#getting gut wound makeup

[luveline]

I love bombshell reader. Would she ever get jealous?

Your eye is most definitely twitching. The pull and cinch of your lashes and the delicate skin of your eyelid distracts you mildly from the sight in front of you, but not for long. 

You rub at your eye with a perfectly filed nail, smudging intricate makeup all over the place. You remember your mascara only after you've mussed it and groan in annoyance. "Fucking fuck," you murmur, slipping a hand into your jacket pocket. 

"You okay?" Emily asks. 

Using your phone screen as a substandard mirror, you clean up the smudge you'd made of your make up with your pinky finger carefully. "I'm great," you say breezily. 

"You sure? You sound stressed." 

"She's jealous," Morgan says. Smugness lines his face and the otherwise handsome set of his mouth. 

You roll your eyes at him, to his bemusement, and sit back in your cold, leather-backed chair. "Sure, Morgan, I'm very jealous. Of what?" 

"Of our baby boy's new friend, obviously," he says. 

You don't give him the satisfaction of looking back at Spencer where he stands at the bar, nor do you let the practised smile you're wearing falter. Your guts an aching wound and your skin flushed with heat, you reach for the cherry coasting along the surface of your drink and pull it out by the stem, twisting it between your fingers. Unbothered on the outside, and an insecure, hurt mess on the inside. 

It really looked like Spencer was flirting with her. 

You chew your cherry for much longer than you need to for want of something to do, hot tears begging to well behind your eyes. Spencer isn't your boyfriend, you've held hands a couple times and that's that. He's allowed to want someone else. Someone prettier, smaller, she'd had a head of perfect braids and a dewy, do eyed smile. Cherry swallowed, you knock back your drink. 

"Sorry," Spencer starts, sliding into the booth next to you with another cherry sour for you and what looks like an ice cold glass of coke for himself.

You hadn't asked him for a drink and he hadn't mentioned getting you one. For a moment, the ugly weight of envy lifts from your shoulders. "Oh, thank you." 

"I just met this girl at the bar and she had something very interesting to ask me," Spencer says. 

You don't want to hear it. Morgan absolutely does, and with Emily to encourage him, they're happy happy torture you both. "Why's Penelope taking so long?" you ask, trying to change the subject too late. 

"What did she want, loverboy?" Morgan asks.

"Did you think she was pretty?" Spencer asks you.

Mortified, you stare at him. Plainly hurt, to his surprise, you clasp your hands together tightly in your lap. "Why would you ask me that?" 

"Because she wants to ask you out?" Spencer's knee bumps yours. "She thinks you're, quote, intimidatingly pretty." 

Emily and Morgan laugh together gleefully. You're glad this is entertaining for them, but mostly you're relieved. You pick up your drink and take a sip, looking over Spencer's shoulder into the bar for the girl he'd been speaking with. She smiles shyly. 

"I'm assuming this is from her?" 

"What? No, that's from me." 

Your gaze flickers back to him. "Really?" 

"That's my boy," Morgan jokes, swinging his arm behind Emily's seat. She laughs approvingly. 

Firmly back on stable footing, you give Spencer your stickiest grin, looking over his pretty face greedily. He's looking at your drinks rather than you but his torso is turned your way, the backs of his fingers brushing your stocking clad thigh. "Maybe I should go let her down gently?" you murmur, shifting in your seat to turn his way too, flirting with the idea of touching his cheek. 

"You might not need to," he says. 

"How come?" you ask. 

"Well, I… I sort of implied you were taken. You know. With the drink. And I also might've said you weren't interested." 

"Yeah?" You put your hand on his shoulder, tracing a whisper of a path up the slope of it to the base of his throat. "Well, it's a good thing I'm not." 

Emily shakes the small bowl of roasted peanuts, a deviousness about her as she says, "Good for all of us. I've never seen Y/N that jealous before. For once, I thought we'd have to protect her from you." 

You could kill her. Flustered, you tilt your head to one side and look out over nothing, mumbling, "I wouldn't say I was that jealous." 

"No?" Spencer asks. "I can go tell her you've changed your mind." 

"Don't push your luck, Reid." 

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

[mouschiwrites]

Creepypasta/MH - Doing Halloween Stuff With Them :)

(Characters: Tim/Masky, Eyeless Jack, Jeff the Killer, Nina the Killer, Jane the Killer, Ticci Toby)

Tim/Masky

Hear me out... corn maze

I believe that Tim enjoys a good puzzle every now and again

He loves trying to figure things out (specifically when there's nothing at risk)

Getting to show off his navigational skills is also a major plus

He just likes to impress you, even if it comes off as annoying sometimes

"See? What'd I tell you? The exit's right there."

Though he does like the satisfaction of completing the maze, what he really treasures is that time you spend together figuring it out

Once you finally find the exit, you'll celebrate with hot cocoa :D

Eyeless Jack

This man LOVES carving pumpkins

He goes all out; definitely one of those people who makes the crazy intricate designs that look like they take hours

He'll love it if you help him!

If you have a steady hand, he'll let you do the details

If you don't, he'll task you with gutting the pumpkin/handing him tools

You guys collaborate on multiple pumpkins throughout the month, setting them in random locations for everyone to see

If there's a design you want to do, just show it to him, there's no question he'll be down

If it's too simplistic, he'll try to add more details

"Ooh, Jack, look at this one. Can we try to re-create it?"

"Of course! Though I do have some ideas on how it can be improved..."

Jeff the Killer

Another pumpkin carving enjoyer

But for a different reason... a very different reason

He loves the goriness of gutting the pumpkins

He couldn't care less about making actual designs, he just wants to get messy stabbing the pumpkin and gouging out its insides

That being said, he'll 100% gut your pumpkin if you ask him (he'll probably end up doing it even if you don't ask)

It's honestly a little disturbing watching him work

He just gets this look in his eye...

"You, uh... you doing okay there, Jeff?"

"Hm? Yup! Never better!! Say, can you grab the big knife from the kitchen for me?"

Nina the Killer

You best bet she's the costume queen

Spends the whole year planning matching horror-themed costumes

She'll settle for no less than creativity and perfection

High-quality props and articles only!! She'll even make them herself if she has to!

You can expect to spend at least an hour in front of the mirror while she does your makeup/adjusts your clothes

She's an SFX makeup legend, loves incorporating as much gore into your costume as possible

Don't ask why it's so realistic (it's not like she knows how the wound would look if it was real or anything)

"Wow, Nina... It's almost like I can feel it! It's so real!"

"No, no. If you were feeling it, you would be screaming pretty loud right now."

You can also expect to attend multiple parties where you show off your costumes

You guys dominate costume competitions

Jane the Killer

Horror movies!!

Specifically, making fun of them

You both pick apart the plot, the characters, the dialogue, the special effects, everything

No horror film is safe from your scrutiny

If you're the type to get scared during horror movies, her snide comments will help distract you

"Ooh, I can't look!"

"Oh, come on. Look—I bet they used corn syrup for that fake blood. It's way too thick."

When the movie ends, you're both feeling more amused than scared

She doesn't like to see horror films in theaters because she doesn't get to make commentary, plus she doesn't want to "waste" money on a "stupid tryhard-horror flick"

She'd much rather dig up some old indie DVD/VCR and have a home movie night with you

Ticci Toby

Halloween sweets are his bread and butter

Candy apples, fun-sized candy bars, candy corn, pumpkin bread...

He would perish if you made anything homemade for him

Spends the whole month gorging on sweets almost as fast as he can get his hands on them

He will not share with anyone but you

And even you only get a small portion of his goodies

Robs at least one child on Halloween night, mostly for the candy but also because he likes scaring little kids

"Where did you get all that candy?"

"Got it from a little birdy. By that I mean a kid in Falcon cosplay."

"Toby! ... save me the (favorite candy)."

Thank you for reading! Have a good day/night my spooky pookies <33

(divider by saradika)

#creepypasta #creepypasta headcanons #creepypasta x reader #masky x reader #eyeless jack x reader #jeff the killer x reader #nina the killer x reader #jane the killer x reader #ticci toby x reader #masky #tim wright #jeff the killer #nina the killer #jane the killer #ticci toby #marble hornets #marble hornets x reader

[macfrog]

all three dogs

Of course you must learn to love, to love always and love entirely and to be wounded by nothing so much as the violence of your own love. andrew kane, how to be a dog

inspired by this gorgeous post (good idea to read it before you read this), and this gorgeous ask (thank you @iknowisoundcrazy). also shoutout to @mrsmando for being the queen of character study. i am not sure what this is, exactly? is it about joel miller, or is it about some dogs? i do not know. but it was fucking cathartic, so here, i guess. here's how i see joel at his worst.

summary: "dog metaphors are all about devotion, devotion to a person, a concept, a place etc, to be a dog is to be devoted."

warnings: little graphic i guess? blood and guts. violent joel. sarah dies and joel shoots up a hospital to save ellie. angst. i think that's it

word count: 1.3k

main masterlist | follow @macfroglets with notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🖤

he loves you, sarah says, fork digging into egg.

he’s dependent on me, joel quips, not the same.

i think it’s the same.

when the first dog is born, he gives his heavy head a shake, and his ears flick to life. his fur is still damp from the blood and fluid of his mother’s body. he still smells like her – looks like her, too. he is still connected in some way to where he has been; the umbilical cord coiled and dripping.

she licks and licks and licks until he is clean. watches contently as he pads off into some distant future, where he will lose that boisterous gleam in his eye, the gentle wag of his tail. but for now –

for now, he is brown-haired. brown-eyed to match. he has a daughter. he is bright, and alive, and he makes jokes when they bubble up to his tongue. he is good. he knows love like a first language, as if each swipe of his mother’s tongue on his coat melded it into his makeup.

he does not know the warmth of another man’s blood on his hands. he has not drawn the screams and howls of pain from another’s throat.

she is the sun – his daughter – the most radiant part of his life. his life, which spins on its axis around her. always looking for her, to her, at her. vitamin c, she tells him, and he accepts the glass of orange juice. she tells him to swear and he says, on my life. she tells him he’s lame and he says, i know.

he trots faithful and pliant at her heels. circles her legs and passes over her shadow, waiting to be told different. waiting to be shooed away.

only – when he is told, he doesn’t listen. he can’t. what is a planet with no sun to orbit? what becomes of day, when its light begins to drain?

she digs her nails into his skin. pushes and scratches and begs him with shallow gasps to take his hands off her stomach. to let her go. to go away.

i know, baby, i know i know i know i know –

he tells her she’s going to be okay. because what the fuck else does he know? he’s just a dog. he’s just her dog. all he knows is her.

the sun is being eclipsed. the world begins to darken.

i’m just gonna get her killed, joel weeps, i know it. i have to leave her.

when the second dog is pulled from his mother, he wails in a collapsed heap on the cold tile floor. the world is dim, colorless. the sun is gone. he does not know how he ended up here.

love is akin to violence. it speaks the same language, inflection and cadence blurring between words. he is only as strong as his fists are able to break bone. he has run out of road – a panting, ragged, old dog, tongue hanging lopsided and jumping. ears dented with the pieces of him lost to fighting.

something quakes within his chest, a deep, unstable movement. a shifting of the tectonic plates that make up his bones. he shakes violently, feeling for the thrash of his heart against his chest wall. something in the darkness commands him to act – to move, though it never reveals where to or what from. just fucking move.

and then – the eruption of his temper. like waves on rocks, breaching in violent and unpredictable bursts. spray of black ocean on the jagged cliff edge. i made this decision for your own good, he reasons, stood in the pink-papered bedroom. the snow flutters silently outside. his hackles slowly furl. she scoffs. she knows as well as he does: he’s as good a liar as he was a pet.

but for all his anger, for all the fear he misdiagnoses as weakness – there is a glimmer somewhere on his back. a pale light catching in the broken face of his watch; lighting the kinks of his dark coat. it begins to push him; to stir him like the tide.

something is controlling him again. pulling on his collar. someone is lighting the way.

where is she?

fuck you.

it takes as little time for the dog’s ears to prick as it did for his lungs to suck in a breath. his upper lip twists, canine glinting in the trembling fluorescent light. shining with saliva and the rusted tinge of blood. joel thinks it over less than once. his eyes flood black.

i don’t have time for this.

when the third dog rips his way into the world, he tears everything around him to shreds, too. his teeth are already bared; his claws are already swiping. his eyes are black as ink; he cannot remember that soft-footed pup he once was.

there is nothing left to hide. not anymore. he has existed in the darkness too long to try. his shirt and skin are stained with dirt and sweat and blood. his fur is matted; his fangs are brown and rotten. if she saw him, if her light cast its golden spill onto his bloodshot eyes and mottled coat – she would never know who he is. she would not recognize her own father.

but he was always this way, it seems: he has always loved catastrophically.

everything is red. saturated in threat; a screaming, nauseating red. it turns his stomach just to look, to peer down the chamber of his gun. the blinking of the alarm light. the maroon stains on his hands. the metallic smell seeping from the slumped vests. the thick pools he steps through, the footprints following him around every corner. they will catch up to him eventually. they always do.

his paws hurt. pads skinned raw from all the running. his lungs ache, now, too. his throat lurches for breath, closes in on itself and then sticks, choking him. he cannot remember the heat of the sun on his arms. he does not know when he last said her name.

he doesn’t remember when he last said anything. he speaks in growls and barks and bites. when his mouth opens, his lips curl by instinct. he swallows his drawl and replaces it with something sharper. something poisonous. there’s foam lining his gums.

all he has – of this he is sure – is his brute force and the quick snap of his bite. the shattering of bone, the mauling of flesh. the brawn and breadth of his body; the squeeze of a trigger with one thoughtless pull. all he knows how to do is swing.

and so, one heavy boot steps in front of the other. crunching over broken glass and scuffing over bullet shells. whereisshewhereisshewhereisshe. it loops through his head like it used to when he could see color and feel the wind in his ears. like chasing his tail. catchitcatchitcatchit.

where did she go – the moon? which cloud is she hiding behind? how many men do his maws have to tear apart to find her?

and what will she think when she sees him again? his collar missing and his claws dripping crimson. when she feels the rips in his ears, sees the scar on the side of his head. what will she do, when she runs her hand down his dirty coat, and in place of a loving lick or nuzzle of the nose, he sinks his teeth straight into her wrist?

swear to me. swear to me that everything you said about the fireflies is true.

the dog lowers his head obediently. his ears fall flat. tail curls between his back legs. the wind pushes hard against joel’s chest, threatening to take him with it. i swear, he says.

ellie’s gaze falls. she nods once. tightens her fist around the dog’s leash.

okay.

-

lots of inspo drawn from:

how to be a dog by andrew kane

grit by silas denver melvin

monster theory: reading culture by jeffrey jerome cohen [seven theses]

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller one shot #joel miller drabble #the last of us #tlou #i’m not sure what this is #i just wanted to write it #this one goes out to all the dog motif posts i see on the daily about roman roy #ouch

[hellsfirekeepsyouwarm]

I Swear To You

Frank Castle x Reader Requested:

Hello my lovely writer, I'm in great need of some protective care taking fluffy angsty Frank Castle fic. And so I was wondering if you are interested in my request =) please let me know what you think. Frank has a cute new neighbor. They ended up talking a lot, Frank even flirting with her, but doesn't have the guts to make a move. One evening she was on a date which went sideways. The creep drugged her. As she notices something is wrong she snuck out of the bar calling a taxi to go home as fast as she can. He manhandled her as he notices she waiting for a taxi but she makes it home... She barely made it to pay the driver as she stumbled to her door to out if it from her spiked drink, so she isn't able to open her door let alone find her key. She collapses at Sehr front door, lying in the Cola night (maybe she hit her head pretty badly when going down). Frank comes home and finds her in feoneof her door. She's hypothermic and he notices her weird state and knows instantly she was drugged. So he takes care of her and her wounds and tries to warm her up. He nurses her back the next days

I hope you like it and thanks for requesting, and sorry for pushing this out for too long.

TW: Mentions of dru-gs, mentions of SA, puking, a terrible man doing terrible things

Frank was a goner. The moment he spotted you at the end of the hallway, gently balancing on your high heels, dress hugging your curves perfectly, hair and makeup done like you were ready to walk the red carpet, he knew he messed up. He messed up when he let his facade fall, and let you see the real him. Or part of him. Nothing was out of place, he came back from work, catching your right opposite of his door, going to a walk, to get a coffee, to meet up with your friends. You greeted him just the same, but your smile was giddy, a little bit too wide for a regular day.

He was oblivious to a lot of things, but even he could see that you are going to a date. And the guy is pretty fucking lucky tonight. He could see you wanted to impress, and you already won, because he was fascinated. He took sneaky glances, tried to act casual when you eyes spotted him walking towards you, shoulders heavy with a long ass day behind him. You greeted him as usual, asked about his day as usual, but he just couldn't act like usual. He had to acknowledge how beautiful you looked, and he did just that. A compliment, then a hidden question to confirm his suspicion. Your hips swayed as you walked away from him, giggling at his compliment, dissepearing into the night.

He was in deep. Too deep.

*

You had a good time, the best since a while. He was charming, charismatic, a kind face with a killer smile. Smooth talk, lingering touches. He was literally perfection. He really was.

As the night progressed, your glass never emptied out fully, he made sure you had plenty to drink. You didn't think much of it, his glass was the same, always full, often smiling into the golden liquor that grazed his lips. You ate, but surely not enough for the amount of drinks you consumed. How much did you really drink? You couldn't recall when your vision started to feel so tunnel like, or how your head felt heavy like a brick strapped to it. The more you felt it, the often his smile faltered.

First you thought you were just tired, haven't ate enough, that's why you are being a lightweight now. But in the back of your mind something told you it wasn't that. You only drank wine, wine that most of the time brought the frizzy numbness to you and the giggles out from you, meanwhile right now, you feel like you drank an entire cupboard of alcohol.

He is closer now. Pulled his chair next to you sometime you don't remember happening, if you saw it, you already forgot it. His breath fanning you ear as he speaks to you, something along the lines of going home, having a good time, taking it somewhere more private.

You wonder if you can walk to the restroom, or even stand up on your feet. You never had to wonder. Alcohol never made you think you physically can't move your body as you want. Panic have settled in your bones, silently urging you to do something. Anything, just to get away from him. You felt his fingers grazing your thigh, pushing your dress higher with every stroke, his voice still murmuring into your ear, although you cannot understand what he's saying.

You excuse yourself, trying to mimic you half an hour ago self. Flirty and joyful, you try to laugh it off, telling him you have to freshen up, telling that you have to pee badly, giggling while admitting it. You must act good, because when you slip off the chair, his warmth doesn't follow, nor his voice. You heart is beating rapidly in your chest, probably the only thing that you can concentrate on to not fall face first to the ground.

You are so fucking hopeful you walk somewhat towards to restroom, so he doesn't realize you are figuring your way out of the place.

A cute face emreges in front of you, your body oddly colliding with the person, you hands flying up to steady yourself on their shoulder. You would be so embarrassed if you were sober. It's a waitress, asking you if you are alright, honest concern in her voice.

You mumble something out, praying it makes sense and she'll know what you need.

"You want to go home? Want us to call a taxi?" She asks with a comforting voice. "Do you need us to call someone?"

Frank's name comes to mind first, and you silently scold yourself for never asking for his number.

"Hmmm, no."

"Let us call a taxi, yeah love?" She says, gently pushing your body forward with her hands eloping you in a side hug. Everything is blurry, your vision only picking up bits and parts of the world around.

You were more than sure that he put something in your drink. If your body wasn't so numb, you would be an erratic mess right now. Your senses are limited, everything comes and goes like a dream. You are not even afraid what he had put in your drinks, you just want to get away from him far away enough so he cannot talk the sweet lady out of helping you. You momentarily feel the cold breeze outside before the early winter air hits you in full force, the cold easing your flaming skin.

"HEY, excuse me. Where are you taking her?" The hair stands up on your whole body from his voice. Sweet, hidden malicious. "No i won't take a step back, where are you taking my girlfriend? Honey look at me!"

You don't have anything in you to respond. You just want to go home.

"Sir you need to leave her alone."

Hushed voices follows movement, softly pushing and pulling you around. Where is your purse? Did you left there at the table? You have your phone and wallet in it, you'll need that.

"My purse, my phone.." You mumble, feeling your body lowered to a flat surface.

"It's in your hands love, take care." The lady says, her voice is distant. You squeeze your hand, feeling a tiny little strap in your palm confirming your fingers are locked on your bag. You barely feel the material on your skin.

"Where to?" Your eyes go wide with a new voice calling out. You are getting comfortable at the back of a taxi, an older man looking at you, waiting for an answer, the dim light up on the car's ceiling giving him a really bad angle.

You hear yourself telling him the address, the sound is like someone else and not you. The car goes smoothly, at least that's how you feel it, the seats smell funny, and the lights outside paints a weird image through the windows, your head's starts to spin as you can't comprehend your surrounding no more. You just wish the taxi driver is kind enough to lead you to your door.

You wished and you were so wrong. He calls out to you plenty of times before you manage to get out of the car, almost tripping over your own feet while doing so, trying to give him money for the ride.

And that's it, the car speeds off behind you, leaving you trembling on the sidewalk. Just a few steps right? That's all it takes to get to your apartment.

Your body sways with each drag of your legs, barely standing up. How you manage to get to your door? You don't know, probably will never know. But you eventually do, legs giving out right in front of it, landing on your knees with a sharp pain then ending up on your butt, the ice cold ground burning your skin where it connects.

Your body gives in to the drug in your system, turning the world to black.

*

He took a peaceful walk to the nearest diner, a place he and you are very fond of, often bumping to each other there, one of those times you said yourself how you love the oldschool vibe and the quiet there. Frank only grabbed a coffee to go, the couple of minute walk clearing his messy head, head that is filled to the brim with thoughts of you. It's rare to him, to have something else on his mind than his family or blood rage and revenge. It's refreshing and terrifying. When he left, you weren't home yet, almost two hours after you waved goodbye to him, and he started to feel restless. Two hour isn't too much for a first date? He wouldn't know, even back in the day he wasn't the guy who took girls to a date. His parents raised him old fashioned, but he usually liked the simpler things. Car rides, walks with deep talks, cheap picnic with soda and snacks. So what does he knows about fancy restaurant dates?

It's cold, too cold for the tiny dress you were dressed in, but he would take you home right? He would take you home, making sure you walk in your front door, seeing it close behind you before leaving. But that's him, and he knows for sure not every man thinks like that.

The coffee warming his palm, giving him some sort of comfort to his uneasiness, his eyes searching for the familiar door when he takes a turn to your street.

No lights up yet? Now he's worried. You might went home with him. It's possible, you are a beautiful grown woman, who probably knows very well what she wants. But his jaw clenches nevertheless at the thought. His eyes dart away in shame, knowing he has no right to be mad at you for having a good time.

His head snaps back so quick it hurts his neck, in the corner of his eyes a big dark spot in front if your door that wasn't there before. He blinks for a few times to make sure it's not just his brain tricking him into some illusions. His mind failed him before, showing him terrible things that weren't really there, but the rapid beating of his heart and the pounding in his head is a signal of the familiar danger he encountered so many times before. The type of feeling in his gut when he knows the worst is coming.

And nothing could have prepared him for your frozen body on the freezing ground. In your tiny dress, exposed skin sticking to the concrete, the contains of your purse scattered around.

His instinct kicks in with full force, his hands fumbling for a pulse under your skin. He checks your wrist and neck before pulling your numb body up to his embrace, without thinking twice about who might see him taking you into his apartment. God knows how did you end up there, and he's not risking it if your date shows up at your door, finishing what he had started.

Because why else would you be lying knocked out in front of your home, why couldn't you get in, why else would you loose consciousness if not because of a doing of a horrible piece of shit man?

