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marginalmadness · 3 years

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Summer Nights: Chapter 1/4

Pairing: Rabbit!Hybrid Jungkook x Y/N

Rating: Teen (later explicit)

Genre: Hybrid!Fantasy, Romance, Fluff

Synopsis: A freak weather anomaly leads to a chance encounter with a rabbit-hybrid, and your kind nature results in you gaining a small, fluffy lodger, who questions your taste in television shows. It’s won’t be for long...will it?

Warnings/Tags: None right now, will add with additional chapters

Author’s Note: So the beautiful, wonderful, ever patient @johobi commissioned as we went into lockdown the first time, and it took me forever to write, and ended up being about 4x longer than I expected because, feelings and plot kept getting involved. Anyhow, the fic is finished, but with NaNoWriMo this month, and my already teasing this, I’m releasing this in 4 chapters, as I edit it, the next one will be next Friday, so I hope you all enjoy this, I got some wonderful comments from @johobi and she made this WONDERFUL HEADER <3, and I hope you all look forward to Chapters 2-4

Chapters: Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Word Count: 4.3K

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction for entertainment purposes only. The events depicted here are entirely of my own imagining, and have no basis on actual people or events.

Summer Nights

The weather report this morning said nothing about rain. Not a shower, not a sprinkle, and even now, as you check your phone for the thousandth time, there’s no indication of the storm that is currently darkening the sky over the entire city.

You fight your way out of the subway station, pushing past people rushing down the stairs out of the deluge. As you clamber your way up through them and onto the street, it feels like you’re pushing against a wall of water.

You curse yourself and the umbrella that sits serenely dry and unused under the side table by your front door. Because according to the highest-rated, “most accurate” weather app available, it was supposed to be nothing but dry, sunny spells through the end of the week and staying warm and dry over the weekend.

You dash across the road, taking a shortcut through the park, hoping to find some relief under the canopy of trees but somehow the drops feel heavier under the leaves. Cold rivulets of water run down your neck, under the collar of your coat, completely defeating the purpose of you clutching it closed.

You’re halfway home when, as suddenly as it started this morning, the rain stops. You look up through the branches and the sky is miraculously clear, dappled sunlight falling across your face as birdsong suddenly fills the park, nothing but dripping leaves and ground puddles to indicate the previous weather. This must be the sunny spell that was previously promised.

You wipe your hand across your face to remove some of the hair clinging to it, but since your hand is as wet as everything else, it’s a losing battle. There’s just as much water on your face after wiping it, and strands of hair are now just pulled across your forehead rather than limply clinging to your cheeks. You sigh, readjusting the strap of your bag and hoping the contents inside aren’t as soaked as you are, when for the second time in less than a minute you are stunned to another stop.

Before you is a tiny, shivering, soggy ball of fur.

You could swear it wasn’t there a second ago, but it’s possible it darted out from under one of the surrounding bushes and you startled it as much as it, you.

Crouching down, you reach a hand out towards the small creature, which lifts its head, twitches its nose and shuffles towards you. It’s hard to tell under the sopping wet fur, but it doesn’t look like what you’ve seen of regular wild rabbits. Its fur is darker, but that might just be an effect of the rain. It also seems longer, but again it’s hard to tell when wet. The biggest giveaway that it’s no regular wild rabbit are the two long, floppy ears that hang down either side of its head, dragging along the path as it moves towards you.

“Hey cutie pie,” you say in as soft a voice as possible while shivering from the wet and the cold. “You don’t look like you’re from around here.”

The creature makes a full hop towards you and sniffs at your hand, and you’re almost 100% sure it’s a rabbit and not a hare. You slip your other hand beneath its tiny body and stand, clutching it to your chest. You wait to see if it’s going to resist or fight but it only snuggles into your coat. “Okay, let's get you home and dried off, and then see if we can find your owner,” you say, scratching its head gently.

Almost as soon as you tuck the tiny creature under your coat, the rain starts again, skies grey, water coming down in sheets as though it never stopped. You run the rest of the way through the park and across the road, not minding that you step into a puddle since your feet are already so wet. You barrel your way into your apartment building, stopping to catch your breath as you wait for the elevator.

As soon as you’re through your front door you carefully step out of your shoes, drop your bag and shuck off your drenched coat, vowing to come back and clean them up later. You’re so soaked your clothes cling to you, as though you weren’t wearing a coat at all, and you hit the thermostat on high as you run past on your way to the bathroom.

“Why don’t we get you all nice and snug in a towel? Let you warm up while I take a shower, hm, little buddy?”

Grabbing a hand towel, you carefully wrap the trembling creature in your arms, rubbing the wet fur carefully before placing the bundle in the sink and stripping down to jump in the hot shower.

The hot water stings your chilled skin the instant it makes contact, but it warms you up quicker than waiting around for your apartment to heat up or hiding under your duvet would. Stepping out of the shower, you wrap a warm, fluffy towel around yourself and notice the small rabbit has its eyes closed. You pick it up in its bundle, and it seems to blink in alarm at being moved.

“Awww,” you coo aloud. “Did the warm steam lull you to sleep, lil’ bun?” The rabbit looks up at you and then closes its eyes, nuzzling back into the towel covering it. You carry it into your room and place it on your bed before changing into something warm and snuggly and drying your hair. By the time you’re all done, the bunny has fallen asleep, curled up in a little cocoon of warmth.

You head back towards the front door, picking up your coat and moving your waterlogged shoes into the bathroom. You pick up your bag and hope your phone was buried deep enough inside to escape water damage. Luckily, all of the contents inside seem untouched and you send a prayer of thanks to whoever was watching over you to pull that one off.

Grabbing your phone, you quickly search for a local vet that’s still open, hitting ‘call now’ when you find a decently-reviewed one. You kneel at the foot of the bed until you’re eye level with the fluffy, dark-furred rabbit. It watches you with curiosity, whiskers twitching as your face gets closer to it.

“Hello, Park Place Animal Hospital,” a tinny voice says pleasantly through the phone. “Eric speaking, how can I help?”

“Hi,” you say cautiously. “I found a rabbit in the park, and think someone might have lost it. It doesn’t look like a wild rabbit.” Maybe it was a wild rabbit, you argue with yourself; you’re not exactly a rabbit expert.

“Can you describe it to me?” Eric asks.

“It’s got long, dark fur; black or maybe dark brown? Seems… fluffy?” you say with uncertainty. “It was drowned-looking when I found it in the storm, and it’s wrapped in a towel drying now. But its ears are long and floppy. Really long. Really, really long,” you emphasise.

There’s a chuckle on the other end of the phone. “Well it certainly doesn’t sound like a wild rabbit. Possibly a member of the lop family. It could be a lost pet, but are you sure it’s not a hybrid?”

That stops you. A hybrid? Never even crossed your mind. Why would a hybrid stay in animal form in a storm and let a stranger take them home?

“I-” you stutter. “I don’t know. I’m a mundane, I don’t know how I would be able to tell.”

“Well, scent is the easiest way to tell, but you wouldn’t be able to use that as a mundane and it’s a little late to bring it into the clinic. You could talk to it, ask it some questions.”

You frown down at the bunny. Maybe you were missing something. “I don’t speak Bunny.” You could hear Eric holding back his smile over the phone.

“But hybrids understand human speech,” he says, holding back his laughter. “Assuming you speak the same languages.” You purse your lips, eyes glancing around the room, cheeks burning in embarrassment. “Where are you right now?”

“In my bedroom,” you say. “The bunny-hybrid-whatever is wrapped in a towel on my bed and I’m kneeling on the floor at the foot of it.”

“And what is the ‘bunny-hybrid-whatever’ doing?”

“It's-” You look at the rabbit and are a little taken aback to realise it’s watching you, head raised, nose twitching inquisitively. “-watching me.”

“Okay, unwrap it and leave the room. Tell it, if it’s hungry, to follow you to the kitchen. If it’s a hybrid, it will understand and follow you.”

You blink owlishly at the creature, before nodding in determination. “Okay.” You unwrap the towel and move to the doorway. The bunny watches you leave.

“I need to make dinner. If you’re hungry, follow me. I have some veggies you can eat.” The bunny stands up on its hindquarters, giving itself a shake until its fur is sticking up in funny-looking spikes. It jumps down from the bed and lops after you as you walk towards the kitchen. You turn your attention back to Eric on the phone. “I promised the bunny veggies, and now it’s following me into the kitchen.”

“Congratulations, you have a hybrid-rabbit in your home.” Eric laughs. “It’s late now, we’ll be closing soon, but if they haven’t turned by morning you can bring them by the clinic and we’ll be able to either issue a T.o.C or take them in until we can find out where they came from.”

“T-O-C?” you ask slowly.

“Treaty of Care. Hybrids who stay in their animal form for extended periods of time need special care. It’s usually infant or adolescent hybrids born in animal form who haven’t turned for the first time yet, or hybrids hurt in animal form who need to heal before they can transform back. A Treaty of Care is usually served to a close friend or family member, but it can be anyone.”

“Even a stranger?” you ask, stopping in your tracks and looking down at the small creature by your foot. It looks up at you with big, dark eyes.

“If they didn’t fight you when you first picked them up, and they haven’t shown any signs that they want to leave, then they feel comfortable with you. At least for the time being. So the decision seems to be yours. Think about it tonight, and come in tomorrow.”

“Will do. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” you mutter, biting your lip and shuffling from foot-to-foot.

“No problem, have a nice evening,” Eric says politely.

“Thanks, you too.” You hang up the phone, motioning with your head towards the kitchen. “There’s apples in there.” The bunny-hybrid zooms off, hopping towards the kitchen, and you let out a little giggle at its enthusiasm.

Once there, you head to the fridge and pull out what you need to make yourself dinner, plus some extra veggies for your unintended guest. You dump them and the promised apple into the sink, making sure to give them a good wash before you start chopping things into rabbit-convenient pieces. A gentle pressure against your calf stops you, and you turn to find the long-eared bunny leaning against you as it stands on its hind legs, either trying to get a better look at what you’re doing or begging for a snack.

“Are you nosey or impatient?” you ask, and the hybrid drops to all fours before hopping around your feet. You lean down to pick it up, placing it on the counter next to you and offering it a slice of apple. Its tail—no, its entire body wiggles in appreciation as it munches on the apple slice, nibbling away with its eyes contentedly closed. You finish chopping the veggies and place a selection on a plate, setting it in front of the hybrid. The bunny hops high, kicking its back legs in excitement before diving into the pile to devour it.

With a tentative finger, you reach out to scratch behind the rabbit’s ear. To your relief, it doesn’t recoil. Encouraged by this, you settle your hand on its head and gently stroke its fluff. The hybrid leans up, nuzzling its face into the palm of your hand. You smile appreciatively, tickling the rabbit’s chin before you turn to cook your own dinner.

---

The rest of your night you spend relaxing, curled up on the sofa watching TV. The hybrid decides to join you, settling at the opposite end away from you. Normally you wouldn’t allow a pet or an animal on the furniture, but it’s not really an animal and you’d feel bad forcing a guest to sit on the floor if there was space on the sofa. You’re second-guessing your decision, though, when the rabbit expresses opinions on your choice of entertainment, nudging the remote when it wants you to change the channel and thumping its feet when it sees something good. You spend a good twenty minutes having a one-sided argument with a creature that communicates through nothing but foot stomping and nose twitches before you come to a consensus: a superhero movie that you never got to see in the cinema. You drop the remote and the rabbit hops closer to you, shuffling into a loaf by your feet. Like that, the pair of you spend the night watching six unlikely heroes and their friends save the world from total destruction.

---

Your first real, big conundrum is when you go to bed and the little ball of fluff follows you, jumping onto your comforter.

“No. Don’t be ridiculous, you are not sharing my bed,” you try to say forcefully, but the surreal nature of what's happening makes your tone just a little bit hysterical. The hybrid simply lowers its head to the comforter, making itself smaller, lopping closer to your hand until it’s nudging it. It wiggles its head beneath your fingers. “Is this you asking for permission? No! Off! Down! Off the bed!” The creature shimmies its fluffy tail and doesn’t move an inch. “I know you can understand what I’m saying, and it’s weird,” you whine. The tail-twitching stops. Big, dark eyes blink up at you as it sits up on its haunches, front paw waving at you like it’s trying to grab you.

You can’t help but feel you’re in a pouting contest with a rabbit.

“Fine,” you huff, flopping back on the bed dramatically. The hybrid lops towards you and you turn to watch. Fluff obscures your vision as it boops you gently on the nose, and you laugh at the tickle of its fur. You shuffle under the comforter with a yawn and turn off the lamp. “Okay. Tomorrow, when I get your Treaty of Care, I’m picking you up an animal bed. This is only for tonight, because you’ve obviously had a stressful day, so don’t get used to it.” The second you say it, you know it’s a lie. You’d lose a pouting contest with that bunny every time.

---

Ten weeks later, the rabbit now has a side of the bed.

The side of the bed where his animal bed sits unused on the floor.

The vet had given the hybrid a clean bill of health, identified it as a young adult male and given you a T.o.C for as long as it wanted to stay with you. Or until you returned it. But that would never happen.

Somehow you’d just fallen into a routine; breakfast for the both of you, rushing to and from work, changing the litter box, dinner for two, TV in the evenings. And now somehow, suddenly, it’s summer. Gone are the spring storms that brought the two of you together. Now you have the stifling heat and humidity of the peak of summer.

All the windows in the apartment are open and have been for at least a week. You don’t even sleep with a cover anymore, just collapse on top of it in the flimsiest two-piece that can cover your modesty. Honestly, even that feels like too must most nights, sticking to you in the humidity. It’s so hot that the hybrid - who you had simply called “Bun” for lack of a better name - no longer lay close to you, but far on the other side of the bed, stretched out on his side, ears akimbo. The city desperately needed a storm to break the humidity.

Half way through summer, you get your wish. You flinch, even in your sleep, as the room fills with blinding, white light. The crack of thunder that immediately follows is explosive in the silence of your room thanks to all the open windows. The storm startles you awake. Turning away from the window, you bury your face in your damp, sweat-drenched pillow, just as the gentle roll of heavy rain starts to beat against the heated concrete city.

“You okay, Bun?” you ask in a sleepy, raspy voice as you reach for the small creature. But where you expect to meet soft fur, you meet soft skin, solid muscle coiled tight beneath it. It takes a second for your brain to register the foreign sensation, before your head snaps up and your eyes open. You’re used to sleeping next to a small rabbit-hybrid, but in its place is a very naked young man, curled in the fetal position. His large, terror-filled eyes stare at you.

You scream, scrambling off the bed and across the floor to press your back against the wall. The naked man shrinks in on himself when you yell, curling himself into a tighter ball. You can see just enough of him over the edge of the bed to spy a long, floppy ear drape over one of his arms.

“Bun?” you ask in a breathless voice. He lifts his head, and those eyes—those large, round eyes are just as dark as they were when he was a rabbit.

They’re the same.

He moves up onto his hands and knees, crawling cautiously across the bed to peer down at you. His fingers curl over the edge of the mattress, long ears dangling either side of his face.

“Sorry,” he whispers in a soft voice. He’s still tucked in on himself like a loaf, like he would sit when he was a rabbit. You can hear his foot tapping against the mattress; he’s agitated. “I woke up like this a little while ago, before the storm was over the city. I guess it scared me into transforming back.”

“Why didn’t you wake me?” you ask, finally getting a handle on your breathing. It’s not everyday you wake up with a naked man in your bed…or any day recently, if you’re being honest.

“You’ve had trouble sleeping because of the heat. I didn’t want to disturb your rest.” Your heart aches. You knew the hybrid living with you was friendly and sweet-tempered, but hearing it makes it difficult not to reach out and pet and coo at him like you regularly would. There’s just enough light coming in from outside for you to see him bite his lower lip in the darkness. Your heart pangs again when you notice that he has bunny teeth even in his human form.

You shift, getting to your knees and moving closer to the bed. The hybrid doesn’t stir, still huddled in on himself, floppy ears falling each side of his face. They blend seamlessly into his long, dark, wavy hair. His eyes are impossibly large, as dark as the night sky, and reassuringly familiar. Just over his shoulder, down the slope of his back, you spy a fluffy tail twitching at the base of his spine. Resolutely, your eyes snap back to his face.

“That was very kind of you,” you say softly, watching his face spread into a warm smile, front teeth prominent and pressing into his bottom lip.

“You’ve been very kind to me,” he practically whispers, and you smile in return, resisting the urge to pat him on the head. You don’t know if it’s appropriate now he’s no longer a rabbit.

“Do you have a name?”

“Jungkook, but you can keep calling me Bun, if you want. I like it,” he says, louder this time. Confidently. And you decide, screw it, you’re going to pet him. But then thunder crashes again, bright light simultaneously filling the room, and for a single, breathtaking moment, in the stark light of the storm, you take him in.

And he is absurdly beautiful.

Jungkook ducks his head. Curling into himself, one of his feet taps incessantly against the bed. You reach out, threading your fingers through his soft, chocolate brown locks until you’re rubbing his head, fingernails scratching lightly.

“Don’t worry, Jungkook, you’re safe. I’ll not let anything happen to you.” Slowly, he raises his face; eyes searching yours. “Treaty of Care, remember.” You give him a small smile. Jungkook leans forward then, pressing the tip of his nose into your cheek.

You still.

He used to do this all the time as a rabbit. It’s normal behaviour. Your research told you hybrids behave similarly to their animal counterparts. When in animal form, that is. You never expected it in human form.

His nose skims across your cheekbone until he’s rubbing it against yours. You can’t help but sigh at how incredibly intimate the act feels, and Jungkook must take that as some sort of sign, because the next thing he does is gently caress your lips with his. If it weren’t for how focused his eyes are, gauging your reaction, you might write it off as an accident. But then he does it again.

You pull back suddenly, shaking your head as though to clear it. “Let me get you something to wear,” you say, climbing to your feet and closing the blinds on your way to your draws. “I don’t know if they’ll fit you, but these are some old sweats.” You throw them to him on the bed, turning back to find him a shirt; something loose. You dig out an old t-shirt you won in a radio contest.

“Are you covered?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook says in a small voice. You turn around, extending the shirt toward him and short-circuiting when he stands at his full height. Your eyes are immediately drawn to his sculpted abdomen. All of him could be cut from marble. You stare, open-mouthed, as he shuffles foot to foot, awkwardly rubbing his elbow.

“Is that for me?” He asks finally, motioning to the garment in your hand. You nod, holding out the t-shirt emblazoned with the logo of a radio station you don’t ever recall listening to. Just as he takes it, thunder claps again and brightens the room and his arm flexes, dragging you into his personal space before you can release your hold on the fabric. His chest heaves, breaths coming heavy.

“I’m tired. Let’s sleep tonight and we’ll talk in the morning, okay?” you say softly, going for the bed. Jungkook just nods and moves towards the door. “Where are you going?” you ask, laying a hand on his arm.

“The sofa.” He ducks his head, ears hiding most of his face. “I didn’t think you’d want me sharing your bed anymore since—” he motions to his human form.

You swallow. It’s loud in the quiet of the room. “Is that why you stayed a rabbit for so long? So I’d let you stay?”

Jungkook looks up at you through his lashes; you can see him biting his lip again. “Kind of,” he mumbles, avoiding your eyes. “You were so kind to me when you found me. I was scared you’d want me to leave if I transformed back, and I wanted to stay for a little while.”

“Why?” you ask softly. “Didn’t you want to go home?” He smiles, but it looks embarrassed, his nose scrunching.

“No, not yet,” he says meekly, dipping his head. He hides behind his chocolate brown waves and long, floppy ears. “Going home is… it’s complicated.”

You lean forward, carefully reaching up to brush one of his ears aside so you can better see his eyes. His ear twitches but he doesn’t pull away, instead looking at you with all the stars of the cosmos in his eyes. “You can tell me when you’re ready,” you encourage with a soft smile. “There’s no rush. I’m also not going to make you sleep alone when you’re scared,” you say, taking him by the hand and tugging him towards the bed.

“Are you sure?” he asks, looking over your shoulder towards the bed. But his face is hopeful, so you can tell he’s only asking out of politeness.

“There’s plenty of space. And besides, you’ve had weeks to hurt me and you haven’t. I trust you.” You let go of his hand and clamber into bed.

Jungkook perks up and slips the shirt hurriedly over his head, inside out and obscuring those perfectly sculpted abs. He scrambles over the mattress to his usual side of the bed, a buck-toothed smile all over his face. His human form is impressively built, but somehow, when his head hits the pillow and he curls into a ball, he looks almost as tiny as he did in bunny form.

You lay facing him, watching him carefully. His eyes are huge and flitting between your face and the window, like he’s waiting for another crash of thunder. You sit up, reaching down to where your thin blanket had been kicked out of the way when the heatwave started, holding it up, your meaning obvious. Jungkook immediately shuffles closer, curling into your side and burying his head under your chin. It startles you for a second, your entire body going stiff, but you take a deep breath and wrap an arm around him, willing yourself to relax. You thread your fingers through his soft, brown locks, caressing his head the way you did when he was still a rabbit.

And before either of you realise the storm has already passed, you drift off together into restful sleep.

Next Chapter

#Jungkook #Jeon Jungkook #Jungkook Fluff #hybrid!Jungkook #Jungkook Smut #Jungkook x you #Jungkook x reader #Bunny!Jungkook #Jungkook Fic #BTS Fic #MarginalMadness #commission #MM Summer Nights #Summer Nights

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harveywritings92 · 3 years

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MHA/BNHA: They get severely injured and you heal them

You're recovery Girl's granddaughter you��have a healing quirk called Angel's Glow, which requires skin on skin contact to work, small wounds, bruises and bone fractures are healed in seconds just by placing your hands on the injured area which will glow blue and repair damage, however wounds that are near fatal are different story. In that case, it’s kind of embarrassing, but you treat it how you would hypothermia, stripping down to your panties (or naked) and lay down holding that person close letting your healing aura cover them, of course you've never been in a situation where you've had to do that, pretty much keeping it reserved for your romantic partner, So when you got a call that your boyfriend was severely injured in a fight and his chances of survival aren't looking to good.

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Fatgum/Taishiro:

Reader's age 26.

The last thing Taishiro remembered was fighting this crazy strong villain with an equally strong quirk! So, one can imagine his confusion when the last thing he remembered before blacking out; was fighting as Fatgum and then waking up after who knows how long as Fitgum and in a stranger's bedroom hooked up to a very annoying heart monitor that would not. stop. beeping! Taishiro slowly sat up; with a grimace expecting to feel pain shooting all throughout his body the second he moved, but to his astonishment nothing happened...

He was sure his left leg was broken during that fight! he cautiously wiggled his toes and jerk his left leg around, nothing no pain... in fact he felt great; giddy like he had just eaten an entire buffet of his favorite foods! But how did... His train thought was cut short when he felt an slender arm around his waist.

Taishiro suddenly became hyperaware of the other person, a woman. laying in the bed next to him! His heartrate spiked causing the monitor to start beeping rapidly!

The blond carefully reached over and gently pushed the woman's hair away from her face, the BMI hero felt a wave of relief wash over him upon seeing the calm sleeping face of his girlfriend Y/n starring back at him. But the relief quickly shifted to befuddlement, why was she here? he then noticed their apparent lack clothes, His yellow eyes widened and felt his face burn; Taishiro swallowed hard as he checked under blanket... why were they just wearing boxers and panties?

Spotting a some of his spare clothes in Y/n's closet, Taishiro quietly and carefully got out of the bed; unplugged the Heart monitor before taking it off, and got dressed in his track pants and T-shirt, then careful got Y/n dressed in one of his hoodies before tucking her into bed, Just as Recovery-Girl popped her head in to check on them as she couldn't hear the monitor beeping anymore, and got worried she smiled seeing her *hopefully* soon to-be Grandson-law alive and healthy.

"Oh thank goodness you're awake..."

"Yeah, I jus' woke up. Sorry for intruddin."

"It's nothing to be sorry for, though I'm sure you're confused how you aren't in a coma or dead."

"...What happened to me?"

Recovery-girl gave him the run down after he was put out of commission, Taishiro was in pretty bad shape, the out come was looking grim when Y/n ordered the ambulance be redirected to her private-practice which also doubled as her home, they got got one of her intern's to use their quirk which could burn off his fat, they cleaned his cuts and got him stitched up then the y/ht woman told everyone to go home; save for her grandmother and Kirishima who refused to leave his mentor until he was sure hew was going to be alright.

it was only when he saw Y/n taking her clothes off did the flustered teen ask about those guest rooms, she offered and recovery- Girl lead him out of the room, the y/ht woman slipped into bed next her her unconscious lover and activated her quirk, Tai's whole body was soon surrounded in veil of blue light that slowly started to repair and heal his broken body.

Taishiro smiled gently as he caressed Y/n's cheek making her wince in her sleep. "The poor thing must be exhausted over using her quirk for two days." the pride the tall man had felt to shifted into concern. "two days?!" he croaked he remembered Y/n telling him that her quirk can also transfer her patients pain onto her to the lessen their burdens, and if he was in really bad shape as recovery-girl described... "Is she gonna be okay?" he asked voice cracking, the old nurse frowned knowing that her granddaughter told him about her quirks pain absobtion. "Well, the next couple days won't be very pleasant for her, I may have to keep her sedated." the blond eyes started to burn as he watched Y/n sleeping soundly, vowing stay by her side and to take her on very nice vacation when this was all over, they could both use it.

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Shoto Todoroki:

Reader age 21, Shoto: 19

This poor touch-starved child was so confused and flustered when he woke up in a strange bed, wearing nothing but his boxers and y/n clinging to him very intimately, all while alarm-bells were going off in his head as part on his mind was still in fight or flight mode as he cautiously scanned his girlfriend expecting this to be a dream, and the villain that attacked him to pop-out at any moment...

After a few moments of waiting for the dream to end, Shoto cautiously used his fire to burn himself he winced feeling the pain burn his wrist, then the pain went numb the bi-colored haired man's brows furrowed before seeing the familiar blue aura from [y/wt] woman's quirk reverse the damage on his wrist, Shoto's stomach churred as realized what she had done, he carefully removed himself from the warm embrace of her bed and looked around the room for something to wear before spotting some a pair of sweat pants and a T-shirt left out for him, he changed then carefully got his girlfriend dressed into her PJs and her tucked in.

Shoto was the picture of calm as he kept a silent vigil over the [y/hc] woman carefully playing with her hair, but internally he was freaking out! Wondering how long had he been out for? and how long had Y/n been healing him? was she going to be okay?! he grimaced at he saw her wince in her sleep; even a blind man could see she was already suffering from the effects of over using her quirk! "Why would you do something so foolish?" he sighed using his cold half to keep Y/n's forehead cool he felt her temperature spike. "Love makes you do very rash decisions." Shoto jumped to see Recovery-Girl behind him and the dual quirked boy immediate bowed his head to her in forgiveness.

"Don't do that Todoroki, you don't need to apologize."

"But because me Y/n is..."

