#this might show up in the shadow au later on in some way shape of form ;) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

therealvalkyrie · 3 years

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exactly the spring

Pairing/setting: Ushijima Wakatoshi x Fem!Reader, college!AU

Summary: Reserved biology student Ushijima finds himself falling in love when you, an adorably disorganized art student, wander into the greenhouse.

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: fluff, kissing

AN: Hi!! So, the inspiration for this one sprang from the beautiful, sexi brain of Emme ( @doinmybesthere ) way back in MARCH ahem anyway, it's done! I hope it's just as soft and intimate as you envisioned<33 Also, big shoutout to my beautiful friends Arobi ( @daqueenobooty ) and Cee ( @spacelabrathor ) for being wonderful betas and giving me such kind comments:) I hope you enjoy, and as always don't be shy about leaving comments or coming to chat! Be kind to yourselves and others. ~valkyrie

p.s. check out this amazing art that @/54prowl made of plant boy ushi!! :D

Plants don’t talk back, Ushijima learned as a toddler. He’d babble to them in nonsensical phrases as his mother worked in the garden, and they’d only sway in the wind and listen, waxy under his chubby fingers.

A volleyball doesn’t talk back, either, not even through its bounces and echoes on hands and hard surfaces. It doesn’t listen as easily as plants, but can be herded and shaped like putty into a winning thing if you touch it right. This, Ushijima learned at his father’s hand and carried with him through childhood and adolescence.

The joy and puzzlement of you is that you do both. You listen so intently and openly with your steady eyes and soft body as the words pour out of him. And then, you reply. With your clear voice and new perspective, you offer something new. You offer companionship.

It was the second week of spring semester that you wandered into the greenhouse, eyes lit by the sun and sketchbook under one arm. Ushijima was repotting a large fern, dirt up to his elbows as he kneeled on the floor. He barely gave you a second glance, preoccupied with nestling the plant’s root system comfortably.

You settled a short distance away, crossing your legs to sit on the tile floor in front of an orange tree to sketch its still-closed flower buds with charcoal pencils. He kept working as you did, the sun sliding across glass, shadows shifting into the early evening of winter. When the sun was threatening to set over the city skyline — even with the greenhouse where it sits on the roof of the biology building — he turned to tell you he was closing up, only to find you gone. In your place, sitting on the wooden table that held newly planted basil and sage, was a drawing.

It was a single branch, detailed in shades of charcoal down to the last dewdrop. At the bottom, looping handwriting scrawled, “thank you for the peace.”

That night, he tacked it up above his desk in his dorm next to the postcard from Tendō and hoped you’d come back.

And you do, a couple of days later, on a Saturday. He looks up from where he’s filling in the logbook, this time, catching your gaze and holding it for a moment before you break away to survey the room. Today, he thinks you looked breathtaking. You’re wearing a long, flowing skirt and a sweater that makes him want to feel how soft it is, and how soft you are in it, and by the time his brain catches up with his thoughts, he’s been staring too long and your eyes have wandered back to him. It’s raining, today — it never really snows in this city, he’s learned — and shadowy droplets play across your face as they drip down the greenhouse’s arched glass ceiling, highlighting the curve of your cheekbone and making your eyes glow softly.

He clears his throat and looks back to the thick spiral-bound book on the table before him. Sometimes, when he meets people for the first time, he knows he can come across as intimidating. That worked out for him in high school and on the volleyball court, but in his adulthood, it’s been more of a hindrance than a help. It makes it… difficult to make friends here, where he doesn’t already know anyone.

And the last thing he wants is to scare you away. The last thing he wants is to break the peace you’ve apparently found here.

Which is why he barely dares to breathe when he looks up to find you approaching him where he’s perched on a sturdy wooden stool.

“Hi,” you smile and lilt, and god if it isn’t the most beautiful word Ushijima’s ever heard, if it isn’t the prettiest smile he’s seen.

He doesn’t respond, doesn’t want to scare you away.

“Uhm,” you start again, when the silence makes it clear he’s waiting for you to speak, “I have an art assignment,” you start digging around in your shoulder bag as you speak, “to draw a, um, what’s it called?”

“I don’t know.”

You pause in your rifling and pin him with such a sunny smile it makes his knee start bouncing. And you laugh, too, which officially replaces your “hi” as the most beautiful sound in the world.

“Ha, you’re funny,” you resume digging, “it was um, pretty leafy and... tropical, I think? Oh! Here.” Triumphantly, you produce a wrinkled paper from your bag. It’s the first imperfect thing Ushijima’s found out about you, that you’re shit at keeping your belongings organized, and he files it away for later reference. You hold the paper in front of your face and squint slightly to read in the shifting light. “Canna indica.”

Canna indica, native to tropical climates, notable as a minor food crop for South American Native populations for thousands of years.

“And I was told that you have it, here, in the greenhouse.”

Ushijima nods and finds himself relieved that this is what you’re asking him. Plants, he can do.

“We do. Would you like me to show you?”

“Yes, please,” you also sound relieved, like he’s provided the solution to every problem you’ve ever had.

He unfolds himself from the stool, setting down his pen as he goes. You take a step back and look up at him mildly, as though you hadn’t realized quite how huge he is.

“This way,” he indicates, leading you deeper into the maze that is the biology department’s greenhouse. The winding path back to the tropical room gives him a moment to sink back into the earthy peace of being here, even if now there’s someone sharing that peace.

The temperature change from the warm main greenhouse to the balmy tropical room prompts Ushijima to shed his flannel outer layer, hanging it on the nail hammered by the door while you step in behind him.

“Whew,” you exhale, shrugging off your soft cardigan as well, “it’s hot in here.”

Ushijima hums in agreement and tries not to look too hard at the patch of skin revealed by your cropped tank top. Canna indica isn’t too far into the room, so he just gently moves past draping leaves and ceramic pots.

“Here,” he stops, holding back leaves for you. He stops breathing again when you duck under his arm and end up so close in the narrow aisle that he can smell your shampoo. The moment passes, and he can breathe again when you breeze past him and squat down to peer at the bright, waxy red leaves of your subject.

“Beautiful,” you murmur, and he silently agrees.

You’re leaning so close to the plant he’s afraid you might topple over when you make a noise of realization and sit back on your butt to rifle through your bag once again. Ushijima knows he should probably leave you to it, but he’s glad he waited just an extra minute when you pull out a pair of glasses and pop them on your face. Adorably.

“That’s better.” You’re looking back at canna indica, now, at a normal distance.

He’s figured you’ve forgotten he’s there when you start to pull out pastels from your seemingly bottomless bag, so he turns to leave you.

A soft, “hey,” calls him back to you, however, and he’s met by your face glowing eerily in the shifting rain-light. “Thank you for your help.”

“You’re welcome.”

When he locks up that afternoon, he finds another charcoal drawing waiting for him on the table near the door, this time of his favorite agapanthus africanus. No note, this time, but he attaches all the sounds he heard from you today in its place. He also finds your cardigan forgotten next to where you were sitting and carefully folds it for when you come back.

The drawing joins the orange branch on his wall-- an odd starter garden, he thinks, but all the more precious because it came from you.

The next time he sees you isn’t in the greenhouse, but instead at a cafe a couple of blocks away, two weeks later. He’s walking past, gym bag slung over his shoulder, when he hears your laugh ring out across the outdoor seating area. His eyes find you, head tipped back in sending peals of mirth into the lively spring air. It’s the first truly warm day of the season, though you and your companion are the only patrons sitting outside, and the sun catches on your glasses sat atop your head.

Your friend says something apparently hilarious, because your giggles redouble, and an honest-to-god snort pushes out of your nose. Ushijima catalogues it in his ever-growing list of sounds you make, and pauses at the crosswalk, halfway turned back to keep one eye on you and one on the light. If you were alone, he might’ve approached you and told you that he still has your sweater in the greenhouse, waiting on a shelf between succulents, but he doesn’t want to interrupt your— date?

He isn’t sure, but the person sat there with you seems like someone you might date. Clearly also an art student, judging by the carefully disheveled blue hair and combat boots. Are you the type to date someone with blue hair? Unlikely, he decides. You seem too… bright. Too floaty to be so concerned with looking like you don’t care how you look.

Ushijima’s still debating whether you find blue hair attractive when the crosswalk light begins its countdown and he starts across the street. And he almost makes it all the way across, too, when a voice calls—

“Wait! Hey!”

He turns partially because it sounds urgent enough that it might be an emergency, and his grandmother would roll in her grave if he remained a bystander to some horrific accident. But it’s you, standing up from your seat and waving him back over. He glances at the crosswalk countdown, which lights up red as it ticks from four to three, then turns and jogs back towards you, waving a hand apologetically to the cars waiting at the light. You meet him at the metal fence around the cafe seating area, and now that you’re standing, he can see you’re wearing a yellow sundress that cuts off at your calves and drapes over your hips like the fabric was spun from pure light.

“Hello.” Ushijima talks first this time because if he doesn’t refocus his brain on something else he knows he won’t be able to stop staring.

“Hi! Sorry about that, uh, and I’m sure you have places to be, but, um, did I leave my cardigan at the greenhouse? I can’t find it, and I know I have a tendency to forget things, so,” you finish with a laugh, one hand fiddling with the rings on the other.

“Yes, you did. I put it on a shelf in case you came back.”

“Oh! That’s great!” You sound relieved, and Ushijima’s suddenly very grateful he didn’t take it down to the bio department’s lost and found like they’re technically supposed to. “Is there maybe a time I can come pick it up? When you’ll be there?”

“I’ll be there all day tomorrow, opening at nine.”

He can’t tell if he sounds a little too eager, and he’s about to soften his meaning by telling you that they’re open today, too, and anyone can hand you a sweater, but you’re already smiling big and sunny and telling him,

“I’ll see you at nine, then. Do you drink coffee?”

He doesn’t; his coaches have always told him that caffeine can only harm his athletic performance.

“Yes, I do.”

“Then I’ll see you at nine, with coffee.”

Ushijima says goodbye and turns to wait at the crosswalk again while you swirl your way back to your seat and pick up your conversation with your friend. He can feel two pairs of eyes on him as he crosses the street, red numbers blinking down from ten, and can’t help but turn to look back as he steps onto the opposite sidewalk. Where your friend tactfully looks down into their cup of tea, you catch his eye with yours and wave. He lifts his hand halfway in a goodbye before an eighteen-wheeler stops at the intersection and blocks you from him.

Ushijima’s normal work attire is typical of an average agricultural biology student accustomed to being up to their elbows in dirt every day: practical cargo shorts, dirt-stained but sturdy sneakers, a “plant dad” t-shirt (a gift from Tendō when they’d said their goodbyes and gone away to college), and a soft cotton flannel. He’s usually satisfied with this for his shift at the greenhouse, expecting to be mud-covered at least up to his wrists by the end of the day.

But today… Today, he pauses in the dorm bathroom to scrub his face raw, and he clips and shapes his nails like his mother used to do for him every Saturday. He normally only does it before tournaments, now, and it calms his nerves to feel prepared for a Big Event, even if that event is only handing you your gently pilled cashmere cardigan and receiving a coffee he won’t drink in return.

The air that morning is heady with spring, earthy and alive, reminding Ushijima of lying beneath the hedge along his mother’s garden to pass notes to the girl next door. He was seven and she was nine, so naturally she knew everything he didn’t. She knew about the planets and why worms live in dirt and how to spell the word “catastrophe,” and Ushijima would’ve bet his whole weekly allowance that she was the coolest person in the world, if he knew what betting was. (She did, and once bet him half an ice cream sandwich that he couldn’t climb the oak tree in his backyard all the way to the top. He did, and then twisted his ankle on the way down, and she brought him an ice cream sandwich every day for a week as an apology.) She was all shiny, long black hair and dark eyes and fast words, nothing like the spring blooming around him.

You, on the other hand, are exactly the spring.

He stops at his favorite pastry place on the way to work to pick up two fresh cream donuts. The line is just dwindling from the height of the morning rush, so he manages to make it to the biology building just five minutes before he normally does.

Morning sun sends rainbows through the automatic misting spray as Ushijima unlocks the greenhouse door, letting a burst of humidity out into the rest of the building. The spiral-bound log book is there on the desk, a thick parchment bookmark sticking out from where whoever closed last night marked the page.

Ushijima places his backpack and pastry bag on the desk and reaches to hang his key on its hook just when there’s a knock on the door.

“I know I’m early,” you start, edging your way into the room with a paper coffee cup in each hand. “But I saw it was already open, so...”

Ushijima smiles despite himself. In their second year Oikawa Tooru had told him that his smiles can be unnerving, but he can’t help it right now. You look so lovely today, in jeans and a silky tank top, with a certain morning tenderness in the way you hold yourself.

“It’s okay, come in. I just need to check the temperature controls and I’ll be done opening.”

“Sounds good,” you reply, smiling back.

As he makes his way to the temp controls on the Southern wall, you perch on the wooden stool and set down the coffee.

With his back turned to you for a moment, you allow yourself to slouch, planting two hands on the table and stretching your shoulders with a sigh. It’s earlier than you normally get out of bed, let alone actually leave your apartment, and you can already feel a quiet exhaustion setting into your bones.

But this is worth it, you remind yourself. Worth it to talk to the beautiful boy with broad shoulders and gentle hands.

He’d been unexpected. That first day in the greenhouse, you’d sat down with the intention to calm down from a tedious school day and nothing more. Your hands had moved of their own volition on that second drawing of the orange branch, scribbling out a hasty message that made your cheeks burn. But he was so present that day, in the corner of your eye but staying respectfully out of your space. And you’re not blind -- you saw the muscles under his shirt as he lifted an entire small tree in its pot. You saw the startling shade of green his eyes took on in the sun. You saw it all, and it drew you back, and now you’re here.

When he joins you back at the table, leaning back against it to face you, you stick out your hand and offer your name.

He looks at it for a moment, then back at you.

“I just, uh, realized we never properly introduced ourselves,” you explain, with a hesitant smile.

He smiles again and your heart thuds, then his big hand engulfs yours and he shakes it firmly.

“Wakatoshi. It’s nice to meet you.”

You learn in the following weeks of coming to the greenhouse that Wakatoshi doesn’t like coffee. But he does like tea and donuts, so that’s what you bring him on the mornings you can find it in you to wake up before nine. You sit with him in the greenhouse, talking and listening as he records data and waters plants and sits next to you on the quilt you’ve fallen into the habit of bringing. The occasional professor or student comes through, and you get to watch Wakatoshi show off his brains when he leaves you to help them.

There are several things you learn about him over those weeks. Number one: he never minces words. Two: he prefers grapefruit chapstick over anything else. And three: he kisses like it’s his last day on Earth.

You discover number three late one night when you decide to drop by after class, shooting him a text to make sure he’s still there. Today he’s closing instead of opening, and you missed spending your morning with him.

The city lights cast a different kind of glow at this time of night. They add a distance to everything that’s palpable as you drop your bag by the door.

“Toshi, are you here-- oh, hi.” You turn the corner to find him closing the door to the supply closet.

His cheekbones are highlighted briefly by a billboard outside flashing red.

“You should get some sleep.”

“I’m not tired. And I wanted to see you.”

“You wanted to see me?”

He takes a step towards you and you have to tilt your head back slightly to keep your eyes on his. They’re leaf green and unreadable.

“Yeah, uh,” you wet your lips with your tongue, “is that okay?”

“Yes.” He pauses for a long time, then, watching you carefully in the neon glow of the exit sign. His hand shakes as it reaches up to push your glasses from your face onto your head.

Without them, he looks fuzzy and soft around the edges.

He says, “Can I kiss you?” and it feels like there’s a bird trapped in your ribcage.

“Yes. Kiss me.”

Wakatoshi kisses nothing like you expected, all tongues and teeth and heavy fingers in the dip of your waist. He growls when you gasp and mewl against him, sucking on your lower lip as your hands find purchase in his shirt. He kisses you so absolutely breathless that you think you might pass out. Your knees buckle and you pull away, gasping with your eyes closed for a moment until you come back to yourself.

“Are you alright, little one?”

The endearment makes your cheeks flush with heat and your eyes snap open.

“Yes, I’m alright. Please do it again.”

And so he does it again, and again, and again until you find yourself bringing him home with you on the last bus that goes towards your neighborhood. He’s standing in the aisle, one hand wrapped around a pole and the other wound around you, who’s standing in front of him. He keeps you steady as the bus rounds a corner.

That night, you bring the peace of the greenhouse into your home, and the only thing you find yourself wishing for is that it never leaves.

#ushijima wakatoshi x reader #ushijima x reader #ushijima x fem!reader #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu!! fanfic #hq fanfic #valkyrie writes #exactly the spring #haikyuu fluff #ushijima fluff #don't look at me i'm posting this early bc i'm IMPATIENT #*sobs*

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the-friendliest-freak · 2 years

Note

I love your Poppy Playtime art! I was wondering now that chapter 2 is out, is there anything you changed about your headcannons/AU?

Design-wise, I wanna update them a little bit - since Stella’s now been working at the company for a few years I might make her look older, might do the same with Avery, too.

Might add some more muscle to Rich (was somewhat tempted to make him shorter but then he’d get way more Wolverine comparisons then he already does). Might make the shadow cast by his hat darker (I have…an embarrassing amount of Rich art at the moment that I haven’t posted, let me know if anyone wants to see that).

Speaking of headcanons, I was actually surprised by how on-the-mark I was with “When Rich gets incredibly pissed it appears as joviality before slowly turning into outrage”. That…I was not expecting.

In terms of personality interpretations:

Rich has practically been confirmed to be a massive dork with the messages you find in the Rejected Toys Area (I got these from a compilation vid)

Also Avery’s surname might be Fri, either that or “Fri” is short for “Friday”, so the note is actually saying “Lunch with Avery on Friday”. Fun fact: Fri is a German surname, and my head canon surname for Avery was Walkenhorst - a German surname.

Stella…I’m unsure about. I thought she was going to be the one to become Poppy but now I’m not too sure. Future design changes might reflect this, maybe I’ll make her look less like Poppy. I don’t trust her after reading what she did, though my headcanon that her longing for reliving her childhood came from her having to “grow up too quickly” during WW2 still stands until new information is revealed.

Patty Hall is Rich’s workplace crush. She gave him her number.

Marie Payne was a worker for Playtime Co who joined the company because she liked the idea of being a “mother” to countless children by making them toys

Ages: Avery is 24, Stella (by the time of her chapter 2 tape) is 35, Rich is 32 but everyone thinks he’s in his 50s (stress does things to a man so he does look like he’s in his 50s)

Avery and Rich go out to lunch every now and then, once every two weeks or so.

I like to think that Rich either becomes Huggy or 1006 - Huggy because I’m more used to that theory, and 1006 because the idea of this guy that everyone considered worthless becoming the one to kill them all and eventually take full control of the factory…it’s a good concept.

The regular-sized toys are usually those made from children, while the larger ones like Huggy or MML are made from adults

Elliot Ludwig lost his daughter, and after that he and his wife divorced. His daughter became Poppy.

The weird calorie intake mentioned in this poster consists of the same “portions” that were fed to Experiment 814:

Still not sure how I interpret the human-to-toy transformation but here’s a hunch: the human is fed portions of the mysterious food, the human is killed and subsequently submerged in the poppy gel - and a toy is submerged with them, the human and the toy become one (for those who know TMNT 2012, think of how the mutagen worked from that show)

One headcanon that I want to change: Rich can spell and read and doesn’t struggle with grammar unless he’s stressed. He’s actually incredibly eloquent…when he’s not frazzled.

You know the “he asked for no pickles” meme? Rich and Avery. Avery’s got social anxiety.

Kathy/The Player was a scientist. I’m still inconclusive about wether they feel guilt about what they’ve done, and if they reacted at all upon MML’s death.

Kathy/The Player is an action figure. It takes them a bit of work to pass off as human, but they’re lucky to be more human-shaped than the other employees.

Rich’s autistic there I said it. He’s undiagnosed. The chapter 2 tape is him having a meltdown

There are probably more but I’ll likely make a much bigger post later on with the new characters added like Marcus and Marie.

Thank you for the question! I love questions like this!

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kurokoros · 4 years

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silver tongue | kuroo (kinktober day 5)

Rated: M

Words: 4.9K

Pairing: villain!kuroo x fem!reader

Summary: A late night at the agency takes a turns when you run into Panther, an S rated villain.

AN: I started working on a bnha x hq crossover a while ago, and decided to base character quirks on the kanji in their names, and, well... Kuroo means “black tail” sooooo I wrote tentacle porn. You’re welcome.

Note: Jishin is, if google translated it correctly, Japanese for “earthquake”, which has to do with Daichi’s quirk in this au.

Kinktober 2020 Day Four: Public Sex + Day Nine: Tentacles

Warnings: smut, oral (male receiving, implied at the end), public sex, manhandling, restraints, quirk play, tentacles, double penetration, teasing, overstimulation, choking, biting, dirty talk (degradation and praise)

Leaving Daichi’s new sidekicks squabbling in the corner of the office, you slip out the side door of the Agency, stepping into the quiet alley with a sigh. Your heels click against the ground, and you shiver as the cold night air curls around you. The light breeze tickles your bare legs and arms, your work clothes providing little coverage from the chill, unlike the warmth of the building behind you.

Closing your eyes, you lean back against the brick wall behind you, two fingers rubbing at your temple to chase away an impending headache.

As much as you’ve grown to like the pair of energetic rookies in the short time they’ve been working at the agency, you could do without their constant bickering. Especially this late at night. It was just your luck, really, drawing the short straw tonight. As Daichi’s personal assistants, it was up to either you or Kiyoko to supervise Kageyama and Hinata—fresh out of school and eager to work in the field—as they did their required paperwork. Without someone breathing down their necks, neither boy would get any of it done, and Kiyoko finally cashed in on a favor you owed her to get out of babysitting late into the night.

Not that you can blame her for that. With the amount of petty fights you’ve already had to break up tonight, you would have jumped at the opportunity to leave, too.

A muffled shout comes from the building behind you, but you ignore it. Opting to leave the arguing pair to their own devices for a few minutes. It may not be the best idea, but given the alternative, you’d rather deal with the repercussions later.

Besides, what Daichi doesn’t know won’t kill him.

You drop your hand back to your side, making yourself comfortable against the side of the building despite the rough texture of the bricks and the chilly temperature. Opening your eyes, you turn your gaze to the mouth of the alley, tucked between the agency and a café that closed hours ago. Despite the late hour, the streets are still bathed in light from the moon and the street lights.

A shadow moves in the corner of your eye. Soundless as it slinks across the ground. Graceful. It’s gone as soon as you glance to the right, and you frown, but decide not to dwell on it as you return your gaze to one of the old buildings across the street. A trick of the light, that’s all it was. Or one of the skittish stray cats you’ve caught Asahi feeding on more than one occasion. It’s late, but not late enough for anyone to be causing trouble, especially this close to such a reputable agency.

But the shadow moves again, just barely visible in the hazy space where the light from the streetlamp melds back into the darkness. It squirms again, a dark shape against the ground. This time, you’re faster, following the movement with your eyes just in time to catch something black disappearing back into an unlit part of the alley. It flickers at the edge of your vision almost tauntingly, coaxing you to follow, and your brows furrow in confusion.

Peering into the darkness where it vanished, your breath hitches when you make out the silhouette of a tall, suit-clad figure leaning against the alley wall across from you. You tense, eyes widening just the slightest as raw, icy fear grips your chest.

A pair of vibrant eyes meet yours through the shadows, and a lazy grin spreads across a handsome face. “Don’t you know it’s not smart to be at the office alone this late at night, kitten?” There’s a playful lilt to his voice, almost deceptively sweet. He shifts against the wall he’s leaning on, eyes narrowing playfully. “There might be villains around.”

The irony isn’t lost on you.

Across from you, Kuroo’s lips twitch as you stay silent. Irritated, perhaps. Or maybe this is all part of some game to him. He stares at you through the lock of messy hair falling in his face, relaxed despite how close he is to such a well-known Hero Agency. Especially one that’s been tracking him for so long.

His hands casually slip into the pockets of his slacks. “What’s wrong?” he asks, cocking his head to the side. Amusement dances in the depths of his gaze. “Cat got your tongue?”

An indignant scoff leaves the back of your throat. Cat? More like a— “Panther,” you say, purposely using his alias. It’s not a greeting—not quite, anyway. And it sounds strange on your tongue.

Kuroo’s eyes narrow into a glare. He’s always hated how his villain name sounds coming out of your mouth. Almost mockingly. Taunting him. Pressing his buttons in just the right way. You’ve never been truly afraid of him. Despite his reputation. Despite the fact that you’re quirkless. And that’s what makes this so much fun.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, before he can respond with one of the sly remarks nettled on his silver tongue. The question is breathier than you mean for it to be, a result of the intoxicating concoction of emotions swirling inside you. Shock. Confusion. Lingering fear from the split second you didn’t recognize him. And beneath that, something else.

You wet your lips, glancing at the door to your right. You can still hear Kageyama and Hinata inside. Their arguing is louder than before, but still muffled through the wall. They probably haven’t even noticed you slipped outside yet. And you doubt they will. At least, not for a while.

