#you’ve already bullied the cast for a month now

[shibaraki]

GOD’S LONELIEST CREATION ┊ AIZAWA SHOUTA

synopsis: as head of the mothman study you’ve devoted countless nights to observing your subject from behind the glass. you liked to think those many months spent together contributed to a sense of camaraderie, but time is merely a cradle gently lulling you into false security— and shouta is nothing if not patient.

tags: NSFT, AFAB reader (mention of ovulating), monsters + cryptids au, mothman aizawa, implied monster hunting, captivity, cryptozoologist reader, possessiveness, dubcon to eventual enthusiastic consent, oblivious reader, monsterfucking, mating behaviour, breeding, mentions of size difference (he is 7ft; called ‘little human’ +‘little flame’), vaginal oral sex + tongue fucking (reader receiving), multiple orgasms, non-human genitalia, oviposition (reader receiving; but no belly bulging), unprotected vaginal sex, *slaps roof* you can fit so much plot in this porn!!

wc: 7k+

A/N: now with art of mothzawa!!!! thank you so much, feral!

Tucked away into the seam between Shizuoka and Musutafu is the UA Cryptobiology research centre. In the eyes of the public it was an extension of the nearby UA University and largely harmless. Cryptids kept there are not advertised, atleast, not the living ones.

The building is huge. An architectural giant, and a stain on the natural landscape. You’ve worked there for years yet still find yourself struck by just how foreboding it looks. Head ducked, you slip past the thin crowd protesting by the security gate, staff card hidden in the sleeve of your shirt.

While they are few in number their voices are loud and accusing. You flinch at the vitriol as you try to reach the scanner. There was a small earthquake in a nearby prefecture a few days ago which was the likeliest reason they had gathered here.

On days like this you couldn’t help the thought that no amount of scientific research would wipe away the countrywide consensus on cryptids. Very early on in your career you came to understand why your superiors lied about the live subjects. If these people knew the truth they could probably birth a calamity all of their own.

Unfortunately it is not only the monstrous who are a target. You lock eyes with a guard standing by the gates and slip your keycard into the shallow of your palm. Nodding in acknowledgement, he places the whistle hung around his neck between his lips and the moment you swipe in he blows, hard.

The gate clicks and unlocks with a short beep that is drowned out by the noise. You walk through and quickly push it closed behind you. Thank you, you mouth over to him, scurrying across the lot toward the main doors. He offers a flippant wave in return.

You enter the mouth of the lobby. It is a wide dome shaped room with high ceilings that houses most of the lecture rooms, and acts as a junction to other parts of the facility. Looking up, you can see each floor twisting into a spiral.

Centred is the reception desk; large and circular to make room for five staff members to be seated at any given time. Yamada is there today, dressed with his shirt cuffs pushed to the elbow, waist length hair braided up into a ponytail. He leans dangerously far back in his chair and twiddles a pen between his fingers. Your unease falls away at the familiar sight.

“Yamada,” you intone sternly. A grin pulls at your lips when he startles. The wheels on his office chair squeak as he rights himself. Wide sheepish eyes land on you and narrow in disbelief.

“Don’t do that,” he pouts, dragging himself closer to the desk, casting another nervous glance toward his coworker. “Bully! I could’ve broken my neck”.

“Then you would’ve thanked me for the two months paid sick leave”.

Yamada smirks, peering at you above his yellow tinted lenses “…Touché”.

You rest both arms on the countertop and lean over, holding a hand out to receive the sign in sheet. “You have a good weekend?” you ask, falling back into idle pleasantries while you skim over the names already on the register. Hatsume Mei. Huh, you think. She’s early.

“Kan and Kayama dragged me out drinking,” Yamada admits tiredly, massaging two fingers to his temples and closing his eyes, opening again to glare at your huff of laughter. “Sure love laughing at my misfortune, don’t’cha? I think you’re spending too much time with those ghouls”.

Signing your name in the next blank row, you give a brief glance at the watch on Yamada’s wrist to mark the time. “Comes with the territory,” you murmur, amused by the whine in his voice, setting the pen and register down on his desk with some finality. “Seen Mei today? She signed in already”.

“You bet. That girl is hard to miss,” he slides the sheets toward his front. “Speaking of…” you turn at the amused hum. His pen is pointed left like the needle of a compass leading directly to a familiar figure. Hatsume is clutching her clipboard with a tenuous grip as she scurries through the lobby, pink hair bouncing on her shoulders.

Her gaze finds you and she perks up. You lift a hand to return a wave as she beckons you frantically. It’s not entirely uncharacteristic of her. Hatsume was the rare type— she loved this job. Any small change or news could garner this reaction from her.

The excitable exclamation of your name draws the attention of the people around you, though the intern remains entirely unperturbed, almost tripping over her feet to get to you. “Mei,” you smile, instinctively stepping forward with arms held open in case she stumbles. “What’s all the noise about? Did something happen?”

“Food!” she pants heavily, grasping your forearm for balance. Her eyes are wide and beseeching as if the word alone was enough to explain her enthusiasm. It doesn’t.

Slow, you repeated, “…Food?”

The band keeping her hair tied back loosens while she nods. “It’s the mothman. He’s not eating!”

“He’s not…” you blink. “Oh!” The realisation trickles in, and you find yourself gripping onto Hatsume’s arms with bruising pressure as it washes over you. Your cheeks ache and she mirrors your grin.

Yamada clears his throat, interrupting before you have the chance to speak. “What’s so great about that?” he asks. “Wouldn't that be a sign that he’s sick or something?”

“No,” you breathe. Energy buzzes lightning-quick under your skin. Restless, you begin to shake Hatsume where she stands, and the two of you laugh in astonishment. “It means he’s hoarding!”

“Hoarding?”

“Mothman cryptids will take food back to their nests for their partners but,” the burst of joy dwindles, then. You worry at your bottom lip. “But… previous observations show that this behaviour should come after they’ve met a potential mate”.

“You think we should be worried?”

“I think it’s unusual”.

Hatsume doesn’t wilt. She shrugs your doubts off like water to a duck’s back, bouncing on the balls of her feet and handing over the clipboard. As always, the notes are verbose but organised. Detailed down to the very last time stamp.

There, written in pen, it states that at 11:58 the mothman was seen hovering by the food hatch. It clarified that there were no signs of aggression or posturing. Shouta was simply waiting. Shouta never waits. At 12:00 his usual weekly meal was given and instead of consuming it immediately as he normally would, Shouta gathered the food to his chest and took flight.

You’re rushing off toward the cryptid wing before Hizashi can press any further. Hatsume is at your heel, her quick light-footed steps echoing through the corridors.

The mothman enclosure is immense. Space is required— most cryptids can grow up to seven feet or above, and their wings even taller. Separated from your observation deck by a thick, bulbous glass window, you needed to crane your head just to catch a glimpse of the ceiling, which remained mostly covered by a canopy.

Flora covers the entirety of the forest floor. The foliage is so dense that sometimes seeing further is impossible, which in turn makes your job that much harder; but it’s worth it, for the sake of Shouta’s comfort. Unlike your predecessors, you strongly advocated for him. You viewed him as an individual, another sentient being with autonomy, and thought building a good foundation of trust could only lead to better data overall.

The facility is vastly different to the outside world. Blacked out nest boxes were placed around the area, hidden away for him to choose from however he pleased, as well as broad net columns where he can rest. Your team was instructed to begin adjusting the seasons months ago. Gradually, the temperature was changed to mimic fall. The fauna acclimated, dousing the otherwise dark and dreary forest in a warm colour palette.

Tawny leaves perched loosely on branches like a flock of goldfinches. Camouflaged behind them are two red dots emitting an unblinking glow. It is very unlike him to be this close to the deck so early in the evening. Waiting for more food, maybe. You note that thought down. You see his eyes follow the movement of your pen and smile.

Mothman cryptids are bipedal winged humanoids. They have always been notoriously aloof and difficult to study. Catching them outright was nigh impossible. They’re a highly intelligent species, and very sensitive to their surroundings. Your best bet was to inflict injury first and capture later when an infection set in.

Shouta was different from the start. So unlike his kin that you sometimes wondered if the research collated about him was permissible. He had been wounded badly by nearby collectors and managed to escape, but rather than relocate, he entered the facility of his own volition. You’d heard the stories. An eldritch being prying open the doors, thick steel bending like paper, the employees paralysed with fear, rendered unable to do anything except kneel under the intense pressure of his glare.

They had been so frightened that the shivering malachite bundle in his arms almost went amiss. A Peryton fawn matted with blood. Director Yagi supposedly spit blood of his own when he noticed.

Shouta never left after that.

Everyone figured the rumours were exaggerated. A mothman wouldn’t surrender itself for the sake of another, not even it’s own kind. That is the universal truth— all cryptids are incapable of empathy. Their sole purpose is to serve as the herald of death, and death bringers did not save life. They took it.

While you knew that to be ostensibly untrue it will never matter. Monster hunting was a tradition practiced for millennia. Accepting that they might be capable of emotion would cast doubt upon such practices. More than anything humanity needed justification for their wrong doings; condemning something as monstrous only renders such violence as heroic.

You, however, had a fascination with them since you were a child. Those unanswered questions and curiosities are what led you to cryptozoology, and ultimately, into cryptid behavioural research. Having Shouta’s care handed over to you was a dream come true.

Shouta was averse to people and made that known; keepers could be found petrified by the feeding hatch, trembling in place for hours if they weren’t careful. Which is why your superiors were greatly pleased by his reaction to you.

You couldn’t confidently say he liked you— could a mothman like anyone? But the cryptid was, at the very least, intrigued by his new handler.

Within the first meeting you recorded vocalisations that were previously undiscovered. Soft chittering and clicks, surprisingly pleasing to the ear; it had a hypnotic quality to it that could almost lull you to sleep. The common denominator was you— rather, Shouta only ever made those sounds when you were visibly anxious, and you often toyed with the notion that he was attempting to soothe you.

You tried not to indulge in such hypotheses as not to cloud your judgment. Humans had a bad habit of anthropomorphising the things they cared about. Countless cynics argued that animals do not love, they simply form attachments to those that provide for them. Shouta may only treat you better because you are the first human to show him sincere respect but that didn’t matter.

Whether your place in his life was just that of a nuisance or not, you cared for him and his wellbeing all the same. That’s what made this so invigorating— not only answers to questions that plagued your field for centuries, but the real possibility that your subject might finally have true companionship.

Your mouth twists as your thoughts drift, imagining the smell of decay percolating in one of his nest boxes now that he was hoarding. Shouta could eat anything within reason if he needed to, but his preferred diet was on the bitter side. Rotted fruits and the like which had a more acidic, sour taste to it, though he could be partial to dry pantry food in the hotter months.

Mothman have been known to feast on flesh, too, in desperate times. Though it is rare for them to acquire the taste for human meat; too mild and too rubbery.

If he truly is readying for a mate then he would soon need more food, materials and bedding. The foliage worked as a foundation but you’re aware mothman cryptids liked to weave silk or cashmere into the structure for the young to cling to and eat.

That gives you pause. Your grimace curls into a wide, exuberant grin, that you immediately shield behind the clipboard. We could end up with babies this year, you think. The first to ever be bred in captivity— a near impossible feat.

Shouta’s antennae are fluttering. Their movements fracture the stillness of the canopy and make known his position. You stare long enough for the dark blob amongst the trees to sharpen into a solid silhouette.

A mothman has a wingspan of around thirteen feet. These measurements aren’t entirely accurate, because Shouta refused to allow anyone to touch them, but the sheer size was obvious at a distance even where they remained tucked to his spine, cocooning him in darkness.

They are covered in loose tiny hairs acting as scales for insulation, while creating intricate, iridescent patterns along the inner forewings that can only be seen in moonlight when open— a gift saved in hopes of wooing a mate. Maybe you’d finally get a glimpse this year.

“Hey big guy,” you call out. Your voice jostles his wings and beckons him forward. Shouta balances himself on a thick cedar branch directly across from the observation deck, a rare sight. He is magnificent in the artificial daylight.

Hatsume releases an awed breath behind you. “Gah, he’s always so responsive to you! I’m jealous!”

Shouta barely acknowledges her presence. His attention is steadfast, pinpointed to your every move; unblinking, lest you disappear from vision. “Don’t take it personally. He’s just known me longer, is all,” you demurred, turning to her with a reassuring smile.

But she is seeing beyond you. The hair on the nape of your neck prickles and suddenly a sinistrous shadow stretches across the deck. Mei flinches back reflexively and you daren’t look back. What was ephemeral fear in her features blossoms into wonderment.

Then, a tapping sound that echoes in your chest. It is careful and somehow that makes it all the more daunting. Brushing off the unease, you pivot on your heel, coming face to face with Shouta. Both wings have hunched forward to create a cocoon of darkness, his pale face barely visible.

Another tap, accompanied by a smooth rumble. His large hand is pressed up against the glass. You step closer and his wingspan widens just a fraction. The light reflects in his eyes. He is right in front of you, so contrivedly real-looking that it feels like it must be fake.

Call it curiosity, or stupidity, or an amalgamation of the two. You outstretch your arm. The pane feels cold where your body presumes warmth. You align your palm with his and it swallows yours, fingers splayed open, still unable to reach the width of his hand.

“Hi there…” you exhale, having to crane your head to hold his gaze. Shouta’s jaw shifts as he clicks his teeth and you are reminded just how impressive a mothman cryptid’s hearing is. “You’re acting all out of sorts, huh. Want more food for the nest, right?”

Dark talons leave marks on the thick glass, hairline fractures stemming from point of impact. His gaze darkens. Hatsume gasps when he shakes his head and you can’t blame her. Cryptids rarely communicated directly with handlers.

“No?” you repeat, brows pinched into a frown. Then, to yourself, “Nesting materials, then? Already? But it can’t be, surely”.

The choice is a difficult one. Every potential mate your team introduced Shouta to throughout the years has been adamantly rejected. There was never an effort to impress or prove himself. He either flat out ignored them or attempted to kill them. You want to enable his new behaviours— to encourage it, even — but there was no mate yet.

Pseudocyesis comes to mind. Though this situation is far different, you wondered whether something in Shouta’s environment had triggered these instincts.

The rich baritone in his purr vibrates against your hand. His eyes blink slow and beseeching, full of apparent hunger, emitting that dewy red glow. Distantly, you register the dull scratch of pencil to paper. Rambling whispers fall from Hatsume’s mouth as she writes, documenting everything the way you taught her to.

“I think,” you begin, tongue heavy in your mouth. Your throat feels dry and the implication behind your next words stings. “I think he wants me to go inside his enclosure”.

A sane person would immediately put their foot down and tell you no. Director Yagi himself would try to talk you down. However, Hatsume Mei is a far cry from sane. She barely considers her own safety, let alone yours.

“What for?” she chimes impatiently. “I noticed he has been keeping an eye out for a specific person all morning— it must’ve been you. Do you think he could really be sick like Yamada said? Since he’s humanoid we can test if our medicines work on him!”

“Mei,” you interrupt, your voice cutting through her exuberance. She shrinks somewhat and you feel bad for being so sharp with her. “No, I’m not sure if he’s sick. And no, our medication only works to an extent. The dose needs to be dangerously high and cryptids burn through it faster than it can be replaced”.

Shouta observes the interaction. The tension in his wings looks ready to snap, and the feathery fingers of his antennae have started to shiver. You take in the sight of your overlapped hands once more and step away, clenching it into a fist at your hip.

“Anyone who goes into a cryptid’s den doesn’t come out,” Hatsume comments, tone uncharacteristically somber.

“I trust him,” you reassured, leveling the mothman with a contemplative stare. He ducks into the fluffy plumage around his neck and glares. “Mostly”.

Hatsume snickers. The weight in your chest lifts and you smile at her. She’s still young. Too young to bear any responsibility for what might happen.

“Something is telling me I have to go in there. It’ll keep me up at night if I don’t,” you continue, adding emphasis with a pointed finger. “This was my idea and mine alone. Do not send anyone in after me. Capiche?”

She gives a mock salute, “Yes boss!”

Each wing with a cryptid enclosure has a staircase leading from the observation deck to a feeding room. You descend the stairs, too aware of Shouta’s stare, which followed until you were out of sight.

The room is dull. Devoid of natural light, furnished only by three large chest freezers and a closet full of linens. There is a hatch the size of a shoebox that can be pulled open to safely deposit food through, and adjacent is a vault door reinforced with steel and concrete.

You open the closet and parse through the fabrics. Admittedly a long shot as far as ‘I come in peace’ gestures go, but the only thing you can think might help. Silk slides petal-soft between your fingers and you tuck it under your arm, joined by another cashmere blanket, smooth and noticeably light.

The vault door requires both a code and a staff card. You input the code and swipe your card. The affirmative beep pierces through your equilibrium. Shouta is not harmless. But you are, and you’re hoping he knows that.

A loud click echoes into the feeding room. You grasp the handle and take one last steely inhale before heaving, struggling with the incredible weight. You curse the door as it groans on its hinges, alerting everything nearby of your arrival.

Mothman feast on anything. Vegetation and flesh, fresh or rotted, but legend always spoke of their hunger for misery. They coveted disaster and fed on it, babe to breast, and somehow grew hungrier the more they swallowed.

You step into the enclosure. The door shuts with a loud foreboding slam and locks automatically.

Shouta does harm to those who would harm him. He feasts on fruit. On cereal and rice. You’d watched him suck through ten packets of coffee jelly, but never misery. If anyone were to ask you, you would tell them that Shouta conjured the very opposite of misery.

You remind yourself of that repeatedly until your thoughts coalesce into white noise. The earth is soft beneath your boots. Something darts through the treeline, gone in a blink, and you feel the hair on your arms stand on end.

Easing into the surroundings, you cautiously call out to him, “…Shouta? You here, big guy?”

A low hum resonates throughout the trees. You feel it more than you hear it, almost like a caress. It coaxes a familiar warm feeling into the pit of your stomach, willing all tension from your muscles until the blankets pinned to your side unfold, falling onto the ground.

A coronal mist has set in, orchestrated by a chattering sound you know well. Your clothes cling uncomfortably to your skin. It’s harder to breathe now. Shaking, you try to advance. Your body is quickly paralysed by the innate urge to flee.

Shouta’s presence echoes throughout the brush and sinks it’s claws into you— throbs under your skin in time with your heart. But if you ran, would that make his blood sing? Would he interpret it as a challenge to prove his worth, or a rejection for which to kill you?

The air is temperate. That perfect balance between cool and humid. Lush oranges and yellows branch out into every corner. Light bleeds through the thinning canopy, the ground dappled with sunspots. This isn’t such a terrible place to die.

You don’t hear or see him. Like before, you feel him first. Fear washes over you and steals your breath. Shouta is at your back, shaping himself to your body in a way that boasts how large he is in comparison. You stay stockstill while he touches you, nosing gently at your throat.

Finding your voice, you croak his name. An eldritch purr shudders through him and he grasps at your hips, pulling them back against him. You exhale at the obvious press of his cock to your back. Those soft chitters you had come to love drown out the panic that follows your realisation.

You were the intended mate.

Death stands behind you, arms cinched around your middle, mouthing along the nape of your neck like he loves you. The line between instinct and desire is deceptively thin. You wonder if Shouta knows the difference, or if he equates love with the heat of your blood spilling into his mouth, seams undone by the touch of his lips.

Your legs collapse beneath you, hitting the floor. A grubby applause from the dirt dances around your knees. Shouta accepts your dead weight as though it were nothing, his wings enveloping you both in an abrupt darkness.

Minuscule scales shimmer and reflect the glaring bioluminescence radiating from his eyes. Before you is a sky soaked crimson and blood spattered stars. “Is this…” you start, voice caught in your throat. It should be harrowing. People would call it a depiction of hell. You call it beautiful.

Shouta tucks his nose into your jugular with a warm hum and you feel sharp teeth protruding beneath his lips. Neck ruffle tickles soft against your skin, keeping you tight to his torso, enough that you think he could consume you whole. He’s pleased. You can tell.

Laughter bubbles up in your chest. It’s as if you are a teenager again, sneaking out with someone to see a clear starry night. The moment is incredulously human.

A mothman does not bare his wings to anyone but his mate. Even in flight they are too fast to be seen. You are so enamoured by it that you don’t notice the shift in gravity until the force on your body lightens and your stomach drops.

You squeak. Frantically clinging to his shoulders and turning your face into his neck, Shouta makes a sound suspiciously like laughter. Your body sways in his arms as the too-corporeal trees rise to meet him. What you cannot see you listen out for; leaves rustling, groaning branches, any sign to indicate where you’ve landed.

When his wings retract the shadows do not recede. You’ve been brought to a dark place. A few metres above your head there is a long slit of light bleeding into the lofty space. You’re distinctly reminded of a grave. That thought makes your heart thump hard against your rib cage.

A calm tenor breaks the silence and you refocus on the figure above. Red eyes bleed into the darkness. Long black hair drapes over his shoulders and blends into the light fluffed ruff of his neck, reminiscent of a scarf that extends down his chest and back into his large wings, which he has tucked closely behind him.

Broad feathery antennae flicker on top of his head, so distinctly insect-like, but his body and hands are startlingly human— it would be, if not for the black tipped talons that grew from each finger and toe.

“Are you still frightened?”

You realise you’re being cradled with deliberate care, as if you might shatter. He treats you like this is the first time he has ever met another living thing. There is barely any pressure behind the claws curled at the base of your neck. All you can think is that he’s warm. Soft. Guided by wonder, inhibitions lost in a concussive fog, you reach up to cautiously touch his face.

Shouta had multiple nests. The team before you took over had planted cameras in all of them only for their recordings to be destroyed, pieces left strewn by the food hatch. It agitated him, thus you respected those wishes. But in doing so you also cut off any means of behavioural observation.

This meant you knew of them, but nothing more than that. You had no idea which nests he actually used. You had no idea how he spun them, or what they looked like from the inside.

What you have been lowered into is not a grave, though it is deep and narrow. The bedding yields, padded under your back, emanating the smell of upturned earth and petrichor.

This is his primary nest.

Your tongue feels too thick for your mouth. “You can… you can speak?”

A black tipped finger hooks into the collar of your shirt. You feel it sharp like a knife's edge, and the fabric rips with barely any pressure. Shouta snorts. And then, “Your kind is strange. Presumptuous,” he traces over the swell of your breast. “And soft”.

There’s only intent to satiate his curiosity, but you feel something dangerously warm coil low in your belly. The broad, feathered antennae atop his head curl toward you, almost prehensile in nature, as if they can sense it.

“You can’t,” words fail you as his tongue glides over your pulse. “You’ve never spoken before. You can’t blame me for being surprised”.

“That wouldn’t be logical,” he murmurs. You exhale shakily as his teeth nip gently at your lobe, pressing what could be a kiss to the shell. “It’s not as if your primitive ears would be able to hear me through the glass”.

The baritone of his voice frissons down your spine and you find yourself clenching your thighs. Shouta braces over you until he is all there is— and you are all he sees.

You argue fruitlessly in attempts to maintain self control, “We could’ve talked through the speakers”.

“We could have. But then the other humans would know this part of me,” he replies plainly. “Is that what you want?”

You’re a little embarrassed by the immediate ‘no’ that rolls onto the tip of your tongue. You bite it and let your silence answer for you. A disservice to your team and to your research— you seek truths and yet the truth is you are secretly happy that this is yours and yours alone.

Shouta huffs. He brings your foreheads together and your knees part reflexively to make room for him as he settles between them. The shine in his eyes has dimmed into a simmer. It reminds you of a pyre after the fire has burned; the glowing ash left to cool overnight.

“If I had not played along and acted beastly you wouldn’t have paid attention,” he continues. You tremble as he slots against the cradle of your hips, a suggestive pulse felt between your legs. The size of his body forces your legs wider around his waist. His cock is heavy and the heat emanates through your work pants. He doesn’t move, and he waits.

“You…” you’re breathless when it hits you. “You could’ve left all this time”.

He rises slowly at your words and tilts his head, beckoning you to continue. There is an unwavering composure about him that leaves you uneasy. You got the sense he knew your thoughts before you voiced them.

“You stayed and cooperated with our research. Even though… Some of them treated you like an animal. You could be anywhere but here”.

Shouta gives a disapproving chitter. The sound devolves into a hum. He settles a large hand on the top of your head and leans back into your space, uncomfortably close, as if to impress the answer upon you. “Here is where I am supposed to be”.

He’s not a monster, just something that wants to belong.

Your hand smooths over his cheek to his hair, the other guiding his palm to your chest where your heart sits. He squeezes at your chest, curious. Gentle fingertips brush the antennae rooted in a crown of thick black hair. The sweet resonant purr surges and you watch the touch shudder through his body in awe.

