question earlier. Why didn’t you call in sick for work?”

“Who would do my job when I’m gone? Isn’t that irresponsible?” You exhale deeply before fluttering your eyes close, finding odd peace within the rhythm of his heart.

Minho says pointedly, “Well, you could have asked someone to help you with it.”

“No one would help me.”

“How’d you know? Have you tried asking them before?”

Your eyes shoot open and flicker around your surroundings, you’re at a loss for words for a split second there. Heat rushes to the apples of your cheeks in shame, your head hung terribly low. “I’m not used to asking for help. I’d hate to be a burden,” you confess.

Innocence glimmers in your eyes when you look up at him, waterlines threatening to break any second now. Your lashes are slightly damped and how lost you’re looking right now can physically draw crimson on his heart. At the end of the day, you’re just a kid. You had to grow up the hard way, with no one by your side telling you what’s right and what’s wrong, even simple things like how to react to non-verbal affection.

Don’t let her go, Minho. Not now. Not ever.

“Then fix it now.”

“What?” You pause.

“If you need help, ask for it. If things are hard, say it. I’ll be there to give you a hand.”

Tears well up in your eyes, croaked sobs shake your body, only prompting him to pull your closer. It’s warm. Damnit, why is it so warm? “I-I can’t sleep. Sing me something?”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

Minho just knows that he would bleed with you even when the rain pours and the sky falls one day.

312 notes · View notes

studiobeebo · 3 years

Text

~♡ Shio, Shoyu, Miso ♡~ [1/?]

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing: Megumi Fushiguro x Female (she/her) Reader

Warnings: None

Words: 1.9K

Genre: y’all already know it’s just gonna be fluff

A/N: so i made a lil thing sorta based off this cute thing i saw on reddit. idk what i’m doing pls don’t ask.

reblogs are greatly appreciated as they are the main way to get my works around so please consider doing so if you like it! enjoy!

When you had first met Megumi, you honestly didn’t think much of him.

Now, that’s not to say you didn’t find him attractive, but a cute guy around your age coming into the shop with a few of his friends just really wasn’t something very noteworthy in your life. You had only been helping your parents around your family owned ramen shop for about a year or so, but that was long enough to know that the general demographic was people who wanted a tasty, warm meal without having to blow too much money. Needless to say, teenagers fit that demographic fairly well.

Your shop was well known in the area, but it was by no means fancy. In fact the building was a tad bit run down, you didn’t even have any decorations or anything hanging up on the walls and the entirety of it only seated maybe thirty people, so it was clear people didn’t frequent the place because of the ambiance. No, the reason you always seemed to have a steady stream of customers was that the food was simply so good that despite the lack of an enticing atmosphere or even many food options, people couldn’t help but be drawn to it. That mashed together with your friendly family and the decent prices made for a perfect little neighborhood place to eat. So again, when a group of three slightly noisy teenagers sat themselves down at one of the bar tables on the far side of the seating area, you didn’t really have any reason to bat an eye.

“Hey welcome guys!” You put on your usual cheery customer service voice as you filled their glasses with ice water, trying not to lean into any of their personal spaces. “Your options are salt, soy, or miso ramen, with or without beef and or pork. Do you need some time to think about it or do you think you’re ready to order now?”

Like you said, there weren’t many options.

“Oh, can I get soy?! Or maybe- hm, maybe I’ll have miso…”

“You’re tasteless, miso is the worst kind.”

“I bet you’ve never even tried it, Kugisaki!”

“They’re going to need a minute to think. That bit’s hard for them.”

The taller boy with dark hair and an apparently permanent scowl on his face groaned out in annoyance, his eyes only meeting yours for a moment before he turned to yell at the other two to lower their voices. You nodded with a smile, leaving them to decide and chuckling to yourself as you moved on to ask the customers at the other tables if they were doing ok.

“Ok! Excuse me- er....crap, what was her name again Fushiguro?”

“How am I supposed to know?”

“I don’t know, usually you remember to ask the important stuff like that!”

The not-so-subtle arguing was enough to catch your attention as you made your way back over to the trio, your smile being a bit more genuine this time around in response to their odd yet funny dynamic.

“It’s (Y/N), sorry about that guys! So, what can I get for ya?”

The three of them listed off their orders and after you repeated them back for confirmation, you gave them a quick thumbs up before going back to the kitchen to put their orders in with your dad. Within a moment of your absence, Itadori was turning to Fushiguro with that excited puppy look that adorned his face almost 24/7.

“She’s kind of pretty, don’t you think?”

Fushiguro’s eye twitched, but luckily Kugisaki was quick to butt in with an argument of ‘How come you’re only asking him what he thinks, huh?!’. It was a simple question, but what annoyed him was the added use of ‘kind of’. Itadori was extremely simple, so the thought that he only thought you were ‘kind of’ pretty irritated him because how could Fushiguro be here doing a double take just to get a better look at your features every time you spoke to them while Itadori just barely took note of it? It was uncharacteristic, but he couldn’t disagree. He could tell you definitely had a slight air of putting on a cheery showiness for the sake of good customer service, but either way, you were...cute, and he was insistent on leaving it at that without bothering to admit to it out loud.

“I hope you both know you’re paying for yourselves.” He interrupted, hoping their argument had moved on from their waitress so that he wouldn’t be asked about his thoughts on you again.

“Eh?! Since when were you so cheap!”

“Ok guys!”

The three of them jumped slightly at the sound of your voice, simultaneously turning to see you holding up a tray with three steaming bowls of ramen sat atop of it.

“Soy with beef, soy with pork..” You listed off while setting the bowls in front of the copper haired girl and the smiley boy respectively, “And miso with no topping.” You finished, eyes flicking up to meet the dark haired boys as you placed the final bowl in front of him. It was only for a moment, but you could have sworn your saw a speckle of pink dust his cheeks before he looked away from you with a short “Thanks.”.

“Mhm, no problem.” You hummed out, scanning your eyes around the restaurant to see if you were immediately needed elsewhere before deciding to continue and indulge your interest in the three, or more specifically, your interest in the cute boy with the black hair. “So... you guys are from that traditional religious high school, right?”

The pink haired one’s eyes lit up as he struggled to finish the noodles he was halfway through slurping up so that he could speak.

“Yeah, yeah! I guess our uniforms are a giveaway..”

You laughed, leaning your back against the empty seat that sat next to them at the bar. As if you needed any further confirmation, you could tell he was the energetic extrovert of the group.

“Yeah, you don’t really see many of them around. Though I’ve heard it’s kind of a hard school to get into.”

“Pfft, maybe for normal people, it was no sweat for us.” There was that copper haired girl again with a confident look on her face as she too stopped eating to interject, though you hardly took what she said in a bad way as she didn’t seem to mean any harm from it.

“That so? Guess I’ll have to call you guys next time I’m having trouble with my classes, I swear I can barely manage the workload I get.”

“Haha I feel that, I actually started school elsewhere but I just transferred a few months ago! Oh- I’m Itadori by the way! This is Kugisaki, and Fushiguro’s the sulking rude one!”

