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roadkill-frankenstein · 2 years

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Pokemon Victorious Sword and Triumphant Shield

Chapter 4 - Into the Wild

Full Story Here!

"So what were we going to do before I got lost with Tot?" The trio of trainers had finally left the Slumbering Weald, Hop firmly closing the gate behind them as Harley talked to Ace.

"I was going to take you down to meet your friends after I gave you your present, but it looks like Hop was already one step ahead of me." Ace shot a lighthearted glare at the professor, who snickered in response.

Harley wiggled off of Urshifu's shoulder, catching Pippa in the process. She was still so heavy, how?! They put her back in their bag, zipping it up enough so they wouldn't lose their stuff.

The new trainer didn't have any time to speak, though, because the champion had shoved a rectangular gift into their arms. It was wrapped in paper decorated with tiny Pikachu, with a gaudy blue ribbon that stood out quite a lot.

"I know you're a big fan of all the gym leaders…" Ace started, folding their hands behind their back with a cheeky grin. "So I pulled some strings."

Underneath the paper was a slick black binder, with Harley's name written neatly on the top. When they opened it, inside was a clear divider used to hold cards - and every pocket was filled with each Gym Leader (and Ace's) rare league cards, all autographed.

Harley was already thrilled, but then they flipped the divider to see what was beneath it. It was page full of personalized little notes from the gym leaders, his idols, wishing him well or giving him advice for his journey.

"No way… I thought Helen didn't even have league cards yet!" Harley lit up, looking up at Ace with awe.

"She just got hers printed last week. This is one from the first batch - every league member got one, as a little thank-you from her for being so helpful while she adjusted." Ace explained casually.

"Ace, this is amazing!! Thank you!" Harley felt like their legs had become jelly, otherwise they would've tackled their sibling.

"Not done yet - check the pocket." Ace gestured, and Harley found what they were referring to. An envelope sealed with wax, addressed to Harley themselves. "That, my friend, is an endorsement."

"You got me an endorsement? I get to participate in the gym challenge?" Harley might just pass out, they're not so sure they're steady anymore. Ace ruffled their hair with a broad grin.

"Yep. I want you to have the same journey I did when I was a kid. You can't miss out!" Ace crossed their arms proudly. "After all, it's my job to make sure everyone has a champion time!"

"You sound like Lee," Hop rolled his eyes, jabbing Ace with his elbow.

"Hey, he had some good points!" Ace laughed in return, punching Hop's shoulder. Harley hugged the binder to their chest, before finally remembering that they had the capability of speech.

"Ace!! Thanks so much!! I-I, uh, promise I won't let you down!" They assured him, fumbling to keep the binder shut.

"I know you won't, Harley." Ace's eyes glittered. "Let's head down to the station, I'm sure Owen and Lydia are getting impatient out in Hammerlocke."

"Right, yeah! Thanks for your help, professor!" Harley beamed at Hop, who shook his head in response.

"No worries, mate. I'll make sure Tot is all patched up and I'll take her home. Stay safe." Hop waved as Harley galloped off down the road, but he and Ace remained in place.

They were silent, staring into the forest. The dark trees juxtaposed against the bright, cloudless sky, like a creeping darkness into an endless light. How long had it been, a decade?

"Are you sure they'll be alright?" Ace asked in a hushed tone, hands in their pockets.

"I don't know." Hop replied, eyes turning down to his feet. "This potentially new Pokemon sounds… unfavorable. I'm not sure how to go about researching this."

"Well, when you do figure it out… tell me. I'll help in any way I can."

"I know you will, mate. We've been friends for long enough." The two young adults laughed quietly to himself, Ace giving Hop a final pat on the shoulder before leaving.

Pippa sat on the table between Harley and Ace as they rode the train, Harley watching the world go by through the windows. Their entire life had changed in just one day, and they were so unbelievably eager.

Harley hummed a little tune as they pet Pippa's head, kicking their feet amiably. Ace tutted, rapping their fingers on the table.

"Watch out for my legs, Harley."

"Oh, right. Sorry." Harley chuckled, leaning back in their seat. Pippa rolled into their lap, snoring loud enough to make a few others glance over. "This is so exciting!!"

"I would hope so, heh. You know, it wouldn't be a bad idea to take a quick walk through the wild area… Maybe you can catch your first Pokemon." Ace thought aloud.

"But I already caught Pippa." Harley glanced down at the slumbering slowpoke.

"She doesn't count, she was your starter! I mean get down and rough with a wild pokemon, catch them and add them to your team!" Ace stood up a little, leaning forward with stars in their eyes.

"Sounds cool, but… I don't want Pippa to get hurt." Harley frowned, but Ace shook their head.

"You don't need to worry about that, Harley. I'm stocked up with full restores all the time, she'll be okay! Plus, she's a resilient girl - when we first found you, she tried to fight us." Ace teased.

"She did?"

"Oh, yeah. Hit poor Hop right in the face with a Confusion! Luckily it didn't hurt him too bad, just knocked his glasses off."

"Oh, man, I have to apologize to him later." Harley felt a little guilty, giving Pippa a little poke. "You especially, miss. That was rude."

"Sloooow." Pippa grumbled sleepily, feeling absolutely no shame.

"Now arriving at Wild Area Station." A man said over the loudspeakers, and Ace stood up.

"Care for a bit of a walk?"

Now, Harley normally would've said no. But the idea of adventure sounded too appealing to miss out on. They sighed, grabbing their phone.

"Let me text Lydia and Owen to tell them we'll be late."

"Great!" And Ace happily went off with them, Pippa relaxing in their bag with her head poking out.

They'd been through the Wild Area a few times, but they'd never seen it so close before. They'd always been on the train. Harley supposed Ace could see the wonder on their face, because the Champion snickered.

"Well? Definitely worth it, yeah?"

"Definitely." Harley jogged a little bit ahead of Ace, taking in the entire wilderness as much as they could. It was huge, and chock full of Pokemon. From what Harley heard, the climate here seemed to change daily. It was fascinating.

The duo were greeted by a rustle in the grass, and both snapped to attention in unison.

"Let's meet your first Pokemon, then." Ace crouched down, pressing an empty PokeBall into Harley's hands. The younger trainer copied the gesture, nearly tumbling over thanks to the heavy Slowpoke in their backpack. "Move slowly. If you want, you can whistle to get its attention and then battle it."

Harley watched as a small fox Pokemon, one they recognized as a nickit, emerged from the grass nearby, sniffing around the roots of a berry tree. They whistled loudly, enough to spook a Rookidee and send it fluttering away…

But the Nickit didn't even flinch, digging at the roots frantically. It was certainly small for one of its kind, but Harley thought nickit were supposed to have good hearing.

"That's… odd," Ace admitted, gently nudging Harley forward. "Maybe try again?"

"I don't think it can hear me." Harley whispered, shaking their head. "Its ears didn't even move when the Rookidee flew. Nickit are supposed to have great hearing…"

"Maybe we should try - hey, what are you doing?" Ace hissed to their younger sibling as Harley moved closer, taking the pack of Lumoise galettes out of their bag and slowly approaching the Nickit.

It seemed to spot them out of the corner of its eye, jumping and backing up against the tree. It puffed out its tail and growled at them, baring tiny pointed fangs.

Harley raised a hand in an attempt to show surrender, opening the pack with the other and gently pushing one of the cookies towards the nickit. They pointed towards it, and then stepped back.

The Pokemon took a cautious step forward as Harley backed up, picking up the cookie and retreating back towards the tree before chowing down. As it ate, Harley looked it over - it was skinny, even for a nickit, and was covered in old scratches and injuries that had healed over.

As it finished eating, Harley offered it another. This time it took it right out of their hand, nipping at their fingers to eat. Harley didn't mind, at least happy it didn't perceive them as dangerous any more.

They tapped the ground in front of the Nickit, and it looked up at them. They set a PokeBall in front of it, gently tapping the top of it. An offer they hoped was clear enough… they only had one thought, and that was making sure this Pokemon was safe.

Not being able to hear was… well, it couldn't be easy.

The Nickit looked down at the PokeBall, then up at them. They could see the little gears turning in its head, before it tenderly pressed its nose against the button.

Beep…

Click!

Harley caught Nickit! They scooped up the PokeBall and proudly showed it to their sibling, who stared at them in awe.

"...Heh. Guess I was smart to endorse you." Ace stood up, brushing grass off their knees. "I'm impressed it trusted you so quickly."

"I think he was just looking for safety," Harley said. "And I want to make sure he's safe, and I'll train him to be strong."

"Smart." Ace patted them firmly on the back. "Let's get down to Hammerlocke, I'm not known for being late."

"Right." Harley slid the PokeBall into their bag, Pippa chattering excitedly at the prospect of a new friend. "Last one there's a rotton exeggcute!"

And the duo sprinted off, cacophonous laughter bouncing off the trees.

#nintendo #pokemon #pokemon sword and shield #pokemon victorious sword and triumphant shield #fanfic

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thegirlfromwky · 4 months

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Salvation -Pt.1- (Kenny McCormick x OC)

Not having friends never really bothered Sam, but when her mother calls with some bad news, she realizes how lonely she really is...

!!!(TW: Neglect, Mommy issues, Strong language)!!!

(NOTE: Characters are aged up to be seniors in high school! This is based on a Sims 4 save I've been playing!)

🤎💚❤️🧡🤎💚❤️🧡🤎💚❤️🧡🤎💚❤️🧡

Sam jumped out of her seat and slung her backpack over her shoulder, rushing out of the small classroom as soon as the bell dismissed her.

It was Friday afternoon, and while most students were rushing to exit the school, Sam speed-walked further into it. The sound of her peers making weekend plans with their cliques faded into the background of her mind as she only thought of one thing...

The new series of books in the library. They were brand new, having just been purchased by the school. They probably even still had that new book smell!

As the thoughts of fresh, crisp pages and a quiet night in under the light of a reading lamp filled her brain, she was suddenly sent tumbling onto her ass after walking right into something.

"Ow...fuck" she cursed, scrambling to pick up her backpack and the textbooks she was carrying.

"Hey, watch- Oh shit, it's a girl. You okay..?" a voice asked above her. She looked up, surprised. She hadn't even considered that the thing she had run into was a person; she assumed it was a wall or something.

Instead, a boy with messy golden blonde hair and concerned blue eyes peered down at her. He wore an orange hoodie and baggy ripped jeans with black sneakers. Sam felt herself blush, realizing she was staring.

But...he was staring too. His wide eyes searching hers for any sign of pain or anger. Just then, he held out his hand to her, offering to help her up. And with an embarrassed gulp, she took it, placing her smaller hand gently in his. It's warm and his flushed skin is softer than she would have assumed.

For the first time ever, she is self-conscious about her chipping red nail polish.

As gently as possible, he pulls her to her feet and she brushes the dirt from her black pleated skirt. The boy hurriedly bends down and picks up her things, handing them to her.

"So, um...you in a hurry or something?" he asked, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Her face warmed up all over again.

Fuck.

'I can't tell this guy I'm hurrying to pick up a book! I'll sound like a loser!'

"U-Um I was just on my way to my locker. Trying to get the hell out of here...heh..."

He smiled an amused and undeniably handsome smile, his eyes sparkling like sunlight on the ocean.

"Yeah, I feel that. Uh, I'm Kenny, by the way..."

"Sam..." she replied with a nod, holding her books against her chest.

"Kenny! Hurry up, asshole! We're playing Xbox at Kyle's!" a voice called. Sam glanced behind Kenny to see it belonged to a chunky, slightly shorter boy in a red coat. Two other boys were standing with him, their backpacks slung over their shoulders. A guy with a green hat is glaring at the one who yelled, and another with a brown coat is looking at his phone, not even paying attention.

"Coming, fatass..." Kenny grumbled, quiet enough that the other guy apparently did not hear him, before turning back to Sam.

"Hey, um, I gotta go but..." he began, pulling a scrap piece of paper from her binder and a pen from his pocket and scribbling something down quickly.

"Text me sometime...okay?" he finished, winking and shoving the pen back in his pocket before hurrying over to his friends. The chunky guy gave Sam a weird look as they all walked away towards the exit, but she didn't even notice. She was too consumed by what had just happened, and too busy staring at the messy black ink scrawled on her notes.

A phone number...a boy's phone number. A cute boy.

Carefully, she took the page and folded it up, placing it in a zip pocket of her backpack so she wouldn't lose it. With a cursory glance around, she snuck off to the library.

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

Later that evening, after indulging in a few chapters of her new book, she sat at her desk, her notes and textbooks spread out in front of her. As her eyes trailed down the pages of notes, doing their best to transplant the information into her brain, she stopped suddenly. Under one of her bullet points was the black ink Kenny had scrawled on the page. The number.

She tried to get on with her studies and read past it, but found herself lingering on it, imagining what she would say if she were to text him. The thought filled her with anxiety. She never texted people first. In fact, she hardly ever texted people period. But there was no way around it; she had to. He couldn't exactly make the first move without knowing her number in return.

She took a deep breath and, with all the courage she could muster, grabbed her phone from her desk drawer.

She opened the texting app, determined to send the first message before she lost her nerve, when suddenly the screen lit up on it's own.

'Mom' it read, vibrating in her hand.

"Mom? At this hour?" she mumbled, tapping the button to accept the call.

"Samantha? It's mom...how are you?"

A mother's voice is something that should be comforting. It should make you feel safe and happy, especially if your mother happens to almost never be at home. But hearing her mom over the phone made Sam feel...nothing, really. She cared for her mother, but honestly, she couldn't remember the last time she had even seen her. Her mother didn't know her...she didn't even know her daughter hated being called by her full first name.

"Hey, mom. I'm fine, just doing some homework..."

"Good! That's good honey...so you're doing well in school, then? High marks?"

"Straight A's, just like always"

"My smart girl. I'm proud of you, Samantha"

That should have made her happy. It didn't.

An awkward silence filled the air for a few beats before her mother cleared her throat and spoke again.

"Er, pumpkin, I...may have some bad news"

"Okay?"

She sighed.

"Work is going to take longer than expected, and...I won't be home for Christmas this year, sweetheart"

As indifferent as Sam was about her mother, she did feel her heart drop a little at this. Her mom had always made sure to be home for Christmas, making peppermint hot chocolate for them and bearing gifts from different states and countries. That was the one thing they had together. Their one tradition.

"Oh."

"Oh, Sammy, I'm so sorry! I would get away and come home if I could but there is just no way this year! I promise we will do hot chocolate and presents the second I come home in January, though!"

She hated 'Sammy' almost as much as her actual name.

"Okay..."

"I-If you get lonely, grandma can always fly in to spend Christmas with you! Should I call-"

"N-No, mom. No, it's fine. I'm okay. I promise..." she said, a little too quickly to be convincing. Her mother was silent for a long moment.

"I'm going to send extra money the week of Christmas. Get yourself whatever you want, sweetie"

Suddenly, there was a stern male voice in the background.

"O-Oh, um, yes sir. Be right there...Samantha, my break is over but...I will try my best to call again soon, okay? Promise. I love you..."

"Love you too, mom"

The call ended, and Sam was left in the heavy silence of her bedroom, dark except for the lamp on her desk. When the call screen went away, the blank text box popped back up. Mocking her, she felt.

She clicked off her phone and plugged it in for the night. She'd lost the nerve to send that text.

🤎💚❤️🧡🤎💚❤️🧡🤎💚❤️🧡🤎💚❤️🧡

Ello! I've only recently gotten into South Park and this is my first time writing a fic for it. Hope it's not too ooc!

#south park #sp kenny #south park fic #south park fanfiction #kenny mccormick #butters stotch #eric cartman #stan marsh #kyle broflovski #south park kenny #kenny x oc

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raybyanothername · 1 year

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Sloan's Rosary: Chapter Six

In the morning I ordered groceries to be delivered and unpacked my bedroom. Clothes, books, sheets, toiletries – it wasn’t much really, most of my life was in my office, in file boxes and flash drives. That was where I started next.

I had a meeting with my new editor in the afternoon and I wanted to be prepared. Writing was work for me, my livelihood. So I kept everything organized – every idea, every wayward scene or character description, it all went somewhere. Even the stuff that didn’t pertain to the book I was working on.

Binders full of outlines and character trees took up half the shelf space alone.

I put up my whiteboards – one with a monthly schedule full of personal deadlines and another ready to hold an outline for the book I would work on next.

The book I would be handing over today was inside a manila envelope along with a flash drive holding the digital copy. I set it aside, on top of the first box that I opened, and started putting things away.

I didn’t turn on my music this time – my head was still pounding with a migraine. And I was tired. The music could put me to sleep, being late for my first meeting with my new editor was far from appealing.

So I kept working, color coding, and alphabetizing until I had no choice but to start getting ready. I had a fresh planner I ordered off of Amazon. I grabbed it and the envelope with my manuscript to stuff into my bag before heading out the door.

I stopped, my hand on the doorknob. Dropping my bag I rushed back to my office to grab the rosary that was hanging from my corkboard. I stuffed it into my pocket and successfully left my apartment this time.

“Meow.” The calico cat was lounging on the railing in front of my door. She jumped down as I turned to lock the door, startling me when I turned around.

“What are you doing, Nolana?” I watched the cat weave through my legs. Her fur was soft against my bare ankles. She settled in front of my door. I knelt down to pet her again. She purred softly, but remained stoically in her spot.

“I guess I’m not the only one who thinks you need to be looked after,” Sloan wasn’t laughing like I would have thought she would. Her voice was serious, concerned.

I wanted to respond, I really did, but it was accurate. Sloan had been the one who made sure I ate when I went on writing binges. She forced me into bed when I tried to push at the boundaries of healthy sleeping habits. Sloan had been looking after me for years. This was my first attempt to do it myself.

“Yeah,” I said aloud, unsure what I was confirming or who I was talking to. I walked down the stairs and then a few blocks to the small café Jordan had agreed to meet me at. The meeting was at 3. I arrived early to fill in my planner with details about deadlines and write a few notes for things we needed to discuss.

The café was quaint with a few round tables, one of which I sat at, and it smelled fondly of apple pie. The pale red color that was dominant made me think of the little country diner Sloan and I always ate at on our way back to Rose Meadow from Houston.

In my pocket the rosary beads rested heavily. I pulled them out and ran my thumb over each pearl methodically as I waited for Jordan to arrive.

“He’s here,” Sloan’s whisper jolted my attention just as an obnoxiously loud motorcycle pulled in at what I was positive was an unsafe speed. I checked my watch – 3:15. The rosary sunk back into my pocket.

The rider took off his helmet to reveal a black man with short braids that hung above his ears. He certainly looked like Danny and Terrence Cohen – same facial features, just softer. He was younger than I expected. And taller. That annoyed me a little.

“Just because you’re a midget, doesn’t mean you can hate on the vertically inclined,” Sloan, who was also tall, defended him. Whatever.

Jordan recognized me and walked up, taking off aviators and smiling, “Sarah Michaels?” I nodded and he stuck out his hand to shake, “Jordan Cohen.”

“I assumed,” I shook his hand and soon he was sitting opposite me. I took in his appearance in greater detail now. Hazel eyes, long lashes. Danny had blue, Terrence brown. His smile came naturally and easily. Clean teeth. Straight. He took care of himself.

Sloan began to whisper, creeping up from the back of my mind, “He’s a hot guy, not a character to analyze, check him out like a normal person.” She sounded impatient.

“Sorry I’m late,” Jordan said as he pulled a notepad out of his messenger bag, “It’s a bad habit of mine.” It took a moment for the words to register. My eyes went wide.

I haven’t been late since I was six. Jenny Smith’s birthday party. I tripped rushing through the door and fell right into the cake.

“You’re late all the time?” He looked up and laughed at my gaping mouth.

Jordan shrugged, “Everyone has their flaws. This is one of mine.” I shook my head, having a hard time imagining being late.

“You’re going to give yourself an anxiety attack,” Sloan snapped and I stopped thinking about it instantly. She wasn’t wrong. Tardiness, disorganization. It all made me nervous. Difficult to focus.

“Sorry,” I bit my lip. Jordan smiled, waving it off like I was talking to him rather than the voice of my best friend in my head. “What would you like to discuss first?” I asked him, trying my best to smile.

Jordan shrugged, another bad habit of his, “Anywhere’s fine. Kiely said you have a book ready for me to look at?”

“Yes,” I nodded, pulling out the envelope from my bag, “This is a paper copy. I prefer to edit from that, but I included a copy on a thumb drive a well.

He took it without further question and stuck it in his own bag. I adjusted my glasses. Neither of us spoke for a moment. Kiely had said Jordan was new at this.

“I’ll have the first draft of another done in a few weeks, “I offered up, fidgeting in my seat, “And I have two more that are coming along quickly.”

“Wow,” Jordan smiled again, “You work quick then.” I nodded, not mentioning just why that was so. “I should have this one looked over in a week or two,” Jordan continued. I flipped a few pages in my planner to where I had listed out my current progress.

I intended to list it off for him, but he leaned across the table instead. I stiffened at the close proximity, but relaxed quickly when I saw his eyes flitting across the page. He could read upside down. Useful skill.

“FD-TNR12DS-458. 1D-IP-TNR12DS-322. O-IP-E470. OD-F-E340.” He listed out the first four lines of my code and then looked up at me, “Final draft, 458 pages double spaced? 322 page on the next one?”

“If he can read the next two I might actually be impressed,” Sloan would have been smirking I knew, if I could see her.

I laughed, “Right. What about the others?” I was curious. The only one I’d ever explained my short hand to was Sloan. Kiely didn’t even know it and she’d been my point of contact at Cohen Publishing for over four years.

Jordan knew a challenge when he saw one. His smile quirked, “Outline in progress, you’re estimating around 470 pages for the book. Outline draft, finished, estimating 340.” I nodded, “I pass the test?”

“Not a test,” I told him as he sunk back into his chair, “Just curious. Most people don’t bother to learn my shorthand.” He shrugged again. Definitely a bad habit.

A shiver ran up my spine, causing goosebumps. I looked up. My eyes were drawn over Jordan’s shoulder. There was Sloan. Standing there. Misty. It was like looking at her through a foggy window, but she was there. Smirking.

I almost broke out into a wide grin, but Jordan said something. No idea what, but it drew me back to the conversation. When I looked back up Sloan was gone. I frowned.

Jordan could tell something was off with Sarah Michaels. Her attention had seemed perpetually split. And her tight schedule for finishing books was a little worrisome if you asked him.

