#the mask makes him look so cheerful or fierce! or determined | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

untaemedqueen · 3 years

Text

Snowed In

Best Friend!Hoseok x Reader

Genre: Best Friends To Lovers, Huddle of Warmth, Domestic!AU, Smut, Fluff

Warnings: Mega Fluff, Marking, Impregnation Kink, Thigh Slapping, Cunnilingus, Fingering, Possessive!Hoseok, Ab Worship, Fellatio, Face Fucking, Belly Bulge, Multiple Orgasms, Doggy Style, Spanking, Cream Pie

WordCount: 15k

A/N: Okay! MERRY EARLY CHRISTMAS! I’m super super lucky to have all of my darlings in one collab with me! Always a shoutout to my loves @ladyartemesia, @ppersonna, @xjoonchildx and @underthejoon for rooting me on always! Shout out to @hobi-gif for beta-ing it and literally helping me learn English lmfao. My other loves @snackhobi and @yeojaa rooted on the idea for this fic and helped me flesh things out and I’m so lucky I’m constantly surrounded by such amazing people!

Seasons for most people inspire and bring delight with every change of color on leaves in high up trees. Yet with you, you always hated all the seasons and everything they stood for. Until you met him. Or let him in anyway.

It sounds corny and ridiculous. It probably is.

People always deemed you cold hearted or uncaring and it was all true. But he brought love to your heart. He made colors brighter. He made the world seem bigger and better than you ever noticed before.

He was always around, even if you didn't want him to be. You had some friends from childhood that insisted on keeping him around. He was kind and eager with everything that he did. And it annoyed the ever living crap out of you.

But you slowly opened up that iron cage around your heart and let him in. Even if it took him ages for you to let him in, he was determined.

You never understood why it always turned terribly cold the day before Halloween. It was a constant as well as surprising. But, what was probably more surprising was that people couldn't give a bigger fuck about frigid temperatures when they had revealing costumes to wear.

"I don't wanna go!" you whine to Taehyung as he takes off his shirt. Rolling his eyes, he throws the fabric perfectly on the top of your head before thrusting his fist up in the air.

"Score!" he cheers loudly as he grabs the top of his costume.

You ball up the tee-shirt in hand before chucking it at him with a sneer.

"Kim Taehyung," you mumble as you look back down at your phone.

"You have to go. Do you want me to not get pussy? Is that what it is? You have an agenda against me? A no pussy agenda? That's fucked up Y/N. I can't even believe you!" He rants as he slips on his top.

"Oh my God," you murmur as you lean back against the headboard of his bed.

Knowing this man since you were six -- nothing has changed. He's been by your side through thick and thin. He has always been a fearless best friend and a fierce fighter for you.

You've never liked people but the one person you've really only cared for has been Kim Taehyung. And, Park Jimin -- but he's a different story entirely.

"Jaemin is going too, you don't want to see your own boyfriend?" Taehyung asks as he stands in front of his mirror.

You look up slowly from your phone only to catch his gaze through the mirror. "Jaemin is his own person. He can do whatever he wants without me having to be by his side like glue."

Taehyung snorts gently as he combs his fingers through his hair.

"Man, I don't know how you keep relationships. You're so mean. Jaemin has a strong heart to be with you," you give him a fake smile as you flip him your middle finger.

"Not everyone needs to be as coddled as you do, Tae," you reply as you stand up off the bed.

"Hey. I'm only so needy and clingy because my parents didn't love me as a child," he says as he puts hairspray in his hair.

You snort gently at his words before the door of his dorm room opens.

"Tae!" you hear Hoseok cheer and you internally sigh.

In your first year of college, Hoseok was in every single class you signed up for. You saw him for multiple hours a day and he was so nice -- so completely nice, that it was terrifying.

No one should be so kind and selfless but that's just who he is. Once Taehyung and Jimin had met him, the trio that you’d always been had turned into some bizarre foursome that you didn't quite care for. You were used to the other two around, but with Hoseok you just became uncomfortable. Maybe it's your crippling anxiety or your extreme awkwardness.

"Hey Hoseok!" Taehyung calls out to him as he grabs his pants.

Hoseok looks around the room before spotting you. His smile seems to widen -- if that's even possible.

He is incredibly handsome. His eyes always seem to sparkle with an energy you've never really seen before. Jimin calls it allure, Taehyung calls it kindness.

“Y/N! Hey! Happy Halloween!” He says happily as he enters the room.

His costume is simple, just a leather jacket, black t-shirt and black ripped jeans with a Scream mask hanging from his neck but it’s nice.

“Hey, Hobi,” you reply, your voice is wrapped with dull tones. Sitting back down on the bed, you look at your phone for a distraction.

“What’s your costume?” he asks as he sits down beside you.

“She’s going as herself. Because, that’s the scariest thing this world can offer,” Taehyung jeers as he puts on his eyeliner.

You give a fake laugh as you lock your phone. “Wow! Tae, you’re so funny! You get all the girls with your quirky humor?”

Hoseok laughs beside you, the sound is endearing to hear, unfortunately. But, you do find yourself giggling as Taehyung flips you the middle finger right back.

“I don’t like Halloween. Or any holidays as a matter of fact… or people,” you tell the cute black haired boy beside you. He hums understandingly as he folds his arms.

“It’s cool to be introverted,” he replies softly which Taehyung scoffs at.

“Not my Y/N. When she’s with me, she breaks out of her shell, right?” you hum uneasily as Taehyung enters the bathroom.

“Because you make me!” you retort loudly, lifting your body off of the headboard of his bed to call out to him. You huff out as you lean back before folding your arms and looking at Hoseok.

“How do you deal with him?” you quip as he looks up at the ceiling.

“He was your friend first,” he replies, a gentle smirk settling onto his features before turning his head to you.

“Touche,” you mutter as Taehyung throws his pajama pants at your head from the doorway of the bathroom.

Going to parties was certainly not a hobby for you. They’re loud and the environment usually smells like stale beer or high proof vodka. People stumble or shove you out of the way in their drunken stupor. It’s usually a gigantic mess.

But, if you must, you go to parties with your two best friends plus one Jung Hoseok, who is too kind for his own good.

Exactly what you hate is right before your eyes as you all pull up to Jimin’s frat house. The music is so loud, you can practically feel the bass beneath your feet as you step onto the front lawn. Already, there are strewn Solo cups on the ground and girls in tiny costumes. Which doesn’t bother you as much, you dress how you want to dress but it’s just so fucking cold!

You see him in passing, your boyfriend flits away before you can even call out to him. He looks good, really good. Sometimes you’re surprised he asked you out first. His hair is coiffed and you know his costume is supposed to be a zombie jock, which isn’t far off from what he normally is. He’s gigantic compared to you, the quarterback of the college football team and sitting comfortably at six foot five. He’s incredibly handsome and he’s yours. Which is bizarre because you never even thought he noticed you at all around the college green until last year.

“Lee Jaemin!” Taehyung calls out to him as he grabs a beer.

You cringe as Tae calls him, he shouldn’t have to come over if he doesn’t want to...

“Oh shit! What’s up guys!” Jaemin cheers loudly. You can hear the slur already in his voice.

He gives high fives to everyone before planting a sloppy, yet quick, kiss to your lips.

“So, where’s your costume?” Jaemin asks you as he pops the top of his can open.

“I don’t like Halloween, you know that,” you mumble as he ruffles your hair with a chuckle.

“You don’t like anything, baby. Except this dick.” He kisses your hairline before walking away leaving you all on your own.

You scratch the back of your neck uncomfortably, before looking over at Taehyung and Hoseok.

“I’m sorry,” your apology is weak as well as your voice.

God, you and Jaemin are so different sometimes.

Taehyung passed you a beer with a gentle scoff and you can tell that he's holding his tongue.

Cracking open the beer, you take a long sip before staring at the frat house.

"I'm sorry I made you come." Tae apologizes softly as your blue haired best friend begins to bolt towards you all.

You grumble softly in response before groaning as Jimin bum rushes you. Knocking all of the air out of your lungs, you cough loudly as he squeezes you tightly to his body.

"Happy Halloween! You bunch of assholes!" he cries happily as he shakes you around in his arms.

"Get… off!" you wheeze out, slapping his arm with all the strength you can muster.

Once he lets go, your free hand drops to your knee as you gasp for breath.

"You okay?" Hoseok asks softly, a goofy smirk on his lips as he presses his hand to your shoulder.

You give a thumbs up weakly before coughing loudly and standing upright.

"LET'S GO PARTY!" Jimin yells loudly across the lawn as he throws his arms up in the air.

You watch as other drunken college kids cheer along with him and you roll your eyes as Hoseok squeezes your shoulder.

You've managed to avoid conversing or dancing throughout the night which seemed like the only highlight so far. The typical pushing and shoving from drunk people to get places was the norm so far. You've been offered blunts and other varying drugs that you politely refused.

Finally, you found an empty couch in the large living room for you to become a loner in. Watching the drunken couple get up from making out to take their affairs elsewhere, you swooped in like a hawk to sit like a marble statue.

You spot Taehyung, his arm high up on the wall as he cages a girl between his hips. They're talking (more like screaming at each other over the loud music) and you lean your head back on the couch as you watch them.

Tae has always had an effervescent personality ever since you were very little, so it's no surprise as he holds his hand out to the random girl and she takes it willingly. You'll have no ride home tonight, you find yourself thinking.

Jaemin hasn't come looking for you once since you saw him on the lawn. He was a partier, you were not.

"Hey!" you hear someone scream to your right.

Looking to the owner of the voice, you give a small smirk as Hoseok flops down beside you.

"I was looking for you!" he calls into your ear as he passes you a Solo cup.

"Why?" you reply confused as your eyes focus on his handsome face in the dim lighting of the living room.

"Because I knew you'd be all alone!" he quips, elbowing you gently with a smirk.

You roll your eyes, the corners of your lips turning upward and you bring the Solo cup to your mouth.

"It's like watching a group of crazed monkeys jumping around!" He jokes as you both watch people dance.

You can feel yourself giggle softly, you couldn't hear anything soft above the music.

There's silence between you two for a bit, but it's comfortable. You can feel his thigh pressing into yours gently as you both watch people moving along with the music.

"Where's Jaemin?" Hoseok calls once more and you shrug flippantly as you take a sip of the mixed drink.

Vodka and cranberry.

"Did you make this?!" you ask him as he throws his arm over the lip of the couch.

He nods with a smile before raising his own.

"It's my favorite!" you call back to him.

"I know!" he replies happily before looking back at all the people.

He's so thoughtful, it's bizarre. Taking another swig of the drink, your eyes catch Jaemin walking up the stairs to his bedroom. Not even a minute later, a girl follows with a knowing smile set on her face.

Your eyebrow raises at the sight and the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Sitting up slightly, Hoseok follows your gaze and he practically blanches at what you could possibly be thinking.

"Excuse me." you call to him as you stand up.

"Y/N! Wait!" Hoseok screams over the music but his voice gets softer as you weave through all the people dancing.

You feel his hand curl around your arm and your first instinct is to pull away from him. But, he keeps his grip steadfast.

"Stay with me." Hoseok pleads in your ear.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you rip your hand away from him. You grip the banister of the stairs.

As you look up at the second floor landing, it seems more daunting with each and every step.

"Yo!" Jimin cheers as he climbs up the stairs with you.

"Gonna go get your freak on?!" he jeers. Hoseok is quick to elbow him in the ribs, sending a cautionary glance his way that shuts him up quickly.

"Y-Y/N?" Jimin asks as you clutch tighter onto the staircase banister. Your knuckles turn white and you have to focus on your breathing as you ascend further.

You can’t even begin to respond as you reach the top of the staircase. Your mind is running a mile a minute.

Sure, you and Jaemin weren’t attached at the hip but you’ve been dating a year. He never even has given the hint that he was getting tired of you or bored of your presence. Although you could be completely different at times, you were happy when you were together. You didn’t need to see him every day to feel complete, you thought you both were okay.

“Y/N. You don’t have to do this.” Hoseok says as he grabs the Solo cup from your hand.

You can barely hear him above the sound of your heart beating in your ears.

Everything is muffled, even the high volume music that pumps throughout the house.

You spot Taehyung, making out with the girl from earlier outside Jimin’s bedroom. He catches you out of the corner of his eye and sees how ghostly pale you’ve become, his blood runs cold at the sight.

“What’s wrong?” he yells as he leaves the girl on her own.

Swallowing thickly, you ignore him. Your feet are slow and sluggish but you make your way to Jaemin’s room without a second thought.

Your hand shakes as you reach for the door knob. You can hear loud, bitter whispers from the men behind you as you clamp down on the metal in hand. Taking a deep breath, you thrust the door open.

You take your boyfriend of a year in your sights, his hands on the random girls hips as she straddles him. Apparently, they wasted no fucking time getting naked.

Your eyes flutter shut at the image now burned into your corneas. And, you feel as if a hole has been punched through your gut.

Upon opening your eyes, you see your boyfriend's head angle towards the door. His sideburns are caked down with sweat and with narrowed eyes he finally makes out your figure in the dark hallway.

“Holy shit! Hey, baby!” He yells out surprised as he shoves her off his lap.

Just hearing his voice, how it’s meant to sound playful brings tears to your eyes. Your nasal passages burn with bitter intent and you look down at the floor as he sits up.

“Hey, Y/N! Listen, I-” you’re shoved out the way by Taehyung and Jimin who advance towards the quarterback with venom dripping from their gaze.

“You fucking asshole!” Taehyung screams as he punches Jaemin in the face.

You feel arms wrapping around you, none other than Hoseok’s as he pulls you away.

“Chill man! It’s fucking college! You think I was going to just stay with your introverted little creepy friend for the rest of my life?!” you hear Jaemin scream as Hoseok tugs you towards the staircase.

You decided to walk home, even though it was freezing outside. The sharp breeze chills you to the bone and sets your mind alight as you trudge through the brown, crinkled leaves that line the sidewalks.

Hoseok has stayed by your side throughout the walk and thankfully, he hasn’t said a word. You were mad at yourself for crying. Stopping every so often to wipe bitter tears off your cheeks as you folded in on yourself.

He can see you shivering as you get closer to your dorm and he tugs off his leather jacket. Swinging it over your shoulders, he hooks his arm around you before pulling you into his chest.

You feel too dead inside to move, but the warmth and comfort of his body is nice.

“You don’t have to talk. But, I will.” Hoseok says as you finally reach your dorm.

Opening up the door for you, he waits as you scan the keycard to enter the building.

Once safely in the elevator, you shrug off his leather jacket before handing it back to him with a small murmur of a thank you.

You feel lucky that your dorm room is a single, because tonight you would not be ready to deal with a roommate.

Stepping inside your dorm, you make your way over to your bed before sitting down with a huff.

Hoseok, the handsome, kind man that he is sits in front of you. He crosses his legs and all you can see in his eyes is sorrow.

“You are so amazing. You’re too fucking good for that piece of shit asshole. You deserve so much better than him. Even if you come off rough around the edges, you’re kind to your friends and you care deeply about things that are important to you. You’re smart and confident in what you do know and you’re a force to be reckoned with. Fuck him if he doesn’t appreciate you. There are plenty of people in the world that do. Me being one of them,” he says as he puts his hands on your knees.

You weren’t in the mood for nice comments but the way that he says it, with such conviction makes you feel almost lighter in a way.

You open your mouth to reply but nothing comes out.

“You don’t have to talk, you don’t have to entertain me. I’m here for you to make sure you’re okay.” Hoseok says gently as he runs his hands over your knees.

Maybe you’ve been too harsh with him. Maybe he was someone you wanted in your life. He’s helped you in ways you didn’t even think you would need tonight. He’s dependable.

"Thanks, Hobi." you manage to whisper out.

It was a nickname you made for him and only him. And, only you could use it.

"You can lay down if you want. I won't leave you alone, unless you want me too," he says softly.

You didn't know if you could handle being all by yourself right now after the night you've had.

"Stay," you whisper as you take off your hoodie.

He gives an understanding nod as you lay down on your bed. Pulling the covers over you, he sighs gently as you close your eyes.

You never really understood until now why Jimin and Taehyung brought Hoseok into your group. Of course, he was kind and fun to be around but he was dependable and just a genuinely good friend.

"Sit," you tell him as you push yourself flush against the wall, turning onto your side.

Hoseok seems to be fighting within himself for a second before he's kicking off his shoes to sit up against the headboard beside you.

He brings his knees up to his chest before wrapping his arms around them. You've noticed him doing it several times in the past. It's endearing to watch him do it every time, like he needs to make room for something.

Your eyes squeeze shut as you remember the horrible scene from not too long ago. You really, really liked him. Even if you weren't the best at showing it.

"I thought we were okay. I know that sometimes I can be difficult to be with b-"

"Y/N," Hoseok interrupts you. You look up at him as he angles his face down towards yours, "There is nothing wrong with you. This is his fault. I'm not going to sit here and let you beat yourself up over that fucking douchebag."

You hum unsurely, as your fingers pull at a stray strand of fabric that sticks out from your comforter.

"I just… I don't date people because I'm not confident or anything and look what happens," you reply hopelessly as you turn onto your back. Staring at the ceiling, your eyes flit from one glow in the dark star that you and Jimin stuck up there to the other.

"You're beautiful. Not just your face, but your being is beautiful. Confidence isn't easy to gain but you should have it because you deserve it. You're pretty wonderful." Hoseok says as he looks up at the ceiling with you.

His words are warming, like chicken soup when you've got a cold.

"Thanks for being my friend Hobi," you say as you close your eyes.

"Thanks for being mine," he replies, knocking his foot playfully into your hip.

The bedroom door swings open with your two best friends and you sit up on your elbows as they file in.

Taehyung's knuckles are cut up, dried blood flecks his costume and his fingers. Jimin is the same, but a stream of dried blood is apparent from his nose and your eyes widen at the sight.

Tae looks over you before jumping onto your body.

You groan loudly as he manhandles you. He wraps his arms around you into a bear hug before peppering your cheek with kisses.

"I'm so sorry," he cries out as you push at his shoulders.

"Get off me!" you whine, slapping the bloody shirt away from you.

"What happened to you?" Hoseok asks Jimin.

"Jaemin hooked me when I told him that he's no longer welcome in Alpha Sigma Tau." Jimin spits at the simple mention of his name and you feel your heart almost as light as a feather as he winks at you.

Hoseok high fives Chim before looking back up at the ceiling shaking his head.

Maybe being a weird foursome is better than a trio.

Being on campus as the quarterback's ex-girlfriend is uncomfortable and a hard pill to swallow. But, it's easier with the three lunatics you call best friends.

"Help me pack!" you hear Taehyung complain as you lean against the headboard of his bed.

Hoseok throws a pair of briefs at him before grimacing.

"Why should we help you pack when you didn't even invite us?" Jimin quips as he lifts his head from the hardwood floor.

The younger best friend scoffs loudly as he throws his skiing goggles into his suitcase.

"Believe me, if I could bring you all to the Swiss Alps -- I would. But, you know how my parents are."

You do in all honesty. Taehyung belongs to one of the richest families in the area and his family is quick to dismiss others who are not of their similar standing. You were lucky that your mother was his father's assistant and the same goes for Jimin with Taehyung's mother.

"What are you doing for Christmas, Jimin?" Hoseok asks curiously as he leans back against the headboard beside you.

"I'm going to France with my younger brother. Our mom got us a good deal at the Four Seasons." Jimin says flippantly as he fixes his varsity jacket.

Hoseok hums before nudging you, "What about you?" he asks softly.

Your heart pangs uncomfortably as you look at your different colored socks.

"I'll probably just stay here for Christmas. I was supposed to spend Christmas with Jaemin and my parents are going out of the country so I'll be here," you reply as you look out the window.

You can see the sudden snow flurry sticking to the bare branches of trees and the windowsill of Taehyung's bedroom window.

You didn't realize just how fucked up your holiday plans would be after Jaemin cheated on you just a month ago.

"Oh. No way." Hoseok mumbles softly and you clear your throat uncomfortably.

"I'm sorry Y/N." Jimin whispers as he sits up.

You shrug as Hoseok puts his hand on your shoulder.

He looks at the other guys before clearing his throat.

"Well… you can come with me for Christmas, if you'd like. You'd be more than welcome," he suggests. Just the thought makes your eyes widen.

"Why would I go home with you for Christmas?" you ask, confused.

You watch the tips of his ears turn red and he shakes his head oddly.

"I mean, it was just a suggestion. You'd be welcome at my house. My parents are really kind," he whispers softly.

Taehyung looks at Jimin and they wink in tandem to one another.

"You should go, Y/N! I'm sure it would be a lot of fun! Better than sitting in your room eating ramen for Christmas!" Taehyung cheers as he throws a bunch of socks into his suitcase.

"I couldn't intrude," you reply softly, looking down at your hands.

Go home with Hoseok for Christmas? Why would you ever do such a thing? Sure, he's one of your best friends but… you would meet his parents. You would sit around the table like a family. That's just… insane.

"You wouldn't be intruding. Plus, my parents know all about you. They'd love to meet you," Hobi says, knocking his knee into yours.

"You tell your parents about me?" your voice is small and distant as you pick at the skin around your nails.

"Of course I do. You're amazing," his voice is enraptured with a breathy laugh and now you can feel your ears starting to warm up.

There's silence for a moment which Taehyung is more than happy to break. "That's perfect! See, Y/N! You won't be alone for Christmas!"

You hum uneasily before looking over to Hoseok as he tilts his head at you. His eyes crease in delight and his expression is one of pure earnestness.

You don't want to be alone for the holidays. Because, when you're truly alone the sadness sets in.

"You're sure it's okay?" you ask him and his smile widens at your words.

"I'm positive," he replies as he slings his arm over your shoulder.

Hoseok was used to your silence by now. It doesn't bother him one bit, it's just nice to know that you're sitting beside him.

With his wrist up on the steering wheel, his eyes glance over and it warms his heart to see you taking in the colorful Christmas lights strung up on houses.

It's a pleasant surprise to him when you speak first. "I didn't buy your parents any presents."

Hoseok lets out an amused chuckle as he focuses back on the road.

"You don't need presents, you are the present for Christmas." he lets out a laugh as you elbow his ribs. "Hey! I'm driving! You maniac!" he yells as you chuckle.

"I'm serious! I need to buy your parents something at least!" you complain as you enter town from the outskirts.

"We can stop at Jeulgeoum." he replies as you continue to drive.

The town he grew up in is very small. Like it's own community. You feel like the Grinch as Hoseok starts to wave at random people that notice his car in the middle of the street.

You really, really hate holidays. Your parents were never excited to spend time with you like you used to watch in movies. Even if it was two days out of the whole year, it was more like a hassle to them.

As Hoseok continues to wave, you find yourself sliding down in the passenger's seat. You pull your hood up, eyes fixed on the dashboard.

"That's Mr. Lee. He makes the best mochi in the town center. I used to go into town with my sister and he used to make me dance for free pieces of rice cake." his voice is filled with warmth as he recalls the memory. You find your head peeking up to look at the old man and the corner of your lips turns upwards as he waves wildly to Hoseok.

The car slows down and you look over to the handsome boy as he lowers his window.

"Merry Christmas, Mr. Lee!" Hoseok cheers out the window.

"You as well, Hoseok. Merry Christmas to you and your girlfriend." Widening your eyes, you pull your hood up. You train your eyes on your jeans as you lower your head.

This was a BAD idea. It hadn't even occurred to you that people would call you his girlfriend. Then, you'd have to waste your breath explaining that you're just friends and why you're with him rather than your family.

"Sorry about that." Hobi whispers as he rolls up his window.

You hum in agreement as he puts his hand on your shoulder.

"Just try to enjoy yourself. I know that it's hard but you might just have fun," he says softly.

Hoseok seemed to know everyone which isn't shocking. He's so absolutely kind and he did grow up here.

Entering Jeulgeoum, you're thankful for the heat that rushes to your cheeks as soon as you step in.

"My mom likes glass figurines." Hoseok says as he closes the door shut behind you.

There was glass as far as the eye can see and your first thought is do not fucking touch anything. You will not let your clumsiness embarrass you today.

"Welcome to Jeul- Jung Hoseok?!" The warm voice makes you turn your head and you feel yourself relaxing at the older woman as she smiles widely at the sight of him.

"Hi Mrs. Kim! Merry Christmas!" he says, pulling down the hood of his coat.

His black hair is sticking up at odd ends and you notice how endearing it is. His smile is wide, cheekbones bouncing up to the heavens as the woman gasps.

"Oh my goodness! Merry Christmas!" she cheers, rounding the register to get a good look at him.

Awkwardly, you look around at the glass pieces.

"Well you've gotten so big! It feels like almost yesterday I was kicking you out of my shop with the back of a broom." you smirk at her words, you can't imagine Hoseok running in here like a bull in a China shop.

"And who is this?" your heart begins to beat faster and you look at Hobi as his smile becomes warm.

"This is my friend, Y/N." he slings his arm over your shoulder for good measure.

You bow your head to Mrs. Kim taking off your hood. Her chubby cheeks are jolly and sweet as she bows her head back to you.

"Well, aren't you just gorgeous. A friend or a girlfriend?" Mrs. Kim quips as she rounds the register once more.

Her question makes you blush fiercely, your neck heating up quicker than a fireplace ever could.

"Just a friend. A really, really good friend." he replies as his hand drifts over your shoulder comfortably.

Mrs. Kim hums playfully and you feel him tug at your body. "Let's look for something."

Your eyes are enraptured by the glass figures. They're so incredibly detailed and gorgeously cut. It's really a wonderful skill.

"She makes all of these?" you find yourself asking, your hand reaches for a figure but you back away quickly at the simple thought of breaking it.

"Oh, yeah. Mrs. Kim is an artist with this stuff. I made one once when I was younger. Come look." Pulling you down the long aisles, you reach a glass case at the back of the store.

"All of the kids in town could make one when they turned ten," his eyes glance over the figures before he's snapping his fingers and pointing. "That's mine," he says happily.

Your eyes narrow at the small figure and you tilt your head at it. You try to be polite, humming inquisitively as you stare.

"It's supposed to be a…" No words come to mind as you look at the jagged and misshapen pieces that are seemingly glued together.

"It's the Hulk," he says proudly and you nod slowly, your eyebrows furrowing.

"I… see," you murmur to yourself.

"I'm just kidding, this shit is ugly. I have no idea what the fuck I was making," he says and you elbow him in the ribs with a giggle as you stand up straight.

Looking up at him, it's almost as if you're noticing his eyes for the first time. Cinnamon colored irises with flecks of coffee that send a warmth spreading throughout your chest.

"Come on. My mom really likes snow globes," he says with a wink.

