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astaroth1357 · 3 years

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Brothers Accidentally Make the MC Cry

Hello, this is the obligatory italics blurb that I have to put under my titles or else things look weird and it bothers me. Don’t mind the blurb. The blurb is a friend. (Though I could start writing pieces of a little story up here just to see if anyone even reads them… Hm…. Ideas, ideas...)

Warning: Angsty

Lucifer

If he were being honest, he’d say that a part of him had always feared this would happen...

Lucifer likes to tell himself that he’s invincible, but everyday stresses can get to him just like anybody else. And like other people, he may not always act his best when he’s dealing with a full plate…

The MC hadn’t meant to make his day harder when they told him that they accidentally broke a lamp. It was a genuine accident! But Lucifer was still dealing with the fallout from another one of Mammon’s failed schemes, Satan had cursed all of his ties again, and Beel had eaten every scrap of food in the House… for the second time that week...

In comparison to everything else, a broken lamp was quite minor, but for Lucifer it was just the last straw and, for just a moment, he lost control…

His palm slamming against his desk hard enough to snap its legs and send it crashing to the ground. He scarcely knew what kind of look he had on his face, but whatever it was, he had made his human jump back in shock...

Really, it was silly for them to assume that he had gotten that upset over a lamp, but he saw tears starting to gather in their eyes all the same as they stammered out a quiet apology…

It felt like an ice spike to the heart. Damn his temper… He really ought to have been more careful with them after… well, everything he’d done before…

He was quick to go over to them, catching their face with his hand and giving them the most sincere apology he could muster while wiping away their tears… Overreactions aren’t becoming of him and he hated to cause them pain…

He, of course, took care of the lamp himself as penance and on the surface that seemed to be it (but to anyone paying attention, he had softened up on the MC considerably for at least a week. They probably could have sworn in front of Diavolo and he’d let it slide, he felt that bad about it...)

“I’m sorry, MC, I shouldn't have reacted like that… You haven’t done anything wrong, I promise… Please, there’s no need to cry…”

Mammon

Oh? What's that? His heart is now in a million pieces now...? Well, that seems fair…

He and the MC were out on one of his gambling nights and he was actually on a killer winning streak for once! Jackpots around every corner, he was rolling in it!

The MC had tried to convince him to just throw in the towel early, take his winnings while he had them and bail, but he wasn’t hearing any of it.

In hindsight, their insistence must have really shown how much the MC cared about him and wanted him to keep his earnings... but in the heat of the moment all he saw was someone trying to spoil his one night of fun.

To be fair to Mammon, it’s rather rare for him to lose control of his anger like he did. But when they tried to pull him away from the roulette table, he genuinely snarled at them and told them to get lost...!

Fortunately, he regretted his actions immediately after he saw the hurt in their eyes…

If their goal had been to get him to step away from the table, they achieved it. But only because he got up to pull them into a hug while stammering out apologies… Watching them actually shed tears hurt worse than any rope Lucifer had ever tied around him...

He spent the rest of the night away from the casino and trying to cheer up his human like his life depended on it... Seeing them in pain just tore him up that much.

"Ah, come on MC… I'm sorry, honest…! Please don't look at me like that, I'll do whatever ya want okay...? Just no more cryin…"

Leviathan

Now thinks he's the worst, literally the worst. Lower than lesser demon spit. Lower than Cerberus' shit. Lower than… well, you get the idea…

Levi can get very… intense when things involving his passions are brought up. This can be a fairly endearing quality… but it also means he gets disproportionately impassioned about seemingly minor things.

Levi ended up snapping at the MC when they let him over-sleep one day. This wasn’t unusual for them to do as Levi’s sleep schedule was notoriously shitty, but they shouldn't have done it that particular day…

An item he wanted on Akuzon was going to go live that morning and he had to be awake to participate in the bidding. He had mentioned it to the MC the day before, but he blew past it so quickly they didn’t actually remember…

He found out that he missed the bidding after he woke up and he was pissed. Genuinely enraged that they didn’t remember to wake him up to the point that he was shouting and baring his fangs!

… Really it was not a good look and he should have known better.

The look of fear and the tears gathering in the MC’s eyes snapped him out of it like a hard slap to the face, and somehow, it stung even more than that would’ve... It wasn’t long before he was crying along with them, practically begging for forgiveness...

He made it up to them by having a private showing of their favorite movie using a projector in the Planetarium, cuddling with them under a blanket while still, occasionally, muttering apologies under his breath.

“M-MC…? MC don’t cry…!! Please don’t cry, I- I’m sorry!! I… MC… I’m so sorry…”

Satan

Like Lucifer, he always worried this would happen and he hated when it finally came to pass…

He’d spent all his life learning how to restrain his temper, but it’s not a perfect science. There are the occasional times where the heat of the moment gets the better of him and he does something he regrets…

The MC had walked in on him one morning while he was fuming about Beel leaving the fridge empty again. It hadn’t been the first time they’d seen him like this, but this time he was absolutely furious.

He had told Beel again and again and again to get his snacking under control or to, you know, get up early and get more food so the whole family wouldn’t spend the morning starving but noooo! Mr. I’m Hungry never thinks about anything but his own stomach and then leaves whoever’s on kitchen duty to pick up the slack like some dimwitted muscle-bound meathead and THEN-!!

When the MC tried to take his arm to calm him down, he jerked their hand away from him and roared right in their face. He may not be a lion, but the full sound of a pissed off demon could make humans have breakdowns all on its own…

Which was more or less what the MC began to do as he gripped their wrist, panicking while taking shallow, stuttered breaths…

Satan's anger left him swiftly and he let them go, only reaching out to touch them again when he tried to wipe the tears from their cheeks… He had to coo and beg for them to calm down, which was only so successful because he was fighting back tears himself…

On a scale of 1-10 of the worse things his temper has ever done, he'd rank this a firm 200... He refused to touch them for about a week afterwards and it took a long time for him to trust himself again… He just didn't want to hurt them...

"MC?? MC…? M… Oh no… MC, I'm so sorry, I would never hurt you! I… I wouldn't dare… please believe me..."

Asmodeus

Oh baby! Sweetheart! Love of his life!! No, please no… don't subject him to this…

MC and Asmo were out dancing and some witch came by to try and flatter him.

Now, Asmo is a flirt normally, but get a few drinks in him and well… Let's just say his love of attention overrides his better judgment far more often than it should and friends don't let friends go home with creepy witches.

When the MC told the witch to scram, Asmo was confused and, frankly, quite irritated. That lovely lady had been stroking his ego in all the right ways and his human just scared her off so rudely!

Under most situations, Asmo would have kept his cool better but the haze of Demonus made his tongue loose... which let the venom fly…

He couldn’t quite remember what he said. The words left his mouth so quickly that they slurred together on his clumsy tongue, but it must have been enough because the MC flinched away from him.

That hurt all on its own, but as he started to process the pain in their eyes… he had never sobered up so fast...

He had their cheeks cupped in his hands and were kissing away their tears within the instant. Though the loud music at the club should have drowned out his apologies, the MC could see it written all over his equally tearful face…

He pulled them into his arms and then out of the club shortly after, the fog of Demonus that plagued him just moments before had long left him and all he knew was that the MC needed to be brought home and cuddled… stat.

“M-MC…? I’m sorry was it something… did I…? I’m so sorry… Please don’t cry…!”

Beelzebub

He really didn't mean to shout so loud… honest...

Beel becomes a completely different person when he’s hungry. He’s not entirely to blame, as his hunger can get so intense, but he still can snap from time to time when he really doesn’t mean to…

It was right after one of his practices and Beel hadn’t gotten a chance to eat in a few hours by the time the MC came to grab him from RAD. That already had him in a bad mood, but practice hadn’t gone too well for him either…

He honestly didn’t realize how sharply he snapped at the MC when they asked him how he was. The irritation and frustration of the day all hit him at once and he became much harsher towards them than he ever intended…

It must have been the shock of seeing ever-sweet Beel suddenly get so aggressive with them that startled them so. He saw a couple tears gathering in their eyes before they could hide them and his heart just sank…

The MC was picked up in a crushing bear hug before they even let out their first sniffle. Beel didn’t even have to say how sorry he was, they could feel it in every squeeze he gave them. All while he completely ignored the growling of his stomach...

Beel wouldn’t let them go until he was certain they’d forgiven him which, honestly, took a while. Mammon was the one to ask why he had carried them all the way back to the House like a baby but… well, he didn’t need to know, now did he?

“MC, I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have shouted… Are you alright...?”

Belphegor

Stubborn boi is stubborn and trying really, really hard not to crack right now...

That's not going to last long.

Belphie can be a bit of a brat and since he's the baby of the family so he's used to getting his way. He and the MC don't argue a ton, but when they do, he always digs his heels in and refuses to budge an inch on anything.

So what started out as a simple disagreement on how often Belphie would flake out on his chores turned into a kick-the-door-down argument over how much his laziness left the MC to pick up the slack...

It ended as all their barn burning arguments do, with demon-form Belphie sitting cross-legged on his bed refusing to look at them and the MC angrily pacing about the room until he cools off…

And then he heard it.

First a sniffle… and then a hiccup. Another sniffle then muffled whine…

Oh no… not this… Why are they crying…? They don't normally cry…

To his credit (or perhaps discredit), he managed to hold out for about two minutes before he finally glanced back at them. Seeing the MC wiping their tears all alone on the floor crumbled his resolve real quick.

The MC found themselves enveloped by Belphie's arms before they even noticed he got up. Naturally, he was pouting and trying to make it seem like "not a big deal or anything" but they could tell by the nervous twitch of his tail that he was hurting too…

Needless to say. Belphie started remembering his chores a lot more after that.

"Humans are so fragile… I didn't mean to make you cry, you know? I'll get things done just… Don't cry… please…"

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios #obey me imagines

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seijorhi · 3 years

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No Strings Attached

A commission for the lovely @hearteyes-candyskies, hope you like it bby! 💕

Bokuto Koutarou x female reader

TW Age gap, power imbalance, manipulation, toxic behaviour, nsfw(ish)

Three months ago, you would have laughed at the very idea of having a sugar daddy.

Then again, three months ago you were still living with your boyfriend and had a steady paycheck coming in every week. You can blame losing the latter on bad luck and an asshole boss, but the former-

You knew your relationship with your ex was far from perfect, but coming home from losing said job to find him buried balls deep in your next door neighbour was a bit of a slap in the face.

Needless to say, in the space of a few days you were out a job, a boyfriend and an apartment. Which, somewhat inevitably, led to you being six wines deep, slumped over your best friend’s bed, sobbing over the wreckage of the life you’d built, suddenly ripped out from beneath you.

You can’t really remember whose idea it was, only giggling drunkenly between yourselves as Misuzu set up your ‘sugar baby’ profile. “Shh, no this is gonna be great,” she’d said, hitting at the hands that tried to grab back your phone. “Meet some hot rich old dude, ride a little dick, let him shower you in cash; all your problems? Poof, sorted!”

And even with the heady, rose tinted haze of your wine fuelled inebriation, you knew that it was just a joke, a bit of stupid fun born more out of an attempt to cheer you up than a viable plan to get the tattered remains of your life back on track. Calling some old creepy dude ‘daddy’ and pretending to love him (not to mention the whole letting him fuck you thing) just for a little money wasn’t exactly your idea of a good time.

Plus, you were fairly sure that you weren’t what most people had in mind when they thought ‘sugar baby’. It wasn’t ever meant to be anything serious, just dumb, drunken fun with your friend.

So when you woke the next day a little after mid morning with a head full of regrets and a pounding headache, the last thing you expected was to find a message from BigDaddyKou82 waiting for you, better sense told you to ignore it.

Honestly, you didn’t really want a sugar daddy, your love life was enough of a mess without throwing in a power imbalance like that.

You should have ignored the message, deleted it or shot him a quick reply politely explaining that you weren’t interested so you could put it out of your mind, and you would have-

If Misuzu hadn’t caught sight of the message first, snatching the phone out of your hand with a gleeful shriek.

—

If you’ve learned anything in these past months, it’s that Bokuto Koutarou doesn’t do anything by half measures. So when he tells you he’s booked dinner for the two of you at an upscale restaurant in the city, you should have expected the package that’s hand delivered right to the door of your shitty little apartment. The dress is beautiful, expensive - though you could tell that just from the elegant matte black box wrapped in golden ribbon it arrives in. It’s exactly his style; short, revealing and just dancing along the edge of impropriety, not that that’ll bother him in the slightest.

But it is gorgeous, and loathe as you are to admit it, it flatters you well.

It’s not the first time that he’s bought you clothes, your tiny closet’s almost overflowing with pieces he’s gifted you. He likes seeing you in the things he’s bought, sometimes a little too much, you think. But you’ve learned it’s better just to go along with it - he gets this wide eyed, beaming grin whenever he sees you dressed in the pretty things he’s bought you, and the sight of it never fails to make your cheeks heat, warmth curling in your stomach.

The dress was not unexpected. The soft, lacy lingerie that comes in the accompanying box, on the other hand - that was new.

And of course, you barely have time to unwrap your gift when your phone flashes to life, an incoming call from the man himself.

“D’ya like it?”

The giddy excitement in his voice is unmistakable, and if you close your eyes you can picture the look on his face - golden eyes all hooded and hungry, that glittering, eager grin he wears when the two of you are out in public but his mind’s occupied with all the filthy, wonderful things he wants to do to you the moment you’re alone.

Not that he’s ever that patient.

“Um, it’s…” Fingers tentatively reach into the tissue paper, pulling the sheer, lacy bra out, warmth blossoming in your cheeks. The matching panties - a tiny scrap of lace held together with bows and thin black straps - really aren’t much better. Like the dress, the lingerie is clearly well made, probably cost more than your weekly rent, and the delicate set is arguably gorgeous (you can’t even argue his taste), but–

“You’re gonna wear it for me tonight, right, baby?”

It’s not really a question; of course you will, because you always do. You would have thought by now that you’d be used to the gifts he showers you in.

“Yeah, but Kou, you really didn’t have to spend all this money on me. Dinner’s enough,” you tell him, setting the lingerie back down.

Dinner, and everything else for that matter.

A chuckle echoes down the line. “But I like spoiling my girl. Like buying you pretty things,” his voice dips, “like tearing ‘em off you afterwards, too.”

And despite all the apprehension curled up inside of you, a shiver of excitement runs down your spine.

—

“So…” Misuzu pushes, leaning across the countertop with her chin resting on her palm and looking entirely too pleased at your discomfort.

“He… asked me to meet him.”

Her eyes widen, sparkling in delight as she gasps, “For dinner?”

“For a drink - one drink,” you clarify. You elect not to tell her that he’d initially tried to sway you into dinner, and it was you who’d talked him down to a drink. Truthfully, you’d probably feel more comfortable getting coffee, but meeting at a bar was fine.

One drink, and if things got awkward or he turned out to be a creep you’d be out of there in a heartbeat.

“Oh my god!! My baby Y/N, all grown up and manipulating old, lonely men for money. I’m so proud,” she wipes a fake tear from her eye and bursts into a fit of giggles.

A crinkle appears between your brow as you frown at her, “He’s not even that old,” you grumble, “and it’s not like that. You know it’s not.”

“No?” she asks, her lips curling into a teasing smirk. “You know, for somebody who was so against me messaging your soon to be sugar daddy, you sure move quickly.”

She laughs at the glare you shoot her way. “You were the one who started this.”

“Mhm, and you were the one who didn’t stop it. Funny that, don’t you think?”

She looks like the cat that ate the canary; smug, glittering amusement written all across her face. And you hate, more than anything, that she’s right.

Because you’d meant to put a stop to it the moment you managed to wrestle your phone back from her. Afterwards, you’d blame the lingering hurt of having your heart broken, the insecurities and bitter humiliation that plagued you, the feeling that you weren’t good enough to stop your boyfriend from straying for making you so pathetically vulnerable and desperate for approval - but when you opened the chat instead of the sleazy come on’s you expected, his first message makes something inside of you flutter, warm and pleasant.

Holy crap, you’re beautiful.

Not exactly a sonnet from Shakespeare, but you can’t remember the last time any guy, much less your ex, called you beautiful.

It didn’t exactly hurt that instead of the aging, creepy looking letch you were half expecting, the profile picture showed a rather fit, attractive man in a crisp, black suit with silvery grey streaked hair and an easy grin. Of course, it was a fifty-fifty chance that the pic wasn’t even him, or if it was then it was outdated or heavily edited, but it was enough to make you pause.

Enough to make you… curious, if nothing else.

But ridiculously attractive or not, you weren’t going to lead him on. If he wanted some pretty, simpering thing to fuck and throw money at, to call him daddy and be his sweet, obedient little girl - that wasn’t you. You’d explained that you weren’t really sure if this was your thing, that you probably weren’t what he had in mind, but surprisingly he hadn’t been put off by that.

Well what’s the harm in finding out for yourself? Maybe you’ll like it more than you think ;)

—

There were rules, when you started - lines you both agreed wouldn’t be crossed.

First and foremost, while it wasn’t exactly a conventional relationship - at least, not the kind you were used to - it was still a relationship of sorts, and there was an expectation of honesty in lieu of absolute exclusivity. You’d tell him if you were seeing anybody else, and Bokuto would tell you the same. Considering sex was on the table, it made sense.

You swore right from the beginning that you wouldn’t allow yourself to become financially dependent on him - you knew all too well that relationships were fickle things to begin with. That kind of dependency was half the reason you were in this position in the first place, and you wouldn’t - couldn’t - let that happen again. That didn’t mean that the arrangement wasn’t transactional. After a few initial meetings that went better than you expected, the two of you came to an agreement; a nice little sum of money he’d deposit weekly in your account in exchange for you being there when he wanted you. Dinner dates, skype calls when he’s travelling, spur of the moment weekends away in expensive hotels - whatever he wanted... within reason.

The thing is, despite his flaws - the little funks he gets into, his immaturity despite the age gap between you, the way he clings to you, mopes if you don’t pay him the attention he wants - you genuinely like Bo, he’s oddly endearing. Loveable, even. He reminds you a little of a puppy; eager for affection, bright and boisterous with boundless energy (and enviable stamina). He’s sweet and adoring and funny and he has this uncanny ability to make everything else fade away when you’re with him, to make you feel like you’re the only woman in the room, beautiful and perfect and entirely his-

But that didn’t make him your boyfriend.

You weren’t lovers, and whether it was in two weeks or two years, you both knew this arrangement had an expiration date. And because of that, there were no strings attached. At any point, either one of you could end it without an explanation - no questions asked, no feelings hurt.

—

Truthfully, you don’t know an awful lot about Bokuto’s line of work, only that his position within the company is senior enough that he can move around his schedule pretty much as he wants, leaving him free to see you whenever he likes.

Which wasn’t a problem when that was once or twice a week.

“Sorry, Koutarou, you know I can’t. Maybe tomorrow?”

The petulant whine that echoes down the phone fills you with an odd sort of guilt. “Why not? You said no on Friday, too,” he pouts. “I miss you, baby. Wanna see you again.”

You shove down the faint, flickering unease that nudges at your gut. You’re not his girlfriend, and you find yourself wondering whether or not he sometimes deliberately lets himself forget that.

Nibbling at your bottom lip, you frown, “I told you I have work today. It’s too late for me to try and find someone to cover my shift, and if I call in again-”

You can kiss your job goodbye. You’re already on thin ice with your boss, and it’s not like new waitresses are hard to find these days.

“Well… what time do you finish?” he asks, his voice thick with dejection, as if he already knows what your answer’s going to be.

You bite back a sigh, “Late. I’m on close again.”

The short silence on the other end of the phone is deafening. “… I’ll come pick you up afterwards.”

This time you can’t stop the soft sigh that escapes, “Kou, I’m gonna be exhausted, I won’t be any fun to be around.”

“Still wanna see you. You’re always working,” he grumbles. “Feels like you don’t have time for me anymore, baby.”

Slowly your eyes flutter shut, and you take a deep breath. It always comes back to this. “I need this job, baby. We’ve talked about this… I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? I have the whole day off, I’m entirely yours.”

“All mine, hm?”

You smile, “All yours, promise.”

He hums in acknowledgement, not entirely happy, but temporarily placated. “Fiiiine. But I’m holding you to it.”

As if you expected any less. “I have to go get ready for work. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“I’ll see you later,” he promises, and you hang up a moment later.

When he said that, you assumed that both of you were on the same page as to what ‘later’ meant.

Three hours into your shift, you hadn’t expected to return from the kitchen to find a grinning Bokuto lounging in one of your booths.

“He asked for you specifically when he came in,” one of your coworkers tells you, shooting you a playful wink. “Didn’t know you were into silver foxes, Y/N. But I can’t say I blame you, he’s hot!”

“Yeah, thanks,” you mutter distractedly, glancing over your shoulder to check your manager wasn’t watching before making your way over.

The smile on your face is tight as golden eyes flicker towards you. “Bokuto,” you begin quietly, “what- what are you doing here?”

An odd look passes across his face at the use of his family name, but the smug grin remains. “You said you had to work tonight,” he says with a cavalier shrug, as if that explained everything.

“Yes, because I’m working! Kou, I need this job, I can’t-” you break off with a huff, darting another glance over your shoulder. Thankfully, your manager’s busy berating your co-worker for a screwed up order and hasn’t noticed your absence yet.

Taking advantage of your distracted state, Bokuto reaches across the table to take your hand in his, his thumb stroking back and forth along the back of your palm. “Hey, hey, relax. You’re here to work, I get it, baby. I’m just here for some food, cross my heart,” he swears, drawing an imaginary X over his chest with his finger.

Gently tugging your hand back, you ignore the hurt little pout he gives you. “So you decided to drive twenty minutes across town just to eat here?” you ask, trying to keep the exasperation from colouring your tone.

He shifts a little in his seat, cheeks flushing a dusty pink under your narrowed stare. “… Well, maybe I wanted to see my pretty girl, too,” he admits, “But I swear I’ll be on my best behaviour!”

Somehow, his words don’t fill you with confidence, but what are you supposed to do? Kick him out? Snap at him for coming despite the fact you told him not to? Taking a deep, steadying breath through your nose, you force yourself to relax. Bokuto’s not hurting anybody by being there, and so long as he keeps his hands to himself, so long as he behaves, it won’t be an issue.

He’s a paying customer, and you’ll treat him just like you would anyone else who walked through the restaurant’s doors.

Yet despite trying to reassure yourself of that, you can’t escape the niggling sense of unease sitting in the pit of your stomach. Even if he’s the perfect gentleman tonight, the perfect stranger, you’ve worked hard to keep your boring day to day life and the one you’ve created with him in nice, neat, separate boxes. Bokuto hasn’t met your friends or your family and outside of Misuzu they don’t have a clue about your arrangement with your attractive if somewhat clingy benefactor.

You don’t want them to know.

Him being here threatens that - it makes you nervous.

But you’ve been with Bokuto long enough to know that you can’t tell him that without hurting his feelings, and you definitely don’t have the energy to deal with that tonight. It’s a conversation for another day.

Instead, you allow a small smile to tug at the corners of your lips, “You know the food’s pretty average here, you might be disappointed.”

Bokuto grins again, mischief sparkling in those golden eyes, and your traitorous heart skips a beat. “Yeah, don’t think that’ll be a problem,” he leans in closer, “I’m far more interested in what’s for dessert.”

Warmth floods your cheeks as he snickers.

—

For the most part he keeps his hands to himself, but you can’t quite bring yourself to relax when you can feel those golden, hungry eyes burning a hole into your back as you move around the restaurant serving other customers.

You pretend you don’t see the scowling glower he sends to the harmless office-worker who spends a good forty five minutes flirting with you every time you go over to check on his table.

Bokuto orders enough food to feed a small army and stays until close, leaving a more than generous tip on his way out.

It goes without saying that he waits for you to finish up. The moment you slip out the door, calling out one last goodnight to your coworker, he’s on you, pushing you up against the brick alleyway wall, hiking your legs up over his hips as his mouth attacks yours, greedy and eager, swallowing up any and all protests you might’ve had.

He doesn’t take you home like you ask, but back to his penthouse suite, and neither of you get much sleep that night.

—

You’re halfway through washing your hair a few days later when your shower head splutters once… twice… and stops completely.

A blockage in the plumbing, your landlord informs you rather apathetically. It’s affecting the whole floor and it’ll take at least a day or two to get somebody out to fix it properly, leaving you without running water for the entirety of that time.

In hindsight, there were at least three other people you could have (and probably should have) called first, but he’s already answering the phone before the thought even occurs to you.

And then it’s too late to backpedal. You find yourself grateful that he can’t physically see the way you flush and fidget, pacing around your living room as you awkwardly try to explain the reason you’re calling at ten in the morning.

“Would, I mean, i-is it okay if I come over to use your shower? Just for this one time, mine kind of got interrupted this morning.”

God, from the way you stutter, stumbling over your own tongue, you’d think you were asking him to marry you. You’ve spent the night at his countless times before, but asking for a favour, even a small one like this - maybe you’re toeing an unwritten line in the sand? Bokuto isn’t with you because he loves you, he’s with you because it’s mutually beneficial for both of you, because of an agreement.

He wants fun, easy, not you saddling him with minor inconveniences. Calling to ask him to come save you, albeit from something as mundane as a lack of access to a functioning shower, feels like something you’d ask your boyfriend to do.

Not your sugar daddy.

But just as you’re about to backtrack and apologise for interrupting his morning, he speaks. “What d’you mean? Just come stay with me till it’s fixed.”

He says it with such certainty, as if it’s the most obvious solution and for a moment you’re stunned into silence. “A-are you sure? I don’t want-'' Don't want what? To be an inconvenience? A problem? “I don’t want to be in the way,” you finish lamely.

Bokuto just laughs, “Don’t be stupid, baby, of course you won’t be in the way. Just swing by the office and I can give you the keys. Or I can just get you another set made? I don’t know, we can figure it out later. I’ll see you soon, ‘kay?”

And you have to admit, as apprehensive as you were stepping into his penthouse alone for the first time, showering in Bokuto’s fancy ensuite bathroom (which you’re fairly sure is bigger than your actual bedroom) is a hell of a lot nicer than doing it at home. The lotions he has are all expensive brands with french names you’ve never even heard of before, but they smell amazing and they leave your skin feeling all soft and silky. Even the shampoo he’s bought for you to use is far nicer than the one you have at home, though you’re secretly pleased that its scent’s similar - your favourite, actually.

Did he buy them knowing that or was it just a coincidence, you wonder. You never thought to ask.

Without work, or Bo for that matter, to occupy your time, you decide to take advantage of his gigantic TV, opening up Netflix and settling into his ridiculously comfortable couch…

… And wake, a few hours later to the feeling of fingers carding through your hair and a pair of lips pressing against your cheek.

Bokuto’s home, you realise with a start, and there’s drool on your chin. Face burning with embarrassment, you hastily wipe it away with the back of your palm and try to sit up, only for Bokuto’s hand to wrap around your wrist, halting you in your tracks.

“No, don’t get up, baby,” he says, easing down onto the couch beside you and shifting your head onto his lap so he can continue threading his fingers through your hair. “I like coming home to this.”

Still half asleep, curling up and nuzzling further into those warm, thick thighs of his, you miss the intensity of the adoration burning in golden depths as he coaxes you back to sleep.

—

The two of you are in bed, your cheek resting on his chest, his arm slung over your waist and knuckles brushing idly along your side, when Bokuto breaks the comfortable silence.

“Move in with me.”

You tense in his arms, heart skipping a beat. For a split second, you’re almost positive that you misheard him. “I-I’m sorry?” You push yourself up onto your elbow, turning your head so that you can look at him properly.