Not that anyone did. His father probably loved her for her factory like output.

He could tell by looking at her something was wrong though. On the back of her books and in the pictures he’d seen from book signings on google Sarah had lustrous blond hair and expressive brown eyes. He’d only seen dark circles and split ends.

It could have been from moving. She’d only been in town a day or so. But there was simply no spark behind her eyes. Something he was certain was meant to be there.

Jordan pondered to himself when he should call Kiely to ask as he climbed the steps to his second-story studio. His cat was suspiciously absent when he opened the door, but his mind was consumed with the problem at hand.

He maneuvered through the mess with ease - dodging forgotten shoes, stacks of books, and piles of laundry by memory. He grabbed his glass from his desk by the front door and moved to the kitchen.

“Danny might answer the phone though,” Jordon frowned as he opened his fridge to grab the lemonade, “And then he’ll want to talk to me.” A short gagging sound later and Jordon was plopping on his bed on the opposite side of the small apartment. The idea of calling struck from the board.

He sat up to pull his laptop closer and turned it on. He vaguely recalled some videos from the google search he’d done a few days ago. They could hold clues. Pulling up the search he quickly found the videos in question, all posted by a user named JessieBelle.

“Film student turned documentarian,” Jordan said aloud as he looked over the profile of one Jessie Hall, formerly of Austin, Texas. Her thesis had followed the lives of four graduate students – MFA student Sarah Michaels, 2nd year law student Ginevra Li, MBA student Ann Trent, and 1st year medical student Jane Trent. It was an odd group based on the description.

The videos were all gathered in a playlist, neatly labeled The Ladies in the Library. Jordon clicked play on the first video and watched.

A barely there drawl introduced the video, “Welcome to Texas. It’s time for you to meet the Ladies of the Library – the studious group of girls that save lives of idiots like me on a daily basis with their intimate knowledge of the campus libraries.”

The screen moved across a shelf of books. The labels on the sides clearly marked them as library books. When the shelf ended the focus shifted to the side of the shelf across from it – a poster with University of Texas Libraries in the upper corner listed out the catalogue numbers and their general locations.

‘Ladies of the Library: A Series by Jessie Hall’ looped across the screen in curly letters.

The screen shifted and brunette with braids and bright eyes smiled at the camera, “Don’t let them intimidate you, they’re just cranky from lack of sleep.” She winked at the camera.

The video weaved through the tall shelves of books before it stopped at a group of desks, well-hidden in a corner of windows with tomes the size of skulls covering the desks in shaky towers.

“Meet Ginny, reading her extremely over-sized book,” the camera focused on a tall girl scrunched into an armchair. She had slanted eyes of grey that looked up briefly from the book in her lap to meet the camera before returning. Her hair was black, tied neatly in a bun, “We shan’t bother her right now for fear she may throw it at us.” The eyes moved up again to meet the camera in a scowl.

The camera turned to focus on two women sitting across from each other at one of the tables. The blond had curly hair and large breasts that reminded Jordan of a stereotypical beauty queen. The other was a brunette with a braid that came over her shoulder and disappeared from view beneath the table.

“This here is Ann and Janey.” The blonde was Ann, the brunette Janey according to the lettering that appeared beneath them on screen. They both looked up to reveal matching smiles and intelligent eyes. Both circled black with exhaustion. Sisters. “They’re our resident twins, identical, though you wouldn’t be able to tell from the dye job.”

Janey flipped the camera off, “Being blonde in Texas? No thank you!” Ann only laughed at her sister. The camera turned once more. This time focusing on a woman hunched over a laptop sitting on the ground, nestled into the floor-level window ledge.

It was Sarah. Jordan recognized her before the girl introduced her or the letters on screen could spell out her name. Sarah didn’t look up from the laptop when introduced. She did grab a book a few moments later from a stack nearby that she flipped through for all of two seconds before returning her focus to the screen.

Her hair was longer, tied up in a ponytail with strands hanging out that went down to her shoulders. The glasses were different. Her eyes were focused, her body tense. It reminded Jordan of a tiger he saw on the discovery channel right before it pounced. A cliché, but an accurate one.

The video kept going, eventually interviewing each girl as to why she was studying what she was. Ginny was the child of immigrants who wanted to work in the Justice Department. Ann and Janey had grown up in foster care – Ann wanted to own a business, Janey wanted to help kids as a pediatrician. Next was Sarah.

“So, why get an MFA? You’ve already published a book right?” Jessie asked from her spot sitting across from Sarah at a table. They were outside now. A food court if Jordan had to guess.

Sarah took a sip from her soda, “I’ve published three so far, but publishing has nothing to do with it.” The covers of her three books appeared, with hyperlinks he had no doubt, on the bottom of the video. They’d all gone through Cohen Publishing. “For me, it’s about the craft,” and there it was, the passion. Her eyes were lit up like a Christmas tree, “I’ve been writing since I could hold a pencil. I owe it to myself to become the best one I can be.”

“And that’s why you’re getting the degree?” Jessie reiterated, Sarah nodded, “OK then. Can you describe what it’s like to write a book, the process, the feelings?”

Sarah squinted down at the table, biting her lip, “Like floating.” Jessie prodded her more, “Writing is like… like finding yourself in a constantly changing watercolor. Half the time I’m barely aware that I’m the one with the paint. It’s like a whole other world.”

It was a nice metaphor. Jordan could see the sincerity in her smile and her eyes. She seemed like a happy person. She’d put out two books a year while in school from what Jordan had researched. Three every year after that.

Jordan pulled the manuscript she’d given him earlier that day. This was the third one for the year. It would hit stores in January if it kept to the regular timeline. A fourth would be ready in another few weeks? That was fast, even for her.

“Another world,” Jordan repeated Sarah’s words to himself as the first video came to an end, “That’s a nice way to escape this one.”

I spent the next couple of weeks on a strict schedule. It was the best way to avoid the complicated emotions that came over me when I stopped. I could almost pretend I was still home in Houston with Sloan’s voice and face popping up all the time. I could almost pretend she wasn’t gone.

At five every morning I went for a jog. It kept my legs from locking up on me later. Breakfast and shower at six so that by seven I was sitting at my desk writing. Twelve hours later I got up, ate something, and went to bed. I never had to think, so I never had to analyze. Even my groceries, a standing order, were delivered at the same time every week.

Two months went by like that. My only contact with people the signing of a receipt for the delivery guy. I ignored phone calls, wrote emails to Jordan with updates on my progress.

My mind was full of women named after flowers, men with dark eyes and wicked smiles. I was in Victorian England, French Africa, New Orleans. I was not in Nevada or Texas. I was not alone.

As I was walking towards my office wondering about the epilogue for my book a light flashed – the hallway light’s bulb going out – and I was back in that car. Headlights coming straight at me. Sloan screaming in my ear. I fell. I tugged on the carpet, willing myself back into the present.

“Head up,” Sloan’s voice as angry as she quoted my favorite movie, “Charge the mountain!” I sobbed into the hallway floor, doubled over in pain. It felt like my head was splitting.

I screamed. “Stop it!” The image of Sloan, with blood bubbling out of her mouth like rabies, invaded my head. Her body spasmed. The blood sprayed my face – wet, like my tears. The carpet felt more like gravel digging into my skin.

The street. I was on the street. Sloan was still in the car. I screamed again, reaching for her. Her eyes were glassy, lifeless, as they stared back at me. I pulled on restraints, against hands holding me down. I sobbed harder.

“Meow,” the sound of a cat mewling, of scratching drew me out of my head. I sat on the floor, fingers in the carpet and tears in my eyes for several minutes. I tried to catch my breath. “Meow.” I heard it again and looked towards my front door. The scratching noise.

I crawled towards the door. I was still trembling. I didn’t even think to check the window before I pulled open the door. It was Nolana. She sat there, unmoving and calm. I wiped at my face and she stalked closer to me. She took residence in my lap.

Soft fur, her head pushing at my chin. I wrapped my arms around the warm feline. My breathing finally calmed. I felt the cold sensation of a hand run over my shoulder. Sloan. I closed my eyes. I smiled.

“I’m always with you, Sarah,” her voice was like my favorite song playing on repeat, “Always.” A breeze came over me, pushing through my hair like fingertips, “I promise.”

-.-.-

Chapter Seven is up on my patreon and will be public January 13th. You can also support me over on ko-fi.

#ray writes #original fiction #horror #ghost story #sloan's rosary #horror stories #ghost stories

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shannonsthetic · 4 years

Photo

Some calc notes and some fun guys ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓₓ˚. ୭ ˚˚.˚○˚ .˚ₓ

I just stopped taking notes in calc after the first term. I literally learned nothing from my teacher, and I just spent class playing games. I realized my time was better spent studying with my tutor instead.

#sarah drew those mushrooms #i have a pocket in my binder filled with all the notes that her and spencer passed me during class #notes #study #studyblr #studyspo #study inspo #study inspiration #stationary #notes inspo #notes insiration

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taechaos · 3 years

Text

A Parting Gift

Continuation of Blackmail from Textbook Love

pairing: bully!Jungkook x nerdy!fem!Reader

genre: drabble, smut, college au

synopsis: "He told me he would leak your video if you don’t give him a handjob."

warnings: deception/manipulation, dubcon, handjob, spit, slight angst

word count: 2.4k

tag: @mwitsmejk

a/n: jungkook is a bit cruel in this 😖 a flop.

Every time you think about Jimin seeing you in your most vulnerable state, you want to cry, gag, vomit, but all you can do is look down and walk away from his direction in a hurry. Jungkook told you to avoid him, and it’s the easiest option for you right now, but you wish you could tell him it was an accident. If he doesn’t see you, he’ll forget it quicker and save you the embarrassment.

It’s been three days since the incident, and it’s Monday as you clutch your binder to your chest while walking to your afternoon lecture. The coast is clear when you scurry down the halls, the lightning dim due to the gloomy weather outside. It’s going to rain soon, but you got off easy by arriving early. The campus is not crowded yet, just as you expected before coming. Chances of seeing Jimin are supposed to be lowered in this instance, but the boy really can’t take a hint.

You hear him holler your name from a distance in the corridor, and you quicken your steps anxiously. You’re internally begging for him to leave you alone, to forget you exist, just to not approach you. The chants don’t matter when he gently holds your shoulder a few seconds later. You screw your eyes shut the moment you’re turned around, hoping he would just go away and spare the shame.

“Hey,” he exhales, out of breath from his short sprint to you. “Why were you ignoring me just now?”

“I didn’t hear you,” you lie and open your eyes. Jimin frowns.

“That’s not true,” he mumbles, “I was pretty loud and you don’t even have earphones in.”

You don’t say anything and grimace at the floor instead, avoiding his gaze for as long as you can. You’re not a good liar, and Jimin realizes that all too quickly. He continues quietly, “Is this about the… video?”

“It was an accident!” you blurt out with flushed cheeks, “J-Jungkook was going to send it to himself, but…”

She’s so dense, Jimin thinks in astonishment. “He told you that?” He knows it was on purpose; Jungkook was sending him a message beyond the media: that he stands no chance; that you belong to him. He was telling him to back off, but Jimin is more strong-willed than that.

“Yes… please forget about that video.” You avert your gaze to him pleadingly.

“I’m not judging you, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he tries to comfort, “but are you sure it wasn’t intentional?”

Both of you miss Jungkook exiting the lecture hall when you respond. His brows furrow the moment he notices the interaction, but his vision is blocked by other students leaving. He shoves a few as he watches you from afar, your back facing him and Jimin’s expression angering him with its doubtful look. Why the fuck is he still talking to her? He fumes in his spot until you turn back on your path to attend your lecture. You glance at him mid-way and all of your worries vanish the moment you lock eyes. You are taken aback by his glare as he waves you off and stalks up to Jimin who is just idly standing by without moving.

He only breaks out of his trance when Jungkook grabs him by his collar. “I’m guessing you didn’t hear what she said,” he refers to the video with a subtle snarl.

“Heard it loud and clear,” Jimin retaliates obnoxiously. The halls are emptying itself out, and he grows a bit more nervous when he realizes that he’s alone.

“Are you fucking dense? Why are you still following her around like a fucking creep?” He’s greeted with silence, and another possibility dawns on him. A cheshire grin crosses his features as he scoffs, “Oh, you liked it, didn’t you?”

Jimin blinks, dumbfounded, but doesn’t respond. He’s harshly shoved and the back of his head bangs against the wall, echoing in the otherwise silent area. An oomf escapes his mouth at the force, but Jungkook isn’t apologetic.

“You jacked off to it, Jimin?” he closes in on the suffering man who only stares at him. “Answer me.”

“N-No, I wouldn’t-” He’s cut off by the stinging pain on his scalp.

Jungkook yanks his hair back without mercy, and sings, “Stuttering, avoiding eye contact, taking too long to respond… all signs of lying, no?”

“You’re hurting me,” Jimin holds onto his wrist with both hands as he groans. Jungkook only tugs on it harder.

“I’ll let go if you answer me honestly.”

Jimin knows that Jungkook is waiting for one specific answer; it is obvious by the sick glint in his eyes. Alas, he tries again, “I-I didn’t do that!”

A deep sigh leaves his mouth with an eye roll, and he brings his free hand to wrap his fingers around Jimin’s neck. He doesn’t put any pressure on him yet, and Jimin is helpless because of the weight pressing against his legs to prevent him from kicking. “Pity,” he mutters, “I never took you for a pervert and a liar.”

The air leaves Jimin’s lungs all too soon when Jungkook tightens his grip on his throat, crushing his windpipes without so much as an expression on his face. Jimin claws at his arm as he wheezes, and Jungkook doesn’t react in the slightest; he looks psychopathic. “Yes,” he finally croaks, “I did.”

He coughs the moment Jungkook removes his hands from him. He bends on his knees as he catches his breath, and the deadly man waits patiently. “You did what?”

“I-I… I jacked off to it,” he swallows audibly.

“Jacked off to what? Your sex life doesn’t interest me.”

“I jacked off to the video of you fingering… her.” Jimin is once again reminded of how cruel Jungkook is, and all he wants is for you to realize that before it’s too late. But he isn’t any better when he is admitting the truth of his wrongful actions.

“Christ…” he trails and shakes his head. He’s feigning disgust, but it works in making Jimin feel worse. “I bet you’d pay to watch it live.”

“Jungkook, please,” he begs hoarsely, his throat dry and scratchy from the suffocation, “stop this. You don’t even love her.”

“Jimin,” he says monotonously, “count yourself lucky that I don’t have any scissors on me, because I’d cut your tongue off right about now. Your voice gives me a headache,” he sighs, “meet me in the lounge at 4.”

You’re worried and twitching on the edge of your seat during your lecture. Conversing with Jimin was awkward, and him telling you Jungkook had lied to you was infuriating, but it shifted to anxiety when Jungkook appeared upset with you. Why do you always do things wrong?

Dwelling on your feelings is not an option when you have to focus on your professor, and you’re overwhelmed with so many things at once. Your exams; Jungkook’s assignments; Jimin’s persistence are all taking a toll on you. You don’t hesitate to escape reality when your phone vibrates in your pocket. It’s a message from Jungkook and your heart fills with relief as you open it under the desk. It reads:

come straight to the lounge after your lecture.

He’s been interacting with you outside of academical topics, and it feels like you’ve hit a milestone. It’s progress at its finest! He’s waiting for you. Time passes too slow for you, and you eagerly take notes to distract yourself; it works, and you’re out of the hall in a rush.

Students are packing up their belongings just as you stride into the lounge. Jungkook is sitting at the far back, and you almost miss his figure. He’s scrolling through his phone when you reach him and your shallow breaths make him look up.

“Hi,” you breathe and place your sling bag on the coffee table. The room is spacious and the couches are wide and comfortable. You sit down next to him, your leg touching his spread one.

“Hey baby,” he greets with a smile. You internally scream at the rare pet name, unaware that he’s intentionally riling you up. “How was your lecture?”

“It was good! I missed you so much,” you lean into him, “I didn’t upset you earlier, did I?”

“Of course not, princess. I missed you too,” he palms your cheek before pecking the tip of your nose. “Oh, and Jimin will be joining us today.”

You don’t get to relish in Jungkook’s affection long before your eyes widen. “What? Why?”

“I spoke to him earlier today, and well…” he sighs guiltily, “He told me he would leak your video if you don’t give him a handjob. And I agreed on my terms.”

Your lips part as hatred consumes you. Jungkook knows you would do it, and he knows you’ll hold a grudge. And Jimin… well, he’ll definitely have this experience to keep him satisfied for a while.

Said man stands before the both of you timidly. You’re still in shock when you avert your gaze to him. Jungkook is unexpectedly friendly as he stands up and says, “Jimin! Take a seat.” Jimin sits in his former seat wordlessly as Jungkook plops on the loveseat across. “I don’t think we should drag this out longer than it needs to be.” He juts his chin at you, “Start.”

Jimin is perplexed when you hide your face from him as you unbuckle his belt. “Wh-What are you doing?” he asks, but doesn’t stop you.

Before you can respond, Jungkook says, “She knows.” You and Jimin have two different interpretations of his words, and he is baffled by your reaction to it. You’re going to pleasure him because of what he did? Or is this all an attempt at cutting his dick off?

Your upper body covers your actions from any outsiders, but Jimin is worried he won’t be able to stay quiet when your hand massages his crotch over his briefs. It’s a wet dream come true, really, as he involuntarily inches closer to you. Jungkook leans his cheek on his palm as he watches you in boredom. “Take it out,” he instructs you. You don’t glance at Jimin as you push down his underwear and wrap your hand around his erection. He’s not fully erect because he’s still confused, but the more you stroke him, the harder it grows. “You like it?”

Jimin is conflicted between responding and ignoring, but his noises are the only answer Jungkook needs. He is suppressing moans with gasps, shuddering in his seat because your hand feels so soft and you look so pretty and shy. When you pick up your head to gaze at him questioningly, he replies, “Y-Yes.”

He is entranced by your doe eyes but Jungkook breaks the building tension by mocking, “You look like you want to kiss her. Calm yourself.”

There’s a brief pause before you ask, “Would it make you… cum faster?”

Jungkook leans his elbows on his knees in interest, a smirk plastered on his face at the power dynamic: both of you are playing along to his strings, two puppets under his control. It makes him curious to see how far you’re willing to go before he’s completely rid of Jimin. The only reason he’s allowing this to happen is because of how pathetic Jimin looks now, and how he’ll be utterly crushed when you never speak to him again. It’s a bittersweet parting memory.

“Um…” he hesitates, but thinks if you decided to give him a handjob, a kiss wouldn’t make you uncomfortable. “Yes?”

You inch your face closer to his, and the both of you look like middle schoolers with how slow your lips eventually meet. It’s a sloppy and amateur kiss with Jimin whining into your mouth, his tongue swiping across your lips recklessly. He’s lost in the pleasure, and it’s clear to you that he’s never done anything like this before. Your thumb grazes the tip of his stiff length, and he begins to twitch under you. You use your other hand to pump his girth, your lips awkwardly pressing against his plump ones.

“Spit in his mouth.”

You abruptly pull away to gawk at Jungkook, but he only raises a brow intimidatingly, as if daring you to defy him. “Open,” you demand Jimin. His eyes are hazy, and he has no idea what he’s doing. He’s drunk on your touch as he parts his glistening lips and slightly sticks out his tongue. You spit on it and he flicks his tongue out to collect all of it, swallowing with a deep rumble resounding from his chest. He’s enjoying this far too much.

You don’t notice him cum with a thrust in the air when you kiss him, but as it begins to coat your fingers, you look down to see his oozing leak. It’s not spurting, and you’re grateful for it when you scoot away from him. He’s panting with his head thrown back on the couch headrest.

Jungkook breaks his silence by cooing to you, “Are you okay, baby?” You nod with a pout, head turned away from Jimin. You’re waiting for Jungkook’s cue to leave so you can speak your mind. “You can go now.”

Without skipping a beat, you seethe, “Fuck you, Jimin. Don’t talk to me ever again or else I will report you to the dean. I hate you, and I hope to never see you again.” You make your grand departure right after, and the man sputters incoherently in confusion.

“What did I do…?”

“Now, Jimin, you heard the girl,” he grins and clasps his hands, “she may take pity on you, but I won’t. One word from you to her, and you’re fucked.”

“If you’re so jealous, why would you let her do that to me?”

He merely shrugs. “Who is she waiting for after giving you a handjob?” he stands up and towers over the seated man who is fumbling with his belt. “I was being nice to you before she completely cut contact with you. You’re welcome by the way.”

As he exits the lounge, he scoffs to himself, “Jealous. What a joke.”

He has no reason to be jealous, because when he's outside, you're shuffling on your feet with your hands held behind your back with a bright smile as you turn to look at him.

"There's my girl," he affirms with a lopsided grin.

It shouldn't feel so reassuring when you reply, "Always yours." And as long as you are, you should be content with only having him in your life.

Because he's never going to catch you talking to another boy again, even if it's his former best friend.

#bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts smut #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #jimin x reader #jimin smut #jungkook imagines #jimin imagines #bts #park jimin #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #jjk smut #pjm smut

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tootiredmotel · 3 years

Text

Give him the real thing

For @floral-cas 's event!!! First time writing from an outsider/oc's pov so bear with me. Huge huge congrats on your milestone K!!! You are a PILAR of this lil community and we all love you 💚🌺💚🌺💚🌺

Read on ao3. 1.7k words

"Alright, uh… confession. I got no idea what I'm doin' here."

He looked around the shop like a monster was about to pop out of any corner. Like the carnations were going to bite him and the pots lined up on the windowsill next to them would come to life and crush his feet. The poor guy looked terrified, but it's nothing Maya hadn't handled before.

"That's what I'm here for. What's your name?" She asked, sensing they'd be there a while.

"Dean."

On any other day, Maya would've been resenting a burly, middle-aged guy with no idea what he wanted coming into the shop twenty minutes before closing, especially on a Thursday. Jade had their A.A. meetings on Thursdays so Maya was alone for the evening. But this Dean guy? He looked so lost, so nervous, so utterly out of place. There was something else about him that made her want to help, too. Maya wasn't sure what, but she'd figure it out.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Maya. Let's start with this: why are you here today, Dean?"

"Anniversary tomorrow."

Concise and to the point. Maya made a mental note. She also noted how he wiped his palms on his jeans and clenched his jaw. Nerves.

"How many years have you been together?"

That got a smile out of him. "A lot. A whole lot. But this is, uh. First wedding anniversary."