The selection of snow globes was actually surprising. The one that catches your attention first is a small boy standing on one leg as he skates around a pond. The town in the background is so tiny and for some reason it reminds you of the man standing beside you.

Without a second thought, you reach for it and you find Hoseok's hand on top of yours.

Pulling your hand away from the warmth of his, you find yourself smiling almost to an embarrassing state.

"Great minds think alike," he quips as he picks it up.

You snort gently, a breathy noise as he inspects the snow globe closer.

"Looks like me," he decided before pulling you towards the register.

"One Jung Hoseok looking snow globe to go please," he jokes as he pulls out his wallet.

"Hobi," you complain as you pull out yours.

Grabbing your wallet, he stuffs it into his back pocket before opening up his.

"It won't be my present if you pay for it!" you whine gently as he leans up against the counter.

"It's from the both of us," he says as he hands Mrs. Kim his credit card.

Rolling your eyes, you watch the small flecks of fake snow swirl around the snow globe. Maybe Christmas with Hobi isn't so bad.

It wasn't a long drive from Jeulgeoum to his family house. But, every inch closer you seemed to get, your nervousness was reaching an all level high.

What if his parents didn't like you? What if you were just intruding on their special holiday plans?

"Hey," Hoseok calls to you as he pulls off of the long road. Rows of houses begin to line the street and you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. Looking over at him, he slows down the car.

"You okay?" he asks, concerned.

"What? Yes. No, I'm fine," you say quickly and he can hardly believe you at this point.

"Whoa. Whoa," he pulls over the car before turning fully to you.

Your eyes focus on a blown up Santa that seems to sway in the chilly December breeze.

"You're going to have a lot of fun. Believe me, and I know you don't do fun. My parents are really, really nice people. You aren't intruding and you aren't unwelcome. I promise. You'll see," he says as he puts his hand on your knee.

You feel him squeeze gently and you find yourself calming down almost immediately.

"Okay," you whisper softly.

"Okay," he replies as he gives your knee one more squeeze.

Parking in front of his childhood home, you can see your friend relax. Almost as if he's been on a long journey and he's finally comfortable again.

The house is big, Christmas lights strung up from the gutters and down the columns that hold up the facade of the house.

"My mom always goes crazy with decorations," he says as he opens up the car door.

He's not wrong, a multitude of lit up statues litter the front lawn but they're all perfectly positioned.

Your favorite is the snowman standing right before the walkway.

Hoseok smirks to himself as he gathers your bags from the backseat.

"It's pretty," you find yourself saying as you climb out of the car.

Tugging your coat closer to your body, something about this feels sweet. Your parents were never that big into holidays and they always leapt at the chance to go somewhere warmer as soon as the temperature dropped.

You find yourself realizing that you've never really had a true Christmas. Or, one like the movies, anyway.

"Hold your snow globe," Hoseok calls to you as he puts the neatly wrapped package on the hood of the car.

You grab the package, holding on to it for dear life as he slings bags over his shoulders.

You didn't pack much but two bags is still a bit much to have on top of his own.

"I'll carry my bags," you tell him as you walk around the Hyundai.

He frowns as you hold your hand out.

"You're going to get me in trouble," he jeers and you shake your hand almost impatiently.

Rolling his eyes, he gives you your bags and he watches as you haul them over your shoulder.

"I can carry them, y'know. I'm not broken," he says as he walks by your side towards his house.

"I'm not broken either," you counter and he chuckles to himself.

Stepping in front of the snowman, he tugs off his scarf. He wraps the warm fabric around its neck before smirking.

"Now he's ready for Christmas." The act makes you smile and he winks at you as you walk up the long walkway towards the house.

You take large, deep breaths as shadows flit by the windows.

"Just enjoy yourself," Hoseok tells you as he jogs up the steps of the patio.

He checks on you once more, rubbing his hand over your arm before knocking on the door.

The sound frays your nerves as you clutch tighter onto the gift box in your hand.

You can hear animated talking behind the front door. As the door opens, you find yourself smiling as Hoseok throws his arms around who you assume is his mother.

"Merry Christmas!" he cries out happily and she replies with a giggle.

"Merry Christmas, my Seok," he chuckles as he squeezes her tight to his body.

Pulling away, her eyes find yours and the smile she gives is so like Hoseok's you suddenly feel comfortable. Running her fingers through her black bob cut, she looks you over before frowning.

"Yah. Why is she carrying her own bags?" his mother chides to her son.

He narrows his eyes at you playfully before folding his arms, "I told you, you got me in trouble."

With a smirk, you shrug to him.

"Merry Christmas, Y/N! We've heard so much about you! You're very welcome here," his mother says as she hugs you tightly.

It takes you a second, not quite used to parental affection, before you're hugging her back.

"Who's that?! My smelly brother?" you hear from inside and you giggle as Hoseok grimaces.

"Hi noona!" he calls loudly from the doorway.

"Come in, come in." his mom ushers you in and he holds his arm out for you to go in first.

How gentlemanly.

You can smell spices in the air, can hear animated talking and it feels strange to be in such a comforting atmosphere. You've never had this in your life.

"Thank you so much for letting me come, Mrs. Jung." you say softly as Hobi pulls the bags from your shoulder.

Taking off her apron, she clicks her teeth.

"Nonsense. We've heard all about you from Seok, it's like we know you already. And, please, call me Eunsook," she says as his father stands up from the couch.

You're used to sons shaking their fathers hands. Taehyung and Jimin do it on the regular so it's weird to see Hoseok hug his father so tightly.

"Welcome home, kid." he says before pulling away.

Mr. Jung looks over at you, a kind smile plastered on his face as he leans in for a hug.

"Welcome Y/N. Please, call me Baekgu," you nod as he pats your back gently.

"Thank you for being so welcoming," you whisper.

"Okay, let's not overwhelm her. It must be odd to be surrounded by new people. Why don't you both go upstairs and get comfortable. Then, when you come down maybe Y/N can help me make my sugar cookies." Hoseok was raised so well by his folks.

"I'd love that," you reply earnestly.

"Come on," Hoseok whispers in your ear.

Starting to pad up the carpeted steps, he turns his attention to his mother as she calls his name.

"You'll be sharing a room, hope you don't mind. The extra guest bedroom was converted to a home office," your eyes widen as you stare down at the carpet.

"Oh Jesus," you whisper fiercely to yourself.

Hoseok chuckles uncomfortably as he pulls the bags tighter to his shoulder.

His childhood bedroom is nothing like you thought it would be. Most kids, including yourself, had posters covering every inch of the walls but not his room. It's chic and stylish which isn't far off from how he is now.

You can hear gentle Christmas music wafting through the slightly cracked door as you look at his bed.

You've slept in the same room before while studying or if you all drank too much. But, you've never slept in the same bed as him. And, you've never been alone with each other.

"This'll be fun," he sounds confident and you're not sure if he's trying to mask nervousness with his tone.

"Yeah," you reply breathlessly as you sit on the edge of the bed.

You hear the bags thump onto the ground and you can hardly believe that you're here.

"They're nice, right?" Hobi asks as he shrugs off his coat.

"So nice, no wonder you grew up so well," you say, earning a smile from him.

"Get comfortable and then we'll head back downstairs. My mom must really like you, not even my sister gets to help her make sugar cookies," he calls as he enters the en suite bathroom.

Looking down at your knees, you find yourself smiling. How have you never noticed how precious he is before?

"Y/N! They're coming out perfectly!" Eunsook cheers delighted as she peeks into the oven.

She's so cheery, it's kind of amazing. Your eyes flit to the open living room watching as Hoseok sits beside his father watching Home Alone.

This is so… normal. So perfectly normal. You've never done this before with your parents. You've never felt 'at home' or comfortable around them and they gave birth to you.

"So Y/N," Dawon, Hoseok's sister, calls to you as she fills up your glass with more red wine, "Hoseok never shuts up about you."

"Noona!" Hoseok yells from the living room without even turning his head.

You smirk fondly as you lean down on the island counter.

"What does he say?" you find yourself whispering.

She tilts her head, fingers carding through her brown hair as she leans in. “Mostly how perfect you are.”

“Noona!” Hoseok yells once more and you find yourself smiling above the lip of your glass.

“Hobi is really great. I’m really lucky to have a friend like him,” you reply.

You feel a hand drift over your lower back as he walks into the room.

“Oh, Hobi is it?” Dawon jeers to him.

“Shut up,” he whispers in her ear through clenched teeth before opening up the fridge and grabbing a beer.

She holds her free hand up, a perfect smile plastered on to her face.

“Hoseok tells us all the time how happy he is to have found such a good friend. But, he never told us how gorgeous you are.” Eunsook says, wiping her hands on the kitchen towel that is over her shoulder.

“Yes I did,” he replies as he cracks open the bottle cap.

The warmth that radiates over your neck makes you clear your throat. He really has spoken about you to his family. It’s pretty special in your opinion. He could talk about so many other things but he chose to talk about you?

“When?” Dawon counters as she sits up on the barstool.

“All the time,” he mumbles as he throws the bottle cap into the garbage.

“All you told me was that Y/N was so beautiful and you’re so lucky that you get to spend time with her even when Taehyung and Jimin aren’t around,” your eyes find him as he pushes his sister with his shoulder like a warning.

“Yeah… Well… Dad? Did you call me?” he asks, craning his neck to the living room.

“No.” Baekgu calls back but you can hear the humor lacing his voice.

“Oh, that’s so weird. I thought you definitely called me,” Hoseok says, pushing off the kitchen island with widening eyes as he scurries back to the living room.

You find yourself chuckling at his antics and you watch as the legs of your thick red wine slowly make their way back down to the glass.

“Hoseok is amazing. You raised him so well,” you tell Eunsook as she pours herself a glass of wine.

She hums in agreement watching as Hoseok sits down beside his father. “Yes. He was always such a good boy. Hopefully he can find a girlfriend that appreciates him like we all do.”

You nod slowly and it’s the first time anyone around Hoseok mentions a girlfriend. You didn’t even think of that. But, just the notion makes you uncomfortable and you gulp a large mouthful of the red wine to steady yourself.

“You’d be a good girlfriend, of course.” Dawon says flippantly as she clutches the red wine to her chest.

“Noona!” you hear Hoseok scream and all three of you laugh gently as the timer dings signifying the cookies are done baking.

Sitting down at dinner, you find yourself staring into the pot of stew as the others talk around you. Why haven't you ever given much thought to Hobi who’s been by your side for so long now? Eunsook bringing up him getting a girlfriend earlier seemed so far beyond your imagination. But, you couldn’t even imagine him being in a relationship. You couldn’t imagine him not being with you or the other guys anymore. You couldn’t imagine him not being by your side.

“You’re thinking too hard.” Hoseok whispers in your ear.

“Huh?” you ask as you turn your head to him.

“Eat.” He murmurs with a smile, nodding his head to your bowl. You hum in response as you pick up your spoon.

You feel his knee press against your thigh and it’s become a constant that you welcome so dearly. It grounds you, in all honesty. Brings you back to reality.

“So, Y/N. Seok tells me that your parents went on vacation for Christmas.” Baekgu says as he sets down his spoon.

Clearing your throat, you look up at him. “Yeah. My parents don’t really like the cold or… festivities so they usually just go away for most major holidays.” You reply as you tuck into your stew.

Eunsook hums curiously and you know you should probably feel embarrassed but you’re already so comfortable here that it doesn’t seem to bother you as much.

“Well, you can come here for any holidays. If Hoseok starts coming without you then I’ll be very sad. You’re a great girl,” his mother says with a smile.

This is family. And, you can’t believe you’ve never really had one before.

Hoseok smirks down into his bowl before pouring you another glass of wine. “See. Told you,” he whispers in your ear.

By the end of the evening, you found yourself laughing loudly and listening attentively which is something that doesn’t come easily to you.

Hoseok probably has never heard you laugh so earnestly and the noise is just as gorgeous as you are.

Leaning back against the arm of the couch, he watches you as you listen to Dawon. God, you don’t even know how amazing you are. But, he does. He always has known. You were in every one of his classes and he found it so difficult to pay attention with you around him.

You were so opinionated. So smart. So beautiful. You were everything he loved and you couldn't even see it.

He smiles as you press your thigh against his knee. Even if he could only ever be your friend, he’d be okay with that because being around you was worth it all. Every single second.

“So Hoseok thinks it would be funny to throw my favorite doll out the window. So what do I do? I threw his action figures up onto the roof and he was crying for hours and hours until dad went up with a ladder to go grab them.” Dawon says animatedly and you giggle along with Eunsook as she tells the story.

Turning your head to Hobi, you find he’s already staring at you. His cinnamon irises are alight with warmth and joy. It makes something bloom inside of you, something so precious and perfect.

“She’s missing out on the detail where I threw her doll out the window because she tripped me up the stairs,” he mumbles as he brings his beer bottle to his lips.

"It was an accident!" she counters from underneath the Christmas tree.

"I was five. Nothing was an accident back then," he chuckles as you giggle, leaning back into the comfort of the couch.

"Yeah, well I was nine and it was an accident."

You hear them continue to bicker as you stare at the fireplace. The embers burn hot, rising high into the air. You watch the logs crackle, small veins burning bright oranges and reds. Feeling Hoseok's hand absentmindedly pressing to your back, you tilt your head to the lip of the couch.

You wouldn't want him to get a girlfriend. You wouldn't want to be without him.

He takes away all your loneliness and your pain. He makes you smile and he makes you happy. He makes you think that just being in his presence, it's like being with someone that's your own.

"Let's go up to bed," he whispers in your ear.

You force yourself to sit up, eyes ripping away from the fire.

"Good night," you tell his parents and they reply with the same.

"Use prot-" Dawon's voice is cut off by Hoseok as he follows you to the stairs.

"Noona!" he calls quickly, narrowing his eyes at her as she giggles.

"My sister can be annoying sometimes. I'm sorry," he says as he closes the bedroom door behind you both.

You smile fondly as you sit down on the bed. "I really like your sister. She's incredible."

He hums with a chuckle as he takes off his shirt.

"Yeah. Okay," he quips back.

Your eyes rake over his toned upper body. The way his abs press against his golden skin has you averting your eyes so quickly. Suddenly, it feels like it's a thousand degrees in here.

"Why'd you invite me?" you find yourself asking as he throws on an oversized t-shirt.

Stopping in his tracks to the bathroom, he turns on one heel to look at you.

"Because you deserve to be with loving people for the holidays or just in general, really," he answers you with a raised eyebrow.

"So you were taking pity on me? I'm a charity case," you whisper.

Maybe it's all the wine or maybe it's just how insecure you truly are but this is coming out of nowhere and you can't stop it.

"What? No. Of course I'm not taking pity on you. I wanted to spend Christmas with you," he replies, confused.

"Really? Because it feels like maybe you're just entertaining me because I had nowhere to go. Maybe you should have brought a girlfriend or something!"

Ah, there it is. It's jealousy. The combination of jealousy and wine is not a fearsome friend to you, apparently.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" he asks, appalled as he leans against the door frame of his bathroom.

"You should have brought Hana or Jaeeun with you, they like you and want to be your girlfriend," you say as your toes dig into the carpeting beneath you.

He scoffs loudly, his head lolling back at the simple mention of the other girls.

"I don't want Hana or Jaeeun to meet my fucking parents! I wanted you to meet my parents!" he counters as he walks towards you.

"Why me? So I could see what I'm missing in my own family?!" you ask, standing up.

"No! I wanted you to meet my family because I fucking love you!" he yells as he steps in front of you.

Oh.

You blink slowly at his confession. The only sound in the room is his ragged breathing and you stare at his neck as it begins to flush pink.

"Jesus Christ," he mumbles, his fingers carding through his hair as he takes a deep breath.

He goes to walk away but you grab onto his shirt to keep him in front of you.

"You love me?" you ask softly, almost as if you can't believe what you've heard.

"Yeah. Of course I fucking do. Don't be ridiculous. I've always loved you, since Advanced Science in freshman year. I was so pissed when Jaemin asked you out before I could. And then I was even more pissed when that son of bitch cheated on you. Because you don't deserve that. You deserve everything. And even if I'm just your friend, I still try to give it to you," his admission is like a loaded hand grenade that's been thrown at your feet.

"Hobi," you whisper and he runs his hands over his face.

"I don't want your pity or whatever it is you think you're going to give me," he mumbles as his eyes flutter shut.

Looking up at his face, you watch his perfectly shaped lips part for breath. You've always been so dense to not realize it. Everything that he does when you're together, it's all for you. It's all to make you smile. To make you happy.

Standing up on the tips of your toes, you press your lips to his. He shudders against your lips, eyes widening for a second before cupping the sides of your head.

He pulls you closer, deepening the kiss as his thumbs graze over the apples of your cheeks.

With a gentle sigh, you feel your body relax and melt against his.

He's always been for you. Even if it's taken you this long to understand.

"Y/N." Hobi whispers against your lips confused but you silence him again with another kiss.

He moans against your lips gently, pushing you down into the bed as his fingers intertwined into your hair.

"What are you telling me?" he asks as you run your hand over his arms.

"That I'm yours," you reply.

That was the first holiday he brought love into your heart.

Every holiday afterwards was just as perfect.

He kept up stupid traditions that were so corny that you couldn't help but love. Even making Arbor day special. Yeah. Arbor day. He bought a sapling just for you both to plant on the campus before you graduated so there was always something blooming from where you first met.

He's lovesick and adoring. And, he's all yours.

You loved spending Christmas and Chuseok with him. You've grown to love his family like your own and even five years later nothing has changed. He was so perfectly yours every second of the day.

"Baby girl," you hear from the bedroom. Your head turns to your husband's voice and you smile at how whiney he sounds.

"What's wrong?" you ask as you get up from the couch.

"What sounds better, deck my balls or stop staring at my presents?" Hoseok asks as he holds up two of his ugly Christmas sweaters.

You grimace, leaning against the doorjamb as he smiles widely.

"You are not wearing those to the cabin," you tell him.

With a pout, he tosses the sweaters onto your bed. "And, why not? They're festive."

"They're an abomination. If you wear those sweaters, I'm not sucking your dick until the New Year," you retort as he wraps his arms around you.

"No ugly sweaters. Got it. Yes, ma'am," he mumbles as he leans down to kiss you. Giggling into the kiss, you wrap your arms around his neck.

"I feel bad that we aren't going to your parents this year," you whisper against him and he wrinkles his nose cutely at your words.

"Well, we should have a Christmas all to ourselves sometimes too, baby. We're married now, we have to make traditions for ourselves too," you hum in agreement as he hugs you tightly.

"Can I bring the 'it's not going to lick itself' candy cane shirt?" he asks with a gorgeous smile.

"I will hit you," you threaten as he pulls away.

Holding up his hands, he chuckles to himself before going back to packing your bags.

The journey up to the cabin is peaceful. You stare at the snow covered limbs on the trees as you continue to drive down the long road.

You feel Hobi squeeze your hand and your eyes are on him in seconds.

"I love spending the holidays with you," he says, bringing your hand up to his lips.

With a smile, you angle your body closer to his upon instinct.

"I kind of really love you," you tell him as he looks over at you.

"Such a weird coincidence. I was thinking I kind of loved you too," he jokes as he looks back at the road.

Pulling up to the cabin, you take in the absolute splendor of it. It's so simplistic and so welcoming. Icicles and snow dot the edges of the awning. You breathe a happy sigh, your breath fogging up in front of you signifying just how cold it is.

Pulling your coat tighter to your body, you watch the man you love gather the multitude of bags from the back of the car.

"Let me help you," you insist as you walk around the car.

"Back off, woman. This is your man's job to do.” Rolling your eyes, you fold your arms as he drapes bag strap after bag strap over his upper body.

"Carry this," he says, handing you a bag of groceries.

You feel the light weight of it before peeking inside.

"This just has bread in it," you say confused.

"Exactly. You hold the bread," he says finitely before slamming the trunk down.

Tossing you the keys to the cabin, he looks up at the wooden house before smiling.

"This is perfect," he whispers to himself.

"Fuck, it's cold." You complain as you enter the cabin. The wooden boards creak under your feet as you step inside. It's so homey in here. So completely domestic.

"Can you put the groceries away while I light a fire?" Hoseok asks you sweetly.

You nod with a giddy smile as he throws your bags down on the large bed.

The fake Christmas tree is kind of adorable with lights strung up in the corner as well as all of the gingham patterns that surround you.

"How do I light this?" Hoseok calls and you snort gently as you start unpacking the groceries.

"With gasoline?" you ask confused, tossing stuff into the fridge.

"You want me to blow up the cabin? I got a renter's fee,” he asks appalled and you shrug with a chuckle.

You watch him as he crouches before the fireplace, how breathtaking he is. You can feel your stomach flipping and coiling with each passing second as you stare.

You were his and he is yours.

When he turns to you and he gives you a smile, you can see the small dimple below his bottom lip that sends a smile spreading over your own face.

He's always had the most gorgeous bone structure. His cheekbones are so high and the apples of his cheeks are so plump in all the right ways.

You find yourself leaning down on the counter with your elbows as your fists tuck beneath your chin.

"Hey!" he cheers as the wood catches on fire.

You giggle, watching as he thrusts his hand in the air.

Shrugging off his coat, he stands up tall. His body proportions are so astounding.

Finally, his eyes meet yours and he tilts his head to you. His eyes flutter shut as he gives you a wide smile.

"You're such a bad worker," he jeers as he walks toward you.

You hum in agreement as you stand back up.

He helps you toss the rest of your groceries into the fridge before wrapping his arms around your waist as you slam the refrigerator closed.

"This is perfect," he whispers in your ear, pressing his chest to your back.

With a smirk, you look around the cabin and you find it hard to disagree.

"Everything with you is perfect," you reply as he squeezes you tight.

"Now you're just saying that to flatter me," he jokes into your ear.

Cuddling up on the sofa, you lay your head on his shoulder as you watch Home Alone. It's a Christmas tradition for Hobi you've come to love. He's watched it every year since he was six.

"They've got good reception up here," he announces as you sip your wine.

"Yeah, they d-" Fatal last words as the electricity cuts out.

Hoseok sits up as the cabin creaks loudly with the sounds of harsh blowing winds.

His head turns to the window and you crawl off of him.

"Oh no," he mumbles, walking towards the windows.

Pulling back the curtains, you watch as large snowflakes fall onto the ground.

"It's a blizzard," he tells you with a wince.

Standing up, you sip your wine as you walk to his side.

The snow is piling up generously and you have a dull, nervous feeling aching throughout your chest.

Your husband gets to work, lighting candles around the cabin like it's his job.

"This is what happens when we don't go to your parents’ house," you sing as you help him light a few candles.

"This is going to ruin my plans," he grumbles to himself before throwing another log into the fire.

Opening the front door to the cabin, you can feel the harsh chill as it whips around outside.

"Oh Hoseok!" you call to him and he turns to the doorway before sighing gently.

There's a wall of snow built up at the door and it looks like you would not be going anywhere for awhile.

"We're snowed in," he mutters before running his fingers through his hair.

You decide to close the door as another breeze bursts through. Turning to your husband, you watch as he picks at some skin on his lip.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart," you can hear the sadness enrapturing his voice and it's jarring.

It's rare to ever hear him sad. You don't like it.

"It's okay. We can just lay down and cuddle," you say, setting down your glass of wine on the counter.

You open up your arms to him, wanting a hug and wanting to give him some peace of mind.

He pulls you in, cradling your head to his chest with his hand as he looks around the dim cabin.

"I had plans for us. To go out and build a snowman. To go into town tomorrow and watch the caroling," he murmurs, dejectedly.

You hum as you pull him over to the large bed. "Christmas with you is perfect just on it's own. I don't need all those things to be happy. I have you."

It astounds him sometimes how much you've broken out of your shell.

He pulls back the gingham comforter, letting you crawl into bed first. And then, he's quick to crawl in behind you.

His arm wraps around your waist as he presses his chest flush to your back.

Your fingers begin to play with his, staring at the olden looking paintings that line the walls.

"I can remember the first time I ever saw you," Hoseok whispers in your ear as he cuddles closer to you.

A smirk begins to spread on your face as he kisses the shell of your ear.

"It was in Biology. You were wearing a black hoodie and those black skinny jeans. You didn't have a backpack and you didn't even have a pen. You flipped your notebook open and just fell asleep," you giggle at his words, hearing his smile widen with each word he says.

"I did like to sleep in Biology," you quip.

"But, you always passed the class. You never got lower than a ninety on a test. I was jealous, I used to think to myself, 'Damn. This woman is so fucking smart.' Then I saw you in Advanced Science. That's where you really paid attention. You used to twirl your hair and your finger when you were thinking hard about something," you hum as your eyes flutter shut.

The warmth of his breath spreads over your neck as he buries his face.

"I told Taehyung the first day I saw you without even knowing you were his best friend, 'I'm gonna marry that woman. I'm gonna have kids with her.' I was so… enraptured by you," he breathes out as his hand splays over your stomach.

You can only smile as he presses his hips harder to your backside.

"I was so fucking angry when that guy broke your heart… I can't even remember his name anymore but, I can remember how hurt you were. How broken you were and you didn't deserve it in the least. I wanted to fucking kill him," his hand begins to trail below the hem of your shirt and you shiver at how chilly his skin is.

"I was so fucking happy when you were coming home with me for Christmas our first year. You were so nervous. But, I knew you would love my family and that they would love you. I used to talk about you all the time. My mom would ask me how school was and my first thought would be to tell her how much fun I had with you during a study session or something," your eyes flutter shut as his hand ascends.

"Sounds like you were too busy paying attention to girls than to focus on school," you joke breathlessly as you press your ass against his crotch.

You can hear him moan gently against your ear, his perfect teeth graze your lobe and your lips press into a straight line.

"Then you got into that fight with me in my bedroom. Telling me to take other girls home with me for the holidays. I was so angry that you would even insinuate something like that. And then… then you kissed me. And, I melted. Like snow on the first day of spring," he nibbles on your lobe, his growing erection digging into the globe of your ass.

You moan gently as you feel him grow hard behind you. Your stomach begins to flare with desire. Loins curling with aching need.

"I remember the first time I ever touched your body. You were wearing a blood red thong. Your skin was so flushed for me. Begging me to touch you," his breath is heavier now and you can hear him groan wantonly at the memory.

His hand cups your breast, squeezing gently as he kisses over your shoulder.

"You were so hard," you reply as he presses his now fully hardened erection between your ass cheeks.

"You always make me so fucking hard," he retorts as his free hand pulls yours to his crotch.

"Oh," you whisper breathlessly as he ruts against your palm.

You can feel the thin fabric of his pajamas becoming wet and sticky with precum. Rolling his tongue over your neck, he flips you onto your back.