Kuroo follows your gaze, but otherwise doesn’t move. For a moment, he listens as well, finally hearing the tell-tale sounds of arguing from inside. Something in his expression shifts, his grin devilish. You squeeze your thighs together. “I was in the neighborhood,” he tells you nonchalantly, as if he isn’t a wanted criminal lurking outside of a building owned by one of the men intent on arresting him. Those clever eyes shift back to you. “Thought I might check on my favorite assistant.”

His tone is teasing, but you recognize the hint of genuine concern that flickers in the depths of his hazel eyes, and it makes you soften for a split second. You hate when he does that. He’s not supposed to care about you, and you’re sure as hell not supposed to care about him. But then, you aren’t supposed to be fooling around with him either.

This time, you snort, eyes rolling. “Well, as you can see, I’m fine.” Pausing, you glance at the building behind you again, wondering if you should say anything else. Kuroo must know by now that you aren’t alone. It would be impossible not to hear the amount of shouting going on inside the agency. “Kageyama and Hinata are here. We have them doing paperwork tonight. I’m babysitting.”

Kuroo’s brow furrows as he tries to connect the names to the faces he’s seen. Once he does, he narrows his eyes. “Jishin left his pretty little assistant alone with just some rookies?” he asks, using your boss’s alias mockingly. “What are a couple of kids going to do if some big, bad villain shows up and attacks the place?” Because that’s what he is, right? A big, bad villain.

What does that make you?

You choose not to take the bait. “What are you really doing here, Kuroo?” you ask him, lowering your voice even though there’s no one around to hear you. “Shouldn’t you be lying low? It’s only been a few days since you and Daichi—”

One long, black tendril shoots from his lower back. It lashes out. You cut off with a yelp as it races towards you, wrapping around both of your wrists and pinning them above your head before you can react. Gasping, you tug at the squirming limb, but it only coils around you tighter, squeezing. Like a warning. It’s cool to the touch, smooth against you, and the strange sensation makes you shudder. The tip wriggles against the inside of your arm, almost ticklish.

“I don’t want to hear his fucking name out of your mouth,” he snaps, Daichi’s name setting him off. Just like you knew it would. His eyes narrow again, his jaw clenching. The slim tentacle around your wrists tightens, and you bite your tongue to hold back an embarrassing whimper. Pulse pounding, your heart stutters in your chest when he sends you a look that makes you tremble.

Kuroo slips his hands out of his pockets as he takes a step towards you. Gravel crackles beneath his feet, loud in the otherwise quiet alleyway. Gold eyes glint beneath the dim light of the streetlamps. Predatory. Hungry. His lips curl into a smirk as he stops just in front of you, his chest nearly brushing against yours.

Your breath catches at his proximity, and his grin widens. You swallow down another soft, pitiful sound that bubbles up in your throat, but he’s close enough to notice the way your pupils dilate.

“I think you know exactly why I’m here,” he says, voice a low hiss in your ear. “So, don’t play dumb. You know better than that.”

The shadows around him squirm, something moving behind him, so dark it blends in perfectly with the murky walls of the alley. Another tendril curls out from behind his back, flickering back and forth like the tail of an irritated cat. You shiver again as it reaches for you, lashing out just like the last one. The tip of the tentacle ghosts across your cheek, caressing you. It’s a startling contrast from the rough way your hands are stretched above your head, an ache already forming in your shoulders.

The loving stroke against your cheek isn’t matched by the mischievous glint in his eyes. “Didn’t you miss me, kitten?” Though still teasing, there’s a note of blatant affection to the endearment this time. Even his eyes soften just a little, betraying his fondness for you, though it’s hidden away again just as quickly.

“No,” you huff, struggling against the binding around your wrists. It doesn’t budge, only wriggles against you tauntingly. It’s a blatant lie, and Kuroo sees right through it.

His grin twists into an exaggerated pout, but the mocking look in his eyes never dims. “Ouch.” Kuroo presses a hand to his chest, like you’ve wounded him. “You’re going to break my heart.”

You lean into the cool touch of his quirk against the side of your face. “Like you have one.”

While you mean for it to be biting, scathing, the quip comes out breathy, and it only makes him laugh. It’s dry, humorless. “Maybe I don’t,” he agrees. You can’t make out the look in his eyes. “But that’s never stopped you from letting me fuck you before.”

“Fuck you,” you say, embarrassed by the way you arch into his touch instinctively.

He clicks his tongue. “You’re being such a brat tonight. I thought you might’ve learned to behave after last time.”

The tentacle touching your cheek shifts, brushing the corner of your lips before sliding lower. You inhale sharply as it glides down the front of your throat, wriggling. The phantom sensation of those tentacles wrapping around your throat and squeezing has your thighs rubbing together. Heat pools in your lower belly, and your legs start to tremble.

You’re not subtle enough to escape his watchful eye, but Kuroo doesn’t lean in. He doesn’t reach for you—doesn’t pry your legs apart the way you want him to—he just watches you with those catlike eyes, drinking in the way you squirm under the familiar touch of his quirk. The tip of the tentacle flicks against your collarbone almost playfully.

It’s his name that falls from your pretty mouth this time—his real name, and pride swells in his chest at the needy tone of your voice. “Tetsurou,” you gasp, and his given name sounds so, so sweet coming from your mouth. Much better than his other name. “We can’t. They’re still inside. If we get caught, you’ll—” You cut off with a yelp as the tentacle slithers beneath the neckline of your shirt and yanks.

The blouse you’re wearing rips down the middle. Buttons snap from your now ruined shirt, scattering across the ground near your feet. Kuroo reaches for your waist as his tentacle traces the soft cup of your bra, starting from the outer edge and following the curve of your breast to the thin band beneath.

Kuroo quiets your half-hearted concerns. His stare follows the path of the extra limb, and you think he’s about to rip your bra as well. Anticipation makes you tremble, your heart beating faster.

The tentacle disappears from your chest, slinking back to Kuroo’s side like a loyal pet. It squirms, wriggling provocatively as it twists and curls through the air, level with his hips. The hands that slide against your waist are a welcome distraction, and the tentacle coiled around your wrists squeezes, as if reminding you that you’re still stuck, pinned against the wall and helpless against his quirk.

“If you really want to stop, just say the word.” He nuzzles against your cheek, lips brushing against the corner of your mouth as he speaks. You arch into him, hips rocking against the thigh that slips between both of yours. He pulls his leg away. “Out loud, kitten. I want to hear you say it.”

You gasp a needy, “Don’t.” Kuroo grins as you whimper and lean into his warm hands when they rub against your sides. “Don’t stop. Please, Tetsu, I—” Two of his fingers slip beneath your bra to pinch your nipple, and you cut off with a squeal.

“Behave and maybe I’ll let you cum.” The words are murmured against your lips. Your back arches off the wall as his lips press against yours. The kiss is harsh, all tongue and teeth, and you moan against his mouth. You struggle against the tentacle around your wrists, but it doesn’t budge. Kuroo’s teeth dig into your bottom lip until it hurts, his tongue soothing the bite when you whimper and rock your hips against his.

It’s been so long since he was able to touch you like this—weeks since he had to go into hiding—and he’s not leaving until he’s had his fun with you. Your fingers twitch, desperate to reach for him, to pull him closer, and your struggling only makes his amusement grow.

A cold touch to your leg makes you flinch, and Kuroo swallows your surprised moan as the tentacle that was idle at his side curls around your thigh. It coils around you like a snake, wrapping around you before tugging, forcing your legs apart. You rock your hips towards his, but Kuroo leans just out of your reach, and the tentacle forcibly pulls your hips back against the wall.

“Tetsu,” you say again, mewling his name this time, the sound muffled against his mouth.

His lips move to your cheek, wandering across your soft skin until he finds that special, sensitive spot just beneath the curve of your jaw. Teeth graze the delicate skin of your throat, right over your racing pulse. Eyes fluttering shut, you tilt your head back against the alley wall, letting him angle your head how he wants it.

An approving hum vibrates against you before Kuroo bites down, teeth digging in hard enough to make you wince. He soothes away the pain with a soft kiss, only to bite you again as soon as you relax, a little lower than the last. Sharp canines prick at your skin; your pulse jumps.

Your squirming and whimpering only makes him chuckle. The rough sound vibrates against the side of your throat, and he presses one last kiss to your delicate skin before pulling away.

The dark tendril wrapped around your leg sweeps back and forth lazily, the tip teasing your inner thigh with slow circles and nonsensical shapes, mimicking the movement of his fingers. It strokes you from your knee to where your skirt is bunched halfway up your thigh, flirting with the hem before dancing away.

He’s playing with you. Taunting you. Trying to get you to beg. Each fleeting touch causes the dull ache between your legs to intensify, and the way you’re pinned down and put on display for him only makes you wetter. And he knows it, too. The bastard.

Kuroo leans back suddenly, whistling as he takes in the sight of you. Chest heaving. Shirt ripped open. Bound by shadowy black tendrils that writhe against you. “Look at you,” he coos, lazy fingers wandering over your soft skin, drinking you in. Kuroo follows the line of your collarbone with the pad of his thumb.

His head cocks to the side. There’s an absolutely wicked look in his eyes when they meet yours. “What do you think that boss of yours would say if he could see you like this?” He hums, and his fingers move higher, ghosting against the front of your throat. It would be so easy for his hand to wrap around your neck and choke you, but he just strokes his thumb over the faint indents left by his teeth. He presses his thumb into your neck a little harder. Just enough to make you gasp. “Spreading your legs for a villain in some dirty, back alley. Moaning like a whore.” He chuckles when you whimper, leaning in so that his lips brush against yours when he says, “Such a naughty girl.”

The tentacle around your leg wriggles suddenly. The tip disappears under your skirt, trailing up the inside of your thigh. “But you’re going to be good for me, yeah?” he asks you, grinning at the way your head falls back against the wall, your eyes squeezing shut in bliss as the tentacle strokes you through your panties, tracing your dripping slit. It’s cold. Slick. Wrong. And you shudder as it flicks over your clit with just the right amount of pressure.

You try to swallow down the moan building in your throat, but it comes out as a high-pitched whine instead. “Tetsu,” you gasp, arching into him as the tentacle continues to play with you. His smirk widens as you try to roll your hips against the slick movement between your legs, only for his tentacles to hold you down harder.

Your fingers dig into your palms, nails biting at your skin as the stroking between your legs becomes more teasing, the tentacle lazily flicking against you. It isn’t enough to do more than tease you. Frustrated tears well in your eyes, but there’s nothing you can do but let him play his game.

He’s waiting, watching you. And you know exactly what he wants.

“Fuck, I bet you just love this, hmm?” His hand moves from your throat to your jaw. The tips of his fingers dig into your skin. “You’re so wet already, and I’ve barely even touched you.” His thumb brushes against your bottom lip. Mock sympathy drips from his tongue. “Oh, but I bet I know why.”

Heat pools in your lower belly as Kuroo’s head tilts to the side. A dark, twisting mass rises from behind him, and the large tentacle splits in two before your eyes, branching off as it reaches for you. One moves low, wrapping around your neglected leg. It doesn’t move to stroke you like the other, but the tip draws circles against your inner thigh. So, so gentle. The motion would be soothing, if you didn’t know exactly how dangerous they can be. Tearing through skin and bone when he wants them to.

“Could it be this?” he asks, watching as the other tendril snakes across your torso, barely brushing against you. It follows the curve of one of your breasts all the way to your neck, and the sound that falls out of your mouth when it wraps around your delicate throat is absolutely lewd. He chuckles. You recognize the look in his eyes, and it only makes you shudder harder.

The pathetic little mewling sound that falls from your mouth is all the answer he needs.

The tentacle around your neck teases one of the spots where he bit you, and the one between your legs strokes just a little bit harder. “Are you really that fucking depraved?” Kuroo asks you, sneering. “Fuck, kitten, you’re practically dripping,” the tentacle between your legs slips beneath your damp panties, “and all because you just can’t wait for me to fuck that cute cunt of yours with my quirk. Right here where anyone could walk by and see you.” You moan, because of his words or the tentacle that rubs against your clit, you aren’t sure. “I bet you’d just love that. Little slut.”

Like your shirt, your underwear is ripped down. The soaked, lacy fabric gets caught on the tentacles wrapped around your legs. Kuroo clicks his tongue, rucking up your skirt to get a better look at your slick thighs as the tentacle flicks over your clit once more. As his fingers graze your soft, inner thighs, the tendril drawing circles against you hooks around your panties and pulls. It tears, and you wince as the fabric snaps against your skin. Rough fingers slip between your legs, taking the ruined fabric from the tentacle and pocketing it. He makes sure to brush the lace against your clit as he pulls away.

Shakily, you take a deep breath, head tilting back just enough for you to meet his gaze. “You’re the one that wants to fuck me with them,” you remind him, fighting the urge to shiver as one of his tentacles strokes you directly, covering itself in your slick. “Who’s really the depraved one?”

The jab makes him grin. “So mouthy,” he murmurs again. The tentacle around your neck tightens, but doesn’t choke you. The pointed tip slides across your jaw and cheek, prodding at the corner of your mouth. It slides over your lips, but you refuse to part them. Kuroo sighs, disappointed. “I’ll have to fix that.”

Without warning, the tentacle stroking your slit shoves inside your pussy, spreading you open wide. Your lips part in a surprise squeal, but the other tentacle slips into your mouth, muffling the sound before it can tear from your throat. You moan around it, and Kuroo curses under his breath, feeling the vibrations through his quirk.

Another choked whine sounds through the empty alley, and he hushes you, stroking your cheek with his knuckles. Your hips lurch against the squirming sensation inside you, but the tentacles wrapped around your limbs hold you against the wall, forcing you to stay still as it wiggles.

“Careful, kitten,” Kuroo warns you, a smug look on his face. “You wouldn’t want Jishin’s little sidekicks to hear you moaning like a whore.” Those catlike eyes drift down your torso, locking on the thick tentacle stretching your dripping cunt. The tentacle in your mouth wiggles, pressing against your tongue and teeth. It pushes against the back of your throat, and you try not to gag. When you whimper again, Kuroo chuckles. “Or maybe you would.”

The palms of his hands land on your bare thighs, coaxing them further apart for a better view of the sloppy mess you’re making all over the tentacle between your legs. It’s a strange feeling. Smoother than his cock. Colder. It moves erratically, squirming inside you rather than thrusting. The tapered tip finds your sweet spot, rubbing and prodding until your hips jerk and you start to squirm again.

Around your left leg, the other tentacle holding you open starts to move, creeping across your inner thigh to join the other between your legs. Kuroo watches it slide over your skin, his pupils blown wide with arousal as he watches his black tails writhe around you, simultaneously pinning you in place and stroking you purposely. They know just where to touch to turn you into a whimpering mess, and you cry out around the tendril in your mouth when the tentacle stuffed inside your dripping pussy slides part way out before slamming back inside of you.

The other, thinner one flicks over your clit. Your moan is muffled by the tentacle shoved down your throat. All four wiggle in delight as you arch your back, trying to match the pace of the tentacle that begins to pound into you. It’s thick inside you, stretching you obscenely, and Kuroo chuckles under his breath as he watches your pretty cunt swallow the shadowy tendril.

He takes a step back and slips his hands back into his pockets, watching the tentacle fuck you with a wild look in his eyes, like a cat toying with a mouse that’s already been caught. As he cocks his head to the side, his stares intently as your cute pussy as it drips all over the wriggling appendage. Slick glistens against the black tendril with every harsh thrust, and Kuroo shivers at the phantom sensation of your cunt clenching around one of his black tails.

The one playing with your clit strokes over you slowly, swirling against your swollen nerves in the same slow, teasing way as Kuroo’s tongue.

“I guess you really are a depraved little slut,” he muses, leaning his weight onto one leg. “Letting a bunch of filthy tentacles ravish you in a dirty alleyway.” Gold eyes glint possessively as they lock with yours. “And look how well you take them.”

A muffled moan falls from your mouth, and the tentacle pressed against your tongue thrusts against the back of your throat languidly, wiggling in a way that borders on uncomfortable. The tentacle in your mouth slides out of you wetly, leaving a trail of saliva across your cheek as it retreats to your neck, coiling tighter around your throat as you gasp for breath.

The tentacle thrusts against you harder, and this time there’s nothing in your mouth to muffle you as you cry out. “Ah, Tetsu, please.” You practically sob his name, writhing almost as much as the tendrils fucking you. “Please, I can’t—” You cut off with a whine, your head tossed back against the wall as you squeeze your eyes shut. By now you’ve started trembling, pleasure feeding into the tight little ball of tension in your lower belly with every rough thrust and stroke from his quirk.

“That’s right, kitten,” Kuroo murmurs. The jingle of his belt coming undone makes you whimper, and you force your eyes open, watching as his hand slips beneath his slacks, palming his hard cock. “Beg me to let you cum. You sound so fucking pretty when you beg for me.”

Your mouth is moving immediately, whimpering garbled pleas and breathy versions of his name between the gasps and moans rolling off your tongue. You’re only half aware of what you’re saying, but delight flickers in his eyes with every word. He strokes himself slowly, watching as you start to come undone.

The appendage around your throat constricts, stealing your breath.

The tentacle inside you writhes as the one on your clit rubs against you at just the right angle, and your mouth drops open in a silent scream as the knot of tension inside you snaps. You choke out a rough, strangled version of his name, whimpering as you tremble, writhing against the limbs holding you in place. The tentacles fuck you through it, pace never slowing as they draw out the pleasure until there are tears welling in your eyes from the intensity.

Shaking as you start to come down from the high, you wince when the pounding doesn’t stop. “Tetsu. I can’t—” The tendril that flicks over your clit again makes you flinch, and the one still stuffed inside your pussy thrusts against you roughly, making your walls clench. A hissed exhale escapes from between your teeth, your eyes squeezing shut at the raw feeling of overstimulation. “Too much,” you gasp, starting to struggle against the near painful pleasure.

You shiver as he caresses your cheek, his hand warm against your clammy skin. “Oh, sweetheart,” he coos as you lean into his touch, thumb brushing against your bottom lip lovingly. “You didn’t think we’d be done that fast, did you? No, we’re just getting started.”

The tentacles curled around your limbs suddenly yank you towards Kuroo, pulling you away from the side of the building. They drag you down to your knees, and you wince as gravel digs into your skin. The tentacle around your wrists release you, but before you can grab Kuroo’s thighs to steady yourself, they’re wrenched behind you back, binding you again.

Kuroo nudges your thighs further apart with his foot. An approving sound rumbles in his chest as he watches the tentacle continue to fuck you despite your whimpering. He grabs your chin between his thumb and fingers, grip bruising as he tilts your head up, forcing you to look at him. A devilish look flashes in his eyes, sharp and predatory as he looks at you, on your knees for him. He shoves the front of his pants down with his free hand, clever fingers sneaking inside to stroke himself.

There’s a reason they call him a panther. “Now be a good girl and suck my cock.”

#kuroo x reader #hq x reader #hq smut #hq #haikyuu!!

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limitlessgojo · 3 years

Text

Blood Bound: Red Strings of Fate (Ch 8)

Warnings: Action, Coarse Language, Fighting, Descriptions of Blood

Previous Chapter: Bird of Flame

Next Chapter: Wait For Me

Tags: Soulmates AU, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Fem!Reader

Taglist: @lessie-oxj @rizzo-nero @whoreuc @fkngkumiko @isl3t @gojoussunglasses @onepotatostand-blog @s-t-f-u-b-i-t-c-h @sunaswife

Notes: If you want to be tagged for every update, please mention it in the comments below ty <3

Ayiieee, this is a very big and significant chapter in the story. At 2.6k words it probably is the longest chapter in the book lol. Happy reading uwu. Feel free to yell in the comments^^

Chapter 8: Red Strings of Fate

You brought over the book you had on alternate worlds. It wasn't much help. Talking about how a mirror dimension existed.

Another you is possibly alive in the next universe, but with different circumstances due to a difference in choices made or the environment and all that.

You quickly made your way to the library. Once you arrived, you looked around for Noritoshi. You couldn't find him for the first 5 minutes and thought that he wasn't there yet.

But suddenly two hands placed themselves on either side of your shoulder. You could feel the heat emanating from the body behind you. This feeling… "Noritoshi senpai?"

"Mmmm." You turned around and looked up to see him with a small quirk in his lips. His eyes sparkled with excitement (which was a rare sight to see).

"Come." He led you by your elbow to the desk where books were all spread out. "I did some research and looked into the vision we had on the first day we met." He said as you both took your seats.

"It is possible we had visions of an alternate world. But it's now highly unlikely because of the marks that appeared on our wrists earlier. May I?" He gestured to your hand.

You nodded and handed it to him. He held it so gently, his touch making you shiver slightly. You tried to play it cool, but his eyes shot up to yours and you flushed.

He turned your wrist around to reveal the Phoenix branded on it. It glowed bright red as he stroked it with his thumb. You felt all tingly inside.

He brought out his wrist and put it beside yours. The Phoenix markings were identical in size and shape. But his wasn't glowing yet.

You reached out your hands this time to take his. "May I?" He nodded and you examined his wrist, then ran your thumb over his marking.

As you both expected, it glowed bright red. "So.. what does this mean? For the both of us?" You asked him meekly.

He sighed and took your hands in his. Both of your markings stayed bright red as you held hands. "I've been reading up on soulmates-"

"I know, you took all the books. I couldn't find any when I tried to look it up." You pouted. He chuckled at that. His fingers were now playing and slightly fiddling with yours.

"I think we might still be needing more proof, but this is pretty strong. I asked around the Kamo household as well, and they were able to find out that soulmate bonds are established when red strings actually literally come into existence and bind two people together." Noritoshi continued. He then proceeded to show you all his findings and the books he had so far.

"Hmmmm?? So we are or we aren't?" You pulled back from him, looking confused. "I think we are. My clan has confirmed for me that having past life visions, shared markings, and visible red strings tying two people together makes up a soulmate pair. It seems like we need a bit more time for the strings to manifest." He hummed, reaching over to take your hands into his again.

“Sorry I took time to confirm before I could talk to you about this. It’s been weeks since our first shared vision and I’ve been swamped with clan affairs.” Noritoshi admitted.

You shook your head, “No senpai, I was also doing my research on this. It seems unusual, even for jujutsu sorcerers to have such a shared experience so I could only talk to my family about it. We considered the possibility of seeing an alternate timeline as well, so I couldn’t make any immediate assumptions.”

“You were able to find more than I did though senpai. My parents said soulmates are able to share emotions and possibly thoughts. But that’s rare even for soulmates. I only heard about sharing past life visions, we couldn’t find anything on the marks and red strings. Real soulmates are so rare and interesting; they are said to give birth to children with powerful cursed techniques." You mused while linking and unlinking your fingers through his.

You both stared down at your hands, fingers entwined with each other, marks glowing a low red. It felt warm to hold his hand in yours. Noritoshi was so careful, cradling and caressing your fingers like they were made of glass. His hands were much bigger than yours.

"Thinking that far ahead already? I would like a baby boy." Noritoshi looked at you with a mischievous look in his eyes. You pushed at his chest. "Who said anything about wanting children?"

He looked at you with the most gentle eyes only reserved for you. "Only time will tell what happens, dear y/n."

◇◇◇

The next day, your fellow first years gathered around you (ambushed you??) before the start of class. “Y/n, is something going on between you and Noritoshi?” Mai asked.

“Ahhh uhmm no nothing really.” You were lying through the skin of your teeth here, with the secret of the century literally branded on your skin. “Awwwww, and I thought you looked cute together.” Miwa gushed with a smile.

Mechamaru felt oddly out of place with the girl’s gossip, but he still spoke up “Kamo san seems to favor you from what I see. But hey that’s just me.”

You blushed and sputtered out. Curse you and your honest demeanour. “No, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Hmmmmmmm” Mai stared at you from upclose, seemingly trying to psychoanalyse you. “We’ll see who’s right with time.”

You just laughed nervously, shaking her off. “Mai chan, you’ve been watching too many dramas. I’ll watch one with you later.” And with that you’ve successfully managed to distract your fellow first years into talking about having a movie night. Whew.

◇◇◇

Days passed and still no red strings appeared. You and Noritoshi agreed to take things slow as this is both incredibly new to you. But you had something else to look forward to.

You were finally assigned to your first mission. Luckily (or not? Thanks to Utahime’s suspicions over your relationship) Noritoshi was chosen to accompany you to exorcise a group of 2nd grade curses together.

The night was dark. Now that you’re both out in the forest, the distant lights from the city started to dim. “Watch your step.” Noritoshi warned you. You giggled at him and flew above the branches as he stared slightly affronted. “You should watch your step, Noritoshi senpaiii~,” you sing-songed.

‘How could she have such a cheerful disposition at a time like this?’ he wondered. “Stay close to me.” He ordered. Now knowing that you were a Special Class Jujutsu sorcerer definitely didn’t help his ego in wanting to show off a bit. But he can show it through years of experience.