But Bokuto doesn’t miss a beat. “Move in with me,” he repeats, golden eyes bearing down on you.

The expression on your face is frozen halfway between disbelief and hysteria, and you’re staring at him, waiting for that stupid grin to break across his face, for him to laugh and tell you how ridiculous you look, because of course he’s joking.

He’s joking, right?

“Koutarou,” you begin slowly, “Wha- I don’t… Why would you want me to move in with you? We barely- I mean, we’re not…”

He shrugs his shoulders, “Why wouldn’t I? It makes sense. My place is bigger and nicer, and I like having you here with me. Feels right.”

It feels right??

“I-I can’t just move out of my apartment, Kou.”

His eyebrows knit together, and he huffs, “Why not? It’s a shitty apartment.”

“That’s not the point!” Knocking away the hand that reaches for you, you push yourself all the way up until you’re sitting properly. “I don’t want to move.”

Owlish eyes narrow, a flash of irritation sparking. “Why not? It makes perfect sense for you to move in here with me. You wouldn’t have to work at that stupid job anymore for one,” he huffs.

“Bokuto, I’m not going to quit my job,” you mutter. “We’ve talked about this.”

“Why, though?!” he explodes. “You don’t need the money, I’ve told you I can take care of you, whatever you want, baby, name it and it’s fucking yours. You don’t need to work and you don’t need that shitty little apartment!”

Like a crystal glass slipping from numb fingers, the fantasy you’ve convinced yourself you’ve been living shatters into a thousand jagged shards in the space of a single breath.

Oh, how naive you’ve been. How fucking stupid.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you inhale deeply, “Kou, that’s not-”

Strong fingers grip your jaw, and your eyes shoot open as he tugs your face back towards him. Your breath catches in your throat, heart hammering painfully against your ribs. His eyes are wide, pupils blown out, but it’s the intensity in his gaze as he stares at you, the blank expression-

“I love you.”

—

39 missed calls. 72 unread messages.

Flowers, bouquets of roses, peonies and chrysanthemums piled up by your door between boxes of chocolates and other gifts you won’t bring yourself to open.

Wide eyed, Misuzu gingerly steps over them, holding two steaming mugs in hand. “Holy fuck,” she murmurs, and for the first time since this stupid, awful mistake began, there’s not a trace of mirth to be found. “Y/N, I…”

But she doesn’t have the words, and you can’t blame her.

“He told me he loves me,” you sigh. “He asked me to move in with him and told me he loved me, and I grabbed my clothes and all but ran.” You still can’t get the image of Bokuto’s face out of your head, the raw, aching hurt swimming in his eyes as you all but stumbled over excuses in your haste to get out of there. But he didn’t lift a finger to stop you, didn’t say another word.

He just watched numbly, hunched over against the headboard as you fled.

There’s a short beat of silence between the two of you as she sets down the drinks and collapses into the chair beside you. “And… do you love him back?”

Exhaling loudly, you drop your face into your palms. “I-”

You like how he makes you feel beautiful, the filthy, wonderful praise he lavishes you in when the two of you sleep together, the way he touches you, fingers and mouth so eager to please as his cock fills you, inch by delicious inch.

You like being adored, treasured, and you liked Bo, but… you don’t love him.

That was never on the cards, that wasn’t what your relationship was.

Every line he ever crossed, every boundary he toed, you keep replaying them again and again over and over in your head like a never ending loop. You hadn’t even wanted this whole stupid sugar baby relationship to begin with, and every step of the way he was the one to coax you forward.

And you let him, swallowing down your doubts and your insecurities each and every time. You let him think that this was something else entirely…

How had you not seen this coming?

“No,” you admit.

The hand that takes yours is soft, and when you glance over with eyes beginning to burn with unshed tears, Misuzu squeezes it gently. “Then end it. Walk away.”

And with your head on her shoulder, her arms wrapped loosely around you, you type out a short message to Bokuto. No strings attached and no questions asked, you’d promised each other that much when you’d started this mess. You wonder if it still holds true.

I’m sorry. Clearly we were on different pages and want different things. I didn’t mean to lead you on or for things to go as far as they did, but I can’t do this with you anymore.

You send it and block his contact, and when the tears come and painful sobs rip their way free, Misuzu holds you tight and murmurs soft reassurances. It’ll pass, all breakups hurt.

—

A week after your ‘breakup’ you get a notification on your phone that money’s been transferred into your bank account.

For a moment, you think that maybe it’s an accident, a recurring transaction he’d simply forgotten to cancel (you doubt he’d even notice) until you click into the transaction itself.

It isn’t the sum itself that startles you - twice the usual amount - but the short note attached in the description.

I need to see you. Please.

You transfer the money right back into his account.

—

Without your weekly supplement from Bo, it doesn’t take long for you to come to the realisation that your current salary just barely covers rent and your bills, and if you want to eat anything other than two minute noodles in the foreseeable future, you’re going to need either more hours, or a second job.

Thankfully, the timing works out well. When you go to your boss with your most winning smile to try and convince her of your plight, she simply shrugs and agrees, having had to let one of the junior staff go only a few days before. The one catch being that instead of working a mix of morning and afternoon shifts with the occasional closing thrown in, you’re now exclusively on close, five nights a week, Tuesday through Saturday.

Mostly, it doesn’t bother you. The shifts are long and you always leave feeling aching, drained and barely human, but usually it’s quiet enough, and so long as you can get the last few lingering customers out early enough, the actual close runs pretty smoothly between you and the other staff.

It’s not what you really want to be doing, but you’ve learned to make the best of it. This is adult life, and for the first time since high school, you’re supporting yourself entirely. It might not be the greatest job in the world, and there are absolutely days when you just want to throw in the towel completely, but there is a slight pride to that fact. You don’t need anybody in your life to coddle or support you, you’re figuring this shit out as you go along.

You just wish, sometimes, that you could do that without having to work until the early hours of the morning.

On paper, the kitchen closes at midnight and the last customers are supposed to be out within half an hour of that. Then, between yourself and another server, you can usually get the restaurant tidied up and closed a little after one.

You knew right from the moment you clocked on that tonight wasn’t going to be one of those nights. The girl who’s supposed to be on close with you called in sick and your boss hasn’t bothered to replace her.

It’s not the first time you’ve had to close by yourself, but it’s still a pain, especially when the last few customers take forever to finish up and leave.

One of the kitchen staff offers to stay back, his bag slung over his shoulder, hand already on the door handle but you just shake your head with a tired smile.

“Nah, I can handle it. Thanks, though,”

To his credit, he doesn’t immediately take the offered out. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. See you tomorrow.”

Without any help, it takes almost twice as long for you to finish up, and it’s a little after two when you finally flick off the lights and lock the doors.

Your feet are killing you, and all you can think about is sinking into your bed at home, burrowing into your blankets and sleeping for a week straight-

“Hey, baby.”

Leaning against the hood of his car, arms folded across his broad chest and eyeing you with an unreadable expression, is Bokuto.

The tiny hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

There's nothing inherently threatening about him being here, but it’s the middle of the night, you haven’t seen him in almost two weeks and you don’t need to glance around to know that the car park’s empty. There’s nobody in sight.

Just you and him, and the few feet of distance separating you.

“K-kou, what are you… what are you doing here?”

He smiles at that, the way his name slips from your lips, but only for a fleeting second. It fades, and a cold, uncomfortable feeling settles in the pit of your stomach.

“I missed you, y’know?” He pushes off the hood and takes a step towards you, “You didn’t call me.”

He’s always been bigger than you, towering over you looking like some Adonis with those rippling, powerful muscles of his. You used to like that strength, squealing in wicked delight when he’d hoist you up with a grin, hands gripping your thighs, squeezing your ass, your back shoved up against the wall so he could drive his cock deeper into ‘his pretty fuckin’ pussy’.

But that was then.

You’ve never been scared of his strength. Even that morning in the apartment, he didn’t lash out, didn’t scream or yell, he just… shut down. He wouldn’t hurt you, you know that.

That doesn’t stop you from skittering backwards like a frightened little bunny, your back hitting the wall.

The very moment you do, you watch as his eyes widen in surprise, hurt flashing for a split second-

-before they darken, his face twisting into a scowl, and you can’t escape the feeling you’ve made an awful mistake.

Dread creeps its way up your spine, tightening like a vice around your chest, making it hard to breathe. Your brain is screaming at you to run, adrenaline surging through your veins, but even as your heart races and your breathing spikes, you can’t seem to move your legs.

It wouldn’t make a difference even if you could - with your back up against the literal wall, Bokuto and his car blocking your only escape route, you’re trapped; a fact that hasn’t escaped either of you.

Paralysed in fear, you can’t so much as twitch as he takes another slow, calculated step forward.

Desperately, you open your mouth - to try and placate him? To apologise? Scream for help? - but all that escapes is his name in a choked, breathless whisper.

“Bokuto…”

As he stares at you, he almost looks regretful.

Almost, if not for the grim determination resolving like steel in those golden eyes of his. “I love you, and I know you love me, too,” he says, closing the gap between you. “I’m doing this for us, baby.”

#yandere haikyuu #yandere bokuto x reader #yandere bokuto kotaro x reader #yandere bokuto koutarou #yandere bokuto kotaro #yandere bokuto koutarou x reader #tw manipulation #tw toxic behavior #tw kidnapping

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dreamerstreamer · 3 years

Text

Love Bite

Pairing: vampire!Dream / Clay x human!gn!reader

Summary: [Vampire!AU] Despite how deadly it may appear at first glance, you love your vampire boyfriend with all your heart, so when Clay goes a bit too long without a drink, you’re more than willing to help him.

Warnings: tw// mentions of blood & general vampire shenanigans

Word Count: 3.9k

A/N: requested by a lovely anon who wanted to see vampire dream! this was lots of fun to explore, and i hope you all enjoy! <3

You scroll mindlessly along your mouse, your laptop screen illuminating your dim room with a pale glow as image after image pops up on your screen. Your assignment lies long forgotten on the side of your desk, the tab still open just a single click away.

“Whatever,” you mumble quietly to yourself as you click on another link. Your gaze briefly flickers to the calendar on your wall before you shake your head. “I still have another week to work on it—it’s fine.”

Letting out a sigh, you slump over onto your desk, pressing your cheek against the cool wood as you sweep your gaze over to your balcony window. Outside, the sky is dark, the vast expanse washed with a deep, navy hue as the stars begin to peek out from the shadows and gaze down at the bustling city below. It’s a little past midnight now, and despite how late it is, the streets are just as busy as ever. You only catch a small glimpse of the crescent moon hanging among them before your gaze drops to your balcony.

Yet again, it’s empty, completely devoid of life.

The sight makes you frown, and you tear your gaze away from the sight and back to your laptop, continuing your scrolling with a sulk.

It had been a little over four days since you had last seen your boyfriend. Not that you’re counting or anything, of course. It’s just that you’ve gotten lonely without him, and you’re starting to miss him more than you’d like to admit.

Having a vampire boyfriend and being a human isn’t always the easiest, but you’re more than willing to put up with it for him. You can still remember the day he had broken the news to you, having been fully prepared to sacrifice his life right then and there for you if you chose to call for a hunter. But you hadn’t—you chose to stay, to love him.

And love him you do.

There may be times where he has to disappear for a little while that leave you cold and wanting, but the time you do spend together more than makes up for it. He’s overwhelmingly kind, honestly stubborn, and always loves to put a smile on your face, no matter how bad of a day you may have had. You can’t possibly count how many times you’ve thrown yourself into his arms with the widest grin on your face, all just to feel him laugh against you with a soft kiss behind your ear. There’s no one else in the world for you, living or undead, and you are willing to wait for him. It’s embarrassing to think about, but you really would walk to the ends of the earth just for him.

Heat creeps up your neck at the thought, and you force it down with a huff, ducking your head back down again and staring at your assignment. You distantly think of your phone sitting next to your bed and the string of messages you had sent him a few hours prior, all of which remain unopened. Kicking your legs, you whine, burying your face into your arms upon your desk.

Tonight is just not your night, it seems.

Just then, you hear it—the unmistakable sound of nails tapping on glass.

Lifting your head, you blink, slowly turning to look over at your window. Squinting for a moment, you can barely make out the shape of a familiar silhouette standing on your balcony and leaning casually against the railing. His golden hair shines beneath the moonlight, and your heart leaps into your throat.

He’s here.

In an instant, you’re scrambling out of your desk chair and across the room. Fumbling with the balcony lock, you slide open the door with a gasp, the cool night breeze brushing against your cheeks with a soft caress. In front of you, the figure shoots you a crooked grin, his eyes flashing with delight.

“Good evening, sweetheart.”

Your heart melts at the sound of his ever-soothing, familiar voice, and you return his smile with one of your own. “Good evening to you too, Clay.” Scanning him up and down once, you gesture for him to come inside as you add jokingly, “You do know you don’t always have to come in through the window, right? I do have a front door.”

His grin only widens at your words, a soft chuckle tumbling from his lips as he ducks his head to step into your room. “I have a reputation to uphold as a vampire, you know?” he hums. The glint in his eye dances with mischief. “Twilight was the one who said that windows are the way to go.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, your lips twitching with amusement. “Are you really sure you want to use Twilight as your vampire role model of all things? Why not use...” You pause for a moment, then lift a finger. “Dracula?”

A grimace skitters across his face as he pulls the balcony door shut behind him. “Dracula may have been scary, but he was also an old man and, like, super creepy. At least modern vampire fiction makes us sound less gross.” His eyes gleam devilishly. “And also hot.”

You gulp, stepping back until your hand is brushing over the soft covers of your bed. “Well,” you ask softly, “do you think they got it right? The way they portray you guys?”

His lips split into a sly grin, his teeth flashing in the starlight. “I dunno, darling,” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a low whisper as he dips his head closer to yours. “You tell me.”

Your breath catches for all but a second before you’re gently pushing him away from you with a giggle. “Nice try,” you say, leaping onto your bed with a teasing grin, “but I’m not feeding your ego any more. You do that enough on your own.”

He feigns a wounded look, climbing into the space next to you with a hurt pout. “Aw, bummer. At least give me a kiss, then.”

For a second, you pretend to think about it, mulling the decision over in your head just to watch something needy spring to life in his eyes. Then, you smile, leaning in close to his face with your mouth hovering over his. “Just one.”

You only manage to see a sliver of his lovestruck smile before he presses his lips to yours, your eyelids falling shut. You can just barely feel his sharp fangs brush against the skin of your lip, and the thought makes you croon into his mouth. A certain fondness blossoms behind your ribcage, and your lungs almost feel as though they’re too tight to breathe. He’s cold against you, and when he lifts his hand to cup your cheek, you shiver at the feeling of his icy skin against yours. Everything he does sends a chill rushing down your spine, but when you part just a moment later, you already feel yourself missing his touch.

Brushing his nose over yours, you feel him inhale sharply against you, and the breath he lets out is positively trembling. “God,” he whispers into the side of your face, his voice rasping ever so slightly, “you smell so good.”

Your heart squeezes in your chest at his words, and you feel warmth blossom across your collarbones. “I’m flattered,” you say gently, reaching a hand up to press against his shoulder. Instantly, he melts into your touch as you subtly shuffle back across your bed away from him. “But you’re the one who told me I’m not allowed to let you drink from me.”

His lips part for a moment, and you catch a gleam of the moonlight flashing across his fangs. Swallowing, he runs a hand through his hair and sighs with longing. “Yeah, yeah, I know.” His eyes dart up to meet yours, his gaze swimming with a deep, drowning sense of sorrow. “You know that I’d never, ever want to hurt you, right?”

A smile tugs on your lips, sincere and true. “Of course I do,” you murmur, “and I promise you that you won’t, even if you did drink from me.”

You pause for a moment, then slowly reach a hand up to your shoulder. You don’t miss the way his eyes widen at the sight, and you almost swear you catch an inkling of crimson swirling within his viridian gaze as you lean your neck to the side. “It’s okay if you want to, alright?” you whisper, swallowing.

His eyes are glued to your neck, and you can almost see the storm that rages just beneath his skin. Your chest aches at the thought, knowing just how conflicted he must feel right now. When he doesn’t move, you drop your hand back down to the bed, your gaze focused intently on his.

“I trust you,” you say, pouring every ounce of honesty you can into your words. “Can you trust yourself?”

For a moment, he simply stares at you, his lips parted as his emerald eyes rake you up and down. They’re wide with hunger, an expression you had seen many times before over the months, but not one you had become fully acquainted with. You fidget a little under his intense gaze, and you’re just about to open your mouth again when suddenly, his hands are reaching for yours on the bed.

You gasp as he intertwines his cool fingers between your warm ones, your heart leaping for joy. You let your eyelids flutter shut as he leans forward to rest his forehead against yours, drinking in your sweet scent as your warm breath tickles his cold skin. You love the quiet moments like this, the enamoured silences that envelop the two of you in your own little bubble as the world seems to slow down. Sucking in a breath, he shudders at your touch, his hand squeezing yours.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmurs quietly for you and you alone to hear. “You’re too good to me.”

You smile at his words, your heart fluttering in your chest, but something uneasy sinks into the pit of your stomach at the bittersweet tone of his voice.

He didn’t answer your question, a voice whispers from the back of your head. Why didn’t he answer?

A moment later, you push the feeling away, nudging it back into the dark crevices of your mind. Instead, you choose to focus on the feeling of his skin pressing against yours, soothing and soft as you relish in the moment. The moon’s crescent frown seems to deepen from her perch in the sky, but she remains ever silent, only watching with her patient, pallid gaze.

You’re probably just imagining things.

After that night, time passes by you at an achingly slow pace. Night after night passes without a single sign of Clay, and before you even know it, a week and a half has flown past you without so much as a call. You text him as often as you can, and more often than not, you do actually get a response. Seeing the notification of his name pop up on your phone screen makes you smile until your cheeks hurt, and you’re always eager to hear back from him, but you can’t help but miss him as the hours drag on.

An empty, hollow feeling sinks into your chest as you curl up in your bed, the blankets strewn around you haphazardly as you blink over at the closed curtains draped over your balcony window. You haven’t bothered to look outside for a few nights, now—you already know that he won’t be there, as much as you want him to be. Even now, you can imagine his grinning face and teasing pokes as clear as day. The loneliness gnaws away at you as you turn onto your side, facing away from the window.

You hope he’s safe no matter what he’s up to, right now. You know better than anyone that sometimes, he can be a little too reckless for his own good.

Letting your eyes close, you sink into your pillow, a galaxy of stars whirling around your head as you slowly feel yourself drift off into a murky dream. Flashes of bright grins and the sound of wheezing laughter trickles through your thoughts, and you sigh at the endearing memories that wrap around your heart. You can almost swear you feel a pair of hands wrap around your own.

All of a sudden, something prods at the back of your ear, restless and sharp. Wincing, you blink a sleepy eye open, your bleary mind sorting through the sounds in your head before landing on one.

Glass—that’s the sound of glass.

Someone is tapping at your window.

Your eyes shoot wide open, and in a whirlwind, you’re ripping the covers off your body and pushing open your bedroom curtains. On the balcony stands a hooded figure, his golden tresses just barely peeking out from beneath the low-hanging cloth. You swallow and grab onto the door lock, slamming it open just a moment later. You shiver at the night breeze nipping at your skin, but in that moment, you couldn’t care less about the cold, your focus entirely devoted to one thing and one thing alone.

“Clay!” you cry, your eyes desperately scanning him up and down. “Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick.”

He doesn’t respond right away, and instead, his hand reaches to the side to desperately grip onto the balcony railing, his knuckles turning white. Your eyebrows furrow with concern, and slowly, you take a step toward him. You haven’t even crossed the doorway separating the inside of your room to your balcony when he suddenly barks, “Stop!”

You freeze in place, your hand halfway reaching for his when he practically crumples against the railing, curling in on himself with a choked plea. “Wait,” he gasps, clutching at his chest with a ragged breath, “please. I’m—”

“Clay?” you breathe again, this time much quieter. You shuffle closer to the window glass, your toe just barely brushing against the doorframe. “Are you okay?”

All of a sudden, a snarl rips out of his throat, guttural and beastly. You flinch at the sound for a split second, the worry in your chest only making your heart shake even more. His grip on your balcony railing grows even tighter, and you don’t doubt that it’s going to leave a mark on the metal.

“Don’t come too close,” he pants, his thighs shaking beneath him. “I—I don’t know what I’ll do.”

You purse your lips at him, frustration and confusion digging at the sides of your stomach. “Then why did you come here?”

All is quiet, and he doesn’t respond. The only sound you can properly hear is his uneven breathing as he claws at the front of his hoodie, the fabric bunching beneath his touch. You flick your gaze over him again, and a cold realization suddenly washes over you.

“Clay,” you whisper, the tiniest hint of fear seeping into your voice, “when was the last time you had a proper drink?”

You are once again met with silence, but the way he suddenly stiffens does not go unnoticed by your watchful gaze. Something curls nervously inside your gut, and your lips curl into a frown as you dig your heel into the ground.

“Clay,” you say again, a little louder this time—a little more firmly. “How long has it been?”

There is a beat of silence. Then, he whispers so softly that it’s almost swept away by the wind, “...too long.”

A pang of sorrow shoots through you, a stone dropping into the pit of your stomach. You were right. He’s thirsty. A sigh escapes your throat as you open up your arms, beckoning him toward you. “Come here,” you murmur with all the softness you can muster. “Look at me.”

He shakes his head, and it’s then that you realize you haven’t seen his face this whole time. “Take off the hood,” you say gently. His shoulders tense at your request, and you quickly add a tender, “Please.”

His throat bobs as he gulps, and ever so slowly, his hands reach up to tug at his hood until suddenly, the moonlight is casting a glowing streak of silver across his face. Your eyes go wide.

His kind, lovely eyes, which are typically viridian green and swimming with adoration for you, are now painted a deep, scarlet red, his pupils dilated beyond belief as they lock onto yours.

In all the time you’ve known he was a vampire, you’ve never seen him like this before.

But strangely enough, you’re not afraid.

Instead, you gently reach for his hand, careful to only just lightly wrap your fingers around his. His gaze drops back to the ground again, and while you know he doesn’t have a pulse, if he did, you imagine that it would be going haywire right about now. “Oh, honey,” you whisper. “It’s okay. Look at me.”

Just as you begin to lead him inside to your room does he raise his chin once more, his jaw clenched tight as he takes in your soft, enamoured expression. As he steps inside, you reach behind him to slide the door shut before tugging him back toward your bed. Settling down on the mattress with a loose breath, you let go of his hand. His arms are still shaking at his side when he sits, and it’s then that you open your mouth again.

“Clay,” you say, your voice as clear as a bell, “you can drink from me.”

His crimson eyes widen, and the look he shoots you is one of pure, unadulterated panic. “I-I can’t,” he stammers.

“Yes,” you shoot back, reaching up for the collar of your shirt, “you can.” His eyes trace down the slope of your jaw before landing on the smooth skin of your neck, exposed and waiting for him. His Adam’s apple bobs, his hands squeezing into fists beside him. “It’ll be alright.”

“H-How do you know that?” he blurts, his nails digging into his palm. “What if—what if I lose control and hurt you?” His face blanches at the sight, and he slumps over onto his lap, hanging his head in his hands. “I can’t let that happen.”

You sigh, and he clams up at the softness of the sound. “And it won’t.”

A moment passes in aching, tense silence. You resist the urge to hug him, knowing that initiating any more contact with him would only make him panic even more. “Last time I was here,” he suddenly whispers, shattering the silence with his head ducked down, “you asked me if I trust myself.”

You blink at him as he slowly raises his head, turning his gaze to look at you head-on. “I don’t, [Y/N],” he whispers. “Not one bit.”

Your eyes flash in the darkness of your room, and before you can stop yourself, your mouth opens. “But I do.”

He goes stock still before you, and suddenly, the words are flowing from your lips in a rush, unstoppable and dripping with honesty. “I know you, Clay, and I know you won’t hurt me, no matter how scared you are that you might. I believe in you, and I believe in us.” You press your hand to your chest, your fingers curling over your beating heart. “I love how much you want to make sure I’m safe, but right now, I want to make sure that you’re safe, too.”

If you were looking a little closer, you would have seen the glossy sheen in Clay’s eyes as you tip your head to the side once more, your shirt collar tugged down your shoulder. You bite on the inside of your cheek, your fingers squeezing the sheets. His crimson eyes almost look soft in the glittering starlight of the night, and you feel your chest flood with heat.

“Please,” you croon, your eyes never leaving his. “Go on.”

He eyes you for a moment longer. Then, he’s crawling across the bed toward you, his shaking hand reaching for your shoulder. Gently, he turns you toward him, his other hand cupping your cheek. Slowly, you feel his nose brush against your jaw, something cold pressing against your skin.

“Thank you, darling,” he whispers.

Then, he sinks his fangs in.

A sting shoots up your neck at the feeling, just barely there and slightly sharp, but it’s most certainly nothing you can’t handle. Heat pools around your collar bones as he drinks and drinks, and you feel your eyelids flutter shut. His lips, which are usually cool and soft when they meet yours, feel oddly warm for once, and you sigh at the sensation of your blood pumping from your skin.

You aren’t quite sure how much time passes with him cradling you against him and his mouth lapping at the side of your neck, but soon enough, you can feel a slight dizziness flit around your skull. A soft whimper escapes your lips and instantly, he breaks away from you, his eyes wide with worry as you lean against him for support. You press your forehead against his shoulder for a brief second before sitting upright once more, blinking away the vignette tinting the edges of your vision. In front of you, Clay’s lips are stained with a faint shade of red, but his eyes have returned to the brilliant shade of green you know and love. He grips onto your shoulders a tad tighter than before, his hands reassuringly rubbing against up and down against your arms.

“Oh, [Y/N],” he breathes, his eyes frantically searching your face for any sign of harm. “I-I’m sorry if I was too rough or anything. I tried to be as gentle as I could, but god, you taste so sweet and I—”

You don’t let him finish his sentence. Before he can even blink, you’re pressing your mouth to his, your tongue swiping at the seam of his lips. The uncanny warmth of his lips against yours makes your head spin more than it was before, and you feel yourself smile against him when you pull back. You can taste the slight metallic tang of your own blood on your mouth as you flash him a grin, his eyes wide with adoration as he drinks in the sight of you sitting before him.

“I’m okay, Clay,” you say with an earnest look. Tilting your head at him, your tongue darts out to swipe at the corners of your mouth. “Are you?”

His eyes never leave yours as he reaches forward to slip your hand into his, his fingers slotting between your own. “Yes,” he murmurs. “Yes, yes, yes.”

His pale skin almost seems to glow in the dim light filtering through your balcony window, and he strokes his thumb over the back of your knuckles. Something inside you suddenly unravels as he tugs you into his chest, holding you close to him as his arms wrap around your backside. You feel him rest his chin atop your shoulder, and you melt into his cool touch. Just as you let yourself let out a loving, hazy sigh against his chest, you feel him whisper into the shell of your ear.

“Would you maybe let me... have another sip?”

633 notes · View notes

soulwillower · 3 years

Text

stealing the show • bill denbrough

(bill denbrough x reader smut)

requested: yeah! can bill get jealous because like a guy is flirting with the reader but he tries to act non-chalant about it but like she knows so she just freaking teases him about if by flirting right back until he snaps + baseball!bill smut?? girlfriend!reader goes to see bills baseball game and maybe one of his teammates flirt w/her and he gets all jealous and possessive?? and they do it in his car and she discovers his praise kink?

warnings: swearing, smut, unprotected sex, praise kink, jealous bill, baseball bill, car sex, unedited!

thank u @nate-isnt-great for requesting AND helping me w it ily

[losers + reader are in college, 20+.]