She donned a wide smile. "Congratulations. That's wonderful."

"Yeah. Thanks, thank you." He stuffed his hands in his pockets, still not meeting her eyes.

"Doing anything special?"

"Nothin' fancy. My brother and his wife are taking the kiddo for the night so, picnic in the backyard, lookin' at the stars, all that cheesy romantic crap."

His words didn't match his tone. It was evident Dean was absolutely smitten, Maya recognized the look, and he was making an effort. He was filled to the brim with giddiness and adoration for this person, and it shone through from him just thinking about them. Jade still looked at Maya like that every morning and night, and so did Maya at them. Every day since freshman year of college. Maya's chest swelled.

"Thing is," Dean continued, a bit more relaxed now. "Cas knows all about this stuff. We got this huge garden behind the house that I'm not allowed to even touch. There's a million books about nature and trees and flower meanings on the shelf, and Cas has read all of 'em. I didn't even know flowers had meanings, I don't know jack shit about any of it, but…"

"You want to impress Cas."

"I wanna impress Cas. It's gotta be good."

"You've come to the right place then." Maya kept an eye on Dean as she circled the counter. He was studying the pride flags hanging in the window with a clenched jaw, and Maya went on alert. She pulled out the binder they kept in the drawer and plopped it down in front of him a little harder than she needed to, calling his attention. "My partner Jade is more of a nerd about this stuff than I am, but they made this for situations like these."

Dean read the cover, Jade and Maya's Quick Guide to Flower Meanings, and smiled. "Nice."

They spent forty-five minutes walking around the store, binder in hand, slowly constructing the message Dean wanted to convey with his bouquet. He was adamant on it containing blue, so Maya went for the Forget-me-nots first. “Love and hope,” said the binder, which she deemed fitting enough for a first wedding anniversary.

Dean looked like someone content with his life, and he agreed when Maya suggested they look under the happiness category. “Well, Cas makes me happy,” he said, and they settled on Felicias, also blue.

Dean eventually got comfortable enough and leaned over to look at the binder in Maya’s hands. “Think there’s anything in there for grace?”

Highly specific, but possible, Maya thought. “Let’s find out.”

And they did. Plumerias, white.

“Anything else?” She asked him. Dean donned a thousand-yard stare as he thought about it, and Maya figured this man had been through a lot. More than she could ever imagine. She was glad he’d found some peace.

“Freedom,” Dean said finally. Freesias, white as well.

It was an odd bouquet, Maya admitted, but Dean was an odd man, and he looked happy with it. He was still nervous, still out of his element, but there was more excitement in the twinkle of his eyes than anything else.

“Cas will love it,” Maya assured him, and he beamed. She still knew very little about this Cas person— Dean could speak a lot without really saying anything, careful and reserved, even dancing around using gendered pronouns for Cas, which Maya found interesting—, but she could see Dean was living a happy life as their husband. That was good enough for her.

“Here’s hoping,” he said as he handed over his credit card, but he seemed a lot more sure than hopeful. He knew Cas would like it, and Maya couldn’t help a sense of pride grow inside her. Dean also put some cash in the tip jar and left with a smile. A good day’s work, and maybe a new friend in town.

---

“Maya?"

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

Jade poked their head in the door, beaming at Maya as she ran the books in the back room.

"There's a gentleman asking for you."

"By name?"

Jade nodded. Maya sent them a questioning look, to which they just shrugged. If Jade wasn't all that worried about it, Maya supposed there was no reason for her to be either. She made her way out, squeezing Jade's hip as she passed them, and stepped up to the counter. The trenchcoat-clad man smiled at her.

"Maya?"

The depth of his voice caught her by surprise, but she recovered in time to reply "That's me."

The man smiled wider. "It's a pleasure to meet you, my name is Cas. You might not remember, but last week you-"

"Did you say Cas?" Maya couldn't contain her interruption, or the eagerness as she asked: "Dean's Cas?"

Cas's smile widened even more, which she didn't think was possible. It was blinding, and Maya, even in all her queerness, could definitely understand what Dean saw in him. "That's right."

Dean’s fixation on blue flowers suddenly made sense too, as she noticed his eyes. "He adores you, you know. You're his heaven and earth."

Cas's smile faltered at her words, and Maya feared she'd said something wrong.

"I'm sorry if I'm overstepping."

“No, no, it’s alright.” He looked down at his wedding band, and his smile returned. “He’s all that and more to me.”

Cas stared at his ring for a second longer. It was silver and had a small blue gem embedded into it. Maya could swear it appeared to swirl with light.

“Dean spoke wonders of you,” she said.

He looked back up at her. “You, too.”

She blinked in surprise at that.

“I loved the bouquet. I thanked him for it, over and over, and every time he said you were the miracle worker. That he was clueless the whole time and couldn’t have done it without you.”

“That’s not true,” Maya deflected, a steady heat rising to her cheeks. “He had a pretty good idea of what he wanted. And, if anything, he and I couldn’t have done it without Jade’s expertise.” She gestured toward her partner, helping a customer at the other end of the shop, and also tapped the binder, which was out on the countertop today.

“Then I suppose I’m here to thank both of you.”

He reached into a tote bag that Maya hadn’t noticed he was carrying and pulled out a plastic container. “We run a small baking business out of our home. These are on me. Apple and honey tarts.” He placed the container in front of her. On top of it was a label that read D&C’s Pastries. “They are also gluten-free, just in case.“

“What’s going on?” Jade asked, approaching Maya’s side with an expectant smile.

“Jade, love, do you remember Dean? From last week?”

“You told me about him, yeah, wedding anniversary.”

“Well this is Cas,” she gestured to him.

“Dean's husband,” Cas interjected. Jade and Maya shared a knowing smile. “I just wanted to drop these off as a thank you for helping Dean. Apple and honey tarts, gluten-free.”

“That is so sweet of you,” Jade exclaimed, eagerly taking the pastries. Maya rolled her eyes fondly at the pun, which Cas didn’t seem to catch.

“I was just doing my job,” Maya said. “But thank you.”

“Papa!”

They all turned to the child, blond and adorable, running excitedly toward Cas. At the door, where the child came from, stood an exasperated Dean.

“Jack,” Cas started, scooping the child in his arms. Jack wrapped his arms around Cas’s neck. “I thought I told you and Daddy to wait for me at the café, I wasn’t going to be long.”

“He missed you. We both did,” Dean gazed at him as he approached. “Dude, what are you-”

Dean scanned over the scene he’d just walked into and seemed to realize what was happening.

“So that’s what the tarts were for. Hey, Maya.”

“Hi, Dean.”

“And you must be Jade,” Dean said, extending a hand toward them.

“Yes! Heard about you, nice to finally meet you, Dean.”

“You too. You and that book of yours are life-savers. If I’d known the tarts were for you guys, I would’a made more.”

“These are more than enough, thank you. In fact, here...” Maya turned to a vase of daisies they had on a shelf and pulled out three. “Now I feel like we’re even.”

“Not by a long shot,” Dean said as he took his flower and Cas’s. He put his behind his ear, and Cas’s in his trenchcoat’s lapel, as Maya handed Jack his own flower.

They all promised to not be strangers, and kept their promise. Dean and Cas would bring over baked goods, and in exchange, Jade and Maya would let them take home a potted plant for their garden. Jack would always leave with a small flower in his hand, a different one every time, wrapped in Cas’s arms as he explained the flower’s origins or symbolism to his son. Dean would be the last one out the door, always turning back and mouthing a “thank you” to Maya. Every time, without fail.

And every time, Maya would think that she wanted what they had. Happiness, peace, a family, unconditional and true love. And every time, she would look over at Jade, and know she was well on her way.

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beccascribbles · 4 years

Text

where atsumu is a notorious playboy and now he wants you

a/n - you won't believe how long i've been working on this and it's finally finished... anyway, just wanted to say a quick thank you for 700 followers! it means a lot! hope you enjoy this little atsumu fic

warnings - nsfw (sex, swearing), possibly a little angsty?, toxic relationship

word count - 4.1k

sequel ‘returning the favour’, where atsumu gets a taste of his own medicine

When your friends warned you away from him, you should have known he was bad news, should have known to avoid him, to shut down any conversation and walk away.

When a random girl approached you in the university library and warned you away from him, told you what he had done to her, how he ignored her feelings and hooked up with another girl in front of her, the alarm bells should have started to ring.

When the very thought of introducing him to your parents filled you with dread, you should have known any kind of relationship with him was impossible. Introducing a boyfriend to your parents was nerve-wracking, yes, but you had done it before and the most severe emotion you had felt then was nerves. It was nothing compared to the dread that curled in your belly at the mere thought of ever introducing him.

But Miya Atsumu pulled you in.

Despite all the warnings, you were blinded by his easy charm, the smirk that would pull at the corners of his lips as he teased you, how comfortable he looked in every situation, as if he knew the power he held over those around him. He attracted girls and boys like a moth to a flame. In fact, he burned so brightly it was inevitable that you would get hurt at some point, feel his scathing dismal like a punch to the chest.

Truthfully, you were not planning on falling for him, not even planning to interact with the new face in your lectures. He had attracted enough attention, and you, the ever focused and diligent student, could not afford the distraction. So, while others flocked to him, you initially kept a wide berth, hurrying from lectures with your books clutched to your chest to grab at seat at the library. It would be a lie to say he had not noticed you through the crowds. You were either the first to leave the lecture hall, or one of the only students to approach the professor after class to ask questions and gather some more information about the subject. He admired the dedication you had, your unwavering focus. At the same time, he wanted to be the reason that focus, that dedication, finally broke.

On the day he finally approached you, the weather had been unpleasant. Rain had attacked you the entire walk to class, the raincoat you had on a flimsy barrier. Coupled with the harsh wind that had been blowing, it was nearly impossible for the hood of your coat to cover your head, leaving you with the look of a drowned rat and a very disgruntled one at that. The rain had soaked through your backpack, leaving you with a dripping notebook. You had to be thankful that you had transferred all the sheets of paper you had written on into a binder that had kept the paper mercifully dry. So, as you had sought out a radiator to dry your things on, he had approached you, looking effortlessly handsome... and dry.

“Want to borrow some paper, sweetheart?” he asked, waving his dry notebook at you, his lips upturned in a grin. His stance was casual, but the way he angled his body blocked the class from your view and also cut off your potential escape route. Though the vocative grated at you, your parents had taught you to be polite. Despite the annoyance in the lines of your body, you managed to smile back at him.

“Actually, yes,” you replied, turning back to the radiator to begin draping your wet items on the heated surface. “That would be great. Thank you.”

With your back to him, you missed the way his mouth twisted into a smirk, a playful glint appearing in his eyes. You heard the rip of paper being pulled from a notebook, then felt his warm fingers circle your wrist. You turned to face him, momentarily stunned by the lack of distance between you. His warmth, coupled with the radiator at your back, heated up your body, dispelling the cold bite the rain had left behind.

“And your payment?”he questioned running the tip of his finger along your inner wrist. The feel of his rough skin tracing the soft surface sent a tingle running through you, a traitorous flare of heat to your cheeks.

“Payment?” you scoffed, reaching for the proffered paper. He released it without a struggle, but remained close to you. It would have been so simple to trace the planes of your face, to feel the heat on your cheeks build because of his touch. Instead, he sent a lazy smirk in your direction. It should have irked you, but you found it oddly attractive, the little quirk to his lips, the intensity in has honey brown gaze. “For some paper?”

“Nothing is free these days,” he stated, reaching behind him to pull his phone from his back pocket. It dangled nonchalantly from his grip as he held it out to you. You glanced at the phone, then up at him, at his lazy expression. The way he looked at you showed he tended to get his way. There was no possibility in his mind where you returned to your seat without typing his number into your phone. “Give me your number and I’ll message you when I want to collect. I'm sure you'll enjoy it just as much as me.”

He pressed the phone into your hand. It was already unlocked and opened on a contact page. Instead of immediately typing your contact information into his phone like he assumed you would, you glanced down at the phone screen and then up at him. "Sorry, but my phone number comes at a cost as well."

He let out a low hum, leaning in closer, close enough that your noses almost touched. His eyes stared into yours, appearing to commit the colour to memory. "And what cost is that?"

“If you let me return to my seat, you might find out,” you stated, peeking over his shoulder to see that the professor was powering up the slide show. You pushed against his shoulder, creating enough space for you to walk past. As you stepped around him, you slipped his phone into his trouser pocket. He turned to watch you walk away, the smirk still present on his face.

The next time he approached you, he had orchestrated it with an obsessive perfection. With the knowledge that you always rushed to the library after class finished, he had instructed a member of the class, one of his fangirls, to deliberately bump into you as you tried to make your exit. It was amusing in a sick way how easily the girl had bent to his will. One kiss and she was weak at the knees, begging him for more. The more he had promised would be done once she completed this small task for him.

So, it was with an almost sadistic smirk on his face that he watched as the girl shouldered into you roughly, causing you to stumble and scatter your belongings across the floor. If you had only got into the habit of packing your stuff away into your backpack before leaving, you could have avoided the smirking blonde, able to quickly right yourself and continue on your way. As fate would have it, it was the muscular arms of the blonde that steadied you, his fingers gripping greedily at your waist. Offering him a quick thank you, you pulled yourself from his grip, bending down to gather the items you had dropped. Just as he had planned, you were distracted and desperate to leave, so distracted you did not notice as he took your notebook from the floor and slipped it into the open bag hanging from his shoulder. And, like he presumed, you hurried from the room without sparing him a glance.

When he decided to ambush you, you were digging through your bag, mumbling quietly under your breath as you attempted to find your notebook. It had all your class notes in it that you needed to begin your essay. Letting out a huff, you shoved your bag away from you.

"Looking for this?" asked Atsumu, notebook dangling from his fingertips as he took in your distressed form. Leaning forward, you pulled it from his grip, flicking through the pages to confirm that this was indeed your notebook.

"Where did you find it?" you asked, placing it down on the table and resting your arms on top of it as you looked up at him.

"Is that any way to thank the person who returned your class notes?"

You gave him an exaggerated, friendly smile. "Thank you. Now where did you find it?"

"The floor," he stated, a smirk tugging at his lips with his next words. "After your fall, that's where all your belongings ended up."

"I know," you snapped before turning back to the work you had been in the process of beginning. Atsumu's tall figure still loomed over the desk, his hands gripping at the edge of the table as he leaned forward to force himself into your line of sight. Your eyes narrowed into a glare. "What do you want? Can't you see I'm busy?"

"I want to take you out." The words were simple, but said in such a pleasing honeyed tone that you felt the heat rush to your cheeks. He held your gaze, awaited your reply eagerly. He knew the effect he had on you, could see it working on you right before his eyes. There was no doubt in his mind that you would say yes.

"Take me out where?" you questioned, voice coming out whisper. Your warm breath fanned against his face, made him crave a sudden closing of space between you and the parting of your lips as he pressed his against them. Truth be told, he wanted to see you come undone.

His usual method would not work on you, that much he was certain of. If he proposed a club or a bar, you would likely scoff, pull away from him, refuse his offer to take you out on a date. A restaurant however, one with a fine wine menu coupled with good food would work quite well.

"A restaurant," he said. You raised an eyebrow at his lacklustre response, expecting a more surprising proposal from the young man. "One where I can fine dine and wine the shit out of you."

“Okay,” you shrugged, feigning some level of disinterest as you pushed him lightly by the shoulder to move him out of your personal bubble. You bent to reach for a pen as you spoke. “Tell me a time and place, and I’ll meet you there.”

Atsumu blinked, unsure if he had heard you correctly. Had you just said you wanted to meet at the restaurant? That would be difficult considering he had yet to decide on one, having made a mental note to ask Osamu for recommendations later on. Trying to hide his sudden unease, he gave you a smooth grin. “Why don’t you let me pick you up, sweetheart?”

That caused you to pause, your breath to catch in your throat, your heart to stutter. The way he spoke, that soft drawl, the smooth dulcet tone of voice, made you weak at the knees. If he addressed you with the same tone each time he spoke, you would have been putty in his hands by now. You swallowed, avoiding eye contact as you tapped your pen on the table, the motion more to soothe you, though it aggravated the others in the library to no end. “Fine.”

You ripped a page from your notebook, hurriedly scribbling down your address. You held out the paper to him, finally meeting his eyes again. “When were you thinking?”

“Friday at 8?”

“Sure,” you nodded. “See you then.”

And, that Friday, you found yourself holding up various outfits to yourself in the mirror only to discard them a moment later. They were never perfect, either too sultry or too innocent, too girly or too geared towards comfort. It was so dire you had reached the point of wishing that you had ordered those dresses you had browsed after agreeing to meet with him. Next day delivery would have meant they would have arrived on time, and you would have felt confident in them. However, you had talked yourself out of it, convincing yourself you had dresses worthy of a dinner with Atsumu. With a sigh, you picked up a dress you had discarded earlier. It was the best out of a bad bunch, and unfortunately the only one you thought you could get away with. Distantly, you wondered why you were trying so hard. That was just you trying to convince yourself you didn’t care. It would be foolish to lie to yourself. You cared because you were attracted to him, to his easy charm, his good looks.

Glancing in the mirror one more time, you smoothed down the material of the dress. It complimented you well, was a trusted favourite. It hugged your body in all the right ways, emphasising your shape in a way that was pleasing to the eye. You allowed yourself a small smile. You felt confident. It was a bonus that you figured Atsumu would enjoy the view.

Hearing the knock on your door, you grabbed your bag from the desk, checking it had everything you needed. Phone, keys and purse were all present inside. Then you went over to open the door. Framed by the dark word, dressed in a dark shirt and black jeans, Atsumu looked hot. His hair had been perfectly styled, a far cry from the messier style he favoured at university. His eyes ran up and down your body, lazily, as if he was stripping you with his eyes. He drawled, “Well, don’t you clean up nice. Makes me want to stay in instead of taking you out."

You gave him a playful glare, pushing against his chest lightly. He stepped backwards, you following him into the hallway. Turning away from him, you faced the door, locking it. Over your shoulder, you quipped, "If you think this date is ending in sex, you are very much mistaken."

Little did you know how wrong your statement was. You could blame it on the buzz of alcohol in your system from the wine but, to be honest, you were weak to Atsumu's charm. The way he purred your name had you weak. The feel of his fingers grazing your bare skin made you shiver. The feel of his lips moving languidly against your own sent jolts of pleasure through you.

"I'm going to ruin you," he breathed, breath hot against your ear as he nipped gently at the lobe, fingers teasing at the hem of your dress, slipping under the material. Those words, along with his actions, were your undoing.

Your hands tangled into his hair, gently tugging as you reconnected your lips, the kiss far more passionate, a bit more messy. It was easy for him to push you onto the bed, for you to instinctively hook your legs around his waist, holding him close to you. A low moan escaped your lips as he rolled his hips into you, feeling the hardness of his cock through the layers. Your dress was hiked up past your hips, the lace of your panties on full display. He pulled away to admire you, unhooking your legs from around his waist, spreading them open for him to admire the view. He let out an appreciative whistle. "Look at you. So desperate for me, sweetheart. Do you want me to fuck you? Do you want to feel my cock filling you up?"

You let out a soft moan. Your cheeks were flushed, breathing slightly laboured as you looked up at him. You were desperate for him. He could see all this, watched with smug satisfaction as your hand slipped into your wet panties and you began to play with yourself. "Why don't you take those off for me?"

Too lost in your need, you began to slip the fabric down your legs, slowly, teasingly. Atsumu watched with a playful glint in his eyes, hand moving to palm at his cock through his trousers. Not needing him to direct you, with the lace no longer blocking his view, you resumed your previous action, fingers circling your clit. As he watched, you pushed a finger into your wet entrance, watching as his eyes darkened. While you continued to pleasure yourself, he slipped his trousers off, then began to teasingly lower his boxes, watching your reaction. Your breath caught in your throat at the sight of his hardened cock, slit wet with pre-cum. With you watching, he wrapped his fists around it, beginning to stroke it. His head tilted back and a low groan escaped his throat. You moaned in response, inserting another finger inside, stretching yourself out for him.

"Fuck, y/n," he moaned. "Are you ready? Do you want my cock inside of you? Do you want to feel me thrusting into you? Because I want to feel you clench around me, for you to cum as I fuck you."

"Yes," you breathed, thumb rubbing harshly against your clit as you continued to push your fingers inside you harder, faster. "Please fuck me."

"Get on your hands and knees then, sweetheart," he commanded, watching as you removed your fingers from inside of you. And what a sight you were, back curved to provide him with the best view. He ran his hands appreciatively along the slope of your ass cheeks, giving them a playful slap. He leant over you, fingers finding the zip of your dress, his cock brushing against you. Now wasn't the time to tease you. He yanked the zipper down, the dress falling off your body, leaving you naked apart from your bra.

"Please just fuck me," you begged, pushing back against him as his fingers brushed the tops of your erect nipples hidden by your bra.

"So impatient," he said, voice low, a gruff edge to it that made you suck in a breath. The tip of his cock brushed against your clit, hands gripping your hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh. Teasingly, he waited, his cock head resting against your wet entrance. Each time you pushed back, he would pull slightly away, leaving you a whining mess. Just as you were about to beg, he pushed into you, his cock brushing against your inner walls as he slowly entered you. With a low groan, he sheathed himself fully inside you, his pelvis pressed against you.

Slowly at first, he began to rock into you, pulling out slightly before thrusting back in, working your pussy, getting you used to taking his cock. Each slow thrust caused you to moan, fingers clutching at the duvet.

"More," you whined, hips pushing back into him. He stilled, holding you close to him. You moved along his cock, grinding back against him as his hands tightened on you, stilling your movements.

"What was that?" he questioned, leaning down to press a kiss to the back of your neck. "You want me to fuck you into the mattress, is that it?"

"Yes," you declared, voice breathy as you let yourself droop forward, head resting against the soft material of the duvet. He pulled fully out of you, hand curling in the hair at the nape of your neck and pulling you upwards. Your back was flush against his chest, his other arm wrapped around you, fingers teasing at your clit as he thrust upwards into you again.

The sudden harsh thrust caused you to choke, head lolling against his shoulder. You were weak to him as he continued to thrust into you, losing yourself in the feeling of pleasure. The stimulation of your clit, coupled with the harsh thrusting, had you chasing your orgasm far sooner than you had expected, the pleasure slowly building up, a dam waiting to explode.