You smiled at his protectiveness and hovered near him, holding onto his sleeve as usual. Suddenly a black mass came hurtling towards the two of you. Noritoshi prepped his bow and arrows, while you stopped its movement.

You brought it close to you and examined it. "Looks toxic." You said. A screech caught your attention and Noritoshi launched an arrow towards the source of the sound.

The Grade 2 curse jumped out of the shadows, shrieking out loudly causing both of your ears to hurt. It had fast movements, tossing out globs of toxic sludge while rapidly moving through the woods.

You placed one arm around Noritoshi's chest, while the other stretched out towards the grade 2 curse, blocking off all the attacks. “While I’m with you, the attacks won’t reach us senpai. I’ll cover the entirety of our defense.”

Noritoshi smiled and easily manipulated his arrows to hit the curse. It disappeared in a flash. You both turned and smiled at each other. “Well done my dear.” He said.

“You were amazing as well, senpai! But I sense more cursed spirits up ahead. We need to have a look.” You sighed, to which he agreed. You both moved forward until you came to a clearing, which led to a cliff with a sheer drop.

The stench of cursed spirits was almost unbearable, and two more came out rushing at the both of you. They seemingly appeared from the ground, but you noticed how they moved with the shadows.

You quickly pulled out your twin blades and cut one with ease. Noritoshi stayed right behind you, guarding your back as he forced back the other curse with his blood manipulation.

In all the confusion, a massive curse loomed over Noritoshi. It was definitely a grade 1 curse at least, which both of you were not expecting. It had the shape and body of a scorpion, but the face of a white tiger with long blood-red fangs.

It reared up, running towards Noritoshi. So your body acted on pure instinct. “Extension cursed technique: Niflheim”, you froze the curse then rushed towards it.

You tackled the cursed spirit without thinking and plunged your twin swords through its gut while slipping off the edge of the cliff. It faded out of existence as you plunged down.

All your life, you’ve been this carefully crafted, logical, and steady person that is built from hard work and experience.

And yet all of that just flew out of the window when you saw Noritoshi in possible danger. As you fell down, you could hear Noritoshi screaming for your name.

You tried to lift your body with your cursed technique. You slowly gained traction upwards, until red strands of blood wrapped around you.

"Blood Manipulation: Crimson Binding!" Noritoshi chanted and reached down to quickly pull you up. You landed on the hard ground and he released his technique as soon as you were in the clear.

"Are you insane?! Pushing it and jumping off the cliff to exorcise it?! There are so many other ways to take it down with your technique. And I could have dealt with binding it before exorcising it! Why on earth?" Noritoshi gasped out.

He was absolutely livid, red faced and eyes wide open. And that was a major understatement. You just sat on the ground, shell shocked at your own actions and at the way he was yelling your head off.

You messed up big time, and you know this because Noritoshi never raises his voice towards you.

"Why did you risk your life for me?! I could have handled that. And you don't even know me." Noritoshi’s voice was growing hoarse. You felt your throat close up and body tense. It felt like he punched you in the gut. He wasn't entirely wrong. You just met him, and you already put your life at risk to save the man.

But his words stung. They echoed in your mind and heightened your insecurities. It was like he was putting an invisible wall between the both of you. 'You don't know me.' 'I thought I did, or at least it felt like we did with each other'.

Realising that you stayed silent, you looked up at him to see his angry expression growing into something else, like worry.

You quickly smoothed yourself over. "No, apparently I don't. I’m sorry for not knowing you." But you didn't apologise for saving him. That's one thing you would never apologise for. Because that's one of your duties.

A flash of regret appeared across his face. Noritoshi came close to you and took your hands in his and looked into your eyes. He opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the red strings that burst forth from your joined hands.

You stared in wonder as they wrapped around both your shoulders and bodies to bind you close to each other. You flushed as you stared up at him agape. His eyes were focused on the moving and glowing threads around the two of you before he turned to look at you.

Your eyes met once more and you were thrown into another vision.

"My love, how are you feeling?" A man was sitting beside your bed. You had bandages on your arms and everything felt so heavy. “I’m much better, as a matter of fact I think I could go out right now and get some sunshine.” You smiled.

The man gave the most exasperated sigh, "You're far too reckless. Testing your luck every time. Please, let me protect you and stay by your side."

“Yes yes. Of course, I will always stay by your side. And protect you."

"Protecting me shouldn't entail giving your life up for me. We stay alive together." He said angrily.

"Okay. It's okay." You soothed the man. "We will survive." You whispered as he leaned down to catch your lips tenderly in his.

For all his stoic behaviour, he kissed you so lovingly. Rubbing your back and patting your head softly. You turned to bury your face in the crook of his neck and pressed a deep kiss there.

"Read me a story." You asked him after a period of silence.

He brought out your favorite novel about a Princess who was sent down as a blessing from the Moon. Her father found her inside a bamboo shoot.

She was to live the life of a human, but eventually had to go back up to the heavens.

Unfortunately, she loved her human parents who spoiled her and raised her like a princess. And parting with them was terribly painful.

"I don't know why you enjoy such a depressing story." He sighed after he had finished. His lashes were so long that they were almost resting on his cheekbones.

"It's because their love is beautiful. The love that the daughter had for her parents. The love she had on earth, before she forgot everything and had to return to the moon." You dreamily explained.

He smiled. "Ever such a romantic, my love. I should do better in our relationship to please you."

You snorted, "No you've done well. It is fine as we are." You elbowed him jokingly.

But he turned to you so seriously, "I love you so much, my dear. You don't-"

The vision ends abruptly before the man could end his sentence. Your arms were now wrapped around Noritoshi's waist and his were around yours. You simply stared at each other for a while.

"Noritoshi senpai… so it's true, you're my other half." You murmured. Your pinkies were linked by the red flowing thread.

He hugged you tightly. "Yeah. And you're mine."

Everything was very quiet. You felt his nervousness, but it felt right. To hold him in your arms like this. It was like you found a piece to yourself that was missing all your life.

Noritoshi carefully brushed away the hair from your face, before leaning down to press his slightly shaky lips against your cheek. It was such a sweet gesture that you leaned to it.

You both were clearly out of your element. The idea of being in a relationship was very new to you. You've never dated before, but all the sudden the heavens dropped your soulmate right into your lap.

"Don't ever do that again." He said, lips brushing against your cheek.

You blinked. "What?"

"I won't blame you for trying to protect me. But think properly and don't be reckless when you act. I'm capable and strong as well. I don't want you to get hurt." He said.

His earlier words came rushing back to you. ‘You don’t know me.’ Your heart dropped. But you replied, "Okay Senpai."

He pulled you up as the red strings faded from view, "Let's patrol the area to make sure everything is clear then head back."

Blood Bound: Table of Contents

#kamo noritoshi x you #blood bound #red strings of fate #kamo noritoshi x y/n #noritoshi fluff #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk imagines #noritoshi x you #noritoshi x y/n #noritoshi x reader #kamo noritoshi x reader #news #jujutsu kaisen fanfic

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thran-duils · 3 years

Text

Use All of Me (P.13)

Title: Use All Of Me (Part Thirteen) Summary: Fem!Reader x Dark Mob!Steve Rogers. The Avengers are heroes saving the world but in this AU, they are also permitted by the powers in charge to have less than favorable business underneath their guise of mere superheroes. Steve and Tony are at the helm, keeping their empire’s wealth in check, both devious and perilous if crossed. Steve takes a liking to the reader at a party and it may be her undoing to her autonomy choosing to go home with him. Words: 3,575 Warnings: Dark AF, angst, emotional/mental abuse, smut, breeding, death

Part Twelve || Part Fourteen || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

A branch snapped out in the woods and you turned quickly towards the noise. It was dark outside still, the sun just starting to rise. You had been unable to sleep since 3:30am and instead of tossing and turning that could wake Yua up, you had come out onto the upper balcony with a book and a blanket.

The only sound you heard now was your heart pounding in your ears, worried that you were going to see a shadow step out from behind the trees in the shape of Steve’s broad shoulders.

But the woods were quiet, no looming figures. Slowly, you relaxed, the tension leaving your muscles. You could not see anything, so you nestled back down, opening the book again. After a few minutes, the sound was forgotten, and you were immersed in your book.

When you finally came back inside, Yua was up by then. You walked quietly by Natalie’s still sleeping form and made your way down the stairs carefully. Yua was already at the sink making herself some coffee. She eyed you as you walked into the kitchen.

“God, look how big you are,” Yua said groggily, eyeing your stomach.

“Good morning to you too. And yes, I can feel it,” you jested. “26 weeks.”

She laughed, “I mean honestly. Since this all started out… it’s like you swallowed a volleyball. It just hits me sometimes, still catches me off guard.”

“Soon to be a basketball, I’m sure.”

“Or bigger.”

“Probably bigger,” you admitted, grabbing a glass to get yourself some water.

“Well, you’re not that size yet. So, where is my breakfast? Cause you look like you’ve been up for a while. Why isn’t it ready?” Yua joked.

Yawning, you said, “Well, ma’am, I was actually going to go back to bed after I got something to drink. I’ve been up since 3:30. I couldn’t sleep. And now it’s catching all up to me. But if you would like, I could make you eggs.”

She waved you off, “I was just kidding. Go back to sleep. It’s still early enough! Do you want me to put a plate of food in the fridge for you for whenever you do wake up?”

“That would be nice,” you said before taking a large gulp of the water. You placed the half empty water glass back on the counter and said, “I’ll have that later too. Don’t want to drink too much at one time. The babies have declared a competition on who can kick my bladder the hardest.”

<><><>

Back in New York, Clint looked way too proud of himself as he strode into the room, but it caught Steve’s attention because that could mean only one thing. And that thing was going to bode well for him.

He was halfway out of his seat as Clint approached, a wide grin tearing at the sides of his mouth.

“I think I got it,” he said, throwing the few pictures he had printed out upstairs on the desk in front of Steve. Steve sat back down, pulling the photos towards him eagerly. “I saw that one of Natalie’s cousins had some photos up in the woods. I couldn’t get a location on them because I wasn’t friends with him. So, I got Shuri to make up a hack for me to gain access to an account. I chose one of the aunts, disguising it as a money scheme – she fell for it, clicked on the link. I was able to gain access to her account and was able to access more of the photos on his page. He’s got a cabin in New Hampshire.”

Steve was looking at the photos of the family outside their cabin.

“If she isn’t on the trains,” Clint said, excitedly. “Where are we now with the cameras? The west coast? We should have seen her by now if she was on the Amtrak.” He pointed eagerly at the pictures and said, “This might be it. It wouldn’t cost them anything to stay in and it’s probably secluded. It’s not too far but it’s far enough out of state.”

<><><>

Wanda was leaning back on the couch, flipping through a magazine. She had been watching the cameras for most of the early morning, but Tony had arrived around 6:30am, wanting to try different locations so she got up and left, giving him the space he needed.

The phone on the desk rang nearby, drawing her attention instantly, and she sat up, craning her neck to look at it. The phone was the number they had given out on the ads to call if anyone had any information on Y/N’s whereabouts. Tony’s gaze was locked on it too and before he could react, she was there, picking it up.

“Hello?”

“Hi, I’m calling about the missing persons ad.”

Wanda’s breath caught for a moment before she breathed, “Yes?”

“For Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Yes,” Wanda said more impatiently.

“Saw a woman like the photo at one of the cabins up here as I was on a walk real early this morning, right as the sun was coming up. She was sitting on the porch, very pregnant. I didn’t get a great look at her, didn’t want to gawk, you know. Plus, I think I was on their property, so I was probably trespassing, but I was following a doe—”

“Where was it at?” Wanda asked, cutting him off in the politest voice she could muster.

<><><>

“Steve!” Wanda called, taking the stairs by two. Steve called from the community room and she walked briskly, practically breaking into a jog. When she entered the room, she saw Clint, Sam, and him were looking at some photos on the table. Tearing her attention away from that, she said in a rush, “We maybe got something. A man named Will called about it, saying he thinks he saw Y/N.”

“In New Hampshire?”

“Y-Yes?” Wanda said completely confused at how he knew that.

Clint looked beside himself and Steve demanded, “Where at? Did you get a location?”

Wanda told him the address and Steve pulled his phone out, typing it into the maps app. He slammed his hand down on the desk in triumph, standing quickly. He thrust the phone into Clint’s hands. Sam was trying to peer over Clint’s shoulders to get a look too.

“That’s the same damn cabin,” Steve exclaimed, hardly able to contain his excitement. Wanda took notice of the pictures now, leaning over the table to look at them herself.

“Are we going now?” Sam asked just as Steve breezed past him. His eyes swept to Clint and said, “I guess so then.”

“Ha, teamwork,” Clint smiled, squeezing Wanda on the shoulder encouragingly as he walked by, rushing to follow Steve.

<><><>

The team was quick in their assemble upon arrival, Bucky and Natasha having to travel to get there which set Steve on edge because he had been ready immediately in his black suit, anxiousness coursing through him. He was pacing in front of the facility, having a hard time containing the hope blooming. His eyes were set on the tree line, wanting to just get into the car and drive to the address, scoop Y/N up and bring her back home.

He was not going to make the same mistakes he had that had let her slip through his fingers. If he could help it, she would never step foot off that property without him again. He would make sure she learned that lesson as soon as he got her home.

Tony met him at the edge of the entrance patio, not suited up. He was staying behind to monitor from there and he surprised Steve with a small drone, holding it out to him.

“You should not go in there guns blazing before you get sights on her or something to be absolutely sure. Use this. You don’t need to be barging into some random pregnant person’s cabin. Not a good look, not good press. Especially since you’ve got it out there now that you are looking for her. This drone is quiet, but it’s not silent so don’t fly too close or they’ll hear it and it’ll blow your whole covert cover.”

“You mean hovering above the place in a plane isn’t going to do that?”

“You’re not taking a plane, jackass,” Tony retorted, and Steve smirked in response. “Park down the road. You can go in on foot.” Steve thanked him, taking the drone. Tony ran his eyes up and down Steve and asked, “Was it really necessary to get up in the suit?”

“Can’t exactly show up in slacks. Just in case things get squirrelly,” Steve responded.

“’Squirrelly’,” Tony chortled. “Y/N will hardly be able to run.” Steve’s only response to that with a slight smile of acknowledgement. Tony stepped closer and said, “I got something else too. Of course, they say it doesn’t exist because the general public already has an issue with frothing at the mouth with conspiracy theories of the government tracking them. People honestly suffer from grandiosity in this country.” He noticed the impatient look on Steve’s face and apologized, “Sorry. Soap box. How do you feel about a GPS chip?” Steve’s eyes widened in surprise and Tony back tracked quickly. “Right. We can talk about that when she gets back home, safe and sound. I’ve just wanted to try out the new model and she seems like the perfect candidate, perfect circumstance. We’ll chat when you’re back. Don’t forget.”

Tony clapped Steve on the shoulder before walking back towards the door to the elevator.

<><><>

The trip up north was taking longer than Steve wanted it to, his fingers drumming impatiently on his thigh as he watched the trees go by. The thought that Y/N would somehow get tipped off and bolt before he got there was eating away at him. He was watching his phone anxiously, seeing them get closer and closer to where the cabin should be.

When Clint pulled off on the highway at what should be the end of the road that would lead to the cabin, Steve threw the door open and stepped outside. He was ready to let the drone go, flying it towards the direction of where the cabin was in a matter of a few moments, the only pause in the effort being from the drone having to start up. Steve was watching the viewing screen of the drone with intensity as it hovered over the trees, keeping an eye peeled as he followed the gravel road. The rest of the team was waiting around the SUV. Bucky leaned against the side, tapping his foot, trying to expel some of the pent-up adrenaline that everyone was garnering, knowing this needed to be executed without injury or incident.

The cabin was there at the end and Steve leaned forward in anticipation seeing the car.

“That looks like the car model,” Tony said over his earpiece. He was able to access the drone’s camera was well back at the facility. “Zoom in a bit to the license plate.” Steve did as he asked and Tony breathed, “Bingo.”

“Alright,” Steve said far more calmly than he felt. “That’s good enough for me.” He walked back towards the open back door of the SUV, walking up and placing the screen just inside. “The cabin is about half a mile away. Clint, stay here with the car and be ready to come up when we are ready to go. I don’t want Y/N to have to walk back down the driveway. Nat, Sam… you’re with me at the front. Buck, take the back of the cabin. Don’t shoot anyone unless I tell you to.”

“Taking the fun out of things,” Bucky halfheartedly joked.

<><><>

Stretching out on the bed, your toes curled. A sigh of contentment left your lips as your eyes opened, blinking away your sleep. When your vision focused, you saw the clock said it was almost 11:00am. You had managed to fall back asleep around 7:00am and you felt better now that you had gotten some more sleep. You could barely detect Yua and Natalie speaking in low tones, more than likely trying to avoid waking you up.

The serenity was shattered at the loud bang from on the first floor and you heard Yua scream in alarm. You sat up with difficulty just as the door from the balcony burst open. You jolted to the side, holding your stomach protectively.

Your heart rate slowed only for a moment upon recognizing the man who burst in was Bucky. When his cerulean eyes landed on you, gun pointed in your direction, your heart rate blew past normal, your breath quick.

“Bucky?” you got out in a gasp.

He relaxed ever so slightly, his eyes softening at the sight of you. His gun was no longer pointed at you, hanging at his side now. You did not miss the uptick of his lips, satisfaction flooding his face. But he still stayed on alert, ready to raise his weapon again if needed.

You sat up straight slowly, despite the commotion downstairs, keeping eye contact with him. Getting to your feet you tried to drown out the sounds of shouting downstairs, focusing only on him. His eyes flicked to your stomach, causing your hands to clench tighter around it and he made eye contact with you again.

“You can let me leave,” you said to him, your voice shaking.

Bucky’s laugh was humorless. “Y/N. Sweetheart, c’mon.” He was chastising you for even suggesting it with that tone.

“Buck?”

The sound of his voice rolling up the stairs made you freeze to the spot.

“I’ve got your doll in my scope. She looks good, Steve,” Bucky called back down towards the ground floor.

The sound of his foot on the bottom stair made you flinch. His footfalls were heavy, each step putting another nail in the coffin of your freedom. Your eyes flicked towards the open door and Bucky gave you a disappointed look, taking a step back towards it. He shook his head and you tore your eyes away from him, eyes fixated on the stairs.

He came into view quick, his height surpassing the staircase railing long before Yua or Natalie’s would. The same time elation flew through his features upon seeing you, you felt dread course through your veins. He was geared up, like he was going into a fight. Apparently, he did not underestimate the three of you.

Steve was a foot from you now, his gaze piercing and you were too afraid to take your eyes off him. There were a few moments of silence before he said quietly, “I admit, you have some loyal friends down there. They remind me of Buck.” You said nothing and he asked harshly now, “What did you think this was going to accomplish though, really, Y/N?”

You sucked in your bottom lip, unable to form a sentence in your frightened state about what he was there to do besides take you back.

“Answer me.”

Stammering, you said, “I… I just…” You were embarrassed he was shaking you up so bad. You had been in such a haze, hoping beyond reason that the three of you would eventually be able to settle down and it would blow over. The longer you had stayed away, the more the doubt it could work had been overshadowed by that terrible misleading feeling of hope.

Steve’s expression softened seeing you tripping over your words. He stepped closer and you instinctively stepped back. His lips formed into a thin line, stopping his advancement. “Y/N, doll, please. I want what is best for you. All I want is to take care of you. You worried me, doll. You worried me a lot. Do you know what it felt like to not know where you were? If you were safe? If the children were safe? Can you imagine how utterly upset you made me? How betrayed I felt when I realized you were gone? I leave to let you have a party with your friends, to give you space with them.” You almost flinched at the phrasing, like he had taken the words right out of your mouth. If he noticed, he did not show it. He continued on, “I leave a gift behind for you to find, something I built for you and the babies, and how do you repay me? You left. Without a word. Like I didn’t matter. Did you even see the gift?”

“No,” you whispered.

“Of course you didn’t. You didn’t care enough to look. You were only concerned with yourself. Out of everyone in the world, I didn’t think it would be you that would betray me like this. You told me you loved me.”

Heat rose to your cheeks as your eyes glistened with tears. He sounded deeply hurt, wounded. You could see it in his eyes.

“I can forgive you, Y/N. Trusting you is something else entirely. I don’t think that’s an option right now. But… I can forgive you. You just have to come back and be good.”

You averted your gaze, your chest tightening at his order.

Steve closed the space between you, and you did not move away this time. He hooked his fingers underneath your chin, tipping your head up. “It’s me…” Steve told you as his eyes hardened, and he warned gravely, “Or nobody.”

You did not have to imagine all the guns pointed at your friends downstairs. You either left with them both dead and back with Steve. Or left with them both alive and with Steve. Either way, he had you enveloped back to him. The degree of guilt is what you were choosing, that’s what he was giving you.

You were taking too long to answer.

Steve looked over his shoulder, making eye contact with Bucky. Bucky started walking towards the staircase where he could look down on the living room.

“Steve, don’t—” you choked out.

“I want to hear you say it.”

“You’re scaring me.”

“Good.”

You let out a strangled noise before you got out in between tears, “I won’t ever try to leave you again, I swear. I’ll stay home for you. I’ll take care of the twins. I’ll do what you ask, I’ll listen, like I promised. I’ll be happy.”

“Were you ever?” He asked coldly.

“I w-was,” you said shakily, nodding. Nodding to convince yourself, remind yourself that you had been. “I was, really.”

“And what changed that, hmm?”

“You… you locked me away in the house.”

His lips twitched at the accusation and you feared you had made a misstep, fearing for Yua and Natalie. He did not make a move though except to say, “And why did I do that?”

He wanted you to say what he believed. He wanted you to believe it too. The tears were fat rolling down your cheeks as you whispered, “Because… you wanted to keep me safe.”

“That’s right, doll,” Steve breathed easier, smiling. His fingers caressed your face. “That’s exactly what I was doing. And you pulling this little stunt proved my gut instinct was right, didn’t it? You need protection, especially from yourself. You are impulsive and don’t think about the long-term repercussions of your actions.” His hand came to rest on your abdomen, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I don’t want you to be afraid of me, doll. I want you to just come home and let me take care of you. That’s what’s going to happen. Right?”

“Yes,” a voice that sounded like yours said; it was like you were outside your body. “Yes, I want that.”

“That’s what I thought,” Steve said, leaning forward and giving you a long kiss on your forehead.

“My friends?” you choked out.

Steve pulled away from you and smirked at you. “Hmm, maybe you can be concerned with more than yourself. Maybe I was too harsh there for a moment… what about your friends?”

“Please don’t hurt them. Please let them leave and go back home unharmed.”

He exhaled heavily and asked seriously, “And why should I do that?”

“Bucky would help you if you asked.” Bucky turned his head towards the pair of you and you tried to pretend like you did not notice his gaze. “It’s not their fault. I asked for help. It’s my fault. They shouldn’t be punished for my mistake. Please don’t make them pay for my behavior.”

Steve looked contemplative and you waited with bated breath, hoping he would react positively to your display of holding yourself liable. He wanted you to beg and you were giving it to him.

Over his shoulder, he finally ordered, “Let the ladies grab their things and get out of here. They’re safe… as long as Y/N continues to behave.” You opened your mouth to protest but he cut you off by pressing a button on his earpiece. “Barton, we’re ready. Come on up.”