He is a man on a mission. Something he felt ages ago, and now it's welcomed with a sense of purpose and a sharp sting in his heart.

You are terribly cold in his hands, and he has to hush the voice in his mind that tells him the worst possible outcome.

He rushes to his bed, putting you down on his sheets gently, fingers trembling as he pulls your damp dress off of you, at this point he can't bothered that you are nearly naked in his bed, this isn't how he imagined it. He rushes off, his boots heavy on the creaking wooden floor, looking for the warmest clothes he has in his mostly empty wardrobe. It's a hoodie and sweatpants he comes up with, the best he can offer.

He knows you'll be greatly embarrassed when you come to your senses, so when he removes your undergarments, he tries to do it as respectfully as it's possible. One clothing off and another on, your icy skin burning under his warm hands, the sensation leaving a bad taste in his mouth. A reminder that he has a bastard to find after you are recovered.

His mind is racing, the loud thump in his ears slowly quieting down as he checks for your pulse again, cursing himself that he doesn't have a damn thermometer. He should have called an ambulance, he thinks. But god knows how much time they need to get here, if they ever. He's being selfish. But you are in good hands, he wants to think you are okay with him.

He's greatful for his years in the military, now more than ever. When it comes to himself, he's tactical and precise but numb. Any wound he stitched up and treated is decent enough, but nothing more. His own discomfort and pain is a welcomed guest. But right now it's not his body that is in pain, and he's not allowed to be careless and emotionless. You are wrapped up in his bed, safe and sound, but it's nothing to soothe his nerves.

He grabs a towel from the bathroom, the exact same of the pretty set you gave to him a couple of weeks ago when you saw his own torn up one, insisting he needs it way more than your wardrobe where you kept it since buying them. He gently lifted your head from the soft pillow, neatly covering your damp hair in it, your soft breaths music to his ears, he leans closer, just to confirm you are breathing evenly.

He considers for moment before deciding to open your eyes with his fingertips, his suspicion is confirmed by your blown pupils, the color of your eyes barely visible from the blackness of it. He sighs, rage and anger coursing through his veins, tempting him to get up and find the fucker. It would be easy, so easy. But you need him more than he needs to ease the bloodlust.

Just now he realizes he is still in his coat, sweat glistening on his forehead, his body hot under the layers he should get rid of, dirty boots tainting the already year long stained flooring of his apartment.

He glances over to you, a last conformation you are okay before he himself changes from his street clothes.

He doesn't mean to overstep, but when he goes back to you, and you body is just as cold as when he found you outside, his mind is set. He carefully slips in to the bed, he himself isn't sure how he manages to get under you, he searches for the best way for his body to give off it's heat to you. So you are now trapped between his legs, back laying heavily on his abdomen, hair tickling his bare skin. It's more intimate Frank anticipated, but to be honest, he wasn't debating about it much before doing what his brain told him to do. He would change his mind about the position if he couldn't feel your body soaking up his warmth. It's satisfying, how you take unconsciously, and he's basking in the feeling of giving. It's been so long since he was able to serve gently, in a quiet manner. Like when he ruffled his son's hair, or put the school bag on his daughter back. Or how he played with a single strand of Maria's hair, putting it behind her ear.

So his hands pulls you closer, every part of you hugged by his body, giving and giving everything he has to offer.

*

Your head hurts. No, not hurts, splits into two, even more when your eyes open with a painful sharp feeling behind them. You would groan if your throat would let it slip past the desert that's inside. The rest in your bones mixing with various aches under your skin, and the comfort around isn't enough to reach your body. You are tempted to back to sleep, sure another hours wouldn't hurt, before you mind clears up, shaking the sleep out of you.

It hits you like a lightning. What day is it really? What day was yesterday?

You shot up, dizziness almost pulling you back down with a terrible feeling in your stomach. Before you could comprehend anything that's happening, something is held to your face where soon you empty out the contains of your stomach. A soothing hand appears on your back, trying to keep your hair there while you puke your literal life out. Sweet words reach your ears when your traumatized body calms a little bit down.

"You are alright, sweetheart." It's Frank's voice. "How you feelin'?"

Your grimace, disgust being the only thing you are feeling besides every ache of your body. "It's okay, darlin'. Just breath, let it out if you have to."

You look sideways, seeing him half naked, his body so close you can feel his warmth radiating towards your trembling body. He's concerned face is looking for something in yours, perhaps panic that why he is here with you, or the fact, that you aren't in your own room, or apartment, or why are you wearing his clothes that hangs on you loosely. There is an explanation for it, you know that, and you don't have the will or the energy to be panicked. Despite these thoughts, you heart beats out of your chest, hearing your blood rushing in your ears.

"What happened?" You ask. If you are with him, he's having all the answers. What is the last thing anyway that you remember? You getting ready? Was it yesterday? Your date. You don't remember your date. It's daytime right now, so it's surely passed.

Maybe it's too apparent on your face how you put together the pieces in your head, or he's just panicking at how you are starting to panic that you don't realize. Your shaking body is fumbling with the duvet around you, eyes snapping to Frank then to your surroundings, frantic with your every move. Like an animal cornered.

"Hey hey hey..You are alright! Look at me darling! Look at me." He forces you to look in his eyes, warm and safe, attention seeking. "You were drugged last night, but you are okay, you hear me? You'll have a hell of a day today, but it's gonna pass. Nothing happened, okay? He did nothing to you."

It's sincere. Everything he says he believes. How does he know?

"How..?"

"You know how, sweetheart. Let me get you some water okay? Get back in bed." He commands, leaving you on the side of the bed. So he is Frank Castle after all. You had you suspicion for a while, and you might asked too risque questions he caught on. How does this makes you feel? Kind of relieved, and grateful? You are grateful that your neighbor is a cold-blooded killer?

"There you go. Drink slowly, okay?" He murmurs, a black t-shirt now covering his upper body. You take careful sips, eyeing the man next to you without shame. He does the same, watching intently with so much comfort in his eyes.

"I don't remember anything." You voice is defeated, drained even without using it for hours now.

"I know, i'm sorry." Tears are threatening to fall as your mind tries to navigate the information that you have been drugged.

"What if he.."

"Nonononono, look at me! He did nothing to you. He put it in your wine, let you have too many drink, but he did no more than that!"

You nod. Accepting it. He's the Punisher after all.

He takes your hand in his, planting a faint kiss on top on your knuckles. "You are safe, i swear to you."

You are safe with him.

#frank castle x reader #frank castle imagine #frank castle oneshot #frank castle #the punisher x reader #the punisher

[abiiors]

haunt // bed - pt. 1

a/n: a while ago, i wrote do me a favour after which i said, i would write a matty hate sex fic. well this is it (and perhaps a bit more than anyone asked for), read dmaf again if you want to refresh your memory, or don't. there are 3 parts to this + an epilogue. i also know very little about western weddings, so ignore the inconsistencies lol.

a note about the banner: the photo in it is only meant to describe the dress, not the race, body type, hair colour, etc of the reader <3

minors dni! part 2, part 3

wc: 2.7k

see u in an hour xx

charli’s text flashes on your screen, illuminating a small corner of the dimly lit room. it’s not that late in the day, in fact, it’s quite early—only about 10 am. you’re supposed to be hurrying around the room, checking for any last minutes things you might have forgotten. you won’t be back home until tomorrow after all. yet here you are, surrounded by the things that should have been packed in your bag last night. 

the dress, laid out on your bed, feels like a weapon; red silk slippery enough to slide between your fingers effortlessly. “a wily vixen”, that’s what charli had called you when she'd seen you in it for the first. the thought of that day—bridesmaids dress shopping with four other excited girls—brings a small smile to your face. 

everything laid out here is a weapon really; your four-inch, sharp heels, the delicate and dainty diamond jewellery, the makeup you plan on wearing—blood red lipstick, a perfect shade match for the dress. an expensive crystal bottle of the same perfume you have used for the past six years. 

familiarity breeds contempt. familiarity is also an excellent knife to twist in someone’s gut. because everything here, today, is meant to maul and wound him.

see you in an hour babe, love you. you write back and chuck your phone onto the pillow where it bounces a little before nestling between its creases. you stare at it, maybe your body still yearns for a call that will never come? no more can’t wait to see you up there. no more cheeky selfies in a state of half-undress. just a smooth, black screen.

right then…time to get going. 

charli has been flittering around the room for the last twenty minutes. her white dress fits her like a dream, her makeup is a work of art and her excitement about marrying george is so palpable in the room that at least one person squeals or sighs every five minutes. 

most importantly, the smile on her face is a permanent fixture. and every time you look at it, a warmth spreads through your body. she deserves this—the happiness, the celebration. the happily ever after. no matter how your marriage ended, you won’t stop believing in it for her. 

“so!” charli walks over to you and takes your hand, “how do i look?” she twirls and the dress swirls around her, the tiny crystals catching light and making her shimmer like starlight.

you laugh in response, “like george is about to go into cardiac arrest the minute he sees you!”

the pair of you giggles like teenagers. you can so clearly picture it before it has even happened. the joy and love that will shine on george’s face; his excitement, quiet yet infectious and for a brief moment you’re transported back to your own walk down the aisle. 

small, unsure steps, worried about falling flat on your face in those tall heels, but all of that had evaporated the second you had seen his tear-stained face. and the bright smile that had bloomed a split second later. 

but that’s how long the ache lasts; a brief moment. it’s bad enough that you’re going to have to be civil to him, there’s no need to make it worse with unnecessary nostalgia. 

besides, there’s her to think about. 

she in question is a beautiful, leggy blonde who is at least seven years younger than him. not that you’ve seen either of them today…yet. it’s only because you and charli got drunk one night, four weeks before the wedding, and she felt bad about keeping it from you that matty had a plus one. and that’s how you fell into the rabbit hole of scrolling through this girl’s Instagram profile at two in the morning. 

if you thought you knew his type, you would be dead wrong. physically speaking, she is the exact opposite of you—someone who looks like they belong on a giant billboard in times square, perfect and stunning. then there’s the more questionable aspects of her feed. the flat tummy tea adverts and the paid partnerships with various brands that are always under fire for being unethical.

but that’s the ugly green monster rearing its head. it’s not like you aren’t known for indulging in vanity every once in a while. 

she will be here today, no doubt, clinging onto his arm like a decorative little thing—woah, where did that snide thought come from?! you shake your head to yourself, at least a little embarrassed. he’s not even here yet and he’s already screwing with your head; pushing you back into old jealous and insecure habits. someone clears their throat. 

nora, one of charli’s longtime friends, has her champagne glass raised. a toast. she takes a deep, shaky breath and smiles tearily at the room, about to give her sentimental speech when a resounding knock echoes and cuts her off before she has even begun. 

five heads turn to the locked door and you happen to be standing closest to it. 

‘i’ll get it,’ you tell no one in particular, hand already on the doorknob. the possibility of it hits you way too late. 

it hits you right as his clean-shaven face comes into view. 

it has been ten months. ten months since you gave up the last name healy and changed it back to your maiden name on all your official documents. it had felt like a form of catharsis, getting it done with such urgency back then. but you also remember the days when you would be asked to state your full name and stagger a little at how odd it sounded to no longer have healy in it. to not have a ring around your finger to fidget with. no one to hold you at night. 

but back to now. back to here. 

it’s not hard to see that he has changed a lot in the last ten months. he looks serious; not necessarily sombre—it’s his best friend’s wedding, after all—but mature, more grown up. the grey in his hair, in his beautiful curls, is now much more prominent. the crow's feet around his eyes are more or less the same (and it sends a small pang through you; has he not laughed recently?). his mouth holds—held—a faint smile that’s already slipping, already morphing into a thin line. the exact same face that you woke up to for years now turning into a mask of carefully arranged neutrality.

“charli,” he whispers roughly and then clears his throat, “here to check on charli.” and just like that, he steps past you and into the room where he’s engulfed into a hug by the bride (and slapped on the bum by another bridesmaid but you ignore that for now).

pointedly, you also ignore the sting that comes with being sidestepped so easily. 

you stand by the door, back still to the room, for a second longer than necessary. it doesn’t even register that you’re letting the warm spring air in. is this really how little seeing you impacts him? it must have. because if he’s here then she is also here. 

“tell him i’m fine!” charli’s voice brings you out of your thoughts, making you shut the door softly. “and tell him not to meddle, i’ve got my girls.” she looks at you over his shoulder and throws a wink. your gut tells you it’s nothing but a charity gesture, just trying to gauge the tension between you two. guilt gnaws at you—she shouldn’t have to play peacemaker, she shouldn’t have to worry about two adults behaving themselves. 

“only doing my duty here,” matty raises his hands defensively, “keeping the groom happy.” 

the rest of them tease and taunt him playfully while you take the time to admire—no, simply look at—his suit. it’s nowhere near as nice as the one he wore at your wedding, of course not. but it’s beautifully made, tailored to fit and accentuate his muscles. and there are a lot of those now, that much is evident from the way his sleeves stretch over his biceps. he fills it out nicely, not that he didn’t before, but something about the fabric straining across his arms does funny things to your stomach. funny, you thought that feeling was a thing of the past. then there’s the navy trousers that compliment his backside rather nicely. 

there’s a part of you that is appalled at all these observations you have been making but there’s another part—bored and much more matter-of-fact—that reminds you that there’s nothing under those clothes that you haven’t seen, touched, licked or sucked before. there’s nothing new. he is still the same as he was before, just now with a few extra muscles. 

“go away,” charli’s nudges him gently toward the door. “we’ll be out in fifteen.”

he hugs her just before he leaves, dropping a friendly kiss on her head. after everything you’re glad no one had to pick sides in the divorce. you’ve at least managed to hold the friend group together, even though the same can’t be said about your marriage. 

matty leaves just like he came in, sidestepping you and making sure he’s looking straight ahead. there’s a brief second however—a fraction of one really—when he slows down and breathes in. his adam’s apple bobs roughly and his face struggles to hold the blank expression. 

but it must have just been you projecting right? no one can go through that much in half a second. 

“there you are, darling,” denise walks in on you mid-smoke. “i was looking for you.”

she’s in a beautiful pink dress that brushes her knees and makes her look ten years younger than she is. you blush slightly at having been caught smoking; it’s a recent habit, not one she would be aware of, and you don’t want her to judge you for it. 

“denise,” you try to hide the half-smoked cigarette, “you look beautiful.”

she pointedly looks at your hand and laughs. “my son does enough of that.” then she straightens up, as if bringing matty so casually into this conversation was a mistake. you suppose it was—it does make your heart skip a beat. 

“i just wanted to say hi, darling,” she adds hastily, “and look at you…” her eyes scan you from head to toe, linger on your face for just a second before she smiles again. “simply stunning.”

“thank you.” your voice comes out in a whisper, fighting to get past the lump in your throat. you didn’t think there would ever come a day when she would have to so formally stop by to ‘say hi’. yet here you are, almost a pair of estranged mother and daughter. 

“i don’t…” she starts but shakes her head minutely, “i don’t want to condescend you. but are you okay? with matty bringing that girl, i mean.”

that piques your interest. “that girl?” you stifle a little giggle. “sounds like you don’t like her…”

denise shrugs, leaning against the wall and looking at the bushes in front of her. “she’s okay, i guess.” then she takes a bit to smooth out her dress. “but she’s not you.”

“dearly beloved…” the officiant, charli’s godfather, begins, which you tune out instantly. weddings are lovely and romantic, wedding speeches are dull and boring. besides, like it or not, something else has captured your attention. 

you stand behind the bride, holding the ring she’s supposed to put on george later. and right in front of you stands matty, holding the matching platinum band in his hands. adam and ross stand behind him, smiling and occasionally laughing along with the rest of the guests. you tried it at first too, to only keep your attention on george—who looks very handsome and beams wide the whole time—but it’s impossible when you feel your ex’s piercing stare right on you. 

you would have thought he would stick to the little ignoring act from before. instead, his eyes have lingered on you from the second you walked down the aisle as a part of the processional. tracking your every move, every small step. frankly, it’s insulting. does he think you would ruin the wedding as some sort of diabolical revenge against him? you scoff internally; of course, he would think such self-centred thoughts, it’s just all about him, after all.

you raise an eyebrow at him. what’s your fucking problem?

he smiles back; an arrogant curl of his mouth that turns his face from sweet to insufferable within a matter of seconds. you, his eyes seem to say, you’re my problem. 

well too fucking bad then…

you huff and look away to the side at the guests. it’s only about fifty people from both sides. just family and friends—a lovely kind of intimacy the couple had asked for. you smile at george’s parents who sit in the first row. his mum dabs at her eyes, clearly overwhelmed with emotion. and behind them sit denise and tim. right next to her. 

she’s exactly what she looks like on her instagram page. dainty and beautiful, picture-perfect elegant. her whole face looks like it could be hand-crafted by the gods (or very expensive surgeons according to the snide little voice in your brain) but her eyes are bone dry. 

that’s because she doesn’t belong here, your brain chimes in. not among your friends and your family. 

well, ex-family…

her name doesn’t immediately come to the forefront of your mind. all you know from that drunken night is how charli made you block all her socials at the end of it. as if you were going to go back to them again and again. as if you have no purpose in life other than obsessing over your ex’s new girl. 

she sighs, then looks out the window with a bored expression on her face and you have to focus your attention back to the bride and groom before you do something drastic. not before you catch matty looking at you from the corner of your eye, however. 

not just at you…he’s staring at the plunging neckline of your dress that shows off your cleavage wonderfully. with the big window to your side, it’s so clear to see every little detail of his face—his teeth gnawing on his bottom lip (he’s unaware that he’s doing it. you know that for a fact). his pupils that are blown out wide, making almost the entirety of his eyes look black; dark and hungry. 

your mouth curls into a smirk, arrogant enough to mirror his own. well, this is interesting. 

matty’s mouth presses into a thin line. even now, after you caught him so red-handed, he’s trying to deny it. but you don’t miss his ears turning the telltale shade of pink. 

“...and i promise to love you for the rest of my life.” george’s voice breaks on the last word, the tears flowing freely but he smiles through all of it. in front of you, charli’s shoulders shake. they haven’t even put the rings on each other yet and they’re already emotional. it makes you laugh, and surprising, you feel the tears escaping your eyes.

i promise to love you for the rest of my life. that’s what matty had said too. i promise to dance in the kitchen with you and do all my silly little romantic gestures. i promise to never let you fall. i promise, i promise, i promise…

so many of them unkept, so many of them just pretty words spoken on a perfect day in front of a tearful audience. 

“i do!” charli squeals before the question is even finished, making everyone laugh. a wet chuckle escapes you at her infectious joy. 

“do you, george, take charli to be your lawfully wedded wife?” the officiant asks. 

“i do,” he says patiently and charli sticks her tongue out at him. 

you sincerely hope they stay like this for the rest of their lives—polar opposites who complete each other. not people who are so similar, they don’t know how to exist in the same space anymore. 

matty smiles, first at the couple and then, shockingly, at you. husband and wife he mouths. 

jarringly still, you smile back. 

i would love to hear what you think 🤭

#matthew healy #matty healy #matthew healy x reader #matty healy x reader #matty healy angst #just angst #angst fic #matty healy fanfiction #the 1975 #the 1975 fanfic #george daniel #ross macdonald #adam hann #matty the 1975 #matty healy imagine #matty x reader #angst writing #the 1975 fic #matty x you #the 1975 angst

[kiwanopie]

heyyy!! do u think we can get some sort of drabble with crime!au kiyoomi and his fiancé?? i’d love to see how they interact ~~~~ :)))

You pick at a hangnail as dress shoed feet click before you.

You don’t lift your head as orchestral music muffles under the click of a shutting door. You don't even hear it. Too immersed in your own racing thoughts to hear anything outside of the rattling in your skull. It’s ironic how radiant you look in your wedding dress. So aglow you compliment the gemstones in your tiara. Because you feel so sick you could puke your guts out till your stomach lining tore. So high strung you haven’t slept since he parted with you the day before.

Your pupils scutter over nothing as you pick at the skin until it bleeds. Tear it off your nail until the elastic of your cuticle strips down to the root of your thumb, and feel it start to ail as the wound throbs. You barely notice. Rather, stay clueless to the sting in the midst of your silent daze.

But it’s short lived. Those familiar larger palms incase your hands in their loving grip, careful in their cradle. He’s flower petal gentle as he brings one of your hands toward himself and wraps your thumb in a thin bandage. And even in his crouched position beside the makeup chair does he almost see eye to eye with you, all 6’4 of him meagerly attempting to look as small as possible for a woman he has no intention of causing any more distress to.

His voice is balming, it always is when he addresses you. “What are you thinking about, angel?”

You silently furrow into his hands.

“I-I’m…”

“I don’t...” You shake your head. “I’m sorry. Everybody’s out there waiting for me and I-I’m-“

Kiyoomi cuts you off quietly. “Don’t even think about that. Today is about us. No one else.”

You frown.

“I’m… Kiyoomi… Out of all people…” And it’s a good thing this makeup is waterproof because you’re surely about to push it to its limit. “Why me? Why choose me?”

“Don’t ask me a question like that.”

“But why, Omi?” Your lip wobbles. “I-I’m not like you. I don’t think like you, I don’t have the same training that you do, o-or the strength to be able to handle a lifestyle like this. I’m not the wife of a kingpin. The only reason I’m here is because-“

Kiyoomi firmly shushes you as he stands to his feet. Too burly and too tall, blocking out the overhead lights till the raven tufts of curls on his scalp turn miscolored and fluorescent. Like always your eyes follow him in his movements, like always, he’s ginger as he pulls you in his grasp.

Your nose is mushed into the cotton of his button up, his lips are warm and definite as he presses them against your forehead. “I don’t care about titles or circumstance. I don’t care about any of those things...” Kiyoomi swallows. “I love you and I need you. If this lifestyle is what you’re worried about then I’ll do everything in my power to make sure you’re safe and taken care of.”

You sniffle against his dress shirt. Something like that should be comforting. Especially in the arms of your future husband - one half of a bonafide national empire, and you, soon to be its elegant latter halve. Saying you fear your safety may have been a little asinine to say. In this past year and a half, you haven't so much as gotten a splinter without being assured that whatever half-cocked piece of wood that wronged you would wind up making soot prints in some landfill. You could throw a rock and hit a corpse before it even got the chance to berate you. Saying something like that will only encourage him more. An excuse to distance you from your public freedoms, and hire men that all but follow you around and chew your food for you. And even though it’s pig shit to deal with, it's already habitual. It gives you room to keep your fears to a one man minimum. But with that being said,

Kiyoomi skims his nose down the bridge of yours till his breath is kissing fever spots on your Cupid’s bow. Shivery puffs of desperate air, overwhelmed in his distance. He pinkens like a schoolboy when he’s too close for too long. Amps himself up just to trill at the high he gets from being this near - but not near enough to taste the bliss that’s your candied lips. He loves you. - He loves you. He loves you. So much it makes him shudder. Even in the short time he’s had his hands on you his palms have gone sweaty. Making hotspots on your cheekbones as he thumbs your stray tears aside.

“I know we’re not the most… conventional couple,” Quasi-post-Stockholm syndrome? “How hard things were for you in the beginning, and how much it took for us to get here. I wish I could’ve done this the right way. - You deserve that much.”

“But I love you so much it makes me sick. It’s the only thing that keeps me breathing.”

You lean into his hands as he scoots away to get a good look at you. His lovesick eyes turn the whites of yours a stinging scarlet, and you hate that seeing him get choked up cuts you so deeply.

But he only ever really cries in front of you anyway. A man this neck deep in generational human trafficking, drug trading, arms dealing, and like a million other equally awful things, should have his fair moments to excuse himself for a quiet weep. “Kiyoomi…”

“I’m sorry,” He leans in for a watery kiss. “I’m sorry. Weakness is the last thing we need from me right now.”