In the fireplace glow, you watch his black hair fall into his eyes. His pupils blown out with lust, the cinnamon irises you love so deeply growing smaller by the second.

His perfect lips part and his eyes fall to your lips. They linger for a second before he's kissing you passionately.

The tip of his tongue licks over the seam of your lips and you part for him with a whine. His hand grips your breast harder, groaning long and low into the kiss as his tongue runs over yours.

Your hips buck up, your arousal starting to seep from you. You can feel your pussy clenching around nothing, begging to be filled by your husband.

He pulls away for only a second, taking off his shirt with hurried hands before he's kissing you once more.

Your fingers graze over his golden skin, the feeling producing goosebumps on his body.

You can remember how gorgeous his chest was when you were in his childhood bedroom that first Christmas. How his abs pressed and flexed beneath his skin. Nothing has changed.

Running your fingertips over the plains of his stomach, he gasps into your mouth gently, a carnal needy sound that sends you whimpering below him.

"Oh fuck," he whispers through gritted teeth.

You can smell his gentle cologne as his lips drift over your jawline. He smells of alderwood and citrus. The scent is so wholly him and so perfect.

"Get this off," you hear him command in your ear as he tugs on your tank top.

With a whimper, you sit up on your elbows discarding the fabric and his eyes harden at the state of you beneath him.

"Fuck," he curses before his lips are back on your skin.

Your legs part for him as he situates himself between them. His hands reach behind your back as he kisses down the column of your neck, slowly pulling down your bra straps.

He leaves his marks, pretty red and pink patches that signify you as his.

"I want everything with you. I want it all," he whispers against your collarbone.

"You have me," you reply as you card your fingers through his hair.

"I want to have a baby," he says as he pulls away from your skin.

Your heart begins to thud faster in the recesses of your chest. You've mentioned it in passing, you've commented on it in short spurts but you've never talked about it.

If it just happened, it happened. But, to hear him say it. For those words to pass his lips, you can feel yourself almost becoming euphoric.

"I want you to have my baby inside of you. Want to feel my baby growing in your belly," his voice is almost a plea and your hips lift at the needy sound.

"Yes," you reply.

His lips are on your fiercely once more, kissing your lips red and raw as he tugs off your bra with feral desire.

His hands palm your breasts, thumbs lovingly swiping over your hardening nipples. Gasping into his mouth, he swallows the sound.

He kisses down the valley of your breasts and you can feel his erection throbbing with desire against your clothed thigh.

"God, you're so beautiful, sweetheart," he sounds almost drunk off of his desires and you lick your reddened lips as he lowers his head.

His tongue runs circles over your nipple, your back arches with a moan and he wastes no time sliding his hand beneath your back to hold you up against him.

His lips pluck at your nipple, free hand pinching and rolling the other dexterously between his fingertips.

You feel almost crazy from his love. You can feel the desire pumping through your veins like each and every time before.

"Hobi!" you whimper out as your head lolls back.

"That's it, sweetheart," he whispers above your breast before showing the same treatment to the other.

You feel so hyper aware, especially when his hand glides over your stomach and downward. He pulls at the hem of your leggings, letting the fabric slap back to your skin with a gentle sting. You gasp with anticipation, your hips wiggling at the simple thought of being naked before him.

"Behave, sweetheart," he reminds you and you bite your lower lip, raising your hips patiently.

He kisses over the skin of your stomach, fingers enmeshing in the sides of your leggings and underwear before tugging roughly.

Strings of arousal break and cling to your thighs and your sodden lower lips.

"There she is," he mumbles, throwing your pants over your shoulder flippantly.

His back bows down, arms looping over your thighs locking you in place.

Licking his lips, he looks over your body like you're a meal. Your skin is flushed with wanting and your pussy begins to weep at the sight of him between your thighs.

"What do you want, sweetheart?" he asks rhetorically, just to hear the words fall from your lips.

You open your mouth to reply but it isn't fast enough for his liking, slapping the sensitive skin on your inner thigh. You mewl loudly, back bowing off the bed as you spread your legs wider.

"I want you to eat my pussy. It hurts," you whine, nestling your fingers in his hair.

He hums gently, watching your breath hitch in your throat. He gives you a smirk, one that sends your sex weeping more for him.

He rears his head back, his index and middle finger splaying open your lips with a V motion.

"Your little clit is so swollen, baby. You want me to touch you?" he teases and you nod enthusiastically as you grip his hair harder.

He groans softly at the feeling, his eyes on your breasts as he spits on your sodden cunt.

You shiver at the feeling, lips parting for air as he watches his spittle mix with your arousal.

"God, you're fucking soaked," his voice is that of wonder. You sink down into the bed as he licks a flat stripe up your swollen cunt.

Whimpering his name, your eyes flutter shut.

"Open your eyes. Watch me eat your pretty pussy so well," he commands.

With opening eyes, you moan loudly as he begins to ravage you. His tongue is so fast against your cunt, flicking and pressing into your swollen clit.

"H-Hobi! Fuck!" you cry out as your legs try to press to either side of his head.

His biceps ripple and strain as he holds you apart, suckling and flicking at your bundle of nerves. You find yourself babbling almost incoherently, begging for more as your hips raise.

"Filthy little thing," he whispers against your cunt, his hand leaves your thigh to finger at your tight entrance.

He teases you for what feels like an eternity before thrusting a finger inside of you.

"So tight," he sounds breathless, his cheeks and lips tainted with your arousal.

The sight is almost a visual overload, your hips buck and a loud whine emits from you as you look down at him.

Curling his finger up, he watches how blissed out you are before him. His cock strains against the fabric of his pajamas and he moans softly against your throbbing bud.

"Tell me how much you want my baby," he commands before spitting on your twitching sex.

You can feel your insides bubbling, your stomach flipping and feeling heavy within you as your orgasm approaches.

With a muddled mind and hoarse voice you reply, "S-So badly. Want to have your baby so badly, H-Hobi. I want to give you a baby."

Pleased with your answer, he slides a second finger into your heat. His fingers brush against the soft patch of nerves within you so fast, you feel the air escaping your lungs at a rapid pace.

"You beg to cum for me, sweetheart. Don't forget that. I own this pussy," he reminds you as he pinches your clit.

He watches your hips roll, he hears his name tumble out of your lips like a prayer and he knows just how close to release you are.

When you give him your pleasure, it's like art. So beautiful and so defined.

"Who does this pussy belong to?"

"Y-You! Only you!" you whine as your eyes squeeze shut.

You can feel the pleasure course through your bones. You can feel your mouth going dry as the bubble inside of you threatens to burst.

"Wanna cum! Please! So close!" you beg as you grip his hair harder.

He can feel your pussy clenching around his fingers rhythmically, begging to release.

"Hold it," he instructs as he pinches your clit once more.

Shaking your head, pleasurable tears spring to your eyes. "Want to cum so badly for you. Want to have my pussy open for your cock and cum."

He shivers at your words, tongue lapping at your arousal like a man starved.

"Hobi… Baby, please! I need to cum!" you beg your husband as he adds a third finger.

He watches your chest heave, your breasts thrust up to the sky with stiff peaked nipples that beg for attention. Was there anyone more gorgeous? He can't possibly think so.

"Cum," he commands and you fall back down to the bed.

You orgasm around his fingers, your moans echo off of the cabin walls as you call his name.

With spotty eyes and deaf ears, you can feel him pull out of you.

You feel drunk from pleasure, your head swimming. Hoseok wipes the tears off your cheeks, entering his cum soaked fingers into his mouth.

He moans at your taste, licking up every drop of arousal he can get.

"Shit, you taste so fucking good," he whispers.

Sitting up on your elbows, you focus on his crotch. His fingers hook into the sides of his pants before tugging them down roughly.

His cock slaps headily to his stomach and you lick your lips at the sight.

Long and thick, his cock stands erect. It's always a welcome sight to see. The way his rose veins pepper the length and the way his bulbous head is a needy shade of pink.

Your mouth waters as the seam of his cock begins to spurt more precum. You watch it traipse down lazily towards his balls with rapt fascination.

"Come here," he whispers softly, sitting back on the balls of his feet.

His hands palm your breasts, fingertips plucking at your nipples as you kiss over his chest.

He sighs so gently, almost in disbelief that you're still in front of him naked five years later.

"I can't wait till your tits swell with milk. I want to taste it," he sounds so hopeful, so absolutely enraptured in his dream.

As you lick over his abs, he takes in a sharp breath through his teeth. His eyes rolling back as he palms your breasts rougher.

"Y/N," he moans softly and you practically mewl at the sound.

You take his cock in hand, feeling it twitch with need. He groans loudly as you begin to pump along his shaft, feeling his velvety smooth skin quiver with wanting.

Hoseok grips your hair, making a make-shift ponytail for you before running his thumb over your cheekbone.

"I love you," his words are so sincere, dripping with ardent desire.

"I love you too," you reply.

Swirling your tongue around the head of his cock, you moan at the taste of his precum. You can feel his shudder above you, gripping your hair harder. Tucking his bottom lip between his teeth, he whimpers as you slide down his shaft.

Your cheeks hollow and your hand jerks whatever doesn't fit into your mouth, sending your husband above you murmuring your name incessantly.

"Oh shit. Just like that. Your mouth feels so fucking good. Christ," he cries out as you work assiduously on his cock.

His ragged breathing sends your loins unfurling once more, begging to be touched by the man you call your own.

"Can I fuck your pretty mouth? Please," you hum in agreement, eyes fluttering shut as he wraps his hand around your head.

The first thrust is gentle, trying to pry open your throat for him. You sputter gently on him, eyes welling up with tears as you grip his thighs.

"Fuck, you look so hot. I love fucking my cock into your mouth," his thumb brushes away a tear as it trails down your cheek.

His thrusts begin to get rougher, his moans become louder. Lapping your tongue along the base of him, you feel your heart swell every time he moans or curses above you.

"Wait until your belly gets nice and big. I'm gonna use you like a little cocksleeve. Bet you'd like that wouldn't you, sweetheart? Me gripping your belly while you take my cock deep into your throat," you moan around him, excited by the idea. The vibrations your moans shoot through him makes his cock twitch in the recesses of your mouth.

"Stop, sweetheart, stop." he instructs as he tugs your hair gently.

Pulling away from him, you raise an eyebrow.

"Was it not okay?" you ask softly.

He shushes you with his lips, arms coddling around you to lay you down.

"It was perfect. I'm saving my cum for your pussy."

Spreading your legs wider with his knees, he kisses you so passionately you think your heart might have stopped.

"Shit," he whispers against your lips.

Prodding the tip of his cock to your entrance, he simply loses himself in your presence.

How long and often he's adored you before you even knew. How lucky he is to have you now.

Entering you slowly, your mouth drops open at how completely full you feel. He grunts gently at the feeling of your velvet walls around him. He kisses you leisurely, taking his time to shower you in pleasure.

Drifting his hand over your womb, he moans your name.

"Fuck baby, look at how tight your pussy is. I can see how big my cock is," he says, drawing your attention to where you're met. You can see the outline of his cock clearly within you and it sets your loins ablaze.

He groans when your cunt throbs around him, "You're going to take my baby, aren't you, sweetheart? Get nice and pregnant for me?"

You nod incessantly as he sits up on his knees. Pulling almost all the way out of you, he slaps your clit with his fingers. Raising an eyebrow, he looks you in the eye.

"Words, sweetheart. You know this," he chides as you squirm on his cock.

"Y-Yes. I'm going to take your cum and get pregnant for you. Get really big with your baby."

Pleased with your words, he thrusts deep inside of you.

Your legs hook around his hips, moaning his name like a prayer as he begins an unrelenting pace.

"Fuck, you're so tight! Shit!" he cries out.

You can feel the emotional pull then, this sexual encounter has so much meaning. Making love to Hoseok was always special but the intent behind this experience is overwhelming.

"God, you're so incredible. Who does this pussy belong to?" he asks, punctuating each word with a harsh thrust.

Hooking your ankles over his shoulders, you preen loudly as each thrust hits the soft spot within you.

"You do! You own my pussy! It's all yours!" you cry out as you grip the bedsheets on either side of you.

"That's fucking right I do," he seethes through his teeth.

The sound of wild winds hitting the cabin walls is drowned out by the fiercely pornographic moaning and obscene squelching of your cunt getting fucked,

Your husband presses one hand to your womb, letting the full feeling of his cock inside overwhelm you, and the other situated at the apex of your thighs. He rubs quick, rough circles to your clit, adoring how high and short your moans are getting.

Your cunt flutters around him, sending his eyes rolling back once more as he fucks you faster.

"Beg for it," he reminds you, a breathy moan attached to the end as his head lolls back.

He knows you so well, he can practically sense what's next.

"P-Please!" you moan feebly, your knuckles go white as your pleasure courses through you.

"That's my good girl. Fuck, you look so pretty on my cock, sweetheart. You look so gorgeous when you're about to burst," you gasp gently, the bubble inside of you expanding to the point of popping.

"Hobi, pl-please!" you beg, letting go of the sheets to grab his arms.

"Cum for me, baby. Cum on my cock, show me how badly you want my child," he concedes as his balls begin to tighten.

Your eyes scrunch closed as you orgasm the second time, you can faintly feel your arousal squirting onto his cock and thighs.

"Shit. That's so hot, good girl, sweetheart," he moans, letting up on his thrusts before pulling out.

You whine at the loss. Eyes opening, albeit they're heavy with drunken lust.

"Turn over for me," your husband whispers in your ear, staving off his oncoming orgasm by kissing and suckling the skin of your neck.

With a gentle sigh, you turn over for him. Perching your ass in the air, you bury your face into the pillow.

"God, I'm so fucking lucky," Hobi says as his fingertips drift over your swollen cunt.

Gripping your hips roughly, he pulls you back to his cock without another word.

Spanking your ass hard, you can barely let out a gasp as he sinks back into your heat.

He curses loudly, rubbing the now smarting skin on the globe of your ass.

He doesn't relent as he pulls you back onto his cock. His hand reaches from your ass to the back of your neck before he's gripping with fervent need.

"God, fuck!" he curses through his teeth.

You can only feebly whimper his name into the pillow.

"You're gonna cum again for me," he insists, snaking his hand around your thigh.

"No, Hobi. It's too much!" you cry out.

"You can take it, sweetheart," he whispers and you gasp gently at the feeling of his cock throbbing so quickly inside of you.

"I can't wait until your belly is nice and big. Let everyone know I fucked my baby into you. You're gonna look so fucking gorgeous with a big belly and those pretty milk filled tits," murmuring his name incessantly, you lift your head as he rubs circles on your clit.

Looking behind you, you take in the beauty that is your husband. A thin sheen of sweat is on his body, his sideburns and bangs are stuck to his face as he fucks you for all your worth.

His eyes meet yours and your pussy clenches around his cock at the sight. With half lidded eyes, he tucks his bottom lip between his teeth.

"Hobi," you whine, tears of pleasure filling your vision as he brings you closer to your third orgasm.

"That's it, sweetheart. Say my fucking name," his hand grips harder at the back of your neck.

"Come here," he groans out, lifting your body to press flush to his chest.

Pressing his hand softly to your throat, his thumb pushes your chin towards him. Kissing you fast and rough, he groans into your mouth.

"Cum," he commands and you fall apart as his will.

His arms encircle you, keeping you upright as he fucks into you.

"Oh, baby. I'm cumming! Fuck! I'm cumming! Take it deep. Give me a baby," you hear him moan loudly in your ear. He presses his forehead to your temple, his thrusts becoming erratic and slow.

He whispers your name once more before he stills within you, finally.

You can feel the warmth of his cum rush into you as he fucks rope after rope inside.

"Oh my God," he grumbles breathlessly.

He pulls you down with him onto the bed and you can't keep yourself from giggling as he holds you so tight.

The sound of the wind is the only thing that draws both of you back to reality.

"I hope we get pregnant," he whispers into your neck.

Humming in agreement, you look out the window as snow continues to fall.

"Me too," you reply truthfully.

His fingers trace undefinable shapes on your stomach as he kisses your shoulder.

"As nice as this is maybe next year we should just go to my parents," he says with a chuckle.

Laughing along with him, you turn your body.

"Maybe that would be best," you say, jutting your thumb towards the snow covered window.

"But, hopefully we'll have a baby to bring with us next year," you can hear the hopefulness in his tone.

You can see his excitement in his tired eyes.

Christmas with Hoseok really isn't so bad.

Snowed In Taglist- @sunkissed725

#snowed in #christmas collab #rockin' around the christmas tropes #ficswithluv #thebtswritersclub #btscreatorscorner #btswritingcafe #hoseok smut #best friends to lovers #impreg kink #hoseok x you #hoseok x y/n

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avversiera-writes · 3 years

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touch your heart [senju tobirama/you] - prologue + chapter 1

Summary: Hashirama might go down as the worst matchmaker in history, but he thinks he might be on to something. Tobirama sees through his brother's schemes and is determined not to fall for it. Or fall for you.

Word Count: 5k-ish

A/N: Yoooo sorry for taking this long to post it LMAOOO anyways, this work is available on AO3 with 12 chapters in, so if you want to read away!

also dedicating this post to @senju-sekhmet you’re the best, and happy belated XD

AO3 LINK FOR TOUCH YOUR HEART

LINK FOR THE REST OF THE SERIES

[PROLOGUE]

Thank you.

Those two words are what Tobirama’s mother seemed to tell his father all the time. She looked grateful saying it too. Too grateful to the point that she is cooped up in the Senju compound all the time, with nowhere to go. Tobirama was a smart kid–too smart for his own good–and he saw that the last place she wants to be was here, with family and raising children in this godforsaken war zone.

His mother said that was how she met his father, and how she fell in love with him, by the words of gratefulness, but Tobirama is a smart kid. He knew nothing of love, but he could tell that his mother did not love his father. She mistook feelings of gratitude as feelings of love.

His mother has a cold face, but she was gentle and fierce and was a great story-teller. She told stories of the great mountains and rivers that she has seen before everything fell into disarray. His mother loved art, books, and knowledge. She always encouraged Tobirama and his brothers to pursue their own curiosities beyond war.

Tobirama always took that to heart. Sure, his body and his mind are well-suited for battle but his interests lie elsewhere. He loves to explore, to discover, to observe and to experiment to prove something foreign to him. He loves to break down something to its smallest detail and build it back up to make something new. He wants to create.

Thank you.

Those were two words that were too much for his mother to bear all her life. It weighed on her. It chained her down.

Thank you.

Those were her last words to Tobirama.

Thank you, for being my son, for letting me be your mother.

Those were two words that stuck to him like a curse. They were binding, until the bitter end.

[PART ONE, CHAPTER ONE]

The first time Tobirama sees you, he immediately forms the opinion that you are too loud. Loud, in a sense that everything that passes by you, has to pay attention to you. Loud, in a sense that, when you speak, everyone has to hang by your every word. You are too loud, and he immediately concludes that you will not last long in a battle because you seem like an easy target. It is not like him to make fast conclusions without further observation, but you are just so loud that he wants to immediately shut down his senses.

So loud in fact, that even among the crowd, Tobirama cannot help but look your way and be wary of your presence.

Contrary to what he thinks, you are not that much of a blabbermouth nor a person who speaks aimlessly, but he does not know you yet. He has not even had a chance to look you straight in the face.

Today, he finds you standing by an umbrella stand, where a dozen colorful and detailed parasols are opened as a display to passerbys. You are in your casual kimono, and because it is spring, there are lovely pink cherry blossoms etched on your left sleeve, spreading towards your chest. Your obi cinches your waist and holds your sword by your side, so that it is easy to rest your hand on top of the hilt. Your hair is held back from your face with a simple hairpiece, and a festival fox mask hangs on the side of your head.

Tobirama stares, not having anything else to look at.

Hashirama and Madara are also walking around, greeting the citizens of Konoha, and holding children up in the air. Hashirama’s young sons follow closely behind, playfully roughhousing each other and anyone who happens to get in their way.

Hashirama notices his brother, glaring at a distant point and decides to step in lest Tobirama accidentally offends someone. He knows that his brother does not mean to glower at times. It’s just his eyes are a bit sensitive to the sun.

At least, that is the reason, most of the time.

Tobirama immediately looks away from you, but Hashirama already saw who he was looking at. He gives Tobirama a curious smile.

“What?” Tobirama deadpans.

“You should go talk to her,” Hashirama suggests. “You seem interested.”

Tobirama folds his arms. “No.”

Hashirama opens his mouth to add another thing, but Tobirama beats him to it.

“Brother, I said no,” Tobirama affirms, and that was that.

Hashirama sighs, and pouts a little. “She’s nice!”

Tobirama fakes a cough, making sure to spit out the words idiot clearly, and he crosses his arms. “You think everyone is nice.”

“Well, innocent until proven guilty, as they say!”

Tobirama glances back at you, and finds that he can easily track you.

“With all due respect, elder brother, that is a very naive statement coming from you.”

Tobirama has heard of you and he stops himself from telling Hashirama that, and instead lets him point out that you were one of the newly ranked jounins and that you specialize in kenjutsu. You also have been spending your free time teaching some of the older genins the basics of close range fighting and defense.

As the Hokage, Hashirama is more than happy to get to know those who are rising to the ranks and especially those who are gifted. It means that their Academy is working, even though it hasn’t been very long since it was established. You were one of those people from a clan who are already shinobi, but had to be evaluated in order to determine your rank and the Shodaime Hokage saw how skillful you are, despite not being the most powerful user of ninjutsu. He wants Konoha to have dependable teachers who will pass on useful skills and knowledge to whoever wants to learn.

You start to walk away from the umbrella stand, when suddenly a bunch of kids and teenagers rush towards you. Tobirama sees some young students in the group that he had picked himself. Hiruzen stands out among the rest, loud and rambunctious, while Danzo follows closely behind like a shadow, but as obtrusive.

“Sensei! You should join the sparring competition later! They have bokkens, you’re good with bokkens!”

You laugh, and try to back out before the others start to make your decision. “I think I will pass!”

“Aww, no!”

Tobirama watches the commotion, and then you look towards him. He freezes, as you smile at him and continue to wave him forward. Tobirama glares, because you are still waving at him but he does not know you so obviously he is not going to wave back, but suddenly Madara passes by him and Tobirama almost feels embarrassed.

Almost. He checks himself.

The wave was not meant for him.

He glimpses Madara give a small wave, and this makes him pause.

Madara waves? Tobirama almost scoffs at this, but he must keep his public appearance.

You smile warmly, and introduce Madara to the younger children who were starting to cower a little because of his serious and glum expression. Tobirama watches as you slip your arm through Madara’s arm like you have done it many times. Tobirama’s students look at each other, but they do not harbor any bad sentiments toward the Uchiha clan leader. Some of them even crack a smile at the younger children’s reactions. Madara can be a little intimidating at first, if you do not know him.

Then, you say something to the kids, earning a laugh from them and a small, tight-lipped smile from Madara.

Tobirama notices that the edges of Madara’s eyes have softened, something he only does around Hashirama.

“Are you sure you don’t want to get introduced to her? She is a very warm person,” Hashirama asks. “She’s also very smart and I think you’d benefit from her insights.”

Tobirama watches her say her goodbyes and pat a few children’s heads, and walk away. “I’m fine.”

Hashirama looks at Tobirama, doubt painted across his face, but he lets it go.

For now.

You stand in front of the Hokage, waiting for him to speak. You have been called early in the morning to meet with him, and you have been there for a few minutes, standing awkwardly. You are not sure whether to start some small talk since the Shodaime is busy peering over a few scrolls. Usually, whenever you see him, the Hokage is pretty chatty and offers a lot of kind words. He also seems to talk a lot about his younger brother to you, bragging about him and his accomplishments, and underwhelmingly explaining his personality, which you find strange.

It makes you think that there’s something off about Tobirama.

The door behind you opens and you step to the side to make a wide berth for the incoming person, even though there is enough room for at least a few more people to stand there. Tobirama walks in, his face sporting deep eyebags, but his eyes are hard and alert. You look him over, and your eyes go to his rough hands, where there are dried ink stains on his pale skin. His veins protrude out, blue and green rivers criss-crossing over his hands and up his arms. You see hints of faded scars on his skin, but in this light, his pale skin makes up for the blemishes.

“Brother,” Tobirama greets, although it sounds more like he is about to scold his elder brother.

Hashirama smiles and he motions for you to step closer.

You do, and you feel Tobirama’s eyes track you. You immediately look up and you catch his gaze, which makes him look away.

“I have a task for the two of you,” Hashirama casually brings up. He looks strangely cheerful. Like he has a step by step plan that went exactly as he wanted.

You look at the Hokage, all ears. And curious as to why he is acting this way.

“It has come to my attention that while we are training the next generation to be good shinobis, I do not think that we have a proper and standard curriculum,” Hashirama begins.

Tobirama’s head snaps upright at this. “Brother, what do you mean?”

He sounds almost angry, and well, if you were the creator of the education system in the village you built and someone had found flaws in it, you would be too.

“I think that there should be specific learning materials for each year before graduating to a genin, and so on,” Hashirama elaborates some more. “The two of you are to come up with these materials, and I want you to include other aspects that are not just related to being a shinobi. I want the next generation to not only be bred for war, but to have dispositions in other areas.”

Hashirama stands up and he places his palms on his desk. “Tobirama, you know this. You want to expand our village, I think this is a good step to make that happen.”

Tobirama looks at his brother with narrowed, suspicious eyes. He is not an idiot. He knows this is some set up, otherwise, why would his brother call you earlier than him? Why would his brother need you for this? These are the types of things he can accomplish on his own, so why are you here?

“I understand. Then, I think it is time for that to happen. We are at peace, after all.”

You slowly raise your hand. You notice that Tobirama does not even glance at you, and you want to laugh. You have heard a few things about Senju Tobirama from his own brother, and while it does not surprise you that he has a prickly attitude, it is another thing to see it upfront. It does not intimidate you, rather, it makes you want to see more of his reactions. He reminds you of the shy children that you have met in the Academy.

You just need to push the right buttons.

“If I may, Lord Hokage,” you start.

Hashirama nods for you to continue.

“With all due respect, what qualifications did I have to help Lord Tobirama with this new project?”

You swear you saw Tobirama’s eye twitch from the way you said his title. You hide your smirk by biting the side of your cheek.

Hashirama lets out a small chuckle, in which he earns a glare from his younger brother.

“I have heard about your dedication in teaching the children when you have the time, and since you insisted that you do not want to be a jounin sensei yet, like my brother is, I think it is a good idea for you to keep your head busy. Besides, I have heard you are quite the quick learner. You will find that my brother here is a very good teacher and can offer guidance well, if you can look past his mean demeanor.”

Tobirama opens his mouth to snap at his brother, but instead, takes a breath and holds his tongue.