He grasped your arm and you tried to yank your arm away from him. He was far too strong and jolted you to him. “Don’t go messing this up now, Y/N. You were doing so well. Don’t make this harder for me than it has to be to get you in the damn car. You got what you wanted with your friends; you just need to uphold your side of the bargain.”

~~~

Tags: @imsonick , @alexakeyloveloki, @kvzctam, @ironlady1993, @taintedgenre, @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @roxyfan14-blog @mrsnegan25 @coconutqueen21

#steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark marvel #dark marvel fic #marvel fic #my shit

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lesbianlotties · 3 years

Link

follow you to the beginning (just to relive the start) - Sam/Deena - Fake Dating AU

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Fear Street Trilogy (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Samantha "Sam" Fraser/Deena Johnson, Samantha "Sam" Fraser & Deena Johnson, Samantha "Sam" Fraser/Peter (Fear Street Part 1: 1994), Samantha "Sam" Fraser & Simon Kalivoda, Samantha "Sam" Fraser & Kate Schmidt (Fear Street), Deena Johnson & Kate Schmidt, Deena Johnson & Simon Kalivoda, Minor or Background Relationship(s) Characters: Deena Johnson, Samantha "Sam" Fraser (Fear Street), Kate Schmidt (Fear Street), Simon Kalivoda, Josh Johnson (Fear Street), Peter (Fear Street Part 1: 1994), Background & Cameo Characters Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Canon Lesbian Relationship, Canon Lesbian Character, Slow Burn, Childhood Friends, Childhood Memories, Best Friends, High School, Angst, Humor, Fluff, First Love, Eventual Happy Ending, Friends to Enemies, Enemies to Lovers, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

Sam and Deena are next-door neighbors, and they inevitably and enthusiastically become best friends... until childhood gives way to tragedy, grudges, and regret.

By the time they make it to high school, Sam and Deena are still next-door neighbors but also sworn enemies... until high school introduces bigger threats that they will need to face together.

Faking a relationship might be a bad idea. But it might be the only way for Sam and Deena to understand their shared past and their feelings for each other.

Chapter 1:

Sam and Deena became best friends during one perfect summer day when they were seven years old. In Shadyside, however, perfect days weren’t meant to exist. The only reason little Sam Fraser finally had the time and freedom to spend time with her next-door neighbor was because her parents were caught in the first big fight of hundreds more to come. A part of Sam would associate both events as one and the same for a long, long time. The beginning of her friendship with Deena and the downfall of the Fraser family. In contrast, Deena was living some of the best days of her life. Days that she would treasure and idolize, perhaps more than she should have, for many years to come. Her mother was alive, her father was sober, her little brother was safe in their hands. She had all the time in the world to go out into the backyard, lay on the ground, and look for shapes in the clouds. She had been doing that for a while then a shadow suddenly appeared over her.

“What are you doing?” Sam asked. Her voice was still trembling slightly from the way she had run out of her house crying. Her eyes were red and she had a runny nose, but she looked genuinely curious to understand what her neighbor was doing.

Deena didn’t reply at first. She couldn’t. She was too shaken by the impact of Sam’s first impression on her. It wasn’t the very first time they met, of course. But their parents were usually hovering above them. So far they had never been alone together. They were very different kids, it was easy to tell with just one look. Not just physically, with Deena’s wild mane of curly brown hair and Sam’s being straight and blond, Deena’s brown eyes being warm and guarded meanwhile Sam’s blue eyes cried out her every emotion. It was also about the way Deena was thrown on the grass, comfortable and taking as much space as possible in her slightly oversized clothes that she picked herself, as long as they were in sale, while her mother fondly chuckled and followed her around the store in spite of which gendered aisle her daughter got lost in. Sam was the complete opposite, in her bright pink clothes that were always too loose or too tight because her mother didn’t care to bring her along when buying her clothes and it was made all the more noticeable by the way in which Sam stood tense and awkwardly, uncomfortable from head to toe, her feet restless as if ready to run at any given moment.

The silence between them had stretched out for too long, but Sam was good at waiting. Deena moved to a seated position and took a better look at the girl in front of her. “Fraser,” she blurted out. She couldn’t remember her neighbor’s name, but she knew her parents were Mr. and Mrs. Fraser of the constant frowns.

“Um, Johnson?” Sam tilted her head. She didn’t understand this game of calling out each other’s last names.

“I’m Deena,” the brunette said and jumped to her feet, not bothering to brush away the grass stuck to her clothes.

“Sam,” the other girl offered her hand.

Deena laughed, but she was troubled. She wanted to laugh so much more. There was this weird girl in front of her, obviously a second away from bursting into tears again, probably from the weight of the glittery pink ribbon on her head, and she was offering Deena her hand in greeting. However, her laughter died in Deena’s throat. The instinct to tease was, for once, overpowered by something new and somewhat unfamiliar. She didn’t know it was protectiveness, she didn’t understand what it was at all. She only felt a pull on her heart that wanted to make sure her neighbor was okay.

So, Deena shook Sam’s hand. She invited her to lay down with her to watch shapes in the clouds. She didn’t laugh at Sam, she made it her mission to make Sam laugh. Unknowingly, with that innocent handshake, they were starting out together the greatest adventure of their lives, with all the glorious ups and devastating downs that it would include.

It was still early, they had the entire day ahead of them, and under the clear blue Shadyside sky, the world was all theirs.

They started lying down on the grass, side by side, looking up at the clouds. At first, it was perfect, and fun. Sam’s stomach started aching from how hard she was laughing every time Deena pointed out at the sky and said “That one looks like a butt.” And then Sam would point at a completely unidentifiable cloud and say, “That one looks like a robot.”

“What?!” Deena laughed wholeheartedly. “No, it doesn’t! You weirdo.”

Sam’s laughter dimmed. “Do you think I’m weird?”

“No!” Deena scoffed. “Isn’t that like a compliment?”

The blonde hummed in response. She hadn’t considered that the other girl was just as inexperienced at talking to other girls her age.

For a moment, there was silence between them. Enough silence for Sam to remember the deafening noise of her parents fighting, blaming each other, blaming her, blaming the town. Before she could stop it, Sam was crying again.

“Sam?” Deena called her name. She moved to a seated position and placed a hand on Sam’s shoulder gently. “I’m sorry. I really don’t think you’re that weird.”

“That weird?” Sam chuckled through her tears.

Deena laughed along with her, but she still looked out of her comfort zone dealing with her crying neighbor. “Are you okay?” she asked.

“I’m okay,” Sam wiped her tears away, willing herself to regain her composure as her mother always told her to do. “I just… cry a lot. My dad says it’s because my mom doesn’t have feelings and I have to cry for the both of us.”

“Okay,” Deena nodded, not knowing how to put into words how wrong that sounded. Then she noticed a single blade of grass stuck to Sam’s pretty blonde hair. “Hold on Sam, you have grass on your head,” Deena said, and reached out to take it off.

However, Deena’s hand on her hair made an idea light up in Sam’s mind. She gasped and grabbed Deena’s wrist, holding her in place. “We should make flower crowns!”

“What?!”

“Don’t tell me you don’t know how to do it,” Sam smiled teasingly.

“Of course I do!” Deena scoffed. She was happy to see Sam smile, but she was second-guessing her previous statement about the blonde not being weird. Plus, it turned out not even Sam knew how to make flower crowns. It wasn’t as easy as it seemed.

The two girls ended up hiding behind flower bushes between their homes. Sam had entertained herself weaving the prettiest flowers she could find in Deena’s curls. Meanwhile, Deena was content pulling blades of grass and unceremoniously letting them fall on Sam’s head. Deena couldn’t understand how Sam could be unbothered by the game. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Sam didn’t have many friends. In fact, not too long later, Sam whispered, “You’re my first real friend.”

Deena beamed upon hearing the words. She was happy with her parents and baby brother but, secretly, she had always wished for a friend, a girl like her, and here she was, finally. “You’re my only friend too,” Deena replied, a little shyly.

“Really?” Sam’s eyes widened.

“Yeah,” Deena chuckled.

The blonde hummed thoughtfully. “I think that makes us best friends,” Sam said.

“Oh yeah?” Deena asked. She received a confident nod in response. That made sense to her too. “Then we should celebrate.” She jumped to her feet and offered her hand to Sam, who didn’t hesitate to follow.

The day was long, and there was so much they were dying to show each other. The hours passed by in a sun-bathed blur of childish laughter. They did everything and nothing, jumping without reason, running without destination, rolling in the grass, picking flowers, climbing trees, scratching their knees, and jumping back up into made-up games and fantasy scenarios that they hadn’t ever had a chance to share with anybody.

There were a thousand little moments that years later they would wish they could have immortalized some way. When Deena showed Sam a spider and Sam ran away. When Deena hurt her finger with a thorn from Sam’s mother’s rose bushes, and Sam kissed the afflicted finger and promised she wouldn’t tell anybody Deena cried.

When Deena started climbing the tree at the back of the backyard, Sam started freaking out. “Deena! You’ll hurt yourself!” Sam repeated many times. Deena was thinking Sam sounded older than she really was when she was worried.

“I won’t,” the blonde scoffed, getting comfortable in what actually was a really low branch of the tree. “Besides, if I fall you can catch me!”

“I can try!” Sam said, throwing her arms around her. “But you’ll probably crush me and then we’ll both be dead!”

“Hey! I’m not that heavy!”

Deena’s protest, unfortunately, made her lose her balance. For a moment, she was hanging from the branch of the tree, feeling her heart on her throat. But then Sam’s slender arms were holding on to her legs, as tightly as the little girl was capable of. Deena smiled brightly. She felt surprisingly safe, even if she knew that Sam wasn’t strong enough to literally hold her up. “Sam, let go, it’s okay, I got it,” Deena let her know.

Sam stepped back to let Deena land on her feet, but a second later she was back, wrapping her arms around Deena’s torso this time, holding just as tightly if not more. “You scared me,” Sam mumbled, her voice muffled by the way she had her face pressed against Deena’s shoulder.

“It’s okay,” Deena said. She let her arms fall limply at her sides. She still felt out of her depth with Sam, even after one of the best days of her life. Her instinct told her to make fun of Sam, who was moved near to tears. But her heart stopped her for unknown reasons. Instead, she let her cheek rest on top of Sam’s head. At the time, Deena was taller. “It’s okay,” Deena repeated. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m your best friend, remember? I don’t think I’m allowed to leave you now.”

Sam chuckled and finally dropped her arms. Deena felt a chill at the loss. “Do you promise?” Sam asked.

Deena frowned a little, but continued to smile. “I promise,” she said, finding it increasingly difficult to say not the blonde girl that had stumbled into her personal space earlier that day with tears still in her eyes.

“Okay,” Sam exclaimed. She leaned forward and placed a sweet kiss on Deena’s cheek. She was so excited it nearly threw both of them off balance, and when she pulled back, they were both blushing. But they moved on quickly, that day. Sam took Deena’s hand and started leading her to a different spot in the wide and free space behind their houses. “My mom told me about a spa. It’s a place where they put mud in your face to make you pretty. We should try it.”

“I’m already pretty!” Deena protested.

“Yeah, you are,” Sam shrugged. “But maybe it can help me.”

“You are more than pretty, Sam,” Deena frowned.

That made the blonde girl stop in her tracks. “Do you think so?” She asked Deena, and the brunette nodded enthusiastically. Sam was thoughtful for a moment, but eventually shrugged, and tried to continue with her plans, clearly not completely believing the other girl’s words. She was stopped by Deena a moment later, refusing to go further.

“Hey, you didn’t make the promise too,” Deena pointed out.

“Oh! You’re right,” Sam nodded, very seriously. “Okay then… I promise to always be your best friend, and to never leave you, and… um, is there something else?” She looked up at Deena for guidance.

Deena grinned at her. “No, that’s it. That’s cool.”

The two girls started laughing again, and continued with their games for a long time. They did end up playing with the mud, and then tried to wash it off, creating a bigger mess, with the hose they found behind Deena’s house.

Toward the end of the day, when the sun started to set, both girls were well aware that their parents would be coming out at any moment to call them back home. They chose to end their first day as best friends exactly how they started it. They lay on the grass in the backyard in between their houses, and they looked up at the infinite sky above them. There weren’t many clouds anymore, but the first stars were showing up in the sky, and they were more than happy to count them one by one.

That was how it started. One perfect day, and dozens of them just the same. Sam ran away from her house to the backyard every time her parents were having a fight. Deena made her laugh until Sam couldn’t remember crying for anything other reason than pure joy. Sam picked the prettiest flowers she could find and gave them to Deena, and hugged her especially tight every time Deena fell down from the tree she loved to climb. From the Johnsons’ window, Deena’s mom watched them fondly, happy that her daughter had a friend. From the Frasers’ window, Sam’s mom watched them with a frown on her face, upset about Sam ruining her clothes. But they never had reasons to stop them from having fun, they didn’t have any reason to put barriers between their daughters. And the two girls couldn’t imagine a world where they would be anything but the best of friends.

Much like everything in Shadyside, their perfect days would soon come to a bitter end but, even then, it wouldn’t be the end of Sam and Deena’s story.

#hello! please support and share and read and comment and i'll love u forever! <333 #it's my attempt at childhood friends to enemies to lovers via fake dating #fear street #sameena #sam x deena #deena x sam #sam fraser #deena johnson #fear street fanfic #fs #my fic

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threadofdestiny · 3 years

Text

Magnolia (Bakugou x f!Reader)

Feudal Japan AU

Shogun!Bakugou x Midoriya’s sister!reader

Summery: Her mother, lady Midoriya Inko, had once told her that the gods had predestined a path for every single person. All she had to do was follow the path and trust that it would lead her to happiness. But how could (Y/N) find happiness in a political formed marriage with her brother’s rival, a man known for being brutal and cold hearted?

Warnings: sexual content in later chapters / period-typical-sexism / strong language / violence / Drama / Angst / Fluff / Slow Burn/ political marriage / Reader is Izuku's sister / period-typical-discriptions like vague mentions of longer hair to form typical hairstyles or specific wardrobe / Bakugou is not good at feelings / Bakugou is a mean, explosive boi / third-person perspektive

Wattpad

AO3

If someone wants to be tagged, just let me know :)

Taglist: @bakugous-mamas, @bnhastories

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 4

Chapter 3

Vermilion

The night after (Y/N) found out that she was engaged with Bakugou Katsuki, was immensly exhausting. She had barely been able to find any sleep. Plagued by nightmares, she had tossed and turned in her bed until she had given up trying to find any rest after the first rays of sun peeked through her closed curtains. Her brother had hesitantly tried to describe what he knew about her future husband and although his descriptions remained vague and superficial, the young Miss Midoriya was quite good at reading between his meaningless lines.

„Bakugou is a loyal man of the crown who always act in its interest."

„He is a strong-willed and talented swordsman, who would be able to provide a safe home for you."

„He may be said to be rough tempered, but I am sure he will always treat you well."

It hadn't felt like Izuku had tried to lie to her. In a way, he had seemed to be convinced of his statements... and yet... no matter how many positive words he had used, his face had allways betrayed how worried he had been nonetheless. As if there had been a number of concerns that had slumbered right under his surface, which he eventually had not dared to express. (Y/N) had quickly realized that her brother had deliberately kept his true opinions to himself. She knew that he only had wanted to encourage her, but at night, while she had been all alone by herself, she had not been able to prevent her thoughts from wandering along darker places.

It was said that Bakugou's eyes were tinted in the blood of his enemies he had shed over the years as a Samurai. Those cruel red eyes hunted her within her dreams, followed her no matter which direction she had turned and found her no matter where she had tried to hide herself.

His mercilessness and explosive personality were almost as notorious as his talent with the sword. It was said that he had no qualms about turning his blade even on innocent people. These rumors, created the visions of screaming shadows within her sleep. Their cries echoed like panicked pleas to be spared by him, but the ground on which (Y/N) had stood was flooded in red non the less. Those imaginations had plagued the youngest Midoriya through the entire night, haunting her mercilessly until she had lain wide awake in her bed. With widened eyes she had stared up at her ceiling, while she had tried to imagine the man who was going to be her husband.

When (Y/N) had got up a few hours later, she had been incredibly exhausted. She had tried not to let it show, but she could not prevent her thoughts from drifting away over and over again. She had spent the morning as usual at her mother's side, who, in addition to her usual duties as the female head of the household, had also received several guests. Some of them had been mothers of various bachelors, who had cautiously tried to win Lady Inko over for a potential marriage, but all of them had been discreetly put off by the mistress of the house, without her telling them about the still unofficial engagement between Bakugou Katsuki and her precious daughter.

Now, however, the young girl sat alone with her mother and brother, lost in thoughts, at a richly set table that had been placed in the shade on the roofed engawa of their estate. The young debutante ponderously let her gaze glide over the well-tended garden, unable to fully absorb the true beauty of the scenery which spread out in front of her. With dulled thoughts, (Y/N) contented herself with impassively observing the birds as they bustled about the branches of the flowering magnolia in the middle of their courtyard, while she pondered over the missed opportunities to collect more marriageable candidates for her to choose from.

"I wish I could cheer you up a bit, my dear.", Lady Inko snapped her daughter out of her mopey thoughts after a few minutes of silence, as she carefully set the ornate teapot down between them. Slowly, (Y/N) raised her gaze, only to find that her mother had poured tea for her and her brother, although this would actually have been the youngest Midoriya's task. Swallowing, she bowed her head apologetically before gratefully grasping the warm porcelain of her cup. "Thank you, mother.", (Y/N) whispered, before she carefully pursed her lips to cool the warm liquid with gentle puffs.

"Do not despair. Who knows maybe you will learn to feel deeply for the young shogun. The gods sometimes shape the strangest paths for a person and yet it all makes sense in the end.", Lady Midoriya carefully reassured her daughter as Izuku tried not to choke on his own drink. "Who knows, Izu-chan probably would have introduced you to gentlemen like the youngest son of the Iida family, or the heir of the Kaminari family, who also have their residents in the capital. Both of these gentlemen are known to you. What do you think of them? Wouldn't the gods have led you to them if they thought that they would be the right choice for you?", she asked, knowing what her daughter would think, while gently patting her son's arm in reassurance. "Mother...please! I don't really think that this is helpful.", Izuku mumbled into his teacup as he averted his eyes from the ladies of his household. The latter, however, just waved it off with a soft smile before pushing the plate of pastries in her children's direction. Gulping down the warming tea, (Y/N) suppressed a sigh before engaging in her mother's musings:"Well... ", she began cautiously, taking a deep breath, before she continued: "I'd say one of Iida-sama's greatest qualities is his erudition! He's a very intelligent man.", the youngest Midoriya murmured vaguely, but at the same time she thought of his stiff manners. He was a strict man who did not seem to welcome curious woman. (Y/N) was a passionate reader, who acquired all kinds of knowledge. This would certainly not be a problem, she thought, but with theoretical knowledge often came the need to try out practical skills, and this was not always appropriate for a girl of her status. What would Iida say if he knew that the little sister of one of his best friends, for example, liked to shoot with a bow?

"and... Kaminari-sama's energetic nature is quite contagious and exhilarating!", (Y/N) added after a short pause, having remembered her mother's questions again. Thoughtfully, her mind wandered to the open-hearted blond man, while she remembered how she had often observed him flirting shamelessly with various ladies. Moreover, she had been dismayed to discover in the past that, unlike Iida, he seemed to avoid reading of any kind. It would have made it difficult to have a conversation with him that went beyond superficial topics. When she thought about it, these men would certainly not have been people with whom (Y/N) could have imagined a future on the first sight. Perhaps just like her mother had said, she should actually remind herself once again that not everything had to make sense immediately. Maybe the gods had actually set a path for her. But it was just so incredibly hard to see the positive in her situation and to keep herself open minded. She took it upon herself, but the thought that her mother might be wrong made her skin crawl in anxiety.

"I think it's all a matter of adjustment. After the gods have given me a path, it is up to me to walk along it.", she finished her terse answers half-heartedly.

The debutante's enumeration came to an abrupt end when her personal maid, Mina, announced herself with an apologetic clearing of her throat. When (Y/N) turned around, the young girl was surprised to see another unfamiliar female standing next to her, her upper body almost completely covered by a huge bouquet of colorful flowers. The various blossoms shone in full bloom, some of which normally should not even have been in their actual blooming season. No matter who had sent this bouquet, it must have cost a small fortune.

"Forgive the intrusion, my lord, but I was instructed to lead this young girl to you and your family.", the cheerful servant began, bowing as she folded her arms behind her back. The unassuming girl next to Mina also bowed dutifully, despite the fact that the bouquet certainly did not make it easy for her. "T-This is a gift for Miss Midoriya, my Lord!", the girl explained quietly, while she showcased the flowers with a bowed head. Izuku gave the young girls a gentle smile before raising his scarred hand in a placating gesture. "What a splendid bouquet.", his mother remarked with curious gentleness before turning to smile bittersweetly at her daughter, who had also put on a discreet smile on her lips. "Which of the noble lords had send this bouquet, Mina-chan?", asked (Y/N) with mild curiosity as she rose to take a closer look at the flowers. She knew better than to be lulled by anyone other than her fiancé, but the plants seemed so expensive and rare that it would be a shame not to give them some attention. Even more so when a maid of the local household brought them over personally. It could be taken as an affront against the noble,if she would simply ignore the gift.

"They're from the young shogun, Bakugou-sama, Miss (Y/N)!", replied Mina excitedly, as she clapped her hands together in front of her chest. "He also sends word that he will be visiting Midoriya-sama towards the evening to negotiate the wedding matters.", the unknown servant added. A loud clang sounded behind the girls, who flinched in surprise. Shocked, (Y/N) turned to her brother, whose teacup had slipped from his hand. A multitude of emotions spread across the face of her brother, but his discomfort seemed to stand out the most. The tension in his face clearly showed that Izuku was not happy about the news, but he nodded non the less.

The knowledge that Bakugou Katsuki would enter the Midoriya family estate that very evening had caused an incredible uneasiness in (Y/N)'s stomach. Uncertainty and curiosity tried to gain the upper hand of her shaken feelings, while she had tried to continue her day as usual, but even the surprise visit of her friend, Ochako, had not been enough to successfully distract her. No matter how hard (Y/N) had tried to follow her friend's recounting of her evening last night, the young Midoriya simply hadn't been able to block out the loitering feeling of nervousness.

Izuku had retired to his study some time ago when a servant had informed him that the shogun had finally arrived. The ladies of the house had not yet seen their second guest of the evening, but all present had felt the tension that had settled around them like a thick fog. At this very moment, Izuku and her fiance negotiated about important aspects, which would determine her entire future life. Lost in her troubled thoughts, (Y/N) imagined how they possibly were talking about her dowry at this moment, or setting the date of their wedding, while the young girl did not even know what her future husband looked like. Would he introduce himself to her tonight? Did he even care that they were actually only a few meters and a few thin walls apart from each other at this very moment?

"Hey... (Y/N)... how about we take a stroll through your backyard, streching our legs out for a bit?", Ochako carefully interrupted her friend's train of thought when she noticed that (Y/N) was starting to drift off again. Surprised, the young girl tore her gaze from the bouquet of flowers that had been placed on an ornamental table next to the salon's open sliding doors. "I'd love to.", (Y/N) answered as she blinked a few times, before setting down her cooled teacup, that had rested in her palms unmoved for a few minutes. Followed by the brunette debutante, she entered the gardens of the Midoriya family estate, which directly bordered the salon in which they had sat before.

The gentle breeze that playfully blew around them made the leaves and branches of the plants dance to the music of the birds, while the rays of the late afternoon sun engulfed their surroundings in radiant light. In the midst of a sea of lush green trees, lawns and bushes, the blooming magnolia that her grandfather had planted for her grandmother many years ago as a testament to his true love towards her, stood out in its proud splendor. Since then, it has bloomed every spring with its soft pink and white blossoms in the center of their small idyllic paradise.

Sighing, (Y/N) looked up into said treetop as she arrived at the precious memento accompanied by her friend. "My apologies for being so absent today.", the youngest Midoriya murmured before turning to Ochako, who looked at her with a sad expression on her round face. Shaking her head, the young brown-haired girl put on a smile as she folded her hands in front of her. "Don't worry about it. I understand how you feel. It's certainly overwhelming to be promised by the emperor to one of his subordinates right after your performance the day before yesterday."

Nodding hesitantly, (Y/N) stroked the gauzy white fabric of her upper robe, smoothing it over the lower burgundy wide sleeves. With erratic fingers, she then ran them over the gold threaded embroidered obi, adjusting the decorative ribbons that hung down the sides of her traditional gown. Seeking distraction, (Y/N)'s gaze wandered to the closed doors of her brother's study, which also adjoined the gardens they were strolling through. Knowing that behind those thin walls, hidden away from her gaze, was her fiancé speaking to Izuku, made her incredibly nervous. Quickly the youngest Midoriya turned away to look at her friend again, not able to gaze towards her home any longer. She didn't dare to look into the round window, which was supposed to let daylight into the room behind, for fear of having to face reality once and for all. At the moment her fate was still completely surreal for her, but what if she would see the man she was going to marry soon? It would make her whole destiny so much more real.