You guide his head against yours, and share the weight with a linchpin. It’s so recurrent that it’s earnest when you console him. “Wellness is, baby. This is about the both of us.”

“I… already don’t know what my life would be like without you. I never think about it. Every day it’s you and when are you gonna be home. - Are you gonna come back to me in one piece? Will you still be you and will you love me the same? What would I do alone in that big house?”

You mirror his thumb as you sweep away his tears. “What would I do if I didn’t have you anymore?”

The way Kiyoomi melts into your grasp is like the anodyne of a baby bird, crooning as you assague him. There’s nothing on this earth that could give him the comfort you do, and the realization of that feels brand new every time.

It’s a fresh wound. Accustomed to your chains to the extent that each chafe feels like a kiss. Metal burrowing in torrid welts, but the key’s a stipulation. Only freed by requisition.

“It’s not about safety… if anything happens to us. I’d rather it be me.” You whisper. “If not to know you’ll keep living, my peace would be in finally resting. Not wondering. Not worrying.”

“Regardless of our unconventionality,” You kiss him. “I love you.”

“Regardless of our unconventionality,” You kiss him. “I love you.”

“Regardless of our unconventionality,” You kiss him. “I love you.”

“Regardless of our unconventionality,” You kiss him. “I love you.”

It’s a fresh wound. Accustomed to your chains to the extent that each chafe feels like a kiss. Metal burrowing in torrid welts, but the key’s a stipulation. Only freed by requisition.

“It’s not about safety… if anything happens to us. I’d rather it be me.” You whisper. “If not to know you’ll keep living, my peace would be in finally resting. Not wondering. Not worrying.”

“Regardless of our unconventionality,” You kiss him. “I love you.”

#only half of it posted at first im SO sorry #he loves you so so much he loves you more than anything and he’ll give you anything as long as it’s not a life without you #now if that’s a good thing or a bad thing is up to you to decide #sakusa kiyoomi #hq sakusa #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #sakusa fanfiction #sakusa x reader #sakusa imagines #sakusa fluff #crime au #haikyuu!! #hq x reader #crime au!kiyioomi #drabble #sakusa drabble #crime lord!sakusa kiyoomi

[atxxzist]

broken | c.s (final)

prev // series m.list

pairing: choi san x reader

word count: 13.5k

warning: nothing i can think of but lmk

"you did it once again!" arin squeaks, the excitement in her tone louder than the overwhelming joy you're feeling, only able to stare in awe at the sight before you.

your picture right under the employee of the month for the second time in a row.

"i guess i did," you reply, a confident smile resting on your lips as your chest drops in relief.

it took a lot of time and so much work in order for you to come around and accept the idea that you are good at what you do. that every compliment wasn't just because they pitied or felt bad for you, but because you genuinely deserved it.

it took even longer to come to terms with the fact that despite growing up the way you did, your youth filled with absent parents and a home and family with no love, you are so much more than that.

you are so much more than the traumas and broken pieces in your life, and you're not just a weak, timid girl with a haunted past and a wounded heart.

even if your parents didn't love you, and the only boy who you gave your heart to broke it, those things doesn't define you as much as the belief and faith you have in yourself.

all the sessions of sitting in your therapist's office, crying, spilling your soul and guts out, and trying to believe her when she'd tell you none of it is your fault, whether your parents or the romantic partners you had.

it's worth it because you came out so much better in the end, your mindset almost completely rewired to the point you can't believe how vulnerable you once were.

how, you used to believe every lies so easily, it flying over your head and always giving people the benefits of the doubt when they didn't deserve it.

always such a pushover and so fearful, unconfident at anything, it's hard to wrap your head around the fact you lived for almost nineteen years without medication or guidance when you were on edge and close to breaking down at all time.

but regardless, you did it. you got help and unlearned some, and then had to learn a lot so you could be the person you are today. no longer doubtful of yourself and your abilities, and unwilling to let just anybody step all over you.

it's that mentality that got you this far despite also still being the very same girl from five years ago who's still naive in some ways, and with so many more things to learn and overcome.

"y/n," arin calls, sneaking half her body into your cubicle with a stack of papers in her hold, prompting you to spin the chair around to face her.

"the team's going out to eat after work. it is our treat to you."

"sounds good," you reply, pleased by the offer you wouldn't ever deny. "see you in about 20?"

"yes." she bobs her head. "we're getting barbecue, by the way."

life had been an array of ups and downs, everything not always smooth sailing and hitting many bumps on the road here. from you and yuna joining hands together in making a children's book with her being the illustrator but unable to commit to the idea, to getting ignored or rejected the first 40 or so applications until someone finally found your resume impressive because you didn't want to just rely on other people.

no matter how good yuna's offer was, talking about how she could get you a position in her uncle's company and how bad you wanted to take it because it would've spared you the stress of having to search for a job yourself, you knew you couldn't.

you wanted to earn it and be proud it was through your own efforts.

the rejections humbled you in some ways, and made you stronger in others, stopping at nothing until you finally got the first email that you've been accepted by a makeup brand as their content writer.

the brand, velvetie, had only been out for about a year by the time of your employment and was still fairly small and experimental. now, the brand is known for their lines of lip tints that are labeled soft, smooth, and long-lasting by reviewers, the creations only getting more popular by days as it's just now being praised by actors and idols alike.

you didn't at all imagined this to be the job you'd wind up with, nor did you think you'd turn out liking it, the creative writing degree and your history speaking for itself, but you're happy where you ended up and happy to still be writing in general.

the marketing team you're in, a small but comfortable circle where you've come to love and grow fond of the people you're working with, sharing the same space for a few hours a day and understanding all too well the struggles of meeting deadlines or running into a creative dry spell.

arin, who you're closest to and have known the longest, is who you met in your last semester of sophomore year after making the mistake of taking calculus as an elective while she was taking it as requirement for her business major.

besides the obvious hatred for calculus the two of you shared, it was unusual how quick a friendship came to blossom, never in your life have you felt such a natural bond to anyone. not even mingi, you've already told that story countless times, how it took awhile.

but it was so easy talking to her, your reserved and hesitant personality the perfect one to her more outgoing and friendly nature, you two clicked instantly, it was crazy.

she not only became one of your best friends, but also a part of your everyday life.

"you're completely drunk," you comment, finally pulling your friend's butt off the seat when everyone else finally left.

she hurls out a groan and leans on you slightly, her alcohol breath incredibly intoxicating and is the sole reason why you often rethink the choice of saying yes when you hate taking care of a drunk arin.

"i'm good," she attempts to say but her words are slurred as she tries regaining her balance and striving a few steps forward but you're quick to assist her again because you know she's gonna fall.

"come on, let's get you a cab," you say at the same time walking out with her sluggish body, stopping just right outside the restaurant.

"no. let me go home with you."

you raise an eyebrow at your friend, her head on your shoulder and appearing unconscious but the response just now registering her more aware than you think, because you know the girl, and you know she won't ever pass up the opportunity to visit her boyfriend.

a few months ago when you finally made the big decison to move out after sharing a tiny apartment with mingi for over a year, you had no idea that the new place, a modern-esque two bedroom apartment, would be under the same building as arin's boyfriend, and just right down from the hall to be precise.

you've met him a couple times and of course, he's handsome and wonderful and treats her just right, but you definitely did not apartment hunt with him in mind, so what were the chances.

at least for arin, it made everything all more convenient. her boyfriend in one place and her best friend just two doors down as she'd hop from one to another like it's halloween.

but in spite of her protests along the shared ride because you also shouldn't be driving, your conscious tipsy, you tell the driver to pull up at her place, not at all concerned about the abandoned cars because you'll just pick it up tomorrow, with the restaurant and your workplace a walking distance.

"but the dinner tomorrow, you're still coming, right?" your friend turns to you, her lazy eyes squinting as she awaits an answer.

"yes. we'll talk more about it tomorrow."

you insist on helping her walk to the door, afraid she might hit the cement before she'll even make it, but she assures she got it. still, you watch through the window as she fiddles with the keys until unlocking and disappearing inside.

once you're home, all you want to do is hit the bed. maybe put on a show in the background and just doze off to it, but you have to wash off the sweats and grime of today; get cleaned up and dry before settling on your mattress comfortably.

the ding from your phone you've placed on the nightstand after going the entire day of being on silent is what grabs your attention, your neck snapping to the lit-up screen, checking the bundle of messages you missed out on.

4:43 p.m.

kwak yuna: guys! florence is so beautiful!

kwak yuna: *attachment*

song minGi: beautiful for sure, but would be even better in person 🙄

kwak yuna: i told you guys that we should take a trip and i'll pay for half of it, but y'all always too busy to do anything 🙄💅

song minGi: yeah cuz we have something called being poor & have to keep up with jobs and responsibilities. we don't have mommy's and daddy's limitless money to live off of

kwak yuna: stfu 🖕

song minGi: 😜

lee minJi: he's so jealous fr

song minGi: that, i am. i too wish i was in italy rn

jeong yunho: but we really need to catch up soon. how does seoul sound in about a month from now?

kwak yuna: i can do that. starting to really miss home anyways.

jeong yunho: yeah, me and minji can make a trip there as well

song minGi: sounds good to me. now, we just wait for the other two, which is gonna be a good few years

jeong yunho: y/n has her phone on silence during work

song minGi: and yeosang's too good for the rest of us

jeong yunho: pfft

you giggle and roll your eyes the entire time reading through it, checking the latest message that prompted the notification and seeing it was from yuna.

it only makes sense given it's probably still early for her because of the time zone difference.

9:51 p.m.

kwak yuna: no one cares but this is the outfit i'm wearing for today. it's almost 1pm and i'll be heading to the gallery soon.

kwak yuna: *attachment*

song minGi: you're right, no one cares

y/n: in about a month sounds good to me, and seoul sounds even better. i won't have to do any traveling lol. also @ kwak yuna the outfit is super cute! i love the beret! 💕 and @song minGi you're literally annoying 🥱

song minGi: omg jumpscare! she's here to yell @ me

y/n: yessir

kwak yuna: omg y/n! hi!!!!

y/n: hi 🤭

y/n: had my phone on silence and then went out with my coworkers after. but yes, i miss you guys a lot. let's crash at my place next time!

kwak yuna: yes! i'll bring the booze!

song minGi: make sure it's the expensive kind

y/n: that's it, guys. have to sleep. goodnight! 🌙

before you go to set the alarms and really turn off your phone for the night, you catch just a glimpse of mingi's and yuna's conversation, the brief mention of yeosang before it all turns to fun banters again.

of course, most of the works were because of your own efforts and determination in wanting to get better. but the process would've been so much harder had it not been for the friends and support by your side.

the ones who believed in you when you didn't even believe in yourself, and the ones who gave you words of encouragement one after another, and was just there for you through it all.

a few years ago, you didn't think it was even possible to be without mingi or yunho. without their guidance or assistance because then you'd feel so out of place, lost, and completely confused.

but now, you're cities apart from them, and is surviving and doing absolutely okay.

they were so happy when you told them about arin; how alike but also different you two are, and how comfortable everything is with her, because they could rest assured that when they were no longer by your side, you'd be in good hands.

but even if without arin, they had faith in that you could do it by yourself. you'd grown so much within the past years and had no doubts you'd be fine.

they knew they couldn't be with you forever. not all the time at least. eventually, dreams and ambitions will take one of you from the others until you're all in different places one day, and they wanted you to be ready for that.

and it did. yunho sooner than mingi because as soon as he graduated, he followed his heart and moved to busan with minji, his girlfriend, and has been there since.

mingi on the other hand, lived under the same roof as you for a little over a year, attempting to do something with his psychology degree and earn his teaching credentials before moving back to the quiet town to be closer to his parents. he missed them.

who would've ever thought that out of the three, you would be the one who chose to stay back in the bigger city of strobing lights, loud commotions, and a big population when you were anything but that once upon a time.

so you're all in different places.

not just mingi and yunho, but yuna also traveling the world just like she dreamed of. traveling the continents so she can see the beauty the world has to offer; replicate it in her arts and visiting galleries and museums for more knowledge and inspirations.

you're happy for her.

the only person still in town is yeosang, but even he's not entirely reachable, if at all. he's the least active in the group chat and you can't recall the last time you had a proper conversation with him.

he's incredibly busy, you understand.

last you heard, he's juggling the tech job he got during his senior year, along with his master's at seoul national.

you knew someone like yeosang was always destined for greatness and his current standing doesn't fall any short of it. that he was always meant to go to a competitive university and get offered a great job because he's truly gifted and exceptional.

unable to dwell on any more thoughts, you close your eyes and let the weight of today take over, falling into a deep slumber.

waking up and getting ready for work is a repetitive routine.

first, making yourself a nice cup of coffee before getting dressed up and doing your hair, grabbing all necessary files and anything essential before calling a cab because you left your car at the company's parking lot yesterday.

the company's building is mostly in white, the only splash of other colors is the logo in pink plastered right at the front for everyone to see as they enter.

you swipe your id card and head upstairs to your designated working space, surprise to see arin already at hers before you.

"morning," she coos, her early tone friendly as you pass by her cubicle.

"morning," you reply, voice still tired and drowsy to a point, but your friend's perfectly fine appearance has you questioning, "hangover?"

"nope." she shakes her head. "i'm surprisingly fine, and excited for the dinner tonight. i hope you haven't forgotten."

"i haven't, because you've only reminded me like 50 times."

she giggles, a satisfied smile on.

"okay, good. i'll see you during break."

~

"so what exactly is this dinner about?" you ask your friend, seated in the break room right across from each other, the question stopping her from shoving a sandwich down her throat.

the entire week of her bringing up the 'dinner' event and annoying you with it, she never emphasized on what exactly it means. and dinner in the presence of her boyfriend and his apartment, to be exact.

"i don't understand why you'd want to invite me? i mean, shouldn't you guys be spending time alone?" you add on, confused.

"shhh," she shushes you, index finger at her lips and swirling out an exaggerated sigh, "you don't need to know anything for now. just get dressed up and get pretty, okay?"

she ends it with a calming smile, diving right back into her food as you stare at her with daggers.

you swear, if this is another of her attempt at setting you up on a date, you're so not gonna forgive her for it. it will be the third time, to speak.

the third time that you'll have to explain to her why you're not interested and why it didn't work out with you being completely married to your job and just not ready for the next step.

that no matter how fun and exciting the idea of a double date and hanging together is, it is not a priority for you. at least for now.

nonetheless, you get ready, throwing on a casual enough off shoulder ruffle dress that still looks presentable and like you at least tried, along with a pair of flat sandals.

you think that maybe, there's a chance tonight you're all just gonna eat dinner, probably play a game or two after and even catch a late night movie because arin just wants to hang with her boyfriend and best friend.

that you've drilled it enough time in her head that you're not looking for a romantic interest for her to know to not try to persuade you.

a text from her telling you to come when you're ready is what gets you up from the couch, checking your hair just once in the small mirror before heading down the hall and placing two knocks at the door.

your body and nerves still calm one second, and suddenly the next when the frame comes apart to unveil the person behind it and standing before you, you second guess if you're at the right place and time.

if this is some alternate universe where you're seeing things, or if reality is really so cruel to put you through this.

you've come so far and thought you had conquered most of your fears and hauntings, but all it's taking for your palms to start sweating again and feet with the urge to run to safety, is one of your past showing its head and waddling back into your life.

he's as equally surprised and confused, staring at you like he didn't expect this as well, and time stretches on when you two just gawk at each other like a dramatic scene from a movie.

his appalled expression as his eyes enlarges is disgustingly endearing, and you hate the way your body reacts to it.

hate that he looks even better than the last time, his hair now more refined and there's something more mature and manly about his style.

he's in a suit and no longer looks like a college fratboy that enjoys breaking hearts just for fun.

hate that you haven't seen him in practically five years and everything still feels so familiar; all his features so instantly recognizable that you can still imagine the way his lips feel on yours, and how cute dimples would pop out of his cheeks when he smiles.

hate that everything's coming back all at once; when time used to stop and when it was still hard to breathe.

when a beating heart was usually followed by swarm of butterflies in your stomach that you haven't felt in years, and now the sight of him in front triggering the sensation once again.

and you hate the fact that no matter how much pain he had put you through, or how many times he had hurt you to the point you were so sure you were over him, there's a certain fondness you have for him and a special place in your heart that reacts with familiarity.

it feels like the world stopped spinning and everything in the background turning blurry just for the few seconds you two meet again for the first time, although it feels like forever.

"hey, y/n!" yeonjun's voice snaps you back, your gaze skipping over san's shoulder to your friend's boyfriend and you loathe it even more that none of it is a mistake.

that you didn't just happen to wander into the wrong apartment or something.

that the universe is really so unfair and cruel and setting you up for the worst by crossing paths with san again.

"come on in!" he ushers, his tone happy and excited the way you know yeonjun always is, him and your friend completely ignorant to the bubbling tension between you and the boy still standing before you.

you just nod in return, san moving out of the way awkwardly as you finally step in and roam the interior as if you haven't already seen it, trying your best to focus on anything else but the person raising the hair at the back of your neck.

the closing of the door is heard the same time yeonjun switches to introduce you to one another, and you both just humming and bowing with acknowledgement.

act as if this is the first time meeting each other. as if there isn't a history that played a signifcant part in shaping the two of you in becoming the people you are today, and now landing in this situation by some odd twisted fate.

arin and yeonjun just laughing off the awkward and bumbling exchange, brushing it off as no more than two strangers new to each other and moving it to the dining table.

"let's eat first. perfect opportunity to learn about each other," your friend speaks, and all that is going through your mind is which is worse: sitting next to san or across from him. you think the latter.

but the former isn't any better with arin and yeonjun watching the both of you like hawks, unaware that the reason you're both not speaking to each other isn't because of shyness or unfamiliarity.

but they do notice something isn't right; that there might another reason up in the air why the both of you can barely look at each other.

yeonjun with how bold and confident san tends to be, the boy always approaching everything so smugly. and arin in the entirety of knowing you, never had seen you look so tense.

she wasn't gonna do it at first. knows and understands how much you've been telling her it's never gonna work out, the two guys she connected you with from before ending in complete disaster.

but she just couldn't help it this time when her boyfriend started talking about his friend he met in the states finally flying to korea and will be staying with him for a couple of days.

and she especially couldn't help it when she learned he's not only incredibly handsome but also single.

she figured she was doing you a favor, but by the look of your face and body language right now, white in complexion like you just saw a ghost, she thinks you're totally gonna yell at her for this.

"i uhm, i gotta use the restroom," you speak up, lying through your teeth and san can't even blame you for it, honestly even relieved you're the one to initiate.

you wobble the entire way to the bathroom, your legs shaky and your stomach starting to become upset but your chest dropping slightly when you sit on the edge of the bathtub, glad to just be away.

you were doing so good. you were.

you hadn't thought of him in forever and now he just shows up out of nowhere, not even just as a stranger, but as the friend of your friend's boyfriend?

what sick joke is reality trying to play on you right now?

"y/n?" arin's sweet and concerned voice calls from the other side as you attempt to gather yourself to face your friend. tell her why you can't be here and make up something in hope you can leave.

"hey," you say lowly after prying the door open, a forced smile on your lips which arin doesn't buy into.

"you okay?"

"i'm alright. i just... don't feel so good right now," is your excuse, just praying she doesn't start questioning now, because you're not exactly in the time or place to explain everything between you and san.

all the heartbreaks and betrayals, and why you cannot stay here any longer or you'll really break.

"do you want to go home, or?" she's the one to bring up the idea, and you're thankful because you didn't want to be that person.

didn't want to have to break it to her and end the night so soon given how much she's talked about the day, and all the planning and preparation that yeonjun must've put in.

"yeah, i think it's best if i do," you answer, guilt present in your eyes, "i'm sorry i couldn't stay any longer. you guys probably worked hard on dinner."

arin snickers and shakes her head, the reassuring smile on her helps in dissipating some of the guilt.

"don't worry about it. you go ahead, i'll tell yeonjun."

she isn't gonna fight you on it. not when she's never seen you this way, coming off uneasy and absolutely troubled, she's gonna have to get down to the root of it tomorrow.

but for now, she just knows you need to be away.

you barely manage to make it to the door the stealthiest you can, bidding a weak goodbye to yeonjun and zooming out that instant, the frame shut right behind you and your shoulders dropping from the built up suffocation.

you proceed to your apartment, pushing past everything with a thumping heart until you're sitting at the edge of your bed, going on to do the one thing you always do when it's just all too overwhelming--

"mingi, you're not gonna believe this."

you can hear his protests of groans and sighs from the other side, so in character of him because this is usually his nap time.

"i just saw san."

the commotion is loud, the shuffling of body as he sits himself up and tries regaining conscious just to make sure he's not tripping out.

"you're forreal?" he remarks, sounding a lot more awake but still unconvinced.

"yes. he's yeonjun's friend and i don't even know how the fuck they knew each other or why he's here. all i know is arin needs to give up on trying to find me a date," you say in disbelief, recalling the last guy you went out with who left you feeling extremely disrespected and insulted after, and you thought the next one couldn't possibly be any worse.

"wait. so let me get this straight. you two met again because you're friends with arin and he's friends with yeonjun, and arin and yeonjun are dating?"

"yes."

"and yeonjun and you just happen to live under the same complex?"

"well, yes."

"what in the soulmate fuckery is this?"

"pfft," you scoff, throwing your head back into the soft mattress in frustration. "more like a curse. i was doing so good, it's been so long since i'd just... straight freeze up and chicken out, and that's exactly what i did."

mingi churns out a low hum, "no other way else to do it. what? you were gonna shake hands and play catch up with him? asked him what he did after he fucked you over and broke your heart?" he quips.

"well, no," you reply, reframing from growing irritated at your friend for his snarky remark during a time when your ovaries are about to explode. "i just thought i would've handled it a lot better. it's been five years and i haven't thought of him in so long, but one sighting of him and i'm already starting to question all the progress."

the recollection of earlier so vivid, you can almost feel the same sensation of shock and confusion as it numbed your entire body, just standing there like a little deer caught in headlights.

as if time throwing you back to the age of eighteen, still so easily starstruck and defenseless when it came to the charming boy who knew all the right things to say and do but never meant any of it.

who, told you right in the face he didn't want you--which was probably the only time he was being sincere.

last you heard, he had left the country. you didn't know where to exactly, but knew that he left.

you remember hearing about it from mingi the first time, that strange melancholy washing over at the news even though in theory, you should be happy.

mingi said he debated on telling you, having heard it from a friend of a friend, but succumbed eventually because he thought you would like to know, despite the pain and hardships san caused you, there's a part of you the revelation would bring relief to.

you won't have to worry or fret about accidentally running into him anywhere and go through that stage of grief all over again. and most importantly, it might in some ways, make the healing process easier.

"y/n," mingi snaps you out of it, that stern accent in his voice that indicates he's about to go off, "just because you're experiencing strong emotions again doesn't erase all of the progress you've made. you've seriously come so far, so don't undermine it."

"of course you're gonna feel some types of way at seeing san again. you said it yourself that he's someone special because he took so much from you. what matters is how you handle it now, and i know my y/n won't even give him the time of day or entertain his ass, right?"

you take in mingi's words and he's absolutely right. you're overthinking and giving yourself too little credits when you know that there's no way--

"right?! bitch, you better answer."

you roll your eyes.

"i love the faith you have in me," you say sarcastically.

"girl, i love you but that was a rough time."

because you lied and betrayed him the most during your time with san, and now, you just let him make all the jokes and snarky comments he wants. you're all over it.