“Hey.” Fushiguro finally stopped his eavesdropping to join in, sending a glare Itadori’s way, but he just seemed to brush it off as if he’d been under his friends' scrutiny plenty of times before. After a moment though he turned back to you, though as much as he wanted to say something to you, he didn’t really know what to say. He wasn’t like Itadori or Kugisaki who could just strike up a conversation with anyone anywhere, but while he turned over his conversational options in his head, you pushed away from where you had previously been leaning and gave a sheepish, apologetic smile that easily brought his attention away from his thoughts.

“No no you’re good- Sorry, I should be leavin’ you guys to eat anyway. Just call me over when you’re ready to pay or if you need anything, alright?” You spoke, your words being directed more towards who you now knew as ‘Fushiguro’, however it was his two friends who responded with an affirmation before going back to their meals.

Once again you were off to tend to other tables and do the other tidbits of your job, though this time your head was filled with questions galore. Did Jujutsu Tech students come into town often, or was this some special outing? What grades were the three of them in? And most importantly, you wondered if they would ever be coming back? You weren’t one to get flustered or form crushes easily, but you had to admit you were a bit taken by Fushiguro. He was cute, sure, but he had a cool, mature air about him that could make anyone be left wanting to know more about him, especially because most of the conversation you did have was with his friends and not him. However once again your mental flow was interrupted by Itadori waving you over, barely waiting for you to make your way by their side to start speaking while the three of them handed over their respective payments.

“That was crazy good, (Y/N), we’ll have to come by some time again if that’s ok!”

“It’s not like she’s the one making it, Itadori.”

“You realize that a restaurant’s whole goal is to get people to come back, right? Of course it’s ‘ok’..”

Despite Fushiguro’s matter-of-fact statement, his eyes still shifted to yours as if he secretly wanted to know if you wanted them to come back as well and the smile you gave him in return only solidified the fact that he wanted to return either way. Though of course he boiled that down to ‘The service was good and so was the food’, but part of him knew that was bullshit.

“I’d love to see you guys around again!” You said, collecting up their empty bowls as you spoke. “I work most weekends and some days after class so you should try to stop in while I’m here.”

“Hell yeah!” Itadori exclaimed as the three of them got up from their seats one after the other, Kugisaki and Itadori saying their goodbye’s as they pardoned their way through the tables and other customers to leave, though Fushiguro stayed behind for a moment, a hand rubbing at the back of his neck as he spoke.

“...Sorry about them, it’s practically like wrangling preschoolers whenever we aren’t on du- er, in class.”

He knew the apology wasn’t necessary and that you didn’t seem all that bothered by either of his friends’ lively personalities, but he found himself feeling a bit...left out in the fact that he had yet to really speak to you. Why he even felt compelled to speak to you in the first place was a mystery, but he figured that was one question that didn’t really need an answer for right now.

“Oh, it’s no problem.” You laughed, giving another smile as you tried your hardest to not act as fidgety as you were feeling on the inside. “I mean- I’ve got friends like that too so I-“

“Excuse me?”

A polite voice cut you off halfway through your sentence and you turned to see an older woman waving you over, clearly not wanting to be rude but wanting your attention nevertheless.

“Sorry-“

“You’re fine!” You sputtered out, maybe a bit too excited as you slowly backed away from him, “I’ll see you around if you guys stop by again, huh, Fushiguro?”

His eyes widened slightly, a bit surprised by that hopeful tone to your voice before he nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips and a bit of slightly shameful excitement tugging at his heart.

“Yeah, we’ll- I’ll see you around.”

#im still soft for megumi #can you tell i dont outline or Ever Know Where I'm Going With My Words #haha a.d.d. gang wya #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #megumi fushiguro #megumi fushiguro x reader #also dont ask me when the next part will be #because I Never Know

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amarimaryllis · 3 years

Text

I Never Writ, Nor No Man Ever Loved (Ushijima x Reader)

Pairing: Ushijima/Reader

Prompt/Summary: Shakespeare wasn’t wrong, you’re just afraid of admitting the truth. Alternatively, Ushijima Wakatoshi’s first love never died.

Tags: Angst, Haikyuu Timeskip Spoilers

Note: I used she/her pronouns for the reader, You might wanna reread the ending of “All The World Drops Dead”, I gave Ushijima’s mom a name, Ushijima’s a rich boi, Bold Italicized sentences are excerpts from the poem “Sonnet 116” by William Shakespeare

Warnings: Swearing, Heavy read, Author doesn’t know how off-seasons work, Mentions of separation

Part of A Sensitivity to Ephemera

Ushijima Wakatoshi was your antithesis, in a sense, and somewhere in the sky, Cupid laughs.

Way to go for putting the most incompatible people ever, am I right?

You found beauty in the temperance of words. Enjoyed their sheer ability to paint a hundred stories with only strokes and letters. Words meant everything and nothing all at once, and snippets of different stories appeared with each changing context. Ushijima, on the other hand, found beauty in the directness of words. Observed in the brutal honesty that constantly leaves his lips. He preferred to have it all laid bare, no hidden meaning, no ulterior motive. What you see is what you get.

Let me not to the marriage of true minds

Admit impediments. Love is not love—

It was with words that you two ever even met, back in your first year at Shiratorizawa. Ushijima was not the best at literature, or any subject aside from Physical Education, and you were the panacea that the concerned teachers had offered as a remedy for the ace. It was a rocky start, but eventually, the relationship had grown into something more.

A literary genius and an athletic prodigy.

A master of language and her stumbling apprentice.

And eventually, a poet and her muse.

You never thought it would work out, but somehow, it did. And you were thankful that it did because you wouldn’t be where you are today. Standing in front of a large window overlooking the city, reminiscing on the events that led you to your present reality.

—Which alters when it alteration finds,

Or bends with the remover to remove.

Ushijima comes up from behind you and grips your hips with his large hands before he presses a tender kiss on your nape. “What’s on your mind?”

You smile as you turn around in his grasp to wrap your arms around his neck. “Nothing much.”

Ushijima raises a brow as he moves his hands from your hips to your waist. “By nothing, I’m guessing you mean anything and everything.”

You grin as the two of you begin to sway to the silence. Dancing to nothing but the sound of your breaths and the noise from the city below. “You know me too well.”

“You haven’t changed a bit.” Ushijima smiles as he pulls you in for a kiss.

You smile into the kiss, wrapping your arms tighter around Ushijima’s neck to pull him closer to you. The telltale signs of lovesickness had been set in motion in your body once more: warming cheeks, speeding heartbeats, and crashing lips.

As you find yourself pulled deeper into Ushijima’s embrace, you wish for the world to freeze this moment. Unmoving. Unchanging. Immortalized in your memory and for the rest of your waking reality.

A few days after your engagement with Ushijima, you found yourself in the place where it all started. Shiratorizawa had not changed at all since you left. Sure, the notices hung on the wall, the faces that roamed the rooms, and the shape of the shrubbery had changed, but everything else was the same as you remember it.

You shut your eyes, take a deep breath, and it’s almost as if you’re transported back to 2012. A year of loss, victory, stagnancy, and change. So many had happened, and it all rushed past you in the blink of an eye.