"I know it is an honor that the Emperor himself asked for this allegiance, but I must admit that this sudden change of events churn me a bit!" Ochako nodded in understanding before also looking thoughtfully in the direction of the house. "You know... The other side of the coin has its downsides, too. My father can barely afford the standard of living we have to lead as nobles. It will be difficult to find a family that will be satisfied with the little influence and the small dowry I am able to provide...", she murmured gloomily. Briefly, the young Miss Uraraka's expression changed as she looked longingly at the window that leads to her brother's study. How could (Y/N) have thought so selfishly only of herself, when she knew that her friend had it at least as hard as she did. With a fluid motion, the youngest Midoriya placed her hand on her friends upper arm as she stepped a little closer to her. "I wish I could support you somehow!", (Y/N) murmured comfortingly. "You know, you are really very very lucky. Your brother... I mean, Midoriya-sama will definitely make sure that you'll be fine by Bakugou-sama's side! He would never let him hurt you!", assured Ochako again with newfound energy as she confidently turned back to the daughter of the house. The sadness that had previously gleamed in the brunette girl's eyes had vanished without a trace. Sympathetically, (Y/N) smiled at her friend, knowing that she did not want to talk about the subject any further. Just as she was about to change the direction of their conversation, the sound of sliding doors distracted the two girls instantly.

Immediately, (Y/N) looked up to direct her gaze towards the house, only to finally discover her brother in the doorway of his study. When she realized that there were two other unknown figures standing behind him in the shadows of the room, the young Midoriya's breath caught for a moment. Two finely dressed, tall men slowly stepped into the light of the sun and, accompanied by Izuku, headed purposefully towards the young ladies. One of them had ash blond spiky hair, who was followed by a red-haired warrior. The clothes and the traditional katana they carried distinguished them as nobles of the sword, but it was quite clear even from a distance that the blond man stood rank-technically above the redheads. His attire was a bit more finer, than the others, but it was mainly the nature of his attitude that betrayed him the most. He came towards her as if he owned the ground on which he walked. Everything about his aura demanded that they had to submit to him.

Bakugou Katsuki.

At the sight of the handsome, albeit somber looking man, (Y/N)'s heart began to take a few leaps until it finally began to pound wildly against her chest.

"O-Oh, by the gods. Th-That has to be the shogun.", Ochako breathed softly. The young Midoriya could hear the trembling in her friend's voice, but she had to give her credit for standing firm just like (Y/N), trying not to let her intimidation show. A tepid breeze caused the light hanfu robes the two ladies wore, to dance around their legs, while a few petals of the magnolia blossoms rained down upon them. Despite the fact that she was surrounded by fresh spring air, (Y/N) felt like she couldn't catch her breath while facing the formidable gentleman. However, she didn't know if it was due to the unawareness of the powerful man's reaction towards her, or if perhaps this feeling had a completely different origin.

The expression in the gaze that Bakugou Katsuki had directed at the figure of the young Midoriya could only be described as penetrating, attentive and calculating. She had never met a person who was able to conjure up such an aura with only his bare focused eyes. Only briefly did he detach his attention from her to look at Ochako with his sharp gaze. Izuku's posture was tense as he walked up to his sister beside the shogun. Bakugou, on the other hand, looked as if he wasn't the least bit interested in the whole situation. He strode confidently towards his fiance, while his chimney red eyes once again stared down at her warily.

His gaze had been enough to free (Y/N) from her rigidity and ensured that she finally managed to get herself to move accordingly. Just before his arrival, she fell into a deep curtsy, which at that moment was more of a testament to her brilliant muscle memory, than a conscious act. But she managed to remember her manners, chastely lowering her gaze and remaining in the offering position long enough for the gentlemen to come to a stop in front of her and her close friend.

"So, this is your sister? Well, she truly is a lovely creature, Midoriya-san.", interrupted a friendly but unfamiliar voice the emerging silence. (Y/N) attributed it to the red-haired man, because the pitch seemed too friendly to belong to the notorious shogun. With downcast eyelids, she listened how her brother thanked his guest as he slowly moved to stand beside her smaller frame. The youngest Midoriya still hadn't lifted her gaze entirely, knowing that it was not proper for an unmarried woman to lift her eyes without further ado. However, her mind remained by the fact that the red haired men had spoken up before her fiance had said a word. It had surprised (Y/N), after all he was in the company of someone who outranked him. She had rarely seen anyone dare to speak openly in front of those who were above them.

"Oi, lift your gaze and look at me, girl!", growled Bakugou suddenly, without uttering a word of greeting. His companion clicked his tongue softly when he heard how his leader approached his fiance, while Izuku began to tense up in front of the shogun. Immediately, (Y/N) raised her fluttering eyelids and fixed her gaze on the nobleman's handsome face. Did Bakugou want her to look him in the eyes?

Despite her inner uncertainty, the young Midoriya's gaze wandered over the sharp edges of his contours until finally they slowly collided with the young shogun's iris.

Vermilion

His eyes had a vermilion color.

(Y/N) could understand why so many scary rumors circulated about the color of his eyes, but her first association was not the one she had heard from others. She could see why people associated them with the blood of his enemies, but the youngest Midoriya first thoughts were of the deep red of the sky as soon as the rising sun blinked out just a few inches above the horizon. Then, when the world was almost still haunted by the blackness of the night, before it was slowly but surely chased away by the first warm rays of pure light.

With quick breaths, (Y/N) looked speechlessly at her future husband while trying to suppress the nervous trembling of her body. She could sense Ochako behind her, shifting her weight, shocked as she tried to take in the spectacle in front of her as well. (Y/N), however, continued to do as she was commanded and looked bravely into the face of the shogun. It showed the indomitable will which lay dormant in the depths of his body. The will that was able to break even the strongest fighting spirit of his opponents. The youngest Midoriya knew that she should have felt fear at the sight of him, but all she could think of was the envy that arose in her when she realized what a strong character must reside in this man. How much power he posessed at such a young age.

Silence spread like a heavy blanket over the five nobles, all waiting for the highest ranked to speak again, but Bakugou seemed to be in no hurry. Almost testing, he delayed the moment as he looked down at her in a scrutinizing manner.

"Bakugou Katsuki.", her fiancé finally introduced himself impassively after nodding towards her. For a moment she had thought that she saw a positive emotion in the features of her future husband, but after just a single blink, the moment had already passed away. One more time, (Y/N) sank into a curtsy before putting on a shy, shaky smile. "Midoriya (Y/N). It's an honor to meet you, your grace.", she replied kindly. Silence spread out between the present, while the young couple looked at each other closely. However, Bakugou's companion broke it again before it was getting to be too awkward, waving at her with a radiant smile on his lips:"If I may introduce myself as well. My name is Kirishima Eijirou. I am one of the samurai who followed Bakugou-sama's lead. It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Midoriya and Miss eh?"

Surprised that the young man next to the young shogun had again simply spoken up without hesitation, (Y/N)'s attention briefly swung to the red-haired, muscular samurai. How was it that he dared to speak even though his superior was standing right next to him? Bakugou, however, didn't seem to mind, as he waited a short moment, while Ochako hastily introduce herself, without taking his eyes off of (Y/N).

After the brown-haired girl finished her introduction, the shogun cleared his throat in desinterest. He paid no further attention to his future wife's guest, clearly intending on keeping the conversation as short as possible as he began to declair in a business-like manner: "The negotiations for our engagement have been completed. After the proper engagement period has passed, I will come back to the capital to perform the wedding with you. Until then, I will travel back to my estate in the north." Overwhelmed by the statement, the young Midoriya swallowed down the rising lump before nodding hesitantly: "W-When will you be leaving?", the young lady asked after collecting herself. "In a week!" "In a week? But...", (Y/N) gasped, before breaking off her sentence. It was not her place to object, but she had hoped to at least meet Bakugou a few times before having to marry him.

Kirishima quickly stepped in again, smiling and trying to lighten the mood a bit, after noticing that his leader would say nothing in reply: "Duty calls, milady. But once we're back in town, Bakugou-sama will certainly be able to take up more time to get to know you before the wedding.", he suggested with a bright smile as he bumped his fists against each other in a confident manner. "Maybe... but now Kirishima and I will have to leave! The negotiatons took too much of my time already.", the shogun gave out without showing any interesest in indulgin any of them.

Surprised, (Y/N)'s eyes widened at the curt statement. Had she done something wrong? Why did he want to leave so soon, if he would be gone within the next week? Was he upset that she hadn't been able to hold her tongue? Swallowing, she searched the man's face for an answer, but could find no clues in his closed off expression. Strangely, a trace of disappointment spread through her as she watched the blond man resolutely incline his head in a farewell. Immediately, the youngest Midoriya and Ochako fell back into a deep curtsy as they bowed their heads in supplication.

Before (Y/N) could straighten up again, however, she felt a small oblong box being pressed into her hands. For a brief moment, rough, long fingers brushed against hers, but when she looked up in surprise, she realized miserably that Bakugou, who gave her the gift, had already turned away from her. With a wildly beating heart, she pressed the wooden box to her chest as she watched how Bakugou, was walking away from her without any hesitation in his steps.

How could she face her destiny and fight for her happiness when she was given no choice to do so? If she let him go without another word, wouldn't she have already failed in her purpose? She had to use the time she had left and pray that the gods would lead her graciously. On impulse, (Y/N) took a leap forward despite her intimidated self, before trying to build a bridge between Bakugou and her, even if it meant that she had to use her voice:"T-The spring Festival!" A shiver ran down her spine as the youngest Midoriya saw the shogun pause and turn to face her. "The festival to celebrate the cherry blossoms. The day after tomorrow evening in the emperor's gardens. W-will you be there, your Grace?", she asked, after having scraped together all of her courage. She could see Kirishima turn around as well and look at her with another radiant smile, while her brother looked like he was about to faint. Bakugou, on the other hand, looked at her appraisingly for a few moments before raising his shoulders in a vague gesture. "I'll be busy with the preparation for the following journey!", he replied impassively as he spun around again. Dejectedly, (Y/N) lowered her gaze, before she suddenly heard how her fiancé continued to speak: "I'll see if I can spare some time."

Eyes widening, (Y/N) gazed after Bakugou as she tried to comprehend what he had just uttered. A shaky smile spread across her lips before she bowed again, though the Shogun could not see this while he headed to the entrance of the estate. "Thank you. I look forward to eventually meeting you there."

#bnha #mha #bakugou x reader #Bakugou x female reader #bakugou x yn #Bakugou #Bakugou Katsuki #midoriya izuku #deku #Shogun!Bakugou

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yoditorian · 3 years

Text

drift

pacific rim au!din/reader

this is the absolute barest bones of something that i briefly mentioned thinking about exactly once and had 3 separate people convince me to do so big thanks to @justrunamok, @brothersdrxke, and @zoriis for being my enablers 💛

this is very introductory, i’m not even sure what it’ll become yet (probably a headcanon/oneshot/concept mix) but if you’re into it, my taglist link is at the bottom 😘

series masterlist // main masterlist

word count: 934 // warnings: terrible interpretation of two sci-fi things i love dearly, maybe a swear idk

When you wake up to the message that you’re being promoted, you don’t expect much.

It’s not like there’s any mech teams that are missing a coordinator, so you’re pretty sure you’ll be working with the same crew you always have on the same rig you always have.

Maybe you get another stripe to patch onto your sleeve.

But that’ll be it, right?

You started out as a vehicle mechanic on base, instead of coming from a fancy jaeger engineering school like most of the mechs.

Working your way up with hands on experience, you’d been pulled in to work on a malfunctioning plasma cannon prototype when they’d been shorthanded. The mech coordinator had pulled you out of vehicle maintenance immediately.

You’ve been on Glory Horizon’s mech team ever since.

Her plasma cannons haven’t failed since you welded them back onto her elbows. In fact, you’ve only improved them with your years working on the rig. They’re still your greatest achievement.

The rest of the team start to come to life as tablet alarms begin to sound through the barracks, and your brief peace is cut short by your bunkmate swinging their legs off of their bed and into your face.

“Good morning!” They smile at you brightly when they hop down, already halfway into their uniform.

Good morning indeed.

You try to ignore the grease stains that just refuse to wash out of your own jumpsuit, no matter how hard you scrub, it’s not exactly professional to show up to a new position in grease stains and welding burns but it’s all you’ve got. All your other suits are piled in a heap underneath your bed, ready for the laundry.

You try not to be late, honestly you do.

But the rest of Glory’s team have filed out of the barracks before you’ve even got your boots on. Evidently, some habits can never be broken.

“Your shoelace is undone.” Peli says when you finally make it to the hangar.

Glory Horizon stands tall in your peripheral vision as you smile sheepishly and tuck the offending lace into your boot. Even if a little disheveled is your go-to look, your mechanic achievements speak for themselves.

Other mech teams shudder at the thought of Peli being their coordinator, but her unimpressed exterior is just that. Exterior. Deep down, you know she’s all fluff.

“So, does this mean I get to annoy you even more?” You ask.

“In your dreams.” She huffs, but you don’t miss her little smile when she looks down at the tablet in her arms. “You are getting your own team today.”

Your own team?

No, no that can’t be right.

There’s no spare jaegers, and mech teams notoriously hate working together on rigs. Everyone has their own ways of working, systems down to a fine art. You can’t just throw two teams together without any warning. Surely even the suits up in command know that.

“On..?” You trail off, glancing up at Glory Horizon. Your giant, mechanical, Kaiji-fighting baby.

“Not that you haven’t done a wonderful job on Glory. You’ll be missed for sure, kid. But you’re getting a new one.”

What?

“A new one?” You’re confused. You’re so confused. Two and a half years working to make Glory the best she’s ever been, the best she possibly could be, and they’re just giving you a new jaeger? You didn’t even know they were developing a new one.

“Technically speaking.”

She doesn’t sound pleased, but whatever she’s about to say next is interrupted by the whirring of helicopter blades.

A dark shadow looms over the concrete, and a couple of rusted metal panels crash to the landing pad.

It’s got to be at least ten years old. Chipped orange stripes over the dull grey of its chest, twin guns mounted on its shoulders, you can see the wiring where the panels have fallen off of the legs.

So, new to you then.

Honestly, you’re surprised it’s still mostly in one piece. Her team must be piloting on duct tape and hope.

You’re even more surprised when the helicopters detach and she doesn’t fall over on the landing pad.

“I’ll see you for dinner? It’s cinnamon rolls for dessert tonight!” Peli calls as she makes her way back to Glory.

The pilots get the new rig settled into the harness as you take the stairs two at a time to meet them. You should have been up there already, but at least the only person who can kick your ass about it is you.

Your team sits together on a couple of upturned crates. New recruits, by the look of them. Something you can deal with later.

You steel yourself, channeling Peli’s unshakeable professionalism, as the boarding ramp lowers. Even the shape of the head is unusual. This is going to be a challenge.

A single pilot walks out, pulling off his gloves and mumbling to himself. You’re not even sure he knows you’re there.

It’s just him, which throws you off a little. She’s not a small rig by any means, but a glance into the cockpit shows only one connection point. Huh.

“Welcome to the Shatterdome.” You introduce yourself and hold your hand out, it’s only then that the pilot seems to realise you’re there.

He looks at your hand for a moment, trails his eyes up your arm to your face, and shrugs. He stalks off in the direction of command, shedding his combat gear as he goes. You can’t help but furrow your eyebrows in annoyance.

This might be a little harder than you thought it would be.

TAGLIST (add yourself here):

@brothersdrxke @keeper0fthestars @thevoiceinyourheadx @firstofficerwiggles @1800-fight-me @ew-erin @chatterbean

#i banged this out in however long it’s been since marina’s ask it’s not been proofread or edited let’s GO #drift #when i say au i do mean au there’s nothing about this that’s pacific rim besides the basic concept #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #star wars #pacific rim au #headcanons #liz does words #sfw

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lumilasi · 2 years

Note

I'm kind of curious what that alternate idea for an ongoing story is?

Ah, in regards to my table flip post I presume! Well it's bit of a long explanation (and I'll have to talk about the fic it could've been for. No major spoilers though!)

So the idea was for Shadowed Pages, where the starting situation would've been massively different to what it is right now, to the point of adjusting AFO's story and character more from canon than what the fic currently does/will do. Basically it would've been more FS Hisashi-ish.

(To put it short, his relationship with his brother wouldn't have been abusive, just dysfunctional due to poor communication skills. This is kind of how I have approached all the versions of AFO that are more protagonists in a fic than the antagonist like in canon. Canon AFO is great for his role as a villain in the official story, but doesn't work as a protagonist for fic AU's in my eyes lmao)

This past dynamic would've changed how I approached AFO and Tomura's relationship massively, let me explain;

The current situation for SP is this:

Tomura was picked up by AFO like in canon, only at this time they were already working with the MLA. AFO again tried to possess Tomura eventually, but unknowingly to him, when he placed his quirk into the boy, he also put something else there unknowingly; something that protected Tomura throughout the years from his worse influence and eventually helped him to stop the possession and kill his mentor. The teen shaped ghost that follows him around. (what he is exactly will get explained later in the fic)

Tomura lives with Kurogiri now, hiding in plain sight in an old library his Sensei secretly owned, with a fragment of AFO living within him as that teen ghost. The evil one is still there too however, as well as....something else.

Something that is eventually very vital for the endgame of the story, and explains a lot of things about why AFO is the way he is in this particular AU, why Izuku exists, and why AFO self-sabotaged himself to begin with when it came to his plan with Tenko.

Now, let's get to the actual point of your question lmao, sorry it took so long, I just felt I need to give some context first;

In this alternate take, AFO would've actually quit his villain bullshit, either during Nana's tenure, or after the first fight with Toshinori (without turning into a potatohead, maybe just some scarring) because he was so tired of it all (again, goes back to his core nature and backstory being different from canon in this AU idea; he's not a narcissistic opportunist, but someone who let his power get into his head, and became self destructive and dangerous due to guilt) and just lives like a normal person, hiding from any heroes and law enforcement in general. He probably wouldn't work any normal jobs or anything, he'd be a recluse so mostly just use his quirk to get what's needed. (While cashier AFO is a funny idea, I find it too crackish, and my second-hand embarrassment is too strong to write cracky stuff like that lmao)

He does find little Tenko on the street again after what happens with his family and picks him up, but instead of being a manipulative abusive asshole, he just ends up being a proper dad as he should've been. To the point that when some other villains end up kidnapping Tenko alongside some other kids, he actually comes out of hiding and shows he's alive to All Might (and maybe Nana if she's alive) just to basically kick them out of the way to save his boy lmao

As for the DFO angle, IDK how I'd do it in this version; it'd be pretty fun though, especially if Toshinori would be Inko's friend, and he'd be curious to meet this new person/single dad she's met and is very fond of, but for some reason he's never present or able to greet him...? (Cue afo/Hisashi internally freaking out when he finds out All Might is Inko's friend. No he does NOT want to meet him, no thank you) Don't even get me started on when he finds out Inko is pregnant, that's even worse; the kid could inherit a massively corrupting quirk like his, or be quirkless, or just be in danger because of the ties with him..... (cue internal mumbling like Izuku, just not spoken out loud as he's better at hiding it) Also he'd probs end up sort of parenting all of Tenko's friends too, who Tenko would naturally attract as he's a LOV magnet hehe. (probs some would be alongside the kidnapped kids I mentioned earlier)

He would also suffer from memory loss somewhat, tho not as much as what FS Hisashi had at the start, and it'd last longer. Basically he'd have forgotten the thing I mentioned earlier in the description for SP; why he did the things he did. Either because of the mental mess and trauma from the past decades, or the fight with either Nana or All Might damaging his brain. He'd eventually connect the dots again and it would lead to the same/similar endgame I have planned for SP currently.

So yeah. I'm still mad at myself for not thinking of this sooner. Sure, the current setting for SP is fine, but I really like this idea, and feel like I can't use it because I don't have any ideas for an alternate ending that'd differ enough from what SP has planned :T

#I know this is kinda long winded explanation #but I couldn't really shorten it much #answered anon #fic idea #dad for one #bnha tenko #shimura tenko #tenko shimura #shiragaki tomura #afo #inko midoriya #hisashi midoriya #izuku bnha

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rubykgrant · 3 years

Text

I’m gonna write out little high-lights of my RVB Monster AU for Halloween reasons~ Things happen in a mostly normal-world modern setting, but obviously with monsters/fantasy creatures and such. Things plot-related happen almost the same way, but some stuff is earlier/later, shuffled around to work for my own purposes (so some of the key moments still happen, but occasionally in a different order). Here is the beginning, which as always, starts with two morons asking a big question-

“Hey?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you ever wonder why we’re here?”

“Well, that’s one of life’s great mysteries, isn’t it?”

The two men were standing on the rooftop of an old warehouse. The building had gone through several owners, being used as a storage facility, a garage for fixing up cars and various vehicles, a shipping business, a veterinary clinic for large animals and livestock, a recycling center… and possibly some kind of drug lab at one point. It was none of these now, but if a stranger saw the inside, they would assume the new owner was a combination a mechanic/pet doctor, using the left-behind equipment (and considering how shady everything appeared, a stranger would also probably assume this was a front for yet another drug lab). It was still none of these things. In truth, it was much stranger.

One man stood slouching with the late-afternoon sun on his back. The other was leaning against a vent that came out of the roof, in the shadows. He had a red long-sleeved button-up shirt on (despite the hot temperature), and black jeans. His shirt was neatly tucked-in, and his matching red hair was trimmed short in what was decidedly a “going to a job interview” style. His eyes were two different colors. Once, they had both been a soft brown, but now one was glass, the color of the iris some kind of magenta… or maroon. The other eye (the one that was still organic) was a golden-yellow. He looked like somebody who had gone through a growth-spurt some years back, and still hadn’t settled into himself; too lanky and gawky for his own good.

His companion in the sun was a little shorter, and considerably larger, but completely at ease with his shape and his weight. His skin was mostly a warm copper brown… but he had several patches of mis-matched skin tones on his left side; around his eye, his chest, his arm, his leg. Each area also showed several scars, signifying that it was the result of surgery and skin-grafts. His dark brown hair was parted in the center, falling down around his shoulders in long curls, and stubble on his chin. His eyes were so dark, they almost looked black. He wore an old faded baseball shirt (once white with orange on the collar and short sleeves, now a dingy-peachy color), and loose gray jeans that were worn-out at the knees. They were quite the odd pair, opposites in many ways that were obvious (and more that were evident in their interactions), yet it was clear they were used to each other’s company.

“Why ARE we here?” the man in the sun continued, answering the question from his friend in the shadows. “I mean, are we the product of some cosmic coincidence, or is there really a god watching everything? You know, with a plan for us and stuff. I don't know man, but it keeps me up at night…”

“WHAT?” the other man stood up a little straighter, but remained behind the vent. “I meant why are we out HERE, in broad daylight? Sarge KNOWS it’ll burn me, and there’s not even anything for us to do! The only reason he sends us out to keep watch is because there’s that building over there he thinks is haunted, but we can’t see anything from here… and if there WAS anything going on over there, like ghosts or whatever, they could definitely see US! We don’t have any cover on the roof, but whoever might be over THERE is hidden behind the windows!”

“Oh… uh, yeah…”

“What was all that stuff about god?”

“Nothing,”

“You sure?”

“Yeah,”

They both decided to just skip it, and move on.

“But seriously, why ARE we out here, and why does Sarge care about that building so much?” the taller man waved his arm, gesturing to the building in question.

“I guess he wants to try catching ghosts next, or something?” the shorter man shrugged.

“Then we should just GO OVER THERE, right?”

“Pfff… nah, are you kidding? Just standing around, looking at a building? This is the easiest job I ever had,” he sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Grif, you- OK, first of all! This isn’t a JOB, we aren’t getting paid! Second, you don’t even remember most of your life before a few months ago, you have no basis of comparison!”

“Fair point, but come on Simmons… seriously? What job could I have possibly had that would be easier than this?”

From his spot in the shadows, Simmons looked away for a moment, thinking.

“Hmm… well, I remember reading about people being paid to take part in sleep studies. You just nap and keep a dream journal, or whatever…”

“Oh man, are you kidding!? I WISH that was my life!” Grif kicked at an old rusty can, causing it to fall off the roof. “Instead, here I am, stuck in this stupid building, in this stupid town, in this stupid canyon-”

“Where we have to look at a potentially haunted building, at random intervals, day and night…” Simmons added.

“All because Scruffy the Vampire Slayer is paranoid!”

Despite himself, this caused Simmons to snort laughter. Grif grinned, pleased that his pun was appreciated.