3k words

♡

it's hot out.

the blistering sun seems to boil the air down near the pitch as you sit on the bleachers, leaning forward slightly as you try not to let the scorching metal burn the bare skin of your thighs. the weather was fine enough that you were able to slip on a little sundress; any other article of clothing would have just been too much to wear in the heat.

but, honestly, you'd still come down to the university ball fields in rain or shine as long as you got to see bill.

he's out there right now, standing in the dirt; tall and smirking, whispering something to the third baseman as another strike is called by the umpire. the game is a blowout, there's no doubt that your team will win with a lead of 12-7 in the last inning, so you're happy as you sip on your lemonade and watch your boyfriend finish out the inning at shortstop.

it's only ten more minutes until the teams are shaking hands, bill and his teammates jumping on each other and messing around, bringing a smile to your lips as you finally stand and relieve yourself of the burn of the hot bleachers.

as you usually do, you're leaning against the chain link fence next to the dugout for bill to come out before he meets with the other team captain and the coach to do a quick recap before leaving for the day.

he's sweaty and laughing as you traipse up to him, hands falling on his chest as you press a kiss sweetly to his lips. "y/n, thanks for coming." he whispers into your hair as you wrap your arms around his neck. he's still holding his bat bag in one arm so you pull back, shrugging, "you know i'd never miss it for the world."

he beams at that, cheeks warm, eyes squinting in the sun. “you look beautiful. you’re stealing the show, as usual.” he says with a smile. it makes you beam, butterflies fluttering in your chest.

“you’re joking, bill!” you say, swatting his chest as he pulls you into his side. “you’re the star of this team, you know it.”

shrugging he gestures out to the expanse of left field, "d'you see that hit i had? it w-was almost over." he grimaces, shaking his head in disappointment. you nearly laugh, fingers toying with the hair on the nape of his neck as you admire his features. "bill, it was a triple, and an rbi. you're ridiculous."

he sighs, "i just want to impress my baby." he teases, laughing slightly. you laugh too, kissing him again, this time his hand falling low on your back, fingers grazing the top of your ass.

you pull back when the wolf whistles are interrupted by the head coach calling bill's last name, and you wipe your lips with a grin as he shakes his head, dropping his things and turning to return to the field. you giggle as he leaves, and you lean back against the fence as you begin to wait for him, intending on driving home to his dorm with him.

"y/n!" calls a name from the dugout, and you crane your neck, hoping the voice calling you was bill's best friend on the team, stan.

instead you walk over to find oliver, the right fielder, and you smile. "hey, oliver, good job today." you say, walking towards him and sipping on the drink in your hand. he shrugs, "thanks, it wasn't anything too special." he says, bashful smile on his lips. "guess our team just has a lucky charm." he says, brow raising suggestively.

it makes you chuckle, quickly registering that the rest of the team, including stan and bill, are doing after-game maintenance, and oliver's sporting the same ice wrap that stan has on his shoulder. “you guys don’t need a lucky charm.” you counter.

you tilt your head, "forgive me, don't pitchers and catchers usually get the ice wraps?" you ask genuinely. he laughs, shaking his head, "you're cute. yeah, you're right, that's why bill has one usually. he started pitching today and stan finished, so they both get priority but the athletic trainer gave me one, thinks i hurt my elbow tendon trying to pick the guy off at third."

you let out a soft, "oh," before your eyes flicker to bill and stan. "makes sense. i hope your elbow is okay."

but you're momentarily distracted, because bill's untucked his jersey and lifted the bottom of it to wipe his face, exposing his toned abdomen and smooth skin and you feel hot, hotter than before.

you bite your lip, mind suddenly trying to recall if you had a condom in your bag today or not. you snap out of it quick as oliver hums, bringing you back to the present.

"i'm sure it'd feel better with a little kiss." he says with a smirk. you laugh lightly, annoyed with his flirting but deciding you can use this to your advantage. looking back to bill, who's finished with his field work and is starting to make his way toward you, you hum. "i don't know, stan seems like he'd be willing to give you a kiss. for the sake of the team, of course.” you joke.

"cute and funny. what don't you have goin' for you?" he asks, and you're sure you look as shocked as you feel. though you're shocked at the bold audacity oliver has to try and flirt with you, it must come across as being flushed or flustered by his compliment.

"oh, please, you probably say that to all the girls who come across this dugout." "only the hot ones. honest." oliver says with a smirk, drawing an 'x' over his heart with his bat-gloved finger.

you roll your eyes with a grin, speaking loud enough for bill to hear, just to be a tease, "well, color me flattered. you're quite the smooth talker."

bill's messing with his keys as he starts to zip up his bag down on the other side of the dugout. he barely bats an eye, huffing as a way to acknowledge that he heard your flirts, but he's never the one to be obviously jealous in front of people.

"no, i'm not. you're just easy to talk to, y/n. it's nice of you to come to our games all the time. bill, maybe you should watch out, your girl is stealing your show."

bill chuckles, looking non-chalant. "she steals the show no matter where she goes." his jaw is clenched though, and you see through his façade. your stomach coils in affection for him, and you decide to tease him a little bit.

you smile, laying your hand lightly on oliver’s arm in a friendly way. "well, i have to come down here to check out all the hot talent." you say with a wink. bill's walking up to you by now, bat bag hanging off one shoulder, eyes narrowed. you bite your lip, looking at his face, how attractive he is...

"what, like you can't just look in the mirror?" oliver grins. you roll your eyes, "you're quite a flirt." you say gently, smile on your face. bill looks pissed as he gently wraps his arm around your shoulders. he smells like he just put on fresh deoderant and oliver looks to him.

"sheesh, denbrough, your girl is bad.” he then turns to you, “y/n, you gotta let me take you out sometime, show you what you're missing."

you laugh, shaking your head, "you're ridiculous." you mutter, hand sliding into bill's as he brushes past. "oliver. she's not going out with you." he says coldly. you're pulled after him, biting your lip as you follow him out of the dugout.

"aw, c'mon, denbrough, i was just kiddin'!" he calls after you as you follow bill towards his car. "bye, y/n!" he calls, and just as the cherry on top, you turn and wave to oliver as you and bill walk away.

you're laughing as you follow him, but bill's face shows no emotion, and you bite your lip. you hope he knows it was just fun and games - he's done the same to you before, after all. it's fun to tease each other.

"bill," you insist as he tugs you towards his car. "-we don't need to talk about it." he says, brows drawn. you lift one of your own, "then why do i feel like i'm about to be shut out? he was just joking around. if i was uncomfortable i would have told him to fuck off." you say.

but then you're being pressed against the side of the car, bill's chest flush against yours. "i'm not gonna shut you out." he mutters, eyes stuck on your lips before he tugs your neck toward his, pulling you into a deep, passionate kiss. he pulls back just as you thread your fingers through his hair, "-but you need to stop being such a t-tease." he adds.

shivers run down your spine as bill's fingers find your warm skin, right below the hem of your dress before he tugs up your leg, kissing you again. breath leaves your body as you surge up against his strong kiss, his hand squeezing the back of your thigh and trailing up towards your ass.

you tug it down lightly, pulling away. "bill, people will see." you mutter with a shy grin. he looks at you, "what, now you care?" he asks, and you flush more, biting your lip. he steps away from you and opens the door to the backseat, smirking. "after you, then."

a slap falls to your ass as you crawl into the backseat and you smile, turning just as he moves between your legs, lips catching yours heatedly. "you're mine." he mutters against your lips, already rutting his hips against yours and making you mewl lightly.

"i know," you say, tugging his hair. “you want to do this right now? even though we could get caught?” you say breathlessly, hands tangled in his hair. "how else is oliver going to remember that you're mine?” he says, staring at your lips. your stomach drops a bit, butterflies fluttering and making you shiver. even after dating bill for a while, he still makes you flush.

“then let’s go, denbrough.” you say, pulling him down by the neck in desperation. he smirks into the kiss, kissing you so deeply you see stars. his hands hike up your dress around your hips, hands caressing your inner thighs.

“you think it’d be hot if i fuck you in his car, huh?” he whispers quietly in your ear. your eyes roll back as his fingers rub tight, teasing circles over your core, a fire slowly being lit. you only whimper a bit, biting your lip. “y-yes.” you gasp then, as he slips a finger into you.

he still watches you intently, curling his finger slightly and making you whimper as you try to spit out your words. it makes you turn bright red. your throat gets dry. “p-please.” you say, cheeks feeling hot with need. the windows are starting to fog up in the car as he slowly slides the underwear down from your legs, kissing the skin as he goes. you’re breathing shakily and then he’s bringing his eyes up to you before lifting up the skirt of your dress and disappearing from your sight.

you gasp in pleasure as you feel bill’s tongue dart out and lick a bold, flat stripe up your heat. “fuck,” you whisper, your hands moving from gripping the seat you’ve laid on to pulling up your dress, lacing your fingers through bill's auburn locks.

but then, he presses a kiss to your clit and leans back, smirking at you as you stare at him. "wh-"

"you weren't good enough for a reward. flirting with my teammates." he says, jaw clenching. "did you think that was cute?"

you moan as he starts to tease your clit with his finger, agonizingly slowly. "did you?" he asks again. the car is hot, almost as hot as it is outside, and his skin is warm and just as slicked with sweat as yours. you bite your lip, moving your hips to try and feel some relief for the arousal seeping through you.

"jus wanted you, bill. i'm sorry." you mutter, feeling flushed and desperate. he hums, shaking his head. "you're mine." he states, and you nod, suppressing a moan as one of his fingers dips into you just to pull back out. "how can i prove it to you?" you ask, lifting a brow and biting your lip, eyes falling to his hard-on. he shakes his head, though, hand falling to lay you against the seat fully.

"no. i want to be inside of you." he mutters, kissing your lips, leaving you feeling feverish. "now."

and then you're both fumbling, desperately palming him and undoing his belt, pulling him out of his pants, and then bill pushing you back to lay again. "you'll be good for me." he says, and it's not a question. his jaw is clenched, eyes bright with lust and hair mussed from where your fingers had found purchase not seconds ago.

“yes, bill. please, please.” you mutter, cheeks red. you hear him chuckle and you open your eyes as he starts to push into you, his cock stretching you out. "fuck!“ you hiss in pleasure, hands grasping his shoulder as he bottoms out.

he starts to move after only a mere second, hitting the perfect angle that makes you groan his name into his shoulder as his snaps snap against yours. your back rubs agaisnt the hot leather of the seat, your face being hit by the boiling sun through the window, but you don't care because it feels so good. he moans into your lips, catching you in a heated kiss as he thrusts into you. "bill, fuck, you feel so good.” you gasp out, whimpering as he pushes your dress up further, fingers tweaking your nipple.

he groans, watching as your body moves with the rocking of his hips, licking his lips. “baby.” he mutters, hands gripping your hips tightly as he pounds into you. “you’re mine.”

you nod as he hits a new angle inside you and you know you’re very close again. “yes, i’m yours, bill.” you mumble, blissed out as he rolls his hips hard against yours.

his head dips down to take one of your nipples into his mouth, tongue swiping over the bud and making you gasp as he palms the other one. he moves his hips and you roll your eyes back slightly as you shut them. “bill, i’m close.” you whimper. he chuckles, “already?” you can only nod desperately, clawing at his shoulders to stabilize yourself as he fucks you into the backseat, every movement bringing you steadily to the brink.

you squeeze his hair lightly as you whimper, the feeling euphoric as your toes curl. his name falls from your lips every few seconds as he thrusts into you, hitting deeply, the coil in your stomach about to release. “bill, please, i’m gonna cum.” you mutter, eyes closed and chest rising and falling.

"good." he says, spitting on your clit, thumb following to rub it, making you arch your back, clenching around him tight as you near your high.

“how’s that feel?” he mutters, and you feel like you’re on fire. “fuck- bill, so good. feels s'good.” you mutter. he hums, cheeks red as he moans, and you grin - you can tell he likes hearing how good he makes you feel.

"could oliver make you feel like this?" he mutters, and you feel yourself flush, because he's never been so jealous in bed before. it adds to your arousal and you moan out, "no, only you, bill."

he bites down on your neck, hands roaming your body, squeezing your ass, pinning down your shoulder as he leans back, changing the angle and making you moan even louder.

“bill, please, it feels so good, don't stop,” you start to beg, arm coming to wrap around his neck as you shake. following your pull, he falls on top of you again, humming against your chest and you moan loudly - loud enough that if someone were passing by the car they’d certainly know - and clench around him. “c'mon, y/n," he whispers, eyes glinting with pride. “cum for me.”

you’re shaking and moaning his name as you finally hit your high. your breathing stutters as he starts to thrust slower, milking you through your orgasm, one hand on the seat near your head and other hand soothing your hair. your eyes are pressed shut as you clench through your high. “fuck, bill.” you whimper. he's kissing you. "so pretty, and all mine." he mutters against your lips.

"i'm yours, bill," you moan into his ear, eyes screwed shut in pleasure. "you feel so good."

and then he's cumming, too, moaning as he spills into you, both of your hearts slamming against the others, chests pressed together. he pulls you in for another kiss and you sigh into it, feeling full and fucked out. "i love you." he says against your lips, and you smile. "i love you, too."

"i need a shower." is all bill says as he pulls out of you, a laugh escaping his lips. you giggle, sitting up, legs feeling like jelly as bill opens the door, exiting the car and then pulling you out, too - just to find oliver and their other teammate, jason, walking towards their cars a few feet away.

you stare at them, wide-eyed, trying to smooth down your hair, and you realize that bill's still trying to re-do his belt on his uniform. they stare back and oliver clears his throat, clearly shocked and definitely aware of what you and bill had just done. you grin as bill mutters, "see you later, man." and his face has a wide smirk, the other two boys looking shocked.

you're embarrassed, but as bill pulls you into his side and kisses your forehead with a shit-eating smirk, you decide you don't really care. "let's go take that shower, hm?" you mumble, kissing him softly before sliding into the passenger seat.

tag list: @gabiatthedisco @blisshemmings @stenbrozier @sft-core @clownsloveyou @moon-shine-baby @daughter-of-the-stars11 @trashedfortozier @oceandog13 @chl0bee @kait16xo @upamongthestarss @fiantomartell @beverlyparkerr @beauregard-s @diorbubs @leighjaenikhowell @groovybimbo @deepestofwaters @nate-isnt-great @sassy-uris @loverloserrr @hauntingkaspbrak @soph-ec @hockslutter @babytortie @decafcoffeew @etaerealboy

#bill denbrough x reader #bill denbrough smut #losers x reader #losers club x reader

522 notes · View notes

wonjaekook · 3 years

Text

One Minus One Plus One

Pairing: college student!Mark x college student!reader

Description: In all of the years you’ve known Jungwoo, you should have figured out to not take his words at face value because, though you haven’t even met, Mark Lee seems to hate your guts.

Word Count: 9.9k

Genre: kind-of-enemies to lovers! fluff? angst? humor? I honestly don’t know how to categorize this

Warnings: vaguely suggestive ending, some minor swearing

A/N: This is my (late) holiday gift for a friend and to you all, I suppose. It’s an enemies-to-lovers but not really, as they’re not really enemies and it’s more passive-aggressive!Mark and very confused!Y/N. To the intended - I love and appreciate you so much; thank you for always supporting me and listening to me ramble about even the most ridiculous ideas <3 If you ever need anything, I hope you know that you can always shoot me a text or DM! Please enjoy c:

Mark Lee is always sweet. It’s the kind of sweetness that’s warm and fulfilling, leaving a pleasant feeling in the pit of the stomach, like a steaming up of hot chocolate rather than a strikingly sweet popsicle. His nature isn’t something he particularly prides himself on, as it’s partially unintentional, driven by awkwardness and politeness at times, or by the compulsion to simply make people happy. Jungwoo has told him that he’s allowed to be a little more selfish once in a while, he’s allowed to say no and take breaks sometimes. Except, he’s ever the people pleaser, ever the hard worker, ever the yes-man. Mark Lee is always sweet.

Except when he isn’t.

You’re fairly certain that Mark Lee has hated you since before you even met him. When you decide to transfer to the same university that your high school best friend Jungwoo attends, he talks your ear off about all of his great friends and all of the places he is going to take you and all of the fun you’ll have. He’s always been the descriptive type, telling you far too much about his good pals Mark, Donghyuck, Johnny, Taeil, Jaehyun, Kun, Lucas… and countless others, whose names you sometimes have a hard time keeping track of. Jungwoo has a lot of friends, something which has remained true since high school. Whenever you catch up with him, he speaks particularly fondly about Mark, who is one of his roommates and someone he considers to be one of his closest friends.

“You’ll love him,” he says, “but not too much, I hope. That would be super weird, you and Mark.” He wrinkles his nose at that and doesn’t make any more abnormal comments. You don’t think much of it.

In short, you let Jungwoo decide your opinion on Mark Lee before you ever met him. With everything else about moving to a completely different university occupying the majority of your thoughts, it’s easy enough to accept that Mark will be awkward and painfully sweet and that you will become fast friends. That’s your first mistake.

Before you even finish moving in, Jungwoo drags you over to his place to meet some of his friends, who he insists will become your own. It’s just past noon and he claims that everyone will be awake and ready to greet you once you get there. He’s half right, in the sense that only half of the apartment is awake. The early-risers, who Jungwoo didn’t even have to shake before he came over to get you, are at the table in their common area, sipping on various caffeinated beverages. These consist of Mark and Jaehyun. Donghyuck is presumably still curled up in his bed, asleep after a late night of playing games, and Johnny, who had stayed overnight and doesn’t actually live with them, is passed out on their couch, an arm slung over his face to block the light. Your friend has shown you enough pictures for you to recognize them.

Jungwoo practically deflates as soon as he walks in to see only two members of the current household conscious. “This is why we can’t have nice things,” he grumbles before striding over to Johnny and yanking off the blanket covering his long torso.

The elder groans, clearly having only been dozing and not deeply asleep, and moves his arm so he can glare at Jungwoo. “Your disrespect for my sleep schedule is why we can’t have nice things.”

“You don’t have a sleep schedule,” Jungwoo says back, glaring at his friend with the blanket in his hand. “Plus, Y/N’s here.”

Johnny lazily looks over and sees you in the entranceway, to which his response is to roll slightly so that he’s propped up against the back of the couch with one leg crossed over the other rather than just lying down. “Sup. Name’s Johnny.”

“Ew, don’t use your flirting voice!” Jungwoo whines at his friend, kicking him in the shin. In all honesty, you’re both amused and slightly flattered that Johnny is attempting to flirt with you when he’s just woken up. The messy hair is kind of a look. “Y/N’s a friend.”

“Yeah, we’ll be good friends, alright,” Johnny says, looking directly at you and wiggling his eyebrows in the most ridiculous way. That gets a giggle out of you while Jungwoo gawks, kicking Johnny again for good measure, slightly harder this time.

Jungwoo looks like he’s about to start arguing again when Jaehyun kindly interrupts, shifting the conversation. He gives you a small smile, perfectly polite and handsome, his hair straight and soft over his forehead. “It’s nice to meet you, Y/N. I’m Jaehyun.”

You lower your head to acknowledge him. “It’s nice to meet you, too.” You look towards the other boy at the table, who you now realize hasn’t glanced up at you once. Jaehyun had been at least half watching the mock fight between Jungwoo and Johnny, but Mark had just been staring at his cup from behind circular glasses, not even drinking it. His own hair is slightly damp, curling at the ends, making him appear somewhat young. “You’re Mark, right?”

Finally, he looks at you, but looks away quickly. “Yeah.”

That’s… that’s not right.

You try again, smiling as brightly as you can, even though he won’t glance in your direction again. His side profile is full of both soft shapes and hard angles, afternoon sunlight coming in through the window falls as highlights on his cheeks and nose and chin. He appears exactly as your friend had described him to you, but his attitude proves him to be a walking contradiction. You shift on your feet, grasping for the right words to say. “Jungwoo has told me a lot about you.”

“Uh… yeah. He’s told me about you, too.”

You almost outright frown at that. Isn’t he supposed to be super nice and friendly? Instead, it sounds like Jungwoo has been spreading all sorts of nasty stories about you. Hypothetical stories that, apparently, only Mark has been listening to. Neither Jaehyun nor Johnny are acting strangely towards you at all.

All three of the other boys do seem to notice the change in behavior for Mark, though. There are a few moments of tense silence before Johnny elbows Jungwoo. The latter speaks up. “Hey, Mark, can you go resurrect Donghyuck? I think he might be dead.”

The switch is instant and very startling to you. His face loses all of its tension as he looks at Jungwoo, nodding. “Yeah, sure. If I don’t come back in ten minutes, I’m the one who’s dead.” He pushes himself up out of his chair and exits the common area.

After he’s gone, you look at Jungwoo. He stares back. You make a motion with your head towards the front door, where you retreat to and he follows. You stand somewhat stiffly, hands linked behind your back. “Did you say something to him? About me?”

Jungwoo puts his hands up defensively. “Nothing bad, I swear!” He looks back towards the common area. “He must just be having a bad day or something…”

That doesn’t explain the sudden warmth when someone else spoke to him, though. You frown. “Okay… I guess I’ll just have to try harder to get him to like me.”

Your friend seems to perk up at that. “That’s the spirit!” He proceeds to grab you by the shoulders and steer you back to the common area.

You have an amiable enough time chatting with the boys who had remained there. Eventually, Donghyuck emerges from his room, looking even more ruffled than Johnny had, and Mark shuffles out with him. Once again, he doesn’t even spare you a glance. Every so often, as you’re talking to the others or just listening to their strange, all-over-the-place conversations, your eyes flicker over to him. He contributes to the chatter, but it’s like he’s purposefully avoiding you, even though you’re literally in the room with him. It kind of hurts.

Still, you try not to let it bother you too much. An hour passes, which you realize with a start, and you remember that you’re not even nearly done unpacking. As you’re rising from your seat on the edge of the couch, Jungwoo throws a comment out to you. “You’re welcome to bust in here any time!”

He’s met with a chorus of agreement from the others, except one.

The next day, Jungwoo makes a point to introduce you to the rest of his circle. Not long after, you’re added to a group chat with a whole phonebook of unfamiliar numbers. Most of them, minus several who your friend had told you in the past do a poor job of checking their messages, send their names pretty quickly. Jungwoo tells you who the others are. With a pang of disappointment, you realize one of the missing numbers was Mark.

On your first day of classes, you’re pleasantly surprised to find that you share an economics lecture with Donghyuck, who acts both very tired and also full of energy, chatting your ear off before and after class, but looking as if he’s about to pass out when the professor gives her introduction and starts to go over course material. That day, you also learn that you have an ethics class with Jungwoo’s friend Doyoung, stoic and serious and exactly the opposite of Donghyuck, but still smiling at your lame jokes and carefully making sure you get the homework down.

The second day starts out much more slowly. You settle down for your third class, a curriculum development course, and it takes you about a solid minute to realize that Mark Lee is sitting in the room with you. He had come in while you were busily typing out a text to a friend from your previous university. The classroom is not particularly large and you had taken a seat near the middle, so there aren’t many places for him to hide. When he walks in, he takes a seat by the wall closest to the windows. You consider greeting him, walking to his desk to try and talk to see if he had a change of attitude from the last time you saw him, but then your professor enters the scene. As he passes by the far side of the room, Mark looks up from his own phone and smiles, mouth instantly opening to greet him. You stay in your seat and try to look busy as you listen to them chat amiably. Mark laughs in disbelief at something your professor says about his vacation.

At the end of the lecture, you pack up your things quickly and make the effort to take a few small, light steps to catch up to Mark, who’s already leaving. “Hi, Mark! I didn’t realize we had a class together.”

He gives you a sort of half-shrug, keeping his head pointed straight ahead. Almost imperceptibly, his pace increases. “I guess we do.”

He opens a door to a stairwell, not making any particular effort to hold the door for you. Reflexively, you grab the door and slip through after him. You try again as the two of you head down. “Are you going to be home tonight? Jungwoo invited me to have dinner with you guys.”

“No,” he says, voice edged with irritation. He reaches into his pocket, fishing out his phone and a pair of earbuds. “I’ll be out.”

“Oh.” You slow down slightly. “Well, we should hang out sometime. My next class is this way, so… see you.” By the time you’re done talking, he’s slipped both earbuds into his ears and is pushing the doors at the bottom of the stairs open. You hold back a heavy sigh and shrug your backpack higher onto your shoulders.

As he told you, he’s not in his apartment that evening. Though Jungwoo had invited you to help cook dinner, he shirks his responsibilities, slipping away to play games with Donghyuck and leaving you and Jaehyun to cook, with relatively unhelpful commentary from Johnny, who was once again on the couch when you arrived. At some point, their friend Yuta slips in, steals some noodles, and leaves.

After the cooking is done, you and Jaehyun celebrate with a firm high-five, and Jungwoo and Donghyuck un-disappear, coming out of the younger boy’s dark bedroom. The lot of you are halfway through eating when Donghyuck perks up. “Wait, where’s Mark? He said he would do calc homework with me.”

You bite the inside of your cheek and hold back from saying that he told you he wouldn’t be home.

Thankfully, most of Jungwoo’s friends are nice to you and it’s easy enough for you to make friends of your own. You ease yourself into a routine of classes, homework, and hanging out with your new social circles. Mark doesn’t hide that he tries to avoid you about half of the time. At the same time, you try to split yourself between friend groups, as to not force him either to be around you or to not hang out with his own friends. There are the occasional large scale events that both of you are invited to, but there are enough people that you usually aren’t forced to interact. After a month of classes, you stop trying to start conversations, but you still greet him. He greets you back with the indifference of an overworked, tired stranger. During your class, he firmly ignores you. He does more than ignore you - he speaks to virtually every other person in your class except you. All of your friends carefully avoid the topic of his blatant dislike for you, though you know they all think it’s odd.

Finally, one of those large events comes to pass via the boy known as Zhong Chenle. He doesn’t go to your school, but is still somehow acquainted with all of Jungwoo’s friends, so he became acquainted with you as well. He’s eccentric and sarcastic and sometimes you see him playing basketball with Mark and Jaehyun in the school recreation center. So, when he rents out the local ice skating rink and invites you, you’re excited to go. It’s not often that you get onto the ice - it’s always a thrill after you re-learn how to skate, and you enjoy the feeling of the smooth gliding and wide, curving turns on the blades. You imagine that you’re painting with your feet.

Things go down smoothly, like you envisioned. After just twenty minutes, you’ve confidently found your ice legs and you’re racing around the rink with Donghyuck, playfully tipping each other off-balance with carefully or sometimes not-so-carefully timed pushes. A few minutes later, a new player enters the arena. Maybe if this new person weren’t Mark Lee, you wouldn’t have noticed their entrance, but your eyes are instinctively drawn to him.

The boy in question is clinging to one Lee Jeno, another friend of Jungwoo and Donghyuck and all the rest of them, as they both try to find their balance. Jeno seems to be having somewhat of an easier time with the skates on his feet, making slow pushes so that he glides short distances with Mark holding onto him. Mark is adorably flushed, in a way you haven’t seen before, his cheeks aflame with cold and embarrassment. His body is swallowed by an overly large hoodie, completing the cozy and cute look.

Your racing buddy has also slowed down to watch with you, staring at the scene. He suddenly nudges you with an elbow. “You should help him.”

“Jeno? I think he’s gotten the hang of it. Plus, I don’t know him that well.” It’s now a game of who can dodge implications rather than who can dodge physical pushes.

Donghyuck rolls his eyes, skating lazily alongside you. “You know I’m talking about Mark. This would be a great opportunity to get on his good side.”