"no but forreal that was actually kind of eye opening. if this teacher thing doesn't work out, you should totally go back and expand on that psychology degree."

he blows from the other line and you can picture an unamused expression on his face.

"nah, fuck that. i'm done with this school shit for life."

you let him ramble some more about why, no matter how much he enjoys the subject, the life and longevity of being a professional in the field just not for him (or the extra years of schooling) before he brings it back to the initial discussion once more.

and you promise that you won't fold so easily and pathetically ever again in the face of choi san.

you're familiar with how sometimes, by strokes of bad luck, you'd just be having shitty events happen one after another in a single day.

well, you're not gonna risk it and let it be this day, the top of your head peeking out to check the hallway before your entire body is scuttling into the elevator not taking any chances.

fate is already so cruel in placing the man who broke your heart and all, just a few doors down, and if it wanted to smack you right in the face with his chest or broad shoulders, it would've had you not left so quickly.

arin isn't there when you set foot into the office, her cubicle vacant and you continue to yours, sitting down to login and access your email, looking through the files the other team had sent of confirmed products that are soon gonna be launched and on the website a few months from now.

"good morning," your friend's greeting make you turn around, a sweet smile on her face like always, but yours still holding that same silently petrified expression of yesterday.

"hey."

her heels clink the carpet tiles walking closer, brows creasing into a look of sympathy as she asks, "you feeling any better?"

you nod, a barely audible hum leaving to accompany.

"should we talk about it? at lunch?"

because as much as you don't say, she knows there's something in your throat dying to just get out, and she's as equally curious to know.

"after work. we can grab something to eat."

you just don't think it's possible to summarize it all in thirty minutes; the history between you and san, and why you slightly want to pull her hair out because her boyfriend just has to be his friend.

it wasn't her fault, of course. but you're still kind of mad she tried playing cupid again and found the worst possible candidate.

you consider arin one of your best friends and she's told you on plenty occasions the same in return, but you did meet her after everything.

your fall from grace, that is, and quite possibly the lowest point in your life. so it just never came up, despite the impact it had on your growth, you didn't exactly expect you'd have to explain to her why her boyfriend's friend makes you want to hit your head against a wall.

"what? no way!"

your friend's embarrassingly loud volume echoes the whole restaurant and you have to deliver a kick to her leg under the table for the girl to calm with a light flush on her cheeks.

but you suppose there's no other way to react; finding out you too, were in love once and isn't completely the anti-romantic she was gonna write you off as.

"yeah..."

"i'm sorry. i truly am. from now on, i won't do it anymore," the girl swears, having seen it enough for herself at this point how her schemes despite having good intentions, always brings you the worst luck.

and though you've barely just scrapped the surface with san, your reactions were so strong when you saw him again, there's no doubt the guy put you through some fucked up shit.

"it's not like you knew or i ever told you, but yeah, it would be nice for you give up this whole matchmaking gig. you're horrible at it," you tease your friend, a laughter bubbling out when she rolls her eyes in response, quick to jump right back into asking questions.

"but you're okay now?"

"yeah. it's been years. just the shock of the first meeting in so long, i guess."

she nods, her mouth clamped shut because she does feel a little bad even if she didn't know, thinking the chances is crazy.

"he won't be here for long. as far as i know, it's only for a couple days until he finds a place or move elsewhere," she assures, bringing up what she heard from dinner last night because it might make you feel better.

"oh," is all that leaves, not that you're not relieved to hear it, but because there's something else you want to ask. questions lingering in your mind ever since 24 hours ago when you saw he was back.

it's not that you care, but it's really more out of curiosity.

"do you know how yeonjun and him met? or why he's back?" it slips out either way. but he could've been around for a while--the country at least, and last night was just when you so happened to see him.

"they met back in the states, when yeonjun was studying in new york. he haven't told me a lot about it either but i'm guessing it's something to do with his dance studio."

ah, so that's where san moved... new york.

"i see," you simply reply and leave it there, unwilling to ask any more or show the slightest interest in san's whereabouts even if you are intrigued because you know how much yeonjun lives and breathes dancing.

he even managed to open up his own studio, and you may not know a lot about san now or how much he's changed, but you remember his answer whenever you'd tell him to pursue his interest.

you never thought you'd see san and dance in the same sentence ever again.

you try to not let the threats of him distract you, but you still can't help but watch your back and surrounding everytime you leave into the hall, so fearful you're gonna smack or run into him and be left with nothing but the choice to face the ghost of your past.

you're not gonna let him have the power he once had over you, but that doesn't mean you're not dreading seeing him.

he's always been perfectly sculpted and too handsome for his own good, the last few years turning him even more menacing in terms of appearance, it's annoying if anything.

it doesn't have the same effect it used to, your eighteen year old self would've fallen to her knees and make an offering, but now, you can admit he looks good and just move the hell on.

but you still don't want to see him.

a few days of sneaking and hiding around like you're a spy in some undercover movie, you think you've officially lost your mind.

that maybe the universe's done enough damage and has taken a backseat, all your fear and paranoia all for nothing because there's no way you're gonna have to face san.

there's no way that on the day you finally decide to let your guards down and admit you're being overdramatic that you're gonna--

the sound of a door opening just as you close yours pick your head up in that direction, and out of every neighbors it could possibly be, of course it's san because why wouldn't it be?

he has a trash bag in one of his hands just like you and you can't help but to curse yeonjun's name for not taking out his own shit.

the world once again stops spinning and time stands still as both of your gazes burn into each other, his slightly hesitant eyes to your dull ones, just hoping he gets the fucking message.

that it's gonna be fucking awkward and since he still has his door opened, he can go the hell back in. act like this never happened because under any circumstances, you're not gonna talk to him.

you're also not gonna go back in now that it is what it is. you've already come so far and it's been years, it's about time you show than just tell.

show that he no longer has a hold over you and that you're not gonna cower like the once timid person you were.

you start by breaking the staring contest, straightening your posture and begin walking, not bothering to spare him another glance even as you pass right by him.

that it's more than enough signs and he'll just let it go. but it's san after all, and why would you ever expect him to do anything right?

"can we please--"

"--no," you cut him off so fast, his words more triggering than predicted and you can't really believe he's even trying.

"i know that--"

"i don't want to hear it!" you finally turn to him, all kinds of anger and disbelief coursing your face as tears threaten to pour and making your eyes red.

don't want to hear about the heartbreak and lies all over again; how and why you're not the one, and relive the miserable days once more.

"i don't care what you have to say because i don't want to hear it," you go on, voice and legs trembling but persisting nonetheless, "what happened between us is over. it ended, so i'd like it if you can keep it that way because there's nothing else to talk about."

and with that, you're walking away. you don't bother to wait for his response and you don't care to, but the silence protrudes until you hear the door shut behind.

~

"so you're not even a little bit curious in what he has to say?"

"no."

"or what he's been up to?"

"why the fuck would i be?"

"because you gave your pussy to him and he made your heart flutter like no others."

"what the fuck, mingi," you hiss into your phone, "weren't you the one preaching about not even giving him the time of day?"

"no no, of course, fuck that guy. i'm just saying that if he has something to say, aren't you just the slightest bit curious what it is? don't you want to hear about how pathetic and miserable he was during the time apart, or how sorry he is?"

you raise an eyebrow, replying with a perplexed but definite "no."

"okay, i'm proud or whatever," he says nonchalantly, and you can't tell if he's being sarcastic or not.

"there's no need to hear him out and even if he is sorry, i don't care. i'm over that shit and i'm over him."

"yes! so don't let me find out otherwise," he snarks, and you hate that he can't be serious for a second unless you two are at each other's throats and about to start yelling.

"you're annoying. bye."

you hang up, throwing your phone aside and eyes glued to the white ceiling that suddenly has such an entrancing pattern.

surely, you don't care. what he's been up to the past five years, or why he decided to come back.

there's also no reason to hear him out; the last conversation between the both of you more than enough to sum it up. he's hurt and used you beyond belief and that's that.

“i-i just feel like you never tried enough. maybe i’m not fond of who you are currently, but i could learn to–”

“please don’t make it any more harder than this, y/n. you don’t get with someone hoping you can learn to tolerate them… that’s not how it works.”

“you’re a nice girl, y/n. you really are so sweet, and i can see myself with you someday…” he says with a distraught look you will forever remember given how his words make your heart thump, only to then shoot it down, “but not right now…”

you cringe at how pathetic you were, so desperate for his reciprocation as if it was the sole thing keeping you alive and breathing.

but you've been fine and haven't moped about him in probably three years, so you will continue to be fine, whether or not you'll really hear from him, all the things he's been waiting to say.

"any plans for tomorrow?" you casually ask arin during break, your focus on the laptop and skimming through the drafts you've written, you don't catch the very moment she just freezes up tight-lipped.

"i'm going to see a movie," she answers.

"oh?" you nod it off, unsuspecting to the tension uprising and going on to ask in a cool tone, "what movie?"

it's not like you want to be invited; you and arin are perfectly fine being apart and doing your own things from time to time, but it's lunch and it's where you and her usually engage in topics and conversations of all kind just to pass time.

"the new superhero one." she lets a few seconds go by before adding, "with yeonjun."

you freeze in position then, though missing her nervous and anxious tone from before, it all makes sense.

she's gonna be with yeonjun, and with yeonjun comes someone else. she was afraid to bring it up; knows almost everything between you and san by now and knew you were most likely to reject the offer to go to the movie if he's gonna be there.

even if she loves going to the theater with you, the rants and comments after about what you both loved or hated the best part of the entire experience, but she was afraid.

"oh, i see," you dismiss, relaxed tone and a smile like it doesn't affect you. "heard lots of positive reviews about it, you guys are going to enjoy it for sure."

you try not to let the thought bother you for the rest of the day, but it does.

not of arin because you know she's sweet and kind and even asked again before she went home if you're okay with it, and you assured her you are.

she and yeonjun can't possibly cater to you and san just because you both happened to have some intertwined history they weren't even aware of beforehand.

no. you can't stop letting san fuck with your head. surprise?

can't stop overthinking and being spiteful that he was the one who fucked you over, yet you're the one having to accomodate while he's still shameless after all these years.

so he still has some effect on you, but you bet they're not the ability to summon butterflies or make you pink in the cheeks, maybe just red in the face.

because on top of learning to not let everyone step all over you, you also picked up on how to be a bit of a bitch. not your proudest accomplishment but a much needed one for survival.

you shouldn't have to step aside for him, tell him you don't want to talk, or run away as if he's the plague. it's been years, you said it yourself, and there's no reason to not hang with your friend or go see a movie you're interested in just because san is gonna be there.

you roll around in bed until landing in a comfortable position, eventually going to sleep with the thought.

~

"are you sure?" arin asks once again, the soft concerned accent in her voice.

"yes."

you've made your mind overnight, that you're not gonna run or cower. he no longer has ownership over you and you're gonna go see the movie.

"alright. if you really are sure, pick you up at four."

you get ready around three, do your hair and dress up a little just to look somewhat presentable and wait until there's a knock at the door, arin having texted thirty minutes ago you'll all be going in her car since the theater is closer to the complex.

somehow, you're not dreading or feeling even the slightest nervous at having to share a car ride with san or spend two hours at the cinema with him just a couple seats down.

when you do see him out in the hall, his freshly showered hair still wet and he has on a matching grey set of joggers and hoodie, his hands buried inside the pockets of his pants as he lasers you a look of surprise.

he didn't think you'd come because you most likely knew he's gonna go.

the ride down the elevator and most in the car thankfully drowned by arin's and yeonjun's constant chattering, talking like they're never gonna run out of topics.

but it makes the situation all more better and less awkward considering you're sitting in the backseats with san, but your attention out the window the entire time, mind either occupied with their conversation or the low volume music.

"y/n, i heard you got employee of the month again."

the call of your name pulls you away and to yeonjun's eyes as he looks over his shoulder before he blinks and turns back.

"ah, yes i did."

your friend has a habit of telling other people your business, but in her defense it's only because she wants to show you off since you're so great--taken by her word for word.

"arin's told me a lot about your writing," he casually adds, seconds before your friend starts doing what she does best.

"she's the best!" she squeals, and you have to hold back a snicker.

"how'd you get into it? your friend hasn't told me that part, shockingly," yeonjun says, amusement in his tone and taking the chance to tease his girlfriend.

"i--" you start but arin beats you to it.

"she started with a journal or notebook first, i think!"

you don't know whether to find it annoying or endearing, your eyes rolling but lips pulling into a smile.

"yeah," you let your friend have it, but the smile soon fading when you can feel the pair of eyes on you burning from the side, though you won't dare check it for yourself.

you also won't tell them why you started it in the first place, or how much the boy sitting next to you played a part in it.

"we're here!" arin announces, pulling into a parking space.

going to the movies also follows a routine; purchasing the tickets, getting a drink and popcorn if you're up for it, then going to find your seats.

san is seated next to yeonjun, and you next to arin, your eyes occasionally batting from the screen to your friend as she passes comments to her boyfriend when she'd have something to say about a scene.

the situation all too relaxing and calm, just exactly what you need for your mind to destress and just focus on what's happening; whether the characters' motivations or the great worldbuilding.

no need to worry about anything else, your stomach and chest still relaxed, nothing like the situation after the premiere that constricts the both of them as a wave of uneasiness wash over.

now regretting not following after your friend and just lying about having to use the restroom as well, because if you did, you wouldn't be stuck waiting in the hallway with san.

he's standing a feet from you, you can't really tell. but your gaze is nothing but trained on the restroom's doors wishing for either arin or yeonjun to finish fast enough.

but at least you're both kept company by the exit of other people leaving their auditorium, and the ones trying to find theirs.

you think you've done enough of a good job in letting san know you don't want anything to do with him, especially when it comes to compromising or making amends.

that he'd get it by now you don't even want to talk. after this, you both can go back to living separate lives and put on the act of not knowing each other the way it's been.

"congrats on getting employee of the month."

the voice makes you shudder, the reaction you want to give bordering annoyed and angry.

"i already told you i don't want--"

"i know. i know you don't want to hear any of it, and i won't try it now. but i just really wanted to tell you that because you deserve to hear it."

you fume through your nose, not wanting to have to look him in the eyes or give into his attempt at starting a conversation, but you can feel him looking you down, if the uncomfortable ting from the side of your face means anything.

"thanks, but i've heard enough from others to know i deserve it," you reply, your delivery sharp and straightforward, and san can't help but to smirk at that.

he knows he doesn't deserve to be heard; get the chance to explain himself and all the mistakes he's made because then it would be unfair to you.

calling them mistakes would be downplaying all the hurt and pain he's put you through, because at the time, it was his choice to make them. his choice to deceive and lie to you when he never had any sincere intentions.

he isn't proud of them, but that was who he was, and he owns up to the fact he was so horrible back then. undeserving of sympathy, affection, or being loved, and yet, you still gave him all three with your entire heart.

he can't say he deserves it now either despite some life altering decisions and soul searching, but he can say he's less of a shitbag to some extent.

still, your forgiveness is something he don't think he'll ever rightfully deserve.

another thing still the same is how much he likes everything about you, and seeing you again after all these years; after how much you've changed, he might like you even more.

no longer the soft spoken and afraid girl always holding back, but now with a sharp tongue and snippy attitude that speaks her mind.

who, different from the last time he saw you years ago, has on a new distinct style to complement the woman you've become--your hair always perfectly curled at the tips, your makeups more bold and edgy, and you don't shy away from showing any skin.

you walk around with more confidence without coming off arrogant, san still able to see the sweet and kind girl even through all the changes because that will always be who you are at the core--someone too easy to fall for and like.

"i have to apologize for the inconvenience, but just one more day and you won't have to worry about running into me anymore. i'll be staying somewhere else until i get approved for a place myself," he announces to utter silence, you standing there and not knowing what to say.

when the tense air stretches on, he speaks again, "also, i hope you'll be willing to hear my apology out even if just once. not for me and all my excuses, but because you deserve it. that's all."

you open your mouth, another dismissive comment about to slip about the wrath of being arin's and yeonjun's friends unavoidable but a buzz in the pocket of your jeans cut it short.

your eyes widen and lips pulled into an amused smile at the person who finally texted back, san catching the displayed name just right before you put it away at arin's return.

kang yeosang: hey, i'm so sorry for not answering sooner. i keep knocking out after school or work 🤦 but i'm doing great actually lol, and i hope you are too. would you like to meet up tomorrow? i'll finally be off and will have some time.

you've been here a couple of times, the cafe with a warm toned brown as its primary color, and menu and size two times bigger than the smaller one back at university.

you don't come often, but you do always feel welcomed. the aesthetics pleasing to the eyes and the staffs always friendly with warm smiles.

yeosang is seated at the corner, a small two person table, and his smile at the sight of you also makes you feel so warm.

"hey," you greet, pulling the chair as you take a seat.

"hey," he returns, unable to help the giggle that follows after, finding something so amusing about finally seeing each other again after four months despite being the only two still in the same city.

there's not a lot about him that has changed, except he's risen higher than any of you, but he's still just as handsome, welcoming, and obviously meant for bigger and better things.

but with yeosang, it is always so pleasant and safe.

in another reality; an alternate universe somewhere out there, you think yeosang might've been the one for you. even if he's too perfect for his and your own good, you'd come around to the idea that you do deserve someone like him.

someone who was such a mystery at first and had you believing he was the biggest asshole to walk the planet only to completely prove you wrong.

someone who showed patience time and time again that he was willing to wait, because he had so much love and sincerity to give if you were to accept his heart.

it was the perfect enemies or friends to lovers, and oh... it would've been so beautiful. it was quite close to the kind of fairytale love you always imagined; something too unrealistic and borderline delusional, but yeosang was real and ready to make it happen.

you never did give him your heart, though there was no rejection or denial. it just happened...

he waited for you, never pushy or pressuring, always so understanding of the fact you were healing and needed time. admitted to having a 'little' crush on you and whenever you were ready, you could consider.

you kept it in thought, then a month turned into three, and three turned into six, then a year, and suddenly you realized you had put it on the back burner for two years already.

it's not that you didn't like him. of course you like him, but you just weren't sure if you liked him like that.

so when he started acting off; not cold or indifferent, but actually smiling more and his head always somewhere else, it all made sense when a new face started to show at the pc shop on the regular.

yeosang met someone else.

and truthfully, you couldn't be any happier for him, because he deserved someone who wanted to be with him and who will love him in that moment.

every time your two best friends asked why you let a man of yeosang's caliber slip right out of your hand, you were never able to give them a definite answer, unsure of it yourself.

you guys were great friends and meshed so well together even without all the budding romance, and you didn't see why that needed to change--you suppose.

you had assured him it was all good and fair, that it is so natural for feelings to develop and for some to die out, especially over a long period--he needed to just go for it.

you like to think you earned another lifelong friend, even if he's busy most of the time and you'll be seeing each other at most only four times a year.

"want to order something first?" you suggest, quirking an eyebrow.

he hums with a nod, arms crossed in a relaxed manner.

you both order no more than two cups of americano, the taste of the black style coffee something you used to dislike because of the lack of sweetness, but yeosang got you growing fond of it after a while.

"how's everything?" you start again, "the job? school? other things?" you let just the faintest smirk cross your lips, much to the mirth on yeosang's.

"i want to say good but it's all really just a pain in the ass. the job and school, that is."

you snicker and he does the same, your frame slightly leaning over the table before passing a comment, "at least other things are going well."

"yeah." he smile. "but school will be over soon and that'll be that. the lead in my department likes my work enough so hoping for a promotion around the corner."

"you'll get it. for sure."

you both thank the waiter after the drinks' arrival, one of your hand fidgeting at the handle of the cup watching as he takes a sip.

"but i'm excited to be seeing everyone else the next month or so," he says, his turn be the one to watch.

"me too. we'll do karaoke, play stupid games, and maybe just drink a little."

you were also never great with alcohol but you've built more tolerance for it over the years given how your friends are.

"yeah, a little," yeosang quips, and you both giggle, knowing it's never just a small amount with mingi and yuna before they'd want everyone else to get as equally wasted.

"and you? anything new?" he asks, much to the fall of your expression as you begin fighting with yourself internally.

decide on whether you should or should not tell him of the tragedy that struck just a couple of days ago; the one that sent you five years back and to a place so dark.

but it's yeosang, and he will understand. he always does.

"i uh, i ran into san again," you break it sharp and quick, his relaxed face and posture tensing up.

"oh? what the fuck."

"yeah. he's friends with arin's boyfriend and it's an unbelievable amount of fuckery."

"thought he was being a dickhead somewhere else, and not in the country," yeosang takes a jab, always squeezing in the opportunity to do so, because he really does think san is such a horrible person.

he don't know how much the man's come to grovel, but for one to act like that and hurt another the way he did, it takes some malice at the core.

"he did meet her boyfriend while somewhere else," you enlighten, the fact not one you're happy to know about or tell.

yeosang quiets for a second, asking hesitantly, "did he tried talking to you?"

you nod, much to his expectation.

"yeah. but i shot him down the first time, and the second... i don't know. we talked but he didn't try apologizing or anything."

“also, i hope you’ll be willing to hear my apology out even if just once. not for me and all my excuses, but because you deserve it. that’s all.”

"and do you want him to apologize?" he asks, his voice stern and serious.

you freeze up at the question, all this time talking so big about not wanting to hear from san or whatever because he's hurt you enough, but you really don't know.

it's been years and you've moved on, but you do acknowledge the part of you that reserves a special place for him; him who was your first love and was once something you held on a pedestal.

"it would take a lot more than an apology for what he did," you answer, lacking just the smallest confidence.

"no, of course it's gonna take more than an apology. he did a lot of shitty things to you, but you shouldn't hear him out for the purpose of forgiveness, but because it's the least he can do for the hurt he's caused you. the apology isn't about him, but you."

yeosang's words stays with you for the rest of the day, and it doesn't get any better--mingi's also comes back as a haunting, making you turn and toss in bed.

“so you’re not even a little bit curious in what he has to say?”

“no.”

“or what he’s been up to?”

“why the fuck would i be?”

