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kjhbsies · 3 months

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Within These Walls

Ellie Williams x fem!reader Synopsis: What would happen if Ellie saw her worst enemy, and the girl who has a crush on her wife? No, she's not jealous... is she? Warnings: Part III of the Ellie and arranged marriage trope. This is the last chapter and I'm grateful for all the support. This is not proofread so expect some grammatical errors. There are some Abby x reader and Ellie x Dina. Please be warned that this is just a fiction and I don't hate Dina. Happy reading!

wc: 5695 Part I. Part II.

Ellie’s mind is blank throughout the day and she can’t seem to move, not even a limb. She’d like to just sleep and rot in her bed for eternity but she couldn’t. Not today. Because this is a special day. This day will be your wedding.

A voice pulled her out from her thoughts. “What a handsome young girl you are.” The old lady who is preparing her attire complimented Ellie. She smiled at her forcefully, not even having the courage to give a genuine one.

“Is there a problem?” She asked kindly and Ellie couldn’t even answer her straight. Instead, she just sighed and looked down on her feet.

“I don’t know if this is a good idea.” Ellie answered silently. Still feeling guilty of taking your feelings for granted and also for being a shitty person to everyone, even herself. She has unfinished business with Dina, and as much as she wants to just avoid the situation completely, it’ll still bite her in the end. But she doesn’t have the balls to talk to her, she’s afraid that if she does, Ellie will still go back to the darkest place that she’s in when Dina left her.

So instead, she’s trying to avoid the confrontation. She’s used to running away from everything. Ellie figured out that it’s best to just put the problems in a box and throw it away without fixing all of the unsolved issues. And when those things that she’s steering away from starts haunting her, Ellie would just do what she’s best.

And that’s to run.

Run until she’s tired. Until she can’t any more.

And what happens in the end?

That’s the thing that Ellie doesn’t know how to answer.

“I’ve been married for 70 years already?” The old lady laughed. Ellie looked at her. “And you know, I was just like you on the wedding day. I am full of doubts because marriage is not a joke. You’d be tied with the other person for years, even eternity. And I don’t like that. I want freedom, I want liberty, and marriage is such a scary thing for a young lady.” The lady picked up Ellie’s tie and started to fix it on her neck. “An hour before I walked to the altar, I wanted to run away.” She looked up at her eyes. “Do you?”

Ellie gulped.

Do I want that?

The old lady laughed again. “Ah.” She nodded. “Your hesitation gave me the answer. You see, either you walk away right now, or get married, it’s still a decision that will create a series of consequences. You just have to think whether it’ll be good or bad.” She finished the tie and left Ellie in front of the full length mirror. “My marriage advice is don’t let your anger or hate become more powerful than your love for her.”

“You’re wrong. I don’t love her.” Ellie looked at her.

“Then why are you still here?” She smiled kindly before excusing herself to go to the bathroom, leaving Ellie alone in the room.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Every little step of yours towards her feels like the sweetest torture one could bear. Ellie felt that her heart would burst out into many pieces as you were getting closer and closer. You, on the other hand, felt so much more.

When Joel asked Ellie about her vows, she said she didn’t prepare anything. And while that might seem true, Ellie was actually lying. In fact, for all the hours that she spent wondering and thinking last night, she sat up on her bed while gripping a piece of paper and a pen while looking at your sleepy figure.

This is the first time that both of you slept in bed together, and Ellie was wondering that even in your sleeping state, it is with no doubt that you still radiate gentleness. Maybe you could give her some?

With shaky hands, Ellie gripped the microphone to say her vows. Both of you were staring right at each other's eyes, not wanting to look away – afraid that one of you would disappear if you did so.

“I always thought that I am the most difficult person in the world. And maybe I am.” She exhaled. “I always thought that finding someone who will love someone like me who has her heart shattered into pieces was just a chance encounter. A cupid’s luck, maybe. But I never thought that it would be you. I am a complex jigsaw puzzle that’s so hard to complete. While others may have thought of giving up, you, however, stayed. Still, I am fragmented. Pieces of me weren’t even there, or are completely gone. But you showed me that I can still be loved even if I am so broken. That you made me feel special even though I am imperfect. And for that, I promise to love you forever and ever.”

You almost struggled to smile as you were trying not to let a single tear fall.

That is not real, you thought.

But you wished it was. Oh, how beautiful it is to be loved by Ellie.

“You may now kiss the bride.”

Ellie’s hands are still cold and shaking while she’s slowly pulling up your veil. Both of you smiled at each other before she hesitatingly enveloped you into a warm kiss. Every guest is tearing up while they are celebrating the marriage that is not even real.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Today was Sunday, which means that you and Ellie will have your weekly grocery shopping. You two have been wed four months ago and you could say that both of your relationship with each other is doing great.

Really, it is.

You’re surprised that Ellie took an initiative to apologize for every shitty thing that she’s done to you, whether it is intentionally or not. At your honeymoon, Ellie tried her best to show you that she’s capable of changing – from being such a jackass, to a great wife. You two are getting along really well, talking at each other frequently as the awkward tension in the air is released. Both of you are eating together, having dates in different places, and traveling everywhere.

“I hate when you’re purposely trying to carry every grocery bag even though I know you’re struggling.” You rolled your eyes while you and Ellie were walking towards the car.

“I don’t want to make a princess carry a thing.” Ellie teasingly nudged you and it takes so many forces not to crack out a smile.

While the both of you were walking, you two saw a familiar face. You gulped and Ellie didn’t know what to feel.

Or she did not know if she even felt anything.

“Oh, hey. Funny seeing you two here.” She smiled while her eyes were looking at you back and forth. You two stopped in front of her.

“Hey Dina.” You greeted her. Ellie did not utter a single word.

To be honest, Dina was still in shock when she first heard that Ellie is getting married, just a few months after she stepped foot in Jackson again. And hearing that she’s going to be married to you, the town’s favorite girl, made her really insecure.

They both ended up in a bad light, and Dina wished that she could get some sort of any closure, up until now. But asking that with Ellie was just her being too much. Clearly, the moment you two shared your vows, and kissed each other in front of the altar was the answer that she has been looking for so many months.

But it isn’t enough. It wasn’t. The pain she felt the day of your wedding made her weak and furious. She wanted to get Ellie back, no matter how pathetic she looked while doing it, but at the same time, she wanted to just let go and forget everything, or to start over. And that’s what she did. She tried everything she could to move on. But right now, looking at the two of you, Dina’s heart was shattered into pieces again. Especially now that she can see how real it was.

“Hey, Y/N.” She said, looking at you. Dina felt her eyes getting bloodshot as her throat was slowly aching from trying to stop her tears from falling. She looked again at Ellie… who’s staring at you.

Almost two years have passed and it is the first time Dina has seen Ellie up this close. She’s just used to getting a glimpse from her in different bars and clubs in Jackson, and Dina never got the chance to look at her like this. Ellie is still the same, just a bit more mature looking but her eyes are different.

It was now soft and gentle.

“Ellie,” Dina called and that’s when she slowly turned her eyes away from you. “Sorry to ask this but can… can we talk?” She uttered, almost like a whisper.

“I’ll just get in the car.” You politely excused yourself but Ellie caught your hand before you quickly got away from her.

“Y/N-”

“It’s fine.” You smiled at Ellie who looked at you with a concerned face. “It’s fine.” You repeated before squeezing her hand.

Slowly, Ellie let you go. But she did not want to.

Instead, she just followed your figure who’s walking towards the car, just near the back of Dina.

“How are you?” Dina pulled her gaze away from you. “I mean, how’s married life?” She chuckled.

“We’re both doing great.” Ellie answered.

Dina nodded. “I’m glad to hear that. Really.”

Ellie nodded too before looking where you are again. Her grip at the grocery bags tightened when she saw you talking to a very familiar figure. It’s like every single thing that Dina is saying is just a background noise, and Ellie couldn’t understand a thing.

“Abby!” You greeted a friend.

The girl looked at you while smiling before you two shared a hug. “You looked different now, but you’re still very beautiful.” She said before looking at you.

“And so are you.” You complimented her. You almost did not recognize Abby because the one you've been friends with since you were just a kid are very different from the Abby in front of you now. She got so much taller, and her physique got bigger.

“I’m sorry that I did not get to attend your wedding. I’ve been busy in New York, attending seminars and everything.” She jiggled her keys.

Ellie watched you and Abby talk. She lightly craned her neck – an indication that she’s getting irritated as she caught you two laughing.

What the fuck is she doing here? Why is she making you laugh so fucking hard???

“Ellie? Ellie!”

“Fuck. Sorry.” Ellie shut her eyes tightly. “What were you saying again?”

Dina looked at where Ellie was looking.

It was you and Abby.

Dina could tell that Ellie is getting mad.

“JJ’s birthday will be tomorrow. That's why I’m going to do some huge grocery shopping. You two should go-”

Ellie nodded quickly. “I’ll ask my wife. Excuse me.” She said before marching towards you quickly.

“Oh, there she is.” You said, smiling at Ellie. “Ellie, this is Abby. Abby, this is-”

“Ellie.” Abby grinned widely. “Yeah, we knew each other.”

“Very well.” Ellie’s jaw tightened.

“Really? How?” You are looking at the two of them. Now, you’re not the smartest person on the earth, but you’re not that dumb. They definitely did not like each other.

“We’re schoolmates. I’ll tell you everything when we have dinner.” Ellie looked at you.

“Or you could just ask me.” Abby chuckled, fully taunting your wife. “Anyway, nice meeting you guys again but I have to go. Bye, Y/N, bye, Ellie.”

Ellie rolled her eyes before cursing under her breath.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Ellie and you are in the kitchen, you are washing the dishes that you two just ate, and Ellie is the one who’s putting the groceries away. She’s been really quiet the whole drive home, and even up until now. You were looking at her each second, trying to decipher how to talk to her, or even ask her what was wrong.

“How’d you know Abby?” Ellie suddenly asked.

Your head snapped at her. You squint your eyes. Oh, right. Abby.

You cleared your throat. “Well, her dad has been our family doctor ever since we were kids. Abby and I became friends because of that. We basically grew up with each other. But when her father died last year, Abby moved to New York to study biology. How about you? From what I’m guessing with your interaction, you two didn’t get along well.”

“You’re right. You know I played football, right?” Ellie asked, and you nodded. “Well, I was the team captain for our course – engineering. Aside from that, I was also a part of the university’s varsity team. Both of us were. I met Abby there when we were freshmen and she loves to get on my nerves.”

“How?”

“Every time there’s an intramural, when engineering and biology are competing with each other, Abby is my greatest rival because she would boast and annoy me every single game. And when she got accepted into the varsity team, I was forced to train with her and everyday that I wake up, I would rather just die and go to hell than be with her all day.” Ellie grunted. “I thought she was just doing that for attention, not until I found out that her crush likes me.”

You snorted. “Then what did you do?”

“Nothing. I just made fun of her.”

Your jaw dropped. “You’re mean.”

“I know, babe. I’m not sorry.” Ellie shrugged.

“Did you find out who it was? Abby’s crush?”

“No… why wouldn’t you know that? I thought she’s your best friend?” Ellie rolled her eyes.

“She never said anything about it.” You thought. Yeah, Abby never opened up something about her crush.

Ellie stared at you. Hard. Her brows are slowly furrowing as she thinks about something.

Did Abby have a crush on… you?

You cleared your throat once again. “So…” You went beside Ellie. “What did Dina say to you earlier?”

Ellie sighed. “JJ’s birthday is tomorrow and Dina wants us to go.” She looked at you. “But if you don’t want to-”

“Ellie, it’s fine. It’s JJ we’re talking about.”

“I don’t want you to become uncomfortable.”

You took Ellie’s hands and smiled at her. Ellie’s heart stopped for a second. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

As much as Ellie wanted to, she can’t help but think of you every single moment. Her thoughts are filled with you, as well as her decisions are tied with you. Ellie did not want to hurt you in some ways, mostly because she’s warming up to you. But on the other hand, it might be good to finally see JJ after a year and more. After all, he’s just like her son to her.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“I’m so glad you two could make it.” Dina greeted when she spotted the two of you. Her enthusiasm was genuine, really. All she wanted was her son’s happiness, and that is to meet Ellie again.

“Here’s a gift for JJ.” You handed her a gift bag which Dina accepted immediately.

“Thank you so much. You don’t have to.”

“Well, we can’t come empty handed.” You smiled before looking at Ellie who whispered at you.

“Is it okay if I go to JJ or do you want to come with me?” She asked and you shook your head.

“I’m okay.” You answered gently.

Dina watched the two of you talk. The familiar ache in her chest starts showing up again but she couldn’t help but to smile even though it hurts her so bad. A voice at the back of her head started to whisper bitter things that she couldn’t brush off.

Dina and Ellie broke up because she didn't want to settle with her. Ellie got scared of leaving Jackson, got married with her, and to live peacefully – like a true happy family. But after a year, Ellie did everything that Dina never got to experience. With a different girl.

Dina couldn’t help but ask herself if she was the problem. Maybe she didn’t think of everything that could happen when she asked Ellie to do those things. Maybe she became irrational and impulsive. Maybe Dina only thinks with her feelings.

If she waited for a year, would Ellie say yes to her?

“I’ll just go to JJ.” Ellie interrupted her thoughts. “Is that fine?”

Dina smiled widely. “He’s waiting for you all night. He’s probably at the house, you can find them in there.”

Ellie nodded before squeezing your hand, letting you know that she’s going to go find him. Dina caught a glimpse of it and gulped.

When Ellie went away, you two awkwardly stared at each other for a couple of minutes. You did not know what to say to your wife’s first love. To say that Dina is pretty is just an understatement. She radiates a beautiful energy which makes everybody love her. You could see why Ellie was crazy for her, and that made you envious.

“If I ever become too pushy with Ellie and JJ thingy, you could refuse to go.” Dina started.

You shook your head. “I think it’s only fair. I mean, JJ grew up with her and I’m not going to stop them from seeing each other.”

Dina nodded while smiling. There it goes again, the awkward silence between you two. You wanted to excuse herself to go somewhere because you cannot bear the tension in the air. But on the other hand, you wanted to just stay with Dina to prove that you aren’t affected by her presence. That you aren’t going to be phased by her being Ellie’s ex-girlfriend. And you could tell that she feels the same way, too.

Your brows knitted when you spotted a familiar figure going out of a car again. It’s Abby, holding a gift bag on her right hand while jiggling her keys on her left. She’s wearing a suit and her hair is tied at the back.

“You know Abby?” You looked at Dina while squinting your eyes.

“Oh… yeah.” Dina chuckled. “We were close in highschool and she’s one of JJ’s godmother.”

Abby spotted the two of you before waving. She’s walking towards the both of you while smiling, at the same time that Ellie is striding towards your direction with JJ.

Her irritation grew once again when Abby showed up. She truly forgot that Dina made her one of his godmother. It’s so stupid that it made Ellie want to punch Abby in her face.

JJ immediately ran to Dina and Ellie quickly went beside you, snaking her tattooed arm on your waist as Abby stood in front of you two.

Abby handed JJ the gift bag which he immediately opened. Everyone watched him as he unboxed it.

“A robot toy!” JJ squealed.

“What do you say to Ms. Abby?” Dina asked.

“Thank you!” JJ hugged Abby’s legs before running away as quickly as possible. Wanting to brag to his friends about his new favorite toy.

Dina laughed. “He’s so energetic. By the way, thank you for the gift. You shouldn’t even be bothered. I know you were so busy.”

Abby only shrugged. “It’s fine. Maybe it’ll be the last time that I’m giving him something, right?”

Everyone laughed except Ellie who grew more irritated when you found her corny ass joke funny. She rolled her eyes because of that.

“I know I always ask this when we see each other but… why are you still single?” Dina asked.

Abby just laughed hard before quickly taking a glance at you. Now, in your perspective, it meant absolutely nothing. But in Ellie’s eyes, it answers everything.

FUCK!

IT WAS YOU, ALL ALONG.

Ellie’s grip in your waist got tighter.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

As soon as you and Ellie got out of the car when you two got home, she has been annoying you and bombarding you with so many irrelevant questions of everything that has happened in highschool. Such as “did you tell someone if you got a crush on her”, “did Abby know about your crush,” blah blah blah.

She’s so weird throughout the ride that you couldn’t help but to stare at her ridiculously.

“Why did you want to know?” You asked her back, your shyness started creeping up when she kept bringing the past. Yes, you did tell someone that you got a crush on the football’s team captain – Ellie. And that someone was Abby. And why is Ellie asking you this was still a mystery because she wouldn’t answer it. It’s getting annoying.

Ellie started walking behind you, slightly gripping one of your belt holes as you two walked inside the room. She’s being really paranoid about something. It’s like there’s an itch in her brain and a huge discomfort in her veins that made her want to get information about you and Abby.

I mean, it made sense. All of it. Abby probably went back to Jackson when she heard that you got married. And for what? She couldn’t get you. She just wont.

“Okay, okay.” Ellie surrendered when she could tell that you’re starting to ask her questions about why she’s fishing out information about Abby. Her hands softly gripped your waist and she gently turned you to face her. Ellie’s heart almost jumped when you looked at her straight in the eye. She squeezed your skin before talking. “Last question. Did you… ever like Abby?”

You laughed so hard, as if Ellie just asked the dumbest question in the world. Well, she probably did. Your hands gripped her arms to gain balance but you couldn’t stop laughing which made Ellie look at you in amusement. A small smile starts to creep up in her face when your giggles are infecting her.

“What’s funny?”

“You!” You wiped a tear at the corner of your eye. “Really? Where did that come from?”

“I don’t know!” Ellie shrugged. “I was just…curious. She looked really into you. I could tell.”

“She’s not. Trust me. And if she does, I don’t think I can reciprocate her feelings.”

“Why?” “Ellie…” You chuckled. “You’re the only one I ever wanted, okay?” You shut your eyes in embarrassment. “Don’t make me say that again.” You said before quickly turning your back on her.

Ellie stood there, her gaze following as you ascended in the stairs. There it goes again, the familiar warmth on her heart that almost made her unable to stand up straight nor even make her brain function. All she thinks about right now is you. You. You. Just you. Always you.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Tonight is the year end party, an annual celebration for townies in Jackson and is held by your father. This day is important for everyone as it serves as a fun night to get away from the problems of life. Everyone gets drunk with unlimited booze, dances the worries away, and socializes with each other.

You and Ellie arrived at the plaza that is now filled with decorations, buffets, dancing lights and loud music. People started to make their way at the venue while wearing their finest suits and dresses. Ellie wore her usual formal attire – black trousers, a blazer and a button down shirt with the first three buttons opened to show the gold chain that is hanging on her neck. Her auburn hair is tied into a nice half up bun, accentuating her features. You, however, just wore your nice black satin mini dress, paired with gold stilettos and gold jewelries that complimented your skin tone.

Ellie couldn’t stop looking at you even when she’s driving the car. Yes, you two could get into an accident since she was so distracted by you. But can you blame her? A beautiful girl is sitting on the front passenger seat, and all she could do is to let her ringed fingers sit on your exposed thigh. God knows that Ellie wanted to do more than that.

“Ah! My daughters.” Joel greeted, enveloping the two of you in a tight hug. He handed Ellie a glass of whiskey which she accepted, quickly gulping it in just one shot. “How’s married life?” Joel asked. “I was so busy at the barn that I couldn’t stop by your house.” He looked at Ellie. “You looked great, by the way.”

“I know.” Ellie answered. “Well, we’re doing just fine.” Ellie shut her eyes tightly. “Ah, no, we’re doing great.”

You placed your hand at Ellie’s shoulder. “You okay?”

Ellie almost jumped at the physical contact. She blushed profusely, she thanked everyone who put the LED lights in here because it hides her freckled cheek that is now beet red. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I?” She chuckled nervously. God, you’re really pretty. So pretty. “I just needed another booze.”

You nodded, fully agreeing because you thought that Ellie was just getting anxious about the questions. “Yeah, you should get some by the bar.”

Ellie nodded. “Do you want to drink, Joel?” She asked him and he quickly agreed. Saying that he’s been waiting for her the whole time for them to get drunk again together like old times. Ellie bid her goodbyes to you, saying that she’ll find you later. You nodded, making your way in the direction where your friends are.

You and Ellie have been away from each other for almost three hours now. You spent the whole night drinking wine, and talking to your friends about every gossip that is happening in the town. Those stories made you really immersed, especially when your friend Evie, has been telling it with actions mixed with funny words.

“Heya!” Abby’s voice came from your behind.

“Abby!” You greeted her with a hug. “Want a drink?” You offered and she nodded immediately. Sitting at the empty chair beside you, Abby greeted your mutual friends at the table. She couldn’t be happier when Ellie wasn’t near you.

Ellie, on the other hand, has been sitting in the bar stool, drinking whiskey with such quickness as she started to gather her thoughts. Joel is sitting beside her, telling so many stories that she can’t even quite comprehend since her mind is only filled by you.

And Abby.

And Dina.

And you again.

FUCKKK DOES SHE LIKE YOU NOW? WHAT ABOUT THE ‘NO FALLING IN LOVE RULE’ THAT SHE MADE?!

So, she does what she did the best: drink. Drink until she can’t walk, nor even form any coherent thoughts because she must be going insane, right? The two of you aren’t real. Yes, she may consider you as her friend but she can’t fall in love with you. Ellie is a mess. She’s afraid to break you, too.

“Hey.” Someone pulled her out from her thoughts. Dina sat beside her and Ellie craned her neck to see where Joel went. He probably got tired of talking with a brick wall for hours so he decided to leave her alone. And Ellie didn’t even notice.

“Can we talk?” Dina asked.

Ellie shooked her head before drinking another shot. “We have nothing to talk about, Dina.” Ellie dismissed her. It’s true, though. They need to stop interacting with each other because they don’t have anything to do with each other.

Besides, Ellie doesn’t want to have another buzz of rumors to circulate between her and Dina, especially now that she is married. Even if your marriage is not real, Ellie cared for you as her true friend. “Please, just this once, Ellie. And I’ll stop.” Dina looked at her with pleading eyes.

“Dina, we’re done. I don’t want my wife to think of anything bad.” Ellie said, her voice rising as she can feel the irritation seeping through her veins.

Dina looked at her, tears welling with eyes. “My wife?” She chuckled sarcastically, as if she couldn’t believe anything that Ellie was saying. “You like her now, Els? Really? I thought it wasn’t real. Please tell me it wasn’t real!”

“Fuck it!” Ellie shut her eyes tightly before gripping Dina’s arm. She dragged her to the plaza’s secluded area. “You really want to fight while everyone’s looking, huh?”

“I just want to talk to you.” Dina immediately clung on Ellie. Her hands finding hers but Ellie immediately pulled away. Looking at her disgustingly.

Dina cried hard. She looked pathetic right now but she couldn’t care. “Tell me that you don’t like her. I have known you for years, Ellie. You wouldn’t marry so easily. Especially not with her.”

“The fuck are you saying?” Ellie asked, her tone is now angrier. “We haven’t talked for years. I’ve changed, Dina. What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

Dina knows that she was spewing nonsense. Hell, she couldn’t even recognize her own voice right now. She knew that what she was doing was wrong, but she couldn’t stop herself. Dina hadn't slept for a day, and the only thing in her system was alcohol. She spent the morning through the afternoon without eating. She couldn’t even find the courage to cook something. It’s like the thought of Ellie falling in love with someone else hit her. That it is real. Everyone might think that their marriage is just fake, that there wasn’t a love circulating between the two. But Dina knew what she saw. Ellie loves you.