“Why don’t you help him? He’s your boyfriend, after all.” If you weren’t focusing on turning your skates and keeping your balance because you’ve reached the short end of the rink, you would cross your arms and huff at him more dramatically.

He clicks his tongue sharply, something you know by now that he does when he’s irritated. “Mark isn’t my boyfriend. Doyoung and Taeyong are boyfriends. Mark and I are soulmates. And he’s still painfully single.”

“So are you!” As you protest, you realize that Mark and Jeno are getting closer. Donghyuck fires something back indignantly, but you’re just thinking about what he said before. The offer to help lies in front of you as a real possibility, but how would you feel if someone you hated came up and asked if you wanted help skating? If you really hated them that much, you would just think they were being condescending. The last thing you want to do is give Mark a reason to think you’re acting that way towards him. So, as you skate closer, you pick up your pace and speed on by, not even glancing at the two boys with their arms interlinked. Luckily for you, Jungwoo is just ahead, so you hook arms with him and jerk him forward with your momentum, making him yell out in surprise.

As you’re gliding along, laughing at your friend’s reaction and attempts to push you, Mark stares at you from behind with a small frown on his face.

“Mark?” Jeno’s voice snaps him out of it and he looks towards the younger boy. “Do you need me to slow down?”

“No,” he says rather grimly, “let’s go faster.”

You don’t speak to each other at all for the entire night.

The next month and a half passes unremarkably. Then, suddenly, midterms are rolling up and you find yourself swamped with work, especially in the class you share with Mark and your new friend Yuqi. At the current moment, you’re at your place with your head buried in your arms, groaning dramatically. “I can’t do this.”

Yuqi nods, looking somewhat dead inside. “Professor Lim hates us.”

“I don’t know what chapters we even covered half of the material in. Did he just make it up?” You lift your hand to paw through the textbook in front of you lazily, so much of it seeming foreign. “It doesn’t help that the Instructional Systems Design Model is such a big part of the project.”

“Maybe that’s in Chapter 1?”

You flip through her suggestion before slamming your book shut. “Nope.”

“I know!” You perk up at your friend’s revelation, looking at her from across the table. “We can just ask Mark! He’s good at this class, he probably knows.”

You stiffen at her suggestion. There was only one time you dared to ask him for help, in which he just brushed you off and said he was busy. Since then, you’ve resigned yourself to only asking Yuqi for help, no matter how clueless she is in this class sometimes. A brief moment of panic sends your heart racing as she whips out her cellphone. “Don’t mention me.”

She turns to look at you, finger poised to press call over her phone. “What?”

You put your head back down, muffling your words. “Don’t say my name when you talk to him.” She gives you a weird look, but shrugs, pressing the call button. “Wait! And put it on speaker so I can hear the answer. Please.”

Wordlessly, she rolls her eyes, but pulls the phone away from her face, setting it on the table in front of her. The call connects after two rings and you hear Mark’s voice with the staticky phone call filter over it. “Hello?”

“Hey, Mark! It’s Yuqi.”

“Oh, hi, what’s up?” He seems to brighten up, showing a pleasantness that you rarely hear from him these days.

“I just had a question about our curriculum development class. Do you know what chapter goes over the Instructional Systems Design Model? I can’t find it.”

“Oh, sure. Hold on, let me grab my notes.” From the other end, you can hear the distorted shuffling of clothes and paper for a moment. “It’s Chapter 4, I think. We didn’t really go over that chapter in class, but Prof. Lim told me when I went to his office hours.”

“Oh my god, thank you so much, Mark! You’re a literal life saver,” Yuqi gushes, about to practically kiss the phone in joy.

You press your hands together in front of you in a silent thank you. Mark laughs lightly into the phone. “No problem! If you ever need anything, let me know. I’m always happy to help.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! Bye, Mark!” After receiving a goodbye from him, Yuqi presses the hang up button. She claps her hands twice in excitement. “That makes things so much easier!”

You’re stuck thinking about what Mark said before hanging up. It’s exactly in line with how Jungwoo used to talk about him - polite, helpful, friendly. An ugly part of you has to wonder what you did wrong once again. What part of you is undeserving of his kindness? An even uglier part feels the green flash of envy. “How do you have Mark’s number?”

“We had a class together like a year ago and he’s a pretty cool guy. Also useful to have around.” The image of them studying together, chatting like close friends, heads bent closely over shared notes, makes the parasite of jealousy dig deeper in your belly. The logical side of your brain knows you shouldn’t be feeling like this, but the two sides of Mark Lee make you want to throw an uncharacteristic fit. She tosses her phone to the side before flipping open her textbook to Chapter 4. “Why?”

“Were you guys ever… like…” You bite the inside of your cheek, not wanting to say it out loud.

“Me? Mark? No, we just worked on a project together. I have no idea what gave you that idea.” She wrinkles her nose at you.

“You just talk to each other so casually,” you huff, trying to expel the negativity from your system, “I don’t know.”

“He’s like that with everyone,” she says easily, leaning back in her chair. “Except you, I guess.”

“Except me. I guess.” You parrot, not feeling any better about the situation. When you proceed to ask her if you did anything weird on your first day of class that would have put him off, she denies it, telling you that you were completely normal. Resigned to forget the mystery for the night, you open up your textbook.

Midterms pass with relative success. At least, with more success than you had at your old university. You’re excited for a break, a reprieve from the pain of studying. Johnny arranges a potluck and movie night at his place, assigning everyone a dish and putting you on dessert.

In your class with Doyoung, who is often assigned as the chef of the group, you pressure him for everyone’s favorites. “Something fruity? Chocolatey?”

“We’re split there. There’s not much you can do that would appease everyone, honestly. Some of them are the pickiest guys I’ve ever met.” He continues to scribble notes as you grill him for info, not even looking up.

“What if I did something different? Like matcha cookies?” You tap your chin in thought and Doyoung lifts a hand to point at you after the suggestion leaves your mouth.

“Yes, do that one. Basically everyone likes green tea.”

“Basically everyone?”

“Not Mark.” Doyoung shakes his head disapprovingly. “He’s not arriving until after we eat, though, so I’m sure it’s fine.”

You’re not sure what to say to that. That night, you work hard making your matcha cookies, setting aside a bit of time for a side project. When you arrive at Johnny’s apartment with two dishes, one quite a bit smaller than the others and labeled with Mark’s name, safely hidden in the pantry until everyone has stepped out of the kitchen area and you can put it somewhere you hope he’ll see it. You can only hope that he at least appreciates your effort. When he arrives a bit later into the night, non-gifting you his usual non-existent glance, you can’t help but impatiently squirm a bit. Before you leave, you make a pass by the kitchen and, disappointingly, but not surprisingly, the container is in the same place as you left it, your note still affixed to the top.

The mystery continues, however, when you approach Johnny a few days later to ask about retrieving your containers.

“There was more than one? I only have that big rectangular one that you brought the matcha cookies in. They were really good, by the way - I can only wish the cookies I make turned out like that…” He scratches his head and you feel like the gesture perfectly represents how you’re feeling as well. If he doesn't have the box… who does?

A small part of you holds onto the hope that the intended person retrieved them after you weren’t looking.

The class you share with Mark is not nearly the most interesting one you have, nor is it one that is particularly memorable most of the time. There’s something so terribly tedious about it that makes you suffer a disproportionate amount whenever you do a chapter of the reading, though you think that you’re usually quite good about your work. Still, though you’re not exactly the most studious of your classmates, you can’t stand resounding silences in the classroom. So, when your professor asks a question and no one volunteers, you try to at least say something somewhat intelligent. Today is one of those days. Except, as you speak, you realize with dawning dread that your words aren’t making any sense of all, are barely related to the question, and are progressively spiraling into completely different subject matter. Still, you find it hard to stop, eventually coming to a stuttering stop with your answer. Even Professor Lim can’t hold back something of a put-off expression. You sink lower into your seat and, as your professor says something along the lines of your comments being “not quite relevant,” your cheeks burn.

You spare a glance to the side, looking for some sort of pity or reassurance from Yuqi, but you end up looking past her at Mark. You half expect him to smirking at your failure, like a villain in a high school drama, but, instead, his eyes meet yours. He offers you the barest twitch of an encouraging smile before looking away, his face neutral again. You’re almost unsure about how to interpret the look - it’s the closest thing to a positive emotion he’s ever shown you. Confused, you fix your eyes on your open notebook and keep them there, scratching random notes and doodles into the margins for the remainder of the lecture.

When you think about Mark Lee, you feel like you’re going insane. It would honestly be pretty easy for you to make one of those crazy conspiracy theorist maps with the red strings and thumbtacks attempting to connect a bunch of pictures with all the strange, fragmented experiences you’ve had with the boy. At one position, you could put all the information you supposedly knew about him before even meeting him, all of the things Jungwoo told you, all the smiling pictures from before you arrived. Somewhere else, you could put all of the times Mark has brushed you off or outright refused to acknowledge your existence. In a third location, you could put all the things you’ve actively seen or heard him do that align with the person you thought he was. Finally, you could put the most recent developments of him subtly starting to not ignore you together. The whole diagram would be circled with giant question marks all over it and one question written in capital letters: WHY?

You’re trying to do your damn curriculum development homework and all you can think about is Mark Lee and the first smile he ever gave you. And, from the way your heart is beating, pushing heat into your face and ears, making you wistful and longing to see his smile again, you think you know the direction your feelings have headed.

The next few times you head over to Jungwoo’s place, it’s hit or miss as to whether Mark appears to be actively avoiding you. Finally, one day, you’re pressed shoulder to shoulder with Jungwoo, your eyes fixed on the small screen of your phone as you show him a funny video you found. You don’t notice Mark until he opens his bedroom door loudly enough that you look up and you meet his cold gaze. He’s in casual clothes, a hoodie and jeans, with earbuds hanging from his ears, his hair slightly tousled from the wind outside. The eye contact lasts for only a moment before his door acts as a barrier to your vision. You blink hard.

“Just when I thought we were getting somewhere…” You sulk, speaking lowly as to not be overheard by him.

“You and Mark?” Jungwoo asks, not even looking up. The video ends and your friend puts down your phone, folds his hands in front of him, and turns to look at you. “Did you ever figure it out?”

“Did I? How could I figure it out when he won’t even talk to me? Did you?” You lean away from him, crossing your arms. “Should we even be having this conversation over here? He’s just in his room.”

Jungwoo shrugs. “He has his headphones in, he can’t hear anything. To answer your question,” he pauses, leaning in closer to whisper like he’s telling you a secret, “I have no idea.”

“You must have some ideas at least?”

“I have many ideas, many theories, and quite a few formulas. Most of which don’t particularly apply to this situation.” You grumble something under your breath about engineering majors as he continues. “For Mark? He might be letting all the negativity he’s ever felt out on you, honestly. Maybe because you’re the same major?”

You sit up slightly straighter. “We’re the same major?”

“Yeah?” Jungwoo replies, giving you a look. “He’s trying to be music education instead of history education, though.”

“I never knew the specifics,” you mumble, letting your posture fall back into a slouch. In reality, it’s more than just not knowing the specifics - there’s very little you’ve managed to learn about Mark that you haven’t actively had to pry out of your shared friends. You know about some of the foods he likes, some of his hobbies, and a bit of general information. It’s awfully hard to get to know someone when they refuse to acknowledge you.

That notion makes your developing crush feel even stupider.

You attempt to turn the subject back to where it began. “Why me, though? Why not literally anyone else?”

“You’re a pretty cool person and you’re good at a lot of things. Mark’s developing an inferiority complex?” Jungwoo taps his chin as though he’s pretending to be some great thinker.

“I’m not going to lower myself to help some man’s ego,” you huff, your nails digging into your palms as you make tight fists. “Plus, there’s nothing I’m particularly good at that he’s not also good at, if not better.”

“It’s not really about ego, I think…” Jungwoo says, trailing off. “I dunno. He’s not like that with anyone but you.”

“No one but me, huh.” Honestly, you’re kind of getting sick of that expression. This isn’t the kind of exceptional you want to be to him. Not at all. You’re honestly not sure when it stopped being a simple need to be on pleasant terms with Jungwoo’s friends and started to get romantic. Your lips press into a thin line for a moment before you exhale sharply from your nose. “Everything is a big ‘I don’t know’ and I hate it. If it’s not an ‘I don’t know,’ it’s still stuck in the ‘why?’ stage.” You lay your head down and you have to resist the urge to scream into your arms. “I’m going to lose my mind.”

“You really make no sense at all.”

“It really makes no sense that I-” You bite your tongue to stop yourself to stop yourself from admitting out loud to the feelings you’ve just recently realized. Jungwoo just gives you a sly, knowing smile that you don’t like the look of one bit.

Before you know it, finals are around the corner and, with it, one of the last organized events you’ll have with your friends until testing is over. This time, it’s a group dinner where people can come and go as they please, and a few of you have taken it upon yourselves to do all the cooking. Namely, you, Doyoung, Jaehyun, Kun, and, surprisingly, Donghyuck. Suffice to say, the kitchen is not enough space for all of you. Still, you manage to pull it off, completing a hearty Korean-style dinner that slowly disappears from their dishes as all of the others eat. By the end, you’re worn out from the sweltering heat of the stove, the occasional bickering with the other chefs (‘Donghyuck, stop eating all the radish!’), and chatting with nearly every single one of your friends. Names and faces scroll through your head and you’re honestly not sure who you’ve seen and not seen by the end of it. Except for one person.

Mark Lee is, once again, nowhere to be found.

You make sure to smack away hands going for seconds in order to wrap up a moderately sized portion of food for him anyways. When all of the food, save for what you’ve set aside for Mark, is gone, Taeyong offers himself and some of the others up to clean, which you and the rest of the cooking boys eagerly accept. Most of them have headed out by now, but the few remaining begrudgingly agree to the job at Taeyong’s call.

You lean against the wall idly, watching the work being done and listening to the rhythmic sound of the water running and the sponge scraping against metal. Finally, Jungwoo happens upon the wrapped plate you had prepared for your missing guest.

“Who’s this for?” He asks to the room, almost salivating at the sight of the food. Damn, that boy can eat.

“It’s for Mark. You can give it to him when he gets back.” Your words are half informative, half threatening. Jungwoo takes the hint and carefully replaces the foil covering the food.

It takes another minute for him to look back over at you, seeing you looking bleary-eyed, close to swaying onto the floor from fatigue. He steps over, patting you on the head. “Y/N, you can go rest on the couch if you want. You look like you’re about to pass out.”

“I might just do that,” you respond, not clarifying which part of his sentence you’re talking about. At his behest, you shuffle over to the couch. It only takes a moment for your eyes to flutter closed. The music of washing dishes lulls you quickly to sleep.

You’re not sure how long has passed by the time you stir to the sound of the front door closing. You recognize that water is no longer running and that there are only two voices left in the kitchen area. Lying there for a moment, unsure of if you should make your presence known yet, you determine that the voices belong to Jungwoo and Mark.

“Oh, Y/N made sure to grab this for you,” you hear Jungwoo say, followed by the faint crinkling of the foil covering the plate.

“She did?” Mark’s voice is surprisingly soft, warm, everything you’re not used to from him.

The voices drift closer towards you, accompanying the slip of socks against the wood floor. “Don’t act surprised. Also, she’s on the couch sleeping right now. I’ll probably wake her up in a minute so she can go home.”

“Oh.” You’re listening as hard as you can, trying to determine whatever Mark is feeling just by his tone. “Is she okay?”

Your heart beats faster and you want to squirm, ask questions, anything. You remain still.

“Just tired.” A beat of silence. “Why are you looking at her like that?”

“Dude, I just…” Mark has some sort of lightness to his voice that you’ve never heard. “Nothing.”

“Do you think I can’t tell? Come on, I’ve known you long enough.” Jungwoo would normally be teasing saying something like that, but right now you just hear a kind of weariness that you’re entirely familiar with.

“Not as long you’ve known her.” The sentence comes out bitter, the first negativity you’ve heard from Mark all night, and Jungwoo sighs in response.

“Do what you need to do and then I’ll wake her up.”

They walk farther away. The telltale sound of the microwave opening and shutting after the foil crinkles again, followed by the beeping of the buttons and the hum of the machine, tells you that someone is heating up the food. Under the microwave ambiance, you hear what you think is plastic against plastic. The machine is stopped before it can beep shrilly. The smell of warm, reheated food fills the air briefly. There’s shuffling as Mark presumably walks.

“Night.” Jungwoo echoes Mark’s sentiment and you hear more shuffling towards you. A touch on your shoulder. You keep your eyes closed, trying to control your breathing for a moment longer. Your friend shakes you slightly. “Y/N, wake up.”

You try your best to play up your awakening act, like you hadn’t been listening to the entirety of the last conversation. Rubbing your eyes and blinking, you look up at Jungwoo. “What time is it?”

“Almost midnight. Everyone went home to sleep and study.” You get up slowly, rolling your shoulders once you’ve sat up. “I can walk you back, if you want.”

“That’s okay, it’s not a long walk.” You get to your feet, padding to the kitchen area. There, on the table, is the plastic container you’d brought Mark’s cookies in weeks ago. “Oh, that’s my container. Did Johnny find it?”

Jungwoo reaches up to ruffle his hair, looking between you and the container. “Mark did, actually.” “Huh.” Shrugging, you pick it up and make your way to the door. “Tell him thanks for me.”

“You could tell him yourself?” Jungwoo offers, looking vaguely hopeful.

You smile, but cringe at the same time. “Yeah… you know.”

He shakes his head, seeming disappointed once more. “Fine. Text me when you get back?”

“Will do.”

As you walk home, your container clutched in your arms, you think about how more pieces are being unveiled, but nothing is really making that much more sense at all.

Finals pass as they always do. You study with Yuqi for your curriculum development class. The situation from midterms repeats itself almost exactly at one point, with her calling Mark for help and you staying quiet as he talks, and the test is no harder than any of the others you had previously in the semester. You force yourself to keep your eyes on your exam and to not glance over at Mark except when you’re walking out of the classroom at the end. All you can see of him is the back of his head, his hair slightly disheveled. Idly, you wonder if you’ll get over your baseless crush if you aren’t able to look at him and mull over the problem during class anymore. You think that’s the last you’ll see of him before you run into him at an event next semester.

On the last day of finals, your group chat receives two messages from Jungwoo.

JW: END OF THE SEMESTER PARTY TOMORROW NIGHT TO CELEBRATE FINALS BEING DONE BEFORE EVERYONE LEAVES. ATTENDANCE IS MANDATORY.

JW: I don’t care if you planned a “date” with your “girlfriend,” I expect to see all of you there :))

A minute later, your phone buzzes again with an individual message from the same boy.

JW: Y/N, my lovely best friend, you’re part of the planning committee and you’re going to help me set up. Be there an hour early xoxo

You know there’s no use fighting it so, the next day, you show up to his place as expected. Jungwoo, Lucas, Yuta, and Johnny are all milling about, trying to seem busy but, honestly, there doesn’t look like there’s much to do. Some of the furniture has been moved to the side, there’s a giant mysterious tub that is partly filled with a reddish liquid that Lucas and Yuta are leaning over, and Johnny is affixing colorful lights to a wall. As soon as your shoes are off, Jungwoo is steering you to the common area.

“Y/N, you’re late!”

“I’m like ten minutes early-” You start.

“No, no, no excuses. I have an important job for you!” It takes you a moment to realize that he’s not leading you to the kitchen, but towards someone’s bedroom. “You like crafts, right?”

“I mean, I guess? I-”

“Great!” He pushes open the bedroom door, Mark’s bedroom door, and pushes you not-so-gently inside. Mark is sitting at his desk, bent over something with a look of surprise on his face. He looks cozy, dressed in a simple red t-shirt and gray sweats with circle glasses perched on his nose. “I want to hang about one hundred paper cranes around the apartment to add a little flare to the party. You can’t leave until you’re done, Mark has the paper, bye!”

He shuts the door behind him.

You and Mark stare at each other in bewilderment as you process whatever just happened. You’re in Mark’s bedroom for the first time. You’re also being actively forced to interact with him one on one for the first time. None of your friends had ever forced you to try and work out your issues until now and you’re certain that Jungwoo’s implication was that you’re not allowed to leave until you’ve talked it through. Some part of you knew he would eventually snap and force you to interact, but you always ignored that possibility. Until now.

“Um,” you start, twisting your fingers together in front of you, “he said you have the paper?”

“Yeah…” he looks back at his desk, grabbing some of the myriad of square sheets and holding them out to you. “Here.”

“Thanks.” You carefully make sure to prevent your fingers from brushing against his as you take them from him. Stepping back, you settle cross-legged on an empty spot on his floor. After you sit, you take a moment to look around. His walls have the occasional band poster plastered on them, there’s a hoodie on the floor across the room, and some of his drawers are partly open, illustrating a pretty typical college boy’s room. A couple of books are pushed to the side on his desk as he works on folding the cranes. Remembering that’s what you’re supposed to be doing, you get to work, making careful creases. Your first crane comes to life on yellow paper slightly lopsided. Good enough, you figure.

You’re in the middle of your second crane when Mark’s chair screeches quietly against the floor and he stands up, gathering his paper. To your great surprise, he sits down a few away from you and mirrors your pose. When you meet eyes with him briefly, you look away as fast as you can, returning to your crane before you can even try and read what he’s feeling. The next three cranes pass quickly with your eyes locked firmly on your work. When you dare to look up again, you find that Mark is intently watching your hands. He startles when you see him. Realizing he’s been caught, he speaks of softly. “Do you… know how to do it?”

Even when he’s the one talking quietly, looking embarrassed, you feel so small. You look down at his own paper pile, which has a few crumpled sheets surrounding it. “I can show you.” He nods and you cautiously scoot closer so that you’re side by side. As gently as you can, you explain each fold and he copies your movements. Soon, you have a relatively even green crane and he has a somewhat lopsided pink crane, very similar to your first.

“Thanks,” he says, staring at his creation, “all of the tutorials I googled weren’t making any sense, but I think I got it now.”

“No problem.” You nod, moving back to your spot across from him. Not wanting the experience to end quite yet, you think about what Jungwoo said last weekend. “Thanks for returning my container.”

He instantly knows what you’re talking about. “Thanks for-”

Before he can say any more, he stops and his expression hardens. He proceeds to look back down at his hands, making slow, purposeful folds in the paper in front of him. You frown, but do the same. A few cranes later, you can’t stop it anymore. After months, months, of him treating you like this, you can’t go one more crane without finding the truth. You throw a half-completed crane to the floor and, though the noise isn’t loud, he looks up. “Mark, what did I do?”

He seems entirely too surprised by the question, which sparks a kind of anger that you didn’t even realize you were holding in. “What?”

“What did I do! What made you act like this to me? Did I do something? Do you just hate my face? What did I do wrong?” You squeeze your knees brutally, trying to resist doing something like tearing up the few pieces of origami you had completed.

“Nothing.” His simple, one word answer only serves to make you more upset. Though he appears initially dismissive, he sees that you’re about to start shouting and quickly continues. “You really didn’t do anything!”

“Then, why? Mark, you’re making me lose my mind!” Now, you feel like you’re on the verge of crying out of frustration. So far, you’ve managed to not cry at all about this stupid boy who has largely chosen to ignore your existence, but you can feel the telltale warming of your cheeks and the pout in your lips.

“It’s not something you did! Not really.” He takes a shaky breath, appearing almost as upset as you, though there are no tears in his eyes. “It’s about Jungwoo. Please, don’t cry.”

The initial confusion helps you swallow your building tears. “If you’re upset at him, why do you have to take it out on me? I really wanted to be friends with you, Mark. I really did.”

“I wanted to be different.” Now, he’s quiet, refusing to look at you for the months of shame he’s feeling rise to the surface.

“From Jungwoo?” You’re not quite following still. You just know that, even though he’s subtly broken your heart and led you in circles over and over for the past few months, you want to know why he’s hurting and you want to stop it. Even if he hasn’t been full of kindness to you, he has been to everyone else. And you know almost for a fact that this isn’t something he’s told anyone else.

“From you.”

Pushing aside papers, crumpled partial cranes, complete cranes, you move closer to him. You’re not sure if you’re overstepping your boundaries and you still kind of feel like one wrong move will make you cry, but the yelling has left your system and your instincts say proximity will help you understand. “Will you explain it to me?”

“There was a you-shaped hole in Jungwoo’s heart ever since he had to go to college and stop spending so much time with you.” Mark’s resignation is quiet, soft-spoken, like the boy you’d heard so much about but only now had gotten to truly meet. “Whenever he came back from breaks, he would talk about you so much and about how similar you and I are and it just made me feel… it made me feel… like… I don’t know. Like I’m just replacing you while you’re not here.”

“Mark…” You’re not sure quite what to say that he hasn’t logically figured out for himself already. Maybe it would help to say the obvious anyways? “You’re not a replacement. You’re you and I’m me and he has different places for both of us.”

He lets out a puff of air. “I know that. It’s just the type of feeling that you can’t really get to go away, even when you try really hard to believe the opposite.”

“I get the feeling.” And you do. It’s like the nagging feeling that you’ve had that you did something unforgivable to upset Mark even though you were almost certain you didn’t.

“I was mean to you because at least that would make me different enough to not be replaced, I guess. It worked because you never stooped to my level to be mean back.” Though he hasn’t quite apologized, he sounds genuinely sorry.

“It worked because you couldn’t have been replaced in the first place,” you say back. You look over and he has a small smile on his face.

“That too. Also-” He stops himself, seeming conflicted. “No, it’s a bad time. A really bad time.”

That piques your curiosity. “Huh?” He’s not smiling anymore, instead looking awkwardly to his side, away from you, and drumming his fingers on the bed. “Mark, you might as well say it. Whatever it is.”

“Okay, after a few months, I realized that you weren’t going to replace me and things were fine. But, you know that thing that kids do?” You’re confused and he’s growing red, practically steaming at the ears in embarrassment, which you can see even in the dim light of the room. “So, I kept being mean because then you kept looking at me even though whenever I thought about what I said to you later, I always felt really bad-” “Mark, you’re rambling. What are you talking about?” You ungracefully interrupt him, touching his arm to get his full attention. He seems to grow even redder at your touch and suddenly exclaims his next words.

“You’re really cute!”

Slowly, his words make more sense. You try to piece them together out loud to make sure you’re understanding him correctly. “So… the thing kids do… where they’re mean to the person they like?”

He moves his head up and down in a tiny nod. Now, your face is heating up, too. Even more than it was when you were on the verge of crying. After a moment, he groans and presses his face into his hands. “Damn, I’m such an idiot. I know this is, like, what middle schoolers do, but since the beginning of the semester I’ve just been so confused, except you’ve probably been way, way more confused than me, and I didn’t even think about it, but all of our friends are probably confused, too, and-” As he jabbers, when your thoughts and feelings had been processing slowly previously, you now feel like your whole reality is crumbling. You spent the last while beating down your feelings when he’s become a pile of mush in front of you about the same problem? At this rate, he’s never going to stop rambling either. Not that you particularly want him to. It’s the most he’s directly said to you ever. And it’s adorable. What else would be adorable? You wonder, teasing him a bit before you tell him the truth. For how long he kept you hanging, you deserve to create at least some tension of your own, you figure. Just for a moment.

“- you’re probably thinking about how dumb this is and I don’t know how you’ll ever forgive me-”

You sit up straight and cross your arms over your chest. “Mark.”

He stops talking and looks at you, more panic seeming to rise in his face at the serious expression you wear. “Oh shit, I never let you talk. Y/N-”

“Mark.” He finally stops, staring at you. “I don’t forgive you.” The panic turns into sheer terror. He clearly hadn’t expected you to put it so forwardly. However, before he can say anything truly depressing, you continue. “I don’t forgive you because you haven’t actually apologized yet.”