"It's not you're fault dear, Y/n knew the risks as soon as she heard you were in critical condition."

"How long were we like that?" he asked asked dreading the answer Recovery-Girl frowned as she checked her granddaughter's vitals over. "Four days, I won't lie the next couple days won't be kind to my Granddaughter." She saw Shoto wince knowing the guilt eating at him. "But knowing she has a handsome young man looking after her, should help her make a speedy recovery.~" the room's temperature suddenly spikes as a blush adorned Shoto's cheeks Recovery-Girl giggled jubilantly as she left the room leaving Y/n in Shoto's care.

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Touya/Dabi:

Reader age 25 (note you're quirk can't heal his scars (you've tried) you were childhood friends with him, he kidnapped you and keeps you in his safehouse!)

Dabi woke up that morning with a splitting headache, crap how much did he have to drink? he growled taking a sharp breath as his eyes adjusted to his dimly lit bedroom, trying to piece together what happened last night, when he caught something blue in the dim light at first he thought it was his quirk acting up, but then he noticed some of his staples were missing around his stomach...

The it all came flooding back to him one of the Nomus had gotten lose before it could be "trained" and went on a rampage the villains and a couple heroes on the league payroll stropped it, but not without consequences, the beast managed to take a bite out of Dabi's waist, the scarred man somehow managed to make it home... walking through the front door was the last thing he remembered before blacking out, then he felt his stomach drop when he realized that this blue glow wasn't his flames!

Dabi quickly turned the light on above his bed and found a sleeping Y/n hugging his waist her quirk overworking itself trying to fix his scars, which weren't healing because the tissue was to damaged to fix, "You idiot!" he barked getting out of bed, then paused when he felt a rush cold air on his everything, his teal eyes looked down... Yep, naked as the day he was born, he cussed and checked under the thin sheet Y/n had covered them in, same story.

He check her temperature she was freezing! "Tch" Dabi quickly readjusted the sheet around his girlfriend's shivering body then went and put on some black sweat pants, he quickly went to drawers and grabbed a pair of boxers and a t-shirt and put those on his y/ht girlfriend, then grabbed the discarded blanket from off the floor covering the couple.

Dabi used his quirk to boost up his body temp while rubbing Y/n’s arms trying warm her up. the last thing he needed was her getting sick, however he paused his ministrations and checked his burner phone... shit it been 2 days since the incident! He had a lot of messages from the league demanding to know where he was, He should probably get around to telling them he's alive... meh, maybe after Y/n recovered those f-ckers will live.

#boku no hero academia #bnha fanfiction #fatgum x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #dabi x reader #boku no hero x reader #my hero academy fanfiction #Healer! reader

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kaypeace21 · 3 years

Text

Stranger things is about mental health & trauma- deal with it!

I’ve seen a lot of people claim anyone who mentioned this topic immediately be gaslit and told they’re “just crazy” and “rudely projecting their own issues on to the characters.’ Like- no you don’t have to believe my Will DID/Lonnie theory ( I could be wrong). But to claim one of the show’s central themes isn’t about mental health/trauma (screams either complete lack of lit comprehension or denial cause you have your own negative biases towards such people). So let’s just go into what’s literal text-not subtext/symbolism. Just the super blatant stuff. RIGHT IN THE SHOW!

-We have El when she first appears on screen asked by Benny if her parents starved and hurt her and if that’s why she ran away. Benny then calls CPS to say El “may have been ab*sed or something.” After this Lucas says there is “seriously something wrong with her-wrong in the head. She’s probably from the NUT-HOUSE in curly county.penthurst” We also see El cannonically has PTSD-all of s1 she’ll see something benign (a cat, a coke commercial, a closet) and is triggered to see a traumatic flashback. That’s literally ptsd. There’s also hints throughout the seasons she’s developmentally behind in both language, telling time etc (neglect like El’s irl can cause an intellectual disability-analysis on El/that subject here).The real pethurst in pensylvannia (not the one in stranger things/ Curly county) closed in 1986- it was a facility for people and mostly kids with intellectual disabilities (it wasn’t technically a psych facility like the one in st)-but it was infamous for it’s abuse of these intellectually disabled patients kept there. We also have Brenner be a ab*sive psychiatrist.

- Hopper after suffering from the loss of his daughter. Is popping pills like candy, drinking and smoking constantly. He later says he used to hallucinate and forgot what was real -seeing and hearing sarah and says if he didn’t confront the pain he’d “fall down a black hole he couldn’t get out of.” NO... subtext here about what the void represents nope.

- Both mothers (Terry & Joyce) are dismissed as being mentally ill and simply grieving the loss of their kids . But both end up being right about the supernatural.

- “Terry pretends Jane is real. i mean it’s all make believe. you know the doctors all say it’s a coping mechanism.”

- While with Joyce the whole town pre s1 already questioned her mental health. Jonathan says “She used to have anxiety problems (pre s1).” And Jonathan, Hopper, and Lonnie all assume she’s hallucinating: talking to Will via lights, seeing a man without a face, saying Will’s body is fake -due to grief. Plus Lonnie mentions the fact Joyce’s aunt Darlene also used to hallucinate as a possible reason (terry’s aunt also had mental health issues mentioned in s2 by Becky). Lonnie even says everything Joyce is seeing is “all in her head.” Hopper and Jon both say she needs to sleep and accept reality and Lonnie says she needs to see a “shrink”. Hopper “i’m not saying that you’re crazy”. Joyce : “no, you are.” Joyce also says to Lonnie “Stop looking at me like that... like everyone else like i’m out of my damn mind.” Hopper also says about Joyce she’s “on the edge”. Callahan says in response , “she’s been on the edge for a while now” (referring to her mental health- even before Will’s dissappearance)”. While Lonnie says Jonathan is “feeding into her hallucinations ... you’re going to push her right over the edge.” In s2 Hopper says “ I think everyone is on edge- you, me, Will most of all. (when talking about Will’s ptsd/trauma)”

- in s1 They claim Will just “fell” over the edge of the quarry’s cliff. Later the only other queer coded character (Mike) jumps off the quarry cliff (where Will’s body was found) cause the homophobic troy forced him too jump. Troy even says earlier dead-Will is “flying with all the other fairies all happy and gay” (to Mike). And Troy says to Hopper El made Mike “fly” after jumping off the cliff. Friendship saved him from jumping off the edge metaphorically ( and he’ll prob eventually be happy and gay too).

s2/3

-Will is seeing a therapist . And we are told he has ptsd and will experience the anniversary effect, personality changes,nightmares, having episodes, etc. And things “will get worse before they get better”. Mike also asks if what Will is seeing is “real or like the doctors say all in your head?” And Will continues to see hallucinations of the mf/upsidedown that only he can see initially.

-Hopper also agrees with owens mentioning how he knew guys with ptsd . joyce : “it’s not like he’s describing a nightmare. He talks about them like they’re real.” Hopper: “Yeah, because they’re not nightmares they’re flashbacks.I think he’s right about trauma.I think everyone is on edge (bringing that s1 ref back), Me you, Will, most of all.Nothing’s gonna go back to the way that it was. But it’ll get better.In time.”

-Nancy suffers from survivor’s guilt and drunkingly says she killed Barb. Jonathan says like Nancy he has “a weight that you that carry all the time . i feel it too.” (cough depression). He also says he tries to be there for Will but says about Will “he’s not the same. maybe things can’t go back to the way they were. (mirroring Hopper’s words earlier that season)”

-Jonathan said in s1 Joyce had “anxiety issues” than Nancy says in s3 “you really are your mother’s son... you worry too much.” Then we see him look worried after the comment.

- in s2, Axel & a scientist both call El and Will “schizos” because of their powers. In s3 mrs driscoll isn’t believed about the supernatural cause she’s schizophrenic-but like Joyce/Terry was right.

- Kali saves a woman named Dottie (a british slang term for crazy) from a mental hospital and then compares herself and El to dottie. saying her non-powered gang is “Like us ...outsiders... society discarded them.” In graphitti we even see the title “obedlam” a british poem about discarding the mentally ill and leaving them homeless. El before this sees a mentally ill man screaming “we’re all dead!” Kali’s friend says to El, after this encounter they were “dead all of us” until kali “saved them here” (points to head) “and here” (points to heart). Pointing to the theme of love and friendship helping those with such issues. Similar to the cliff analogy.

-The cycle of ab*se. Max in s2 says she’s afraid of becoming like Billy (her ab*ser). We see Billy mimic his ab*ser neil and inflict pain on max. In s3 we see the roots of his behavior are linked to mimicking Neil- Neil in a flashback says about baseball “what are you scared?” “ did i raise a p*ssy for a son”. So young Billy later in a fight says to a boy “ what are you scared to fight me? fight me p*ssy. (as he beats the boy)” Deflecting his anger of his father on to someone else. In s3, We see as a kid he used to say to Neil “don’t hurt her” (his mom)-specifically after Neil backhand slaps her -but we later see possessed Billy backhand slap Max (just like neil). The resentment to his mother leaving - festered into how he views women and max negatively . And his attraction to mrs wheeler prob is linked to him subconsciously missing his mother. Max in s2 even says he can’t take it out on her mother so he does so to her instead (we even have Billy hallucinate hurting mrs wheeler).We see in s2 the cycle of abuse is there- Billy mimics Neil, and then Max mimics Billy. Billy harrasses Max and yells “SAY IT!” (mimicking Neil). Max like Billy later yells “SAY IT” and uses a bat /violence to stand up for herself against Billy- which earlier she said she was trying to combat … explaining she can be angry like Billy sometimes but she never wants to be like him (her nickname symbolizing this: aka ‘mad max’). Billy’s last dying words were an apology to Max- for becoming her neil. And we hopefully will see Max break this cycle.

- Will says his now memories (that he describes like dreams) are “growing “, “spreading “,and “killing”. While Kali says they need to face their father and (as Brenner) says El has to confront her “wound” or else it’ll “grow”, “spread” and “eventually it’ll kill her.” Kali says she used to be like El . She used to bottle her pain away and it “spread.” But she then says “I confronted my pain and I finally began to heal (from those wounds).” We also see with jonathan and nancy when describing “shared trauma” zoom in onto the scars on their hands. The wound heeled into a scar so to speak.

S2 & 3 ENDINGS

both have Hopper do a speech that delves into dealing with trauma/depression but still finding good along the way.

-s2 Hopper outside the snowball: “how are you holding up? Yeah, that feeling never goes away. It is true what they say, you know. Everyday it does get easier.”

-s3 Hopper monolouge : “ Feelings jesus. For so long, i’d forgotten what those even were. I’ve been stuck in one place,in a cave you might say , a deep dark cave (cough s2 supernatural cave). For the first time in a long time, i started to feel things again. I started to feel happy. Life... yeah sometimes it’s painful .sometimes it’s sad, and sometimes it’s suprising... happy.. And when life hurts you, because it will .remember the hurt . The hurt is good. It means you’re out of that cave.”

BUT YES- St has nothing to do with mental health/trauma, we’re just “crazy” and “projecting”. It’s not like some of ya’ll act pompous when you just have a bias and get pissy at the idea of relating to characters you “other” as “crazy” or “damaged” irl or anything (so attack people for pointing it out). Or (benefit of the doubt) you are just like.... oblivious... or just a kid who doesn’t know better XD

#stranger things #el hopper #will byers #jim hopper #joyce byers #max mayfield #billy hargrove #kali prasad #mike wheeler #jonathan byers #nancy wheeler

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jjmaydank · 4 years

Text

Balance

summary: The group thought that after JJ got a girlfriend, she’d balance him out and drain some of his over energetic and sometimes reckless personality. However, you indulge in his antics just as much as he does.

a/n: This came to me after listening to Queen of Disaster by Lana on repeat enjoy! Masterlist coming soon.

cw: drinking, innuendos, and weed mention.

‘No’ you mouth to JJ from across the room. He doesn’t say anything, instead takes a sip of his beer and lifts his eyebrows suggestively. He’s been eyeing the door for the past two minutes.

You’d love to go back to your car or your place with him but you didn’t want to have the whole gang to know you guys skipped out to mack.

“Y/N and I are leaving now” JJ announces standing up and reaching for your hand.

“Seriously you guys?” Pope says with annoyance.

“No we’re not” you say, giving him a look that screams ‘stop’. He responds with a look that says ‘make me’. He steps closer to you, towering over you as you sit. He makes it so hard not to give in.

Taking his hand and getting up, “We’re gonna go take a walk on the beach before heading home” you say trying to sound convincing. The group eyes you and JJ suspiciously but don’t press you guys further. Just as you think you’ve made it out of the clear, JJ speaks up again as you hold his hand pulling him out the door,

“That’s code for we’ve gonna go f-“ he’s abruptly cut off by your hand covering his mouth.

“That’s enough” you say with wide eyes.

“Even if we were it’s definitely not happening anymore tonight” you release your hand from his mouth and watch his expression turn into a defeated look. you wave for the both of you and immediately drag him out of the door.

“are you serious about us not having sex tonight?” JJ finally speaks up again. You sigh and “no, it’s just the gang doesn’t need to know our business dude”.

Unaware of how the group can still hear you guys from inside the house.

Stumbling drunk as the party had begun to die down. If you were going to drink might as well do it to get wasted, you weren’t some grown adult woman who enjoyed the taste of wine.

It would probably be embarrassing tomorrow to face Kie, Pope, and John B but at least you’d wake up next to JJ.

‘Fuck’, you thought, ‘where’s JJ?” Your hands instinctively reach out to your sides for his familiar hand.

“Take me to J please. JJ. JJ Maybank. My boyfriend” in your head you sounded way more put together than how you actually sounded. Kie understood you though, “sit tight and I’ll go find him okay?” She said placing a hand on your shoulder as if to make sure you were going to stay seated. “No” you said standing up too quickly and stumbling to the side because grasping at kie’s arm. “Take me- take me with you” you plead, your red glossy eyes staring into hers. She sighed and put your arm around her shoulders and her other arm holding you by the waistline making you walk as straight as you could. you stumbled into John B’s place and almost tripped on the porch.

As soon as you get inside though, you’re stumbling again and this time you actually break away from Kie’s grasp and fall to the side. The armrest of the couch breaks your fall but not before smashing against your forehead hard.

“Fuck” you yell out, voice muffled as your face is pressed against the floor. “Shit” is all Kie says before rushing to your side and pulling you up. The commotion in the living room draws the attention of John B and JJ who has been searching for a lighter in JJ’s unofficial room. They appear from out of the room and find you still on the floor but slowly getting up with Kie’s help. JJ immediately at your side and inspects you for any cuts of scratches.

“Hey” you smile after sitting up enough to lean against the couch. “Was looking for you” you say using the palm of your hand to rub your temple where the couch had impacted you. John B and Kie have stood up and jumped into action by this point, going into the kitchen to grab an ice pack.

You stop rubbing your forehead and look up at JJ before pouting and asking “can you kiss it better?”. “Of course baby” he says planting a gentle kiss on your temple. “Anywhere else?” He quicks with a smirk on his face. You nod and point a finger at your right cheek. He shakes his head and kisses your cheek, and then pulls away again. This time you point to your lips and lean forward, he happily obliges. It was meant to be a quick peck but you immediately lean into him and rest your hands in his t-shirt, bunching up the material in your fist making sure you can hold him as close as possible as you kiss him passionately. He begins to move his hand from your shoulder down to your waist before John B enters the room again,

“Guys come on” he says and JJ pulls away from you. He’s smiling sheepishly as John B hands him an ice pack for your injury.

“Can’t resist” you say, directing it at Kie and John B with a smile on your face.

“We know” they say in unison.

You’re finishing up grabbing lunch with Kie and heading back to her parked car. She’d been telling you about this surfer girl she had met over the weekend that really piqued her interested. You were happy for her, everyone seemed to be finding their significant other and you were just waiting for Pope to meet someone now.

As Kie began to describe what she and the girl talked about, your phone rang and you politely held up a finger in her direction and answered, “hey JJ what’s up?”. “What are you doing right now?” He asked, you could hear some shuffling before you heard him lay onto a mattress. “I’m with Kie, everything good?” “Yeah just wondering if you wanted to-“ JJ was cut off as your phone slipped out of your hand and onto the floor of Kie’s car. “Wait babe repeat that I dropped you” you yelled so that he could hear you as you reached for your phone. “I was just calling to see if you wanted to have phone sex” he replied casually. You must have accidentally pressed the speaker when it fell and now you frantically moved in order to grab your phone.

“Fuck JJ you were on speaker” you spoke into the phone and looked over to find Kie trying her best to suppress her laugh. You could feel your face heat up and you debated on what to say next before deciding, “call me in two hours” and hanging up.

“Kinda wish I hadn’t heard that” Kie finally speaks up. You remove your head from your hands and look at her, “i really had no idea he was going to say that”.

“All I’m saying is that robbing rich people isn’t wrong, it's like restoring balance,” JJ argues, removing his snapback to put it back on, backwards this time.

“It’s too dangerous” Kie tries to explain, Pope and John B already agreeing with her.

“Eh I don’t know, it could be fun?” You side with JJ. The day had been unfulfilling, you all could use an adventure. “You’re dating JJ, obviously you’re going to choose him” Pope says, gesturing between you and JJ. You scoff, “I am my own person, my opinion doesn’t rely on him” you reply.

“Look how about this? We just check the place out, don’t do anything until we know it's risk-free?” you reason. The group doesn’t speak up and seem to be weighing the decision, you take this opportunity to glance at JJ and wink at him.

“Fine, but only to check the place out” John B says with reluctance, tossing the keys to JJ. He catches them with ease as everyone begins to trickle out the door.

“Shotgun” you call out, siding your sunglasses on as you make your way towards the passenger door.

“No, no, no” Kie says, walking at your pace to try to beat you to the door. “Woah what why!” you reply speeding up to pass her. “Because anytime you two are up front, you’re just making eyes at each other and we have to listen to your music” Pope says getting settled in. “He's right” John B states and then shrugs.

“You guys kiss at every red light, it's boring” Kie says fake gagging.

“Oh I’m sorry, next time we’ll french to switch things up” You say, turning around to face Kie, Pope, and John B. All groaning, you turn around and reach to intertwine your hand with JJ’s.

“When JJ isn’t here, it's my responsibility to look good and be reckless” You state before downing 3 vodka shots in a row.

“He didn’t leave, he just went inside to grab more ice” John B says trying to stop you from taking a fourth shot. You swat his hand away but in the process slip the shot on the sand. “Fuck someone pour me another one before he gets back” you pout and look to your friends.

“Before who gets back?” You hear from behind and see JJ waiting for your response.

“Nobody. Did you find what you needed?” you say quickly attempting to change the topic. Although you had just taken the shots, your body begins to feel warm. It was the beer you had pre-gamed with mixing along with the vodka. “Nah I think I lost it” he says walking towards you.

“I have one in my bag” you point him towards the direction of the bag, and allow him to search through your belongings. Finally, he fishes out a lighter. “When did you start smoking?” Pope questions.

“I don’t” you simply state, taking a huge swing of the drink JJ had given you to hold. “I carry it for when JJ forgets or loses his” you say again, handing JJ back his cup.

“Aw that’s kinda romantic” Kie says, the blunt she had split with a few others finally starting to take effect on her.

“Yep, I’m the responsible one” you declare with a smile plastered on your face and the alcohol in your system causing you to slouch against JJ’s shoulder for support.

“Says the one two drinks away from blacking out” JJ teases, swiping back the drink you had somehow taken out of his hand again. “You’re just afraid to drink like me, because you don’t want to admit I have a higher tolerance” you argue, lifting your head to face his and squinting your eyes towards him in a challenging manner.

“Is that so?” he questions. “Yes” you say.

“Oh you’re on” He says, downing what was left of the cup and reaching to pour himself a shot.

“Great we’re gonna have two passed out people we have to carry home” Kie sighs.

a/n: Thanks for reading! I will post more soon, I have about 3 prompts waiting to be written in my notes app.

#JJ Imagine #jj x reader #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank #Outer Banks #obx #outer banks fic #jj x you #jj fanfiction #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x reader #outer banks x reader #outer banks netflix #outer banks jj #obx jj

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vendettaparker · 3 years

Text

Where’s My Love: Chapter 2- A Second Chance [T.H]

Summary: Tom learns what it feels like to watch a flower die; though I suppose a heart that is broken is a heart that was loved. Harrison reminds everyone about the finality of death.

Word Count: 4.7k of pure pain

Warnings: Angst (like the most i’ve ever written; which is saying something), mentions of sex, mentions of alcoholism, depression, cursing, character death, unhealthy grieving, grief in general, very very small mention of/hint to suicide (it’s extremely brief and you might even miss it, but it’s there)

a/n: i lowkey am kinda sorry about how sad this is. i’m just now realizing how sad this series is going to be as a whole (today i came up with a new plot idea and it made me cry just thinking about it so...), anyways, technically you could argue that this has a happy ending, so theres that to look forward to :) also you’re my best friend if you catch the WandaVision reference! reblogs, likes, and feedback is extremely appreciated! this series hasn’t been doing great in the notes department :( i’m still gonna write it obvi, but anything helps with the motivation, thanks <3 ps. thanatos is the god of death

Series Masterlist| Main Masterlist

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

“Tom,” You smiled up at your husband, eyes shining in the moonlight and heart swelling with love. “We should go home soon. There’s still more to be done tonight.”

Tom smirked and tilted your face up, capturing your soft lips in a heated kiss, tongue slipping in and clashing with yours. He pulled away after a while of savoring your taste, lips pink and swollen, “You’re right, darling. There’s still so much to do tonight.” Tom lips travelled further down to your jawline, where he kissed, nipped, and sucked, leaving a dark pink love bite.

You whimpered and tugged at his unruly curls, bringing his lips closer to your sweet spot. Tom chuckled and littered kisses and marks all up and down your collar bones. You brought his face up to yours and kissed him, practically shoving your mouth onto his in a clash of teeth and tongue.

Tom pulled away and groaned, “You’re gonna be the death of me, love.” His eyes darkened with arousal and you smirked, knowingly.

Your breathing slowed and you giggled, pushing him away gently, “Then we better get to it, lover.”

Tom stood up from where you were both lying, holding a hand out to help you up as well. You placed your hand in his and basked in the warmth of his touch. Something so simple as holding hands was enough to make you feel electric. Bursts of tingles and butterflies filled your body. You felt like you were on fire, burning up with the desire to feel him, touch him, and just love him.

All the while, an evil in the form of Aristaeus watched from the shadows, his disdain growing for Tom by the minute. He watched as Tom held you close, as he seized every opportunity to kiss you. His hatred for the son of Apollo only deepened when he saw how your eyes shone and how your smiled grew in his presence. How perfect you looked and how all the intimacy and love you possessed was now only for Tom. You were only for Tom, and Aristaeus just couldn’t have that.

Watching Tom’s smile and listening to his care-free laugh, he knew that he needed to feel that. He needed the source of that type of happiness.

Aristaeus waited in the shadows for his moment to take what he wanted. Dagger clutched in his hand and blade sharpened, ready for use. The moment he saw you and Tom stand up and begin the journey back to your villa, he knew the time was now.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

With your hand clasped tightly in Tom’s, you began the trek back to the villa you’d purchased for the two of you. You swung your hands up with Tom’s as you both happily made your journey in comfortable silence.

You reveled in the way his hand felt in yours. Warm, encasing your entire being in warmth. It was so simple, just his hand clutching yours, holding your hand and your heart. There are only so many ways to describe love, and his hand in yours said more than any empty words could.

Your peacefulness was interrupted when you heard a shuffling in the wooded area you were walking through. The bush you were passing shook and soon Aristaeus launched out of it, dagger in hand, aimed at Tom. You screamed and Tom pushed you away to keep you away from the evading blow.

Tom dodged the attack, swiftly throwing a punch to the offender's jaw, momentarily stunning him. Tom grabbed your hand, and began running through the woods. You could hear the shouts and curses of Aristaeus behind you, quickly gaining speed on the gravelly road.

In an attempted detour, you ran through the thicket, hoping the thick mixture of branches and thorns would diverge the route of the crazed man chasing you. The thrones pricked at your skin and scratched up your face. Tom was no better, hand slowly loosening up on yours due to the pain of the thrones scrapping up his arms.

“Tom!” You yelped, tripping on a small log. The momentum of the fall ripping your hand from his, leaving his cold. Tom, stressed and frantic, kept running, unaware of the fact that you were no longer behind him.

“Come on (Y/N)! We’re almost home!” Tom yelled back, seeing the light of a clearing just up ahead. Tom jumped through the last few branches, breathing heavily once he reached the other side of the woods. He ended up in a meadow, close to your home. Tom turned around to hug you and make sure you were alright, but you were nowhere to be found.

“Love, we made it! Look, our villa’s right over ther—” Tom cut himself off, realizing he was now alone.

Tom began walking back into the woods, a sharp shot of anxiety ran up his spine. Why wouldn’t she follow me? He thought, is she hurt? Tom continued, his thought quickly being interrupted by a pained scream.

“(Y/N)? (Y/N)!?” Tom ran where he heard the scream and then the whimpers. His heart dropping to his stomach, bile rising. He finally found you, laid out in a pile of daisies, leg purple and bruised, small drops of blood coming from two puncture wounds in your leg.

It didn't take a genius to figure out what had happened, and the snake slithering away from your limp body told Tom all he needed to know.

Aristaeus had fled upon seeing you. He too knew, and he even saw with his own eyes, what had happened. The viper dug in deep and long, the poison immediately taking effect on you.

“(Y/N)? Fuck, darling?” Tom crouched down to your still body. He didn’t want to believe what he was seeing, he didn’t want to believe the pained look in your eyes, or the tears welled up in his. “It’s okay, love. You’re alright. Can you move? Can you get up? Please?”

Tom did his best to help you up, but you were limp, no movement in your entire body, only your eyes showed the fear you were feeling.

“Tom,” you mumbled, tears streaming down your cheeks, “I-I can’t feel anything.” You cried softly, your face almost stoic from the poison coursing through your veins.

“No, no, darling. You can feel me, right?” Tom grabbed your limp hand and squeezed, expecting a squeeze in return. Yet nothing came, your hand remained cold and limp in his.

You choked out a sob, “I can’t feel you.” Tears streamed down the side of your face, soaking the ground beneath your head, leaving small weeds in their wake.

Tom let out a painful whimper at your words. “Darling, it’s okay, we’re okay. Yeah? We’re gonna go home, and then you can lay down and get better, okay? I’ll bring you tea and flowers and Paddy will come over and play chess with you. Doesn’t that sound nice?” Tom’s tears soaked into your now cold skin, momentarily warming it.

“Yeah…” you mumbled softly, tears slowing and breath hitching.

“Yeah, and t-then Sam can come over and bring your favorite meal, o-or maybe a cake? And Harrison can work on your garden, so it won’t be limp when you get better. And I'll serenade you every night, even after you’re well, because I love you. And we’re gonna make it through this, just hold on.”