But in a desperate move, Dina gripped Ellie’s blazer on both of her hands, pulling her ex-girlfriend in a kiss. Ellie’s eyes widened, feeling her heartbeat tripling but it wasn’t in a positive way. Not the same kind of nervousness when you’re around. This was different. Ellie hates it.

Ellie immediately pushed Dina so hard that she stumbled onto the ground. Dina remained in that position, biting her lips to prevent herself from crying loudly. Ellie became furious, the booze she drank earlier was now long gone. She looked at Dina with disbelief and with so much anger. She feels like she would explode. But before Ellie could say anything, she heard someone at her back.

“What the fuck?” Abby asked loudly. Beside her was you, looking at Ellie and then back to Dina. You couldn’t move a limb as your whole body tensed. You can feel yourself getting pale and cold while tears are welling up your eyes. Abby immediately went to help Dina get up.

Ellie breathed loudly as she saw your state. “Baby…” She immediately went up to you, holding both of your cold hands into hers. Ellie moved the stay hairs away from your face before cupping your cheeks with both of your hands. Ellie kept holding your gaze but it was focused on Dina only.

“Is she okay?” You asked, even though you fully know what happened.

Ellie shut her eyes tightly. This cannot be happening. Fuck fuck fuck.

“Don’t worry about her, baby, please.” Ellie said, almost begging. At last, you looked at her eyes and Ellie felt like her heart was squeezing when she saw the tears that almost want to roll down your face.

“Ellie, she kissed you.” You asked, breathlessly.

“That doesn’t mean anything.” Ellie assured you. “I can explain.”

“Ellie, Y/N, I’m sorry.” Dina wailed loudly. Her words are slurry as Abby struggles to keep her by her feet. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to.” She kept on repeating.

Ellie looked at her with a pure disgusted face. “Dude, keep her away from here. My wife and I will talk.” She said, and Abby couldn’t do anything but to nod and keep on dragging her away from you two.

Abby looked at you and you nodded as a sign that it’s okay. You were looking for Ellie since you saw that she wasn’t at the bar. And Joel said that he left her an hour ago. You have no idea where she went and Abby offered to join you. Both of you decided to check behind the plaza since it was the only place that you two hadn’t looked at. And out of all the chances, you and Abby saw Dina kissing Ellie. And the next moment, she’s on the ground when Ellie pushed her.

When Dina and Abby were out of your sight, you looked at Ellie.

You gulped. “You pushed her.”

“She kissed me, and I don’t want to do that. I don’t want her to kiss me.” Ellie’s grip on your hands tightened.

Your gaze fell down, feeling a lot more confused than hurt. “But why? I thought you still liked her?”

Ellie immediately shook her head. And you looked at her, confused. “I never said that.”

“But I can feel it.”

“Then you’re wrong, okay?” Ellie said, her voice slightly rising. “If you have a lot of questions, I don’t think I have the answer for it. If you’re confused, just know that I am, too.” Ellie shut her eyes tightly again.

“Do you want to have a divorce?” You asked, asking the question hurted you a lot harder than you thought it would. Ellie’s eyes shot open. “I can make an arrangement. My father can-”

Ellie shook her head frantically. It was now the turn for her eyes to well up in tears. Her body ran cold and she could feel the nervous beat of her heart ringing up her ears.

“No, no, no,” She said, still shaking her head.

“One word and I’ll-”

“NO!” Ellie shouted. “I don’t want to! Fuck! Don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me, Y’N.” Her gaze fell down as her tears kept streaming down her face. “Please. I beg.” Ellie whispered shakily.

“Ellie…” You called gently.

“I beg you. Please. Stay.”

And you did one thing that you wanted to do for the very first time. You kissed her hard. Ellie’s eyes widened for a second but she immediately answered your kisses with longing, passion, and love. If the right words can't find her own tongue, maybe her lips will.

“I love you.” Ellie whispered.

You smiled. “I love you more, my wife.”

——————-

taglist: @machetegirl109 @p4ison1vy

#ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x reader angst #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #abby anderson #dina tlou

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cuti3patooti8 · 4 months

Text

Yawll I was supposed to post this Christmas as a gift for a friend butttt erm I got to embarrassed writing the smut so like it came late.... Enjoy! (Also did not know how to end this to save my life y'all)

Word count: 2.6k

Tattoo artist Bully gojo! who picks on you every day. Bumping into you so you drop your books and have to embarrassingly pick them up while he snickers and giggles at you struggling.

Tattoo artist Bully Gojo! who's just too mean and knocks the books out of your hands the second time to look at ur cute pink and white panties while you bend down.

"Whoops my bad I should watch where I'm going"

Tattoo artist Bully gojo! Who makes fun of your big square glasses and the skirts you always wear to class. "You look like a nerd" Gojo chuckled. "You should stop wearing those nerd glasses to class" Gojo laughed as he took your glasses off your face and dangled them from a height you couldn't reach.

Tattoo artist Bully Gojo! watched your boobs as they bounced trying to jump up and get your glasses back.

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You've always wanted a tattoo. Always. You were always scared of getting one until now. You knew that gojo did tattoos in his free time so you gathered up the courage to ask him for one. You went to his apartment after classes were done wearing a white sweater with bows and a pink plaid skirt. Hesitantly you knock. You play with your fingers nervously as you see the white haired boy open the door. "Well look who we have here '' Gojo smirked. "Whatchu want nerd" "Uhm i was wondering if you could give me a t-tattoo" you muttered nervously. "What was that? Couldn't hear you '' Gojo said as he leaned down to hear you better. "Uhm I w-was wondering if you could give me a tattoo gojo" you spoke up looking down at the floor still nervously playing with your fingers. "Of course I can step right in, '' Gojo chuckled. "I mean you know that you're gonna have to pay me right" "yea I brought some money" you muttered again, too nervous to speak up. "Oh no I don't mean like that glasses" Gojo laughed in your face. "Do my homework for a week". "O-okay" you responded meekly just wanting to get it over with. "Who would've thought little miss goody two shoes would want a tattoo" Gojo teased. "So what do you want and where do you want it". You fidgeted in your skirt. Now you were seriously considering backing out, but you decided that you had come this far so you should just get it over with. "Uhm I want one right here" You said pointing to your right hip near your bikini line, "And I want it to say..uhm.. eat m-me" you whispered as you looked down at your feet ashamed. "You're kidding right" Gojo scoffed in disbelief. You sat down on his chair and shook your head. “Then let's get it done” Gojo smiled.

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“Stop fucking moving so much”

“It hurtssss”

“it’s okay baby I'll go slow”

“fuck I can't take ittt”

‘It's the middle of the fucking day and he's already screwing some whore?’

Geto thought as he got his key to open the apartment he shared with Gojo. He braced himself for the sight he was going to see but he didn't prepare himself enough to see you skirt slightly down with Gojo using his ink pen to write something.

“Gojo do you wanna have a smoke sesh with Choso and me later or are you too busy doing” he looks you up and down.

“This”

You perked up at hearing Choso’s name. You've had the biggest crush on him for the longest time and if you could somehow convince gojo to bring you with him you would die of happiness.

“Nah don't worry I can come with you now” Gojo said smirking

“But you're not done!” You exclaimed sitting up.

“Yeah but with the way you were crying like a bitch I thought you might need a break” gojo yawned.

“finish my tattoo pleaseee” you whined. Your begging sounded like music to his ears.

“Don't worry bro I just need to fill in one thing then we can go” Gojo said to Geto as he finished up filling the ‘e’.

“What are you getting” Geto asked as he walked over to see your new tattoo. He burst out laughing after he read it and you turned your head away embarrassed.

“All done princess” Gojo looked up with hooded eyes.

“Don't call me that” you rolled your eyes.

“Wanna come with us”

Score!

“What”

“Wanna come smoke with us”

“S-SURE” you said that too quickly and too loud. “Aw goody two shoes wants to smoke, they grow up so fast” Geto chuckles

You look away from the two of them feeling embarrassed.

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You guys get to Choso’s house and you start feeling nervous. Shit is this a good idea? Well it's too late now… You felt deep in regret but it all went away when you saw Choso open the door.

“Who's this?” He asks with a puzzled face.

“Wait, I know you, you're that nerd in my English class!” He laughs.

“Haha that's meee” you laughed nervously.

“You here to smoke with us or did Gojo bring you to finish his homework”

“Mhm yea where's the bathroom” you said brushing him off getting tired of his jokes.

“Uhh go down and it's on the right…” he trailed off as you pushed past him.

You were getting impatient and really wanted to see your tattoo. It hurts you thought as you pulled your skirt and panties down a little to see. You smiled as you saw that Gojo decided to be nice and add extra things like cute flowers and hearts around the words. You looked in the mirror with a puzzled face as you saw some extra letters. P.S.G you read as you finally made out what it said. “S.G that's Gojo’s initials” You said aloud. “What does the P stand for then?”. You stayed in the bathroom pondering it more. “Property of Gojo Satoru…” “THAT BITCH”. You came out of the bathroom fuming seeing that the boys already started smoking. “DID YOU FUCKING BRAND ME GOJO” “chilll baby everyone already knows you're mine it's not a big deal” he laughs passing choso the joint. “UGH!” you fumed sitting down next to geto. “Hey, maybe you just need to loosen up. I'm sure it's not even that noticeable,” Choso said as he passed the joint to you. You took a hit and coughed like there was no tomorrow. You took two more hits and passed it to geto. “It is noticeable!” You pouted getting up from the couch and pulling your skirt down just enough for him to see the tattoo without seeing anything else. “Oh shit gojo you just ruined her chances of getting a boyfriend!” Choso laughed as he took a closer look. “Not as if she wasn't already a loser, looks hot as fuck though it suits you”. You blushed sitting back down. After a while you all finished the joints and became giggling, loud, messes. You started cuddling into geto because you started feeling sleepy. “Bro I'm hella hungry” choso blurted. “Same” geto nodded in agreement. They both got up and said that they were going to Walmart and they'd be back. You and gojo sat in silence for a while. “I wanna try somethin c’mere” gojo slurred his words as he motioned for you to come to him. You got up and walked over standing up in front of him. “Sit on my lap baby” feeling too out of it to decline you sat in his lap. “I'm tired gojo” you complained. “It's okay baby I'll wake you up”. he reached in his pockets and got another joint. He lit it and took some hits. “Open your mouth princess”. You listened and opened your mouth. He took another hit and brought his lips to yours blowing the smoke in your mouth. You inhaled and laughed. He kept looking at you longingly with hooded tired eyes. “Take a picture, it'll last longer," you mumbled as you got up. He pushed you back down onto his lap. “Need you so bad” gojo whined. “Can you kiss me please baby”. “What?” You stared dazed and confused.

“I dunno how to kiss” you giggled shaking your head not fully comprehending what he was asking you. “Want me to teach you?” Gojo smiled. “Sure!”. Gojo started softly kissing you grabbing your hips. Rocking you back and forth on his clothed dick. He licked your lower lip and you parted your mouth slightly. Feeling hot you grinded on him trying to match his pace. Gojo’s pale skin now a shade of pink. “Mhm baby you feel so good” he moaned. You mewled into his mouth enjoying all the pleasure you were feeling. “Mm wait feel weird” you muttered. “Just let go princess” gojo whimpered. Soon you were cumming from all the friction. “fuckkk yeahh” gojo moaned. “Get up doll”. You slid off his lap standing up. “You ever done this before?”. You shook your head. “Obviously not”. “It's okay princess I'll make it unforgettable” He winked. “Ew don't be cringy”. “Just lay on the couch”. You pull down your skirt and layed back on the couch. Gojo got down on his knees. “Wanted this pretty pussy for such a long time”. He went down wasting no time licking, and kissing, basically making out with your pussy. “Taste so good” he groaned. He rubbed your clit and pushed his middle finger in. “S-shit gojo feels so good”. You rolled your eyes back moaning. “So fucking tight baby” gojo mumbled pushing in another finger. He curled and scissored his fingers finding your g-spot. “Right there gojo please please please please!”. “Fuck you look so pretty like this”. Gojo pulled out his fingers and you whined at the loss. “Gonna make you cum on my dick baby”. He unzipped his pants and pulled down his boxers. His dick sprung up hitting his stomach. Your eyes widened. “No way”. “Turn around I don't want you freaking out” Gojo giggled. You got up and turned around ass up face down. “I'm gonna go slow okay” Gojo said, sliding it in. His tip stretched you out. It hurt so good. He whined finally bottoming out. “I'm gonna start is that okay baby”. “Mhm” you whimpered. “I need a yes or a no baby”. “y-yes”. He started with long deep thrusts. “Fuck your so tight” he threw his head back squeezing his eyes shut. “I'm sorry m’ sorry m’ sorry, so sorry baby” he whined as he sped up to a brutal pace. You tried to speak but only moans came out. Your eyes rolled back and your pussy squeezed around gojo’s cock. You saw stars, you were so close. “Fuck princess why didn't I pound this sweet pussy before”. Gojo kisses up your back. “Gonna let me fill you up babe” he whispered, biting your ear. “Lemme cum inside baby”. “Mhm yes yes pleaseee” you moaned into the pillows. You felt to good too object and definitely way to fucked out to think about the consequences. Gojo pounded into you a couple more times and you were gone. Creaming all over his dick and squeezing him in tight. “Sh-shit shit I'm cumming baby fuckin-” gojo filled you up riding his orgasm out. He pulled out and you whined at the loss. “Let's clean up before they get back”. Gojo walked to the bathroom getting a wet cloth and wiped both of you down. Gojo put on his boxers and sweatpants, pocketing your panties before you could notice. You were about to argue with him when you guys heard the door open.

“Alright guys we were gonna go to Walmart but we realized Walmart doesn't have food… but like it has food but like food you have to cook, and then we realized they had snacks but snacks sounded like gross so we like went to Burger King but then we like realized burger king is ass so then we like went to McDonald's and we just got a shit ton of food so like yeah” Geto rambled on while Choso just modded his head. “Mhm fr”. You and Gojo busted out laughing at how ridiculous they sounded. “Yeah alright let's eat”.

@cinnatoru @hhhhhhcxx

#gojo smut #jjk x reader #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jujutsu gojo #jjk

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heli-writes · 5 months

Text

Seven summers, part 5.

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x female!reader

Summary: Every summer, Draco and y/n meet. First, by pure coincidence, then intentionally. Unbeknown to Draco, y/n's a muggle who has no clue he's a wizard. With the rise of the dark lord, how long can this go well?

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

Series Masterlist

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Fifth summer, August.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dear Draco,

I hope you're well. I am writing you this letter because I think we should talk about what happened last month.

I'm sorry I deceived you. I never meant to lie to you. At some point, I just didn't know how to say it. I wanted to tell you this summer, I swear! Then we kissed and everything was so different than expected. I just didn't have the courage to...

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dear Draco,

I know you're angry and you have every right to be. Please believe me when I say I didn't mean to betray you. Actually, until our third summer, I didn't know you were a wizard. I just thought it was a culture thing. Then, after you told me how you feel about muggles, I was afraid to tell you. I thought you'd hate me too. Please, don't hate me. I don't know what...

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Draco,

Please, give me one chance to explain myself. You've left without hearing my side. Hear me out and I promise...

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Draco,

I'm sorry.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Frustrated, y/n throws her pen onto her desk. There are dozens of crumpled papers around her. In the last two hours, she started the same letter to Draco over and over again but so far, she hasn't found the right words to say. Not that it really matters. Without Draco's owl which regularly visited her for the past two years, she doesn't have a way to contact him. Apparently, wizards don't have a phone. Y/N takes out the trashcan from beneath her desk and swipes all the papers into it in one big swoop. Afterward, she groans and falls onto her bed face down. There's nothing to do in her room but to brood on the whole Draco situation. Supposedly, it is not necessary to mention that she's stuck in her room for two more weeks. After the night her parents had to pick her up at a train station in the middle of the night, of course, her parents asked questions. Questions that y/n couldn't answer without getting entangled in more and more lies. It all blew up in her face when her parents called Olivia's parents. After that, y/n had no other option but to tell them about the boy she's been seeing for a while. A long talk about sex trafficking and teenage pregnancy later, y/n got grounded for three weeks. I suppose I can be lucky I didn't get grounded for the entire summer holidays, she thinks to herself as she turns around to look for her phone only to realize that that's been taken away from her too. Suddenly, she's glad for the communication via owl. At least this way, her parents will find no messages that would incriminate her further. Y/n burries her face in a pillow and lets out a muffled scream.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

One week later

Y/n,

Don't think I am writing this because I have any concern for your muggle self. I don't care if you got home safely or not. Considering I got no news about a dead muggle girl in Salisbury, I suppose you live.

Honestly, I am just writing you this to draw a line under whatever it was that we did the last two years. I suppose even someone like you understands that a wizard like me cannot be associated with a muggle. It's absolutely absurd that I didn't notice it.

Just to make it absolutely clear: Don't tell anybody about me or the wizarding community or I can assure you the ministry will take care of you. Also, we're done.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Puzzled, y/n blinks at the paper in front of her and then blinks at the owl that is sitting on her windowsill. Why on earth would he feel the need to write a letter like that, she questions herself. Obviously, she shouldn't tell anybody about wizards and after Draco's glorious exit at the inn, it should have been clear that they've broken up. Suddenly, she feels a hot pit of anger swelling in her stomach.

How dare he write a message like that, y/n thinks. Not a word from him for two weeks and then he sends me a threat and a break-up notice?, she fumes. She's not sure why he would risk getting caught writing to a muggle girl in the first place. Draw a line my ass, she thinks and rips up the letter into tiny little pieces. She watches the pieces float silently to her floor. Then, she pushes down her window with a loud bang, and glares at the owl for a few seconds, before turning away and continuing a half-finished jigsaw puzzle.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A few days later

Y/n,

Since the cover of the wizarding world hasn't been and there are no reports about a crazy woman talking about magic, I guess you didn't tell anybody about us. Good.

You know it really astonishes me how you managed to keep up the facade for so long. I never knew muggles could be this... adaptable. However, I think it was quite a malicious pretense of you. It makes me wonder if anything that you said or did was true. Not that it would matter to me.

Remember to keep quiet. I really can't have a muggle running around blabbering about wizard secrets.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Y/n feels like she could spit fire. She lets out an angered scream and crumples up the letter. What a dick, y/n screams internally. I get he's angry at me, I get he doesn't want to so me anymore but what on earth is he trying to achieve with these letters?, y/n asks herself. She tries to shoosh Draco's owl away from her window. The owl lifts itself into the air and settles on a branch of the apple tree in y/n's garden. Y/n stares at the owl and the owl stares back. She turns away and throws Draco's letter into the trash bin. The anger made her feel too hot. Pulling her pullover over her head, she stumbles towards her closet and puts on a t-shirt. Meanwhile, she calls Draco all kinds of nasty names in her head. She no longer feels sorry. When she turns around, the owl sits at her windowsill again. Y/n rolls up a magazine and pokes the owl in the hope that it will take flight. The owl looks at her absolutely unbothered. Y/n pushes a bit harder and forces the owl towards the edge of the windowsill. Eventually, the owl gives up and glides to the apple tree again. "Go awaaaaay!!!", y/n yells out of her window and pulls her widow shut with a loud bang.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Another letter arrived a few days after that. It has a similar tone as the last two with an equal amount of insults towards muggle. Y/n is absolutely fuming. Draco's owl doesn't even bother leaving y/n's windowsill and already made itself comfortable. Y/n glares intently at the owl through her closed window. Finally, she pulls out a sheet of paper and a pen.

Draco,

I get it. I'm a stupid muggle and I shouldn't tell anybody about magic. I get it. You can stop sending letters now. You said we're done so I don't understand why you keep contacting me.

Don't get me wrong - I understand you're angry. I deceived you and breaking up with me is probably the right thing to do. I'm sorry I lied to you but I feel like you don't see why I acted this way. It's not like I knew that you were a wizard when we first met and when I got to know you, you started insulting people like me. What was I supposed to do? Have you ever considered that this world you live in intimidates me? Have you ever considered that maybe I was scared of losing what we had? Because I genuinely cared? I guess not.

Anyways, what's done is done. No need to dwell on it. Maybe it would do you good if you let go. It's time to get back to normal, don't you think?

Y/n.

Contently, y/n reads through her letter again. After folding it in two, she opens the window and holds it out towards the owl. The owl takes the letter without hesitation and takes off. Y/n watches the bird disappear into the grey clouds that hang low in the sky. Eventually, she closes the window and feels calmer than she has since the night at Stonehenge.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Y/n doesn't see any owl around her window for a little over the week. She's not grounded anymore for a couple of days. She spent the days in freedom by accompanying her mother to the dentist, to the supermarket, and to her auntie Paula. In short: her parents are still keeping her on a short leash. However, today she's allowed to meet a friend. Even if it's just to apologize. She's meeting Olivia in town. Olivia and her already texted after y/n got her phone back. So Olivia knows the gist and luckily she's not angry. Actually, being the teenage girl she is, Olivia is very excited to hear all about the mysterious guy y/n got herself in trouble for. It's the least thing y/n wants to talk about but it's only fair she owes Olivia some kind of explanation.

Y/n is getting ready in her room. Her mother already called her down several minutes ago. Obviously, she isn't allowed to take the bus by herself. Rummaging through her make-up bag y/n is trying to find a lip balm for her purse when she suddenly hears a soft clank on the window. By now, y/n knows the sound all too well. The sound of a beak on glass. She shoots around and is face to face with Draco's owl. For a moment, y/n contemplates not opening the window and leaving the owl where it is. At some point, it must get hungry and fly off again, right? However, curiosity killed the cat and y/n is pretty sure Draco will be the death of her. So she quickly opens the window, rips the letter out of the owl's beak and stuffs the letter into her bag. Her mother is already calling for her again and without looking back, y/n takes off.

"We pick you up exactly at 4 pm and the café, understand y/n?", her mother lectures her. "I expect you both to be there. I want to apologize to Olivia's parents in person.", she tells y/n. Y/n groans and pulls her hood over her face. "Didn't you already apologize on the phone? Can't we finally leave this behind? Obviously, I learned my lesson.", y/n begs. Her mother gives her a sharp look in the rear-view mirror of their car. "That's not of you to decide. You will have to earn our trust back.", her mother points out. Y/n knows her mother is right, but it still feels unfair. It was a horrible experience inside and out and y/n wants nothing more than to just forget about it. Her mother turns her attention back to the road. Y/n crosses her arms in front of her chest. Suddenly, she remembers the letter again. It's still sitting in her bag unopened. Carefully, she takes it out. She holds it low, close to her lap, so her mother wouldn't see.

Y/n,

Meet me today at Trafalgar Square. 3 pm sharp.

Y/n stares at the message in disbelief. Is he joking? Is this some kind of setup? So that they can grab her and make her disappear or whatever wizards do to normal people who accidentally get to know about magic? Yeah, no, I'm absolutely not going., y/n thinks. Somehow she wishes Draco had a phone so that she could react to this message with a couple of middle finger emojis. She crumples up the paper and stuffs it back into her back.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Olivia's already waiting when her mother drops her off. She even gets out of the car to exchange some words with Olivia and to make sure her parents are really picking her up. Y/n can feel her cheeks heat up with embarrassment. However, Olivia takes it cool. She answers y/n's mother's question politely and acts as if absolutely nothing out of the ordinary happened since the last time she's seen her.