“Love—“

“Yes!” You stand up straight from the bench, eyes wide open in an attempt to pull away from your little flashback. “Yes, hi. Sorry, Toshi, I was… Lost in thought. Are you done talking to Washijo-sensei?”

“Yes.” Ushijima chuckles softly as he flicks your forehead lightly. “You should be more observant of your surroundings. What if it wasn’t me who found you?”

“But you did, didn’t you?” You grin up at him only to see him looking ahead.

You turn around and your eyes land upon a familiar sight.

Warmth floods your cheeks and Ushijima laughs as he wraps his arms around your waist, resting his chin atop your head. “I remember Tendou catching us there.”

You smile fondly at the memory as you look at the tree beside the volleyball gym. “Not my fault you kissed me all of a sudden.”

“Not my fault you look absolutely irresistible.” Ushijima’s warm breath tickles you as he leans down to whisper against the shell of your ear, placing a quick kiss before he lays his chin back onto the top of your head.

O no! It is an ever-fixed mark

That looks on tempests and is never shaken;

Ushijima Kimiko’s eyes were burning holes into your skull. It was clear from the moment you had stepped into the house that you were not welcome. That you were not the one she wanted for her son.

There’s bitterness in the way she looks, the way she acts, and the way she speaks. She’s eloquent, so well-spoken that you wouldn’t have noticed the insinuation of each backhanded compliment she threw your way. Her son seemed to be oblivious to the silent war of undertones and context buried underneath your exchange of seemingly harmless words. It had gone on for the entirety of dinner, his mother unforgiving and you unrelenting. If she thought her disapproval would send you running, then she was sorely mistaken.

After dinner, Ushijima leads you to his room. A place you had not acquainted yourself with because this was the first time Ushijima had brought you into his home. Your lover sits on the bed, watching you while you familiarize yourself with the setting.

“So this is where you grew up.” You smile to yourself, choosing to bury the events that transpired earlier into the darkest corners of your mind in hopes that it would be consumed into the void. “Nice room.”

Your eyes trace over every inch of the room, taking in what you can to better understand the man that you were soon going to marry. It’s plain, nothing revealing anything personal save for the pictures lined up and hung on the wall.

There were many different faces. A young girl, a few boys, some familiar, some unknown. There were also pictures of some teenagers, particularly the members of the Shiratorizawa Volleyball Club.

“Is something bothering you, love?” Ushijima asks from his bed where he’s currently seated. “You haven’t been talking much since dinner.”

You froze on the spot, having an internal debate on whether or not you should voice your concerns.

“Come here.” Ushijima beckons you to come closer and you do. You stand between his legs, placing your hands on his broad shoulders as you continue to look at the pictures behind him. Ushijima reaches for your hand on his shoulder, intertwining your hands there as he plays with the ring on your finger. “Something’s wrong.”

“Toshi…” You sigh, giving in. “I don’t think your mom likes me very much.”

It’s Ushijima’s turn to tense up. “My mom doesn’t like anyone.”

“Yeah well… I think she hates me.” You fiddle with Ushijima’s collar. “God, I hope not. I really wanted her to like me too…”

“In time.” Ushijima smiles as he pulls at your hand to make you cup his cheek. “But for now, let’s talk about it at home.”

It is the star to every wandering bark,

Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.

Ushijima sits alone on the couch, waiting for you to come back. You had left after a heated exchange, unable to stand being in the same room as him, it seems. A few weeks had passed since your visit to his childhood home, and things in your relationship have been somewhat rocky since then. While Ushijima wanted his family to accept you, he knew that their disapproval wouldn’t stop him from pursuing a life with you. You were the person who stood by his side when nobody else was there. The world would have to end before he let you go.

But you didn’t understand that. You were still stuck in the events that transpired at the dinner table while Ushijima was already walking towards your future. He knew he shouldn’t have invalidated your concern simply because he could stomach going against his mother. He just wanted this argument to end, he had an Olympic game tomorrow, and he didn’t want to walk in there with a heavy heart that would most definitely affect his performance.

The ringing of the doorbell pulls Ushijima from his thoughts. He stands up and walks towards the door to answer it, wondering who it could be since he did not remember inviting anyone.

When he opens the door, it is not noticeable, but there is shock written on his face. “Sato-san, what brings you here?”

“Ah, Waka-kun! Your mom told me I’d be able to find you here.” Sato pushes a paper bag into Ushijima’s hands, her eyes disappearing into lines as she gives him a bright smile. “I just got back from Cali, and I wanted to give you your souvenir and some ingredients from Kimiko-san…”

“Ah, thank you.” Ushijima gives a soft smile as he grips the paper bag tighter in his arms. He knew that his mother was in the area, visiting so that she could watch her son’s game tomorrow. “Would you like to come in for some coffee?”

“Ah no! It’s fine.” Sato waves her hands, smiling as she turns the offer down. “I have to go meet up with a friend.”

“Ok then.” Ushijima nods. “It was nice seeing you again.”

“Same here.” Sato moves to walk off. “I’ll be off then.”

Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks

With his bending sickle’s compass come...

When you come back home, Ushijima is quick to pull you into his arms. A string of apologies falls from his lips, weaving their way into your hearts as you melt into your fiancé’s embrace. The walk had cleared your mind enough, and you knew that Ushijima had a point. If he was willing to brave it out despite his mother’s disapproval, then you would do so as well.

After all had been said, and the issue was closed, you both retired for the night. Ushijima lays on his side of the bed, and you on yours. You turn to your side and are met by Ushijima’s broad back. Scooching closer, you wrap your arms around him, press a kiss onto his nape, and mumble, “I love you.”

You wait a few seconds for a reply, but you are met with silence. You sighed and wrapped your arms tighter around him, nuzzling your face between his shoulder blades. He was probably asleep.

Ushijima was wide awake. Memories of a young girl with bright eyes and rosy cheeks running through his mind. And as he loses himself to vivid images of the past, sleep never laid itself upon his eyes that night.

The next day, you make Hayashi rice from the ingredients that his friend had delivered, and you wish him luck.

Apparently, that luck wasn’t enough because the Japan team had lost to Argentina that day, and as much as you wanted to comfort Ushijima, his mother had gotten to him first and was now talking to him inside the stadium.

You waited outside of the venue, sitting on the steps that led up to the doors that opened to the realm of competition and Olympic athletes. You could only wait it out, not wanting to bother your fiancé and his mother in fear that the latter might attack your very being once more.

The sound of footsteps comes closer, and you turn around quickly in hopes to see your lover, but you are met with the sight of their trainer instead.

“Oh, Iwaizumi-san!” You stand up to bow. You notice the red at the corners of his eyes as if he had been crying. You don’t ask. It was normal to be upset after a loss. “You guys fought well, Iwaizumi-san.”

Iwaizumi smiles but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He moves to sit beside you on the steps, and you follow suit. “Hey, L/N-san…”

“Hm?” You reply with a hum. While Iwaizumi and you were not close, you two were still familiar enough with each other to carry a casual conversation. “What is it?”

“You’re a writer.” Iwaizumi states, but there is hesitance in his tone.