“no no, of course, fuck that guy. i’m just saying that if he has something to say, aren’t you just the slightest bit curious what it is? don’t you want to hear about how pathetic and miserable he was during the time apart, or how sorry he is?”

then what san said back at the theater also makes a reappearance, each of them taking turn to mess with your head and rethink: are you okay with never knowing what san was gonna say?

maybe it isn't gonna be as deep or remorseful as you hope, but he very clearly wants to say something to you, and you have to make a choice between finding out what it is or live your life with the mystery in mind.

you hate to say it, but you think the latter might be more painful, your mind always so itching and curious.

you might need to talk to him tomorrow, for just one last time.

you wake up way too early for your own good, not even urgent to get ready for work for another hour.

but you need to talk to san. make it quick and over with, then go on your own way like it's been.

you're barely a step out, the door not even closed yet when you can feel something under your slipper, glancing down to see you've stepped on a white envelope... addressed to you and from san, the date almost from a year ago.

you open it, seated on your couch and with a racing heart.

dear y/n,

i am finally writing this letter. i’ve sat down many times attempting to do so, sometimes barely able to get through the first line and sometimes i’ll read the first paragraph i wrote only to throw it away, completely unsatisfied. but it’s been four years–at least at the time that i’m writing this–that i’ve last seen you. four years since we saw each other and we probably won’t for a very long time, if ever.

it would be a miracle for me if i was to ever cross paths with you even just one more time, but it would be a tragedy for you because i’d like to think fate wouldn’t be so cruel to put you through that. so i write this letter with the thought that you would most likely never see it, but i did promise myself that if fate really is that cruel and we were to cross paths again, i would give it to you. it’s a bit selfish of me, but it’s because i know the chance of ever seeing you again is close to none. but it’s also everything i’ve ever wanted to tell you; say to you. i want to apologize sincerely, even though it’s a little too late. in a way, this letter is also an outlet for me and my thoughts.

it’s been about a year since i’ve graduated and around this time of the year, i always get a little sentimental. could be because i’m so far away from home so it’s only natural, but i know it’s because it’s summer and i tend to associate the season with you. we did a lot together and you opened some parts of me i couldn’t say or admit at the time.

you would always used to tell me to just try whenever i didn’t see the worth in doing something and i honestly just dismissed it because it sounded silly and quite cliche. i thought it was ironic coming from someone so shy and timid who always looked at the world with so much fear in her eyes. now, i’m starting to understand the amount of courage it must’ve taken you to even go out of your comfort zone. i realized, i was so much of a coward in comparison despite thinking i was the hottest shit at the time.

i always ran, but you never did. i was so scared of anything new and unfamiliar but you always faced them even when there’s a likely chance of failure. i treated you like shit and you still wanted to love me. i think about it often… why are you this way? but i won’t ever know because i never put in the efforts to get to know you beyond what you could offer me. you always asked about me but i never did the same in return.

if i could redo everything, i would want to hear your story. i would love to read anything you write. i said i would, but i never did.

i’m in the states, i’m sure somewhat and somehow you probably already know that (or you probably don’t because you don’t care anymore, which is fair). i left right before the start of the second semester during sophomore year. it was a big decision for sure, but i needed the change. things were already getting stale and repetitive, and you know me… i am not one to stick in one place for too long. i will always run, and so i ran to the states to live with my sister.

other than the fact i was born there and half of my family resides there, at that point, there was nothing left for me in korea. i didn’t have much to lose if i were to fly across an ocean and start anew.

wooyoung had already cut contact with me by then and any friends close to genuine i’ve ever had were all from associations with him. soon after, i realized anyone i still talked to were all phonies who i only hung around during parties and stupid rendezvous, with the exception of jongho. he got into yonsei, by the way. if you didn’t see him pestering you on campus, you probably already picked that up. he sent me a message a few months ago to come back and attend his graduation but i told him to fuck off because he didn’t attend mine either. good for him, though. he’s a smart kid.

but yeah. wooyoung’s a good person even if he grew up privileged. it’s what makes him such a people magnet. he was the most genuine friend i’ve ever had and the one who stuck by me for the longest. i really took him for granted and it only hit me when i lost him.

you are fortunate to have someone like mingi and yunho who seems very protective. i was a little scared when wooyoung warned me about mingi because he threatened to knock me out if he ever sees me. he’s much taller than me, so i don’t doubt it.

i know i sound miserable so far, but i am actually doing pretty okay… unfortunately. you probably don’t want to hear that and wish i was suffering, but i’ve suffered for maybe two and a half years before i finally felt somewhat content and okay, if that will make you feel any better.

the states is different and the people are as well. i’ve got to experience a lot of new things for a change.

when i transferred, i still didn’t know what to do. the clock was ticking and there was only so little time before i had to pick a field. i ended up going into dance performance, and of course i thought of you. when i found a passion for it again, i thought of you. and when i graduated last year with a fine arts degree, i thought of you… all because i knew you would be the happiest to hear about it.

whenever anyone asked me why i don’t want to come back home, i would always tell them what i told you: because there’s nothing left there for me. but one of the biggest reasons why i didn’t want to come back was because it reminded me of you too much. that, coupled with other factors, just makes it so much harder for me to want to return. it feels like reopening old emotional wounds that i have no one else to blame for but myself.

but my junior year, i met someone named yeonjun because we shared the same major. i get nostalgic sometimes because he often reminded me of wooyoung. speaking of wooyoung again, i sent him a similar letter but in email form a while ago, though not as long, and he said he was happy to hear from me again. i wasn’t sure if he was going to reply at all because it was an old email and i assumed he probably wanted nothing to do with me and that was official. but he replied pretty fast and said if i ever returned to korea, he doesn’t mind catching up. he went into business and said it’s something he actually really enjoys.

yeonjun is cool though, and like a less annoying version of wooyoung. he was also a transfer but had been here longer than i have. he met his girlfriend online who’s living in south korea and so after he graduated, he went back right away and said he was going to attempt to open his own studio. just about a month ago, he called me and said it’s almost done and he would be recruiting. he wants me to come back and help him and i’ve been giving it some consideration because i’m not doing much here back at the states either.

i was hesitant at first, of course. all for the reasons i’ve already stated, but all i ever do i run and even i’m growing tired of it. no matter how many bad memories the place holds, it is still home and my motherland after all.

anyways, i apologize for rambling. the letter is getting way too long, but my point is, i might’ve started liking you at one point. not in the casual way that our relationship was, but actually really like you. i don’t know. now that i’m older, it’s true that the love you’ve given me was something i was not ready for at that time and age. and now, it’s everything i wish i have. funny how time really does change a person.

i hope you are doing good for yourself, and i’m so sorry if you ever get the chance to read this letter.

– choi san

you don't even register you're crying despite the burning in your eyes until a lone tear stains the last page.

your heart and emotions so conflicted but also whole, unable to help the warmth and love that wraps your body even for just a moment.

because san felt something. through all of the lies and deceit, there were some sincerity, because an even bigger question you had all these years was whether he ever meant any of it.

when he kissed you, fucked you, and looked at you, you always wondered if there was something else behind his actions--if even the smallest of liking you--not for what you could offer him, but for being yourself.

your weakness always having been too easily touched and moved, particularly when swayed by the name of choi san that you're already at yeonjun's doorstep with the letter still in your clutch.

your beating heart still loud but ready to face him with everything.

"oh, hey."

it's yeonjun and he's both surprise and happy at the sight of you, but definitely questioning of the puffy red eyes.

"i-is san here?" you ask in the most vulnerable tone he's ever heard from you, raising an eyebrow in return.

"he left just a while ago."

yeonjun doesn't get to interrogate the reason why you're asking or is at his door so early in the morning looking like you just had a breakdown, only watching in silence as you scuttle into the elevator.

you don't know how long he's been gone exactly (you really should've asked), but there's a chance he might not have gone far; you might still catch him if--

you thought you were prepared and ready, but when you actually see him, your body just kind of goes into shock.

he catches your nervous gaze, so scared before but relieved the instant he sees you--standing up from where he was waiting as you walk over.

the lobby still with some people and their chitters, but the air around both you and san so thick with a silence that you're desperate to break.

"yeonjun told me you left a while ago... i thought you were most likely gone," you speak, so shy and nervous all of a sudden, but determined nonetheless.

"yeah. i-i was going to, but i told myself if i don't see you within the next hour, then i'll really go. forget all of it."

it might be the first time he's ever stuttered in front of you, your heart once again somersaulting knowing he was waiting for you.

"oh..."

as much as san's gotten better, he will always be a little selfish. he knows he absolutely does not deserve your forgiveness or even to be talking to you, but you are someone special to him.

someone he didn't even think he'd get to ever meet again unless by some miracle, and for it to actually happen, it must be some sign.

that he at least need to try and fight before completely giving it up. just one hour, and if you didn't show, he'd let it be. take that as an answer and leave you alone forever.

"w-where are you going to be staying?" you attempt to carry a casual conversation.

"wooyoung," he answers, mouth forming into a smile you love all too much. "he said i can stay for a month before he'll kick me out."

you giggle and he does so, too, your eyes meeting momentarily as another silence fly by.

"i got your letter," you finally say, the one thing that was sitting on your chest so heavy.

he only nods, posture and everything about him so awkward, because it is.

admitting to your own fuck-ups is never easy, and especially when those fuck-ups messed with the lives of people. he is ashamed and embarrassed, to say the very least.

when he doesn't say anything, you try again, only getting as far in your sentence at the first "i'm..." before the emotions get the better of you--the crack in your voice and the waterwork.

san's hands are on you that instant, his hands wiping at your tears, and you think you're going to cry even more at the proximity; he's so close and it feels so wrong.

"i'm... i'm just so happy," you let it out, your gaze holding his and at the way he softens, you think you could die.

not just that he's incredibly handsome, but it's always been so easy to fall for him and want to give your all. like you can understand why your eighteen year old self wanted him so bad.

"i'm so happy that you liked me then," you finish off, a tad dramatic but thankful there isn't a lot of people in the lobby so early in the morning.

"i still like you now, y/n," he replies almost immediately, so much passion and sincerity in his voice, because he wants you to know that. he does like you.

"i was so stupid and immature and a complete dick. i am still a lot of those things, but god... you were amazing. you still are. and i had it so good and took it for granted. i just want to say, i am sorry... for everything. i already wrote it in the letter, but i want you to hear it, too, that i truly am so sorry."

the way you look at him the entire time too endearing; something he used to hate. your gaze always so attentive as if he holds the stars in them.

your lips are slightly pouting and if he was the man from before, he would've already kissed them. take them for himself and not care whether you wanted it or not.

but he already swore that he will no longer be crossing boundaries or doing anything just for his own self fulfillment.

you're about to say something but is cut off by the ringing of his phone, greatly saddened when he takes his hold off your face to fumble his pocket, taking a single glance at it.

"it's wooyoung. probably to complain because i told him i would be coming like twenty minutes ago."

you nod in understanding, mumbling, "you can go."

he exhales and looks down at you.

"i know this wasn't the best time and place to talk, but... if you want, just if you're okay with it... maybe we can talk again another time? no pressure, of course."

he waits for the stoic expression on you to turn into a smile as you respond with a soft, "i would love that." pausing just before adding, "my number is still the same."

"got it," he says, trying the hardest to hide a smile you can still see. the both of you just waiting in spot after because it's hard to leave.

"are you still gonna come visit yeonjun?" you suddenly ask, much to san's amusement, he can't help the smirk.

"yeah."

"okay, cool," you reply nonchalantly, acting the most aloof as your eyes shy away from his.

"then can i also ask you something?"

"go ahead."

he clears his throat, taking the shortest pause.

"are you seeing yeosang?"

you pinch in your brows at the question, puzzlement all over your face before breaking out a chuckle.

"no."

and if you are to ask him, he probably will never admit to the uneasiness ever since he saw yeosang's name pop up on your phone.

yeosang's a great guy and a perfect fit for you, but dare he say it, san would be heartbroken.

"okay, cool," he mimics you, eventually rubbing at the back of his neck, "gonna head out then. i'll see you."

"yeah. i'll see you."

you watch as he disappears into the distance, sparing another glance at the letter still in your hold, only shaking your head going back up the elevator to get ready for work.

damned choi san and the hold he still has over you.

a/n: dksdskdjfksi it is finally over!!! truly ty to everyone who stuck around even with all the bullshit bc i couldn't make up my mind half of the time. i did the yeosang girlies the dirtiest but believe me when i say we were SO CLOSE to a yeosang endgame. if anyone is interested in that, i would be happy to respond in an ask or reply. but they did have so much potential, i'm sorry sdlksijdkjsdl

again, ty 4 reading and have a wonderful rest of your day/night! onto better things, we go.

taglist: @sorryimananti-romantic @revehosh @cookiechristie @avantalem @atiny68 @sannwa @shibera @mochibabycakes @justineasian @eastleighsblog @baguette-atiny @crimson-mia @yeosxxx @sleepychimm @atz-diary @diorwoo @naiify @becauseiloveyunho @damagelove @softie00 @s-nsanshine @atinytinaa @moonseonghwa @lemontreefantasy @wooyoung4eva @yeosangsbiceps @likexaxdaydream @knucklesdeepmingi @barbielibra @tmtxtf @brown88 @harusoraa @frankenstein852 @yujispinkhair @mermaid17venus @nolxverlikeme @writersun @kkayfan @wooyoungjpg @galaxypox @byunniebaekhyunnie @vixensss @interweab @svintsandghosts @moonchele @atinyluv238

#ateez angst #ateez x reader #san x reader #choi san x reader #san angst #ateez series #fic: broken

[soft-mafia]

Troubled Girl [Buggy x Reader]

[part 1]

warnings: oc insert series, fem reader, fem y/n, age gap, slow burn, violence and blood, oc x canon, HEAVY on the oc insert, if you hate stuff like that don’t interact, barely proof read

a/n: I decided to redo part 1 because the first one was hot shit😭I hope this turns out better now that I have the actual lore figured out. I worked really hard on this so I hope this gets some attention😭

Y/n didn’t know what she was looking at, the way the sea lined up with the horizon in the distance, the way the waves crashed against the side of the ship. Or maybe she was listening to the call of the seagulls. She didn’t even know where she was, really, the sky was a bright pastel blue, the clouds were white and looked like cotton, the ocean below her was a saturated deep blue, it was so unusual. Where was she? Was she dead? When she awoke from her blackout her wounds were patched up, the stench of musk and alcohol greeted her as she rose, but everything seemed.. off.

It was a cramped room, a makeshift med ward but she was tended to with what seemed to be professionalism. The bandages around her arms had only a few faint dried bloodstains on them despite the severity of her injuries. Everything was so bright and saturated, even the light that poured in from the rounded windows.

Her brows furrowed, still trying to recollect what happened, or where she was. It was still clear in her memory, of course, she couldn’t forget what happened. However, in this moment she didn’t know if she should still be on guard or not. Y/n survived, and ran, but was this ship taking her back home? She figured the nuns or the apprentices found her and were transporting her back to Getica, but it couldn’t be that. The ship she was on was filthy and had circus print everywhere, a chipped pattern on the sides of the boat.

Y/n’s eyes were still heavy, she was tired and exhausted and hadn’t eaten since she’d been taken for judgement day.

Y/n froze and whipped her head back in alert when she heard the sound of footsteps creaking on the deck behind her, a tense feeling shot through her body, still in fight or flight.

“Hey! Finally, you’re awake! I didn’t think you’d make it through the night.” The man says, his face painted in makeup to match the circus print, two blue arches smeared almost symmetrically on each arch of his brow, cross bones mark his forehead and red was painted messily around his lips. He was tall with broad shoulders, a bit of a gut, but the main attraction to this man was a huge red growth on the center of his face. Y/n thought it was fake at first glance, but seeing now his nostrils blended so seamlessly into the growth and the gradient of red to a light tan immediately made her think otherwise. Despite the odd red nose, he wasn’t unattractive, in fact he was the handsomest man Y/n had ever seen in her life. His arms were crossed over his chest, there was thick arm hair over sun kissed skin, biceps bulging against his sleeves.

She opened her mouth to speak, sucking in a raspy breath. It had been forever since she actually spoke, the last few days the only thing coming from her mouth were screams and wails. Only now was she aware of the strain in her voice and the sting in her vocal cords. “Where am I?”

“You’re on my ship.” He answered, “Me and my crew were out looking for some treasure on this island but.. we found you bleeding out on the shoreline.” Y/n was still tense, not knowing if she should be threatened or not. “I was feeling generous, I think you owe me a ‘thank you’.” He was cocky, that’s for sure.

“W-Where are we going?” She didn’t mean to stutter, but the salty sea air wasn’t helping with the soreness in her dry throat, she felt so dehydrated in that moment, a bad taste in her mouth from it. Her disregard of his request for gratitude seemed to offend him, his brows furrowing and his grin turning into a slight scowl, “Are you even listening to me?! I saved your LIFE.” He spat, “I could’ve left you for dead!!” He clenched his fists, letting his hands rest at his sides now. “Do you have any water?” Y/n asked, continuing to disregard his words, and it seemed to make him more agitated. “WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!” The man shouted, his voice was deep but shrill, there was a comedic charm to it though. Y/n didn’t feel threatened by him, if he really was a threat, her wounds wouldn’t have been tended to so precisely, she figured. “I just want some water.” She stated more clearly, “Or anything to drink.”

He grumbled something incomprehensible under his breath as he reached into the inner pocket of his coat and pulled out a flask, which he handed it to her. Upon drinking it, she choked it back and groaned, “What the hell is this?!” It was bitter, warm and unpleasant. It was an unfamiliar taste that she never wanted to have in her mouth again. “It’s liquor. What? You never had booze before?” The man scoffed, grinning and holding back a laugh at her reaction.

It’s not like Y/n never had a drink before, but she much preferred the overly sweetened beverages, the ones the boys would carry in six packs to the lake during the seasonal pardons. Y/n didn’t want to be rude, so she said nothing. “Thanks for saving me. I really appreciate it.” She finally thanked him, the man’s face softened into something serious, his gaze narrowing, “You look like hell, kid.” He muttered, noticing her tense stance, and shaky gaze that she could barely keep locked with his, “Wanna tell me what happened?”

“It’s.. a lot to explain.” Y/n looked down at the ground, crossing her arms tightly, feeling the soreness from her wounds, but it wasn’t unbearable. “Yeah no kidding. We almost thought about chopping your arms off all together.” The man chuckled dryly, before looking away with a grimace on his face, “No offense but damn, I wouldn’t wanna piss off whoever did that to you.”

“I didn’t piss anybody off.” She muttered, “Nobody did. It was nobodies fault we didn’t do anything!” She snapped, earning a confused grimace from the tall man.

Y/n looked back out at the sea, letting the wind blow through her hair. There was a minute of silence until the man decided to speak up again, “So.. uh, just tell me where you live and I’ll take you back home, your injuries should heal in a couple days.” His words struck a feeling of uneasiness in Y/n. She didn’t know if she was safe back home. Despite initially surviving her trap, she had been the only person who successfully escaped the judgement day hall without getting killed by an apprentice, to which she had killed 5 of them.

Besides, there was nothing left for her back home, considering everybody she knew had been killed. Y/n felt a chill run down her spine when the image of the blood vessels popping in her friend’s eyes right before his trap killed him, he didn’t free himself in time. That imagine alone would haunt her forever, it was so gut churning. “I don’t think I can go back.” She mumbled quietly, stuttering as she was unsure, but deep down despite her uncertainty she knew there was no way she could return home and survive. She kept her gaze to the sea below her.

She had already been kicked out of the orphanage after turning 18, she had been living with one of her teachers before apprentices killed her as well, so with no friends and her only living relative being as close to her as a stranger would be, she had nothing. As a survivor of judgement day she would’ve been recruited as an apprentice, Y/n didn’t think she could stomach putting people through the same pain and torture she experienced. On another hand, she could be imprisoned for escaping, her arms, legs and tongue could be carved off before being thrown in a cell, left to rot.

“Well.” The man looked over the railing with her, standing side by side, “I guess there’s always room on my crew for another. You’re already here so why not?”

“So I become a pirate?” Y/n couldn’t help but scoff quietly. The irony of it all, the entire point of judgement days was to make sure orphans wouldn’t grow up to become violent criminals, and immediately after Y/n’s escape she was being offered to become a pirate, a vocation that the dean described to be the worst of any crime. The dean’s hatred for pirates was a common joke around the school, but there was an eeriness to it. There was a rumor a few years back that a student was caught genuinely dreaming of running away and becoming a pirate, and that dream eventually made it around to the dean, so he had carved his tongue out before taking him away to the ward. There were theories about who the student was, but it wasn’t uncommon for people in Getica to go missing, and kids in the orphanage weren’t excluded from that, so whether if it was true or not, nobody would know.

“It’s not so bad. We’re always partying, eating, drinking. Hell, I spent the majority of my life out on sea drunk more than sober.” The man spoke up again. Yeah I can tell. Y/n looked him up and down, and as she thought about it more deeply, she was technically walking with a target on her back now, and if pirates were as cruel and scum as the dean had said, they could serve as good protection if him or any apprentices would find her out. “Ok. I’ll join.” She finally said, looking back up to meet his gaze, green watercolored eyes that she couldn’t help but get lost in, she didn’t think she had seen eyes that pretty before. They were soft in their earthy color, but they held a coldness to them.

Y/n found herself jostled suddenly, he roughly patted her on the back, reminding her of her injuries for a moment before she was pulled close to his body, “Fantastic!!! I’ve been looking for someone to swab the deck!”

The idea of that made her internally recoil, if what he said was accurate and the crew spent the majority of the time drinking, that would mean she would have to clean up the drunken throw up. She ground the back of her teeth. “Let me introduce you to the crew! They’re gonna love you.” He said as he was leading her back down to the lower deck, “Don’t be intimidated but.. you’re the only girl, but we treat each other here like family so you won’t have to worry about any creeps.”

He led her down into a cramped room, looking like a makeshift mess hall, a large crowd of men were eating, stuffing their faces with food. The scent coming from the kitchen was heavenly, the smell of fresh scrambled eggs, crisp bacon; which there was a heap of right in the middle of a table in the far side of the room. It perplexed her that pirates had better food than what was served at the orphanage; day old, sometimes molded bread tossed sloppily on trays. Most days there would only be enough food for 100 kids but that didn’t even make up half of the amount of kids. People would have to fight for food sometimes, leaving others severely injured or worse. There were no such things as ketchup, salt, or honey, Y/n didn’t even know what any of those things were. If you asked her if she knew what a condiment was, she would think you were talking about a book of some sorts.

“Where do you even get all of this food?” Y/n asked as she looked around at the room full of men gleefully stuffing their faces without a care in the world, “Hm? Well.. we make sure to stock up on food every few days, of course.” He replied, as if it was nothing, as if food was easily accessible to them at all times, which apparently it was. She took another look at the crew, they all looked as eccentric as their captain, some dressed in circus outfits, stripes and odd hats, someone rode a unicycle to a table while eating his breakfast. A man in the far corner caught her eye, he looked as if he was wearing fur garments, a fur hat and tunic, but as she continued looking at him she noticed that the fur was coming out of his skin.

The captain took an empty glass and a spoon from a nearby table and tapped them together, causing the room to fall silent, they all stared at the captain at first, but then all of their gazes fell upon her. She immediately felt a wave of anxiety rush over her, in the past having all eyes on her didn’t really bother her too much, but ever since she was called in for Judgement Day, she hated the attention. “Listen up men, this little lady just joined our crew, so let’s give her a big welcome and help her feel right at home!” Y/n wasn’t prepared for the amount of noise that would come after the captain’s introduction of her, she couldn’t help but cover her ears when a roar of cheers, hoots and hollers immediately bombarded her ears. They were an extremely enthusiastic bunch.

She felt a little bit out of place. She was now sat at a table, people were piling so much food on her table she didn’t even know what to do with all of it. They were all speaking to her at once, “You gotta try this!” “This goes really good with that!” “You need more syrup on that,” “No she doesn’t!” A fight started over whether or not maple syrup added or took away flavor from a meal. She didn’t even know what “maple syrup” even was.

The food on her plate looked so good, and the smell was enchanting. It actually looked too good to be food, she had never seen anything like it before. It was mesmerizing, the bread especially looked so golden and warm, glossed over with butter that gave it a shine, the sweet honey smell was intoxicating. Y/n didn’t even know it was bread at first, it looked so ethereal, this couldn’t be real food, right? All she had ever known was grey, bland and moldy. She couldn’t believe it. In Getica, they were taught that food was scarce and they had to save every last bite, that fresh food was impossible to obtain. People would kill each other for molded, rotted food, adults fighting with children for scraps and vice versa, but out on the sea, these pirates were just shoveling good, fresh meals down their throats every second without a care.

“Leave the poor girl alone and let her eat!” The captain came up behind her, his hands holding the back of her chair. In an instant, all of the men backed off, giving her some space. They finally stopped piling food onto her plate so she could further take in what she was seeing. “Eat up! You look like you’re starving, you deserve a good meal.” The man said again, patting her back, more gently this time than before. However, she just sat there, utterly awestruck at how unreal this food looked, “I.. I’m not that hungry.” She stated, though her mouth was watering. “What? Oh come on, don’t act like I can’t hear your stomach growling. Eat up, I insist!”