Your blood sings, reacting to his desperate call with a burst of exhilaration. A thought crosses your mind— had it been you he was chasing, or this feeling?

Was this how it felt to be a predator?

“Here. With me…” you rasp, wetting your lips as your eyes fall to his mouth. Shouta smiles and you have to temper the urge to touch his teeth. “I’ve worked here for a long time. Why wait until today?”

“Courting takes time. And though I was sure of you I knew you weren’t ready,” he rasps, rocking up against your sex. A gasp catches in your throat and his antennae flutter in response. “I can smell that you are now”.

“Smell?”

Shouta hums an affirmative. “All creatures have a cycle. Your body changes over the weeks,” the hand over your heart descends to your stomach, resting above your waistband. The repetitive stroke of his thumb is doting, almost. “Soon you will be ovulating”.

You are torn between horror and amazement. The craving to write this down was insatiable. Truthfully it shouldn’t come as a surprise that Shouta could know that— he was finely tuned to his environment. That was the entire purpose of chemoreception.

Regardless, that knowledge instills a sense of vulnerability in you. The scales felt tipped entirely in his favour and there was nothing you could hide from him. It was equally liberating and frightening.

A quiet trill pulls you from your thoughts. He must pick up on your anxiety, because mothman crowds you back against the nest and you sink further with a weak smile, your fingers threading into his fur. Wildflowers and long grass borders your periphery. You hadn’t much chance to appreciate his hard work in the dark.

“Shouta,” you faltered. Perhaps you should be more concerned that giving yourself to him was never a question. “Are you sure it’s me you want? I’m just a human”.

“I see that,” he stated dryly. “But you are my little human. My mate. This is not up for debate”.

Memories surrounding your tentative relationship over the years come to the forefront of your mind. How purposeful and gentle he was, the obvious preference for your company, his willingness to share his secrets and weaknesses just to see you satisfied.

The pregnant pause is mistaken for hesitance. Shouta brings your hand to his throat, inner wrist tickled by the plumage. Soft hair trails up his neck and thins by his jaw. Behind him, his wings unfurl and stretch. Pushing the heel up to his jugular, you feel six deliberate clicks. The rhythm of each is individual, some pitched and others deep, and the silence between is different in length, almost similar to morse code.

“What did you say?”

“Your name,” he rumbles.

There is underlying significance you aren’t privy to, yet you feel it all the same. You meet his gaze. Skin feverish, breathes coming quicker. Your hips twitch helplessly and he bites back a croon.

“Okay. Touch me, ” you slowly coil your arms around his neck and bring him into an embrace. He goes doubtlessly, engaging you with knees settled either side of your hips.

Shouta cuts your clothes off carefully and with ease. The simple hook of a talon and they tore like thin paper. His tongue, long and tube-like at the tip, glides between your breasts, flicking over your nipples and watching with fascination. It’s as though the roles have switched. You are the subject now.

You laugh breathily as he nuzzles into you, palming at your soft stomach. Shouta works his way down your body, giving a curious churring sound as more of your body reveals itself. He tears away your pants, but rather than discard them, he tucks them into the borders of the nest.

The air feels good on your skin, cool where it kisses your arousal. “Hold yourself open for me,” he says. “I want to taste you”.

An overwhelming wave of embarrassment washes over you as he guides your hands to the back of your thighs, ankles hooked over his broad shoulders. Pressure behind his claw-tipped fingers, Shouta gently pries your folds apart to demonstrate his wishes. “Like this”.

You moan, bear down on his tongue at the first lick as it glides over your clit, a shudder rolling through your body at the threat of his teeth. He descends again and again with bottomless yearning, no longer hunger, rather like an elastic compulsion pulled impossibly taut.

A pleased chitter vibrates against you. His wings extend and shudder, looming above like tapestry. “So good,” he breathes in, shameless as he noses along your cunt. “So warm. You smell even better than usual”.

The muscles in your thighs clench as the narrow tip of his tongue teases your entrance. You push down into your heels with a weak cry of complaint and he obliges, gently pushing inside you.

Your breathing falters. “Sh—Shouta,” you croak, reaching down desperately to grasp his plumage the deeper he sinks. It feels never ending, flexing and twisting experimentally as he draws out, still keeping his lips pressed up against you.

Gradually he builds a rhythm. Observing raptly from his place between your legs, his gaze never strays, gleaming when your hips buck into his mouth. It’s his expression that spurs you on— that rapt, intense desire.

Shouta stretches you on his tongue, the obscene slick sound of saliva echoing throughout his nest. The tension low in your belly coils, taut, and you feel it pulse. Your toes curl and you let out a loud, broken moan that sounds like relief.

“Don’t stop. Feels so good,” you keen, balancing right at the crest. Shouta’s pace grows anxious the closer you get, his big hands palming at your thighs, talons pinching skin. He forces them wider as he presses his weight into you with a long groan. “Yeah. That’s it, make me cum. Oh fuck—!”

A moment passes without air, yanked under by the force of it. Your body wrings tight and the tension snaps. Undone, loose at the seams as he takes you through the aftershocks quaking through your body.

You return to yourself, registering the quiet hum reverberating in your skull. Shouta nuzzles your sensitive clit before making his way up your torso. He smells like sex. His ruff, chin and cheeks are wet with arousal. You can taste yourself on his tongue as he licks over the seam of your lips, and shivers when they part to meet him.

The kiss is strange; not quite a kiss, more a press of mouths. You suppose it can’t be helped with teeth like his. His effort is far more endearing than it has any right to be.

Brief fatigue washes over you and settles into a giddy afterglow. The black spots in your vision dissipate. A short, soft chitter comes from his throat. The noise is familiar— they’re exactly like the sounds he would make when you were anxious.

“I’m okay, Shouta. You— You’re a bit too good at that,” you reassured, taking his face into your palms and feeling it in his cheeks when he smiles. The shifting wings behind his head draw your attention as they flutter. He’s near enough for you to reach out and stroke them.

They’re breathtaking. The texture is unlike anything you have ever felt before. You pause at his squirming, “Does it hurt?”

He huffed a laugh. You think that will never get old. “It doesn’t hurt”.

“Feels nice?”

“Too nice,” he says, stroking your hips. Lifting your hips, you grind lightly over his cock. You swallow, noticing how much it had grown, now completely unsheathed. Shouta reflexively chases the feeling, bucking up against your sex. You both hiss at the sensitivity.

Timidly, you ask, “Can I see?”

He nods.

The size is daunting. His cock is curved, long, but more notably it is thick. Fleshy in colour and hot, leaking a clear liquid over your hand. Ribbed around the shaft, the slight bumps slide under your palm as you bring your fist up to the narrowed head. No spikes. Good. If you met God you’d thank him.

It is crowned by sensitive skin, not unlike a human’s, but in gently pulling it back you find it reminds you more of an ovipositor. Shouta’s rumbling deepens, head hung between his shoulders. Drapes of long dark hair fall to curtain his face. His antennae quiver in place, wide red eyes looking back at you.

You feel yourself ache with unfulfilled arousal. Pressing your thighs together does nothing but tease. Shouta watches you guide his cock to the apex of your thighs, his chest heaving as you glide him through your wet folds, drenching yourself in his slick.

The cryptid pushes into you with a gentleness that is almost terrifying in its intensity— so out of place for a supposed harbinger of suffering. “Careful, little human,” he rasps, an ever present humming in his chest.

A pleasant tingling sensation begins to spread throughout your abdomen, relaxing your muscles, like sinking into the soothing heat of a hot bath. You’ve long shut off your avid questions, rendered thoughtless and pliant by the pressure. “Oh,” you exhale, struggling to keep your eyes open. He’s barely halfway in.

Shouta pulls out slowly and rocks back in, repeating the motion as you open up to him. You crane your head, jaw slack as you moan, reaching out to the immense silhouette above you. Everything about him is big. It’s all you can notice. He’s taking handfuls of you, kneading the fat at your thighs, hooking around them and pushing your knees toward your chest.

“Look at you,” his voice is thick and trembling. You whine, watching the way you swallow around him, clit swollen and twitching. “Perfect,” he rasps, the mix of your arousal dampening the fur around his base. He pulls out again, tantalisingly slow, and your legs start to shake.

“Shouta,” you choke, not knowing what it was you were asking for. He gives it to you anyway, rocking forward in one harsh movement, setting a pace that splits you in two. You can almost feel his cock is in your throat; touching parts of you you didn’t know existed; carving out space for himself and making a home of it.

The earlier mindfulness is gone. Shouta sets a divine pace. He shifts on his knees, gripping at your waist with his talons pressing into skin, pulling you down onto his cock. Praises have dwindled into a language you cannot understand, but you recognise those six successive clicks— he’s calling your name, over and over.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Ah. What is—?!”

The hypothesis is reaffirmed by the sensation of him stretching you further, widening inside you, inflating as something pulses through his shaft, abandoning his body and slipping into yours. Your mouth falls open as heat prickles across your skin and what feels like a second orgasm crashes over you. You’re left suspended in a free fall that never seems to end.

It feels too good to panic about. Sperm packets or eggs or both— whatever they are, they’re smooth, cooling where they gather inside of you, and right pushing up against your sweet spot. Tremors wrack through your limbs and Shouta appears no better. His upper lip curls, wings fully presented and twitching.

Weak, you wrap your arms around his head and cradle him to your chest. Your fingers brush over the apex of his wings and with barely any exertion, he slams you back onto his cock, a loud groan drawn from his chest. His pelvis slaps against your clit and in a moment of lucidity, you feel the ground rise to meet you.

Rigidity bleeds from your muscles as you cum again, soon replaced by a wave of exhaustion. You grimace at the uncomfortable bloated feeling in your belly. Shouta is muttering, antennae curled and brushing the swell of your cheeks. You can hear his voice. Muffled, as if you were under water, “You did well, little flame”.

Thinking aloud, you mumble, “What if they don’t take?”

He nudges your chin, gathering you into his arms to cocoon you both, “I’ll make sure they do”.

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa x reader #eraserhead x reader

[lynmars79]

Fun meta asks for writers! 1.Tell us about your current project(s) – what’s it about, how’s progress, what do you love most about it? 17.o you think readers perceive your work - or you - differently to you? What do you think would surprise your readers about your writing or your motivations? 20.Tell us the meta about your writing that you really want to ramble to people about (symbolism you’ve included, character or relationship development that you love, hidden references, callbacks, etc.)

Menace. Bully. Fiend. How dare you--

So in 2022 as we were awaiting the finished dark knight zine and prepping for FFXIV Write 2022, roommate found a submissions call for a zine called "I Spade You" that would be about Ace romances. I've had a pseudo-idea floating in the back of my head for a long while about a middle-aged pair in a fantasy setting who despite being from opposite sides of a conflict end up having a connection, and tried to form it into a 2500 word story for submission to this zine but it wouldn't gel.

Well, the problem really was that it was gelling...into something longer. I'd been thinking of it in the background long enough that it took on a life of its own. But things at work heated up, I already had fandom writing projects, so I shelved the idea and lost track of that zine. I didn't think of it seriously for months.

Then Bigolas Dickolas Wolfwood entered the chat with their sincere promotion of This is How You Lose the Time War, a novel I had heard about but hadn't read yet. So I read it, and while "people from opposite sides of a conflict form a connection" is the only similarity to my story, the visceral language in that novel really got to me.

I found myself opening the Spade folder again. And writing random scenes from various points in a 25ish year relationship between 2 people thrown together by outside machinations into a marriage neither wants, falling in love despite that, but the cracks form and irreconcilable differences arise due to duty and pride and a lifetime of nationalist education, a long separation and obsession, and then fate puts them together once more, relearning who they are now After All That.

It's arranged marriage friends to lovers to enemies to friends to lovers again. I keep forgetting to add straight people to the supporting cast. I have 3 distinct parts--early relationship, 15 years apart having life happen, then a disaster that makes one of them relearn all they thought they knew while the other hurtles toward their long-waited fate. I have world building and character profile documents. A family tree for one group for Reasons. Avatars for some characters thanks to BG3 and Picrews. So. It's...drafting. It's currently pretty indulgent and a lot of Vibes, little in depth research yet. There's probably over 100k words written but I dunno how many total and a lot of them will change.

It's still an ace romance between the leads. And between another ace character and her bi partner. Whether people think it "counts" or not will be where there's a perception schism, I guess. If I ever get any of it out. It won't be for everyone and there's probably things I'll get wrong and also some of the characters, even protagonists and heroic figures and loveable folks, aren't always the best people and have major flaws and issues.

There's also a teeny bit of "this aspect of this character's story in X other media annoyed me and also I see where there's some influence from this author of Y media I like so wonder if I could write something similar to be more satisfying for me" thrown against the general idea of "I have this one OC that's been bopping around in my head for years" and it became "but what if they kissed and that's all they do while being in love because they don't need more than that? And there's also a lot of familial and platonic loving relationships in there? And framed around an epic fated adventure?"

Still really developing recurring themes and callbacks, but there's a running joke with flicking balls of paper at someone's head, and a poignant bit about family home entryway markers and mourning rituals that may run throughout.

#Lyn Prompts #Lyn Meta #Lyn Writing #about me #blogging #I didn't post a prompt list Biot's just Like This

[bareilles-tveit]

Ya’ll do you ever have a person that posts on an actors social media that your are just like ughhhhhh why would you say that?!?!?!? Cause I have that person and I wanted to smack them during the live today.

#like let the boys be happy #you’ve already bullied the cast for a month now #I have so many feelings about Karen departing the show #it’s so complicated #but hands down what I hate most is people attacking the cast about it #and people attacking Karen

[rek1s-headband]

Hi! May I please request random bf headcanons for cherry? Ty!

➯A/N: Hi!! Thanks for the request! Hope you enjoy, and have a lovely day!

➯ Random boyfriend headcannons

➯ Characters: Kaoru Sakurayashiki x gn! reader

➯ Warnings: none:)

If yall met when you were still in high school, he would’ve tried to convince you at least once to let him pierce you or give you a tattoo.

That’s how you would’ve gotten together initially too. His face inches from yours, sticking his tongue out in concentration as he pulls the needle through your lip. Adjusting a piece of jewellery on your lip to match his, he’d gently wipe a stray drop of blood away from your lips with his thumb

You found you couldn’t pull away as you stared into his eyes, slowly closing them as he pulled you in for a gentle kiss. It was quick, but as soon as you pulled away he was pulling you back in for another, and another. The light throbbing in your lip was the least of your worries

He would’ve been so protective of you when he’d go with Adam and Joe to those underground skate meet-ups. Of course, he’s only gotten worse, now he refuses to leave your side at S for fear of some creep trying to hit on you

You have the most unnecessary beef with Carla. You know its a joke of course, but since Carla is, well, a robot, she’s not too knowledgeable about teasing. You’d ask her a load of random, strange questions she couldn’t possibly answer, or you’ll tell her how Kaoru is all yours and she’ll start overheating. Now any time you try to ask her a question she literally just. refuses to answer you

“Master, please tell y/n I dont want to speak to them.” “Oh I’ll show you master-”

Kaoru is indifferent to PDA. He doesn’t hate it, he just doesn’t think others deserve to see you like that. Hell give you the occasional forehead kiss, but even so his arm is constantly glued to you in some way

Behind closed doors though, he cant seem to get enough of you. He loves having you in his lap, his head on your shoulder while you watch TV. If you play with his hair he’s like putty in your hands, leaning into your touch with closed eyes and almost a purr. Loves when you drag your fingertips along his arms and his back, its a comfort to him

You and him will constantly gang up on Joe and absolutely violate the man. It’s already bad with just Kaoru, now imagine the poor guy having to deal with both of you

You’ll hide in the crowd during his exhibitions, occasionally shouting out praise trying to throw him off.

Or worse, you’ll just silently stand there, watching him look around suspiciously, knowing you’re hiding somewhere even if you hadn’t explicitly specified you’d be there. When he finally locks eyes with you, he has to try extremely hard not to laugh as he watches you stare him down, a small grin creeping over your face

You’ll go on dates to Joe’s restaurant just to annoy the shit out of him. You’ll act extra lovey-dovey just to make him uncomfortable, and the pair of you will fake a proposal at least once a month to get free cake(its always one of those shitty plastic rings you get from the dollar store too)

You dyed your hair pink to match with him once, and he absolutely loved it. The two of you would style your hair and clothes to match, and you were quite the sight to see at S

Slow dancing in the kitchen while you make dinner is a regular thing for the two of you. You’ll be idly stirring the pot when one of your songs come on, and suddenly Kaoru is pulling you away from the stove, twirling you around the kitchen and humming in your ear. More often than not you’ll get carried away and burn the dinner.

Who cares, takeout tastes good too

He’s awful at tying his hair up properly, and gets you to tie it for him before an exhibition or a race

You’ve curled his hair before while he slept, and he was insanely fascinated by it. He spent at least an hour shaking his head in front of the mirror, raking is hands through the wavy locks. He kept it curled when you tied it up before S, and it was a big hit during his race. Suddenly he was asking you to curl his hair more often

During the colder months, you and Kaoru will sleep impossibly close, a mess of tangled limbs while Carla quietly plays lullabies in the background. In the warmer months though, you couldn’t be further apart. Lying above the covers in minimal clothing, you’ll both hang off either side of the bed, hissing at each other to not come closer to them while you sweat like pigs. Hey, sometimes romance is keeping your distance

It’s a regular thing for the two of you to get wine drunk and whip out some old board games, yelling at each other when you get put in jail in Monopoly, flipping the Scrabble board when Kaoru insists that “milf” is not a word you’re allowed to use

“ITS AN ACRONYM” “YOURE AN ACRONYM” “WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT EVEN MEAN”

Reki and Langa love you. Miya took a bit of warming up to you, but as soon as he saw you bullying Joe with Cherry he adored you

If you can skate, you would constantly race against Kaoru just to see if you could beat him. However, with his fancy ass board that already hated you and his insane skills, losses were much more common than wins

He can never get any work done with you around him. You’ll lie your head in his lap while he tries to write, drawing smiley faces in the corners of his paper. He literally has to carry you out of the room just so he can get a bit of peace

Loves conspiracy theories. He’ll shake you awake at four in the morning, rambling about the new video he just watched about McDonald’s actually being run by a cult of clowns

*episode 9 spoilers* after Ad*m gave him a slap of his skateboard, you’d help him wash his hair in the shower, wrapping plastic bags around his casts and making jokes

*washing his back* “don’t make it gay Kaoru” “I DIDNT EVEN SAY ANYTHING”

#kaoru sakurayashiki headcanons #kaoru sakurayashiki #kaoru sakurayashiki x reader #cherry blossom #cherry blossom headcanons #cherry blossom x reader #sk8 the infinity x reader #sk∞ #sk8 the infinity #sk8 x reader #sk8 cherry blossom #sk8 kaoru

[girl8890]

Project Partners | CH 3

Pairing: Loner!Jungkook x Popular!Reader

Summary: Jungkook has always been a loner. Only having one friend that barley even lets him get a word out. College should be flying by with the type of life he’s living. But every time he sees one girl, in particular, it seems like time slows down. Now that a group project has been assigned, and no one is allowed to pick their partners. What will Jungkook do now that he has to work closely with the girl he’s madly in love with for the next three months?

Warnings: Anxiety, Pining, Nervous Jungkook, Post break up reader, Self-doubt, Mentions of past bullying

BTS ML | INDEX | CH 4

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･'(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

Jungkook walks to your dorm while grabbing his backpack straps for dear life. Each step he takes, getting him closer and closer to his destination, has his anxiety rising with each step. 

Now he’s starting to overthink about going to your dorm early. He just couldn't take the anticipation anymore. It was like the clock was purposely ticking slower because he was meeting with you today. Once the clock hit 6:30, he was out the door before the minute hand struck the following number. But now that he's actually on his way, going to work on the project with the girl of his dreams, in her room, alone... he's scared shitless. 

Jungkook tried meditation, mantras, even reading confidence quotes on Tumblr to prepare himself for right now. Wanting to make the best first impression on you. Even though you've both already met, and you even remembered his name to the point you gave him a nickname, this is a different type of first impression. This impression can make or break his plan entirely. 

He wants to do this right. He wants to be the guy that can go up to a girl like you and just tell you how he feels. Cutting out the drama and the pining altogether. But since his brain makeup won't let him be this type of person, he settled on becoming your friend first. To be that guy you always have around and talk about everything under the sun with.

Then, when he finally has you alone and looks at him dreamily like they do in all those corny romantic movies, he's going to kiss you. Sealing the deal and showing you in one motion how he truly feels. 

When he finally gets to your dorm room, his smile falls that he accumulated when thinking about what your first kiss together would be like. But being outside your room now, only having a wooden door in-between you two, reality sets in. 

This isn't a romantic movie where the girl runs into the guy's arms and somehow falls in love with each other so quickly. This is real life, and you're just a girl. A beautiful, intelligent, popular, charismatic, perfect girl that stole Jungkook's heart at 14.

“Fuck, this is going to be hard,” Jungkoook whispers to himself. 

He checks his watch to see how much time has passed since he started walking to your dorm. It now says it's 6:45, only making him slightly early to meet up for the project.

Before his anxiety-ridden brain can tell him otherwise, he knocks on the door with two short taps. When nobody answers, he knocks a little harder since his knocks were like a toddler trying to do it.

"Be right there!" Jungkook hears your voice from the other side, and it brings a smile to his face. He clamps his lips together in an attempt to hide it—not wanting the first thing you see when you open the door is him smiling like an idiot.

But when you open the door, he doesn't need to attempt not to smile anymore because the sight in front of him is heartbreaking.

Your eyes are bloodshot, and your hair is messy from probably not getting out of bed all day. You're wearing an oversized shirt with your school mascot on it, and sweatpants that look way too big on you. The complete depressed package.

You cast your eyes down in shame and sniffle. “Hey, Kookie."

Even the sound of your voice up close now sounds broken. Jungkook's mood has completely changed within seconds. Seeing you in such a destress state has taken him over completely. Already hating whatever the cause to your sadness, and he kinda has an idea on who exactly the reason is.

Jungkook wishes he could hold you—embrace you in his arms and tell you everything is going to be okay. That this pain will pass, and everything will be alright, but he doesn't do any of that. He just settles with three words that sound so stupid to his ears.

"Are you okay?"

You look back up at Jungkook and rub your nose on your sleeve. "Just peachy. I'm sorry, Kookie, but is there any way we can reschedule? I... I'm not feeling the best."

Jungkook's mood has officially run sour. Wanting so badly to find Chad and punch him in the face for making you feel this way. Hating that even now that Chad's out of the picture, he's keeping Jungkook away from you, and putting you through such agony that you don't deserve.

"Yeah, that's fine." But he doesn't mean his words. In fact, he regrets them the second you nod your head and shut the door. You going back to wallow by yourself and cry your eyes out into your pillow.

He shouldn't have said it was fine. It's not fucking fine! He's trying to get close to you, too literally be that shoulder you want to cry on, and he just said IT'S FINE!?

He hits himself on the forehead with the palm of his hand a couple of times, repeatedly calling himself stupid. After a minute of him just standing in front of your door, looking like an idiot to all the people passing by, he puts his hand up to knock but then pauses.

"What is wrong with me?" He asks to no one in particular.

His plan was to get to know you. His goal was to finally get himself confident enough to talk to you. HIS PLAN was to become your friend and eventually build a relationship with you. But now, he may have just become the worst pre-friend on the planet by letting you go back into your room and cry alone.

That's it... it's time for Jungkook to man the fuck up.

He knocks on your door with the flat side of his fist, and he cringes at how loud it ends up being. When you open up the door again, confused as to why Jungkook is still there, you pause when you see his determined face.

Jungkook breaths in all the air his lungs can intake and lets it all out as his uncensored words flow out of him...

"Look, Y/n, you shouldn't be crying over a guy like Chad. I mean, his name is fucking Chad, for crying out loud! And your… you! Everyone's best friend. The girl who used to play basketball with all the boys in high school, and became class president and Prom Queen by an unanimous vote! Fuck Chad! He's going to regret losing you. The hot girl that's got me-"

Jungkook stopped there. He stopped before his word vomit got too intense, and he confessed to something he wasn't ready for. 

You're stunned in your spot, hand still on the door when you opened it, and eyes wide. Staring at Jungkook like a deer in headlights because you weren't expecting all this praise. 

Jungkook starts to get nervous and fiddles with his backpack as you continue to stare at him blankly. It gets to the point that Jungkook's anxiety is boiling over, and he becomes a stuttering mess to try and clear the situation that only happened 30 seconds ago.