His words faded in and out, beginning to sound muffled and underwater. Your head tilted to the side, clearly seeing the immeasurable pain etched onto his features. Tom caught your gaze and still, still tried to manage a small, hopeful smile. Deep down Tom knew this was pointless, he knew you wouldn’t ever make it home to see the villa, or the gift he left in the garden. The golden potted plant—an orchid—was now going to be a constant reminder to what he lost. But he could fake it, and fuck, he was going to fake it like it was real.

He would trick himself for the rest of his life until he truly believed you were okay. But he wouldn’t have to wait that long, because sitting there, holding your near lifeless body in his arms, he was ready to believe anything that even remotely implied you were okay.

Just past Tom you could see a figure watching you from the shadows. His suit was black and his white hair was gelled back. He stepped out of the shadows and tapped his foot impatiently, as if waiting for your time to be up. And then it hit you. You knew this man—or rather this god.

“Thanatos…” you whispered, eye’s finally glazing over with lifelessness. The now once bright and vibrant eyes, now dull and empty. A mere shell of what they once were.

“No, no, no!” Tom screamed, his painful wails being heard by the whole town. “No! (Y/N), come back! Please, please, please, please, please…”

You were now standing away, a lonely spectator to the happenings in the woods on this mortal realm.

“Come, child.” Thanatos held his hand out, ready to lead you away.

“But I never got to say goodbye.” Your eyes welled up with tears, seeing Tom frantically shake your body, trying to bring you back to life. “I never got to live my life with him.”

Thanatos gave your shoulder a comforting squeeze, “We must go now. Don’t worry, little one. You will see him again.”

∘₊✧──────✧₊

Tom didn’t move. He didn’t eat, he didn’t sleep. He wished he didn’t even breathe. He sat in the villa and stared at the now dying orchid, limp and sickly, in the golden pot. You never even got to see it, he thought, you would’ve loved it.

All of Tom’s thought’s surrounded you, and how he could no longer hold you. He felt so cold, he found no joy in things he used to. And all he wanted to do was cry. But he couldn’t. He’d cried himself dry over the past three days. Now all he felt was pain, and he couldn’t even ease it with tears.

“Tom,” Harrison snapped him out of his daze, pulling his gaze away from the dying orchid. “It’s time.”

Tom let out a breath, pained and labored. Today was the day. The day your body would be laid to rest. The day that you would truly be lost to him.

“Come on, everyone’s waiting for you.”

Tom groggily pulled himself from the bed. He dressed slowly and carefully, wanting to look his best for the last time he’d see you. Every intake of breath hurt his head, another painful reminder that he was here and you weren’t. He was alive, and you were gone.

The clearing that he once found solace in was cold. The flowers around him were limp and dying, and the world just looked gray. The color was gone from his eyes and all he could think was, it should’ve been me.

Paddy hadn’t spoken a word since he heard of your death. He hardly even looked at Tom, every time he did the young boy would tear up and look away, too embarrassed of his tears to let them be seen. But in the dark, in the comfort of his bed, he cried for you. His first encounter with death, and it had to be you. His heart hurt more than his young mind could comprehend; he could hardly imagine what Tom was feeling.

Harry and Sam were numb. They hardly knew how to feel. They loved you like a sister but only knew you for a few months. Was it appropriate to mourn the loss of someone you only knew for a moment? Was it ignorant to fein a stoic exterior when your sister was gone? In the comfort of each other, the boys mourned. They cried a bit, but mostly tried their best to remember the good times. Harry remembered how you always backed him up in an argument, even against Tom, and how you always expressed how blessed you felt getting to know their family. Sam remembered how you always volunteered to be his test subject for his dishes. How you were always sweet, but honest. You fit so well into their lives, it was almost impossible to imagine you wouldn’t be in them anymore.

Harrison couldn’t believe it, or rather he didn’t want to. He held Tom close, and tried to convince him that everything was okay. He was the rock the group leaned on in any way they could.

He was a rock, and he was cracking. He found himself alone in clearing multiple times, watering the flowers, doing his best to keep them afloat, and yet they still withered away. He tried to feel you there, so he could tell Tom that maybe you weren’t truly gone, but all he felt was the absence of your presence.

Tom looked at the patch of dirt you laid under. He looked at it and all he felt was anger. Anger at Aristaeus for leading you to your death, anger at the viper that sealed your fate, anger at the gods for letting you be taken, and anger at himself for living through it.

The ceremony was short; just him and his brothers, gathered around a patch of dirt, crying.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Everyone was forced to cope. They all had their tricks to make the pain ease. Paddy would play chess by himself, wishing you were there for him to beat, but mostly remembering how many times you praised his amazing chess skills and made him feel special. Harry and Sam took on the duty of attempting to fix your garden in the clearing. They took shifts watering the plants and picking out the weeds.

Harrison smiled whenever he saw wild daisies. They always reminded him of you, partially for your pure innocence, but also because when you first met him, you gave him a flower crown made out of daisies. The crown was now limp and wilted, but he would treasure it until the day it withered away.

Tom suffered the most, though. He lost not only his soulmate, but his best friend. His coping consisted of copious amounts of alcohol to help him sleep, then he would see you in his dreams, and he’d have to drink more to stop from feeling the constant pit in his stomach growing with each baited breath.

“Tom, this isn’t healthy.” Harrison chided each time he walked into the murky depths of his bedroom; which was at least twice a day to check on the poor boy.

Harrison sat on Tom's bed as Tom laid on his stomach, facing away from him. Tom would grumble, then sniffle and completely ignore the presence of someone new in his room. The bed would be musty, his hair would be in knots, and his eyes would have a constant red rimmed appearance accentuated by the dark circles that resided underneath.

“Tom come on, let’s go for a walk. Sam and Harry fixed up the garden a bit; I think you’d like it.” Harrison shook Tom’s shoulder gently, prompting him to face the blonde.

“It won’t be the same.” Tom mumble, voice hoarse and wobbly.

“I know, but they worked hard on it. They’re grieving too, y’know?”

“Of course I fucking know.” Tom snapped, swatting Harrison’s hand away, “You think I don’t know how much of an impact she had on all of us? You think I don’t hear Paddy crying at night when he thinks he’s alone, or the way he refuses to look at me?”

“Tom—”

“You think I don’t know that this is my fault?” Tom sobbed, burning holes with his harsh gaze into Harrison. “I know, Haz. I know all too well how we’re all grieving.”

Tom broke down, heaving and rambling about how it was his fault, about how helpless you looked, and how broken he was. All Harrison could do was listen.

“She died in my arms, Haz. S-she curled up and just… died.” Tom spoke barely above a whisper, his crying ruining his voice. “She looked so scared and I couldn't help her. I couldn’t save her.”

“I know.” Harrison was crying now too, tears falling from his diamond eyes.

“It was supposed to be me. The attacker was after me. I-I should’ve taken the hit, and then she’d be alive.”

“No, Tom. You don’t know that that would’ve saved her from this fate.” Harrison scolded Tom’s reckless words. “She could’ve died a day later, or minutes later. Life is not a guarantee. Tom.”

“At least we would’ve been together.”

Harrison frowned, “In the underworld? And what type of existence would that have been?”

Some turned away from Harrison, “One where we would at least have each other.”

Harrison softened his gaze and held Tom close before he could protest, “You still have us. I know it’s not what we want right now, but it’s what you need. You can’t go through this alone; I won’t let you.”

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

As the weeks went by, Tom’s grief continued to eat away at him. Try all he might, he could never escape you. You were in all of his favorite things. His lyre now laid dusty and cold next to his bed, it hadn’t been touched since your wedding night.

He held it together as long as he could, but it was too much. The pain ripped away at him and ate him up. One day he reached his breaking point. He needed you to come home. He needed you in his arms. Nothing in this mortal world could ever compare to your sweet kisses and loving praises. Nothing would ever satiate him again.

How could this have happened? How could the gods have cursed him this way. He was a good man, he did all that was expected of him. He went above and beyond for his community, for others. He helped find and procure the fleece that placed Jason rightfully on the throne of Iolcus in Thessaly. His music cured lost souls, helped them find solitude and comfort in his songs. He did everything right. And yet the gods mock and torture him by taking you away. Ripping his other half from him, stealing you. The only comfort in his otherwise lonesome life. There’s no need for old age, sickness, or murder to take him away now; his grief will surely get the job done.

“Tom,” Harrison, spoke softly, taking in the man who’s broken soul was starting to shine through to his exterior appearance. His hair matted, eyes red and puffy, knuckles bruised from letting his anger out on the pillars over his home. What was supposed to be your home. Now the clay brick home was cold, your presence no longer there to bring natural warmth. “Tom, come on. You have to keep going.” Harrison put a hand on his friend's shoulder, giving it a hearty squeeze. “She wouldn’t want this for you. She loved you.”

“Then why was she taken from me?” Tom burst, hands flying to his hair, gripping his unruly curls. “Why would the gods allow this pain? I’ve done it all. I was so good, I-I did all that they asked of me.”

“Tom, please just come—”

“No! Harrison, don’t you see? I can’t move on! I can’t think about anything other than what was lost, what I lost. There must be a way to get her back. I’d do anything, just to hold her one more time. To love her, like it’s all I was put here on this Earth to do.” Tom pushed Harrison’s hand away. “Help me. Please, find a way.”

Harrison sighed sadly, rubbing his face with his hands. Tom, the most deserving person of his happy ending had it ripped from him, and there was nothing that could be done. Almost as if it was fate, there were no loopholes. Expect maybe—no. It was too risky. The god of the underworld was not a merciful man.

“Harrison? You have something?” Tom looked at his friend, a glint of barely visible hope in his eyes, the type that only the thought of you could bring. The look on Harrison’s face clearly showed that the gears in his head were turning. This look always brought about Harrison’s best ideas, or in this case, his only one.

“I— well, it’s not plausible.” Harrison debated. “You’d need your father’s help, and even so,” he whispered the last part “you’d need to go to the Underworld and bargain with Hades.”

Tom looked at his friend in shock? How could this be the only plan he’s come up with? A plan that would surely get Tom killed, or worse, turned into a lost soul. “What? No, no— there has to be another way. There are other gods—more merciful— who would help us.”

Harrison shook his head, “I’m sorry, Tom. But death? That’s final. The only god with the power to bring (Y/N) back is Hades. And he always has a price.”

Tom debated his options, one being the clear winner. He knew he couldn’t go on without you, he wasn’t strong enough. If he were less selfish then maybe he’d find a way to find joy again. But he needed you more than he needed the air in his lungs. He didn’t care if he was being selfish, trying to bring you back to a world that had just gotten used to life without you. He spent his whole life being selfless, helping others. It was time to get what he was due, what he was owed: His happy ending.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Tom paced and pondered, his restless mind a futile assistance in this matter. His thoughts only focused on you and how to bring you home. In the beginning, he took into account all of the risks he’d be taking going to the underworld and bringing you back. He’d need to enlist the help of his father, to persuade Hades to listen to his pleas. He’d need to safely get in and out of the Underworld with you entow, and the hardest part of all; he’d need Hades permission for you to come home.

It was not that Hades was cruel or unjust; he was just simply too fair. Death is final and Hades followed that order to a tee. He scarcely made exceptions and when he did there was always a price that needed to be paid. Usually, that price was worth the life of the soul being returned, a hefty sum.

Tom hardly worked out the intricacies of his plan before Harrison caught him, bag packed and determination scrawled across his face.

“Tom, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Harrison chided, standing in between Tom and the doorway.

“I’m getting her back, Haz. I need her home. You guys may be able to move on and be okay, but I can’t. She meant more to me than any of you will ever know.”

“You’re gonna get yourself killed, Tom.” Harrison spoke in a hushed whisper as to not alert the others to what was going on, “What happens then, huh? How do you think we will feel then? We already lost (Y/N), Tom; we can’t afford to lose you too.”

Tom’s eyes glistened with frustration and unshed tears, “but I’m not complete without her…” he whispered, sniffling. “I have to do what I can.”

“No, Tom. I’ve let this go on long enough.” Harrison spoke sternly, “You have to move on. I’m sorry because I know it’s not fair. I know that this shouldn’t have happened. It broke all of us. But you need to come back to us, okay? You need to move on with your life. Paddy is thirteen, Tom. He has no father-figure, he needs you. Harry and Sam have been by your side since they were babies, they need you. And you're my best friend, I need you. You don’t get to walk out on us because of your pain, because we never walked out on you. We were hurting, yet we stayed by your side. You need to do the same for us.” Harrison gave Tom a tightlipped smile, “Please, Tom. Just try.”

Tom had never seen such anguish in Harrison's eyes. He knew him and his brothers had also been struggling and he knew he was being selfish. He needed to do better.

“Okay,” Tom choked out, tears streaming down his cheeks, “I’ll try.” Tom placed his bag down on the floor and sat on the bed. He placed his face in his hands and sniffled out sobs. It was time for him to let you go.

Harrison left Tom alone in his dark room, shaking with anger. Once again the anger had returned, tenfold. Tom just wished he’d held your hand tighter, maybe then he’d be in your arms right now. Instead he was alone in his room, mind clouded with guilt and exhaustion.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

“Tom.” Your voice whispered in his ear, taunting him. Reminding him of what he lost. What he couldn’t save. The only one he couldn't save. The only one he needed to save.

“I’m right here, Tommy.” You never ceased. You constantly called to him as he tried his best to put his tortuous thoughts to rest. You stood over him, eyes wide in fear. You watched him, and you whispered.

“Tommy, why couldn’t you save me?”

You broke his heart all over again every night.

He sat up in his bed, body wet with sweat and eyes clouded with tears.

“(Y/N). Please, darling,” he begged, “I tried, please, I’m still trying.” You walked over and stood right above him, face inches apart. It was almost as if he could smell the sweet scent of flowers on you. The orchids and daisies you loved so much wafting over him, calming him. Until your cold, dead grip latched onto his shoulder.

“You failed, my love.”

Tom woke with a start, screaming and crying into the empty abyss of his room. You were nowhere to be found. He couldn’t take it anymore. He needed you back. You needed to come home and never leave his side ever again. If he had to spend one more day without you, he’d lose it. He’d become the monster he felt like on the inside. All the dark, twisty despair holed up in his heart would rush out in acts of unchecked rage and violence. He was never the villain, but he would be.

He couldn’t follow through with his promise to Harrison. He couldn't just move on and pretend that life made any sense without you, because it didn’t. Nothing made sense, and everything hurt.

Zeus created humans to have another half, and they would spend the rest of their lives if they had to, searching for it. You were Tom’s, and you were ripped away from him. That just won’t do.

He couldn’t spend another night lying awake, thoughts ripping apart his mind. He couldn’t sleep either, or else he’d see you. See what you’ve become. A ghost of happier times. A reminder of what never was and never will be. A figment of his ill fated mind.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

The next morning, Paddy went into Tom’s room to bring him breakfast, as usual. It’s been months since he’s eaten with his brothers, and the new normal was one of them toughing it out and giving him his food in his room, then listening to his cries form outside the door for a moment, just to gauge if he was getting better; he never was.

Paddy was about to knock but paused before, gently pressing his ear up against the door. He didn’t hear crying like he usually did, he didn’t even hear sniffles.

Paddy hesitantly opened the door, afraid of what he might find. The silence was all too scary for the young boy. Once the door was fully opened Paddy got a good look around, not seeing Tom anywhere.

Paddy dropped the bowl of food on the floor and ran for Harrison.

“Harrison! Harrison! Sam! Harry! Anyone!” Paddy yelled out, running around the garden looking for the boys. He slammed into Harrison, who was just on his way to the garden.

The force knocked the wind out of a crying Paddy and slammed him into the ground.

“Woah,” Harrison breathed out, bending down to help Paddy up. Paddy gasped to catch his breath and attempted to stop the tears.

“What happened, kid?” Harrison rubbed his bruised back, “Come on, Paddy, breathe.”

“G-Gone…” Paddy wheezed out, “Tom’s gone.”

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

tags and moots: @justapurrcat @itsapeterthing @peterbenjiparker @kelieah @portraitoforion @ptersmj @princessofguineapigs @cherrytholland @waitimcomingtoo @rosyparkers @iovebug @hollandcrush @celestialbarnes @blissfulparker @starktonyx @asonofpeter @keithseabrook27 @devildisguiseasangel @felicityparkers @selfcarecap

#tom holland #tom holland au #tom holland series #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland angst #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fluff #greek mythology fic #orpheus and eurydice

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nite-shay · 4 years

Text

Surprise! (Kirishima Eijirou x Reader)

Funny little idea I had. Reader finds out she is prego and wants to surprise her hubby with the news :)

A/N: Nothing really. Charters are aged up. Female pronouns used.

Hope you enjoy it and sorry for typos, grammar and spelling errors! :)

************

You were practically floating through your local market store's aisles, humming has you picked up items on your list.

Today was a beautiful day. The birds were singing, the sun was shining, and nothing could ruin your mood.

Not even the grumpy old lady blocking our path, complaining to a stock boy about ketchup prices could bring you down!

Any why might you ask?

Because today you got the best news in the world.

A few days ago, you went to your local clinic. You'd been feeling rather tired here lately and even a bit nauseous. You honestly thought nothing of it and just figured you had a stomach bug that'd been going around.

Image your surprise when the nurse on the other end of the phone informed you that you were not sick, just pregnant.

It took a few seconds for the information to process, but the moment it does. Oh boy! You screamed and cried in pure joy to the poor, probably now partially deaf nurse on the other end.

After many thank yous and a few apologies, you practically hung up on the women wanting to call your husband imminently.

You tried him on his cell and on his desk, but he must have been out on patrol. Meaning you wouldn't hear from him until much much later in the day

Damn.

That burst your bubble, but that just gave a chance to be... well, creative in your news delivery method. You'd spent the last few hours researching and watching videos in the theme of 'Surprising the father baby announcements.'

And boy, oh boy, did you get some ideas! Too many ideas! But you settled on one method in particular.

You smiled as you made your way over to the produce section.

Ah-ha! There's an item on your shopping list.

You reached out and grabbed two bags of baby carrots before tossing them into your cart.

It would be a night your husband would never forget!

Later that night...

Let me start off by saying this. You love your husband. Very very much.

Your husband, Kirishima Eijirou, is the most wonderful man on the planet. He is an amazing and loving husband. He is also an amazing hero. Ranked one of the best in Japan and one of the friendliest. The man is a literal saint who against all odds befriended Bakugou for goodness sake! You love him more than life itself.

Your husband is a lot of things but currently, you can only think of one way to describe your husband. In the words of the blonde explosive best friend, 'he has rocks for brains'.

Bless your husband's heart some days, he can be denser than his skin in his unbreakable form.

You expected him to overlook some of the food you made, BUT NOT EVERY FUCKING THING!

You made a spread of baby-related foods that could give a buffet restaurant a run for their money. You had it all, baby carrots, baby spinach, baby artichokes, baby corn, baby back ribs, fingerling potatoes, a cornish hen, deviled eggs, popcorn shrimp, you had it all! Hell, you even dropped a 'bun in the oven reference'. Twice!

But did he see the pattern?

Nope!

His only response was to stare/drool at the food and said, 'wow hun, if I'd known you be making this much food, I'd have invited Amajiki and Togata over'. Later on, he commented on how Fatgum would be jealous of the amazing food he's going to have for lunch tomorrow'.

While you appreciate the comments on your cooking. You could have strangled at that moment.

Dense. Very dense.

You chanted in your head while he pigged out, 'I love the father of my child, and I will not beat him over the head with chicken' over and over for most of dinner.

As the night continued, you realized after watching both 'Boss Baby' and 'Storks' that you would have to take drastic measures to get it through his thick skull.

Tomorrow, you'd bring out the big guns!

Maybe you should get Mina involved…

The next day…

"Hey, Red! Wow, what's with all the food?" Fatgum shouted as he watched the redhead placed another container on the table.

"(Y/N) went overboard last night and made a feast! We had a lot of leftovers, so I brought some of them in. Want some?"

"You bet I do! I love her cooking! You really lucked out!"

"Yeah, I did! I have no idea why she made so much food, but I'm ain't complaining!" He flagged over Amajiki, who just walked into the breakroom. "Hey, Amajiki! Join us!"

"T-thanks…." He shuffled over and eyed the spread of food on the table. "Um… Kirishima… was yesterday a special day or something for the two of you?"

"No, I don't th-WAIT" Kirishima had a moment of panic before checking his phone. "Nope. Our anniversary isn't for another few months, and her birthday was last month." He sighed in relief. "Man, Jiki, you can't do that to me. You bout gave me a heart attack." He took a bite of food. "Why'd ya ask anyways?"

"Well… it's just… this is a lot of food... And very...v-very… specific food that doesn't seem to go together, in a traditional sense…" The quiet man commented.

"What do ya mean?"

Fatgum took a second look at the food before his eyes went wide. "I-I think I see where you're going with this Sun.." He put down his bowl while his redhead appearance just looked cluelessly between the two. "So Red, what happened last night?"

"Nothing really. I came home, and she made this awesome food, we ate, watched a few movies and then went to bed." He shrugged his shoulders.

"Did she say anything about her day, or did she seem like she wanted to talk to you about something?"

"No. I mean, she said she had an awesome day but didn't really say what was so awesome about it. She looked great! Like… I don't know, she just… had this.. glow? Yeah, that's the word. She just seemed to be glowing! I mean, I'm not saying she wasn't attractive before! She's drop-dead gorgeous, but I don't know, here recently she's just been…. Wow…" Kirishima's features softened as he thought of his wife while Fat and Amajiki looked at each other. The older man's eyes lit up while the younger dark hair man gave a half-smile.

"H-has she been feeling ok?" Amajiki pressed.

"Yea-" He paused for a moment. "Well, she did say she wasn't feeling too good the other day and that she went to the doctor... She didn't say what they said, though.." He crossed his arms while he thought back. "Now that I think about it, she really didn't eat much last night, and I could have sworn I heard her throwing up this morning... But she just brushed it off when I asked about it…"

"Did she say what she thought was w-wrong?"

"No, she didn't. I even asked her if she wanted me to stay home with her today, but she said she'd be fine. She did promise me she'd take it easy." He almost jumped up. "You guys don't think she's getting sick, do you? I know there's been a stomach bug going around…"

"Oh, it sounds like she got bitten by a bug, alright!" Fat couldn't keep it in any longer as he gave the redhead a wide smile.

"Seriously? What do we do? Wouldn't the doctors have found out if she did? Do you think it was poisonous?!?!" Kirishima jumped up like he was ready to take off back home to tend to his 'sick' wife.

"Easy Red." Fat roared with laughter. "She'll be fine, but she's going to be feeling the effects of this for the next…. I'd say nine-ish months…."

"Huh?"

"Kirishima, I think you r-really need to go home and talk to your wife…" Amajiki interjected while Fat wiped the tears from his eyes, trying to control his laughter. Which he was failing at btw.

"Come on, guys! I'm freaking out here! Is (Y/N) ok?" The hero pleased with them trying to get a straight answer.

"Eijirou?" Every head in the room twisted in your direction as you stood in the doorway.

"(Y/N)! You're here! Are you ok? You haven't seen any weird spiders or anything around, right?" Kirishima rushed over to you as you made your way into the breakroom. You'd heard Fatgum laughing from down the hall and figured your husband was too far away.

"Spiders? Wait, what?"

"Fatgum thinks you might have been bitten by a bug! How are you feeling? Do you need a doctor?"

"Honey. Sweetie. I'm fine, I've already talked to the doctor." You chuckled as you tried to soothe your frazzled husband.

"You have? That's great! What did they say?"

"Well…" You trailed off. This wasn't going as planned. Your plan was to visit him in his office and surprise him with the little gift bag in your hand; from there, you hopped, he'd get the picture. The top item was a cute little 'I'm a riot' Red Riot baby onesie you in the merch store down the street. The next was a mini-set of red baby crocs. If he didn't get it at that point across, your last resort was the medical report from the doctor's office, showing that you were, in fact, pregnant. You made sure to highlight it, just to be safe.

"I'm afraid you're just going to have to be blunt about it (Y/N). He's really not getting it. Congratulations btw the way!" Fatgum was chuckling slightly still as he scratched the back of his head sheepishly.

"S-sorry if we mess anything up…" Amajiki mumbled apologetically.

"Thanks! And don't worry about Amajiki, it's fine! This works out better anyway!" You smiled over at the two before turning your attention back to the love of your life.

"Congratulations? Wait, what don't I get? Babe, please tell me what's going on". The worry in his eyes nearly broke your heart.

"Honey" You grabbed his face with both hands and made him look you right in the eyes. "I'm pregnant."

His body stilled, and his eyes were wide. He just stood there staring at you for the longest time; you swear you could almost see the little hamster in his head go flying off its wheel and pinball around his skull.

"Eiji? Did you hear me?" No response. He didn't even seem to be breathing. "I think I might have broken him." You glanced over to the older man in yellow before returning to those crimson orbs.

You were honestly starting to get worried at this point. Was he just shocked? Was he happy... or... did he not want it? Finally, though, he seems to come back to his senses.

Blink. Blink Blink. Deep breath in. Blink. Blink. Deep breath out.

"Y-Your…..preg...p-pregnant….."

"Yes. I'm pregnant." You choked a little up as it finally seemed to sink into that thick lovable skull of his. However, his expression didn't waver, and you still couldn't tell whether he was happy or not.

"I'm… going to be a dad?" You could feel him start to tremble beneath your hands.

On no.. he doesn't...

Your eyes started to water, but you try to keep your smile in place. "Y-yes. You are..".

"I'm going to be a… dad?" It was taking everything you had not to break down then and there

But then.. it happened.

You watched as his face lit up with the biggest grin you had ever seen. His eyes glistened with tears until they streamed down his cheeks. "I'M GOING TO BE A DAD!!!!" Your pretty everyone on the whole floor heard his declaration, and before you knew it, you were being dragged into a tight hug and swung around the room.

For the next hour, the two of you laughed, cried, and went around the ENTIRE building so your husband could tell everyone the news. Afterward, you showed him your little gifts, and that caused another trip around the building so he could show off the baby items and, much to your embarrassment, the test results.

Fatgum quickly realized that nothing else on the planet would get the red headed hero to focus on work right now, so he let him have the day off to celebrate.

After a round of visiting and phone calls to friends and family, the two of you were finally home. The moment the two of you were in your home, he pulled you to your bedroom for the most intense cuddle section you had ever had.

"I'm... going to be a dad…" He whispered while gently rubbing your belly where.

"Yes. Yes, you are." You couldn't help but grin and give him a slow sweet kiss, which he gladly returned.

"God, I love you so much…"

"I love you too. "

"Promise me one thing…" Suddenly his gaze narrowed as he looked you in the eyes with a serious expression.

"Anything…" You shifted, a little nervous in his abrupt mood change.

"If... If.." He swallowed hard.

"What's wrong, sweetie?" Now you were worried.