“Even if that building IS haunted… it doesn’t seem like something bad, you know? I never see anybody running out of there screaming bloody murder. If we just ignored it, what would happen? Nothing. It would just be a boring building with boring ghosts, and we’d just be another boring building with boring… whatever we are,” Simmons leaned once more on the vent, glaring up at the sky that was still dangerously bright.

“I think monsters sums us up pretty good,” Griff suggested.

“Right, monsters who don’t do anything. Over there are ghosts who don’t do anything. Whoopty-fucking-doo…”

“You gonna actually SAY that to Sarge? Hmm? Gonna finally stand up to him, use your big-boy voice, and tell the crazy old man you don’t wanna follow orders anymore? Is this beginning of your rebellious phase?” Grif reached over, shoving Simmons lightly on the arm.

“Well… no… but! I’m gonna remind him that me being outside in the day is a bad idea! YOU should get the day shift, and I should get the night shift. It just makes sense,”

“Aww, but Simmons… then we wouldn’t get to spend quality time together, having all these deep and meaningful conversations!” Grif gave him a look of fake-concern, like he was hurt and might start crying.

“Oh, right. I forgot. We’re philosophers discussing the secrets of the universe, life’s great mysteries, right?” Simmons smirked.

“Exactly�� like, if you could only taste one thing for the rest of your life, what would it be? No matter what you ate, it has the same flavor?” Grif asked.

“That’s a stupid question for a vampire, man. Everything I eat DOES have the same flavor now. It all tastes like blood, because guess what? I have to drink blood. Because I’m a VAMPIRE,” Simmons shook his head.

“No, but I mean, if you could magically taste something ELSE, whether you were drinking blood or eating a salad, or whatever, what would you pick?” Grif pressed on. “I’d want everything to taste like chocolate. Milk chocolate. That’s my favorite, and I’d never get sick of it…”

“Jeez… it would’ve been impossible to get you to chill out if you tasted chocolate every time you tried to eat a person!” Simmons replied, remembering how it had been with Grif when they first found him.

“Yeah, I don’t know what those other zombies were on about… brains and human flesh is GROSS. Chocolate, though? MMM, I could do the zombie-shuffle-walk for days to get some good chocolate,”

“Uh-huh, and that’s EXACTLY how we caught you!” Simmons almost reached out to return the arm-punch, but managed to hesitate and stop in time… Grif was still in direct sunlight, and Simmons would get scorched if he left his little patch of shadow. Grif seemed to realize this, in that quiet and easy way that caused both of them to somehow pick-up each other’s habits. Grif leaned over to nudge Simmons with his shoulder, and they both laughed together.

#red vs blue #rvb fic #monsters #vampires #zombies

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btsmosphere · 4 years

Text

Blessing and a Curse | PJM

~summary: You are the unlukiest person you know. Park Jimin seems to be the exception to the rule. But when strange dreams start haunting you, Jimin begins to piece together the events that have followed you your whole life...

~word count: 12.7k (anyone know if this is too long for a oneshot haha)

~college!au, magic!au, fluff, angst

~Warnings: nightmares, house fire, knife injury and blood, mentioned homophobia/biphobia, swearing

~a/n: happy (almost) halloween! welcome to my new oneshot, I really hope you enjoy it! -if you’re worried about the warnings, all except the nightmares happen near the end and are probably skippable, but if you might be triggered then please be on the safe side and save this for later 💜this story isn’t primarily about those things, it’s about jimin and yn being cute hehe

In the darkness of the room, only one face is visible. A woman with age-worn skin is looking at you.

She is talking.

She is: you can see it in the way her mouth moves, but she is articulating without sound.

Your ears are plugged with water, you can hear it in the way it rumbles. Maybe that same water is what is drowning out everything else, blurring the edges of this scene. Yes, the room is dark, but surely something is in the shadows.

Why would she be here alone?

There is a fire: of that you are sure. Nothing else would light the lady’s face in a scarlet glow, deepening her wrinkles until they seem carved of wood. Only her continued movement shatters this illusion.

In the glimmering light, her eyebrows sink in the middle, fixing you with a stare.

She is approaching.

Her eyes are all you can see, a flame visible within them and they rush to you. The heat of fire is no longer merely imagined. No, you feel it crawling over you as you watch her mouth move without sound.

It can’t be water around you, because you can’t move. Fire can’t survive in water. But here it is, pinning you down, smothering you.

Maybe you are dying.

She is talking.

The woman with age-worn skin is looking at you. Only one face is visible in the darkness of the room.

The room was still dark. Something was different, you thought vaguely as you blinked.

And then suddenly, everything was different.

No face is visible.

You can hear: you cough, and the sound of it reaching your ears startles you. No water, then.

More evidence of this is the fact you can see, even in the dark, the glow that fights its way around your curtain from the street lamp outside illuminating your bedroom. You can move.

You certainly aren’t dying.

That’s a relief.

Morning comes, the streetlamp has turned off and you pay no mind to the dream hovering just out of your memory’s reach. Plenty like that have come before, and plenty will follow.

Anyway, it’s just a dream.

Now, you are more preoccupied with checking and double checking your bag. Your laptop, notebooks and folders are in there. First aid kit, check. Pencil case, check. Five memory sticks, check.

On your way to campus, you dodged a ladder leaning against a house and walked right into the path of a van splashing muddy water up your jeans. Sighing, you pulled out some tissues to dry it off as best you could, backing into a wall to get out of the splash zone again.

Of course, you backed into a pile of dog poo.

Scowling, you scraped the bottom of your shoe furiously against the pavement and hurried on.

Today was one of the rare occasions when Yoongi had arrived before you. On any normal Monday morning, he would slink in after about half an hour into class, but there he sat in the entrance hall, looking blearily round at you and licking his lips as he set his coffee down.

However, your attention was drawn away by the boy sitting with him.

Park Jimin.

As you slid into the third seat at the table, you widened your eyes at Yoongi, hoping to convey your panic.

“Hey, I was just going to grab a coffee, would you like one?” Jimin smiled at you, standing.

You swallowed, quickly turning back to him.

“Oh-um, er, no, I- it’s okay. Thank you.”

“Okay,” he smiled sweetly again and walked across to the little bar across the space.

“God, just let him buy you a coffee,” Yoongi groaned, “or do you really expect anything to happen if you never say yes?”

“They always give me shit coffee here,” you sighed, glancing back at Jimin waiting in the queue.

“You say that about everywhere,” Yoongi said. He let his head fall into his hand so it covered half his face.

“That’s because it’s true!” you protested, but he had heard it before. “What are you doing here anyway? You look half asleep.”

“Jimin dragged me,” he mumbled into his palm.

“Woe is you,” you laughed, slumping back on your seat and swinging your feet. You had given up tipping your chair long ago.

When Jimin came back, it was only to scoop up his bag before heading off to his class. That was the most you ever seemed to talk to him, as much as you would like to get to know him more. Being flatmates with your closest friend in your department saw him at plenty of the same parties, but you were too scared to approach him.

Something would go wrong.

With you, it always did. Yoongi said you were just a pessimist, which held a lot of weight coming from him.

Class went smoothly. A pen had leaked in your pencil case, and promptly ran out of ink when you tried to use it, but other than that, you came out unscathed.

It wasn’t until that afternoon that the wind picked up.

After a long day of classes, you parted ways with Yoongi to go to the library, while he left for basketball practise. Tugging your scarf tighter around you, you fought against the weather on the short walk between buildings.

On reaching your refuge, you tiptoed through the rows of books to the study area. Luckily, one last spot was left by the window, where you could see the grey clouds rolling by, the odd leaf whisking past and the branches tugged by the wind.

Smile spreading over your face, you marched towards it, setting your things down. But the moment you sat, the chair’s back leg buckled, a snap resounding through the silent space and drawing glares from the other students.

Mentally cursing, you pulled yourself up and settled for the most hidden table you could find. Sure, you could handle the dust and the flickering light in this corner.

To be fair, you did get a good amount of studying done, satisfied by the time you pulled on your scarf again and set off home.

The few trees dotted around campus creaked in the gale when you passed them. Head down against the wind, you pressed on, not looking up until you heard a familiar voice. What they were saying wasn’t quite audible, but you would recognise it anywhere. Maybe your little crush was getting a little out of hand.

Looking around, you saw Jimin with a couple of friends coming out of the gym across the courtyard.

Okay, he hadn’t seen you yet. Maybe he wasn’t coming this way?

No such luck.

Their voices drew closer, so you picked up the pace, digging your face deeper into the wool around your neck. Park Jimin was behind you, no big deal. Just don’t embarrass yourself.

But the moment you took a deep breath, a scraping sound came from above you. Frowning, you looked up distractedly. There it came again, a gravelly noise somewhere overhead. This time, though, it didn’t stop, only growing louder, and there-!

A shape, sliding off the roof, right over your head. In the blink of an eye, you scrambled to move, but your feet were caught and you tripped, inelegantly face-planting the ground as a smashing sound deafened you.

A stinging pain flared in your calf.

“Oh my god! Y/N?”

From your front-seat view of the floor, you groaned, taking a moment to close your eyes. This couldn’t be happening. Inhaling, you finally pushed yourself up to sit just as Jimin rushed up to you, his two friends close behind. Forcing a grimace, you tried to ignore your burning face as he knelt down, discarding his bag.

There, right beside your leg, lay a cracked roof tile.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, bending your leg to get a closer look. The source of the pain showed itself; your jeans were torn, a deep graze on your skin underneath where the tile must have caught you.

Beside you, Jimin’s hands hovered, twitching as he debated what to do. He watched as you twisted your ankle experimentally and winced.

“You should go to the doctor,” he told you. He was right, too. At least there was one on campus that you could hopefully reach on an injured leg-

“I’ll take you, come on,” he pushed his bag into his friend’s arms and threw yours over his own shoulder. Before you could utter a word, his shoulder was under your arm, helping you stand.

“Thank you,” you spluttered, “I-I think it should be fine though-“

Right on cue, you stood on you bad foot, which instantly gave way as you choked back a cry.

“It’s just twisted!” you exclaimed, though your full weight was pretty much weighing down on Jimin.

“Best to get it checked,” one of his friends chimed in, clapping you on the shoulder as he set off walking in the direction of the health centre.

Sighing, you gave in and allowed Jimin to help as you hobbled next to him.

“That’s Hoseok,” he said, smiling again, “and that’s Tae.”

Holding up a hand, Tae bobbed his head at you with a grin.

“Hi,” you panted.

It was likely that your attempt to return a smile failed, with the bugging pain in your ankle. Either way, Tae had turned back around now, walking beside Hoseok just ahead of you two. Before long, you had resorted to hopping. It wasn’t efficient.

“Would it be better…” Jimin said, “I mean, I could- I think I should carry you.”

Managing a weak smile, you slowed beside him. Maybe you didn’t have to go far, but it felt like a marathon at the moment.

Eyes creasing in his own smile, Jimin gently let go of your arm and stepped in front of you, crouching to let you put your arms around his neck. Surely he would be able to feel your heart hammering at your ribs, pressed up against his back like this?

If he did, he didn’t let on.

Sliding his arms behind your knees, he scooped you up and you were off at a much more reasonable speed this time.

“Tae!” he yelled.

When the black-haired boy turned around, Jimin tossed him your bag.

By some miracle, you heart had chilled out by the time you entered the doctor’s reception. Maybe a short trip on someone’s back had healing effects in itself.

You were handed an ice pack and some paperwork and told to wait. Taehyung and Hoseok said they would leave you to it, but Jimin assured you he could stay. And who were you to turn him down? This wasn’t coffee.

The silence was companiable as you sat side by side, Jimin sitting forward, elbows on his thighs while you put your feet up on a chair he had dragged over. He didn’t speak until you had nearly finished writing.

“Maybe you could sue the college,” he joked, gently nudging you with his elbow.

Laughing, you signed off the last box quickly before setting the form down and giving him your full attention.

“Thanks for staying, you didn’t have to,” you squeezed out a smile.

“Don’t worry,” he assured, “I’m just glad you’re not more hurt. It was crazy, what happened.”

“Believe it or not, that’s not the first time that’s happened to me,” you admitted. A small laugh brushed by your lips.

At your words, Jimin turned to you fully, bringing his chin off his hands. For a moment he only stared with his eyebrows raised, smile faltering, unsure if you were kidding.

“You’re being serious?”

You grimaced.

“A roof tile fell on you? More than once?”

“What are the chances, right?” you sighed, “But yeah. I’m definitely the most accident-prone person I know.”

“At least you managed to get out of the way… I thought it was going to hit your head or something,” Jimin looked genuinely terrified. You were sure your heart melted as he said this with his big eyes and such sincerity.

“If by getting out of the way you mean falling on my face,” you smiled softly.

Thankfully, he saw the funny side and laughed along with you, shaking his head and sitting back. You were glad the worry had left his face.

Only one other person sat in the waiting room, a mother holding a small baby, who now turned around to glare at the pair of you, although were only laughing quietly. Either way, you both closed your mouths, noticing her child was asleep.

A screaming baby was not something you wanted to add to this situation.

“So… what do you study?” you muttered after the woman turned back around in her chair.

“Protective magic,” Jimin dazzled you again with his smile, “it’s my second year now.”

“Same,” you replied, “well, as in, I’m in second year too, but I’m not gifted. I’m doing literature.”

“With Yoongi, right?”

“Oh, yeah, of course you knew that,” you laughed, but you were cringing inside. Time to change topic. “But, umm, what’s your favourite part of your course?”

Magic was definitely fascinating to you, even though you weren’t gifted with powers and therefore were unable to study it. Less than half the population had magic, so it was just your luck to be in the boring majority.

“I’m enjoying studying curses,” Jimin was saying, “last year was mainly the basics, warding and stuff like that, so it’s nice to do something more interesting.”

“It sounds really cool,” you agreed, “I’m so jealous, I didn’t get any of my first-choice modules.”

Just as Jimin opened his mouth to respond, a doctor called your name.

“Ah,” Jimin stood, raising his hand to alert the doctor you were there as you struggled to your feet. “Do you want me to come in with you?”

“If that’s okay?”

Gladly accepting his arm for the second time that day, you let Jimin help you over to the doctor and followed her down the hallway to her office. As she checked you over, Jimin sat patiently behind you. Your frequent glances at him were definitely less surreptitious than you intended, but he didn’t seem to mind, smiling reassuringly when you caught his eye.

In the end, she bandaged up the graze and ordered you to avoid using your ankle as much as you could for a couple of days. You had just avoided spraining it, so it would be fine.

“How are you getting home?” she asked you, not looking at you as she typed up her notes.

“Oh, uh-“ you stuttered. You hadn’t thought of that. Walking all the way home would be too far when you could barely make the walk from the waiting room.

“-I’m driving her,” Jimin spoke.

Snapping your mouth shut, you stared round at him.

“Excellent,” the doctor smiled before you could say anything. She spun back to you in her chair, “that should be all. Remember to rest it, I’m sure your friend will help you out.”

Quietly smiling and thanking her, you hobbled out beside Jimin. Outside the door, he lifted you onto his back again for the short walk to the parking lot.

By car, your house was barely ten minutes away, but you chatted some more to Jimin. As he reached your street and you pointed out where he could stop, you were startled by how fast it seemed. You found yourself not wanting him to leave.

Who knew that completely embarrassing yourself in front of your crush could end up to be a good thing?

To your delight, he insisted on piggy-backing you up the stairs as well, somehow not even breaking a sweat, and waited with you at the door as you slid the key in.

“KOOK!” you yelled as you pushed the door open, but to your surprise, he had already left his room and was walking down the hall towards you.

On seeing Jimin next to you, arm around your waist, he stopped abruptly and his eyes widened. But then his eyes travelled down to your leg, bandage poking from the bottom of your jeans, and he relaxed.

“This is Jimin,” you offered, hopping over the threshold as Kook approached again, quick to slide his arm around your other side.

“Hi,” he nodded at Jimin, “thanks.”

Jimin, who let you go as it became clear Kook could take it from here, handed over your bag as well.

“Good to meet you,” he beamed, “see you, Y/N.”

From your position propped up against your roommate, you waved at him. Too soon he was gone, door falling shut behind him.

“is that the Jimin?” Jungkook stage-whispered.

“Yes…” you sighed, hiding your face in his shoulder and ignoring his excited eyes.

“Come on,” you felt the rumble of his laughter through you as he pushed you off him and pulled you down the corridor, “Jin-hyung! Y/N hurt herself again!”

“Kook…” you grumbled in vain.

The moment he dropped you ungracefully onto the sofa, Jin hurried in, already clutching a first aid bag. Seeing his concerned face, you couldn’t help but laugh.

“It’s okay, I already went to the doctor.”

“Aish,” he moaned, “how do you manage to get hurt so much?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to,” you whined, “really.”

You met his eyes as he ditched the medical kit by the sofa. Sighing, he gave you a smile which you returned. You knew he worried too much.

“She was probably distracted,” Jungkook piped up from behind the kitchen counter which divided your space. The warning look you shot him wasn’t enough to quiet him though, you could see the mischievous grin on his face.

“Jeon Jungkook-” you hissed.

“-making doe-eyes at Jim- ow!”

“Y/N!” Jin cried, snatching you and Jungkook’s attention, “give me that.”

Marching across the space, he scooped up the book you had launched at the younger boy and tucked it under his arm. Then a smile slid onto his face, letting the two of you relax. He wasn’t really mad.

“So Jimin?” he grinned.

Shoving a cushion over your face, you groaned, Jin’s laughter loud in your ears.

Yoongi offered to drive you into college before you had even told him you were injured. Jimin must have told him what happened when he got home.

What you didn’t expect was to see your saviour again this early in the morning. You looked a mess in all honesty, hair messy and most lazy clothes shoved on to accommodate your bandaged leg. Sleep hadn’t been on your side last night, and the dream had come again, but until now you didn’t care.

Now, as Jimin gave up shotgun for you with a radiant smile, you regretted your lie in.

“Are you definitely okay to walk?” he eyed you worriedly as you limped over to them.

After the inevitable teasing last night, Jin and Jungkook had cooked for you and let you pick a film so you could keep you leg up with ice. As a result it did feel much better, and you told him as much.

“I’m glad,” Jimin smiled.

You were too busy smiling back to catch Yoongi rolling his eyes.

The room was dark… the old woman was looking at you…

As the fire danced and flickered below her, she spoke to you, but you were still deaf to her words.

Come to think of it, she looked like she was shouting.

Had you upset her?

A hand entered your vision, the woman’s hand, gnarled with age and dappled with firelight.

She was reaching out…

No.

She was pointing at you.

“Y/N! Hey!”

Your whole body jolted as a foot hit your leg. It took a moment for the pain to even register as you blinked, head falling off the hand it rested on.

As you looked up, opening your mouth to complain, your eyes met with Yoongi’s. He had a strange expression on his face.

Frowning, you looked around. The lecture was still going on.

“Sorry,” you whispered, “didn’t sleep well.”

Turning away from Yoongi, you found a group of boys behind you quickly tearing their eyes away. Their snickering whispers followed you even when you turned your back on them. But though you hunched over your work, fully intent on achieving tunnel-vision to your notebook, Yoongi didn’t share your intention.

“Hey,” he murmured, digging his knee into your leg until you acknowledged him. You were greeted with the same piercing stare from before. “You okay?”

Shoulders slumping, you sighed.

“Yeah…”

“You don’t look so good.”

“Thanks Yoongi,” you rolled your eyes at his bluntness, “just tired-“

“You were dreaming,” he informed you.

You blinked.

“Sorry?”

“You were kind of… twitching,” he grimaced, “that’s why they were laughing at you. Was it a nightmare?”

Blankly staring back at him, you tried to recall your dream. Once you were awake, it always left your mind like sand through a sieve, but when you thought about it…

“It’s just a dream I keep having,” you shook your head, “it’s why I couldn’t get much sleep last night.”

His eyebrows creased, but the sudden commotion that rumbled into life around you told you class was over. And you had missed most of it. Just your luck.

Sluggishly, you packed your things away. Just as you slung your bag over one shoulder, your phone buzzed in your pocket. Slipping it out as you pushed your chair in with your thigh, you saw two messages from Yoongi.

Pictures of his lecture notes.

Fondly smiling, you looked to your friend as he shut his book and slid his own things into his bag.

As usual, Yoongi walked with you after classes were done. Except today, when you parted ways, he made you promise to meet him in time to drive home. Usually you would spend longer in the library, but you could easily check out something to work on at home.

Yoongi’s earlier lecture notes mentioned some extra reading, so you decided to go and find the books to make up for being unconscious during the class itself.

Heading towards the classics section once you were inside, you heard Jimin before you saw him.

A loud thump made you wince, evidently the sound of a fallen book. Unable to help your curiosity, you leaned around the corner to the aisle it came from.

There, Jimin’s blond hair was just visible over a mound of books balanced in his arms, some tucked under his elbows, and a couple more trapped between his hip and the bookshelves.

“Jimin?”

You were already striding towards him, hurriedly grabbing for the books in the most precarious position.

“Thank you,” a muffled voice reached your ears as Jimin was finally able to step away from the shelf without fear of dropping any more.

“Um… what are you doing?” you asked incredulously as you hastily shoved the books onto a shelf, soon reaching out to start dismantling the pile in his arms.

“I had spare credits,” he spoke as you removed the books that blocked out his face, “so I’ve ended up taking Mythology of Magic. I thought I should do some reading…”

Laughing, you turned over the book in your hand. Woozle the Warlock and other stories.

“And you didn’t want to be any more selective?”

As you tugged the books from under his arm, Jimin looked down at his shuffling feet.

“I’ve never had to read fiction for my course, so I don’t really know where to start.”

“Well, I took that module last year,” you smiled, “trust me, there are a few books Professor Bang really relies on, but other than that there aren’t too many you should know.”

“Really?”

Jimin’s eyes were so hopeful. His smile had returned, and you were happy you could give him a positive answer.

“Would you like me to help you?” you ventured.

His enthusiastic nod made your heart leap.

“Right, well-“ you turned to the shelves to scan for the books you needed, absently pushing a couple more books onto a random shelf. Jimin followed suit, now having his hands free enough to make use of them.

“Jimin?”

The book you had just laid eyes on was lost as you jumped around, finding one of the librarians at the end of the shelves.

“Joon! Y/N’s gonna help me with Mythology!” Jimin greeted the man enthusiastically, but his eagerness was not returned.

“What’s going on?” the man called Joon asked.

Guiltily glancing at the shelves Jimin had pillaged, it became clear they were nowhere near orderly anymore.

“Jimin, this is going to take me ages, you know I have a date tonight!” Joon was busy complaining.

“Sorry Joon,” Jimin sighed, “do you want me to sort it?”

“Please. I’ll come and check you’re doing it right in a while,” Joon agreed, “Y/N will just have to help you later.”

“Sorry,” you piped up, looking at Jimin, “Yoongi’s giving me a lift home.”

“Then you can come to ours!” Joon startled you by clapping his hands together. He looked thrilled, but you were still confused.

“Ah, sorry Y/N,” Jimin said, “this is Namjoon. He lives with me and Yoongi.”

“Oh! Nice to meet you,” you said.

“You too,” Namjoon smiled, “I best get back to work.”

Before he left, he sent a dimpled smirk over to Jimin.

“Do you want some help?” you asked Jimin, the two of you staring at the mess of books, a couple still lying on the floor.

“No, please go and sit down,” he told you, “the doctor told you to rest.”

He was right, so you gave in.

Later on, you glanced at the clock. You didn’t want to be late for Yoongi when he was being so nice to you. Fifteen minutes were left, luckily, so you turned back to your work.

Next time you checked, fifteen minutes were left.

Wait.

That was the same as last time!

Now you thought about it, it might have said the same time when you checked it before that too.

Oh no.

Scrambling for your phone, you saw you were already more than five minutes late. As quick as humanly possible, you rammed everything into your bag and fled. You still had to check out Jimin’s books, so you dashed across to the machines to take them out.

Toe tapping on the ground, you waited behind the guy already using the last monitor, praying Yoongi wouldn’t be mad. You decided to send him a quick text.

You: On my way, sorry :)

Yoongi: Be quick

Just then, the man in front of you turned around, setting off briskly away from the station with coffee in hand. There was only one problem. You were in the way.

He crashed into you before you had even looked up, and warm liquid was already seeping through your top.

In your shock, your phone fell from your hand, straight into the puddle of coffee on the floor. Both of you just stood there for a second, mouths agape.

“Oh my gosh, sorry!” you garbled, at the same moment as he pushed past you, muttering something about standing in the way. Perfect.

Looking down at the bundle of books in your arms, it was clear they were ruined. Coffee was dripping off them, the edges of the pages already brown. Taking a breath, you bent down to retrieve your phone, not bothering to check it just yet. You had to get to Yoongi first.

In the end, you checked the books out anyway, knowing you might be able to tell your tragic tale to your new acquaintance Namjoon, thinking perhaps he could get you out of a fine.

Stepping outside, you were soon greeted with Jimin coming around the corner.

“Y/N! Yoongi sent me to go and fetch you- what happened?” he had stopped in his tracks. You didn’t have to be a genius to know your top was ruined, coffee clinging uncomfortably to your skin from the saturated fabric.

“Some guy spilled coffee on me,” you explained, carrying on towards the parking lot, “and my phone, and the books…”

Looking to the side to check he was following, you jumped. Jimin’s head had disappeared into his sweater as he pulled it over his head, shirt riding up as he did so. When he emerged you snapped your head away.

You tried to reject the hoodie as he held it out to you, knowing you would soak it through with coffee as well, but he insisted. It was black after all, it wouldn’t show up, and people were staring at you. Since you usually left campus later, it was busier than you were accustomed to.

Eventually taking the proffered jumper, you basked in its softness, thanking him with a smile.

Since you went home to study with Jimin, Jungkook and Jin had been insufferable, knowing about your crush. You told them they were lucky you loved them already, or you would kick them out.

Not if they kicked you out first, they said.

You laughed and told them you could just move in with Jimin. Needless to say, that made it worse.