"I-I'm sorry, Y/n. T- Th- this really wasn't my business, but I just… you just… you don't deserve… Fucking-"

Jungkook only stops speaking when he hears you start to laugh. Hand over your mouth, pink cheeks, and crinkled nose laughing. Laughing at Jungkook for everything he's just said and continues to speak. He raises an eyebrow at you in confusion, but he also starts to form his own smile. He's always loved that smile of yours, and now there is one thing checked off the list of things he's always wanted to hear or know. 

Hear you laugh at something he said, check! 

When your laugher finally subsides, you look at Jungkook with tears in your eyes. You widen the door a little bit more, and flick your head to motion for him to come in. 

"Okay, Kookie. You convinced me. Come on in."

And Jungkook does with and an extra pep in his step. When he finally enters the threshold, the first thing he does is look around. You are an honors student, so you get a dorm all to yourself. Your single bed has a mint green comforter on it that looks like it was just laid in. You have posters of bands, famous brand logos, and even some art on the walls that Jungkook knows you've made in class. 

"So, you think I'm hot?" Jungkook's heart jumps to his throat when you whisper the question in his ear. He slowly turns his head to see you resting your chin on his shoulder and fluttering your eyelashes at him. 

He gulps, not knowing how to answer this question. Well, he does know his answer to the question. He just wasn't prepared for you to ask him it.  

You start to laugh, and it's then Jungkook realizes you're only joking. He exhales the breath he didn't even know he was holding and glances around your room again. Feeling awkward and not knowing exactly what to do. 

After your giggles subsides, you motion with your finger for Jungkook to follow you to your bed. And he does. You both sit on the bed, knees knocking together on your small mattress. Jungkook's breath hitches, and he glances at you, but you pay this little contact no mind. Too focused on getting all the stuff from your backpack out.

The night ends up going smoothly. Jungkook only stuttered when he complimented an idea of yours, to which you would giggle uncontrollably. Thankfully, you didn't see how much his hands would shake or hear his gasp anytime your fingers would graze each others. It wasn't until the clock hit midnight that both of you realized you took way more time than needed talking about this project. 

You clap your hands together, and Jungkook looks up at you from the phone in his hands. Waiting to hear what you have to say now that you got his attention away from the research on his phone for the project.

"Well, Kook-" Another nickname he will hear in his dreams. "-It's getting late. Time to call it a night, don't you think?"

Jungkook realized it was getting late, but was hoping you didn't realize. It was like his time with you flew by, even though you just talked mainly about the project. He didn't want to leave. His love for you put aside; he didn't want to leave you alone knowing you may start crying the second he exits the room.

He nibbles at his bottom lips and twiddles with his phone in his hands. Mentally preparing himself to ask you his question on the tip of his tongue. "Can I stay the night?" His eyes go wide at mixing up his question with his wants. "I-I mean... do you want me to stay the night? I don't want to leave you alone if you're still upset."

You send him a slight smile and grasp his hand. Jungkook's eyes widen, not expecting you to touch him at that moment, and the feel of your tiny hands is making him flustered again. He glances from your interlocked fingers to your eyes repeatedly.

"Thanks, Kookie. But I'll be alright." He watches you look down at your intertwined fingers, and think deeply about something he can't quite pinpoint. You eventually shake your head, then remove your hand entirely from his. Not even explaining what your little zone-out moment was about and stood up from your bed.

Jungkook quickly packs up his things since it's obvious you want him to leave now.

"Do you want to meet up tomorrow for coffee?" Jungkook was just putting his notebook in his backpack, back facing you, when you asked him this question. If you were to see his face, you would see the biggest smile that's ever been planted there. He knew you weren't asking to go out for coffee as a date, but still, you wanted to hang out with him... alone... again!

But then he remembered your project, and his smile falls. You're probably just asking him for coffee to work on the project outside the dorms. Because who would want to actually hang out with a loner like him? He remembers all throughout high school, and even some now in college, would purposely try to avoid sitting by him. Making up rumors and creating random bullies for him.

Which is one of the main reasons he hated Chad, outside of the obvious ones. He reminded Jungkook of all the jocks, and assholes that made his life a living hell because he was socially awkward.

Nope, he only had the project excuse to be around you. The only way he could ever get you to feel the same about him, or at least become your friend, for starters, was with the project excuse. And he just had to deal with it.

When he turns back around, he puts his backpack on, and nods in agreement to your question. "Sure. Is it for the project?"

"No."

His eyes shoot up to you, and he watches your knowing smile turn into a smirk. "N-no? Then why?"

"Because you intrigue me, Jungkook. Not many guys offer a girl to sleep in their room just to sleep in their room. You're the good guy in a school full of assholes, and I'm intrigued to see how much of a good boy you truly are."

Nothing about what you said was sexual, but your words went straight to his dick. Calling him 'good boy' was a turn-on he never knew he had. But then again, any praise from you is a significant turn-on for him.

His eyes twitched, and he felt bewildered entirely by you. Jungkook was expecting to take a couple meet-ups for the project before you wanted anything outside of being his project partner. But all it took was for him to be a good guy, and offer you his shoulder to cry on, for you to notice him?

Fuck... maybe Ryan is brilliant.

"Yeah, sure... Um... text me the place and time?"

You nod your head once, confirming you'll do what he asks, then escort Jungkook to the door that's only five feet away. Once the door shuts behind him, Jungkook still has a shocked expression on.

What the fuck just happened?

-

CH 4

#bts #BTS Jungkook #BTS JK #jungkook #jeon jung-kook #jungkook x reader #Loner!Jungkook x Popular!Fem!Reader #shy jungkook #bullies #jk #college!au #pining #pining jungkook #BTS romance #romace #post breakup #jungkook slowly gaining confidence #virgin jungkook

[genyawritesshizz]

Inspired by suprrbooprr’s tiktoks on sun and moon reacting to reader having a prosthetic leg.

How would all the animatronics react to reader having a prosthetic limb?

Part 1 Freddy-

Having a prosthetic arm wasn’t exactly something you could easily hide, no matter how hard you tried. Your who life you’d been bullied because of having a prosthetic. All the kids in school called you names like ‘freak, weirdo, ect.’ It absolutely destroyed your mental health.

-

Being a day shift guard in a world renowned pizza plex didn’t help curve your growing insecurity. God knows children have absolutely no filter and would be quick to make remarks about it so you found it best to cover up. Therefore, everyone knew you as the girl who wore jackets even if it was damn near or over a hundred degrees outside.

You’ve been working here for almost two years and you absolutely adored the cast. Freddy the lovable guy was by far your favorite something about him just made you feel safe. But, being afraid of rejection you kept your relationship strictly at arms length, literally.

Your job was the walk around the mall and assist anyone in need of help; this included helping children find their parents, alerting the clean up bots of spills and messes, and just adding a human touch to the almost completely roboticly operated franchise.

Lucky for you the mall had a state of the art air conditioning system and kept it a nice and cool 70 degrees at all times.

But unfortunately for you the ac had broke sending the entire staff into an absolute heat wave. Of course the animatronics would be fine, a bit uncomfortable, but due to their internal fans they stayed nice and cool enough to keep performing.

Oh how you wished you had internal fans right now, you were sweating like a whore in church, absolutely drenched and your shift had just started. You where absolutely miserable and felt disgusting.

But you had to do your job.

You stumbled around the pizza plex attempting to busy yourself as best you could despite being on the verge of passing out.

“Hello (y/n)!” You heard the big lovable bear himself say approaching you. His smile faltered as he got a bit closer.

“Oh uh hey f-Freddy, what’s up?” You weakly said. Your legs felt like they where about to buckle underneath you at any moment. Holy shit was it getting hotter? Jesus Christ.

“Are you alright (y/n)? You don’t look so good” Freddy attempted to put a paw on your forehead but you quickly backed away. He slightly flinched and his eyes widened.

“I-I’m sorry Freddy!” You stammered.

“No, I’m sorry (y/n) I shouldn’t have tried to touch you without asking. But, I think you should come with me to the infirmary! An internal scan shows you are running a low grade fever!” He was extremely concerned for you health. The two of you had known each other for awhile and he knew something was off about you. Besides, It was his duty to take any sick adult or child to the infirmary in times like this.

“No no Freddy I’m okay! Just a little hot is all, damned ac is out ya know.” You attempted to try and defuse the situation but this papa bear wasn’t having it. He’s dealt with fussy children and he certainly could deal with you.

“Yes I’m aware of the temperature of this facility is above average” He looked at you and noticed what you where wearing. You had on a long sleeved Freddy fazbear shirt, one that is issued to employees to be worn during the harsh winter months not in the middle of summer. His eyebrows furrowed. “If you are feeling hot i’m sure I have a spare shirt in my room! I’d be happy to let you have it if it’ll make you feel better!” If you weren’t already sweating bullet you sure where now.

“Oh not it’s okay Freddy! Really I’ll be fine!”

“No! I insist! If not I’m afraid I’ll have to take you to the infirmary for a check up.” Damn this bear and his stupid little hat, and his stupid little earring. You deeply sighed admitting defeat. There was no way around Freddy. He’d literally pester you until you did one of the two and you’d much rather be around Freddy than the infirmary bots.

“Okay fine.” Freddy gave you a beaming smile as he led the way to the casts rooms and into his beautifully and neatly decorated area. You sat on his red couch and waited for Freddy to return his attention to you. You couldn’t help but fidget with the hem of your sweater.

Freddy rummaged around in the drawer of his vanity for a bit before giving a triumphant ah ha and pulled out a shirt that appeared to be three sizes to big for you. He handed it to you with big smile.

“Alright super star I’ll let you get changed!” He walked over and closed the curtain that allowed others to see in and walked out the door.

You fiddled with the fabric of the shirt for awhile before sighing and just slinging it over you shoulder. You walked around Freddy’s room for a bit looking at anything but the mirror until you found yourself sitting right infront of it.

“Okay okay okay, I can do this. It won’t be that bad…” you pulled your sweater up and over your head quickly and slapped on the new shirt.

There it was staring back at you. Your arm.

The hand portion of your prosthetic looks like a real human hand and you could control it by flexing your shoulders muscle allowed it to contract. But the rest of it was metallic and robotic looking, making it unbearable obviously.

“I… I can’t do this.” You put your head in your hands.

Here come the water works. Tears started running freely down your face. “I’m a freak.”

“Hey kiddo everything okay in there?” Freddy knocked on the door but upon hearing your stifled sobs basically busted it down.

“Don’t look at me….please.” You sobbed out trying to cover your prosthetic with your sweater. Freddy gently approached you with a kind smile on his face.

“Hey easy there, it’s okay, everything’s going to be okay” He opened his arms “is it okay for me to hug you?” You looked up at the giant bear through the tears and nodded.

The two of you embraced for what felt like eternity as your sobbed into his fur. He rubbed soothing circles on your back.

Once you calmed down you pulled away from him and rubbed the remaking tears away trying to look anywhere but at him.

“Now what’s the problem?” He genuinely seemed confused as if the problem was clear.

“Look at it Freddy!” You said holding your prosthetic arm up for him to see. “It’s so ugly.”

He cocked his head to the side as if what you said was the most absurd thing he’d ever heard.

“What are you talking about superstar! It looks perfectly normal!” You scoffed.

“Normal people don’t have metal arms.”

“That may be true but it’s perfectly normal for you. I mean look at me! Why I’m all metal!” He chuckled. “There is nothing wrong with your arm, it is perfect just the way it is.”

“What if they make fun of me for it?”

“Don’t worry I’ll be with you every step of the way!”

And he was Freddy walked you out to the main area and hung out with you for the rest of the day. If anyone dared to even look at you funny he’d give them the sternest look possible. If they said anything he’d quickly shut it down and give them the longest most dadest speech on learning to respect others and respecting that not everyone is alike.

From then on you and Freddy’s friend ship sky rocketed and you where no longer afraid to wear short sleeves.

Art by: Rainy_rabbits on twitter

#fnaf glamrock freddy #glamrock freddy #freddy x reader #prosthetic #bodypositivity #fnaf fandom

[honeypiehotchner]

winter love (all i want for Christmas is you) -- Hotch x Fem!Reader

Hi hi hi!! I have literally been writing this on and off since September, and now I finally get to share it!! A few quick things: this fic has very much Hallmark vibes but does have a good dose of angst too; for the sake of this fic, Aaron was born and raised in Virginia; and Jack was never born (sorry buddy!).

I listened to Michael Bublé’s songs “All I Want for Christmas Is You” and “Cold December Night” a lot while writing this, so feel free to play those while you read! xx.

(The gif is from google because once again, my gif search is broken on here because apparently this post is too long?? Rip me)

Summary: You’ve returned back to your hometown after leaving to get your education, but you didn’t expect to run into your childhood best friend (and first love). 

Word count: 9.4k

HOTCH MASTERLIST || MAIN MASTERLIST

If you told yourself a few months ago that you’d be moving back to Virginia, you would’ve scoffed and probably laughed -- loudly. Your mom, on the other hand, would’ve been elated, and swore she knew it.

Like she’s doing now.

“I’m just so excited to have you home again,” she gushes, helping you carry boxes of your clothes up to your old childhood room.

The room needs some work, like taking down all these embarrassing posters and changing the sheets to something not so cringe-worthy (thankfully, it’s a full-size bed instead of the old twin you grew up sleeping on). But it’ll be fine for the time being. It’s not like you’re going to find an apartment right before Christmas, or that you even want to. It’s been a while since you’ve spent a full Christmas season with your mom.

You’ve been studying out of state for the past six years, working to get your masters and doctorate degrees — which you’ve completed. But now you need a job and a new start, which is why you decided to come home.

You’ve missed Virginia a lot more than you’ll admit. It’s hard not to miss your hometown when you’re gone from it for so long.

“We need a Christmas tree,” you say, as you come back down the stairs. “Christmas is next week, how do you not have a tree up yet?”

“I wasn’t going to get one without you,” your mom says like the fact should’ve been obvious to you.

You laugh as you plop down next to her on the couch. “I know. We should go tomorrow.”

“Whenever you want to,” she smiles, squeezing your arm. “Have you been to your coffee shop yet?”

“My coffee shop?” You raise an eyebrow. “Since when has it been mine?”

“Since you practically lived there during high school,” your mom counters.

She has a point. “Well, no, I haven’t. I just got here.”

“You should go.”

You raise both eyebrows this time, turning your entire body to face her. “What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you trying to get me to go back there?”

“Why don’t you want to?”

You give her a look. “You know why.”

“I don’t.”

She does. She knows exactly what happened there.

“I’m not repeating it,” you mutter. “And I’ll be finding a new coffee shop, thank you very much.”

“Oh, you can’t let one bad experience stop you from going there!”

“So you do remember!”

“How could I forget? When you were a wreck for months after. I still never forgave him for that, you know.”

You shake your head, settling back against the couch pillows. “It’s been long enough now that I think forgiveness won’t hurt anyone.”

You say that, and yet you don’t want to step foot in that shop ever again.

+++

It was the summer before your junior year. Aaron was a rising senior, so there was the weight of it being his last year already hanging in the air. Especially when he was already looking at a pre-law track for college — meaning he’d be insanely busy after graduation with not much time for you.

Unfortunately, you didn’t realize that his being too busy for you would start before then.

You were a year younger — technically almost two, but the way your birthday fell, you were only one grade younger — but that didn’t stop Aaron from being your friend. At first you thought he had ill intentions (as most older boys in high school did), but he didn’t. He genuinely enjoyed your company, and you genuinely enjoyed his.

More than genuinely. You say now that you don’t believe in love at first sight, but you know that’s because it already happened for you, and you believe it to be a one-time deal.

That one time was when Aaron sat across from you at the lunch table.

You were alone and reading a book. You were a freshman then, and being an extra year younger didn’t exactly help in the whole making friends department. Especially when a lot of your peers were already aware of your age.

But Aaron wasn’t aware, nor did he even care.

He saw that you were alone, and reading, and he decided to sit with you. He wanted to read too, anyway, but he knew he didn’t always like being alone when he read. Something told him you were the same way.

He was correct.

It took almost the entire fall semester before either of you said one word to each other. Sometimes you’d be too engrossed in the book you were reading to even notice he’d sat down in front of you. And when you would finally notice, he would be the one with his nose too deep in the book to notice.

But eventually, you started sharing book recommendations.

Which eventually turned into helping each other with homework. You were always better at math and Spanish than he was (you were already in the sophomore levels of these classes as a freshman), but he was always good with history and English. He must’ve noticed you were in freshman English and history, but he never commented on it — at least not in a way that said he was bullying you.

That winter break was when you started going to the coffee shop together. It was within walking distance of the high school, so the two of you would go at the end of the day until your parents could pick you up. Sometimes your mom would drive him home, or vice versa.

And when Aaron got his license, he’d drive you both there and drop you off at home.

The two of you were inseparable. Almost literally.

Until Aaron met Haley.

Haley was in theatre. She was everything you weren’t. Aaron’s age, pretty, funny, outgoing, and worst of all: popular.

You watched your best friend fall in love.

And that wouldn’t have hurt as bad as it did if it wasn’t Haley he was falling for.

You kept your feelings for Aaron quiet, even to your mom — though you found out later that she always knew. You had almost thought he felt the same, or that he might be beginning to, and then suddenly he was talking about some girl named Haley.

Only she wasn’t just “some girl” to him, or even to you. Everyone knew Haley Brooks.

Slowly, your lunch table conversations were less about what the two of you were going to do the coming weekend, and more about Haley. How he was going to get her to notice him (join theatre, even though he never liked theatre before her). How he was going to ask her on a date (it wouldn’t be a date at first, just dinner after theatre rehearsal, that ended up being with the entire cast, but he sat next to her). How he was going to win her over (he brought flowers to the first performance and surprised her backstage). How he was going to ask her to be his girlfriend (that was the same night as the flowers, completely unplanned, but she said yes).

How he thought he might want to marry her one day.

The last hurt most of all. He confessed it to you one night out of the blue as he was driving you home after school. You knew you could handle him being in love with someone else. Some sick part of you knew — or hoped, rather — that the relationship wouldn’t last. What high school relationship lasts longer than a few months, anyway?

But when Aaron fell for Haley, he fell completely. And hard.

He started cancelling plans with you to spend time with Haley — before they were even dating. When they were dating, he stopped making plans with you altogether.

Then came the summer before his senior year.

It had been months since you saw him last. You had a new lunch period the second half of the year because one of your favorite teachers asked for help during the period, which meant you didn’t have lunch with Aaron — but you don’t even think he noticed.

June came and went. The two of you barely saw one another, barely talked when you did. But when you did, you clung to those moments like they were your only lifeline. In a way, they were.

July finally came and he actually made plans to see you. He said he wanted to get coffee again, catch up, hang out for a few hours, sit in silence, even, whatever you wanted. You were excited.

Some part of you thought that he had broken up with Haley — wishful thinking, but you were sixteen and in love, what else were you supposed to think?

But he hadn’t broken up with her. They were very much in love. You know. You witnessed it.

Apparently, Haley didn’t like the idea of Aaron getting coffee and lunch alone with a female friend. So, she took it upon herself to tag along.

You saw them sharing a kiss through the window, Aaron’s back facing you. When they pulled away, Haley’s eyes caught yours, but she said nothing to Aaron, just pulled him back in for another kiss.

You didn’t go into the shop that day. And you haven’t since.

The last time you saw Aaron was the day before he moved to college. He was stopping by to say goodbye to you.

You were reading a book in your room, and your eyes caught the movement on the driveway. You told your mom to say you weren’t home.

You watched him leave from your bedroom window, hands stuffed in his pockets.

+++

You heard that Aaron and Haley got married. Not because you wanted to hear, but because your mom told you. She probably meant well, but you drank an entire bottle of wine that night. You weren’t even 21 yet at the time.

Of course, it’s been years since then. You’re all fine now, and you’ve got the student loan debt to prove it.

But even with three degrees, job hunting can be a bitch. Especially this time of year.

You need coffee.

You blame the fact that this coffee shop is the best one around. And the fact that it’s Christmas season, meaning they have your favorite drink again.  

Dark chocolate peppermint mocha. It’s a godsend. And you haven’t had one in years.

Well, you have. But they haven’t been from here. They haven’t had this shop’s specially made peppermint whipped cream, or the peppermint stick that can be used to stir.

You hate how much you have to psych yourself up before you walk inside. You don’t even know where Aaron is these days or what he’s doing. He could be halfway across the country for all you know.

So, with that fact in mind, you walk inside. You embrace the familiar sight and smells, remembering what it felt like the last time you were here.

You move toward the counter, falling in the short line to the register. And your stomach flips when you see a familiar face standing in front of you.

Well, his back is facing you, so you don’t see his face, but you know it’s him. There’s this thing about first loves. It doesn’t matter how long it’s been since the last time you’ve seen them. You’ll always recognize everything about them. The back of their head, their shoulders, their hands, the way they walk.

Their voice. Even if it’s deeper than the last time you heard it.

Maybe he won’t recognize me.

But what you don’t know is that no amount of time could pass to make you unrecognizable to Aaron.

Or that he saw your reflection in the glass case next to him when you got in line, and he’s been internally trying to figure out what the hell to say to you since.

If it hadn’t been for his voice, you wouldn’t have recognized Aaron at all. A black coffee? That’s it?

The barista pours it and slides it over to him before he’s even done paying. He’s at a coffee shop -- this coffee shop, and he orders a black coffee?

Who is he?

You step up to the register as he steps away, and you swear you see him looking at you through the corner of your eyes. But you must be seeing things because why would he do that?

You focus on ordering -- a medium peppermint mocha, complete with the whipped cream and peppermint stick. After paying, you step to the side to wait for your coffee.

You nearly knock right into Aaron, but you stop yourself, well aware of his presence.

Another thing about first loves: you’re always painfully aware of their presence.

“Hi,” he says, awkward and fumbling even though it’s only one word. He’s wearing a stuffy suit and tie, which seems odd, but you’re positive that’s just normal lawyer attire. He probably lives in a suit these days. His hair is shorter than it used to be and he looks older, but so do you. Despite all of this, he’s still Aaron. He’s still the same Aaron Hotchner you fell in love with at sixteen.

“Hi,” you return the awkward smile, tugging on the strap of your purse. After a beat, you nod toward his drink. “Black coffee, huh?” You try to tease. “Who hurt you?”

He laughs loudly then, shoulders and head shaking. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too, Hotchner,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around yourself.

The conversation dies for a moment, so you busy yourself by looking at the different cakes and pastries in the glass case. You probably should’ve gotten one, but maybe another time.

Another time. Fifteen minutes ago you wouldn’t be caught dead in this shop and now you’re already thinking about another time.

“Are you busy?” Aaron suddenly asks, prompting you to look at him with furrowed brows. “Do you mind if I join you?”

“Not at all,” you smile gently, knowing you might regret this later. But it’s been over a decade since you’ve seen him last. One coffee won’t hurt.

And I’m over him, you remind yourself, no matter how untrue it might be.

Once you have your peppermint mocha -- finally, you think, it’s been too long -- you walk with Aaron to find a table. A lot has changed about this shop, but one thing that hasn’t (because there isn’t much that can be changed) is the seating.

Aaron leads you to your old table. The table the two of you practically lived at.

It makes your heart warm and ache all at once. The drink you decided to order isn’t helping matters either.

“So…” You pause, shifting in your seat. “What are you up to these days?”

“You stole my question,” he jokes.

“Tough,” you smile into your drink. “I asked it first.”

He chuckles, but answers anyway. “I’m working for the BAU now.”

“The B-A-What?”

“The-- FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

Your eyes widen. “Did you… Did you really just say you’re working for the FBI?”

“I think so,” he says. “I’m the unit chief.”

“You’re the-- Okay. So, you don’t work for the...the BAU, they work for you.”

“We’re a team,” he offers.

“Said every boss ever,” you quip, taking a long drink of your mocha. You take the peppermint stick in between your fingers and stir, eyebrows furrowing down at the swirl of coffee and whipped cream. “So...what do you do exactly?”

He opens his mouth to answer, then stops, hesitating. “Do you really want to know?”

You give him a look. “Of course I do.”

“It’s not great.”

“Aaron, just tell me, or I’ll start reciting my dissertation word for word.” Your statement stuns him to silence, so badly that you almost laugh. “That’s boring. Working for the FBI can’t possibly be boring.”

“Oh, it’s never boring, that’s for sure,” he mutters. “We profile serial killers.”

“You what?”

He laughs. “We look at their behaviors and crimes and build a profile, what they might look like, their age, that stuff.”