Hashirama gathers up some documents from the corner of his desk. “You two can start tomorrow. I would love to have this done by the end of summer, just as the new school year is upon us.”

“Brother, stop being ridiculous. That is in three months,” Tobirama interjects. “I think I’m going to need time to plan.”

Hashirama glances at his brother. “Well, luckily for you, someone is here to help you. I have faith in you.”

“Too much, perhaps,” Tobirama dryly says, not even bothering to hide that he does not like this.

“And you, as well,” Hashirama says to you with a cheerful smile.

“Lord Hokage, with all due respect, am I going to get paid enough for this? I am practically jobless, I have a living to make,” you inquire with a smile. “Besides, you may also have to compensate for putting me up with your dear brother.”

In the corner of your eye, Tobirama crosses his arms.

Hashirama laughs heartily, and he gives Tobirama a grin. “I like her!” He nods. “You will surely be thanked for your services.”

He extends the pile of documents towards you and you step forward to accept them. You thank the Hokage with doubt, half-serious about the salary, but you decide to not push it today and you give him a smile. Then, you also smile at Tobirama.

“I will see you tomorrow then,” you tell him.

Tobirama carefully gazes at you, and then he nods. He turns to his brother with a determined look on his face. Or an angry look. You are honestly not sure.

“The Hokage mansion’s library,” Tobirama grounds out curtly. “9 am. Sharp.”

You look at him, wondering what type of bad day he is having to be this abrupt, or if this is how he really is. You understand that he and his brother have been at war for all of their life, so maybe this is how he has turned out.

“I will see you.” You bow quickly and walk out of there, ready to dive into the materials the Hokage gave you.

Madara aims a punch towards your way, but you quickly dodge it and block it with the palm of your hand, and you follow through by sending his movement forward by using his momentum and landing a charged punch to his lower ribs, just where his liver will be.

Madara chuckles and he flips himself away from you.

“Brutal,” Madara comments breezily. “That can actually kill someone, but fortunately I’m not just anyone.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah well, give me an A for effort.”

Madara falters and his eyes narrow at you. He knows as well as you do that you are slacking and there is a lot on your mind. “Is this about what Hashirama told you earlier?”

You meet his eyes and let out a sigh. “Wow, word travels fast.”

Madara starts to walk towards you and he gathers his hair to one side. “That was not fair of him. If you want, I can talk to him about that.”

You watch Madara’s face, and a cloud passes overhead. You are almost tempted to say yes and cling to the wings that Madara has put you under to shelter you, but you are not that woman anymore. You are not a quitter. Besides, you need to have a purpose to pour your efforts in. If not, then what else could be in store for you?

“It’s not like the Hokage asked me to cut off my hand, I will be fine, Madara,” you finally answer. “Really.”

Madara folds his arms and he presses his lips together. “If you ever need me to go beat him up then say the word.”

You cannot help the chuckle that escapes your mouth. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. There will be no need of beating.” You pause and a smirk forms on your face as an idea takes form in your mind. “However, you can help me get to know Tobirama.”

Madara scowls, knowing that you are pushing his buttons. “No, you are on your own,” he grits out.

The air around your friend changes, and suddenly all the silliness in your demeanor fades away. Your eyes narrow warily, as his face darkens at you with disapproval. You know that he still holds a grudge on Tobirama, and it really is quite low of you to mention him so casually.

Madara narrows his eyes at you and shakes his head. "You have some guts."

You point your chin towards him naughtily. "Everyone's fair game." You break out into a smile, even if Madara can decide right then and there to end your life. "You just can't take it."

Madara used to always intimidate you, and he furthered that feeling at times by showing you his sharingan, because you know, you know , what he is capable of doing with those eyes, but he never really did anything to you. It was more of the idea of what he can do to you, at any given time.

Madara stays silent for a few more moments. Then, he attempts to soften his voice. “What do you want to know?”

You raise an eyebrow at this. “Uchiha Madara is finally giving in?”

Madara rolls his eyes and he lets out a small, tight-lipped smile. "Just this once, but you are paying for lunch.”

You gasp, taking offense at this. “You do know I am broke, right?”

“Who’s fault was it for not taking my offer to live in the Uchiha compound?” Madara matches his footsteps with yours as the two of you head towards the village.

“First of all, I am not an Uchiha, your people will oust me the moment I step foot, and second, I want to make a living for myself.”

Madara rolls his eyes. “Yeah, but you’re all alone.”

“Aren’t you?” You retort without thought.

Madara falls into silence. “You know someday, you will get in trouble with that mouth of yours.”

“You just can’t handle me.”

“The offer still stands,” Madara mutters, and he glances at you. “And it’s safe there. I will make sure no one even says a bad word about you. If you are with me, they won’t even look at you.”

“That sounds like a lonely life, and you know that I have been mostly caged in my childhood.” You sigh and you bump your shoulder against his arm. “I appreciate everything you have done for me, but I have nothing, Madara. It’s time I do something for myself and invest in something bigger than me. I need that.”

The Hokage mansion is huge inside, and since you do not visit this place often, you are not sure where the said library is. It could just be any room in here. Or, there is no such thing as the library in the Hokage mansion and Tobirama just said that because he wants to avoid you and send you on a goosechase away from him. You know that he is not thrilled to be put up on this project with you, based on his expressions yesterday, but you are kind of determined to change his mind now.

Besides, you are fun and cool, something he can take notes on as he seems prudish.

You sigh as you decide to just wait for Tobirama outside, instead of wandering inside the mansion. There are still some parts being built, and you do not want to cause any trouble to the workers there.

You are quite early, hoping to beat Tobirama to the punch to solidify yourself in his good graces and show him that you are serious about this. However, due to your punctuality, the waiting time is becoming ridiculously long. Sometimes you are not big on the whole waiting patiently thing.

You sigh, and aimlessly walk around the whole building.

You hear people starting to mile about to start their day, and you hear children laughing and talking loudly among themselves, which brings a smile to your lips. You decide to stay near the entrance of the mansion so Tobirama will not have any trouble looking for you.

Lost in your thoughts, you brandish your blade from its scabbard and you start to draw stick figures on the soil, and you add little details such as trees, kunais and shurikens.

You are not sure how much Tobirama knows about you, but you have heard many things about him, mostly from his brother, both good and bad. You know that he is a great warrior and one of the most brilliant minds that his generation has seen. He is responsible for the complex system of the very village you reside in, and the Hokage’s trusted advisor, even more than Uchiha Madara, who you know is very close to Hashirama. You also know that he is a great sensei, according to his students, which you have no doubt about since he is very intelligent.

Personality wise, he remains a mystery to you. Mostly because Hashirama glosses over that when talking about him. All you know is that Tobirama can be difficult at times, but you figure that it is how one should act when you are at the forefront of leading this village.

However, you are not in the least intimidated, even if he is a little older and has experienced more in life. Now that you are going to be working with him more, you are curious as to what the famed Senju Tobirama is really all about.

“I hope I did not keep you waiting,” Tobirama’s rough voice interrupts the quiet that you have immersed yourself in.

You perk up, and put your sword back with a loud click. He glances down at the ground, where you have made silly stick figures of shinobis fighting. You attempt to erase them with your foot.

“Not at all!” You lie, but Tobirama sees through that and he narrows his eyes suspiciously.

His serious face does not change, and instead you think he grew even more serious. He nods and gestures towards the mansion. He clutches the books and the scrolls he has close to his body.

“Shall we?”

You follow Tobirama towards the entrance, trying to keep up with his long strides, though he seems to be speeding up on purpose. Finally, he unlocks the library doors and opens them wide. The two of you step in, and you cannot help but feel underwhelmed at the great reveal of the Hokage mansion’s library.

It is bare, with a lone wooden table and three chairs situated next to the windows.

To the side are empty bookshelves, with the exception of one shelf, which is almost halfway filled.

“This is a sorry library,” you comment under your breath.

Tobirama walks up to the table and puts down the materials he has been carrying.

“We are going to fill it, starting today,” Tobirama says. “And for the rest of the year.”

You raise an eyebrow. “How? Write and publish our own books?”

Tobirama glances up at you, without irony. “Yes.”

You feign a smile. “Oh,” you deadpan. He does seem like the type of person to do that.

“We are also going to visit every clan in the village and ask if we could transcribe some of their writings,” Tobirama continues. “We can make our references through that, integrate their history and make a comprehensive one for Konoha. We also need to learn some of their jutsus and study them, among other things.”

You nod, understanding what he means. “Alright, where do we start? And how do we rewrite the Academy curriculum part?”

“Well first, I will have to set a few rules,” Tobirama drones on, looking at you pointedly.

You walk towards him so that you are standing on the other side of the table. “Alright, shoot,” you say.

“I have written the deadlines of the parts that you will do. You must give them to me, on time ,” Tobirama sternly says, slipping one of the scrolls forward. “I have a vague plan of what the curriculum can look like, but you will also have the chance to express your ideas.”

You take the scroll and open it gingerly, and you look at the back to back due dates.

“You must not talk to me aimlessly, unless it is about this project or if you need any clarification on the tasks you have to do,” Tobirama continues. “When we are working, I expect you to only work.”

You nod, thinking that these are easy, reasonable rules.

“You must be punctual.”

You are way too punctual, so you know that you are going to follow this rule perfectly.

“Do not eat near me.”

At this, you almost roll your eyes, but you hold yourself back.

“Do not touch my things, unless I give them to you. I hope that you can call my title with respect,” Tobirama drones on and on, mostly about the little things he is apparently very particular about. “You will also be training with me and my students, and I expect you to always be on top of your game.”

“Yes, of course.” You blink at all his so-called rules, and fight the urge to roll your eyes. It’s like he already has the impression that you won’t be as dedicated to your job as he is.

But you are dedicated.

However, you cannot help but talk back. He probably made a rule for that, but it goes unheard by you.

Tobirama nods. “Very well.”

“Did you stay up all night making this up?” You ask, unable to help yourself garner some reaction from him.

Tobirama’s stare is stormy, and his eyes narrow strictly. “It is common sense that you abide by such unsaid rules.”

“But you just, well forgive me, enumerated them. If they are common sense, then you would not have to re-tell it.”

Tobirama lets out a stream of breath from his nose that sounds a tad bit impatient, and he rolls his eyes.

You smile, feeling a little triumphant at getting a reaction from him. He catches your expression and he schools his face to become serious once more.

The two of you sit in silence for a moment, and you wait for Tobirama to speak.

“I heard you teach at the Academy at times,” Tobirama suddenly brings up. “When did you start?”

Your eyes narrow slightly at this. Tobirama built the Academy, so he must be aware of the things happening there. “Almost a year ago.”

Tobirama taps a finger on the books that he set down. “And you teach when?”

“Wednesdays and Fridays,” you reply.

Tobirama nods. “I will be coming with you.”

You pause at this. “Wait, why?”

Tobirama looks at you as if it’s obvious. “To size up what the kids need to learn, observe which materials are appropriate for age groups until they graduate as genin, and so forth.”

Of course, that makes sense.

Tobirama pulls out the chair and he slides into it. “Then, let us begin. We have many things to research and read up on.”

You look at him as he opens the books, and distributes some of them to you.

“Will you get around to telling me what your plan is, or are you just going to let me guess?” You ask as you flip to the first page of one of the books that he handed to you.

You slide on the chair across from him, taking care to move to the side so that you are giving him his space.

“Silence, when I am working,” Tobirama states without looking up from what he is reading. “Do not talk to me aimlessly. You will get a chance to ask me questions later, I suggest you start listing them down.”

“Alright, alright,” you mumble.

You read the first paragraph of the book, already taking note of the main idea. After a few pages, however, you glance up at your book and to Tobirama, who has not moved an inch except to turn a page. You observe his pristine expression, your eyes going down the slope of his strong nose, his high cheekbones, and his lips that form into a pout, and then to the markings on his face and chin.

He’s handsome, you’ll give him that.

His eyes never waver, unlike you, and from this, you can tell that he always pours all his focus and efforts when he does something.

“Work,” Tobirama reminds you. “And look at the due dates so you can think about how you can strategize your time.”

You snap up and pretend to go back to your reading, but you glance at him one last time. Something about him piques your curiosity, and it makes you want to push his buttons just to see what the famed Senju Tobirama is all about.

You cannot help but let out a tiny smile and you raise the book to hide your face.

Well, if he already has some sort of prejudice towards you, you might as well play that to your advantage.

You smirk to yourself, finally looking forward to the time the two of you will spend together.

[CHAPTER TWO >>>]

#angelica writes #avversiera writes #Tobirama Senju #Senju Tobirama #senju tobirama x reader #senju tobirama x you #tobirama x reader #tobirama x you #Senju Hashirama #Uchiha Madara #naruto fanfiction #'til death do us part

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wistfulrat · 3 years

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this week’s fics! feat. bakeries, bookshops, bisexual awakenings of the angsty and fluffy sort, wolfstar goddads being tender as hell, desi harry reconnecting with his culture, domestic drarry, a lap dance set to akon’s smack that, and more!

But That’s History by @ebbet - 54k - T Harry Potter starts his first year as Muggle Studies Professor only to find that Draco Malfoy has been hired to teach History of Magic.

listen to me. this is one of the funniest drarry fics i've ever read. i was cackling in my bed at 2am because harry’s internal monologues throughout this fic are unhinged. insanely quotable. “what was he, a lothario” and “you were crushing me with your muscular thighs!” are lines that live rent free in my empty head. harry has never played anything cool a day in his life. there’s a faculty meeting where the teachers are planning the yule ball and debating the merits of a DJ when harry decides he must defend his muggle-music-loving honor by dancing seductively to akon’s smack that while a blushing draco loses his mind. i fucking screamed. and the best part is that in between the comedic scenes threading the overall story, you have extremely tender moments of like, padma patil helping harry become a more rooted desi by sharing their cultural traditions, harry proudly donning his sherwani. draco wrestling with his past, going to harry’s lgbtq+ club for students, being sheepish with ron and hermione. ugh, comedic writers with emotional depth are clever and talented as hell!!

Realities, Unfurling by @ebbet - 45k - M Draco Malfoy is released from Azkaban into a changed world.

incredible collage-fic told from multiple povs. 8yrs post-war and everything’s changed. the current state of the magical world unfolds via slice-of-life snapshots from a truly stunning cast. non-binary harry whom is running a non-prof org dedicated to building tolerance and establishing equality for marginalized identities. post-prison-release draco whose life will be changed by the internet. neville’s tender relationship with blaise. andromeda’s fiercely protective mothering. remus and sirius being alive and very hot and just, the tender goddads harry deserved. cho chang being brilliant. baker pansy’s softened edges. found families abound. harry being flustered by their crush on draco and making personalized playlists on an iPod nano.

that all might sound narratively cluttered but the author more than pulls this off. glorious, start to finish.

Knead by @jovialobservationanchor (an @hd-erised fic) - 83k - E This is not a story about Harry renovating Grimmauld Place. This is a story about coffee shops and brewpubs, about Ginny and Luna on a farm with creatures, about magical Oregon, coastal road trips, flying, friendship, and Draco Malfoy's lean arms.

cinematic. a love letter to oregon’s expansive landscapes and lively cities. it’s harry finding home in unexpected places and people. in the vast silence of rolling fields, endless coasts, and starry night skies big enough to feel like you’re adrift in space. and it’s also the lingering, intimate quiet of early mornings in a bakery, sitting on a park bench overlooking the city as you eat ice cream next to your crush. it’s harry watching ginny and luna dance and work around each other like bees. it’s the slow unfolding of harry and draco’s relationship as they fill each other’s quiet. finishing this fic is like waking from a good dream. transporting, immersive, lovely.

Harry Potter and the Bisexual Awakening by @writcraft - 20k - E Harry is perfectly content being single, heterosexual and living in Godric's Hollow with his very clingy rescue dog, Snitch. When Draco Malfoy turns up on Harry's doorstep demanding that Harry teach him how to drive, things quickly become a lot more complicated.

first of all, i feel very seen by draco being a gay-who-can’t-drive. it’s called representation. but mostly i love the ease of harry and draco’s banter, a flustered harry discovering his sexuality, and the way this fic addresses biphobia. also very emo over this exchange: “I think I might be scared of you, but probably not for the reasons you think.” “Yes.” Draco stares at Harry. “I think I might be scared of you too.”

Forged through flowing water by @tedahfromtayla (an @hd-erised fic) - 40k - E When Hermione sets up a diplomatic mission to begin repairing the damage British colonisation did to Indian magical communities Harry isn’t going to pass on the opportunity to visit and help his family’s home country. Maybe he should have asked a few more questions about the personnel she had recruited for it before signing on because Malfoy surely has an ulterior motive to be there.

so much to love about this fic. the beautiful settings, from kolkata to mumbai, to the holi festival and colorful lively streets, to remote cave settlements and old intricate temples. it’s harry in the homeland, reconnecting to his family’s heritage and confronting the weight of imperialism in his history. it’s nipping the white savior complex in the bud. this part: That is what England left behind. That is what it still stands for, despite whatever mask of respectability and honour it presents. . .You don't get to step aside and let someone else deal with the mess. You have to listen and learn and then act, Malfoy, you need to learn how to fix your own mess. This is why we're here. my indigenous ass cheered. HP certainly sells the british fantasy but HP fanfic?? fuck jkr, fuck the crown. i love that this fic doesn’t romanticize england’s history. i love that we get to see the vast resilience and beauty of post-colonial india.

Purity Control by yrfrndfrnkly - 28k - T In which Harry tries to ignore his trauma with fantasy Quidditch but Malfoy's Thereness™ is distracting and all his classmates want to talk about are unicorns, virginity, and Muggle music.

tender 8th year fics where they go from bristly as fuck to understanding and soft 100% guaranteed to make me emo as hell. all the teens have traumas and no one wants to talk about it but eventually Things are Talked About. it’s good of the adults to finally notice. everyone just wants someone to hold their hand. and this part: “You’re the only person around here who’s a bigger mess than I am.” “I thought maybe we could be a mess together,” pls don’t look at me as i weep over their gentle empathy.

Advent, a comic by dustmouth - WIP - T It's Harry and Draco's first Christmas together and Draco is determined to live his full yuletide fantasy, come hell or high water.

dustmouth, patron saint of whimsical drarry. whose illustrations singlehandedly reinvented wizarding fashion. whose cheeky and tender comics are like a soothing balm to the utter depravity of this carnal world. harry and draco being domestic, draco’s xmas spirit brand being “traditional unhinged”!! extremely my shit. we’ll absolutely be reading this all december.

Little Spaces by @dracoladon and @lazywonderlvnd - WIP - E Draco's back from France and working on the spell damage ward at St Mungo's with Hermione, who invites him over for dinner. Without telling Harry. This is a roleplay, which means Harry is written by one author (lazywonderland) and Draco by another (dracoladon).

the switch in distinct character voices works so well for this fic!! tonally i feel like i'm watching an episode of the office. i personally love harry and draco being Pissed Off at how much they want to bone each other. the battle of the tapenade was the most riveting dinner scene i've read in a minute. clever, hilarious, emotionally tense. can’t wait until that inevitable moment post hate-sex when they’re gonna be like “oh noooo it’s a Heart Boner as well!! >:((” hell ya we’re subscribing for chapter updates.

Dragons Don’t Know Paradise by @teacup-tai - WIP - E In 2004, when Remus spends two scary weeks in the ITU due to complications of pneumonia and his HIV condition, Sirius walks around the house like a ghost and Harry finds comfort and strength in Draco through a chat in an online LGBT forum. Harry falls for him, but Draco has a lot of secrets and, before long, will need to come clean—even if he believes that no one is able to understand a dragon.

non-magical bookshop AU. remus and sirius’ relationship is a marvel. the ease of their affection with harry makes me so emo. draco’s friends being insistently present even as he tries to isolate himself. this is a story about acceptance, found families, and falling in love at a distance. the intimacy, the longing, the tenderness. what a fic!! i keep coming back to this part:...he looks at ease, inside his body, a body he needed to fight for. He’d made peace with his struggles and his scars. And Draco realises he wants that. He wants to be at ease inside his body, the body that now carries a virus. He wants to be at peace with his own existence. you hurt for draco so deeply but you get moments like these where he affords himself a kindness that feels foreign and it’s just!! the boys navigating grief and learning to be vulnerable. so good.

#drarry fic rec #drarry #we live and die for desi harry aka hari poddar bc fuq jkr #a lot of soft drarrys this week but in my defense ive been reading hella angst and my depression was not finding that cute #weekly drarrys

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misterewrites · 3 years

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Inhuman Interrogation (Welcome to the Underground!)

Hello everyone! E here hoping you are all safe and sound! Here’s the next chapter of the Underground! A special thank you to everyone who reads my stories. I know they’re not everyone’s speed and I get wordy but I really do appreciate it! I really hope you are having some fun with it. Okay stay safe, sound, keep your loved ones safe, wash your hands, wear masks and get yourself vaccinated, push for vaccines worldwide. Here's the next chapter, enjoy! Feel free to leave likes, tell your friends, reblog and leave feedback I love it all! have a good week and I'll see you later! E is out byeeeeee!

If you want an easier way to read my story here’s the newest chapter at ao3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27814297/chapters/79942294

Curious what this about? Here’s the first chapter

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27814297/chapters/68094967

Want an overview of my works, you can find me right over here! Fun fact I do, on a occasion, write stuff for fandoms! Shocking I know :D

https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrE42/pseuds/MrE42

Summary: Oliver's been caught red handed and there's only one thing to do: Claw and lie his way out of the situation. However, the bard might be a little over his head from this stranger who watches all.

-----

Oliver could feel a chill run down his spine, fear gripping him tightly as he scrambled to keep himself calm. Being found out was always a possibility he’d calculated in his plans, he just hadn’t wanted to deal with it tonight. Well you know what they say: When life gives you lemons, squirt lemon juice in life’s eyes and run like hell.

He’d been caught so the next step was to determine by who.

Oliver blew cool air onto his face as he pivoted around to see which person had been acute enough to catch onto his antics.

He had been expected to looking at an unhappy Lea with his sword drawn.

What found waiting for him was worse.

It was good looking man though Oliver couldn’t hazard a guess to his age. His hair was short wispy dark brown like the color of copper. His face was scratched by dozens of tiny whites line, healed scars that somehow did not detract away from his handsomeness. He wore a plain white tunic with black leggings, a large bronze hued cape hung over his unusually thin frame. The most striking feature were his golden eyes. Not golden in shade but actual gold, metallic shimmering and shining like metal caught in the glow of the sun.

He was a sight to behold, perfection made flesh and blessed by the gods.

And Oliver knew he was utterly and terribly inhuman. He was not a mortal being for no human could ever been so perfect.

The Stranger tilted his head quizzically, his eyes dilated into pupil-less orbs.

“You” He spoke in a raspy, low voice “You’ve been busy.”

Oliver coughed, trying to get his dry throat working again.

The Stranger took a step closer, his gaze unflinching “Yes, very busy.”

Oliver chuckled nervously “I haven’t the slightest clue what you mean increasingly creepy man. If you excuse me.”

As Oliver turned to leave, his blood turned cold when the stranger harshly whispered, his words booming in Oliver’s ears.

“How’s Death I wonder? He’s an old friend for you, right?”

Oliver whirled around, fist clenched but the Stranger hadn’t taken a step forward. In fact he had taken a step away, furthering the distance between them.

Oliver gulped nervously, trying his best to stop his racing heart.

“And you” he murmured quietly, trying to hold onto his fleeting courage “Smell of it.”

It was true: Even this far away, Oliver could smell the stench of decay, of death and blood wafting off the Stranger as if he’d come straight from a bloody battle.

The Stranger made no indication he heard Oliver’s comment, just stared with golden eyes unblinking.

Oliver let out a tense breath before closing his eyes. He centered his will, he reached out into the universe and drew in the power of his magic.

He could hear the scrawling of a pen across the scratchy surface of parchment, the squishy wet sounds of paint drying, the tuning of a lute among excited laughter and cheers.

‘I need to escape.’ Oliver spoke in his mind.

Knowledge filled his mind: Spells and their uses. The hand gestures necessary to tug at the weave to make his will, his need a reality.

An unknown force guided his hand, raising it high and surging with magical power. Oliver’s eyes snapped open with a fierce determination. He took a deep breath, his fingers at the ready as he prepared to recite the incantation.

“I…” Oliver began when the Stranger struck. There was a blink and there was the stranger in front of him, his hand wrapped tightly around Oliver’s wrist.

“So.” the Stranger spoke in an oddly smooth voice “You ready to tell me what you were doing squirreling about?”

Oliver was strained against the Stranger but his grip was as strong as iron. Unless he could complete the hand gestures and motions along with the incantation, the spell was incomplete and he was as helpless as a kitten in Stranger’s grasp.

Oliver grimaced in pain “Now you’re remembering to be human? No creepy staring or awkward conversations about death?”

“Sorry, sometimes my lady speaks through me. I am her will incarnate on this plane.” The Stranger gave a sheepish grin

Oliver smiled uneasily “Right mysterious lady sure. That’s totally normal. How about you let me go and I won’t take the psychotic act personally?”

“But it is personal.” The Stranger’s smirk widen, his teeth too sharp to be mortal “You’re up to something and I’d like to know what.”

‘Great.’ Oliver thought to himself, his eyes darting about for a sign of assistance: a cloaked figure nearby fidgeted awkwardly but ultimately did nothing, a few nobles conveniently glanced the opposite direction of their altercation. Even the guards were nowhere in sight. Whoever this person was, he was the luckiest son of a bitch in the world.

Oliver pursed his lips, his mind desperately grasping at ideas to escape this situation.

“Party planner” Oliver offered helpfully “My job is to keep track of everything, make sure the party is moving smoothly and ensure there is no issues. You know how Mr. Brambleoak dislikes unnecessary distractions.”

The Stranger nodded in understanding “Party planner? That’s a good one. Feasible. If were I shade dumber, I might actually believe you. However…”

Oliver winced in pain as his grip tightened. The bard had been manhandled once or twice before but never this single handedly.

“Now” The Stranger’s golden eyes narrowed threateningly “Let’s try this one more time before you really anger my lady. What were you doing?”

Oliver opened his mouth.

“There you are!”

For one nerve wracking moment Oliver thought the Stranger had backup but he seemed just as confused as he was.

Maria cut in between two men gracefully and forced the Stranger to release his grip. He backed away as she linked herself arm in arm with Oliver.

“Sweetie!” She spoke with honeyed words, patting his arm lovingly “You ran off so quickly. I was worried I’d upset you.”

“Umm.” Oliver eyed the Stranger carefully, wary at any sudden movements “Sorry honey. This person thought I was someone he knew.”