In all fairness, you spent a lot of time with Jimin now. You regretted being too scared to ever talk to him before, since you actually got on really well. Helping him study had been fun, and you had been over more times since then, for studying but also for dinner and movie nights that Namjoon and Yoongi loved to crash.

You discovered all of them wanted to go to the Halloween festival, just like you.

October was halfway done, and that meant the excitement was well and truly underway. Every year on the weekend of Halloween, there was a festival just outside the city with music, haunted houses, campfires and ghost stories. And, of course, plenty of beer. Everyone wanted to go.

That week, you sat down with your own flatmates to put your names in for the festival. Due to its popularity among students, the festival always picked its attendees at random.

Since things were going well with Jimin, you had shed your pessimistic mindset a little. Maybe things didn’t always go wrong when you were around.

But then you didn’t get tickets.

And of course, Jungkook and Jin did.

You were more disappointed than you were when the same thing happened last year. For once, you had actually had your hopes up.

At least they were as sad about it as you. And it meant they went out on a dedicated shopping trip to get you a load of candy; it made both parties feel a bit better about you being left alone at the weekend.

When you had last spoken to Jimin about the festival, you found out he had gone last year. The next time you saw him after the bad news came at the weekend, you walked into uni to find him alone at the table you usually shared with Yoongi.

“Hey,” he smiled, “Yoongi’s just getting coffee.”

“Ah,” you nodded knowingly. You were quite happy to have Jimin to yourself for the moment.

It was only when Yoongi came back with two coffees that you sensed something was up. He never bought coffee for other people. Eyebrows furrowed, you watched as he set one down in front of Jimin.

Eager to take a sip, neither boy noticed you staring at them with something akin to horror until they rose from the rims of their cups.

“What’s going on?” you demanded when you caught Jimin’s eye.

“Sympathy coffee,” Jimin chuckled, “I didn’t get Halloween tickets.”

“Oh no, that sucks,” you sighed, “I didn’t either.”

“Hey, that could be good!” Jimin placed his drink down, “we could do something on Halloween instead?”

“Okay!” you agreed, “movies or something?”

“Great, let’s do it,” Jimin grinned, “beats sitting inside getting jealous of Joon and Yoongi.”

And so it was agreed, and you found yourself walking over to Jimin’s house on Halloween. Any other Saturday night, the city’s streets would be thrumming with life, groups of students holding each other up as they stumbled out, already drunk.

Today, though, it seemed like the entire student population was on the other side of town except you.

Mind wandering to your friends, you wondered how the festival was. Next year was your final chance to go. You hoped you could. They would probably be trekking through the horror maze, before dark so Jin wouldn’t get too scared. Or maybe Jungkook had got out his guitar for the campfire circle. You wondered what kinds of sugary food they would fill themselves with.

It was a nice evening for whatever was going on, being unusually warm for this time of year. You hadn’t even needed a coat to go out.

Jin’s cooking was sorely missed especially; you were something of a disaster on your own given your clumsiness. You swore you did exactly what the recipe said, but every time without fail, something went wrong.

Reaching Jimin’s, you happily let thoughts of what you were missing slide. Your bad luck had afforded you good fortune this time around, and you were determined to make the most of it.

Inside, you emptied all the snacks you had brought out of your bag and stared at the mountain you had collectively built on the coffee table.

“I guess we had better get started,” you laughed.

“We’re never going to eat all that!” Jimin laughed, flopping down on the sofa.

Sitting as well, you picked up your first chocolate and sent him a smirk.

“Challenge accepted.”

As anyone could have predicted, you failed the challenge. Before the first film had even ended, you slumped against Jimin with a groan, stomach threatening to burst. His melodic laugh filled your ears. You only groaned more, staring at the empty wrappers surrounding you before closing your eyes.

What you didn’t expect was for Jimin to reach his arm around you.

Eyes snapping open again, you saw his hands pulling your blanket up, but his arm didn’t move away. Well, perhaps your optimistic eating habits had landed you something good, after all.

The film ended, but you didn’t move away. Nor did he push you off.

“What next?” he looked down at you.

You found yourself a lot closer to his face than you were prepared for when you looked up at him, head pulling away from its place on his shoulder.

“Horror film?” you suggested with a small smile once you had recovered.

He threw his head back and laughed, but he did pick up the remote and start scrolling through the horror films.

“This should be fun,” he smiled, shaking his head slightly.

It was.

Well, maybe not the ghosts and blood and murderers and jumpscares.

But it sure was fun when Jimin clutched you in both of his arms, or when you pressed closer to him to hide your face away in his chest. When he screamed and grabbed at you, hiding his face away in the top of your head, you swore your heart stopped for a moment.

“We are not watching a horror film next time,” Jimin decreed afterwards, “or ever again!”

“Next Halloween?” you laughed.

He rolled his eyes.

“Maybe.”

Your grin wasn’t because he agreed with you. It was because he thought you would be with each other again next Halloween.

Reluctantly, the two of you untangled yourselves from the blankets. On your way out, you told him to keep the candy, and that you could never look at another one again.

“Sure,” he smirked, “text me when you get home okay.”

“Will do, thanks.”

After a beat, you stepped back through the doorway and gave him a quick hug. Wrapping his arms around you in return, he laughed.

“Don’t have nightmares!”

“No promises!” you laughed, waving at him as you walked away.

By this time it was dark, but your route back was along main roads, so you weren’t worried. However, you had barely reached the end of Jimin’s road before you felt flecks of drizzle dotting your face.

You picked up the pace, but there was still a while to go. You were never going to outrun the rain.

It wasn’t the first time you had been caught out by a storm, but it made it no more enjoyable. Halfway home, the rain was hammering down, stinging your cheeks with the force it fell. The sky above was a solid mass of cloud, regularly disturbed by thunder.

You were most certainly alone on the streets now, everyone having retreated inside. You just had to push on a little longer, and then you could have a hot shower and warm up in your pyjamas with a hot chocolate.

Cursing yourself for not bringing a coat earlier, you hugged yourself as you marched against the rain which was now dripping down your face, hair plastered to your cheeks.

On reaching your apartment, you broke into a run. Stopping outside the door, you fished for your keys in your pocket.

Nothing.

Chest tightening, you quickly pushed your hand into your other pocket. Your phone was still there, but no keys. Quickly, you patted your jeans to no success. Your bag was just as empty. Where were your keys?

Ever since the coffee incident in the library, your phone had never been quite the same, but you nearly cried in relief when you clicked the power button and it flashed on.

Leaning your head over to shield it from the worst of the rain, although you were also dripping onto it, your cold fingers fumbled to your contacts until you reached Jimin. No one else you knew was in the city.

Pressing call, you held the device to your ear, dial tone beeping over the drumming of the rain.

The tone cut off, and you waited to hear Jimin’s voice.

But it didn’t come.

“Hello?” you spoke.

No reply.

On pulling the phone from your ear, you stared at a dark screen. This time, when you pressed the power button, it was unresponsive.

Great.

Begrudgingly turning around, you sighed heavily. You fingers were already draining themselves of feeling, every inch of your jumper soaked.

But then, a couple of streets further, you spotted something glittering by the pavement. Your keyring!

Dashing towards it, you didn’t care when your fingers scraped against the cold metal of a drain, grabbing your keys as soon as you could. But when you held them up, you could only stare.

You were definitely the unluckiest person you knew.

The keyring charm itself was intact, but the same could not be said for the mangled metal that hung off it, which had been snapped. No key remained.

Looking back to the ground where you had collected it, you could only see dark tarmac. No key. And below the drain your keyring had been lying on was a torrent of rushing water from the storm.

You were well and truly fucked, only one option left.

Your third journey that night down the roads to Jimin’s was significantly less enjoyable than before. Even your shoes were soaked now and you were shivering from head to toe. It really wasn’t the way you wanted Jimin to see you, looking like a rat that had crawled up from the gutter, but you had nowhere else to go.

Finally reaching Jimin’s road, you were surprised to see his door fly open when you were still halfway down the street, spilling yellow light into the dark. You frowned even more when you saw him step out, wrapped in a raincoat, practically tripping down his own steps before looking around.

Closer now, you were able to catch his attention as you approached. He only stared at you, his adorable face the very picture of shock, before he ran up to you.

“Y/N oh my god! The moment this storm started I got worried, and when I saw a missed call from you I didn’t know what to do! What happened? Are you alright?”

“C-cold,” you said through chattering teeth.

“Shit, yeah, let’s get you back inside,” he grabbed your hand and pulled you with him. If only you could feel where his hand held yours.

Just across the threshold, you held back, knowing you were already soaking the ground.

“Y/N, you’re freezing, please come in,” Jimin pulled you into the living room, not that you could resist when you felt the warmth of his house greet you.

Realising you hadn’t even removed your shoes, you bent to undo your waterlogged laces, but your fingers were uncooperative.

“Here,” Jimin knelt too. You watched as his fingers deftly released your laces, and you let him slide your shoes off. His face was flushed, slightly damp too from his short trip outside.

“You’re soaked,” he murmured, sitting back and reaching for you jumper.

Together, you peeled the garment off you, heavy with water.

“I’ll get you some clothes,” he said firmly, “you’re staying here.”

Beyond the window, the rain had not let up.

“Okay.”

Making quick work of the rest of your clothes in the bathroom, you left them in a pile on the shower floor. Jimin had luckily left a towel on the radiator. Wrapped up in the warm fluff, you barely wanted to move, but eventually Jimin’s clothes, folded on the floor, tempted you enough.

Emerging fully dressed in the too-big clothes, you found Jimin stumbling down the stairs. Or rather, a moving pile of blankets.

“Any better?” his eyes peeked over the top, making it impossible for you not to laugh.

“Yeah, thanks.”

Following him into the living room, you stepped over the wet patches you had created as Jimin dropped the blankets onto the sofa.

“So what happened?” he clambered into the makeshift nest, patting the blankets beside him for you to follow suit.

“My keys found their way down a storm drain,” you sighed, “but I didn’t notice until I got home. And then my phone gave up.”

You let out a dry laugh. It really was ridiculous how the world seemed to be against you.

“Would hot chocolate make it better?”

Your eyes and mouth grew simultaneously and Jimin laughed loudly, head flopping back and soft hair falling away from his face. Anyone would have thought he had just given you a bag of lottery winnings by the way you looked at him.

“Yes, I take it?” he giggled.

Maybe the world was against you, but Jimin was the one thing that made everything better. Sitting next to him surrounded by blankets and sipping cocoa could only be made better if you weren’t just sitting next to him.

As if to prove his place as your personal saviour, Jimin soon snuggled closer to you.

After a few minutes of his head on your shoulder, your arm around him, you whispered into his hair.

“Maybe tonight was lucky in the end.”

“Hmm?” he twisted to look at you and your heart softened even more when you saw his eyes were barely open. Smiling giddily, you pulled back to look at him.

“I just always thought bad things happened to me. But it’s not so bad ending up here with you.”

A hand scrubbed over his face in an effort to wake up a little more. Embarrassment already began to encroach as you watched his mouth opening and closing. Had you said too much?

And then he shuffled closer, all those thoughts dissipating like dandelion seeds as his hand brushed your cheek. His lips lay in a peaceful smile, and you couldn’t take your eyes away as he silently shuffled closer.

“Yeah?” he breathed.

“Yeah,” you nodded, sound barely leaving your mouth.

Then his lips met yours.

It wasn’t forceful, quite the opposite. The kind of kiss that made you lean in for more, sweet and lingering, erasing any memory of what existed outside of it. Now his soft touch felt so real, so present and so… Jimin.

Hands ghosted across skin, hungry but tentative.

Time got lost around you as you gave in, indulging in each other until you lay on top of him, breathless as you paused. His eyes were smiling. He was always smiling.

Unable to believe Park Jimin kissed you, wanted you too, you stared at him, trying to soak it all in.

Another laugh passed his lips, joy overflowing. His arms tightened around your waist, squeezing you tightly against his chest, and a kiss was pressed to your forehead.

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

You had to look back at his face then, just to check those words had actually passed his lips.

“Yes!”

The room was familiar, even though it was dark. Nothing could be seen but you knew you had been here before.

The woman had not moved. Was she still angry?

For the first time, the fire shows itself as more than just a glimmer lighting the wisened face. No, it is there, bright and dancing.

Taunting.

You can’t look away but it burns your eyes. That is not all it burns.

The woman’s hand reaches out, engulfed in the fire, and suddenly your silence bursts.

The fire is deafening, cracking like a monster walking on bones, roaring in its pain. Maybe the darkness is the smoke. It gets in your eyes, but you still can’t look away, can’t blink, and beyond the red beast, the woman in still there, voice finally loud and strong, surfacing in the brief moments through the blazing fire.

You can’t understand her.

But you understand she is not a friend. You know from the way her hand rises from the fire unscathed. She must be a friend to the fire, but the fire is hurting you.

You can’t move.

You can’t look away.

Smoke is in your lungs, fire clings to your skin.

You can’t scream but you need to, you need to get out of here, but no one knows you’re here, you don’t even know where here is, or how you got here, but it hurts, and she only wants to hurt you more, and-

Someone is shouting but it’s not her this time and it cuts through the fire. Then it stops and you fall back, darkness and blinding fire side by side-

“Y/N!”

Hands on your shoulder. The room is dark. Where is the smoke? Breath judders in and out of your throat. You cough. The hands draw back. The fire is gone too.

A dim light flicks on and Jimin looks at you. Propped on his elbow, he looks down at you where you lie on the pillow, other hand coming up to stroke down your face. You were used to waking up like this, alone, but now he was there and all you wanted was his warmth.

When you dived towards him, he folded you in his arms, holding you close as you breathed in his safety.

“You okay?” he spoke into the stillness.

At first, you nodded into his chest. Then you thought he might want a bit more detail about why you had woken him in the middle of the night, so you lifted your head. Nose-to-nose on the pillow, you explained.

“It’s this dream I keep having,” you whispered, “I always forget about it after, but it keeps coming back. It was… different, today.”

“What happens in the dream?” a delicate crease formed between Jimin eyebrows.

“I’m in a dark room…” your eyes wandered to the air by his ear as you tried to picture it, “there’s this woman there. And she’s always saying something, but I can never hear. And there’s a fire. Today she made the fire grow, and I could hear her for once, but I still didn’t understand what she was saying.”

“Strange…” he murmured.

“I know,” you sighed, shuffling closer to him under the duvet, “but let’s go back to sleep.”

“Not until I kiss you better,” he smirked, voice still husky with sleep as he rolled you over and planted more perfect kisses to your lips.

Quickly circling your arms and legs around him, you eagerly reciprocated. Your bodies fit together so well, both defying sleep as the kisses continued between your smiling mouths until the dream was well and truly gone from your mind.

In the morning, your phone seemed to have resurrected itself from where it was charging at the wall, and it decided to announce this loudly to Jimin’s entire apartment. Both stirring at the same time when the ringtone blasted across the room, you extricated yourselves from each other.

Jimin reached across for his own phone, groaning when he saw that it was already eleven and promptly flopping back onto the bed. You, on the other hand, abandoned the comfort of the warm bed in favour of making whoever was calling shut up.

However, just as you reached your phone, it fell silent anyway.

Opening it and scrolling through the notifications, you found it was Jungkook who had phoned. You had used Jimin’s phone to text them in the end yesterday, and they said they would come back from the festival early to let you in, so you supposed he was back.

Taking it off charge, you opened Jungkook’s messages, of which there were several from last night.

Before you could read them, though, Jimin’s ringtone started up. Looking up, you admired his muscular back as he twisted to pick it up.

“It’s Jin,” he frowned, looking to you.

Sitting back on the bed, you just shrugged.

“Hello?” Jimin greeted.

He was leaning back on one arm, but as he listened to whatever Jin was saying, he sat forwards, face growing serious.

“O-okay, yeah,” he said.

Startling you, he pushed the covers aside and pulled his wardrobe open, one hand still occupied with the phone. When he had pulled out a random pair of jeans and a shirt, he turned to you. He crossed the room rapidly, holding out the phone for you to take.

You stared between his face and the phone, then shook yourself and hurriedly took it.

“Jin?”

“Y/N, we just got back… I think you should probably come here.”

“Okay, we can come soon, what’s going on?”

“Um, well…” for a moment your heart froze as he paused, fearing what might be wrong. Jungkook could be heard faintly in the background.

“Are you still there? Jin?”

“There was a fire.”

Now it was your turn to be silent. You were aware that your boyfriend was undressing right behind you, but all you could do was sit still.

“What?” you choked.

“Listen, don’t worry, it’s going to be okay-“

“How bad?”

Another pause from Jin, and you knew he didn’t want to say.

“Most of the apartment is fine, it’s just your room…” you heard the soft creak of your sofa as he sat heavily, “just come here, okay? We’ll sort something out.”

“Y-yeah. See you soon.”

Shakily, you stood. Jimin was fully dressed, car keys already in hand.

It was exactly like Jin had said, but that still didn’t make it any better.

You knocked on the door, greeted with a lingering hug from Jin. He always gave those kind of hugs, like he was trying to hold you together with his own arms. From the outside, your place looked the same, but you could already see black streaks on the wall as you looked down the corridor, where Jungkook nervously licked and bit his lip alternately.

Yoongi and Namjoon were also there, trying very hard to blend into the wall. They took the first chance they could to join Jimin by the door as you stepped past them all towards your room.

Black seeped around the edges of your door. You felt numb as you pushed against it, swinging it open to reveal an unrecognisable space. Everything was completely ravaged by the fire, curtains hanging from the pole in rags, dark debris covering the floor and furniture stained darker than it was ever meant to be.

Your feet disturbed the dust of what was once yours, carrying you further into the wreckage.

Until a hand landed on your shoulder, you simply stood, paralysed. But then Jimin was next to you and you broke into his arms.

“The firefighters were here this morning when we got back,” Jin said, “they told us a candle set fire to your curtain and it started from there.”

You nodded.

That’s all you had been doing for a while since the lot of you had camped out in the living room back at Jimin’s. You had been huddled against him ever since as your flatmates made calls to the landlord, insurance, repair services and so on.

It wasn’t too severely damaged.

That’s what the general consensus was, and you could go back to living there after a couple of days unless any complications were found as they cleaned up the house. But for you, it was different. It was your stuff that had burned.

Even the photos in the hallway that burned, the only victims of the flames that had escaped your room, were all of you. For the thousandth time, you questioned if someone out there really hated you so much.

At least your friends didn’t.

They hadn’t expected anything of you, letting you stay silent and sorting everything out. Now that all anyone could do was wait, a lazy day was declared and the blankets made a return appearance.

Jimin invited his friends Tae and Hoseok, who were apparently also friends with his flatmates, and Jin went shopping with Namjoon, insisting on cooking later.

You had to admit, being surrounded by Jimin and your friends did lift your spirits. Taehyung and Jungkook had instantly hit it off, goofing around as crap TV played in the background. All the sweets you had failed to eat the night before came in especially useful for such a big group.

Jin’s food was excellent as always, and you had recovered enough by dinner time to notice something different about your friend.

“Did you see my messages last night?” Jungkook whispered, digging his elbow into you. You squealed, but he shushed you, looking around at the others.

It was getting dark, and you had all piled together for a film (not horror).

When the others’ eyes left you, you glared at your youngest friend.

“I didn’t. What is it?”

Beside you, Jimin’s arm tightened around your waist as he leaned forwards, resting his chin on your shoulder to hear Jungkook too.

“Yeah Kook, what is it?” he chuckled.

“Jin-hyung was on date!” Kook’s big eyes sparkled with excitement as you sat forward with a start, evicting Jimin from his spot on your shoulder.

“What?!” you whisper-shouted.

“I know!”

Spluttering for something to say, you grabbed Kook’s hands as you both bounced up and down on the sofa, Jimin hiding laughter behind his hand at the two of you.

“Who was it? How did you find out? Did he like them? Ohmygod!” you rambled.

Jungkook laughed, but supressed it quickly, smile full to bursting as he leaned forwards, barely containing himself.

“Namjoon-hyung,” he whispered.

Now Jimin’s eyes bulged from his head along with you.

“Oh my god.”

Satisfied with your reactions, Jungkook giggled as you and Jimin exchanged looks.

“Hush, you lot. And I would be careful – Jin and I are not the only ones who seem to have got up to something this weekend.”

Three pairs of wide eyes turned towards Namjoon, who was right beside Jungkook. He simply snorted a laugh, dimples making an appearance as he turned back to the film without another word.

You stayed quiet after that.

Jimin had to admit, your pessimism seemed to be justified.

From a roof tile falling on you, people spilling coffee on you, your keys vanishing mysteriously on the very night your apartment caught fire, unlucky would be an understatement. Now he sat in the library, mind drifting back to all the time he had known you.

The first time you had come round to study, he remembered staring in surprise at all your memory sticks. You kept so many on you, as well as saving your work onto enough clouds to make a storm, on top of keeping notes on paper.

Perhaps you weren’t just disorganised as you claimed. In fact, you seemed extremely organised, but you insisted your documents went missing all the time.

He placed down another book on the growing pile beside him, pulling the next one out.

When he had taken you back to your room after the fire, he sadly placed a row of charred pot plants in a bin bag. They were all dead anyway, you had said, I can never keep them alive.

Yoongi had come to the library too, under the guise of studying. If studying consisted of forcing Namjoon to let him into the staff room for unlimited coffee, then he was being very productive.

But when Jimin confessed his fears, Yoongi had also told him about you dreaming in class.

Only a few passing paragraphs had struck him as relevant so far in his quest for research, and the sky was already dimming outside. Only a couple more books sat on his left side, the books he hadn’t read yet. Sighing in defeat, he placed yet another book across to the right and pulled the largest tome yet over to him.

This one didn’t look like it had been touched in years, leather binding groaning as he heaved it open, coughing at the dust that spewed from its pages. But finally, he saw something promising in the contents.

Turning the yellowed pages, he reached his destination, instantly knowing from the illustrations that this was it. A full moon, just like the one outside the library window. A wilted plant. A spider-web of swirling black smoke.

Eyes devouring the words on the page, he eventually sat back. For a moment, he looked at the thin air in front of him, swallowing hard.

Then he sprung into action, pulling out his phone and snapping photos of the book. It shut heavily in another cloud of dust, and then it was away on the shelf and Jimin’s thumb was hovering over your contact as he rushed to his flatmates at the desk.

“I’ve found it!”

Namjoon mumbled something that sounded a lot like finally as Yoongi turned away from him towards Jimin. He was already calling you, wanting to meet up to share his findings.

The ringtone stopped, and he opened his mouth to greet you, only for your voicemail to speak first.

Brow creasing, he pulled his phone away and hung up, pressing call again.

Nothing.

“What is it?” Yoongi asked, but Jimin was looking past him. The moon hung so innocently in the sky, but Jimin’s veins were turning to ice.

“We have to go. Now.”

The week following such an eventful Halloween had been a blur. You were pretty sure tonight was the first time you had been alone since that night.

Jungkook was at home with his family for his brother’s birthday, Jin working late at the restaurant.

Jimin had been working in the library all day with his flatmates too, leaving you at your newly repaired house all by yourself. As per a yearly tradition, Jin had salvaged some pumpkins from his work that were due to be thrown out when pumpkin pie left the menu, but you were the only one around to carve them at the moment.

But you were bored. And there were plenty, too many if you were honest, and you were always terrible, so it wouldn’t hurt to practise before Jimin had to witness your shocking pumpkin art skills.

And this was how you ended up in the middle of a storm of pumpkin innards in your kitchen, wonky face leering from the unfortunate vegetable behind you as you looked around at the mess.

Having already slipped over once on the orange goo, you decided cleaning up took priority over improving your artistry. Setting the knife down, you bent down and scooped up the largest clump, a few seeds falling from your hands as you shuffled over to the bin on your knees.

Pushing your hair behind your ear and leaving a sticky orange clump while you were at it, you leaned across to another patch, right at the base of the counter.

But as you stretched out your fingers, a shape fell down your vision. Before you could even blink, you felt a sharp, stabbing pain in your arm as metal clattered to the tile.

Recoiling, you were met with bright red. The knife that had leapt from the side was the sharpest one in the kitchen, Jin’s pride and joy. Where it had hit your arm, aided by gravity, it had easily sliced into your skin which now spewed blood at an alarming rate as you jumped up, eyes glued to the injury.

Bandages. Clean it. Stop the blood.

Minor first aid had been drilled into your head since you were younger, given all the scrapes and bruises you accumulated. But now, as red spattered onto your kitchen floor, you couldn’t seem to remember the order to do things.

Where were the bandages anyway?

No, clean it. Yes.

Ripping your eyes away, you clutched the edge of the sink as you stuck your arm under running water. It burned like fire into your cut.

Snatching your arm back, you watched the pale red splash up the edges of the sink, now falling onto the counter too. Shit. Clamping your other hand over the injury, you squeezed it and hissed in pain just as the room wobbled around you.

Scratch all this. You needed to lie down.

Eyes set on the sofa, you stepped towards it, but you never made it that far.

In the brightness of the room, only one face is visible. A woman with age-worn skin is looking at you.

She is talking.

Fire blazes all around her, throwing her face into light, nearly erasing the wrinkles that cling to her.

She is louder than the fire, words you do not recognise spilling from her lips. You’ve heard this kind of thing before, though, and you know she is gifted. Her words carry the distinct sound of the language of magic.