You can’t help but snort. “No shit.”

Iwaizumi glares at you, and you suppress a laugh. “Ok, I’ll stop, but yeah, I am. Why?”

“That means you’re good at the poetic symbolism shit right?” Iwaizumi asks for confirmation and you resist the urge to laugh at his choice of words.

“I like to think that I am good at the—“ You use your hands to show air quotes, “—poetic symbolism shit as you said.”

“Does first love never really die?” Iwaizumi asks and you nearly choke on air.

Iwaizumi is looking at you expectantly, and you look like a deer caught in the headlights. Out of all the things that could happen in your life, talking to Iwaizumi Hajime about his love life was not something you even thought of ever happening. Not even a single bit. It’s silent, and you realize that Iwaizumi is waiting for a reply.

You pause to think, not wanting to give Iwaizumi a half-assed answer that could make whatever he was going through worse. It seemed like Iwaizumi was more hung up over this than he was over the game they just lost, and while you don’t know the full story, you realize its gravity. “It’s something people like to say… Haven’t quite understood it because I’ve never felt it…”

You smile sadly. It seems like Iwaizumi wasn’t given the similar luxury of living out the rest of his life with his first love. “First love never dies, but true love will bury it alive.”

“And what if your first love is your true love?” Iwaizumi asks, his fists clenching as he looks down at the steps.

“Then you’ll spend the rest of your life mourning a lifetime that was never meant to be yours.” You sigh as you pat Iwaizumi in the back. “You never really know if it’s true love, Iwaizumi-san. Tomorrow promises nothing, after all. The only time you’ll ever truly know is when you’re a breath away from death and reliving your entire life.”

“Fucking hell.” Iwaizumi mumbles to himself. “Love is hard.”

“It is.” You smile. “But whatever the situation, Iwa-san… Don’t deprive yourself of the opportunity to move on, yeah? It’s kind of like volleyball.”

Iwaizumi turns to look at you. “How so?”

“Well, when you get blocked during games, do you stop spiking for the rest of the game?” You raise a brow.

It’s silent until suddenly, it’s not. Iwaizumi is laughing. He’s standing up, and he pulls you up before enveloping you in a hug. “You genius, I hate that you have a point.”

You reach around to pat his back, happy that your words somehow enlightened him. You knew that this enlightenment was brief and that somewhere along the way, Iwaizumi would be tempted to give up, but you were glad to have at least given him a way out. “As I said, I’m good at the poetic symbolism shit.”

A cough interrupts your little hug session with Iwaizumi, leading to the both of you pulling away and turning to the source of the noise.

It seems like the universe just loved screwing you over because standing at the top of the steps were three people: two familiar faces, and one that was teetering between remembrance and oblivion.

Ushijima Kimiko looked smugly angry. Her son looked confused, tinges of betrayal creeping into his eyes. The young woman beside them on the other hand looked absolutely livid as her eyes flitted between you and Iwaizumi.

“How scandalous.” You could hear Ushijima Kimiko whisper to her son. “Are you sure this is the woman you want to marry?”

You pretend you don’t hear it, forcing a smile and a bow. “It’s nice to see you again, Ushijima-san.”

Iwaizumi on the other hand does not let the comment pass. “There’s nothing scandalous about the situation, Ushijima-san. I simply asked my friend for advice and showed my appreciation. She loves your son too much to ever even think of looking at other people.”

You notice how the stances of Ushijima and the young woman relax.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Ushijima Kimiko’s smile is tightly lipped.

The drive to Ushijima’s penthouse was silent and absolutely tense. Ushijima’s knuckles were practically white with how tightly he was gripping the steering wheel. You can see the creases between his brows deepening as he clenches his jaw in both frustration and concentration.

“Who was the girl from a while ago? She looked familiar.” It was a seemingly harmless question on your end. You didn’t want to talk about the game because they did lose. You didn’t want to bring up his mother because that would be another argument. You didn’t want to talk about Iwaizumi because you figured that maybe the hug you shared was the reason for his frustration. So you decided to settle with the one thing in that situation that had no heavy feelings attached.

Well, you were sorely mistaken.

Ushijima tenses up before he relaxes. “She’s my childhood friend. She used to be my closest friend until middle school.”

“Ah.” You nod to yourself. “Cool.”

“She means nothing to me now, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Ushijima quickly added.

“Ooooh, did little Toshi have a crush on her?” You tease, trying to use this opportunity to lighten the mood.

Ushijima tenses up before a fond smile makes its way to his face for the first time since this morning. “She was there for me throughout my childhood. She helped me get through my parent’s separation.”

You didn’t know why, but you finally realized why she looked familiar. It was minimal, very minimal… But there was a large similarity between her facial and body structure and yours. And as you realize this, the conversation you had with Iwaizumi echoes disturbingly through your head.

Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,

But bears it out even to the edge of doom.

Although they had been given a month-long break after the game, Ushijima was still out most of the time. Some part of you was bitter over the fact that your fiancé chose to spend more time spiking balls and playing with his teammates (that he already plays with on a regular basis), but you don’t pressure him to stay. If that made him happy, then you were happy with it as well. But still, some part of you wishes that he would just stay in with you and cuddle while you type your next piece on the laptop.

Later that night, Ushijima comes home with his arm slung around Kageyama who looked like he had just walked through hell and back. There’s a dopey grin on his face as he reaches out for you and crashes his body against yours. The smell of alcohol fills your nostrils, and you scrunch your nose up in disgust.

“Please take care of Ushijima-san.” The setter bows lightly before straightening up.

“Thank you for bringing him home.” You smile at Kageyama who blushes a deep red.

“I’ll take my leave.” Kageyama bows and walks off.

You shut the door once you see that Kageyama has made it to the elevator.

“You’re so pretty…” Ushijima’s grin is wide as he cups your cheeks. Nuzzling his nose against yours before peppering kisses all over your face. “Can’t believe you’re here…”

Ushijima presses you against the door and leans down to capture your mouth into his. He presses against you, grabbing at your wrists to wrap your arms around his neck as he pushes his mouth harder against yours. There’s desperation in the way he digs his fingers into your hips as he lifts you and pulls at your legs to wrap it around his waist.

“I love you so much…” Ushijima whispers between kisses as he nips at your neck. “Don’t ever leave me again… Fuck.”

Ushijima’s hand creeps under your shirt, trailing on your skin while his other hand supports you against the door. As good as it felt to be finally receiving attention from your lover, you grab at his wrist to stop him. “Toshi, you’re drunk. Let’s go to bed first, yeah?”

“What happened to Waka-kun?” There’s a pout on Ushijima’s face, and you would find it endearing if you weren’t confused by the words that left his mouth.

Choosing to chalk it up to his drunken stupor, you just smile, unwrap your legs from his waist and bring him to bed. “You need to sleep.”

Once you two were settled in bed, Ushijima nuzzled himself into your neck as he wrapped his arms around you from behind, positioning himself to prepare for sleep.

His breath tickles your neck as he mumbles, “Don’t ever leave me, please.”

“I won’t.” You smile as you sink deeper into his embrace. “I love you too much to do that.”