Maria peered closer, getting a good look at the man.

The Stranger smiled cheekily “Fraid I got the wrong person.”

“You should really be careful, the guards here dislike any disturbance to the festivities.”

Almost as if magically summoned by her words, the guards began to approach with hands on their blades.

“Of course. Of course. Wouldn’t want trouble.” the Stranger bowed mockingly “Besides, I don’t think he’s the one I want.”

“That’s certainly ominous.” Oliver murmured under his breath.

Maria jabbed him with her elbow though her gaze never left the Stranger’s golden eyes.

“We should go.” Oliver offered helpfully “I think I’ve overstayed my welcome.”

Maria beamed cheerfully “No worries, I was feeling a bit tired myself. Good night good sir.”

“Bye.”

“Good night miss” the Stranger tilted his head “Bard.”

Maria hurriedly dragged Oliver away.

“Thanks for the save.” Oliver said gratefully.

Maria blew a strain of hair from her face “You’re welcome.”

“Not mad about using you as a distraction?”

“Normally I would be” Maria admitted “But that little stunt you pull got the harpies off my back for the rest of night.”

Oliver chuckled “Basking in the admiration of their adoring fans?”

“You have no idea.” she replied wearily “I’m just happy for a moment of peace. So thank you for that.”

“You are welcome then.”

The two made their way outside and straight into quite the scene: a massive cheering crowd formed around a handful of people. Most of the combatants were faced down, sprawled across the cobbled streets though Oliver spotted two familiar faces standing tall and victorious over their fallen foes.

“ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED!?” Terri screamed into the roaring masses, arms flexed. Tyrell looked like he was about to pass out from exhaustion.

Oliver spotted Lea among the thundering crowd, his eyes alive with excitement and joy.

Terri caught Oliver’s eye and gave a proud smile. Oliver offered a subtle thumbs up as Maria led him away from the bank.

“I take it you can’t go far.” Maria stated simply.

“No” Oliver spoke honestly “I’m afraid my business is not yet concluded.”

“Is it alright if I stay with you for now?”

Oliver bit his lip nervously “Sure. Of course. I have a moment. Not curious about what I was up to?”

Maria gave a cheeky smirk “Naturally but I have a feeling secrecy is important here. Better to not ask than force you to lie to me."

“Thank you. I don’t like lying to you.”

The two stood side by side, arms intertwined together in a quiet comfortable near silence.

Maria smiled softly “You know my father used to warn me about my sentimentality for people. About they would use it against me.”

“People like me?”

She smirked mischievously as she puffed out her chest, speaking in a mocking tone “There will come poet whose weapon is his word. He will slay you with his tongue.”

Oliver snorted loudly, trying to hide his flushing skin “Oh lei oh lai oh lord?”

“Oh quiet you.” Maria scolded with a chuckle “Surprise you didn’t take the set up.”

“Too easy.”

“Should I be offend?”

“I mean those are pretty good lyrics” Oliver replied, hand high in surrender “Surprised they came out of your father’s bitter lips.”

“I suppose everyone has their moments. However rare.”

“I suppose so.”

Maria’s hazel eyes met Oliver’s brown, curious yet expecting “Do you remember what you said to me two months ago? At the last competition?”

“Umm…” Oliver scratched his chin thoughtfully “I say a lot of things. You need to be specific.”

“That my voice was utterly angelic?”

“Ah, I didn’t think you actually heard me.” Oliver’s cheeks blushed a bright red.

Maria giggled sweetly “Did you mean it? What you said inside?”

“Yes” Oliver answered without hesitation “You don’t need them. You would be amazing by yourself.”

Maria’s smile was sad. She sighed tiredly as she threw a glance towards the bank “My father won’t let me but you knew that, didn’t you?”

Oliver nodded in confirmation.

“I feel like I am a disappointment. A puppet controlled by a father who craves nothing but influence and status.”

“You’re not.”

“How do you know?”

Oliver shifted uneasily.

“That’s what I thought bard. Nice try though.”

Oliver caught sight of Flora and Sel making their way outside, signaling the others the mission was complete. Terri and Tyrell broke free from the fight circle and began making their way towards the rendezvous point.

Maria slipped her arm out of his “It is time I suppose.”

“Enjoy your night off.” Oliver took her hand in his own and softly kissed it. Maria flushed a pink hue but still curtsy in response.

Oliver turned to face her, his eyes gentle and understanding “You aren’t a disappointment.”

Maria rolled her eyes “You don’t have to lie to me.”

“I’m not.” Oliver firmly stated.

Maria’s eyes stared quizzically into his “Certain, are you?”

Oliver cleared his throat “You aren’t a disappointment to me.”

“That’s sweet but I’m afraid I barely know you. Besides you’ve been a thorn in my father’s plans consistently. Technically, I shouldn’t be talking to you let alone assisting.”

Oliver gave an impish grin “Yet you are.”

“You are far too charming for your own good.” Maria frowned mockingly

“Nothing compared to you.”

“Sweet words are nothing without meaning beyond them bard.”

Oliver took a deep calming breath, struggling to get the words out before he lost his nerve “The boy who used to climb your fence still loves you.”

Maria’s eyes widen with confusion before realization dawned upon her hazel eyes “How did you…?”

but Oliver ran, bravery failing. He disappeared into the crowded streets without another word. He ducked and weaved through the people in case Maria decided to chase him though he doubt she would. Perhaps those words didn’t have the same weight as they once did. Oliver really did not want to stick around to find out. He shouldn’t have said anything but he’d never been good at keeping his mouth shut.

-----

It hadn’t taken long for Oliver to meet up with the rest of the crew. Everyone managed to gather in a nearby alley, their chatter excited and cheerful.

“Boss man!” Terri boomed, arms opened wide “WE DID IT! See the pile? Do I get results or do I get results?”

Oliver gave a weak chuckle “Yes you do. Remind me not to piss you off.”

“Damn straight.” Terri flexed unnecessarily once more. Flora gave a playful wink towards her girlfriend which turned Terri a lovely bright pink.

Tyrell looked haggard and sick “I never want to do that again. Ever.”

“You did amazingly Ty! You can be First Chair in no time if you keep this up!” Terri patted his back approvingly, Tyrell nearly went sprawling to the floor below.

Oliver gave a sharp whistle, grabbing the attention of everyone “We did great team and it was an honor to work with you. If you require my assistance, I’ll be in town for a few days at the Right Hook. Ask for Ollie.”

Terri slipped her hand into Flora’s “We won’t be in town much longer. We have business up north but we wish you well! Permission to leave?”

“Granted.” Oliver waved them off “No making out until you leave our sights.”

It was impossible to know who was a redder shade: Terri or Flora.

The pair bowed respectfully before taking their leave, Flora’s head resting lovingly on Terri’s shoulder. Oliver couldn’t help chuckle at Terri’s proud “And you didn’t poison anyone! Great work sweetheart!”

Oliver turned to the remaining two “Sel, destroy the paper and report back to the local Conductor. If there’s any more trouble come get me.”

Sel gave a single nod before disappearing into the crowded streets without another word.

“And me?” Tyrell whispered anxiously “What about me?”

“You.” Oliver stretched his neck, trying to relive the tension of the night “You’re gonna tell me how to get into the Clifftop Distract.”

“E-excuse me?”

Oliver waved his question off “Don’t even. I know you’re a noble born. Your clothes are way too nice to be a simple baker or blacksmith’s son. And barely frayed means you ran away from home recently.”

Tyrell glanced away, fidgeting nervously “You noticed?”

Oliver nodded.

“And you don’t care?”

“Not in the least” Oliver admitted honestly “You got into the Choir. That means you’re good in my book.”

“Thank you.” Tyrell smiled softly “I appreciate it. May I ask why you need to get into the Clifftop Distract?”

Oliver scratched the back of his neck sheepishly “Someone I know has business up there. Figured I might as well ask you to make our lives easier.”

“You’re a good friend.”

“I’m really not.” Oliver murmured quietly, unable to stare Tyrell in the eyes.

Tyrell shook his head is disagreement but didn’t press further “Every month they change the password. This month’s is Knightly Valor.”

“Knightly Valor, thank you.”

“No, thank you for not telling the others. May I go now?”

Oliver ruffled Tyrell’s hair playfully “Go on scamp.”

Tyrell bowed and with a skip in his step, made his way out of the alleyway.

Oliver stood there alone for a moment before turning towards the shadows.

“You gonna keep follow me or we’re finally going to talk?”

The figure did not break the silence of the night as they stepped out seemingly from darkness itself.

“You knew I was following you? Impressive given not many can sense my presence” the cloaked figured spoke. unable to keep the curiosity out of her voice.

“Mhm.” Oliver grunted “Ever since West End. You were in the bar the night Abigail and I hired Archie. I heard you moving about when we camped for the night, just down the tunnel out of sight. I assume you lost us when we went down the side tunnels and decided to stake out West Haven for us to pass through. You’ve been tailing me all night since I left the Right Hook.

The figure said nothing.

“That’s what I thought.” Oliver sighed tiredly “Alright, we gonna have a problem? I've had a long night and I've been threaten one times too many today.”

“No problem.” The figure muttered.

Oliver narrowed his eyes suspiciously “Then why show yourself?”

“You need to know my presence.”

Oliver sighed “You are being very cryptic.”

“Now you know how everyone else feels.”

Oliver smirked mockingly, unable to hide the sarcasm from his voice “Thanks, I hate it!”

“Be careful bard.” the figured glanced about, worried “Something is coming.”

“Nice and vague, thanks for the tip ninja.”

The figure shifted uncomfortably but remained silent.

“Fine, go on then if you're not gonna be any more helpful.” Oliver shook his head before closing his eyes. When he opened them, the figure was gone, upped and vanished into nothingness.

Oliver ran his hand through hair tiredly as he began making his way back to the Right Hook.

“And I still have to climb two stories. Fucking hell, what a night.”

#My work #Original Work #original story #welcome to the underground #Welcome to the underground!

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redqueen-hypothesis · 3 years

Text

tied together pt. 1 ➳ mlqc

➳ WORD COUNT: 1874

➳ GENRE: fluff

➳ SYNOPSIS: how would the mlqc boys (gavin and kiro) propose?

➳ REMARKS: this literally came out of nowhere, it’s 3am and i need to sleep. check out the inspiration for kiro’s song here!

GAVIN

he realises it on a completely average day

you’re over in his house for a surprise date-but-not-quite date, chiding him for not stocking up on his kitchen enough for you to make a proper dinner - he’s lucky you haven’t discovered his cup noodle stash in the bottom cupboard

the two of you end up ordering take in together

you’re blowing on some hot dumplings before you place them on his plate, rambling to him about your homemade food may not taste as good but is more healthy, when it hits him out of nowhere

yeah, gavin wants to have this everyday for the rest of his life

normal days don’t feel mundane in the least when you’re by his side like this, in fact, each day becomes more and more precious to him, no matter how ordinary they are

he wants to spend the rest of his life with you

this realisation almost scares him, because while he knows that he’s been in love with you for a long time, marriage is different - do you want to marry him? should he really go ahead with taking this step - making you his?

gavin is kind of out of it for the rest of the evening, just... thinking about it

imagining how you would be like if the two of you were married, his ring on your finger

his arms wrapped around you when he goes to sleep and when he wakes up in the morning

you helping him put on his tie before he leaves for work

all the cliches, he’s a sweet boy that way

gavin finds that he wants that more desperately than anything he’s ever wanted in the world, he wants to be the one that makes you happy. for the rest of your lives

the second you leave the house, gavin’s mind is scrambling to think about whether you’ll accept or not if he did propose

this goes on for a while, until one day eli calls you and asks you why gavin has been spacing out at work here and there

not enough for him to be a danger or for him to be shirking work, of course (you know how seriously gavin takes his job), but enough for eli to steal gavin’s pork chops right under his nose - and the man didn’t even realise!

that immediately has you worried

when you confront gavin about it, however, the man looks as cool as a cucumber as always

“eli thinks i’m spacing out? i noticed, i just let it slide.”

for some reason, that’s even more worrying to you (gavin giving up his meat? no way)

he’s actually panicking on the inside, oh my god eli shut up shut up shut up-

he eventually gets exposed to minor, who’s almost as ecstatic about this proposal as gavin is, this is his best bro trying to get married here!!

minor acts as gavin’s secret agent in the company, trying to figure out your ring size with the stupidest excuses

“it’s dark, i’m scared and just need to hold your hand.”

asks the most obvious questions ever like “on a scale of one to ten, how much would you like to marry gavin?”

anna, kiki and willow catch on fast enough and drag him away the second he tries to approach you in case you find out

minor has the subtlety of an elephant stomping through a china shop

plan minor is bust

gavin just gives up on elaborate planning and buys a simple ring

he doesn’t really know when the moment is the moment, so he just keeps the ring in a box in his pocket, waiting for whenever the moment shows itself

and the moment comes a few days later, when the two of you are washing up the dishes together after dinner, and he finds that he can’t stop looking at your soapy hands

part of his brain is terrified, insistent on putting it off, because what if you say no?

the other part of his brain is tired from all this wishy washy and just goes fuck it

reaches into his pocket to pull out the box and pops it open, knows he’s supposed to be kneeling but his brain isn’t working right. gavin stands there dumbly like an idiot, watching you hum to yourself as you continue soaping the dishes

even at this point, he’s still conflicted (to ask or not to ask) but luckily for him, just before he loses his nerves and shoves the ring back into his pocket, you turn around and spot the silver band in his hand

you start to tear up, shocked, while gavin internally panics because his head and tongue seem to have disconnected

forgot the script he’d spent nights working on writing and ends up fumbling out a hoarse “will you marry me?”

it’s then he realises why he’s been so terrified the entire time, he can’t chance you rejecting him, because he can’t imagine a future without you in it

you look at him as if he’s grown a second and third head, and he nearly flees out of your window before you’re wrapping your arms around his middle to tug him back into your apartment

“yes! yes, of course, yes! a million times, yes!”

there are tears in the corners of your eyes, and he brushes them away with a shaky hand before he kisses you on the lips

after the dizziness of the proposal settles down, gavin slides the ring onto your finger with gentle hands

keeps your hands together for the rest of the night

KIRO

realises it when you’ve been pouting a bit over female celebrities trying to get close to him right in front of you

he finds it cute, of course, but he feels like it’s time to settle down, to show you that he’s as much yours as you are his

the public does not know that he’s dating in secret, and the company would surely throw a fit if they know what he’s up to

decides not consult savin about this (uh oh)

has watched plenty of romance dramas, and has acted in countless of them. he knows the drill, diamond ring, tearjerker script and crying girl equals to profit!

but kiro doesn’t want that

he wants it to be special, a unique memory that only the two of you will share together

he’s releasing an album soon, it’s in the production stages, so he decides to add an unplanned song to it, one that he’ll compose and write completely from scratch on his own

manages to act pretty natural around you, although you tend to catch him staring at you with an uncommonly serious look when you’re not looking

it’s not that kiro can’t be serious, but it just isn’t like him to be silent for so long - he’s usually chattering on about something or bursting into random songs that are stuck in his head

surprisingly (to you), he consults you about the new addition to his album, asking you about your taste in music, how you feel about the lyrics

from what you can see, it’s a sweet love song with simple melodies, but deceptively emotional lyrics

he hides the full track from you though, even if you pout and whine

“you’ll just have to find out about it when it drops,” he laughs mischievously

you resign yourself to waiting for another month

the night before, kiro tells you to wait for him at the cross junction for him the next day so that the two of you can celebrate his album release together at souvenir - but he also makes you promise not to listen to the mystery track, he wants to be the first one to sing it to you, with his own lips, and his own voice

and the day it does, social media explodes into a frenzy over the mystery track, simply titled ‘sun’

while the song seems light and cheerful at first, the lyrics have a deeper meaning to them that fans can’t quite decipher, referencing memories and dates together, before bringing up hopes of a future - a future together

you don’t see all of this, however, firmly avoiding all social media to prevent yourself from breaking your promise to kiro

you’re waiting at the crosswalk for him at night after work, a little tired from your day at the office. it’s quiet from how late it is, and the streets are a rather empty, and yet, there’s still no sign of your boyfriend

kiro’s a little late

suddenly, the sounds of a guitar strumming ring out through the quiet night air, and you turn around in surprise to see kiro walking towards you slowly, playing a melody that’s both familiar, but also one that you don’t quite recognise

wait, he’s not wearing his mask or any disguises. people are already starting to turn and stare: is it really kiro? his gaze is fixed solely on you

normally, you would run to him, but the sincere, raw expression on his face glues you to the spot - others must feel it too, because not a single person dares to approach him, not with that fierce determination you see burning in his eyes

when he reaches a short distance from you, he stops and gives you a gentle smile, right before he starts to sing

“i was just one star out of infinity, but you made me your sun. this world of mine was barren, but your warmth filled me with life.”

it’s your song - the song that belongs to the two of you - of your story together, the way you’ve changed his life

“you said i belonged among the planets and the galaxy, but you held the universe inside.”

you don’t even realise you’re crying until kiro starts tearing up as well, and his voice breaks as he reaches the end of the song

“could i be selfish, reach up to pluck the stars and pull the universe into my hands?”

you know what he’s asking

“would you... be mine?”

as the song ends, kiro plucks off the ring hanging off one of the tuning pegs of the guitar, walking up to you with a shy, gentle ‘hey, miss chips’

you throw yourself into his arms when he’s halfway into kneeling, and that’s all the permission he needs to claim your mouth in front of the crowd that’s gathered at the cross junction

they scream and cheer, because it’s kiro finally getting together with the love of his life and he looks so damned happy they can’t help but feel happy for him as well

puts the ring on your finger and kisses it, stroking his thumb over it like he can’t quite believe that it’s there

the news blows up while the two of you beat an escape, kiro donning his disguise as you wrap your hand around his

the two of you have a quiet dinner in souvenir. the chef even makes a special pudding for the two of you, shaped like a small sun

savin throttles kiro the next day at work before congratulating him, and threatens to toss all his snacks in his sleep if he ever pulls such a stunt again

kiro still thinks it’s worth it

#mlqc #mlqc fanfic #mlqc headcanon #mlqc gavin #mlqc kiro #gavin bai #mr love gavin #gavin x reader #kiro #kiro zhou #mr love kiro

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ridasverkisto · 3 years

Text

So as promised, a follow up to this monstrosity of a post, now talking about my top ten favorite characters.

So as I’ve said before, I tend to not have one favorite character but rather a herd of them that I love for a variety of reasons. So the following list and gushing is in no particular order, as I can’t really rank them bc I like them all for different reasons.

1. Noelle

To this day, Noelle remains the ONLY character I have ever yelled at a TV screen for because I was so hyped for her. During the Sea Temple Arc I was literally yelling at the TV for her to kick ass and take names, I love her so much. 🥺

Does she have issues? Yes! But that’s okay—she’s had an amazing character arc so far, and watching her go from insecure and hiding behind arrogance to actually having confidence in herself and her abilities has been so amazing. More than anything she feels real to me, and is one of the few characters where I have had the visceral urge to squish her cheeks and tell her she’s doing great honey, keep kicking ass. We stan Noelle in my house 😤

2. Luck

I love this kid, for both his antics and the fact that I can relate to how he’s basically repressed his negative emotions for so long that he struggles to express anything but cheerfulness, even when murderously angry. He goes from equating his worth to being able to fight and win (see his fight with Lotus) to valuing his found family with the Bulls so damn much. His breakdown during the Reincarnation Arc wrenches at my heart every time!! I love this chaotic destruction child.

3. Langris

He’s a gremlin trashbaby. He’s an awful entitled asshole who always got whatever he wanted when he wanted it, and was that one Gifted Kid who always had everything come easy. And...he gets knocked off that pedestal and starts to grow as a person, however reluctantly. He’s one of those characters where if I were to ever meet him in person I’d either hate him immediately or want to troll him relentlessly, but I still love him as a character because he’s interesting.

In a lot of ways, I relate to Langris. Younger sibling with so much pressure to be the best, from both yourself and your parents, and your older sibling—who’s supposed to be better than you, someone for you to look up to—just...isn’t to your parents’s standards. And that makes the pressure worse, until you’ve been swallowed whole by the pressure and expectations and you don’t know who you are without that.

It’s three parts the asshole grew on me like a fungus and one part projection, but I love him anyway.

4. William

I have a soft spot for William that’s born from a) the fact I’m a huge sucker for the mysterious masked guy who’s Soft for his people, and b) he’s a coy troll and I deeply appreciate it.

I acknowledge—he has his flaws. He’s a coward and indecisive, but he’s learning to grow past that. That’s a huge part of what makes his character interesting and compelling to me, because he’s always been fiercely loyal—his problem was being torn between two conflicting loyalties and being unable and/or unwilling to decide between them.

5. Leopold

Fuzzy determined lion son, who is determined to surpass his brother? And wholesomely competitive? We stan!! I want to hug this kid 🥺

6. Dorothy

She’s fun, bright, and determined. There’s also a lot of implied depth when you look at her comments to Reve in the Reincarnation Arc—aside from Reve, she literally says “we finally have someone to share our dreams with!” And that breaks my heart a little because that’s such a lonely thing to say.

Overall she’s just great and I love her, and I really want to see more of her and her magic.

7. Asta

He’s a cinnamon roll, what more can I say? I love him, even if I didn’t rly like him at first. He’s a loud cinnamon roll and I will protect this boy with my life 💕

8. Finral

Anxious self-sabotaging boy!!! He reminds me a lot of a lot of people I know, and of facets of my own personality. And he works so hard to grow, his role and growth is amazing and I love him. I just wish his womanizing weren’t portrayed the way it is—and that the fandom could also note that he’s also not a damn sexual harasser. He tries really hard to get a date while being respectful—and it really doesn’t feel in character for him to sexually harass people, so I don’t know where people got this image of him being one. He’s a flirt, but for the most part it’s harmless and he respects boundaries. 👀

9. Patry

Okay so this is a bit of a fine distinction to make: I love and appreciate him as a character, I think he’s an excellent villain, and I appreciate that so far he hasn’t been exonerated from his crimes and mistakes, because he shouldn’t be. He needs to atone, and that takes time—and he may never earn forgiveness. That’s fine and in fact that’s the point!!!

He’s an excellent villain: he’s charismatic, intense, and he feels real. He’s understandable, even when he’s going to such zealous extremes. And as a character, I love him.

And here’s where the line is, because he’s the only one on this list that I have this sort of opposing opinion about. I adore him as a villain, as a character, and how he’s dealt with. It’s on point, amazing. As a person? He’s fucking despicable and if I ever met him in person I’d want to break his damn jaw. And it’s not the same as how I feel about Langris—Patry is a despicable person, and even if he grows and works to atone, he still did those things. He still decided to go through with those actions, and he shouldn’t be forgiven for it. He’s intense and complicated and real, and that’s what makes him interesting.

He’s on this list because I feel so strongly about him—he’s one of my favorite and my most hated characters in the show.

10. Marx

I’m not going to lie, I love this man purely based on that fact that I first saw him yelling at Julius and went “ah, the overworked secretary trope” and then he met Asta and I went “OH. Kind soft man who is also overworked secretary and cares deeply? Sign me the hell up!!!” What more do I need to say? He’s great 😊

#black clover #anon ask #noelle silva #luck voltia #langris vaude #asta black clover #william vangeance #black clover patri #dorothy unsworth #marx francois #leopold vermillion #finral roulacase #just me and a bunch of cinnamon rolls and trash children #I will fight for all of these characters #....except Patry #Patry deserves to be punched in the face a few times #it’s complicated okay???

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unsteadygalaxy · 3 years

Text

all is soft inside chapter 9

a miragehound multichapter fanfiction

Also posted on Ao3, my username is the same there!

previous | next

9. scars we cover up with paint

The first thing they’re aware of once the gunfire stops is Elliott running towards them, and they don’t quite register what he’s doing until he’s already done it.

Elliott is hugging them fiercely, whooping and hollering and jumping up and down, and they stand in his embrace as stiff as a board. He picks them up and spins them around, laughing joyfully. They’re delighted to have won, of course, but they didn’t expect Elliott’s reaction in the slightest. His warmth, his smell, his softness- all of it engulfs them in one singular moment, and their cheeks burn harder than they have in years. The victory music blares over the loudspeakers, and the surge of pride they had felt blazes in their chest between the two of them. Just before they melt into his touch, he stiffens, puts them down, and jerks away.

“Uh… s-sorry,” he stammers, his eyes wide as he backs up.

They stare at him, at a complete loss for words. Nothing in Bloodhound’s brain is working properly- their thoughts are just one big blank, and it scares them.

Wh-

Gibraltar claps Elliott on the shoulder, laughing that big, booming laugh of his. “Well, would you look at that!” he says, grinning. A relieved whoosh of air leaves Bloodhound’s lungs. “Witt clutches the win! Great job, bruddah. I knew you could do it.”

He shakes himself a little, and turns away from them. “Thanks! Couldn’t have done it without you guys. Or maybe I could’ve. Who knows?” He shrugs and flips his hair a little. The arrogant facade is back, and it makes a twinge of sadness poke at Bloodhound’s heart.

“Well done, félagi,” they say as they cross their arms. “Ég er stoltur af þér.”

“Are you ever going to tell me what that means?” he quips, smiling and rolling his eyes.

Bloodhound laughs, just a little. “I am proud of you.”

The grin that splits his face is enough to warm their chest for the rest of the day.

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

The lights in the Paradise Lounge are dim, and it’s very close to closing time. Bloodhound stands in the doorway, peeking inside from the shadows. Only a few people linger in the bar. Makoa and Ajay are among them, laughing and finishing off their drinks. Elliott is with them, leaning against the bar and sipping at a drink of his own. Bloodhound smiles at the sight. They are grateful that their fellow Legends are (mostly) friendly with one another; the idea of a hostile environment outside of the ring is not particularly enjoyable.

They linger at the doorstep for another moment, debating on whether or not to go in. This is ridiculous, they think. You never show up to post-match celebrations. Why now? But a part of them knows the answer. And another part of them wishes they didn’t.

They shake themself internally. There is no use, they think. They turn to leave. There is no point in staying, no point in mingling with people they rarely speak to, and no point in being here if they couldn’t be alone with-

“Bloodhound?”

Elliott’s voice echoes from behind them, and the residual joy from his win today is evident in his voice. They turn back, and their heart stutters in their chest when their eyes lock on his. The light from the bulbs at the bar paint his face in shades of warm gold and yellow, running fingers of light through his dark hair. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, and the top two buttons of his purple button-down are open, giving them an unobstructed view of the top of his chest. They’re suddenly very glad they need a mask to breathe.