"Shit," you gasped as he pushed you forward onto the mattress, the position allowing him to push into you with more ease, the slap of his hips against your ass and your laboured breathing the only sound in the room. "Atsumu... I-I think I'm going to cum."

"Don't hold back," he grunted, feeling himself drawing closer. "Cum for me, sweetheart. Want to feel your walls fluttering around my cock."

"A-Atsumu."

His name was the only word able to escape your lips as a wave of pleasure hit you, finally sending you over the edge. He let out a pleased hum at the feel of your walls clenching around him, continuing to thrust into you as he chased his own release. He came with a low groan, releasing his hot seed into you, coating your walls. Slowly, he rocked gently into you before pulling out his slowly softening cock. You let out a low whine at the sudden feeling of emptiness, turning to face him with a small pout. He let out a soft chuckle, grabbing you by the chin and pulling you in for a long kiss, tongue tracing the inside of your mouth. Against your lips, he said, "I'm always up for round two."

You should have know one night wouldn't be enough to satiate your hunger for each other. Despite only having a sexual relationship, the two of you formed a friendship, if constant sexual teasing could be considered friendship. In the library, in class. Atsumu was insistent, his hands rarely kept to himself when he could so easily slip them into your warm panties. Occasionally, you would return the favour, palming him through his jeans. On a day when you had been feeling particularly adventurous, you had sucked him off in the library, relishing in the soft moans he would release, the way his hips would buck upwards as he attempted to push you down onto his cock further.

One day, he had turned to you, a completely innocent look on his face and stated, "You're the only girl I ever fuck now."

You had looked at him blankly as he had pulled you towards him, placing you on his lap, urging you to straddle him. His hands rested against the bare skin of your sides. "And?"

"I'd say we're pretty much exclusive."

Those words gave you some indication of where his train of thought was heading. Though you couldn't deny wanting to be in a relationship with him, you could hardly define what you did now as dating. You felt he was just using you and that had been the truth for as long as he had begun pursuing you.

"We're not even dating, Atsumu," you sighed. Just last week, he had gone on a date with another girl only to arrive at your dorm at the end of the night to fuck you instead of her.

"Why don't we change that?" he hummed, placing kisses along your jaw before connecting your lips in a searing kiss. His thumbs brushed against your rib cage as he kissed you harder. He was close enough to feel the way your heart picked up the pace, hammering against your chest. You pulled away slightly to look at him, to see the sincerity in his brown eyes.

"Okay," you agreed. "Let's change that."

Years later, you would look back on certain moments in your relationship with nothing but anger, mainly at yourself. The signs were clear from the moment you became official. Atsumu was a person who refused to be tied down. As soon as your relationship was defined, he lost interest, pulling away from you, treating you as nothing more than a means for pleasure. But, through it all, you still felt love for him, needing to be the thing that brought him that pleasure. That illusion shattered the moment you saw him with another girl, her legs wrapped around his waist as he kissed her with the passion he used to kiss you.

Though the illusion shattered, the desire for him did not. You would still open your door for him, still let him use you as you told yourself you were using him. You accepted the empty 'I love you' he would whisper as you fell asleep only to wake up to an empty bed.

You were a fool. But he must have known that. After all, only a fool could ever love him like you did.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #hq x reader #hq imagines #atsumu miya #atsumu x reader #atsumu x y/n #haikyuu atsumu #hq smut #hq angst #haikyuu smut #atsumu smut

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btsficsforthehumble · 3 years

Text

adj.: 1. Modern, unfamiliar, or different

2. Not based on or conforming to what is generally done or believed

pairing: reader x ot7

genre: college au; angst, fluff, smut, poly, ot7

Summary: You begin your first year at a prestigious university, set out on achieving your academic goals when a series of men step into your life that change the way you view the definition of love.

A/N: Thank you to the glorious minjoonalist for this banner! Everyone give her some love <3

Part One

Warnings: none in this chapter

Word count: 2k

It’s your first day.

First day entering the world of higher education, on the path to betterment (or whatever the dean said in his boring introductory presentation). To tell the truth, you were pretty zoned out as various speakers talked to the thousands of students that would now become your peers. Those hard ass plastic seats were NOT conducive for attentive listening.

Regardless, you pushed through, and here you are, Monday morning, at 8:45 sharp, sitting in yet another hard ass plastic seat. This time however, you had a small wooden desk in front of you, in line with about a couple dozen others. This was your first class --- Calculus.

You were always good at math compared to the average student, however, being placed with the super smart kids all the time made you self conscience and at worst, made you feel stupid. You were too good at math for the standard curriculum, but felt too dumb for the advanced one. It’s no surprise that math quickly became your least favorite subject.

That hadn’t changed. You were dreading this class, even though you took calculus already in high school --- theoretically, it shouldn’t be that difficult. You knew however, that you had absolutely no willpower when it came to studying math. And considering the fact that you are now attending a prestigious university, one known for their STEM programs, you felt adequately nervous.

You glanced around the classroom, baron except for the desks and the large whiteboard covering the expanse of the front wall. A few other students showed up early as well, mostly looking either as nervous as you felt, or tired like they had just enjoyed their first weekend at college perhaps a little too much.

You yourself hadn’t gone too crazy, going to a single party on Saturday where you only had one drink --- lame even by your own standards. However, you were just getting to know your roommates, and felt it best to remain sober enough to keep an eye out on them or manage any situation this new environment would throw you.

You weren’t close with any of your peers from your high school that also attended your university, and it seemed your roommates were in the same boat. So, naturally, you all decided to go out together as new friends. They all seemed to be nice, and you got along well with everyone so far. You hoped that wouldn’t change.

You sigh gently to yourself while reflecting upon your less than thrilling weekend. You hope that one day you’d let yourself experience the wild college parties that you've heard about. You want to know what it felt like to get properly drunk and dance with a cute stranger without any worries in the back of your head.

Speaking of cute strangers, you take a glance around the classroom, steadily filling up with students. You might as well see if there were any hotties in the class that you knew you’d rather daydream about than pay attention to exponent integrations.

You spotted a boy sitting a ways away from you that caught your attention. His legs were stretched out in front of his desk, in a way that screamed “I don’t care if you trip over me, in fact, I dare you.”

His attention was glued to his phone, as he appeared to be taking snapchats --- probably for some obnoxiously beautiful girls, you thought to yourself, eyes rolling slightly. You had to admit though, he was quite attractive. He had dark brown hair, covering his forehead and slightly swept to the side. His eyes were a dark brown to match, and were quite cute. He had a nice nose and clear skin. His most striking feature was his lips however. He had lips that were larger than the average guy and they looked very kissable. And his frame was decently large, his shoulders wide and masculine, juxtaposing his cute eyes and lips.

You blushed at your own thoughts about the stranger across the room, knowing you were getting entirely carried away in your state of boredom. You still had five minutes until class was supposed to begin. You put away your own phone, which you were holding in your hands as some sort of social protection, in your backpack. You then pulled out your fresh new binder with graph paper, lined paper, tabs, dividers, the whole nine yards. You may not enjoy math, but organization always brought you some level of mental tranquility.

You pull out a pen just as you glance up to see a boy standing in front of you, with the brightest, thousand watt smile on his face. His backpack was slung over one shoulder, his hand in his jeans pocket. He had on a loose tee-shirt that somehow flattered his slim frame. You could tell that he wasn’t a meek first year still finding his bearings. He must be at least a second year. You feel your face heat up as you make eye contact, seeing that he’s looking directly at you.

“Hi there! Is this seat taken?” His eyes widen almost comically as he points to the seat directly in front of you.

“Ah no, no it’s empty.” You cringe internally as you notice your less than relaxed delivery.

He gives you another dazzling smile as he plops in the seat in front of you, pulling out his own simple notebook and pencil.

You rub your forehead trying to get yourself to calm down. You need to not turn red every time a cute boy talks to you, let alone look in your direction. This is so not like you.

You manage to calm yourself down, ready to begin your first class so your attention is off the boy sitting in front of you.

Your professor must have walked in as you were mentally reprimanding yourself, because you hear an authoritative man's voice come from the front of the room when 9 o’clock hits. You immediately began trying to pay attention, writing down all of the information he put on the board even though it’s stuff already in the syllabus. The truth was that you simply needed to throw yourself into a task to keep your mind from straying back onto the boy in front of you.

About seven minutes later, the door to the classroom swings open and another boy walks through, giving the prof a quick salute and grin in apology. You, as well as the rest of the class, had naturally turned your eyes towards the distraction. As soon as it was found to just be a straggler, everyone’s attention quickly shifted back to the professor in front. Your curiosity was piqued by his confident, goofy nature, however.

You couldn’t help but keep your eyes on him a moment longer. He had shaggy dark hair, tanned skin, and a smile that was strikingly unique as it was a little bit of a square shape. He was devastatingly handsome, and you had a feeling he knew it too. Your hypothesis was instantly supported as he made eye contact with you, noticing you looking at him longer than your peers. He flashes a smirk your way that you’re pretty sure could knock anyone’s panties off.

You mentally start screaming and feel yourself turning the color of a freaking fire truck. You quickly jerk your head back down to your notes and refuse to look back up to meet his eyes.

It appears he wasn’t going to give you a break though. You felt the air woosh past you as he walks down your aisle and stops immediately behind you, taking the empty seat.

Great.

Now, you were sandwiched between two guys that you're pretty sure were the most attractive you’d seen in a long while. Not to mention the guy several rows over that you were ogling before they even arrived. You quickly realized that there wasn’t a chance in hell your full attention was going to be on the lecture during this class.

Your entire body sagged with relief when your fifty minute class was up and the professor released everyone. Noticing, the boy behind you leaned forward and huskily whispered, “You’re not a morning person either, huh?”

You froze for half a second at the sound of his voice. It was deep and silky, and my god was it sexy. And he was talking to you.

“You could say that.” You were shocked at his attention but somehow managed to pull out a response that didn’t make you look like an idiot. You didn’t bother turning around to look at him as you answered, deciding not to let him see how pink your cheeks were as you returned your items to your bag.

He let out a little chuckle and stood up.

“I’m Taehyung. And you, my little night owl, are?” He drew out the are waiting for your response.

You too stood up, putting your backpack on.

“I, Taehyung, am off to my next class.” You were annoyed that he seemed to take notice of your attention on him in the beginning of the class and thought that you were a fun little target to flirt with. You knew he wasn’t interested, but merely found it fun to take advantage of his good looks. This allowed you to get over your schoolgirl crush behavior and return to your normal self, which you knew had more of a bite than necessary at times. You had developed a tough edge at a young age and you think that it has protected you a lot already in your short life.

He raised an eyebrow at the sudden appearance of sass and gave you another grin. You simply rolled your eyes and turned on your heel to march yourself out of the classroom, joining the other students that were filtering out. By the time you had turned around, the cute guy with the smile that made your heart melt had already left. You were slightly disappointed to your own chagrin. Why on Earth are you paying attention to boys when you knew you had other priorities? It’s not like anything would come of it anyway.

Throughout high school, you steered away from boys in a romantic sense and they more than happily did the same. You knew you were intimidating, as you had a sharp mouth and quick wit. No one messed with you and you liked it that way. You had kept to yourself, and kept your grades high. You just didn’t have any interest in the boys you’ve known since you were a kid.

As you walked to your next class, you silently cursed yourself for not being cool and collected the entire period. Where was that icy exterior that you had curated for years? How did a simple smile from the boy in front of you turn you into a puddle? How did that annoyingly hot guy behind you manage to blindside you at first?

You nearly stopped in your tracks and groaned when you realized that you had that class every. single. day. It was five credits, so that meant Monday through Friday, you’d be there 9 in the morning, attempting to not think about the cute boys around you.

You were giddy deep, deep down that such cute guys were in your class but the more level headed side of you knew it was in vain. It’s not like they’d go for you or anything. And besides, they would only distract you from the class that you already knew was going to be a struggle.

You pinched your eyes shut when you slid into your seat in your next class.

You had a feeling it was going to be a long semester.

#BTS #ot7 #ot7 x reader #poly ot7 #fanfic

93 notes · View notes

goodwriterwithbadhabits · 3 years

Text

Love Letters

I have no idea how this turned out, I opened a word doc, blacked out and ended up with this.

Master List

~~ “I would write you poems until my hands worked no more. Would play you music until my fingers bled. Shakespeare himself would have to rise from his tomb to stop me writing you sonnets. No words will ever convey the love which spills from my heart, but I will try to do so every day.” Johnny reads the letter loud, a smile on his face as he looks over at you. You’re certain your face conveys the sheer horror you’re feeling, and judging from the laughter that bubbles from him, it does. You’re frozen in the doorway of your own dorm room, staring at the man lounging in your desk chair, the man who’d just found your second best kept secret. “So, how much does it cost to get one of these letters?”

“What are you doing?” His eyebrow hikes up at your question, and he gestures to the stacks of envelopes and the typewriter sitting on your desk.

“You’re the one writing all the love notes around campus right? What if I want to send one to someone?” You blink at him a few times, still in shock, but step into the room properly and shut the door.

“How’d you find out about this? Who told you?” You question, dropping your backpack on the floor and crossing your arms over your chest. He mimics your pose, though still in your chair.

“Who said anyone told me?” He challenges, “I figured it out.”

“Bullshit. I’ve been doing this for almost two years and no one’s been the wiser. The only people that know are my customers, so who told you?” He’s silent for a moment, not pretending not to size you up. You can feel your heartbeat in your chest, and part of you wants to celebrate having your crush alone in your dorm room, but the other part of you remembers he’s here for a love letter, not you.

“Are you going to stop writing for them if I tell you?”

“Maybe, or maybe I’ll just revoke their long term customer pricing. Who was it?”

“Yuta.” Your eyes roll automatically at the name, you should have known it was him.

“Of course it was. Did he refer you, or did he just tell you?” Johnny shrugs, clearly loving how annoyed you’re getting.

“Maybe both. You haven’t answered my question.”

“One time letters to someone are 25, self letters are 35. If you’re wanting a long term contract it depends on the frequency of the letters, contents and subject.” You finally relent, trying not to let the disappointment cloud your voice.

“What’s the most expensive contract you have?” You motion for him to get out of your chair, which he shockingly does, so you can grab your clientele binder and find your contract sheets. He flops down on your bed while you work, watching you flick through the almost shockingly thick binder.

“Someone pays me 75 dollars every other month to write three page long letters to send to his girlfriend overseas.” You tell him, pulling out a contract, “This contract is legal, by the way, I had a friend of mine in law school draft it. I only write the letters, I don’t deliver them and I am not responsible for the reaction of the recipient. You can’t get me in legal trouble if things backfire, nor can you demand a refund. You cannot ask for personal information about other clients, and no I won’t tell you if you’re giving a letter to someone who is already receiving letters. Any questions?” You finally look up from your contract, locking eyes with the boy sitting on your bed.

“Would you handwrite a letter for me, or is it typewriter only?”

“I try not to handwrite letters, just in case someone might recognize my handwriting.” He smiles again, and you have to look away, trying not to blush. God, how did you get so unlucky? When you had started writing these letters, it was because of your crush on Johnny. Your roommate freshman year had found a letter you’d never planned to send and asked if you would write one for her to give to the girl she liked. From there, your little business blossomed, and now you had upwards of 30 clients, all paying you to write about Johnny without knowing.

“Do I have to tell you who my letter is for?”

“Nope, all you have to tell me is whether you know them personally or not, and if there’s something about them you want me to talk about.” You drop your binder on the desk, turning to face him once more. “I’ll also need your contact info, phone number or email preferably. I take cash, venmo, and cashapp, you have to pay before your first letter, and if you make it a long term thing, then you pay upon receiving the letter.” He nods, his lower lip sticking out slightly.

“OKay, lets do one letter for now, and depending on their reaction, we’ll see about sending more.”

“No problem, just fill this out for me, and we’ll get started.” You pass him the contract and a clipboard to write on. “For the first letter, I always have my clients tell me about the person they’re wanting me to write about, that way if you meet face to face, the letters still sound like you.”

“What’s your major again?”

“Psychology, with an English Lit minor.”

“Makes sense.” The two of you are quiet for a moment while he fills out the form, and you take the chance to package some letters, ironically, one was for Yuta, who was definitely getting a scolding when he came to pick it up. “Alright here.” You don’t look at him, only extend your hand for him to place it in. You can feel him watching you as you finish up your work, marking who still has to pay for your work. “So, have you ever written a letter for someone, like from you?”

“Yes and no.” You weren’t sure why you even answered.

“What do you mean?” You sigh, putting your papers away so you can move the typewriter front and center.

“Every letter I write is about the person I like, that’s how it started.” You explain, “Yeah, it sounds like I’m writing about someone else, but it’s always about him.”

“Ever had to write one for him?” You can tell he’s actually interested in this, but you shake your head, not wanting to talk about it more.

“Don’t worry about my love life, Johnny, lets work on yours.” You grab a notebook, spinning to face him, ready to take notes. “Tell me about your person.”

If you told me you were Eros, I would believe you. From the moment I saw you, the arrow of love had pierced my heart and rendered it useless to all others. Were you a god, I would be your most devoted priest. My lips would sing your prayers and praises until there was no oxygen left at your altars. Your mind rivals that of Shakespeare and Einstein, and I wish on every star that one day I may be privy to your innermost thoughts. Your eyes hold the universe, and your hands: my heart. You fill my dreams, and soothe my nightmares. Had I an ounce more courage, I would say these words to your face, but in truth, no words could accurately depict the love I have for you. It bubbles from my heart, courses through my veins and clouds my mind. I would give you the world, the moon and all the stars in the sky if you only asked, but now I can only give you this letter and hope you will not think ill of me. Yours ever, Johnny

“Here, all done.” Johnny barely has the chance to knock on your door the following day before you’re shoving the lilac envelope in his hands. “It’s not super long, but it’s pretty expressive, if you want more just let me know, I hope they like it.” You don’t give him the chance to reply, instead just shut the door and try not to start crying instantly. Every word you had said was true, and he was about to give it to some rando. You wanted to cancel every other letter people had asked for, so tired of writing about a love you couldn’t have. A knock on your door makes you huff, just wanting to lay down for a while. “What?” You demand, swinging the door open to find Johnny still standing there. He holds the envelope out to you, his other hand deep in his pocket.

“Here.”

“Do you not like it? I can rewrite it.” You offer, hesitating to take it. No one had ever hated what you’d written, to say it was a bit of an ego crusher was an understatement.

“No. No it’s amazing, its everything I wanted to say. You did an amazing job.” He extends his hand again, not looking you in the eye. “But its for you.”

“What?”

“When I learned it was you-” He huffs, “Look, I’ve had a thing for you since English 101. You’ve always been super smart and gorgeous, but I’ve been too scared to say anything cause you were always writing these sweet things, and I figured they’re for someone else, so I didn’t want to pressure you into something. But I might not get accepted into my Masters and I didn’t want to leave without saying-”

“Johnny.” He stops speaking the second you say his name, his eyes snapping up to yours. Your face is warm, and you can feel your eyes watering.

“What’s wrong?”

“You.” The bewilderment on his face is almost funny.

“Me?”

“Yes you. Every single letter I’ve ever written has been about you. Even this one. I wrote you a love letter only to have it be for me.” You can’t help but laugh at the irony of it all.

“Wait, really?” He’s laughing a little as well.

“Yes you idiot. I’ve been so scared Yuta had told you, I was even gonna go cry once you left.” You admit, wiping at the tears that were falling.

“Oh no, don’t cry.” He pulls you close to his chest, his head resting on yours. “Let me take you for lunch. Then maybe you can tell me some of those sweet things you’re always writing about me.” You both laugh at this, pulling away from him.

“Don’t think I’m going to let this ruin my business, Johnny Suh, I’ve still got to pay for my coffee habits.”

“Only if I get to read the letters first.”

“Deal.”

“And I get to see your client list.”

“Not a chance.”

#johnny suh imagines #johnny suh imagine #johnny suh #johnny nct #nct johnny #nct imagine #nct imagines

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toto2229 · 3 years

Text

The Murder of Crystal Cove

TW: Death, Murder, cursing

Welcome to Crystal Cove the most boring place in America that is until Emma, the most popular girl in school is murdered. You must choose who to trust and who to question, remember your choices impact how the story plays out.

Y/N Pov

The day started like no other, you got up and did everything you usually do. Went downstairs to go to your car where your best friend Hansol was waiting for you. “Took you long enough” he joked as you unlocked your car so he could get in. Going to school Hansol usually chose the music as was the agreement that you got to choose on the way back. Once you got to school, he went off to find Seungkwan while you went to look for Steph and Rae. “Hey there you are, you know if you go to sleep earlier you won’t be late,” Steph said.

“It's not like school has actually started,” you said, and its true school didn’t start for another few minutes its Friday anyways so who cared if you miss the first period besides your theatre friends. “You know if you miss class Soonyoung would blow your phone up, literally” Rae joked, which was also true your new best friend would chew your ear off if you missed class. The bell rang indicating for everyone to go inside and you saw Emma the lead cheerleader waving people in. “Rae there you are we have cheer so hurry up and get changed the pep rally is today and we want to be prepared,” she said. Rae ran off after giving Steph a kiss on the cheek as you saw Emma roll her eyes, it wasn’t that she disapproved it was more like she was impatient, at least that's what you thought. You and Stephanie split off to go to separate classrooms.

As you got into the theatre room it was bustling as you took your normal seat next to Soonyoung. “Hey Y/N, you ready for the pep rally today?” he said looking nervously at you. “I guess, I mean I kind of have to be there to take pictures and do interviews.” you said flatly, you knew exactly what would happen the band would play the school song, and everyone would cry about how Mingyu will bring the team to victory like they do every year. “Oh yeah.” and he opened his binder as the second bell rang. You thought it was weird how he was acting, it was very unlike him to do that. Normally Soonyoung would talk your ear off about his weekend plans with his friend Seokmin or ask if Hansol had weed so they could smoke before the pep rally or literally anything else as he had a knack for never running out of things to say. But the blond just stayed quiet unless he had to talk about the lesson that the teacher gave. Even during the theatre exercises, he stayed mostly quiet, ‘Strange’, you thought as the class ended. Soonyoung immediately grabbed his bag and said, “See you later Y/N.” and rushed out of the class before you could ask if something was wrong.