Y/n picked up a fork, it wasn’t wooden, it looked silver, with an elegant floral pattern at the base of it, it felt lightweight between her fingers. She started off with the bread, going to carve a piece off with the fork and matching knife, she expected it to have a hard exterior, but the knife cut through it like water; it was even more softer on the inside, the butter glazed on top gently dripped down into the center when she cut it. The intoxicating, honey-buttery smell grew stronger. She picked up the piece with her fork and held it to her lips, she could practically feel the butter against her skin from the light steam. It was the most flavorful thing she had ever tasted, it melted in her mouth. Even though it was only a small piece, the taste burst in her mouth and she couldn’t stop eating. She took another piece of bread, and then another.

Y/n ate until she was full, which was a new feeling. She didn’t even touch the other food, mostly because everything was so foreign and unfamiliar to her. “You know you can eat more than the bread, right?” The captain laughed. Y/n looked at him, wiping the excess butter from her lips with a napkin, “Oh, yeah. Sorry.” She mumbled, staring at him for a few more seconds, taking in the way he looked in the lantern lighting, “I never got your name.”

“Buggy. Captain Buggy.” He said. His name really did fit with his appearance, it was cute. Y/n looked back down at her plate and shoved the last piece of bread in her mouth, she didn’t even bother cutting it this time.

It was later in the evening, he had been training her all day for what she would be doing on the ship. She was basically in charge of cleaning everything, which included the mountains of plates left by his crew after every single meal and party. It wasn’t easy work. She felt stupid asking about the simplest of things, it was really all so foreign to her. Sometimes she didn’t even ask questions when she really should have, she felt dumb but she knew she wasn’t, right? What even was disinfectant spray? The sun was beginning to set though, and she would finally get some time to really think about what just happened, and what she had just gotten herself into. Y/n was still a walking target, and they were probably looking for her right now. The dean is probably covering up her escape right now, deleting footage from the Judgement Day feed to make it look like she died, while the apprentices were out behind the scenes in the hopes of making that a reality.

Most of the day didn’t even feel real to her honestly, she just joined a pirate crew and every event of the day was just glazing by her so quickly. Her thoughts were a jumble of mess and this creeping feeling of dread wouldn’t shake off of her back, like it was clinging there refusing to let go. There was a constant nagging feeling in the back of her mind, she wasn’t supposed to do this, she wasn’t supposed to be alive standing here. Y/n should be dead right now.

“Hey, listen Y/n.” Buggy stated, she had told him her name earlier in the day, he told her it was the prettiest name he had ever heard, he wouldn’t stop saying it. “I don’t.. really have a separate cabin for you. The crew has their own place where they all sleep but I would feel irresponsible putting you in there since y’know, a lady needs her privacy.” He scratched behind his neck. There was something so endearing about his voice, it was raspy, sometimes deep with the occasional crack, “For the time being I can set up a hammock in my quarters, just until we can find a space for you.”

Y/n gave him a half smile, scoffing lightheartedly, “You don’t have to give me any special treatment just because I’m a girl.” She could tell he felt genuinely embarrassed telling her all of that, but for some reason, she didn’t mind. Yes, she had met this man merely hours ago, but there was something so trustworthy about him, he was warm, friendly and funny. Buggy was relatively harmless, she then spoke up again, “But, if you really insist.. I wouldn’t mind.” She shrugged, her smile growing, to which she hid by turning her face away to look off to the side of the ship.

“Well I do insist! Trust me I know how my crew can get.. especially after a couple of drinks.” He rubbed the back of his neck, “I have responsibility as captain to make sure my new little recruit is comfortable!” He gave her a small pat on the head, his hand felt larger than she thought, it took up her entire scalp. She could feel the thick fabric of his gloves, white clown gloves that were unusual for a pirate to wear. She could see the dirt that had collected on the white from his years as a pirate, she hoped none of that gunk got into her hair.

Buggy’s room was awful, it was a mess. Y/n couldn’t stop her eyes from widening when she saw the sight. What the fuck happened? There were empty and half empty bottles of liquor scattered all over the floor, clothes tossed into piles, garbage littered everywhere. She couldn’t pinpoint what it smelled like, it wasn’t unbearably unpleasant, but extremely musky. Y/n looked over to a table in the far side of the room, right across from his bed to see an open bag of something, more food probably.

Y/n’s wide eyes didn’t go unnoticed by Buggy, which made him grimace slightly, “Uh. Sorry.” He mumbled, “I really should’ve cleaned this up, uh..” he stepped into his room, “Let me set up the hammoc-” before he finished, he tripped on a wayward bottle, letting out a gargled shriek before falling to the hard wood floor. His large body landed with a loud thud.

He rolled over, covering his face, “OW!! MY NOSE!!” He growled.

Y/n quickly rushed over and looked down at him, “Are you ok?!” She asked, kneeling down and putting a hand on his shoulder. Buggy slowly took his hand away from his face. Yeah, his nose is definitely real.

The man’s face was a bright red, he scrambled to sit up, his back now facing her. He was probably embarrassed again but Y/n couldn’t help but find his little slip kind of adorable, and that little shriek that he let out. He waved his hand before standing, boosting himself with a hand on his knee, “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine!” He grumbled, kicking the bottle that tripped him off to the side, to which it clunk against a pile of more empty bottles.

“I’ll help you put the hammock up.” Y/n stood up as well. She fidgeted with her fingers while watching Buggy dig through his rickety old closet. Y/n peeked her head from behind to take a look into it. Half of the clothes weren’t even hanging on the empty hangers, most of them were just crammed into one small pile in the corner of the closet. Lots of jackets, striped shirts, there were a couple of colorful button downs, a bright blue one with bright reddish floral looking patterns caught her eye.

Buggy certainly seemed to love color. She looked back up at him, the red grease paint on his lips had slightly faded which was expected since it was late in the day, but she could see more of his features now that it was smudged away. His stubble was unkempt but attractive, his skin was textured and had creases, probably from his life on the sea. Her eyes trailed, his jacket was off by now so she could see his biceps which flexed with every move he made. Y/n felt heat come to her ears, which made her quickly avert her gaze back to where Buggy was digging into his closet.

Although she noticed something strange, his gloves were gone, better yet his hands were completely missing. She did a double take before quickly grabbing his forearm, “What the hell happened to your hands?!” She exclaimed. Buggy looked down at her for a moment, confused, then a floating pair of gloved hands came flying out from the top shelf of the closet, hovering in the air which made her step back, nearly stumbling over the garbage on the floor.

Buggy was confused for a few more seconds before a look of realization came over his face, “Ohh.. I forgot, you have no idea.” He let out a deep chuckle, his hands casually attaching themselves back at his wrists. “No idea about what?” Y/n snapped, brows furrowed, a bit of an aggressive response, but she was on edge. “About my devil fruit powers.” He snickered, his hands popping off again, one of them floating over to her to pinch her cheek, making her shiver slightly before instinctively pulling away. “I can split apart my body at will, I can’t get cut by any blade, making me practically invincible.” He boasted as he popped his hands back onto his wrists again, rolling his right wrist as it attached with a hand on his bicep.

Y/n was still tense, staring at Buggy as she tried to make sense of what she was seeing. She was left speechless as thoughts ran through her head. She always thought devil fruits were something made up to scare kids from venturing too far beyond the towns by themselves. She glanced up to meet Buggy’s gaze, he seemed to be amused at how off put she was. Her eyes flickered back to the top closet shelf, seeing the nets of the hammock in the far corner of it. She walked over, slipping past Buggy to grab it.

“Ah- that’s where it was.” The man croaked out, embarrassed that he had managed to miss it when it was literally right in front of his face.

It didn’t take too long for them to set up the hammock, Buggy threw a few spare pillows and blankets on it, “It’s not much, but it’ll do.” He put his hands on his hips. “Thanks.” Y/n mumbled, looking back up at him, but then looking back down at the hammock. She then nearly toppled over when Buggy gave her a firm pat on the back, “It’s no trouble at all, new girl.” He chuckled before patting her head again, this time ruffling her hair with his filthy gloves. She didn’t seemed to mind it this time, her lips pulling into a soft smile.

“So, I can sleep in this thing without falling out?” Y/n looked back up at him. Buggy shrugged, “I mean, you’re not supposed to fall out, it really just depends on how much you move during your sleep.” He put a hand on his chin as he looked away. Y/n’s gaze flickered over to his mattress that could barely even qualify as a bed, a rickety bed post with pillows tossed onto the floor, his blanket hanging for life off the side, “So you get to sleep in a big comfy bed while everyone else gets these?” She joked.

“Hey! Being a captain is hard work which requires good sleep!” The man barked, making her smile grow. Y/n looked back down at the hammock and adjusted the pillows, “I’m gonna get some sleep too.” She smiled up at Buggy.

Buggy nodded, about to turn away before he looked back down at her, “Oh- wait! Before you do that, the doc said you need to replace those bandages before going to bed.” He walked over to his bedside table and opened a drawer, pulling out a roll of gauze.

Y/n looked back down at the bandages which she had completely forgotten about, she saw the dried bloodstains from her wounds which made the hairs on the back of her neck stand. All of a sudden she was reminded of everything, and the fact that she was most likely being hunted down at this current moment. A pit of dread began to consume her, making her clench her teeth. She felt like she was doing something wrong, she really wasn’t supposed to be alive. Her trap was fully meant to kill her in that moment, she wasn’t supposed to escape.

Buggy sat on the edge of his bed and motioned her, the roll of gauze in his left hand, “Just- sit here. I’m not good at this but I’ll try.” He mumbled. Y/n stood there for a moment, looking down at her arms before turning towards Buggy and nodding softly.

She sat beside of him as he carefully unrolled the bandages on her arms. Y/n’s injuries weren’t healed at all yet, just dried. As Buggy slowly unwrapped the gauze from her right arm, her injuries were slowly revealed to her, making her hold her breath. Her heart raced in her chest, as she kept staring at the gashes mangling her arm, it infested her brain and made her feel a small stinging feeling in her wrists, her breath hitched. Buggy noticed this, glancing up at her for a moment before looking back down at her arms, moving to take off the gauze on her left, “It’s best not to look at them. It’s— really bad.” He said quietly, his voice gruff. Y/n looked at him and nodded, keeping her gaze focused on him, the way he was handling her arms so gently, she even noticed that he had taken off his gloves, the way they were folded on the nightstand. She looked back at him.

“Explosives.” She said, “I had.. bombs, stuck into my arms. I had to rip them out before they exploded.” She added, her voice getting quieter. This made Buggy pause, glancing back up at her, he was in the middle of wrapping up her right arm, he was speechless at first, his mouth hung open, “Oh.” Was what left his mouth first, “Well, that explains it.” His Adam’s Apple bobbed as he swallowed, he paused for a few more seconds, their eyes locked. There was a softness to his gaze as he looked at her, he then broke the contact before continuing to wrap her up.

It was quiet, Y/n looked back down once her arms were nearly wrapped up, she looked at his bare hands. His fingers were strong, slightly calloused yet moved meticulously.

“You’re safe now.” Buggy broke the silence, looking up at her as he slowly moved his hands away, finishing her left arm, “You’re gonna be ok.” He put a hand to her face, his palm was soft and warm, a wave of comfort washed over her, the sickening feeling of dread from a while ago seemed to disappear at his touch. Y/n’s gaze softened as it locked with his. She slowly reached up to touch his wrist gently, holding his hand to her face.

He gaze her cheek a gentle pat, putting his hands on his knees before standing, “You should.. get some sleep now.” Buggy said, not looking at her as he walked to take his shirt off. Y/n couldn’t help but stare at his toned back, she had a better few of his biceps from this angle.

She then nodded a few minutes late before standing and walking over to the hammock, giving Buggy’s body a few more glances when he wasn’t looking as she got comfortable under the thick, but comfortable blanket. Y/n was surprised at how soft it was, the fabric wasn’t thin, rough or itchy like the ones back home. It was comforting, like a warm hug.

Y/n sunk deeper into the blanket until her entire body was engulfed, curled up underneath the soft comforter. But she peeked out, watching Buggy as he threw his pillows and blankets back on the bed, adjusting it and straightening his sheets. He looked back at her, noticing how she was looking at him from under the blanket. They locked gazes again for a moment, Y/n caught a glimpse of his thick, fluffy chest hair.

“Goodnight.” He said before turning away, crawling into his bed and laying with his back facing her.

“Night.” She mumbled, fully burrowing into the blankets before shutting her eyes.

#one piece #buggy x reader #buggy imagines #buggy the clown #buggy the clown x reader #one piece buggy #buggy one piece #buggy x oc

[danganronpafan777]

for the Carrie Ask how will Utsuro,Kizuna,Mitch,Nikei,Emma and Hajime react to blood prank on there Girlfriend by the bullies and witness her getting attack by her own mother

Carrie Ask part 3! Or 4, I honestly can’t remember-

I might not be able to post for a week or two, because I’m going on a class trip for a week, and gotta pack. Hope you guys understand, and enjoy!

Hajime Makunouchi:

He cheered the loudest by far when you won the title on Prom Queen. He was just so proud of you!!

He definitely wanted to pick you up and spin you around, but at the same time he was worried he might ruin your moment. In his eyes, you were practically glowing! (The one time he doesn't wear his sunglasses-)

Hajime recalls the first time he had won a boxing match, and how everyone had clapped for him. After being abandoned and left for dead, that kind of attention was eye opening, and he couldn't be happier that you were getting your own moment to shine.

When you're lighting up the room in one moment and become drenched in blood the next, he remains still in shock. He's frozen for a few seconds, but is immediately brought out of his trance as you let out so much as a sniffle.

Hajime isn't one to get violent, but he still yells at the bullies for what they did, before picking you up and storming out of the school. He assures you that even with the blood, you still look beautiful, and if there was anything you wanted to do to make up for what happened, he'd be happy to do it.

His face dropped when you asked him to drop you off at your mother's. She disliked him, but still treated you way worse. Giving you control of the music, Hajime takes the slowest route to your house, comforting you and trying to make your night somewhat better on the way.

Like a gentleman, he walks you to the door, but something in his gut tells him to stay with you. He didn't question it, knowing your mother probably wouldn't take well the fact that you were covered in blood. The feeling of impending doom remained even as you were in a completely different room. Hajime decided to trust his gut, trying to start a conversation with your mother to stay longer, but the knife is already in her hands.

Without thinking, he gets in front of you, and the knife slashes across his arm. Lifting his other hand, he knocks the knife out of her arm and it's over as fast as it began. He didn't mean to knock her out, but as a boxer, his strength surpassed that of your entire bloodline combined.

He still holds her down, and tells you to head back to his car and call the police. Hajime brushes off any attempt you have to treat him, mostly because he's still shaken up, and also because the pig's blood was still on you and he didn't want his wound to get infected from it.

The second your mother is placed in the police car out of your sight, and his wound is disinfected, Hajime doesn't hesitate to run over and hold you. He's still in a state of shock, unable to believe everything that happened tonight so suddenly... but you were okay. That was enough for him.

"It's okay, Y/n... I've got you...Everything's going to be okay. You're safe..."

You were shaking, but he whispered words of comfort. He doesn't want to leave your side, and if he wasn't sure enough already, he was now: Just as you had promised him, he would never abandon you.

Emma Magorobi:

She purposefully dressed down, as she wanted the night to be about you. She had to apply a bit of makeup to not be recognized, but still kept her contacts and hair for the security it gave her.

Instead, Emma insisted on giving you her most glamorous jewelry, and would help you pick out a dress if you asked. During the dance, she was approached by a few people who claimed she looked familiar, but being an actress, she could easily talk her way out of it. 

As the Prom Queen crown was placed on your head, she happily clapped and smiled, but her eyes glistened with unshed tears of joy for you. Emma wanted nothing more than to walk up the stage and kiss you right there.

So you can imagine her fury as a group of bullies dumped a bucket of blood on you, turning the highlight of your night into a joke and laughing as you cried. She delivers a heavy slap to the leader of the bullies, before turning her attention to you. 

Even her puns couldn't make you laugh. She called for her limo to pick the two of you up, and made a silent show of revealing her true identity as a crowd appeared in awe. She didn't care. These people intentionally hurt you. 

She offers for you to spend the night at her mansion, she'd run you a rose petal bath to clean up, and the two of you could have a candlelit dinner. If you didn't like that, she'd be happy with snuggling up to you with some popcorn watching some of her films!

Emma felt a sense of dread when you requested to go back to your mother's. That woman just... reminded her so much of her biological father. She might not be using you as an ashtray, but she wasn't treating you like a person either. 

But with what you just went through, she couldn't leave you alone, especially when, in her eyes, she did nothing to stop this from happening. 

Emma tried to get along with your mother, she really did, but by god that woman was insufferable. She has tried acting out more personas than she could count. It didn't matter how polite she was, that woman still claimed that you both were influenced by the devil for liking other girls.

The second your mother touches the knife, her mind already goes to the worst. It was that same feeling whenever her father would take a final puff of a cigarette. Her nails are digging into her arms, and she's trying to hold herself together, but the moment your mother runs at you, she can't stop screaming. 

Filled with a rush of fear and adrenaline, she shoves your mother away from you, and ends up knocking her out cold. The rest of the night is a blur, and the ghostly sensation of her flesh burning haunts her. 

She's apologizing to her father, crying and begging him to give her more time, before you're able to wake her up. You held Emma close, the two of you were still at the police station, unable to go to Emma's place thanks to the paparazzi and press desperate to know the night's events. But that was okay. You had each other. And until the police would rip you apart to get your witness statements, that was exactly where you'd stay.

"Y/n... I love you so much dear..."

Mitch Higa:

"WOOOO! THAT'S MY GIRLFRIEND!"

He's so proud of you, and it's impossible for him not to smile at how happy you look. As much as he loved attention and the satisfaction of rejecting your bullies' requests for autographs, he was happy to see you have your own moment to shine. God knew you deserved it.

He thought to himself that he'd destroy anyone who gave you hell on your special night, but he didn't think it would actually happen. One moment you're the star of the dance, and the next, you're covered in blood and everyone is laughing. 

Mitch doesn't waste a second, delivering a sucker punch to the bullies’ leader, and kicking the punch bowl to rain over the girl bullies' expensive dresses. People were recording and he was probably going to go viral over this, but fuck it. 

It takes a lot to pull him away from the fight, and his pride doesn't allow him to admit defeat. The only way you talk him out of sending the kids to the hospital is by telling him that he could be arrested, which wouldn't look good for his record and hopes of being a professional soccer player.

It takes a while to convince him to drop you back off with your mother, as he won't stop telling you that she would only make your night worse. Mitch offers to take you out to dinner somewhere, but you point out the two of you were covered in blood.

Even when he's at your mom's place, he is still silently fuming at the events from the night, trying to discreetly hide that fact from you. When your own mother pulls a knife on you, the rage only grows, and he yells for you to run. 

There's so many thoughts running through his head that he's not thinking clearly. Mitch watches you get away and almost gets stabbed himself, but being an athlete meant he was able to disarm her rather fast. 

He locks her in a room in the house, only letting go of the door when the police arrive. After that, he doesn't let go of you. He doesn't have any more anger and annoyed comments to make. He was just so scared and exhausted. 

Mitch would beg you to spend the night at his place. He just needed to see you, and wouldn't let you out of his sight. He withdrew himself from the public eye for a bit, which turned some heads, especially after the video of the prank and aftermath went viral, but he didn't care. 

The two of you needed time to recover, and he'd do everything he could to make a better night for you.

Nikei Yomiuri:

When you won Prom Queen, he was smiling so wide that his mouth hurt-

Nikei was already brainstorming an article to brag about how amazing you were to spite your bullies, but when he turned to smirk at them, he realized they were smiling almost as wide as he was

He tries to brush it off, but he already knew that something's wrong.

Splash!

For the first few moments, Nikei was in complete shock. He didn't say anything, he didn't think, he didn't even breathe.

But then he did again, and every breath he took was used to scream obscenities at everyone and everything except for you. You'll have to forcefully drag him out of the school's gynasium, and pry him off whoever planned this prank. Nikei's not very strong, but he still gets some hits in before you pull him away.

"Y/N...! LEMME GO! THIS SON OF A BITCH!" 

Even when the two of you are miles away from the school, he's still muttering about shoving their dogshit faces into a blender. 

(In reality, he'll pull an all nighter to write articles to ruin their reputations, claiming,

 "It's not slander or defamation if it's right!")

Nikei does NOT want to see your mother, who was obsessive even for him. However, he couldn't just leave you after what you experienced, and he feels a bit bad for not trying to cheer you up. He was still pissed, but he knew that didn't give him an excuse to ignore you.

His attempts to converse with your mother just make everything more awkward. Of course, when your mother pulls a knife on you, everything goes haywire. Nikei insists that the high pitched girly screaming was from you,

"AHHH! WHAT THE FUCK!?"

He grabs you a runs, knocking over a candle while trying to pull out his phone. He tells you to keep running as the house is set ablaze, and he frantically calls the police. 

Nikei... doesn't know where to go from there. The two of you cling to each other for dear life, and he's never been more glad to get pig blood smeared all over his suit. It's disgusting, but a reminder that you're safe.

He ultimately decides to take you to Emma's and call the rest of Void, who would protect you like the family you now were. No matter what happens, the woman who called herself your mother would never see you again.

Kizuna Tomori:

Of course you'd be crowned queen, you were her girlfriend after all and you were gorgeous!

She was a bit jealous, but seeing you light up and nearly cry tears of joy made her evening better. She wasn't usually kind to her competition, but she loved you, and seeing you happy made her feel better in ways she couldn't explain. 

Together, you two would rule this dance and wow the crowd! She thought to herself, imagining the two of you dancing together with your bullies dumbfounded. Kizuna grinned and wanted to see the look on those bastards faces.

...But why were they grinning, too?

By the time she saw the bucket, it was already too late. You're crying, and she's cursing them all out. One of the teachers has to forcefully pull her off of the head bully, her nails digging into his skin. She's still seething with rage, flipping them all off as she puts her other hand on your shoulder and leads you out. 

Kizuna wants to comfort you, but she doesn't really know how. She's still angrily muttering to herself in the car, and wants to take you anywhere except your house. She offers for you to spend the night at her place, knowing her mother probably wouldn't mind, but you refuse, telling her that you just wanted to go home in a tone that made her heart ache.

Still slightly shaking, but not nearly as much as you, she hesitantly agrees to take you home.

Your mother hated Kizuna with a passion, and didn't even allow her to enter your house. She was disgusted by your girlfriend’s revealing clothing, and even when you assured her that she was past her man-manipulating behavior, she still forbid you from dating her. 

Now, with Kizuna in a dress more revealing then ever, bringing your blood covered self into the house, your mother was about to attack her, thinking of her as the devil. Before she could lay a hand on your girlfriend, you stood up for her, claiming that none of it was her fault. 

Your mother thought the devil was taking over you, and your girlfriend was nothing but a succubus servant. Kizuna knew your mother was delusional, and refrained from saying it to your face, but when your own mother pulled a knife on you, she screamed bloody murder. 

"WHAT THE FUCK!? GET AWAY FROM Y/N YOU FREAK!"

You take a few slashes for her, and Kizuna grabs your arm and runs away with you for the second time that night. The two of you make it to her car, and she's shaking too much to start it. She can't believe what you much be feeling right now, and she's never been this scared...

She gives you her phone and yells for you to call the police as she drives away, but you're crying too much to do anything. She feels so frustrated... so mad about the way this night turned out.

When the two of you arrive at her house, she pounds on the door in tears, and Kizuna's mother can only look at the two of you in confusion. You were covered in blood, shaking and crying, while Kizuna, still holding onto you, collapses into her mother's arms sobbing for the first time in years.