“You love me?” Ushijima was a talkative, sappy kind of drunk, it seems. “Really?”

“Very much.” You mumble as you intertwine your fingers with his.

“You’ll stay with me forever, right?” Ushijima’s voice is weak, almost as if he was afraid of what your answer could be.

“Of course.” You answer without a second thought.

You can feel Ushijima kiss your neck before his breathing starts to slow. It’s a whisper, the way he says it, lips brushing as he lightly mouths the words into your skin, but you hear it clear as day.

“I love you, Fuyumi-chan…”

If this be error and upon me prov’d,

You stare blankly at the Instagram profile on your laptop screen, your hands on the table as you focus all your emotions into clenching them as tight as possible. The apartment is quiet, but the noise in your head is a different story. Voices, faces, and emotions flood your brain, each wave stronger than the last as it threatens to drown you into the void of your head. You briefly wonder where it all went wrong.

When Ushijima decided to get drunk? No, it wasn’t.

When Iwaizumi hugged you after their loss at the Olympics? No… It wasn’t that either.

Maybe when you had visited Ushijima’s childhood home? No. Although it seemed like it went downhill from there… It wasn’t that.

It all went wrong the moment you allowed yourself to fall in love with Ushijima Wakatoshi.

“Good morning.” Ushijima smiles as he sits across from you on the floor on the other side of the coffee table.

You force a smile. “Slept well?”

Ushijima freezes for a split second before recovering. “Had a good dream.”

“Good for you.” You don’t know how much longer you can pretend like your relationship wasn’t falling apart. “About the wedding—“

“We’re having it in 2 months right?” Ushijima interrupts you, and for some reason, it looks like he’s trying to avoid something. “I’m still on vacation, so I’ll be able to help you and the coordinator plan it—“

“Let’s call it off.” You interrupt with a smile.

“Do you want to move it to a later date?” Ushijima furrows his brows as he reaches over, grabbing your left hand, his heart sinking when his thumb brushes over skin instead of silver on your finger. “Where’s your ring?”

“Wakatoshi,” You start with a smile, your voice as steady as it could be while a war rages in your head, “I don’t want to get married anymore.”

For someone who understood words best when they were said directly, Ushijima Wakatoshi was having a lot of trouble understanding you right now.

Ushijima’s frown deepens, but he continues to speak casually. “That’s fine. We don’t have to be married to love each other, right? That’s just a formal ceremony—“

“I’m leaving, Wakatoshi.” You attempt to pull your hand away from his grasp, but Ushijima holds it tighter.

There are tears in his eyes as he looks at you, and you’re almost tempted to stay. Ushijima crying was not a common sight. You had only seen it happen once in the entirety of your relationship, and your heart breaks at that thought.

“When will you come back?” His voice is desperate as he looks into your eyes, searching for any sign indicating that you’ll stay. He finds none.

You can only smile. “I’m sorry.”

You stand up and shut your laptop, walking off to your room to pack your things. You didn’t want to make this harder than it had to be. You didn’t want to see him cry, and you didn’t want him to see you cry. If this was love then it seems that Shakespeare was wrong, or maybe what you have isn’t love. But if it isn’t love, then why did every single step away from Ushijima’s crying figure feel heavier and more painful than the last? Why did you yearn for him despite the stabbing in your chest?

When Ushijima hears the door of your shared bedroom close, he opens your laptop, wondering if he’ll find an answer there.

And he did.

Sato Fuyumi’s unmoving face stares back at him, a smile etched onto her face as the sun shines brightly behind her. At that moment, Ushijima understood. Last night was no dream, it seems, but he had blurred the lines between fantasy and reality and that led to the inevitable decay of whatever it was that you two had. With that, Ushijima stood up and walked to your shared room, one last time.

“I’m sorry.” Ushijima states from the doorway. He expected you to be packing your things, but he didn’t expect that seeing it would hurt this much. It was almost as if you were ripping his chest open with each clothing you pulled from your shared cabinet.

“I know.” You whisper, unable to trust your voice.

There’s silence as Ushijima sits beside you on the floor.

“Toshi...” The name feels heavy in your mouth as you speak. “Did you—“

A sob somehow manages to break free, and now you were crying.

Ushijima pulls you into his chest, guilt and despair filling his chest as he feels you sob and shake in his hold. He wishes he could make it all go away, but how could he when he was the reason you’re this way in the first place?

“Please tell me the truth…” You grip at his shirt, your forehead pressed onto his collarbone as you let the tears fall one after the other. “Did you… Did you ever love me?”

Ushijima answers with no hesitation. “I did.”

You cry harder into his chest as you mourn the lifetime that could’ve been yours. Images of a distant life fill your head: a home in the countryside, a young boy, a young girl, a loving husband. You allow yourself to bask in the illusion for a second before you pull yourself away. You were afraid that if you had stayed any longer, you’d never be able to walk away.

“We can make it work, Y/N.” Ushijima pleads one last time. “This is just something we have to work through. We’ll get past this and then we’ll live the rest of our lives together. We’ll go to the countryside when I retire, raise our kids there—“

You cut him off. “Stop.”

“You could write from there. It’s peaceful, no one will disturb—“

You cry harder into his chest, gripping tighter at his shirt. “Stop please, just stop already—“

“We can still make it work, Y/N. Just stay—“

“Just stop!” You pull away, daring to look into Ushijima’s eyes. “It’s never going to work. We would be living a lie if I agreed to all of that. It’s clear that you’re still in love with her, and you always will be!”

Ushijima’s shoulders slump down in defeat, and he lets you cry it all in front of him.

“And what if your first love is your true love?” Iwaizumi asks, his fists clenching as he looks down at the steps.

“Then you’ll spend the rest of your life mourning a lifetime that was never meant to be yours.”

Your own words haunt you.

I never writ, nor no man ever lov’d.

You realize it now, looking back.

Years of denying the poet only for you to agree with him in the end. It took you 3 years, but now, you were ready to admit that Shakespeare was right in all he said about love. Everything around you was just pointing in a different direction, you just didn’t realize it when you were still in the middle of it all.

It was a mess you no longer wanted to revisit, but you brave through it for your friend.

You watch the love of your life mourn a lifetime that could’ve been his.

Ushijima Wakatoshi watches as the love of his life goes down the aisle.

Sato Fuyumi smiles as she sees the love of her life waiting at the end of it.

Iwaizumi Hajime looks ahead one last time as the love of his life sits somewhere in the crowd.

And somewhere in the sky, Cupid laughs.