This attitude drops really fast once y/n's mom is back in the car and out of sight. Olivia turns around, makes a squeaking sound, and says: "You need to tell me everything!". Apparently, y/n must've had a really dumb look on her face. "C'mon, y/n! My parents told me all about your lie.", Olivia grins. Once they've settled in a quiet niche at the café, Olivia looks at y/n expectantly. Y/n sighs. After all, she knew she had to talk about this. "Look, Olivia, I'm really sorry about all of this. I shouldn't have you involved in my lie. I-i was stupid and I really learned my-", y/n starts but Olivia immediately interrupts her. "Yes, yes! Save that speech for my parents. I get it, you lied. More importantly, you met a boy.", Olivia says and wiggles her eyebrows. "More like a massive jerk.", y/n deadpans. Olivia nods agreeingly. "And yet you lied so that you can spend a weekend with him all alone.", Olivia grins and gives her the look. Y/n sighs. "It's not like you think.", y/n tries to argue. "Riiiight... that's why you hid him from your parents.", Olivia says and crosses her arms. Y/n sighs and stirs her drink. "Well, fine, we've been together since Christmas and wanted to spend some time together in the summer.", she says defeatedly. "First of all, it's not. Second of all, since Christmas? Why am I only hearing now about it?", Olivia asks. Y/n shrugs. "It's not like I've been seeing him a lot since then. He goes to a boarding school and is only around in the summer and for Christmas.", she points out. Olivia thinks about this for a moment. "So, you've been just texting?", Olivia says unconvinced. "If that's your way of asking if we were screwing the answer is no. We've only been... uh, texting.", y/n says. Olivia crunches her eyebrows. "This is less juicy than expected. But did you kiss? And what about the weekend away? That sounds like a perfect opportunity to lose your v-card.", Olivia keeps asking. Y/n blushes. "V-card? Really? That's so lame, Olivia.". Olivia shrugs. "I'm not saying I'm supporting the patriarchal idea of virginity but the first time is special and exciting for everyone, isn't it?", she argues. Y/n shrugs. "I wouldn't know. Again, nothing happened. We only kissed.", she underlines her point. Suddenly, there's a glint in Olivia's eyes. "Ooohhh... you kissed? Was it good?", she asks teasingly. Y/n snips a small ball of paper at Olivia. "I mean, yes, but it doesn't matter. We broke up.", she says solemnly. "Clearly, otherwise your parents wouldn't had to pick you up at the station in the middle of the night.", Olivia points out, "What happened? You two had a fight?". Y/n shrugs. She feels her eyes burning. She thought she was over it. Really, she thought that Draco's stupid letters made her angry enough to forget how deeply the whole thing hurt her. "Yes. He expected me to be something I'm not. Took of when he noticed and left me behind.", y/n says. Olivia looks at her for a moment. "Let me guess. He wanted to screw you and when you didn't want to he dropped you? Man, guys suck.", Olivia takes a guess. Y/n shakes her head. "No, that wasn't it. He was actually super respectful. It was more like... a rich asshole finding out your common trash.", y/n lies. "Oof... he comes from old money? That kind of guy?", Olivia asks. Y/n nods. "Yup, that kind of guy.", she says. "Well good thing you didn't screw him. Those are the worst baby daddies.", Olivia nods as if she had any more experience with these things than y/n had. "Olivia, can you take this serious?", y/n says frustrated.

Olivia holds up her hands in defense. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. You're right. ... So you didn't hear anything from him ever since?", she asks. Y/n puffs and puts her hair up in a messy loop. All this talk got her warm. "Oh, I heard from him, believe me.", she says angrily. "That doesn't sound good. What did he say?", Olivia asks. "Oh, he told me what a terrible person I am alongside some threats not to tell anybody.", she tells her. Olivia slurps a bit of her drink watching her intensely. "Ah, afraid about his reputation? So, he's an arrogant prick.", Olivia points out. Y/n nods. "Yeah, and look at what he sent me today.", y/n says and pulls out Draco's note. Olivia raises a brow and takes the piece of paper. "Old fashioned, I see.", Olivia mumbles and quickly reads through the note. "I really don't get it. He tells me he doesn't want to see me anymore and then he keeps sending me messages and now he wants to meet? Why on earth would I want to see him after everything? After he said these terrible things to me?", y/n rambles. Olivia gives her a side-eye and slides the paper back to her. "Well, isn't it obvious?", Olivia says matter-of-factly. "No.", y/n states bluntly. Olivia shrugs. "He's hooked. He doesn't want to mingle with a poor commoner, he's afraid about his reputation but he also can't let go.", Olivia explains. Y/n laughs into her face. "Sure, that's why he keeps lashing out at me.", she argues. Olivia shrugs. "Maybe he's not a good communicator and that's the only way he knows how to keep in touch with you. Or he's too proud to admit he likes you even though you don't have the same social status as him.", Olivia thinks out loud. Actually, she might be right, a voice in y/n's head says. Y/n shakes her head. "So?", Olivia asks. "So what?", y/n asks back. "Are you going to meet him?" Y/n looks at Olivia as if she's grown three heads. "Are you insane? Absolutely not!", she exclaims. Olivia shrugs. "You liked him enough to pull off this big-ass lie to get a weekend with him. And now you don't want to give him another chance?", Olivia questions her. Y/n kneads her hands. "I- it's... Look, he left me at a creepy in, in the middle of the night, in a town I don't know. Then he keeps pointing out what a low-life I am compared to him via text. Why would I want to see him again?", she exclaims. Olivia looks at her softly. "Because you have feelings for him? Clearly enough for his words to still hurt you. You guys could either reconcile or you can give him a piece of your mind.", Olivia argues. Y/n turns her head away like a frustrated toddler. "My mother would ground me forever.", she says. Olivia sighs. "Stop finding excuses to not face him. I'll stay here in case your mom shows up early. It's still early, you can catch the next bus.", Olivia says determinedly. Y/n looks at her blankly trying to come up with another reason to not go, but she draws a blank. "Don't look at me so stupidly, go!", Olivia ushers her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Y/n wraps her jacket around her. Even though it's summer and it's warm, she still feels cold. And nervous. And very uncomfortable. Olivia dragged her to the bus stop, shoved her into the bus, and before y/n could fathom what was happening, she was already standing on Trafalgar Square. She tries not to look around and search for him. She doesn't want to look desperate or give him the satisfaction of knowing she missed him, which she, of course, did not.

"Y/n", a familiar voice said behind her. Y/n turns around to Draco standing behind her. Suddenly all oxygen is knocked out of her lungs. She's not sure whether it's because she doesn't know what to say to him or because he is as good-looking as she remembers him. She wished her initial reaction to him would be repulsion, which would be an appropriate reaction she thinks. However, her heart takes a leap and she feels warm in places she shouldn't feel warm at all. Draco doesn't take his hands out of his pockets and y/n doesn't move her arms away from her chest. "You wanted to meet?", is all she can croak out. He nods without looking into her eyes. When he doesn't say anything. "Well, what do you have to say? Make it quick, I'm already in trouble.", she asks. Suddenly, but slowly, y/n can feel her anger returning in her chest. Draco's eyes snap to hers. "Don't you have anything to say?", he asks back. Y/n shrugs. "If you're looking for an apology, I've already given you one in writing.", she bites back. Draco frowns. "Really, that's all you've got to say to me?", he says bitterly. Y/n stares back at him irritated. "Well, what do you want me to say?", she asks.

Suddenly, Draco looks really helpless. "Well... I... you... I thought...", he tries looking for words. Y/n waits patiently. Let him struggle, she thinks. Draco stomps his foot on the ground angrily. "You lied to me!", he blurts out. Y/n huffs. "Firstly, I gave you an apology for that. Secondly, I never claimed to be a witch. You assumed it, which I didn't get at first, and then I just went with it.", she exclaims. Draco looks at her angrily. "Well, why would you go with it? I don't get it.", Draco argues. "Because I was thirteen years old, you just abducted me in a magical alleyway and then you go off about how awful people like me were. I was scared!", y/n blurts out a bit too loudly and Draco shushes her. "You telling me you were scared of me?", Draco hisses back quietly. Y/n lifts her hands above her hands frustratedly. "Yes! Of course! You grew up with magic, it's natural and everyday life for you! It's not for me. It scared me shitless because I suddenly didn't know what's real and possible anymore. Also, you literally told me your kind could wipe us out!", y/n whisper yells back at him. This stuns Draco for a moment. "I didn't say that.", he tells her. "Don't gaslight me, Draco. Yes, you gave me shit about muggleborns and muggles and then you told me wizards could literally wipe muggles off the face of earth.", y/n argues. Draco is quiet for a moment then points out: "If you are so scared of me, why did you continue to see me?". Y/n shrugs. "You're an arrogant prick, Draco, but you're also my first friend since I moved overseas.", she tells him. Draco is too stunned to speak. Y/n pushes her hands through her hair. "Look, I should've told you. Yes, at first I was scared and then... I don't know. You were my friend, Draco, I didn't want to lose that.", she sighs. Draco turns his head away. "That's what I am to you? A friend?", he mumbles. Y/n stares at him in disbelief. He's hooked, that's what Olivia said. Maybe she's right, y/n thinks. "For a while.", she tells him, "Obviously not since Christmas. Which didn't exactly make it easier to tell you.". Draco turns back to without meeting her eyes. "It would've been better to tell me than let me find out his way.", he says. Y/n looks at him softly. "Of course. It's definitely not how I wanted it to come out. But in all honesty... would the outcome be any different if I had told you? You always let me know how little you think of muggles. You still would've broken up with me.", she points out to him. Draco stays quiet and shrugs. "I don't know. Probably. It's not like we could be together like this.", he says. Y/n nods. "Yeah, guess it's against the law for people like us to be together. Your wizard police probably would have to erase my memories or something.", she says. Draco shrugs again. "It's... it's not against the law, actually. There are plenty of mixed couples.", he relents, "But my parents would never accept you". Y/n gives him a confused look. "Your parents?", she asks him. "No offense, Draco, but I don't give a fuck about your parents. I was concerned about you accepting it. You didn't strike me with the open-minded, tolerant mindset, you know.", she tells him. Draco looks away again. He seemed to be ashamed. "Look, I know I said some horrible things, but...", he starts. "But what?", y/n interrupts him, "You made it pretty clear what you think about people like me. Don't try to tell me you've changed suddenly. Because I don't buy it." Draco looks down in defeat. Y/n feels like it's the first time he's been called out on his racist attitude. She pulls her jacket closer around her body. Good, she thinks. "You're right.", he tells her, "And I'm sorry for the things I said. Actually, I've been thinking a lot about it". "About what?", she asks. "Muggles... and you, I guess.", he says. "Elaborate.", y/n simply demands. Draco shrugs and huffs. "Well, you see... I never had any contact with muggles. All I knew about your world, is what my parents told me.", he tries to explain.

Y/n starts shaking her head. "Nu-uh. Don't blame this on your parents. That's an excuse when you're six years old. At some point, you're old enough to question the things your parents say. You're old enough to understand the world and how human beings treat each other", y/n calls him out. Draco nods in defeat. "Yes, and I never did. I never questioned it. But I've been questioning it since I found out you're a muggle.", he tells her. Y/n rolls her eyes. "Oh, so it's been an eye-opening event, yes? Sorry, but years of internalized racism don't go away because you have one friend who is different.", she says bitterly. Draco nods again. "Probably not.", he admits, "but it did change my mind a little bit. I always had this idea how muggles are. You know, dumb, different." "Thank you.", y/n says dryly. Draco takes his hands out of his pocket and waves them in front of him in defense. "No, that's not... ugh. I mean, I realized that you're not that different from us. I mean I didn't notice you weren't a witch for years. I guess I'm the dumb one.", he explains. Y/n shrugs. "Sounds about right.", she tells him. "Doesn't mean you were right to not tell me.", he points out. Y/n shrugs again. "It wasn't. I was a coward and selfish.", she answers. "Sounds about right.", Draco repeats her sarcastically.

They stare at each other for a while in silence. "So, what now?", y/n asks. Draco shrugs. "Good talk, have a good live?", y/n suggests. Draco looks at her wide-eyed. "You want that?", he asks her. Y/n shrugs. "Do we have a different choice? Your parents will kill you when they find out about your muggle girlfriend. And my parents sure as hell will kill me if they find out I'm meeting the guy who stayed with me in an inn all alone for two days.", she declares. "You got in trouble with your parents?", Draco asks carefully. Y/n nods. "Yeah, what did you think? You left me at a magical inn in the middle of the night. Did you think I stayed and went home the next day like nothing happened? I went home in the middle of the night and my lie blew up in my face.", she tells him. Draco looks down ashamed. "I shouldn't have left you there.", he says. Y/n shrugs. "Whatever. Anyways, since our parents will not approve of this, probably better to call it off, eh?", she answers. Draco looks at her. Does he actually look sad?, y/n asks herself. "I mean... what if they don't know?", he asks quietly. Y/n laughs dryly at that. "Yeah, that worked out great the first time.", she says. Draco looks like she hit him in the face. "Because I was ignorant and you kept your secret. But we can do it differently this time.", he pleads with her and y/n thinks that it's a little bit pathetic. Also, she's really glad he is because right now her pride is in her own way. "You call me out when I'm a prick and you don't keep secrets.", he proposes. Y/n shrugs. "How about we both don't keep secrets?", she says carefully. Draco seems to cheer up immediately. "Deal.", he prompts. Y/n gives him a small smile.

Suddenly it's awkward between them. "Sooooo...?", y/n says and makes an awkward hand gesture. "So, we stay together?", Draco ends her sentence. "Yes?", y/n answers. "That doesn't sound convincing.", Draco deadpans. Y/n takes a deep breath. "Yes.", she tells him. Draco gives her a soft smile. "Now what?", y/n asks awkwardly. Draco shrugs. "We hug?", he proposes. Y/N smiley back. "Okay.", she replies. Awkwardly, they step forward and put their arms around each other. For a moment, y/n feels really uncomfortable. Then, Draco's smell hits her and he pulls her closer so that her face rests against his shoulder. Y/n's body instantly relaxes and she hugs him back closer. After a while, they loosen the hug a bit and are face-to-face with each other. "Do we...?", Draco asks carefully and y/n gives him a soft smile. "Yes.", she whispers and pulls his face towards hers. Their lips meet in a soft kiss and Draco leans in. Y/n would've enjoyed the kiss if her phone hadn't started vibrating in her pocket. Draco jumps back immediately. "What's that?", he stutters. "Just my phone.", she tells him and pulls it out of her pocket. It's Olivia.

"Hate to interrupt the moment, but it's half past three. We need to take the next bus back to the café.", Olivia's voice echoes on the other side of the phone. Y/n swirls around and looks around frantically. "On your right.", Olivia tells her and y/n catches her leaning on a streetlamp on the other side of the road. "How did you-?" "Get here?", Olivia finishes her sentence. "Didn't trust that guy and wanted to look after you. Seems like you didn' need me, bravo!", she tells y/n. "But seriously, we need to go." Y/n nods. "Alright, I'm coming.", she replies and hangs up. "I need to go.", she tells Draco. Draco's eyes are fixated on Olivia who gives him a short wave. "Does she know?", he asks her sharply. "About you and me? Yes. About you being a wizard? No. I keep my promises.", y/n tells him. Draco relaxes a bit and turns his gaze back to her. "You have to go?", he asks. "Yes, my mother picks me up soon. I'm already on thin ice with her. I'd rather not know what she'll do if she finds out about this.", she replies. Draco nods in agreement. "When will we see each other again?", he asks her hopefully. Y/n thinks about it for a moment. "Last week of the summer holidays? I might need some more time to convince my parents I won't do anything stupid.", y/n proposes. "Alright. Be careful. I'll send you an owl.", Draco says. Y/n nods and gives him a smile. They quickly hug each other and when y/n pulls away, Draco grabs her face and gives her a long, passionate kiss that leaves y/n breathless. She almost stumbles when he lets go of her. "See you soon, y/n.", Draco says softly.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

In the next few weeks, y/n and Draco frequently exchanged letters. What happened in Salisbury is not spoken of anymore. However, Draco's tone and choice of words slightly changed. No snarky remarks about the muggle world anymore. Instead, he includes lengthy explanations about anything magical. Y/n thinks he is trying a little bit too hard, but is grateful nonetheless. Finally, she gets some context for some things he says. Meanwhile, y/n is a bit more open about her own life. About the movies she watches or the things she does with her friends. In a way, things are better now. Y/n doesn't carry around the weight of constant hiding and doesn't have to be careful about her words. Moreover, in Olivia, y/n finally found a friend who she can giggle about boys with and who can keep a secret.

Y/n and Draco met a few times at the end of August. Y/n showed her some muggle activities and Draco took her to Diagon Alley again and made her try all kinds of magical things. Of course, it's a risk to take y/n to magical places but Draco decided that y/n managed to blindside him for 5 years, others probably won't notice for like 5 Minutes. It's been a bliss, really. Finally, this feels like a real relationship to y/n. They're just some teenagers holding hands and making out and sneaking around their parents. Y/n wished these moments last forever but sooner or later September arrives and Draco has to go back to Hogwarts.

Y/n is standing at King's Cross. Draco and her are hiding behind a pillar at platform 8. He already crossed over to platform 9 3/4 20 minutes ago after saying goodbye to his parents. He came back to say goodbye to y/n a couple of minutes later. "It's only until Christmas.", Draco says as y/n clings to his chest. She buries her face into him. "I know, but somehow this feels worse than last year.", she mumbles. Draco rubs her back and grins. "Geez, I wonder why.", he says. Y/n pinches his arm. Draco lets go of her and rubs her arms. "I'll write you every week, I promise.", he tells her. "You should really get a phone. We could talk every day.", y/n argues. She's been trying to convince him for the past weeks. Communication would be so much easier. Also, her mum gets suspicious about the amount of bird shit that's on her windowsill. Fair enough, she doesn't seem to get that a literal owl is visiting her daughter. Instead, she gives y/n shit about feeding pigeons.

"Seriously, it won't be that bad. School starts soon and then we both have so much school work up our asses, we won't even notice until Christmas comes around.", Draco tries to soothe her. Y/n sighs. "I guess. I'll still miss you.", she tells him defeated. Draco smiles at her softly. "Yeah, I'll miss you too.", he replies. He leans down and gives her a kiss on the lips. Y/n's eyes flicker to the big clock behind Draco. "You have to go.", she points out and Draco nods. Y/n's lips form a thin line. She really hates this. Draco softly strokes over her cheek. "Yeah. See you soon, love. Don't miss me too much.", he says as he turns around to catch his train. Suddenly, y/n's face lits up. "Hey, Draco!", she yells after him. He turns around. "We've survived summer! In contrast to Blaise and that girl!", she yells. Draco laughs and shakes his head. "Well, at least I have something to brag about.", he laughs as he makes his way to platform 9 3/4.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Tag list: @gypsylilim @caffeine-addict-slug @huiiline @rclector @am0iur @nofacenonamelikekira @0iheartu @jahaina @eringaitskill @jae-is-confused @stormy-stardust @a-beaverhausen @niyahzda1

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#harry potter imagine #harry potter fanfiction #draco x you #draco malfoy imagine #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy fanfiction #wizarding world #hogwarts #hogwarts legacy #slytherin #harry potter #draco x reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x reader

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icycoldninja · 4 months

Note

Dante being oblivious to fem readers flirting until they say, "Shut up and take me already"

Dense (Dante x Fem!Reader)

You stormed home from the Devil May Cry ageny, frustrated beyond belief. That dense douchebag! Why wasn't he picking up on your signals?! Why wasn't he noticing how you talked, how you walked, and how you generally behaved in his presence?! Hell, you were emitting signs loud enough for Vergil to see, so why wasn't Dante getting it?! Did you have to spell it out for him directly?! Could you even tell him?! You grumbled angrily, folding your arms in a vain attempt to quell the butterflies zooming around inside. You wanted to tell Dante how you felt, but you didn't think you had the guts. You tried subtle flirting, but that didn't work, so you upped the intensity higher and higher until you were downright hitting on him--and even that wasn't enough.

No, if you wanted Dante to get the fact that you liked him into his thick skull, you were going to have to make a sign, wave it in front of his face, and scream your confession directly into his ears.

Breathing out a sigh, you made a resolution: Tomorrow, you were going to confess to Dante. After all, the worst he could do was say he didn't feel the same....right?

The very next morning, you headed to the Devil May Cry agency, nerves and knees quivering like a leaf on a branch. Brushing past a smiling Lady and Trish, you headed straight for Dante's desk, determined to make your confession.

Then you saw Dante, and your confidence melted like butter in a hot pan.

He was lounging in his chair, feet up on the desk, magazine obscuring most of his face. He noticed your presence and set down the magazine, eyebrows raised. "Need somethin'?" You tried to speak, you really did, but your brain was blanking out on you--you couldn't remember what you wanted to say! "Umm...well....uhh....see...I was....kinda...uhh...." Dante eyed you confusedly before slowly raising his magazine back up to his eyes. "Oh, damn it," You sighed, fidgeting with your fingers and hoping Dante would notice why you were behaving this way. Unfortunately, he didn't.

"Y/N?"

"Yes?!"

"Could you move? You're blocking the light."

"...Ok."

"Thanks."

And so you nervously edged away from the light, sidestepping into the corner. Dante remained in his seat, oblivious to your feelings as always, perusing the perverted magazine before him. he was completely ignorant, and always would be, unless you did something now.

Summoning up all the courage and power you had, you cleared your throat, adjusted your clothes, walked up in front of the desk again, and slammed your hands down on it, making Dante jump and drop his magazine. "What!?" He demanded, sounding a bit annoyed. You were not to be deterred, however, and simply cleared your throat before beginning. "I like you, Dante. No, wait, I love you."

Dante's jaw fell pen, his eyes widening as he leaned back so far the chair toppled over. "Wh-?! Wait, are you saying you love me?!" You would have slapped him then and there if you weren't in the middle of confessing your crush. "Yes, Dante, I'm saying I love you." You sighed, pinching your nose. "Well...that's great!" Dante shouted, leaping to his feet, a wide smile on his face. "Cause I've been crushing on you for a while now." You gaped at him. "You have?! Why didn't you say anything?" Dante shrugged, "I dunno, the way you were so comfortable talking to me made me think you'd friendzoned me or something." Your brow wrinkled as you tried to remember a time when you ever acted in a way that would give someone that idea. "I never friendzoned you!" Dante shrugged again, scratching his head this time. "Well, I mean, you were so relaxed and comfortable around me, ready to say exactly what was on your mind. It gave me that "homie" vibe, you know?" You laughed, glad to know that your earlier attempts at flirting were at least noticed, though they were misunderstood.

"You absolute dork," You chastised, playfully. "Come here." Dante took a step back in response. "Why?" "Oh, shut up and take me already!" You cried, stamping your foot in frustration. Dante seemed to get the message now, as he readily stepped forward, a devious smirk on his face, and kissed you, with both lips and tongue.

As you kissed him, you found yourself fondly wondering to yourself,

"How can he be this dense?"

#Dmc #Dmc x reader #Dante dmc #Dante x reader #Fanfic #Funny #Funny fanfic #kinda fluff #icycoldninja writes #Requested #thanks for requesting #dante devil may cry #Devil may cry

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mockerycrow · 1 year

Note

I literally just want anything Rudy x Reader or Alejandro x Reader 😩

I Wanna Know What Love Is (Rudy x GN!Reader)

masterlist

Summary: You work at a local coffee shop that Rudy frequents and he works up the courage to ask you out on a date.