His eyes are like tiny suns, round and bright and holding all the feeling in the universe. “I- I thought…” He looks to the side, thinking about everything he had said, and realizes that you’re right. “You’re right. Y/N…” He presses his hands together in front of him. “I’m so sorry.”

It’s probably the most succinct and straightforward he’s ever been with you, but you don’t have much time to think about that before he’s leaning forward in a full bow, pressing his forehead to the ground.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m-”

“Mark, stop!” As soon as you realize what he’s doing, you shuffle forward, putting both hands on his shoulders so you can attempt to yank him back upright. “I was joking, please stop!” He remains upraised, once again looking confused. Slowly, you move backwards about two feet to put some breathing room between you. “You don’t need to do that. I like you, too.”

One slow heartbeat passes. Then a second. You’re not sure how long the thick silence hangs between you, but the tension is so heavy that you don’t even hear any outside noise from the other boys who are supposedly getting ready for a party.

“You… what… wait, no, really?” Mark’s baffled face as he stutters back to you paired with the anxiety of the entire situation makes a laugh bubble out of your chest. He seems to be entirely at a loss. He continues to just stare at you wide-eyed, like he’s witnessing some incredible event instead of just ogling you in the dim light of his bedroom.

“Don’t look at me like that…” You can’t help but reflect some of his flustered behavior, eye contact becoming almost painful. He’s never met your eyes with such enormous positivity and cuteness before and it makes you want to run laps around the building or something. “Mark, I’m serious!”

“How could you like me back? When I was so mean to you? For months?” He begins to twist in place, trying to lean over and look at your head from multiple directions. “Did you fall down the stairs on the way over here and hit your head or something?”

“Mark!” You uncross your legs and shuffle closer on your knees, reaching out to still his movement by grasping his shoulders once again. “Please stop.” When you touch him, he freezes, still moon-eyed. After he stops moving, your hands slide down so that you can hold his. His hands are warm and stiff, just like the rest of his body.

He finally breaks eye contact, looking at where your hands are connected. “I just really don’t get it. There’s no way you like me.”

“You almost sound like you’re upset about it.” You tilt your head, smiling at him softly.

“I am!” He’s insistant, his hands holding onto yours firmly now. Though his grip is tighter, he visibly deflates, his shoulders sinking. “It’s so unfair to you. I was such an ass.”

“But you’re not. One ass-like behavior does not an ass make.” You almost confuse yourself saying it, but you continue. “It’s not about the times you were weird to me. It’s about the times you were nice to everyone else. Like when you helped Yuqi with our class. Or when you helped Donghyuck with his calc even though you aren’t even taking it with him. It sounds kind of dumb, but because of that, I knew you weren’t a bad person. Even if you were trying to be one to me sometimes.” Your thumbs run over his idly, making soothing strokes over his skin as you speak. “Still, you weren’t really all that mean to me, per se. More cold, if anything. Then, when you stopped doing so much of that, it got really confusing. I do have a question, though.”

“I’ll try to answer it, I guess.”

“Did Jungwoo really say we were that similar?”

He blinks. “Maybe once or twice? It just really stuck out to me, for some reason.”

“You’re cute.” He blushes furiously at that. Carefully, you untangle one of your hands from his and bring it up to his cheek, cupping his blazing face. “Do you want to try this? The being together thing?”

“I want to, but-” He presses his lips together, making his cheeks puff out slightly as he thinks. “I don’t know. I feel like I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve a chance with you.”

Silence sits between you for a moment. Your hand moves back down so you’re holding both of his again. “I know what you can do to make it up to me.”

His eager eyes on your face prompts you to continue. Slowly, a grin threatens to split your face in half.

“I guess you’ll have to kiss me at least once for every time you were mean to me. Maybe more than once.” Your brilliant smile changes form in the air between you and reappears as the stars in his eyes.

“Practice round? Just to make sure I get it right.” The subtle flirtatiousness of the idea that leaves his mouth absolutely appeals to you and you agree. You move as close as you possibly can, your knees pressed together, your breath on his lips and his on yours, his soft bangs grazing your forehead. The touch of his lips against yours is awkward at first, but transforms into something sweeter with a little time. Once you both pull away, it seems you have the same idea when you both go back in for a few quick pecks afterwards. Finally, when you’re content for the moment, he leans forward quickly to press a kiss to your cheek.

You figure that a return to the work of folding cranes will help calm down your rapid heart rate, but every time you steal a glance at Mark, the butterflies return. You know for a fact that he keeps looking at you, too. By the time the noise level outside of the room increases and music is being blasted through the apartment, you’re nowhere near being done with all one hundred cranes, but both of you are sure your mutual friend doesn’t actually care about that. Together, you emerge from his room. You don’t answer any prodding questions from your friends for most of the time you’re mingling, though you’re pretty sure that a good number of them see him sneaking kisses at least once or twice.

Some of them definitely see when you sneak off to his room again before the clock has even turned to midnight. At the same time, you could be damned if you really care.

#neowritingsnet #nct fluff #nct angst #mark lee fluff #mark lee angst #nct 127 fluff #nct 127 angst #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 imagines #nct fanfic #nct scenario #wonjaekook #i tried a slightly new sizing for the header :) hopefully it looks better now #there are definitely things I could have done better so let me know what you think!#<<<333

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bloody-bee-tea · 3 years

Text

Bell

Nie Huaisang has barely sat down when Jiang Cheng speaks.

“I’m ready to marry,” he says without warning and watches in amusement as Nie Huaisang fumbles with the tea pot.

Jiang Cheng decides not to mention the stain he leaves behind on the table.

“What the—uh, I mean, that’s great, Jiang-xiong,” Nie Huaisang finally manages to get out and then he shifts in his seat. “It’s just that—you’re great and all, and good looking of course, and everyone would be flattered, really, but I’m not?” he finishes weakly and Jiang Cheng hides his amused smile behind his cup of tea.

“I’m not speaking about you,” he eventually tells Nie Huaisang and it’s almost comical how he sags in relief.

“Then why the hell would you tell me this, Jiang-xiong, you nearly gave me a heart attack,” he wines and finally gets around to pouring himself a cup of tea. “What brought this on?”

“My Sect is stable for now and it feels like the right time to settle down,” Jiang Cheng tells him with a shrug. “A good alliance won’t hurt either, and my Elders are getting on my case about a marriage. I figured, why not.”

“And there’s someone you like?” Nie Huaisang wants to know and Jiang Cheng nods.

There’s even someone he loves.

“I still don’t see why you would tell me about this,” Nie Huaisang says after a moment and Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes.

“I’m looking for your approval,” Jiang Cheng says and gives Nie Huaisang enough time to widen his eyes in surprise before he goes on. “I wish to marry Nie Mingjue.”

“Oh,” Nie Huaisang whispers and suddenly he seems tense and sad and Jiang Cheng frowns.

This is not the reaction he expected.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Nie Huaisang lowly says and Jiang Cheng puts his cup down harder than he wanted to.

“So I’m good enough for you but not your brother? Is this an insult to you or to me? Didn’t you say anyone would be flattered? Are you lying to me now, Huaisang?” he demands to know and Nie Huaisang flinches before he hides behind his fan.

Jiang Cheng glares at him, because Nie Huaisang damn well knows how he thinks about that.

“Of course not, that’s not it,” Nie Huaisang nervously says. “It’s just—da-ge isn’t doing so well,” Nie Huaisang finally admits and that at least Jiang Cheng can understand.

Even if a pit of worry opens in his stomach at hearing that.

“What do you mean?” he prompts Nie Huaisang when he falls silent again and Nie Huaisang’s fan speeds up.

“His qi deviations—it’s getting worse,” Nie Huaisang admits.

Jiang Cheng has seen a few of them over the course of his friendship with Nie Huaisang, mostly because Nie Mingjue didn’t seem to think twice about leaving his Sect for days or weeks at a time, always deciding to join Nie Huaisang when he came by on one of his visits to Lotus Pier.

Jiang Cheng just didn’t think it was this serious, yet.

“Worse?”

Nie Huaisang nods.

“More regular and more violent. Even er-ge—he told me—I should prepare, he said,” Nie Huaisang brings out and Jiang Cheng frowns.

If even Lan Xichen no longer has hope that his playing is doing something, then it really must be serious. The guy is a notorious optimist and for him to be pessimistic about it—Jiang Cheng doesn’t like it.

“Yeah, well, I haven’t played for him yet,” Jiang Cheng decides on a whim but a plan is forming in his mind.

He will not allow Nie Mingjue to die before he turns thirty. There’s no way in hell that will happen.

“Jiang-xiong, what do you think to achieve if even er-ge can’t help anymore?” Nie Huaisang wants to know but there’s the tiniest bit of hope in his voice.

“Maybe Lan Xichen goes about this wrong,” Jiang Cheng decides, the plan taking more concrete shape.

It would make sense if Lan Xichen’s playing isn’t having the desired effect if what Jiang Cheng thinks is true.

“Can you even play the song?” Nie Huaisang asks and Jiang Cheng grins at him.

“No, but I know a master who might be willing to teach me.”

He’s not talking about Lan Xichen, they both know it, and Nie Huaisang’s eyes go wide.

“It’s impossible, Jiang-xiong,” he then says with a shake of his head. “Even if Lan Qiren would be willing to teach you one of their secret songs, are you even good enough to learn it? And why would you think that you have more success than er-ge?”

“You seem to forget what my Sect’s motto is,” Jiang Cheng tells him and takes another sip from his tea. “Attempting the impossible is literally what I do,” he says and that, at least shuts Nie Huaisang up.

Jiang Cheng guesses it’s mostly because they are sitting in what was a burned out husk just a year ago but is now again a bustling, thriving Sect.

No one imagined Jiang Cheng would be able to rebuild Lotus Pier like this and he proved them all wrong.

He’s going to prove them wrong about Nie Mingjue’s impending death as well.

~*~*~

“Sect Leader Jiang,” Lan Qiren greets him when Jiang Cheng enters the room.

“Teacher Lan Qiren,” he respectfully gives back and Lan Qiren waves him off in the same move he tells him to sit.

Jiang Cheng settles down and waits for Lan Qiren to pour them both some tea before he speaks. He did learn his lesson with Nie Huaisang, as amusing as that was.

“I intend to court Nie Mingjue,” Jiang Cheng says and just like Nie Huaisang, Lan Qiren jerks with his words.

Jiang Cheng would be offended that this is everyone’s first reaction, but honestly, he thinks it’s more amusing than anything.

“Why are you telling me this?” Lan Qiren wants to know after a moment and Jiang Cheng gives him a winning smile.

“I need help with the courting gift,” Jiang Cheng tells him and watches as Lan Qiren’s eyebrows go up.

“What do you intend to give him that you think I’m able to help?”

“I need the Song of Clarity,” Jiang Cheng says without beating around the bush and Lan Qiren freezes.

“That’s a Clan secret,” Lan Qiren reminds him and Jiang Cheng shrugs.

“I know, but I’m counting on the fact that you care too much to deny me this,” he says. “Nie Mingjue’s death would devastate Lan Xichen and you love your nephew too much to want that to happen.”

Lan Qiren regards him in silence for a long moment before he sighs.

“If you want to marry him, it would devastate you, too. And you already lost so many,” Lan Qiren says and Jiang Cheng is surprised enough by his words that he falls silent.

He doesn’t see why Lan Qiren would care about if it hurts him, but it’s nice to know that he does.

“Which is why I won’t let it happen. But I need to learn to play the song.”

“What makes you think that you can achieve what my nephew cannot?”

“No offense to your nephew, but I think he’s going about this wrong,” Jiang Cheng says with a shrug.

“Elaborate,” Lan Qiren says, but his voice doesn’t snap like it used to in the classroom when he was outraged and Jiang Cheng counts it as a win.

“Lan Xichen is a formidable musician, but outside of a fight he’s too soft. I haven’t heard him play for Nie Mingjue but I’m guessing he’s trying for a gentle, soothing approach. It won’t work.”

“Why not?”

“Have you known Nie Mingjue to be gentle and soothing?” Jiang Cheng shoots back and Lan Qiren frowns. “Even when he cares about someone he’s gruff about it, an undercurrent of anger always there. It’s just who he is,” Jiang Cheng says, because he has witnessed it enough times to know it to be true.

Nie Mingjue doesn’t care about anyone more than his brother and even with him he can’t be gentle and soft. It’s just not who Nie Mingjue is as a person, and that’s perfectly alright. But Lan Xichen is trying to appeal to that side of Nie Mingjue, so it’s no wonder he’s not making any progress.

“What is your plan, then?” Lan Qiren inquires. “To sit on him and force him to listen instead of having him meditate?”

“Yes,” Jiang Cheng bluntly says, because he guesses that’s the only way he’ll get Nie Mingjue to listen and it would be the most effective. “The song doesn’t have an effect because Nie Mingjue is not gentle and soft, there’s nothing the song could react with. If you play the song when he’s angry and ready for a fight—it might wield more of a result.”

“You gave this a lot of thought,” Lan Qiren muses but he hasn’t yet snapped at Jiang Cheng and that simply has to be a good sign.

“Of course I did. I didn’t just wake up yesterday and decided I would marry Nie Mingjue.”

That happened a few weeks back, but Lan Qiren doesn’t need to know about that.

“Can you even play the guqin?”

“I was raised as the heir to one of the five Great Sects. We all had to learn,” he says with a shrug.

“But can you?” Lan Qiren asks again, clearly not buying Jiang Cheng’s bullshit.

“I have a basic understanding of it,” Jiang Cheng finally relents and a cold shiver goes down his back when Lan Qiren smiles at him.

“The Song of Clarity is one of the more complicated ones,” he warns him but Jiang Cheng has never met a challenge he wouldn’t take.

How hard can it be, anyway.

~*~*~

It turns out the Song of Clarity is a fucking bitch to learn and Jiang Cheng hates the song with a passion. It’s unnecessary stupid and hard and just out to make Jiang Cheng trip up over seemingly innocent looking notes and if he never has to play it again it will be too soon.

But he learned it for a reason and he did not go through all of this pain and hassle to simply never play it again.

“You’re ready,” Lan Qiren says two weeks into his lessons. “You can play it for Nie Mingjue.”

“Thank you,” Jiang Cheng says, as he bows to Lan Qiren over his guqin.

“Did you send an official courtship letter yet?” Lan Qiren wants to know and he frowns when Jiang Cheng shakes his head.

“No. I talked to Huaisang, who told me not to marry his brother, because he’s bound to die soon. I doubt Nie Minjgue’s answer will be different at the moment, and I’m not accepting that. Huaisang did give me his blessing to try though, so there’s that.”

“I see,” Lan Qiren says and strokes his beard. “If Mingjue accepts, you send him here, for a talk.”

That makes Jiang Cheng freeze.

“A talk?”

“Jin Ling is too young to give Mingjue a fair warning as to what will happen to him if he makes you unhappy, so I’m going to step in.”

Jiang Cheng is unable to find his voice for the longest of times, because that he didn’t expect. He knows Lan Qiren has to like him at least a little bit, otherwise he would have kicked him out the moment Jiang Cheng barged in with his outrageous demand but this—this almost speaks of family.

“Thank you,” Jiang Cheng chokes out and when Lan Qiren smiles at him this time, it’s a soft thing.

“You’re very welcome, Wanyin. And now go and court that stubborn man.”

“I will,” Jiang Cheng says and gathers up his guqin. “I damn well will.”

~*~*~

Nie Mingjue is frowning at him when Jiang Cheng refuses to take a seat in the great hall.

“Why do you have to be so contrary today?” Nie Mingjue presses out and Jiang Cheng can see it, the unnatural anger, caused by the always threatening qi deviation.

He doesn’t like it, but he will damn well use it for his own gain here.

“I’m itching for a fight, can’t you see?” Jiang Cheng gives back and bares his teeth at Nie Mingjue. “Though I doubt you can take me today. I bet the anger makes you all sloppy,” Jiang Cheng teases him, fully aware of Nie Huaisang’s nervous flutter of his fan in the corner of the room and of Nie Mingjue’s narrowing eyes.

“What do you want, Wanyin?” Nie Mingjue snaps and for this Jiang Cheng softens his smile as much as he knows how to.

“I want to marry you,” he says and doesn’t let Nie Mingjue’s surprised gasp deter him. “But not if you’re going to make a widower out of me in the week after our wedding. So you’re going to endure me playing the most boring, difficult fucking song for you, or I will force you to.”

“Force me to,” Nie Mingjue repeats and gets up. “You think you can force me to listen to it?”

“Look at you,” Jiang Cheng scoffs, though his heart is beating quicker with the threat hanging over him. Nie Mingjue is a formidable warrior after all. “Your hands are already shaking. You can’t beat me.”

Jiang Cheng and Nie Mingjue have sparred a lot when he came to visit Lotus Pier and Jiang Cheng did win a few times, but it was too rare for this kind of confidence and Jiang Cheng knows it.

He is counting on the fact that Nie Mingjue really is too far gone already to put up much of a fight.

“Fuck you,” Nie Mingjue hisses but he reaches for Baxia.

“You can, if you win,” Jiang Cheng cheekily gives back. “If I win, I will sit on you and you will damn well listen to me play.”

~*~*~

The moment Nie Mingjue hits the ground, Jiang Cheng is on him, whipping out the guqin Lan Qiren gave him as he settles down on Nie Mingjue’s back.

Jiang Cheng makes himself heavier than he usually is—using one of the many talismans Wei Wuxian came up with back in the day—and Nie Mingjue struggles under him, cursing and yelling, hitting the ground and kicking his legs.

Jiang Cheng will never get a better opportunity than this.

He starts to play the Song of Clarity, his own emotions running high from the fight and from his worry for Nie Mingjue and he thinks it might just be okay like that.

Clearly Nie Mingjue doesn’t react to the gentleness with which Lan Xichen plays for him; maybe he needs to have this song played a bit more aggressively as well.

Nie Mingjue doesn’t stop his struggling throughout the whole song but Jiang Cheng isn’t deterred by that. When he ends it, he looks over his shoulder down at Nie Mingjue who is glaring at him.

“You need me to play it again?” Jiang Cheng challenges him and Nie Mingjue huffs.

“I hate that fucking song.”

“The feeling is mutual, but you’re not getting out of this the easy way. So what will it be?” he demands to know and Jiang Cheng startles when Nie Mingjue slaps the ground, apparently in anger before he sags.

“Play it again,” Nie Mingjue says and Jiang Cheng can’t fight the rush of happy satisfaction that runs through him.

So he plays the cursed song again and then one more time for good measure, though for that last one he allows Nie Mingjue to get up and go through forms with Baxia and when he finally, finally vanishes the guqin again, Nie Mingjue’s grip is steady and his eyes are clear.

“How the hell did you do that?” Nie Mingjue demands to know once he’s done with his form and Jiang Cheng gets up to stretch his legs.

He never really was one for sitting down.

“I played the song, same as everyone else,” he gives back but Nie Mingjue shakes his head.

“Yours is different.”

“Because I don’t try to soothe you with it. I don’t want to get rid of your anger or your gruffness. I want to get rid of the death that could follow it, so I play for that.”

“Is that why Xichen’s song doesn’t work?”

“Probably,” Jiang Cheng says with a shrug and then he startles when Nie Mingjue simply drops Baxia to the ground.

There’s a heart stopping moment where Jiang Cheng fears that he overdid it, or that he did something wrong, that Nie Mingjue is experiencing a qi deviation at that very moment, but before he can move and try to help in any way possible Nie Mingjue’s hands are on his face and Jiang Cheng is being pulled into a scorching kiss.

“I don’t know what you intend to give me for our wedding, but nothing can compete with this,” Nie Mingjue breathes out when they part and Jiang Cheng darts in to nibble on his lower lip.

“Try me,” he says and claims Nie Mingjue’s lips again, because he can and there is nothing else he wants to be doing at that moment.

Judging by how they just barely make it to Nie Mingjue’s room, the feeling is mutual.

(Jiang Cheng does have a better gift at the wedding; he modified the Yunmeng Jiang Clarity Bell in a way that allows it to resonate with Baxia, to clear away resentment and to replicate the effects of the so despised song without Jiang Cheng ever having to play it again. It turns out Nie Huaisang is the most grateful for that, actually, because he started to hate the song with a passion, too.)

Link to my ko-fi on the sidebar!

#bt writes #the untamed #mdzs #mingcheng #jiang cheng #nie mingjue #lan qiren #nie huaisang #fix it #song of clarity #cursing #getting together #courtship #humor #jc is not going to let nmj die of something as trivial as a goddamn qi deviation #just watch him

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cooliogirl101 · 3 years

Note

so what happened with nana and shamal? are they a less intense version of gin and hisana? 🤔

The first time Shamal sets eyes on Nana Fujiwara, he is convinced he’s seen an angel. He takes in the warmth of her eyes, the silkiness of her hair, the way she smells like white tea and jasmine, and he leaps at her with welcoming arms, ready to embrace her and press himself against those soft, inviting curves.

He’s promptly enveloped in an enormous cloud of pepper spray. That basically sets the tone for the next two years of their relationship.

In general, Nana likes to think of herself as someone who gets along pretty well with people. She knows she has a bit of a temper, but she tries her best to keep it under control and to remain patient, calm, and understanding.

That all goes out the window when it comes to Trident Shamal.

There are a lot of things about Shamal that she hates. She hates the way he leers at and chases after every girl he finds attractive. She hates his stupid, perverted grin and she hates the stupid, dopey look he gets on his face every time she sees him, and she hates his stupid, fucking ridiculous rule about ‘not treating men.’

Most of all though, she hates how he gets away with it. How every single member of the administration simply laughs it off, telling her it’s “just some harmless flirting, don’t worry about it.” One professor tells her she should be flattered and she almost commits homicide right then and there.

Then to top everything off, she can’t even avoid him because as the top two members of their class, they always end up getting paired together for projects, which was...just typical.

Honestly, Nana thinks the fact that she hasn’t killed him yet is an enormous testament to her self control. She could probably put that on her resume under ‘special skills’-- has refrained from murdering classmate (was there a word for that? Classmate-cide? Peer-tricide?) despite being given literally hundreds of reasons to do so.

Not to say she hasn’t imagined doing so. Vividly. She ended up doodling so many scenarios that she had to get a second notebook.

Any other day, and Shamal would have been thrilled to have Nana Fujiwara, the loveliest, prettiest, most adorable girl in his class, knocking on his door. Any other day and he would’ve been more than happy to wax poetic about her beautiful smile, her fiery personality, her large, doe-like eyes, the soft curve to those plump, inviting lips, the-- well, the list goes on.

Right now however, he hadn’t showered in three (or was it four?) days, he was drenched in his own sweat, he was running a fever of 39.5 C, his head was throbbing painfully, everything hurt, and to top everything off, the room smelled strongly of vomit.

“Shamal, I know you’re in there! Open up!” Shamal groaned miserably, covering his eyes with one arm as the pounding at the door caused his headache to go from ‘someone trying to drive an iron spike through my head’ to ‘iron spike is now on fire and accompanied by a hundred tiny hammers, please kill me now.’

“Goddammit Shamal, you were supposed to send me the draft of your half of the project three days ago! Open the door!” Nana continued to shout through the door. “I swear to god, if you don’t open up, I will kick your door down, don’t think I won’t--oh.”

Nana blinked, irritated scowl melting away at the sight of his appearance. She frowned, a touch of concern creeping into her expression.

“Are you...okay?” She asked hesitantly. It was the first time he’d heard Nana Fujiwara sound hesitant and Shamal hated it.

Summoning up whatever last reserves of strength he had left, Shamal put on his best flirtatious grin, eyes curving up into crescents.

“Aww, you don’t have to be worried about me, beautiful!” He cooed, then clenched his teeth as he felt his stomach swoop nauseatingly. “I’ll be fine, just had a lil’ too much to drink last night.” He leaned casually against the doorframe, which had the added benefit of keeping him mostly upright. “I just need to sleep it off and then--”

“Yeah no, you’re clearly not okay. Stupid question,” Nana murmured, clearly ignoring everything he’d just said. She stepped closer, placing a hand against his forehead. “Jesus, you’re burning up. Come on, I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“No!” He shouted. Nana flinched, startled, and Shamal cursed under his breath. He hadn’t meant to do that.

“No,” he repeated, calmer this time. “No hospitals. I’ll be fine.”

“Shamal--” Nana began.

“They won’t be able to do anything,” he interrupted. “I’ve been through this before, I know how it goes. I just need to wait it out.” He swallowed. “Going to a hospital won’t help. Please, Nana, I--”

He suddenly doubled over, retching violently the rest of his words disappearing under a river of vomit. Shamal had just enough time to see Nana’s eyes widen before he slipped into blissful unconsciousness.

Shamal woke up to gentle hands dabbing at his face with a cool washcloth, the pleasant scent of white tea and jasmine, a familiar voice murmuring soft reassurances in his ear.

“Shhh, you’re okay. It’s just me,” the voice whispered. “Go back to sleep.”

“Nana?” Shamal asked, fighting to stay awake. “You stayed.”

There was a pause.

“Yeah,” she said finally. “Yeah. I stayed.”

Honestly, Nana had no idea what possessed her to actually listen to her obviously sick, half-delirious, idiot classmate instead of doing the reasonable thing, which would’ve been to dump him at the nearest hospital.

Maybe it was the fact that he’d actually called her by her name for once, instead of some stupid pet name. Maybe it was the fact that she knew firsthand how miserable hospitals could be and could sympathize with his desire to avoid them at all cost. Or maybe it was the fact that she recognized the tone of voice he’d used when he’d told her that there was nothing the doctors could do to help him-- the kind of resigned certainty that could only come from experience, of having your hopes dashed over and over. It was a tone of voice she was well acquainted with.

(“I’m sorry Christina, there’s nothing more we can do.”)

It could have been any one of those reasons, or all three of them. She tried not to think too much about it.

It took another two days before Shamal’s fever started coming down and three before he started sounding halfway coherent again. On the fourth, she found him sitting in bed with his breakfast untouched on the nightstand next to him.

“Is something wrong?” Nana asked, frowning. “Are you feeling nauseous again?” When he shook his head, she continued, “I can make something else if you don’t like--”

“Why?” Shamal interrupted.

“Why what?” Nana asked, puzzled. “Why did I make eggs? I was looking up things that are good to eat when you’re sick and I came across a recipe for Chinese steamed eggs. I wish I knew about this before, I mean like it provides protein but it’s soft like a custard so you don’t have to chew much and--”

“No, why-- why do all this? Why go to this much trouble for me?” Shamal demanded, gesturing wildly with his hands. “The cooking, and the-- the washing, and you even cleaned up my apartment, and I don’t-- I don’t understand why--”

“Well, what was I supposed to do, just leave your unconscious body lying there on Death’s front doorstep?” Nana asked uncomprehendingly.

“I threw up on you!” Shamal snapped, sounding mortified.

“Yeah, you aren’t the first person to throw up on me, and you won’t be the last,” she responded dryly. “I’d be in the wrong line of work if I let a little vomit get to me.”

When he still refused to meet her eyes, she sighed.

“Look Shamal, I may not like you-- actually, I can’t stand you-- but that doesn’t mean I want you to suffer like this. You don’t deserve that, no one deserves that.”

No one deserved to feel like their body was failing them. Nana swallowed, forcing her voice to remain steady.

“I was in a position to help, and so I did,” she said quietly. “It’s as simple as that.”