“Intriguing.”

“I can’t believe you’re interested.”

“I can’t believe you thought I wouldn’t be,” you counter. “You know I thrive off this stuff.”

“I remember,” he says quietly.

And just like that, you remember, too.

It’s so easy to forget about all the hurt he caused, all the pain he left behind. Especially because you know he never intended to hurt you. He would never do that, not to you, not on purpose. You never told him how you felt. It’s not his fault he couldn’t read your mind.

“Well, you’ve got a doctorate,” he says, shifting the conversation. “What else are you up to?”

“How did you know it’s a doctorate?” You raise an eyebrow. “Are you profiling me? Did I use that correctly?”

“Yes,” he smiles. “And no, not intentionally. You said you’d recite your dissertation. Those are normally written to get doctorate degrees. You always wanted one, I assumed you met your goal.”

“You assume correct,” you nod. “I’m back to start job and apartment hunting, but after the new year. I wanted to spend some time with my mom.”

“How is she doing?”

“She’s good, she--” You pause, shaking your head with a laugh. “She actually brought you up yesterday.”

“Me?” Aaron looks genuinely shocked.

“Yeah, you,” you knock your foot against his leg without thinking, but you pay no mind, not wanting to draw unnecessary attention to it. “She’s actually the one who put the bug in my ear to come here.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I haven’t been back here since…”

It takes him a moment, but he nods slowly. “Right.”

“Yeah,” you draw your legs closer to you on instinct. “But that was a long time ago. How are you and Haley?”

You don’t expect the way his face falls. You glance down at his left hand. No ring.

“We got a divorce a few years ago, split up about a good year before that,” Aaron explains. “She’s good, last I heard. Remarried already.”

“Wow,” you murmur, not knowing what else to say. “What-- I mean, what happened?” When he hesitates, you backpedal. “Sorry, I shouldn’t even ask, it’s probably a sensitive question.”

“It’s okay,” Aaron chuckles. “I don’t mind talking about it with you.”

That sends a dangerous flutter through your stomach. “Okay. Well I’m all ears.”

“Oh, it’s not a long story, it was just my job,” he shrugs. “I took the unit chief position and she was happy at first. But then, there was a period of time where we had what felt like case after case after case.” He shakes his head. “I was barely home, but I was barely in one state for long, anyway. It was a stressful time. We were everywhere at once.”

“That does sound stressful,” you frown. “Has it slowed down now?”

“Kind of, it has its moments,” he admits. “But being gone so much, it took a toll on her. She wanted to start a family, but said she couldn’t do that if I was never there.”

“But I mean she had to have known how your schedule would be with the new job, right?”

“Yeah,” he says, then shrugs. “It’s been so long now that I stopped trying to understand her thought process.”

“I get that,” you say sincerely. You understand not wanting to waste energy on something like that anymore. Sometimes you just have to give it up and have peace with the fact that you’ll never understand.

“What about you?” He asks suddenly, catching you off guard. “Seeing anyone?” He adds it quietly, like he’s shy.

Aaron Hotchner. Shy. Around you.

“Oh,” you nearly laugh at the prospect. “No. No, I’m not. Do you really think I would be if I was moving back in with my mom?”

He laughs, bringing his coffee to his lips. “You have a point there.”

A comforting silence settles over the two of you after that.

You shouldn’t feel slightly giddy that his and Haley’s relationship didn’t work out in the end. You’re over him by now, anyway. But something about being right has you fighting a smile. You smother the urge, though, knowing he probably doesn’t want to hear anyone, let alone you, say, “I told you so.”

You do feel bad for him, genuinely. Divorce is never easy for anyone, and you hate he went through that. Especially like that. Haley knew his work schedule would change. Why would she act supportive if she knew this in advance? Just sits uneasy with you, that’s all.

Of course, you feel that overprotective-best-friend nature coming back to you.

“What plans do you have now that you’re back?” He asks, keeping the conversation up, but you can tell he’s earnest — which makes you smile.

“Nothing, really. My mom and I are getting a Christmas tree later, but that’s all I have on my schedule.” You pause, giving him another look. “We both know you were my only friend in high school. Who do you think I’m going to see while I’m here?”

“Hopefully a lot of me,” he replies easily, smiling around his coffee.

And for once, you don’t hesitate to reply. “I hope so, too, actually. I didn’t think you were still around here. And I really didn’t expect you to be working for the FBI.”

“This might be presumptuous of me, but what are you doing this weekend?” He asks, quickly adding on, “A good friend of mine is hosting a Christmas party for the team, and I’ve basically been threatened to bring a plus one.”

“Threatened, huh?” You raise an eyebrow.

He nods seriously. “They won’t let me inside without one.”

You gasp comically, keeping up the act. “Well you can’t miss the party!”

“I know,” he sighs, propping his head in his hand.

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to come with,” you say, still deadly serious.

But Aaron’s lips split into a grin the same time yours does. “It’s this Saturday.”

“Lucky for you, I’m free.”

He doesn’t stop grinning. “I can pick you up, if you want.”

“Yeah, I’d love that,” you say. “I should probably give you my number, shouldn’t I?”

“I was going to ask,” he admits.

You roll your eyes playfully. “I figured.”

After exchanging numbers, the two of you return to your idle conversations. Only, they’re less idle than they ever have been before.

He vents about still not understanding how people can be capable of the things he sees. How he knows that everyone is capable of unspeakable things, but it’s how they do it that still makes him stumble sometimes. And you try to sympathize, though you know you can’t. But still you tell him not to try to understand.

“You’re a good man,” you say. “You’re not going to understand it because you’re not like them.”

“Thank you,” he whispers. “I know that, consciously. Sometimes it’s good to hear it from someone else.”

Then he tells you it’s your turn, and again, you don’t feel the need to hesitate.

You tell him how you weren’t planning on moving back here at all. But the job market where you were didn’t...fit you, for some reason. You never felt like you belonged, and so maybe that’s why you wanted to come back here.

Because even though you left this place heartbroken, you still felt like you belonged when you were here. You felt like you belonged when you were with him, but you don’t tell him that.

Something tells you he heard it anyway, though. Being a profiler and all. Which you still don’t quite understand, but you’re sure he’ll have plenty of time to tell you in the coming future.

+++

After an hour or two, you decide it’s time for you to head back home. Partly because you need to make some lunch for yourself, and partly because you’ve watched Aaron dismiss at least three phone calls in the last twenty minutes.

But he didn’t say a word each time, so you know he won’t tell you who it is or if he needs to go. It makes your heart warm at the thought that he wants to spend more time with you, but if it’s his job, then he needs to go.

He walks you to your car and you hug him around his neck, unashamedly taking a deep breath of his cologne when you stretch up to wrap your arms around him. He didn’t wear cologne back in high school. But this one smells good.

You mentally prepare yourself on the way home for the amount of questions your mom is no doubt going to ask.

You’re supposed to be going to pick out a tree with her today, which means you were supposed to be home a little earlier than this, which means your mom probably already knows what happened and you won’t even get a chance to explain yourself.

In the end, your prediction was correct.

“How was your peppermint mocha?” You glance over to the couch and find your mom sitting there, idly reading a book.

The question is as directly indirect as they come. You raise an eyebrow and kick the front door closed (yes, she asked before you even stepped foot inside the house). “It was good,” you reply, shrugging your jacket off your shoulders. “Why?”

“Oh, you enjoyed it for almost two hours, so I was just wondering.” Your mom fights back a grin, but she’s not doing a very good job.

You sigh. “Just go ahead and ask.”

She closes her book. “Alright, fine, I will. How is Aaron?”

There it is.

“He’s good,” you answer rather pointedly, making your way into the living room. “He’s working for the FBI now.”

“Oh, I knew that already.”

You plop down next to her on the couch. “Seriously?”

“Of course!” She cries, like it should be obvious. “Small talk happens when you see someone in the store.”

“Right,” you scoff. “Anyway, thanks for not telling me him and Haley divorced.”

She grimaces.

“Yeah, exactly,” you nod at her expression. “That’s how I felt. I bet it was just awesome of me to ask about how him and his ex-wife are doing.”

“I’m sorry,” your mom says. “It completely slipped my mind. It’s been so long since those two split.”

“Why didn’t you tell me when it happened?”

“Because I didn’t want to bring him up,” she answers sincerely. “You seemed like you had really moved on. I figured it didn’t matter, and I didn’t want to make you start thinking about him again when you had finally gotten over it all.”

“Oh,” you murmur. “Well, thank you, then, but...still. I feel like an idiot.”

“Did he seem angry when you asked?”

“No, the opposite,” you sigh. “He explained what happened and I let him talk about it for a second, but he seems mostly moved on from it.”

“I don’t know how he can be,” your mom scoffs. “She’s already remarried, you know.”

“Yeah, he told me.”

Your mom shakes her head. “I should’ve shook some sense into that boy when he came to say goodbye that day.” Then she pauses, poking your leg. “And I should’ve made you say goodbye to him. I’ll never forgive myself for that.”

“I didn’t wanna talk to him,” you shrug. “We barely had all year, anyway. And one goodbye would not have stopped him from going to college and marrying Haley, you know that.”

“Yeah, I know.” She sighs. “It’s fun to think about, though.”

“Well stop thinking about it,” you mutter. “We are friends and he’s probably seeing someone by now. I don’t even know how long I’ll be here, so.”

Your mom raises her eyebrows. “I never said anything about what you guys are now.”

Damn. Caught. “I know, but I’m just...catching you before you do.”

“Mmm, more like catching yourself.”

“Shut up.”

She lightly hits you with a pillow. “Don’t say that to your mother,” she jokes. “Especially not when I’m right and you know it.”

“Yeah, yeah. Are you ready to pick out a tree?”

“Of course,” she replies. “Just let me find my shoes.”

While she’s getting ready -- because “finding her shoes” really means fixing her hair and makeup and changing outfits a couple times -- you get a text from Aaron.

Aaron: It was nice catching up with you today

You smile and type your reply. Ditto. We should do it again sometime.

He doesn’t reply, but you figure he’s busy at work, anyway. And you’ve got a tree to pick out and decorate, so you’re technically busy, too.

You try not to think too much about it.

+++

And truthfully, you don’t think much about it, until Aaron finally replies. It’s hours later when you’re decorating the freshly-cut Christmas tree in the living room, with Michael Bublé’s Christmas album playing through the stereo speakers. It’s just like when you were younger.

You check your phone and see that it’s Aaron texting you back, but you pocket it before reading the message. You’re busy.

Your mom notices the change on your face. “Everything alright?” She asks as she places a snowflake ornament on one of the smaller branches.

You nod without thinking, hating yourself for even feeling what you’re feeling right now. A glittery red ornament hangs from your index finger as you try to find the right branch to hang it on -- and while your mind wanders all over the place.

“Clearly not,” your mom replies. “But alright.” She turns and reaches into a different box, picking up one of the golden jingle bells that she always hides deep within the tree each year. When you were younger, she’d hide them without you seeing, and then on Christmas Eve you’d have to search the tree for them before you could open one present before going to sleep.

You snort a laugh, always loving her way of getting you to open up: sarcasm. “It’s just Aaron.”

“Aaron?”

“Texting me,” you explain, looking down at the glitter coating your fingertips from the ornaments.

“Aren’t you going to reply?” She asks, grabbing another jingle bell.

“Technically he’s the one replying from earlier today.”

“Okay…”

You sigh. Time to cave. “He invited me to a Christmas party this weekend.”

Your mom doesn’t even try to hide her excitement or her wide grin. “Really? That’s great!”

Is it? You want to ask, but you stop yourself. “Yeah,” you shrug. “I guess so. It’ll be nice to hang out with him more.” You pause, finally hanging the small glittery red ornament on the tree that you’ve been idly holding for the past two minutes. “Apparently a friend of his is hosting it and basically told him he wouldn’t be allowed inside without a plus one.” You chuckle quietly, knowing Aaron had to have rolled his eyes when his friend told him that.

“So it’s...a date, then?”

“What? No,” you shake your head. “No, no. Not a date. He didn’t phrase it that way.”

“Sweetheart, plus one implies date.”

“Who says?”

“Everyone!” Your mom laughs. “Bringing a plus one to a wedding is usually a casual date, if not bringing your significant other along.”

“This isn’t a wedding, it’s just a Christmas get together.”

“Same difference.”

“Well, I think you’re doing that thing again where you try to plant seeds in my brain for things that are unnecessary,” you raise an eyebrow at her when she avoids eye contact, so you know you’ve caught her red-handed. “All that aside,” you sigh. “I’m over him. It’s been so long. If something was going to happen, it would have already.”

“Whatever you say,” she shrugs indifferently, grabbing the final jingle bell to hide in the top of the tree. For a brief moment, you wish you hadn’t been watching where she hid them, so you could do the search on Christmas Eve one more time.

+++

You bump into Aaron one more time, two days later, at the same coffee shop.

“Back for more?” He teases as he slides into the seat across from you, another black coffee in his right hand.

You’re sitting at the table the two of you call home with yet another peppermint mocha sitting in front of you and your laptop. More job hunting is the task for today, even though you’re ready to give up and just pick it back up after the New Year. It’s not like your mom is making you pay rent, and you have enough in savings to help with groceries (without her knowledge, of course, because she refuses to let you pay for anything) and buy your own coffees. But, you decided to give it one last go today.

That is, until Aaron slid into the seat in front of you. Now, you close your laptop and place it back in your bag. “Just needed some fuel for more job hunting,” you grin. “What are you doing here?”

“I took off for lunch for once and thought I might find you here.”

“Oh?” You raise your eyebrows. “Were you seeking me out, Hotchner?”

“Maybe a little,” he admits with a shy smile. “Are you still good for tomorrow?”

“As long as you are,” you nod. “What time?”

“I’ll pick you up at five, if that’s good?”

“Perfect,” you smile. “Are you ready to introduce me to your friends?”

“Depends,” he exhales exasperatedly. “Are you ready to meet them?”

“They can’t be that bad.”

“They might be. If you aren’t used to them.” He pauses. “They don’t know you’re coming, by the way.”

“What?” You almost laugh. “Why not?”

“I told them I was bringing someone, but I didn’t feel like hearing it all week about who I was bringing.” He pauses again, like he’s holding something back, and then he lets it out. “They know all about you.”

You blink. “They do?”

“Yeah,” he smiles gently. “I talk about you all the time.”

“No,” you shake your head. “No you don’t. There’s no way.”

“You’ll believe it tomorrow,” he chuckles. “I’m sure they’ll try to embarrass me.”

“I-I mean...what do you even say about me?”

He shrugs. “That you were my best friend in high school and...that I missed you and wondered what you were up to these days, and how we used to hang out here.” He looks around the shop, then back to you and your bewildered expression. “What?” He laughs. “You didn’t talk to your friends about me?”

“No, I did,” you laugh quietly. But I said different things. And most of the time I was crying because I missed you, especially my first year of college when my roommate tried to get me to go on a double date with her boyfriend and his roommate, but I refused and had to confess that I wasn’t over you and that you broke my heart, and I was such a mess that she brought ice cream and chocolate back after their date.

But you don’t say any of that. Obviously.

“I just didn’t expect you to even...think about me, I guess,” you finally spit out, still shaking your head. “I mean...we haven’t talked since high school, I figured you’d forgotten or moved on, at least. Especially since you had Haley.”

Aaron’s expression softens and turns sad, quickly. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I didn’t know you thought any of that.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” you wave his worry away. “It’s years ago. Water under the bridge.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. Then, he says, “Haley was jealous of you, you know.”

You immediately look up from your mocha, your eyes wide in shock. “She was what?”

“Oh yeah,” Aaron laughs. “Devastatingly jealous of you. She swore we were dating or that I was in love with you or something.”

Or something. “Wow,” you chuckle, trying to mask your hurt as much as possible. “Why did she even think that?”

You know why. You know exactly why. Because before her, you and Aaron were attached at the hip. You sat together during lunch, walked each other home, hung out at the coffee shop, went to school functions together (well, you’d actually go with a big group, but you two always ended up together anyway), and so on and so forth. Anyone would’ve been an idiot to not assume you two were dating.

“We were so close,” he shrugs. “She said she was so surprised when I asked her to be my girlfriend because she swore I was dating you. She actually asked me that, when I gave her the flowers. She said, “What about Y/N?” And I said, “Y/N? She’s just my best friend.” And she didn’t believe me.”

“That’s so crazy,” you say, but you’re really thinking back to that day you and Aaron had decided to meet up here and hang out after so long. When Haley crashed the hangout. When she locked eyes with you and smirked before pulling him back in for another kiss.

She was jealous. She was jealous and she knew exactly what she was doing that day.

Aaron’s phone starts ringing and he sighs heavily, pulling it out. He almost declines it, but then stops himself. “It’s the boss,” he says. “My boss. I’ve gotta take this. I’ll text you later?”

“Sure,” you smile, knowing he might forget or get too busy to think about it. But that’s okay. “Good luck with the phone call.”

“Thanks,” he chuckles. “I’ll need it.” And then he brings his phone up to his ear. “Agent Hotchner,” he says, and you hate that you find it so hot.

+++

You almost cancel with Aaron a dozen times before 2p.m.

You blame the conversation the two of you had yesterday. For some reason, the thought of Haley being jealous of you had never crossed your mind. Because to you, it was so obviously the other way around. Of course, you weren’t vocal about your jealousy, but you were certain she knew. Not that it was the other way around.

Old feelings have already resurfaced, which is bad enough, but the talk about Haley and about how Aaron’s friends know all about you made things worse. Especially the latter.

Why would he talk about you so much if the two of you hadn’t spoken in years? Not even years, but like an entire decade. Why would he still talk about you and think about you that much?

You have dwelled over those questions since he left the coffee shop yesterday.

But now, you have no idea what to wear, and Aaron will be here any minute. You’re assuming the attire is casual, not fancy, since it’s just a get together with his friends -- who all happen to be his team of agents. FBI agents. Because he’s just casually the Unit Chief of the BAU.

It still baffles you. He wanted to be a lawyer. Not in the FBI. God.

He’s still your Aaron. That’s what shocks you the most. He’s experienced law school, marriage, practicing law, working for the FBI, becoming a Unit Chief, divorce, and yet he’s still the Aaron Hotchner you were best friends with in high school.

You wonder if you’re still the girl he was best friends with in high school. Or if you’ve changed so drastically that he doesn’t see you that way anymore.

You take a deep breath, going back to digging through the many boxes of clothes that you have yet to unpack. You need a sweater or something. That’s safe enough, right? It’s too cold for a dress, and frankly, you’re not in the mood for wearing one, anyway.

Finally, you find the sweater you were looking for. You tug it over your head, figuring your jeans are fine enough. You’ll wear some low heels to make it look like you put in a little more effort.

Your quick thinking is to your benefit because the doorbell rings almost as soon as you’re done doing the clasp on your second heel.

But because your mom is quicker than you, she’s already opened the door and let Aaron in before you can make it downstairs. And by the time you are coming down the stairs, Aaron is sitting on the couch with your mom, making idle conversation.

“Hey,” you smile at him, resisting the urge to glare at your mom. “Ready?”

“If you are,” he nods, standing to his feet.

When he turns, you shoot your mom a look. “We’ll be back later.”

“You’re not in high school,” your mom laughs. “You two have fun for as long as you like.”

“I know,” you say. “But I also know you’ll wait up until I get back.”

“And you can’t stop me,” she replies pointedly.

Aaron laughs at the two of you, your banter just as he remembers from all those years ago. Neither of you have changed one bit.

After a final moment of bickering, you bid your mom goodbye and leave with Aaron.

In the car, you ask, “Have you told them about me coming yet?”

From the driver’s seat, he shakes his head. “No, so prepare yourself for a lot of questions.”

“I think you’re the one that’ll be in hot water, but alright,” you chuckle. “I can hear them now. ‘Why didn’t you tell us you were bringing her!’”

He laughs loudly. “That’s not a bad impression, actually.”

“Why, thank you,” you smirk. “It’s a hidden talent of mine.”

“Oh, really?”

“Mhm.”

The two of you share a grin as he keeps driving.

+++

After some time -- long enough that you were beginning to wonder where he’s taking you -- Aaron finally turns into a subdivision. But it’s still not what you were expecting.

You assumed FBI agents must make good money, but not this good. This is a mansion. It’s massive. There has to be at least six bedrooms in there, maybe more.

“Is your friend a millionaire or something?”

Aaron chuckles, “Maybe. Probably. Maybe more.”

“More?” Your eyes widen. “Wow.” And then Aaron pulls into the driveway. “Wow.”

He puts the car in park and says, “Try not to look too surprised. Dave won’t shut up about the house if you get him started.”

“What if I want to hear everything?” You ask, scrambling out of the car to look up at the house. “Jesus Christ.” Then you whip your head around to look at Aaron exasperatedly. “Does your house look like this?”

“No, no,” he shakes his head. “No. This is too big. Dave’s crazy for buying it.”

“He’s definitely insane,” you nod. “I mean, what do you even need a house this big for?”

Aaron shrugs. “Christmas parties, I guess.” He pauses, holding out his arm for you. “Ready to face the lions?”

You roll your eyes through a laugh, loosely holding onto his arm. “Quit being so dramatic. I bet it’ll be just fine.”

“Let’s hope so,” Aaron replies. Because truthfully, he is a little worried that they might scare you off. They have a habit of doing that.

The two of you walk up to the front door, and you try your best to act like you’ve been in the general vicinity of a house this big before. Dave must be a really good friend of Aaron’s, because instead of knocking or ringing the doorbell, Aaron twists the doorknob and walks right in with you on his arm.

“Dave’s making pasta,” Aaron whispers, smelling the air. He shuts the door gently, wanting to surprise the team as much as possible.

You sniff the air, too, smiling happily. “Smells really good. Is that carbonara?”

“Good nose,” a voice says from the kitchen.

“That’s Dave,” Aaron chuckles, walking you down the hall toward the smell.

The team’s eyes all widen dramatically and comically when Aaron Hotchner steps inside the kitchen with a woman on his arm.

“Well, hello,” one of them says, sliding off the stool at the counter to saunter over to you. He’s all suave and swagger.

“Derek Morgan, this is Y/N,” Aaron introduces you quickly, knowing the reaction your name will get.

“Hold up,” Derek pauses, glancing between you and Aaron. “Y/N? As in the Y/N?”

“I don’t know about being the Y/N, but that is my name,” you laugh. “Nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Derek says, a hand over his heart to add to the sincerity. “Where have you been hiding all this time?”

“Getting a doctorate,” you shrug, only now realizing that your hand is still holding onto Aaron’s arm, but he doesn’t seem fazed by it either, so you don’t move.

“Oh, alright,” Derek chuckles. “Hey Reid, we’ve got another doctor here.”

The man in question, Reid, looks up from the book he was reading with furrowed eyebrows. “Hi.” He waves.

“Hey,” you wave back. “What’re you reading?”

“War and Peace. In Russian, though.”

“In-- Wow, okay.”

“He’s a genius,” Morgan explains.

“I see that,” you chuckle.

Aaron finishes the introductions for you. “That’s JJ, handles the press for us because none of us want to do it.”

“He’s not wrong,” JJ replies with a laugh. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“You too,” you smile.

“You met Reid, his first name’s Spencer,” Aaron supplies, and Reid is too far gone in the book again to notice. “This is Emily Prentiss.”

“And I have been dying to meet you,” Emily says. “You are exactly how he described.”

“In a good way, I hope?” You laugh nervously.

She nods. “Definitely.”

Aaron points to the other woman at the counter. She’s dressed in all sorts of crazy colors with glasses that match her outfit. And before he can introduce her, she says, “I’m Penelope Garcia, technology extraordinaire. I keep them out of trouble.”

“And we love you for it,” Derek adds.

“And this is Dave,” Aaron finishes.

“It is very nice to finally meet you,” Dave says, and actually shakes your hand. “Do you know how to make carbonara?”

“Yes, actually,” you say, earning a surprised look from Aaron. “I went through a phase when I was younger, wanting to make anything and everything that sounded good, so I’ve made this a few times. My mom loves it.”

Dave loves the sound of that. “Would you like to help me?”

You practically light up inside and out. “Seriously? I’d love to!”

“Oh, here we go,” Derek groans. “He’s roped her in.”

You ignore him, slipping away from Aaron to grab the other apron off the hook by the entrance to the kitchen. You slide your head through the loop and tie it at the back in a matter of seconds, too excited to contain it.

“I almost went to culinary school, you know,” you say to no one in particular, but Aaron is listening, and so is Dave.

“Why didn’t you?” Aaron asks.