"If I'm ever that stupidly dense again, please, PLEASE, knock some sense into me!" You burst into a fit of laughter while he just pokes his lip out in a pout. "I'm serious! Get someone, anyone to knock me into next week! Tetsu, Bakugou, Hell call Midoriya! After everything I missed, I deserve a Detroit smash upside the head!"

Thanks for the read! If you want see the other stuff I’ve done, click the link bellow!

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#bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha reader insert #mha reader insert #kirishima x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #eijirou x reader #bnha x you #mha x you #BNHA Headcanons #bnha imagines #mha headcanons #mha imagines #kirishima eijiro imagine #Kirishima Eijirou x reader #kirishima eijirou imagine #kirishima eijirou headcanons #bnha kirishima x reader

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moonlightjeno · 4 years

Text

ten things and then some | l.j

𝕡𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘 :: jeno x reader 𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕞 :: based on the poem from 10 things i hate about you if you haven’t watched it fo yourself a favor and go watch the movie bc it’s a m a z i n g. ty 𝕨𝕔 :: 15.5k this is the longest thing i’ve ever written wow. 𝕒/𝕟 :: y’all jeno fits the concept to this p e r f e c t l y, and no i am not being biased :) and a massive massive thank you to @smoljh for helping me and giving me feedback, you’re the sweetest. and ofc to my soulmate girl yk i love you to the moon and back, and i hope you enjoy this piece @mangotexts ( truly the best hype woman anyone could ask for ).

everything in bold is part of the poem, from “10 things i hate about you”

I hate the way you talk to me,

Sweetheart. love. angel. The words that spin from his mouth every time you hear him talk to you, made you aggravated. It was a constant stream of words that had begun as a prick of annoyance. Every time, he opened his mouth, looking at you with his dark brown eyes.

“Earth to y/n” the snapping of fingers disrupts your train of thought, eyes glancing back to the dark-haired boy on the other side of the school grounds, before landing back on your friend.

“What?” the words slip from your mouth with disinterest, a lack of concern for whatever your friend had been rambling on about for the past five minutes. The small amount of conversation you’d registered was she’d been talking about a party that johnny suh, school alumni, and constant talk around school grounds were throwing as a “welcome to the end of high school”. Though as parties went, you were almost sure that it would encompass school graduates, seniors, and the occasional sophomores and freshmen that would manage to sneak their way in, eyes glittering with excitement as they entered their first high school party.

“Are you coming?” her words were drawn out as if she’d ask you five times before, she might have, and it was only now that you had finally heard the question. The question slightly baffles you, because everyone in school knew you didn’t go to parties since freshman year.

“Uh, no. you know what i think of parties, they’re a waste. An excuse for seniors to think they're above everyone else, as they tell off the younger students that they’ve deemed aren’t ‘cool’ or mature enough, while the freshman walks around with some sort of desperate hope in their eyes as if the world will drastically change if they show up at a senior party. Someone should tell them” you say, looking past your friend whose excited smile has dimmed to a small frown, eyes slightly annoyed, something that doesn’t surprise you at this point. It isn’t a secret what you think of parties either, even if you are best friends with the queen of parties herself. You stop yourself before your eyes have a change of drifting to the brown-haired boy with a leather jacket that tends to sit by the foot of the football field, whom you can’t seem to find, probably smoking the thought is bitter and places a scowl on your face before you look back at your friend, “nothing changes''.

“Just once, one time is all i ask of you” the pleas that come from your friend make you focus on her, her hair is loose ruffled by the light wind that has blown over the course of your conversation. It’s almost enough for you to agree to go to the stupid party, when you see her glance towards mark lee, the boy she’s been crushing on for as long as you’ve known her. It hadn’t surprised you, that she’d fallen for him, when you saw him. The boy who made most girls swoon, but who had somehow managed to beat all the stereotypes of “hot” because mark was also talented, more than you’d like to admit when it came to music, he’d helped you a couple of times when you’d been stuck on a composition, always a smile on his face. so when she glanced towards him, the glittering in her eyes and rose tainted cheeks as mark looked back, flashing a small smile, you couldn’t help but give in.

“I’m going to regret this,” you say, the words a mix of a grunt and an exasperated sigh, but your friend is almost jumping up and down, giving you a quick hug and promising that you wouldn’t regret it, not at all, you’d have the greatest time before she was turning around a skip in her step. A smile graces your face at your friend’s happiness, and it remains there unfaltering until you hear “hello love”

Brown hair made its way into your view, as jeno’s face presented itself in front of you, a cocky smile grazing his features that made your smile falter and eventually turn into a scowl.

“What” the word isn’t a question, more like a complaint as you try to turn around and head in the opposite direction, away from jeno and his sweet words. But his voice trails behind you only a couple of steps away before he’s next to you leather jacket glaring against the end of the summer sun, and you wonder only for a second how he isn’t passing out from the heat.

“Oh come on angel, a lil smile wouldn’t kill you” his words are filled with a tone you can only describe as intolerable, making you slightly gag.

“A smile wouldn’t kill me, but i might kill you” you smile at him, a grin adorning your features, “luv” the words that left your mouth are meant to push jeno away and have him leave you alone, but the boy is persistent and though his smirk falters slightly at the glare you give him, the grin is up and running again as he stops in front of you.

“And then who would you have to glare and fight with luv?” the moment the words leave his mouth he turns away, proud of his line. The dumbass, you think, insults quickly forming in your head and ready to be thrown out towards him but your phone pings, and you thumb it open. The message “see you at the party angel” makes your blood boil slightly, but you can’t hide the way your cheeks slightly turn red and the smile that slowly grazes your face before you make a vulgar gesture to the sweet mouthed boy, and turn away.

As much as you hated to admit, you looked forward to the party only just slightly more than you did five minutes ago, the small nicknames swarming around your head.

And the way you cut your hair.

The too-loud music and blinding lights that could be heard and seen from multiple blocks away, and you almost stopped in your tracks, ready to turn around and head back home. But a pull from your friend as she squealed in excitement at maybe having a chance with mark managed to keep your feet moving towards the flashing lights.

Strong alcohol, tequila, or vodka is something you’re hoping they have at the party so that you can attempt to get away from the sex-craved teenagers that are lined up against the walls, pushing against each other. Just walking into the house, and the stench of cigarettes, weed, and sweat floats through the air almost enough to make you gag, as your nose scrunches up at the sight and smell.

Drinks are set far too far from the entrance of the house, the kitchen seems to be miles away not close enough for your liking until you finally reach it. Johnny, black-haired slicked back, the sunflower tattoo on his forearm a stark contrast to the leather jacket he wears and it makes you smile just slightly at the different personalities the dark-haired boy has. Yet you can’t deny his loud and extravagant personality as he talks from person to person whether senior or freshman, making drinks, even if some of the spillover the sides, you sit by one of the stools ready to get a mixed drink of whatever the alumni is able to concoct before getting the courage and energy to head back into the party and socialize with people you really have no interest in socializing.

In the short minute that it takes johnny to get your drink, the lemon drink shot with a strong tequila is set in front of you just as your friend has left you with the only warning being a sharp look, as she smiled to a brown-haired boy that you can only presume to be Mark, by the way, her face flushes, and she takes a swig from the drink in her hand before leaving you, and you yell a sharp “go get em” before gulping down the liquid inside the red solo cup.

Alcohol you’d forgotten burned down your throat, it’s lingering sharp and bitter taste leaving a tang in your mouth as it traveled down your mouth. You forget that the effect of the drink doesn’t come into effect a little later, where you are jumping up and down on the table, dancing from side to side as the music pumps through your blood and body. You won’t be able to tell that it’s the alcohol that you’d sworn you wouldn’t drink unless surrounded by friends, but most definitely not in a social gathering, that makes you jump from table to table and grab other’s next you as you dance with them. Hair slightly plastered to your face from the sweat, and though you’re dancing your words are slightly fuzzy from the multiple drinks you’d had from random tables you’d pass by.

A sharp tug and pull gets you off the current table and you begin to complain, wanting to continue to let loose to the rhythm of some constant beat song that sounds all too vaguely familiar to your ears, but the arms that are wrapped around you feel oddly warm and comfortable and the protest die slightly on your lips as you turn around to see who’s holding onto you.

Dark brown hair, almost black frames the boy’s face perfectly and you want to run your fingers through it. Some sense of longing for love and being loved passes through you, and now you’ve realized how drunk you truly are as you push down the emotions of attraction to the boy in front of your face showing only the traces of what would be a smile if he wasn’t so concerned for your safety.

“y/n?” the boy asks, and you’re still in a light haze of alcohol that buzzes through your skin and blood making everything fuzzy that you can’t quite picture whose face it is in front of you, whose voice that is soft and gentle towards you and sounds so familiar, to which you only manage to nod your head slightly hair falling in front of your eyes as you smile. It’s small, fluttering, and the boy in front of you smiles too, as he repeats your name, and then the words that leave his mouth make him click into place.

“y/n? Luv? How much have you had?” The word luv, makes you push away from the strong arms that hold you, the classic leather jacket that tends to adorn his body has somehow managed to be wrapped around you, and you realize that you are no longer inside the house with loud music. Instead the music and flashing lights have been replaced by trees and twinkling lights that flash in the dark sky and the distant background of loud music that is too low for your ears to register anything more than a constant drone. Your smile has been replaced by a scowl, and you grunt at the jacket you’re wearing, hating to admit that it’s warm and comforting. You try to speak, the words a slur before you hurl, holding onto your stomach as the content of your lunch and too much alcohol are spilled on the grass floor in front of you.

The acid from your stomach burns your tongue, a bitter taste seems to linger even as you chug down the water that jeno offers you, a small smile gracing his features. And you blame the alcohol, but you smile back at him, and can’t think that maybe he isn’t as bad as you thought he was. You can’t shake the feeling of his hand wrapped around your waist, another holding up your hair as you hurled, and coughed no mocking grin or satisfactory smirk making their way onto his face. Instead a small smile was present, his dark hair that you finally admitted to yourself, made him look hot, was tousled and messy by the wind and it looked cute.

You blame the day’s events and the words that were thrown at you at the beginning of the party making you head straight to the intoxicating drinks. You blame the chemicals that are still in your system, as you sit on the grass dragging jeno to sit next to you, hand intertwined with his. The grass that is cool against your touch, making your skin feel less hot, less sticky, and more conscious. You blame the alcohol and everything it changes in your core, for letting you lean your head against jeno’s shoulder, as his arm wraps around your shoulders pulling you in only slightly, scared to scare you away. You most definitely blame the alcohol as the words that fall from your mouth as you hold onto jeno’s calloused hand.

“I like it” the words are a mumble, whispered into the night air, and it causes jeno to turn just slightly his lips almost touching the crown of your head, “like what?” he whispers back, and you can almost swear a small kiss is placed on the crown of your head.

“Luv”

I hate the way you drive my car.

It seems that the stars want you to hate jeno more than you already do, as he half carries you half drags you to your parked car. The moon shines on the car surfaces mixing in with the dull yellow lights from the evenly spaced streetlights. You wished that you could walk straight, but you still stumble a little, your steps not sturdy until jeno has placed his arm around your waist lifting you up, that you manage to walk to the old vintage car that is parked under one of the dimmed out streetlights.

The sequence of opening the door and you get inside the car occurs in a slight blur, but you find yourself on the passenger seat, head resting against the cool window that makes you jump slightly from the contact. It isn’t until you turn your head as the engine roars to life underneath you that you see jeno by the wheel, adjusting the rear view mirrors to his height and gripping the steering wheel.

Time seemed to stop as you lay in the grass, head tucked in between jeno’s shoulder and his head. It stopped when the last words that had left your mouth had made jeno’s smile widen and his eyes match the moon that shone brightly above the two of you. The droning music has stopped, flashing lights no longer as constant as they were when you had first dragged jeno into the cool grass. In that position did you two lay for hours, a comfortable understanding and silence settling between the two of you until your breaths became constant and your eyes had begun to droop threatening to close that jeno shook you lightly. The only response he got was a small humm that you were still awake, as he pulled you up and started to make your way to the car. Something that seemed almost impossible as jeno had absolutely no idea where the fuck your car was and you didn’t seem to quite remember in your hald drunken half sober very much about to fall asleep state.

Jeno could have almost jumped from joy when he’d seen your eyes brighten up at the sight of a beat-up old red mustang, and you pointed towards it. The moment he had opened the passenger door you had climbed inside curling up next to the door like a cat, and he couldn’t help but think that you were adorable, even when you snapped at him for taking your keys. It was a different side of you that he’d never seen, and he doubted many people did see. One where you weren’t putting on a sort of facade of hating everything around you, but instead you let your eyes relax holding a sort of brightness and glow jeno hadn’t seen before but now couldn’t stop himself from looking at. Stop, jeno scolded himself as he turned to look at the road, car roaring to life.

“Nu-uh” you grunted at seeing jeno aggressively change gears, “stop being so aggressive,” you say as you sit up. The smile that adorned jeno’s face turns into a grin, as he continues to aggressively switch gears as he turns the corner, and you regret ever thinking he was kind.

“My car doesn’t deserve this” you grunt out, and jeno chuckles looking at you from the side, and he loosens his grip slightly on the gear stick.

“You mean my presence? I’m gonna have to agree, sweetheart” you’re not sure if it’s the light trace of chemicals that still surround your brain, or if you’ve really wanted to do this for a while but you don’t stop your fist as it punches jeno in the arm.

“The fuck” leaves jeno’s lips, as he rubs his arm where you’d hit him and you do a little dance on your seat, “don’t hurt my car dumbass” is your only answer before you continue to laugh at the face of confusion and mocked hurt that jeno fakes.

Your laugh rings around the car, and echoes through the street, as the windows at some point where rolled down. The way jeno looks confused makes you laugh harder, and he turns just slightly, his eyes narrow and eyebrows slightly scrunches, and he looks like a confused dog. Alcohol might have made you hit him, but you can’t fathom why you would be laughing at jeno, no not at him but with him as his laugh has joined yours as he drives the car down the street. The ridiculousness of the night catches up with, making you hold onto your stomach as jeno parks into your driveway smile never faltering.

From the way, both of your eyes shine from joy and amusement one could almost swear that the two of you were friends, almost lovers by the way jeno looked at you. But no one was looking at two in the morning, and no one can be there to tell you that the way you two look at each other is in a new way. No gazes filled with mocked sympathy or non-wanted flirtatious remarks, instead, you two seem to gaze into each other’s eyes for what seems too long if it weren’t that neither of you seemed to mind.

And because you are still slightly tipsy, and the stars and moon make jeno look like some sort of angel as his hair is illuminated by a white light, that lights up his face making his eyes a warmer brown that they usually are that you think about opening up yourself to him. Maybe he isn’t as bad as you think, maybe just maybe the nicknames he gives you make you feel a flutter because he could be someone to trust.

Possibilities for the maybes and wants to fill your head, and you don’t realize your eyes have fluttered shut and you are leaning in only slightly a sway towards where jeno is until you feel his hand on your shoulder stopping you, a pitiful gaze grazes his features and you are almost sure you want to go crawl in a hole. Instead, you push him back, opening the car door and slamming it behind you, chin held up as you walk back towards your house, the water in your eyes threatening to spill. But you manage to make it, as you walk into your house, and slam the door behind you the words “maybe not now” replaying in your head, because why the fuck would he actually like you.

You don’t notice when you go to sleep music blasting from your headphones that you’ve wrapped yourself in the leather jacket that smells slightly of cat and boy, the lingering stench of cigarettes and fire from the jacket given to you by the boy who had managed to hold your heart for only a second.

I hate it when you stare.

in and out. Your breaths match the classes metronome, a constant beat to keep your breaths even and focused on whatever the teacher is saying, which happens to be the importance of pentatonic scales when composing a new song. He drones on about the way modern pop music isn’t really music and that the same fours chords and rhythmic patterns are used over and over again with a slight variety to them. You would have looked around the class, taking in the beautiful instruments that are set on display around the class, most of them hanging on hooks and nicks that cause the brass instruments to gleam in the classroom light. Admiring the way the guitars were filed neatly, basses next to them and the small ukuleles that the school's “hipsters” would pretend to play every so often at the talent shows. Some of the guitars and ukuleles were decorated by the art classes, the flowers blooming from one end to the other making it impossible to tell the difference between where the original brandished wood begins and ends. It almost seems at times like the flowers in full bloom are consuming the wood, taking away its air and nutrients that then allow the students to play melodica tunes without the professor yelling at them to tune their instruments. You would be admiring the piano that lay at the front of the class where your professor is currently pacing back and forth, his hands waving in grandiose gestures that make you cough an attempt to hide the rising laughter in your throat. The piano that you’d heard most of the students in the class play and almost lull everyone to tears or sleep depending on who it was, as the keys would rise and fall with each stroke.

Admire. Stare at the instrument you longed to strum and let out the bundle of emotions that were piled up in your stomach, taught and knotted together waiting to be untang;ed by the strum and finger pattern of the acoustic guitar. That’s what you would be doing if you weren’t slightly interested in the way that your professor was taking down and criticizing modern day music which you could only nod your head too, agreeing with most of his points. The rest of your class seemed to be disgusted, their faces shriveling and eyes rolling to the back of their heads.

“Well yeah, music today doesn’t, well shouldn’t really constitute for “real” music. It shouldn’t be dictated by a constant talk of sex and the drugs, what about the power in music? The way that it is in itself a universal language?” you speak out of turn, your arm coming down slightly aching from having to hold it up for so long with no acknowledgment. The moment you speak you can almost feel the class sigh and grunt, their heads dropping slightly.

“Now miss y/n” his voice is grainy and unpleasant, but you nod, eyes defiant at whatever critique will come your way even if you just agreed with your professors point of view, “did i ask for your opinion on the universal language and power it has on your feelings”

“Well no but-”

“No buts” you want to roll your eyes and flip him off, and decide to do both as you sigh, “not like you’d understand what that is” you mumble loud enough for your the boy at your right to hear you and his mouth falls slightly open, and you roll your eyes flipping him off as he turns around facing the scribbled blackboard.

You can feel eyes staring at you, analyzing the way you bite onto the top of your pen or how you doodle across the margin of your paper, random notes and lyrics that pop into your head as your professor drones on and on about the theory of music. It’s a pity you think that it’s those eyes that make you want to stand up and hit someone, those eyes that seem to want to dig a whole through your brain are what cause the feeling of uneasiness in your stomach every-time you turn around.

in and out. The metronome beeps constant again, and you loosen the grip on your pencil. Turning around slowly before locking gaze with jeno, who seems startled, you turned around and looked at him in the first place. Replaced is the mocking grin by a sheepish smile, and you can almost swear there’s a speck of guilt in his brown eyes as he looks at you with a small pleading look until you flip him off, mouthing the words “fuck you” into the air. But he seems to register them as he breaks the contact, eyes darkening and head bowing down just slightly, making a small smile graces your features.

Tick tick tick - ring. The bell goes off and you can’t seem to get up and out of your seat quick enough, following pursuit of the other students that have already packed and are counting down the seconds until class is over. You’re almost at the door, fingers stretching to reach the handle when you feel a light tap on your shoulder, a brush of your hair to the side, as you swirl around. You bite down the curse that is about to slip through your lips as your professor stands in front of you an amused smile on his face as he tells you that even though you’re an exemplary student you should tone down on the whole “power to the people” role you hold and you have to stop yourself from turning around and walking away. “Uh sure…” you are ready to leave, feet beginning to turn but your professor isn’t done and he holds you back telling you about the inconveniences of being a teacher at this day and age and you wonder what the man had wanted to be if not a teacher but the question and pity are quickly erased when he tells you that you about the end of the year assignment, “a project of sorts” he drawls, one hand stroking the light beard that sticks in odd patchy places around his face. “that will test what you’ve learned this year” you say nothing, waiting for what the punch the goal of the assignment is, “a song based off shakespeare’s sonnets”

You don’t have time to clap and jump from joy at the assignment and thank your professor before the fire alarm goes off and you are walking towards the football field. You don’t have the time to register the way people are looking at you, the way jeno is staring at you with a goofy smile and hopeful eyes as the intro chords play to i.f.l.y by bazzi and he gazes towards the crows that has gathered around him, eyes finding yours.

I hate your big dumb combat boots,

The clunk of boots against the aluminium causes the bleachers to shake slightly, a vibration of clashing echoing through the field as it mixes in with jeno’s voice. The dark haired boy that scares the school away on most days bounces along from one side of the bleachers to the other.

You can feel the warmth spread to your cheeks, the heat spreading through your body and you shake your head slightly at whatever is going because you truly aren’t quite sure. The only thing you know is that it seems to be the whole school’s eyes are darting from you to jeno, who can’t seem to take his eyes off even as he jumps from one row of bleachers to the next the microphone on his hand a he raps along to the lyrics to the song. Lyrics that sound as familiar as a midnight drive and cooling moonlit fields.

The way he conveys the words and raps is not something you hadn’t heard before, you’d heard him speak his poems to you that late night in the midst of summer heat when you had been in a need of escape from the world that surrounded you. The summer heat had been too much, too suffocating that in a whim you’d driven to the highest point in the city. City skyline had been laid before you, the hues of the city changing as the sun slowly dipped itself over the buildings, and it seemed to want to disappear like you did. Slowly, leaving a mark in the world as it reached past the buildings and water that lay far beyond the city, stretching it’s red flames that would slowly flicker and turn into different hues of pink and purple. It was mesmerizing, a way to get away as the sun went down and the moon shone brighter than the city lights, no amount of light pollution that littered the air enough to you were in your own world. Your mind travelled to that safe and peaceful place that would only come out when you were surrounded by the twinkle of stars that seemed to flicker hope, while the moon remained a constant reminder of the light in the darkness. That is until the crunch of leaves behind you, a sign of the coming autumn disturbed you from your silent peace.

Moonlight shone on black boots, the combat boots seemed to dull the moonlight, taking away all it’s light by absorbing it as it crunched the leaves underneath them and stopped in front of you. Eyes landed on a hooded figure, their black hoodie being slightly too big, as it drooped over their frame, reaching slightly past their hip, where you could see the tears in the boys jeans, and you hated to admit that the outfit wasn’t bad. The boy’s face wasn’t visible from the shadows caused by the moonlight, but it wasn’t that it mattered as you went back to looking at the city below you, waiting for the boy in front of you to sit down next to you. It would have normally bothered you to be disturbed in what you had claimed to be your “spot” but maybe it was the way the boy held his head down, or the way the stars shone and illuminated portions of his face, maybe it was just that there was a mutual understanding between the two people that had seeked comfort in the middle of the night underneath the stars. For whatever the reason, you stayed next to each other not touching, not leaning against each other but there was a sense of comfort by each other’s presence and a mutual knowledge of what each wanted. The silence was one of comfort, a blanket that seemed to surround the field that two of you sat in, and when the boy with the worn out combat boots began to speak, a light melody and rhythm to his words all you could do was nod along and enjoy the melodic and soothing sound of his voice. His words shocked you, reaching somewhere inside of you that seemed to be dormant for a long long time.

“Summer’s been lonely, time seems wasted and passing. But when the stars shine, and the sun goes, Summer becomes a lil less lonely Little less wasted Because when i'm with you Time’s gonna stop”

You couldn’t help but feel drawn to the warm voice that rapped next to, as he talked about lost time and love that seems to be a long lasting one that makes you feel like you’re gonna burst from everything that you feel for them only for them to leave in a quick second. And though you don’t know the boy next to you, you don't know his story, you don’t know why he decided on this very day much like you too climb to the top of the hill and admire the busy world from afar, you know the melody. The song that follows his heart, it’s something out of a movie you think, the way the two of you met, lost souls finding themselves by watching everything around them fade into the dark. You don’t know each other but you do, you know the way his song goes and it’s an understanding beyond words beyond actions as the two of you sit next to each other, hours passed midnight a boy with combat boots that crunch through leaves and a voice with thoughts that seem to connect to everything around you, and you. A lost soul with music in heart, that sways and calms down in the brightening moon of the night, as you give each other mutual company in a field of moonlit flowers, and blinking concrete.

Jeno has made his way down the bleachers, his cheeks are red and you can’t help but feel amused and honored. Because as much as he annoys you and makes you want to hit something you can’t deny the way your heart flutters when he smiles at you as he is doing right now, steps bringing you closer and closer to you, his warned out combat boots make you laugh because you’d never seen him wear anything else. You can feel the anger fade away from the week, anger at him for embarrassing you, anger for not feeling loved like you wanted to be loved, but there was a sort of bond that was formed when the school's resident bad boy decides to sing a love song to someone he’s hurt and cares for. There’s something vulnerable by the way he looks at you, a light in his eyes and embarrassment and all of a sudden he’s in front of you. Faces only centimeters away, his breaths fanning your face slightly, their heavy and uneven but he’s smiling tune slightly off-key as he sings the last verse.

“So I guess what i'm saying” the mic is lowered, and the space between the two becomes your own world. No longer are aware of the hundreds of teenagers surrounding you, some of the whistling others video taping.

“I guess what i'm saying” you hum back, smiles adorning both of your faces,

“I fucking love you”

And the way you read my mind.

It seemed as if the world had suddenly shifted. No longer where you are grounded on earth, goals set to go to the other side of the world away from your family, instead you feel alleviated. Where the ground used to be now there was air, a lightness to your movements and words that weren’t there before. It isn’t that the world suddenly changed, the clouds didn’t suddenly become more bright, the world didn’t suddenly become a bright ball of colors and sunshine.

Falling for someone was based upon the little moments spent together. The way the world seemed to feel a little less heavy, a little less lonely when brown eyes would meet yours, greeting you with a lopsided smile. You had read in books that falling was like falling asleep, slowly and then so quickly that you didn’t even notice the way your heart would take skips when hand touched hand, calloused fingers from constant strumming of a guitar, grazing yours. They say it’s supposed to be too fast for you to notice, as if you were in a dream state that you had fallen into and slowly when your heart is shattered or turned over do you wake up from the dream-like state wishing you had stayed in it. In your opinion falling was neither of those, and it was both.

Falling was being dragged out of an arena, filled with a whole school student body, where laughter trailed behind you as the boy with worn out combat boots took you to the place you first met. It was the way his eyes would light up their dark brown becoming a lighter color, almost matching his honey colored hair when the sun would hit him from behind, when he looked at you while you talked about the project you were working on. Falling seemed to be the way that the first sentences after the boy sang bazzi’s confession song was a banter over why the song was chosen, you two debating which of his songs was better, an ongoing debate whether smile or i.f.l.y was a better show of emotion. The argument lasted the whole car ride, you drove and it hadn’t taken much convincing after you threatened to keep his leather jacket, that you had shoved back at him only previously that morning. It was only a matter of seconds after that conversation, that jeno pride smile on his face opened the passenger's seat to the beat up mustang and let you slightly, well more like lecture him on how to be gentle on the old car. If jeno would have been tested on the way that your hands would flit back and forth, moving from side to side and up and down making grand gestures and soft ones in order to justify and further prove your point, jeno was sure he would ace the test. But if it came to what you were talking about, how he shouldn’t force the car to change gears or how one button should be pressed before the other he would have passed, he loved hearing you talk passionately about anything and as much as he loved to get on your nerves to see you get flustered cheeks growing slightly red, but would have failed on purpose just for you to smack him in the arm. The punch, which he would never admit kinda hurt the first time you’d hit him what seemed like ages ago, but was really only a season ago, had softened and felt now more like a “you’re stupid but i don’t mind it”, it made him smile. Banter that flitted back and forth between the two of you, constant little arguments that weren’t truly arguments but more of a facade at the emotions and hidden feelings that grew between the two of you.