A/N: THERE IS NOT ENOUGH RUDY CONTENT!! thank you for the request, anon. <3 let me know if my translations are wrong. btw, yes, the title is a song. Reader is implied to be Mexican.

WARNINGS: Pure fluff!

Rudy doesn’t think it’s fair; the way you look, the way you act, your unnecessary kindness. Part of him knows it’s customer service, it’s a part of the mask you must have for your customers—a similar mask he must hold for the people he faces as well—but he couldn’t help the way his gut tightened at your smile.

Rudy’s never really had crushes like that before, maybe he’s had a few hookups here and there, a consistent sexual partner once or twice, but he never actually found anyone romantically enticing. You’ve had a quite few good talks with Rudy when you were less busy, usually at the end of rush hour. He’s learned a bit about you during those times; your favorite color, some of your hobbies, a few names of your close friends that he doesn’t really remember at the moment, and some other minor things.

Rudy can’t help but feel so.. attracted to you. He finds himself antsy to get to this little coffee shop, knowing you’ll be there. You told him you don’t work Thursday’s or Friday’s, so he doesn’t end up going, but you don’t need to know that. Rudy was never much a coffee person, but he’ll fake it every time for you to make his drink. He became a regular and you immediately picked up his drink choices.

“What will it be today, Rudy?” You grin, leaning your hands on the counter that has the cash register resting on it. You’re wearing your uniform; black polo, blue jeans, an apron and a company hat. Your fingers push at the pen at rests just at your fingertips absentmindedly. Rudy thinks he dies right then and there. He’s never heard his name sound so good coming from someone else; let alone his nickname. He didn’t even have to ask you to call him Rudy. “Straight black,” He murmurs in response, taking out his wallet. You hum as you watch him feel around for his wallet and you wave your hand. “No es necesario, señor.” You reply, pushing yourself from the counter.

Rudy’s eyebrows furrow and look at you, pausing his movements. “It’s on the house.” You simply gives him a smile before you walk further behind the counter, leaving him dumbfounded. A simple motion such as that shouldn’t be sending your heart pounding, but it is. He quietly walks over to the other counter where you would collect your coffee if you had ordered. Your smile and your words are sending him into a spiral, and he know that shouldn’t have much of an effect on you, but again; it is.

You interrupt his thoughts by placing the double plated paper cup in front of him, causing Rudy’s gaze to snap to you. And of course, he feels his cheeks burn as he can’t hold back a soft smile. “Gracias,” He murmurs quietly, holding eye contact as he takes the cup from the counter. You nod and grin, your tone a teasing one. “You’re so basic with your coffee choices. If I didn’t know any better, I would think you’re coming here just to see me!”

Rudy’s heart dropped to his stomach, his smile faltering ever so slightly. How did you kno—

You laugh and wave it off. “Ah, cálmate! I’m only messing with you. Maybe I could expand your tastes later with some Kahlúa.”

“I’d like that,” Rudy blurts out.

Oh shit.

You blink at him and giggle quietly after a moment. “Yeah? You would?”

Rudy clears his throat, trying to ignore the ache in his chest from his heart rapidly beating at an abnormal pace for too long. He nods, a nervous smile coming to his face. “Yeah, maybe, uh.. we could do something together? ¿Puedes hacerme esa bebida especial?”

You don’t say anything for a moment and Rudy is fully convinced you’re about to laugh in his face—wait, are you blushing?

You bite your lip as you grab a napkin and take a pen out of a pocket in your apron, writing something down.

His eyebrows raise as he realizes it; you’re accepting his offer for a date.

You slide the napkin over to Rudy, that big, yet shy smile remaining on your face. ‘Pink looks good on you.’ Rudy thinks in the back of his head, loving how your blush outlines your cheekbones. He looks down at it and he scored your number. He looks back at you with a similar grin to yours.

“I’m off tomorrow. Text me whenever and we’ll see if you can hold your liquor, yeah?”

Yes, definitely yes.

No es necesario, señor. = No need, sir./It’s not necessary, sir.

Gracias. = Thank you.

Cálmate! = Calm down!/Take it easy!

Kahlúa. = A Mexican coffee liqueur, typically made into ice coffee.

¿Puedes hacerme esa bebida especial? = Can you make me that special drink?

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seung-scrittore · 1 year

Text

hey ji, — jisung x reader

📻 … hel- … can anyone … kkchh .. WC: 866 … GN! READER … GENRE: heavy angst, ex-boyfriend! jisung … WARNINGS: arguments, mentions of drinking, mentions of marriage, generally toxic relationship, cursing, mildly suggestive(?) … -over … kchhh ..

a/n … hihi !! so, initially this was for @fae-renjun for kfn’s member exchange event! but they’ve respectably stopped writing, so i let the fic take any direction it pleased. this was angst-ier than i meant it to be… + i was also a super condescending narrator… not proofread… sorry 🫶

throughout your relationship, you’d said countless words to each other. some good, some bad, most meaningless.

though, now that the two of you had separated, the only words that mattered were the things you didn’t say. the unspoken hopes, dreams, truths. your mind yelling at you to reach out, to come to some sort of closure, but your heart ached, far too bitter to make the first amends.

maybe it was for the better, that’s what you told yourself, if you kept your unspoken thoughts to yourself they’d eventually die down. they had to, right?

wrong.

now here you were, months later, the same regret lingering in your mind.

that’s why you’d decided to talk to him, well, if you could call this talking.

hey ji,

writing a letter, isn’t that too old school?

maybe you should’ve called him.

it’s been a while, yeah? i’m doing good.

you missed the way his hands fit perfectly in yours; the gentle forehead kisses he’d give you before he left in the mornings; the way his body felt against yours in the dead of night; you missed jisung. everything about him.

you’d tried your hardest to distract yourself, but you found yourself succumbing to loneliness the second you stepped foot in your house.

you struck out your last sentence with your pen.

i’m not doing too hot, and i don’t mean to bother you about it but damn. ji, i miss you.

on your quest to be a better person, you never considered it would’ve included jisung.

then again, you never would’ve considered that you would regret breaking up with him after everything that's happened. could you really put up with the arguing for the sake of familiarity?

your relationship had put the both of you through unimaginable trouble, all because you were hooked on the feeling of each other; the adrenaline rush that surrounded your relationship.

i don’t think i’m supposed to miss you. i don’t even know if i want to miss you, but i do.

or would it be different… you hadn't considered that. jisung wasn't the type to have a drastic change, neither were you.

god, ji, i miss your smile. i miss it so damn much.

you loved the way his nose would crinkle when he smiled, just like it was crinkling as you looked at it on your lockscreen.

you’d meant to change that. you just hadn’t gotten around to it. or at least that was what you told yourself.

you picked your pen back up, saying what you knew you didn’t have the courage to say to his face.

i miss you.

were you being too naive? writing these letters was one thing, but god, did you miss him? did you actually miss him after everything?

his face appeared in your mind, then his voice was in your ears. he haunted you. he has since he left.

and i hate you for leaving me here.

maybe you were so hung up on jisung because he truly was the one that got away. you don’t think you’d ever feel as satisfied as you did when you were dating jisung.

maybe it was because he managed to make everything feel so… real. it was intense.

intense is the perfect word to describe it, you think. it was intense last summer, when jisung had made you so angry that you’d thrown out his things from your third story apartment window. that was after you kicked him out for getting home shit-faced at two a.m., hah.

or maybe it was because the two of you made each other miserable.

don’t come back.

did the reason really matter? all that mattered was that jisung was gone, for good.

you scribbled over those last few words again.

you make me feel so crazy. so, so crazy.

…maybe he really had changed; maybe if you called him, or met up with him, the two of you could talk it out; maybe he would come back.

your head hurt.

crazy enough to miss your stupid, beat-up converse by the door next to mine.

you thought back on your relationship.

the two of you had been through just about everything a couple can go through.

well, the bad more often than the good. but those good moments— they made up for the fights, the break-ups, the crying.

ji, i can’t tell if that crazy is good or bad.

you could. just like you could tell you were being irrational the time the two of you’d almost gotten married. drunk and hitched in las vegas. lovely, huh?

to this day, you’re still glad minho was there to talk you out of it.

honestly,

glad. yeah, you were glad you hadn’t married jisung.

why hadn’t you thought about that earlier?

i’m sorry for everything, and i forgive you. i don’t know if we ever sat down and said that to each other.

you would never marry jisung, you wouldn’t grow old with him. you would meet someone else. someone that you wanted to marry; someone you would miss more than jisung, that would fill that loneliness you were feeling now.

you hoped he forgave you too. for everything.

goodbye, ji.

… is anyon- … kkkch .. TAGGING: @liumoonlight , @sunoo-bby , @tbzloonar , @noramoons , @hangyeomcult , @septabuspass , @kflixnet , @kwritersworld , @k-labels @straykidsland-main , @kdiarynet … pleas- … -you copy? … kchhh …. 📻

#kflixnet #kdiarynet #straykidsland #k lables #kwritersworldnet #skz angst #kfn: the exchange event #skz suggestive #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #stray kids jisung #skz scenarios #han jisung #stray kids scenarios #stray kids #stray kids angst #jisung angst

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yandere-toons · 2 years

Note

Since you said you were into Danganronpa, what about a platonic scenerio or HCs with the warriors of hope ?

Nagisa Shingetsu, Jataro Kemuri, Masaru Daimon, Kotoko Utsugi, Monaca Towa (Platonic Scenario - "The Good Teacher")

WARNING: references to child abuse, home invasion, implied desecration of corpses, fantasy violence, blood, implied non-consensual drug use.

A.N. - Excuse me while I sleep for a week.

THE NIBBLING OF A SANDWICH being eaten was the loudest noise in the serene classroom, interrupted only by the ticktock of a round clock perched high on the wall above the door.

It took five minutes before Nagisa Shingetsu touched the food you had given him.

His eyes, blue as his horned hair, were lined with dark circles that contrasted with his pallid skin. He had spoken at length about how inappropriate it was for him to eat at his desk when you first presented the meal, but if one looked at him now, they saw nothing but a hungry boy eating his fill.

“It's nice to eat something that doesn't burn my throat,” Nagisa had thought upon tasting the fresh food with nothing hidden inside.

On your desk was a thick folder, the contents of which were so dreadful that you had avoided opening it for the past hour. A part of you wished for it to disappear by the time you looked near it again.

The door creaked open with a cautious slowness, and a young boy by the name of Jataro Kemuri poked his head through the crack to make sure there was no danger waiting to ambush him. The mask that wrapped around his head was a patchwork of leather flaps, obscuring every part of his face but his grey eyes and the straight line of his mouth.

Those same eyes raked the classroom as if worried that he had taken the path he walked every day and somehow ended up in the wrong room.

His mother liked to alternate between rushing to be rid of him for the day and forgetting to drive him here until the last minute. Judging from the half-hour still waiting to tick on the clock, it was one of the former days.

You considered calling out to Jataro but held your tongue at the memory of his dislike for loud and sudden noises, choosing to wave at him instead.

The gesture gave him the courage he needed to nudge the door open wider with his shoulder and step inside. His gaze never lifted higher than the floor until he had shambled up to your desk, but even then, it rose only to the cup of pens and pencils sitting on the corner.

Jataro kept his arms extended outwards from the front of his chest. He had pulled at the sleeves and stretched them until they were longer than his arms, falling over his hands and acting as a buffer from anything that sought to touch him.

Around his shoulders were the straps of a white backpack, the muffled rattles within it suggesting a heavy load.

“You told Kotoko she could bring her own clothes, so I thought maybe I could bring some of my art supplies.” Jataro pointed the top of his head at you when he suggested this, rocking slightly and perhaps hoping to soften the blow he expected from across the desk if he looked you in the eye.

You motioned to the adjacent wall running along the left side of the room, for it faced the outside and had a long window that poured sunlight onto the space below it. “You're welcome to draw all over these walls. The floors, too. Even the ceiling if you have a ladder.”

His head jerked up. “What?!” Jataro draped his arms over his mask, speaking in a combination of a whimper and a groan. “Are you messing with me? Figures you'd pick on me.”

You lightly shook your head. “No!” After peeking at a few of the walls in the classroom, you squinted in exaggerated disgust. “Look at this place. It's all grey and hopeless.” In addition to shrivelling your nose, you curled your lips to form a comical grimace. “We could use some colour.”

A tiny smile graced Jataro's face, and he ambled to the wall you had first suggested. “I'll give it some colour,” he mumbled. The bag slipped off his back, rode down his arm, and landed with a clunk on the floor beside the window.

The zipper on his backpack hummed as it was pulled to the opposite end, followed by the clatter of various tools spilling out around him.

A sawing noise alerted you to the sight of Jataro dragging a chisel across the wall. Chips of paint were bending away from the tool before falling to the ground, and you prepared a lie to tell if any of the other teachers or the principal asked.

Hanging from a clasp around his neck was a knee-length apron, its brown fabric splattered with dry paint and chalk powder.

You delivered a box of crayons and markers to the side of his backpack while he was engrossed in drawing humanoid figures. When you glanced in his direction several minutes later, the drawings had all been outfitted with streaks of crayon and the pungent scent of a fresh marker.

“Hey, teach! Heads up!” shouted an energetic voice.

Your eyes spun from Jataro to a basketball hurtling towards you, and your hands flew off the desk to catch it just before it would have smashed into your nose. You held the ball there for a moment then slowly lowered it with mild amusement.

The competitive smile of Masaru Daimon greeted you from the entrance as the door swung shut behind him, his hands coming up to lay a pair of headphones on his spiky, red hair.

“Gotta be faster,” you chided him in a way that was more playful than it was serious.

Masaru jumped to catch the ball when you tossed it back to him. He winced upon touching the ground, and the gravity of the fall revealed a bruise on his upper arm. Its purple and black colouration was hidden under the black hem of his short-sleeve shirt, its irregular contour matching the size of an adult fist.

You pushed your chair back as you stood.

Masaru was panting and bouncing the ball off the floor into his hands.

It was a common suspicion of yours that he ran to school, one that grew on the days when he arrived hours late with a limp or busted lip. Those days fed into your mental image of the person who gave him the injuries, but an angry excuse was all you got out of him when you raised a question.

His eyes were concentrated on the motion of the ball until you crouched in front of him. In your hand was a small bandage, which you extended to him with an open palm. The smile on his face shrank, but Masaru took the bandage.

“Gotta keep your throws strong, right?” The calm mix of sincerity and encouragement in your voice brought some of the joy back to his smile.

He bared his teeth in a bigger smile and dashed to his chair in the front row as if in a race, but he chose to dribble the ball next to his desk instead of sitting down.

You watched him with a frown that was lost in thought, eventually sighing and taking a seat at your desk.

The door thudded open as it was wrenched out of its frame and pushed to the wall, and in stepped a young girl with pink hair as long as she was tall. Her hands were clutching the strap of a duffle bag, which was decorated with heart and flower stickers.

“Kotoko!” came your pleased greeting. She whipped her head around at your call, a smile of excitement and relief overtaking any impatience when you beckoned her to your desk with a wave of your hand.

Kotoko Utsugi dashed forward and hopped onto the edge of the desk with her side facing you. She allowed her legs to dangle, for her attention was devoted to hugging the duffle bag and looking it up and down with the desire to bring its contents into the morning light.

“Some hall monitor tried to make me open my bag,” she grumbled, rolling her eyes and fiddling with the zipper. Like a candle flickering between light and dark, Kotoko wiped the discontent from her face and turned to you with a joyful laugh. “So I just told him it was girl stuff! That sent him running!”

Joining her amusement with a chuckle and a mental note to find her a more discreet method, you stood up and walked to the door. The hinges squeaked as it opened, but there were no footsteps or voices to fill the corridor. A quick scan of both directions proved it to be empty save for a couple of posters on the walls.

You nodded at Kotoko and held the door open for her, causing her to sprint across the hall to the bathroom.

You leaned back into the classroom to observe the hubbub unfolding in the third row, where Masaru had grasped fistfuls of Jataro's mask and was pulling him out of his seat. Jataro was flailing his arms in helpless defiance.

“Jataro's head is not a ball, Masaru!”

Masaru sounded a disappointed and exaggerated “aw” under the din of Jataro's protests, the amusement in his voice hinting that he had yet to let go. “But it's huge and round like one!”

His fun was brought to an end when Nagisa stepped in front of the desk with his arms crossed. Nagisa wore a stern frown that looked too much like that of a disapproving parent for Masaru's taste, and he gave Nagisa an equally scathing look in return.

“Our teacher asked you to stop.”

While you were focused on the staring contest between Masaru and Nagisa, Kotoko dashed back into the classroom with a twirl and a deep breath of excitement. “I am ready to perform!” She thrust her leg into the air and pulled her arms up in an improvised dance move.

On her legs were long socks with pink and white stripes, atop her head was a horned headband, and she had ditched the slip-on shoes for high heel boots.

From the way Kotoko was patting her hair and reaching out to nothing in pretend monologues, it was like she was wearing new, much more comfortable skin.

Masaru, with a groan of frustration, released Jataro and resumed his throwing the basketball at the wall and catching it when it bounced back.

Jataro sunk into his chair, letting out soft whines and scribbling on his desk with a marker. He trudged to his wall of drawings and slumped to his knees in front of it after a minute or two, and Nagisa watched him go with an inkling of sympathy.

You applauded Kotoko as she bowed for an imagined performance. A chorus of “thank you, thank you” came from her, the fake seriousness of her tone descending into laughter when you called for an encore.

“This actor is taking a break!” declared Kotoko, and she climbed onto her desk to stretch her arms above her head. It evolved into a vocal exercise of lowering and raising her pitch to test her control and lung capacity.

The folder on your desk reemerged as an eyesore as soon as you sat down, and you pulled it open to glower at the curriculum looking back at you.

Nagisa peered in your direction before turning and advancing to your desk. His steps were rigid and deliberate as if he were following a list of rules for how to properly approach you.

When he first reached your desk, Nagisa refrained from making eye contact with you. His arms were folded across his chest, the look in his eyes ranging from caution to curiosity. “Teacher, if I may ask a question.”

He addressed you with the reserved confidence of someone who believed themselves to be in the presence of a superior. You nodded, so he took a breath and held your gaze. “It's nearing the end of the school year. Should we not be taking a test right now?”

Casting a glance around the room, you leaned forward and whispered, “Just between the two of us, our tests are different than the ones they're passing around in the other classes.”

Nagisa looked down and narrowed his eyes, raising a finger to his chin. Still, a smile began to appear on his face at receiving what you had treated as confidential information.

You tapped the thick folder lying on your hand and reclined in your chair.

Nagisa returned to his desk, sitting a bit taller.

After minutes of sifting the endless pages and losing more energy with each word, you craved a break. Your gaze drifted to the chisel and crayons weaving shapes on the wall.

The way your shadow fell over his much smaller body caused him to drop the chisel, the tool bouncing like a seesaw in motion before ending its clatter by his feet. Jataro turned in an instant, and he kicked his legs against the floorboards in a vain attempt to scurry backwards. The resulting thwacks of his shoes on the wood were joined by the flaps of his sleeves as he swung his arms wildly.

With the look of a boy fearing for his life, he drew his arms across his face in a sloppy 'X' position. “I'm sorry!” He said the apology so fast that each one of his words bled into the next as if he were fighting the clock. “I'll get rid of it! I'm sorry!”

The mental fog of reading something horrible was still weighing on you, and you sat beside Jataro with a sigh. “Your art makes the room a lot better.”

Jataro slowly lowered his arms and peeked at you over the top of his sleeves. He turned back to the wall, hugging his legs and pulling them to his chest. “Are you gonna tell me to put it away?”

“No.”

The door opened a final time to mark the arrival of Monaca Towa, her green hair dishevelled and her green eyes puffy. Instead of walking into the classroom hand-in-hand with Kotoko, she was alone and in a wheelchair. The wheelchair, with its silver joints of pristine quality, was lined with a red cushion designed for utmost comfort.

The rest of the class flocked to her side and began to bombard her with questions, while you took a slower approach and glanced at the telephone on the wall beside the door.

“What happened? Have you been crying?” Nagisa had raised his hands in front of his chest out of panic and kept asking variations of the same questions.

“Your hair looks like rats live in it!” cried Kotoko. She balled her fists and squeezed her eyes shut to avoid seeing the ragged hair any longer, turning to the bag she had dropped at her desk. “That's so not adorbs! I'll get my brush!”

Masaru was kneeling with one hand on his knee and leaning from side to side to inspect the wheels, but he soon jumped to a fighting stance. “Yeah! Do I need to beat someone up?”

Jataro was struck by awe at the mobile chair and gazed at it with eyes as wide as saucers. “Why are you wearing a car?” he shouted.

As you reached the back of the group, Monaca looked between her classmates with a pitiful mien but perked up at the sight of you.

Her face brightened for a moment before twisting with sobs as she raised her knuckles to wipe away the tears wetting her eyes. “I,” whimpered Monaca, choking so hard on her cries that she repeated the word several times and panted after each attempt. “I had an accident at home.”

“My brother,” was all she managed to say for an explanation. Its effect ripped through the other kids in a silent wave of fury as though she had given a lifelike description of the event.

You had half a mind to report your suspicions to the principal, but his last meeting with you had ended with him saying, “Don't stick your nose in something you aren't willing to lose your job over.”

* * *

MASARU WAS THE FIRST to jump up and yell, “Done!”

He held the drawing as far up as his arm would stretch, his tight grip wrinkling the paper somewhat. The look on his face was one of pride, and he sprinted to you with the enthusiasm of a runner nearing the finish line. Masaru slammed the paper onto your desk and strutted back to his seat, arms crossed behind his head.

Just as you were preparing to examine his work, the screech of a chair's feet sliding across the floorboards echoed in the classroom.

Kotoko was skipping to your desk while hugging her drawing to her chest, and on her face was a bright smile that grew with each step. She stopped at the front of the desk and clicked the heels of her boots together. Leaning forward on her toes, Kotoko placed the drawing between your hands and covered most of Masaru's drawing with her own.

She bent her knees and twirled her hands in a playful curtsy before returning to her seat. Kotoko proceeded to stick her tongue out at Masaru, which earned a look of surprise and irritation from him.

When Nagisa rose from his chair, he stacked his paper despite it having but one layer. He kept his gaze fixed on the drawing as he made rigid turns around other desks, scanning it for errors and then scanning it again to confirm that he saw what he had seen the last time.

The shame in Nagisa's face grew more apparent the closer he hauled himself to your desk. He held the drawing at a precise distance from his body, and he made sure to drop it onto your collection in a straight line rather than at an angle. “It's not my best work,” explained Nagisa, keeping his voice at a mutter, “but I assure you, I did all I could in the allotted time.”

You lowered the drawing from where you had lifted it to see his work, meaning to remind him that the assignment was not for a grade. It was intended as a fun way of passing the time until the bell rang. Nagisa had heard you when you announced this to the class, however, so your slight concern eased into understanding.

He sat down with frustration and self-doubt gnawing on his face, creasing his forehead and whitening his knuckles.

“Teacher,” sniffled Monaca before you could say anything to him.

Stretching her lips into a deep frown and putting the gleam of a sad puppy in her eyes was a look she wore comfortably, even dilating her pupils for extra effect. Monaca tugged at the wheels of her chair in an apparent inability to make them turn.