“...as simple as that,” Shamal echoed. “You truly mean that, don’t you? No favors, no debts, just--” He laughed, a little disbelievingly. “You’d go above and beyond the call of duty even for those you hate, just because it was the right thing to do.” He shook his head, a faint smile on his lips. “You really are something else, Nana Fujiwara.”

Nana glanced away, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. She wasn’t sure if he was just acting weird due to the lingering fever, or-- or dizziness from missing breakfast, but something about the way he was looking at her in that moment--

“I should take your temperature again, it’s been over eight hours since I last checked it,” she said abruptly. “I think I left the thermometer in the other room, wait here.” She marched off and tried to ignore how it felt like running away. “Eat your eggs.”

#would really love to hear what you guys think of this relationship dynamic!#solar flame au #wtl!au

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triptuckers · 3 years

Text

New In Town (part five) - Kaz Brekker

Request: nope Pairing: Kaz Brekker x reader Summary: Kaz finds out who has been stealing from him Warnings: language, mentions of fighting/violence but no blood Word count: 1.8K A/N: he is hereeee hehe PREVIOUS PART | NEXT PART TAG LIST (all grishaverse fics): @ayushmitadutta @mrs-brekker15@dancingwith-sunflowers @thegirlwiththeimpala @parker-natasha@story-scribbler@romanoffstarkovs@daliareads@meiitanoia @itsnotquimey@sanktaesperanza @whymyparentscheckmyphone @aleksanderwh0r3 @ilovemarvelanne1 @marlenaisnthappy @brekker-zenik @just-deka @graceknxwlson @the-very-tired-mess@whymyparentscheckmyphone@aleksanderwh0r3 @ilovemarvelanne1 TAG LIST (Kaz Brekker): @mufnasa @Janesofia7 @stairscortana @parker-natasha @illicitghosts @brick-by-brick553 TAG LIST (New In Town): @calums-betch add yourself to my tag lists here

After stealing a necklace and a crate full of jewellery, you developed a taste for sneaking around behind the Dregs' backs. This is not at all like your job back in Ravka, but you're getting the hang of it. A part of you prefers stealing for yourself over taking jobs from others.

At least this way, you get to be the one to make decisions. You get to decide wether or not to go through with a job, who you steal from and who gets hurt.

Back in Ravka, there had been a number of jobs that went wrong, and it mostly resulted into you fighting for your life. You won, but your opponent often wasn't so lucky. You'd hurt more people than you intended, but at least you got paid.

In Ketterdam, you had yet to fight someone to the death. You tried to avoid it. You stayed in the shadows, at a distance of the Barrel and its gangs.

As the weeks went by, you didn't have a lot of trouble. You listened in on Kaz' meetings with the others, and successfully stole four items they also had their eyes on. They still hadn't figured out it was you, and you took pride in that.

You occasionally ran into Jesper in the streets, but judging by the way he spoke to you, he still thought of you as a nice girl who was a bartender, and now worked at a cafe.

Only you didn't work at a cafe. But you trusted Jesper not to look further into it. You had the feeling he trusted you.

Given that you really like Jesper, you sometimes feel bad for sneaking around behind his back. But to see their confused faces when you outsmarted them again, was priceless.

And you didn't take all of it, anyway. You only sabotaged the jobs you wanted. Some jobs required more than one person, so you couldn't interfere with those. And you didn't want to take everything from them, just enough for you.

You got better at climbing buildings and jumping from roof to roof. You taught yourself how to pick a lock after you watched Kaz do it from a distance. It took you a few tries, but eventually, you got it right.

After spending so much time in Ketterdam, you started to feel at home. You didn't really have a lot of friends besides the people that lived in the same building as you.

Sometimes you wanted to tell Jesper all of it when you saw him in the streets. But you had quickly changed your mind when you saw them caught in a fight with a rival gang, and you saw they all knew how to fight. You didn't think they'd be too happy to find out you had been stealing from them.

So Ketterdam was nice, but also kind of lonely. In Ravka, you had a few friends. They didn't know what you did for a living, but they didn't seem to care. Everyone kept secrets.

You thought no one knew of your life in Ravka, so you were surprised when you heard a new name whispered on the streets of Ketterdam.

It was a name you hadn't heard in a long time. In Ravka, there had been whispers of a thief that worked so well, no one knew who they were. The Ravkans claimed the thief moved so swiftly, they became one with the shadows.

Without even knowing they were talking about you, one of your friends had once excitedly whispered to you about the so called shadow thief.

Though you hated the name, you were also a bit flattered they even gave you one. It meant you did your job good. And it also meant they hadn't discovered your identity yet.

You figured the people of Ketterdam had no way of finding out you are the thief they talk about. After all, the name was spoken for the first time weeks after you arrived. No one would be able to tell it was you.

You're walking down the streets, on your way back to your apartment. When you first got to the city, you didn't dare walk through the Barrel. But now that you've been there for a while and know the streets pretty well, you decide to take a shortcut.

Even if some drunk gang member would approach you, you had your weapons. As well as the escape routes you could take. All you had to do was climb up a building with a fire escape, and you'd be able to get away.

It's dark outside, but it doesn't scare you. You're listening to the sounds around you because even though you're familiar with the streets, it's still the Barrel. And you're still a girl walking home alone.

Your hand is on your knife that's hidden away in your coat pocket. It's only a little further to your apartment. Suddenly you get an uneasy feeling in your stomach and listen carefully for any sounds you might hear.

The most important lesson you learned was to trust your instincts. And right now, they are telling you you're being followed. You keep walking, pretending you haven't noticed them.

When you walk around a corner, you pull your knife out of your pocket. But before you can turn around and push the knife against their throat, something hard hits you behind your knees, knocking you to the ground.

You groan as you fall to the floor but are up again in seconds. It's dark, and you can't see who your opponent is. You dodge a second swing of a long object, and dart forward, ready to punch your attacker.

They raise their weapon to swing at you again, but you are quick to grab it and give it a hard pull, yanking it from their hand.

It catches them off guard. They stumble and you notice the way they clutch one of their legs. You raise the weapon - which you realise is a cane - and glare at your attacker.

'Give me a reason and I'll fucking crush your skull with your own cane.' you say. 'And I'm warning you, don't fucking test my patience.'

To your surprise, they chuckle lightly at your words.

'You won't do that. Because you won't get paid for that. No bodies if there is no payment.' says a raspy voice.

'What the fuck are you talking about?' you say.

'I'm talking about what you used to do for a living in Ravka, shadow thief.' he says. 'Mostly stealing, but sometimes things didn't go the way you wanted. If someone died, you demanded extra payment. Collateral damage.'

'I don't know what you're talking about.' you say, hoping you sound confident. 'If you're after my money you can piss off because I don't have anything on me and I don't intent on inviting you into my home. So get lost.'

You can see he wants to say something. You toss the cane toward him, it hits him in the stomach and he doubles over, gasping for breath.

'I wonder who you are without that cane to swing at people's knees, Brekker.' you say.

It didn't take long for you to figure out who it was. Only one person in Ketterdam walked around with such a recognisable cane. Kaz Brekker, Dirtyhands, the one who had been planning all of your jobs for you.

'So you know who I am.' he says.

'Everyone in Ketterdam does.' you say.

'But not everyone in Ketterdam knows who you are.' says Kaz. 'You did quite a good job at keeping your identity hidden. Jesper tells me you work at a cafe, but every time I walk by, you're not there.'

You narrow your eyes at him. 'What do you want?' you say.

'I want you to know I know who you are, I see you. I know of all the jobs you did back in Ravka, I know your reputation. Now I am the only one who knows you are the shadow thief people whisper about. Imagine what I could do with that information.' says Kaz.

You're silent as you listen to him. Was he really going to threaten you?

'I could sell that information to the highest bidder. I'm sure there are people in Ravka who lost a lot because of you. They'd be happy to know who you are.' says Kaz.

'Be my guest.' you say. 'I can handle it. If all you wanted to do was to threaten me, I think I'll go now.'

'One more thing.' says Kaz. 'Why do my jobs for me? And don't deny it, I know it's you.'

You shrug. 'It's easy.' you say honestly. 'You plan it out, you do the hard work, all I have to do is make sure I arrive before you do.'

'But now I know it's you, I can take precautions against you.' says Kaz.

'Can you, though?' you say with a mischievous smile. 'You don't know how I get the information.'

You step closer to him, still smiling. 'I look forward to seeing what kind of precautions you're going to take. We'll see if they can really stop me, Brekker.' you say.

You step back again. 'Next time, if you want to talk, just knock on my front door. I'm sure it's easy for you to follow me to my apartment. I'll have fresh coffee ready for you and we can talk like civilised human beings.' you say and you turn around and start to walk away.

'Except for we're not civilised human beings, shadow thief.' you hear Kaz say as you walk away.

You smile to yourself as you keep on walking. You didn't know what Kaz thought he could do to stop you. If you are right, he didn't know how you got the information on his jobs.

He'd have to be patient, like you. You didn't know just how much he knows about you. He knows of your past, he knows you steal from him, maybe he'd guessed at your skills.

You'd have to be careful. He'd try to make sure you won't do his jobs for him anymore. And you have the feeling he knows very well how to play dirty.

But two can play that game.

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rules Here’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit

#new in town #kaz brekker #shadow and bone #grishaverse #Kaz Brekker x reader #Kaz Brekker fanfic #Kaz Brekker fanfics #Kaz Brekker fanfiction #Kaz Brekker fic #Kaz Brekker fics #shadow and bone fics #shadow and bone fanfics #shadow and bone fanfic #shadow and bone fic #shadow and bone fanfiction

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diavolosthots · 3 years

Note

Here's a thought. The brothers reacting to MC introducing their fiance to them, except they look eerily similar to one of them. While they can see it, the comparison flies right over MC's head.

I made this fiancé(e) look like Lucifer because it would piss everyone off and i need entertainment in my life

Warning: like… half the brothers starting an argument, pettiness

THE BROTHERS reacting to MC introducing their fiancé(e) who looks like one of them

Lucifer:

Well isn’t that just wonderful? He was fully prepared to, for once in his life, team up with Satan and Belphegor and make your fiancé(e)’s stay in the Devildom a living hell, unironically. A demon has to have fun every once in a millennia, right? He’s actually shocked when he sees the person, but only for a moment. They look eerily like him and that confuses him. Why not pick him to begin with? His pride is confused because of one hand, just pick him and you would’ve basically had the exact same person! On the other hand he’s still flattered that you found him attractive enough to pick someone who looks like him…

Mammon:

He doesn’t even try to hide it. He’s the first to mention that, hey, “that looks like Lucifer!” much to the dismay of everyone else. It’s surprising how you looked between Lucifer and your fiancé(e) and still didn’t see the similarities. Are you blind? Is he just blind and seeing Lucifer double? No! May or may not call you stupid because it’s right in front of your eyes, and half the brothers actually agree with him. Besides that, though, he’s super salty and distant to you now because you already had a fiancé(e), meaning he made a fool of himself for you, for nothing. You thought Satan was bad at holding grudges? Good luck with Mammon.

Leviathan:

Less concerned with the fact that they look like Lucifer, more concerned with the fact that this person isn’t freaking out over being in literal hell and talking to literal demons? Why are they not running? Should he summon Lotan for fun? Granted, he would summon Lotan out of jealousy more than anything, really. Upset because he doesn’t have a chance with you now, more upset because he looks nothing like the guy so that just reinforces that he isn’t your type. Follows it up by calling himself silly, because obviously he’s not anyone’s type. Congrats MC, he’ll be in his room.

Satan:

In the same boat with Levi; why aren’t they scared? Will give you a half hearted “congrats MC” before quizzing the person and boy… he will drag them through the mud big time. Asks questions which no normal person with the average amount of intelligence could ever know and draws his conclusion that they’re not good enough for you based on that alone. Nevermind the fact that they look like Lucifer, although that heavily bothers him too; MC, they’re totally dumb, average at best, and you deserve someone who can talk to you for hours; who stimulates not just your body, but your mind and soul. Definitely will try to manipulate you into leaving your fiancé(e).

Asmodeus:

He’s SO petty about it. Snark comments about that person’s appearance and the way they carry themselves. ‘Helpful’ beauty tips that have both you and your fiancé(e) rolling your eyes, and remarks about how the person looks like Lucifer and if you had to choose any brother look-alike you should have OBVIOUSLY chosen him. Honestly he will, without a doubt, give you the cold shoulder and not have anything to do with you or your fiancé(e), and instead sulks in his room alone. Have fun, MC, although you would have more fun with him.

Beelzebub:

He swallows thickly, barely getting a “congratulations MC” out of his system without glaring at you both. He’s not petty, per se, he’s just hurt and covers it up with a glare. For a while, he really thought you guys had something, yet here you are with your fiancé(e). Ask them if they can cook and what they can cook. If they can’t cook, or only cook simple things, he’s quick to call them useless and, “you can’t have a healthy marriage on an empty stomach, MC.” To which you can totally chew him out on. Most likely leaves before anything can escalate but brings it back up in private later. Also, Lucifer? Really?

Belphegor:

He. is. Pissed. Not only did you practically choose Lucifer, but thankfully not the actual one, but also you chose a complete dumbass. Who isn’t scared of demons? Who doesn’t question hell? He’s sure to scare your fiancé(e) far away, no matter how upset you’ll be with him. Lucifer, Satan, and him, as mentioned before, are sure to team up and make their life a living hell, claiming it’s for your own good. Don’t call him out on it either because he will throw a fit. Don’t tell him he betrayed you first because “two wrongs don’t make a right MC!” he wants you to be happy, yes, but he wants you to be happy with HIM.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios #asmodeus obey me #belphegor obey me #mammon obey me #obey me lucifer #leviathan obey me #satan obey me #beelzebub obey me #cheys headcanons

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erensproudsimp · 3 years

Text

Rivalry

Jean kirstein x Eren Jeager x reader

⚠ Sexual Content Ahead ⚠

Summary: Threesome with Eren and Jean in the middle of a party? Hell yeah.

Word count: 2.4k

"So, how do I look?" coming from the bathroom you asked your roommate about your outfit.

"YOU'RE ABSOLUTELY STUNNING Y/N!This little black dress really brings out your curves, " Hitch squealed.

"Aww Thank you bestie! When are you getting dressed?" you questioned looking for your black heels.

"I was just about to, I bet this party is going to be the best ever organized this year," Hitch excitedly said.

"Right? Heard that almost all students are going, I feel like it's going to be crazy and moreover it's organized by Jean,"you added while wearing your jewelries.

Hitch came out in a sexy red sleeveless dress which suited her perfectly.

" Oh. my. god. Marry me right now, what did I do to deserve such a pretty best friend, "you flattered her wiping fake tears from your eye.

" Says the girl who's going to take all the boys' breaths and by boys I specifically mean Eren and Jean, "she replied eyeing you from head to toe.

"Sheesh Hitch, you know that I'm not interested in them right?" you said arms crossed.

"I don't know y/n, that little blush is saying something else. So who are you going to choose among them?" Hitch teased.

"I'm pretty both of them asked me out due to their rivalry with each other but I have no interest in helping either win," you said with a sigh.

"I mean you may never know that they actually do have feelings for you, I remember seeing Jean stare at you during class," she explained wearing her makeup. Smacking her lips to spread the lipstick, she turned to look at you, "At least give one of them a chance? Like two of the hottest guys on the campus asked you out, think about it y/n," she suggested.

"They were already my best friends but maybe until tonight I'll try to make a decision but for now let's go enjoy okay?" you beamed.

"Let's go impress some bitches, have some liquor, spit on our haters and have the best night of our life," flicking your hair back you left the dorm with Hitch agreeing with you.

Parking your car, you got out to admire the grandiose building belonging to Jean in sight. Muffled music could be heard through the walls.

"Maybe I should give Jean the chance," you said.

"Haha yes girl get that bag," Hitch giggled dragging you inside.

Laughter, people making out on the dancefloor, a background scent of sweat mixed with booze, you finally saw your friends near the bar counter. Conversations stopped the second everyone noticed me and Hitch's entry.

" All eyes on me in the centre of the ring just like a circus," you sang in her ear as she smirked.

Walking proudly to radiate your confidence, both of you went to the bar, the crowd going back to their initial interaction.

"Hey guys!" you shouted throwing yourself on Sasha.

"Welo," Connie replied with a drink in his hand.

"Where are the others?" Hitch asked them.

"Mikasa, Armin and Eren haven't arrived yet and Jean is ensuring everything is in control," Ymir answered hugging Historia close to her.

Ordering a glass of wine from the bartender, you sipped said drink while chatting with your friends. Right at that moment the trio entered through the door.

" Look they came,"Historia pointed at them.

" Hello everyone, where's Jean? "Armin asked.

You looked at Eren taking in how he was looking so attractive in an all black outfit. However, he did not once glance in your direction making you assume it was because you haven't yet given him an answer.

" There he is,"Mikasa said as the man in question neared the group.

" Is everyone having fun? "Jean enquired leaning on the counter.

His stance screamed dominance but in such a subtle way it was sensual. You tried to meet his eye but he didn't acknowledge your presence too. Well, it was what you were supposing to be as in in contrary both of them were enraptured with your appearance they couldn't bring themselves to look at you.

"I'm going to the dancefloor," you announced frustrated by the lack of attention you got from the two men after finishing your third drink.

Pushing your way in, moving to the music you tried to take off your mind off having to choose someone between them. A stranger came up to you to ask if they could dance with you. With no hesitation noticing how handsome he was, you let him hold you in his arms as a distraction.

"Not gonna lie, I'm gonna be shocked if she doesn't hook up with someone tonight, like look at her man," Hitch commented hoping to push either Eren or Jean to approach you.

"Right? She honestly looks so hot," Sasha added understanding what she was trying to do.

Like they hoped, the tactic worked as both men stood up together. They looked in each other's eye as though communicating telepathically passing one message and it was to not let anyone come near to you.

Heading into the crowd to find you, Hitch and Sasha high fived leaving everyone else in the unknown.

Searching all round, they at last found you dancing with a random guy, your body all over him. There was a cold fury in their eyes and Eren pursued his lips in anger. He went up to the guy and gave him a death stare. The stranger felt his blood drain from his face into his gut as he abruptly left you.

At first you were puzzled at why the guy just disappeared until you saw Jean and Eren and understood the situation.

"Mind if I dance with you?" Eren asked holding his hand out.

"May I too?" Jean rushed in not to let Eren take the sole lead.

Taking both hands smilingly you replied, "Yes, you both may."

Jean twisted you in his arms pressing your ass against his hips as Eren held your waist in his hands your chest against his, both guys grinding on you.

Eren leaned in and hid his face in the crook of your neck. You tilted your head to give him more access to the area as he licked his tongue over your so sensitive skin.

Jean feeling a bit left out took a glass of wine from a passing waiter grabbed your soft flocks in his hand and pulled it slowly to not hurt you. Your head was placed on his shoulder as Eren continued to nibble on your neck.

"Open your mouth," Jean ordered you his lips brushing your ear and you obeyed without arguing.

He then poured the wine from the glass into your mouth. Moaning through the process, the liquid coursed from your throat into your stomach spreading its warmth all over. Jean still grinding on you pushed his hips forward for you to feel his growing bulge.

Rhythmically swaying your body to the beats of the music playing, you brushed your ass to Jean's bulge and hips against Eren's. Being sandwiched between them was like a dream come true.

Eren's hands slid up and down your arms, head intact on your neck. Jean was not doing any lesser either as he bent over to reach the other side of your neck, his hot breath ruffling and began showering it with kisses.

Grabbing your chin to lift it up, Eren pressed his soft lips on yours tasting the alcohol from your mouth.

"Hey- that's not fair," Jean snatched you from Eren, threw your body on his shoulder and slapped your ass to carry you away. Shortly Eren followed, "Give her back to me!"

Jean made you sit on a bed gently, kissed you lightly on your cheek then went to close the door of the room but Eren busted in right before he could.

"Oh you're not having her all to you, not until I'm still alive," Eren stated.

"Fuck you Eren, I'm not going to let you have her either you know," Jean cursed him.

At this point you didn't know what to say as anticipation filled your being so you just allowed everything happen by itself.

Before Jean could do anything, Eren rushed to you, pulled you in his arms made out with you in front of him to make him jealous which of course worked.

" Jeager!" Jean shouted approaching you both.

Eren's tongue was roaming in all corners of your mouth to explore them, a small moan leaving your throat.

Both guys froze hearing that.

"Eren, move I want to be the one to make her create those cute sounds," Jean pushed Eren to replace his mouth on you.

Jean was more passionate than Eren, probably because of the jealousy he was feeling.

"How about we hear what y/n has to say?" Eren suggested.

"Yeah y/n, make a decision, it's either Eren or me," Jean continued.

"I-, guys trust me I've been thinking about this and honestly speaking, for me it's either both of you or no one. Don't get me wrong you're both equally amazing and handsome so choosing one is just unfair. I love you both but I'm not going to choose one I'm sorry. Moreover, I don't want to fuel the rivalry between you two," looking at the floor you replied. You thought that this would make them feel disappointed but in reality it was the contrary

" Y/n..,"Jean hugged you so did Eren from the back.

" I'm glad you didn't choose to reject one of us, "Eren whispered in your ear.

" Yeah I'm so pleased too, "Jean agreed lifting your chin to kiss the bottom of your neck.

" And don't appogise y/n, you're not at fault here, we are for asking you out because of our competition so let us make up for it, "Eren's voice holding the promise of sex.

His hands unzipped your dress pealing it off you to leave you in your black lace underwear. Both Jean and Eren's face went scarlet red on seeing you in this state.

From the back Eren's big, warm hands reached out to cup your boobs while nibbling on your shoulder. In front Jean knelt down on you to kiss you on your stomach as his hands were caressing your curves.

Taking Eren's face in one hand, you stroked his face with your thumb, the other hand in Jean's hair playing with it.

"Can I?" Jean asked indicating to the removal of your undergarment.

"By all means, do whatever you wish," you gave both consent.

Seizing this opportunity Eren unhooked your bra and let it fall to the ground.

"You're so beautiful y/n," Jean gasped.

Your body chose that moment to shiver.

Not being able to control it anymore Eren lifted you in bridal style dropping you lightly on the bed. Ripping his shirt of his toned body, your eyes were locked on his abbs. Jean lost no time in taking his off too.

You were mesmerised. Those men were built like fantasies, their chest sculptured with the honed muscles of a god.

"Come here."

To your astonishment they obeyed sitting on each of your sides.

"What do you want us to do angel?" Jean asked with such adoration in his eyes.

"Tell us your deepest desires, we will make it a reality," placing his hand over your thighs Eren encouraged you.

"Use me as your plaything."

This one simple request was enough to send them off the edge.

"As you wish m'lady," Jean replied before kneeling in front of you.

More kisses along your neck by Eren while Jean split your legs to bury his face in between. You sucked in a deep breath.

Trailing his tongue on your inner thighs up to your soaked folds, Jean teased you.

Taking your mouth into a fiery kiss, sucking on your lower lip, Eren fondled your boobs. Sticking your tongue out to ask for permission he took it in without a second thought.

"Hmmm ah-," you panted on his mouth as Jean kissed your core, giving it a tender lick. Grabbing your hips to forbid you to move, he inserted his tongue in and out of you while rubbing your clit with his fingers. Pure heaven.

"You like that huh?"

You threw your head back at his words humming a yes, Eren proceeding to move from your neck to your collarbones to mark himself on your skin. A slight pain overcoming with pleasure sent chills down your spine.

"Jeaaann- ah- Ereenn," you screamed their names turning them on more.

Shortly after your stomach clenched as you came on Jean's face.

"You taste so good y/n," he said licking his lips.

"Now's my turn," Eren declared unbuckling his pants topping you.

"You okay with this right?" he asked concernedly caressing your cheek. You nodded and looked over to Jean signaling him to come over your head.

Slowly penetrating his dick into your cunt, you stifled a moan as you were helping Jean take off his trousers, his hardened member sprung free from its trap.

As Eren was thrusting his hips in you moaning your name, you were jerking Jean off with your hand, him panting loudly.

"Y/n go faster please," Jean whined.

Spreading his precum oozing from the tip, your fingers stroked it down the shaft.

"Forgive me for what im about to do y/n," the unbearable thirst pushed Jean to shove his swollen dick into your mouth. You muffled a moan at his action willingly taking it. Moving your wet muscle inside your mouth, you sucked him.

"Fuck y/n you feel so good tightly wrapped around me," Eren breathed picking up speed. Your breath stuck in your lungs, your eyes rolled back.

Two handsome men fucking you senselessly, you couldn't be in any more bliss.

"Good girl," Jean petted your hair as you swallowed every drop of him. Collapsing next to you, he was gradually grasping his breath.

On the other hand, Eren was still going pushing and pulling into you and from you.

"Go ahead, cum for me y/n."

Your legs were practically shaking as you came a second time over him. Realising he was reaching his limit, he pulled out and released his hot fluid on your belly.

Out of breath, he fell onto you as you hugged him. Ruffling Jean's hair you tried to wake him up.

"Jean we have a party remember? now wake up, you don't want people thrashing your house. You too Eren, Mikasa must be worried sick by now with your absence," you advised both only for your words to fall on deaf ears.

Sighing you stayed still to enjoy their warmth a little more.

Just a little more.

End.

Thank you for reading this. :)

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justlightlysedated · 3 years

Note

Soulmate 51!!!

51. Your soulmate’s current thoughts about you will show up on your skin for a short while.

Miss you, miss you, miss you, appears across the back of his left hand, a light tingling sensation like someone was passing their finger across his skin announces their presence just as Michael picks up his beer.

A warmth fuzzy and soft, simmers in the pit of his stomach, and he bites down on the smile that wants to spread across his face.

Instead he drops the beer back on top of the table, and closes his eyes thinking, I miss you, so much more.

When he opens his eyes, feels a little shocked to see Maria sitting across from him.

It had been almost six months since their break up, and with all of the restrictions in place thanks to the quarantine, Michael hadn’t had to try very hard to avoid her.

He hadn’t even heard her truck come up, probably too distracted by Alex. It’s been a while since Michael has fully embraced their soulmate bond, and over the last couple of months he and Alex have been leaving more and more messages on each other, deliberately thinking them at each other.

After hearing Alex sing that song, he couldn’t exactly keep his thoughts to himself, and when he’d run out of the bar, feeling a weird sort of embarrassment at the fact that everyone could see his thoughts spread across the backs of Alex’s hands and up and around his neck, almost like a collar.

Alex hadn’t followed after him, but the words, me too had settled around Michael’s left wrist like a snug bracelet.

"Is there something I can help you with, DeLuca?" He asks, covering the back of his hand with his other hand, almost automatically, so used to keeping the words that had sporadically appeared on his skin while they were dating away from her.

She opens her mouth and then closes it, brow furrowing, and looking a little frustrated, like the conversation isn’t going the way she thought it would.

Michael takes in the way she keeps licking her lips, and her shifty eyes, and her fidgety fingers, and the fact that her leg is bouncing so much the buckle of her boot is hitting the metal legs of the chair.

And then he tilts his head to the side and takes in her outfit, something that he might’ve noticed right off the bat several months ago. She’s wearing one of those short jumper things, that he’s pretty sure he’s heard Isobel call a romper, in a brown color that very nearly matches her own skin tone, the neckline plunges all the way down, exposing a line down the middle of her chest with a thick black belt around her waist. Her hair was left curly and messy, the way that it usually looked in the mornings before she showered and took a straightener to it, the way that Michael used to tell her that he liked it.

She’s not wearing a lot of makeup, but the fact that she is, along with everything else, paints the picture of why she’s here for Michael, and Michael can’t help feeling both incredulous and a little bit angry.

Before he can say anything, Maria pushes her shoulders back, making the slit in the romper widen as she looks at Michael from beneath heavy lids.