“Good evening, Elliott,” they reply, after a horrifyingly long moment. “Hello, Makoa, Ajay.” They incline their head to each of them in turn as they approach the bar.

“Hey, cousin.” Makoa raises his glass to them and smiles widely, nodding.

“‘Sup, BH?” Ajay quips, tossing up a peace sign. “Don’t see yuh here very often. What are yuh up to?”

“Uh, yeah,” Elliott butts in, setting down his glass. “What’s up?”

It strikes Bloodhound that they have absolutely no idea how to respond to that.

“Come on, bruddah, they’re here to celebrate!” Makoa says, raising his bottle and draining it. Bloodhound is beyond grateful for him for the second time today. “And who wouldn’t, with a win like ours? Elliott, my man, that smoke screen idea was fantastic.”

Elliott bows dramatically, flourishing his hand as he goes. “Thank you, thank you,” he says, adopting a grandiose tone that makes Bloodhound roll their eyes. “It was one of my finer ideas, I must admit.”

“All of yuh were on fire today,” Ajay admits, shaking her head. ‘Specially you, Hound. Damn scary when yuh come at everyone while you’re glowin’ like that.”

A twinge of annoyance crosses their chest as it always does whenever someone doesn’t use their full name, but they let it pass. “You fought well, felagi,” they reply. “You managed to evade me, and few are able to do so. I commend you for your efforts.” For the first time they are self-conscious of how stilted and formal they sound, but they don’t know what to do to change that. They look to Elliott and Makoa. “But we still came out victorious in the end, did we not?”

“Hell yeah, we did!” Elliott cheers, smiling widely at them. He raises his glass to try and clink it with theirs, but he seems to realize that he did not offer them one. His eyes go wide for a fraction of a second and red flushes his cheeks. “Uh, you wouldn’t happen to want a drink, would you?” He looks extremely unsure of his offer, and he sets his cup back down on the counter, looking sheepish as he grabs an extra one.

“No, thank you,” Bloodhound replies. “I do not drink.”

“Didn’t think so,” Elliott says quickly, and the cup is gone in an instant.

“I appreciate the gesture.” Bloodhound takes a seat at the bar to Ajay’s left and tries their best to settle in amongst all their gear. It proves to be a little difficult- the bar stool is small and their uniform is awkward. Part of them wishes they had just left their extra gear back at their apartment, but they know they would have felt too exposed without it. They tune back into the conversation just as Makoa begins to laugh.

“--and then I told him, ‘bruddah, it’s gonna take a lot more than that to knock me down!’” He laughs uproariously, and Elliott and Ajay join him, nearly doubling over from their mirth. Bloodhound finds themself staring at Elliott- listening to his amusing laugh, admiring the curve of his smile, enjoying the contour of his jawline amidst his beard. They gaze at him unabashedly under the mask, wondering what it would be like to-

They catch themself.

None of that, they berate themself. Elliott is a friend. Nothing more.

Their chest aches a little at the thought, but Bloodhound staunchly pushes it away.

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

The night winds down, and Ajay and Makoa soon decide to leave, leaving Bloodhound and Elliott alone in the bar. The three of them were excellent company, and had managed to make Bloodhound laugh a few times. That had surprised Bloodhound; they hadn’t expected to have such a good time. Part of them wondered if it would last, if it was worth it to keep coming back. That was yet to be determined.

Elliott picks up the glasses and begins to clean them. “So, have a good time?” he asks nonchalantly.

“Surprisingly, yes,” they answer, popping their fingers. The social interaction had nearly wiped them out, and they’re nearly ready to retreat back to their small apartment to sleep. They’re looking forward to their day off before the match on King’s Canyon. Strangely enough, coming back to Solace for the Games always felt like coming home.

“‘Surprisingly’?” Elliott says, a laugh pressing at his voice. “What do you mean? C’mon, Bloodhound, can you really resist Makoa’s laugh? Or Ajay’s jokes? Or my unrelenting charm?” He winks at them, biting his lip a little, and there’s a strange fluttering sensation in their stomach.

“What charm?” they deadpan. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

Elliott places a hand on his chest, feigning hurt. “You mean you don’t see all of this glorious Witt wit? I’m wounded, Bloodhound, I really am.” He sniffs greatly and pretends to wipe away a tear.

Bloodhound laughs, and their chest hurts a little. “‘Witt wit’?” they ask, incredulous as they shake their head. “That is your worst joke all evening. Including the one about the Gaean golfer.”

Elliott laughs too, throwing his head back in mirth. Bloodhound loves the sound of it. It’s embarrassingly heavy and goofy, but so… Elliott. “Oh man, that golfer joke gets people every time,” he says, patting his chest absentmindedly. He sighs, a smile still resting on his face. “It’s just classic.”

Bloodhound shakes their head again, smiling under the mask. It strikes them how effortless this feels. They didn’t like talking to others for long, but Elliott... Elliott is different.

And that confuses the hell out of them.

“Thank you for your company, Elliott,” they say. “I quite enjoyed the evening.”

“It was good to see you,” he replies as he finishes cleaning the glasses. “Why don’t you come around more often? I would- I mean, we- would love to see more of you.” Elliott’s cheeks flush a little, which Bloodhound notices.

“I… will consider it,” they answer carefully. They truly had a great time, but… a small part of them nags at their brain, kicking up a stir and whispering, You do not belong here. You do not deserve this. It kicks at their heart, forcing it back into the box where it belongs. Their feet shift to get up from the stool, but their body does not follow.

“Fair enough,” Elliott says. He seems to think for a moment, and then asks, “Hey, can I ask you a question?”

Bloodhound considers this. “Yes. But know that I may not give you a straight answer.”

“Oh, believe me, I know,” he laughs. Then, he sobers up and looks a little unsure of himself. “I noticed you when we were on the Epicenter tower earlier. You had a little case and it looked like you were meditating or something. What were you doing?”

The question catches them somewhat off guard. They didn’t expect him to be quite so bold in asking, though they can’t really blame him. Maybe it’s the lateness of the hour, or maybe it’s because of the happiness they’ve felt, but they answer him honestly. “I was offering a prayer to the gods,” they say.

“What about?” he asks. “For the match?” Part of them is a little bothered at his nosiness, but they know it’s because of the whiskey he’s had. He’s not drunk, but he has had enough to loosen his tongue a little.

“Yes, and no,” they reply. A familiar sense of grief floods their chest, and they allow it to visit and poke around a little. The words are spilling from their mouth before they realize what they’re saying, their tongue loosened by the pain and the growing trust they have in him. “I asked the Allfather to strengthen us and lead us to victory.” They swallow, suddenly feeling like a deer in the headlights. “I also... asked him to keep my mother and father’s spirits at rest.”

Elliott raises his eyebrows, and his mouth opens a little. “Oh,” he says. “Um… what happened to them?”

They hesitate.

“Do you know the history behind World’s Edge?” they ask quietly. That nagging part of them starts to scream and thrash, but they seize it and stuff it away.

“Not really,” he says, rubbing his neck. “All I know is that there was a huge meltdown at an IMC facility like, thirty years ago or something, and that’s what caused all the ice around Epicenter. Why?”

Bloodhound sighs, and their heart feels raw and tender as it emerges from the box they had so carefully squeezed it into.

The snow beneath their feet crunches as they approach the tower. It looms above them, taunting them, digging its claws into their soul and ripping away the layers and layers of protection they had so meticulously constructed. The mountains of ice around them seem to collapse over them, trapping them inside and suffocating them. Their eyes sting and burn, their legs shake, and sweat runs down their back in waves. Bloodhound knows that somewhere, deep below the remnants of this facility, the corpses of their mother and father have solidified into ice.

Ajay stops next to them, staring at them for a moment. “Yuh all right, BH?”

They cannot answer; their throat is clamped shut with freezing irons, and their jaw will not open. Their goggles are fogging up, and their vision is blurry. Their breaths come in quick, half-gasps, and their hands tremble.

“Bloodhound?” Anita’s voice is firm, but warm. The two women look at them, concerned.

“I…” they manage. “I am fine. Please continue on. I will loot here.”

“Yuh know that’s bullshit,” Ajay replies steadily. “Come on, what’s up?”

“I told you I am fine. Please do not worry.”

Ajay rolls her eyes. “Fine, but don’t come cryin’ to me later when you need a rez.” She turns and begins to make her way down the hill.

Anita stares at them sternly, but not devoid of concern, and asks, “You gonna be good for combat?”

Bloodhound clenches their fists to stop them from shaking. “Yes.”

They slowly pull out the silver case from an inside pocket of their jacket and open it. Their parents stare up at them, smiling happily. Their father’s youthful optimism and spark shine through the photo, and he cradles their mother lovingly. Their mother was so beautiful. Her ginger hair matches their own, and she holds an infant Bloodhound in her arms. Opposite the pair of them, their uncle Artur sits stiffly for his picture, blushing a little in discomfort. His bushy red beard covers his mouth completely, but Bloodhound knows he’s smiling anyway.

They stare at the pictures, willing the ache in their body to subside. “My mother and father were brilliant scientists,” they say. They slide the case over to Elliott, their heart pounding in their chest harder than it ever has before. “The IMC recruited them for their research on energy harvesting. They brought me to Talos when I was very young, and they began to build a life for us.” Their voice tightens fractionally, and they force their throat to relax, because there is no way in Hel they are going to cry in front of him right now.

“The IMC meddled with concepts and forces they did not understand, and my parents suffered because of it.” They did not meet Elliott’s eyes. “When the facility exploded, it caused a meltdown, and my parents were caught in it. They are still there, somewhere. Under the ice. They would not allow us to retrieve the bodies.”

Elliott is silent for a few agonizing moments. “Y-Your parents…” he starts, his voice shocked. “Your parents are… under Epicenter?”

“Yes.”

“And you have to walk over their corpses every time you’re there?” Bloodhound hears him pick up the case, and he takes a few moments to examine it. “Oh, my God. I don’t know what to say.” They hear him swallow thickly, and his voice is quiet and reverent the next time he speaks. “I’m… I’m so sorry.”

“Do not be,” Bloodhound sighs. “It was many years ago.” The last thing they want or need is for Elliott to pity them. While traversing World’s Edge had severely jarred them at first, they had managed to somewhat make peace with their horrifying obligation to walk over their parents’ graves. They did not need anyone else to feel their emotions for them. Especially Elliott.

“How the hell do you deal with that?” Elliott asks, his voice hushed. “I mean, I have no idea what I would do.”

“It was… difficult at first,” they admit reluctantly. They look over to him, and their heart stops in their chest. He’s examining the pictures inside it with a fascinated horror, his mouth open, his eyes wide. It’s as though he’s in a trance.

They swallow hard and continue speaking. “It is still difficult, if I must be honest. That is why I ask the gods for strength every time I am there.”

Elliott is quiet for a long time as he stares at the case, and Bloodhound begins to worry that they have said too much, dumped too much on his head. They start to push their heart back into the box they had constructed, and the nagging voice comes back- stupid, stupid, STUPID-

“You’re incredible,” he murmurs, and the kindness and awe in his voice makes their head snap up to meet his gaze.

Elliott stares at them with open admiration and reverence. The honesty of it makes them want to hide away, because they certainly do not deserve these words.

“I told you before, I am human, like you.” Their voice comes out far more irritated than they intended, and they wince. “I appreciate your compliment, but please know I am not anything special.”

“Oh, come on,” Elliott says, his eyebrows raised in disbelief. “That’s absolute bullshit. You’re special. You kick ass, you’re powerful, you carry my sorry ass through basically every match we’re teamed up in-”

“That is not true, Elliott,” they interrupt, the annoyance building more now. “You held your own today, and I was very proud of you. I am very proud of you.”

He shakes his head, visibly biting back a smile. “Okay, fine, I did all right in today’s game. But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re one of the most valuable assets to any team.”

It’s Bloodhound’s turn to shake their head. “I simply do what the Allfather asks of me, nothing more. The outcome of any match is written before we even step into the arena, and there is no changing that.”

“You seriously believe that?” Elliott asks. “You seriously think that our fates are set in stone and we can’t do a damn thing to change them?” The frustration of the other night is returning, and Bloodhound hates that they are the cause of it.

“Yes, Elliott,” they fire back, feeling exhausted and exasperated. “I do. You do not have to agree, but that is the principle on which I have fashioned my entire life. Please do not disrespect that.”

He sighs, waving his hands in a placating gesture. “All right, sorry, sorry. All I’m saying is, maybe you should have a little faith in yourself every once in a while. I’m sure your gods are fa- fast- great, but so are you.” He leans on the counter across from them, his hands coming to rest on the lacquered wood.

“You know not of what you speak,” they murmur quietly. Under any other circumstance, they would be angry, but they cannot summon up the energy. “I am not hrokafullur- arrogant- enough to think that I will succeed alone.” Their heart aches, and their chest feels like it’s being crushed with frustration and grief. They’ve done so well in managing their emotions up until now, but talking about their parents has put them in a place they have done their best to avoid for a very long time. Why him? Why Elliott? Why do they feel like he can be trusted, despite everything they have buried? Despite everything they have done?

“I’m not saying you need to do anything alone, Bloodhound,” Elliott replies, his voice patient. “I’m just saying you need to give yourself more credit. You’re seriously the greatest warrior I’ve ever met.” He looks at them expectantly, and Bloodhound can see the expectation on his face. But there’s something else there, too- a boldness that Bloodhound has come to miss from him. They stare directly into his beautiful brown eyes, not breaking eye contact. For the first time, the simple act of looking at him makes their face heat up, and if it wasn’t for the mask, they would have looked away a long time ago. They notice that his hands are very, very close to theirs, and the desire to reach out and touch him is far more intense than they bargained for.

Bloodhound finally sighs and looks down. “I am sorry, vinur minn. Thank you, but I cannot agree.” Their voice is barely above a whisper, and it takes a great amount of effort to make anything audible. “Maybe one day, but…”

They suddenly feel pressure against their hands, and they look over to them quickly. Elliott’s hands are trembling, and his knuckles are pressing against their gloved fingers with hesitation. They inhale sharply, flinching, but a part of Bloodhound forces their body to relax, to welcome his touch, even though the other part is screaming at them to run away. Time stretches out like molasses, and Bloodhound reaches further across the bar. That nagging part of them begs them to stop, but they shove it away angrily. The instant their hands make contact with his, their heart stills, and it’s only then that they realize it’s been pounding and roaring in their ears. They do not dare look into his eyes, because they don’t want to see pity or admiration or anything else he has for them. They don’t want his kindness.

Yes, you do, they think. You want it so badly you think your soul is going to burst. You are pathetic, craving affection and acceptance from those who it is most unattainable from. You really think Mirage can save you? You really think Elliott Witt, heartthrob of the Outlands, will listen to your woes? You are a naive child, and nothing has changed. You are the same person you were all those years ago when Boone-

“Hey, um…” Elliott’s voice startles them out of their thoughts, and they meet his eyes. There is no pity there, only patience and a determined concern. “I… I know we don’t know each other very well, but… If you ever need to talk about anything or whatever, I’ve got ears.” His cheeks redden, and he begins to babble, letting go of Bloodhound’s hands to gesticulate wildly. “I mean, I’m all yours- I’ve got ea- ugh, I’ve got you and I’m all ears.” He stares intently at the wood of the bar, blushing a bright red as he crosses his arms and hides his face in his hand.

Something inside Bloodhound fills them with a strange kind of static. It feels warm and alarming all at once. It pools in their stomach, swirling around with a pleasant feeling, and all they can do for a moment is stare and blush furiously. Their heart starts pounding in their ears again. They’re surprised by his words. For so long, they have been the one to reassure and uplift others. And now, someone is reciprocating? Someone cares? Elliott cares?

The feeling inside them multiples and a soft peace quiets the annoyances that have plagued them all evening. “That is… very much appreciated, Elliott.” Their throat is tight, and they have to fight to keep their voice steady.

“Hey, no problem,” he shrugs. “It’s the least I can do after everything you’ve done for me. My advice might not be great, but I can try.”

“The effort is appreciated,” they murmur. They want to take his hands again. They want to feel his skin on theirs again. They want to know what it would feel like to be held in his arms and kept safe. They want to-

“Oh, hey, here’s this.” Elliott offers the case back to them, and they shake themself out of their thoughts as their cheeks burn.

“Thank you.” They take it from him and tuck it back into their jacket pocket.

“Who’s the other guy? The one with the awesome beard?” Elliott strokes his own face as he says this, brushing his fingers through his already-perfect facial hair.

Bloodhound smiles. “That is my uncle, Artur.” They look into his face, taking advantage of the mask so they can stare at his gorgeous features unabashedly.

“Is he… you know… still around?” he asks, hesitation written all over him.

A deep feeling in their chest twists around painfully, and their scars seem to burn. Their lungs ache and clench, and the air seems to leak out of them at an agonizing pace. Bloodhound’s heart begins to pound again, and blood rushes through their veins. “No, he is not,” they reply, trying to calm themself down. Breathe in. One, two, three, four-

“I’m sorry.” Elliott is silent for a moment. “What happened to him?”

It’s an innocent enough question, but it makes adrenaline shoot through Bloodhound’s veins like Octane’s stim. A horrible buzzing sound fills their ears, and their mouth runs dry. Their palms begin to sweat, making their gloves feel too tight around their hands. Dread fills their stomach and seizes their lungs, making it nearly impossible to breathe. What breath they do manage to take in is choppy, uneven. That awful nagging voice is back, screeching into their ears- your fault, your fault, your fault-

“Th-that is a story for another time,” they manage, and they get up from the bar, their limbs shaking.

“Hey, wait, are you okay?” Elliott asks, and there’s concern all over his face. He reaches out over the bar and tries to steady them, but they’re already moving towards the door. “Bloodhound! Wait!”

“Please, Elliott, I am fine,” they choke, their vision beginning to blur. “I will see you in the match.”

“Bloodhound, come back-”

But they’re already out the door and swiftly striding down the street towards their apartment, leaving Elliott and his reaching heart behind.

When they make it back to their tiny apartment on the third floor, they slam the door behind them and rush to the bathroom. They pull off the gloves, helmet, goggles, and mask and set them on the counter. Shuddering gasps hiss through their teeth as they turn on the tap and plunge their hands beneath the icy water. They pull the stopper in the sink and let the liquid pool until it’s deep enough to plunge their face into. Bloodhound leans over the counter, takes a deep breath, and presses their head into the water, keeping it there as long as they can stand it.

They gasp, stumbling backwards from the sink until their back makes contact with the door. Water runs down their face in rivulets, soaking their jacket and hair. They breathe heavily for a few moments, and they meet their own gaze in the mirror. Their scarred skin is red from shock, and their hair sticks to itself, drenched. For one eternal second, everything is fine.

But the moment passes, and they sink to their knees, burying their face in their hands as sobs begin to burst from their mouth.

#miragehound #apex #apex legends #bloodhound #elliott witt #bloodhound apex #bloodhound apex legends #elliott witt apex #elliott witt apex legends #mirage #mirage apex #mirage apex legends #miragehound fanfiction #my writing

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anonymous0writer · 4 years

Text

I Wanna Be Yours II JJ Maybank

Author: @anonymous0writer

Requested: Yes!

“I love you songfics, can you do another one with JJ, but this time with the song "I wanna be yours" by Arctic Monkeys?“

Warnings: Nothing. Maybe one swear word and a tiny bit of smoking..

A/N: Ahhh, I love writing angst :) lol I hope you like this anon!!

Tags: @jayjaymaebank @rudys-pankow @maaybanks @everydayimfangirling @outrbank @thelocalpogue @decap-quadrant @ahhireallydontknow @never-ever-too-many-fandoms @kylosleftbuttcheek @insanitysparkles @divcrdown @youfookendonut @dpaccione @outerbanksbro @jjs-housekeeping @teenwaywardasgardian @traumaflavouredjuulpod @magnuolia @sarapage89 @emsma11 @bxbyyyjocelyn @teamnick @jjmbanks @thesurfingsnail @lulubutton34 @obxsummer @katiaw2 @poguecollins @notaninstagrammodel @danicarosaline @timmyswrld @gmwlover100 @koufaxx @bellaguarneri @diverrdown @drewswannabegirl @lordsagittarius

Lyrics look like this

I wanna be your vacuum cleaner Breathing in your dust …. You call the shots babe I just wanna be yours

Day faded around you, the heavy cloak of the starry night falling around you swiftly, enveloping you in nightfall. The only bright light in the blanket of darkness was the flickering flames of the dying fire. The orange wisps of flame licked the sky in a desperate attempt to get free. It crackled and popped as embers floated around you, light little fireflies in the night. They danced around your legs and lit up the sand under your bare feet. Laughter and cheers filled the air, heavy and intoxicated.

Five teens sat around the fire, the flames casting weird shadows dancing over their sun-kissed skin. Their faces were split into wide, drunk joy and eyes lighting up with the intoxicated haze of awe. You stood at the edge of the coals, them shining brightly back up at you, furious in their simmering. The dark, burnt coals and the pure heat of deep oranges and angry reds fuming under them. The sight was intimidating, but you, with your determined eyes and drunken mind were quite a force to be reckoned with. Your breath caught and your eyes zoned in on the end point. Your finger curled into a fist and you drew a deep breath before you darted forward.

Bare skin danced over the smoldering coals. They were fast but not fast enough, the sizzle of burned skin and the flash of white-hot pain in your feet sent you farther over the coals. Dancing painfully but carefully, picking your way rapidly over the fiery embers. And then you were done. Hurting feet finding haven in the cool, soft sand, digging. Your pent up breath escaping your lips and your eyes betraying the hurt coursing through your blood. But the whoop you let out masked the hurt, adrenaline still strong in your veins.

JJ’s cerulean eyes found yours, both a calming feeling and a stir of wild chaos releasing in your chest. The feelings were weird in their own right, but JJ had both of them spilling in your chest. He lit you up in ways that scared the living shit out of you. The butterflies in your stomach were stomped out as you broke the eye contact. You didn’t like the feeling the butterflies brought. It was almost like heaving on an empty stomach over the toilet, alcohol trying to leave your system. You knew what the butterflies meant, and that's exactly what made you turn the boy away time and again.

Feelings weren’t your forte, never mind love or falling for someone. And no matter how much you didn’t want it or were terrified of it, you were pretty sure- as much as you could be- that you were falling for JJ Maybank. And you didn’t want any part in it.

JJ’s lips turned down slightly, his dimples fading from his skin, the only sign that he was upset. He craved your attention and the ways your eyes seemed heavier than any other gaze. He loved the way you laughed, eyes lighting and your nose wrinkling. He loved the way you talked, slower, but intense enough to have you on the edge of your chair even if you’re talking about your day. He loved your attitude, and the way you walked and the way you laughed at his comments. He loved everything about you. He loved you.

You whooped, the calls breaking the silence of the night. Soon all five of you were screaming and cheering, the screams erupting into the air. The fire seemed to glow brighter at the fierce calls of happiness.

JJ grinned and screamed along with you, but his eyes were rapt on you. He loved that out of all of them- even him- that you were only one brave enough to run across the smoldering coals. He loved how you matched him in so many ways. Crazy thoughts and wild actions. Unfiltered mouths, reckless behavior.

JJ’s joy was muted by the memory of your refusal of his kiss. His lips quirked down as the muscle in his jaw flickered. He finally cast his eyes down, now focusing intently on the fire. He just wanted you. He wanted to be allowed to love you and have you love him back. He wanted you to love him. And he wanted so badly to be yours.

Secrets I have held in my heart Are harder to hide than I thought Maybe I just wanna be yours I wanna be yours, I wanna be yours Wanna be yours, wanna be yours, wanna be yours

It was hard, harder than you could imagine. The thoughts roared in your mind and your fear was huddled in the cavity of your chest and your throat was clogged with unsaid words.

JJ was sitting in front of you, bruised knuckles and scabbing fingers laced together, mouth pulled into a thin line, his usual bright eyes dulled by the weight of your silence.

“I-” You started, the words catching in your throat and your breath getting stolen.

JJ’s eyes flicker up to meet yours, brief and embarrassed. Embarrassed yet again that his heart was out on his sleeve and you ignored it.

But you didn’t ignore it, you saw it and ached at the sight, but you couldn’t bring yourself to answer the desperate call for love. You looked down, unable to even catch a glimpse of the boy before you. But his scent filled your nose, evading your senses. Sea salt and a hint of weed wrapping you in a warm hug.

You felt like sobbing. Words tangled in your chest, choking you. It hurt to know that this boy was loving you like he’d loved nothing else and you were too scared to reciprocate, but not giving him the words he needed to hear and understand was even worse.

“I’m sorry,” The words flow past the barricade of the others, moving easily and spilling out of your throat.

You hate the words once they hand in the air. Hate that they sound fake and forced. And that that’s the only thing that will pass through your lips. You hate the fact that those two words are the most used and overused. And empty. After a while, the words lose their feeling, yet that seems like the only thing you can say.

JJ’s throat bobs. His eyes are stinging and he feels like he’s about to lose it. Either to break something or scream. JJ runs a shaking hand through his hair. It happens every time. JJ comes to you, grin wide, eyes bright and heart clear as day on his sleeve. You ignore it, terror and sorrow closing your throat. His eyes dimming like a light flicked off, and his smile fading from his lips like a ghost. And then you are left to cover up the reopened wound and desperately fail. Just like every other time. And this time is no different.

So why does it still hurt like barbed wire tightening around your heart when the boy stands and leaves? Why does it feel like the sun has passed behind a cloud, leaving goosebumps erupting on your skin, chills running down your spine and leaving you in the cold shadow of it’s ghost? Why does it feel like your heart is breaking at the same time as your shoulders sag in relief?

And let me be the portable heater that you'll get cold without I wanna be your setting lotion (I wanna be) Hold your hair in deep devotion (how deep?) At least as deep as the Pacific Ocean I wanna be yours

JJ was left cold and alone. Chills settling deep into his bones, not leaving any time soon. A dark moody cloud of regret and heartbreak hovering over the boy. He felt as if he was dancing in the rain, not caring if he got soaked to the bone, the chill entering his body that never left and went inside, unable to warm up or shake off the darker feeling roiling in his gut. And he was left alone. Without Kie and her worried eyes and supportive words asking- no, begging- him to move on. No John B. to clap his back, say his condolences and offer a beer. Even Pope was absent, his wise words and his weak attempts at the joke like a familiar sight.

And of course, you weren’t there, which felt like a slap in the face. Like when it was so cold outside, it made your skin numb, but the slap of skin against skin had his face stinging. He gritted his teeth, trying to ease the pain that seemed almost physical, with the blunt. The half-assed rolled blunt sat loose in his hands. Part of JJ didn’t want to numb himself from the high of the drugs but the other screamed at him. And hey, if it eased it for at least a while, it was worth it. Right?