The coming winter air was sharp against your ungloved hand, making you shake it up and down, which only caused jeno to look at you with a confused look.

“You know luv” the nickname no longer made your blood boil, and you’d finally admitted to yourself that it made you feel warm, “there are pockets for a reason” he put his own hands in the stitched pockets of his leather jacket for emphasis, and you huffed.

“And then how would i be able to carry this?” you lifted your hand, the what had been hot chocolate was now cold all thanks to the new barista at the cafe, jungwoo you think his name was. Your fingers that had seeped up all the warmth they could get from the previously steaming cup of hot chocolate were now pink at the ends, the cold biting into them, and you slightly shook from the cold air you hadn’t been ready for these type of temperature when jeno had sent you a message this morning, the contact “soft bad boy” appearing repeatedly in your phone, with the vague instructions to get ready to go out in the span of fifteen minutes, he’s been by your door in fifteen minutes leading you to your car where he opened the driver's seat for you as he headed into the passenger. It had taken you arriving at the snow covered school to realize where jeno was taking you, and when you had realized it was the school protests were coming. Questions such as “jeno? It’s winter break, why the fuck are we in school?” and “fuck it’s cold”, or jeno’s favorite which you were almost sure he would forever tease you about, “my hands weren’t made for this” you’d been talking about the numbing of feeling in your thumbs when you had been holding the chocolate, keys, phone and wallet in your hands because your jeans had been made without proper pockets. Fuck the patriarchy you hat thought. Jeno has heard the whole situation out of context, and has made it his life goal to tease you on and on about your small hands. It was torture.

“You could ask for help?” his little bow almost made you laugh, but you rolled your eyes pride getting in front of his help

“And hear you brag about how you don’t feel the cold” you sigh, changing the drink from one hand to the next letting the pocket in your hoodie heat up your hand slightly, “no thank you”. The next thing you know though, is jeno’s jacket is placed around your shoulders, their warmth heating up your bones, and his hands are wrapped around yours, “no, i’d just do this” his voice is next to you, breath stirring the hairs at your ears, warmth sweeps through your body, by the contact his skin makes with yours, and for a second you want to turn around and kiss him. You want to know what it’s like to kiss his lips that seem so soft, want to know what it feels like to wrap your arms around his neck while you kiss him, and play with the black strands of hair at the back of his neck. The feeling doesn’t leave as much as you try to push it away, as jeno holds your hands and drags you towards the school gate, and into the music room.

Falling is about the invisible things. Falling is noticing the way he can read your mind like no one else can, falling is making dumb jokes at each other smiles on both of your faces, it is the way you seem to have conversations about what you want from the world at two am and still poke fun at each other in a passing by through school. Falling you think you finally understand, isn’t singing i.f.l.y by bazzi in front of the whole student body because you don’t want someone to be mad at you, no. falling is the way from summer to fall to winter you get to know each other, until your hearts seem to be in-sync with each other, as jeno who fiddles with the rings on his fingers tells you to sit down on a chair in the music room. It is the way he picks up the guitar your breath catches on everytime you see it, the flowers swallowing and making the wood more vibrant than it was, and looks at you in the eyes. Falling is how his hands tremble slightly when he begins to strum the guitar, and his husky voice fills the empty room, as he sings about the way you make him feel less alone, and part of the universe.

But there’s a thing about falling, there’s the way that you can feel your eyes tear up when he finishes a goofy smile plastered on his face, the last g chord ringing throughout the room and into the hallways. When you fall, you can never tell when the bottom hits, you can never be prepared for the way the ground lurches before you, a slap in the face, right as you let go of the moon boy in front of you breaths still a little uneven from the shared kiss, which made a star fall seem small. Once that rock bottom is hit, the world falls back into place and you aren’t held at freefall, when you hear the “click” and whoops and yells from the hallway and you try to ignore the invasion trying to take in the boy in front of you, until your phone dings and then so does his. A new text message from an unknown contact, with a photo image attached,

“Turns out the bad boy took the bet after all, and y/n isn’t as cold hearted as they seem”

I hate you so much it makes me sick;

Crashing, falling and burning. Emotions that seem to curse through you days, a weeks later after the text is sent, the one that follows is worse.

“Turns out, jeno was being paid all along to make cold-hearted y/n to fall for him. If you don't trust us, ask him” you knew the message was a taunt, a test to see if you would break but you’d plummeted down down down, and the way jeno’s eyes had shuttered and the light was no longer the way gave you the answer you wanted.

A breaking point is what they call you’ve heard when one can no longer hold in the anger or sadness or any sort of emotion that seems to be too much. The breaking point that causes one to lose control over their actions, or thoughts because things you thought to be true, are flipped on their side, and the worst part is you wanted yourself not fall for the boy with the easy smile that shone like the moon, and sweet words that made your blood boil and melt all at once.

Sick, that’s how you felt when you pushed him away, leather jacket dropping with a heavy thud onto the wooden floor. A twisting and turning of emotions rammed through you, anger coming out strong as you shoved him away again before walking out of the room, leaving jeno mouth wide open as if he’d wanted to say something, hands clenching and unclenching as if he’d grabbed onto to you or hadn’t let you check your phone it would change the world worked. The light that had shone in his eyes left, it seemed to be squashed out by the water that threatened to escape because it was true, he had been paid. It isn’t something that made him particularly, it wasn’t that he wasn’t intrigued by you, from the night you two first met all those months ago under the moonlight.

Payment, green paper that would be slipped into his hand by haechan, a fellow senior he barely knew apart from the school’s biggest flirt accompanied by na jaemin, he did wonder at times how they weren’t at each other’s throats most of the time, but substantially he truly didn’t care. It didn’t matter to him the more he got to know you, the more he held your hand and felt the way his heart would swell and at times skip a beat or two, maybe even three if you looked at him with light in your eyes, laughter ringing in his ears from a joke he had said.

The first time he’d been offered the paper, fifty bucks to see if the cold hearted bitch that everyone seemed to fear was capable of giving her heart to someone, he had denied because as much as the world thought of him as a cold hearted human being he truly just didn’t want to be bothered or be torn apart from his music and dance. The second time haechan offered, he accepted on a whim. There had been a sort of argument in music class, you leading the conversation against something he couldn’t quite remember but he remembered you taking down student after student, a defiant look in your eyes as you gave point after point on what you believed was right. He had accepted, because seeing you standing on top of your chair, passion driving you away from the textbook and to speak clearly voice ringing through the room, made him wonder if it was even possible and if he gave up with what he thought was to be your overly cold demour then at least he's earned some money and the freshman that had walked up to him that morning telling him about the plan they’d set up would work. The plan chenle, a boy who was taller than him, but a freshman nonetheless broke it down in simple steps, it was entertaining to say the least, the way he discussed how he would get his new found jisung to go out with your sister, but that would only be possible if you would date. If he wanted to lie to himself, he would say that he accepted the deal because he wanted to help the kids out, but he was never one to not follow the truth. But now, his hands feel cold and empty, lips still feeling the ghost of yours against his, and he remembers a quote he read not long ago on the story of how the sun died everyday in order to let the moon live at night.

Jeno is sure that he should be the sun that should die, not because the sun was where the world gravitated towards but because you were the moon. The moon that seemed to hold him together and stand by him even after the lies that are spun about his background at school so when you walk out the door, and he sees the tear’s shining beneath the classroom lights he knows he’s lost. If only you knew that he had stopped taking any sort of money the moment he caught feelings, if you only knew the money that he’d earned had gone to help his fostered cats that hung out by his house every now and then. But even if you did now it didn’t make him any better than Haechan who had sent out the text message, informing the world about the stupidities and decisions he made and had regretted two weeks later when you had scolded him about how to drive your car.

Sick. From your stomach to your head a loud and never ending thump went on and on like the metronome in the music room all those weeks ago. The headache seemed mocking of your developed feelings for jeno, and you could feel your heart twist into itself, as you went over the events of the last few months. What was real, what was done as an act, you didn;t know but you hated it. You hated the way he made you feel, hated the way one text one yes or luv had led you into this snowball and fall that had hit harder than you’d ever wanted it. You hated him so much, it made you sick.

It even makes me rhyme.

Melodies follow structured patterns, like the rhythm to a song and the lyrics that accompany it, never missing a beat a simple dun dun dun that tends to lead people into a dance like trance. Yet that was the problem with melodies, it was the way that they held onto certain chords, following the same stroke of keys the same vocal riff or bass slap that would drive you insane but would also drive modern days love songs whether they dealt with the infatuation that was love or the consequences of that love which lead to the inevitable heartbreak all followed the same sort of patterns and lines.

Rhyming, that’s what you did as you recited the end of the year Shakespeare inspired song. A mixture of words with similar sounding words with the same syllables, like car and stare or hate and fate a juxtaposition between the two. Rhymes where everything you tended to avoid, the stereotypical and overused notes digging into your brain, playing and replaying over and over but you didn’t care anymore, as you recited the scribbled lines on the old piece of notebook paper. Some of the yellow had faded from the drops of tears that had dropped weeks ago, as your mind thought of jeno, his smile no longer the same comfort it held when he drove you out to the beach and led you late at night to admire the stars and watch the sunset. Some of the blue ink bleeding through, making smudges across the paper you were to run in, the doodles that had been scratched and re-drawn only to be scratched and drawn in different shapes the notes written down almost everywhere except in the five bar staff that was supposed to hold the notes.

The shaky breath you let out helps you calm down as you look out into the pinned up pictures of the bedroom wall and the view that gives out to the dying sun set out in the horizon making space for the ever present and shining moon in the blue now purple and lilac sky. Hands grip at the paper, making it crinkle slightly at the force being used, and you read halfway through the lines you can’t fully get through before tears begin to spring up at your eyes.

I hate it, i hate the way you’re always right. I hate it when you lie.

The words feel raw, and posion, vile seems to rise up at your throat the further you go down, and thought the tears don’t fall heavily they steam. A dashing race down your cheeks and back into the yellow notebook paper, as if they were being recycled. The words on the page breaking you, the emotions a sway of everything they say you aren’t, written by you to the boy who shared his heart and then stole it taking it far far away. Salty water drops onto the paper, until they dry up and then they fall again the next time you read them, and you read them and fix them and read them again rhymes embedded into your brain until the tears no longer fall and the paper is no longer in crinkles.

I hate it when you make me laugh,

The memory flits back to you when you are met with brown eyes on the first day back from winter break. The air is no longer sharp and threatening to cut into you, but nevertheless you wear your sweater, hoodie slightly up, headphones popped into both ears. You didn't realize the figure in front of you, until you’d bumped into the halfway through a new invented dance move you had decided to create as you bopped and moved to the music that surged through your headphones. The toppling into one another was fast, rushed almost as you collided against each other, a stutter back from both of you before you saw who exactly you had crashed into. It shouldn’t have been a surprise, you should have realized who the boy was from the worn out combat boots that had been dyed black again, and the leather jacket that had a couple of new patches adorning it’s sleeves.

“Sorry” jeno murmurs, but you don’t hear music still flooding in, and you are too focused on the way his eyes shift from your face to your hoodie, and then back to your face not being able to look straight at you, it causes you to scoff. Of course he was able go behind my back, get paid to play with me, and when he gets caught he can’t even look me in the eye, the thoughts are slightly disappointing but not surprising - boys you had learned tended to follow patterns. It isn’t until jeno shifts his focus entirely from you, brown eyes darkening that you are intrigued by the change emotion, guilt and a sort of plead to apologize is wiped from his face and you soon realize the purple haired boy, who couldn’t help himself from laughing at your situation, calling more students to him that had set jeno off.

“If it isn’t the schools biggest joke” haechan’s voice is mocking, and you truly don’t know why the rest of the student body is laughing with him, when there isn’t anything humorous, sadly this is what you expect from the school by this point, it happened in ninth grade there was nothing to say it wouldn’t happen again. You think about ignoring his comments, there truly was no use getting involved, haechan just wanted a reaction, that is until he flaunted his money around, the constant taunt of how you had been manipulated thanks to the douchebag in front of you not leaving your mind for a second and you’d had enough. Haechan or his group of friends couldn’t have stopped you even if they tried, as you walked up to him, hood down, the rings on your fingers shining in the morning sun, as you punched him.

“Bitch!” his voice broke as the word escaped his lips, blood beginning to swell on the side of his face, “i have a photoshoot tomorrow” you punched again in response, this time his lip was cut, and you snickered.

“Hmmmm” you hummed looking at the boy’s eyes, they held anger and a hint of mist that threatened to escape and not being the schools ‘perfect’ boy, “guess they’ll have to find someone else, you know someone that’s actually, how do i say this in the nicest way possible” placing a hand on your chin you pretend to think about it before a grin spreads on your face, “nevermind there isn’t a nice way because you don’t deserve shit. rot in hell fucker” the last word is almost a yell as you’ve turned around and have walked away from the scene, a shit eating grin on your face, at the look of defeat Haechan held.

It isn’t the way Haechan looks at you with disgust, no that gives you some sense of pride by taking him on, it’s the way jeno’s eyes are filled with pride and warmth. A plea to hear him out at least just once, and as much as you try to deny it his eyes take you back to hot chocolates on random days, snowball fights late at night and random drives through the city to calm you down, music blasted through the stereo of your old car. Memories of him being next to you, arms around yours holding onto you as if you would disappear if he didn’t hold on tight enough. Memories that as much as you wished wouldn’t flood up every time you saw him did and though you kept telling yourself that it was just an act, you can’t help but think that maybe just maybe not all of it was an act. The hope you hold close to your heart, is what leads you to be stuck back in the place that the mess started, stuck inside the music room yet again, jeno hand centimeters away from yours which just gets you to sit far far away from him.

“So…” he starts, fiddling with the bracelets that adorn his wrists.

“So…you gonna say something or can i go because i have class to attend to” the words come out harsh, as your annoyance slightly rises, mixed in with being emotionally exhausted you really weren’t here to sit around the boy who had played with you.

“The cafeteira is having french fries today” the second the words leave jeno’s lips he regrets them, because how stupid is he to start an apology by talking about food, when he looks at you he sees you laughing. Laughing so hard that he manages to walk closer to you so that you are only a couple of feet away from each other, but it isn’t a laugh that fills up the room. Your laugh is dry and humourless, empty and broken, it reminds him of the way one laughs when they have nothing to lose and have given up all hope.

“You know” you start, willing the tears to not fall, your voice to not break because just being in the room with him feels like too much, like one wrong step and the glue that has tapped your heart back together might diffuse into thin air, “for a second, a short second i thought you were gonna say something meaningful” the words are like poison, as you spit them out wanting them to strike and hurt the black haired boy with the perfectly chiseled face to hurt as much as you do, as you begin to head out of the room, the tears threatening to spill again. You’re about to reach the door before you hear your name being called, and you wouldn’t have stopped if it weren’t for the desperation that was laced with his words. If it weren’t for the words that followed your name, “Summer’s been lonely, time seems wasted and passing” the lyrics, the way they roll off his tongue as if he’s heard them a million times catch your breath and make you turn around.

“Stop” you hold your hand out in emphasis, trying to calm your beating heart down, trying to stop the idea that this boy, the one that held your heart and broke it is the same boy that made you feel at peace in a day of chaos, on a midsummer night. But he tries again to talk, a small smile on the ghost of his lips and you have the urge to laugh and smile at him.

“Just stop” you almost plead, and jeno takes a deep breath, waiting for you to continue, “stop because dam you have no right to sing that. You had no right, no right at all to make me laugh like no one else that day and day’s after, you had no right”

Even worse when you make me cry.

Jeno has never been one to convey emotions with words. It was never, his forte as people call it, but in the music room that felt stuffed and almost suffocating he reached for words. Any word that might be sufficient, no, not sufficient, words that would convey his truth. Somehow, some way to get rid of that look of disgust, anger and defeat in your eyes that made his heart ache. He can feel you pull farther and farther away even if you are only a couple of feet away from, a couple of inches until if he held his arm out he could catch your hand in his. There was some part of him that thought the moment you two shared what seemed to be years ago, would help, would stop your eyes from shining every-time a light would hit them, the tears he knew you were holding back, because you weren’t one to cry in front of others threatening to spill. In response, he could feel his heart ache for longer, his hands clam up, eyes look at yours pleadingly.

“I know” his voice is defeated, almost as broken as you feel and the way it still manages to pull at your heart makes you look up at him, willing if only for one second, or to prove yourself that you can listen to him. The pause seems to make the room feel slightly more bearable, less stuffy, a little less suffocating, because two words are more than just an acknowledgement at the past but also at the present and the recent fuck ups. You hear more than see jeno take another shaky breath before he opens his mouth, closes it and opens again, a hand squeezing his eyes shut before he begins.

“I know” the words are repeated again, and you aren’t sure what to make of them but he isn’t done, “i fucked up” you scoff, and jeno has a faint smile, “i know that anything that i say will seriously not make up for anything i did because no one in there right mind would ever accept to what i did. No one who knows you, would ever even consider agreeing to being paid to approach you. No one, because being around you, getting to know you is a gift itself. And yes i did agree at the beginning, it’s a long story” the words become clustered, a mumble and you want to leave again, because they feel like an excuse,

“A long story, that still ended with you winning right?” the words snap from you before you stop them, and jeno is left wordless for a second before his eyes focus in again, mind running at a million, “yes?”

“No. no, i mean no” the sound that escapes from his lips confuses you, it’s a grunt and a sigh but he looks exhausted, “this isn’t going well”

“You think?” The question is more of a fact but that doesn’t stop jeno’s lips twitching slightly upwards, and you're mirroring his. Banter is good? I guess jeno thinks.

“What i mean” he starts again for the uptenth time, “is that the moment i saw you smile, the moment i got to know you, not the cold exterior you present the moment you laughed at something stupid i said, because for some odd reason you seem to find my jokes funny when no one else does. The moment you... i saw you, eyes dazed as they looked at the sky i knew that the whole thing was stupid. And i stopped it, i promised i stopped taking money from haechan the second i knew you because you didn’t deserve that. Does that make me any less of a shitty person? No it really doesn’t” he stops for a second, catching his breath and you're trying your best to not let the tears drop to not scream or yell or hit him over and over again, but he makes it so hard. So fucking hard when his voice and eyes seem to convey everything you need to hear, everything you want to hear, but then the word money is said and you remember what he did and you can feel yourself recoil back, but not before a silent tear slips.

“It doesn’t make me a better person if i had stopped the moment i had accepted the deal because I considered it. But y/n the way I feel about you, the way you manage to center me and be the single thing that keeps me afloat in this hell hole. The way that being next you whether it’s holding your hand that tends to be cold because you hate wearing gloves in winter and rather let them freeze'' another smile, and another tear slips making its way down your cheek, “can make me so happy and completely infatuated to the point i don’t know what to do with myself. It is the way I can feel your body next to mine hours after you’ve gone home from one of our random late night drives, or the way you steal my jacket and then i can feel you with me even when you are in class. It’s the way the stars and moon seemed to align that summer day, when we were both lost and found each other in the same lyrics, the same words and melody that sang to us. So yes, i was so stupid, so dam stupid for ever thinking i could be anything other than a stranger to you, and accepting that. But I can feel the way my heart seems to forget how to beat, anytime you look at me, and you smile, and unlike what the world wants us to believe. You aren’t my sun, or my stars. You are the center of the universe that i stand for, the moon that no matter how much i tried to get away from continues to rise and remain even on the never ending days, because i didn’t mean it all those months ago in the bleachers when i just wanted you to stop being mad at me for being the dumb ass i am, and i will never be the best when it comes to words and emotions luv, but i mean it now. I truly truly am sorry, and -” his voice breaks, and his hands shake, a tear slips from his eyes and you can see it’s reflection by the light.

“St…” you take a breath, the word not leaving your throat, your breaths are shaky and jeno tries to reach out to you, tries to wipe away the silent flow of tears that continues to stream down your face, “stop”. The word finally manage to leave your lips, harsher than you wanted them too but it stops jeno from grabbing your hand, from taking away the warmth of his hand against your cheek, his eyes that had begun to light up slightly to be shut down again, as if someone had doused water on him.

“Luv…” the moment the words leave his lips you know you have to leave, because if he does say those words, the ones you know you’ve been dreading to hear because you feel the same way. Because you have fallen and though you have hit rock bottom, and have been smacked back into reality your heart has never stopped reaching towards his. It doesn’t help, when his eyes look at yours with love, and you want to forgive him, you want everything to be okay, and in order for that to happen you can’t break down in front of him. Slowly do you shake your head, arms wrapping around your body as if they could provide some type of warmth, and heat up your bones, give warmth back into your eyes the way they do when you look at jeno. Which is why you don’t look at him, why you turn away leaving his arm outstretched and hanging. You can feel his eyes trail you, as you open the door the noise of the outside world rushing into the room, startling you for a second, but jeno doesn’t seem to hear it. The only thing he can focus on is you leaving, your footstep getting farther away, and his world becoming a little darker, more grey. The last thing he sees is your - well what used to be his - grey hoodie, the marking of sharpie that have been used to doodle on the piece of clothing one late night, flashing before the wooden door closes shut, surrounding him in a lonely silence again.

I hate it when you’re not around,

The world seems to mock you for falling for lee jeno. The black haired boy seemed to follow you everywhere you went no matter how far away you tried to get away from the memories that plagued you. Days had passed since the world had yet again seemed to shift on its axis, and you had seen jeno less and less, but that didn’t stop your mind from making you remember his laugh anytime you heard a bad joke.

No longer did brown eyes meet yours right after school ended in the cafe next to school, you weren’t greeted by the easy smile, that turned eyes into moons, or called the obnoxious pet names of angel and luv that used to make you want to punch a wall, only for you to find the words to be missing from your everyday life. Moments when the radio would play the song about summer and hazy love would worm their way into your heart, and it was like he was there. Smiling at you, his hand intertwined with yours as you drove your car to the top of the mountain where you first met, and just when the chorus would hit the two of you would belt out the song at the top of your lungs. It was only when the song ended, the melody fading into the back and replaced by the rapid voices of an ad for some car dealership you really didn’t care for, that you would look to find an empty seat beside you. No boy with a leather jacket, and combat boots that might have been propped up on the dashboard much to your protests, instead the seats were either empty and cold with no presence or soul in them, and the car would suddenly feel small and distant.

Other times, the pang of not hearing his laughter diffuse into the air, over your clumsy self either tripping over words or almost falling over due to there being a small rock in the sidewalk. The problem wasn’t that you didn’t have friends. Your best friend, the same one that had dragged you into that party all those months ago, would never miss a beat to be with you, to take you out for a random karaoke night or a late night drive on her car. It wasn’t that you didn’t love them, you loved how they would always make time for the small nuisance you would bother them about, even if it was just to tell them about a new meme you’d found but the way their presence would fill only a small space in your heart made it hard. Especially because you would see how happy they were anytime they talked about Mark, the stories of their lazy dates filled your heart with happiness and joy. It had become a habit to prioritize other’s happiness above your own, and soon it became a habit to prioritize getting jeno out of your memories out of the place in your heart he had seemed to crawl into and not leave.

Memories you come to realize are fleeting, and unpredictable. They are made from what one process to be from the emotions they feel in the current moment that the memory is being stored into your brain. The thing about memories, it’s a thing that they don’t tell you in 12th grade biology class. School or teachers don’t teach you about the different emotions and images that memories bring along with them. The figments that surround every memory you have for the past year seem to somehow always lead back to jeno. He comes when you think about your favorite drink, hot chocolate, and the drink transports you back to jeno bringing you hot chocolate late at night after long after hour practices. His black hair makes a presence, when you think about the essay you had to turn in a week ago, you don’t remember much of the project but your brain, against your conscious will remembers the way jeno’s hair felt through your fingers as you played with his hair one late afternoon. The threads come together slowly, on a random day, in which the sun seems to almost be desperate to stay on the earth’s surface, as it turns the buildings around it into purple hues. It almost seems like it’s gasping for air, and as the purple slowly turns into pink and lastly disappears beyond the horizon it’s last breath taken and long gone you realize something. Like the sun, and the threads that are tied together in order to form memories, in order to form the segments of life that when pieces together form a picture that lets one create the story of a person or a setting, jeno seems to form in front of you. You sit on top of the mountain where you first met, but this time you are alone, the skyline displayed out in front of you. The trees have lost their leaves and some of them even still have some white specks of snow in them, that with one push of wind would make the tremble and shiver, letting go of the white covering.

Jeno is next to you, his hand only a mere centimeter from yours, but you continue to look at the sky, the buildings that go on for as long as you can see. His memory, the way you rest your head on his shoulder and he listens and listens no judgement ever from his eyes, only support and encouragement to let you choose what will make you happy. A memory that repeats over and over again, but that isn’t your favorite memory from jeno. The last memory that forms in your head, after the roadtrips, to sweet make out sessions that led you two to leave whatever homework you had to work on for another time, or the sweet messages left at your phone that would bring a smile to your face even if he just texted you about the weather, to then get a back hug as he called you angel.

Your favorite memory was the day you had been on the exact same spot you where now, except jeno had been next to you, breathing a little harder than normal he had just shown you a dance routine he’s been working on for as long as you could remember. His eyes didn’t shine like they usually did, they didn’t take in the light around him, and his face didn’t have traces of a grin that you had grown so used too. Instead he pushed you away, dark roots from his bleached hair he had decided to try out for the month had begun to show and you could see the stress that seemed to suffocate him. This was a different side of jeno, a side you hadn't seen, one that you tried to approach with a joke, only to be quickly shut down. A small argument over school and life had formed, in which you two had gone from being right next to each other to being feet apart, a scowl on your face, the same one that jeno bore. It was this memory that was your favorite because it had been the first time you had truly seen jeno be vulnerable, it had been the first time from the weeks you had gotten to know each other that you felt that the walls on walls he built around himself, the walls you built around yourself had been torn down. There had been no shared kisses, no shared moments in which one hadn’t jokingly filtered with the other until the first droplet fell down jeno’s face. The only reason you had seen it was because the sun, punctual as always, had descended flickers of light reflecting in his face. It was a small action but enough that there was some part that managed to push aside your pride and you approached him, arms wrapping around his waist. The memory makes you remember that it took him a second to wrap his arms around you, but in that moment, it seemed as only for a second in which you could provide some support for the boy in front of you, then he could give you the support you needed. Threads of the memory are vague, movements in which you can’t fully pinpoint what happened in between or later, in which you know that at one point music had begun to make its way up the mountain from one of the daily parties the teens would throw, but you two held onto each other. The song, isn’t one you can seem to recall, but it wasn’t one that people slow dance too, it wasn’t one in which you are supposed to hold onto the boy in front of you arms around his neck, as his eyes looked into yours, smiles grazing both of your features as your foreheads touched, a small kiss placed on your forehead. Moonlight cascading the both of you, pushing away the shadows that surrounded you both.