You walked out of class and Hansol walked behind you to go to your right and Steph to your left. “Man are you ready for this article I'm gonna write after the game, Crystal Cove Phantoms win another game.” Hansol said as Seungkwan walked up to him, hugged him, and said, “Of course we’re gonna win why else do you think I'm gonna be on the field for.” “To look hot” Hansol quickly said back as they did a quick kiss so Seungkwan can go to choir while you, Hansol, and Steph can go to Journalism. As you all walked into the room you still were worried about Soonyoung, why was he acting so strange and why would he only ask about the pep rally. ‘Maybe he has something going on at home’ you thought as you took your normal seat and pulled out your sticker-covered laptop and waited for class to start.

~~~~~~~

The last period of the day snuck up on you as you got ready pulling out your school press pass and camera to go to the pep rally. The intercom came on and said, “All students with a ticket to the pep rally start heading to gym one.” you gathered your stuff and headed towards the door flashing your pass at the teacher to let you through. As you walked into the gym you saw that it was plastered in Crystal Cove Phantom banners and other posters in the signature blue and yellow. Steph walked up to you and asked, “What do you want floor, right bleachers or left?” you thought about it and as you were about to give your answer Hansol walked up and said “Left there's better light” as he put down his bag next to you and headed in the direction he chose. “He only wants to be there because he wants to look at Seungkwan's ass” Steph joked as she headed towards the right knowing that you usually like taking floor pictures.

You steadied your camera as the band started with the school song and the banner being put into position so the football players can burst through. You started taking pictures, Soonyoung started the drummers in a beat, as the crowd cheered you saw that he had a weird look on his face. Suddenly the football players started coming through the banner Soonyoung picked up a mallet and rang the gong on his left, and he ran around the gym waving his arms. He even tried to trip Mingyu the football captain as the vice principal ran around trying to stop him. He tore out wires in the PA, trashed some posters, and threw the mascot on the ground. Just as he was about to push over a speaker the schools security guards grabbed him and pinned him on the floor as he was yelling “STOP THE GAME!!!! YOU CAN’T PLAY!!! THE PHANTOM IS OUT THERE!!!” everyone was dead silent just watching as he was dragged out of the gym kicking and screaming.

When the doors closed the gym erupted into chatter as everyone was questioning what just happened you looked over at Hansol who was laughing his ass off and then at Steph who just shrugged her shoulders. ‘What in the world just happened’ you thought, ‘maybe he just smoked too much with Hansol before the pep rally.' You looked back at the principal who picked up the microphone, "Alright everyone settle down, whatever just happened don’t worry about it, the game will continue as planned. Jihoon, can you fill in please, and let's have a fantastic game.” he said as a boy with black hair put down his baton and picked up Soonyoungs drumsticks starting the beat that the drummers had left off. ‘He must be the drum major’ you noted in your notebook to talk to him later maybe he knew why Soonyoung went off the rails.

The pep rally went on as normal everyone hyped up the football players and cried about how they would win. As the pep rally came to an end you knew you had to interview people about their experience but all you could think about was getting to the drum major, ‘Jihoon’ you remembered. As people were exiting the gym you walked up to him and tapped his shoulder “Hi I'm Y/N can I ask you a few questions?” Jihoon looked at your press pass and sighed, “The pep rally was boring as usual and even worse I had to fill in for King Kong.” he looked rather annoyed so you decided another approach, “if I give you a ride to the game will you answer my questions?” He looked at you and contemplated for a bit, bending down to put a cover on the drums he was using. “Look the marching band has to ride the bus to the game, but if you give me a ride home then I'll think about it” you smiled and shook his hand excitedly “Thank you so much here give me your number so I can pick you up.” you said as you let go of his hand and shoved your phone into it. He typed his number and name so you could text him after the game.

“What was that about?” Steph asked as she walked up behind you. “A front-page story for next week's paper, after I ask Soonyoung to use it” you beamed up at her. Hansol walked up to you, and you looked at his eyes “did you and Soonyoung smoke before the pep rally?” “No, I couldn’t skip last period teacher in the hall made me get a tardy slip.” he answered. You knew he was telling the truth because his eyes were normal. “We gotta get to the game guys and I'm sure if you ask him, he'll say yes,” Steph said in desperation to get out of the gym. All three of you started heading to your car so you can go to the game for the first win of the season.

~~~~~~~

The crowd cheered as Mingyu scored another touchdown, you took a picture of him celebrating and turned your camera to get a shot of the cheerleaders. You looked up over your camera at Emma who rolled her eyes as threw down her pom poms and stormed past you. You watched her walk to the parking lot and turned back to the game thinking nothing of it. Taking more pictures of the crowd and players as the game went on. As the game came to a close with the Phantoms winning everyone got ready to leave the game, “Hey Y/N have you seen Emma?” Rae asked coming up to you while looking around. “Yeah, she went to the parking lot, she seemed upset for some reason.” you responded as she sighed and started jogging towards the direction that you told her.

You took your phone out and you texted Jihoon, ‘meet me Infront of the school in 20 mins’ you put it back as you headed towards your car to meet up with Steph, Hansol, and Seungkwan to give them all rides home. ‘Man, I hope Jihoon won't mind sitting in the middle of the back seat’ you thought as you exited the stadium to the parking lot. You took your camera and scrolled through the pictures while walking on the sidewalk until you bump into the back of someone. You look up at the crowd in front of you as you wondered what was going on you pushed through the crowd. You grabbed onto Steph's shirt and asked, “What’s going on?” She turned to look at you, “I think someone died but I can't see who” she said searching for who it is. Hansol and Seungkwan pushed through from the front holding hands to get to you and Steph, “Steph!! it's Rae she's being questioned by police.” Seungkwan said. She started pushing to the front with you still hanging on to her shirt you dig for your keys in your pockets and toss Hansol them. He nodded knowing what you meant, and you looked forward as you got to the front, past the police tape you saw Rae with a blanket wrapped around her talking to an officer with tears in her eyes.

“Rae, what happened? Are you hurt? What's going on?” Steph asked quickly. “It's Emma I came out here to ask her why she was upset and I just..just...” and she burst into hiccups and sobs not wanting to finish her sentence. You look over at a boy standing by the sheriff being questioned, he was tall and had a blanket wrapped around his shoulders as well. He had black hair with blue streaks and spoke calmly. ‘I wonder who that is' you took out your notebook and noted to question him later. Steph looked at you as you put your notes away and said, “I'm gonna take Rae home in her car can you follow, please?” you looked towards your car that was turned on waiting with Seungkwan and Hansol inside. “Sure, I just have to drop Jihoon off at his house. But I'll come to get you after,” you said before you went over and opened your car door as police started dispersing the crowd. You took off to the front of the school and Hansol got into the back with his boyfriend. Jihoon came out and you flashed your lights indicating where you were.

He got into the car and closed the door, “what's with the police?” he asked looking in the car mirror. You shook your head and said sadly, “Emma was murdered.” He just nodded his head, looked out the window, and stayed quiet until he told you where to turn. As soon as he went inside his house you raced to Rae's house to find out what happened. When you got there you, Hansol, and Seungkwan went inside and knocked on the door. Rae's mom let all of you in. Steph came out of the bedroom with an empty glass and a wet shirt. “Is she ok?” Hansol whispered. “She'll be ok but it’s crazy that it even happened I mean who would do that.” Steph answered as she walked to the kitchen to fill the glass with water. “Did she say anything?” you questioned. “Yeah, she said she was trying to find Emma because Y/N said she was upset but when she got there, she saw Emma on the ground and a phantom-” “Phantom hold on, are you telling me what Soonyoung was screaming about was true?” Seungkwan interrupted Steph as she was talking. That is what Soonyoung was saying, and he also said to stop the game which everyone knew wasn’t going to happen. “But what I find weird is that she said when the phantom saw her, he disappeared, like literally disappeared. And she said Minghao showed up right after.” she continued. ‘That’s who that other guy was’ you knew who he was, the weird artist who lived across town. Nobody really has ever talked to him since he moved to town last year, and even at that all he ever does is go to the library.

“I think you guys should go home, I'm gonna stay here for the weekend just to be sure Rae is ok.” she said as she walked into the room and closed the door. You, Hansol, and Seungkwan looked at each other and headed back to your car. After driving home Hansol and Seungkwan went to Hansol's house next door. You walked inside hearing your parents talking to someone, you went to the dining room and saw the back of a guy with brown hair turn around, “Josh is that you?” you smiled as you gave the older boy a hug. “Hey, haven't seen you since I graduated.” he replied as he took a step back to see your face, “I just wanted to check and make sure you're ok, considering.” you didn’t look surprised at all with your parents being head of the Crystal Cove news. “Yeah, I'm fine.” you replied. “I think you should go and get some sleep honey.” your mom said with a small smile.

“But Josh-” you started to say, but Joshua interrupted, “I'm still gonna be here tomorrow, besides you know I go to the college like fifteen minutes from here.” you felt too upset to argue so you just hugged him goodbye, said goodnight to your parents, and headed upstairs for bed. After doing your nightly routine you pulled your notebook out of your bag and reviewed you notes that you have been taking and circled the important parts. Soonyoung had tried to stop the game at the pep rally, but no one knows why, maybe he knew about what was going to happen and about the phantom. And then there was Minghao who mysteriously appeared right after the phantom disappeared, maybe he was the phantom. Tomorrow after work you only had time to question one, as you wanted to go comfort Rae as well. Who should it be?

Congratulations you got through the beginning, now it up to you who to question. Should it be your funny and talkative theatre friend Soonyoung or the weird and mysterious artist Minghao?

Question Soonyoung Question Minghao

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kiribakuhappiness · 3 years

Text

Bakugou's Wedding Studio

Katsuki's

by KiriBakuHappiness

(AO3 link)

Bakugou Katsuki / Kirishima Eijirou Wedding Planner / Engaged AU Fluff/Humor/Light-Angst/Romance Rated T (for Katsuki’s colorful language) Word Count: 6315

Author's Note:// I really don't know where this story idea came from but I just had such an overwhelming urge to write it so now all of you are going to have to read it - enjoy!

Katsuki has never been to a wedding before.

The fuck would he waste his time going to one of those dumbass things for? To watch relatives who he didn't know and had never cared to meet before cry disgustingly and blow snot into rags in celebration of someone else in the family getting to have bland missionary sex for the rest of their pathetically monotonous lives?

Or did the joy come from listening to people whisper about the decoration choices and chuckle in disdain about family drama or was all the fun wrapped up in making sure someone's estranged uncle didn't get too drunk and try to piss on the bride's gown or -

Where the fuck was the fun in any of it?!

Fuck. Katsuki hated weddings - and he's never even fucking been to one before but that hardly matters because he gets the overall fucking gist of them just fine on his own. He's seen all the damn movies.

The weepy vows and the overly-edited wedding photos and the drunken hook ups in the coat closet or bathroom with someone who may or may not be a distant cousin or, fuck; it was all so very cliché and annoying.

Unfortunately, Katsuki's mother was a fucking wedding planner - so guess who knew way more about weddings than he'd ever planned to know?

You're a fucking genius. It's this guy.

Just shoot his damn brains out now. 'S not like he's gonna need them much after suffering through all of this shit.

"Katsuki," his mother swats at his arm and abruptly pulls him full force back into the wretched reality of this entirely undesirable situation. "Are you listening? This is important to me - I'm really counting on you for this one, kid!"

Katsuki barely holds back a groan. Barely.

He might be reaching 24, but his attitude still felt like that of an angsty teenager most days, and all of this unnecessary needling really wasn't helping with his high blood pressure that his doctor kept insisting that he had.

He shifts in the uncomfortable plastic chair by the edge of the hospital bed and tries to pay attention - he does - because his mother got hit by a car not three hours ago, and while that was so insatiably fucking hilarious to think about on its own, the resulting chaos that had ensued after such a laughably out-of-bounds incident that had dragged his ass head-first into all of this was most certainly not.

"I could do this shit in my sleep if I had to. I was forced to go with you to meet-ups like this all the damn time, remember?" Katsuki grumbles bitterly as he proceeds to flip through the scarce few channels on the television screen hanging up in the corner of the room.

Mitsuki snatches the remote from him when he passes over the same dull history channel about sharks for the third time since he'd arrived with a bag full of hastily packed shit from the house after he had gotten the call from the hospital.

"Yeah, when you were seven." She turns the television off and tosses the remote out of his reach into the other vacant chair on the far side of the room. Katsuki scowls and watches it soar away, briefly mourning the loss of the only thing getting him through this conversation with his mental stability still in tact.

"How fucking hard can it be?" Katsuki continues to gripe as he slouches further down in his seat, throwing his feet up to rest his boots on the bed with his ankles crossed. "'You want this piece of shit flower, or this piece of shit flower? You want this dumb table set up, or this dumb table set up?' I think I can fucking handle it."

His mother sighs and runs a hand over her bruised face, but he can still see the smirk that she's so desperately trying to hide in her palm. She can't fool Katsuki - she might sell lovey-dovey bullshit day in and day out to poor saps who waste all of their hard earned life savings on some big dumb party that most of their guests who are invited to attend are too drunk to even remember the next morning anyway - but she's just as much of an asshole as Katsuki is.

Mitsuki was just significantly better at hiding it in front of her important valued business clients.

"Just... please be on your best behavior, alright? And wear something nice. A sweater, maybe? You do own nice clothes, don't you?" His mother goads as she finishes organizing the gigantic black binder open on the bed sheets in front of her before she slaps it shut with a satisfied grin that stretches the bandage on her cheek.

"Oh yeah," Katsuki snorts with a condescending roll of his eyes. "Want me to get my finest jewels out of the damn vault, too? Maybe hunt down an endangered cougar and wear its scent as fresh cologne?"

His mother's hand comes up to her face again, but her shoulders are shaking. "How did I ever raise such a charming gentleman?"

"Beats me, you're a fucking bitch," Katsuki counters easily as he lumbers up to his feet. He reaches for the binder but his mother is quicker and she snatches it up to hold it close to her chest.

She's giving him her most serious look now.

Ugh. That means they're officially done fucking around.

"I mean it, Katsuki. This client was a referral - I really need them to have a good experience," his mother repeats for what must be the seventy-billionth fucking time.

Katsuki melts back into his chair with a disgruntled whine that could have come from a five-year-old's temper tantrum. "The fuck can't you just reschedule this shit for if it's so damn important?"

"Because the couple needs to be married and on a flight in exactly two months. Do you know how fucking long it takes to plan a wedding, Katsuki?"

He does. "No."

His mother smacks the binder against the top of his head before she finally holds it out for him. "Don't screw this up, wise-ass."

How fucking encouraging.

Katsuki snatches the binder from her with another overly-dramatic roll of his eyes as he shoves himself up to his feet again and starts for the door. "Hope you get a bed sore, devil woman."

"Love you too, you little shit!"

His mother's office building is way too fucking fancy for Katsuki's taste. Expensive wooden flooring and tall ceilings and Rome-inspired pillars and some kind of old fucking statue of a half-naked woman right at the damn entrance with her stone breasts all hanging out.

Was this supposed to be a wedding planner's studio or some kind of fucking art museum? Katsuki can't even tell anymore.

He supposes that it has been a pretty long time since he's last been back here, and he can't ignore the fact that his mother's dumb business has come a long way from being the dinky little hole in the wall that it used to be.

Still, the statue feels like a bit of an over kill. Katsuki can't stop staring at it. Where the fuck were her arms? And why did her eyes look like that?

Were they... moving?

His body tilts dangerously far to one side as he eyes up at the woman's face with a squinted gaze. She was definitely tracking his movements - this statue was seriously fucking cursed or something. It probably came to fucking life at night, creepy ass piece of -

"Uh... am I interrupting something?"

Katsuki nearly staggers over his own two feet as he hurries to try and right himself before he whips around to spot the culprit who has so suddenly decided to sneak up on him.

"Hah?! Fucking hell, make some damn noise next time!" Katsuki reprimands with a harsh glare. He hates being fucking spooked like that.

The man in front of him grins a wide, toothy smile. "Sorry, man! I didn't mean to startle you! Uh, is this... the Bakugou's Wedding Studio -"

Oh shit. This is the guy that Katsuki is supposed to meet with today?

His sharp gaze takes in the plain jeans with the rip in the left knee and the dark V-neck combo that he's wearing; a pretty casual get up considering the dumbass shirt and tie that Katsuki's hag of a mother seemed to think that he desperately needed to wear for this. She was so full of shit sometimes.

Fuck, was this guy still talking?

"- so I hope that's okay and everything!"

Katsuki has no idea what he's going on about, but it doesn't matter. He waves a dismissive hand around in the air, anyway.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever you want, Red. You ready to do this or what?"

The guy blinks in surprise at him and one of the hands he's had pushed down into the pockets of his jeans suddenly reaches up to touch at the stupid spikes of red hair styled on the top of his head before he laughs boisterously.

"Alright, a man of action - I like that! Let's do it!" Red cheers, thrusting a fist up in the air and beaming another ridiculously happy grin. What a fucking nut job.

Katsuki leads him around the creepy statue lady and across the wooden floors of the studio towards a set of black leather couches set up in the corner by the large bay windows overlooking the street below. He slaps the binder on the table and flops down onto the couch before he mindlessly flips it open to the first page to pull out all of the dumb introductory forms.

The faster they get through this shit, the quicker Katsuki can go home and take these uncomfortable clothes off - gotta keep his eyes on the prize.

Red plops down on the couch next to him, still smiling that mega-watt grin. Katsuki is used to seeing that stupid fucking look on his mother's more sappy clients' faces.

It's all about the fucking love, right?

Definitely not about all of the money.

"This place is really nice," Red compliments unnecessarily as his eyes sweep across the studio. "Did you decorate it yourself?"

Katsuki snorts at that. And then he rehears the question in the back of his mind and he cackles again because holy shit - that's the funniest fucking thing anyone has ever asked him. "Hell no. Just filling in for my mom or whatever. 'S her place, not mine."

"Oh, are you... not a wedding planner then, or?"

Shit. Backtrack - fucking backtrack.

"Hah? 'Course I am! You think I come here and do this shit for fun or something?" Katsuki snarks back as nonchalantly as he can. He really needs to just get this over with.

"Where's your wife-to-be, anyway? Shouldn't she be here nitpicking all of this shit over with you?" Katsuki grumbles absentmindedly as he yanks out a pen and finally settles down to do quite possibly the most boring thing to have ever been invented.

"Nah man, I just told you! My ah... husband-to-be had something come up at work, so he couldn't make it in today," Red explains again anyway, entirely unperturbed with having to repeat himself. "It's just me!"

Gay? Huh. Katsuki wouldn't have ever guessed.

"Whatever, just make sure he doesn't call and complain if he doesn't like what you pick out," Katsuki warns as he flips the pages of the binder to the first horrible section of a long list of equally horrible things; the venues.

"Don't worry about it, dude!" Red reassures with a confident thumb thrust into his puffed out chest. "I've got a great sense of style!"

So.

That was a fucking lie.

Red's got something - but it ain't style. A brain tumor, maybe.

"You want to do what?" Katsuki can't help but ask incredulously. His pen stalls in his casual note-taking as he raises an eyebrow and lifts his cheek off his clenched fist to better stare at the other man so that he knows just how ridiculous his dumb request sounds.

"You don't think that'd be awesome?!" Red expels with just as much disbelief, sitting up now with his hands thrown out wide in the air as though to adamantly argue his point. "First the ceremony, then the reception - or whichever one comes first, I guess I already forgot - but then, boom! Paintball tournament! It's fool proof, man!"

They've been at this for two hours now and Katsuki thinks there must be something seriously wrong with this guy. He's kind of starting to think that he isn't even really engaged. There's just no fucking way. He's literally a child with adult spending money.

"My mom ain't gonna plan a fucking paintball tournament for your wedding, I'll tell you that right now," Katsuki snorts with a further bewildered shake of his head at the very idea of it as he resettles his cheek against his fist again.

Red beams a mischievous sort of grin as he casually leans over to elbow Katsuki in the bicep. "Buuut your mom's not my wedding planner, you are! Right? C'mon, I can totally tell that you're way cooler than she is!"

Huh. Red's got some kind of a point there. Maybe not a complete one, or a valid one, but it's the start of something intriguing for sure.

Katsuki flicks his pen around in his fingers as he entertains this woefully horrible temptation to fuck with this painfully typical wedding design that Red's husband-to-be seems to be so dead set on having. Katsuki can't help but agree with the idiotic manchild; maybe that's what weddings need more of these days in order to be less shitty.

Some kind of entirely chaotic activity that causes real physical harm.

Besides, his mother did tell him that he was meant to do whatever it was that the customer wanted - whatever they ask for, just tell them you can do it and then figure it out from there! - and this overly enthusiastic redhead sitting on the other end of this leather couch from him wants a fucking paintball tournament at his wedding.

This temporary gig might be a lot more interesting than Katsuki originally gave it credit for.

"Alright, Red... you've piqued my interest," Katsuki concedes cautiously as he pens in a little added note at the bottom of the seventeenth modified color scheme they had finally settled on. "You want a paintball tournament, I'll give you a fucking paintball tournament."

"Woah, really?!" Red lights up like a fucking Christmas tree at that. "Oh man, you must be the best wedding planner ever!"

Katsuki tries not to look too smug. What a horrible fucking compliment, anyway. But still - Red's got the right idea. Katsuki was the fucking best.

He might not mind working with this idiot for the remainder of this project, after all.

"What other kind of crazy junk you want?"

"Oh, dude! I've got lots of ideas!"

A wedding generally takes anywhere from 200-500 hours to fully plan and execute. Katsuki's currently got about 10 1/2 logged with Red over the course of their past few meetings together, which only left a bare minimum of around 189.5 more hours to go.

Still, it wasn't really as painstaking or horribly boring as Katsuki had been expecting it to be. Despite the moron's horrendous sense of style and apparent fucking colorblindness, he did have a shit ton of incredibly dumb wedding event ideas to spout off endlessly about, and Katsuki was almost having trouble narrowing down which horribly inappropriate ones to choose to include in the draft proposal from their long ass list.

He couldn't believe how much he found that he really didn't mind walking into his mother's wedding studio in preparation for another long session with the weirdest client he's ever had the misfortune of meeting. This wedding was gonna be fucking awesome if Katsuki had anything to do with it.

His unusually optimistic attitude about this unfavorable situation changed rather abruptly when Red finally walked through the door a half an hour later, though. He wasn't alone this time.

Red's Fiancé was... not what Katsuki expected.

Not that Katsuki had really been expecting much of anything. To be honest, he'd almost forgotten that the dumbass even had one. But of course, it takes two to fucking tango, and here the lovebirds are now sitting on the opposite couch together from the one Katsuki had chosen.