Even after your mother is arrested, and your clothes have been changed, neither of you can stop crying, still clinging to each other for dear life and praying the other will never let go.

Utsuro:

When you were crowned queen of the dance, he felt more emotions than he had felt in a while...

Why? His luck probably played some part of it, as his luck always made dates with you better, but.... Something about the smile on your face and your genuine excitement made butterflies appear in his stomach 

....Was he smiling too?

For a few moments, it felt like it was just the two of you there, and this world that had only ever used him for his luck seemed just a bit brighter. Utsuro hated parties, crowds, loud music, and attention, but tonight was the happiest he ever saw you, and one of the times he felt... fulfilled.

He didn't expect the prank in the slightest, as his luck should've at least made the bucket completely miss you. He steps back a bit in shock, his first thought being that he hoped you didn't think he willed this to happen.

As your classmates started mocking you, his shock turned to a feeling he could only describe as anger. It was odd.... He didn't usually feel like this towards people, but you and Akane were the only people he had in his life that loved him

He wills for every person who bullied you to get what they deserve. Whether it was getting them expelled from school or getting hit in the head with the bucket they used. 

He flinched when you put your hand on his shoulder, quietly asking if the two of you could leave. Utsuro looked back at the bullies, who were still laughing and high-fiving over ruining your night 

He's never had to take matters into his own hands before, but maybe tonight wouldn't be a bad time to start. He tells you to wait outside before grabbing the glass punch bowl and smashing it over the lead bully's head

His divine luck finally started to take effect when the bully tripped while chasing him, his body tripping his other friends and leading them to fall onto tables and decor. Watching the whole spectacle, Utsuro joined you outside and softly held your hand. 

You leaned on him, putting your head on his shoulder. He was quiet when you cried a bit, and obliged when you asked him to bring you home. He was too occupied with the sudden and strange absence of his divine luck to even remember your terrible mother.

Utsuro didn't want to leave you, as you were one of the best things to happen to him. But your mother? The way she worshipped him triggered some bad memories, but when he went to leave, a gust of wind slammed the door shut, and a terrible storm occurred outside. 

So not only did his divine luck refuse to save his S/o from a cruel prank, it also trapped him inside with his S/o's mother as you went to wash the blood off. 

Great...

He leaned against the wall with his eyes closed, zoning out and just wanting the two of you to leave this night behind you. He didn't know how long he was like that, just wanting to ignore your mother, and somehow use his luck to make tonight better (Cause he had no idea how to do it himself)

Then he heard the screaming. 

It was one of the first times Utsuro felt his heart drop. He started to run up the stairs, but he didn't need to, as you fell down them right in front of him, blood pouring from your back.

"...Y/n...?" 

He put his hand over the wound, looking up to see your mother smiling, bloody knife in hand. Why was this happening? Why did he feel... so scared? 

He hadn't felt this way since he realized the truth behind his own parents... and for this to happen to you tonight of all times. 

You began to crawl, telling him to run. He could only look back down at you, your wound already beginning to heal, and shake his head. Utsuro pulls you up, his shoulder supporting your weight,  pulling you out of the house as your mother tripped down the stairs. 

The entire building was set aflame the moment the two of you stepped out, curtesy of both Utsuro's luck and the dozens of candles littering the house. 

He pulled your sobbing form to himself, still in a form of shock from the whole ordeal.

The two of you sat in front of the wreckage of your former home for a while. What started as one of the best nights either of you had ended in total chaos, Utsuro feeling more in a single night then he felt in years. He held you close.

Neither of you had anywhere to go. He wouldn't usually worry about shelter, but with his luck running haywire, he didn't know what to think. Akane was the only person he could think of for help. 

"Utsuro...I'm so sorry..."

"....Don't be."

"Everything...the dance, my mom..."

He shook his head, "...I'm still here."

#danganronpa another #sdra2 #dra #dra x reader #sdra2 x reader #danganronpa x reader #super danganronpa another 2 #kizuna tomori #hajime makunouchi #emma magorobi #mitsuhiro higa #sdra2 nikei #nikei yomiuri #dra utsuro #utsuro

[lesbianwriter]

Hero couldn’t breathe.

The lashing had stopped a bit ago…an hour? Two? Three? She didn’t know, she didn’t care.

She couldn’t breathe.

That was all she knew in that moment—her throat was tightening, her breaths were staggered and throaty, and each one pained gasp felt as if it would be her last.

It had happened again. Supervillain has found her. And here she was, tied down, wheezing for air, and her old scars shredded open by the same cruel hand that had been the cause of them in the first place.

Panting, Hero tugged blindly at the ropes on the wrists, but it only dug deeper into the tender, pink flesh that burned when she struggled.

She sucked in a hitched breath and trembled.

Supervillain would lash her again and again until she remembered his old teachings; and as much as Hero wanted to be the fearless savior that withstood any horror without flinching…she knew that she wasn’t that type of hero. The only thing she’d ever been good at was pretending, for the public. She was a clown. A liar in makeup and a gaudy grin, when deep down she was a shriveled up creature trying to crawl into the dark for safety. When the torture persisted, she was going to crack.

Everybody would see her spill her guts and not only would she be broken, but she’d be shamed for being fragile enough to shatter at all.

Heroes were supposed to be stronger. Braver.

But her lungs constricted at the mere idea of the next horrible day to come.

When the door opened, she flinched and tried to curl into herself as much as she could manage. She hadn’t expected Supervillain to return so quickly…how long had it been? What more could he possibly do in one day?

“Hey,” Villain whispered, stepping behind Hero. Guardedly, she touched a hand to the injured woman’s shoulder. “You don’t look too good.”

Hero’s whole body trembled.

Her replacement. The person who had been plucked from a field of other promising young agents to be Supervillain’s brand new dazzling starlet after Hero had defected so long ago. But…why was she here?

Revenge? Cruelty? Was she here to rub it into Hero’s face that she had made a mistake when she had ran into the arms of the heroes?

Villain cocked her head, her eyes glittering like jewels in the dim, depressing room. “Hey, I’m not here to…torture you or anything like that. I promise.” She said confidingly, and pulled out a bottle of antiseptic and some gauze bandages. “Though, it might sting.”

Hero gritted her teeth and tried to suppress a whimper as Villain poured antiseptic on her open wounds.

It burned, a fire blazing on her back.

This was the only time that Hero could almost be thankful that her throat closed up and her breath eluded her—at least she wouldn’t further humiliate herself by screaming in front of her replacement.

Villain then wrapped the gauze around Hero’s wounds, the bandages wrapping around her entire back, and secured them firmly.

“There, at least it won’t get infected.” Villain peered at the trembling form, leaning her head down to try to look at Hero’s face. “Are you still coherent?”

“I—yeah…” Hero rasped.

“Hmm.” Villain leaned closer, until they were practically nose-to-nose. Something about her gaze was as intense and mystifying as foamy waves crashing against sharp rocks. “Tell me, what’s so worth it about being a hero? Seems to me like all heroes do is get hurt.”

“Supervillain is a madman—he was going to destroy the world, and I didn’t want to be a part of that.” Her voice was scratchy and dry, the vibrato of her voice ringing against her throat akin to two pieces of sandpaper rubbing together. “Neither should you.”

A tiny snort escaped Villain. “So…you’d rather be the part that gets killed and destroyed rather than the part that survives?”

Hero looked down at the floor.

Of course Supervillain’s new favorite was perfectly okay with being on the side of evil; of course he’d want to make sure that he didn’t repeat his first mistakes by choosing someone he’d have to scar into submission rather than someone that already shared his twisted mind.

Though, she couldn’t argue that she felt stupid when Villain pointed out that heroes side would be the one to eat dirt if—or when—Supervillain succeeded in his plots.

Villain continued to talk. “I’m just curious. Why’d you leave?”

“He…he hurt me.”

“And you don’t get hurt as a hero? There’s thousands of people in the world you can’t save, no matter how hard you try or how much you wish you could, but if you’re a villain then you choose who to hurt and how. At least then, even if you’re still hurting, you still have some degree of power and control.”

Hero panted, glancing warily up at Villain. “Are—are you here to tease me?” She shook her head, sweat rolling down her forehead. “Just…say whatever mean things you wanna say and go.”

Her head hung lower.

Pathetic. That’s what it was.

She should’ve been fighting, but her wrists ached too much to keep trying to break the rope and her back stung too much to keep thrashing. Instead of struggling, she was hoping Villain would strike her with whatever verbal blows she had come here to taunt her with and then leave.

“I’m here because you fascinate me. It took a lot of strength to leave,” Villain stroked the curve of Hero’s shoulder, thoughtfully. “I want to know more about why you did that. What was the push that sent you tumbling into the world of heroism? What made you tick? What inspired you to be a hero, instead of finding a safe house somewhere and staying there, hmm?”

“I…uhm…part of it was a plea deal. I—I didn’t wanna go to prison, so I agreed to serve the community.” Hero looked down at the floor again, watching the beads of sweat that hit the ground.

She shouldn’t even be talking to Villain and she felt ashamed to be lured into responding.

Villain tilted her head. “Do you know how long I’ve been compared to you? I wanted to see how much of that was true, but we’re nothing alike. You’re selfish.”

“And you wouldn’t protect you from Supervillain?” Hero felt Villain’s breath on her face, and her eyes matched the criminal’s with something between awe and fear.

Villain was what she’d wanted to be.

What she still wished she could be, sometimes.

“No, I wouldn’t.” Villain squeezed Hero’s shoulder, her lips brushing Hero’s. “I want to understand you, Hero. I’ll find out everything in the deepest, darkest parts of your psyche. Supervillain has appointed me the honor of retraining you.”

“I can’t…I can’t come back…”

But Hero knew she’d break. Her destiny of being a disgrace was written in the stars and wishing for any other outcome was foolishness.

Villain smiled. “Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle.”

#my writing #hero x villain #heroes and villains #writing snippet #villain x hero #captured hero #captive whumpee #slight injury whump #villain caretaker #sapphic #wlw

[unique-high]

Keep Wanting You | RIIZE ANTON X BLK FEM READER.

summary: why you gotta make me keep wanting you?

theme: ex-lovers in a small town.

loosely based on the song Why Ya Wanna by Jana Kramer. Lyrics are sort of written into the fic.

a/n: I do take requests for RIIZE so yeah. 😭 this is just a little drabble I did it late in the morning because I really love this song and I really wanted to write something for Anton. 🥺 sorry for any mistakes.

You didn't expect for your ex Anton to walk through those diner doors that late August afternoon. So all the gossip around town was true that he was back in town. He's the only person from high school who left this little hometown to chase his big dreams in a big city. He's chatting with some older people who watched him grow up as a kid. You were hoping he didn't notice you, but he does, that little glimpse he gives you while he's talking with someone makes your heart sink to your stomach.

Why did he have to come here, of all places?

Anton walks up to your table. He's smiling and your heart is breaking like the night he left you behind in this town. You want to hide your face, your eyes sting as you try to fight back the tears with a fake smile.

He's wearing an old shirt that you love. A cotton white tee with a black heart sewn into the front pocket. You were never sure why you loved that shirt on him, but you did. Anton sat across from you, his eyes taking you in.

“You're looking good,” he said.

His words felt like a punch to the gut. No hello. No, how you have been. Just you're looking good. It was kind of his way to draw you in a bit to make you trust him again and to get you to think he's leaving was never a big deal.

“Thanks...?” you said softly.

He reached across the table, his index finger tapping three times on the back of your hand. Three little taps coded for ‘I love you’, something you and Anton came up with back in high school.

You slowly drew your hand away.

“It's been a while,” he said.

“Yeah...it has...”

“You never left this place.” There's a bit of regret stuck in his throat.

“Why would I?” Your words are icy. “This place is all I know.”

“Don't you want to see something else outside of our hometown?”

“No... Not really.”

Seeing anything else didn't feel right. That safety of where home would always be kept you nestled in this town. And you never saw why Anton would want to leave a place that felt like a comforting hug after a long day. Or just suddenly leave you for some dream right after graduation. God, you were glad he wasn't here to see those first couple of months when you were a mess behind him.

So seeing him now, just having him sit across from you like everything was fine, slowly opened those wounds that didn't quite heal up enough.

“Is it wrong of me to say I've missed you?” he said.

You look down at your coffee mug. Your reflection staring back at you in the black coffee with a few cubes of sugar in it.

“Do you really?” Your voice creaks on the way up your throat.

Anton doesn't say anything for a moment. Maybe because it was selfish of him to say something like that. Like what right did he have to you now?

“Yeah. Mainly you're one reason I'm back here,” he said.

Him saying that caused you physical pain.

Was I really? Your red nails tapped at the side of the coffee mug. It would be a lie if you said you didn't miss him. If you didn't think about him all these years later. If you hadn't checked his Instagram a billion times to see if he had moved on. Just flings here and there, but nothing serious. The girls in the city could never compare to the one small-town girl that he still loved.

So he fucked up by leaving you.

“Anton, don't say something you don't mean.” You pleaded. “Don't okay?”

You look up from your coffee.

“I mean it though.” He said. “I mean it with every heartbeat.”

The corners of your mouth pull down and your eyes water. You grabbed a napkin from the middle of the table and dabbed at your eyes, trying not to ruin your makeup.

“I need to go.” You said.

Because things were getting too real. If he said anything else, you would have maybe done the one thing you said you'd never do, which was forgive him.

You slid out of the booth and so did Anton. You placed a couple of dollars on the table for your coffee. Anton follows you out of the diner. You stopped walking.

“Don't follow me–” It's the way he moved in for a hug that caught you off guard.

What was he thinking? You let it happen. You deep down you wanted it though. It's a shame almost you craved his hug. How you melt against his body, how his arms tighten around your shoulders, your face in his chest smelling him. You were coming unglued.

It's sad how you wanted him again to go back to the familiarities of his love like he never broke your heart when he said goodbye. And God, how you wished he had been cold towards you like any ex would. But that wasn't him.

You needed to push him away. You needed to yell at him that this wasn't fair—that he doesn't get to do this to you. Hell, you can't bring yourself to do any of it. It felt so right with him right now.

#kpop fanfic #kpop x black reader #riize anton x blk fem reader #riize anton x reader #riize anton imagine #riize anton scenario #riize anton x woc #riize anton fanfic #riize fanfic #kpop drabbles #riize anton drabble #riize drabble #kpop x ambw #kpop x reader #kpop x black fem reader

[obriengf]

Hello 21 : with Joel please 🤩🤩

get cute with meet-ugly blurbs - requests open! 21: "I didn’t know my ex moved so you find me sitting on the floor in front of your apartment door"

UNEXPECTED STRANGER

You could feel the mascara drying; and slight irritation to your skin as the previously running liquid itched over your cheekbones. It was uncomfortable, but not as much as the ache cultivating in your tailbone as you sat cross-legged on the cold floor, your knees pulled under your chin and arms secured for dear life as they clung around them. It was hard to control the trembling in your fist after minutes of banging against a door that housed temporary emptiness, and a lack of specific presence that you had come searching for in the first place. Instead, the fist was tucked against your curled frame as exhaustion devoured you, and thoughts from all regions ran aimlessly in your mind. Regret began to take up occupancy in the pit of your gut - it was stupid impulse that led you to this door, and the recognition had just started to come to light. But you were too defeated to move. He had worn you down, and he wasn't even here. Echoes of rubber soles clapped as they climbed the close stairwell, the sound reverberating its way toward you at the end of the fourth-floor hallway. It caused your ears to perk, but the lack of motivation to even raise your head kept you in a stiffened position until you heard a voice. "Uh... can I help you?"

It was a voice unknown, writhed with confusion and uncertainty, complemented with hidden notes of worry. It prompted you to jump despite knowing that those rubber soles were only mere feet in front of you now. It was slow as you raised your head; your body sinking in as if you'd been scolded, even though you were simply asked a question of unsureness.

You were met with doe eyes of brown, large as they widened in shock at your flustered face and smudged makeup. You sniffled once as your eyebrow furrowed, head tilting to the side, "What?"

The man before you shuffled in discomfort, his hand pulling at the bag strap that guarded his right shoulder as he hiked it back up. It was his turn to stare with furrowed brows and even more perplexity, "I - You're blocking my door. Why..." The man began, clearing his throat as he tried to compose a sentence that didn't consist of agitation, but failed, "What do you want?"

"Your door - ?"

"What - Yes, yes my door. You're blocking it, and I want to get inside. Can you just move?" He was growing impatient as he huffed, his tone blunt and precise. You glanced around the empty space surrounding you both, trying to decipher if you got the apartment number wrong. No, you thought. You instantly recognised that overgrown pot plant in front of the apartment two doors down, and the annoying flickering bulb of the fourth downlight. You were in the right place, but something was off.

Your lips pursed as a rouse to stop them from quivering, an uneasy feeling settling within you, "Doesn't Tim Baxter live here?"

The man barely chuckled in disbelief under his breath as his head shook, chocolate mops of hair swaying with him. He bit the inside of his cheek, "Uh no, I live here. Have been for about a week and a half now. Got no idea who that guy is. Sorry."

Your chest panged as if a wound had reopened, pieces of your puzzle falling into place and connecting the dots that you didn't want to see coming. A week and a half. It was about the time he stopped answering your calls. After attempts at trying to speak to him, you gave up a losing battle and decided to take on the dragon face-to-face. But he had fled. All traces were wiped, and the treasure that the dragon was in possession of would never be recovered by you.

You willed the tears to stay still - too many had been shed over your heartbreak already today, and he didn't deserve any more. You nodded slightly as you pushed yourself to stand, legs wobbly from your cramped seated position and you swayed apprehensively. A hand reached out to find even the smallest surface to support bowing stability, but it was the mystery man who managed to hold you upright as one hand carefully grasped your bicep, and the other pressed just above your waist.

The man hummed, concern intertwining with his words as he gave you a respective once-over, "How long have you been sitting out here?"

You could hardly recall. Your body and mind were overtaken by anger for the previous tenant, checking the time was the last thing on your to-do list. Considerations began to flow, and you took a much-needed deep breath to rejuvenate your crushed lungs.

"A couple of hours." Your response was quiet and embarrassed, but the man just gave a tight-lipped smile as if he was milking every ounce of sympathy that he could muster. Pathetic could be used to describe how you found yourself here, or you could easily settle for silly, probably even piteous and just call it a day. You huffed out a laugh with an absence of hilarity, "This is so stupid, I'm sorry. My ex lived here, and he had something important to me, and the bastard would never pick up his damn phone and I -"

"Hey... hey, it's okay." Soothing tones brought you back down from a rambling tongue, seconds away from disclosing information that a stranger certainly didn't need to hear. Fingers flexed against your frame and it was oddly appeasing to your exaggerated facility, despite the owner absentmindedly performing it.

It was epitomised tunnel vision the moment you peered at him; he absorbed your focus like a sponge to water, his eyes much warmer up close as they swirled with caramelised hues and harmonised with the sweetest of genuine smiles. Your heart began to thump again and you begged that he couldn't hear how much this proximity was affecting you.

"I'm so sorry for... this. You must think I'm a fucking mess." You sighed. With small retreating steps, you returned to a proper stance and only left behind a hand thrown in his direction. You licked quickly at your drying lips, "I'm Y/N, by the way."

He seemed pleased with your approach at an old-fashioned introduction as he allowed his hand to slip into yours, applying slight pressure as he shook it, "Joel."

Joel didn't use to take risks. He was placid, somewhat content with how things went. He kept a routine more out of convenience than want. And yet, here he was standing in front of a girl who looked broken, considering offering kindness to make her feel even the littlest bit better. He was familiar with the ache that lived in hearts and turned souls into dreary heaps; lost loves and exes that caused feelings of insignificance. But when he looked at you, he saw redemption and light begging to break through the darkness bestowed upon you.

"Do you... you can totally say no, by the way, but I was you know, thinking... I was gonna order like Chinese take out or something... and put on a movie, or whatever... if you have nowhere to be - "

"Are you inviting me inside?" You cut through his tangent with a hint of amusement, head tipping to the left as your lips ghosted a curl at the corners.

His eyes remained glued to you, even through his ability to slip in his keys and unlock the door by touch alone. Joel bit his bottom lip as a sparkle settled in his gaze, "It depends, have you ever killed someone before?"

"What? No! Of course not!" Your exclaim was loud before it was muffled by your hand, its purpose to keep in the laughter that followed with utter joyousness. "Why would you ask that?"

Joel couldn't hold back his smile as it graced this now friendly scene, its intention to recapture happiness. His teeth were on display as the button of his nose scrunched, complementing small creases beside his eyes, "I'd like to know beforehand just who I'm letting into my apartment."

"Uh-huh, and what if I had? As if anyone would actually admit to that." Playing along was easy as if these battles had been fought before, a comfortable settle between strangers.

"I like giving people the benefit of the doubt, okay?"

His laugh sealed the deal. It was as if you didn't need to question any authenticity, that Joel, your accidental run-in, had already become a safety net in the few minutes since you had known him. That fate was something that existed.

Joel turned around as he nearly made his way through the door, his hand keeping the heavy wood open for you. His eyebrow raised, "So, you coming, or what?"

#dylan o'brien x reader #joel dawson #joel dawson x reader #dylan o'brien #joel dawson imagine #dylan o'brien imagine #meetugly blurbs

[bloodyknucklesforme]

❝  i’m staying.  end of discussion.  you gotta learn to let people take care of you.  ❞ with Simon "I-dont-need-anyone Ghost" Riley for the sleeping prompts pls 🥺

Tags: blood, fluff, mentions of sex

He was normally quiet coming in this late. He struggled with the key so much you thought at first it was a drunken neighbour trying to get in the wrong flat. He stumbled in eventually. Kicked off boots hitting the door of the hall closet.

He was making so much fucking noise even as he collapsed on top of you crushing your lips with his. The mask had been discarded in the hallway with the boots.

"Need you. Right now." He growled. There was something off. The arm by your head was shaking under his weight. His breathing was heavy.

"Simon..." You put both hands on his chest and pushed him back. "Stop."

He closed his eyes and sighed. His shirt was wet. You pressed against the fabric and he winced.

"Are you bleeding?" You sat up, grabbing your phone and turning on the flashlight. His grey shirt had a wet red stain towards the side of his ribs. "Simon, what the fuck?"

He gave you an angry look and pushed himself off the bed, tripping over his own feet.

"I'm not dealing with this right now," He grumbled. He looked towards the door.

"You're not leaving." You snapped. You got out of bed and turned on a light. He was pale, well paler. "Bathroom now!"

You had to grab his arm and pull him back. It wasn't hard. He almost fell on top of you. You guided him back towards your bathroom and planted him on the toilet.

He pushed your hands away as you went to take off his shirt.

"I'm fine!" He barked. It was the most coherent he sounded all night. "I don't need your fucking help."

"Was your plan to just bleed out while inside me then?" You couldn't overpower him but you wouldn't let him leave without a fight. "Let me look."

You forced his shirt up, taking the excess and pulling it over his face.

"I don't want to look at you right now." You watched his fists clench. It might have been mean.

It was mean.

He wasn't about to ruin your bed linens though. He had stitches, shitty in-the-field stitches, between two of his ribs. Two had ripped open.

You dug your first aid kit out from under the sink. He moved his shirt back down and saw you grab a bottle of disinfectant.

"I'm leaving. I'll call you tomorrow." He stood up and you pushed him right back down.

"You're staying. End of discussion. You have to learn to let people take care of you." You gathered up the disinfectant and bandages. "Did you do these yourself? They look like shite."

"I don't need-"

"Shut the fuck up or you're never fucking me again." You pointed a pair of bandage scissors at him. He huffed angrily but he stayed seated.

"You held my guts in my stomach, let me help you just once," You said softly. "Have you taken anything for the pain?"