You shrug. “Didn’t seem practical.” Which isn’t the real answer at all. The real answer is you got your heart broken and needed to do a complete 180 in life, so you did. Culinary school was out. Getting a doctorate was in. You turn on the water in the sink and begin washing your hands. “What do you need me to do?”

For the next hour, you help Dave make the carbonara, occasionally answering any questions Aaron’s friends have for you.

Aaron pours you a glass of wine and sits at the counter, watching you cook. You look more at peace than he’s seen you since a few days ago when he first bumped into you again.

You catch him looking at you more than a handful of times. It feels good. Spending the evening with his friends, his team, with him. You’ve missed spending time with him more than anything else.

Dave serves up the carbonara, telling you to sit down since you helped so much already. You don’t make him ask twice.

+++

After dinner, everyone moves into the living room, scattering on the various couches and chairs. Reid has finished reading War and Peace, so the book sits discarded on one of the coffee tables.

You take the spot on the couch next to Aaron, careful not to spill your wine. Penelope sits on the other side of you, with Derek on her other side, which all but forces you to move closer to Aaron, and something about the look on Penelope’s face tells you it was done on purpose.

You’re not exactly complaining, though. With a full stomach and a fresh glass of wine, Aaron’s presence is even warmer than before. You pay no mind when he shifts his left arm, stretching it over the back of the couch and allowing you to scoot closer, your legs pressed against each other’s.

The conversation continues, and somehow the subject of relationships is brought up.

“Yeah, why was I the only one asked to bring someone?” Aaron asks. “I’d like to see all of you find a last minute date.”

Another warm rush goes through your body at the word date. This is a date. Alright then.

“I think you did just fine,” Dave says, nodding to you. “Don’t you?”

You shrug, not sure of what to make of it. “I’m having fun, so I guess so.”

“See?” Dave gives Aaron a look. “You did fine.”

Aaron gives his friend a tired glare. “Only because she happened to be back from getting her degrees. Otherwise, I would’ve been stuck.”

“Nah, man, you could’ve called Beth.”

You feel Aaron tense next to you, but you aren’t sure if he tensed up or if you did. Maybe both. Probably both. You weren’t aware there was someone else.

“Who’s Beth?” You ask as casually as possible, ignoring the heated glares Penelope, JJ, and Emily alike are sending Derek. Seriously, Derek would be dead three times over right now if looks could be deadly.

Aaron shrugs before answering you. “Her and I dated briefly last year.”

You nod slowly, trying not to seem hurt or upset or anything by this because it’s ridiculous of you to be fighting back tears, but you can’t help it.

It’s high school, goddamnit, it’s fucking high school all over again.

The topic of conversation shifts thanks to Reid being the endless supplier of random facts. One question about Russian from Emily and he’s taking over, washing the awkwardness away in two languages.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t work as well for you as it does for everyone else.

You set your wine glass down on the table and tell Penelope you’re going to use the bathroom. You have no clue where it is, but she doesn’t know that.

Aaron does. And Aaron hears the tone of voice you use.

He waits until you’re down the hall before he stands to follow you, foregoing any explanation to his friends. They already know what he’s doing.

Aaron’s suspicions are correct when he hears the front door close and sees your coat no longer hanging next to his on the hook by the door. He grabs his and only gets one arm through a sleeve before he’s opening the door, eyes searching the premises for you.

Thankfully, he finds you after two seconds, and his racing heart slows a little. You’re standing by the reindeer lights on Dave’s front lawn. Your coat is only hanging on your shoulders, something you’ve always done since high school when you were upset.

“It feels more like a blanket,” you had told him one day. “Blankets are more comforting than jackets.”

He doesn’t see the difference, but you do, and that was enough for him.

He has both arms through the sleeves by the time he’s next to you. He gently touches your arm to get your attention, adding a soft, “Hey,” for good measure.

You turn your head at the sound, having already known he was coming because you heard the front door open. In the back of your mind, you had wanted him to follow you out here, but now that he’s done it, you aren’t so sure this is what you wanted.

You wanted to ignore the feeling. Get it to disappear on its own. Survive the night, then never talk to him again. You were heartbroken, but it was better when you weren’t speaking to him. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

“I’m sorry,” Aaron says softly. “Beth and I haven’t spoken since our last date a year ago. It was only three dates. We weren’t serious at all.” He pauses. “I have no idea why Derek said that. He doesn’t think before he speaks sometimes.”

You nod, not having it in you to laugh at Aaron’s small jab, even though he is entirely correct. Derek is a quick thinker with a sharp wit, but you can see how it might backfire sometimes. Like tonight.

You believe Aaron, you really do. But it’s so hard. “Did you love her?”

Aaron is stunned for a moment, but says, “No. I don’t think I did.”

“Okay.” You shake your head, looking down at the grass. “I’m just trying to figure out why Derek would’ve brought her up if...if you guys dated so briefly.”

Aaron sighs. “I don’t know.”

“And is this a date?” You blurt, finally finding the courage to get that one out. “Because if it is, I…I don’t know.”

“Don’t know what?”

You shake your head again, trying to find the right words, but they always seem out of reach. “Just...tell me this won’t be like high school.”

This time Aaron is too stunned to form a real answer. “What?”

“Please,” you sound like you’re about to cry and you feel so pathetic that you wish you had never agreed to come tonight. But you’re here anyway. “I was in love with you then, and I’m still in love with you now, but I can’t do that again. So if this is a just friends thing and always will be, I need you to tell me before I hurt myself all over again.”

Aaron can’t believe his ears. He swears he heard you wrong. He must have. “You were in love with me in high school, too?”

“Yes-- Wait, too? What do you mean too?” Now you’re looking at him, eyes wide in confusion, shock, every emotion possible. “Too?”

“I was in love with you, Y/N,” he chuckles, reaching for your hands. “I thought you just saw me as an older brother. That’s why I never...said anything.”

“What?” You breathe, letting him thread his fingers through yours. “Are you serious? You better not be pulling my leg, Hotchner. Don’t do that to me.” You tug on his hands for emphasis, giving him a stern look.

“I’m not joking,” he says, taking a step closer. “I wouldn’t joke about this.”

“Oh my god,” you say, disbelief a powerful thief of words. “I can’t believe… So you went after Haley because…”

“Because I heard from one of her friends that she had a crush on me,” he admits. “I did love her, but not as much as I loved you. Never as much as I loved you.”

You don’t know what else to do or say. He looks so beautiful in this light that it hurts, and now he’s saying words you never thought you’d ever hear.

“Do you forgive me?” He asks. “For breaking your heart?”

“Only if you forgive me for breaking yours,” you whisper.

He shakes his head. “I broke my own. I should’ve told you how I felt.” He pauses. “I even talked to you about Haley all the time. Is that why you didn’t say goodbye to me?”

You nod. “It sounds so stupid now, but I was so hurt.”

“I’m an idiot,” he laughs. “I’m the dumbest fool to ever walk the Earth.”

“We both are,” you correct him, taking a step closer. It’s cold out here, but he’s warm. He’s always been so warm. Like home.

And you-- you’ve always been who Aaron thinks of when he thinks about being happy. It’s always been you. A moment like this, and a thousand others. He wants them all. And to think, you do too.

His lips meet yours in a long-awaited kiss, cold noses bumping against one another, his warm hands holding your face, your chilled fingers finding their home on his neck, stealing his warmth.

From the window, the team watches, and Emily exchanges money with Derek.

#winter love #all i want for christmas is you #aaron hotchner #hotch #criminal minds #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #hotch x you #hotch x fem!reader #hotch x reader #hotch x y/n #aaron hotchner christmas fic #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch fanfic #hotch fanfiction #criminal minds christmas fic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #merry christmas #!!! #<3 #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner angst #small angst with a happy ending #angst with a happy ending #mostly tooth rotting fluff tbh

[embrassemoi]

Surrounded by the Moon and Stars ✷ 19

Pairings: Sirius B, Remus L, [F]Reader    Content: Language, possible errors, 

【 Masterlist: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter 】

Chapter 19: Mrs. Lupin

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

The rest of Valentine’s Day was spent with Y/N compiling a list in her head:

1. Avoid drinking anything the Marauders — actually, avoiding drinking anything around James to dodge their concoction of face and body-altering potions. When students at lunch and dinner drank from the pumpkin juice supply, more than several people who were already in relationships morphed into those they weren’t dating. Let’s just say that this prank wasn’t as uplifting and fun as the Marauders originally had in mind. Even the Bloody Baron told Peeves to spare them.

2. Make sure Lily didn’t drink anything around the Marauders — or anything around Marlene and Mary (who caught word from Peter of her supposed feelings). They were dying to know who caught her attention and bets were being placed.

3. James just wouldn’t shut the fuck up about Emmeline. She could even hear his voice: Whiskers! Did you see how pretty she looks? Woah, I can’t believe she agreed to be my girlfriend? I’m so lucky! She’s beautiful! Ugh — did you see her smile? Emmeline this, Emmeline that — it was even worse than his obsession with Quidditch. But, it was too endearing in a sickening, annoyingly charming way and she was happy that he seemed happy, so Y/N kept her lips sealed.

Remus suggested drowning him in the bottles of love potions littering the castle but Y/N thought differently. James already acted like what a love potion was rumoured to be like; he’d become unstoppable if he even caught a whiff.

4. Shockingly by the end of the day, Y/N’s bag was stuffed with cards and gifts — all filled with confessions. She rarely socialized with anyone but the girls and Marauders, so it came as a surprise.

5. And now found herself stuck in a very uncomfortable situation.

Relaxing in the lounge area by the library, James and Mary were casting spells, Lily and Y/N chatted while Remus aided Marlene, going over course material, however, her face scrunched up as she flicked through his notes.

“What does this mean,” Marlene asked after desperately trying to decipher his writing. She slid it over to him, pointing to a highlighted section. But before Remus could translate, Y/N peeked over.

“Um — Owl to Opera Glasses. This spell emits fleeting wispy white vapour from wand — point at owl — no sound will be produced.”

She sat back in her seat, snapping off a piece of chocolate before handing the rest over to Remus beside her. Everyone looked shocked.

“Erm — what?”

Mary sputtered, “How did you read that? It’s fucking scribble!”

“He’s got doctor writing.”

They waited for her to elaborate.

“My mom’s —” “MUM!” “— writing is horrid. I swear all doctor’s have awful handwriting. I spent so much time reading her medical jornals, scans, charts — to keep me busy. So comparing Remus’ writing to hers, it’s legible.”

None of them seemed to understand besides Lily and Mary. Y/N just dismissed the matter entirely, sliding back the parchment to Marlene as they went back to their quiet conversations.

“So,” Remus leant in, his head craned down to talk to her. “Doctor handwriting — I should flaunt that?”

She chuckled, “Might make you sound smarter, but you don’t need that.”

“You flatter me too much.”

“Humble, aren’t you?”

“I have to bully myself daily. Can’t let it get to my head, not like egomania over there.”

Ah yes, the thrilling saga of bullying James Potter.

But before she could add on, a shadow caught Remus’s eye before he nudged her. His head tilted over to the direction of a wall, littered with portraits and awards with Quidditch trophies. “Looks like you’ve got an admirer.”

A blond boy, young — was staring at her, blushing madly as his chest puffed out, determination trickled through every step as he neared.

Remus’ smile became impossibly large, dripping in amusement before snapping, gaining the table’s attention.

“Hi,” there was a nervous waver in his voice, but confidence in his stance. He was pale, amplifying the scarlet blush on his cheeks.

Damn, she knew what was about to happen and so did shit-eating grin Lupin.

“Hello… What’s your name.” Right, that was a good place to start. Her eyes wandered to his tie: a Ravenclaw.

“Gilderoy Lockhart,” he announced, going up to flick a strand of hair from his face, flashing her a pearly white smile. “I’m in first year.” In his small hands, he outstretched his arms holding a box of chocolates — identical to the one Remus received a few days ago along with a meticulously crafted letter.

“You’reveryprettysowillyoubemyValentine?”

James, Mary and Marlene let out an involuntary snort which had all of them leaning into one another to support themselves from toppling over. Lily had to cast Silencio over them. They turned their heads away from Gilderoy before barking out silent merriment. Remus was the complete opposite, thankfully, as he remained poised, face void but his lips quivered upwards.

“Um… right... well,” she stalled. Maybe she should get up, take the boy elsewhere to softly let him down. “Thank you, I appreciate it a lot. But er… I can’t accept your feelings. Thank you for telling me, though. I appreciate it.”

“What?! Why!” He demanded. His face turned a deeper shade of pink, now causing a scene.

She made eye contact with Lily, however, James’ hand hammered down on the table, startling them all. His two hands formed pointed tips, mimicking two people kissing as he repeated the motion, pointing to her and Remus. Mary took the opportunity to grab Lily’s wrist, flicking a reversal charm on all of them.

“She’s dating Lupin!” She shouted which caught the attention of a few onlookers. James tossed his head back, knuckles in his mouth and Lily’s brow rose high in a startled grimace.

“For a month now!” Marlene continued, her hand slapping down on her thigh.

Y/N was going to murder them.

She went to open her mouth to say — well, okay, she didn’t know what to say but Remus budded in, lifting his arm, wrapping it around her shoulder and pulled her in awkwardly. She instantly got the hint, bringing a hand and patted his chest stiffly while the group tried not to bellow. Even Lily’s facade was beginning to break, her hand shooting up to cover a growing smile.

There was never a boring day at Hogwarts.

But she was taking too long to answer. This would've been quick, easy, had not everyone else been around and especially if they hadn’t lied about her dating.

“I’m sorry but yes, we’ve been together for a little while now, haven’t we, darling?” said Remus, saving her from the hesitation. Y/N nodded, at least she didn’t need to give a reason now.

Remus’ lying was exceptional. There wasn’t even a flicker in his expressions aside from the involuntary dark blush that ran down his cheeks to his neck. Y/N couldn’t blame him, her face felt like it was on fire.

Gilderoy tried to play it off coolly but his shoulders slumped, looking absolutely dispirited. He meekly nodded, placing the box and letter on the table and sped off.

“Cougar L/N!” Marlene roared once he was out of earshot.

“You lot are ruthless!” She barked at them.

“I did nothing!”

“Lied to a poor boy!” Lily lectured sharply.

“And she went along with it!” “Because you —”

While everyone was now bickering or on the verge of tears, Remus peeled himself off of her and Y/N patted him once more.

“You’re welcome.”

She looked up at him, “Darling? Really?”

His eyes rolled, “Did you want me to call you a troll?”

“Got me there, thank you.”

His face softened at this, shoving her in a teasing way before seizing the small box of chocolates, cracking it open and handed her a piece.

“What?” he smirked, moving to open a book, flipping to his worn-out bookmark. He side-eyed her uncomfortable expression as she looked at the box. He recited her words, “Expensive chocolate is still expensive chocolate.”

“You’re a dick.”

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

February 17th, 1976

Y/N quickly learned that it was a mistake using the excuse that she and Lupin were dating because now the entire school believed it.

It spread like wildfire. Girls rejected by Remus shot her a hardened gaze, eyes scorned through her robes while other’s who confessed to Y/N avoided her completely. They would all gossip the moment they passed the hallways and she could feel their gaze.

“Lupin beat me to it!”

“— how long have they’ve been —”

“I’ve fancied him for two years! Two years and she suddenly just swoops in?!”

“Honestly, I thought she was with Potter.”

“She’s hot.” “He's fit!”

“— jealous of her —”

“Crikey — don’t they have anything else to talk about?” Remus said, turning away from the hall.

Remus disappeared for the past couple of days, only now hearing the commotion for the first time. He looked fairly pale, eyes red and tired — but not unusual. Y/N shrugged off the rumours and speculations before entering the hall, shouting to him to wait.

Many students stopped their gossiping for a moment to watch her pass before resuming. She marched up to her customary seat, her friends whistling at her.

“Where’s Remus L/N?”

“Mrs. Lupin!”

“Fuck off.”

She shoved snacks into her bag, hoarding enough food for the both of them and managed to grab a giant mug filled with coffee, making her way out of the hall with a few people loitering after her. James forcibly brought Sirius to his feet, Peter leaped over and Lily sprang up from Marlene, cutting her off while looping her arm with Y/N’s.

Mary elected to stay back, engrossed in a chat with Dorcas and Alice before quickly roping Marlene in. Nevertheless, she shouted once she saw the coffee mug, “That’s for Lupin, isn’t it?!”

“Don’t start… it’s just coffee.”

“Black coffee my arse!”

James ran up to her, tugging on her robes lightly, “Does this mean I should swap my Galleons to Lupin?”

Y/N shrugged him off, stomping over to Remus waiting by the door. She handed him the mug, glancing back in hopes of Celeste: no letter from her mother, again. She sighed before hauling the rest of the group to Kettleburn's classroom. This time, empty but always open for students to come and go. Even a sign was plastered on the entrance: Hold a Niffler if feeling down! (BEWARE of theft).

“Sneaking off like this is going to fuel more rumours,” said Lily, settling her things down on the desks beside her.

“Sorry Whiskers — Moony!”

Remus cracked his fingers, a long breathy sigh trickled from him slowly. “We should mitch lessons today — let it cool down for a bit.”

“Mitch?”

“Skip classes —”

“Moony is possibly the worst prefect in Hogwarts History — he deserves a gold star for it,” chuckled Peter.

Sirius grinned and the two made brief eye contact but neither looked away until James’ voice rang out again. It made Y/N's skin go warm.

“Mate’s going for a record.”

Sirius went to scratch the back of his neck, his head turning down to fiddle with his rings out of habit. “Maybe they’ll put him in the next printed copies of

Hogwarts: A History.” 

Remus rolled his eyes, fixing his posture to sit straighter. “Ungrateful gits. All I hear are three wannabe detention attendees. You ought to be thanking me. With what you pull, I could easily give you two years worth of ‘em.”

A collective sigh went around from the boys who seemed to bow their heads in mutual respect. They grouped and drawled, “Thank you, Moonyyy!”

Lily turned to her, “I’m sorry, but you’re not skipping.”

Her voice automatically switched at the mention of class; it went strict and firm and eerily sounded like Professor McGonagall which had Y/N double down.

Once the bell rang, Sirius quickly walked up to her, taking the place of Lily.

“Fine, we’ll keep the Puffskein in my dorm.”

She considered him for a moment. “I’ll visit daily.”

“Jolly.”

He sped up, hooking an arm around James’ shoulders as they headed to Potions. Y/N's eyes followed him, unable to look away and her heart dropped.

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

“The Draught of Peace is a potion that often comes up on the Ordinary Wizarding Level. As you know from review, it calms anxiety and high levels of agitation. It’s been used to calm students who are too stressed with NEWT exams.

“And today,” Slughorn says, trying to look cheerful but failing — looking far too stiff and forced, “ We'll attempt to brew it.”

Lily sat up bolt-straight, eager to soak in new information. Instead of sitting with Lily today, she took a seat in between Remus and James, Lily with Snape.

“The instructions are up on the board, if you have any questions, ask away. Be warned though; be too heavy-handed — mix too fast and you’ll end up with a potion that would make the consumer fall into an irreversible sleep.

“You will be graded on your progress once finished.” He flicked his wand, opening all of the student’s textbooks to an ingredients page, unlocked the cupboard and turned back, “You have until the end of the class, begin my pupils!”

“Sluggys lookin’ pretty sluggishly today,” whispered Lily as they met briefly while collecting their ingredients.

Slughorn did look a little down. His face and voice were desolate, missing its happy chiper.

“Whiskers, I have everything already, don’t worry about it!” James beckoned.

The potion, in her opinion, wasn’t as hard as she predicted it to be. She was doing quite well, better than Lily and Remus which gave her a small sense of pride.

“So, Prongs, when are we going to get to meet Emmeline?”

James didn’t look up from his fiddly potion, too engaged but there was a small grin on his face. “We’re trying to take it slow —” “Pfft,” interjected Remus, “James Potter and slow — in a relationship? Doubt it. Did your Veela powers run out?”

“Hey! I like her and I don’t want her to run off or feel pressured.”

“Ah, what a gentleman, isn’t he Lupin?”

“Quite.”

James shook his head, “You shouldn’t be talking. Shouldn’t you lovebirds be on a date yoursel — Merlin! Moony don’t do that!”

Remus flicked his wand before a handful of leftover powdered moonstone fell on top of James’ head, giving him an iridescent appearance.

Y/N ignored them, stirring clockwise, then counterclockwise, simmering the heat down to the perfect level for seven minutes, then added in two drops of syrup of hellebore. A shimmery silver mist stemmed from her cauldron. A satisfied smirk settled it’s way on her face before scanning the class. Nobody else, besides Remus and Snape who’d been adding their finishing touches, was done.

Just as James was about to finish his perfectly brewed potion, a small beam was directed at his cauldron, ruining the entire potion as it sputtered multicoloured sparks. He tried to prod at the flames at the base of the cauldron, trying to cool it down but it was already too late. It soon became a thick, muddy concrete mixture.

“What the fuck? You guys saw that, right?!”

They had indeed seen a spell hit his cauldron. Their heads whipped around in search. With only ten minutes left and James’ grades about to drop, they all panicked slightly. If his marks were to drop below a certain level, James would be in jeopardy of losing his Quidditch title as captain and be forced to step down, focusing more on the OWLs.

Remus spotted them first: “It’s Snape.”

“How do you know?”

He didn’t respond, leaving them to follow his line of vision to look. Snape wore a horrible smirk, going as far as to wink at James. His perfectly brewed potion shimmered in the light before whirling around to talk to Lily.

“Fucking Snivellus,” James muttered tensley.

“Alright, in five minutes, I’ll be coming around to look at your potions! Be ready to present them.” Slughorn announced.

Remus sighed. “Prongs, just take mine — I’ll take yours. My grades are high enough but if yours drop —”

“No Moony,” he stated firmly. “I’m not going to let you go down with me.”

Distracted, Snape blushing like a fool to Lily and the boys fighting over Remus’ endeavour at being noble, Y/N swished her wand, levitating Jame’s cauldron and directed it over to Snape. She bewitched a temporary invisibility charm, switching them, before levitating Snape's back to James. Now, in front of James was a flawlessly brewed Draught of Peace.

“James, take my help —” “I said no you wanker!”

Slughorn was making rounds around the classroom, but Snape beckoned him over to his shared table with Lily, confident as he sent a nasty look to them.

“Evans, looking good! Perfectly brewed — I’ll add an extra point on your mark.” The praise did not go unnoticed as her chest puffed with pride, her head turning and locked eyes with Y/N, a large smile on her face.

Nice! Y/N mouthed, a thumb sticking upwards.

“Now lets — Severus!” exclaimed Slughorn, flashes of surprise shot through him, “What happened? This is so unlike you.”

The Slytherins in the class all looked up — scratch that — everyone in the class snapped their heads towards him; Snape had never once messed up a potion. They watched as Snape’s face fell from his smug smirk as a black stemming, multicoloured, cloud of smoke puffed in the air, making the surrounding students cough.

“Sir — I swear it was fine moments ago, I don’t know what happened! It must’ve —”

Their professor sighed, a very disappointed look crossed his face before shaking his head.

“It’s quite alright, Mr. Snape. Accidents happen. Evanesco.”

The contents, including the puff of smoke, vanished, leaving Snape to gape around. Lily touched his shoulder, rubbing her hand up and down and began murmuring into his ear.

But before Slughorn could go to another group, Y/N raised her hand, flagging him down while the rest of the class was still paying attention. “Professor! We would like for you to clear us, please!”

“Whiskers, what are you doing?”

“Trust me.”

“Look at what she did with your cauldron,” Remus mumbled, his eyes darting to her.

Complete surprise and utter awe replaced his face as Slughorn let out an excited squeal. His hands clapped together. “Everyone should take a page from Potter, L/N and Lupin. I’ve never seen such great work for this potion! Amazing you three! Ten points for Gryffindor.”

Their heads whipped towards her, Remus just smiled while James stared wide-eyed.

“You love to underestimate me.”

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[imagine-darksiders]

Old Timer

Chapter 4 - Together again.

-----------

“Eideard?” 

His name tiptoes from your lips in a whispered breath.

You stare at him, your mouth hanging slightly agape and refusing to close, as though the very muscles in your jaw have forgotten how they're supposed to work.

There had once been a thousand things you would have wanted to say to him, if ever given the chance, yet now, in the moment where that chance has actually come about, you find yourself devoid of any words or thoughts.

“You all right there, bonnie?” the maker asks, his lips twitching into a hesitant smile, “Look like you've seen a ghost.”

'A ghost!.... Ha!' 