As you walked over to help, she stopped fighting with the wheelchair and watched your approach like a helpless infant awaiting rescue. “Monaca finished her drawing, and she just wanted to give it to you,” sobbed Monaca, adding a tearful whimper at the end for emphasis. “But the wheels on her chair won't move!”

You went to retrieve her drawing, but as soon as your hands came near it, the wheels lurched forward so that she could rush the paper into your grasp.

The tears that were threatening to fall had vanished from Monaca's eyes. “You fixed them!” she exclaimed with a happy gasp, clasping her hands together in front of her chest.

The look on your face was a flash of puzzlement mixed with an iota of suspicion, and you shook your head both in denial of her statement and as an expression of confusion about how the sudden recovery came to pass.

During the brief journey to your desk, your head was brimming with thoughts about whether and why Monaca had just tricked you. It muddied your concentration a bit, but the end of the school day was closing in on you.

“Speaking of that,” you remembered, counting the number of drawings on your desk. Just as you were going to probe the classroom for the missing assignment, the scratches of a pencil on paper wormed their way into your ears.

The constant scribbling was the work of Jataro, who was hunched over his drawing as if the rest of the world had ceased to exist. A backpack full of art supplies had spilled its contents onto his desk and the floor. In his hands were a ruler and a colouring pencil, but the excessive length of his sleeves caused him to hold the tools through the fabric.

An array of black and grey colouring pencils surrounded the drawing, their various shades tracing the underside of an eye and looping around the curve of the lips to perfect the shading. The usual wandering of his hands and mind was absent, replaced by the smooth twirls of pencils across a torso. His eyes never blinked as he dropped each tool in a unique place and retrieved one when needed without even glancing in its direction.

You debated whether to disturb him or not, but the ticking clock on your right pushed you to approach his desk. “Jataro? How's it going?”

He stopped the movement of his tools and looked away from the paper for the first time in half an hour. “I'm probably taking too long,” he started to reply, only to fall silent after realising that you were standing over him. The colouring pencil he had tucked into the fold of his sleeve was slowly pulled closer to him as his entire body tensed as if it were doused in icy water.

Jataro was fidgeting in his seat and keeping his eyes fixed on the ground, so you crouched and redirected your attention to his drawing.

It was a sketch of a sculpture the likes of which were fit to hang on the walls of museums and be the subject of crowds and analysis for centuries. The image of a tall figure locked in thought came together among the elements of Michelangelo's David, which were blended with Jataro's macabre twist on anatomy to form limbs that extended beyond human limits and rested at unnatural angles.

The indentations of another drawing were visible on this side of the paper, so you flipped it and beheld a mirror image of the sketch on the front of the paper. The arms were outstretched in a way that suggested they would overlap with the arms of the first sketch if placed next to each other.

Jataro took one look at the surprise blooming on your face and drooped. “I wasn't supposed to draw on the back, was I? I'm sorry,” he mumbled, eyes turning downcast.

The mirror image had all the skill and grace of the original sketch. A part of you imagined the grand sculptures standing side by side, not as pieces of paper but as monoliths carved out of marble and stone.

After giving the room a cursory scan to ensure that none of the other kids was watching, you lowered your voice to a whisper. “No one else thought to draw on the back.”

From his parallel desk on the opposite side of the classroom, Nagisa's head spun around to look at you with wide eyes and a slightly open mouth. He then turned away and bowed his head in shame.

Jataro placed one hand on top of the other, watching you from his peripheral vision when you began to rise.

“I need to look this over at my desk, okay?” You grabbed the corner of Jataro's drawing, but you waited a few seconds before taking it to give him a chance to voice any complaints.

The long sleeves of his uniform were ruffled as he rubbed them together and focused his gaze on the repetitive motion of the cloth. “When you're done, can I have it back?” Under the light cascading down his masked head, you caught a glimpse of a smile finding its way onto his lips. “I wanna sculpt it later.”

With all five of the drawings collected, you spread them out across your desk in a semicircle formation.

It took several seconds of blinking and moving your head around to process all the varied images that had been shoved together in Kotoko's drawing. Among the teddy bears with sparkling fur and frilly dresses of bubblegum pink was you, a sight that caused your eyes to crinkle in bewilderment before earning a slight smile.

You glanced at Kotoko to find her looking at you, and she waved excitedly as soon as you met her gaze.

The lines in Masaru's drawing were hasty and lacked detail in many areas, jumping from one idea to the next without bothering to finish the previous ideas. Each corner was filled with crude images of different sports and exercise equipment, such as a dumbbell in the bottom left corner and a soccer ball in the top right corner. In the middle of the paper was the largest picture of them all: Masaru scoring a slam dunk.

Nagisa had depicted a series of books, with a smaller but more detailed image of himself and his classmates occupying the bottom right corner. The spacing of his drawing was methodical, evenly distributed, and careful not to have anything overlap. Eraser markings darkened and dirtied much of the paper, and a big portion of them appeared to have come from perfecting the smiles worn by his classmates.

Upon lifting Monaca's drawing off the desk to minimise the glare from the overhead lights, you saw how she was standing and holding hands with someone who bore no family resemblance to her. The person holding her hand was a blonde woman with thick pigtails that reached down to her elbows.

On either side of them were black and white bears who stood on their hind legs, their open mouths brimming with fangs arched in a permanent grin.

While your eyes attempted to unfold the mysteries of the drawings, a rumble of thunder crashed outside the Academy. The light pouring in from the window dimmed, and a grey veil fell over the grass and sidewalk outside the classroom.

The patter of rain began as soft plops, growing within a minute to heavier and speedier thumps on the glass. A gust of wind joined the cacophony of nature and swept the leaves of tall trees into a constant sway.

A few of the leaves were torn asunder and slapped the glass, which ripped Kotoko and Masaru out of their seats and to the window in a burst of excitable chatter.

Jataro raised his head to watch the light above his desk flicker like a twitchy eye. “If the power goes out, does that mean we get to stay here?”

Every other head in the room turned to you in anticipation of your answer. Kotoko and Masaru pulled their hands off the glass as they turned to you, leaving faint handprints that evaporated within seconds.

A swell of thunder rumbled as you looked away from the drawings and scanned the faces of the children, which held looks ranging from cautious optimism to intense curiosity.

You set the pen down beside the array of papers and considered many responses before settling on a neutral one. “If the storm's bad enough to cause a blackout, then it wouldn't be safe to send you home in it.”

Kotoko pressed her forehead and palms to the window. Like a preacher, she shouted, “Oh, please get worse, O Mighty Storm! Throw all the leaves and branches your rainy heart desires!”

“Maybe if we all hope for it, it'll happen!” chirped Monaca. Noticing his silence and blank expression, she eyed Jataro with a smile that pushed him in a certain direction. “Don't you hope for the storm to get worse too, Jataro?”

He rubbed his sleeves against the sides of his head, gaze turning downcast and focusing on the imperfections in the surface of his desk. “If I hope for the storm to get worse, the universe will probably do the opposite of whatever I want.”

The smile on Kotoko's face brightened, and she turned around to snap her fingers at him. “You're right! Hope for it to get better.”

Despite Jataro's best efforts to channel a supernatural ability and warp nature, the kids were sent home that day under the pitter-patter of flowing rain and the dim glow of school lights clinging to life.

* * *

THE NIGHT SKY was blackened with puffy clouds that roared and rumbled like distant beasts locked in combat, their shrieks building until a great tension was released in the form of a lightning bolt.

One had singed the stop sign outside your kitchen window half a dozen times in the past two hours. The once cherry-red gleam of the tall sign was stricken with a charred coating, and you peeked through the glass after every hit to see if it had finally snapped in twain.

Beats on your door, a sound you had dismissed as rain or the echo of thunder, were now reverberating through the walls of the house every minute. It led you to reconsider your theory about the source and leave your nighttime drink on the kitchen counter.

Instead of taking another sip, you crept to the entrance and peeked through the peephole.

A flash of lightning illuminated pink hair and a polka dot bow sitting atop it.

The pounding on your door ceased when you opened it inward, stepping back and allowing the door to swing to the side.

Kotoko stood on the doorstep in a white nightgown, her bright hair matted and sticking to her face like a wet mop. She unrolled her fists and retracted her arms from where they had been raised to strike the door. The storm had cast a shadow over the night, but enough silvery light broke through the clouds for you not to miss the small rips in her clothes.

Draped around her shoulders was a dark brown jacket, its soggy fabric appearing black under the relentless pour of the rain. The sleeves hung empty at her side, for Kotoko was hugging it to herself as if it were a blanket rather than an article of clothing. With knuckles buried and turning white from the pressure of her grip, she clutched the jacket with hands that trembled from the bite of the frigid wind.

An unending shiver was forcing itself across her body. The chatter of her teeth was halted by the fact that she clenched them as though suppressing a wail that had been climbing her throat and screaming to get out. The corners of her eyes were crinkled in pain and protest against the tears spilling over her cheeks, and Kotoko ducked her head at the sight of you.

She wore only one boot, the lack of the other leaving her left foot exposed to the cold water rushing through the streets. The lower half of the sock on her left leg was darkened and drenched in a failed attempt to shield her skin. Kotoko lifted her wet foot off the ground and winced as she bent her shaky knee to keep it in the air, holding that pose for a few seconds before lowering only her toes to the cold concrete.

You were careful not to touch her as you moved out of the doorway and ushered her into the house. A brief examination of the street proved that it was empty of all but the waves of rain blowing in the wind, many streetlights having lost their glow. The door was then pulled shut and locked to stop the growing puddle from draining into the floorboards.

Digging her fingers into her hair, Kotoko tore at the bow and hurled it against the wall after seconds of pulling out strands of hair with it. She then collapsed onto the floor and tucked her knees into her chest. Sobs came from her in uneven volumes as she hid her face in her hands, curling up into the smallest shape she could be.

It was a sound both muffled and unrestrained as if Kotoko were unsure whether it was safe to cry or not. Her willingness to weep grew with each second she was undisturbed, and the arms covering her mouth fell so that she could breathe out the full extent of her distress.

After shedding tears until no more came and inhaling until her chest twinged, the breaths rolling out from her were hoarse and parched. Kotoko was free of the desperate outpouring of wails, although a heavy sadness had taken its place.

She looked askance to find you returning from the darkness of the kitchen with a glass of water. You kneeled on the floor beside her and extended the glass, which Kotoko accepted with shaking hands and trembling lips.

Lifting a finger, you pointed down the hall. “My shower is in the first door on the right.”

Kotoko sniffled and glanced at where you had pointed. She drank more of the water, a shudder causing her to remember the soaked clothes freezing her the same way drinking a dozen milkshakes would have.

You slunk into your bedroom and had begun to ransack your dresser in search of a dry outfit for Kotoko. Some of the floorboards behind you creaked, and you turned to find Kotoko following your steps.

A crackling boom from the sky drowned the room in white light. Although the brightness vanished within half a second, the echo of the thunder fed into the constant patter of the rain for many moments after. You peered out the window and witnessed the sideways tilt of the rain as it pelted your home and others across the street, the fat droplets hitting so much like rocks that you worried about the possible coming of hail.

Reaching farther into the dresser, you presented Kotoko with one of your nightshirts. “Are you comfortable staying here for the night?” was your question, and you kneeled to her eye level when you asked it.

Kotoko accepted the nightshirt with quieting whimpers. The shaking of her hands calmed to a rare twitch, and she steadied her rapid inhaling until the occasional sniffle was all that interrupted her breathing. The tears had stopped flowing, their existence remembered by the dark lines tracing the length of her cheeks and chin.

She unclenched her jaw and with it came a sigh of despair about which she was not ready to talk. Her shoulders slumped from an untold weight, but relief poked through as she embraced the nightshirt. “I couldn't be more comfortable.”

* * *

THE LIGHTNESS of your eyelids as they opened without stinging pain or difficulty was jarring. Not having to resist the urge to fall asleep imbued you with confusion, and the lack of an alarm clock blaring in your ears allowed a cautious peace to fall over you.

Just as you were sitting up, a pair of footsteps thundered down the hall and a blur of red and white dashed into the room. The proud face of Masaru jumped onto the end of the bed. “Kotoko said you had eyebags last night, so I destroyed your clock!” The bed bounced as he shouted this, his fist rising.

You looked askance at the bedside table and confirmed that the alarm clock had been reduced to a jumble of torn wires and mangled plastic.

The question of how Masaru had entered your house slammed into you like a brick, and it was forming on your tongue when he sprinted away towards the kitchen.

The buzz of running water came from behind the closed door to the bathroom, followed by melodic humming.

The raps of an active and full washing machine shook the hall, which would have been inconspicuous if not for the curious mumbles that accompanied the noise.

Once in the corridor, the smell of freshly baked cookies wafted up your nose.

You paused and retraced your steps until the laundry room was visible again, losing another piece of calm at the sight of Jataro standing in the middle of the room. His side faced you, but his attention was directed at the washing machine running with a pile of clothes tumbling around inside it.

Jataro observed its spins with wide eyes, moving his head in an endless circle and mimicking the sounds of the thuds. His mouth was slightly open as if he were awestruck by the appliance.

The scent of baked goods was emanating from the oven and the kitchen counter, where a batch of cookies decorated a tray. Monaca, having rummaged through a drawer to slip mittens onto her hands, was pouring the contents of the tray into a green bowl.

Nagisa was standing beside her with his arms crossed. “We shouldn't still be here. We're imposing.”

Monaca tilted her head and straightened the tray before the last cookie had fallen, eyeing him with a smile that held no joy. “Imposing. That's quite an adult word, Nagisa.”

He held up his palms in surrender and gained the shocked look of someone who had been accused of a terrible crime. “You know I didn't mean it that way!”

After a few moments of silence, Nagisa turned away and resumed speaking with a quieter voice. “It's just if the school calls back with questions-” the thought he had been airing died on his tongue, as did his will to discuss it.

You slowed to a stop at the entrance to the kitchen, with Masaru sprinting past you to the counter.

Nagisa looked back at you with a facade of composure that failed to hide the way his fingers dug into his sleeves. The longer you held his gaze the more sweat gathered along his forehead, but he exhaled in silent thanks when Monaca's greeting distracted you from his crumbling mask.

“Good morning! You're up late.” Monaca closed her eyes and chuckled at her comment as though it had a special meaning known only to her. As Masaru lurched over the counter and reached for the bowl, Monaca grabbed it and raised it above her head. “You have to share, Masaru! These cookies were made for all of us.”

A groan of annoyance escaped Masaru, his smile falling. He leaned back to an upright position and crossed his arms behind his head. “Fine.” The word was drawn out in childish dissatisfaction, and he turned his gaze away from the cookies to quell his hunger for sugar.

Opening her mouth to give her smile a more endearing appearance, Monaca balled her hands into fists and raised them in a gesture of cheer. “Monaca baked cookies for you as a way of saying thank you for letting us stay!”

Nagisa glanced at her in a mixture of surprise and puzzlement, while Masaru threw his arms down in outrage and yelled, “Hang on! You said they were for all of us!”

Monaca pressed her index finger to her lower lip and turned her head slightly, looking up at the ceiling with a clueless frown. “Well, it's a gift for our teacher, so it's their choice who gets to eat it.”

Masaru whirled around and narrowed his eyes at you as if telepathically commanding you to grant him the entire bowl.

Nagisa alternated between looking out the window and peeking at you, his gaze darting to the cookies for a split second.

Monaca clasped her hands together and rested them on her lap, and the pleased look on her face was that of someone confident she would be among the chosen.

“Can I have a cookie?” asked Jataro. He had appeared next to you like a ghost from the mist and caused you to jump, your eyes racing to see him looking up at you with earnest curiosity.

On the right side of the hall, a door burst open and carried echoing laughter through the corridor. Kotoko hugged you from behind, the force of the hit as she ran into you knocking you forward a couple of steps.

You regained your balance and struggled to create a way to both diffuse the situation and remove yourself from it. “As great as a bowl of cookies for breakfast sounds, I need to go to work.” There was an unspoken “and you need to come with me” lingering at the end, a request that was understood by Nagisa and cast a look of guilt across his face.

The kitchen exploded in an uproar so potent that every voice was overlapping the others and fighting for vocal dominance.

Kotoko had yet to break the hug, and her fear of returning to a place with other adults prompted her to tighten the grip she had on you. “Anything you need to teach us -- you can teach it right here!”

Jataro began rocking back and forth on his heels, his words squeezing out of his mouth with great distress. “The janitor lady washed my drawings off the wall!”

Masaru stamped his foot on the tile floor, clenching his fists and baring his teeth in a scowl. “No way! That place is for wimps!”

While the other children spoke of personal grievances with Hope's Peak Elementary School, Monaca's yells were shrill and demanding. “Monaca! Wants! You! To! Stay! Home!” She swung her arms and shook her head in a mess of tears and fists.

At once, the desperation flooding the kitchen was redirected to Monaca in the form of complete silence from the others. This reprieve lasted but a moment and soon descended into a series of panicked shouts as her classmates surrounded Monaca, spewing apologies and assurances that her wish would be granted.

You peered at the digital clock on the microwave, and the knowledge that several hours of the school day had passed was your key to the deal compiling itself in a hurry. “If you come to school with me today, I'll buy you all ice cream before we go.”

* * *

CARRIED ON THE SPRING BREEZE were the shrill chirps of Brown-eared Bulbuls and the hoarser calls of Oriental Turtle Doves. From farther in the distance came the raps of a Japanese pygmy woodpecker, its short beak jabbing a twig again and again until it split open to reveal a caterpillar.

The sun hung unobstructed in the blue sky and shone its brilliant light across the lush grass in the park, for all the clouds had decided to hover elsewhere in the city.

A respite from the heat bearing down on them was offered when you returned from under the awning of a truck with a giant ice cream cone on its roof, each of your hands wrapped around a brown cone full of multi-flavoured ice cream. Despite having been lifted from a freezer no longer than a minute earlier, the dessert had begun to melt and drip over the edges of the cones.

Masaru and Kotoko accepted the treats like hungry travellers and splattered the ice cream on their lips in ravenous bites.

By the trees and thickets, under the shade of their lush brambles and leaves, was Jataro. He eyed a bright berry that was dangling from the jaws of a squirrel running up one of the trees. “Does that taste good, Mr Squirrel? Is it like fruity candy?”

The squirrel chittered and flicked its tail, darting into the cover of the leaves once you stepped on the corner of the swaying shadow provided by its tree.

This prompted Jataro to turn around and sneak a peek at the ice cream cone before looking away. “Is that for me? It probably isn't.”

You squinted at the leather mask he wore, and it was then, on this steaming spring day, that your distaste for his mother, who had never shown her face to you, swelled. “You must be sweating under there.”

Jataro nodded and began playing with his sleeves. “Oh, yeah. It feels like my skin is bubbling and popping like a big stew.”

Moving to the heart of the shadow, you exhaled in relief at the immediate wave of coolness that washed over your neck. “You could always take it off.”

Jataro looked as if you had told him art was outlawed around the world. “No way!” He waved his arms back and forth and jumped from foot to foot as though the grass was lava. “If you see me without my mask, your eyes will explode in your head and melt your brain!”

A groan of worry slipped out of him as he lifted his hands to his head, dropping his gaze to his shoes. “And I don't want you to die!”

His foretelling of the apocalypse that would unfold if his face saw the sun was giving him more reason to sweat, so you relented. “Okay, okay!” Still, you mustered a smile at his last comment and offered the cone to him. “At least take the ice cream.”

Jataro wrapped his sleeves around the cone with a quiet “okay” and a timid smile, not caring when the ice cream trickled onto the fabric.

“Teacher!” called Monaca, and you turned to see her waving at you from the middle of the park. She slumped in her wheelchair as soon as you spotted her to appear exhausted.

A third trip to the ice cream truck yielded the fourth and fifth cones.

No sooner than she tasted the ice cream had she pulled back and lowered the cone to just above her lap. With unfocused eyes and a lifeless frown, Monaca turned her head down and stared at the ice cream. “Monaca's favourite flavour?”

There was a quality of disbelief and slight confusion in her voice, but it was then replaced by a tone of hollow emptiness. “Whenever Big Bro Haiji gets me ice cream, he always picks the one he knows I don't like. Then I'm the bad guy for not wanting to eat it.”

The malevolence radiating from her green eyes vanished as soon as she raised her head to flash a pleased smile at you. “But you remembered my favourite flavour!” A laugh burst out of her, one so airy and joyful that it would have tricked a stranger into believing she had never housed a negative thought in her life. “You're the best teacher ever!”

Nagisa had been observing the handout of ice cream cones, but when you presented him with one, he merely blinked a few times. “Who is this for?” he asked, looking around to see if any of his classmates were empty-handed.

“It's yours.”

His eyes returned to you in an instant. Nagisa waited as if certain that he had misheard you, but the hand that was extending the ice cream cone to him did not waver.

On the rare occasions when his father allowed him to eat something that did not prevent him from sleeping, desserts were not an option because, in his father's opinion, they were a distraction from his work.

“Are you sure it's okay for me to have this?” mumbled Nagisa, his tone a combination of anxiety and doubt. “Sugar weakens your ability to concentrate, and if we take a test later, I need to be as focused as possible.” Those were his father's words, although he said them with his own voice.

You kept the ice cream cone within his reach. “No tests today. You deserve a break.”

He gripped the cone with both hands and slowly moved it closer to himself, eyes wide and brows damp with sweat.

Nagisa watched the ice cream glisten and seep as if he did not know what it was or what he was supposed to do with it. A quick look at the way Monaca bit into hers gave him the strength to adjust his hold on the cone, and he squeezed his eyes shut upon biting the dessert.

Holding a hand to your sweat-soaked forehead, you collapsed on a park bench. The breaths sailed out of you in haggard puffs, your arms coming to lay on the back of the seat.

Kotoko and Masaru clambered headlong onto the bench and flung ice cream on themselves and each other in the process.

A whine exploded out of Kotoko at the splash of ice cream that landed in her hair, which drew gales of mocking laughter from Masaru. After pouting at him for a moment, Kotoko smacked the bottom of his cone and caused it to fly upwards into his face.

Monaca parked her wheelchair next to the bench, while Nagisa volunteered to stand so that Jataro could sit beside you.

Nagisa stopped eating his ice cream and gazed at the rapid heaving of your chest. “You didn't buy one for yourself?”

It took a few seconds before you processed his question, and your answer came slurred through a disoriented breath. “My pockets are empty.”

A man shouted your name from across the park. It was the principal of Hope's Peak Elementary School, and his tired appearance sparked unrest among the children.

“Aw, man! He's here to make us go to school!” groaned Masaru, throwing his head back and clacking his headphones against the top of the bench.

Monaca and Nagisa noticed the calculating frown on your face. There was no surprise to it, nor was there any uncertainty in the speed at which you stood up.

“Wait!” yelled Kotoko, pouncing on your arm and clutching it after you took your first step in the principal's direction. “Don't go over to that old creep! Just ignore him.”

Jataro was gazing at his ice cream cone and chuckling to himself. “His face looks like a spider sucked on it.”

The principal called for you again, and his voice was elevated to a harsher shout by a degree of impatience. He would not come any closer to you and your class, however.

You kneeled to Kotoko's level and eased her hand off you while promising, “I just need to talk to him for a minute. We won't go far.”

Kotoko fixed the principal with a scowl as you walked away, raising her cone to her mouth and biting off a chunk of it.

Monaca observed your greeting to the principal with a fake smile. She pondered many a way to ruin his career and sink his reputation until his life was forfeit, but for the time being, she stayed a spectator who enjoyed her ice cream.