Smoke escaped from his lips and the boy was soaring. Cloud Nine looked pretty good from where JJ sat. A small laugh escaped his lips as his eyelashes fluttered against his cheek.

Memories that were more dreams and hopes of the future came to life from the depths of his mind. They came forward and erupted with color and life. Your laugh rang through his ears as you curled into his chest, his fingers brushing through your hair.

He could feel everything as if his senses were heightened. The silky smoothness of your long locks of hair, the brush of sunlight against your skin, highlighting your eyes. Making them look like pools of gems, shining and paler. He could feel the shift of his shirt as you snuggled against him. The rising and falling of your chest and the soft sound of your breathing hanging in the air. Every detail of the moment blared at him, jarring him into another ‘memory’.

You danced in front of him, dressed in a white bikini with flowers patterned onto the fabric. Your figure became smaller as your feet carried you to the ocean, giggling and water spraying your legs as you crashed into the serene waters.

A soft gasp escaped the boy as his pale eyes blinked rapidly, clearing away the cobwebs of the dreams.

“Jesus,” JJ mutters, hand running over his face. But the only thing in his mind is you. I want to be yours.

138 notes · View notes

moonlightsbeams · 4 years

Text

Dragons Make Surprisingly Good Girlfriends - Act 1 Part 4

Our bard and prince have come together, searching for the princess stolen by the dragon. But does the princess want to be found?

Dragon Prince Bard Princess

Dragon Prince Bard {Princess}

Marinette is so full of love, she just doesn’t know what to do. From very early on, she knew that she loved everything. From warm bread from the kitchens, to her Papa’s big strong arms, to the older maids who taught her how to sew.

When she first met the heir of the bordering Tsurugi kingdom, Marinette didn’t care that Kagami was reserved and stiff. She just saw the potential in a new friend, and she was determined to befriend her.

From that moment on, they were inseparable. Marinette would travel to Tsurugi and Kagami would come visit so often that her maman would tease that one of them should just move to the other kingdom. Marinette would respond that it would have to be Kagami, because she loved her parents too much to leave.

One night, the constellations hidden by dark rain clouds, her parents knock on her bedroom door. Marinette puts the dress she was working on aside on her bed, and goes to hug her Maman and Papa.

Squeezing her Papa tight she notices that his arms hang loosely around her, as if he’s afraid to touch her. “Papa, what’s wrong?” she sweetly asks.

Tom can’t look her in the eye, so Sabine gently takes her hands in her own. “Marinette, sweetheart, we need to talk.”

Marinetye sits down, her parents settling down on either side of her. “Sweetheart,” Sabine begins, a sad look on her face. “First off, your father and I want you to know we love you very much.”

Marinette only nods, unsure of her mother’s intent.

“You are aware that our kingdom is on very shaky terms with Agreste, right?”

Marinette nods again, remembering how when Dupain-Cheng was the kingdoms of Dupain and Cheng, before they were merged by her parents' happy marriage, that Dupain and Agreste were constantly on the brink of war. Things had cooled down, but after the untimely death of King Gabriel’s wife, the tensions had gotten worse.

“Your father and I recently met with King Gabriel and he as well wanted to mend the rift between our kingdoms. And thus we came to an agreement.”

“Oh Maman, that's wonderful! I know how much this has been bothering you two!” Marinette cheers, a sincere smile spreading across her face.

Tom stiffens, and Sabine gently squeezes Marinette’s hand. “You see darling, King Gabriel had a.. Term that he refused to budge on. Without this term, he wouldn’t sign the peace treaty and we risked all out war with him.”

“Maman, I’m not sure I understand.”

“You see, in order for peace to be established, he wanted a marriage between the two kingdoms. His son, Adrien is 21, just about your age.”

Her world instantly shatters.

Marriage?

She didn’t even realize King Gabriel had a son.

And she’ll be stuck with him forever, just to settle some old feud. She didn’t get a choice in her own life.

“Marinette, we hope you know how sorry we are, we never wanted you to be forced into this position, I hope you know your maman and I had no other choice.” Tom pleads, but Marinette doesn’t respond. She can only think of how much she has lost in an instant, and the tears overtake her like a tsunami, ugly sobs shaking her body.

She needs Kagami. Kagami would know what to do. Her calm, strong Kagami who always knew how to deal with a bad situation.

“I-I’m g-going to s-s-see Ka-ka-kagami.” She stammers through her tears. No, Marinette. Be assertive. She takes a deep breath, in through the nose, holds it for three seconds, out through the nose. Something Kagami taught her. She stands up, and faces her parents. “Now.”

“Darling, it’s far too late to leave now,” Tom starts, but Sabine places a hand on his shoulder.

“You may go.”

Marinette nods at her mother, rushing off to get the servants to get her carriage. Tom stands to chase after her, but Sabine grabs his arm, shaking her arm.

Marinette doesn’t see her parents quietly crying into each other's arms, regretting the pain they caused their daughter.

Kagami had turned into a dragon.

Thinking about it, delicately clutched in her claws, Marinette isn’t scared. She knows she should be terrified, dangling in mid-air, but she isn’t. She knows Kagami would never hurt her. But the awful look in Kagami’s eyes when she transformed looked like Kagami was in such terrible pain.

Kagami’s beautiful rich brown eyes, as warm as the chocolate muffins she stole from the palace kitchens, were unrecognizable. When Kagami seized, her fingernails sharpening into claws, scales replacing her skin, wings and a tail bursting out of her back, Marinette was most unnerved by the fact that she couldn’t see her friend in her eyes. When Kagami’s pupils sharpened and the brown bled away into a sickly yellow, Marinette feared that she had lost Kagami.

But the yellow eyes turned to her, and with the gentle firmness that Kagami always had, picked her up.

She hoped her friend was still in there.

Kagami had turned into a dragon.

But the yellow eyes turned to her, and with the gentle firmness that Kagami always had, picked her up.

She hoped her friend was still in there.

“So. First step of reinventing ourselves- we’ll need new names. Or at least code names. It’s less likely for someone to draw a connection between the name Marinette and me, you most definitely will be recognized in your own country.” Marinette decrees, pacing around the tower. After some exploration, they found a trapdoor leading down into a cozy room, fitted with a bed, a kitchen, some assorted chairs and tables and a staircase that led to the ground. When they wondered why this tower was there, Kagami teasingly suggested it was for a princess held captive, earning an amused glare from Marinette.

“What if we just switch names?” Kagami suggests, earning herself another glare.

“Seriously, ‘Gami?”

“Why not? Our parents could just have named us after princesses. Happens all the time.”

Marinette just shakes her head. “‘Gami, even if I had an entire week I could not name all the problems with that idea.”

Kagami groans, slumping in her chair. “Do you have a better plan?” she asks.

Marinette opens her mouth, but closes it.

“Mm, that’s what I thought.” Kagami stands up and stretches. “Until we can come up with codenames, we should attempt to get money to buy supplies. And clothes. Unless you want to make us new clothes?”

Marinette’s eyes widen and she shoots Kagami a surprised look. “I don’t think I’m that good yet…” she says, but Kagami just shakes her head.

“Marinette, you’re too humble. I’ve seen you make beautiful dresses, I’m confident you can whip something up.”

Marinette begins to mutter to herself about tunics and cloaks and leggings, and stops, realizing something. “Hey, ‘Gami?”

“Yes?”

“Where are we going to get money?”

Marinette can see the worry contort Kagami’s face, so she goes to her side, and squeezes her hands in her own. “We’re going to figure it out, okay? We’re in this together.”

Kagami forcefully blinks away some stray tears, and whispers, “What did I do to deserve you, Marinette?”

“Oh, Kagami,” Marinette whispers back, pressing her forehead to Kagami’s, “You exist.”

And they stay like that for a while.

The two stumble into a town, careful to keep their heads down, fiercely clutching to one another’s hands. And although it cost them more hours of daylight, Kagami insisted on picking a town further from their tower. And although Marinette agreed with the notion of safety, walking the many miles in heels was very painful. She put on her mental list to get herself and Kagami some sensible boots.

Kagami gently tugs Marinette into a jewelry and fine goods shop, dumping all of their royal jewels in front of the eldery shopkeeper, opening the beginnings of haggling their price. Marinette felt slightly guilty, selling off the beautiful and very expensive pieces, but she hadn’t worn any important ones when she left, so she supposed it was okay. As Kagami calmly and politely asks the shopkeeper to up his price, Marinette’s eyes are caught by a glint of red.

Gently releasing Kagami’s hand, she goes to investigate. She finds two red masquerade masks, and reaches out to one. The rich red velvet is spotted with black dots, a simple black lace trim and seems to fasten with a darker red ribbon. She idly remembers the one masquerade ball she attended in the Bourgeois kingdom many years ago, and how the masks were much more flamboyant and jarring. She scrunches her nose remembering how she was constantly sneezing because of the feathery mask her parents picked out for her.

“Ma- maid!” A call comes from behind her. Marinette whips around to see Kagami. Marinette merely raises an eyebrow, and goes back to examining the mask.

“So that’s the story we’re going with?” Marinette asks, gently teasing her friend.

“I- I forgot, okay?”

Marinette snorts, and shows Kagami the mask. “I think it’s exactly what I need.” She turns it over, and then turns back to Kagami. “‘Gami, where’s the money?”

Kagami blinks at Marinette a few times, before glancing down at her own chest. “Our money is...secure.”

Marinette discreetly glances down at Kagami’s bodice, which is considerably more lumpy than it was before. Kagami shifts uncomfortably, and jingles softly.

Marinette sighs. “I’ll find us a bag.”

When she comes back with a dark red pouch, she spots Kagami inspecting a rich red mask, patterned with scales, an overlapping yellow and black lace trim, also having a red ribbon dangling off it to hold onto the face. Marinette can’t quite tell the material, but she can tell instantly how much Kagami loves it.

“Let’s get it,” Marinette says, sliding up next to Kagami. “We need disguises, and the masks are perfect to do the job.”

Kagami looks like she wants to object, but Marinette presses a finger to Kagami’s lips. “No buts. You know I’m right.”

Marinette places the items in front of the shopkeeper, only now realizing his incredibly short height. “How much?”

The man just shakes his head. “No price. I will not miss the pouch. Besides, I have had the masks for far too long, I will be happy to see them be used.”

Marinette furrows her bow. “Monsieur, are you sure? The mask's craftsmanship is very nice, I would hate to take them off your hands for no money.” The shopkeeper makes eye contact with Marinette, and his eyes twinkle with countless mysteries and stories. “If you insist, I will trade you my wares to know your names.”

Marinette sucks in a breath. This was a problem. They really needed the masks, and the gold couldn’t stay in Kagami’s bodice forever, but they didn’t have names yet-

“Ryuko.”

Marinette whips around to look at Kagami, calm and collected as always. “My name is Ryuko.”

The elderly man nods. “A powerful name indeed. And you, my dear?” he asks Marinette.

Her eyes flicker to the mask she picked out for herself. “Ladybug. I am Ladybug.”

The shopkeeper smiles. “A warrior’s name. My wares are yours. May you both bring good into this world.”

A warrior? Maybe strong Kagami, trained in the art of fencing, but Marinette? Was she really a warrior?

Kaga-, no Ryuko, bows in thanks to the shopkeeper. “We will.” She fastsens her own mask on, grabs the pouch, and turns to Marinette. “M- Ladybug?”

Maybe Marinette is not a warrior, but Ladybug could be. She picks up her mask, and deftly ties it around her face, tying a messy bow at the back of her head. “Merci, monsieur. I hope we can.”

Ladybug extends a hand to Ryuko. “Are you ready to go?”

Ryuko laces her fingers through Ladybug’s, squeezing her hand tight. “I am.”

“Then there is nothing holding us back.”

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous fanfic #lukadrigaminette #lukagami #lukanette #lukadrien #adrigami #adrinette #marigami #kagaminette #luka x adrien x kagami x marinette #luka couffaine #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #adrien agreste #Kagami Tsurugi

121 notes · View notes

bandaged-writer · 4 years

Text

gasoline 01 || dazai

➤ Pairing: Mafia! Dazai x Ability User! Reader

➤ Genre: action, fluff, angst, eventual smut, gore, violence

➤ Warnings: none for this chapter

➤ Summary: Why the hell was this deal still on? It was supposed to go invalid on your 21st birthday, so why did you still receive these damned flowers?

➤ Word count: 3.4k

➤ Note: The first part is finally here and I’m very satisfied with how it turned out. Please, let me know what you think. ^.^

➤ prologue || next

A wave of relief hit you as soon as you stepped foot out of the taxi and got greeted by Yokohama’s salty breeze and its setting sun which dipped the sky into a lilac color. There was the fading smell of crepes and the distant laughter of children playing around on their way home which filled you with a sense of being finally home. Yes, coming home was a luxury for many, yourself included - to be able to take the weight of work off your shoulders, shed the mask of a worker or student and become yourself once again. A place where no one judged you for who you really were, a place where everyone accepted you, a place where you could finally find some rest. You were glad to be home.

However, your train of thought got interrupted by your phone vibrating in your pocket, the display showing you the caller ID of no one else but your best friend and roommate since high school: Yukino. A pretty woman with fair hair and dark eyes, could get a little over excited at times but it made you love her even more. “Are you back in Yokohama yet, [Name]?!” Yukino’s voiced bounced off your ear drums, excitement laced in her voice as she awaited your arrival enthusiastically. You couldn’t help the chuckle slipping your lips, feet carrying you to the nearest subway station with a light bounce in your step. “Yes, I’m finally back and on my way to catch the train home,” you said with a smile stretching your lips as the train pulled up and waited for everyone to either enter or leave at this stop. Only a few people occupied a couple of seats here and there and it luckily wasn’t as packed as it was during rush hour - you sighed in relief. Crowds weren’t really your thing, after all.

Taking a seat and resting your sore legs, you were listening to whatever Yukino was rambling on about until you lifted your gaze and spotted a bouquet of orange lilies right across from you, the petals glaring right back at you while holding a pastel yellow card. There was no need to read it, because you knew what was written on it. Every year, you’d received a bouquet of orange lilies for your birthday and you had no idea from who. Cold sweat trickled down your spine, goosebumps rose along your skin as you stood up and approached the cursed bouquet. “Yukino. I’ll see you at home,” with those words leaving your lips, you hung up on your dear roommate whose response you couldn’t catch.

Shaky hands picked up the card and you silently hoped that this was nothing but a huge mistake, hoped that a stranger happened to forget to take these flowers with them. But it wasn’t. Upon opening the card, a cursive writing revealed itself, one that you were unfortunately very familiar with, one that had been haunting you, one that still followed you, despite your constant running.

“Happy 21st birthday, [Name]. I hope you enjoy this little gift.”

Why the hell was this deal still on? It was supposed to go invalid on your 21st birthday, so why did you still receive these damned flowers?

After all, it had been a year since you left Yokohama per your dad’s request to run from the agreement he had made nearly 13 years ago. It didn’t matter where he had been - at home, work or even the hospital - he always told you to run from a black-haired physician and a bandaged kid, begging you to study abroad if you ever got the chance just so the deal would be invalid and reach its expiration date. At the tender age of 12, you had thought of your dad as an old, confused man, but the older you got, the more you understood how dire the situation was and the more frightened you became of your 20th birthday. Hence, you followed your dad’s advice, studied abroad for a year and came back home on your 21st birthday, believing that you could carry on with your life as a normal citizen of Yokohama.

Your hand balled up into a tight fist, the card wrinkling within your grip and fingernails digging into the flesh of your palm as anxiety got a hold of you. These people were there, possibly watching you or waiting for you to make a move, to do something stupid. And so, you got off at the next stop and dumped the flowers into the closest trash can, the birthday card crumpled beyond repair. You turned around several times to watch out for a man who could look like a doctor or a kid - no, a man - who was either bandaged or had messy, brown hair and would match your dad’s description. However, 13 years had passed and God knew how accurate that description would be now.

Picking up your pace, you bumped into several people but couldn’t be bothered to apologize; there were more important matters at hand and one of them was going home where you were safe. To get out of there as fast as possible. While your mind was clouded with the pure need to flee, you failed to notice two young men watching your every step, one of them matching the description of your father. You had passed right by them, had the chance to see them and make a run for it, but you were blind.

“She’s quite fast. Almost like a bunny. Don’t you think so, Odasaku?” Dazai asked his partner while his brown orbs watched you storm through the subway station as if you had been bitten by a tarantula. Well, maybe that wasn’t even too much of a metaphor considering that all of this was one of his Mori’s schemes and actually quite a cruel way to welcome you home. Odasaku had tagged along per Mori’s request; the mafia boss had said that Odasaku’s ability could be an advantage in case anything were to go wrong. “Couldn’t we just approach her instead of scaring her?” It was a well-known fact that Oda was a kind-hearted man with a mild temper, disliked murdering and hunting people down like that. He felt sorry for you, considering Dazai, out of all people, was the one to hunt you down like some prey.

However, Dazai always had a reason for the things he did and why he did them. “When someone is in a threatening situation, one’s brain chooses between flight or fight and brings out one’s true feelings. I wanted to see how she reacts to the flowers and the card, although the deal Mori made was long since overdue. And as of now, we’ve got a fleeing bunny.”

You didn’t know for how long you had been running, but it was long enough for the air to feel like needles within your lungs, your chest burning with the strain and your feet hurting from the distance you ran. Hope filled your eyes as your shared apartment came into view, your hands already searching for the key in your jacket’s pocket and a smile of victory on your lips. Only a few more meters until you were within the safe walls where Yukino would be cooking something up - maybe ramen? You could really need one of her infamous bowls of her noodle soup right now.

But hope and victory was a fragile thing and could shatter faster than glass. Just as fast as it was within reach, it was ripped away from you within the blink of an eye.

It felt like time was slowed down yet everything happened way too fast when you found yourself in an empty alley, your wrists pinned down by your sides and a pair of dull, brown orbs staring right through your soul, being able to see every single scar and bruise time had left on it. “You’ll regret this,” you muttered through gritted teeth, your own gaze fierce and determined to give this man hell until you saw the bandages around his neck, arms and his left eye, the messy brown hair. Gaping like a fish, you realized that this was the very man your father had warned you about and that the past had caught up to you. “Oh? What will you do? Use your ability on me?” His voice was mocking, testing you and you were about to laugh in his face until you realized it.

Your ability didn’t work.

For the first time in your life, you wished you could properly fight even with your gift being nullified, but no - you had insisted on living a normal life, pretending not to be gifted at all. However, it seemed like the brunette wasn’t out to kill you. Something about him told you he would’ve done so already if he truly wanted to.

“It’s about that deal, isn’t it?,” sweat dampened your hairline, your chest visibly rose and fell as you finally caught your breath, the brick wall behind you cooling your heated back as you pressed yourself against it in an attempt to gain some distance from the brunette who only smirked in response, but it didn’t remain on his lips for too long. Suddenly, bandaged hands let go of you, were clapped together and a somewhat cheerful, delighted smile replaced the cocky smirk in an instant. “Great, then I don’t need to tell you about the details and why we’re here!”

You blinked once, twice. Dumbfounded. Was this really the same guy who pushed you into the uncomfortable wall?

“We?,” you asked, eyebrows raised in surprise and demanding an answer that came in the form of a man who seemed to be out of breath himself as he rounded the corner. Red strands of hair stuck to his cheekbones, the soles of his shoes lightly clacked against the dirty concrete while his hands found their way into the pockets of his jacket. It seemed like he had been running to get there, despite his surprisingly proper appearance.

“Ah, Odasaku! I was wondering when you’d finally join me in my conversation with this lovely lady!” Dazai greeted his friend with a wave of his hand and a chipper voice, his demeanor the polar opposite from the one he pulled just a moment ago. Cautiously, you watched the scene unfold in front of your eyes, not quite trusting them just yet. Deep inside, you hoped that this was some kind of weird dream you’d wake up from soon, but deeper inside, you knew it was mere wishful thinking. “Conversation? It looks more like you’re interrogating her, Dazai,” Odasaku spoke up, not surprised by the brunette’s attempt to somewhat flatter you - it was Dazai, after all.

At that, the suicidal brunette pouted his lips. “Not fair! You know I hate doing such crude things to a pretty lady like her,” Dazai argued back, whining about possibly having to quit his job if he had to keep scaring nice ladies in a dramatic manner that certainly didn’t fit the first impression you had of him. He almost sounded, dare you say, childish. “Anyways,” Dazai turned back to you, his body leaning against the wall behind him, arms crossed over his chest and his face more serious than when he was talking to Odasaku. Seriously, this guy didn’t only confuse you, but also gave you whiplash.

“It’s our order to bring you to our boss, especially since this entire thing has been long since overdue,” Dazai’s eyes were set on your figure like he was committing every little perfection and flaw to memory, like he was analyzing your entire body language which came off more confident now that you knew nothing would happen as long as you cooperated, somehow. “And if I don’t come along?,” you rested your head against the brick wall, your index finger slowly scratching at the skin of your thumb and gaze hard. If life taught you one thing, then it was that people always had a choice - the only question was whether there was a better option.

An empty smile graced Dazai’s features and sent shivers down your spine. “You see, we didn’t know how you’d react and since your ability is quite a troublesome one, I had a sniper watching you,” he cocked his head to the side, brown locks falling in his face and the shadows of the sun darkening his already dull gaze. Looking up at a skyscraper not too far away, you spotted something shimmering and it was proof that Dazai was indeed serious. “Mori almost had you shot, because you pose a threat to this city, but spared you since you can help us with a..bother. I could either finish what Mori started or you help us out.”

You clicked your tongue in annoyance and scanned Dazai’s face for a hint that he was perhaps pulling a sick joke on you, but he was as serious as he looked. The option to die was certainly not the better one, but hearing his boss out wasn’t exactly pleasant, either. “Tch, fine. I’ll hear what that Mori guy has to say.”

“I knew you’d make the right decision.”

Harmless paintings of artists whose name you had never heard of seemed to bore holes into your skull, shelves upon shelves filled to the brim with various books you had never read accepted the role as a silent audience who’d never talk about what went down within the spacious office that belonged to no one else but Mori Ougai. The mafia boss greeted you with a friendly smile, yet it seemed like that very smile was betraying you and ready to stab your back at any moment.

Dazai leaned his weight against the edge of Mori’s desk, another ginger-haired man stood behind the boss whose name was Chuuya. Besides them, Odasaku, Ango and Kouyou occupied the room and judging by the energy they gave off, all of these people were more than confident in themselves, in their abilities and looked up at within that illegal organization. Next to them, you felt small, but you refused to show weakness in front of those who had been haunting you ever since you were merely eight years old. No, you wouldn’t give them that satisfaction. You’d stand your ground, no matter what.

“It’s been a while. You grew up well, [Name],” Mori started the conversation and pulled a document from the drawer of his desk, his dark purple-ish eyes scanning the content briefly before his gaze locked with yours. There was no need to respond to the faux kindness of a man who you had no business with, who didn’t care if you dropped dead or lived and helped him out with whatever issue he was confronted with. “It’s also been a while since you covered for the costs my dad would have to pay for raising a child. I felt free enough to pay it back,” not once did your step falter or shake when you approached the ravenette and dropped an envelope full of money on his desk, a few of pairs of eyes watching your every move. However, even you knew that coming for their boss’s neck would equal your death sentence. Mori counted the money and made a rough estimation - he could let Ango check the accuracy of the money later. Handing the envelope over to Chuuya who tucked the money away safely in his coat’s inner pocket, Mori reached for the document he had earlier once again and had a light smirk tugging at his lips.

“But did you really think that you could buy yourself free with a bit of money?” You furrowed your eyebrows. Honestly, you did think that you could buy yourself free from the shackles your father had unwillingly put you in, but that revelation wasn’t the worst. It was the way Mori spoke like he had even more to say, like he was digging for something deeper, eager to see your reaction for whatever he was about say with that venomous mouth of his. “I would've expected some more questioning from you, [Name]. After all, it was your mother who didn’t want you and gave you into the hands of very compatible surgeons who gifted you your ability. You of all people should know that life is never that easy, right?”

At once, the entire room heated up bit by bit. Odasaku had to loosen the collar of his shirt, Kouyou fanned herself in an attempt to cool her skin down and strands of hair stuck to Chuuya’s forehead. Suffocating heat filled the room, seemingly sucking the oxygen out of the spacious office and making it hard to breathe. Chuuya was ready to jump into action, but Mori hindered him by simply raising a gloved hand, the material of the glove unpleasantly sticking to Mori’s skin.

The expensive carpet beneath the soles of your shoes slowly melted and turned into an ugly black, smoke rising from the costly decoration while your hands reached for the document on Mori’s desk, burning the paper along with its ashes. All that was left was smoke. “You know too much,” the smile on your face didn’t reach your eyes and remained void of any emotions. Dangerous knowledge should be buried, destroyed and burned for it comes with a responsibility and a kind of power that would end up putting innocent people at risk. The fact that Mori knew what happened in your childhood, knew about your mother, was enough for you.

“Oh, did I bring up some unpleasant memories? My apologies,” Mori swiped some sweat off his forehead with a handkerchief and let out a huff of breath at the stifling heat. He was pleased with how well you could control your ability and that was all he needed to know for now. “If you wish, you may go. But I figure you’ll need our help, soon.”

Needless to say, you didn’t trust that man’s words one bit. Even if you were to go blind and Mori was the last human being on this planet, offering you his help, you’d rather choose death. Thinking about him made you realize what detesting someone tasted like. “Thank you, but I’ll have to decline.”

With those words being said, you left the office with a wave of your hand, your back turned towards the mafia members.

“Jeez, I’m glad she’s gone,” Chuuya let out a breath of relief as the entire room rapidly cooled down to its original temperature. “Got me feeling like a baked fish.”

“Chuuya, you are a baked fish,” Dazai added, snickering as the ginger popped a vein.

The clock read 9 pm when you crossed the threshold to your beloved home and the long-awaited smell of Yukino’s ramen filled your nose, making you feel like you had never been gone. However, your nerves were still strained thanks to that guy named Dazai and his boss Mori who ran an entire mafia. Great, just great.

You kicked off your shoes and dragged yourself into the kitchen, a tired smile spreading your lips at the sight of Yukino warming up the leftovers she had probably made earlier. Well, you couldn’t exactly tell her that you would come home later than anticipated, but you didn’t blame her. The fact that Yukino still waited for you made your heart swell with happiness.