Though you do not understand it, you know she is not a friend.

But her words change.

Within the hostile words, there is one you know. A name.

But it isn’t yours. Why are you here if she wants Eunji? Eunji is your grandmother’s name.

Before you can ask, the fire stops burning. Silence returns.

In the darkness of the room, only one face is visible. She is lit by moonlight.

“Why are we in such a hurry anyway?” Yoongi eyed his friend in the passenger seat as he chewed his lip, looking back at his phone for the third time in a minute.

“Something bad might have happened.”

Resurfacing from his blank phone screen, Jimin watched the light turn to green, relieved when Yoongi pulled away much too fast.

When they pulled up outside your building, Jimin had already thrown his seatbelt off, jumping out before Yoongi had even turned the car off. Frowning, he followed his friend as he ran to the door, nearly beating it down with the force of his knocks.

No one answered.

He had thought you could be just napping, missing the phone calls. Letting your phone die was a special talent of yours, anyway.

But no one could sleep through the racket Jimin was making.

Joining Jimin at the door, he looked around. Since you had been locked out, Jin had given in and had a spare key made to ‘save you from yourself’. Picking up a pot plant from the doorstep, Yoongi revealed the key, which Jimin instantly dived for.

“Y/N?” Jimin was running up the hallway.

Yoongi heard him gasp before he had reached the corner himself, but it made him speed up.

It was a good thing Jimin had panicked. Because there you were, out cold on the kitchen floor, blood flowing from your arm and a knife stained red lying nearby.

Yoongi already had his phone to his ear as Jimin crashed to his knees next to you, crying out your name and pulling you onto his knees. No response came. Looking wildly around him, he grabbed for a towel, rolling it up and pressing it into your arm where the blood still seeped out.

He barely heard Yoongi talking behind him as he swallowed down the lump in his throat, free hand cupping your face, running his thumb shakily across your cheekbone.

The paramedics didn’t arrive for too long. Then he blinked and they were everywhere, hands pulling him back away from you. You got lost in the water warping his vision.

But you would be okay.

That was what they said, but he could barely believe it when he walked into your hospital room at last, greeted with your eyes, awake and alive. Your sheepish smile, embarrassed at another mishap.

It felt like air had entered his lungs for the first time since it all left him when he had seen you on the floor some hours ago.

“Thank god,” he choked when his face was finally pressed into your hair, arms holding so tight you weren’t sure you would ever escape. Not that you would complain about that.

His lips found yours desperately, telling you how much he cared, how much he worried. Eyes fluttering shut, you returned the embrace, reveling in the feeling.

A cough startled you apart.

“Get a room,” Jin complained. It didn’t quite have the same effect when his smile wouldn’t leave his face.

“In case you hadn’t noticed, we are in a room,” you retorted.

Nonetheless, Jimin stepped back and let Jin hug you. Yoongi followed not far behind with a carrier of coffee for everyone. Jungkook had already called you, just before they all arrived, promising bucketloads of junk food when he came back.

“I thought I banned you from my good knives,” Jin fixed you with a stare as he sat down.

You avoided his gaze.

“The others weren’t strong enough for the pumpkin,” you muttered, aware of how stupid it sounded.

He just sighed.

“I’m just glad Jimin turned up when he did,” Jin squeezed Jimin’s knee, “how did you know to come anyway?”

“Well…” Jimin shuffled in his seat, “I sort of found something out…”

Looking to the other occupants in the room, you found their gazes just as blank as yours.

“What do you mean?”

Tugging his chair a little closer, Jimin reached out for your hand, enclosing it in his.

“I was doing some research. We all know you’re clumsy, unlucky and bad things happen to you a lot-“

“Thanks Jimin,” you said drily, eyebrows climbing your face.

“No, no! I still l- you know what I mean,” he sighed after you burst out laughing at his panic, “no, but seriously Y/N, I don’t think it’s a coincidence. I study curses, and all the signs are there. Dreams, bad luck, unlikely accidents. I found a book, there was this illustration about a particular curse, it matched the scorch marks from the fire at your place exactly. It’s an old curse, elders used it to wish ill fortune on a family line, and it relies on moon magic. And tonight was a full moon, and this happened, so…”

Staring back at your boyfriend, you were glad for the grounding presence of his hand. You hadn’t understood all of what he said, not knowing anything about magic yourself, but it was clear what he thought.

You were cursed.

“But-but my family aren’t cursed,” you spoke quietly, “you said it was a family curse-”

“A family line curse,” he explained, “it only affects one person, but it’s a curse bestowed on someone else in your family. Sometimes people want to hurt a loved one of the one they curse, not the enemy themselves.”

“That’s horrible,” you whispered.

“I know,” Jimin said, “and that’s why we need to break it. I’m sure I’m right about this, it all fits. I can show you the book I found, if you want.”

Nodding, you looked at your lap.

“How do we break it?”

“That’s a little more tricky…” Jimin admitted, pushing a hand through his hair, “we need to find out who cast it in the first place. That way we can unwork exactly what was done, since it’s a highly personal curse.”

“My grandma,” you muttered.

“Sorry?”

“I think it was my grandma.”

You eyes met Jimin’s. Greeted with his full attention, you took a breath and elaborated.

“I had another dream… or, at least, I think it was a dream. It was while I was passed out. It was the same as before, but, well, it was quite different actually. But the woman, she definitely said my grandma’s name.”

“Then you’re probably right,” Jimin squeezed your hand, “shall we give her a call?”

As the dial tone bleeped in your ear, you looked around at your friends. Although Yoongi had dozed off in his chair, Jin was giving you an encouraging smile. When your eyes met, he gave you a thumbs up. Grinning, you leaned back into Jimin’s arms where he sat on the bed behind you.

“Hello?” your grandpa’s voice finally greeted you.

“Oh, hi, grandpa, it’s me,” you smiled.

“Hello sweetie! How are you?” he asked, “your dad told us you had an accident today.”

“Yes, I’m fine thank you. I was wondering if I could talk to grandma?”

“Ah, sorry love, she’s out at the moment. Bad luck.”

Not funny grandpa. Bad luck was the exact thing you were trying to shake off.

“Okay,” you sighed, “maybe she could phone me when she gets back?”

“Hold on,” your grandpa’s voice grew more distant. In the distance, a door clicked. “I think that’s her now. I’ll get her.”

Suddenly, his yell of ‘EUNJIII!’ made you jump, hurriedly jerking away from your phone.

“Hello dear?” your grandma’s voice crackled across and you deemed it safe to return the device to your ear.

“Hi grandma. I have something I have to ask you.”

“Of course,” you could practically hear her smiling, but you felt yourself growing hot. How were you meant to breach such a subject?

“Um, were you ever, I mean, how-“ a deep breath, “are you cursed?”

Wow. Real tactful, you scolded yourself mentally.

“Oh!” you grandma laughed on the other line, “I see, dear. Any reason you’re asking.”

“Um, just, that, maybe, I might be sort of… cursed, too,” you winced.

“I mean, you are quite unlucky…” she gave an awkward laugh, but offered nothing more.

“Grandma,” you begged, “please tell me.”

She sighed.

“Okay. Yes, I was cursed. I never believed it though, but ever since you came along, I started to see the truth. Your grandpa knows all this too, but I never thought it would be so bad.”

“But we can break it grandma,” you encouraged, “it can be broken if we know why it was cast in the first place.”

“You can really break it?”

“Yes, grandma.”

“I’m so sorry, I never knew anything about all this magic, I just thought… well, I can tell you what happened.

“Y/N, the thing is... I’m bisexual. And when I was your age, I had a girlfriend. When her mother found out, she was very angry. Back then, people weren’t accepting like they are now, and she wouldn’t tolerate us being together. They were from a community of magic and she blamed me for ‘leading her daughter astray’, and tried to curse me, saying I would feel her pain when I had a daughter of my own.”

“Oh,” you breathed. That made sense. Your grandma only had one child, your father. So… “I’m the next daughter in the family.”

“Yes, my dear,” your grandma sighed, “so you see why I never believed her. She was just a hateful old woman, and when your dad was fine, I thought the curse wasn’t real. I’m so sorry Y/N.”

“It’s okay, grandma,” you told her, “I still love you very much. We will break it. Thank you for telling me.”

Magic in real life was nothing like what you had seen on TV. Well, you were doing a different kind, you supposed.

Jimin had a massive book on the floor in front of him, a row of dried plants beside him. Eyeing them, you took deep breaths. Jimin’s explanation hadn’t really made sense to you, so you just planned to go with whatever the process was.

You had understood one thing, however.

“Homophobic piece of shit curse,” you grumbled, picking aggressively at the floorboards. “This would be so much better if I had to kiss a girl, just to stick it to that woman.”

Smile tugging at his lips, Jimin looked up at you.

“Do you not want to kiss me?”

“Of course I want to kiss you, idiot,” you rolled your eyes, “I’m just saying.”

Chuckling, Jimin bent back over his book.

“Well, I think we’re ready. Then you never have to kiss me again.”

“No, Jimin!” you gasped, “I want to kiss you plenty!”

“Come here then,” he laughed.

Giggling, you walked to him and knelt in front of him, returning to the gorgeous familiarity of his kiss, his hands tantalising on your waist.

“Okay,” he panted, eventually drawing back, “that was a good practise. Time to do it for real. Are you ready?”

Nodding, you climbed off him and sat, mirroring his position cross-legged on the floor. At his reassuring smile, you closed your eyes.

You felt his soft palm rest on your forehead, and he murmured something. Though it was incomprehensible to you, it did stir something in you. Though your eyes were closed, your retinas seemed flooded with golden light, while something churned low in your stomach.

The hand stayed in place as the scent of lavender engulfed you, one of the plants Jimin had prepared. He spoke again.

Suddenly, the light flashed and disappeared, the world sinking into darkness.

One face is visible.

You know her, you have been here before, and she is still talking.

But now the smoke in the room is visible, light grey tendrils rising from burning lavender. There is no fire. The woman’s voice changes then.

The language of magic continues, but Jimin’s voice is sounding through the room, and another smell meets you, a herb you do not know.

You stay there for a while. Although you do not move, you are sure you could if you wanted. You aren’t in danger here anymore.

Her hand raises. She has done that before, but this time there is no threat. You are sure of it. You know it from the way light pools in her palm, warm, innocent, inviting.

You cannot look away.

Maybe you are floating. Something is pulling at you, and suddenly you gasp, tasting the herbs in the air. It feels like something is moving inside you. You clutch your chest, feeling something curling around your heart, fighting, and then it is rising and you are choking on it.

Maybe you are dying.

Gasping and spluttering, you find no air. But something finds you. A kiss like home, sweet against your lips, and when they pull away, air spills in.

A whisper by your ears, so close the breath moves your hair.

“Open your eyes.”

The room is light, and one face is visible. Jimin smiles.

“It worked!”

Tackling your boyfriend to the floor in a hug, you press your face into his chest. You couldn’t believe it. It was really gone!

“How do you feel?” he laughed.

“Great! Amazing! Perfect!” you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face, “I could do anything! I can have plants without killing them now, right! Jin might let me in the kitchen! Oh my god, I’m going to win a video game against Jungkook!”

Ecstatic, you watched Jimin laughing hysterically under you, joy written all over his face. It suited him.

Maybe now the curse was gone, you could do anything, but there was one thing you wanted more than all that.

“I love you,” you whispered, leaning down to kiss him.

Please please please reblog if you liked it, sharing my work really helps me out! Thank you for reading💜

223 notes · View notes

nonbinarychaoticstupid · 3 years

Note

do 41 for catradora

ghost/living person au

behold! another thing i banged out and didn’t edit! kjjdnjjhdn this was fun! i decided to call it hello, my old heart after this song because i am cruel

(also... i think after i write the sequel bc i can’t just leave it like that i might expand this at some point or maybe write multiple versions? i like this a lot jejtnjrtnrnnm)

Adora doesn’t remember most of her childhood. Or much after that, really.

Everything up to the age of 18 is a... haze. Memories of life, of friends, of her identity, are either buried so deep she has to struggle to find them, or gone entirely. Faces, names, places, all gone somewhere she can’t follow.

It’s a given at this point, another piece of the debris of a life her carers left her with. She can’t fix it, and she can function without knowing her neighbour’s favourite colour, so why does it matter? It doesn’t hinder her too much, nor does it really make an impact on her functionality. It does annoy her, though, for reasons she can’t really explain.

There are things left behind in the fog of memory she... needs. Things that might explain this hole in heart, this deadening sense of loss that seems to follow her everywhere now. Things that might make everything make sense again.

Specifically, there’s... a memory of the traces of a memory. Someone Adora hurt, or someone who hurt Adora, or maybe both. And the girl who walked by her side for the first 18 years of her life, the girl who vanished at the drop of a hat, the girl she didn’t allow herself to grieve for.

She knows how important the girl was to her. And missing her, dreaming about her without knowing why, hurts more than the loss. There’s something... something between them she has to fix. And it might hold the key to everything.

If she could remember, if she could find those shattered memories and piece them back together, she might remember why they took her past from her, and why Catra vanished. Why Catra died.

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She doesn’t know exactly why she came here, to the shell of the abandoned home on the hillside. Maybe because it holds her last memory of a memory of Catra, alive and standing in front of her, laughing as she turns to push the door open. Maybe because it’s where she feels her memories... return, in whatever capacity they are able to,

It’s darker than she remembers it. The hole in the roof has since been covered with tarpaulin and framed with a web of crumbling scaffolding, leaving dark, angular shadows climbing the walls and forming ominous shapes on the floor. Adora couldn’t begin to try and decipher the patterns there if she tried.

If she focuses, she can trace the paths they left in the dust together as kids, winding around battered marble columns and up the staircases and back down again, like trails in the snow.

Like...

Adora pushes back the tears. Why am I crying? What is it about this place that-

Oh.

A memory. Of... her.

“You’re trying to remember me, aren’t you? Stars, I’m so sorry, Adora.”

If she focuses, she can remember the first day they came here together, a pair of awkward 14 year olds with too much energy and too little time, and hid in the shadow of the stairs on the left, waiting for the night to pass. The details are blurred together, half-buried under a white haze, but if Adora tries, maybe she can -

She can’t.

“You can. If you want, you can. What they did to you - it isn’t permanent. You can break out of it if you try. It’ll hurt, but you can. I did.”

She shakes the - the memory (a memory, nothing else - something she’ll have to sit and examine later) off.

Adora picks her way across the floor, careful not to disturb the spiderweb of shadows. It feels... familiar, instinctual. Something more than muscle memory. Almost... almost like she’s being guided by the past she can’t reach.

There are memories here. Adora can feel them in the back of her mind, pushing her gently forwards, urging her on.

She makes her way into the centre of the main hall of the building - it was a mansion once, she realises - and tries to picture it as it was before - well-lit, grand, beautiful. She tries to see it how Catra would have (because she knows how much she loved this place, even if she doesn’t remember it), filled with stars and candles.

Adora switches off the torch and stretches out her hands, as though feeling her way forward, except there’s nothing to touch but air. And it feels... heavy. Like she’s being watched.

Except there’s no-one here. She’s alone.

I’m alone. I’m alone... right?

“No.”

A growing feeling of terror rises, unbidden, in her chest, and she whirls around, brandishing the torch in front of her like some sort of sword, doing her best to clamp down on the cry building in her throat.

Nobody. Nobody’s there.

“I am. I’m right here. Adora, I’m right here -”

Adora lets her shoulders drop. She feels... defeated, for some reason. Empty.

But the feeling doesn’t go away. And she can’t leave until something happens. She can’t leave until - until she gets her answers.

“What answers do you want, princess?”

Okay, the voice was definitely real that time.

Adora spins around again, nearly dropping the torch, and - there she is. Or rather, a memory of her - a girl no older than seven, with a tangle of dark hair and vivid heterochromatic eyes, her outline flickering and fading and -

She reaches out to touch her - and is met with empty air. The girl meets her eyes, and something in them looks so desperate that it makes her breath catch in her lungs, and then she just - vanishes. Melts into nothing.

She almost cries out. Almost fucking sobs. Because she was right there, all the answers could have been within her reach, and she just watched the girl she almost remembers melt into dust-

“Not her,” the voice tells her gently. “She’s not real. She used to be, but she isn’t now.”

Adora shakes her head and doesn’t answer.

��There are more of them here. Memories. Kinda.”

“What happened to her?” Adora whispers. They’re the first words she’s spoken in a while, and her voice sounds disjointed and out of place, echoing over and over down the hallways.

Something settles on her shoulder (at least, she thinks it does). “She’s... a fragment. That’s the only way I can think of describing it.” A laugh, one she... recognises. “I think they’re all part of the memories they took from you. They’re shadows. I’m the only real one. Well, real-ish.”

“What do you mean?”

“Turn around.”

Her limbs don’t want to co-operate. Because I’m afraid of what I might see.

It takes a monumental effort to get to herself to rise, turn inch by inch, raise her eyes past the cracked floorboards. It takes even more to comprehend what she’s seeing.

“Hey, Adora.”

Catra. It’s - Catra.

Catra - but not. Not quite the girl she watched disappear from her memories three years ago. Her eyes are slightly hollower, her hair is shorter, and she’s... dead.

Very obviously dead, too. It’s not like Adora could miss a stab wound in the front of her shirt.

But... but she’s there, she’s standing right in front of her, wearing an infuriatingly familiar half-smile, and she wants to cry -

“Ca... Catra?”

Her smile widens. “That’s me.”

“You’re here,” she whispers, and it comes out as more of a sob. She’s here she’s here she’s here she’s here -

“You’re here,” Catra - Catra - echoes, beaming. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

And Adora can’t do anything except let out a small sobbing noise in response.

“Do you... remember?” she asks softly, hesitantly, hands toying with the fraying hem of her shirt.

Adora shakes her head. “Not... much. I remember knowing you.”

Catra nods carefully. Her form has this odd translucent quality to it; she wonders if touching it would cause her to flicker like a hologram and vanish, only to re-materialise again in another place. “That’s something,” she offers. “Better than I’d hoped for, to be honest.”

Her eyes fix on the torch in Adora’s hand, then flick back up. “I’d put that away if I were you. Light kind of... uh, dispels ghosts. That’s what I am. A ghost.” A smile. “I think.”

Adora stuffs it into her pocket without registering the movement. “H-how -”

“How do ghosts work?” Catra guesses. “Not sure. How am I a ghost? Again, not sure.” She shrugs, as though brushing it off. “It’s been... a long time.”

“I missed you,” she says, in a much smaller voice than she expected. “I missed you so much. I missed - I missed knowing you. I-”

Catra smiles, and the movement causes her face to flicker at the edges, like static. “I missed you too. A lot.”

Adora bites back a sob. “Wha- What happened to you? How did you- ?” She shakes her head, shrugs. “Long story.”

There’s a long moment of silence. Adora catches herself staring at the outline of her form, the trails of half-shadows it leaves on the floorboards. In the half-light, she could almost be real. Alive.

She’s dead. She’s dead. It would hurt less if it wasn’t so clearly her fault.

“And - what about you?” Catra asks, breaking into her thoughts (which is a relief). There’s genuine concern in her eyes, she realises.

She really cares about me. I must’ve cared about her, too - I do care about her. I just - why?

“I... also a long story. I think you know most of it already.” She huffs a laugh, blinking back tears. “More than me, at least.”

Catra nods again, slowly. Her eyes flick up and down, taking everything in like she’s seeing it for the first time. And some sort of realisation crosses them, then fades away as quickly as it came.

“Do you want to... come back?” she asks.

“Come back?”

“Come back. To the house. I could... I could show you what happened. If you want. It’s getting late, and Glimmer’ll be worried about you.”

Despite herself, Adora almost laughs. “You’re worried about me getting in trouble with my roommate for coming home late?”

Catra grins. “I’ve interacted with Sparkles before. She’ll be pissed, trust me.”

Adora smiles too, and for a moment, it could almost be - before again. Before her memories cut off and leave her with a white wall of nothing. Before Catra died.

“I don’t know if I can,” she says softly. “I might be... I might be dreaming, or you’ll be gone when I come back, or -”

“Trust me, I’m not going anywhere,” Catra cuts in. “I kind of can’t.”

She sits down on the floor and crosses her legs, a clear request for Adora to join her. “It’d be easier if I show you now, but I don’t want to make you pass out and have to figure out how to cart your ass back home.”

“Show me what?” Adora breathes. This is it. This is it. I might be able to... to fix things. Finally.

“What happened to me. And what happened to you. It’s a long story, like I said.” She smiles at her, a little sadly, and presses her palms flat against the floorboards as she sits down. Adora wonders vacantly if she can feel it, if her hands are passing through the wood right now, if she’s solid or just a... a ghost.

If she’s really gone.

Thinking about it fills her with an even deeper sense of loss, somehow. She can’t shake the feeling that it’s her fault, even if she knows that’s not true. And it hurts.

For a moment, they sit facing each other under the shattered skylight, and it could almost be - a memory she can’t quite reach. It could almost be just them again, like she knows they were.

“Are you sure you’ll be able handle this now?”

She nods. Once.

Catra gives her a small, sad smile. Her eyes are transparent, filled with guilt and an emotion she can’t quite place.

The room starts to fill with a soft blue light. It creeps up through the floorboards, making the shadows stand upright and wheel towards the fractured ceiling, making Catra seem to glow from within. Adora has to force herself not to stare (then wonders why).

Smoke tendrils begin curling up through the floor beneath them, wrapping around their legs. She swallows her panic in time to see Catra lift her hands from the wood, leaving scorch marks in their wake, and glance encouragingly up at her. It’s... comforting. Familiar.

“Try to relax, okay?”

Adora nods again. “Okay,” she whispers. It’s all she can manage.

The smoke curls up around her torso and expands, filling the entire room with a blue haze. She narrows her eyes against the strengthening glow, closes them entirely - and opens them again when the door swings open and nearly flies off its hinges.

Before she can move, before she can do anything but cry out, Catra’s hands - Catra’s solid, real hands - clamp as gently as possible down on her shoulders. “It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s not real,” she whispers. “They can’t hurt us again.”

“Again?”

She turns to meet Catra’s eyes, and for the first time since they saw each other, she looks... serious.

“Again.”

And two kids come running through the door.

Adora almost gasps again, because... because it’s her. Her and Catra, covered in mud and soaking wet and shivering, hair in disarray, eyes filled with sheer terror.

As soon as Catra skids in, past Adora slams the door shut, hinges screaming in protest. She watches it happen as though underwater. It feels... it feels familiar. That fear in their eyes - it’s real, and she remembers it. Except she doesn’t.

“Are you okay?”

Past Catra nods, clutching her wrist to her chest. “I’m fine. Are they gone?”

“I don’t think so.” Past Adora jogs over to her and helps her to her feet, smiling faintly. Despite everything, despite the wound at her temple and the blood caked on the hem of her shirt, despite the rain and the terror in her eyes, she’s smiling.

And Adora... remembers.

She remembers everything at once, a hail of flashing images and thoughts and words and feelings. She remembers emotions she didn’t even know she had experienced - burning, horrific grief, loss, missing her so badly she wants to scream at the sky and quite literally burst into flame, choking on sobs in bed - sheer, unending terror, pushed deep down into the centre of her chest, the need to protect, protect her, keep her safe, because she can’t be scared if Catra is -

Someone is calling her name.

Someone is... Catra is calling for her, holding her against her chest as she trembles, whispering her name over and over again in her ear.

“Adora, Adora - “

And Past Catra... Past Catra is bent over on the wood, coughing and crying her name, letting out choking sobs, a hand pressed over the wound in the centre of her chest. The door has been blown open again, letting in the wind and the rain, and Past Adora is gone.

“I’m-” She sits up, which is much more of a struggle than it should be. “I’m here. What happened?”

Catra gives her a concerned look. “You- passed out, I think. I mean, I know I said you would, but I didn’t expect.... this.”

Her voice has begun to distort again, fading into a soft, static hum. The vision, or whatever it was, has begun to flicker and die into nothing, the threads fraying and unravelling until all that’s left is the girl bleeding out in the middle of the room.

Adora detaches herself from Catra’s fading grip as carefully as possible. Because, fuck, the things she remembers-

“You didn’t see half of that, did you?”

She shakes her head. “I didn’t.”

Catra’s face falls slightly. Adora can’t even imagine what the experience was like for her, having to relive her death again for the sake of her memory.

“But I did...” She clears her throat, rests a hand inches away from Catra’s. “I did remember. Everything.”

Her eyes light up from within, something that has nothing to do with the faded blue glow sinking back through the floorboards. “You did?”

Adora nods. The movement makes her head spin. She remembers... everything. Especially falling in love with the girl sitting opposite her, watching her with wide eyes. Especially the - the magic they tried to wield on her to make her forget, to make her immune to loving. And the way she tried to escape, to take Catra with her to keep her out of their reach, and it backfired in the worst way possible. She remembers her memories being stolen from her one by one, sucking the grief out of her until there was nothing left.

Most importantly, she remembers waking up in her bed and feeling for the space where Catra should have been the day after they told her she was dead.

“I did,” she whispers.

Silence stretches out between them, and Adora wonders if they could possibly be thinking about the same thing.

Without saying anything, without thinking twice, she blurts, “I love you.”

Catra’s eyes widen.

“We never said that. When you were alive. I always regretted that. I wanted to tell you, and I never got to, and I’m sorry for that. But, stars, Catra, I love you. I love you.”

She’s staring at her like she’s never seen her before, like she did the night - the night they kissed for the first time, the night she can remember with almost perfect clarity now, the night that was hidden from her for so long -

“Adora -”

“I know it’s been - wow, it’s been years - and I know so much has changed, but I just - I have to tell you that. I have to -”

And Catra laughs. Softly. Her hand comes down and through Adora’s, leaving a wave of - of warmth in its wake, and settles against her palm, and it feels so close to getting to hold her again she swears she could cry again.

“I love you too, idiot.”

#sep texxt #ask #blondhairedgoblin #writing #writing ask #she ra #spop #adora #catra #catradora #tw death #tw death mention #tw gore #tw blood #ask to tag #SHES OUT :D #sep's writing

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