It was any memory that you had in which jeno took part, in which you could feel him next to you, that was your favorite. Memories, you remember reading somewhere are your subconscious telling you something, it is the way the body and mind admit what you are too scared to take in for yourself. Memories of jeno next to you, and then not are what make you realize how much you hate not having the black haired boy, with the overly kind personality next to you.

And the fact you didn’t call.

Days turn into months, as the winter snow leaves the tree’s branches leaving them barren. Only for the spring rain and occasional sun to let the leaves and flowers begin to spring back up again. Teachers are at the point in the year whether they aren’t quite sure if they want to give everyone in the class a pass just so they don’t have to hear the constant complaining on the amount of assignments a student has due by tomorrow, or if they’ll give more work, more assessments as a sort of payback for the hardships they’ve had to endure throughout the year.

You are in music class, your professor going over the final assessments guidelines one last time before they are presented at the start of class tomorrow. The weight of the written sonnet feels heavy, and though the physical copy of the assignment is types out neatly somewhere in your computer, the original draft that you had begun to draft all those months ago is crumpled up in your jacket pocket, a constant reminder of everything you want and everything that you feel you can’t have.

If you close your eyes just for a second you can see yourself back in your room, until the space changes and you are no longer in your room but are at the school’s roof. The warm spring breeze tangling your hair, and making the page in front of you flutter. You didn’t need the paper, the lyrics to the musical sonnet that had been shakespeare inspired seemed to be embedded into your brain so that when you weren’t thinking about the thousands of words you still had to write when it came to the labs for biology class, or the analysis of catcher in the rye for english class, the words would replay in your head over and over. The soft melody accompanying them. Humming to the song had become a habit, one that had developed like how one realizes that they bit ethier lip, or thumbs when they are stressed or bored. A habit that once you realize it’s there you can’t help but notice it every time you do it. The notebook paper continues to rustle, and you fold it and place it into the pocket of the black jean jacket, taking a deep breath as you do so. Unlike summer nights and winter afternoons, spring doesn't feel suffocating when the sun is out, because the clouds do a job of covering the sun before it burns your skin. The wind dies down, and you begin to humm to the sonnet, the words so familiar you were almost sure if your memory was to be taken, those words would remain embedded, and make their way back up because they were an acceptance of everything you were and everything you felt.

The final bell has rang, and you can see the swarm of teenage bodies rush out of the school, some go directly to the bus stop in groups, others head to the grass fields that make up most of the school's building. You don’t think much about where others go, don’t dwell much if they get home safely or if their parents will pick them up. Dwelling too much on thoughts a feeling never helped anybody, it’s a mantra that has been drilled into you and almost every other teenager and young adult in this lifetime as movies and books tell you to focus on the present never on the future and most definitely not in the future. Yet you wonder if these books written by great authors that make you question the world around you, or movies that seem to transcend time if the authors themselves that preach about not dwelling too much on one moment if they themselves spent too much time focusing on the sound of their love’s laughter, or the way their nose would scrunch up a reaction to the world around them anytime they found something amusing. You wonder if the person or memory they were told or did think about so much that it caused them heartache had the ability to make them write the poems you had written. So you try to not dwell on the people, no larger than your thumb as they rush from one side of the campus to another, because if you thought about him, it, for too long the memories would rush back in. Instead you look down, the light vertigo causing you to snap back into some realm of reality.

Sitting down on the roof’s edge, legs dangling off the edge you continue to hum and sing to the melody that plays in your heart, confession to yourself, a confession to the dark haired boy that captured your heart. The tears seem to swell up over and over as you reach the bridge, and they stream silently, down your face. They run down landing on your hands, on the ripped jeans and doodle converse. Your mind drifts to the memories connected with the lyrics and the fact that as much as you wanted to not want to hear jeno’s voice especially after you had pushed him away, you couldn’t get rid of the way he knew you. He knew you better than at times you almost thought you knew yourself, it was a nuisance the way your heart would skip beats months after everything went down, how it would still accelerate when you two would make eye contact because he had apologized and you don’t know if it was because you had never felt this way before, or because you two kept meeting underneath the moonlight the same song that seemed to connect the two of in one string of fate that you had forgiven him. But forgiveness didn’t mean forgetting, it didn’t mean that you had wished he’d called and you hate him - or lack thereof to do so - when days passed and the beep boop ba a compilation of random noises jeno would make whenever he was confused, and your ringtone for him didn’t disturb you.

Your voice breaks slightly as the melody in your head falls, fading into a non-existent background. The sun had begun to fall, but you don’t notice, eyes closed as you take in the world around you. Notes ending, song and the hum of love never confessed, never expressed, stolen by the wind. And that’s the thing about having your eyes closed, oblivious to the world and the people around you, because you don’t hear the opening and closing of the slightly rusted door. You don’t notice the boy with a leather jacket, hair almost covering his eyes that are filled with so much love but confusion by the words that leave your mouth. It’s the thing about the wind, that it takes a message and delivers it to whom it wants you unlike a phone call that is directed at who you choose. The wind is a free spirit, and it doesn’t travel far. To be more exact it travels the short span of a mere seconds, a mere feet to jeno whose mouth has fallen at the sound of your voice so raw and pure. It is the wind that calls him to you, the wind that makes him take slow steps to you.

Wind, a warm breeze in the coming summer air, love that you don’t realize you have, you need until it’s wrapping its arms around you.

But mostly i hate the way i don’t hate you.

The moment you feel arms wrapping around you still. Every bone in your body stops moving, your legs stop swinging and your voice catches in your throat. It isn’t until you spot the small cassette tattoo on the wrist of the arms wrapped around you that you breathe again and push yourself back, a curse escaping your lips. Laughter rings in your ears as jeno holds you up from where you sit, and turns you around so that you face him. You begin to push him away, on instinct from weeks of telling yourself that you wanted nothing to do with the boy in front of you. That the way his eyes dimmed, and lips curved down by the light gesture of pushing him away didn’t affect you. It was a mantra, push him away, don’t get hurt, a mantra produced by a time of hurt and fear for being broken again. Something that you had come to realize though in the past week, the past day, past couple of minutes when someone’s arms had warped around you and you had wished it had been jeno, that the heart and the mind don’t always coincide.

It is when you look up again, and jeno is already looking at you, hair illuminated by the descending sun, as it casted flames dancing across his features, and lighting up his eyes, that you smile. Some sort of smile that repairs something in jeno, because his eyes seem to be filled with hope again and he opens his mouth ready to speak, ready to tell you everything he wanted to say again, mostly to apologize but when he opens his mouth the words seem to be caught in his throat. Stuck, as if there was some force pulling them back, not letting them escape and reach you. Mouth opens and closes again, and it’s the sound of your voice as you call to him, and say something he can’t quite process, blocked by the noise that doesn’t leave his head that he can finally speak again.

“June 21” those weren’t supposed to be the words that lef this mouth, and your confused look didn’t give him any confidence to continue whatever the hell he was gonna do, which at this point he truly didn’t know because this was supposed to be an apology but he had already apologized. Jeno decided to do his best, and try again, “that was the day we met. The day you helped me finish composing this beautiful song that helped me get into music school. The day where the second i heard you singing off the words i threw out into the open air hoping for someone to grab onto, you did, and my heart seemed to begin it’s freefall” a small smile graced your features, as you remembered the day, not knowing how much life would change. The small smile is all jeno needed to continue, gaining confidence even as happiness filled every inch of you, tears that you promised you wouldn’t shed in front of him steamed but not from sadness or anger this time. This time they were from a place of loss and happiness to the boy whose eyes conveyed so much more than the words he spoke, whose hand had come up to your cheek wiping away the spare tears that would come down. Ever so gentle and full, always him.

“It was something I didn't think was possible, you know? Coming to this new school, everyone had come up with their own ideas of who i was, because of stories they had heard, only to find you. Headstrong as ever, always standing by whatever you believe even some like pluto is still a planet” you both laugh, it’s a quick one, more like a chuckle but it’s filled with joy, at the memory. “You who didn’t care what the world thought, only that if you put your mind to it you would get it done. I never meant to fall in love with you, never meant to make you cry because of something that shouldn’t have ever happened, I never meant to get you too hate me the way you probably do” his eyes softened, and he pulled away ever so slightly, “but here I am. And i now i most definitely don’t deserve it but y/n, i can’t deny it because since i first heard your voice that late night i think i fell for you, and it has been a constant free fall from there. So when i say it now, i mean it i fucking love you” the end was more of a ramble, a long list of words that made your heart flip and expand in your chest, making your smile grow and you could see the doubt in his eyes, you could see him retreat back into himself, he completely let you go when you spoke up again, “you want to know what i hate the most?” you didn’t wait for a response before speaking again, grabbing his hands in yours, and you willed him to look at you.

“I hate the way that I don't hate you” you take a step closer to him, your faces so close the sun casting glows on you both. Two shadows becoming one behind you as the sun set, as one confessed to another the way they felt. “Because i don’t hate you, jeno. In fact it’s the opposite, because hate is not even close, not a tiny bit in resemblance to what i feel you for you,

Not even close, Not even a little bit, Not even at all.”

adfghjk and it’s finally done !!! i had so so so much fun writing this piece and seriously hope you guys enjoyed it !! im such a sucker for jeno and this movie in general lol. i struggled w the ending so i hope it came out well :) n e ways,,, please please tell me your thoughts on it, what you liked? what you didn’t like? things i could improve on. much love to you all !!

masterlist

#nct fluff #nct smut #nct angst #nct imagines #luna writes #nct scenerios #jeno fluff #jeno angst #jeno imagines #lee jeno #nct dream #nct dream scenerios #nct dream imagines #jeno scenerios #jeno x reader #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #fanfic

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auty-ren · 4 years

Text

The Offer: Chapter 2

Touches

Pairing: ClanLeader!Mando x fem. Reader

Rating: T (Mature for future chapters)

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: Injury, Touching, Insinuations of sex, Cursing (just a tiny bit), Fluff, Yearning (a lot).

A/N: I’m having so much fun writing this. Please let me know what you think! Comments and feedback appreciated always. It’s also on AO3. Hope y’all enjoy💕

Chapter 1 | Chapter 3

Mandalorian lore via mandoa.org (I dont own it)

ClanLeader!Au created by @magichandthing

Gif by @coredrive

Summary: You finally get to speak to Clan Leader Djarin again.

Your nose was definitely broken.

The elder assessed that much on her initial exam of your face.

The bile in your stomach churned and nausea flooded your senses at the thought of having to reset the broken cartilage. You knew they would have to realign your nose otherwise it would never grow back properly. However, your stubbornness took hold and you wouldn’t let the elder anywhere near your face. You knew the pain that was eventually going to happen, but you dreaded the process. You wanted to postpone it for as long as you could. You tried to rationalize other options, internally debating and trying to come up with excuses for Mira and the Elder. Maybe if it was left alone, your nose would heal just fine; it seemed like a probable outcome you just hoped Mira would see it that way and leave you be.

Mira, of course, had different plans.

It took Mira straddling you, completely immobile due to her weight pressing into your chest, and the strength she held your arms with for the Elder woman to be able to fix your nose from its dislocated position. When she finally did, you're sure your scream reverberated off the walls.

“We underestimated your strength ad’ika.” The woman joked after giving a final dose of a bacta shot. Your eyes were still watering and you just huffed in response, causing Mira to chuckle from across the room.

Mira’s company started to grow on you, even though at first your time together was filled with silence. She often busied herself around the hut; shining her armor, cleaning her assortment of weapons, tinkering with different pieces of mechanics that littered the shelves. You would offer to help and she accepted, reluctantly at first, but you were starting to think she enjoyed your company as much as you did hers.

Most of the conversation was you asking questions about Mira and her people. You had some knowledge of the ways of a Mandalorian but Mira always explained it better. She always answered you with a sense of patience, explaining everything to you in detail you could understand. You appreciated it, the last thing you would want to do is offend her people with ignorance. She seemed to enjoy your enthusiasm for learning about Mandalorian culture.

“Ba'jur bal beskar'gam, Ara'nov, aliit, Mando' a bal Mand'alor, An vencuyan mhi.”

“What?”

“It is a rhyme taught to children, so they can better understand our way of life.” She put down the tool she was cleaning her armor with, handing you the piece to polish. Before you could even ask, she recited the same phrase to you in basic.

“Education and armor, Self-defense, our tribe, Our language, and our leader, All help us survive.”

Days bled into weeks and you started to lose count of how long you had been with Mira. Your injuries had healed fully thanks to Mira and the elder that visited you. Light remains of your still healing bruises were all the evidence of the encounter. As you felt better, Mira invited you to accompany her into the village. It had almost become pleasant, the little routine you two had. The fresh air always felt nice, and Mira filled the time telling you more stories of her clan.

“That man,” you paused, debating whether or not you should even bring up the topic. “The one who I met when we first arrived, who was he?”

Ever since then you found yourself wondering about him more than you liked to admit. He and Mira had been the first people to treat you with kindness in a long time, so you figured the reaction to him was just grateful. Your curious nature made it almost impossible to not want to know more. You had learned much about Mira the last few weeks, and the persistent thoughts of him would certainly cease at knowing more of him. At least that's what you told yourself, but it was hard to forget that blooming you felt in your chest when he first spoke to you. How the deep timbre of his voice felt like honey that settled in your bones. You caught yourself daydreaming how his voice would sound without the mask of his voice coder, just as rich and deep but something new and soft against your ears. It probably felt heavenly to hear him whisper things to you, his breath gentle in your ear.

Mira turned to you and watched as you waited for an answer. It was as if Mira could read your thoughts from the way her head tilted to look at you. You were thankful she didn't pry, that was a conversation you didn't want to have.

“He is the strongest and conscientious of us all, which is why the High Elders chose him to lead and defend our clan. Each of the pendants he wears is a testament to his fortitude.”

You listened intently, hanging on to every word Mira spoke.

“They say he received his signent by hunting a Mudhorn that terrorized the village and killing the beast with a viro-blade as his only weapon.”

“Oh,” was all you could say, your voice just a whisper in the silence left behind her words. As much as you will yourself to be satisfied with this information, it only seemed to stoke the fire that had been set ablaze by him. You wanted to know so much more, the desire to be around him was something you tried hard to ignore.

—

Much to Mira’s protest you mostly stayed to yourself, already feeling so out of place. Aside from her, the elder, and the brief encounter with the clan leader Djarin you hadn’t spoken to anyone else since being here. She tried all she could to get you to attend their weekly dinner, a celebration every clan member attended, she insisted. You eventually caved to her persistence. So you sat with her at one of the long wooden tables, chipping away at the plate full of food in front of you. Every so often you stopped to pull at a loose thread in your sleeve, somehow hoping the action would ease the anxiousness you felt.

The clan had given you new clothes shortly after settling with Mira. She presented the garments to you one night, explaining that the leaders agreed you would feel more comfortable in them. A simple, deep red, long sleeve tunic, and a long brown skirt that flowed around the movement of your legs. It was similar to the attire you’d seen some of the women in the village wearing. It felt unusual at first, you were so used to wearing the same few articles, almost threadbare in places from the years of consistent wear. These clothes seemed almost new, soft to the touch, and fit your body perfectly. The gesture nearly brought tears to your eyes, no one had given you such a thoughtful gift since you were a child.

It was so refreshing to see that not all the hope had been purged from the galaxy. Mira's people were just as legend had described them, fierce warriors with integrity and strength that rivaled entire battalions of soldiers; but there was also love and kinship that was deeply rooted in pillars of their society. It seemed almost surreal, this warrior race had taken you in; had healed and cared for you. It was something you had to witness first-hand, no amount of stories could convey the community the Mandalorians had, at least no one would believe you if you had tried.

You opted to observe the events of dinner, not wanting to cause any more trouble than you felt you had already. Mira had not lied when she said everyone would be there. The tables were filled with people laughing and enjoying the company of each other. It felt so peaceful, and the unsettling feeling in your stomach subsided as the dinner went on. The evening eventually started winding down when dusk had settled over the village. You thought it would be rude to leave without Mira, so you waited patiently on the sidelines wanting to return to the hut.

“How are you feeling?”

Din leaned his shoulder against the wall behind you, his arms crossed and his head tilted to the side. You jumped, you hadn't even heard him coming towards you. He seemed amused at your reaction, letting out a huff that slightly jolted his shoulders.

“I’m fine,” You felt that same pull start in your chest. “Mira has taken very good care of me.”

“Good.”

He became silent, watching the clan mingle like you were. This was exactly what you had been hoping for, to be alone, to be able to talk with him, and ask all the things you had been pondering since your initial meeting. But now you felt so small, every word you had readied was lost on your tongue, swallowed by the intimidation you felt. He was the noblest warrior of his clan, strong and authoritative in his ways but he made your heart flutter in a way you didn't know could. It was suffocating, being around him but you craved it nonetheless.

He moved to sit next to you, straddling the bench you sat on. You could feel him looking at you, but you didn't dare tear your gaze from in front of you. You felt your face flush all the way to the tips of your ears. He hadn’t said five words to you and you were already a mess.

“I should find Mira,” you broke the tension, hoping to escape so you could finally breathe again. “It's late.”

Before you could distance yourself he spoke, halting you in your tracks.

“I can return you to your hut,” he paused pushing himself to stand. He considered you for a moment as if to debate his next words.

“If that's what you wish.”

—

“I haven’t seen you since your arrival.” It wasn't really a question, more of an observation. You turned to look at his helmet, still trained on the path in front of you.

“Mira forced me to break my isolation.”

A huffed laugh came through his helmet, effectively melting some of the tension that had built up. Your own smile stretched across your lips, he still made you incredibly nervous but he at least had a sense of humor.

You didn't exchange any more words, silence falling back over you both. It felt just a little different than before, the tension wasn't drawn so tight. A light airy feeling replaced the energy that flows between the two of you. You could feel your muscles relaxing just the slightest bit, the bubbling worry in your stomach replaced with a dull ache.

Your senses focused back on your surroundings, cool darkness had enveloped your path, lit only by the torches mounted against the huts. People still congregated in the street, groups exchanging wishes of sweet dreams as most of them prepared for sleep. As you passed, side by side with their leader, each person stopped to give a small bow. Some of their gazes lingered on you, not in a judgemental way, most of them just seemed curious in nature. It was probably odd, seeing some strange woman being escorted by the most respected man in their village. If he noticed their looks, he didn't make it known.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a small flash of bright color, sticking out noticeably against the neutral tones of the earth. You stopped and tucked in between two of the homes lining your path home, was a small flower bed. Some of the buds had yet to bloom, the new petals poking through the green shell that encased them. Others were full and brilliant, ranging from every color under the sun. You kneeled down to gently caress the buds in the palm of your hand.

Din didn’t realize you had stopped at first. He noticed the absence of your footsteps and turned around, watching you admire the flowers. He walked closer to you, essentially blanketing you in his shadow. Like before, you failed to notice his presence behind you.

“Sorry,” you apologized once you realized he was waiting for you. Standing up and brushing the dirt from your knees. You awkwardly clasped your hands together in front of you, waiting for him to respond. He stood still, completely static and it felt like a standoff of who would move next. You thought of saying something, anything to get him to act again but before you could he cut you off.

“You like…” He seemed to carefully consider his next words, in some ways it almost seemed meek the way the syllables rolled off his tongue. “Flowers?”

You turned your head to glance at the bed behind you. Realizing now how odd you must've looked, stopping to smell flowers like some child. You looked forward and he had yet to move still staring directly at you, at least that's what you assumed it was hard to tell with his visor.

“Yes, um…” Your mouth felt dry and tightened around your words. You know he didn't ask for an explanation but you gave one nonetheless, trying to ease your embarrassment.

“My mother used to have flowers on my home planet,” You turned your face down to your hands, rubbing your thumb at the juncture of two of your fingers. “I haven't seen any since the day I left...”

It had been a long time since you had thought of your old life. Ever since the war it had become painful to even entertain the good memories. Your parents had become ghosts of what they once were. Their faces were just flashes in your mind, reduced to the few reminders that stuck with you. The smells of cedar and earth reminded you of your father, his clothes always permeated with the smell of the outdoors. Sometimes you could recall how kind his eyes were, seeing a glimpse of them in your dreams. You remembered your mother’s flowers, how they grew during the warm season filling beds of green with vivid, swirling color.

“I didn’t realize they still grew.” You tried your best to keep the emotions these memories held from finding your face, but Din sensed them nonetheless. He hesitated for a moment before gesturing for you to follow him again.

—

“Thank you, for walking with me,” you said turning to him with a small smile on your face as the hut came into your view.

“Of course.” He stopped just a few feet away from you, turning to mimic your position.

“Goodnight,” you said, turning and walking up the few steps of the porch to Mira’s home.

“You never told me your name,” he said, causing you to stop just in front of the door, you turned back to face him.

You told him, giving a slight smile at the end of your words. He parroted your name, climbing up the stairs becoming level with you again. He moved closer to your body, leaving just a few inches between your chests. You looked up into his visor, your reflection more noticeable with the close proximity of your bodies.

He repeated your name, his hands going for one of the necklaces resting against his chest. He lifted it away from him, bringing the necklace around your neck, the cool metal of the pendant resting just above your breasts. You looked between him and the mythosaur skull, the same one you saw plastered on nearly everything in the village. You wanted to say something, your mouth opening, and closing while trying to focus long enough to string a few words together.

“You’re so beautiful.” He leaned his arm against the door behind you, pinning you between him and the wood of Mira’s hut. His other hand came up to trace along the length of your neck, his knuckles stopping when they reached your chin.

You felt like you were on fire, your blood running white-hot under your skin, leaving a blushed tint in its wake. You didn’t dare look up at him, afraid you’d melt under his gaze that seemed to bore straight through you. You kept your eyes fixated on the expansion of chest level with your eyes.

“Have you thought about staying?” His fingers gripped your chin, bringing you to look directly at his visor.

“Stay?” You were a little taken back, your voice coming out as a squeak compared to his. “Here?”

“Yes, here.” He chuckled, his voice dropped mocking the whisper in your tone. A smile threatens the corners of your lips and you bite on the inside of your cheek to stop the spread. He thought it was entertaining, watching you become giddy under his attention. You turned to look just past his shoulder, willing the flush you felt on your face and neck to subside. You had wanted his attention and now you had it but you were failing miserably at being anything but at his mercy.

“Do you like it here?” He said sensing your hesitation, forcing you to focus on him again.

“Yes, of course.” It was true, you enjoyed your time. But to stay? What place did you have here? They had made you feel so welcome but you were an outsider and you had yet to offer any contribution to their way of life. You had felt better than you had in years. Like a familiar version of yourself had taken over again, replenishing the life you so desperately tried to find before. It felt invigorating but you knew it couldn't last forever, and with your injuries in the final stages of healing, you knew that time was coming to an end.

“Then stay.” His voice was firm but held a sort of gentleness that made your heart flip in your ribcage.

He grabbed your hand, leading your palm to rest in the middle of his chest. Your fingers instinctively spread over the warmth of his skin, he interlocked his fingers with yours, effectively trapping your hand behind his.

You couldn’t see his face, but it felt as if you were staring right into his soul. You imagined the depth and piercing look of his eyes. You imagined they were just like the rest of him, fierce and intriguing but with a softness hid behind them. Mesmerizing you and making you want nothing more than to fall deep in their hypnosis. You wanted to kiss him, to feel him against you, flesh and bone to be explored by your fingertips. You wanted to be encased totally by him, to drown in the warmth he exuded, to feel nothing but him for the rest of your days.

With a newfound boldness, you slipped your hand away from his slowly trailing down the center of his chest. The pads of your fingers moved over the toned muscle of his chest, doing exactly what you had daydreamed about since you met him. His skin was a beautiful tanned color with scars scattered, telling the story of his battles. You traced a few, fingers delicately moving across the raised skin. You felt his breath released from behind his helmet, so quiet you may have not noticed if it weren't for the rise and fall of his chest. You continued your movements, traveling down until you met the trail of hair that peeked out from his trousers. He abruptly grabbed your wrist, a groan filtering through to your ears. His grip was firm, stopping your actions but being careful not to hurt you.

“You should get some rest.” His voice was so low, gravelly, barely registering with the voice coder of his helmet. He released his grip, moving your hand back to your side.

You were afraid you had fucked up, misreading him and crossing some forbidden line. Shame flooded your mind, causing your gaze to drift to your feet. He reached up to your face, pushing the hair that fell in your face back, revealing the timid look that fell on your features. He held his palm against your face for just a moment longer than necessary. As his hand fell from your face, you were back to staring into the darkness of his visor, surprised by the tenderness of his actions.

“Goodnight,” He whispered, turning back to walk down the steps, leaving you stunned and missing his warmth.

“Goodnight.”

—————

Taglist: @queenofheavenandhell @youmeanmybrain @theocatkov @dreamgirl-67 @duker42 @spxcedxdddy @vikingqueen28 @hdlynn @leo-moon @tiffdawg

(Let me know if you want to be added or removed!💕)

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3rdgymbros · 3 years

Text

— pairing; shoko ieiri, suguru getou & satoru gojo

— summary; in suguru comes back and shoko hurts.

— spoilers for the prequel manga

When she wakes, it's late morning, and sunlight warms her skin. The better part of the night had been spent tossing and turning, and the effects make themselves known in the form of her bleary-eyed and aching body, and she sports a massive headache that's probably equal parts hangover and sleep deprivation. She activates her Technique and waits for the headache to pass. Satoru's gone, and the apartment's much too quiet without him, but she finds herself wrapped up in a pale blue blanket and is pleasantly surprised when she notes that the dishes have been washed. Somehow, she suspects that bringing that up to Satoru is a guarantee that the gesture will never be repeated.

Frappy, curled up on the back of the couch, lifts his head and mews plaintively at her when she stirs, but Chino continues sleeping undisturbed in his spot on an armchair, curled up into a tight black ball. Shoko briefly touches Frappy's white head, and scratches behind his ears. His hair feels like the delicate fluff of a dandelion, but his body is sturdy and muscular under all that pillowy down. Frappy's eyes bore into her, shooting sparks of blue into the air while his tail coils and strikes.

"I'm fine." Shoko says, and shuffles into the kitchen.

Shoko makes her usual cup of tea, once again adding half a bottle of vodka into the mixture and wanders over to the balcony, staring out at the sunny day and the Tokyo skyline stretching out beneath her. Frappy jumps off the sofa and rubs against her, but even his comfort isn't enough to keep the leaden weight from creeping back in and settling back upon her shoulders once more, seemingly growing heavier by the minute.

Frappy yowls and purrs.