"I read over the draft proposal last night and - " Red's Fiancé gives Red some kind of half-sympathetic/half-grimaced look. " - while I appreciate the eccentricity, I really don't think my family wants us to have a Slip N' Slide at our wedding."

Your family is fucking lame then, Middle Part. Katsuki crosses out the Slip N' Slide note in his binder with a disapproving scowl.

Red's face burns with a bright flush of color as he reaches a sheepish hand up to rub at the back of his head. "Ah, yeah, sorry about that! I went a little overboard with it. It was just really fun planning everything out with - "

Red blinks for a moment as his face smooths out before he glances in Katsuki's direction for what might have been the very first time since they had arrived. "Oh, I guess I've never really gotten your name before!"

Katsuki shifts in his seat and doesn't look up. "Katsuki."

"Right, Katsuki! It was really fun planning with him these past few sessions; he's gotta be the best one in the city or something - I was getting so excited for the wedding!"

Tch. Katsuki was sorta getting excited to see all the tom-fuckery come together, too. But whatever.

"I'm sure it'll be just as exciting," Middle Part tries to satiate like a parent calming down an obnoxious child with a condescending pat on Red's knee. The tone grates on Katsuki's nerves for reasons he can't even begin to come up with.

Middle Part turns back to Katsuki, then. "But in a more... traditional sense, if you know what I mean."

Katsuki's eyes narrow down at the binder in his lap, but he knows he's got a job to fucking do - his mother would have a damn heart attack or something if he didn't do what he was supposed to be doing right now - so he simply tears out the draft proposal form, crumples it up into a little ball, and tosses it carelessly over his head to land somewhere on the wooden floor behind his couch.

Back to boring old fucking business.

"Oh, I'd also like to go over the color scheme one more time? I'm more of a pastel person and the reds are all very... bright."

Katsuki can't stop thinking about it.

He hates that he can't stop thinking about it, but that doesn't make it any less true that he can't stop thinking about it.

Katsuki didn't know up-from-down about Red - fuck, he hadn't even been paying close enough attention to have ever caught the guy's real name - but something about their session yesterday with Middle Part didn't sit right with him.

It was all-in-all a very typical meeting. His mother would have been fucking ecstatic with the outcome. They changed the color scheme to something more pastel spring-timey and replaced the red Hibiscus flowers with some boring ass Tulips and they even had to go back and pick a different venue cause Middle Part had some kind of damn phobia of the fucking water or some shit and truly seemed to believe that the scenic lake-side cabin property that Red had chosen out on the outskirts of the city would be too much of a distraction for him to focus on The Big Day.

Pretty much everything that they had planned out together in their earlier sessions had to be changed. And throughout the entire fucking process, Red didn't say another damn word the whole time.

Not to give his opinion. Not to express any kind of interest or growing excitement. Not even to protest. He merely sat there with that plastered on goofy grin, with Middle Part's hand wrapped tight on his knee, and didn't say a single damn thing.

Katsuki can't stop fucking thinking about it. When he'd first met Red, he was certain that guy's COD was going to be suffocation from forgetting how to take a pause inbetween his incessant ramblings long enough to remember to breathe.

It wasn't even any of Katsuki's damn business. He knew that. And he didn't fucking care about the relationship dynamic of a newly-engaged couple that he didn't know and hadn't even met for more than a few hours. It just felt like such a big damn fucking waste of time because obviously this was all going to end in some kind of a divorce.

Middle Part was stiff and proper and had a huge stick up his ass, and Red was just so loud and expressive and wanted a fucking rock-climbing wall at his damn wedding. It was like watching some suburban soccer mom tame a real-life Rolling Stones Rockstar or some shit.

How did those two fuckers even meet in the first place? Fall in love? Get engaged? It didn't make any sense to Katsuki, and it was really starting to piss him off.

During their next session together a few days later (sans Middle Part again, who just had to run off and attend some hoity-toity business garden party or something else that happened to be more important than planning his damn wedding), Katsuki literally couldn't stop himself from asking, "You really want a boring ass wedding like this?"

Red stops mid-babble with his glass of champagne poised at his lips that Mitsuki had vehemently demanded that Katsuki supply for this next meeting - because how could he have ever forgotten to do such an important part of this overall incredibly lame process?

"Oh, I mean... it's not really supposed to be an actual party. It's more of a serious thing, you know?" Red tries pathetically to explain the purpose of a wedding to a(n unlicensed) wedding planner, rubbing sheepishly at the back of his neck. "I guess I got a little carried away with it all before. Sorry if I wasted your time or anything, I told you I'm no good at planning this kind of stuff..."

There it is again. That incessant needling in Katsuki's gut that he'd noticed also happened when Middle Part had placed that hand on Red's knee and didn't let go of it for the entire time that they were sitting together on that damn couch.

Katsuki purses his lips into a thin line to prevent himself from saying anything asshole-ish, because he's sure that one of the rules to being The Best Wedding Planner Ever was not to insult the Fiancé.

"That's why I really need your help here, man!" Red continues on, unbothered by or just too plain stupid to recognize Katsuki's silence on the topic. "You're so talented; I just know you'll make it the best day ever!"

It slips out before Katsuki can even think about stopping it. "Shouldn't that be your new husband's job or something?"

Red blinks over at him in surprise at such a statement, and Katsuki blinks down at the binder in his lap because - fuck - even he knows that was way totally out of line.

"Let's just fucking finish picking out the - "

It's the movement that he spots out of his peripherals as Red leans forward to place his glass of champagne on the table that causes Katsuki to stiffen and finally snap his eyes up from where they'd been glued to the binder.

Shit, Red doesn't look good. His brows are furrowed and there's an uncharacteristically obvious frown on his lips as he watches the bubbles in the champagne glass float up to the top. Katsuki waits with held breath for him to do something more, his heart pounding in his chest, and eventually Red looks at him again and offers him an entirely forced apologetic smile.

"Sorry, I'm just... I'm not really feeling that great today. I think I'm gonna have to cut this session short, if that's okay."

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Katsuki's big ass mouth has gone and done it again. He doesn't even have enough time to try and salvage anything or react to such a sudden departure before Red is leaping up from the couch and scurrying across the studio towards the front doors.

Katsuki watches him leave with his pen hanging limp in his hand and his mouth slightly parted.

His mother was totally going to fucking ream him for fucking this one up.

"You said what?!"

Katsuki tosses an exasperated hand up in the air and glares harder from where he's standing at the foot of the bed in the master bedroom. He hasn't even taken his denim jacket off yet. "You didn't have to fucking meet this guy, alright?! He was pretentious and boring and - "

Mitsuki snorts with an angry roll of her eyes. "Newsflash, you fucking psychopath - you don't have to like the clients that you work for, you just have to do your damn job! He's not your Fiancé, this isn't your wedding!"

"I fucking know that! He just really fucking pissed me the fuck off!" Katsuki yells back, red-faced and frantic as he forces fingers to tangle through his explosive hair.

"You have to fix this, Katsuki - "

"How the fuck am I supposed to do that? Why's it gotta be my responsibility to convince this guy to marry that total fucking d-bag? It's gonna end in a divorce, anyway!"

"That's not even any of your fucking concern, moron! Let the divorce attorney deal with all of that crap!"

"It's not fair for Red!" Katsuki continues to argue adamantly none-the-less, slapping the back of his hand into the palm of the other for emphasis.

Mitsuki blinks over at him now, eyebrows scrunching in the center of her face and - shit, he doesn't like that look she's giving him at all. "Who the fuck is Red?"

"T-the fucking guy! The one I've been dealing with this whole damn time, the - "

"The guy who wanted to have a dunk-tank at his wedding?!" Mitsuki asks incredulously. "If you ask me, that's not fair to anyone getting married."

Katsuki glowers over at her as he shoves his hands deep into the pockets of his coat and curls them into tight fists to try and pull himself together.

"Least it would've been fucking entertaining to watch..." he grumbles bitterly, but fuck, he knows the old hag has a damn point.

Mitsuki's looking at him especially closely now and it's making Katsuki squirm under her laser-focused scrutiny. He clenches his jaw to combat the uncomfortable bout of feelings rumbling in his stomach and flings his hands (still secure in his pockets) out once more in a baiting sort of gesture.

"Fucking what?" Katsuki spits defensively.

"Oh... my god," Mitsuki leans back into the pillows on her king-sized bed like she's just been given the most horrible news. "Don't tell me you fell in love with a fucking client, Katsuki."

Katsuki's entire face scrunches up unpleasantly at that accusation like he's just swallowed an entire lemon. "The fuck?! Are you outta your goddamn mind!?"

"Are you?! Katsuki, he's engaged!" She whips one of her purple satin pillows at him. "You're supposed to be planning his wedding!"

Katsuki's hands are too tangled up in his pockets to prevent the assault and the pillow smacks stupidly against his chest and tumbles to the floor at his socked feet. "That's what I was trying to fucking do!"

"Really? Cause from what your dumbass just told me, it sounds a lot more like you've taken some kind of damn interest in this fucking guy and want to ruin his marriage before it's even started!"

Katsuki blinks at her because he doesn't even know what to fucking say in response to that. It's so totally outlandish and stupid. He's not fucking in love with Red - he doesn't even know that asshole! They've been in the same room together for approximately 25 hours - 4 1/2 of which Red hadn't even spoken a single damn word for!

Mitsuki heaves a deep sigh and pinches the bridge of her nose. It's like she can't even fucking look at him right now. "Just go, Katsuki. I should've never fucking asked you to do this for me in the first place."

Fuck.

Katsuki shifts his weight restlessly from one foot to the other. He knows he's an asshole, and he knows his mother's a batty fucking bitch, but that's why it always makes his stomach twist so uncomfortably whenever she looks at him like that - or rather, whenever she doesn't look at him like that.

Assholes needed to stick together, damnit!

"Mom, I'm fucking sorry or whatever, I just - "

"I know. Now leave. There's leftover soup in the fridge. Grab some when you go." Mitsuki picks up the magazine she had been perusing through before he'd so brutishly trampled his way into her room and she starts reading it again like he wasn't still standing there staring at her, and that was just the end of that.

Katsuki had fucked it all up. Someone's marriage, his mother's new client, her expectations of him - all of it. Fucked it right up from the ground up.

He clenches his jaw again and exhales a hard, agitated breath through his flaring nostrils before he snatches up the pillow on the floor and chucks it onto the bed as he stomps over to the door and finally leaves.

Katsuki has only ever bought flowers twice before.

Once when he got suspended from school for getting into a fight, and once when he totaled his piece of shit car trying to out race some idiot who had egged him on at a red light. Both times his mother had received them with the very same reactions - an incredulous stare, a long thoughtful pause, a heavy reluctant sigh, and forgiveness.

Lilacs were her favorites - and Katsuki only fucking knew that cause his old man used to drill it incessantly into his damn head all while growing up before that asshole had to go and die of brain cancer. ‘Whenever your mother is angry with me, I always buy her Lilacs. They soften her right up!’

That was the only reason why Katsuki was clutching onto such an embarrassing collection of recently purchased Lilacs as he pushed his way through the door of the Bakugou’s Wedding Studio a few weeks later.

He gave his mother time to cool off, and he went and got the damn flowers, and now he just needed to find the batty bitch.

There were quite a few people here today milling about on the furniture and perusing through the catalogues - some guy sitting next to his soon-to-be-wife was ogling the damn statue like he’d never fucking seen boobies before - and honestly, Katsuki would have turned around and walked right back into the street if he hadn’t spotted his mother’s head bobbing by somewhere in the background of all the fucking chaos.

Alright Katsuki, it’s fucking show time.

He regrips the Lilacs in his sweaty fingers as he maneuvers through a crowd of bridesmaids who are all screeching about something or another at a decibel that only fucking dogs can hear, before he finds himself suddenly face-to-face with his mother’s urgently frantic energy.

They both stop at the same time and stare at each other for a moment. Mitsuki breaks the silence with a click of her tongue again the roof of her mouth and a sharp turn of her gaze onto anything else in the room that isn’t him.

“I’m kind of busy right now - “ She tries to breeze past him but Katsuki just steps in her way and prevents her from leaving.

“Here.” He thrusts the Lilacs up into the space between them. His jaw tightens and he tries not to think about how fucking ridiculous he must look right now.

His mother’s list of reactions is consistent, at least; an incredulous stare that drifts down to eye at the Lilac bundle, a softening of her features as she takes in all of the different little purple petals - she’s probably thinking about dad, just like Katsuki does every time he has to wander into that damn flower shop on the other side of the city to purchase these stupid shits - and then... a heavy sigh.

She reaches out and takes them from him, and his hands dive back into his pockets purely on instinct and flustered nerves. Mitsuki looks up from the Lilacs and catches eyes with him again.

“They didn’t go through with it,” Mitsuki informs him. As if he even fucking cares.

“Hm.” He grunts back in some kind of forced response.

Mitsuki sighs again, softer this time, and runs the pad of her finger along the lush flowers. “Well... I’m sure business will be fine without them. I really wasn’t expecting such a rush like this today, so - “

“Uh... hello.” A voice interrupts from somewhere outside of their private family bubble.

Katsuki and Mitsuki both whip around and - holy motherfucking shit - it’s Red.

He’s wearing a leather jacket over a plaid shirt today, and his obnoxious spikes are loose and under the protection of a bandana. He grins sheepishly at the pair of them, his cheeks are already dusting with flushed color. “A-again, I guess. I just wanted to come by and apologize for wasting so much of your family’s time with... everything. I really hope I didn’t cause too much trouble for you.”

“Wait, you’re Red?” Mitsuki chimes in before Katsuki can even rub two brain cells together enough to spark any kind of a thought.

“Huh?” Red blinks at her in confusion before suddenly he’s laughing so loudly that people’s heads are starting to turn in their direction. “Oh! Haha, yeah I am! You can call me Eijirou, if that’s easier for you. Red works fine too, though, I guess!”

Eijirou.

“Anyway,” Red clears his throat, and he looks uncertain as he shuffles his weight around restlessly. “I know it was a bit of a shit show, but I really want to make up for it! I know some people who are recently engaged and I recommended your studio to them! Katsuki was so great with everything, and my friend Denki really wants to do something with zip-lining for his wedding!”

“Zip-lining?! Look kid, I appreciate the business, really, but - “

Katsuki elbows her hard in the ribs with a sideways glare sharp enough to cut glass. His mother eyes him back and they stare at each other for a long time, having one of their infamous telepathic arguments, before Mitsuki throws her hands in the air in added exasperation.

“Zip-lining, touch-tank, hell, I’ll order some fucking panda bears from the local zoo if they want it,” she declares to the heavens above.

Before Katsuki has the chance to snap at her, one of the dog-whistle bridesmaids is summoning her over from the other side of the room, and his mother beelines it towards them in an obvious attempt to escape. Katsuki watches her leave with a scowl.

“I, uh,” Red clears his throat again, and it causes Katsuki to snap his gaze back onto him once more. “I actually stopped by earlier this week but you weren’t here. I was kind of hoping to catch you, I... wanted to thank you.”

Katsuki blinks at him in disbelief. “Hah?! For fucking what? Ruining your goddamn wedding?”

“Ruin it?” Red’s head shoots up from where he’d been intently watching the tips of his sneakers. “Dude, are you for real? You didn’t ruin anything, you saved it! You saved me! I was always taught growing up that a wedding had to be perfect, and beautiful, and professionally photographed. And I was always told how stressful it all was and I was really nervous to come here and try to figure it all out - but when I was planning my wedding with you, it was... fun! And exciting! I couldn’t wait for it to arrive so I could watch all of my friends and family having the best time together on the most important day of my life!”

Katsuki can really only think to blink at him again, because truly, there must be something wrong with this fucking idiot. Nobody in the history of ever has probably been this excited for a botched wedding.

“Anyway,” Red shifts again, grinning that sheepish smile of his that squints his eyes and makes the flush on his face that much more prominent. “I know I was like... just engaged a few weeks ago or whatever but... do you want to maybe go play paintball with me sometime?”

Holy shit. Red was fucking asking him out on a date. Is that what was fucking happening right now?

There must be something wrong with Katsuki, too, because - “Sure, why the fuck not?”

Red is beaming again, and Katsuki’s heart is racing in his chest like some kind of dumb prepubescent child, and Katsuki’s never been to a fucking wedding before, but if he can manage not to fucking screw this up just like everything else, then he already knows that his and Eijirou’s wedding is going to be the best fucking one in history.

He’s already planning on it.

Author’s Note:// AHBXHBAXA - Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this dumb little short story! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated but never expected! <3

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fanimesenseiwrites · 3 years

Text

So I had piece commissioned of my MC, Hoshiko Higure, presenting as both female and male.

The artist is karoshin_arts on Instagram.

And to go along with the art is a little fic I wrote, mostly, about Hoshiko coming out to the boys.

This fic takes place after Belphie gets out of the attic and before the MC goes home for the first time.

Hoshiko's Coming Out

Hoshiko stood in front of their full length mirror in their bedroom, staring at their reflection.

They were dressed for school but instead of wearing the skirt, they had decided to wear uniform pants today. They were also wearing a binder underneath their dress shirt, effectively hiding their breasts. They tied the top half of their hair back before putting on their circle rim glasses.

They stared at themselves in the mirror once they were totally ready.

"Okay... you look good. You can do this. Everything is gonna be fine," they told themself, trying to psych themself up.

They nodded at themself in the mirror before walking out into the hallway.

Mammon was headed to Hoshiko's room as they were walking out.

"Hey Ho... shi..." Mammon stopped mid step and mid sentence and just stared at Hoshiko. He narrowed his eyes at them, seeming suspicious.

Hoshiko turned a bright red. "It's me! I swear! I'm just... wearing pants..."

"You're doing more than that..." Mammon told them as he finished walking over to them.

"Yeah, I just... sometimes I..." They couldn't look at Mammon. "I don't feel like a girl all the time... sometimes I feel like a boy..." They wrapped their arms around themselves.

"So what, you just wanna wear pants and not have boobs sometimes?"

They looked up at Mammon. "I mean, in not so many words, yeah."

Mammon pouted and crossed his arms over his chest. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Hoshiko sighed and looked down at the ground. "You don't wanna be my friend anymore, do you?"

"What? Quit your mopin'! I didn't say that!"

Hoshiko looked back up at him.

"I'm your first! You're s'posed to tell me everything, no secrets between us, remember?!" Mammon perched his hands on his hips.

Hoshiko teared up. "Oh, Mammon!" They threw their arms around him and cried into his chest.

"Hey! Don't do that..." he blushed and pushed them away gently. "You'll break your glasses." He offered them a handkerchief from his breast pocket.

Hoshiko nodded and took the handkerchief with a soft sniffle. They took off their glasses and wiped their eyes.

"C'mon, you gotta eat some breakfast before school."

They nodded and headed to the dining room with Mammon. "... Will you stay with me all day?"

Mammon looked at them. "Huh?"

"I... I'm actually afraid of being by myself, looking like this..."

"Oh... yeah, of course. You gotta know the Great Mammon will always protect ya!" He flashed them a brilliant smile.

Hoshiko smiled at him. "Thank you." They grabbed Mammon's hand.

Mammon blushed but squeezed their hand in return.

Everyone looked at them when they entered the dining hall.

"Hey! So today Hoshiko feels like a guy and we're gonna make her feel- well, him-"

Hoshiko nudged him.

He stopped talking and looked at Hoshiko.

"You can just use they/them," Hoshiko told him.

"Right!" He looked back at his brothers. "So we're gonna make them feel comfortable and if ya don't, I'll kill ya," he was actually the most serious Hoshiko had ever seen him.

Hoshiko squeezed his hand. "Calm down, it's not that serious."

He looked back at Hoshiko. "Yes it is. Your feelings are important."

Hoshiko smiled at him. "I appreciate you saying that."

"Mammon is right," Lucifer spoke before dabbing his mouth with a napkin.

Hoshiko and Mammon looked at him.

"Your feelings are important, Hoshiko. If there's anything you need or if anyone gives you any flak, you let me know," only Lucifer could say something so sweet, yet so venom filled.

Hoshiko nodded. "I will, thank you."

Lucifer nodded. "Of course."

"Have you always felt this way?" Satan asked Hoshiko.

Hoshiko looked at him. "Uh... it's hard to say. It's only been in the last like... 3 years that I had the terminology to describe how I feel."

"And what is the correct terminology?" Satan asked as he pulled out his DDD and opened up a note taking app.

"I'm genderfluid. Which means I don't fit into the typical binary model of gender. Even though I am biologically female, I don't always want to present myself as traditionally female."

"Conforming to gender norms when it comes to clothing is so boring," Asmo commented. "You should just do what makes you happy."

Hoshiko smiled at him. "I like that. Thank you."

Asmo smiled brightly at them. "Of course, love!"

"So wait..." Belphie started.

Everyone looked at him.

"This is new to everyone, not just me?"

Beel nodded. "This is the first I've heard of it."

"So, you've felt like this for at least 3 years?" Belphie asked Hoshiko.

Hoshiko blushed and nodded, understanding what Belphie was getting at.

"Why didn't you say something sooner?" Levi asked.

"I didn't feel comfortable showing y'all until now. Even getting ready this morning I was nervous as hell."

Levi only nodded.

"Okay, I think that's enough questions for now," Lucifer interjected. "It's time to get to school."

Hoshiko was actually grateful that Lucifer had stopped them from asking them questions, they could feel themself getting overwhelmed.

Hoshiko smiled slightly at Lucifer before getting up and clearing their plate from the table.

The brothers followed suit, then everyone left for RAD together.

True to his word, Mammon stayed next to Hoshiko all day, though they didn't really need any protecting as they had originally thought.

After school, at the student council meeting, Diavolo asked Hoshiko how their first day presenting as a male was.

"It went well! Most folks were more curious anything. Azazel asked if I actually did have magical abilities because of how I changed my appearance. I thought that was funny. And Solomon offered to teach me how to make potions to deepen my voice for when I want to present as a guy. And Mephistopheles said I was stunning no matter how I presented..."

Most of the brothers rolled their eyes, but Mammon let out a little growl.

Hoshiko smacked his arm. "He was just bein' nice."

"Uh huh..." he crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair.

Diavolo chuckled at their interaction. "Well I'm glad today went so well for you, Hoshiko."

Hoshiko grinned. "I was really surprised, I thought that maybe at least a couple folks would give me hard time, but no one did."

"Demons are not usually so concerned with presentations of gender like that," Barbatos informed them.