Stepping away from the group, Nagisa saw how your head lowered as the principal's lips continued to move. The principal glanced at the kids throughout the conversation, but his frown deepened every time he looked at you.

Just as you were turning to peek at your class, he grasped your shoulder and whispered something in your ear. The message prompted you to droop and let your attention fall to the ground.

Nagisa narrowed his eyes and clenched his ice cream cone, not realising how much force he was exerting until the cone splintered and oozed a dollop of ice cream onto his hand.

A regretful understanding crossed your face, and you nodded before trudging to the group.

When you were close enough for him to hear the grass crunching beneath your feet, Nagisa caught your eye and offered you a look of concern. “Wait with the others,” you said to him in scarcely more than a murmur, trying and failing to hide the way your mood had deflated.

The other children ceased their chatter at your arrival and turned to you.

Your gaze passed from one kid to the next until you had looked at all of them, and their unassuming smiles made the words impossible to speak without great strain. You almost failed to finish the sentence, wishing for a reason to delay it but finding none.

“I can't be your teacher anymore.”

* * *

PEEKING THROUGH the overcast sky, streaks of sunlight painted the road in splashes of red and orange. The cracked asphalt was stained pink from the people lying face down on it.

Most of your body was draped in a tattered blanket that you had pulled over your head like a cloak. The light of the evening sun caught the metal lids of cans huddled in a topless box, which you held to your chest and draped in the corners of the blanket.

The speed of your steps grew to uncoordinated staggers when you reached the edge of your property, and the clatter of the cans was greeted by all the Monokumas on the street turning their heads at you.

Every robot was frozen mid-walk as dozens of red eyes monitored your trek to the door, their round heads swivelling with the flexibility and haste of an owl. The robotic gaze was lifted once you shuffled into the house.

Notes drawn with crayons and markers were taped to the outer walls of the building, and the papers were adorned with childish illustrations of kids stabbing adults. “Stay out!” one demanded in rainbow ink. “No demons allowed!” said another, the first and final letters of the word “demons” having been written as a goat horn and a spiked tail.

While searching for a can opener in the tangle of utensils cluttering your kitchen, the rattle of a doorknob battling its lock brought your mission to a premature end.

On the opposite side of the door was a pair of teenage girls grappling with the doorknob. The brown-haired girl was armed with a megaphone that had been outfitted with an EMP generator, and she was dressed in the sailor-like uniform worn by students of St. Koa Girls Academy. Its white and blue colour scheme was in stark contrast to the dark uniform worn by the other girl, whose deep purple hair matched the purple fabric of her uniform.

The fearful chatter each girl was throwing in the air ceased when their heads lifted to meet your gaze, the dishevelled sight of you peeking through a crack in the door causing them to step back.

A flood of relief then unwound the veins bulging in the neck and arms of the brown-haired girl. The tears in her eyes started to dry, and the desperate grimace that had contorted her face fell to a hopeful smile. “You're not a kid!” she panted as if that fact was the greatest discovery of her life.

The purple-haired girl looked askance at you with her thumbnail between her teeth, biting it slightly.

You looked at their wrists and eyed the bracelets that flashed red like bombs waiting to go off. The black and white face of a Monokuma was stamped on the accessory, and its grinning fangs were all the evidence you needed to begin shutting the door before the girls could explain. “I'm not allowed to help anyone.”

A hand latched onto the edge of the door and pulled against you, digging its fingernails into the wood and struggling to wrench it open. The brown-haired girl stuck her face in the crack and focused her tearful, green eyes on you in a frantic appeal to the kindness she was hoping to reach. “Please!”

She swallowed a lump of panic lodged in her throat and steadied her voice a bit, but her hand continued to shake on the end of the door. “My name is Komaru Naegi. My brother is with the Future Foundation!” After minutes of straining her voice and tiring the muscles in her hands, Komaru rejoiced when your grip on the door loosened slightly.

Komaru took the opportunity to breathe out some of her tension and relaxed her grip as a show of trust. “He can get us out of here, but we need a place to hide.”

With a conflicted sweep of your gaze across the door and what little bit of the street was visible to you, the door opened. The rays of daylight that spilled into the entryway were poison to your sun-fearing eyes.

“Thank you! Thank you!” repeated Komaru, eyes fogging as though she might cry again.

You turned away from the direct sunlight and hobbled to the kitchen. The shadowy areas of the room were colder, and your absence from the doorway allowed the sun to illuminate the many dust particles floating in the air.

“Let's go in already. This street is crawling with Monokumas,” grumbled a low voice.

Komaru nodded with a hasty “right” and rushed to get under the roof. She glanced at her travelling companion then looked at you with wide eyes, lifting her hands to her chest and tapping her fingers together. “Oh! This is my friend Toko.”

Toko was peering around the unclean room with its raggedy couch and chipped paint as if expecting to see bloodstains on the walls and meat hooks dangling from the ceiling.

Komaru's gaze travelled to your wrist when you reached up to open a cabinet, her eyes widening. “You don't have a bracelet!”

“I never really liked jewellery.” After raising your shoulders for a shrug, you lowered them with a sigh. “Couldn't afford it.”

Toko pinched her nose as she walked deeper into the house, rearing her shoulders and crinkling her eyes at the tingle in her nostrils.

The mantel was barren except for a framed picture and a thin layer of dust rolling over it and the rest of the mantel like water. Cobwebs and dust bunnies dangled from the ceiling above the fireplace, dropping specks of grey to float down through the air and draw the occasional cough.

Nothing in the room had felt the touch of a brush or a rag in months, and the musty odour flowing through the halls was so prevalent that Komaru would not have been surprised to learn of mould in the walls.

From the sunken skin to the way you dragged yourself into the kitchen, it was as if you were undead and roaming the confines of your mausoleum.

Komaru found her eyes drawn to the picture on the mantel once again. The people in it were familiar yet different as if she were looking at a childhood photograph of a grandparent. Squinting, Komaru stepped closer to the picture.

The children who had threatened her life were all dressed in the elementary edition of the Hope's Peak Academy uniform, and they were gathered around a much cleaner and livelier version of you. A blackboard was visible in the background, its wide surface covered with drawings and crayon markings.

“Those are the same kids,” she murmured, although it took many more seconds of examining the picture to confirm it. Disbelief weighed heavier on her tongue and mind the longer she beheld their sincere happiness.

These smiles were not born in malice like those the kids threw at her. “What changed?” Komaru asked herself, and the answer came from behind.

“Someone gave them what I couldn't.”

Toko muttered an inaudible name, turning her head away from the mantel and glaring at the floor.

When she heard your footsteps returning, Komaru whipped around and pulled her arms against her body in alarm. She half expected you to scold her for snooping, but your steps were sluggish and unconcerned. You barely looked at her as you trudged past and grabbed the picture from the mantel.

Komaru watched in a mixture of confusion and curiosity as you tilted the photograph from side to side. There was an absentminded dullness to your face as if your mind was off wandering in distant fields, but when the memory came, it lifted the glaze that had fallen over your eyes.

Kotoko had looped her arms around your neck as you held her the way she said princesses were carried in all her favourite storybooks.

Jataro was hugging your left leg and looking away from the camera, a position which had taken several minutes of reassuring him that you would not break out in buboes from his touch.

Masaru had raced around the camera's view in a struggle to find the best and most awe-inspiring pose, and the winning choice was to launch himself off a desk and jump onto your back.

Monaca was sitting in front of you with her wheelchair situated in the bottom middle of the photo. This brought her the closest to the camera, which helped it capture the brightness of her smile devoid of everything but real joy.

Nagisa stood beside Monaca, and for once, he was not crossing his arms. He let them hang at his side and allowed his shoulders to relax from the rigid line he often forced them to make.

After the camera flashed, the kids' laughter was so genuine and carefree that, for one moment, all the bad in their lives had been forgotten. You had collapsed under the combined weight of Kotoko and Masaru seconds later, and the kids dogpiled you in response. “The back pain is worth it,” you had thought at the time.

Looking at it from the depths of your unkempt home with bodies littering the street and robots patrolling outside like prison guards, you could not imagine anyone in the picture laughing the same way again.

A sudden burst of knocks on the door caused you to slam the picture onto the mantel and whirl around in a rush of adrenaline. Komaru jumped and gasped, only to slap a hand across her mouth a moment later.

“Teacher?” droned a monotone voice. The knocks were soft as though something was cushioning what struck the door, and the repetition of the slow thuds brought your anxious stare down to a mindful frown.

“Get behind the couch,” was your instructions for Komaru and Toko, delivered after a quiet sigh of acceptance. You began marching to the door with no intention of stopping, which led to the duo sharing looks of alarm before diving behind the couch.

Komaru and Toko peeked over the top of the couch to gape at how you patted the dust and crumbs off your outfit and straightened your slouchy posture with the swiftness of someone removing a wig.

Toko ducked and pressed her back against the couch, sticking her thumbnail between her teeth. “I knew it! They're working for those brats!” She started to rise, but Komaru clutched her forearm and yanked her down. “Komaru! We need to get out of here!” sputtered Toko, her voice creeping up to a yell.

Even though dread and uncertainty were beginning to crumple her face and sprinkle it with sweat, Komaru clung to the bit of hope still wrestling with her queasy stomach. “We can trust them,” she said with narrowed eyes and such determination that Toko ceased her squirming and glanced at the door. “They won't give us up.”

Your hand was on the doorknob, so the two girls lowered themselves completely behind the couch.

“At least we can surprise the brat if they sell us out,” thought Toko, kneading a few strands of her hair and biting her lip.

Jataro Kemuri was rubbing the ends of his sleeves together in an up-and-down motion like someone rubbing a stick to spark a fire. He looked up at you when the hinges on the door creaked, and the attentive smile on your face was the same one you had always directed at him in the classroom.

You leaned forward slightly, making sure not to glance at the string of corpses and broken Monokumas decorating the street. “How's my favourite artist?”

From the folds of his oversized sleeves emerged a man of odd proportion and funny design. This miniature man was made of twigs, his one-too-many arms and legs sprawled at rigid angles that imitated the Vitruvian Man. The hands and feet were separate pieces of finger and toe bones that had been fastened to the arms and legs by way of string to give the illusion of movement when it was rocked.

The bones appeared unnaturally large on the much smaller body, and their smooth texture hinted that they had been polished by the careful licks of a paintbrush. Their smoothness was so different from the rough bark of the twigs that it was as if two worlds had been smashed together. The memory of life extinguished was there, although it took a far more discerning eye than yours to find it.

The head of the twig man was adorned with clumps of multicoloured hair, which had been glued to the wood with an adhesive that was still damp. It smudged your fingertips with a sooty black as if you had dabbed them in the hearth of a fireplace, and streaks of clotted red dripped from the hair and dotted your palm.

As you lowered the man to look upon his creator, Jataro gazed up at you with the hopeful, starry-eyed face only a child could give. Months of commending the uncanny brought a practised smile to your lips. “Any art gallery would be lucky to have this,” you said with a warm sincerity that concealed the twisting of your stomach.

Jataro dipped his head and tapped his sleeves together, but then a cruel sneer began to spread and infect his voice with a gleeful kind of malice. “I made a demon-sized one,” he started to say, glancing over his shoulder as if about to ask you to follow him somewhere. “But it was too heavy to bring with me.”

A part of you was grateful for this as you inwardly winced at the fleshy display it must have been, stinking of death and decay to someone whose nose was covered by a leather flap.

Listening to you chat with someone who had killed and mutilated dozens of people if not more was jarring for Komaru and Toko, the words shared by you and Jataro coming out like a pair of friends on a stroll.

Toko lowered her hand from the strands of hair she had twirled and raised her head to the edge of the couch. A coppery scent was stinging her nostrils and turning her stomach, prompting her mind to compensate for its lack of a view by filling her inner eye with grotesque images.

This allowed a particle of dust to tickle the inside of her nose like a feather.

The sneeze that followed had the shrill squeak of a kitten's wail, and it was the sole warning you had to lurch out of the doorway.

A blur of purple leapt over the top of the couch with shrieking laughter and a handful of industrial scissors.

Jataro flung his arms in the air and yelped, scurrying behind you to peek out and watch, trembling, as Komaru jumped after the blur and restrained the swinging blades by hugging both arms like a human straitjacket.

“Let me kill him! Let me kill him!” shouted the girl in Toko's clothes, her voice frantic and raspy. She squirmed and howled in protest when Komaru rushed her out the door, and the combination of grunts and grumbles spilled into the street.

You stumbled to the doorway in a hurry to see if any Monokumas were flocking to the noise. A fresh batch of robots swept over the remains of their comrades and streamed out of the darkness of alleys in every direction, eyes glowing the same colour as the proximity sensors lighting up on the outside of your property.

The purple-haired girl, “Genocider Jack” she had shouted as a reason for Komaru to release her, lunged into the heart of the horde and began slicing the mechanical bears in half like a gardener chopping a weed with shears.

Komaru brandished her megaphone and fired waves of blue light out of it, which caused the affected Monokumas to explode in a shower of frayed wires and sparking motherboards.

Recalling Komaru's promise that her brother would come to rescue survivors, you found yourself standing taller every time she destroyed a robot and slumping every time a robot dodged or scratched her. It must have shown more than you meant for it to show because you peered over your shoulder to find Jataro staring at you.

With the confusion and shock of someone witnessing the incomprehensible, he tilted his head and asked, “What are you doing?”

It was then that you looked down and realised you were still holding the twig man. “They broke in,” you blurted, disguising the tension in your voice as fear of the supposed invaders rather than fear of being exposed as a traitor.

Jataro lifted his hands to the sides of his head and looked at the dirty shoe prints on the floor. “Oh no, the demons got to you. Monaca said this might happen.”

Your eyes narrowed at the last part, but you struggled to hide the suspicion from your face when he shambled to the centre of the room. “I'll have to bless your house to send all the demon energy away!”

As Jataro began waving his arms and outstretching his right leg in a series of bizarre movements resembling someone's first attempt at a jiu-jitsu attack, you glanced at the street and noticed the dwindling number of functional Monokumas.

“Oh, Heaven! Change my words to life. Cleanse the home of its demons,” he chanted, stretching the vowels and exaggerating the consonants as if talking funny would grant him divine power.

The street was wrapped in the corpses of fallen Monokumas. Genocider Jack and Komaru had retreated to a neighbouring street with the few remaining units on their tail, and the urge to sprint for the city limits was tugging you closer and closer to the door.

Living on the outskirts of Towa City, a fact that had landed you in the middle of harsh traffic and cumbersome journeys to the grocery store for years, was now a source of immense gratitude. Just as you turned and passed through the doorway, Jataro's footsteps came thumping forward.

He hugged the arm that held his art project and matched your pace as much as his smaller stature could allow. “Getting out of here is probably a good idea,” he nodded, looking down at the rubble crunching beneath his shoes. “Who knows what kind of terrible effects my blessing will have on the world? Probably destroy it, fill it with diseases.”

The mumbles about his breath smelling foul enough to create a fungus tumbled out of him until you reached the end of your property. Here, Jataro let go of you and walked ahead for a step or two before turning back.

A gasp came from him as though he had just solved the greatest mystery of his time, and he flapped his arms with each word of astonishment. “You should come live with us in the sky palace!”

The old spot in your back ached.

Do anything you want with my work, but never make me boring!

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ashleigghh · 5 months

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Day 19- letter. Jegulus, 1131 words.

Regulus had always struggled with feelings. Growing up in a house where you were expected to be an unreadable blank sheet of neutrality can do that to you. He didn’t know how to feel things properly, how to process his emotions or express them.

When they were little, he and his brother had been gifted journals by their oldest cousin Bellatrix. They were intricate and fancy, much too posh for 6 and 7-year-olds to be gifted, but they weren’t just any children, they were heirs to the House of Black.

Bellatrix had explained to them that they could use these journals to write down anything, their dreams and their hopes, their thoughts about the day they just had or the secrets they never wanted anyone to find out and they would be kept safe, protected by enchantments that wouldn’t let anyone else read them.

Regulus had loved it and used it every day to write down everything he was unable to express. He doesn’t think Sirius ever picked his up again, it was probably still collecting dust under his bed, but Regulus' held everything from the past 10 years.

This lead to him only knowing how to express his feelings through written words, he wasn’t comfortable saying them, the words felt like hot tar in his throat, but put a pen to paper and he could write essays on his every emotion.

“I wrote you a letter, telling you exactly how I feel, telling you how much I-” Regulus cuts himself off, the adrenaline not enough to force the words out of his mouth, the block on his feelings everpresent, never-ending in its pursuit of keeping him from happiness.

“What letter?” James doesn’t even notice what Regulus has failed to say once again, his eyebrows are furrowed in confusion and tears are forming in his eyes. He looks at Regulus as if he’s a burning star, like it hurts his eyes and burns his face to look but to tear his gaze away would be even more excruciating.

“What letter, Reg please,” James tries to grab his hands but Regulus pulls them away, closing his eyes for a moment so it doesn’t hurt as much. He scoffs, the air punching out of him in a sharp short noise that makes James whine as he fights back his tears.

Regulus’ heart feels like it's physically breaking in his chest, he knows James got the letter, he made sure of it, and now James is here lying to him.

“I never got a letter, Reg please, you have to believe me.” James pleads and Regulus finds it harder to breathe, he’s had years of practice hiding his emotions, locking them behind doors and never letting them surface, but here, in front of James who has managed to hurt him in a way he never believed possible, nothing works.

“Don’t lie to me.” He means for his voice to come out demanding but it sounds weak and watery, it doesn’t help. James takes a step forward and Regulus takes a step back, he can’t let James get any closer to him.

“I’m not, I wouldn’t,” James shakes his head frantically, tears spilling down his cheeks, and his hands raised like he wants to reach for Regulus but is stopping himself. “What did it- what did you say?”

Regulus laughs, but it sounds more like a sob, so pathetic that he wants to hurl. He scrubs a hand over his face, trying to pull himself together, he doesn’t want James to see him like this, he doesn’t want him to know the effect he has

“Please James, don’t do this.”

“Reg, I need to know what was in that letter,”

“James.” Regulus summons all of his courage, and all of his energy to try and get him to stop. “You’re hurting me,”

James whimpers, shuffling forward slightly before taking a step back to try and give Regulus space. “I never meant to, I’m not trying too, I’m sorry- I’m so sorry Reg, but I am begging you to tell me”

Regulus exhales slowly, tilting his head up to look at the ceiling, wanting nothing more than for this to be over, so he can sob and lament his misfortune in the comfort of his dorm surrounded by people who don’t ignore his displays of affection.

“Reg I love you, and I need to know what I missed because I swear to you, I never had that letter, and I will hate myself every day for hurting you like this but please,” There's no air in James’ lungs when he finishes speaking, his chest rising and falling with heaving breaths as tears stream down his cheeks and his world feels like it’s crashing around him.

Regulus looks at James, eyes darting around his face, trying to see any hint that James is lying, trying to make sure he’s got this right before he acts.

“You didn’t get the letter?” Regulus asks, his gaze fixed on James’ eyes.

“I didn’t, and I will swallow veritaserum, take on oath and travel us back in time to see what happened if that’s what it takes for you to trust me.” His eyes look like he’s telling the truth, wide and honest as they always are and Regulus feels even worse than before.

Regulus feels his knees go weak and he stumbles backwards, leaning on a table. He brings his hands up to bury his face in them and lets out a horrible choking, sobbing noise that sounds like he’s choking. “I’m sorry, fuck I shouldn’t have doubted you, I’m, how can I ever make this up to you,”

When James responds, Regulus can tell he’s stood much closer than he was before, “Can I touch you?”

Regulus nods, although he’s unsure if it’s obvious to James. It’s made clear that it is when James moves forward, wrapping his arms around Regulus so tight that it makes him sob harder. James is so clearly making sure Regulus knows he still loves him, that he doesn’t care that Regulus messed up so awfully.

“I don’t blame you, at all, and I don’t need you to apologise,” Regulus wraps his arms around James, moving to cry into his shoulder. James just keeps him close, murmuring apologies and reassuring him he’s okay, and that this is all going to be fine.

“I told you how much I love you, and I thought for weeks that you just ignored me,”

“I would nev- You love me?” James’ smile is clear in his voice, a complete turn from the past 15 minutes of devastation, and all Regulus can do it tilt his head and kiss James like their lives depend on it, and with the way he gets kissed back, well they just might.

#marauders era #christmas #marauders #christmas writing challenge #regulus black #james potter #james x regulus #jegulus #starchaser #sunseeker

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marc0wave · 1 year

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Fic丨Insomnia丨Xavier Thorpe x Reader

Still a request about Xavier Thorpe x Reader! This time it mentions fluff and kissing (just the end result) If there are any grammatical errors please let me know and I'll fix them, and more friends are still welcome to send requests by all means!

Xavier Thorpe x Reader

"Still can't sleep?"

The door to the drawing room opens and quickly closes again. Xavier's figure squeezed in through the opened gap, and although it was only a process of a few seconds, you still smelled the damp earth of the woods and the scent of grass burrowing into the small room together.

"Still insomnia. I can't disturb my roommate by tossing and turning and not being able to sleep either." You put down the pencil in your hand and turn around to see the boy standing in the doorway. Xavier is shaking droplets of water off his clothes like a raptor returning to its winter nest. You slowly explain to Xavier, a palpable tiredness and helplessness floating in your language. You usually have a hard time having a good night's sleep naturally, which is probably the price you pay for having powerful divination and psychic abilities. More whining words bubble up from your mind, but are quickly chased away by you, "And, you must be the same, Xavier. That's why you're here."

"I tried to sleep, and I only got maybe half an hour."

"So that's from having that dream again, about the monster?"

Xavier nods indefinitely, not sitting down as he usually did. He shrugs and just casually set aside his umbrella and the keys to his bike. He does his best to answer your question. As he approaches you, you smell the cold scent of rain, but the vast majority of it is passively warmed by Xavier's body heat, turning it into an indescribable, springtime lake-like tenderness. You must admit that Xavier's presence will give you some strength to face your own troubles, as well as some courage to confess and dissect your inner world.

"Since it's curfew time, we're complicit. I'm glad for that fact. Considering you might be coming, I went here at noon to tidy up and put away those ...... not-so-wonderful sketches." He says, eventually standing behind you, examining the results of the drawings you made on his paper during the period of solitude you just spent. Xavier's voice is silent for three seconds, "Your style is kinda ......"

"Wild. I'm drawing you." You smile up. It's a good idea to get creative with the trimmings of the paper left over from his painting, and besides, Xavier won't blame you for ruining his masterpiece with a botched scribble. Even though you are not facing him, you believe you must have heard Xavier's sigh, which is not a complaint, but just a code word between you. You prefer to describe the subtle emotions embedded in it as a kind of doting and eccentricity.

Xavier seems to bend down, something you are almost certain of as you sit in front of his easel while he stands behind you as a shield behind you, his breath close to your cheek with heat and unintentional intimacy, "Oh. I can tell that despite your cute ideas, your drawing skills need a little practice. Like this..."

You seem to feel his untied hair gently pass over your temple, tickling your ears and face. Xavier reaches out, the scent of the humid night wrapping around you, and his hand takes the back of yours at the same time, leading you to pick up your pencil. Xavier's other hand presses against your shoulder, but can't make you to focus on how he is leading your hand and the pencil in your hand to draw wonderful lines.