"He isn't coming back." Shoko says, as much to herself as to him, a dull, quiet sort of acceptance already overtaking her.

Pushing the words out into the air seems to make them real. She closes her eyes, slowly breathing out. Dark beings bury everything, just never deep enough, and Shoko grabs onto the steel railings and waits until the room stops spinning.

However much she wishes she can spend the day soaking in hot water, Shoko dresses quickly, falling back into her usual morning routine. She tugs on a black turtleneck sweater and a decently short pleated skirt in lipstick red. She runs a brush through her hair and lets it hang loose, too lazy to pull it back into something more elaborate. She paints her lips in bright reds, smooths on foundation that does nothing to hide the purple bruises under her eyes, and slides on her usual pair of black studs.

She'd taken it upon herself to pack away Suguru's belongings in cardboard boxes. The wounds of grief had been too raw, too fresh for Satoru, and she'd supposed that she'd dealt him a kindness by clearing away Suguru's things on her own. She'd felt a strange sort of determination as she'd gone through the notions of packing, a desire to ensure that Satoru wouldn't be hurt any further. Satoru protected her in his own way, and she protected him in hers.

Suguru's favorite jacket, his white dress shirt, his jeans, the velvet scrunchies she'd bought for him as a joke, these and other things were littered with memories in every fold and pleat. And she'd packed them all away, except a pair of his earrings, feeling as though all the air had been squeezed out of her lungs.

The first few nights, she'd taken to wearing a T-shirt of Suguru's that hadn't been washed yet. It still held the smells of his skin and the fragrance of his cologne. She hadn't known how to make the scent last. One day long after it was gone, she would find herself wishing for one more breath of his smell, and it would exist only in her memory.

It's eleven when Shoko leaves for work; if the downtown traffic is light, she'll arrive at school in an hour. One thing about her apartment is that the skyline view comes at the cost of work convenience. The school has service apartments for its staff, but she prefers having her own personal space – and she isn't exactly unable to afford it. Working as a Shaman pays well.

Her headache and the last effects of the hangover are gone by the time Shoko walks into the school, her heeled Mary Janes clicking against the concrete. The school is abuzz with students wandering the expansive grounds, but she knows from experience that they'll be leaving on missions in an hour or two, and the muted peace will descend upon the grounds once again.

The first years are clustered by the entrance of the school. Yuta seems particularly anxious, his nose and cheeks bright red from the cold, and his eyes are glued to the sky.

"What's wrong?" She asks him, slowing her footsteps and lingering to hear his answer. There's a feeling of anxious foreboding gnawing at her insides. Whatever's going on, she doesn't like it, as an unwelcome spirit begins to take over her flesh, making her shiver and her stomach roll.

"It's just –" Shoko turns at his alarmed voice, following his wide-eyed gaze. "That's a big bird."

A bitingly cold wind stirs her hair and skirt, chafing her skin. A wind born of enormous flapping wings. That's certainly one way to describe it, Shoko thinks dryly, before inhaling sharply when she feels it. Shoko knows whose Cursed Energy that is, she knows it from a place that goes deeper than memory. But she can't make herself believe it. Not here. Not now.

Suguru's Cursed Energy was at the scene, Yaga had told her yesterday, forced into being the bearer of bad news once again. She'd stared at him with lips pursed, her expression one of forced calm even as hard-won emotion had churned at her insides. It's possible he might approach you.

Suguru, Shoko thinks, swallowing down the lump in her throat. Her hands are shaking. She fumbles about in her purse, finds a squashed packet of Camel Lights and tucks it away into her pocket. She hasn't smoked for years, not since Utahime had nagged at her to quit incessantly, but the weight of it is soothing in her pocket.

"Why don't you all go and get Satoru?" Shoko asks casually, but there's no mistaking her words for what they really are: an order. Challenging, she raises her eyebrows at Maki, who looks as though she wants to argue. "And stay indoors until this is over."

Yuta hesitates. "Will you be okay on your own?"

"'Course." Shoko replies, reassuring as her lips lift up into a smile she doesn't really feel. "I'm the strongest."

She watches the first years scramble away. She doesn't take her eyes off them until she's sure that they're gone; they're just children after all, and she has no desire to involve them in the wars waged between adults. Let them remain children for a little while longer. Might as well give them the chance that we never got.

Turning, Shoko finds herself looking into a pair of dark hazel eyes. It had been easy to ignore her own feelings for him last night while in the throes of alcohol, easy to pretend she'd accepted the situation and had moved on from the past. But now, in the cold light of sobriety, she feels that old ache stir within her chest. She swears she can smell the scent of his skin, mingling with the woodsy apple fragrance of his cologne. The afternoon sunlight illuminates his hair, dark as a raven's wing, and she can perfectly recall what it had been like to touch the lines of his face, the smooth skin of his upper cheek.

Suguru's eyes light up when he sees her. They're much harder now, and stripped away of their childhood innocence, but for one brief moment, it feels as though nothing's changed at all. He would have been returning from a mission and she would have come to greet him, badgering him for souvenirs. It would have been nothing unusual.

He calls out her name, speaks in the voice she's craved for so long, deeper now than in his youth. "Shoko!"

What does he want from her? Is she supposed to care after months, years of silence, Suguru ruthlessly unknotting any ties of friendship between them? But she does care. That’s the problem. Years of their shared memories are steeped in her blood. It would take leeches to suck them out.

"Suguru." Shoko says with difficulty. To give her hands something to do, she tucks her hair behind her ear. She doesn't miss it, how his gaze lingers on her face before flitting to her ears, to the earrings glinting there. "Visiting without souvenirs?"

What she's really saying: How could you leave us for so long? And what brings you back now?

Somehow, she knows that he's seeing through her apparent apathy. It's not surprising. They've always been able to read each other well. The difference is that for the first time, Suguru's mind is closed to her. She is looking at a stranger.

"I'll bring some next time. Do you still hate sweets?"

"I never hated the ones you made." Shoko says, after several moments pass in silence. It's the first bit of honesty she's shown him since he's arrived. "Those were good."

There it is, a tremble so slight Shoko might have missed if she hasn’t known Suguru for as long as she has. Suguru's wearing the mask of a stranger now, but it's slipped for just a second. Enough for both of them to be reminded of what they were once, and how far they've fallen since then. But as soon as it appears, it's gone. Sealed away behind those steely eyes once again.

Distantly, she's aware of the presence of at least half the school, swarming, buzzing like flies. They close in, forming a defensive posture. Satoru's there too, and his Cursed Energy has her skin prickling, as if hundreds of butterfly wings are brushing against her.

Shoko closes her eyes. Blinks them open. Breathes out his name on a needle of pain. "Why did you come here, Suguru?"

Suguru's face twists up into a mockery of a smile. She struggles to see the boy who had been everything to her and the young man who'd protected her from Cursed Spirits and Curse Users. "To declare war."

"You okay?" Satoru asks, his voice low as he comes to stand by her side.

It's as if something has broken inside her, until she feels bent over with the cruelty of this grief, a grief so strong she doesn't even know who or what it is for. Her eyes are burning, tearless sobs shaking her body for a precious few seconds until she breathes in deeply, swallowing the feelings back down to their prison inside her.

"Fine." Shoko says, even as something clutches at her throat.

#shoko ieiri #gojo satoru #suguru geto #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #sss trio #jjk spoilers #♥ || sam writes.#;; and here is part 2 yall enjoy

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do-y0u-have-to-let-it-linger · 3 years

Note

hi!!! can i get an x-men shift please? i’m bi (but hetero leaning) and use she/her pronouns. i’m a sagittarius, INTP, and am super into pop culture, movies tv shows music stuff like that. i’m an introvert, pretty shy at first but once you get to know me i’m pretty funny and kinda an asshole. i’m 5’7”, plus size and curvy, with longish wavy brown hair, blue eyes, and wear black glasses. i dress pretty comfy, jeans and t-shirts, sweatshirts, but i also have a leather jacket when i want to look more put together. mostly wear vans and converse. i love taylor swift, star wars, and all the superhero movies out there. i honestly don’t know what my mutation would be, i’ve never found one that fits right i guess. can’t wait to see who i’m paired with! love your blog, and thank you :)

I ship you with Peter Maximoff!

Warning: ✨contains swear words, mentions of being high, and grammatical errors probably✨

Peter is the type of person who thinks of bold and outrageous plans, but is horrible at executing them.

This is especially apparent now that he is part of the X-Men, because of the high stakes that often come hand and hand with these plans.

Yet at this moment, standing in front of you, attempting to respond to your simple and reasonable question, he feels as though the stakes of this plan are higher than any other he has previously made.

You and Peter were very close, most of you X-Men were. Shared trauma bonded you all like a family. So you were very comfortable around each other, like the: "We literally laugh at each other's farts and say 'love ya!' When one of us leaves a room." comfortable, so it concerned you that he seemed so nervous. You repeated your, as previously stated, simple and reasonable question.

"Peter, what the fuck."

You were mid-way through Empire Strikes Back when he first appeared, standing in front of the TV. Generally, when someone is watching a movie alone with the volume level barely audible, at 2 AM in the morning, they do not expect to be interrupted, but there he was. Interrupting you.

So you had asked him if he wanted to watch the movie with you and he said no.

Then you asked him if something was wrong and he said no.

But after he had stood in front of the television long enough for you to have paused the movie, you had come to the conclusion that he was messing with you. Hence the two "what the fuck"s.

He finally responded, seemly returning to his body after his brain's small vacation to who knows where.

"I need to talk to you about something important, and I wanted it to go a certain way but that way never actually happens so I'm doing it another way." Well, that was even more incoherent than his usual sentences.

"Wait- are you high again?"

"No! No. Well, maybe a little- but that's not the point."

"Sure, now what's going on."

"We're like... technically co-workers because of us being X-Men and shit, right?"

"If Bat-Man and Robin are co-workers, then yes."

"Don't be self-deprecating, you're way cooler than a silly side-kick."

You raised your eyebrows at him, "I wasn't Robin in that analogy, but thank you."

"Wait, I'm Robin?"

"You are a grown man who just used the world silly un-ironically, and I feel like that's something Robin would do. Just to clarify I don't know shit about Bat-man."

"Hey I'm barely a grown man- I'm not 25 yet, that would entail being a grown man, and I've got time 'till then! Anyway, stop going off-topic."

"Then move on from being weirdly defensive about being an adult in the eyes of the state."

"Touché. So, we're co-workers."

"Correct. What's the point."

"That's a problem."

"Why?"

"Well, ok this needs to be prefaced so consider this me shushing you in a respectful and not sexist way. You have been shushed."

"...Ok?"

"Shh! Now I get to ramble. So you know movies?" He gestured towards the school's collection of movies that sat next to the tv, and you nodded confused. "So in these movies, things happen certain ways, but those certain ways seem just as scary as the opposite of those ways." Yeah, he was totally high. "So, wow I'm starting so many sentences with the word 'so'. Anyway- I want to tell you something but I don't want it to be like a movie but I don't want it to be like not in a movie either. So I just want to say it then leave. Like- I'm going to run after I say it. Is that okay? You are temporarily un-shushed."

"If you're dying it's not, but if it's basically anything else then yeah. Go for it, you speedy coward."

"Cool. I mean- the nickname hurt but cool. Cool." He looked at you for a second. "Can you like... turn around?"

"Turn around?"

He now acknowledged that that was an odd thing to ask. "...Yeah. Is that dumb?"

"No, no, I'll turn around." To lighten the awkward mood, you made a joke. "A reasonable price for your terrible secrets to be revealed to me." It was not a very funny joke, but you tried your best and earned a (pity) scoff from him.

You were now both sitting criscrossed on the couch, facing the same direction. You were staring at a wall you found very uninteresting, and he was staring at the back of the head belonging to a person he found very interesting.

"So- basically I think you're... pretty..." He said the word intending to add another adjective after it, like 'cool', but he decided against it because that would be stupid. "And I have this problem where when I figure out I want to, quote-unquote, date someone, which is a gross word, by the way, I'm always friends with them. That means it has to be this dramatic thing. But I don't want it to be! You know? I just want to tell you that I have a stupid crush on you like a normal person. And- that's why I suddenly started hating training, because who likes to see people they want to smooch almost fake die, huh? No one! That's who! And I want to explain why I like you, but whenever I talk to Wanda about you, I always end up describing you the way a first grader describes their crush! Like: she's pwetty and smawt or whatever but that's fuckin' dumb. I guess that makes sense because I don't have crushes on people ever, and I barely dated in school, so I have no idea how to do this and I just want to pass you one of those 'hey, do you like me?!' notes with the fuckin' checkmarks!! And I am an adult person who is kind of afraid of kissing! What?!? Also, I don't have abs like Scott! Or boobs, and I know you like people with or without boobs and boobs are great! Also, to backtrack, don't think that I think you would go for Scott, even though if you were to, I would be supportive of you, but also sad because I would prefer if you went for me! So I want to be normal. Normal like the people in movies who meet someone cute and ask them out and not like the movies with the big stupid confessions. Trust me, if I had noticed that I whatever you like a year ago, I would have asked you out! Well no I wouldn't of because I would be too afraid to talk to you. But anyway I made you this," He reached around you and handed you a folded-up note. "Don't open it until I run away, but just leave it here with your response. If you check no, I bet if we paid Jean enough money she would erase this interaction from our brains. I only have seven dollars but I'm betting on a 'friends and family' discount. But.. if you say yes, I can ask you out like a dick in a movie, knowing you'll say yes because I am a speedy coward. I want you to call me a speedy coward when I do cowardly shit speedily, then do this cute thing where you'd be like 'but you're my speedy coward''. Anyway, I'm going to leave now. Love ya, but in the way we always said it beforehand, not in a dramatic confession way. Sorry I delved into my childhood there. Bye." You felt him awkwardly pat your back.

There was a gust of wind that ruffled your hair, and you knew he had run away.

You lifted the note up, mind empty, still processing everything he had rambled to you, and started carefully unfolding it.

It was one of his previously mentioned "Do you like me?" notes.

You willed yourself not to straight-up giggle like a 12-year-old at his note. It was messily written, and clearly on the back of a mission briefing.

Shit, you didn't have a pen. You looked under the couch cushions but there was no form of a writing utensil in sight! The audacity.

You knew Peter well enough to know that he was probably not too far away, waiting for the result of his question and trying not to spy.

"Hey... uh... Peter? I don't have a pen."

Peter hit his forehead with his hand, where the fuck was he going to get a pen? It's not like he owned pens that were actually in a designated spot! How ridiculous would that be, who did he look like, Charles? Charles! Charles has pens in designated pen places!

So Peter ran into the headmaster's office and found a pen. He wrote a small note stating that he borrowed a pen and that he would return it. Looking at the note Peter found it did not fully encapsulate the desperate need for the pen. The note ended up something like this:

Hey Charles! It's Peter! I took borrowed a pen because a very serious situation manner situation has arised. arisen. From, Peter. You can't get mad at me because if you could legally marry my dad you would be married and I would basically be your step son! Thanks half dad!

He thought the addition of the 'step' in stepson effectively hid the fact that Charles was a father figure of his. What was he doing here again? The serious manner!

In an instant of you telling Peter that you did not have a pen, one appeared.

"Thank you!"

You checked the yes box, but had a want to write something adorable. You couldn't think of anything so you just wrote "This was weird." under your checkmark. Well played.

You entertained the idea of resuming your movie but decided against it, you thought it would be more dramatic if you left the room.

The minute you made your exit Peter sprinted into the room. He opened your note, jumped, pumped his fist in the air, realized that was nerdy, and tried to make a cool pose to recover.

Now he just had to figure out how the fuck he was going to ask you out.

#me 🤝 juxtaposing fancy words with words like stupid and cool and nice because i think it's funny #the muse has been gone for a few days so i hope this is good #screw you muse i'm writing anyway!#peter maximoff x reader #ship request #the ending is weird and the pacing is off but ily so forgive me

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ddarker-dreams · 4 years

Text

Home. Yan!Shigaraki x Reader [COMM]

Japan brings with it a plethora of memories.

Memories ranging from the highest of your life to the lowest. Times that you can recall with a special fondness, reserved in your heart for the rest of your life. But always balanced out with numerous hurts, times that you wish you could erase from your mind. All of it remains a mixed bag within you, serving only to befuddle your true feelings further as you get off the plane.

Going through customs felt surreal, the bustle of the airport one that struck you with a sense of nostalgia. The people, the scents, the sights -- it all left you with a weary heart, but you had already expected to feel this way. Returning wasn’t an easy decision, the dividing thought leaving you with numerous restless nights.

But ultimately, your choice has been made. With suitcases in hand, you look down towards your phone. Traveling always sounds nice in theory, but jet lag and exhaustion were taking you hostage. Still, it won’t do to get tired now; you still need to make it to your new apartment after all.

‘If I could survive that long flight in economy class, I can last through one more Uber drive.’

Blurry images of the airport scenery go by, the music in the car all but tuned out by your chaotic thoughts. It all reminds you of how you left in such a hurry in the first place, in the dead of night. How conflicted you were then -- constantly doubting your decision and wondering if you should just turn back.

But turning back to Shigaraki at the time didn’t feel like a viable option.

You don’t think of it as running away from your problems. Even if that’s what it may sound like, you tried all you reasonably could do. From countless heart to heart discussions, to tearful phone calls. All of it fell on deaf ears, or worse, served to irritate him. Neither of you would back down from your given positions, despite the care you shared for one another. The care that led you to overlook your own morals for a time being.

Shigaraki was always someone who was firmly planted in his ways, and didn’t care for having his morals challenged. Though he was considerably more tolerable towards your verbal opposition than anyone else would even have the opportunity to attempt, it didn’t mean he’d change his mind in the end.

So you left. It’s bizarre to believe that eight months have already passed since then, eight months of your life being vastly different than before. Even when you weren’t in Japan, you would still hear news reports of the League of Villain's activities. Every time a headline popped up of what was happening, it made your stomach drop.

His hold over you didn’t feel as less constricting as you had originally hoped it would. Even if he was no longer physically with you during those times, you could still almost imagine his presence by your side. His mannerisms, what he would say to you if he was there. The nightmare never ended, it only got worse as the days went on. Shigaraki would never stop haunting you.

Which leads to where you are now. Having left the car with a quiet thank you, staring up at your new apartment building. Getting your keys from the main office, you desire nothing more than for this to be a positive beginning in your life. If leaving Japan didn’t help you feel any better, it only made sense for you to come back. There’s no place like home, after all.

But you’ll still be living your life on the down low. It’s unnerving, since the League never stayed in one area for long. If you knew where they were hiding now, you would gladly put as much distance between yourself and them as possible. But given the nature of Shigaraki’s vision, they were always on the move.

Turning your keys until you hear a click, your last burst of energy goes into opening the door. Inside showcased an apartment devoid of furniture, but still your new home nonetheless. With a deep sigh, you tug your heavy luggage through the door frame.

‘I’ll at least need to unpack some things before I can sleep…’

Briskly walking to the sink, you splash cold water onto your face in a desperate attempt to stay awake. Your new mattress won’t be delivered until tomorrow, so sleeping on the floor is all you can do for the time being. Shaking your head at the thought, you sluggishly get to work.

Grabbing your favorite blanket and pillow, you lazily throw it where your bed will soon take its place. Everything else can wait for tomorrow, it’s not like you’ll have any company to entertain. With the sun already having set thirty minutes ago, you close your blinds and gratefully lay down.

Even if it’s on the floor, it feels like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders to finally relax.

It doesn’t take long for sleep to find you, all of your pent up emotions and nonstop thinking having sapped all your energy. All you can hope for, as your heavy eyelids flutter shut, is that tomorrow will be the fresh start that you have longed for.

---

“Mnh…”

Rubbing your eyes, you almost panic for a moment at your new surroundings. Before recalling all that had occurred, and that this place is your home now.

‘What time is it…?’

Blindly groping around your pillow for your phone, your eyes squint in pain at the bright screen. Displaying that it’s only 11:25 PM, and that you only had been asleep for a few hours. The effects of sleeping on the floor make themselves known, your back aching at the lack of proper support.

Grimacing at the throbbing discomfort, you put your phone down before sitting up with a yawn. With intention to get up and soothe your dry throat with a drink, you never get the chance before a voice pierces through the dark.

“All that running sure must’ve been exhausting.”

Jumping at the sound of a lower voice in your pitch black room, your eyes rapidly dart around for the possible source. Breathing growing unsteady, you feel your lips tremble at the thought of a stranger in your apartment. Would your quirk be useful enough in fending them off?

Hugging your knees against your chest in a reflexive response, your mind scrambles to come up with a plan.

Reaching to grab your phone out of desperation, you finally let out a weak response. “W-who’s there? I’ll call the police!”

“Like that’d do any good.” The voice responds in a mocking lilt. Like a sudden wave crashing over you, you’re finally able to discern through your fatigued state who this is. You feel as if you’re being dragged beneath the waves, the air all but smacked from your lungs.

‘That’s--!’

Footsteps approach you slowly, methodically. You feel frozen, incapable of even forming a coherent thought. As the person gets closer, you realize you need to run. But before you can even get the opportunity, you feel a foreboding weight around your shoulders.

And four fingers tapping against your bare skin.

“Did you forget about me, [First]?”

You know that voice all too well. The fact that even sleep managed to dull your guess of who it was is astonishing, but no longer do you feel uncertain of who it is. Goosebumps line your exposed skin, the sound of your own shaky breathing filling the otherwise silent room.

“Sh-Shigaraki…?”

“So you didn’t,” he responds with a low, humorless snicker. Tightening his grip around you, you can feel his hair tickling your face. “I’m glad I don’t have to remind you of that, at least.”

Swallowing thickly, you feel tears prickling the edge of your eyes. There are too many overwhelming things on your mind, too many questions without answers and silent pleads. It all feels too suffocating, air becoming a luxury that you miss. In the moment, all you can will yourself to do is choke out your next words.

“How,” you exhale shakily, mind screaming your tongue drier than sandpaper. “How did you find me?”

For a brief moment, you feel his coarse fingers cease their previous drumming movements. In a motion that could only be described as flinching, Shigaraki quickly recovers himself while answering your question with a malicious bite.

“After all this time, that’s what you want to say to me?” Shigaraki growls out towards you, causing you to squeeze your eyes shut. You desperately wish that none of this is real, that the cruel events unfolding before your very eyes are all but a dream.

From all the time that you had spent with Shigaraki, you had grown accustomed to his mannerisms. Being able to pick up on every little nuance of his words, to what every twitch of his muscles meant. But now, you feel incapable of doing just that. Is it bitterness hidden in his words? Disappointment, frustration? Something tells you that it’s all of that, and more.

“Whatever. I’ll humor you with the answer. Imagine my surprise, I get a phone call from Toga. I was barely able to understand her at first, her voice was so frantic and excited,” Shigaraki pauses for a moment, recalling the prior events. “Eventually, she manages to explain that ‘big sis [First]’ is back. And well… here we are.”

At first you didn’t pick up on it, but there’s a slight tremble in Shigaraki’s voice. You realize now how difficult he’s trying to hold himself together, feeling his body shaking against your own. Each of his words come out more forced than the last, almost as if a lump was forming in his throat.

Unable to conjure up a response fast enough, you hear Shigaraki’s labored breathing growing more unsteady.

“Well? Say something! Don’t just sit there.”

All false impressions of control start to slip through his fingers, true emotions no longer being able to hide. Cracks beneath the surface reveal to you just how much pain he is in, the mere thought enough to tug on your own battered heartstrings even more. You open your mouth, wondering if there’s anything you can say to diffuse the situation.

He clings to you tighter.

“Shigaraki… I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you sniffle, small sobs unable to be suppressed any longer. His muscles tense at the sound of you crying, a battle within ensuing. “I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t take the violence, t-the constant living in fear! I don’t know, I don’t know…”

Much to your surprise, a rough hand wipes away the tears leaving your dampened eyes. Jaw agape, you feel deft fingers working hard to dry your skin. You remember long ago how he told you once that he hated seeing you cry, that it made him unsure of what to do.

Hiccuping, you feel your lip tremble at your next question. “Are you going to kill me too now?”

“I don’t know, probably not. Just… just stop crying already.”

Shaking your head, you know the waterworks won’t be stopping anytime soon. Now it was your turn to take Shigaraki by surprise, stuffing your head against his chest to muffle your own cries. He subconsciously moves his fingers to make sure they don’t all touch you at once, and you feel how tense he becomes at your unexpected touch.

Eventually, he places a tentative few digits against your back, awkwardly attempting to soothe you. It all brings you to the pinnacle of your emotions, unable to hold back your full fledged sobs any longer. Gripping onto the fabric of his hoodie, you take in his familiar scent. Shigaraki begins gnawing on his lip, having not expected his confrontation to go like this.

He eventually returns your serpent tight hug, placing his head into the crook of your neck.

“Don’t think you’re getting off easy,” Shigaraki finally grumbles against your skin, his own emotions too unsteady to even understand. “I’m not ever letting you out of my sight again.”

#shigaraki tomura #tomura shigaraki #shigaraki tomura imagine #tomura shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki imagine #my hero academia #my hero academia imagine #yandere my hero academia #yandere #yandere x you #yandere x reader #bnha #bnha imagines #bnha imagine #bnha x reader #yandere bnha #my stuff #commissions

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marvelousell · 4 years

Note

Can I request a smut oneshot about Tom? He's going rough on her and tied her up. He even uses toys like a whip and so on. And then he hurts her accidently and she can't say the save word because of a reason you can choose and then she starts to cry and he realises what he had done and is so sorry and she even has handprints on her body the next morning and he does everything to make it better

Kiss it better

A/N: This big piece of work made me tear up a little bit, we all know Tom is a real gentleman 🥺

Warnings: SMUT 18+, angst

Your and Tom’s sex life was anything but vanilla. That wasn’t a secret anyway. Yes, you do enjoyed slow, sensual sex, but this precise things got you both very excited. You being his obedient girl.

Everything was strictly consensual. You both were into this, having a chat before all of that even started. He knew what you liked, and agreed on, and he always made sure you were okay with that, before and especially during sex.

Well today was a bit different.

It was 7 pm by now. The sun now long gone. You were lying on your couch, still waiting for Tom, who was probably stuck at work. The faint sound of the dull rom-com was replaced with a roaring slam of the front door.

Uh oh someone had a crappy day.

Your expression puzzled, but still blank.

His jaw was clenching hard. His eyes now searching yours. The usual pair of soft brown eyes were replaced by a pair of much more darker and furious ones.

You knew that someone must’ve struck his nerve at work.

It wasn’t the first time. He needed a relief.

“You. Bed. Now.” He broke the eye contact removing his watch and coat.

Your marched into your shared bedroom, pulling your large t-shirt away. Sitting on your legs, in only your half soaked panties, you couldn’t hide the accelerated heartbeat of yours.

You loved angry Tom. The excitement was making you aroused more and more every second.

Your mind was running absolutely wild. You knew you needed to listen and behave. Oh but you needed a small touch right now.