"Oh... well I wish I had known that sooner, I wouldn't have been freaking out as much about today."

"That's not true," Barbatos corrected them.

Hoshiko pouted. "I don't like it when you call me out like that."

Barbatos chuckled softly.

Diavolo grinned. "Well I'm glad that our residents didn't take advantage of Hoshiko being a human when they changed their appearance. This is good for the exchange program!"

"I concur," Lucifer interjected.

"Well that concludes today's meeting," Diavolo announced before standing up.

Everyone else stood up with him.

Diavolo left the table before anyone else moved.

Asmo ran over to Hoshiko. "Hoshiko! Do you want to go shopping? We can pick you out some more masculine looking clothes if you want."

Hoshiko grinned. "I'd like that."

"I'm goin' too," Mammon declared.

Asmo pouted. "Why do you have to go?"

"Hoshiko asked me to stay by their side all day, so that's what I'm gonna do!"

Hoshiko chuckled. "That was when I thought I was gonna get made fun of or even beat up. I know I'll be okay now, so you don't have to stay with me."

"Nope. You asked so I'm gonna stay with you all day. The Great Mammon doesn't break a promise."

"What?! Since when?!" Levi interjected. "You still haven't paid me back!"

"Yeah, you obviously just want to be next to Hoshiko," Asmo pointed out.

"What?! That ain't so!" Mammon protested as a blush appeared on his cheeks.

Hoshiko chuckled at them. "Come on, we can all go shopping. It's not that big of a deal."

Asmo sighed. "Alright, as long as you're happy." He smiled slightly.

"We'll all be happy, I'll treat you two to dinner afterwards," Hoshiko promised.

Asmo beamed. "Okay!"

The trio went out to go shopping and went out to dinner before returning home to the House of Lamentation.

Hoshiko walked in sporting a new lavender suit and purple dress shirt.

Asmo insisted on showing them off to everyone in the house.

Hoshiko got a little embarrassed when Asmo dragged them to Lucifer's study. "Asmo, he doesn't care..."

"That's not true! Lucifer!" Asmo called as they walked into the study.

Lucifer looked up at them from where he sat at his desk.

"Look at our handsome little exchange student!" He exclaimed as he spun them around, giving Lucifer the full view.

Hoshiko was blushing.

Lucifer chuckled. "You look nice, Hoshiko. Though it is apparent that Asmo picked out that suit."

"That doesn't sound like a compliment," Asmo said with a pout.

"I just think Hoshiko would look better in something darker."

"There's more colors besides black and red, Lucifer," Asmo informed him.

Hoshiko chuckled at their interaction.

Lucifer glanced at Hoshiko briefly. "Asmo, would you leave us? I'd like to speak to Hoshiko alone for a moment."

"Ooh, okay!" Asmo sang just before leaving the room.

Hoshiko felt their ears get hot. "Uh, am I in trouble?"

"No, not at all. Please, take a seat." He motioned to a chair right in front of his desk.

Hoshiko nodded and sat down, crossing their legs as they did so.

"I just wanted to ask how your day went."

"It went well, you were there in the meeting when I told Lord Diavolo how it went."

"I just wanted to verify that nothing has changed since then. Make sure my brothers haven't harassed you about it."

Hoshiko laughed. "No, it's been fine. I appreciate your concern though."

Lucifer smirked. "How has your stay in Devildom been, thus far?"

"Aside from nearly dying like four times, it's been great!" Hoshiko teased.

Lucifer pursed his lips. "Right..."

"I'm only kidding with you. I've actually had a good time and I've learned a lot... it's kinda sad to think about how I'll be leaving in just a couple months."

Lucifer smiled slightly. "I'm glad you think of it that way."

"It certainly helped that all my housemates were hot too," Hoshiko told him with a wink.

Lucifer couldn't help the blush that rose to his cheeks. "Hoshiko," he chided.

Hoshiko snickered. "I'm just teasing you. That's a good thing. It means I'm comfortable with you now."

Lucifer hummed. "Should you be?"

"Is there a reason I shouldn't be?" Hoshiko asked with a sly smile.

Lucifer stared them down, frustrated at his inability to give them an answer. "... Regardless, we've been happy to host you. I'm glad you were chosen for the program."

Hoshiko rolled their eyes. "Are you going to continue to be this formal until I leave?"

"Perhaps," Lucifer replied simply.

"Uh huh." Hoshiko stood up and straightened their suit jacket. "Well I will be upfront with my feelings and tell you that I like you and all your brothers and I'm really enjoying my time here... I hope we can all still be good friends after I leave."

Lucifer watched them and smiled slightly. "I think my brothers will be lost without you here."

"I think I'll be lost without all their crazy antics keeping me busy," Hoshiko laughed.

Lucifer chuckled.

"Hoshiko!" Asmo squealed as they ran into the room and went to hide behind Hoshiko.

"Speaking of crazy antics," Hoshiko said to Lucifer before looking at Asmo. "What is-?"

Hoshiko jumped at being suddenly sprayed in the back of the head with water. They whipped around to see Mammon standing in the doorway with a water gun.

"Oh you're gonna get it now!" Hoshiko told him with a grin.

"Good luck catching me!" Mammon told them before running away.

Hoshiko quickly ran after him.

Asmo ran after the two, not wanting to miss out on the fun.

Lucifer shook his head with a soft smile on his face. He knew the "crazy antics" would never stop, but he was grateful for a particular human that had caused them to become less deadly.

54 notes · View notes

dakotacrisis · 3 years

Text

Cherry Blossoms (4)

And I am back in time for another update right at the end of pride month. Plan was to get this whole story posted during the month but that did not happen. Oh well, people are still gay in July. Just a whole lot less corporate pandering.

As far as things with Kagami and Marinette are going...well...plans go awry fast.

Read on AO3

---

Adrien was not joking around with what he called Operation Cherry Blossoms. A.K.A. Operation Get-Marinette-To-Fall-In-Love-With-Kagami. He had even called in reinforcements. When Kagami showed up at his house as he requested Alya was also there with a full slideshow presentation prepared. They went over Marinette’s likes and dislikes. Her favorite things and places to go.

There was even a theory discussion about Marinette’s sexuality and why she never seems to fall in love with anyone. The long standing belief was that she was possibly somewhere on the Ace spectrum but that was a whole other thing to get into. Right now they were working with the hope that Marinette did want to experience romantic love and hopefully that romantic love spread to girls. They all knew Marinette wasn’t straight but she never gave them a definite title so the mass consensus was that she was at least bi.

“Guys,” Kagami stopped them, “This is all very thoughtful of you but isn’t this a little weird?”

Alya paused her presentation to turn to her. “What about this is weird?”

“You are literally showing me a presentation on what Marinette is like. I know what she’s like. I don’t need to know that her third favorite ice cream flavor is Very Cherry Chocolate Swirl. I need advice on how to get closer to her so that I’m not stumbling over myself trying to talk to her. The fact that I am nervous enough to stammer around her is baffling to me. I never hesitate to go for stuff that I want but with Marinette...I…”

Adrien sighed. “We know and you’re right. We need a different approach. Giving her a Marinette quiz isn’t gonna help her win her over.”

“Fair enough,” Alya closed out of the powerpoint with a small frown. “What should we do then?”

“Well we can go over the different tactics we used to try and woo Marinette.” Adrien shrugged, “They didn’t work obviously but there was stuff that we did that she liked. Ironically enough she really liked getting flowers in my experience.”

“Yeah, doing little stuff like buying her favorite candy or sending her pictures of cute hamsters worked when I was trying to flirt with her.” Alya said.

“Okay, this is good, tell me more about this kind of stuff.” Kagami started taking notes on her phone.

“She appreciates when you plan something.” Adrien said, “I planned this big day together where we went to a bunch of places I knew she loved to shop, got lunch at her favorite cafe, and topped it off with seeing a movie she had been raving about. She really seemed to love it. Of course while I was trying to flirt and stuff she was only seeing it as a nice day out with a friend.”

“That is a dangerous line to walk,” Alya sighed, “You could plan the most romantic date ever and she would only be able to see it as a friendly gesture if you aren’t straight up with her about your intentions. I love her to death but the girl is so oblivious it actually hurts.”

“So how am I supposed to flirt with her without making it obvious that I am in love with her?”

“You can’t really. That’s the problem.” Alya said.

“Then why are we even here? If she’s too oblivious to notice someone is flirting with her and she gets spooked when someone is upfront with their feelings then how am I supposed to get anywhere with her?” Kagami asked, flabbergasted by this never ending cycle of pining and failure that was the pursuit of Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

“Schemes. Romantic schemes. Like they do in romantic comedy movies.” Adrien said proudly.

Kagami turned to Alya, deadpanned, “Is he serious?”

“I think you two are underestimating how well this can work.” Adrien pulled up his own powerpoint presentation titled, Romantic Comedy Schemes and Why They Worked.

“Oh sweet baby swiss cheese,” Alya sighed, “Adrien, I told you this wasn’t a viable plan.”

“Hear me out!” Adrien pleaded.

“Fine!”

“Seriously?” Alya gaped at Kagami, “You want to actually hear this boy list off how the note cards from Love Actually was the ultimate romantic gesture or some crap like that?”

“It’s not like I have a whole lot of options.” Kagami threw her hands up, “It’s either romantic comedy shenanigans or trying to flirt with Marinette on my own. Neither seem viable but at least this one is less likely to make me puke up flowers. Go ahead, Agreste. Let’s hear your attack strategy.”

“All right!” Adrien beamed as he clicked to the next slide, “Let’s start with the proper setting.”

---

Kagami could not believe that she was doing this. She had agreed to it but it still seemed ridiculous. No. It didn’t ‘seem’ ridiculous, it ‘was’ ridiculous! This whole plot Adrien concocted with the help of Alya and a watchmojo top ten list of most romantic movie dates was utterly insane. If Kagami wasn’t desperate she would have said no. But she was. She was desperate and in love and desperately in love with the most wonderful yet naive girl in the world.

Adrien was walking with Kagami towards the Dupain-Cheng bakery. Right into the belly of the beast. Adrien kept a reassuring hand on her shoulder as they got closer. Kagami balled her hands in the fabric of her jacket. She can do this. They stopped outside the bakery and Adrien turned to her.

“You okay? You got this?”

“I’m okay. I can do this.” Kagami nodded, “And you’re sure this will work?”

“Only one way to find out.” Adrien said, “Quick cough, make sure there’s no loose flower petals that are gonna come popping out.”

Kagami grabbed her handkerchief and coughed into it a few times but no petals came up. They were good for now at least. She stuffed the hanky back in her pocket and followed Adrien into the bakery. It was fairly slow at this time and Marinette was standing by herself at the counter and flipping through a magazine. Kagami’s stomach flipped upon seeing her and she could swear she felt that tickle in her throat again.

Adrien ushered her forward with a hand on the small of her back. “Hey Marinette,” Adrien greeted her cheerfully, “Working hard as usual I see.”

“Oh hey guys,” Marinette smiled at them. She slid her magazine away. “What brings you by?”

“Well Kagami here wanted to order a custom cake for an upcoming special event and you know more about this stuff than me so I figured you could help us out.”

“Of course, I love assembling custom cakes,” Marinette pulled out a large binder from behind the counter. “First thing is first, how many people does this need to feed and what is your budget?”

“Budget is unlimited,” Adrien handed her his credit card, “and you can get all of the rest of the details from Kagami. Unfortunately I cannot stick around. I have a photoshoot I gotta run to but you two have fun. Kagami, get my card back to me after alright?”

What? This wasn’t part of the plan! Adrien was supposed to stay! He wasn’t supposed to leave her alone. Was this his plan all along? Oh she was going to kill him later! That hopeless romantic airheaded jerk was gonna have Kagami’s foot so far up his butt her foot would stick out of his mouth by the time she’s through with him.

Adrien patted Kagami on the top of her head and whispered into her ear, “Relax, you’ll be fine.” He bid the girls goodbye and left without another look back.

“Okay then,” Marinette was completely unperturbed by Adrien sudden departure, “Let’s get started on that cake.” She turned around to shout to the back of the bakery, “Mama! Can you come run register? I gotta help take a cake order.”

“Sure thing sweetie,” Mrs. Cheng came up to the front, “Oh Kagami, how nice to see you again. Are you ordering the cake? We’ll be sure to put it at the top of our list just for you.”

“Thank you,” Kagami said. She followed Marinette back through the bakery and into the apartment stairwell.

“We’ll have more privacy here,” Marinette sat down on the step, “Now how many people was this going to serve?”

“Uh…” Kagami racked her brain. She really didn’t need an actual cake. She wasn’t even that big into sweets. Adrien was paying for it too so she didn’t want to go overboard. Since Adrien was paying for it she supposed she could just assemble something she thought he would like and give it to him and Alya as a sort of thanks for helping her out. “Two people.”

“Smaller cake then, alright,” Marinette jotted down the information, “Did you want something like a tart or a cake?”

“Cake.”

“One or two layers?”

“One.”

“And specific shape? We can do a circle, rectangle, square, we can even do a heart if this is for something or someone special.” Marinette giggled. “Or maybe you just think little heart shaped cakes are cool.”

“Circle is fine.” Kagami choked back the petals in her throat trying to escape.

“And what kind of flavor were you thinking for the cake? We have lots of different options.”

“Uh...vanilla?”

“Simple, classic, love it.” Marinette continued on. “And what about filling? We have a lovely cherry filling that I think you would adore. I know how much you like cherry and we do use real chopped cherries in the filling.”

“Sure,”

“Great. I gotta know, what is this cake for? Adrien said it was for a very special event you were planning. What’s going on?”

“Oh it’s nothing really.”

“Come on, tell me, I’m curious,” Marinette scooted closer with her chin resting in her hands, “You said it was for two people. Is this maybe for a romantic date you have planned?”

“What? No! That’s not--” Kagami tried to back away but her back was already pressed into the stair railing, “Definitely not a date. This was--this was um--” Quick Kagami! Think of something! Anything! “Actually,” she said, “This was supposed to be a present for Adrien but then he offered to pay and I couldn’t tell him that it was for him cause it was supposed to be a surprise so now I’m kind of in a box about it.”

“A present for Adrien?” Marinette asked, “That’s sweet. Why are you getting him a present? Is there some sort of anniversary coming up?”

“No. I just thought it would be a nice gesture since we’re good friends and all.” It wasn’t a complete lie.

“Well that is just wonderful.” Marinette said, “If this is for Adrien then maybe we want to change the filling to passionfruit. I know that’s his favorite. Did you want to do that instead?”

“Yeah. Sounds good.” Kagami breathed out in relief. Dodged that bullet.

The girls spent the rest of the time constructing the perfect cake that they thought Adrien would like. It wasn’t the most romantic setting but it did give them ample time alone. Kagami hadn’t even noticed how fast the time was flying by as their conversation kept drifting from the cake form to other topics. At some point they had started leaning on one another with tears in their eyes as they laughed about a croissant eating contest Marinette’s school had put on and the disastrous results that ensued.

“I am telling you,” Marinette took a moment to breathe, “We had no idea where she was putting them all. Alix just kept downing croissant after croissant like she was pac-man. For someone so small she has a huge stomach.”

“I bet that angered Kim to no end.” Kagami laughed.

“Oh you have no idea. Poor guy was trying so hard to keep up but just couldn’t do it.” Marinette shook her head. She laid down so her head was resting in Kagami’s lap. “I need a minute. I haven’t laughed that hard in a long time. I can scarcely breathe.”

“Me either.” Kagami’s hand automatically went to Marinette’s hair and started running her hands through it. “How did we even get to this point? I’m fairly certain we were trying to create a cake for Adrien before this.”

“We were,” Marinette closed her eyes under Kagami’s attentions, “I’m just using you as an excuse to not have to wait on customers. That’s why I keep prolonging this.”

“And here I thought you just enjoyed my company.”

“I do. I love hanging out with you.” Marinette sighed, “I love it even more when you play with my hair. I feel like a little kitten getting lovies and pets.”

“You would make an adorable kitten.” Kagami said. The urge to cough came upon Kagami and she tried to swallow it back. It was a miracle she hadn’t dissolved into a coughing fit while she was laughing earlier. Marinette’s eyes were closed so hopefully she wouldn’t notice.

Kagami gave a quick cough to clear the petals but they were stuck and weren’t coming loose from such meager means. Crap. She tried a few more tiny coughs but it was only aggravating her more.

“You okay?” Marinette sat up, “Allergies again? Or do you just have a tickle in your throat.”

“I’m fine,” she turned away as her coughing got more violent. Stupid flower petals! Stupid disease! Marinette ran a hand up and down her back to ease the ache.

“Are you sure you don’t want a glass of water?”

“Water would be good,” Kagami answered in a hoarse voice. At least with Marinette gone she could get these petals out without her noticing. Marinette ran off to get her some water and Kagami started coughing hard hoping to dislodge the petals quickly before Marinette got back. What Kagami did not count on was Marinette being so darn fast and racing back to their spot with a water bottle in hand just as Kagami got the petals out. She had a hand clamped over her mouth with the petals settled in her palm.

She closed her fist around the petals and stuffed her hand in her pocket to hide the petals. “Thanks Marinette,” Kagami took the water.

“No problem, oops, you got a little something there.” Marinette reached a hand out and plucked something from Kagami’s chin. Double crap! One of the petals must have gotten stuck to her chin.

Marinette turned the petal over in the light. The recognition of what it was hitting her and the realization settling in as she put the pieces together. The cough. The petal. There was only one explanation.

“Oh dear,” Marinette frowned with worry, “Kagami? Are you alright? Please be honest with me, do you have Hanahaki disease?”

There was no point lying now. Marinette already knew. Might as well get it over with and end the suffering now.

“Yes,” Kagami pulled the petals out of her pocket, “I have for a while now.”

“Oh I am so sorry!” Marinette cried out, “I know how much that sucks. It’s such an unfair disease.”

“I am painfully aware,” Kagami scoffed, “At least they’re small.”

“Pretty too,” Marinette handed her the petal back. “So you have an unrequited love?”

“Big time.”

“Have you confessed?”

“No. That’s why I’m here. This, ordering the cake, it was supposed to help in some way. It seems silly now. I’m usually so upfront with people about what I want and what I feel but this whole ordeal has thrown me for a loop.” Kagami kept her head down. She didn’t want to see Marinette’s face when she rejected her.

“I see,” Marinette pulled her in for a hug. “It’s okay, Kagami. I don’t think it was stupid at all.”

“You don’t?”

“No.” Marinette pulled back far enough to look in Kagami’s eyes, “I think telling someone how you feel over a delicious cake is a swell way to go about it. The fact that you are going to all this trouble for Adrien is so heartwarming.”

“Adrien?” Kagami looked at her confused. Why was she talking about Adrien… “Oh sweet baby swiss cheese,”

“Was this Alya’s idea?” Marinette asked, “She says that a lot so I figured that’s where you picked it up. Alya is great, always prepared for everything. Might go a little overboard but she’s a good person to go to for stuff like this.”

“Marinette, about Adrien--”

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell him anything.” Marinette hugged her again, “This will stay just between us. And do not worry about the cake. This one is on us. We will make sure it is perfect for your confession date, whenever you have that planned. Adrien would have to be insane not to fall in love with you.”

“Uh huh, this whole thing is so insane.” Kagami muttered. Operation Cherry Blossoms just got a whole lot more complicated.

---

(First) (Previous) (Next)

#miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #kagami tsurugi #kagaminette #marigami #hanahaki disease au

19 notes · View notes

etoileholland · 4 years

Text

it’s nice to have a friend

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Warnings: insecurity

Word count: 2.1k

Summary: Peter, upon finding out that you’re bullied at school and that you have no friends, wants to be yours.

A/N: this was cathartic to write so I hope it’s cathartic to read

Feeling alone was something that you were quite accustomed to. You had a few people that you would consider friends, but it always seemed that they had something else that was more important. Or, rather, spending time with someone else that was more important.

Every day at school filled you with anxiety and despair, and you always counted down the hours and minutes until you could leave for the day.

On some days, it felt as if you were truly invisible. No one would talk to you, or eat lunch with you, or even as much look in your direction.

Other days felt as though you stuck out for all the wrong reasons, like being asked for your homework or having rude remarks directed at you. Boys would comment on how unattractive you were, and would ask you on a date only as a dare. Girls would snicker behind your back, saying comments like, “Her outfit choices are awful, do you think she gets dressed in the dark?” or “If only she put on cuter clothes and some makeup, maybe then would she be pretty.”

The comments would get to you, and you found yourself trying to ditch school or show up late to classes so that the odds of being publicly ridiculed would be slim. You often felt that no one would notice if you disappeared.

Or so you thought.

There was one person that always seemed intrigued by you, but you never seemed to pay much attention to him.

The boy was named Peter, more specifically, Peter Parker.

He sat right next to you in English class, and he had only spoken to you once when you were paired together for an in-class assignment.

He had always wanted to start a conversation with you, but he never knew how to go about it. His heightened senses picked up on the fact that you were often anxious, and he didn’t want to make your anxiety worse by trying to start a conversation. So, he never said anything to you, holding onto the hope that one day the right time would arise and he would be able to finally speak to you.

And today was that day.

You had walked into English class fifteen minutes late, your head hung low to not draw anymore attention to yourself. However quiet you tried to be, it didn’t go unnoticed by your teacher.

“Late again, I see?” your teacher, Mr. Harris remarked harshly. The comment caught you off guard, which caused you to trip on someone’s backpack that was in the aisle. “Next time you come in late Y/N, I’ll have no choice but to give you detention.”

“Or better yet, you could just do us all a favour and not show up?” a boy named Chad remarked without skipping a beat, and the whole class broke out into laughter.

It took everything in you to not run out of the classroom, but instead you scurried to your desk and slumped into your seat, hoping that you wouldn’t call any more attention to yourself. You wrote something on a stray sticky note that was stuck to your binder, before pulling out your notebook and taking notes on what the teacher was saying.

When the bell finally rang, you quickly shoved everything into your backpack and practically sprinted out the door. You ran out so quickly that you didn’t even notice you had dropped the sticky note, which landed right by Peter’s shoe.

“Wait,” he tried to call out to you but it was too late. He bent down to pick up the note and let out a small gasp when he read what it said, “I just want to disappear.”

“No.” Peter muttered under his breath. Looking around to make sure no one noticed him reading the note, he discreetly placed the sticky note in his folder before heading to his next class.