A/N: I feel like this should be classified under “Angst/No One Gets A Happy Ending”. Also, I finally gave Iwa some closure AHHHHH I hope you guys liked this one! Feel free to drop my by ask, I’m always up for a discussion, after all. 💖

#ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi #haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #genre.angst #cont.spoilers #tw heavy angst #tw swearing #tw separation

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feralnumberfive · 3 years

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The Rewatch Academy: Episode 6 of Season 1

“The Day That Wasn’t”

I am in no way a good analyst so my little analysis and speculations probably sound a bit goofy or pretty wild and probably mean nothing at all. Everything I put into this post about each episode is purely what I noticed or thought, whether it’s funny or serious. I will be making jokes, so please just leave it at that (in no way am I trying to make fun of an actor and or character!) I am also in no way saying I noticed this stuff first. This is just what I noticed while rewatching these episodes

☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂

| 1x01 | 1x02 | 1x03 | 1x04 | 1x05 |

☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂

☂ Klaus is lucky that he never got the briefcase shot up

☂ *Hears Klaus flush the toilet and talk* Luther: Oh good, you’re up

☂ Also Luther gave Klaus about two seconds to get up before hounding him again on getting downstairs

☂ Sounds like Tom’s accent slipped a little bit when he said “three days”

☂ Yeah they needed to have a family meeting right away and yet they took the time to go get coffee or at least order it and have it delivered

☂ “Old bastard” and “Our little psycho”

☂ I still don’t get at this point how they wouldn’t believe Five. Look at him, he himself is evidence of his time traveling! He was gone for 45 years, but to them it was only 17. Either way they try to grasp at that, Five would look older if he made it back without messing up. He knew about their father’s death without anyone telling him. I really think all the mistrust comes from the way he looks and the way he acts (they obviously believe he’s just crazy right now)

☂ “What did Five even see?”

☂ Also throw back to 1x02 and I didn’t realized this until now but Five doesn’t have his tie

☂ I know it’s for the title card gag but no one questions the random umbrella falling and popping open

☂ I aspire to be as sarcastic as Hazel

☂ So where exactly is The Commission HQ at? Is it a random location in the real world? If so then wouldn’t normal people happen to stumble upon it? What about their location in space in the comics? Is this in space?? All we know is that it’s in/based off of the year 1955

☂ “I’d like to discuss the logistics of my family’s safety at your earliest convenience.” He cuts right to what’s most important to him. No “How will you stop the apocalypse?” or “What’s my job?” and even “How will my body replacement work?”

☂ Five sounds almost like he’s snapped back into a work mindset. He's suddenly polite and calm with The Handler. Maybe being back in a work environment has made his brain automatically switch into being more professional. However he might also be acting this way to try to throw her off of him being antsy with a plan

☂ Here's some Commission posters shown throughout 1x06

☂ One of us, one of us, one of us-

☂ So basically The Commission makes up history? How do they know what to do and when to make something happen? How do they know it’s right? And what’s The Commission supposed to do when the world ends? Haven't they already fixed stuff in the past or are there just continuous time loops so they need to make sure things happen over and over again? If multiple historical events happen with multiple ways they are made, then which one gets to be in the original timeline??

☂ Dot: No hard feelings! 😁

Ma’am does it look like he’s going to accept that

☂ Wait why are Hazel and Cha-Cha considered the best Temporal Assassins if Five was/is the best?

☂ Well Five has the job of taking down the Hindenburg again but this time from behind a desk. So it’s possible to accomplish “corrections” without actually having assassins do the work. So I guess there’s just so many timelines that they need to fix every single one of them over and over? That sounds like a pain in the ass

☂ TUA portraits!

☂ Y’know I have to agree with Allison on this one. Vanya was left out, however she’s offering to talk with her about the important family matter and Vanya is just denying it. I get she’s upset, but her sister is offering to include her. After Vanya leaves Allison immediately wants to go after her to talk with her. On the other hand Allison should have told her it was an emergency meeting and that they didn’t have the time to ask Vanya to join them

☂ Klaus seems genuinely concerned/upset for Vanya

☂ “We need to figure out what causes the apocalypse. Now, there are loads of possibilities. Nuclear war, asteroids.” Wow spot on, Luther! I can’t believe they actually included foreshadowing for both apocalypses (even though technically it was a chunk of the moon, not an asteroid.) I wonder how much foreshadowing for S3 was put into S2.......

☂ I know it’s big joke about Luther and the moon, but the poor guy just really believes that he was on the moon for an important reason. I mean if I were in his shoes I would believe him too since he had to send a lot of daily updates and samples

☂ “Klaus shockingly has a point. What gives us a win this time?” Shhhh careful Diego, he’s right behind you

☂ Luther is initially the only one onboard with Five on trying to stop the apocalypse. All the others want to go off and do their own thing before the world ends. He tries to get The Umbrella Academy back together to work as a team, but his leadership skills are now severely lacking. Do people *cough cough* mainly people who hate him *cough cough* overlook Luther wanting to also get his family together to stop the apocalypse with his family? Definitely.

☂ “We need the full force of the Academy to stand a chance.” Well golly gee, Allison, what did did Luther just try to do? Was that not him trying to round up all of The Umbrella Academy to stop the apocalypse?

☂ Even though Vanya is ranting, how does she not hear all the creaking metal and shaking cars?

☂ *it’s sunny around them but just the block they’re walking on is rainy until she calms down* “ThAt’S a CoInCiDeNcE.”

☂ The hall floor and Diego’s floor are so dusty

☂ It’s sweet that Diego wants Klaus to get clean in a safe way instead of going cold turkey

☂ Dot, what does “utter silence” mean to you?

☂ “Look at you, deadly little thing.” You’re not wrong, but I don’t think he appreciates being called “thing”

☂ Such a smug smile

☂ So how does Five know all of this about Karl and his son? Does it talk about Otto never washing his hands in the file? That seems like an oddly specific detail but I guess in a case file it gives as many details as possible for the worker to figure out who needs to get assassinated

☂ There are a few cog references all relating to The Commission, so I wonder if this is a nod to “Teenagers” or if they’re just using this terminology

☂ Odd tattoos (sorry for the super blurry pic)

☂ “Can I ask you a cuckoo bananas question?” Hazel is such a fun guy

☂ “Wouldn’t it be nice to kill who you want for a change?” You mean like straight up unhinged murder?

☂ The first time I watched this Hazel and Cha-Cha scene I for sure thought that Hazel was a dead man

☂ This scene just absolutely breaks my heart 💔

☂ *skips 25:24-27:42*

☂ Diego is just so accepting to everything Klaus is saying

☂ I’m sorry, are we suddenly on the set of The Phantom of the Opera?

☂ Diego, I think you’re forgetting a very important person in your life who you let down too who is also dead......(poor Ben can’t believe what his brother just said so he leaves)

☂ “Ordinary is not a word I’d use to describe you.” You’re right, it’s “Extra Ordinary” ha! Sorry Vanya, I had to use that joke

☂ Well at least we know Five ate a sandwich

☂ How exciting! The same division that made a simple candy taste like a candy from the past, but technically it’s not the past since The Commission HQ is based in 1955, is building a human body! That sounds so promising

☂ Sooooo whatever happened to Five’s new body? Is it just sitting in a lab somewhere?? Or is The Handler just lying about it to try to get Five to stay at The Commission?