All you know is that Xavier's palm is hot, unlike the coldness on his jacket, his hand is soft, reliable, and a little larger than yours, and that warmth soaks through your clothes and skin, and your tactile nerves begin to dance with glee as soon as they catch Xavier's touch. He was an artist, that's what all his classmates said about him. Xavier certainly enjoyed the moments when the pen blossomed on the paper to produce beautiful works, the burning creative passion always stirring in his chest, forming that highly romantic part of his soul. You are fascinated by his sometimes forgetful and sometimes contradictory qualities. Xavier is like a poet walking between heaven and earth, but he happens to use his brushes for poetry and his colorful creativity as a rhyme for his works.

"So," Xavier's voice suddenly rings out, and you turn back to your senses. He whispers in your ear, almost making you jump up from your chair. He must have felt you shake in shock, but you're not sure if you heard a friendly bark of laughter from him as a result, "I just worked on your sketches a bit. If I may ask, is that how I look to you?"

You feel your back sweat a little, for no other reason than that you took advantage of his absence to depict him reading a book during class, and at the moment, the Xavier in the painting is no longer focused on reading his textbook. It's as if he's been given a soul in the painting. He raises his eyes, gazes into your eyes, and even reaches out from the paper to touch your fingers that are still holding the pen. Is it just you, or is Xavier really flirting with you, even using his art-filled magic in a brilliant way?

"Oh, uh... it did have so-" you stammer, finding yourself unable to find a proper adjective, and you can only quickly turn your head sideways to try to trick yourself into escaping the question, only to find the real Xavier coming closer to look at you . You almost hit the tip of his nose, your breaths entwined, and for just a moment you think you might have made up your minds about something with each other.

"It doesn't matter what kind of description it is," Xavier says. His breath spills over your lips, and you see with your afterglow that the sketch you've worked on together resumes its stillness, slumbering back on the page. He continues, bringing your attention back to him, "One of them must be fascinating. You're observing me so carefully, how did I miss the fact that Nevermore's good student also have a side of not listening in class?"

"Rightfully so. But Xavier, I didn't realize you had such a narcissistic side."

Xavier smiles and you feel his hand travel down the back of your neck, eventually resting on the back of your head. Your hair wraps around his fingers and you feel a push that you can't deny. Good thing you weren't about to deny him a kiss either.

#xavier thorpe x reader #wednesday #xavier thorpe x you #xavier thorpe fanfic #xavier x reader #xavier thorpe #xavier x y/n #the adams family

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seongminiz · 7 months

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hotdemonsummoner . com - kang minhee

minors dni ; demon dom!minhee x human sub!reader ; 2.4k words

warnings : fem reader , dubcon , not rlly proof read (thats my trademark atp) , reader is an idiot and a monsterfucker (just like me fr)(very mild monsterfucking btw bc he literally looks human with horns like ..) , crack-ish in the first half but i swear it gets smutty quick , minhee is kinda mean , spit (minhees spit works as an aphrodisiac ehegegheh), its just messy overall , unprotected sex , breeding but its not rlly breeding but ,, whatever , possessive minhee [pretends to be surprised] , manhandling , size kink , strength kink (reader is referred to fragile/small but its just in proportion to a literal demon n has nothing to do with how she looks !), oral (f receiving) , biting , marking , dumbification ? , praise , dacryphilia , minhee calls reader 'little human' (giggling kicking my feet) . hopefully i didnt forget anything

tagging my lovely @ajaxsbeloved hope u like this 🫶🏻

the warning list is ,,, long . it might be a little cringe but i literally give zero fucks‼️⁉️ but i do feel like the smut part kinda sucks but also it might be that im just sad while posting this n its affecting how i view my work idk ANYWAYS wrote this while i had a cold n then a mosquito bit me on the eye so any and all mistakes r bc of that real no clickbait . had so much fun writing this uhhh happy spooky season idk i want demon!minhee in a way that is concerning to feminism lesbianism and my gender identity amen

demon!minhee whom you not so accidentally summoned in your room one uneventful night.

you're bored to death. your favorite show hasn't had a new episode in weeks, all your friends are busy - studying for exams, working, on dates while you're sitting in your lonely bedroom, staring at the ceiling as if it'll solve all your problems in life.

you start considering it might be able to do that when, out of nowhere, you're reminded of the stupid website you visited a few days ago with your friend when she was sleeping over at your place. something about the occult, hot demons and summoning rituals. you grab your phone, opening an incognito tab and typing the link you somehow remember by heart (hotdemonsummoner.com? seriously?)

if this was a horror movie you'd probably be dead in the first ten minutes. you grab a pen, paper and a candle - the tutorial talked about multiple small ones, but you'll have to make do with the cinnamon scented ikea christmas candle that has been sitting on your desk for at the very least three years. and once you're done, you wait for the magic to happen.

five minutes later, there's no sign of any hot demon summoned instantly in your room. you're pretty sure- no, you're certain the problem was the candle. either that, or the site is complete bullshit, but you refuse to believe that. there's no other explanation, screw ikea and their stupid christmas candles.

you sigh, placing everything back where it belongs and letting yourself fall on the bed, picking up your phone just to be met once again by no notification, no nothing, just that stupid 'SUMMON A HOT DEMON INSTANTLY!' title in neon pink with a little devil gif floating right beside it, mockingly staring back at you.

that's when you see something from the corner of your eye, a shadow sliding across the wall. it's probably just the light outside hitting a tree weirdly and casting a creepy shadow, no big deal. but there's no trees outside your window, you're a broke college student who lives in a sad gray apartment complex in an equally sad and gray city.

you gather enough courage to look up from the screen of your phone, your eyes slowly adjusting from its blinding brightness to the darkness of your surroundings. at first you don't see anything, half tempted to turn your phone flashlight on. and then you make eye contact.

he looks just as confused as you are when he quite literally spawns in front of your bed. the normal human reaction would have probably been to scream, instead you just gasp in surprise, followed by a small 'oh.' as you look at him with wide eyes. he takes slow, calculated steps towards you and you have half a mind to hastily turn off your phone, hiding it under a pillow.

'what the fuck?' you say under your breath, studying his figure. if this isn't some extremely technologically advanced burglary and you're not having an expired candle fumes induced hallucination, then this is the demon you tried to summon. and he's actually hot, which means the website was not a scam and the candle is the problem. he seems to read your exclamation and general confusion as a question on why he's there. 'you summoned me.' he explains, taking yet another step towards you.

'no! wait! don't get close!' you order, your self defense weapon of choice being the pen you used to summon him. 'listen,' you start, raising your hands defensively 'i did not think the random summon a hot demon instantly tutorial i found on a sketchy website would actually... well, summon a hot demon instantly.' the creature - minhee, you don't know how you got his name, if he telepathically shared with you or what - raises an eyebrow, amusement clear on his face. 'so you think i'm hot?'

'no! i mean yes! but like not in a i want to fuck you way! just in a... you're an objectively beautiful man- demon, sorry, way...?' you can feel your body temperature rising, getting restless under his unwavering stare. and minhee can feel it too, he can hear the way your heartbeat hasn't calmed down for a second and he can see how your thighs have been clenched together ever since he appeared. his eyes linger for a few more seconds on them, observing the way your shorts ride up everytime you anxiously squirm under his gaze.

'so, little human, why would you want to summon a hot demon instantly? is there anything in particular you need from me?' the nickname has your stomach doing backflips, you swallow thickly before speaking 'will you steal my soul if i say yes? take it as a payment for whatever favor i may ask?' the demon laughs, leaning down so his face is just a breath away from yours. 'not really. i could make an exception for a pretty girl like you,' his eyes flicker to your lips for a split second, so fast you don't even notice it.

thing is, minhee usually does feed off of human souls, but there's something about you that's telling him to not do it just yet, wait it out and see how it goes. maybe he could feed off of something else, something he doesn't get to do that often nowadays. surprising, but the monsterfucker demographic - even the milder ones who would only ever go as far as fucking his semi-human form - is basically an endangered species nowadays.

before you can answer with what favor you actually need (not that you'd actually know what to ask.. what, were you going to offer him to play UNO or something?) minhee's hands are on top of your thighs, spreading them slightly as he presses his lips to yours. you shiver at the cold sensation of his skin, way too cold for a human, and minhee can hear your heartbeat quickening, as you weakly grab his wrists in a failed attempt to get him off of you - or at the very least slow down the process of whatever is going on.

minhee finds your fighting amusing, he knows no human could ever overpower him physically, let alone a little fragile thing like you, but he still indulges in giving you the small hope you could break free from his hold, just to take it away immediately after. one of his hands leaves your thigh to grab both of your wrists, pinning them over your head, the other one staying on your thigh, pushing it to spread even more as his thumb runs along the hem of your shorts.

his mouth is on you once again, and this time minhee forces his tongue past your lips - the tip of it is slightly pointed, not enough to actually hurt you in any way but enough to make you wonder what exactly it could do. you panic for a second, just for everything to slow down, your body relaxing under minhee as the arousal between your legs grows tenfold, you can feel your panties sticking to you and minhee doesn't give you an answer once you look up at him in confusion, your eyes welling up with tears. you can barely come up with a coherent sentence, 'wha- what did you do?' you manage to stutter out, every word getting harder to say as your mind slips, you don't even know where.

minhee's hand leaves your thigh, going to gently wipe the tears that started running down your cheeks. 'mh, that's interesting,' he says, more to himself than to you, fingers sliding down your face to lightly brush against your lips. 'i've used this on other humans before, but their reaction was never this strong.' you don't have time to ask what exactly 'this' is - you don't even know if you have the brain power to do it, really - as minhee forces your mouth open and spits in it. you gasp at his action, but still end up swallowing, your body shuddering with another wave of what could only be described as raw pleasure.

you don't know how he's doing that, but you feel pathetic, getting this horny over someone who hasn't even touched you yet shouldn't be normal. but, honestly, what exactly is normal about a demon appearing in your room and trying to fuck you?

your shorts have been discarded somewhere in your room, and your panties are quick to encounter the same fate - not before getting ripped off of you, to which you whine in disappointment, but minhee cuts you off saying something about you 'not needing them when you're with him' you don't really pay any mind to.

he takes his time with you, biting your thighs to the point you're sure you're bleeding, and then running his tongue along the small cuts he caused, letting whatever the obscure substance mixed with his spit is enter your bloodstream in a matter of seconds, reducing you to even more of an incoherent mess.

when minhee finally gets to eating you out, it all escalates far too quickly for your slowed down brain. for a second he's sucking on your clit, and then he's fucking you with his tongue, reaching spots a human could never dream to reach with their mouth alone. the stimulation is too much, your hands search for any kind of support, something you can grab onto, your fingers running through his hair and pulling slightly before minhee grabs your wrists, moving your hands to hold onto his horns instead and letting out a groan when you do so.

he works on you until you're on the brink of consciousness, until you've lost count of how many times you already came - around three, probably, but they feel like ten times that when each orgasm is more intense than the other and your perception of reality is fading with it. minhee notices it, ignoring your pleas about it being 'too much' and how u 'cant take more' and slipping two of his pretty slender fingers in your sopping cunt. you sob, shaking your head as you uselessly try to squirm away from his touch, subsiding to the unbearable pleasure just a few seconds later.

'already tired, little human? how are you going to take my cock if you can't last a few rounds with my tongue and fingers? maybe you don't want it that bad, then,' he's just fucking with you, deep down you know it, but the thought of minhee just leaving you like this after everything he's done is enough for you to desperately shake your head as you grab his free hand - a far too intimate gesture for this whole 'fucking a random demon you just summoned out of boredom' situation you've found yourself in - pulling him into yet another kiss that leaves the both of you breathless. you never knew it would happen in your lifetime, but you managed to make a demon, a being who doesn't need to breathe, breathless.

'is that convincing enough?' you whisper in a split second of lucidity, your mind and body already subsiding to the effects of his spit you might as well have grown addicted to, half tempted to kiss him again and only interrupted by minhee slowly slipping his fingers out of you. your complaints about it are short lived, so focused on the emptiness between your legs you don't realize minhee has pulled out his cock until his tip is pressing past your entrance.

the stretch is almost unbearable, despite all the time minhee spent overstimulating you he's still too big, and you tell him exactly that in an attempt to slow him down. it only feeds minhee's ego more, though, he chuckles as he pins your hips to the bed, telling you to 'stay fucking still and just take it,' forcing his whole size inside of u until he bottoms out. you've never felt this full, struggling to even breathe as the feeling of minhee inside of you overcomes all your senses.

minhee gives you no time to adjust to the way his cock is stretching you out, immediately thrusting into you and reaching even deeper. all your pleas for him to go slower fall to deaf years, quickly being replaced by the moans you're struggling to quiet down. it's not long before you're getting close again, still sensitive from all your previous orgasms.

'need to cum' you whine, your hips buck up to meet minhee's, feeling his tip hit spots you never knew existed. he chuckles, slowing his thrusts until a fresh wave of tears is filling your eyes at the idea of being denied of your release. 'you need to?' his tone is mocking, but you're so fucked out you can't notice it, quickly nodding 'yeah, need to cum all over your cock.' that's all it takes for minhee to pick up his pace again, aim even deeper than before and have you quickly approaching your high as you incoherently moan his name.

you feel like your soul has been ripped out of your body, gone through each and every layer of hell, and then put back where it belongs. your legs shake as minhee keeps mercilessly fucking you, mumbling something about how he's going to 'fill you up and keep you forever' that, even in your fucked out state, slightly alarms you, your hands pushing at his shoulders to no avail just to be once again pinned above your head.

minhee knows it's physically impossible for a demon to breed a human, and yet, the idea of somehow making you his through it sounds so appealing, as you sob in overstimulation and keep begging him to pull out. he might be aware of there being no consequences if he cums inside, but what would a human like you know? the way you squirm under him, trying to convince him to pull out is almost endearing.

'you're so well behaved, little human, it would be a shame to let all the results of your hard work go to waste, right?' you keep shaking your head, a high pitched moan leaving you as minhee finally cums deep inside of you, tightly pressed against your cervix to make sure you're marked by him, completely ruined for anyone else who'll ever try to fuck you.

minhee doesn't know why he did that, despite having no plans to keep you he still found himself desiring, needing to claim you as his little human. as he stills inside you, minhee thinks that maybe, just maybe, he might bring you 'back home' with him.

#🍰 seongminiz !#🧇 crvt !#i dont like the ending it feels rushed #aaaaa whatever lets just post this it took me a whole week to write #cravity hard hours #cravity smut #minhee hard hours #minhee smut

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lorebite · 1 year

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𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉 | 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

warnings: 18+ minors dni. fem/afab reader. suggestive content (literary dirty talk (kinda, sorta), use of literary symbolisms and innuendos, cunnilingus). strangers to more. implied intercourse.

summary: you get to play the tale of many lives but who will play yours?

note: this one's for my girl, @kassiekolchek22. she said it's ok to lewd Death so I'm here unleashing this upon all of ya. 😁 also, the poetry reference is from a poem by Walt Whitman called Vigil Strange I Kept on the Field One Night. and the opening line is a Judas Priest reference.

Oh, hear my warning; never turn your back — I'm the ripper.

You were back again – inside that dark cold office with rain whipping at the window in the far corner. It happened so fast it was gone in a blur. One moment you were wedged inside a compromising dilemma and the next, you were back on the old leather sofa and it was over. Your eyes fluttered slowly, adjusting to the dancing shadow of the silent voyeur loitering by the tall bookshelves. The Curator.

You watched him, the man – who was all except one of true flesh and bone – skimmed his fingers along the many a worn spine of books sat idly in his bookshelf. Your mind wandered to the tale you had just closed, the choices that veered the plot right off the beaten path as soon as you picked up your pen to write in the gaps left for you to fill. Choices you would’ve never made otherwise had you been in a different state of mind. You only wondered what he thought of your twisted accomplishments.

The Curator lifted his head as he flipped a book close, his back still turned to you. “Oh, you’re here,” the echo of his demanding voice reverberated in the room.

He was back behind his desk in seconds, posture strong and confident as he sat himself down, his sharp eyes finding yours.

“Let’s see how you fared—” he leaned his elbows on the tabletop with a gentle flair, his cold steel eyes only briefly flickering down to take in your form, “—as onward silently stars aloft, eastward new ones stole. The end, perhaps, hasn’t been so kind to your charges. Such an unfortunate becoming. For the souls lost, at least—” he flourished an arm towards the candelabrum atop his desk to pinch the dancing flames between his fingertips, “—though I must say, as exhilarating it’s been to watch you undo the threads I carefully wove for you, I fail to believe there hasn’t been a certain intention behind it.”

You blinked, voice helpless against words as you searched for an answer. You had returned, much sooner than you would've on an evening you took a story into your own hands – as evident as that may have been, it was startling how accurate he was. But it wasn’t as though you were going to give him the satisfaction of an honest response just to catch that faint flicker of a knowing smile on his face when he realized he saw through you yet again.

“There was no intention besides writing a story differently this time.” You said softly with a forced apathetic smile.

The Curator crossed his legs, vaguely waving a hand that was propped on the handle of his chair as if pretending not to know what to say.

“Did you perhaps assume this would impress me?”

A tingling heat flooded your cheeks and dulled the sliver of courage you still had in your heart. You averted your gaze to your lap, weaving and wringing your fingers nervously as you pressed your thighs tightly together. What a futile thought to even try to cheat Death.

“Quite bold, I’d say,” he spoke, finding your silence enough of a response. “Never once I’ve met a soul so daring and so… simple to make such a feeble attempt. Alas, I applaud you. Consider me impressed.”

You peered up as you heard him clap slowly, meeting his eyes that were now wrinkled from the soft smile on his lips. Your heart fluttered with a pleasant warmth and you found yourself sinking into the cushion of the sofa, growing instantly more relaxed.

“I’m not one for words of affirmation but I’ll offer this – what you achieved was no easy feat. You did very well. And for what it’s worth, working with you is a remarkable trade off.”

Your eyes pinned him as he stood from his desk and made his way towards you, the floor echoing the determined clicking of his heels. He stopped a small distance away from you.

Thunder struck beyond the cold walls of the repository, the furious light flashing across the expressionless mold of the man’s face. You looked up at him from under your lashes, head tilting up so you could hold his consuming gaze.

“So, this is a trade off?” You remarked with a weak huff of laughter and what little confidence left inside you, zeroing in on the lone word that had piqued your interest.

“In deed. I believe you earned yourself a reward. An interval of sorts, if you will. Would you care to receive it?”

You opened your mouth, a quick response burning on the tip of your tongue before you drew back the intention, suspicion tugging at your eyebrows. “And what’s the catch – the repercussions?”

He smiled, head cocking slightly to the side. You remembered his words. Good. He isn’t at all surprised that it was you who managed to pull this off – whatever this situation was. What a shame a head that clever belonged on a mortal shell.

“Repercussions,” he echoed quietly, as if deep in thought. “I’m only offering you a glimpse. You come here every other evening to unfold a story. Ever wondered about the one you get to star in?” He leaned down, his arm moving just past your shoulder to brace against the backrest of the sofa. The leather squeaked under the pressure of his tightening fingers. “Would you like to hear how I’d tell your story… (Y/N)?”

You swallowed. Hard. Through the long months of knowing The Curator, he had never addressed you by your name. He never asked for it and you had never given him it. It didn’t alarm you at all that he knew. It was more weakening than anything; terrifyingly arousing – to have your name so softly yet authoritatively spoken like that. You never came to know such unyielding need could grip at your core.

A shadow of a smile danced across his lips when you nodded quickly.

“Ever the eager one, aren’t you?” He mused fondly.

The fingers of his other hand sat under your chin and you almost recoiled at how cold he felt. He lifted your head to bring your face that much closer to his, to let you feel the gentle and even caress of his breaths on your lips. Cold. He was so bitingly cold. Every brush of his skin against yours sent a jolt of shock through your body, making every fiber of your being vibrate.

“In my many travels,” his voice was low and silky; a gentle lilt in the way he drawled so slowly. “I’ve seen many things and heard many more. Of poets and writers and painters. Each has a story worth telling. Such as yourself. And more so’s been told the stories on the Roman stages for La Traviata.”

His lips only barely glided over yours, offering you a ghostly kiss. You were soon chasing after him as he pulled away and sunk to his knees before your legs. Oh, heavens! How you never believed you would ever come to look down at him and him up at you. His palms slid down along the span of your thighs before they came to grip the edges of the sofa.

He smiled again. “Libiamo ne’ lieti celciti.”

Let us drink from the joyful cups. And with that, he was prying his fingers between your knees and pushing them apart.

His cold fingers danced slowly on your skin, fingertips so soft and, dare you say, loving that made your core grip with heat. Those tender touches that sat gently upon you – so strangely uncalloused and delicate. As if he didn’t have eons worth of stranded souls tainting the lines of his hands.

He gingerly lifted your leg over his shoulder and you gasped at the extent of confidence in which he moved. What electrifying madness this was going to be – to have Death himself knelt between your legs and mere instances away from sitting his mouth upon your wet heat. That burning cold mouth. You were certain he was going to have you begging for him within seconds.

He pressed his lips to the curve of your knee, slender fingers careful on your skin as his soft frost bitten kisses traveled up your leg, rousing goosebumps down your spine and enlivening your fevered body.

Your chest heaved as you stared down at the man – at this fantastical of a being. His sharp eyes flickered to yours when his lips brushed just shy of the hem of your skirt, raising his chin high enough to slip his long fingers under the delicate fabric.

Breath knotted taut in your chest as the cold waft of his skin brushed over yours – so cautious with you, this man. It was hard to believe this was coming from the same entity that relished shamelessly in the demise of humans. Such perfect power and what a dangerous power! And it had you right under its spell.

“May I?” He asked slowly, voice clear and unchanged.

It was almost as if he wasn’t aware of the effect he had on you; or maybe he did and pretended not to. The calculated nonchalance in the way he peeled back your skirt to stare intently at the thin veil of barrier that was your panties flickered the rogue flame inside you – just like the way he would taunt a candle upon his desk when a soul was on the brink of falling into his grasp.

His clear eyes reflected the dull blue of the repository, lighting up with the clapping lightning that illuminated the entire office. You startled at the sound, your eyes darting to the corner of the room at the rain still pattering against the window. He splayed his hands across your thighs, fingers pressing tightly into the burning flesh. It drew your attention back to him and as soon as your eyes met his again, he lowered his face into you.

A single thread of hair cascaded down his forehead as his lips found the gap between your thighs, pressing a wet kiss to your skin that made a sharp sigh flit through your teeth. He nudged his nose into the damp crotch of your panties, his mouth hovering teasingly close to where you wanted him the most.

Was he merely careful with you or was he, in fact, toying with you?

When he lifted his head again – lips adorned with a smirk so shameless, it had you believed immediately that he knew. In that instance, he looked more Death than man. The plain face of mortality worn off under the diluted mischief that only a creature like him could possess. As if he knew secrets you didn’t and he intended to bury them all into your skin.

You swallowed as his fingers removed your panties; your eyes followed the delicate fabric glide down your legs and to the floor while his remained only on you, drinking in your soft face, your patient eyes – you were strangely serene. Perhaps secretly complacent? You did, after all, manage to send him to his knees. How pitiful. If this were a ruse all along, he walked right into the trap with his own two feet. Then again, his job has always been to follow your decisions.

Was it truly wrong that he was meant to abandon his will for the sake of yours?