"How've you been?" She asks instead of getting to the point. "It's been a while."

And the way she says the last sentence erases any doubts that Michael had in his head.

Maria was here not as an ex who was once a friend to check up on him, but as an ex who wants to keep reaping from the benefits of their failed relationship.

Michael hadn't been lying to Maria when he told her that he loved her, and it had hurt so much when she'd told him that it was over.

But it had hurt even more when Alex had told him that he was leaving, and it was then that Michael realized that while he did love her, he loved Alex more, and in a way that was completely different.

If Maria left today, and didn't talk to him again, Michael would go on living his life, maybe a little sad for a while, but he'd get over it.

If Alex decided to never speak to him again, Michael wouldn't die, but it would feel like he was.

It was that easy and that simple. So it's easy and simple, to grab his beer and take a long swig and then speak.

"I'm doing fine," he says, voice clipped, trying to copy how Alex talks to strangers who won't leave him alone at the bar. "Things are rough, yeah, but that's the same everywhere these days."

"I hear that," Maria says, chuckling a little and then making a hand at his beer. "You're not gonna offer me one?"

"I would," Michael says, taking the last swing of his beer. "If the beer was what you were here for."

Maria raises both eyebrows at that, almost like she hadn't expected to be caught out so soon, or like she'd been expecting for Michael to play along with her.

She tries to pull an innocent face at him, and then sighs, leaning back in her chair, and crossing her arms over her chest.

"Fine, you want the truth? The truth is that it's been months and I am a girl with a healthy sex appetite, okay? And my choices were either going to a super spreader event, the two numbers on my phone that I would consider only under dire circumstances, or someone who wouldn't mind having sex with an ex."

She says the last choice, voice a little breathy and gives him a pointed look that would've worked on him months ago, but it barely makes a flame flicker now.

"When did I ever give you the impression that I wouldn't mind having sex with an ex?" Michael asks, honestly interested in the answer.

Maria gives him an incredulous look back, as though the answer should be obvious, and it hits him almost like a ton of bricks to the solar plexus.

"You're talking about Alex?" He asks, feeling even more incredulous.

"Obviously," she says, and then clears her throat, batting her eyelashes. "I know it's technically not the same thing, but I know you still had feelings for me when we broke up, and breaking up didn't just make my feelings disappear, so I was hoping you wouldn't mind, giving me a helping hand."

"DeLuca," Michael says, trying to sound earnest and kind. "I'm flattered. Really. But the answer is no."

Maria blinks at him a few times like he'd pulled a rabbit out of his hat, "Are you serious?"

She gives him a look like he would be an idiot to reject what she's offering, and there is a small part of him that is yelling at him to take the offer, because sex is sex, but he doesn't listen to that part because there is an even bigger part reminding him that Alex is coming back and that things will be different when he gets here.

"Yeah," Michael says, looking at her evenly.

Her eyes fall away from his face, just as he feels a tingling sensation across his forearm.

Michael lifts his arm to see the words as they appear.

Not possible.

Michael sees her noticing the words that must appear, and her eyebrows almost shoot off her face in her clear surprise.

"So that's why?" She says, sounding like she just figured something out. "You found your soulmate."

"I've known who my soulmate's been for a while now, DeLuca," he says. "Knowing that it was him didn't make it any easier for us to be together."

Maria frowns, "Your soulmate is a guy. But I thought that Alex was the only guy you've ever been interested in."

She says it with conviction like in the months that they dated they talked about their exes, but she never asked, and Michael never brought it up.

"I'm not straight with an Alex exception," Michael says, and he can't help the sneer when she fixes him with an incredulous look. "I'm bisexual, and I've been sexually attracted to and sexually involved with plenty of more men than just Alex."

Maria makes a face at that, like she doesn't understand, but Michael isn't a sex ed teacher, and he's not going to pull up charts and explain to her what she doesn't understand.

"What about Alex?" She asks, looking angrier by the second. "You're going to break his heart with this whole soulmate thing."

"Like you didn't come here with the intention of breaking his heart by propositioning me," Michael retorts.

Maria colors slightly, but doesn't back down.

She opens her mouth to keep speaking, probably to defend herself, but Michael shakes his head a little.

"Listen, Alex has nothing to worry about because he has a direct line to my thoughts about him at all times."

He gives her a pointed look and it still takes her a moment to realize it.

"Alex is your soulmate," she says, sounding both shocked and defeated.

"Yep," Michael says, popping the p, and wishing he still had another beer out here.

"How long have you known?"

"Since we were seventeen," he says and she makes a rude noise at the back of her throat.

She stares at him for a moment, stupefied and angry, "This was never going to actually work between us, huh?"

Michael just licks his lips, and gives her a helpless look, "Some things just aren't meant to be."

She nods her head sharply at that and then gets to her feet.

"Sorry, for bothering you, it won't happen again," she says and then turns to leave before Michael can say anything.

And then turns back around, "And please, don't tell anyone I was here. Me knowing that I fell low enough to do this is more than enough."

And then turns and actually makes it to her truck this time.

Michael lets the icy hurt that spreads across his chest at her parting words slide away.

Instead he looks back down at the words fading on his arm, and lets the warmth of knowing Alex is somewhere else thinking about him and missing Michael as much as Michael misses him, fill him up, chasing the rest of the chill away.

#malexprompts2021 #this one has mentions of miluca #but it's in the past #this fic is pettier than the previous one #its set during the year jump and is maria trying to proposition michael and michael just shutting that shit down #cause maria is way too bitter for someone who was the one who broke up with michael #and so now my own personal headcanon is that she tried to start something up again #and michael was just like nah #anyway hope you like this my love!!#im already halfway done with one of the other ones you sent me 🥰🖤💖👩🏾‍🤝‍👩🏼

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theoreticslut · 3 years

Text

“It’s nice to see you happy, princess.”

part 1 / part 2

pairing: fred weasley x reader x george weasley

requested: no

word count: 3.9k

warnings: ANGST, light swearing

A/N: hi, hello! I, uh, almost forgot to post this ngl. You guys really liked the first two parts so I’m hoping you’ll like this part as well. fair warning, i hurt my heart writing this one so please let me know what you think! there will be at least one more part, but depending on how it pans out there may be more than that. quick reminders: thank you for being so supportive of me and my works, it truly means the world to me so just thank you. so much. hence i’m doing a 300 follower sleepover to thank all of you lovely people for following me. (I’m also taking requests too - you can check out my holiday prompt list here)

Taglist: @justmesadgirl @xuckduck @yikesyikesyikes95 @filipi-yes @aestheticwh0r3 @siredkai @matsuno-nadeshiko @msmarklee1213 @immajustreadwritereblog @msmimimerton @lauren2408 @mischievous-queen @bunnyboo7 @grandeoptimist @kaitlynw011 @daddystevee @slytherinxhunter

^let me know if you’d like to be added / removed!

You sigh as you lay your head down against the library table. It’s been just over a week since the fight between your ex and the twins.

As you had instructed, both Fred and George had checked in with you so you could assess how they were healing. Fred was looking much better; the few cuts he had had healed relatively quick with the help of the balm and his bruises were nearly gone save for his black eye. You expected that to be gone in another few days though.

George, however, worried you. His knuckles and small bruises on his hands and cheek healed perfectly, but the bruises to his torso were taking much longer. The balm was helping, but it didn’t seem to be healing it any faster.

Thinking about it made you upset. If George had just stayed out of the way he wouldn’t be all bruised up now and he and Fred wouldn’t have to spend a night in detention each week.

You groan as you turn your attention back to the assignment in front of you. It wasn’t due until Monday and it was only Thursday, but if you didn’t get it done today and tomorrow it wouldn’t be getting done.

“Y/n?”

You turn to see George watching you from a few feet away and you smile at him.

“Hey, George. What are you doing here?”

Since the night of the fight you and the twins had been getting along better. They often sat with you at meals or even just around the common room and would joke around. You had been getting to know each other more substantially. Before, you knew each other from what you’ve each observed or heard from other people. Now, you guys were actually learning and trying to get to know the other with deep conversations at night or even silly games of twenty questions when others, besides the golden trio, were around.

You enjoyed it, but along with getting to know the two better came a handful of other issues. You had always been aware of how attractive the two were, but now you found yourself zoning out in complete bliss whenever one of them looked at you or moved a certain way. Not to mention how your heart swelled whenever they smiled or laughed, especially if it was over something you had said or done. You knew you were falling in love with them, but you couldn’t find a way to stop it. You’re pretty sure you had been falling for them for awhile, but your irritation for the two had kept it at bay.

George scrunches his nose at you wondering why you would be here in the library so early in the morning. He knew you studied diligently, but on a Thursday morning before breakfast? You must surely be crazy.

You honestly could be crazy, but that wouldn’t change the fact of how attractive you were sitting there. George noticed how you sat with one leg tucked under the other which he was amazed at giving the chairs in here weren’t very wide. He noticed how tired you seemed, yet somehow still looked wide awake.

He could tell you had showered as your hair was still a bit damp and how he could smell your lovely perfume from this far away. All of it together drove him crazy, especially when he added in how you sat with your head resting in your hand and how adorably frustrated you were with whatever you were working on.

“I could ask you the same thing. Breakfast has just barely begun. How long have you been here?” He asks as he walks closer to you, not sitting down though.

“Oh, uhm, I don’t know. I was up a little before 6 and came here after I showered. Maybe two hours?”

“Two hours in the library before breakfast? You must be crazy.” He chuckles to which you roll your eyes.

You, Fred, and George were starting to form a friendship out of all this and it was exciting. It was surprisingly easy to talk and joke with them when you weren’t fuming over being pranked. You had even been able to understand and enjoy how brilliant their pranks were when you weren’t at the receiving end of them.

“I couldn’t sleep. What else am I supposed to do?”

He frowns as you start packing up your things. He and Fred had finally managed to apologize for butting into your business which you easily forgave them for. You probably wouldn’t have except for the fact that they had defended you and ended up getting hurt in the process. That and once you had started getting to know them, you knew they only did so because they cared.

You knew it was silly to forgive them solely because they had fought for you, but as you had told them, no one had ever done that for you. You were flattered and felt like you kind of owed them kindness at the very least.

“Why couldn’t you sleep?” He asks as he takes your books from you so you could put on your robes. You hated wearing the robes if you were just going about your business, so you often took them off when studying.

“Not sure, I haven’t been sleeping well most of this week.”

“Does it have anything to do with that fight?” He asks gently, watching your face for any indication that it was.

“No,” you frown.

“Y/n. Please stop trying to be fine.” George begs, giving you those signature puppy dog eyes you’ve seen them use before.

“Fred and I can both tell you’re still upset about it all.”

“It’s that obvious, huh?” You joke as you sigh. Even though you were glad they had been there for you, you were still upset it all happened in the first place.

“You’re like an open book.” He smiles, bumping his shoulder into yours to get you to smile.

You weren’t sure how, but it seems that Fred and George just understand you without you even having to say anything. It was kind of scary and a little bit annoying, but they knew when to back off in a conversation or when to grab ahold of your hand to comfort you. They just knew and it made you feel special. It’s just another reason you found yourself falling for them.

“I guess I’m still just a bit scared, George. I knew he was a pig, but I never thought he’d try to hurt me like that.” You admit and george frowns, watching as you relive it.

When your hand comes up to trace the line of faint bruises that’re left on your neck from his hands, George grabs a hold of your hand, kissing the back of it. He doesn’t like to think about what that gremlin could’ve done.

“I sometimes wonder what would’ve happened if you and Fred weren’t there...” you trail off. “I mean would I even be here right now? Then, I wake up gasping for air.” You frown, feeling a bit naked telling him this, but at the same time you feel that he’ll understand and know what to say.

George shivers at the thoughts running through your head. He abruptly stops the two of you from walking, setting your books on a ledge as he pulls you into him. It’s not fair that you still have to relive that day after day. It never should have happened in the first place.

“I’m so sorry, darling. Godrick, I would give anything to take away this pain.” He sighs, holding you tight to his chest, your arms wrapped around his stomach as his are wrapped around around your shoulders and the back of your head to keep your face buried in his chest. Unconsciously he plays with the ends of your hair and you smile lightly, hugging him a bit tighter.

~.~

“Y/n!” You hear your name called as Fred and George sit down on either side of you in charms the next day.

They both have huge smiles on their faces and you wonder what in merlin’s name they were up to.

“Hey, guys.”

“You’ve got to see this!” Fred smiles, winking at you.

“See what? You guys are up to something, aren’t you?”

“Always, darling.” George smiles, keeping his eyes across the desks to where Will sits.

“What have you done now?”

“Just watch. You’re going to enjoy it.” Fred smirks.

When George had told him how terrified you still were because of Will, they knew they had to find a way to get him back for you. They had to embarrass him and make him realize that he couldn’t keep going around being an ass. They had spent a good majority of the night working on this just for you.

You sigh but do as they say, giggling as they nudge your sides when Will finally walks in to his seat where an envelope had been sitting.

You watch as he opens it, jumping back as it starts sounding an alarm.

“STAY AWAY! THIS MAN IS TRAGICALLY DIM WITTED AND ABUSIVE!” It shouts, fireworks and confetti exploding from it as it spits bright red ink onto him.

It repeats itself a couple more times before burning up in a display of fireworks.

You have to bite your lip to hold back your laughter at the pure embarrassment written across his face as the rest of the class is chatting and laughing amongst themselves at his expense.

“Guys!” You say a bit shocked but impressed nonetheless.

“You like it?” George asks.

“It’s a bit over the top, but it was really funny.” You admit, smiling as you still try to hold back your laughter.

“The best part of it is that that ink can’t be removed until it disappears 12 hours from now.” Fred says, leaning in so only you and George can hear.

“No!” You gasp, hiding your smile behind your hand.

“Oh, yeah. Everyone will know what he’s done.” George smiles and you can’t help but start laughing.

Fred and George look at each other and smile, both of them biting on their bottom lips to keep from smiling too big. They couldn’t help it though, after everything that’s happened, they were ecstatic to see you happy and laughing. And knowing it was because of them, Merlin that was a thousand times better.

“It’s nice to see you happy, princess.” Fred smiles, wrapping him arms around you waist as he pulls you closer to him on the bench.

“Thank you, guys. You’re too good to me.” You smile, hugging Fred before turning and hugging George.

~.~

“I should have known it was Fred and George’s doing!” Hermione chuckles when you tell her what the twins had done in charms today.

“Oh Merlin, Hermione, it was hilarious! You should have seen the look on his face, he was so embarrassed and confused. It was honestly so great knowing he finally understood how I felt.”

“I’m just glad you’re happy, y/n. You deserve it more than anything.” The twins hear Hermione say to you as they come up to your door. They can only imagine you smiling and blushing at her words on the other side.

They smile, loving the idea of you so happy. They had only been falling more in love with you since starting this friendship, but there was no way they’d complain about it.

They loved the ache in their chest when you did anything remotely cute and the racing of their hearts only reminded them that they were alive and could feel such love for someone. They couldn’t complain about how sweaty their palms got or how dry their throats became when they got nervous around you because to them, it was all worth it. They couldn’t imagine being in love with anyone but you. You were absolute perfection in their eyes and would happily have to endure any form of torture if it meant they could still see you.

This was so much better than pranking you and getting you riled up. While they did love when you got angry with them over something so trivial, they loved having their breath taken away whenever you hugged them or chuckled at them. Having you close to them was so much better than anything they could have imagined.

They gently knock on the door to have Hermione open it a few seconds later.

“Oh, your boys are here.” She smiles, letting them into the room.

“They’re not my boys, ‘mione.” You mumble, rolling your eyes as a blush creeps across your cheeks before you smile at the two redheads who have taken a seat on your bed.

Hermione smirks at you, raising an eyebrow as she knows how you feel about them. You had only been talking to her about it every other night this week.

She was aware that you liked them long before now, however. Even though you had only ever shown irritation for the two, the way in which you spoke of them and the words you used gave it away that you had some sort of feelings for them other than resentment.

You pout at her, not wanting her to just blurt it out. You were embarrassed with how fast you had fallen for them.

“Alright,” she smirks. “I’ll be down in the common room for a bit. Have fun and try not to make a mess. We did just tidy this up earlier.” Hermione smiles.

“Got it, mum. No messes.” You chuckle, still blushing furiously. The twins smile at you, biting their lips to keep from laughing.

You were so playful. They hadn’t ever seen this side of you and godrick was it amazing.

“Oh Merlin. I’ll be back.” She sighs, rolling her eyes at you, but smiling nonetheless. She truly is excited to see you happy again. You were happy with Will, but he had been slowly draining you. Watching you with the twins was like watching a new person.

“No hurry, ‘mione. Maybe you can get some quality time in with your guy.” You suggest, smiling at her. You knew she liked Ron, but he was beyond oblivious to any advancement she tried to make.

“Doubtful, but maybe.” She chuckles, leaving the room shortly after.

“Hi, guys.” You smile, finally taking a seat at the end of your bed, facing them.

“You’re quite a playful minx, aren’t you?” Fred chuckles, smiling at you.

“Sometimes.” You chuckle, smiling a bit.

“Merlin you’re gorgeous.” He smiles, studying you as you blush.

You being a flustered mess was one of the twins’ favourite sights. They loved that they could make you blush with a simple compliment or look or even a light touch.

“Stop staring at me!” You chuckle, embarrassed by the two of them admiring you.

Trying to get out of their gazes you get up and head over to the bathroom to grab the bruise healing balm you’ve been applying.

You knew they were flirty people to begin with having seen how easily they throw around flirty comments and it was no different when it came to you. They had always made flirty comments and complimented you, but you were positive they were just teasing you so you always got really annoyed.

Since apologizing and becoming friends, however, whenever they would sneak flirty comments or compliments into your conversations you would blush madly and become all flustered. You so badly wanted their words to be sincere but you truly doubted they were. They were flirts and couldn’t possibly like you as you did them, right?

“What else are you supposed to do with a masterpiece?” George asks and you gape.

“Godrick, you two are such flirts. No wonder the entire female student body fawn over you.” You chuckle, still furiously blushing as you get back on the bed.

You wait for one of them to lift their shirt so you could start working on getting the balm on them. Anything to divert your attention from their words.

“We’ve only got eyes for you though.” Fred winks and you groan, rolling your eyes but smiling.

“Come on, now. You’re here so I can see how you’re healing, not to flirt with me.”

“Who says we’re not here to do both?” He asks, looking over to his brother who only smiles at you.

“Just get your shirt up, Fred.”

He smirks and winks at you before doing as you ask.

You look over his sides to see that he’s pretty much healed. The bruises have faded really well.

“Like what you see, princess?” He asks, smiling, but not seeming to be joking anymore.

“Godrick, you’re unbelievable. I think your preset to flirt no matter the situation, huh?” You ask, smiling as he winks at you.

“Alright, George. You’re turn.”

He smiles and takes his shirt off, stretching his one arm over his head in the pillows so it’s not in you’re way.

“It’s actually looking a lot better tonight, George. For awhile I was wondering if it was helping any.” You admit as you take some balm and smooth it onto his side where he flinches.

“It tickles tonight.” He chuckles. All you can do is shake your head and smile. These boys were beyond adorable.

“I love you.” He whispers after a couple minutes as you’re still applying the balm.

“What?” You ask just as Fred smacks him.

“Fred! Are you seriously trying to bruise him more?” You huff, frowning at the twin who seems to be pouting.

“We were supposed to tell you together.” He huffs.

“Tell me what?”

“That we love you.” He mumbles, not quite looking up at you, too embarrassed to see your face.

You gape at the two of them, not believing that their serious, which is why you start laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Fred pouts.

You continue laughing, shaking your head. You wonder how long they had been thinking about this joke. Did they know you loved them and wanted to see what you’d do if they said they loved you?

“That’s a really good joke guys. You don’t love me.”

“What do you mean we don’t love you?” Fred asks, looking at you incredulously.

“We’re not joking, y/n.” George frowns.

“Sure you aren’t. You just wanted to see what I’d do, right?” You laugh, shaking your head. They can’t possibly love you. It just doesn’t make sense.

“No. We just really love you.” Fred says, watching you with hurt in his eyes. You can’t really believe this is all a joke, right?

“We have for ages, y/n. We’re just, we’re really bad at showing our feelings.” George adds, watching you as you shake your head, not able to make sense of all of this.

“No. No! I’m sorry, but you guys don’t love me. You-you feel sorry for me. Sorry that I got cheated on, sorry that I got choked, sorry that you had to pull pranks on me nearly everyday for a good two years. You don’t love me. I don’t think you ever could love me.”

You close your eyes, trying to keep the tears at bay. You don’t need to cry right now, not when they’re playing with you. You don’t need to show them just how weak you are to them.

“You’re absolutely crazy, y/n.” Fred says, his hurt turning to frustration.

Godrick, he has loved you so much and you really think it’s all a joke. How can you possibly think that when they had literally fought for you? They pranked your ex for you to show you that you had no reason to be scared of him anymore. How could you say they didn’t love you?

“Not as crazy as you to think I’d believe this! You really think I’d believe that you two love me when you antagonized me day after day when I clearly wasn’t happy with it. You were purposefully trying to upset me! Then you guys only stop after I break down crying? That’s not love, Freddie.” You hiss, not being able to help the few tears that escape your eyes.

“Y/n, darling, we know you don’t believe us but we really really do love you. We’ve loved you since Merlin knows when.” George tries to intervene, but you don’t care to hear it.

“If you guys loved me then why would you torment me?” You ask completely sincere, tears now flowing down your cheeks.

“Because we’re gits! We don’t know how to handle our emotions when it comes to you! You are so bloody perfect that we really don’t know what to do around you.” Fred shouts.

“We can’t hardly breathe because you take our breathe away every second of the day with either the way you look or some adorable thing you do. We constantly feel like we’ve just finished running a marathon because our hearts are racing so fast and our palms are so sweaty due to how nervous you make us. We feel like we’re going to be sick due to all the butterflies you give us. Good Merlin, y/n, you have us completely wrapped around your finger and you don’t even know!” He finishes, completely aghast that you can’t see it.

You chew on your lip, tears still streaming down your face as you look at the two of them. George had put his shirt back on at some point in all of this and was looking at you in shock yet still upset. It’s like he wanted to pull you into a hug and comfort you, but not doing so in fear of how you’d react.

Fred just looks heartbroken. He’s angry beyond belief, like you’d be scared to encounter him like this in any other setting, but he looked so defeated.

You wanted to believe them. You so desperately wanted to believe that they loved you, but your mind and your heart was telling you that they just couldn’t. Not after what they’ve done to you and what’s happened with Will. You just really can’t believe that anyone could love you.

“You’re not going to say anything?” Fred asks, still upset.

You stay silent as you stare at him. You would love to say something, but you just can’t seem to find anything to say.

“Godrick, y/n. I really can’t understand you sometimes. Here we are standing in front of you proclaiming our love to you and you refuse to believe it. As much as I’d love to be able to call you mine, if you can’t realize how deeply in love with you we are, then I can’t hang around waiting for you. It just hurts too damn much.” Fred sighs, shaking his head and leaving your room.

You look to George who’s watching you, wanting to stay here with you to comfort you and just to be with you, but also knowing he should follow his twin to make sure he’s alright.

“I-I should follow him,” he finally says to which you nod, not able to look at him anymore.

“We really do love you, y/n. I hope you can realize that soon.” He sighs, squeezing your hand before going after his brother.

Once the door shuts behind him you let out a sob you’ve been holding back. It hurts so much seeing them leave knowing that their upset with you, but you just can’t accept that they love you. Not right now.

366 notes · View notes

whumpmatsus · 3 years

Note

Hi! 👋 Two things! First, a fic request (again Ichimatsu whump because I'm sorry but I have to): Ichimatsu takes a hit meant for one of his brothers (be it accidental or on purpose) and is pretty badly injured. Cue the rest of the Matsu Bros. to the rescue!

And second, um...would you be okay with it if, let's just say hypothetically, I made fan art of some of these fics? 😺

FIRST OF ALL thank you for this because it's LITERALLY the longest thing I've written on this blog so far!! so I hope u enjoy it fully uwu

Matsu Bros plus a cameo by Mama Matsu!! <3

second... YESSSS THAT IS ALWAYS DEFINITELY OKAY!!! aaaaaaa you flatter me <3 <3 <3

When Ichimatsu first wakes up in the hospital, he doesn’t remember why he’s here. Hell, he barely even remembers who he is.

All he really knows initially is that he’s in a lot of pain. It hurts to breathe, his face is kind of numb in spots, and his leg feels weirdly positioned, plus heavy and uncomfortable. His shoulder feels kind of sore… as does his wrist.

There’s also some strange fog drifting around his mind that’s making it difficult to really focus on anything.

He feels a hand in his own. Not very tight… he thinks it’s someone giving just enough pressure to let him know they’re here. That he’s not alone. That’s comforting, he thinks.

Then he starts to remember things.

He was out walking with some of the others; Karamatsu and maybe Totty? What they were doing is a little fuzzy and isn’t coming to him instantly. He just recalls they were together, walking on the sidewalk. They came to a crosswalk and waited their turn. Karamatsu, as the eldest out of the three, stepped forward first to cross.

Ichimatsu thinks Karamatsu’s intention was that he would hold Totty’s hand to keep the youngest safe while they crossed, and Ichimatsu could follow after them. He doesn’t believe Totty had any objections.

They waited. They followed all the rules they were supposed to. The crosswalk light told them they were allowed to go.

It was someone else who broke the rules, tearing through a stop sign, the car headed right for his brothers. He… thinks he remembers Totty had only just come forward to grab Karamatsu’s hand, so he wasn’t quite there yet. Karamatsu was the one in the most danger.

He doesn’t remember much else. Running forward, pushing his baby brother behind him and yelling for his big brother to move.Then an impact. A lot of pain. Black and nothingness and warmth.

Now he’s awake. Putting the pieces together, he’s pretty sure he shoved Karamatsu forward and ended up getting hit by that car.

He thinks, in his haze, that the car should have hit Karamatsu, because he was the one who went first, because things happened so fast. But he’s glad it didn’t happen that way.

A couple groans catch the attention of whoever’s in the room, and he gets a squeeze to the hand. “Ichimatsu? Honey? Are you awake?”

“Mmh…” It hurts a little to move his head. He does it anyway, getting a glimpse of his mother. “… Mom…?”

It looks like she’s smiling… relieved, maybe. “Yes! Yes, my sweet boy, Mama is here.” She reaches her free hand over to gently stroke his hair. It feels nice. “Thank goodness. How do you feel?”

He closes his eyes. “I hurt.”

“Well, I should hope so! I’d be worried if you weren’t in a lot of pain right now. Do you remember what happened?”

Although he tries to move around, it’s difficult simply because it’s so painful. “Uh, yeah, kind of… I got… hit by a car, right? ― H… hey… Karamatsu and Totty… where are they? Are they okay?”

“Yes, dear, they’re both fine. Karamatsu has a couple of scrapes, but nothing serious. You, on the other hand, are lucky, young man. You’ve got a broken leg, a couple of broken ribs, and a broken wrist. You did have a dislocated shoulder, but they got that back into place. The doctor said it could have been much worse. She said you got off easy compared to some people who get hit by a car.”

She combs his bangs back in a way that mitigates any anger or frustration in her next words. “What were you thinking?”

“The car was coming for Karamatsu…” He frowns as the memory surfaces again, in slightly better detail. Damn. “… And Totty didn’t see it… he was gonna step out, too…”

Everything seemed to happen so fast. How the hell did he manage to get his older brother out of the way and keep his younger brother out of the way when everything happened so fast?