You'd laugh if you didn't think you might faint at any moment. Instead, your mouth opens with the intention to scoff at the dramatic irony of his statement, but what comes out instead is a strangled sob that causes the maker's ears to tilt down in alarm.

“Hey, hey now...” he utters softly, lifting his hand up towards you, his gaze darting to the tears that have begun to roll down your cheeks, “What's this about? Eh? Did old Cruim scare you? Is it your leg?”

Covering your mouth, it’s all you can do to just stare back and shake your head.

As far as Eideard knows, something truly horrific must be happening to you that would warrant the spilling of this many tears. Makers are seldom known to cry, even under the most terrible, unimaginable duress. 

Guided by something that's not quite instinct, but stronger than a simple urge to help, to fix, he reaches up to his shoulder until a careful finger hovers gingerly just inches from the skin of your cheek. Then, sucking down a steadying breath, Eideard wills himself to close the distance, hardly daring to inhale again as he sweeps the very tip of his forefinger over your cheekbone and brushes away the wet tear tracks that linger there.

To his utmost dismay, the action only makes you start to cry even harder and he quickly withdraws his hand, worried that he'd somehow managed to hurt you.

He has no idea that by wiping away your tears, he'd unintentionally echoed the very last moments you'd spent with the Eideard from your timeline.

He’d collapsed, laying prone in the soft grass. Your tears had mingled with the blood pooling in his clavicle as you knelt on his chest and wailed, your fists pounding above his heart in the desperate hope that you could bully the fading organ into beating strong and steady once again. You'd gone still however, weeping hopelessly when Eideard's thumb swept gently over your cheek and gathered up the tears there.

The memory is a powerful one, and you have to blink furiously until the blurred image of a dying Eideard is replaced by the very much alive maker staring at you with concern lining his youthful features.

You've seen that expression so often, you never thought you'd miss it so much after you stopped seeing it.

All of a sudden, through no real cognitive decision of your own, you promptly launch yourself sideways along the maker's broad shoulder and collide with his head.

Though reflex tells him to flinch, Eideard forces himself to keep still as thin, delicate arms are slung around his face and a warm body squashes into his cheek shortly after.

He's monumentally glad that he has yet to venture down into the village proper. Standing up here next to the entrance, none of his fellows will be able to make out the rosy flush that has shot up into his ears, should they happen to look.

It isn't as though makers are a species for whom intimacy is a foreign concept, but intimacy outside of social circles is a rare and seldom-witnessed occurrence, whilst intimacy between members of two separate species is all but unheard of.

Despite his uncertainty, Eideard's heart flutters at the thought that he's managed to earn this splendid reward and he momentarily forgets that he's supposed to be worried about you, too distracted by the realisation that he has never known a touch so gentle, yet so fierce at the same time. If he dwells on it for too long, he'll probably grow sad to consider how he's lived his whole life deprived of the sensation of hands pressing indents into his skin.

Of their own accord, his fingertips come to rest on your fragile spine and '...Oh,' he thinks as you bury your face even more firmly against him, '...I could get used to this.'

But when a hitching sob suddenly causes you to jerk beneath his fingers, he springs to attention once more and banishes the desire to push his head urgently into your touch.

“I didn't thank you...”

Eideard freezes at the sound of your voice, trembling and small next to his ear.

“What's that you say?” he swallows.

But it's as though you don't even hear him. From his angle, the maker can't see that your eyes are wide open and staring out towards the village beyond, yet you're completely blind to everything happening around you whilst the same, terrible memory plays cruelly in your mind's eye. 

Eideard, laying on the ground, blood trickling from his nose, mouth and even from behind his eyelids, like little rivers running off the face of a mountain. His once pristinely white beard had been so stained with blood, your hands became soaked with it when you clawed your way up his chest, delirious beyond coherency.

“I-I can't remember if I ever thanked you,” you say again in a warbling whisper that causes Eideard's ears to perk up attentively, “For saving us - For... for everything.”

Your slip-up doesn’t even catch his notice, not that you really notice it either, though. 

Another sob catches like a rock in your throat and you turn your face away from the village, burying it into a soft, fluffy beard and letting your eyes dampen the old maker's cheek. A cheek that's warm and flushed with colour, a far cry from the cold, pale cheek you remember crying into at the centre of the valley all those long months ago.

Eideard's familiar smell fills your nostrils as you draw a deep inhale through your nose and let yourself bask in the unplaceable scent that reminds you of wood and soil.

You've missed him.

Shit... You've missed him so much.

It's perhaps a blessed thing that you hadn't said that last part out loud and baffled the maker even more than you already have, because not a second later, his throat rumbles with an uncertain chuckle and he says, “S'this how you thank everyone who saves you from a demon? Or am I just a special exception?”

And just like that, the reality of the situation comes flooding back to hit you with the force of a speeding bullet-train, smacking you from your memories and dumping you unceremoniously into Tri Stone once again.

Lurching away from the maker, your eyes snap open and you tear your arms from his face and sputter out a nonsensical string of sounds, earning a bemused grin from Eideard, who twists his head sideways to watch you raise your hands to your face, covering it slowly as rationality cuts through the haze of shock and a horrifying realisation dawns on you.

This is Eideard. But this is not your Eideard. Not yet.

He has no idea that you're thanking him for so much more than he could possibly imagine.

“I-I'm sorry,” you stammer at last, swiping furiously at your eyes, “I just... wanted to thank you for saving me from the stalker. Yeah. B-but, I didn't mean to, uh, hug you like that. I'm... honestly not sure what came over me.”

His expression softens and he quirks his lips into a playful smirk. “Hmm, well, whatever it was, I hope there'll be more.”

'Oh for god's sake.' Mortally embarrassed, you turn away from him and hope that the heat in your cheeks isn't obvious.

For all he knows, you've just draped yourself across his face like a lovesick fool, all because he saved you from a stalker.

But perhaps most mortifying of all, what really disturbs you, is that Eideard – your Eideard, the kindly maker with the disposition of a doting father – is, or rather, used to be a shameless flirt.

An attractive, shameless flirt.

Oh God... You're fairly certain you flirted back.

And it's Eideard...

Your vision starts to swim.

Just then, an enormous fingertip slides beneath your chin and you find yourself helpless to resist as your face is guided back towards him. Red-tinged eyes meet ethereal blue and for one, jarring moment, the stern yet fretful tilt of his golden brows ages the maker's face enough that you catch a glimpse of the old Eideard hidden underneath.

“Hey. Don't you go hiding that pretty face from me,” he rumbles, “I need to know you're all right.”

Your heart does a somersault.

“I'll be fine,” you slur, swaying on his shoulder, “Think I just need to lay down..”

Eideard's bemused expression quickly shifts to alarm when your body goes limp and you begin to tilt sideways, gradually slipping from the maker's broad shoulder. Fortunately for you, Eideard has always been an exceptionally attentive maker, even at this young age, and without missing a beat, he spins his hand around to capture you gently between his fingers.

The motion jerks you back to full consciousness again and you give your head a shake, blinking up into the pale, blue eyes of a highly concerned maker.

“Think it's time I got you to the Shaman,” he suggests.

Sagging heavily against his fingers, you can't help but agree. “I think that's a good idea.”

You wish you could just disappear, save yourself from the mortifying ordeal of knowing that you've been receiving advances from Eideard of all people.

That's... going to take some adjusting to.

Eyeing the village ahead, the maker turns his focus onto the eastern side, where the lights are dimmest and the gaps between each stone hut are frequent and draped in shadow. He hums pensively and begins to walk.

It isn't that he doesn't want his fellow makers to meet you – but he'd prefer to get you to the shaman sooner rather than later and get your leg tended to....

…

And... though he isn't proud to admit it, he wouldn't mind keeping you to himself just a little while longer.

Slowly, steadily, he carries you down the village steps, casting frequent glances down at you to ascertain your condition. Every time, he finds you staring back at him with a spell-bound look in your eyes.

Glowing under the attention, he spares a moment to waggle his brows at you, relishing the squeak that jumps out of your mouth as you hurriedly avert your gaze.

With a warm chuckle, Eideard returns his attention to the walled garden at the far end of the village – and promptly stiffens at the sound of voices calling his name.

“Eideard!”

“You're back!”

He doesn't miss that you turn rigid in his palm, prompting him to lift you a little higher into the air as he shoots you an apologetic glance, slowing his gait just in time to avoid tripping over a trio of tiny, excitable younglings who appear from nowhere and fall into step around him.

“Where've you been!?” a maker boy shouts, and grinning so widely, his cheeks start to turn red. “Did you kill any baddies!?”

Curious, you lean forwards over Eideard's fingers and peer down, only to find yourself biting back the urge to coo out loud at the endearing sight.

The youngling who'd spoken looks as though he'd barely stand a few heads higher than you and he's jogging backwards to avoid Eideard's boots as the older maker continues to advance cautiously down the path. A mess of shocking, copper hair sticks up from the top of his head, though it's clear that at some point, another maker has tried to gather the unruly mess into some semblance of a braid that hangs down to his shoulders and is sloppily tied off with a blue ribbon. The moment your face pokes out from behind Eideard's fingers, the youngling lets out a loud gasp and nearly trips over his own feet, eyes growing round.

“What. Is. That!?” he exclaims, pointing up at you.

“Mind your manners,” the older maker scolds gently, “It's not nice to point. This is my new friend – Oh.” Swivelling his gaze back onto you, he blinks, looking the slightest bit sheepish. “I don't think I ever did catch your name.”

“Huh? Oh, I guess we never really introduced ourselves properly, did we?.” Scratching at the back of your neck, you introduce yourself. “Y/n. My name’s Y/n.” 

“Y/n...” he repeats in a dulcet murmur, his attention never leaving you, even as he addresses the boy at his feet, “This is my friend, Y/n, Ulthane.”

The youngling's eyes remain wholly fixed upon you and he utters a small 'oooh' of wonder, standing on the toes of his boots to see you better. And whilst you're just as intrigued with the maker-in-miniature, it's his name that catches your ear.

“Wait... Did you just call him Thane?” you blurt, incredulous.

All of a sudden, another voice pipes up from Eideard's left. “He's not Thane, I am!”

Startled, you glance down to find another maker youngling frowning back up at you and jabbing a finger towards the copper-haired boy. “That's Ulthane. He's my brother.”

With a slow blink, you take in the new youngling as he trots along at Eideard's side.

“No way,” you breathe, letting your jaw drop further and further with each passing second.

Well. It's Thane alright - from the steely eyes that regard you warily, to the walnut-brown hair sticking up from his head like a bird's nest, much akin to his brother's. There's a purple bruise colouring one of his cheekbones, worn proudly, no doubt the mark of accomplishment from a bout of rough-housing with his fellow younglings.

Slowly, with the kind of hesitancy that's fostered from sheer disbelief, you work your lips into a half-smile and utter, “Hi... Thane.”

Flicking his gaze between you and Eideard, Thane fidgets under your stare and drops back a little until he's partially hidden behind the larger maker's boots.

“Ha!” Ulthane jeers, “He's scared!”

In an instant, his brother raises his voice and retorts, “I AM NOT!”

You pick your jaw up and rub tentatively at your forehead, sensing the beginnings of a headache coming on. To think, one day, this boy will turn into the herculean warrior who once bested Death in combat...

“You're pretty,” an airy, feminine voice suddenly pipes up, and you whip your head around and down once again, catching sight of yet another, even younger maker beaming back at you, so small that she's practically jogging to keep up with Eideard's lengthy strides.

“Told you,” the elder in question murmurs smugly, pushing his thumb into your ribs.

Momentarily forgetting about Thane, you flop your jaw around for a few seconds before any sort of thought finally occurs. “Uh... Thanks?” you reply, hastily adding, “Y-you too.”

Pawing her long, blonde hair behind one of her ears, she giggles and ducks behind Eideard and out of sight, though the pitter-patter of her feet mixed between the heavy stomps of his own betray the fact that she's keeping pace close at his heels.

Meanwhile, Thane has finally left the safety of Eideard's shadow and has joined his brother in trying to walk as tall as he can on his toes to see over the older maker's hands, evidently curious about the newcomer in his midst now that your attention has turned elsewhere.

After a moment, he pipes up. “What are you?”

You don't think you'll ever get used to looking down at Thane.

Before you can open your mouth to reply, Ulthane suddenly blurts out a question of his own. “How come you're so small?”

“Um.. well, I -” you attempt, but no sooner do you try to speak than questions begin to take turns flying from their tongues, each fired off far too quickly for you to formulate a single response.

“Are you a maker?”

“Where'd Eideard find you?”

“Where are your tusks?”

“How old are you?”

“Why do you -”

“All right now, you lot. That's enough,” the older maker interjects, coming to a stop at the foot of a staircase that leads up towards the luscious garden you'd seen on your arrival, “I didn't bring Y/n back to the village to be interrogated. Why don't you three wait here while we go and find the shaman, eh?”

Almost instantly, his suggestion is met with a chorus of disappointed moans and objections.

“Aw, but Eideaaaard!” Ulthane whinges, putting a broad grin on your face.

Thane, in the meantime, steps forward to grab Eideard's trouser leg, tugging at it imploringly. “We promise to not ask any more questions!”

You risk a subtle glance up at the maker's face, admittedly curious to find out whether he has always been a pushover, even from an early age. And from the press of his lips and rapidly-tilting brow, it looks as though his resolve is already starting to waver.

“I... I don't mind if they come along,” you suggest at last, earning a delighted gasp from the younglings and a skeptical look from the older giant.

“You sure?” he asks, “Don't want you to be-” Something abruptly tells him that you won't appreciate it if he says 'scared.' So, instead, he mumbles, “- overwhelmed.”

You almost want to laugh aloud. How in the world could you be any more overwhelmed than you already are? You're sitting in a young Eideard's palm, being stared at by a much younger Thane, in a Tri Stone that's twice the size of the one you left.

'Overwhelmed' is a gross understatement.

Instead of voicing that thought however, you simply brush it aside and offer a shrug. “I don't mind,” you say again. And honestly? You really don't mind. There are far more pressing matters weighing on your conscience than a couple of adorable, curious younglings.

Eideard however, still seems hesitant, a direct contrast to the three young makers who, at your words, promptly dart up the steps, with Ulthane in the lead.

“Muria!” he hollars her name boisterously, “You'll never guess what we've found!”

At hearing the confirmation of Muria's presence, your heart soars into your throat but you're quick to rein in your enthusiasm, aware that she, like Eideard, will have no idea who you are.

“We?” you mouth at him, echoing Ulthane's claim.

Eideard's moustache twitches and the corners of his eyes lift up until they're wrinkled with a friendly smile. “Ah, don't mind the boys. They just like to be included.”

Gradually, he begins to take the steps after the youngest maker, watching vigilantly as she struggles to keep up with the brothers, whose legs are far longer than her own.

Sadly, she must have misjudged the distance between herself and one of the steps, because when she leaps up onto it, only half of her boot makes it with her, and there's a heart-lurching second where she begins to tip backwards again, her chubby arms flailing as she tries to propel herself out of losing her balance.

“Careful!” you gasp.

But then, to your relief, Eideard stoops and throws his hand out, halting her fall with the back of his knuckles. “Easy there, Elanya. What’ve I said about looking where you’re going?”

Gently, he pushes her upright once again and she tosses him a bright grin over her shoulder before scampering up the stairs, as though she hadn't almost fallen down them mere seconds ago.

Standing to his full height, the maker watches her all the way up the stairs, releasing a sigh of relief when she arrives at the top with no further incident. Tipping his head down, he's about to begin his own ascent when he catches your eye and hesitates with one foot poised to carry him forward. You're lounging back against his fingers, an elbow balanced on the edge of his thumb and your fist propping up your chin, giving the maker your most knowing stare.

“What?” he asks.

In response, you merely lift your shoulders in a shrug and say, “Oh, nothing. It's just nice to know I'm dealing with a gigantic softie, that's all.” Of course, you've known that all along – but it does provide you some comfort to know that it won't be age that softens Eideard's heart. Evidently, he's always been of a gentler nature than most.

Furrowing his brow doesn't hide the glint of playfulness in his eyes as he begins to take the steps two at a time, shaking his head.

It doesn't escape your notice however, that he never disputes the claim.

#darksiders #darksiders 2 #Old timer #Eideard #soft boYo! #Reader #g/t #Ulthane #Thane

[alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer]

the ghost of unbroken love pt 1

Summary: Thomas pays the Carstairs home a visit once the dust has settled (COI spoilers!)

Read it on AO3 | Fanfiction Masterlist

CW: PTSD, implied child abuse, bullying

thanks to @littlx-songbxrd for the title :) (it’s a line from “silhouettes” by sleeping at last)

Alastair’s eyes widened in surprise when he opened the front door to see Thomas Lightwood standing before him. “What are you doing here?” 

“Hello to you, too,” he replied, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Alastair’s hands. “Why do you have a hedgehog?” 

He turned away slightly, gently stroking the hedgehog in his palm. “Excuse you, don’t be rude to Alfred.” 

Thomas gave a slight smile. “My apologies, Alfred. Wait- Isn’t that Christopher’s hedgehog?” 

Alastair’s eyes flared, clearly offended. “He is not! He was merely watching him for a few days.” 

“Ah, I do think he mentioned that. My mistake.”

“You still haven’t answered my question.” 

“Since when do you have a pet hedgehog, though?” 

He tried to focus on the feeling of Alfred squirming in his palms and not on the tall, handsome masterpiece of a man standing before him, or on the memory of what his lips and skin tasted like. “If you’re here to try to change my mind-” 

“I’m not, don’t worry. I just… I thought that perhaps we could talk, now that some of the excitement has passed.” 

Alastair sighed. “Fine, come in, then, before you freeze.” 

Thomas followed him in, shaking some of the melting ice and snow from his hair and hanging up his coat. His nose and ears were red from the cold. 

“It truly would not kill you to wear a hat, you know,” Alastair commented. 

Thomas raised an eyebrow. “Well, I’ve a reputation to uphold, don’t I? What would my friends and I be known for if not our aversion to hats?” 

“Besides being a nuisance, you mean?” 

Thomas smirked. “Kit did look after Alfred for you.” 

“Believe me, any time I mention you and your Merry boys, I never mean Christopher.” 

He chuckled. “That’s fair.” Thomas’ eyes drifted to the piano. Alastair cursed silently to himself, realizing that he’d left the fallboard open earlier. “You play?” 

“I…” Alastair hesitated. He certainly used to. He wanted to, again. He could play music from a sheet without much effort, though he was still rusty, but playing written music was never what Alastair had enjoyed about playing. He’d always found his joy in creating, in taking written words and crafting it into a beautiful melody. That had been what he was attempting earlier, before he’d gotten overwhelmed and abandoned the project to fetch Alfred to calm him down, before Thomas had arrived at his doorstep. But it was a lost cause, for the part of Alastair that created, the part that dreamed, had died long ago. “Sometimes. Sometimes I do.” 

Thomas pulled something out of his coat. “I, uh, I brought you something. I thought… Well, I’m not sure what I thought. I’m certainly not an expert in dealing with grief. But this is one of the books I read after Barbara died, and I thought it was a helpful distraction, and I figured at the very least you could amuse yourself with my trying to make sense of it all in the margins.” 

Alastair gave him a small smile while placing Alfred down on the sofa and accepted the book. It was a volume of Sufi poetry, written in Farsi and Arabic. “Thank you, this… it means a lot.” 

The conversation stumbled awkwardly for the next few minutes until finally Thomas made a pensive noise. “May I… May I ask you something?” 

Alastair paused. “You may.” 

“Why are you still friends with them?” 

Alastair cast a dark gaze away from him. “I already told you, I-” 

“You have no friends, I know. But you certainly pretend to be friendly with them, at the very least. You certainly don’t treat them anything like the way we’ve treated you.” 

You don’t treat them anything like the way you’ve treated me, he wanted to say, but he knew that he would be deflecting to bring it up now. The truth was that Alastair asked himself the same questions. Why was he civil with them, friendly even? Why did he placate his father knowing how he would still treat him? He was sure he could see the wheels turning in Thomas’ brain, though his face betrayed none of it, wondering how badly they could have truly treated him if he was able to stay so amicable with them. Alastair, too, often worried if his own memories were lying to him, tricking him. “I can hardly blame them, can I? When I myself have done horrible things?” 

Thomas hesitated. “That- That’s not really fair, is it?” 

“I’m not sure what you mean.” 

“Well, it sounded like, at the time, you hadn’t done anything yet. At least, not to them.” 

“What’s it matter? What goes around comes around.” 

“More like what comes around goes around. Life isn’t just some twisted justice system, paying for crimes you hadn’t yet committed. What reasons did they have for treating you the way they did? Have they apologized?” Alastair’s brain stalled as Thomas added, “Do you think they owe you one?” 

Alastair could feel his heart beating, blood rushing to his head, his chest constricting. “Why are you doing this?” he demanded a little too forcefully. “I told you to leave me alone!” 

Thomas took a daring step towards him. “I think you think you deserved it. You think that you’re a monster, that you’re dangerous, a terrible person. You think that means they were justified in hurting you. That’s bullshit, Alastair. No one deserves to go through what you did, even someone who is terrible, and you are not. You’ve done bad things, certainly, but you’ve had reasons for doing each of them, and not one was that you are a terrible person. You are none of the things that you call yourself. You are strong and resilient and compassionate, and you love with your whole heart even those who do not deserve it.” 

Alastair took a step back. “You’re wrong.” He wasn’t. Alastair hated feeling so seen, so vulnerable. He wanted to scream. Why wasn’t it enough, then? His love was never enough to make his father want to change, to get better. It was not even enough to get him to stop throwing things at him whenever the night quit going his way. His love was not enough to make Charles love him back. Even the boys at the Academy, Augustus and the rest, he’d spent so much time and energy trying desperately for them to genuinely like him, but it was never enough. He was fairly certain that it never would be. Thomas was wrong, Alastair was none of the things Thomas believed him to be, he was weak and pathetic and whatever love he held inside of him was broken at its core. “You ask me why I treat the boys from school better than you treated me, but why do you? You and your friends have never given them a fraction of the grief you’ve given me, even Augustus after he hurt your sister so terribly. Why?” 

Alastair could see the defenses light behind Thomas’ eyes. “Don’t talk about Eugenia as if you know what happened!” 

Alastair looked him in the eyes without a hint of expression on his face. “I do, and I know because she told me.” 

Thomas stumbled on his words, unsure of how to respond. 

“I told you why I was cruel to you lot at school, but I did not tell you why I spread that rumor. The truth is that I was hurting and I was scared and all I wanted was for you to leave me alone, but you wouldn’t. And then Matthew came, running his mouth with his endless nonsense, poking fun at the way I looked and reminding me yet again that there is not a single person on this Earth who sees me as anything more than an afterthought. And so I repeated that rumor to him. And I repeated it again, and again, because I was angry, because when Matthew blew up my belongings, my father decided that the cost to replace them was more than simply the coinage at the shops.” Alastair inhaled, pushing away the memory of the fury in his father’s eyes when he came home that semester. 

Releasing a shaky breath, Alastair continued, “And I know. I know that wasn’t fair to him, or to you, or to your parents. But I have been trying to apologize for five months, only you decided without even hearing my apology that I did not deserve forgiveness. What now, Thomas? Now that you know my secrets, you’ve seen my scars? Do I deserve forgiveness? Do I deserve to be hated? Because truly I cannot keep track.” He gestured to the door, his voice now angry. “Who are you to decide what is deserved and undeserved? You do not get to come here and pretend like you understand me or my life. You and your friends think that you’re better than everyone else, but I have a secret for you: you are not morally superior simply because you are less broken than the rest of us. Get out of my house.” 

“Alastair-” Thomas tried, but he was cut off. 

“Leave, Thomas. And put me out of your mind. I left Charles because I did not wish to be his secret, and I will not be yours, either.” 

Thomas looked like he was about to speak, but stopped himself. He looked hurt and confused, something like a wounded puppy. Alastair would not flinch. Finally, he obliged, though he turned at the last moment. “I’m sorry,” he said in a small voice, though not ingenuine. Alastair shut and bolted the door without responding. 