—

Lunch rolled around, and Peter struggled with what to do about that note. He sat at the usual table and impatiently waited for Ned and MJ to show up so he could ask them what to do.

The duo walked over to the table a few minutes later, and when they set their things down, Peter asked if they had seen you around.

“Nope.” they replied in unison.

“She wasn’t in History today, so maybe she went home early?” Ned said with his mouth full of pepperoni pizza.

“Why do you suddenly want to know where she is, Parker?” MJ questioned as she stole Peter’s gogurt.

Without responding, Peter pulled out the sticky note from his locker and showed his friends.

“Oh.” MJ responded quietly, and Ned stayed quiet.

“She was late to class today, and Chad made a remark saying that she should just never show up to class anymore. She didn’t speak up like she usually does, and wrote this during class. When she left, the note dropped and she didn’t notice it, but I picked it up and now I’m worried thinking that the comment really got to her.”

Ned and MJ nodded their heads and MJ placed her hand on Peter’s arm.

“What should I do?” Peter leaned over the table and placed his face in his hands.

“Talk to her.” Ned answered.

“I’ve tried, but there never seems to be a good time to do so.”

“Hm, maybe write her a note and slip it in her locker? So that you won’t be seen passing notes in class and she won’t be flustered receiving it?”

Peter sat back up and looked MJ in the eye. “I never thought I would say this, but that’s actually a good idea, thank you.”

“No problem, now if you’ll excuse me,” MJ reached for Peter’s bag of chips, “those cheetos are calling my name.” She ripped open the bag and smiled.

That’s what I’ll do, I’ll go home and write her a letter, Peter thought to himself as he stole back the bag of chips that MJ took.

—

At 2:55pm, the last bell of the day rang and Peter ran out of class, down the corridors and out the main doors. He had been anxious all day since he found your note, him counting down the hours until he could rush home. The anxious feeling in his stomach grew when he didn’t see you at lunch, or at your locker. He was fearing the worst, and he hoped that he wasn’t too late.

Instead of taking the subway home, he had changed into his Spiderman suit before his last class ended, and ran into an empty alleyway. He took his school clothes off, stuffed them in his backpack and swung home. He knew that he was working against the clock, and he wanted to get home in plenty of time so that he could write that letter to you.

Making it home in record time, he climbed into his room and began looking for a piece of paper and a pen. He thought about what to say and fervently wrote that letter to you. After ten rewrites, and four hours later, he knew that he had finally said what he wanted to say. He gently folded it and stuck it in a homemade envelope, writing your name in cursive on the front and putting a heart at the end of your name. All he had to do now was wait until tomorrow to give it to you.

—

The next day, during second period, Peter had excused himself from class and ran through the halls to put the letter in your locker, but stopped in his tracks when he saw you sitting right below your locker. You were sitting there crying, with your knees to your chest. The door to your locker was open and there was a small box sitting next to you on the floor.

“Y/N?” He whispered, and you shot your head up to see Peter standing there confused. “Is everything okay?”

“Oh, um, hi Peter. I’m sorry you have to see me like this.” You weakly smiled and wiped the tears off your cheeks with the arm of your sweater.

“Why is there a box on the floor?” He asked, taking a step closer to you.

“Oh,” you sniffled, “I’m moving schools.”

“Why is that?” Peter asked, his voice soft. He moved the box over and sat down on the floor next to you.

“You probably wouldn’t understand.”

“I could try.” He scooted closer to you and looked at you sympathetically.

“I don’t feel like I belong here, at all. I don’t have any friends, and I don’t have any connections here that would make it worthwhile to stay.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” He answered, unsure of what else to say.

“It’s not your fault. My mom offered to send me to a school across town and I’m gonna take her up on it.”

“Well, if that’s the best choice for you, then you should take it.” He paused, “but I think maybe before you make that choice, there’s something you should know.” He grabbed the letter out of his back pocket and gave it to you. “I hope it doesn’t come off as creepy.”

With shaky hands, he handed you the letter and you lightly grabbed it. Admiring the front of the envelope, you said, “Your cursive is really good, Peter.”

He laughed at that comment and replied, “thank you, I won the ‘best penmanship’ award in third grade, and I pride myself with that.”

“I bet you put that on your resume, didn’t you?” You joked and Peter replied, “oh, definitely.”

Getting back to opening the letter, you took it out of its envelope and unfolded it.

Y/N,

I’ve thought about the best way to go about saying this, which I think may be this way. Today in class, I saw your note that said that you want to disappear, and I knew that I had to say something to you. So here it goes. Although I only know you from sitting next to you in class, you are so nice, patient and intelligent, and I hope that I can get to know you more. I always see you sitting by yourself at lunch, and I always tell myself that one day I’ll work up the courage to sit next to you and say hi, but I never can.

You don’t deserve all the crap that you get, and I’m surprised that you don’t have any friends because you are one of the best people here at school. I genuinely mean that. You are one of the most ‘real’ people here; you’re authentically you, and I admire that about you. You don’t conform to what people say you should do or act or dress, and that’s admirable. You don’t hide your intelligence, and you sure as hell don’t pretend to be someone you’re not. Maybe that’s not a popular opinion with many people, but it is to me.

If you ever need someone, I’m always here for you. I’m hoping that you’ll take me up on that offer Y/N, because I know what it’s like to be lonely, and what it’s like to not have any friends. It’s nice to have a friend, and I’d love to be yours.

Peter x

You didn’t realise you were crying when a teardrop hit the paper, the ink spreading where it hit.

“Peter, this is the nicest thing I’ve ever received, thank you.”

Peter shrugged his shoulders and gently bumped your shoulder with his. “You’re welcome, and it’s true, by the way. All the things I said were true. You really do seem like a nice person and you don’t deserve the rude remarks that you get.”

“I don’t know what else to say other than, thank you Peter. This means a lot to me.” You folded the letter up nicely and stuck it in your backpack. “This makes me reconsider wanting to move schools now.”

“Ultimately it’s your choice, and you should do what you think is best. But if I’ve learned one thing in life, it’s to not walk away when people are ridiculing you. Instead, if you stand your ground and don’t give into the crap, they’ll realise how strong and persistent you really are and eventually leave you alone.”

“Maybe you’re right, maybe I should stay here in order to stand up for myself. I’m not going to let a douchebag named Chad be the reason I move schools.”

“Exactly.” He chuckled. “But I also know how hard it is to stand up to bad people by yourself. It’s so much easier to have a group of people who have your back behind you, supporting you all the way. So if you need a friend Y/N, I’m here for you, because trust me, I know what it’s like to not have a friend.”

“Well Peter Parker, it’s nice to have you as a friend.” You whispered to him. You looked over at the boy with the soft curls and the kind eyes, and you mentally thanked the gods above for sending an angel like him to you.

“It’s nice to have you as a friend too. Now c’mon, let’s go show Chad that we’re not a force to be reckoned with.” He stood up and held his hand out for you to grab, to which you gladly did. Together, the two of you walked the empty halls, hand in hand, ready to take on the world.

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#peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker and you #peter parker and y/n #peter parker and reader #peter parker #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfic #peter parker imagine #peter parker one shot #peter parker one shots #peter parker blurb #peter parker blurbs #mine

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sweetchup · 3 years

Text

Not A Chance!!

Type: Shalnark x reader

Prompt: O’Inari’s Wisdom — On any day during this week, people of the ages of 19-30 years old will go through a walk in the woods carrying a clear ornament (Traditionally it used to be a Jar). The ornament is usually filled with the person’s favorite scent or perfume, Name and Phone number on paper slip, and their dream type of lover on a rose petal. When walking through the woods, the person allows the God/Goddess of the woods O’inari’s Imps to trick them into meeting their soulmate. It is a must to switch ornaments with that first person they see for it is said the imps won’t allow them to leave the forest unless they do so.

Author Note: I decided to try a different writing style with the kiss scene this time. Tell me what you guys think.

(Prompts/Rules) (Masterlist)

“Hey (y/n), Bisky, What’s this?” Gon asks. His voice was hardly heard over the many chattering of the NPCS and other players in the city as you looked at him. Gon first shows Bisky, who was closer to him, a baby blue flier that you couldn’t quite read from where you were standing. “Is it some sort of Greed Island event?”

“Wait a minute. Gon do you not know what O’inari’s wisdom is?” Bisky questions, shocked. Walking over closer and looking from behind Bisky, you realize that the Winter Holiday of O’inari’s Wisdom was indeed taking place on Greed island. You were slightly surprised for a second but it soon started to make sense the more you thought about it. It had started snowing on the island recently and if the game was parallel to the times in the real world then it should also be December in the game. So it just made sense that Holidays were also coded into the game to match the changing seasons.

“Oh, so it’s a Holiday,” Gon says surprised once Bisky explains it to him, “We didn’t celebrate it on Whale Island. Maybe it’s because I was so young. But, at the very least, (y/n) will be able to celebrate it with us.”

“Huh?” You murmur confused. You never mentioned anything about doing it, “I’m not doing it. Actually, why would you think I would do it?”

“Well, you don’t have a boyfriend right? So you must have not done it yet. So you should do it! It will be fun!” Gon explains enthusiastically as Bisky nods in agreement. Of course, it was just straightforward thinking done by Gon, not thinking of other possible possibilities. Man, why exactly did Killua have to leave you to take the Hunter exam again?

“I actually have done the Holiday before,” You tell the two as you start to walk away, calling forth “book” as you do so. As you examine through your binder, you continued to explain what you meant to the younger boy, “I’ve actually done it many times. Sometimes doing a full week some years. Other times going to different locations from other cities or towns. But in all the years I’ve done, I never once heard nor bumped into anyone else in the forest. So I just gave up on th—”

Bisky suddenly cuts you off with a loud exaggerated gasp.

“Oh My~ Then that must mean you really do have a soulmate out there (y/n)! What powerful young love!!” Bisky states dreamily as sparkles and flowers seem to dance around her. All you can do is sigh at the older woman antics and continue on your way. Honestly, to you there was no way Soulmates could exist. Not a chance! There was just no science nor reason behind it. Nen could be explained. Monsters could be explained. But soulmates, not at all. It was just some made up myth with no hard facts.

As you make your way to the gate of Aiai, you feel Gon tug at your top to catch your attention.

“But, (y/n)?” You take your eyes away from your binder to look at Gon. “Do you think you could try? Perhaps one of the needed 99 slot cards is given at the event.”

“Oooo, good thinking Gon,” Bisky states looking at the flier and then looking at you. “With that possibility, I order you to do it then (y/n). Afterall, you are the only person who could do it out of us.”

You and Bisky stare at each other tensely for a little. Slightly challenging each other to step down until eventually you give up and finally look away. Even though you aren’t looking at her, you can hear Bisky doing a dance in success. “Fine then where do we go to take place in this event?”

“Apparently, you can get there by using an Accompany to Winterfell. We don’t even need to go there beforehand to use the accompany card.” As Bisky explains, you flip your binder and grab a spare accompany card. This is the last one from your binder so Gon and Bisky will have to start using their ones from now on. Well, Until you can get to Masadora to get some more.

“Okay then, let’s get this over with,” You state. Though for some reason you have an uneasy feeling in your stomach as you hold the card up. You wondered why, perhaps you felt nervous? But why would you? Greed Island was hardly crowded so this is the lowest chance of meeting someone during the Holiday. Maybe it was just the fact you haven’t done this tradition in a while. Yeah, that was probably just it, “Accompany on! To Winterfell!”

—.—.—.—.—

The crunching sound of snow is the only thing you hear as you walk through the forest. For what felt goes on for miles, all you have been seeing was snow covered pine trees. Not even birds or other sources of life have been spotted while you have been walking in this forest which was quite strange. How long have you been walking you wondered. It was hard to tell but you guessed maybe an hour or so?

Stopping next to a tree, you run your hand up it’s trunk somewhat tracing the engravement in it. You had already seen this before. It was like you have been going in circles, even though you have actually only been going straight. Was this some sort of test in the game? Maybe Gon was right about a specified slot card being here.

“Book!” In a poof, your binder opens up. Or, at least that's what you expect to happen. However, it doesn’t pop up. After calling the book a couple more times, you realize it was no use. It just doesn’t work. Was this some glitch in the game?

All of sudden, a rush of wind catches you off guard. It wasn’t just any breeze however, this gust of wind was similar to that of a giant icy blizzard. You cringe as the snow in the wind pricks and scratches at your skin. You needed to take cover from the harsh wind before you freeze to death.

Quickly, when you try to look around to find somewhere to take cover, something whips into your face, blinding you. As you struggle to pull it off of you, the wind suddenly comes to a complete stop. Weird, very weird. Finally getting it off of you and taking a good look at the item, you realize it was just an in-game scarf. Actually, you weren’t even sure it was an item from the game since it had a tag from the real world.

“Hey! That’s my sc—“ Turning around at the cheerful voice behind you, you see a familiar man a couple of feet away from you. You don’t understand why you recognize the man until he suddenly goes on guard and realization hits you. Wait a minute you remember that stance. He was a member of the Phantom Troupe wasn’t he? Shalnark, right? You quickly get on guard as well when he grabs an antenna from his pocket. An manipulator, huh? In a one on one fight like this, he has the clear advantage on you.

“Hey, I’m not here with the chain user,” You state, breaking the silence between you two. You weren’t usually someone to give up but avoiding a fight with him and going your separate ways is the best way to go in this situation. Afterall, the last thing you needed was to become his newest puppet. “I’m with the kids and all we are doing is playing the game by collecting cards.”

You wrap up Shalnark’s scarf and lightly toss it in front of his feet.

“I have no problems with you guys and I don’t want to fight you.” You continue as you start to walk backward, away from him. Hopefully, that woman, Pakunoda, told the other troupe members how you deteratarted Kurapika away from the option of placing a Nen dagger in her heart and helped spared their boss’ life.

It’s quiet and tense for a couple of minutes, not even the wind was blowing, before the blonde nods in agreement to your idea. You watch as he carefully picks up his scarf and then both of you two turn away from each other at the same time to walk away. Thankfully, counting on that woman seemed t—

All of sudden, after a couple of steps, the large gust of wind returns. You tried to fight against it and continue forward but it only seemed to grow stronger the more you tried. It grew so strong in fact that it lifted you right off your feet and threw you backward. You hoped to land on the soft snow but, of course with your luck, you hit something else very hard with a loud thump. Originally, you thought it was a tree that you hit but once you roll onto your side, you come to the realization that whatever you landed on doesn’t feel anything like tree bark.

“Ow! What was that…” Shooting up at the voice, You realize it was Shalnark that you had hit. You attempt to scurry away from him fast however, as soon as you get too far away, a gust of wind drags him back towards you. You pause as Shalnark lifts his head from being buried in the snow and looks at you confused.

“I-It’s some sort of error in the game. I swear. Maybe with the coding? Or—“ You blab out in a tangent trying to explain what was going on. Soon however, Shalnark sighs loudly, cutting you off.

“That’s a really stupid conclusion you cam up with. If you had once stop to look around you in this game, you would have realized this place, Greed Island, actually takes place in the real world. Specifically a straight shot east of York New.” Shalnark explains, somewhat sarcastically. All you do is roll your eyes. Of course you got stuck with the jackass of the troupe.

“Well then since this game isn’t actually a game, what do you think is going on, if you think you are oh so right?” You spat back at him. For some reason, you just couldn’t understand why he was being so rude in this situation, it was clearly neither of yours fault.

“Simple. This,” Shalnark states confidently as he takes the ornament from his pocket and lifts it up to you. You can’t help but laugh loudly at the idea, causing him to scowl at you.

“Y-You can’t be serious?! You and I? Soulmates!?”

“Of course! You do realize that in the myth it’s impossible for us to leave until we exchange our ornaments.” Shalnark explains, tossing his ornament at you. Clutching it in your hand, you quickly examine the ornament before scoffing.

“Yeah, not a chance,” You state as you toss his ornament back to him, causing Shalnark to sputter confused. “In no ways am I giving my personal information and phone number to the tech expert of the phantom troupe. That’s just plain stupid.”

You and Shalnark bicker on back and forth for a while until eventually he goes quiet and just glares at you. Honestly, in your opinion, it was better if he just chose to quit talking. He snaps his fingers catching you off guard, “Okay I have an idea! How about I try to convince you we are destine—”

“Soulmates?” You finish for him, slightly cringing.

“Yeah, that! And if I can convince you, then you can feel safe to give me your ornament so we can both leave.”

You ponder a little on the option he suggested. Honestly, you actually didn’t have much of any others option to begin with, “Fine. What do you got to convince me?”

“Well, first,” You watch closely as Shalnark grabs the Rose petal out from his ornament. Oh, you knew where this was going, that was actually a smart idea. Maybe this guy actually had some brain cells. “I’m going to read off my dream type of lover. I bet this will describes you.”

Reading off his petal to you, you listen carefully. As the more he goes on, you can’t deny that it did somewhat describe you, almost on the dime. As Shalnark shows the petal to you to prove he wasn’t making stuff up, You decide to grab your own petal. He seems to get excited that you finally understood what he was saying.

“See I tol—“ Shalnark is cut off when you let out a loud laugh.

“Yeah no way. Mine is ‘Someone who is like the sun; always cheerful as well as mentally bright.’” You read off, chucking it back into the ornament.

“Hey! I’m pretty cheerful! And bright!” Shalnark states, finally flashing you a smile for the first time you’ve been with him.

“Ha, I doubt that.” You say, though you can’t help but feel your heart skip a beat at how handsome he looked with a smile on his face. Your eyes go wide and you mentally slap yourself. What in the world were you thinking just now? You were flustered over him?!, “N-Next! What’s your other ideas?!”

“Aw come on!”

After a couple of more attempts from Shalnark to prove you two are soulmates, as well as many more confused borderline bipolar back and forth feelings on your end, Shalnark has run out of ideas and you two sit in silence as he tries to come up with more.

“Is that all the ideas you have?” You ask him shivering slightly as you pull your jacket closer for warmth. Looking up towards the sky above the thick pine branches, you see that it had just started to get darker out, effectively making it ten times colder as well. It now dawns on you that at this rate with your progress, you two could possibly freeze to death out here if you couldn’t get to a warm shelter before night.

“Shalnark. Here I—“ You suddenly pause what you were saying as you turn to face the man, “what the hell do you think you are doing…?”

You looked confused at Shalnark, who had moved closer to sit next to you. You didn’t know what he was up to but you definitely still didn’t trust him. As you try to lift yourself up to move away, Shalnark quickly grabs your wrist to keep you put where you were. Oh hell no. You struggle against his grip, attempting to pry his fingers off of your wrist but while you are distracted he uses his other hand to grab your arm. Effectively trapping you.

You struggle against him a little more but it only causes him to push you backwards down into the snow, him slightly leaning over you. Now nervous about what Shalnark was possibly doing, you shout out to him, “H-hey! I’ll give you the ornament okay? I don’t want—“

You feel the rest of your words die in your throat as Shalnark leans his forehead against yours, causing him to get very close to your face as well. Biting the inside of your mouth, you close your eyes tightly as a way to try calming your pounding heart. You couldn’t tell if your heart was racing out of fear or possibly something else. Though, again, it wasn’t like you could think straight at this point on time to figure which one. Cutting off your thoughts, Shalnark lets out a boyish giggle and tells you, “For someone who says they hate me and doesn’t believe in soulmates, your face sure is feeling quite hot. It’s almost as if you are flustered by me.”

Quickly, most likely in an attempt to save your dignity, you turn your face away to him so his face could no longer touch yours. As you do so, your heart leaps out of your chest when you hear him let out a small aww in disappointment.

“H-hey! I said I’ll give you my ornament so let go of me!” You sputter out, trying and likely failing at keeping yourself composed. You know it’s hard for you to think logically in a situation like this but you would’ve thought you had enough common sense in you to not get flustered by a mass murder.

“Hmmmm… Nope” Shalnark answers, popping the “p” at the end. Surprised and bewildered, You whirl your head around back to look at him. He seemed to get a kick out of your reaction because he can’t help but laugh. “You are correct by the fact that all I wanted originally was to take the ornament and leave. But the more we went on, talking and bickering, I realized I wanted something else.”

“H-huh? What? I don’t have much of anything else.” You questioned. Was he talking about cards in the game? Gon carried all of the number slot cards so you didn’t have anything that was useful to Shalnark.

“Silly girl~ It’s simple.” Shalnark flashes you a smile as he boops your nose with each next word, “I. Want. You~”

As you give a weird expression in response to Shalnark flirting attempt, he looks at you confused as to why you looked like that before full on laughing, when what looked like steam started to flow from out of your head. He couldn’t believe he fried your brain with a silly pick up line. It wasn’t even a good one either.

“Adorable~” Shalnark whispers out so softly and quietly that you almost don’t hear it. You go to ask him to repeat what he said again, but stop when he leans down. He wasn’t—

You can only watch as he inches closer and closer to your face. You don’t get why you don’t stop him, you know you probably should. But you just couldn’t for some reason you didn’t quite understand.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Shalnark kisses you. Stealing your first kiss, a precious thing you could never be able to get back from him. Though you doubt you would even try if you were able to.

As his lips moved against yours, you had to admit they were surprisingly soft, not at all rough or chapped like what the very few romance books you’ve read over the years described. Though you had to admit those boorish books were right about one thing, kissing someone was a feeling you’ve never once experienced before in your life. Authors have described the experience in many different ways but as Shalnark pulls away from your lips only to dive it once. Twice. And so many more times that you’ve lost count, you realize yours wasn’t like the ones written down. It didn’t take your breath away, it wasn’t rough or deep, it wasn’t messy or desperate.

But, it was yours. A feverish kiss if you must find a word to describe it. A kiss that even while pushed down into the freezing cold snow, you felt you were burning up inside. So much so, that your brain seemed to melt and your muscles turned to jelly from an non existent heat.

Finally after a while, you two pull away from each other, still in a trance like state from what happened. It’s quiet, nothing is heard nor said between you two as you just stare at each other. You know it is now dark out. You know you should be trying to get back to Gon and Bisky before they worry. You know it would be in your best interests to try to get away as far as you can from the dangerous man before you. You know you shouldn’t be feeling such feelings for him, for it is too soon and he probably doesn’t even deserve to be able to experience a pleasant emotion like this one. You know all these things almost as if they are engraved in your heart.

But, even when knowing all these things, you can’t stop yourself from dragging Shalnark back in to give you another kiss.

#hxh #hunter x hunter #phantom troupe #shalnark #shalnark x reader

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