☂ With the amount of time Five was staring at the suit, it obviously hurt him to know that while he has a new body within reach, he’s not going to get it because he’s about to leave

☂ “Course it’s a bit easier to see from 30,000 feet.” What is she talking about Reconnaissance aircraft? There was no mention of aircraft though so why would she bring that up? My closest guess is that she’s referring to strategic bombing in general, or even the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki

☂ It sounds like Five suddenly has a New York accent when he says “operator” when talking to The Handler about Gloria

☂ Fuck you, Veggie Tales Hargreeves

☂ *skips 36:47-39:48*

☂ Well there’s your hit, Klaus

☂ I love the camera moving with Klaus as he falls and the transition into Vietnam

☂ “Lock and load, Charlie’s away!” Wikipedia’s definition of a “Charlie” is an American military slang referring to the Viiet Cong and North Vietnamese soldiers

☂ Klaus desperately calling out for a medic hurts my heart

☂ Well Luther if you had left then your body wouldn’t be the way it is now

☂ *fucking skips 45:41-50:00*

☂ Ooooh I just really love the entirety of the “Kill Of The Night” scene! If you listen to the lyrics it’s about someone luring someone into a trap to get revenge because they messed with the wrong person (it’s also about love but we’re going to ignore that part). I personally believe it’s aimed at The Commission from Five because the entire time it plays he’s messing things up for them and in some way it’s like a little bit of revenge from him

☂ Why is Gloria confused on who Hazel and Cha-Cha are? Hasn’t she heard their names a ton of times especially since they’re some of the best assassins?

☂ How did Five know which tubes to put the messages in?

☂ You can see at this part how Five immediately gets anxious and antsy. He has a wild look in his eyes. From this point onwards he’s constantly moving, shaking with energy, anticipation, and probably a little bit of anger

☂ “You’re a great disappointment to me.” That’s definitely not the first time he’s heard that

☂ “I don’t belong anywhere thanks to you. You made me a killer!” The first part of that stings. Obviously he feels like he doesn’t belong anywhere, but again I think has to do with the whole “good” and “bad” thing that’s going on. He feels like he doesn’t belong at home because he’s “bad” and has done a lot of dark stuff to get home (it doesn’t help that Luther voiced his acknowledgment of this to Five and now he has that in his mind that Luther knows and somewhat views him as “bad”). Five 100% feels shame in what he has done, and definitely has an issue of coming back to his family with blood on his hands form what he has done. He doesn’t belong in The Commission anymore because he doesn’t want to stay there to do their dirty work to kill or give out kill orders. He’s done with that or at least wants to be done with that life.

The last statement though is Five taking his anger and guilt about being becoming an assassin out on The Handler. She brought him into The Commission, which in turn he became the best assassin across The Space-Time Continuum. It’s not something he’s proud of, and he never enjoyed killing (as much as I want it to be the DNA alteration I just don’t think it exists in the show or at least not yet). However The Handler replies with “You were always a killer. I just pointed you in a direction.” which you can immediately tell has struck a chord with Five. For the briefest second he looks taken aback and his eyes ever so slightly open wider in shock, whether he took that as the truth or just a terrible accusation isn’t exactly clear. Either way he doesn’t like being accused or hearing the truth out loud of always being able to be murderous, a killer.

I believe it’s a mixture of The Handler just trying to get into his head and a combination of the truth. Reginald trained The Umbrella Academy to use brute force, but that doesn’t mean Five had killed anyone but he was definitely violent when it came to stopping bad guys (not to mention in the pilot script he was called a “Ruthless little war machine” after violently attacking and decapitating a bunch of mannequins)

☂ Diego: I’m going to go kill Hazel and Cha-Cha!........Riiiiight after I get done walking with my mom in the park

☂ He’s so happy to see Klaus again

☂ ✨Gremlin✨

☂ Who exactly does Five owe a debt to? Maybe his family after accidentally leaving them and now he wants to save them? Or is it a singular person?

☂ Ouch! Now that’s what I call a problem later!

☂

☂ Five using “Ya’ll” is weird to hear

☂ Five is talking to his siblings like he knows what’s been happening but in reality he’s rarely been at home so how would he know

☂ I love that Five doesn't even answer Diego at the end and instead just stares at his siblings

☂☂☂☂☂☂☂

Feel free to comment or reblog with things you have noticed too!

#surprise here's another long over due post!#tra #the rewatch academy #the umbrella academy #umbrella academy

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eternalstann · 4 years

Text

Crushes & Co-Stars

You and Tom are in an interview together when you have an unexpected guest. Tom finally realizes what he needs to do. So he does that...and more.

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Warnings: Smut!!!! + jealous!Tom ;)

You’re trying your hardest to concentrate on the woman interviewing you and Tom for your upcoming movie, it just felt like every person you talked to was leading you closer to something you couldn’t put your finger on.

“Tom who’s been your favorite person to work with so far?”

Tom doesn’t even hesitate, “Jake Gyllenhaal”

You gasp, “I’m telling Jacob and Zendaya!”

“What, you know that’s my husband! And I told you we could listen to ONE One Direction song on the way here, NOT the whole album. That’s a strike for you” he jokes.

“So Y/N, you’ve always been a big fan of One Direction! Are you excited for their possible reunion?” the interviewer asks and you feel the entirety of your teenage years flash before your eyes.

“Oh absolutely! I just hope they wait until after the movie is out, cause if they do get back together I won’t be able to focus on anything else!” You joke, nudging Tom.

Your costar nods in exaggerated agreement, “Trust me, I’ve seen the pictures of her childhood bedroom. I know”

You giggle and shrug, “What can I say? They just had that one thing”

Tom groans, “That was so corny”

He pretends to be unimpressed but you can see the ghost of a smile on his lips. Talking about a movie for weeks - day in and day out got boring. But doing it with you made it all worth it for him.

“Well then Y/N, we have a little surprise for you” the interviewer goes on and your eyebrows furrow. A surprise?

You watch as the door to the small interview room opens and you nearly faint when Niall Horan himself walks in.

You fumble your way out your chair, walking behind it and putting a hand over your mouth; eyes practically bugged out. Everyone laughs at your reaction, but you’re literally on the verge of a heart attack.

“No fucking way..” you breathe out, and Niall smiles big at you.

“Aren’t you gonna hug me darling?” He asks with that Irish accent you’d obsessed over for years.

You don’t even say anything, it’s like you aren’t in control of your own body and you run to him; jumping into his open arms. Your legs wrap around his waist and he holds you up.

“What a greeting!” Niall Jokes. “How’re you?” He asks and you can barely answer.

“I’m perfect now” you fawn and you definitely hear one of the videographers whisper- ‘this is totally going viral’

Niall sets you down, and you stare at him. Still unable to believe he was standing in front of you. You then realize how unprofessional you acted and apologize.

“I am so sorry for...pouncing on you like that” you smile sheepishly and you swear his blue eyes literally twinkle. “Don’t be sorry, I love when beautiful girls jump into my arms” he flirts and you think your heart might jump out of your chest.

You try to play it off with a laugh, and so does Tom. He watches this little love connection play out with the girl he’d had feelings for for months and all he could do was laugh.

“Good to know, it’s just I’ve literally had a crush on your since I was like fourteen” you gush, and Niall pushes a strand of hair from your face.

“Yeah well I think I’ve got a bit of a crush on you now...” he replies easily and you’re certain you’re dreaming now.

Toms had enough now, standing to make himself known.