Once the door was secure, Alastair sank to his knees, a million thoughts and feelings flooding his brain, from relief to anger to utter despair. Shaky breath after shaky breath, he attempted to piece the world back together again.

taglist (lmk if you want to be added and, if so, whether for every TLH fic I write or just for this series or something else): @littlx-songbxrd @dianasarrow @doitforthecarstairs 

#alastair carstairs #thomas lightwood #thomastair #chain of iron #coi spoilers #chain of iron spoilers #coi #the last hours #tlh #fanfiction #fanfic #cw ptsd #cw child abuse #cw bullying

[forhereyesonlyyy]

(iii) lean on me. // gfriend, cyn. // one-shot.

word count: 9.9k

author's note: and we're on part three! i literally did not mean for this to be so long and have so much stuff going on but i thought that certain questions would be left hanging if i didn’t write with detail 😓 anyway, this is the final part! it’s a bit lacking compared to the previous ones but nevertheless, i still enjoyed writing this and i truly hope that you guys liked reading it 😊 really sorry i dragged this on though,,,, i feel like i could have avoided certain scenes since they are pretty much pointless but i just really didn’t want to leave any loose ends 😓😓

tags (overall): high school au, fluff, slow burn, angst, enemies to friends to lovers.

tw (overall): violence, injury, bullying.

previous: (ii) lean on me.

With your arm finally healing and being free from the stupid cast, you were back in the game. And after your infamous falling-out with Yuju, which somehow every single student in the school was aware of, things were going back to what you considered was normal. Basically, things were the same as they were before Yuju came and made a mess in your already messy life. Everyone was scared of you again, you kept your distance with certain individuals, and teachers were on the lookout just in case you do something that might get you in trouble.

Although you were once again a top dog in the school, that didn’t mean that you were as tough as you were before.

Obviously the whole thing with Yuju affected you to the point where you actually wanted to come back to her and apologize, maybe hang out with her again but you didn’t see the point in that when she has made it clear that she does want something more than being friends, and you? Well, now you can answer truthfully that romance was simply something that didn’t ‘fit’ your lifestyle. It would explain the constant push-and-pull game you were having with yourself whenever Yuju made you feel something.

I think.

You have also stopped talking to Seokmin, for obvious reasons. You silently wished him luck on his journey to wooing Yuju, although it bothers you to think about your two best friends kissing and being sweet. But you would be happy.

Yuju deserves someone who can make her smile.

“Yuju deserves someone who can do more than that.”

Ah, yes. You always had to deal with one Jung Yerin every morning. You never tried to chase her off because even if you did, she would still spend every single second of her life to bother you.

“Yerin, babe, it’s been three months. Can we just forget about all of this?” SinB asks, leaning against the locker next to yours and shaking her head when Yerin refuses to back down from a lost battle.

“I can’t sleep because of this, Eunbi! I hate it when our friends fight.” Yerin complained. She’s been at it ever since you called it off with Yuju and she has shown no signs of stopping. You appreciated what she was trying to do but you wished that she would try to understand why you even stopped being friends with Yuju. Perhaps Yerin does understand but refuses to acknowledge it because she was so close to her ‘dream’.

Her dream of finally getting me a girlfriend… I can’t believe her sometimes.

“So do I but we have to respect (Y/N) and Yuju. Let’s not force our way into their business anymore, alright?” SinB says, hoping to finally push through her girlfriend’s stubbornness and calm her down. It works because Yerin doesn’t say anything else but melt into SinB’s arms, muttering something about how things are so unfair.

“If it’s meant to work out, then it’ll work out.” SinB said. You glared at her, but she only smirks. Oh, that stupid smirk. She was trying to provoke a reaction out of you, but you would never let Hwang SinB have her way.

You crossed your arms over your chest, “You know, I really don’t appreciate it whenever you guys talk as if I’m not right beside you.” You said. It was only seven-thirty in the morning. There was lots of time for you to scold your friends, and hopefully to relax in the library a little.

“Well, sometimes you act like you’re not with us whenever we’re hanging out together! Imagine how we feel.” Yerin countered. That was because you were trying to drive them off. Yerin and SinB are great friends, but you didn’t want them to get involved in your mess. You thought that giving them the cold shoulder and not uttering a single word to them would make them stop lurking around, but that proved to be false. Obviously.

“Maybe next time don’t hang out with me. It’ll be better for all of us.” You rebuked and started walking to the direction of the library without another word. There were students crowding the hallways, it was like everyone simultaneously decided to come to school at exactly seven-thirty. Well, at least you didn’t have to literally squeeze your way in and out of the hallway because the crowds part for you.

Suddenly, you feel an arm wrapping around your shoulders and you really were about to knock out whoever dared to touch you until you hear that annoying voice.

“You’re so cute when you act mean to us.” Yerin says as she and her girlfriend end up next to you again. I’m not getting out of this hell, aren’t I?

SinB nods, “Seriously! Continue being like that and we’ll have no choice but to fall in love with you.” She teased with a wink.

“You guys are into that?” You asked, genuinely curious.

“Hell yeah! One girlfriend is a dream come true enough on its own, imagine having two!” Yerin gushed. They had a point, but having Yerin and SinB as girlfriends… would be torture. They were already too much for you as friends! And so, you immediately chuck that bizarre idea out of your thoughts but somehow the couple knew that you thought about it and teased you.

You laughed at all their jokes, “Sorry. You guys are hot but neither of you are my type.” Yerin and SinB then started booing you following your confession, but you ignored them and entered the library. Surprisingly enough, they followed along. They earned a couple of shushes as soon as they stepped inside, making you stifle a laugh and immediately run for an aisle to hide your embarrassment.

While Yerin and SinB sat on a table to chat quietly amongst themselves, you scoured the shelves for something to read. You haven’t had a novel in your hands for three weeks, mostly because you just lost interest in reading since you could finally do other things with your arm finally being on top condition. And the other reason was because Seokmin is almost always in the library doing stuff.

You really didn’t want to come across him ever. You knew that he would ask questions and you didn’t know if you were in control of your emotions enough to not shut him down.

“This looks nice.” You muttered, staring down at a book that had a particularly interesting cover. After reading the synopsis, you head to the librarian’s desk to borrow the novel for a week, but you weren’t prepared to see Seokmin behind the computer that almost covered his whole face. The universe hates me.

It was too late to back out. You were literally the only person in line and it was obvious that you were going to the desk in the first place. Walking away would just be awkward. Other than Seokmin, there was another face at the desk that you longed to avoid at least after spring break, maybe forever too. The universe really hates me.

Yuju didn’t look surprised to see you at all. She was more… happy. It made you angry. After all the bullshit I pulled, she’s still like this.

“I’ll see you later, Seokmin.” Yuju said, patting the boy’s arm and walking away. You didn’t look at her as she went, but you felt her eyes on you before she completely disappeared from the library. What the hell? They’re talking now? They’re touching each other now? They’re— actually, good for them! Yeah… good for them.

“Are you going to be checking that out?” Seokmin asked. You blinked, suddenly remembering that you were here for a reason, and then you nodded, putting the novel down in front of Seokmin and letting him do his thing. Neither of you said a word to each other during that whole minute. You looked back at Yerin and SinB, only to find them staring at you and Seokmin blankly, waiting for something interesting to happen.

Whatever they’re hoping for, they won’t get it.

...Please don’t let them get it.

“She misses you, you know.”

Oh my God, he let them get it.

You braced yourself for a lengthy argument, “Seokmin, let’s not.” You said. You didn’t want to make a scene at such a peaceful place and disturb everyone’s tranquility, also you just didn’t want to talk to Seokmin about Yuju. One thing you would never be caught doing again is talking about someone behind their back!

“We should, it’s the healthy thing to do.” The boy insisted.

“Enough, Seokmin. It’s over, alright? Can I have that book now?” You asked.

Seokmin shakes his head, “Yuju cares so much about you, (Y/N)—” 

“You don’t think I care about her?!” You snapped. You didn’t mean to. Something in you just broke, and then it was too late for you to stop yourself. Fortunately enough, classes were about to start, so pretty much every single student that was inside the room had begun to exit the library. Yerin and SinB were among those students, but they left solely because they wanted to give you and Seokmin some privacy.

Seokmin was unfazed. It was as if he was expecting you to lose your cool. Or he wanted to see you getting worked up. “If you did, you wouldn’t be so distant.” He said. His calm and reserved tone only added fuel to your fire. He doesn’t understand. Nobody understands.

“You’d never get it, Seokmin.” You muttered. All you wanted right now was to forget about all of this. Why can’t anybody see that? Even your two closest friends at the moment were pushing you to Yuju when you’ve expressed many times that you didn’t want anything to do with her anymore. Learn to take the fucking hint, everybody.

Seokmin clenched his jaw, and this was the first time you’ve ever seen him pissed. “Cut the crap, (Y/N). What the hell are you so afraid of? Why do you keep pushing people away? And don’t fucking tell me it’s because of your ‘reputation’ because I know, everybody knows, that Yuju doesn’t care about any of that. She just wants to be with you.”

I know that too.

“I don’t know what happened that day, but Yuju would’ve understood. Why would she ever leave? She loves you.” Seokmin continued. You weren’t exactly sure what was this boy’s motive, or why he was so passionate about this. Why was he fighting so hard? Did he think that he would actually crack through your thick skull and somehow persuade you to get back together with Yuju? Would you actually do it? I can’t fight this.

You glued your gaze to the carpeted floors of the library, suddenly deprived of energy. You were never good with fighting with words because everyone always finds a way to get under your skin. They always knew which words to use against you, and how could you fight people who were well-informed about your weaknesses? It was a losing battle.

“It was easier for me to lose her this way.” You said. Seokmin doesn’t say anything for a few seconds as he was trying to process your words in his head. While he was distracted, you snatched the novel from the desk but before you could leave, Seokmin looks at you with wide eyes and a half open mouth. He knows what you meant, and you couldn’t help but laugh bitterly.

“You love her.” Seokmin says rather breathlessly. You don’t say anything back. Instead, you huffed and made your way out of the library and it just hit you that you’d finally admitted it to someone, and to yourself. You never imagined that you would ever feel that way towards somebody. You always convinced yourself that you would never have the time for that. And since you weren’t exactly the sweetheart type, you thought that nobody would ever feel that way about you.

And then Yuju came into your life. Slowly, your heart changed and now you became this confused, irrational mess and it irritated you to no end. Because at least before Yuju came and rocked your world you had control of your thoughts, but now everything is just about her.

That damn beanpole.

“Are you alright?” SinB asked, putting her hand on your back. You nodded, offering your friends a weak smile. I don’t know.

Yerin loops her arm around yours, “Come on, let’s get to class.” She then started walking down the hallway. Not feeling like speaking anymore, you expressed your gratitude by leaning into Yerin a little bit and she responds by briefly putting her head down on your shoulder. If the two of them weren’t here, I wouldn’t have been able to move.

The walk to your first class was quiet, but it was comforting. It turns out that your school doesn’t always feel like hell. When the hallways are empty and silent, you could say that the place could feel… uplifting. For exactly one moment you weren’t thinking about Yuju, and that was a moment where you felt relaxed for the first time in a while.

 -

“This is an intervention,” Just when I think that I’d be given a break, the Devil arrives. Not you, Eunha. I still like you. It turns out that you weren’t going to be left alone at all on this one fine day. First, the annoying couple you call your best friends. Second, the boy who managed to provoke you into yelling and finally, Kim Sojung. And Eunha, and Yewon. They’re like three peas in a pod. “For your information, I am not doing this willingly.” Sojung says, crossing her arms. That was obvious enough.

Yerin anxiously waits behind you, not knowing the right words to say at the moment.

“Good morning?” You fretted, scratching your head. There was five minutes before the second class started and usually, you would spend these precious minutes packing up and preparing for the incoming period but it seems like that routine will be broken today. Please do not let this go on for more than a few seconds.

Sojung closes your locker, “We need to talk about you and Yuju.” She said. Of course. You sigh deeply, everything is about her now. Just as you were about to speak, SinB happened to walk by and now you were convinced that things are just about to get messier. What’s next? Yuju comes too? Wait, I can’t jinx it. I take that back. Don’t make her come here.

“What the fuck? You guys are having a family meeting without me?” SinB mused, automatically running to her girlfriend’s embrace.

Sojung ignores the younger girl, completely shutting her out, “So, let me just say that I only went along with this idea because of Eunha and I like Yuju. But I don’t like you, and I don’t care what happens to you or what you’re feeling—”

“She does care, she just can’t admit it.” Yewon chimed in.

“Yewon, shush,” Sojung holds her index finger up to her younger sister’s face, and then she points at you. You stared back at her with a blank expression, you really just wanted to get to class. “You need to be aware of the things that Yuju has been doing ever since you broke up with her.” The tall girl said.

You furrowed your eyebrows, “I was never dating her—”

“Yeah, that’s not what I thought. I’m pretty sure you two would’ve kissed if you weren’t constantly surrounded by people,” Sojung snickered. She wasn’t… completely wrong. You never wanted to kiss Yuju, but if she ever made a move to kiss you, well, you wouldn’t stop her. Does that one time in the hallway count as her trying to kiss me? Would I have stopped her? Seeing the look of shyness on your face, Sojung smiles smugly, knowing that she has struck the right nerve. “Genius, that is what I am.” She bragged.

“I will punch you in the face.” You stated.

Eunha finally decides to come in between you and Sojung after realizing that letting her girlfriend handle this situation would be pointless, “Okay, let’s just have a healthy conversation for once.” She suggested with a smile.

You sighed and leaned into your locker, “What do you want?” You asked. The bell rings, but neither of you moved. Even Yerin, SinB, and Yewon who probably have no business being in here didn’t leave. You were happy about that though because then you wouldn’t have to deal with Sojung alone.

“Yuju… really wanted to know,” Eunha started. You shake your head, this again. You considered completely shutting everything out, but Eunha’s next words kept you listening. “She pretty much asked everybody that she thought knew about it. Me, Sojung, other people… and Jennie.”

Upon the mention of your old friend’s name, your mind goes haywire. Yuju? Talked to Jennie? About… about that?! “Why the fuck would she do that?” You asked with your voice wavering. Jennie was merciless to those she deemed unworthy of her attention. Pretty old school considering she’s just another student, but the difference between her and the others was that she was rich and she was the principal’s relative, somehow that automatically makes her someone who has a lot of power.

And if one holds power, they’re allowed to act however they want. That’s usually bad. Especially for the lesser powerful students. Students like Yuju.

“Because you didn’t tell her anything, doofus.” Sojung taunted.

“It was for her own good,” You ran your hand through your hair and sighed once again. “I didn’t… think she would do that. How does she even know about Jennie?” You uttered. Yewon avoids your gaze, Eunha shifts awkwardly on her spot, and Sojung just stares at… something. You follow the eldest’s gaze and your eyes landed on… Jung Yerin.

Yerin bit her lower lip and fidgeted with her shirt, “I only told Yuju what I know! That I guessed that (Y/N) got involved with Jennie at some point!” She confessed more to SinB who was the most confused out of everyone at the moment.

“Well, good job anyway. You successfully got the purest girl in the school on the leading lady’s radar. Nothing bad is going to happen.” Sojung says sarcastically.

Before Sojung and Yerin could argue, Yewon interrupts both of them. “Can you guys enlighten me though? I know Jennie is… kinda mean but why is this so bad? She wouldn’t do anything rash to someone she barely knows, right?” Yewon asked. Being a student who always minds her own business, Yewon doesn’t really pay attention to anything else other than her grades and whatever her sister gets herself into.

Sojung sternly glares at you as she talks to her sister, “Jennie and our good friend over here, and also a couple of certain other people, wanted to keep what happened that day a big secret so that the important ones don’t get in trouble with the principal.” The oldest explained. Well, Sojung, how do you know so much about this? I’m more surprised that the whole story hasn’t got out yet. It’s been months. Jennie’s grip on this school is insane.

“We’re not going to force you to tell us anything if it makes you uncomfortable, or if Jennie scares you, or if you just don’t wanna say a word about it at all but… since Yuju is involved now, we just want to know how bad it really was.” Eunha says gently, taking your hand in hers and reassuring you with a kind smile. You felt warm inside, you missed her being your friend.

You take a deep breath to calm your nerves. You preferred not pulling anyone else into your mess, even if it was Sojung who annoyed the hell out of you because they could get in real danger. But since Eunha was asking so nicely, and they do deserve some sort of explanation for their friend, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to tell them something. For Yuju’s sake.

“Well, you already know the guy got sent to a hospital,” You started, slowly pulling your hand from Eunha’s hold. All of the girls nod. Anyone who heard about the fight knew that much, but everything else was twisted that nobody was sure which story was the truth. It was exactly what Jennie wanted. “The thing is… that guy is Jennie’s close friend. Maybe boyfriend, or ex. I don’t fucking know, but he meant something to her and since he was the jackass that started it, Jennie didn’t want him to receive the short end of the stick.” You continued. You try your hardest to keep such grotesque images from that night out of your head for as long as you can.

The girls listen intently. You couldn’t tell what they were thinking. “If anyone with a big mouth were to ever find out about the truth… I’m not sure they would be safe.” You said. Thinking of Yuju being brutally pushed around the hallways by Jennie’s minions made your blood boil. Nobody deserves to be treated with such cruelty, especially Yuju who just wanted to understand you more.

This is my fault. I got her into this. I have to get her out.

Swallowing your own stubbornness, you made up your mind about what you could do to get Yuju out of this chaotic situation. It was probably the only way. “Has she been asking about this since… you know.” You muttered. Sojung nods, much to your dismay.

“Three months… I’m surprised she’s not dead,” You tried to joke. It landed poorly though. You shook your head, never the time for that kind of jest. “I’ll… tell her.” You confessed.

There was a moment of silence, and you weren’t sure if the girls heard you or not because they looked at you as if your words went inside one ear and out the other. What is so confusing about that? I thought it was pretty straightforward.

“Tell her you love her?” Yerin blurted out.

You blushed furiously, “The truth! What the fuck, Yerin!” 

“Oh my God, you love her?” Sojung asked, covering her mouth. “This is so much better than I expected.” She exclaimed. If it wasn’t for her girlfriend, Sojung would’ve teased you to no end so once again, you were thankful for Eunha’s existence. SinB smiles fondly at you, finally feeling relieved now that you’ve succumbed to what your heart has been saying for so long.

You were relieved too, somewhat. Because now you’re not in a constant battle with yourself, but the problem is how you’re even going to talk to Yuju after this revelation.

That’s a problem to solve for some other time.

 -

Just as lunch time started, you told Yerin and SinB that you would be doing something important that will keep you busy for the rest of the period. They didn’t say much about it and allowed you to go on your merry way, fortunately enough. With some courage and a pre-rehearsed speech, you entered the half-empty library. Just as you expected, Seokmin was quietly eating a sandwich on one of the tables, scrolling through social media on his phone.

Taking a deep breath and muttering some quick words of wisdom to yourself, you slowly approached Seokmin.

The boy slowly raises his head after sensing your presence, and you almost laughed at how shocked he looked to see you for the second time in one day.

“Hey.” You greeted.

Seokmin rushed to swallow his food, then he cleared his throat and nodded at you. “Hi.” He said.

“Can I sit here?” You asked, pulling out the chair across from him. Seokmin nodded again and you sat down, taking out your own sandwich and putting it down on the table, but doing nothing else. How do you even start talking to someone you avoided for no reason? Seokmin did not deserve to receive the cold shoulder from you because looking back at it again, he literally should not even be involved in your problem. It’s all because of…

Suddenly, it hit you. Nothing about this was Yuju’s fault. Nothing about everything you were going through was Yuju’s fault. All this time you’ve been blaming an innocent person for nothing when all of this wouldn’t have happened if you had just dealt with it the right way instead of running.

I have a lot to apologize for… but I’ll save it for when I actually see her again.

“I’ll make things right.” You say out of nowhere. That was meant to be a thought, damn it.

Seokmin keeps nodding, and he couldn’t help but smile at your promise. “I figured as much. You would never leave any loose ends.” He said.

“Oh? You know me now?” You teased, raising an eyebrow.

Seokmin’s smile just gets brighter, “Anyone with a pulse wouldn’t just let their loved one go without proper closure.” He replied.

Hearing someone refer to Yuju as your ‘loved one’ made your skin tingle and it doesn’t help that you were aware of your feelings for her now. Some part of you wants to be hopeful and end all of this with Yuju by your side, but then once again, fear strikes you. Would Yuju be really happy with you finally opening up to her? Isn’t it too late for that? Did she actually mean it earlier when she looked at you like you were everything she was hoping to see at that time?

And were you actually prepared for all of this?

“She never stopped talking about you,” Seokmin blurted. Something about the atmosphere was making you feel strange, so you awkwardly looked around before paying attention to your friend once again. “For a long time, the only thing that came out of her mouth was your name.” The boy continued, taking out the unwanted pickles in his sandwich. You tilt your head to the side, wondering why this was so awkward for you.

“It was borderline obsession but she was cute so I looked past that.” Seokmin admitted, sighing blissfully.

“Can we stop talking about her like she passed away? Like I’m pretty sure she’s eavesdropping on us right now.” You said, once again looking around you trying to find someone who was not even there.

Seokmin laughs, “What I meant to say was… you mean a lot to her, and I can assure you that all she wants right now is not even an apology, or an explanation, but a simple ‘hi’. Literally just look at her and she’ll be happy for the next few days.”

You couldn’t say anything to that, partly because most of what Seokmin said didn’t really stay in your brain. I should probably talk before it gets weird again.

“Are you… okay? With all of this?” You asked.

Seokmin puts his sandwich down, and he doesn’t respond. He was actually thinking hard about it while you sit there, anxiously waiting for his answer. You would willingly back off if Seokmin still has feelings for Yuju because all that matters to you at the moment was getting back on good terms with her.

I think.

As if Seokmin could tell what you were thinking, he addresses it. “There’s… really no point in holding on anymore.” He said with a sad smile.

“That’s not… true. She could fall for you after all of this.” You replied. It felt strange hearing yourself say that out loud.

Seokmin laughed again, then he started shaking his head. You couldn’t tell if he was sad or angry. Maybe both, but probably not. “No, no. That girl is completely in over her head for you.” And you knew that. You just didn’t want to find out just how much. Too much love will kill you or whatever. Also you get flustered really easily.

You took a bite out of your sandwich, “Did you ever try with her?” You asked. Alright, maybe asking that was too much but I’m nosy.

“Yeah but… either she’s unbelievably slow or she wanted to let me down easily by constantly… friend-zoning me.” Seokmin said. You wince, ouch. It didn’t look like Seokmin was bothered with it. Actually, he looked like he was merry about it all. It was weird because one would think that he would be miserable, but that was not the case. 

(Of course you’d never think of it, but Seokmin was more happy about the fact that his two precious friends are going to be okay.)

Seokmin smirks as you drink your water, “Hey, at least you’re going to get some.” His words nearly made you spit out your drink, but when he lightly kicked your ankle as a tease you spilled water on your uniform.

Rather than getting angry about your now soiled shirt, you attempt to clear the air. “I’m talking to her to stop her from getting devoured by our common enemy! Not to get in her pants, God.” Who in their right mind would even try to use Yuju’s innocence to their advantage? A part of you is starting to doubt Seokmin’s infatuation towards Yuju. Did he really like her?

“Right, right. You might wanna clean yourself up though.” Seokmin gestured to your clothes. Well, this is just great. I don’t have a spare shirt. I’m probably gonna have to borrow the ones they have at the office with the school’s catchphrase and mascot on it.

You stood up from your seat and as you headed towards the library doors, you muttered some curses and threats to literally everything out of annoyance. Seokmin smiles as he watches you go, finally content that the two of you were friends again.

-

“Don’t spread to my skirt, don’t spread to my skirt, don’t spread to my skirt…” You chanted while running towards the nearest restroom. You earned several looks from students who were passing by and you have never been more embarrassed. Why didn’t I think of covering myself up at least?! Darn you, Seokmin!

As you neared the closest restroom you could find in the area, you heard a couple of muffled voices coming from inside the restroom. You couldn’t decipher the words you were barely hearing, but when you reached the entrance of the restroom, you recognized one of the voices inside. You could never really not know who that voice belongs to.

Jennie.

You considered turning back, not wanting to see the girl and deal with her for who-knows-how-long, but her next words stopped you from walking away.

“...just because you and (Y/N) had fun for a little while.”

Immediately, you pushed the door open with way too much force than you intended and entered the restroom. Jennie wasn't the only person inside, obviously. Her friends were there too: Jisoo, Chaeyoung, and Lisa. But there was another girl in the bunch. Someone who looked just a little bit out of place. The girl who has been clouding your mind ever since the first time you saw her today. I was right.

“(Y/N)...” Yuju stands by the farthest sink in the place. It looked like the other four girls were cornering her, but you weren’t sure of what was happening or what happened prior to this moment. It took you all your might to get a hold of yourself, not wanting to jump the gun. If they did anything to her… if they touched even one fucking strand of hair on her head…

“How nice of you to join us. We were just talking about you,” Jennie says with a sly smile. You avoid Yuju’s stare by looking at Jennie. Cute as ever but what the fuck does she want? “I was wondering if you’d like to come over to my place sometime this week. We have a lot to do.”