And to think he was ever going to find a different purpose for your name besides writing it in his book when that inevitable future came – we will meet again. And he was going to tonight, perhaps many times and little by little, when he drew gasp after gasp through your clenched teeth and wisps of hot wet pleasure through your walls; perhaps he was going to erode that precious essence inside you, take you many times over and breathe back life into you. La petite mort. This would be how you take him – in tightfisted doses until you could no more.

When his mouth was upon you, so cold it set you alight, whips of blinding pleasure tore through your body. You writhed, nails lashing at the smooth leather underneath you; the office reverberated the muffled thrum of the rain and your moans – the sounds hung above the soft wet noises of your slick smearing over his tongue.

His fingers found yours on the sofa, picking them up and sitting them down on his hair. Your fingers immediately coiled within the silky threads and you gasped at the overt urgency of your own behavior. But he did not object even once, returning his lips to your throbbing heat that begged for release.

You dared glance down at him, past his watchful eyes that looked up at you and at the messy shock of dark hair knotted between your fingers. You pulled, just slightly, eager to see a reaction if he was generous enough to offer you any. And he did. A delicate groan rumbled in his throat, his jaw visibly clenching as his mouth pressed against you more hurriedly. As if he couldn’t believe what he made you do to him and he quickly regretted the effect it had on him; and now he was desperate to put an end to it through you.

A low knowing chuckle broke past your lips before quickly tapering into a gasp of moan when he greedily sucked you into his mouth, your grip tightening on his hair and your head falling against the backrest of the sofa. His fingers pressed deeper into your thighs, eyes fluttering close for a moment before they were open again and peering up at you heatedly.

He yanked you forward, without any warnings, and buried his face deep into you. A short cry of surprise caught in your throat, your fingers flying to catch against the edge of the sofa. His hair was a complete mess now, his once perfectly in place fringe fallen over his glimmering eyes as they remained locked upon your every movement. Ever the observer he was – always keeping to his duty even outside a written tale.

Speaking of… was this how he meant to finish yours?

You were surely close. That binding heat within you wound tighter the longer his mouth moved against you. Your body tensed with anticipation of your climax, ticklish warmth sputtering in your core as you sped unwittingly towards your peak. And soon, you were there to propel over while still held gently against Death himself as the sharp flavor of mortality washed over you and made your shell quiver.

The blue darkness of the office glowed with overcast moonlight and mystery before your swimming vision, skin tingling from warmth and adrenaline. Your chest heaved more evenly as your heart slowed, fingers uncoiling from their iron grip on the edge of the sofa.

You looked down again. Unsure what you were going to see this time. But it was still him who met your eyes with a small smile, his face glistening with your slick. He looked untouched besides all the souvenirs you left on him. And yet they looked so oddly suitable on him. You couldn’t believe it. Did this… truly happen?

He rose to his feet, one hand braced against your knee as the other crawled up the side of your neck and held your face. His lips were quick to press to yours. More firmly than before. It was only fair for you to receive the taste of what little death he caused you – that clear thin tang of salt that lingered on his wet lips; and even his skilled, dumbfoundingly clever, tongue once he let it glide through his teeth to meet yours.

He held your chin, sitting one knee between your legs as he sunk against your body with a content sigh, his lips still molded like molten ice against yours. He leaned away enough for a breath to escape, his leg beginning to circle slowly into your spent cunt. You whined softly in response.

“You make me a fool – like a simple man,” he spoke after so long, voice hoarse and low. “I have never become something so insignificant for a such a small reason. That’s quite… invigorating.”

Your fingers danced on the slope of his shoulder, coyly brushing over the smooth skin of his neck as you peered up at him from beneath your lashes. You offered a gentle laugh.

“I’ve never known you to be so humble.”

“I’m not,” he drawled matter-of-factly, his smiling eyes mischievous. “You will get your fill of it eventually. I’ll make sure you do.”

"Don't tell me. You think you can make me beg?" You challenged, lips curving with a teasing smirk.

He didn't answer immediately. His face hid from your eyes to instead, press against your neck, his lips beginning an upward spiral of sensuous kisses to your jaw as his knee continued to rub insistently into you. His breath flitted over the shell of your ear when he lifted his mouth to whisper huskily against it.

"I think I can make you mine."

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#house of ashes x reader #the curator #house of ashes #dark pictures anthology #the curator x reader

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imaginedreamwrite · 1 year

Text

More Hearts Than Mine: Part 1

The spread of pictures laying in front of him had been his focus for the past hour, and still, after the time he had spent on the work, he hadn’t found a solution to his problem.

He was halfway between the point of giving up and giving in and mustering the courage to grab his camera and start entirely from scratch.

“The urge to interrupt you before you had finished was overwhelming.” The sound of someone speaking from behind him had made the lithe boy nearly jump out of his skin as a loud squeak had been ripped from his mouth, to which he had promptly slapped a hand over his mouth.

He had watched the interrupter walk toward the light desk, a stack of photos in your hand as you stepped to the desk adjacent to his. As Steve watched you work, he felt his cheeks burning with heat when his eyes seemed to inherently he fixated on your face and the way your lips moved as you mumbled something under your breath.

You had just set the photos down onto the light desk, then you had turned toward him and cocked a hip, your right hand holding a camera much like his own, and your left hand resting on the edge of the desk.

You had tilted your head, and Steve had taken the quick moment to study your campus hoodie and the tag attached to a lanyard hanging around your neck that displayed your ID, yet he couldn’t see your name.

“I’m sorry for scaring you. I did knock.” He could see you chewing the inside of your cheek, the slight puckering in your face and lips making him believe it was a nervous habit.

He had played with his fingernails, picking at them.

“Sorry.” He stumbled over his words and blushed again, averting his eyes and focusing his contemplative gaze on the pictures he was trying to arrange.

“Project for Mr. Jones?” You questioned as you started to place your pictures on the light board, just as he had on his own.

“Yeah. I’m trying…” he bit his tongue as he wiped his hands on his jeans, his palms sweaty. “…to arrange these, but it’s not….”

“Never works how you want it to.” You finished for him, speaking from experience. “Wanna work on mine, and I’ll work on yours? Get a fresh pair of eyes?”

“I don’t know you.” Steve blurt bashfully, then swallowed his words and wanted to kick himself when you laughed under your breath. “I’m sorry-“

“Y/N L/N.” you crossed the small path between the light desks and stopped a foot from where he was. “We wouldn’t be strangers if you told me your name.”

Steve blinked languidly, the ever-present blush on his cheeks deepening when he realized you weren’t trying to take a jab at him.

You weren’t asking his name while feigning interest at the ‘tall skinny kid’ who spent too much time behind the camera or behind a sketchpad. You were genuinely curious about him, and that was a change from day to day when he was so overlooked by so many different girls in his class.

He was the youngest of three by mere minutes, and yet when girls had found out who his oldest brother was, his triplet, he was like dust in the wind.

“Steve,” he answered while scratching the back of his neck, debating whether to share his last name or keep it to himself, wondering if you had known or would know his older brother.

“Since we’re not strangers anymore, Steve,” you glanced at your work over your shoulder and then peered at his, “how about a second pair of eyes?”

“Y-yeah.” Steve cleared his throat and shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Sure. That’s…good.”

“Great!” You had stood straight again and briefly moved back to your light desk to grab your pen and had tucked it behind your ear before you grabbed a small notepad. “I like to take notes. Do you mind?”

Steve shook his head and moved from his desk to yours and then leaned in with the heels of his hands resting against the edge. He had carefully studied the images in front of him, from one to the next, while formulating a plan of action, deciding which would look better where.

“I’m a transfer.” Your voice had broken the silence, and he had taken the opportunity to look your way while you were focused on his images, already rearranging the pictures. “I know it’s late to transfer; well, I mean, we’re already nearly three months in, ya know?”

“Why did you transfer?” he felt awkward with every word, his bashful and quiet nature and his inability to talk to girls without embarrassing himself, was driving the feeling of anxiousness deep within him.

“How about we move on to the next question?” You had shrugged off the question, and Steve had felt heat burst in his cheeks.

He felt as if he had pressed too much, and now he had screwed up the most extended conversation he had with a girl that didn’t revolve around his brother.

“You’re talented.” Your hands stilled, and you had turned to face him, your fingers grasping one of his black ad white pictures. “You have a real knack for photography. And…sketching?”

“Sketching?” Steve’s brows furrowed, and he pursed his lips.

“You have charcoal on your hands and your cheeks.” You had laughed under your breath, and Steve had immediately set upon wiping his cheeks free of the dust.

“I’m in art.” The answer was short, and it was fuelled with uncertainty. “I…like art.”

“I like photography and theatre.” You hummed under your breath, then exchanged one of his photos for another. “I want to be a professional photographer when I’m done with Uni. Theatre is just the tip of the ‘parental disappointment’ cake.”

“Your parents don’t approve?” He glanced toward you again, noting the silence that fell between you.

“No.” You finally answered. “No, they make it well known that I’m wasting my time playing dress-up.”

Steve had turned away again. He had focused on your images on the light table and settled himself in silence until you had announced you were done with his work.

As he stepped away and moved back to your side, he had once again leaned over the desk and roamed the setup you had completed. The range of pictures set in a way that he hadn’t even thought of, in a manner that told a story he hadn’t even known he wanted to tell.

He was so lost in the images and the arrangement that he hadn’t noticed your departure. He hadn’t seen you gathering your things; he hadn’t noticed you left until he lifted his head and opened his mouth to thank you, only to find himself alone.

He furrowed his brows and felt preemptive disappointment. He had turned toward his bag to gather his things when he noticed a slip of paper on his folder for his pictures, the hastily scribbled note. He had picked it up and studied every word, the message resounding with him as he reached for his phone and began typing away.

‘Thank you – I know this will come off as creepy, but I don’t know a lot of people yet. My number is here, and if you want to save it and text me, that’s cool. If not, you can throw this away, and I would never know.’ Beneath the note were poorly drawn stick people and an ever worse camera between them.

Steve cracked a grin and grabbed the piece of paper, folding it in his pocket before he had held his things and set them in the folder. His smile had only grown when he hadn’t even made it out the door and heard a beep; his first text was exchanged for one of yours.

Jake had been fiddling with the small cube on his desk, his eyes trained on the ceiling as he blew the air out of boredom. It had been slower than usual, and his time in the IT office as part of the student-run program had been dragging on for far too long.

Between his boredom and hearing, Peter and Ned carry the same discussion for the last hour without any change or new subtopic brought to life. As he had flung his cube in the air to catch it again, the sound of the bell at the front desk ringing had caught all their attention. The ding had been soft, yet it had drawn every distraction to a close.

“Was that-“ Jake has scrambled to his feet and swiped his ID badge from his desk, beating both Peter and Ned to the door that led to the front of the office. As he stood before the door and peered out, he could see a sleek silver laptop sitting on the desk, but not the person needing assistance.

“You got the last one,” Peter complained, drawing out the syllables. “Let me get this one-“

Jake had taken another look at the desk and had finally caught a glance at who was waiting. He was stunned silent for a moment, stunned and drawn to a place where his mind had gone blank, and all he could do was stare at the girl waiting at the desk, a faint blush crossing his cheeks when he saw you drumming your fingers on the desktop before you blew falling hair out of your face.

“I will give you everything else for the rest of the day.” Jake finally spoke, promising boredom for the sake of fixing your computer.

“Why? Who’s-“ Jake had placed his hands on Peter’s shoulders and pushed him away from the door and out view, mumbling an apology before he yanked open the door and stumbled out, his foot catching the edge of a filing cabinet.

“Are you okay?” Jake hadn’t completely tumbled, and yet you had asked about his state of being as he righted himself and rubbed the back of his neck, laughing weakly.

“Yeah. It happens all the time.” He had cleared his throat and moved toward the front desk, eyeing the laptop that had been closed to your right before he looked back at you. “You need help?”

“I was in the middle of a digital art project, the bane of my existence when the stupid thing turned black.” You grumbled and pushed the laptop toward him; your eyes narrowed at the top of the closed laptop.

“It turned off?” Jake placed his hand on top of the laptop before glancing back at you. “Just turned black?”

“I swear to God, if you make me lose everything, I will rip every wire from you and hang you from the balcony.” You threatened the computer as you set your hands on the counter and then balled your fists.

“As a message to the rest of them?” Jake cracked a grin, laughing under his breath, a blush dusting across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose.

“Start with one. The rest will learn.” Your smile had been brief; then it fell as exhaustion and hopelessness flitted over you. “Do you think you could save what I have?”

Jake had moved his hand from the top of the laptop before he lifted the lid and tapped the power button a few times, his lips pursed. He had a few thoughts about what could have been the problem; the first suggestion was the battery. However, the laptop looked like it was in good shape; it was not a little worn at the edge from being opened and closed too many times.

“I’m sure I can figure it out. Save it from destruction.” He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose before he craned his neck and glanced over his right shoulder to the locked door.

He should have taken your information and sent you on our way. He should have taken your number and your name, with the promise to call you when it was done. However, the idea to bring you to the back and have you stay a little longer was almost too tempting. You were cute, God he thought you were so cute, and you didn’t talk to him condescendingly.

You didn’t walk to him or look at him like he was a loser, which was a reaction he had gotten more often than not.

“You wanna wait in the back?” Jake’s blush had brightened when you focused your eyes on him. “I mean…it might not take long, and I would hate to send you on your way and then call you-“

“Am I allowed to?” You tilted your head, moving your attention between the laptop and the closed door.

“I mean…yeah. If I’m…with you?” Jake hesitated on his answer, and movement out of the corner of his eyes had been a telling sign that both Peter and Ned were watching him.

“Sure..?” You had hesitated just as he had, yet you followed him when he swiped your laptop from the counter and tucked it under his arm.

“My office is this way.” He had swiped his ID card and opened the door, flashing a glare toward the other two when they shared a look at your arrival in the back and Jake’s insistence that he had an ‘office.’

“Roomy.” You mumbled, stepping to the side and backing into stacked boxes as Jake had come to sit at a small desk with a monitor set in the middle. “Are you sure you’re supposed to have people back here..?”

“Actually-“

“It’s fine!” Jake cut Peter off and tossed his fidget cube at the younger boy, mouthing a threat as he snorted and turned away. “It probably won’t take long.”

“Well, thanks. I have a shit ton of projects that need to be handed in, and if I lose them all-“

“You’ll hang your laptop from the balcony?” Jake teased, his stomach flipping end over end when you laughed and crossed your arms over your chest.

“By the wires.” You leaned against the stack of boxes and crossed your ankles, standing in that position for a moment before you had uncrossed your arms and rested your heels against the edge of a package.

“It should be simple.” Jake had reached for a cord that was plugged into his monitor, then hit the other end into your laptop, the screen almost immediately coming to life.

As the screen had come alive, Jake had tilted his head when the image of you at a Halloween party had caught his attention.

You were in the centre of three others wearing a set of grey mouse ears, paired with a pale blue skirt, a brown waistcoat and a red overcoat. You looked cute, even more so with tiny whiskers painted on your face, and Jake was remiss and unable to hide the grin that cracked on his face.

“Dormouse.” You groaned almost embarrassingly. “It was last year at my old university. I’m a little…obsessed with Alice In Wonderland, and my friends and I decided to dress up as Alice In Wonderland characters.”

“Not Alice?” Jake cocked an eyebrow.

“Everyone goes for Alice.” You explained, drawing your attention from him to the picture on your laptop. “Dormouse is different. Don’t judge.”

“I’m not judging-“

“Jake dressed up as a Wookie one year for Halloween.” Jake had whipped his head around and glared heavily at Peter, his blue eyes narrowed, and his jaw clenched.

“Wookie. That’s Star Wars, right?” You looked between them all, though your eyes had flitted back to Jake when he turned to face you, his blush back on his cheeks.

“You watch Star Wars?” He was hopeful, eager even.

“I’ve seen them once or twice.” You shrugged. “Originals are better.”

“The sequels are trash.” Jake had turned back to your laptop, moving the mouse that was connected to his monitor as he started to work on the problem; the time between you four divided between Peter and Ned whispering among themselves and you playing on your phone.

“Done.” He spun in his chair and unhooked the cord, handing you the laptop back, your fingers momentarily brushing. “It was a glitch, I got it fixed, and it shouldn’t happen again.”

“Thank you!” You spoke with glee and relief, reaching for your bag at your feet to slip your laptop in. “How much do I owe you?”

“Owe me?” Jake lost concentration again, distracted by how pretty you looked in the dimmed light.

“Yeah, for fixing it. How much do I owe you?” You questioned, slipping your hand into your bag to pull out your wallet.

“Nothing.” He swallowed nervously. “It’s…on me. The first one anyway.”

“Well, no offence, but I hope I won’t be back.” You had shoved your wallet back in your bag and yanked the strap up your shoulder, the edge of the bag smacking against your hip.

“I’ll…walk you out….” Jake had stood abruptly, his shoe catching on the edge of his chair and had almost toppled into you.

“It’s just through the door, right?” You stepped away and adjusted the strap again. “Thanks for the help…Wookie.”

Jake remained stunned while he watched you leave, and only when the door had closed, and it was the three of them again, had he exhaled and let his shoulders drop.

“Shut up.” He snapped at the two before they said anything and fell back into his chair.

The rush had been over yet; there was a single row of tables that had been taken by a loud crowd of guys jeering each other on. You had been behind the counter, rolling your eyes at their gestures for the fifth time that hour, when their waitress approached with a dreamy look on her face.

“Meatheads.” You mumbled under your breath, watching the table of boys and their expansive order. “What’s their deal anyway?”

“Hockey players.” She had cocked a hip and tilted her head. “They’re a mix of new and old. The newest members of the team pay the bill for the older ones.”

“Right, as some kind of hazing ritual?” You studied the table and then turned away, finishing off a bill as one of your customers came to the front to pay.

“I wouldn’t mind being hazed by them.” The dreamy look on her face grew as she rested her elbow on the countertop then rested her chin in her hand. “They’re all so attractive. Ari’s the hottest thought.”

“Have a good day.” You smiled at your customer as he left a tip for you and turned around to go through the front doors, his eyes briefly cast on the group of rowdy boys. “Ari?”

“The captain.” She beamed when a few of the boys had turned to look at her, their playful smirks earning a soft flirty giggle. “He’s the real big one. He’s the captain of the team and an offensive player. He knows how to score.”

“Eww.” You scrunched your nose and turned away from the register.

You had grabbed two sets of menus for the few tables you had on the right side of the room and tucked them under your arm, stealing a glance at the table your coworker was still staring at.

As you walked away to the tables you had to serve, you greeted the first and second with the same smile and the same spiel about the specials and had given them both a few moments to decide what they wanted with the promise that you would be back with water and coffee.

As you had made your way back to the front counter, you watched your coworker heading to the back for a last-minute item and had thought nothing of her moving to the back.

You had grabbed a tray and set the glasses of water on the flat surface under coasters before you put the carafe down. With everything loaded, you had walked back toward your customers and doled out the water’s and coffee before you glanced over your shoulder and saw your coworker staring at the empty table with a dumbfounded look on her face.

“I’ll be back.” You smiled small and turned on your heel, stalking back toward the other side of the café, and joined her side as she held the bill in her hands.

“They stiffed the bill.” Her bottom lip quivered, and she looked your way with tears building in her eyes and her bottom lip quivering. “I’m going to be responsible for this.”

You gritted your teeth and stole the bill from her, shoving it in your pocket as you made the split decision to follow them. You hadn’t even made it to the door when she called your name, stopping you momentarily.

“Handle my tables. I’ll be back.” You ground your teeth together and shoved the door open, the metal frame slamming against the doorstop and blasting you with the ripping wind.

Still, you stepped outside and looked down the left and right sides of the street before you saw the last of them turning the corner. You had stepped outside and jogged to catch up with them, each step making you more irritated than the previous.

“Hey!” You raised your voice and yelled at the group of meatheads, a few of them stopping and turning towards. “Assholes!”

The sound of your voice being raised again was enough to make the rest of them stop. As their eyes came to settle upon you, you felt your heart hammer as you realized what you had done, yet it was too late to back down. With shaking hands, you stepped forward and scoured the crowd.

“Which one of you is Ari?” You questioned while shoving your hand in the pocket of your apron, your hand clenching the bill. “So you’re not just assholes, you’re also-“

“I’m Ari.” The one who had stepped up was, as your coworker stated, massive and a mountain of a man.

His broad width had undoubtedly been the kind of frame a hockey player would need, especially an offensive, and the way his flannel seemed to accentuate his frame was heart-stopping. His hair was longer than you expected, and it had brushed the back of his neck while appearing as if it would get in his eyes if it weren’t styled.

He was tall. He was massive.

He was also, like she stated, beautiful and rather attractive. However, your anger at them skipping the bill was tainting his image.

“You-!” You pointed your finger at him and dug the bill out of your pocket.

“You bring your goon squad into a place, take up an entire section, and then you decide to skip out on your bill. You get up and walk away-“ You heard the soft chuckles of the rest of the team behind him as if this was some amusing feat.

“The bill wasn’t paid?” he questioned and crossed his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow.

“If it were paid, I wouldn’t be running after a bunch of arrogant stick monkeys, would I?” You snapped, drawing your attention from him to the team behind him, watching them stand together like a group of lemmings, one copying the other.

“You said you paid it.” Ari turned and focused his heady stare at a young guy, likely a freshman who had seemingly cowered beneath his gaze.

“I guess I forgot-“

“You forgot to pay a nearly $200 bill? Are you stupid?” You jeered and took another step forward, standing only a foot away from the ‘captain.’ “We are not going to be responsible for this. Pay for your goon squad, captain Ari.”

You shoved the bill into his chest and dropped your hands when he had slipped his on top of yours. You took a step back and then turned on your heel to stalk away from him, knowing that you couldn’t physically make him pay his bill, and realistically they probably wouldn’t be back to pay it. However, just the act of you going out there had made you feel somewhat accomplished.

“You survived.” Your coworker sounded surprised as you stepped through the door and finally behind the counter. “I’m surprised.”

“So am I.” You exhaled slowly and rested your back against the edge of the counter, your shoulders drooping as you relaxed. “I have never done anything like that before. I don’t even think-“

The bell above the door had rung, and both of you looked up as the broad shoulders of the guy you’d just yelled at filled out the frame. He had stepped through one door, then another, before he walked right to the register. You side-eyed the other waitress and stepped up to the machine, your gaze flicking from him to the bill in his hand.

“Sorry about that, sweetheart.” His voice was deep, deeper than you initially thought now that he was inside, and it was quiet. “The message didn’t get across. The-“

“Freshmen were supposed to pay. So I’ve heard.” You reached for the bill and took it from his hands before you used the edge of the counter to smooth it out.

“I figured as the goon squad’s captain,” he cracked a grin and leaned forward, the smile making the guy in front of you seem even prettier, “I should take responsibility.”

“For the first time in your life, no doubt.” You muttered and tallied the total, to which Ari had pulled a smooth card and inserted it into the chip reader.

“You’re funny, sweetheart.”

“I am not your sweetheart.” You snipped, crossing your arms over your chest as the payment went through, and the transaction ended with the receipt being printed. “You want a copy?”

“Could I get your number?”

“No.” you ripped the paper and slid it toward him. “You want this?”

“If I can’t have your number, can I have your name?” His smile was just as charming as the man himself, and yet when he asked for your name, all you could do was tap the name tag pinned to your shirt.

“Y/N,” his grin grew, “I like it. You sure I can’t have your number?”

“Have a good day.” You turned on your heel and swiped your abandoned tray from the counter, and tucked it under your arm. “And tell your goon squad not to skip on any more bills.”

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