Your hand now cupping your heat, while the other one was playing with your nipple.

“You can’t listen to an order, hm?” His voice harsh. Your breath shortened.

“No one really listens. I’m really not a fan of that.” Stripping himself, he came near you, only to push you flat on your stomach.

“Hands behind.” He tied your hands as tight as he could.

He was angry, his co-workers making him feel like a fool.

The sound of him searching for something in the drawers, made you shuffle.

His legs parted yours, making himself comfortable between you. The buzzing of the toy started echoing, making you hide your face into the pillow.

The toy was now placed on your clit, and while you were focusing on the pleasure it was giving you, Tom slammed into you without a single warning making you gasp from the slight pain.

Tom buried himself inside of you, now taking the whip, stroking it gently on your right cheek.

The cold sensation on your warm skin made you shiver. Once again without a warning he slapped you with it, making you jump. He was now fully into it, slapping you as hard as ever, starting a pool of tears in your eyes.

The toy was doing its job, your walls tightening around him. He could feel it, his movements fast, removing the toy and himself from you.

“Now, now, only good girls can cum isn’t that true?” His palm landing on your ass harshly a few times. You tried to free your hands, unsuccessfully, only to feel the material burning into your wrists.

The edging went on and on, he would slam into you so hard, mixing the pain with the need for your release.

It was all to much.

“Tom.” You said through the tears.

“Don’t want to hear a word from you sweetie, be a good girl for once.” Moving his free palm to shut you up, and if he did that you would shatter, the sex wasn’t enjoyable at all at the moment.

You needed him to stop. But the safe word for the two of you, that was tap twice on my thigh to stop, was in this situation not effective.

“Tom, s-stop, RED.” You shouted in tears, turning your head from him.

“Fucking hell.” He began untying you.

The crying and aching in-between your thighs was horrible. The whole scene was a disaster. He went to far at this point. His eyes watering seeing you hurt, and the hurting coming from him, made his heart split into pieces.

“Baby, I-I’m, fuck come here I’m so fucking sorry.” He was now so gentle, afraid that he would break you.

Still crying in his arms, he placed you on the pillows, dressing you up.

“I can’t-I, words can’t describe how much of an idiot I am. I’m truly sorry.”

“I was so selfish taking the anger out on you, without asking if anything was okay with you. Hell baby you know how much I love you. Let me take care of you.” He pleaded, eyes full of regret.

“It’s okay Tom. Just a little bit too much for me.” You sniffled.

“I know love I’m a fucking prick, let me run us a nice bath, and afterwards I will make you your favourite tea and we can cuddle all night on the couch. Yeah?” He insisted to make things better.

“That sounds lovely.”

The next morning, the remaining pain woke you up.

You tried the best not to wake Tom up, but it looked like he was wide awake for a while now.

The guilt was eating him up. The purple bruises that were now showing on your wrists and bum, made him realise how much of an egocentric he was the previous night.

“My love…” Taking your hands into his, kissing them gently.

“I’m once again so sorry, this isn’t me, that’s all I wanted you to know. Im genuinely sorry.” He repeated himself many times.

“It’s fine, really Tommy. We sorted it all yesterday.” You grabbed his face, searching for his eyes to look at you.

“I love you, and I will show you how much. This day is just about you my love.” He kissed you passionately, embracing you in a big soft cuddle.

#tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfic #tom holland blurb #tom holland smut #tom holland angst #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland one shot #tom holland #elli writes

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pollenat · 3 years

Text

“Nocturnal silence” | cjs.

➛ ITZY’s Lia. 2012!au.

➛ Word count: 1854.

➛ This short follows the events of “Liquid mirrors”.

The worst part about the overcrowded cabin has to be the snoring woman. The very same one that just a few hours ago complained about the lack of fresh brussels sprouts on a ship - the last ark of humanity after the end of the world. Humankind has gone mostly extinct, and she had the guts to be angry at frozen greens. Looking at her through half-closed lids, you’re itching to throw a pillow at the woman. Nothing can stop her from going on, like an old tractor, choking on its own engine every now and then. The very pillow you’re trying to deafen the noises with, does nothing to your sensitive ears. You’re growing more and more irritated with each passing second.

Others seem to not mind. You look down, at the bunk underneath yours, where a mother with her son are sound asleep. The boy has kicked thin blanket off of his body, as if to prove how much space he can take. His mother is lying on the very edge, somehow calm despite her tragic situation. A man, lying above the snoring woman, has earplugs. Lucky asshole.

Your body thrashes around for an hour or so. At least it feels like it. The duvet is in desperate need of changing, but who cares about laundry during the apocalypse? You’re all sticky from sweat, annoyed by incoming headache and ready to commit a murder, which is just a figure of speech, don’t worry. The fact that nobody else is as affected by the snoring? A perfect way to drive you insane.

At some point you can’t take it anymore - the night feels useless. You miss the rays of sunshine, the sign of life, the reason to stay away from the cabin. Tonight, just like many times before, you jump off of bed, barely avoiding the snoring woman’s husband. He has made himself a sleeping station on the ground. You wonder is he really asleep or just way more patient than you. Either way, you don’t plan on staying around a second longer. As soon as the door closes, you’re welcomed by sweet silence. It’s an odd contrast to the loud snoring. Its lack has you almost creeped out.

The floor is cold under your naked feet. To the point where you can’t touch it for longer than a few seconds. Jumping from one foot to another, you look down the dark hallway. Its only source of light are small windows in the cabins’ doors. Circle-shaped rays fall on walls, like headlights, showing you the way across narrow scene.

Nobody will mind you getting lost in the ship’s hallways, right? You’re just another survivor, struggling to find their place aboard the ark. There are no perspectives. Exploring it seems to be the most compelling thing one could busy themselves with. So you travel down the scene, stepping inside the circles of light and looking inside the cabins as you pass. There’s no other soul up. Everybody is sleeping. It’s sort of weird and you wonder whether it’s just a dream you’re stuck in. How come you’re the only one unable to fall asleep?

Humming some tune you faintly remember makes the night feel more bearable. You’re tired of the crowded spaces, of eyes settling on you, even if they’re just traveling. They’re a tiresome phenomenon that does nothing, but fuel your anxiety. The worst part? Aside from the night, there’s nowhere to escape. All-ocean has made sure of that.

Step by step, you move forward, never putting a foot down for longer than two seconds. You’ve already observed that, but now it reminds you of the past. The tiled floor of your balcony during Winter. Dusting used duvets while cursing at temperature. Welcoming the texture of a carpet with relief. Digging your toes into the fluff. It’s weird to miss carpets in the middle of the night, but you do. Their last reminder is the one snoring woman’s husband uses as his mattress, an object completely out of your reach. What interior designer forgot about additional carpets onboard a luxury ship?

In front of you a door opens. Some silhouettes leave their cabin in hurry. Hushed giggles resonate down the hallway. You can neither make out a sense to their conversation nor put faces to dark shapes. But they do sound familiar. The silhouettes disappear behind a corner in the hallway’s other end.

Heart beating fast, your steps speed up. A thought, string of memories, collection of pictures swims in the back of your head. Common sense is the only thing keeping you from describing them. Number 203 is meaningful, though it’s just a number.

You’re just by the door when it opens again.

“Oh!” Jisoo. Jisoo? Jisoo! “You scared me!” She laughs, eyes morphing into crescent moons. But as soon as her voice raises in volume, Jisoo covers her mouth, worried she will wake up other residents.

“I see there are more night owls around the ship?” You motion at where the two silhouettes, you can now safely identify, disappeared.

The girl looks in the same direction. Her eyes stay there for a longer time, while you watch her profile. Perhaps (you won’t admit it), you should be thanking the snoring woman for a chance to see Jisoo at a different time. Her hair is disheveled, but the little mess is a beautiful one. Eyes glossy, lips dry, t-shirt creased. She’s a painting you enjoy watching. Even when her smile disappears as she returns to facing you.

You grow nervous instantly, because the mood shifts and you slightly prefer the easy-going Jisoo to solemn and serious Jisoo. The easy-going one loves joking, which is much better, as it consists mostly of laughing at yourself and your inability to form proper sentences.

“Uh, yes. I don’t know why Ryujin and Yuna left though. They didn’t tell me. Probably to spy on Yeji.” Pause. “Or something...”

“So, are you going to follow them?” Jisoo seems to consider your question.

Then she steers the conversation to your person.

“I don’t know- Why are you up? Came to spy on Yeji too?”

“As if it has ever bothered me what's Yeji doing at night. I have my own problems, mainly, a snoring roommate.”

Jisoo nods her head in understanding, mouth opened to build on the effect. You’re stuck in nocturnal silence, both scared to break it. Frankly, you don’t even have any idea where to go from here. Maybe you should just return to exploring the ship, but then again, it’s not everyday that you catch Jisoo alone.

“I’ve been walking around, you know, exploring.”

Again, she nods.

“So you’re looking for some place to rest?”

“In a way, yes. Do you happen to know any?” She smiles.

“Actually, I do.”

You’re surprised by her boldness. Jisoo lies down on her bed and you’re watching her with an awkward surprise.

“Don’t make it weird, I’m just sharing a bed with you. Okay, perhaps it does sound weird. But we’re just going to sleep, not- do anything weird? Okay, ignore me. I don’t know what I’m talking about.” To be honest, her joke doesn’t make you feel any better about the situation.

After a defeated sigh, you walk over to the bed, eyes never once meeting hers. Jisoo holds the edge of her duvet. She’s patiently waiting until your stiff posture joins her side. Then she slowly follows your lead.

The first thing you register is the smell - Jisoo’s smell. It’s an overwhelming sensations you’re eager to breathe in after many attempts at small doses. Now that you can experience it in its full form, you can safely say it’s bound to become one of your favorite sensations. It causes you excitement, one that you’re embarrassed to show. Maybe she will call you a creep if you don’t stop yourself from smiling? Suddenly worried, you look for other things to focus on. Like the coldness of her skin against your left hand’s knuckles. Frankly, it’s stuck. The bed is meant for one person and you can’t just sprawl across its surface.

A moment of hesitation passes. Then you turn to lie on your side, facing Jisoo.

At first you’re both stuck in shy silence. Jisoo’s looking down, perhaps thinking over something. But you don’t plan on disturbing her. It’s as if you’ve forgotten your tongue - you can’t even feel it. The darkness is all-consuming and you wish to stay hidden in its embrace, so Jisoo never learns of how hard it is for you to say a word, but also look away.

“So.”

Her eyes, so hesitant to meet yours, finally reach them. She’s surprised to find you staring back.

“How bad is it?”

“Bad?”

“Yeah, how bad is lying next to me on a bed?” Dark eyes pull away to avoid you.

Your brain orders you to be smooth. “It’s not bad.” isn’t the type of smooth you had in mind.

“But not good either? Ah, forget I said anything-” Jisoo laughs nervously through clenched teeth. “I’m just nervous. Because I made you come here with me! That’s why I’m nervous.”

“Jisoo,” The silence returns. “you don’t have to be nervous around me. I know, my magnetic personality and good looks are to die for,” She snickers in disbelief at your words. “but I’d rather you felt comfortable around me. Which doesn’t mean our current bed situation- I mean, I don’t mind it.”

There’s a blunt taste on your tongue. As if you have just finished your entry for a spelling bee and were in dire need of some water. Some actually meaning a lot.

“Do you think your roommates will make fun of us?”

“Definitely.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Silence.

“Um-” She dares a look into your eyes before dropping them again. “Let’s go to bed then, hm?”

You don’t think you’ll be able to fall asleep next to her. At least not with the possibility of seeing her face at the cost of merely opening your eyes. Jisoo seems to have the same idea. Her turning around causes a way too powerful sting somewhere in your abdomen. Before you know it, instead of her soft face structure, you’re looking at void-like black of her hair.

Your left hand sticks to your chest, but what about the right one? Keeping it on your thigh feels tiring. Placing it on Jisoo’s side? Too wonderful and too dangerous. Even if you’re itching to offer yourself, you cannot imagine the amount of courage it would demand from you. Instead, you rest it in the hold of your left hand. That way, perhaps, it will be stopped before any unconscious action takes place.

For a moment, you wonder, would she mind? Still, it’s a question you have no answers for. You also have no idea what will happen in the morning. How will the girls react? What will Jisoo do? How will you feel in the morning and will your left hand let go because of that damn itching...

Perhaps, the snoring woman is weaker than your true enemy - your vivid imagination.

“Goodnight Jisoo.”

“Goodnight.”

➛ pollenat’s list of headcanons

➛ pollenat’s list of shorts

➛ pollenat’s list of scenarios

#itzy fanfiction #itzy scenarios #itzy imagines #itzy fluff #itzy blurbs #itzy au #lia fanfiction #lia scenarios #lia imagines #lia fluff #lia blurbs #lia au #girl groups #pollenat's shorts

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gembloomwrites · 4 years

Text

Half-Baked

Fandom(s): Professional Wrestling, All Elite Wrestling Pairing: Adam Page/Reader Rating: T Prompt: “As co-workers who decide to be a fake couple to piss an annoying co-worker off, but they tricked the rest of the staff as well!? How will they get out of this mess?” Summary: You decide to finally do something about the plague that is MJF. However, it may not be all smooth sailing. Word Count: 3,045 Viewable on AO3 Author’s Note: Hello there. I began to write this work last year more than likely before the formation of Omega/Hangman team so I apologise if it seems outdated. I do hope you enjoying reading and would appreciate any feedback.I am open to requests sent to me both here and on AO3 @ GemBloomWrites. Thank you.-Gem

Honestly as half-baked plans went it all went smoothly at the start.

Ever since you joined AEW you’d been pestered with propositions and cheesy pick-up lines from one MJF. It absolutely annoyed you to no end. His sickening smirk and misplaced confidence never ceased to put a damper on any day. Not to mention his lapdog Wardlow would follow his every move.

As for Adam, he’d been on a spiral as of late. Everything seemed to go wrong for him. Among numerous bumps along the road one of the most prominent was the loss of the AEW Diamond Ring to the aforementioned MJF. That slimeball had gone around swanning the damn thing in Adam’s face at every opportunity. Even going so far as to once forcibly shove it into Adam’s lips in an attempt to get him to kiss it.

All in all, the two couldn’t stand him, and both would love to see that smug smile wiped from his face.

It all came to a head one day while you were sitting in catering. From a distance you could hear the tell-tale sneer of MJF bragging about something or another to Wardlow. You sighed and promptly sat up to begin to leave. Glancing around the room as you left, you spotted Adam Page in a corner by himself. An idea sprang to mind, running away certainly hadn’t solved the problem, but this just might. Quickly walking over to Adam, he hadn’t noticed you even as you sat down beside him, seemingly too engrossed in whatever drink was in his hand. You tapped his shoulder to get his attention, jumping slightly when he was jared from his thoughts. He looked at you with wide blue eyes, before he could question the intrusion you leaned in and tried to explain your plan in a hushed whisper, “Listen, I know this is weird but I need you to pretend that you’re into me, MJF is on his way and I really need to get him off my back.” Adam stared at you with confusion in his eyes, processing what you had just said. Before he formed a response, he was cut off by a loud shout.

“(Y/N)! I knew I’d see you around here somewhere!”

Maxwell Jacob Freidman has finally arrived and of course he couldn’t let his presence go unannounced. You visibly cringed and looked in his direction with a venomous stare, “Well obviously, we work for the same company.” He didn’t seem to be phased by your snarky comment as he strode over to you, Wardlow in tow. “No need to be so cold, I know you’re just dying to get a piece of me,” he stated, “Why don’t you just drop the act and come back to my hotel?” You scoffed in disgust as the thought of his offer came to mind, “No thanks, I’m hanging out with Adam.” MJF took a moment to look between you and Adam before a smirk broke out onto his face, “This hic? C’mon (Y/N), you can do way better than this fuckin’ loser.”

It was these words that snapped Adam out of his confusion and into the situation at hand. He stood up quickly, knocking the chair he was just sitting on. He squared up to MJF with a tense jaw, you stood up with him, trying to diffuse the situation you unintentionally created. Adam shifted his weight from one leg to the other as he spoke, “Fuckin’ loser huh? I’m not the one running around with a little buddy here because you’re too damn scared someone’s gonna sock ya right in that horse face of yours. I’m not the one acting like the shit to cover up the fact that you’re not even worth lacing up my boots. And I am certainly not the one who tries to flirt with a woman who thinks you’re disgusting!”

Your eyes widened at his outburst, and for a moment the air in the room was quiet and stale. Wardlow shifted towards Adam and reminded everyone else of the situation. You hastily got in between the two men, “Step off Friedman, don’t start lashing out at everyone else just because your dick feels small.” Maxwell turned to you and opened his mouth but before he could reply you cut in, “And for one Adam is not a loser, he’s ten times the man you’ll ever be, he’s way more good looking and doesn’t make me want to vomit. If anything, you’re the loser!” You link your hand in Adam’s, “Look, I’ve met a real man, so why don’t you just leave me alone?” Adam looked to your hand dumbfounded and back to the man standing before him. MJF looked between the two of you with anger in his eye. For the first time since the match for the Diamond Ring he felt like he’d finally gotten under his skin, Adam smirked at this. “Clearly,” the cowboy said, drawing it out for effect, “The lady’s made her feelin’s clear, why don’t you and your lapdog just run off.”

It was your turn to be shocked, only for the fact that Adam went along with your crazy scheme. Maxwell stood tense for a few minutes; the air thick in the room. You were getting more anxious as the seconds rolled by. To remove yourself from the situation you tugged on Adam’s arm, “Come on babe, he’s not worth it.” He followed your lead, albeit reluctantly. Of course, Maxwell had to get the last word as you walked out the door, “Yeah that’s it you better run off ya loser, she’s not even that hot anyway!” You stopped in the hallway, blood starting to boil, until you realised you were still linked with Adam, “Keep going,” he said quietly, “Like you said, he ain’t worth it. Not right now anyway.” Starting to get a bit self-conscious you took your hand from his and scratched the back of your neck. “Yeah,” you sighed, “You’re right. He’s just gets under my skin.”

“You and me both.”

You smiled at his sincerity and his now calm, sweet tone. Both standing awkwardly for a few moments, you started again with a cough, “Look, I’m sorry for dragging you into this, he just really doesn’t give up.” Adam looked at you for a moment and then too his shoes, shifting around again, “It’s fine, really. Honestly it felt good to rile him up.” You began to pass him and head off, “Well thanks, I appreciate it.” Your trek was cut short when he grabbed your wrist, he looked at you with an unreadable expression, “Hey this might just seem crazy but hear me out.” He let your wrist go and you gave him a questioning look as he continued on, “We both hate that smug son of a bitch. And seeing us together clearly struck a nerve. If you want when he’s around, we could keep up this little...uh…act.” The look on your face must have been one of pure shock and confusion, because Adam quickly recoiled, “I-I mean it’s just an idea, thought it’d make life easier for the both of us.” The next few moments were just silence, it made Adam want to run away in pure embarrassment. You thought it over, if you were to be rational you would have turned him down and went on. So many things could go wrong. But you weren’t thinking rationally if you were honest, all you were thinking about was pissing off MJF and getting closer to the hunk standing in front of you.

“Yeah, I’ll do it.”

As the months rolled on the charade continued. Whenever MJF showed up you and Adam would be there. Some days Adam would purposefully make you laugh with an absolutely terrible pun in front of him. On other days you would stick close to him, running your fingers up his muscular chest and whisper into his ear. Sometimes you would sit on his lap with his hands around your waist, making sure to be in full view of Maxwell. It drove the man crazy, which only seemed to satisfy you two more. Not only did you achieve your goal, but you and Adam grew so much closer. He was a great friend. You two were both going through a rough patch in your respective careers. Adam on a losing streak, and you couldn’t even seem to break into the Women’s Rankings. You both started to spend time outside of work, not even thinking about the reason you two were together in the first place. Adam was a comfort in an otherwise breakneck world.

You felt yourself falling for him. Even moments spent with him being your fake partner made you wish he was your real one. When he’d wrap his arm around your waist you’d feel electric under his fingertips. You found yourself seeking his company when you had the time or watching his matches when you weren’t preparing for your own. Just watching the sweat roll down his body or everytime pulled on the waistband sent a hot feeling down your body. The whole plan was spiralling out of control and you felt helpless to stop it.

One day you two were playing your little game, once again hearing the boisterous MJF roaming the halls. You were backed into a corner looking up to Adam, he looked down at you with those gorgeous blue eyes and shook his head, “He seems to be everywhere I turn at this point.” You were too busy being engulfed by his presence to be concerned by what he was talking about. Heart thumping in your chest you made a non-committal sound of agreement. You felt a gentle hand move your head to look into Adam’s face, “Hey,” he said softly, “You okay?” Oh god, why did he have to be so handsome? “Uh…” You stammered, “I’m fine just not feeling good today, y’know?” He looked at you with a frown before he said anything else you cut in, “I’m fine, really, just tired of this MJF crap.”

“You and me both, I’d love to just-.”

All of a sudden your two bodies were hauled away into what can only be described as a death grip. Turning, you saw Matt Jackson holding the two of you with the biggest grin on his face. Struggling out of his tight grip was a task and a half but you managed it eventually, “Matt? What the hell!?” He let Adam go and opted to put one hand on each of your shoulders. His face bounced back between the two of you excitedly, “I knew something was up with you Hangman! Why didn’t you tell us?!” Adam looked confused as he turned to Matt, “What, what do ya mean ‘what’s up’?” The older Buck started to wag his finger towards the cowboy, “Don’t play coy with me, you think I don’t see it?” You started to mirror Adam’s confused expression, “See what Matt?” Matt’s grin somehow managed to grow even wider, “C’mon dude the jig is up, practically everyone is talking about the two of you.” You looked back between Adam and Matt, “The two of us what? What’s everyone talking about?” “Well,” Matt moved into a thinking position, “I heard one of the women say today, and I’m paraphrasing here, ‘They’re one of those couples who are just meant for each other’.”

Both you and Adam’s eyes widened in shock. In all your plans, you had forgotten about everyone else, the only focus trying to fool Max. A few moments of silence passed before Adam piped up, “Uh, we’re not-.” You began speaking at the same time, “We were never-.”

“Yeah it was just a-.”

“We’re just-.”

You looked back at each other seemingly exasperated with trying to come up with an explanation for the Buck. You gave Adam a nod to go ahead, thinking he’d be better explaining it to his friend. He began to open his mouth when Matt cut across him, “Awh look at you two, still in the Honeymoon phase,” he elbowed Adam quite vigorously before starting to walk away, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do kids!” Adam placed his arm over his ribs were Matt has elbowed him, you looked into him, “Well, crap, what are we going to do now?”

The two of you cooled down the act considerably since the incident with Matt. You both felt too awkward to talk about the implications of what you two had been doing the last few months. You became aware of the locker room talk and couldn’t help but wistfully want it to be true. However, you had hardly spoken with Adam, your plan to fool MJF all but forgotten. You began to throw yourself into your wrestling as a distraction, and it seemed Adam did too. Unfortunately no amount of wrestling could keep the Cowboy off your mind completely and you found yourself back at square one; in catering, trying to avoid MJF.

“Ah (Y/N)! Where’s the hic? Finally realise he’s a loser? You know I can show you a hell of better time.”

You sighed and turned to Maxwell, “Do you like to stalk me or something? Can’t you get the hint? I. Am. Not. Into. You.” MJF immediately brushed this off and smirked, “Come one, this ‘hard-to-get- shtick is getting old just admit you want me.” You placed your face in your hands, nothing seemed to deter Max and it annoyed you to no end. You looked back up to tell him where to put his proposition when you felt a hand on your shoulder. Looking over your shoulder you saw Adam with a scowl on his face. He gave your shoulder a squeeze and stared straight ahead to MJF, “This asshole botherin’ you?” No words came up your throat, surprised that not only Adam was here, but he was continuing with your plan.

Max scoffed, “I’m not bothering her, I’m just telling her about how she could do so much better.” Adam took his hand off you and squared up to MJF, “You better get runnin’, she’s not interested. She’s my girl and I have no problem layin’ you out to stop you harassin’ her.” Again you were actually dumbstruck, the ‘my girl’ comment throwing you off everything. Maxwell frowned but regained his smirk within a few seconds, “You know what, you two losers were meant for each other. She’s obviously too stupid to-.”

Maxwell was abruptly cut off when Adam’s well-aimed fist connected with his face. This shook you out of your daze almost immediately and you stood behind Adam, grabbing his shoulders, “Whoa! Calm down, like I said before, he isn’t worth it.” Adam was huffing at this point and turned to you. His brief angry stare sent a shiver through you before his body relaxed and his expression softened. Seeing the pleading look in your eyes he nodded and looked down to Max who was flat on his ass holding his face, “You’re lucky we ain’t in the ring.”

Before Max could respond Adam grabbed your hand and led you out of the room. When the two of you came across an empty hallway he let go and turned to you. He took a minute to compose himself, while you pinched the bridge of your nose, “Oh God how are we going to explain this to Mr. Khan.”

“It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have got so heated.”

You sighed and looked into Adam’s regretful face, “No, no it’s mine I should have stopped this whole thing months ago. MJF found a new way to get to you and the whole locker room thinks we’re a thing.”

Adam chuckled, “I think we both had a hand in that darlin’.” You took in Adam’s appearance, he looked more calm now and you couldn’t help but get lost in him all over again. After a minute you stopped yourself before it got awkward and turned to pace, “We probably should explain everything to Tony and everyone else, it’ll be embarrassing but at least this whole thing will be over.” You turned to Adam to see his expression visibility drop before looking down, “Uh yeah, probably for the best.” You felt a wave of sadness wash over. You know all this was coming to an end. The rational part of your brain always knew this, but your heart wanted to revel in the closeness for longer. You stepped closer towards Adam and wrapped your arms around him. You buried your head into his broad chest, “Thank you…. For everything.” As you unwillingly started to pull away Adam placed his hands on your hips, keeping you in place. You quickly looked up into his face getting caught once more in his beautiful eyes.

For what felt like forever the two of you stayed like this. You were content like this really, just taking in being close with Adam. He eventually cut through the silence, “I don’t want it to end here,” he whispered, “I want it to be real.” Your heart sped up at his admission and for a moment he’d knocked all words out of your mouth. This is what you wanted for months, for him to return your feelings. Now that it was happening you couldn’t find it in you to say what you needed to say. Adam picked up on your hesitation and began to pull away. However you quickly put your hands on his face, if you couldn’t say anything you were going to show him.

You pulled him in for a kiss, trying to put everything you need to say in it. For a little time Adam stayed still in shock but then started to respond with passion. He put his hands back on your waist and pulling you in further. You both moved your heads slightly and deepened the kiss. This was months of tension finally being released between the two of you and nothing in the world felt better right now. As you pulled away for a breath of air you couldn’t help bury yourself in his neck. Finally you felt the right words come forwards, “I want this to be real, I don’t want this to ever end either.”

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