"No." He groaned as you cleaned the blood from around his wound.

"So it's just blood loss making you act stupid." You rolled your eyes. He chuckled and followed it up with a wince.

You weren't a medic. You'd honestly received less than great training but you could take care of him. He just needed to let you do it.

You cleaned his wound and wrapped the bandages around his chest. He was lucky you had large ones.

"Please go to hospital tomorrow and get real stitches. I can't believe they let you leave with those."

"What they don't know." He shrugged.

"You're a twat sometimes. Really, you are." He was too nonchalant about the whole thing. It pissed you off. "Why would you come here like this?"

"Didn't realize I'd torn em."

"Do you get extra horny when you're bleeding or did you just want to piss me off one last time before dying."

"If this had killed me think I would have been more pissed than you." He looked at you with tired eyes. The stains from his makeup only exacerbated the dark undereyes. He never slept enough even with you. He was always up before you no matter how many rounds he went or how exhausted he was. "Was thinking about you all week. Blood loss mighta got to me. Just wanted to see you."

He reached out to brush his fingers against your thigh. You were washing the blood from your hands. You wouldn't dare to say you understood him or what went out in either skull of his. You just knew he left most things unsaid and let his eyes or hands explain. You stepped sideways so he could touch you, leaning his head against your waist.

"Thank you. Sorry if I bled everywhere."

"You were very good at keeping it contained but it better not be on the walls outside. If it is, you're cleaning it."

"Fair deal."

"Come on, let's get you to bed." You pulled him up to his feet and let him lean against you. You dropped him on his usual side of the bed and helped him get under the covers.

You fetched him water and over-the-counter painkillers. He left them sitting but drank down the water. You made sure he was comfortable before getting back in bed.

He laid his hand on your thigh, coasting it upwards. You pushed it away.

"Not tonight. I'm not dealing with more torn stitches."

"Who said I would tear more?"

"I've been underneath you before. I know how you are."

He laughed before cursing.

"Goodnight Simon."

"Goodnight, love."

He was still asleep when you woke up the next morning. Despite the pain, there was a content smile playing at the edges of his lips.

#tumblr fucking froze the first time I tried to post this #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost #ghost x agent!reader #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare 2

[christinebloodwrittings]

Something exactly like this

Pairing: Hobie Brown x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Cursing, police brutality.

Words: 1401

Chapter 2: Have a good one, punk.

Taglist: @lavnderluv @xoxobabe

I got up early, walked to the nearest police station and practically impose that they brought the police officer that hit me without a reason. I managed to get to his superior, explained the situation, placed the evidence and the badge number I memorized. He apologized for the inconvenient, but he refused to make justice on the officer, though I wasn't expecting him to, really, I'm not that naive. I just wanted to be in peace with it.

A good night sleep and two days off work worked like a charm! Due to the bullet wound I couldn't move very swiftly, so I sent my boss photos when it was fresh and bleeding so he would leave me alone for a while, blood makes him sick, talk about an opportunity well taken.

The cut was closed but it still hurt a lot, not enough for me to complain much about it, but if I looked too much at it or stepped too harshly, boy it stung.

"Welcome to Shot's, what can I get you?" I tried to keep myself as calm as I could, but every word that came out of my mouth seemed to catch on fire in the air.

"Y/n dearie, you seem...pissed" my manager approached me attempting a soothing attitude, "Just a bad couple of days, sir, I'll try to swallow it" he shook his head, "With that wound, even I would be in an awful mood, just try to take it as easy as you can, and would you call Jess? She's late again" I sighed, she's an usual at being late, so it was normal for her to send me a message with a lame excuse, all because she fell asleep or her boyfriend is banging her.

"Sorry sorry, so so sorry Y/n" she rushed through the back entrance, collided against the counter, and attempted to hug me but I stepped away, "I heard the manager say you were injured in the raid, I'm sorry honey" That's all she had to say?

"Busy" I whispered and continued pouring coffee for an old lady, when I was finished she corned me at the restocking, "But how are ya'? How did it go with Hobie?" She had the face of a puppy after given it a treat, "You mean after you fucking bailed on me and left me alone? Been better, but what do you mean?" She was stunned, "Wait you guys seriously didn't do shit? That was the whole meaning of the setup!" I was flabbergasted, not precisely anger, but I felt lied to and inclined to punch her in the face.

"The what?" I asked and she immediately regret her words, "Well I thought you could use a boyfriend, and what more cool than someone completely opposite from you?" I wanted to slap the ton of makeup off of her face.

"You mean you wanted me to date an anarchist, crazy enough to go to a raid, who puts his life in danger over the cause every day, fucked up, probably drug user, punk?" In all honesty, he didn't look half as bad, but still not the point.

"Fact number one, everything right but he doesn't do drugs" at least that's a point to his favor, "And two, yes he's a punk, but a kind hearted one, I've known him for a long while now, gotta trust my gut" Now she was going to get the slap for sure.

"Either way, I'm not that desperate, if I wanted to find a guy, I would've already done it" internal slay because it was true, but I was too much of a package to handle.

"You should consider hanging out with Hobie, you two would make a hell of a match" I sighed, she was insisting far too much, "Not intrested, and you're overselling it" thank whatever in existence the manager appeared, "Y/n dear, when you can, I need those boxes to the back, just put them by the trash can" I nodded.

A last glance to Jess's sorry face made me ease my temper, at least she didn't do it with bad intentions, she's just a horrible matchmaker.

I dropped the boxes by accident. When trying to take them all without bending the knee, some ended up further away from my reach, and to top it off my shoe slipped and my bandaged knee hit the concrete. By sheer luck I avoided screaming in pain, my pulse went down to the injured area.

"Need help?" I looked up and it's no other than Spiderpunk, upside down, while holding one of the boxes that went away, "Stalking much?" I smiled, "What is it with you and greetings? Hey there Spider-Punk, how's it hangin'?" He left the box with the others and stretched his hand for me to take.

"Literally hanging, it seems" I sassed him back while standing up, luckly he was so strong. "Now where is it?" He inclined his head towards mine, "What are you talking about?" I scoffed, taking a second to think, and then it hit me. "Well, I saved you from hard work" this man should be a comedian, "Bullshit, but nice try" he snaped his fingers like when a cartoon couldn't do something, "Worth it".

"But you know? It's true, how are you, punk?" I swear I could sense his smile, "Good, how's the leg?" I shrugged, "It would hurt if I tried to kick someone's ass, so you got away, for now" I got closer, just to tease him out, but it backfired, "I would love, to see you try lil' darling".

He was so close I could feel his breath coming out of the mask. I laughed, maybe because he was way more sassy than I anticipated, or embarrassment. The sound of angry customers brought my atention to the door, and I knew it was time to go.

"Have a nice day, punk" I walked a few steps away when he somehow got landed and got enough seconds to grab my hand, "Thought we could chat or somethin', but luck forbid we have a decent encounter right?" He snickered, "Some of us have actual jobs, ya know?" I noticed, he wasn't letting go, but me neither.

"Then" he got closer, his chest inches from me "Some other time?" His fingers got a better grip of my hand, not quite tight, but firm.

"I leave at eight, and curfew starts at ten, you work it around those hours" at ten precisely, the police start the patroll, and they shoot or grab whatever that moves that isn't uniformed.

"Fuck curfew, pigs can suck my arse" I honesty believed him, "Sure, but I won't risk a beating and getting myself violated in the slammer, not all of us have super powers to get away" and all that trouble for his deviant ass? Maybe...

"Yeah, so can I stop at yours?" Why his grip got tighter? And why he's so warm?! Help. I'll be the envy of the groupies that love this guy, like Jess.

But will it be too much of a risk?

"Don't know if I should let an anarchist, the number one enemy of police and the government, inside my house" also wouldn't like to find out what would they do to me if they catch me with such a celebrity.

"I'll bring some crisps then" oh well, what the hell then.

"I'll leave my window open" where did that even come form, that came out way more flirty than intended! Fuck!

I tried to get away but he still had my hand, "You still owe me a kiss" is he serious?

"I don't think I was in certain death just now"

"Does it have to?" He asks. I mean does it have to be certain death? Hope not.

"You act as if you needed it" he got closer, was that even posible? "Jus' like to settle that debt" he placed his hand on a safe area of my waist, putting no pressure into it.

I hunmed and let go of his hand, "Then I'll keep owing you" reaching for the door I heard him ask, "Why's that?" I smiled, already on the other side of the door.

"So you keep it as an excuse" And what an exit, I was actually so proud of myself, but my embarrassment got over me and my face started to heat up.

Damn that masked man!

#hobie brown smut #hobie brown #hobie x y/n #hobie brown x you #hobie x you #hobie x reader #hobie my beloved #spiderman #spider man: across the spider verse

[hexpea]

Ch. 5 - Date

"I see," Seiko muttered, looking down at their phone as the two of you talked in the kitchenette of your hotel room. They leaned on the island counter as you broke the bad news to them. It was as if they were hiding their face in their phone as some kind of security blanket, you could tell they felt tense about the situation.

"I'm sorry, Seiko," you apologized for the hundredth time. "I really wanted to go with you tonight. We'll go tomorrow, I promise," you took a step toward them and lightly grabbed their wrists to gain their attention. You gave your doe eyes apologetically as if that could make up for the fact that you were choosing your, albeit fake, ex-husband over your current fiancé. "We at least still have this afternoon to do what we want."

"Right," they sighed and looked up at you from their phone, "besides, it's what we came here for. Once this is over we can enjoy the rest of our vacation and go home. And get our marriage license." 

You gave a little, eager nod. "Yes, I promise, after this is done it'll be me and you for the rest of the time. With our own marriage to look forward to." You understood where they were coming from, being left alone in a strange city so that your fiancée could visit her ex-husband, it couldn't have been easy.

The two of you wound up walking around Akihabara for the afternoon, perusing all of the anime and manga merchandise. It was a real treat for Seiko who was a big fan of the stuff. You felt a little bit better having treated them to a good time in place of that evening's trip to the tower. It was just another irksome thing about Gojo that you had to deal with. Once it was over, it'd be over. You promised yourself.

When the two of you returned from your venture your phone buzzed with an unknown number's text. Almost time! It read. You knew it had to be Gojo, but to keep your number all this time? 

How did you get this number? You texted back quickly as Seiko continued walking into the hotel room. You remained standing in the doorway to read your texts as the weighted door to your room slammed itself shut. Seiko looked back at you and sighed before proceeding to turn on the television and sit down. 

I kept it, silly! Gojo responded. You could almost hear his sticky-sweet tone as if he was saying this in the room with you. You felt your heart jump a bit at the thought but quickly shivered to shake it off. Make sure you dress nice, I made reservations! Of course, he did; at this point you knew each move he'd make. If it wasn't extravagant, he wouldn't have it. It was just in his nature. 

You sighed to yourself angrily, meaning that the one dress you brought just in case you went on a romantic dinner with Seiko would have to be used on Gojo. 

"I have to get ready," you let the rest of your sigh out as you spoke up to Seiko. If you didn't start then, you wouldn't be ready in time for the reservation. 

You had retreated to the bedroom to get dressed and freshen up your makeup. You were about to finish putting on your mascara when you heard a knock at the door.

"Seiko? Can you get that please?" You politely shouted out to the living area while your mind raced.

Seiko wordlessly got up and meandered to the door, their jaw clenched in anticipation. They had a gut feeling this visit wouldn't be pleasant. With a sigh, they opened the door and were immediately surprised.

They weren't sure what to expect out of looks from your ex-husband. They knew that he had immense power but had no idea of his appearance. Upon first glance, they quietly ground their jaw as they greeted Gojo at the door. He was dressed in a slim, black suit tailored to the sculpting of his muscles, a tie hidden beneath the one button on his jacket. He held his hands behind his back, a black blindfold adorning his face. Seiko couldn't help but feel the stirrings of jealousy and insecurity. The smile Gojo gave simply oozed fiendish charisma that directly got beneath their skin.

"You must be Gojo," Seiko answered with a flat expression, their voice tinged with a hint of jealousy, looking a bit up at him. They didn't quite match the height of the 190cm sorcerer, which only added to their feeling of inadequacy. It was safe to say that Seiko could feel the competition brewing.

"The one and only," Gojo grinned, remaining at the door to wait for you. Seiko got an immediate read out of him, the cocky and self-indulged attitude was ever-present as if he could hide it. "And you must be Y/N's mysterious new fiancé."

With Gojo's teeth flashed their way, a wave of jealousy and worry washed over Seiko. But they'd never tell. "Yep, you can just call me Seiko..." they responded awkwardly, "...and I'm the one and only of...that." 

Gojo blankly stared at Seiko, smile still on his face fully aware of the awkward situation. His smirk began to grow wider, and his voice took on a more taunting tone. "It's quite a surprise you managed to catch someone like Y/N. I always thought she had a taste for power." Gojo was making this up to get under Seiko's skin.

Seiko's fists clenched at his insinuation, his words striking a nerve. "She has a taste for people who actually care about her," Seiko shot back, their voice laced with tension. 

Gojo's chuckle was dripping with condescension. "Oh, I'm sure she's found quite the protector in you," he sneered playfully, his gaze locked on Seiko with a menacing intensity -- though it couldn't be seen behind that blindfold of his.

Tension continued to mount until it became unbearable. In a fit of jealousy and anger, Seiko suddenly swung a punch at Gojo. However, Seiko's fist stopped inches from his face, the space around him warping and distorting. Seiko's eyes widened in disbelief as his clenched fist quivered, unable to comprehend how it had been halted so abruptly. 

Gojo, with a supremely cocky and patronizing grin, leaned in closer to Seiko's frozen fist, his eyes locked onto Seiko's bewildered expression. "Oh, Seiko, did you miss that much?" He jeered, his voice dripping with arrogance, "why don't you try that again?"

Before the tension could escalate any further, you walked into the room. As you entered, a pair of dropped jaws to greet you. You wore a tight-fitting dress with matching heels strapped at your ankle. You were slightly bent over adjusting the buckle of one of those shoes when you finished greeting them.

"Right, well, I'm ready," you quickly interrupted and walked toward the pair. "What on earth are you doing? Both of you?" You looked between the two who seemed otherworldly tense. 

"Y/N," Gojo greeted, quickly changing his demeanor, revealing what was in his hands and walking slightly into the room. He held a voluptuous bouquet of red roses with baby's breath scattered between, their sweet, floral aroma hitting your nose right away. "Looking beautiful just as I remember," he teased with no regard to your fiancé. 

Seiko's face turned slightly red, something within them brewing as you gave a single awkward giggle and took the flowers from him. "You really shouldn't have," you insisted a bit aggressively, speaking through your teeth. What a dick move, you thought.

You took a second to find a drink pitcher from one of the kitchen cabinets and filled it with water as the two behind you continued to stare each other down. Gojo's face was, of course, pleasant with no hint of a threat detected in his expression. Seiko was the complete and utter opposite, which you could see. You wanted to get him out of the room as quickly as possible to give Seiko a somewhat peaceful night.

"Let's get going," you began to shoo Gojo back out the door. He turned and listened, waiting out in the hallway to watch as you pecked Seiko goodnight. His lip impatiently quivered as you said your goodbye, but he knew better to keep his mouth shut than say some kind of savvy, antihero pick-up line to steal your attention. 

You and Gojo left your hotel room behind, making your way to the elevator in a somewhat uneasy silence. The atmosphere was still thick with unresolved tension from the awkward encounter between your former and current partner.

While waiting for the elevator to arrive, Gojo didn't hesitate to steal glimpses of you in your dress, making sure to swallow down each of your curves beneath the contouring fabric. His eyes, though bright, easily hid behind his blindfold. The dress complimented you so well, not to mention your expertise in applying makeup. It was something he admired about you, your steady hands always making you come away looking like the most exquisite piece of living art. He didn't appreciate it enough back when you were still his, as if your relationship then had any sort of romantic nature to it. His mouth had gone a bit dry from staring and only just noticed it once the elevator had dinged, signaling its arrival. He quietly licked his lips and followed you in, making sure to let you lead the way.

Once inside, Gojo hit the button for the ground floor and the two of you began to descend in silence. 

He leaned against the wall of the elevator, his blindfold tight against his eyes, making it hard to read his expressions. You continued staring at him out of the corner of your eye. Had his jaw always been that chiseled? Was he always that tall or had he gotten taller? Is that...his cologne making you weak? Did the color black always suit him? Were you really having these thoughts right now?

"Don't worry," Gojo caught you staring from behind the fabric of the blindfold. "I'll make sure this whole 'play pretend' is a good time," he smirked as if this was some kind of a game.

"If you try anything..." you grumbled, cheeks turning pink as you looked away.

"Just play your part, sweetheart,...and I'll play my part, too," he flirtatiously pulled down his blindfold a bit, enough to expose his eyes as he tilted his head down to you. 

"Ugh," you scoffed as the elevator doors opened. You stepped out first, making sure to keep a distance from the lanky yet muscular individual behind you. 

"After you," he chuckled playfully before following, his flirty aura trailing after him, leaving you flustered.

The two of you made it through the revolving door of your hotel and into the cool air of the city night. 

"Right here," Gojo motioned toward a familiar vehicle. 

You recalled once seeing it in his father's collection -- a creamy white, 1968 Mazda Cosmo. The two-seater had quite the curvy body, as many classic cars did, with bright, silver handles and distant side-view mirrors. It was illuminated brightly from the hotel's entrance.

Gojo didn't hesitate to take a step ahead of you in order to open your door. His hand sneakily made its way around your waist to help guide you down into the low vehicle. You felt heat rise from your hip where he touched travel all the way to your face. His lingering touch left behind a burning sensation as you sat down in the aged leather seat.

"Watch your head," he smoothly and quietly cautioned in a husky voice, shutting the door soundly once you were inside. 

He meandered over to the driver's side as you put your seat belt on. He held his hand against his stomach to prevent his tie from suddenly flying out of its spot before sitting down.  "We're headed to a certain spot at the center of town," he lowly chuckled as he turned the key in the ignition. 

"Oh no," you mumbled to yourself and looked out your window. You wanted desperately to place your hand on your forehead to hide your face but knew better than to mess with your still setting look.

You knew exactly where he was taking you. It was the same restaurant where the two of you held your 'arranged' engagement party. You understood it to be one of the most expensive restaurants in the city, nothing to pricey for the Gojo clan. You were twenty years old at that point and you had gotten a bit too tipsy, proclaiming your vigorous love for the desserts there. It made nearly everyone in the party room stare directly at you in silence. Easily enough to say, you were mortified. Clearly, Gojo remembered and was making a 'whole thing' out of it. 

Gojo had peeled away from the hotel smoothly, tuning the radio to some vague jazz station as he did so. You couldn't help but feel a sense of déjà vu, as if you were being transported back to a time when the two of you were 'still' married. 

In the early days, the two of you had attempted to 'date' to see if there were any real feelings that could be developed -- going on many a drive to various locations Gojo thought would be romantic. It was unsuccessful, at least to how the two of you displayed yourselves to one another. The two of you had amicably decided to see other people if ever in need of 'fun' instead of trying for something that just wasn't coming naturally. You never took advantage of the openness, it just didn't interest you as you continued your career. Gojo, on the other hand, didn't hesitate to bring other partners to bed when he felt pent up enough to need release. You didn't want to say it pestered you, but you couldn't find any other way to describe it. Something about it felt like a betrayal.

"You know," Gojo suddenly spoke, his voice still playful and bubbly, "I've missed this. Just you and me, going out for a night on the town." 

You were taken aback by his tone. He seemed to be entirely genuine but considering his usual antics, you weren't sure if he were actually teasing you. Looking over at him, something about his smile gave you a sense of vulnerability, ultimately causing you to decide that he was being real in regard to your relationship for once. 

"The 'good old days,'" you casually chuckled, feeling yourself blush. The time you were attempting to find love with one another was admittedly the most fun you had in a while, it gave you a warm feeling to remember. 

He chuckled back with a crooked grin and tightened the grip he had on the ribbed steering wheel, "yeah, something like that." 

As the car carried you to the restaurant, you couldn't help the heavy, conflicted feeling deep within your chest. The memories of your past with Gojo were still so vivid and you hadn't realized that until that very moment. Spending time with him had brought such a rush of emotion, especially when you suddenly remembered Seiko and his furious expression. It was as if you were caught between the past and present, and you had no idea where this evening would lead you. 

#gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #satoru gojou x reader #gojo satoru x you #satoru gojo x you #gojou satoru x you #satoru gojou x you #gojo satoru x y/n #satoru gojo x y/n #gojou satoru x y/n #satoru gojou x y/n #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #gojou satoru #satoru gojou

[silentwillowwhisperer]

We were robbed of this

Guys Keith and Allura are besties. I hate that they only had an interaction when dream works needed her to create racial drama for him. And once they make up, they go back to being distant.

———————-

Does Keith have a random collection of art supplies hidden in his closet?

Nope.

He goes to Allura’s room instead. Thanks to their shared experiences and mutual feelings of unbelonging, they’re actually best friends. (Shiro and Coran are family, so don’t worry, they aren’t being replaced.)

Allura practices hairdos and makeup on Keith while he puts her untouched art supplies to use and spills his guts to her. It’s a win-win, Keith gets things off his chest that he can’t say to anyone else, and Allura gets all the gossip.And, of course Allura shares a bit, but she finds it easier to listen to others and find comfort in that.

Which is why she feels horrible betrayal crawling through her gut when Shiro and Keith got to the Marmora base and won’t tell her anything anymore.

She knows it’s because he’s worried that he’ll crack and gush everything to her ( can never keep secrets from the princess) but she doesn’t understand what could be so bad that he doesn’t want to get advice from her.

It feels like she’s losing him.

She finds out that he is half Galra and explodes internally. Not only had she told the enemy her darkest secrets, but she actually valued him.

It had to be a mistake, or maybe Keith is even faking it to cover up something else.

But the deep hurt that floods his eyes any time she looks at him is very clearly genuine.

She’s never seen him looks so wounded. Wait, yes she has. He looks like this when he talks about his dad running into a flaming building and leaving him behind forever without a second thought.

And Keith has been getting more stressed without a creative outlet as well, and the whole team notices the tension when Keith makes it past level 183 on the training simulator.

Lance has gotten more protective and it is common to see him with an arm around Keith protectively and sending Allura loathing looks.

Keith and Allura make up when she realizes how crappy she’s been but doesn’t know how to apologize as sincerely as he deserves.

She takes her chance after Keith announces to the team that he and Lance are are officially dating. Allura had known about Keith’s crush for a long time now, longer than Shiro.

Allura slides up to Keith during dinner.

“So. You did it. Make sure you hang on to him, he seems like a good one.”

As the resident lesbian of the castle, Allura does not understand the men she is surrounded by, but Keith is the only one willing to indulge in ‘girl time.’

When Keith only raises an eyebrow at her sudden interest in him, she starts blabbing apologies.

“I’ll never be able to make it up to you, you deserved absolutely none of my crap, but ple-“

She’s cut off by Keith hugging her. One thing about Keith is that his surprisingly small frame makes him great for hugging. He almost seems delicate like this.

His voice wobbles when he speaks, which drives a stake through Allura’s heart.

“It’s alright. I just missed my alien twin bestie. You’ve already done so much more for me than you think.”

Lance has clearly gotten to him, but Allura ignores that. She’s just happy to have her friend back.

(His weird habit of mimicking other people’s behaviors just comes was part of him.)

————————-

I think platonic love is SO important.

Side note: Someone said the word delicate to my art teacher today, and THIS QUEEN starts singing the song, and agh I started singing it too, and I love her so much, she SLAYS.

#allura #vld #voltron legendary defender #keith kogane #voltron #klance #keith vld #vld keith #allura vld #allura voltron #tawny post