“Niall, mate! How’re ya?” Tom asks stepping between the two of you, and you watch them hug. He knows everyone you think to yourself.

“Aye, Tommy! I’m great man, we have to go golfing soon!” Niall chirps and Tom nods. You roll your eyes as the two of them chit chat.

Two white boys of the month together. The power that they hold

Niall slaps Tom on the arms, something about texting him later before turning to you again. “Y/N, I was hoping that I could bother you for your phone number. Maybe we could get together some time?” He asks, holding out his phone to you.

“That’d be really nice” you hum, punching in your number.

Niall hugs you and says goodbye, and now it’s Toms turn to roll his eyes.

He doesn’t know why he’s so jealous, he’d never even made a move. He guessed he thought he had more time. And then it dawns on him. The two of you were done shooting, and this press tour wasn’t gonna last forever. You’d both go home and that would be that. Sure you’d stay in contact but it wouldn’t be the same as seeing your everyday. He had to move fast.

The interview wraps up and your both say thank you’s to interviewer and crew, walking out to the hallway.

“I cannot believe I met Niall Horan!” You exclaim, and Tom chuckles a little.

“You really gonna go on that date?” He asks, already dreading your answer.

You pause for a moment, “Yeah, if he actually texts me!”

“He’s definitely gonna text you...” Tom trails off and he can already see it playing out in his head. He doesn’t think he can take watching you and Niall galavant through town... or trend on Twitter if you ever did get together.

“He’s literally got a million other girls he could text, what makes you think so?” You nudge him, smiling softly at how your arms brushed against each other when you walked. You and Tom had become so close during the last few months, you felt like you’d known him forever. And knowing Tom you were expecting him to say some sarcastic answer, about he’d text you for premiere tickets just to really see him.

“Because you’re beautiful for one thing. Because you’re smart, and funny and talented. Because you’re kind and loving. I can think of a million reasons why I’d text you...why I’d do so much more than text you” he smiles, rubbing the back of his neck and you’re frozen in shock.

“Tom...”

“You don’t have to say anything back, I’ve gained a best friend in working with you and I don’t want to mess that up. I just wanted you to know”

You grab his hand and pull him into his dressing room.

“What’re you doing?” He asks confusedly.

“I didn’t want to cry in the hallway” you say, finally letting the tears fall.

“Tom I’ve been so anxious about all of this ending because I love being around you. I’ve never had a friend like you and I was so sad thinking about not seeing you all the time” you gush and Tom pulls you into a hug.

“Then we just won’t let each other go” he mumbles, face buried in your neck.

You pull back and wipe your tears, smirking at your friend “Did you tell me all this because you were jealous of Niall?”

“I mean, you literally jumped into his arms...” he teases.

You laugh, biting your lip before jumping up and Tom gets the memo to catch you.

“Now you’re even” you whisper looking down at Tom, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Hmm, I could get used to this”

You take a deep breath, staring into his eyes. It wasn’t weird or awkward, it was like the two of you understood each other without speaking. You could feel his thumb rubbing against your back, tracing gentle circles.

“Are we about to kiss right now?”

Tom throws his head back in a laugh, “Only if you want to”

“I really want to”

You press your lips to his, eyes fluttering shut. His lips were soft and they tasted like the cherry chapstick you’d bought him as a gag gift for finishing filming on Cherry. The fact that he’s kept a silly thing like that from you made you weak.

You tilt your head, letting your tongue run against the seam of his lips and he parts them for you. Your tongues touch, mouths moving together effortlessly.

You don’t even realize Tom walking towards the couch in the center of the room until he’s laying you down on it. You pull your lips apart for a moment to catch your breath and Tom is hooking your leg over his side.

You can feel his hardness pressed to your center and you feel dizzy at how fast things escalated. But you loved it, and you wanted more.

You lift your hips to grind against him and Tom groans, shoving your dress up around your waist. You gasp, the cold air on your thighs creating goosebumps and Toms hands run over your skin, the warmth in from his fingertips almost felt like it burned.

He left a trail of fire from your bellybutton to the waist band of your panties, slowing pulling them down.

“I want to taste you” he hums, and your toes curl in your heels at his words. You’d be lying if you said you’d never thought of Tom like this, and god it was better than you imagined.

He kisses the insides of your thighs, one if his hands pushing you leg back to your chest. He looks up at your, brown hair falling just about his eyes as he takes his first lick up the length of your pussy.

“Oh god Tom...” you moan out, letting your head fall against the cushions.

He absolutely devours you, taking his time to explore every part of your wet heat. Your legs shake next to his head, and Tom puts his mouth over your clit, sucking gently and pushes two fingers into you.

You grab a pillow off the couch, placing it over your face to muffle your screams and Tom doesn’t let up. He curls his fingers upwards, working you closer and closer to the edge and you feel bad when the heel of your shoe digs into his back as you orgasm.

Tom licks you through it, a big smile on his face and all you can do is stare at him. Oh, he was definitely a problem. You glance down at the bulge in his pants, biting your lip.

He catches your stare, “You sure you want to?”

“Tom I’m positive” you assure him, repositioning yourself on the couch to make for a better angle.

Tom is kicking his way out his slacks in seconds, and you laugh at his antics. Your laughing stops when he pulls out his dick though.

“Jeez, Tom, where do hide that thing?” You ask and he rolls his eyes.

“You’re hilarious Y/N” he answers, climbing back on top of you.

Tom rubs himself through your folds and your pussy clenches in anticipation, you brace yourself waiting and ready for him but Tom pauses.

“This isn’t going to be a one time thing is it?” He asks, voice sounding small.

“You think you can eat my pussy like that and then we just go about our lives?” You joke but Tom wants a serious answer.

You tangle your hand in the hair at the back of his neck, “Tom, I want this. Us. Whatever we may become” you say softly, pulling him down for a kiss.

That’s all Tom needed, and he pushes into you. You moan against his lips, back arching. He filled you up perfectly, and when you thrust into you the first time you knew you wouldn’t last long.

“Y/N you feel amazing” he whispers next to your ear and you just hold on onto him, taking all the pleasure he was giving you. Everything just felt so right. The way he felt on top of you, and inside of you.

“Tom please don’t stop, don’t ever fucking stop” you beg and he groans again, lifting so he can look at your face.

“Fuck I won’t baby” he promises, hips moving faster now. He pounds into you, pushing against the way your legs wrapped around your waist. You just wanted him closer and closer.

“Tom...I’m gonna cum” you pant, hand moving town to his shoulder and digging your nails in.

“Cum for me Y/N” he encourages you, pushing all the way in and grinding.

You scream and shake, Toms hand shooting up to cover your mouth as you cum again.

You clench around him as he thrusts a few more times before cumming inside of you. He collapses on top of you, burying his face in your chest.

“So you’re gonna block Niall when he texts you right?”

———————————————-

skfjsksjdn hey guyssss❤️ i literally live for jealous Tom :))) I hope u all enjoy this, drunk part 4 will be up Saturday!!

Photo Creds to @spiderszman 📸

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland blurb #tom holland preference #tom holland fluff #tom holland one shot #tom holland smut #peter parker #spiderman #tom holland imagine

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