“Jeez, who got you hot and bothered?” Yukino pouted and turned off the stove to pour you a bowl of ramen, the added heat of the steam from the noodle soup made her visibly cringe. “Quite literally, it’s burning hot,” she complained, handed you the bowl and sat down at the dining table with you, her chin resting on her hand. Dark eyes watched you slurp away the noodles with a bit of worry swimming in them - after all, Yukino knew about the deal your father was responsible for and was very aware of your ability as well. Besides your mom and dad, Yukino was the only one who knew every little detail about you. “Ah, nothing. Just got stuck in the subway and everything was kinda stressful, you know?,” to give your roommate some peace of mind, you let a chuckle slip your lips, hoping she’d buy it for the time being. Your thoughts were still a bit messy and circled around Mori’s last words like a loop. Something was going on and it bothered you that you didn’t know what exactly it was.

Yukino didn’t know what happened to you, but she was still keen on cheering you up. “You know what!,” she almost slammed her palms on the table and nearly made you choke on your dinner. Her arm found its way around your shoulder, pulling you flush to her side and causing a proud grin to adorn Yukino’s suddenly excited face. “Tomorrow, we’ll spend the entire day together after your job interview! It’ll be great, trust me!”

Oh, right. You totally forgot about your job interview.

#bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd #bsd x reader #dazai osamu #dazai #dazai osamu x reader #dazai x reader #fic: gasoline

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laulink · 4 years

Text

A.N : I have no self-control. The second I enter a fandom, I want to write for it. My next life as a Villainess is no different. So here’s how I want the series to end ! Yeah, thinking a bit of a lot ahead, but what can I say, I’m a sucker for happy endings. Ship : Katarina x Maria.

“Thank you for telling me everything, Katarina. You are in quite the difficult situation, indeed.”

Katarina dropped her head at her mother’s words. Her situation being difficult was an understatement, really. Even though she had managed to avoid her doom by, somehow, leading the game’s story to the friendship ending, or what had seemed to be the friendship ending at the time, she had been harshly reminded that her story didn’t end at her upperclassmen’s graduation party. She was still promised to Prince Giordo who refused to break off their engagement. She had tried to stall, win some time in hopes that Giordo would fall in love with someone else and finally free her, but it hadn’t happened. Instead, she realised he was in love with her, apparently had been for years, and she... she was in love with Maria.

Sweet, kind, cheerful, gentle, beautiful, warm Maria... To make the villainess fall in love with her, she was truly the perfect otome game heroine ! But she was more than that. So, so much more. So brave, so passionnate, so fierce and loyal... How did Katarina think, for even a second, that she would not fall in love with her ? But now she had realised : Maria had won her heart over a long time ago and Katarina wanted nothing more than to spend her whole life with her... But Giordo was in the way and ready to force her into marrying him.

So Katarina had gone home to beg the only person she could think of for advice : her mother, the terrifying Duchess Claes. At least she seemed to understand her daughter’s pain and show some compassion. Now, to know if she would be able to help...

“Mother... Do you have an idea to solve this situation ? I’ve already tried everything I could to make Giordo back off and break our engagement, I even asked my friends for help, but to no avail. He seems convinced that if I marry him and we spend time just the two of us as husband and wife I’ll fall for him... But I can’t accept that ! I don’t want to marry him !”

Katarina felt tears gathering in her eyes as she almost screamed those last words. She tried to hold back a sob : she couldn’t break now, too much depended on her next move. Her whole life... and Maria’s.

Katarina felt her mother put a hand on her shoulder. She hadn’t even realised Lady Claes had left her seat across from her. She looked up to her mother’s face and felt her heart break at the sadness in the older woman’s eyes. That could only mean one thing...

“Is there... nothing I can do... ?”

Lady Claes let out a sigh as she sat down next to her daughter, then gathered the young woman in a tender, soothing embrace. Katarina felt herself melt into it and her tears rolling down her cheeks. It had been so long since her mother had last held her like this... So long since she had needed the reassurance and motherly touch.

After a few minutes, Katarina’s tears dried up and she straightened in her mother’s embrace. She couldn’t spend her whole day crying. She had to face whatever the future held for her and fight for her own happy ending. Even if her mother couldn’t help her, she would find a way.

Scrubbing at her face to get rid of the last of her tears, Katarina separated from her mother’s arms and put on a brave face.

“I am sorry for all the trouble I have caused you, Mother. I haven’t been the best daughter I could be, I realise that... Yet, I am thankful for everything you’ve done for me in all those years.

- It’s true, you have caused quite the problems,” replied Lady Claes, her face an impassible mask. “Which is why, Katarina... I am disinheriting you.”

Katarina’s eyes went wide. She looked at her mother more closely, but still, no trace of emotion showed on her face.

“What... ?

- You are no longer my daughter, no longer the heir to the Claes family. And since the engagement with Prince Giordo was a promise between our two families, it doesn’t stand anymore either. If you wanted to get married to him, you’d have to accept his proposal once more... but you won’t do that, will you ?”

The cogs in Katarina’s brain started working again, slowly, then faster, faster, faster. And she realised... her mother wasn’t ashamed of her, wasn’t disappointed, wasn’t rejecting her. This was her last gift as Katarina’s mother... The last thing she could do to ensure her daughter’s happiness.

Now she could see it. The pain in her mother’s eyes. The faint tremble of her lips. As she had disinherited her daughter, no bridge remained between them. They would never see each other again. But Katarina could be happy with the woman she loved and that was all her mother wanted. All she had ever wanted.

Katarina felt the tears come back to her eyes, but she held strong. Her mother was doing something so hard and heartbreaking for her sake, yet managed to control her own emotions : Katarina had to do the same, show her mother that she was strong enough to handle herself, so Lady Claes wouldn’t have to worry about her anymore after today.

Taking a deep breath, Katarina closed her eyes to compose herself. When she opened them again, no tear slid down her cheeks and her gaze was resolute. Firm. Just like her mother. Lady Claes almost smiled ; at last, her daughter showed the qualities she had always hoped to see in her. She could break down after Katarina left : for now, she needed to make the best of the time they still had together. To admire the woman her daughter had become while she still could. Then see Katarina off with a smile. What would come after... she would worry about it when that time came. For now, Katarina was all that mattered. As she had always been.

Katarina looked in her mother’s eyes, determined and strong. When she spoke, her voice did not waver.

“I understand. Thank you for everything you have done for me up until now... Lady Claes.”

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

Closing the door of her mother’s room, Katarina let out a deep sigh. This wasn’t how she had hoped her day would go... but she understood the gift her mother just gave her, and she swore to herself that she would make the best of it and lead a happy life.

She made her way across the estate, down familiar corridors, old stairs, past the paintings of her ancestors and the curious faces of the staff members. She would miss them... She hoped they wouldn’t be upset that she left without saying goodbye. But she knew that if she did say something, she would cry again and she didn’t think she could handle shedding more tears today.

Finally, she opened the main door to the estate and stepped out into the sun. But apparently, the day wasn’t done surprising her.

“Huh ? What is everyone doing here ?

- Katarina !

- Katarina-sama !

- Sister !”

All of her friends ran to her, worry stitched on their faces. They were all here, Mary, Sophia, Alan, Keith, even Raphael and Nicol, her precious Maria... and Giordo. She felt the sting of anger piercing her heart at the sight of him, reinforced when she noticed how worried he looked, as if he wasn’t the cause of her pain to begin with... but a gentle hand on hers dragged her attention away from him and on the person who was touching her.

Maria.

Somehow, just seeing her seemed to lift all the burdens on Katarina’s shoulders. She felt herself take a deep breath and a smile come up to her lips. Gently, she took Maria’s hand in both of her own and brought it to her lips, softly kissing her knuckles. Maria smiled at that and drew imperceptibly closer, filling Katarina up with the strength and courage she needed to deliver the news.

“Thank you for coming, everyone, and sorry for worrying you,” Katarina started, looking at her friends gathered around her. “I am fine. Everything will be fine from now on.

- What has your mother decided ?” asked Giordo.

He looked worried. Unsure. Maybe was he starting to realise he had gone too far. But it was too late anyway ; and with how things were now, he would have no choice but to accept his defeat.

Instead of answering him directly though, Katarina turned toward Maria. She was still holding her hand in both of her own. Despite their different upbringings, they had similar, calloused hands. Yet, the way they touched each other was the softest either of them had ever felt.

A smile on her lips, Katarina confessed :

“My mother disinherited me.”

A concert of gasps, quickly followed by questions from all of their friends. But none from Maria. She looked surprised, but kept her mouth shut, waiting for Katarina to continue. Patient. Confident in her lover’s smile and assurance.

Katarina’s smile softened even more. Now for the good news.

With a clear, strong voice that halted her friends’ questioning at once, Katarina resumed :

“Now that I am no longer the daughter of the Claes family, the promise between Duke Claes and the King to see Prince Giordo and I married doesn’t stand anymore. The engagement is cancelled.”

Katarina delighted in the way her announcement caused Maria’s face to brighten, her lips to stretch in the sweetest smile, her eyes to crinkle with happiness, her cheeks to redden in delight. She could spend a thousand years watching Maria’s smile and never tire of it. But she had one last thing to do, and hopefully, it would make this smile brighten even more.

Still holding Maria’s hand, Katarina dropped on one knee. She could hear her friends gasp and squeal in excitement, but she didn’t pay it any mind. She was entirely focused on the apparition before her, on how Maria’s blush deepened as she understood what Katarina was doing while tears gathered in her eyes. Happy. Hopeful.

“I have nothing left to my name, nothing but the clothes I am wearing and my love for you, Maria. I am not the brightest, nor the strongest, and definitely not the most powerful person around... but I do love you more than anything in this world, and I will prove it to you every day if you let me.”

Katarina brought Maria’s hand to her lips once more to kiss her knuckles, sealing her promise, then looked back up at her, tears shining in her eyes again, smile so wide it hurt.

“Maria Campbell, will you do me the honour of being my wife ?”

Maria let out a sob as she nodded, too overcome with emotions to form the words right away. But she managed, a second later, and squeezed Katarina’s hand as she answered.

“Yes... ! Yes, I want to be your wife, Lady Katarina !”

Grinning wider than ever before, Katarina rose to her feet and hugged Maria around the waist, picking her up and spinning her around in delight. Maria’s arms wound around her neck and her laughter rang in her ears as the purest sound she had ever heard while their friends cheered around them. But Katarina barely heard them ; all that mattered was Maria.

Her fiancée.

Her future bride.

The love of her life.

Finally stopping, Katarina let Maria down on the ground and gazed at her for a second, before drawing her even closer and into their first kiss as fiancées. Their friends cheered again, deafening, and their smiles were too wide for a proper kiss, but Katarina didn’t care.

This was the best day of her life. And she couldn’t wait to see it topped by every day that would come after.

#my next life as a villainess #otome game no hametsu flag shika nai akuyaku reijou ni tensei shiteshimatta #katarina claes #lady claes #maria campbell #katarina x maria #my post #my writing

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sweetpeagarbage · 4 years

Text

Grief, Gin, & a Bad Boy (Part 1)

Sweet Pea x Reader

Warnings: Death, Depression, Slight Alchololism, Drug Use, Eventual Smut

Reader is Midge’s best friend. After she’s murdered, everyone else seems to have moved on. You still miss her and have trouble coping with it. You meet a tall gang member at party and he seems like a great distraction.

Kevin dragged you to this party and you couldn’t be more pissed about it. Your only saving grace is the cup of jungle juice in your hand. You’d already chugged three and you were feeling it. This one was just to replenish once your buzz wore off. Kevin was off with Betty somewhere and you’d slunk off to hide in the stairwell behind a couple making out.

You can’t help but think of Midge. She used to drag you to these things too with Moose. That seemed like a world away now. Where you were reserved and almost always caught with a resting bitch face, Midge was a smiley ball of sunshine. When she’d first dragged you into the playground with her in second grade you’d been determined not to like her.

Sometimes, when you missed her so much it hurt, you wish she’d never smiled at you that day.

You didn’t realize you were crying until a tear landed on your hand and then into your cup.

“Shit,” you mumbled under your breath and wiped at the tears quickly. You got up and carefully made you way past the couple and to the bathroom where you had to kick out another couple just about to go at it.

You slammed the door behind you and stared at yourself in the mirror. Your red eyes could be explained by the jay you’d smoked off of someone outside but the tear streaks you hadn’t wiped at yet we’re clear. Your shift your expression in the mirror from sadness back to blank and then put on your mask for the rest of the world.

“She’s not half as mean as she looks,” Midge would tell everyone. You can almost hear it in her voice.

With that, you leave the bathroom and run right into a hard body.

“Jesus watch where you’re-“ you begin and then look up to who you’d run into.

Fangs stares back at you, shock written on his face. You’re sure you look that way too until you wipe it off your expression. You turn to leave but he grabs you by the arm softly. You hadn’t seen him since the riots. It had all gone so fast. Midget had just died and word got out she was cheating on Moose with a Serpent. Everyone had gone on a witch hunt and of course came to you demanding a name.

You’d played dumb. Lied about Midge not telling you anything but you knew it was Fangs. You also knew he was in deep with her and wouldn’t hurt a hair on her head. Telling Reggie and his goons would just mean they’d hurt him.

It didn’t make a difference because Fangs got shot anyways. You hadn’t spoken to him since the moments before he’d gotten shot.

You yank your arm free harder than you meant to,”I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Thank you,” he said sincerely,” Just had my last check up. I’m all healed up.”

“Good,” you say, you mean it but talking to him makes you hurt remembering Midge.

“Look, after everything happened I never got a chance to properly thank you for not ratting me out.”

You exhale a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding,” Yeah, well. It’s what she would’ve wanted.”

“You could’ve just given me up but you didn’t. I won’t forget that.”

You scoff, “What difference does it make? Midge is still dead and you got shot. My silence did nothing.”

You stare at the wal behind him, flashes of blood and knives, and screaming going through your head.

“Are you okay?”

You snap your eyes back to Fangs, “Fine.”

“Are you here with anyone? I came with some of my friends if you wanna-“

“There you are!”

You turn to see Kevin coming towards you and taking you by the arm,” I’ve been looking all over. I’m about to do shots.”

Kevin looks between you and Fangs,” Sorry am I interrupting?”

“Nope,” you say quickly and shot Kevin the fakest smile,” Lead me to the shots.”

Kevin pulls you away talking your ear off and you don’t look back. People say hi to you throughout the house and you greet them back. You see several bulldogs crowded around a table with tequila shots and lime.

“Shit looks like the jocks got to them first.”

“You think I’m gonna let Bulldogs stop me,” you say and untangle from him, pushing between two football players and finding yourself across from Reggie Mantle.

He smirks when he sees you and you’re sure you scowl as your eyes narrow.

“Well, well, well Bulldogs it looks like we’ve got a new challenger. You up for it sweetheart?”

You’re suddenly very aware that they’ve created a spectacle of all this. There’s a bunch of Riverdale student cheering it on and you’ve caught yourself in the middle of it.

“What’s the rules Mantle?” You asks, refusing to be unfazed.

“That’s cute. No rules. Shots until you can’t anymore. You vs me. What do you say?”

You don’t hate Reggie. At least you didn’t used to. He was more an asshole in the periphery of your vision. Of course being friends with your best friend boyfriend meant Midge had dragged you on double dates hoping you’d click but Reggie was simple and you were not down to be his arm candy.

Then after Midge had been killed in the middle of your deepest grief he’d cornered you with a bunch of his Bulldogs and demanded you give him the name of the Serpent Midge was cheating with. You’d been crying and screaming and traumatized and his bullshit had sent you over an edge.

You hadn’t really come back since.

“You’re on,” you say and there’s something heavy in the air. Someone starts to count down and once your hear zero you slam back the first shot and then the second and then the third and the fourth and the fifth and Reggie is coughing and sputtering at that point but there’s eight shots laid out and you finish all of them. Everyone cheers around you and you don’t care as they pay you on the back. You’re staring right at Reggie and hoping he sees how much you hate him.

Kevin is the one to drag you away from it, yelling over the music about how much you just drank and asking if you’re okay.

“Fine!” you yell and then Kevin pauses and looks to someone and you follow his eyes to Moose. They both smile.

You knew they were fucking and you had no right to be mad but you were always angry nowadays and Kevin just so happened to be here.

“You two are really fucking obvious,” you say and Kevin snaps his head to you with wide eyes, “You think I wouldn’t notice?”

“Look I didn’t mean for it to happen especially after-“

You yank yourself free of him, “Don’t say her name.”

You’re not sure where you’re going but then you find yourself back in the kitchen with the Bulldogs and getting more jungle juice.

You feel him beside you before you see him. It pisses you off you’ve been around him enough times to know his cologne.

“It was kind of hot that you beat me.”

“Fuck off, Reggie,” you say without looking at him.

“Look I get that you hate me. I do. But can’t we move past it all. We had a lot of fun.”

You didn’t think you could get any angrier but you did.

“I think you think you get just how much I hate you but you don’t. And let me make it clear, I didn’t have fun when we fucked. I was drunk and you were the closest thing with a dick.”

He looks upset for just a moment before he smirks, “Well it looks like I’m the closest thing again. Wanna go for another round?”

You leaned close to him, making him think his charms had worked and then you stopped, eyes fierce,” Fucking me doesn’t count as an I’m sorry I started a panic that made Midge’s mother shoot someone and forget that the reason everything started in the first place was because your best friend died. You might not have killed Midge but you made damn sure finding her murdered became about everything else but her. Everyone forgot Midge and I blame you, you fucking idiot.”

“Everything okay here?”

You don’t look away from Reggie but you recognize Fangs’ voice. Reggie looks from you to him and you know somethings about to start.

“Fangs, how you doing buddy?”

“Fine,” he said curtly as you still stared down at Reggie, daring him to do something so you had a reason to make a scene, “Y/N are you good?”

“Why wouldn’t she be good Fogarty?”

“Because she looks like she wants to kill you.”

You snap out of it then and mumble out that you’re fine before downing more jungle juice.

“You know just because you feel bad doesn’t mean you gotta follow her around?” Reggie said and then tried to protectively put his arm around you. You shove him off much harder than you intend and send him onto the floor

“Don’t fucking touch me,” you slur out as the kitchen goes quiet, watching the scene unfold.

“Why are you so mad at me?” Reggie screamed, pulling himself up from the floor and making you jump back at his anger, “I’m not the one who was fucking Midge!”

It’s a different type of silent now at the mention of her name. Everyone knew The Black Hood went after your best friend because she was cheating on Moose with Fangs, an act deemed immoral by the serial killer. You never judged her for it, pushed her to do right by Moose because he was a good guy, but never judged her.

Reggie definitely was.

“If you want someone to be mad at, be mad at the guy that stuck his-“

Reggie doesn’t have a chance to finish because your fist is in his nose. You’re cursing at him and swinging and you can feel yourself being pulled back from him but whoever it is isn’t strong enough. You lurch out of their grip and tackle Reggie, hitting him again and again.

“Don’t you fucking put it on her,” you’re screaming, “Don’t you dare blame her!”

Before you can register it you’re being picked up around your waist and hauled off, still kicking and screaming.

“Put me down,” you yell, trying to pry the arms that carry you outside into the cool night air.

Finally, you’re set down on the porch and you whip around to see a frantic Fangs and Sweet Pea.

“Jesus you’re stronger than you look,” Sweet Pea mumbles, catching his breath.

“Look,” Fangs began gently, blocking your path back inside, “As much as I’d love to see Reggie get a black eye this isn’t you. You’re drunk and you’re angry and-“

“How about you don’t tell me what I am and move out of my way?” you growl at him, arms crossed.

“Midge wouldn’t want you to do this.”

“Midge is dead,” you replied, voice cold, “And I don’t need you to-“

You stop, eyebrows knitting together.

“What’s wrong?” Fangs asked.

You turn and throw your face over the porch as you violently throw up the contents of your stomach.

“I’m gonna go get her some water. Just don’t leave her side,” you hear Fangs say.

You hate being this girl. You didn’t used to drink this much and you certainly weren’t this angry when you did. It just made things easier.

You finally stop, catching your breath and groaning off the side of the balcony.

“Ew,” you mumble to yourself.

“You good?”

You’d forgotten Sweet Pea was still there to watch you. You had no right to be angry with him...or Fangs. So you resigned yourself to the exhaustion fighting its way into your body.

“Fine,” you throw over your shoulder, straightening up and running your hands back through your hair.

“You don’t look fine.”

You glare at him over your shoulder, faltering back a bit, still drunk, “Don’t take this the wrong way but I’m really fucking tired of people telling me that.”

Sweet Pea chuckles to himself, “You’re fun when you’re pissed.”

You go quiet, making him feel bad. Slowly, he came to stand next to you.

“For real, how’ve you been doing?”

You look to him. You hadn’t spoken to him since Fangs got shot. When Fangs and Midge had first hooked up, you’d found yourself awkwardly with him as both of your best friends made out across the room at the White Wyrm. He’d cracked a joke and made you laugh. You’d thought he was cute back then.

“I just punched Reggie Mantle in the face and threw up. How do you think I’m doing?”

“Well only one of those things sounds like it wasn’t fun,” he teased and you chuckled under your breath, “Oh look she still smiles.”

You half heartedly glare at him and he smiles down at you, all teeth and big, brown eyes and you can’t have the heart to be mad anymore. Vaguely you start to remember the time you’d danced with each other at a party. It seemed like a world away.

“Thank you,” you say hesitantly.

He shrugged, “You didn’t rat Fangs out and you really didn’t have to be there when he got shot...but you were. Makes you alright in my book.”

You scoffed, “Just alright?”

“Well you do go around punching people so I gotta wait before I give you the full okay.”

“Afraid I’ll turn on you,” you teased, the alcohol on your blood and on your breath making you confident as you stepped closer to him and his eyes darken enough for you to hold your breath.

“Promises, promises,” he drawls, and you’re fresh out of air in your lungs.

The door opens and you don’t realize just how close you’ve gotten to Sweet Pea. You take a step back as Fangs comes out with a bottle of water. He raises a brow at Sweet Pea who pretends like nothing had happened.

“I got you some water,” Fangs said and handed it to you. You quickly began to drink it down, grateful. When you’re done you look to him.

“I’m sorry,” you say sincerely, “You didn’t deserve me yelling at you.”

He looks down at his feet, “Not really sure what I deserve right now.”

You know what he means and suddenly you can see the guilt and grief that hangs over you is right above his head as well, darkening you both. All the time you’d been avoiding Fangs and he might be the only one who really, truly understood just how you felt about losing Midge. Sure, Moose was her boyfriend but you and Fangs shared the same guilt in the thing the Black Hood has judged her for. She cheated on Moose with Fangs and you watched her do it, you lied for her, you were by her side when you went to meet him. You weren’t the ones that killed her but it felt like it sometimes.

“It wasn’t your fault.” It tumbled out before you lose the nerve and then you’re reaching out to squeeze his hand. He takes it, giving you a squeeze back and a small smile.

Something bubbles in your chest and you let go more forcefully than you intended.

“Nights still young,” Sweet Pea said, breaking the tension, “y’all still down to party?”

“Fuck it,” you mumble and you’re the first one back into the house

You find yourself at the beer pong table. You slink the last shot right into the final cup in your game. Sweet Pea and you are on the winning team and just beat Cheryl and Toni. Sweet Pea hollers and pick you up, spinning you around. He’s caught up to you in how drunk you are.

He puts you down, quickly and yells over the cheers, “Don’t throw up!”

“Fuck you,” you yell and shove him at his chest playfully. He grabs your hand and holds it there, making intense eye contact with you.

“Got room for another game.”

Your moments broken up by a particularly pissed looking Reggie with a bruised nose. You snort a laugh, too drunk to be angry anymore.

“Not enough that a punched you in the face you want me to wreck you at beer pong too, Mantle?” you call out, laughing and taunting him as you down what’s in your cup.

“I could wreck you sweetheart,” Reggie says, lewdly scanning your body.

“Mantle you wanna fuck off,” Sweet Pea said calmly, arms crossed.

Reggie looks from Sweet Pea to you, his smile unnerving, “Careful, bro. She’s pretty but she might punch you in the face next.”

You recover quickly and drawl, “Oh my god you think I’m pretty.”

Moose comes to his side, pulling him away and looking at you with an apologetic look. It was the only way he ever looked at you now.

“C’mon bro that’s enough,” Moose said, tugging Reggie away.

Reggie pointed to Sweet Pea with a smirk, “She’s a real handful when she’s mad but she’s a great time.”

Luckily no ones paying attention to the drunk Bulldog this time. You know Sweet Pea hears it though because he looks from Reggie to you with a raised brow. Your jaw clenched and you start to walk away but Sweet Pea stops you. You hate that he made you feel ashamed of yourself. You hate Reggie for making you remember this drunk, angry girl is not who you are.

“Wanna get out of here?”

There’s tears pricking at the corners of your eyes and you’re suddenly very aware of how loud it is in here, back leaning against a wall.

You look up at him and wipe it all away to smirk and bat your lashes, “I want you to take me somewhere to fuck me.”

His brows shoot off his head, “Don’t fuck me to get back at Reggie.”

“I’m fucking you because you look like you want it about as much as I do,” you’re pushing it. You know that but Sweet Pea smiles and leans down until his lips are at your ear.

“If you did wanna piss Reggie off look at him right now,” he whispers in your ear, hands coming up to grab at your waist. You find Reggie over Sweet Pea’s shoulder, glaring at the two of you. You smirk at him just as Sweet Pea pulls back to look at your face, forcing your attention to him.

“Was he looking?” he asked though his eyes are on your lips, the last thing in his mind Reggie Mantle.

“Yeah,” you manage as the hulking boy in front of you puts a hand at your jaw, tilting your face up.

“Good, let’s give him a show.”

He kisses you deep, thumb brushing at your cheek and pulling you so close you gasp. In the space of your parted lips, his tongue meets yours. All thoughts other than the Serpent holding you leave your head. He’s a good kisser, a great kisser and he’s everywhere. Your back presses into the wall and you find yourself fisting your hands in his shirt, trying to pull him closer but there’s no more space for you two to close between you.

He brings a leg forward, making you part yours for him. There’s a whimper in your ears and you realize it’s you. He chuckles, dangerous and low against your mouth.

“You okay baby girl?”

You nod, eyes still closed.

“Look at me.”

You pull your gaze to his and if you couldn’t hear your heartbeat before you can now looking into his eyes, pupils blown wide and gaze heavy lidded on you. He puts his fingers under your chin, tilting your head up to look at him.

“When I fuck you, it’s going to be because you want me so bad you can’t take it. Not because we’re drunk and you want to piss off Reggie.”

He kisses you one last time, slow and sweet instead of with the sloppy heat of before. He finds your hand entangling with his.

When he pulls away your gaze at him is soft.

“C’mon let’s get some water,” he suggest over the music and leads you away hand in hand. You don’t even look back at Reggie as he pulls you through the crowd.

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