Matsuyo sighs and continues stroking his hair. “Oh, I know… they were both in tears when we all arrived. Totty was inconsolable… saying that Karamatsu would be dead if you hadn’t run forward and that he thought you were dead because you weren’t responding. I should be mad that you scared your brothers… but…”

She leans forward to kiss his forehead. “… You did a brave thing, Ichimatsu. Mama is very proud of you. I just don’t like any of you boys hurt… if you’re inclined to do this again, pull the other person back instead of taking their place. You silly boy,” she adds with an affectionate smile.

“Hah…” he laughs weakly, wincing at the pain in his chest. “Sorry, Mom. Everything hurts… I wanna go home.”

“Mhm, they’ll probably let you go pretty soon now that you’re awake. That’s the main thing they were waiting for, I think.” She moves her hand down to pat lightly at his forearm.

“Don’t worry. You’ll be home before you know it, and your family will take good care of you.”

Coming home is kind of weird.

Ichimatsu can’t really walk on his own. Since his leg is broken, the doctor gave him a crutch that he can use with his good hand, but it’s an awkward movement and leaves him feeling unbalanced. It’s just easier to lean on one of his brothers to walk ― in this case, Choromatsu has volunteered to help if Ichimatsu needs to walk somewhere. Though… he gets the feeling that the others would be more than happy to volunteer if the third eldest were somehow busy when he needs to get up.

Every motion, from sitting up to reaching for things to just breathing, is painful thanks to the broken ribs. There’s nothing that can really be done for those, so he’s evidently got to just suffer. He remembers the doctor saying they should feel quite a bit better in a couple of weeks. Most of this is going to take a month or more to fully heal, which is… according to Osomatsu, a ‘major boner-killer’.

Sitting around doing nothing but being in pain is going to be the end of Ichimatsu. He’s sure of that. He can’t go outside to feed the cats, and it’s difficult to cuddle with them inside with all his injuries. That alone is pretty depressing.

The pain medication they sent him home with is also a little frustrating. The first time he takes it, it makes him so tired he sleeps right through dinner.

He falls asleep on the couch in the spare room, he knows, because it’s where he has to be set up for now. There’s noway he can sleep in the futon with everyone else while he tries to heal; that runs the risk of running into someone, or having one of his brothers accidentally run into him.

His leg’s in a cast and his wrist is in a splint, to protect them as they fix themselves, but if those areas have someone roll onto them, it’ll probably result in more damage. Which means more pain and more time added to his recovery.

It’s apparently a bad idea to sleep on the couch. When he wakes up, everything is sore and screaming in pain. Justified, unfortunately, since he fell asleep in the same position he was relaxing in.

Someone else… is here? There’s something warm pressed up against his side.

He glances over to find that he’s evidently been resting on Karamatsu’s shoulder, likely for a while given that Karamatsu’s eyes are closed too. It looks dark out, and Ichimatsu’s foggy mind busies itself wondering what time it is.

There’s a soft chuckle beside him, and looking over reveals one of his big brother’s eyes is cracked open now. It’s swiftly followed by the other one, then the sudden absence of a pressure around his shoulder makes him aware that Karamatsu had an arm around him. “Awake, hm?”

“Yeah…” He tries to stretch, stopped short when a jolting pain in his chest reminds him that it’s definitely a bad idea. “Oww. I don’t even remember falling asleep.”

“That’s alright. You started to get a bit drowsy about half an hour after Osomatsu-nii-san gave you your medicine. We saved you a plate from dinner, though, if you want me to go warm it up.”

Ichimatsu blinks. “I slept through dinner?? Shit. How late is it right now?”

His brother shifts a bit more to take out his phone. “Hm… a bit after midnight.”

“Midnight?” Well, fuck. Although he can justify an hour nap or so, he’s just slept like six hours. He missed dinner, he missed going to the bathhouse, he missed maybe a game of cards before bed.

Karamatsu laughs again, his hand tousling Ichimatsu’s hair fondly. “That’s right, my brother. Don’t worry. Osomatsu-nii-san said fatigue is a side effect of your medicine, and your body needs sleep right now, anyway. So, are you hungry? Mommy made soba and yakitori for dinner, but if you’d rather have something else, just say the word. Your wish is my command!”

Honestly… he’s not really that hungry. He knows he should probably eat; his stomach is just trying to tell him not to have anything heavy. Another side effect of the medication, maybe. “Are you… sure? I kind of just feel like plain miso and rice. Other stuff doesn’t sound good.”

“Of course! I’d be delighted to go heat some up. You simply rest and I’ll…” When he goes to stand up, something catches Ichimatsu’s eye, and he grabs his brother’s hand, weakly, with his own injured one. It’s painful, but…

Karamatsu’s eyes focus on his younger brother, brows furrowing. “Ichimatsu? What’s the matter?”

It’s… that cut on Karamatsu’s face. Ichimatsu didn’t notice it before. Now that he’s a bit more alert, it’s practically all he can see. It’s not very big, maybe the length of one of their little fingers, and not deep. It looks like a scrape from falling off one’s bike or something. He thinks maybe it had a bandage on it at one point. The color has faded into something dull; the skin around is still bright pink, though, suggesting that it’s irritated despite not being cut.

His gaze shifts down to find similar wounds on Karamatsu’s hands. On the palms, where he probably got a sort of road rash when he tried to catch himself after Ichimatsu pushed him out of the way.

His own wrist protests with a violent throb as he reaches to let his fingers graze lightly over Karamatsu’s wrist. Image after image of what might have happened to him if Ichimatsu wasn’t fast enough comes unbidden into his head. Karamatsu could be the one with a broken leg or broken ribs, or it could have been worse.

“Y… you’re okay… right?” As soon as those words are out of his mouth, tears start spilling. All at once he’s pulled into a hug, loose fists resting against his back. He can’t stop himself from leaning in, pressing his face against Karamatsu’s shoulder.

He can feel the soft rumble of mirthless laughter his big brother gives. “You’re the one who was hurt, Ichimatsu. I’m only okay because of you. If you hadn’t seen… I wasn’t paying attention…”

The words, “It should have been me”, hang heavily in the air even though Karamatsu doesn’t say them.

He brushes a delicate kiss over the side of his little brother’s forehead. “Heh… you would have been a better big brother than me. You kept us all safe when I failed. You probably saved my life, you know. Thank you.”

Ichimatsu isn’t sure why it’s now that the full weight of everything has hit him. Now, when he’s home and out of danger, when everything is okay. Shouldn’t he have been falling apart when he first woke up in the hospital? It shouldn’t have taken seeing Karamatsu’s small injuries to remind him that they all could have died when he’s the one in a cast.

It’s hard to keep himself together, to keep his breathing normal so he doesn’t completely go to pieces. (Though, if he did, what better place to do so than in his older brother’s arms?) “… You’d do the same for me, right? So it’s only fair.”

“I would,” Karamatsu hums. “Without a second thought. You’re my little brother and I love you very much and if I could save you from being hurt, I would. I’m… sorry I was so careless that I couldn’t do it this time.”

Ichimatsu grunts, slipping his good arm around Karamatsu’s waist in an effort to be closer. “Don’t feel too bad. The next car’ll be yours.”

After eating as much as he feels like he can, Ichimatsu allows Karamatsu to help transfer him to the floor. It’s already set up with a spare futon, a blanket, and a pillow, probably because someone guessed that sleeping on the sofa wouldn’t be comfortable.

He’s still in so much pain. The shoulder that was reduced back into place aches like an old war wound, and his chest is sore even when he’s lying still. To say nothing of his wrist and his leg. His whole body feels like one giant bruise, except worse.

Although Karamatsu insists he’d be just fine to stand guard all night, after a few minutes Choromatsu comes in and sends him back to the bedroom. Ichimatsu doesn’t hear too much of the conversation ― mostly whispers that Karamatsu needs to go get some sleep, that Choromatsu is glad to take a turn.

Soon enough, though, Karamatsu relents and comes to tell Ichimatsu goodnight before he leaves the room. Ichimatsu gets one more kiss on the head and a reassuring squeeze to his good hand and exchanges another round of “I love you”s with his brother, then heads into the bedroom.

Choromatsu came prepared, setting his own pillow up on the couch and tossing a blanket at the end just in case he needs it. “So… how are you feeling, Ichimatsu?”

“Mm… like crap, kinda.” He looks over to where his brother is trying to get settled in. “I can’t believe I slept six hours and I’m still tired. What kind of shit did they put me on?”

“Hah… y-yeah, it’s the good stuff, probably. Is it at least helping the pain a little?”

“A little. Like Mom said before we left the hospital, I… guess it’d be more worrying if I wasn’t in pain right now. I did get hit by a car.”

Choromatsu leans forward and places a cautious hand on his little brother’s head. Once that earns him no punishment, he gingerly combs through Ichimatsu’s hair. It certainly feels relaxing. “You sure did. I… I can’t believe you kept both Karamatsu and Totty safe. Adrenaline’s a… a weird thing, huh? I’m glad you’re all okay. Hopefully the pain medicine will work better once you’ve had a few doses.”

“Mh. I hope so.”

“Yeah. For now, just, uh… just try to get some more sleep, okay? Your body needs a lot of rest while you’re healing.”

Yep, that’s what Karamatsu said, too. Two of his brothers saying the same thing can’t be wrong. … Well, they could be, but it would be weird. “I’ll try. Thanks for… being here. I dunno that I’d really want to sleep alone for the whole night. Guess Totty’s rubbing off on me.”

A low chuckle leaves Choromatsu as Ichimatsu closes his eyes. The sound of rustling suggests that his older brother has laid down and pulled a blanket over himself as well.

After a moment of quiet between them, Ichimatsu becomes keenly aware of a sensation that definitely isn’t going to allow him to sleep. “Uuuugh. Shit.”

“Huh?” Choromatsu is sitting up in an instant, ready to practically spring out of his skin. “What’s wrong, Ichimatsu?”

“― My leg itches.”

“O-oh. So… scratch it??”

He throws his head back in frustration. “No, the one with the Goddamn cast on it.”

“Ohhh. Okay, uh, well…” Choromatsu gets up and rummages through one of the drawers for a few seconds.

After that, a pencil is pressed into Ichimatsu’s good hand with a smile. “Here, try this. Stick the eraser end down in the little space between your leg and the cast, then keep moving it. If the itch is high enough up, it should help.”

Ichimatsu raises an eyebrow at the advice. Well. What’s he got to lose, after all? He spends a moment trying to get the itch scratched after slipping the pencil down, and finally he sighs in relief. “Fuck, that’s a lot better. How’d you know that was gonna work?”

Choromatsu grins self-consciously, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Ah, well… remember when I broke my arm? When I went for my checkup, I had this itch inside the cast that was driving me nuts. So the nurse showed me this trick. It doesn’t always work, but…”

“Huh… well… thanks.” After everything, he’s just really tired and ready to sleep now. He would cross his fingers that nothing else disturbs him if he felt like moving at all.

“Heh, no problem. All good now?”

“I think so.” When he sees his brother straighten up to head back to the couch, his brain evidently thinks it’s good to say something. “H… hey. Choromatsu?”

Choromatsu looks back down, concern etched on his features. “Ah, yeah? What’s up?”

His heart is hammering so fast it feels like it’s trying to break more of his ribs. He doesn’t really want to embarrass himself. It’s just… he feels… “Can you… can you… stay for a minute? Down here?”

“Oh… yeah, sure. I can’t stay too long… I-I can’t sleep next to you. I might accidentally hurt you.” Even so, he lowers himself back down, sitting cross-legged and reaching to stroke Ichimatsu’s hair.

He nods. That’s part of the problem. Even though he normally wouldn’t have much complaint about being left to his own devices… he’s used to sleeping next to his brothers. Right on the end beside Karamatsu. When he’s not feeling well, being absent from them is apparently not doing him any favors. “I know. It’s just…”

His eyes drift closed once more. It must be the medicine making him feel out of it and way too honest. “… I think I’m gonna get lonely sleeping like this.”

“O-oh… gosh.” He can practically hear the frown in Choromatsu’s voice. The other man’s hand combs through his hair, a rhythmic and repetitive motion that makes him sleepy again. “I can probably… sleep like this, propped up against the couch. Is that okay?”

“Mmmh… I don’t want you to have to do that… you’ll make your back sore.”

He chuckles. “Ah, I-I think I can handle it. Even if that’s true, it’d be worth it to me so you don’t have to feel lonely. It’s the least I can do for my little brother.”

“I can’t stop you,” Ichimatsu mumbles. Sleep is scrabbling its tiny, strong fingers at him, trying to pull him down. It’s getting hard to resist. “If you want…”

“Yeah… yeah, I wanna do this for you.” Choromatsu leans down to press a small kiss to the top of Ichimatsu’s head. “Hey. Love you, Ichimacchan. Try to get some rest, okay?”

He doesn’t have to tell Ichimatsu twice. Within a minute of Choromatsu’s urging, he’s fallen back into a peaceful darkness.

When Ichimatsu wakes up the next morning, Choromatsu’s presence has been replaced by Jyushimatsu’s.

As much as he loves his immediate older brother, he doesn’t have any complaints. He and Jyushimatsu are very close, and his younger brother being here is pretty soothing to wake up to.

He’s uncharacteristically quiet, though that’s not to say he isn’t his usual energetic self. He appears to be flipping through baseball cards, maybe organizing them in his little album, humming to himself. There’s also one hand free to play with Ichimatsu’s hair, which he supposes is why he still feels relaxed.

“Hey, Jyushi.” His body reminds him why stretching is a bad idea right now, so he settles for arching his back a little in an effort to make something pop. Everything is sore. Even that little bit of movement hurts his ribs enough that he has trouble catching his breath for a minute. “Fuck… morning.”

“Oh! Yeah, it is morning!” Jyushimatsu is chipper as always, though when he leans in for a hug, he’s surprisingly gentle. “How’d you sleep, Ichimatsu-nii-san?”

“Okay, I guess. I still hurt a bunch.”

“Yeahhhh, you were crying in your sleep! But it’s okay! Because guess what? Jyushi is here!” He grins, nuzzling his cheek against Ichimatsu’s. It’s a bit weird, but par for the course as far as Jyushimatsu is concerned. Besides, the hug is nice after the fear of being lonely last night. “Did you have nightmares, huh?”

Now that he mentions it… yep. Ichimatsu’s dreams, or what he remembers of them, were filled with horrible things. The memory of being hit by the car, or the images of either Karamatsu or Totty being hit because he wasn’t fast enough.

He recalls one piece of a dream which involved looking into his own chest and seeing the end of a fractured rib shatter his glass heart.

A shudder runs through his body, prompting Jyushimatsu to tighten his grip just slightly. “Oh, you’re cold! It’s past breakfast, ‘cause you slept for a really long time, but I’ll go get you some tea!! Sound good?”

Given that his appetite hasn’t come back from war, that sounds better than anything else. Though he did manage to choke down that rice and miso last night, he’s not sure if he wants to eat even anything bland. “Yeah, sounds good. Put just a little bit of agave syrup in it for me?”

“Yeah! Anything for Ichimatsu-nii-san! Be right back, okay?”

With Jyushimatsu, ‘be right back’ is typically how it goes. He’s only gone for a few minutes, or at least it only seems like a few minutes.

Regardless, Ichimatsu has a cup of tea in his hand relatively quickly. Almost as if his brother predicted that it would be difficult to hold something very hot with only one hand, the tea is warm, not boiling hot.

It’s easier to balance it with one hand, plus this means it’s pretty much the perfect temperature to drink. As he starts to sip it, he feels Jyushimatsu’s hand, covered entirely by his sleeve, rubbing affectionately between his shoulder blades. “It’s good, huh?”

He swallows and gives the other a nod. “Yeah, pretty good. Thanks.” Thankfully, it should wake him up, too. He’s still feeling kind of groggy.

“Good!! Osomatsu-nii-san said he’s gonna give you your medicine in a minute, since I told him you were up and hurting.” Jyushimatsu shoves his binder of cards away, shifting up to sit on the sofa. “Do you want me to move you up here after you’re done drinking?”

“Probably, yeah. You got anything you wanna do today?” Another sip, and he sighs in relief feeling the warmth flow through him. Damn.He can’t believe he could take something as simple as a cup of tea in the morning for granted. “I can’t really help with baseball practice… but we could watch TV together or something.”

“Sure! We can watch whatever you want!” After only a few seconds, Jyushimatsu wiggles himself back down and leans against his big brother’s shoulder. “Hey, Ichimatsu-nii-san… I’m really glad you’re okay. Even though you’re hurt and everything, you’re home with us instead of… being not home with us!”

The least he can do is let his head rest gently against Jyushimatsu’s. “Yeah… I’m glad I’m home, too. Don’t think I’d rather be anywhere else.”

Jyushimatsu nods eagerly, making a brief, dull wave of pain wash through Ichimatsu. However, he’d rather have that pain than not have his little brother close. “We’ll take really good care of you! Just say if you need anything, okay? I’m really strong and I can get anything! … And if I can’t, Osomatsu-nii-san probably can!”

“Heh.” Ichimatsu takes another gulp of his tea. “You guys are the best.”

True to Jyushimatsu’s word, Osomatsu is in pretty soon to give Ichimatsu the painkillers. For whatever reason, even when he can’t be trusted with literally anything else, the eldest is pretty good at monitoring medicine when one of the others needs it.

All things being equal, Ichimatsu has a lot of faith in taking medicine when Osomatsu keeps track of it. He knows how much was dispensed, how many Ichimatsu is supposed to take and how often, how many are left, and all the related things. He’s like some kind of idiot savant who was put on Earth to be a pill counter.

After he takes it, he expects to start getting tired again, so he silently begs Osomatsu to stay on the couch with him. They’re all supposed to be hanging out anyway, based on what Jyushimatsu said, so right now he decides he wants to be close to his oldest brother for a little bit.

Osomatsu seems all too happy to oblige, snuggling Ichimatsu as close as he dares to. It’s probably not a good idea to use normal force, so the touches are… lighter than usual. It’s not so bad.

He settles in on Osomatsu’s shoulder, trying to get his eyes to focus on the show Jyushimatsu turned it to for him. It’s kind of unfortunate that he’s almost certainly going to fall asleep on it. “You guys are taking really good care of me,” he sighs, letting his eyes slip closed. “You want my allowance? Or, like… a bag of sardines?”

Osomatsu snorts. “What? You’re nuts, man. We’re taking care of you because we want to and because you need it. I mean, if I was sitting here with a broken leg, a broken wrist, broken ribs, and had to have my shoulder cherry popped back into place, wouldn’t you all be like, ‘Wow, maybe we should give the poor bastard a hand’? We’re just doing the same thing for you that we’d do for any one of us.”

Ichimatsu huffs. “Yeah, well… you’re all doing a lot. Karamatsu went in the kitchen past midnight to make me miso and rice, Choromatsu probably fucked up his back sleeping against the couch so I wouldn’t be lonely, Jyushi’s waiting on me, and you’ve got my medicine on a damn schedule or something.”

“Yeah, well,” Osomatsu grins, “I can’t leave it up to you, crackhead.”

He can’t help but chuckle at that. Even so, it’s not going to make him totally drop this. “I’m serious. You guys are…”

Osomatsu nudges him carefully. “We’re being brothers, you boner. I know we suck at showing it sometimes, but… you know we all love each other, right? I guess it’s easier to show it when one of us is sick or hurt. Just so happens you’re the hurt one right now. And also your ass is on painkillers, so everything seems weird to you.”

… Okay, so maybe he can’t fault that logic. Still, though.

They’re both quiet for a long moment while they watch the screen, then Osomatsu lets out a soft hum. “You did good, you know. I don’t like that you tried to get yourself killed, but you did good.”

“I wasn’t trying to get myself killed,” Ichimatsu retorts with the nastiest facial expression he can muster right now. “I didn’t wanna get hit, either. But Karamatsu and Totty weren’t paying attention… I didn’t want them to get hit. I was trying to get us all out of that way… I just wasn’t fast enough.”

Osomatsu scoffs before reaching his hand up to ruffle Ichimatsu’s hair. He appears to be getting a lot of pets like that lately, not that he’s complaining. It feels really good and is one of the biggest comforts he has right now. “You protected them, anyway. I can’t say too much, because you didn’t do anything I wouldn’t have done if it were me.”

Ichimatsu offers a low, mocking wail. “Oh, shit. I’m turning into you. I think I’d rather be a cat. If I were a really bratty cat, you’d still be nice enough to feed me sardines and scratch behind my ears, right?”

“Uhhhh, I guess. You’re changing the subject, you dick.” A small puff of laughter makes his bangs move. “I just… wanna say I really respect you, man. Sometimes I remember the days when you would kick Karamatsu in the leg just for breathing the wrong way. And when you used to blow Totty off to hang with your friends in high school.”

He gets a shrug in response. “People change. We’ve all changed a lot.”

“Yeah, sure. I know.” His arm shifts down and he squeezes Ichimatsu’s good hand in that reassuring, proud way only an older sibling can. “They haven’t all been good changes. But seeing you trying to keep the others safe… that’s a a good change. Just gotta give you your props, Ichimacchan.”

He’s too tired to really argue with Osomatsu. Despite the fact that he knows he’s the shittiest of them all, he has to at least silently acknowledge that what he did prevented one of his older brothers and his baby brother from being in the same pain he’s in right now.

Instead of saying anything meaningful, he just presses himself in more against Osomatsu and mutters, “That’s nice. I’m tired.”

Osomatsu snorts and Ichimatsu feels a light kiss on top of his head. “Alright, dumbass, get some sleep. The pills are probably kicking in. Let me know if you need anything.”

Ichimatsu thinks that, right now, all he needs is his big brother to be the perfect pillow, and he’s doing a pretty good job of that.

Although it’s not dark at all the next time Ichimatsu wakes up, it’s significantly later than he meant to sleep. 3 P.M., meaning that once again he’s slept through a meal ― lunch, this time.

Just like last night, he finds that he’s not really all that hungry. Even so, it might be a good idea to eat, so probably he ask Osomatsu to get him something small.

When he shifts and looks over, though, Osomatsu isn’t there anymore. Instead, there’s Totty…

… Oh.

He’s holding onto Ichimatsu pretty tight. Ichimatsu isn’t sure he can move too much with the way Totty is holding him.

“Hey,” he says softly. “Totty? Everything okay?”

His little brother stiffens, wide eyes suddenly turning up to look at him. Unlike what he noticed about Karamatsu, Totty doesn’t have any physical injuries, but… the skin around his eyes is red and puffy. “Y… yeah, it’s all good. Sorry, am I hurting you?”

“No… not really hurting.” He doesn’t remember having seen Totty too much after everything happened. He visited Ichimatsu in the hospital, all teary-eyed and not talking, before they were all allowed to take him home. Once he got home, though, he can’t recall Totty being around a lot even though everyone else was.

He assumed Totty was freaked out after everything and avoiding him just because he’s emotional right now. Seems Ichimatsu was right about that.

He maneuvers his good arm to put it around Totty’s shoulders, pulling him in closer. “Have you been crying? You sure you’re okay?”

Totty sniffles and dips his head down. “Yeah, sorry… I just…”

“Don’t be sorry, dumbass.” Even though it hurts a little to move so much, Ichimatsu cuddles his brother in against him. “It’s fine, you big crybaby. I just wanna make sure you’re okay.”

“I should be the one making sure you’re okay.” Regardless, Totty nestles in, tucking his head under Ichimatsu’s chin. It’s a bit of a weight on his hurt ribs, but it’s not that bad. “… H-hey. I, um. You know. I… I love you.”

Huh. It’s been a while since Totty has said that point-blank to any of his brothers, Ichimatsu thinks. It’s kind of nice to hear. He closes his eyes and offers an appreciative hum. “I love you, too. That it?”

Totty lets out a frustrated sigh, and Ichimatsu can just imagine the pout he has on his face. Kinda cute. He can’t really help himself; the youngest is always gonna be the baby, always gonna be adorable, even when he’s acting like a little bitch or if he wants to deny it. “I wanted to… say I’m sorry.”

“For…?”

“For… everything! Y-you know, for almost getting hit and… I mean, you got hurt trying to protect me and Karamatsu! If I hadn’t tried to follow him without even looking… you wouldn’t have had to worry about me. And… and I haven’t been with you too much since you got home…”

He nuzzles his head against Ichimatsu’s collarbone, kneading his hand against the top of his brother’s good leg. “I’m sorry about that. It’s just… I’ve been… really upset. It was scary, seeing the car hit you…”

The hum Ichimatsu gives this time is lower, pensive and understanding. “Yeah. Mom said you were crying a lot when she got to the hospital. ‘S okay to be kinda freaked out, you know.”

“Yeah, I know… and I was… am.I was scared the whole time… Karamatsu tried to wake you up, but you were just lying there and you wouldn’t…” Totty sniffles and his hand curls into a weak fist against Ichimatsu’s knee. “I didn’t wanna lose you, Ichimatsu-nii-san, and I was really afraid you were gone. I’m happy you’re okay… I just… I-I was pretty sure I was gonna cry the first time I tried to take care of you, so I… wanted to be alone with you. Crying in front of all you guys is…”

Ichimatsu nods to quiet his brother, ghosting a kiss over the top of Totty’s head. “I get it. It’s okay, Totty. C’mere, okay… you don’t have to be sorry for being freaked out and not wanting to cry and all that shit. I’m sure Karamatsu’s freaked out, too. And everyone else. Don’t apologize for your feelings, stupid.”

An indignant huff is the response he gets, before Totty presses in against Ichimatsu’s uninjured shoulder. “It just makes me think a lot,” he finally confesses.

Ichimatsu smirks. “Right. And you’re so out of practice with thinking, it’s hard. I know.”

“Th-that’s not it, you jerk!” Totty whines and brings his arms in, curled against his chest. His knees come up onto the couch, folded under him, as he tries to get comfortable. “It makes me think… anything could happen, at any moment, and that… might be it.And I know we’re all shitty to each other a lot of the time, but… but I love all of you.”

He sniffles, snuggling against Ichimatsu when his big brother pulls him even closer. “The thought that one of us might… die… I-I didn’t… I didn’t know how afraid I was of that… till I thought it happened. If one of us wasn’t here… it… it wouldn’t be the same anymore.”

“… Yeah.” Ichimatsu gives Totty a squeeze that’s maybe a little tighter than necessary. It’s not like he can pretend that Totty is wrong. He’s right. Even though they’re all assholes and treat each other like crap sometimes, the last thing any of them want is for their family to be… incomplete.

They sit quietly for what feels like a long time, holding each other. Breathing. Just existing in sync, in perfect understanding for a while.

Sometimes, it’s true, Ichimatsu is kind of a death seeker. Sometimes he really does want to die. Sometimes he doesn’t care about anything, and just wants it all to end so he doesn’t have to deal with the weight of life anymore.

Sometimes, though… sometimes he fights death with all he has. He thinks maybe that’s what happened after he got hit by the car.

It would have been easy to die then. To just let his injuries swallow him up and put out his life like blowing out a candle.

He’s in a lot of pain right now, but he’s not dead. There must be a reason, right?

He thinks this is the reason.

Holding his youngest brother and realizing how broken his absence would leave his family, thinking about how broken it would be if anyof them were gone, how much they love each other…

… For once, he’s happy to be alive.

#Osomatsu san #whump #Ichimatsu #Allmatsu #Iromatsu #Nenchuumatsu #Suujimatsu #Parkamatsu #110matsu #car accident #broken bones #medication #caretaking #HEY LOOK AT THESE AWESOME BROTHERS BEING AWESOME #SORRY THIS GOT SO LONG BUT I COULDN'T HELP MYSELF.........#PLS ENJOY THE FOOD <3

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