Oh, you know exactly what that meant. Somebody found out? Was it Yuju? Is that why they’re all over her right now?

You were about to go along and get dragged away without saying a word to the girl you actually wanted to talk to, but something inside you screamed at you to not do that. Get this over with. Get this over with.

“No thanks.” You deadpanned. You slipped in between Lisa and Chaeyoung, muttering a small ‘excuse me’ as you made your way towards Yuju.

Jennie stops you from walking any further towards the other girl, “You’re really going to fight this?” She asked.

“I’m not your pet, Jennie. Nobody is,” You turned around to face her again with newfound confidence. I was never anyone’s pet. Why did I even let her threats control me? I’m (Y/N) for God’s sake! I don’t answer to anyone. Stupid. “And for the record, I think it’s pretty douchey to keep hiding it as if no one’s gonna find out about it in less than two weeks. Why try to stop the inevitable?” You asked.

Jennie clenches her fists, however, she doesn’t say anything. You had a point, and she wasn’t going to try and fight that.

“I suggest that you clear the rumors before it gets out of hand. Grow the hell up and take responsibility. Trust me, it’s good for you.” You glance at your right arm which has long healed and recovered to its glory. “I know it was for me. See you never, Jen.”

The sophisticated girl scoffed, “You’ve grown soft, (Y/N). You’ll never survive here.” She said. And with that, she and her friends left without saying anything else, but you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at her words. For fuck’s sake, we’re in high school! The worst you can do to someone is throw their textbook on the ocean and make them pay hundreds of dollars for it even though it wasn’t their fault.

Yuju fidgets with the ends of her sleeves, unsure of what to do now that she was alone with you. You were feeling the same. How do you even start talking to her? Maybe the best thing to do right now is see if they did anything to her. With that in mind, you cautiously took several steps towards the taller girl. Yuju had her head hung low, what’s wrong?

You raised your hand, but stopped halfway. Is this the right thing to do? Can I even do this? All of your doubts were washed away when your eyes met Yuju’s hopeful ones, and you continued your action. You carefully brushed Yuju’s hair away from her face, and you expected to see her perfect like always, but there was a cut on her cheek and it made you see red so quickly.

“Did they do this?” You asked, clenching your jaw. I knew they wouldn’t leave her without a scratch!

“No, they didn’t—”

“Then who did?” You cut her off.

“(Y/N)—” Again.

“Doesn’t matter. I’ll find them and then I’ll—” This time, Yuju keeps you from talking by taking your hand and squeezing it tightly, snapping you out of your little cloud of rage. At least it calmed you down a little, and it totally distracted you from the fact that your soaked shirt was the reason you came in here in the first place.

“Do you… have a bandage with you?” Yuju asked. She didn’t move her hand. Good.

You nodded timidly, “I have some.” You replied. Since you get in fights way too often, your brother has advised you to keep several bandages inside your jacket and your backpack just in case you start bleeding. Now you were finally going to put them to use after a while.

While you fished through the inner pockets of your jacket, Yuju waits patiently, and then she finally notices that you were completely soaked with water. “What happened to you?” The tall girl asked. You hummed questioningly, not quite hearing what she said as you were busy and when you looked up, Yuju was completely dazed. Realizing that she had been staring rather inappropriately, Yuju’s face quite literally heats up. Is that how I look when I get flustered?

“I was eating lunch with Seokmin and… it’s a long story actually, don’t worry about it.” You said, waving your hand. Finally, you got a hold of several bandages and you handed them to Yuju with a proud smile on your face. Looking down at the colorful bandages, colorful and cute animal bandages, Yuju fails to prevent a giggle from coming out of her mouth.

You pouted, “What? Don’t you think they’re cute? Look at this it’s got an excited puppy hugging a sleepy puppy!” You exclaimed as you pointed at the tan colored one. Yuju could only nod, handing you back your favorite one and putting the others on her backpack for future uses. I hope there’s never a time where she has to use all of those.

“Yes, yes, you’re adorable. Could you put that on me, please?” Yuju asked, leaning her face closer to yours.

“I was talking about the dogs… but whatever.” You muttered. There was no point in arguing with Yuju about these kinds of things because if you learned from when you were still friends, you always end up as a blushing mess after every fight about cute things. How does she even do that? Maybe you’re really just that much of a softie.

Or, well, maybe it’s because of Yuju.

You held Yuju’s chin in your hand to keep her face steady, and you noticed that blood was starting to drip down from the cut. You wiped it off slowly, careful to not touch the wound and hurt Yuju. You stared at the taller girl’s (beautiful) face, familiarizing yourself with her features once again and this time, you didn’t exactly flinch when her eyes fluttered open all of a sudden.

As you stared down at your hand with Yuju’s blood on it, you were reminded of a similar scene months ago, although the situation was so, so much worse.

That’s when everything started to come back to you again. Flashing neon lights that were suddenly blinding, deafening bad music, and more than ten pairs of eyes watching you, judging you, horrified of you. And then finally, the heavy atmosphere that made it hard for you to breathe and nearly suffocated you before you finally ran out of the room, away from everyone’s watchful eyes… and the one unconscious body on the floor where you had just been standing.

“(Y/N), hey,” Yuju snaps you out of your train of horrible thoughts. She noticed how you reacted to her blood, she took it upon herself to wipe it off and get you back to reality. “I’ll do it.” She whispered, smiling and reaching for the bandage in your hand, but you pulled your hand back.

She has to know what I did, she has to hear it from me.

Somehow, Yuju caught on to what you were thinking. “I’m not… going to push you anymore. I know what happens when I do that.” Maybe she's psychic. She tries to take the bandage again, but you still pulled away and it made her sigh deeply.

You shake your head, “Not this time.” You said. Once again, you took her chin and tilted her face up. Goosebumps spread across your skin when Yuju rested one of her hands at your hip, and the way she stared at you made you sick to your stomach, in a good way. You raised the bandage close to Yuju’s face, and then you finally covered the wound, gently pressing the bandage so that it attaches to her soft skin.

Yuju doesn’t say anything for a while, and neither do you as you were trying to collect your thoughts. Maybe this wasn’t the ideal situation, since you always imagined that you would be telling her somewhere that was not a school restroom, but she’s here right now, willing to listen. She will always be willing to listen, but if you don’t tell her now, will you ever be able to?

That was a question that ran circles inside your brain for a while. It felt like you were taking forever thinking about it but of course, Yuju stayed patient, even going as far as to not say anything about the muffled sound of the bell ringing from the hallways. Sighing heavily, you pry her hand away from your hip and take a step back.

The more you thought about it, the more you came to terms with the fact that there was never going to be a perfect moment for something like this. And again, you were reminded that it really doesn’t matter if you don’t tell her now or not because she will find it out, especially after you’ve given Jennie a piece of your mind. You remind yourself that she has to hear the story from your perspective, and then leave her to think hard about and decide what to think of you after everything.

It’s a simple job… but with extreme risks.

Taking a deep breath, you decided to get it over with, as you always told yourself whenever you faced a big dilemma.

“A few weeks into the new school year, Jennie decided to throw a stupid party since we’re all in seniors and it might be the last time we can have fun,” Yuju’s head snaps up once you start talking. Then you find yourself chuckling at your words, she was right about that at least. “She invited a lot of her friends, and some other rich students in the school. There were also these older kids, I think they were in college. They got there much earlier than I did. By the time I joined the fun, pretty much everyone was buzzed.” You said. You remember being disgusted at how every corner of the room that day reeked of alcohol and sweat.

“I was roaming around in the kitchen, looking for something decent to eat when I noticed this one girl staring at me and you know I had to talk to her about that,” You continued. Yuju nodded, and you truly hoped that she wasn’t thinking about it the wrong way. She knows that I meant that I had to confront the girl, right? Because of my temper? Please tell me she knows that. “I thought she was judging me but it turns out she was just interested, and I was super bored so I decided to play along.” Then you looked at yourself in the mirror for a brief second, attempting to prepare yourself as the turning point of that whole situation replays in your head for the umpteenth time.

“One thing led to another and suddenly she was all over me. I didn’t mind it, she was pretty. But… some people still had problems with girls hooking up,” You clenched your fist at the memory. This is it. Come on, (Y/N). Yuju stands closer to you, offering her support and comfort with her presence, but this time it wasn’t working so well. Again, you were scared because you had a feeling that she won’t be so close to you anymore when you start talking again. Still, you push through it, having had enough of dragging it on. “There was this guy, um, he was wasted as hell and he was saying stuff. You know me, I get riled up easily but I had to remind myself that he was drunk. He didn’t know what kind of messed up bullshit he was saying, right? But then he started touching the girl I was with and when I tried to tell him to go away… he said that word.”

You didn’t have to look at Yuju to know that she understood what you were saying. The longer the moment replays in your head, the more you got confused as to why Jennie worked so hard to hide it in the first place. Who was that guy to her? She would’ve rather allowed me, her literal friend and schoolmate, to get hurt rather than disciplining that guy!

“I don’t know. I lost it. As soon as the word fell from his stupid mouth, I didn’t waste another second and decked him in the face. Then I did it again. And again, and again, and I didn’t stop until a couple of other kids pulled me away,” You release a shaky breath as the image of the older guy laying on the floor flashed in your head. You remember looking down at your hands covered in his blood, then the eyes, and everything else. Your chest started getting heavy as the weight of your actions started settling in. “I could’ve killed that guy.” You said with your voice quivering.

Slowly, Yuju takes both of your hands and pulls you into her. You allowed yourself to melt into her embrace, appreciating her warmth that managed to chase away some of the horrific feelings inside your chest. However, you were immediately reminded of the situation and you pulled away from the taller girl quickly.

You chuckled bitterly, “Scared of me yet?” You asked. It was meant to be a joke question, but you secretly hoped that she would answer honestly and seriously, even if the worst of your predictions about this discussion ends up being the outcome.

“A little,” Yuju admitted. Your heart squeezes within itself just a little bit and every breath you took was like a needle poking at it, making everything hurt just a tad bit more. “But you did that to protect yourself, and the girl. He was harassing her, plus he literally called you a slur.”

Are there any right words for you to say after that? Somehow it felt like the conversation was over, but the heaviness stayed in your chest and now Yuju’s presence only gave you anxiety rather than comfort. You nodded to yourself, suddenly remembering that you had a class to attend and totally forgetting about your shirt that has now dried after minutes of being left alone.

“Right…” You muttered. What are we supposed to do now?

“Does it feel lighter?” Yuju suddenly asks. You looked up at her, confused. She steps forward and puts her hand on your chest, where your heart was. “Right here.” She said. Oh.

“No,” You shook your head, taking her hand and letting it fall down to your side with yours. What was she going to do with that information? Did she really just want to know because she wanted to understand you better? Suddenly, you didn’t get Yuju’s motives, but that was something you felt like you had to think about while laying in your bed and staring at your boring empty ceiling. “I feel sick.”

Yuju hums, “You’ve been bottling all of that in a while. I wanted to… free you from it, but I thought I had to know every single thing before I try to do anything about it. I’m sorry if I… pressured you.” She says, laying her head low. Has she always known that something was bothering me? Is that why she got interested in the first place? A lot of questions filled your head and when you opened your mouth to ask her one, the door suddenly flew open and you remembered that yes, you were in a public space.

And that the two of you were at least half an hour late to your classes.

“Come on, let’s get out of here.” You said and dragged the taller girl out of the restroom before the student that entered noticed anything that was out of the blue. Yuju only lets you lead her through the hallways because you were holding her hand, and nothing makes her happier than seeing you being so close to her.

How do we even recover from any of this? I can’t just suddenly talk to her about my feelings after all the things I just dumped on her.

Wait.

That’s right. I do have feelings for her.

As you tread the empty hallways, you realized that you had no idea where you were even trying to go. Since you were late to your class, you didn’t feel like going anymore but as for Yuju… well, things might be different. You looked over your shoulder, only to see the taller girl looking at you like she hadn’t seen you in forever. Some part of that is true considering the amount of time you were apart from each other.

But a sly smirk makes its way onto your face because at some point, you knew that Yuju looked at you whenever you were in the same space, even if she made effort to avoid you too back then.

“Are you sure you’re fine wearing your uniform? That was wet, you know. You could get sick.” Yuju says with the utmost concern.

You nodded, “It’s alright. It’s dry now and I’m not—”

“Made of glass, yes. It’s a famous saying from you.” Yuju finishes your sentence, or more like she cuts you off, wearing a teasing smile.

You shoot her a playful glare, “You, Yerin and SinB… and probably Seokmin too. You all use my own words against me.” You said, letting out a dramatic long sigh of defeat. It does get tiring dealing with a couple of smartasses for friends, but you love them all the same. Speaking of Seokmin… I should probably get my stuff back. My poor sandwich is still in the library.

“I’m glad you guys are talking again.” Yuju mentions. You nodded, you felt the same. Although you didn’t imagine that the first time you and the boy have a proper conversation ends up with you spilling water all over your uniform but at the same time, it felt fitting that it would be like that.

“Did he ever ask you again?” You asked.

Yuju turns her head at you, utterly muddled, “Ask me out?” She repeated.

“Yeah. Remember when he approached you before lunch time? He was hoping to take you out on a date, did he ever do that again?” You were genuinely curious.

“No? I mean, I don’t think so. How would I know?” Yuju shrugs. It just dawned on you that she might’ve been oblivious of Seokmin’s feelings all along. You felt bad for your friend, but then again if you told him about it he would laugh with you.

“You are unbelievable, Yuju. You’re telling me that for three months you didn’t notice that he had a big crush on you?” You questioned her again.

“He did not! And why would I look at someone else when you’re around?” Yuju tries to flirt by winking at you. Yes, the charm worked but you weren’t going to let her get away with that.

“Stop changing the subject. He totally— wait, this isn’t the way to the library.” You said as you looked around at the familiar and yet unfamiliar surroundings. You were able to identify that you and Yuju had somehow landed in the science hallway of the building though. Yuju lets go of your hand and looks out the big windows, staring at the flowers down at the garden and letting herself be mesmerized by nature’s beauty, and totally ignoring the fact that the two of you had gotten lost while chatting.

This was where you first told her your name, and where you messed with her. Back then she was completely dazed at the flowers too, and you smiled at the familiarity of it all.

You crossed your arms over your chest, “You said you wouldn’t want to look at anything else while I’m around and yet you’ve forgotten about me. For flowers.” You joked.

Yuju hums, then she smiles but it wasn’t the kind of smile that made your heart flutter and filled your stomach with butterflies, it was a smile that told you that she was up to something. “Oh? So you admit that you don’t want me to look at anything else but you?” She asked, now walking towards you with that mischievous glint in her beautiful eyes. Fuck.

“H-How did you even make that connection?” You tried to avoid stuttering, but now Yuju was extremely close and somehow your feet got glued to the ground. Is this how she felt when I did it?!

“(Y/N),” Yuju’s tongue runs across her upper lip briefly, just like you did back then. You squint at her actions, finding her ridiculous while simultaneously feeling incredibly embarrassed at the thought of you probably looking stupid months ago. At least she looks nice doing it now. I was injured and it was my first day back from the hospital, I must’ve looked funny. “Would you like to talk about that?” The tall girl asked, her eyes darting from your flushed cheeks, to your nose, and then your lips.

You stifled a laugh, “Slow down. Save it for later, lovergirl.” You said, putting your hands on the other girl’s shoulders and gently pushing her back to create distance. One because you were close to combusting and two because you might’ve not been able to control yourself. The things you make me feel.

Yuju grins, “On that cute little coffee shop after school?” She asked, which you nodded your head to.

“Your treat.” You say with a smirk before turning around and walking back. This time, you were actually going to the library. Yuju jogs up beside you, still wearing a big smile on her face and she wraps her hand around yours.

“I don’t mind as long as it’s for you.”

“...”

“Oh my goodness, you let me finish!”

“Well, maybe we don’t always have to save the romantics for later.”

 -

 After screaming to your older brother a quick goodbye, you do your best to slip on your sneakers in record breaking time and run out of the house, not even bothering to tie up your shoelaces. If you even stop or slow down for half a second, you would miss your bus and it takes a whole hour for the next one to pass by your neighborhood and there was just something that was not right about arriving at school exactly on time. Maybe it was just you. It was probably just you.

As you sprint towards the bus stop, you noticed how cold it really was. It was weird considering how it was usually not always chilling whenever you went out on your usual routine. Did I not read the weather right? Oh, who am I kidding? The weather is always unpredictable.

When you arrived at your destination, you recognized a familiar face sitting at the bench quietly and when the girl spots you, she mirrors the same look of bewilderment as you walked closer to the bench. What is she doing here? And why so early in the morning?

“Yuna, babe,” After two weeks of dating, you realized that you didn't even know Yuju’s full name and she didn’t tell you because she thought that you knew. Apparently, her full real name was Choi Yuna, and even now that the two of you have been together for a month and a half, your girlfriend’s name still sounded as fresh and beautiful as it did when you first heard it. Hell, I can’t even believe she’s my girlfriend. Girlfriend! “What are you doing here?” You asked.

“Looks like somebody forgot that she will be riding the bus with her girlfriend to school this morning,” Yuju teased. You scratched your head, dumbfounded. Yeah, I did forget that. What the hell is wrong with me today? “And I think the real question is, what are you doing here? There’s at least a solid hour before you usually come out and catch the bus.” She said, pointing at her watch.

You furrowed your eyebrows, suddenly not knowing how time works. You pulled out your phone and your eyes almost fell out of their sockets when you confirmed that yes, your girlfriend was telling the truth. “Are you kidding me! I ran like hell to get here and I’m way too early!” You shouted and plopped down on the bench beside the taller girl.

Yuju coos when she sees you pout, “Aww, it’s okay, at least we get to spend more time together at the ass crack of dawn.” She said.

“Okay, but seriously, why are you here? Like, specifically right here at the bus stop?” You asked, ignoring your cheeks that were heating up. A month and a half and she still has this effect on you.

“I was actually on my way to your house to surprise you and all that but I got exhausted so I sat down here for a bit to rest. And then you came,” Yuju explained. Seeing the drained look on your face, she frowned. She then pulled you close, letting you rest your head on her shoulder while also holding her hand. Still gives me butterflies. “Did you even have breakfast?” Your girlfriend asks. She sighs when she feels you shake your head.

“Wanna walk to a bakery before the bus arrives?” Yuju smiles when you do, because nothing makes you feel better than eating bread at your favorite place with your favorite person.

“My treat this time, though.” You said as you stand up, pulling Yuju with you.

“Oh, you don’t have to.” Yuju said. The two of you started walking to your usual path to the nearest bakery shop. You’ve gone on countless dates in different places, but something about this particular bakery was special. The pastries were delicious of course and the short distance between it and your house was definitely a favor, but there was always something in the air whenever you and Yuju go there for a snack.

Ugh, I feel tingly thinking about it. But you loved it.

“Yes, I do,” You replied, momentarily stopping at your tracks. You have been thinking about it for a while. How you and Yuju got to where you are now, what it took for you and her to get here. But more specifically, this was about Yuju and how you are so genuinely thankful for her for being with you. “I realized that… you were the one that definitely got the worst end of this… whole thing between us. When we met, when we became friends, when we tried to sort things out about that thing, and pretty much every other stuff. I want to be good to you, like you’ve always been to me. And I know bread is nothing but I promise that there are greater things that I can do to make up for all the time you waited and dealt with me.” You confessed, running your thumb across the taller girl’s knuckles tenderly. 

Is this enough? Probably not. I put her through a lot, and I will give her all the love she’s given me. Maybe more.

Definitely more.

Yuju doesn’t say anything. At first, she stares at you for a long time because how can she even respond to that? (She felt a lot of things inside. So much that she felt like she was going to explode if she tries to speak.) But then she cups your face with her hands and slowly, she pulls you in for a kiss.

It was quick, but it was enough to get the message across.

I love you more, Choi Yuna.

“Lean on me, right?” You whisper as she pulls back. She looked like she was about to cry, but she smiles at you and blinks the tears away. (You smile back at her, and Yuju feels like she was going to melt into a puddle the longer she stared.)

“That was sweet… but I was going to tell you that I have coupons we could use instead—”

“Oh, just let me be romantic!”

#gfriend imagines #gfriend scenarios #gfriend reactions #gfriend oneshots #gfriend x reader #yuju x reader #yuju imagines #yuju reactions #yuju oneshots #gfriend yuju #girl group imagines #girl group scenarios #girl group reactions #girl group oneshots #girl group x reader

[hopetofantasy]

Actress Nora Dari (wtFOCK): “I hope I don't go crazy. I wouldn't be surprised if that happens”

Two years ago she was allowed to bump into Matteo Simoni in ‘Patser’, now your fifteen-year-old knows her as Yasmina from ‘wtFOCK’ and she ended up in Cannes because of the new film by Bas Devos. Where it ends for Nora Dari remains to be seen, but you don't want to get in her way. “You’ve been looking so long for a Moroccan girl who wants to act and then you get me.”

“So I always try to be a bit low key...” She hesitates. "Eumh, do you know what 'low key' means?" "How much of antique do you think I am exactly?" “Gosh. You have a flip cover for your smartphone, I saw.” “Point for Dari. But what are you trying to be a bit low key...” “Huh? Sorry, I have no idea anymore. I was completely distracted by that pigeon over there.” It’s easy to forget - especially when she starts talking in her Genk dialect about her sky-high ambitions or her tough childhood in Winterslag - that Nora Dari is barely seventeen. After all, she’s already accumulated a nice record of achievements in two years. From the Belgian-Finnish crime series ‘Bullets’ (shown on Telenet) and a leading role in ‘wtFOCK’, the online series of SBS and Telenet, to her supporting role in ‘Ghost Tropic’, the most recent full-length movie by Bas Devos, who made the selection of Quinzaine des Réalisateurs in Cannes in May. The day after our conversation at an Antwerp terrace, she  leaves for London, for a fourth and final audition for a lead role in an international film project. “It looks good, but I can't tell you anything about it yet. That’s a tough assignment for me: my whole body really wants to scream. Seriously, I'm pretty much the Moroccan Tom Holland (Spider-Man, and the spoiler king of Marvel's Cinematic Universe). But I'll remain silent!”

How does a large, international production house ends up at your door? Nora Dari: “I started knocking on their door. I'm really not going to sit around and wait for someone to discover me miraculously, so if someone gives me a tip about an interesting movie, I'll go after it myself. I always want more and everything I set my mind to, seems to be working. An international series, ‘wtFOCK’, Cannes with my first film role and now this latest project is also within reach. Can you blame me for believing? In my head, I'm already in Hollywood. First become a Shooting Star at the Berlinale.” Just in between everything? Dari: “You can dream, right? Acknowledgement is not for me - I don't even know who decide such things - but rather, it’s a means to an end. If you end up in the same list of acting prodigies (those Shooting Stars) as Marwan Kenzari, Matteo Simoni and Matthias Schoenaerts, every director knows who you are.” You can also quietly build an acting career in Belgium. Or is that really not an option? Dari: “Why should I linger on a few square meters? My world was so small in Winterslag and now that it’s gradually getting bigger, I really don't know why I should stop at Flanders. Even if ambition is a very dirty word where I come from.”

How? Dari: “Winterslag is a neighborhood where many young people are going into the wrong direction. Big dreams are taboo, apparently. I was bullied, mainly because I wanted to start something with my life. Even if I said that I would one day want to go to New York, I would be laughed at: “Just sit down, Nora! Who do you think you are?”

Keep your head down, keep your nose clean and make sure that you can start working at the age of eighteen: something like that? Dari: *nods* “Graduating and going to work at the age of eighteen seems like quite an achievement in Winterslag. If you hadn't gotten into the wrong shit by then, you would’ve done well. At my school, we had two pupils without an immigration background and otherwise exclusively Turks, Moroccans and Italians from families who were really poor. Our parents worked very hard, you spend a lot of time on the street and bad things sometimes happened. *thinks* There’s a reason why I almost exclusively watch gangstershit movies. I come from a neighborhood where a lot of gangstershit happens. I’ve seen and experienced so many bad things, but at the same time Winterslag is such a big part of who I am and I get very angry when someone else talks about it like I do now. *small laugh* 

I’ll buy a house there one day. It’s still my home, all the beautiful things and all the rotten things in one pile. To be clear: I don't want to romanticize my childhood. Winterslag is hard, but nothing to be sad about. There are so many people who have gone through the same thing. Only, it sucks to be called a whore, because you want to do something that is apparently 'not normal'.”

It dawns on me why you once said that Algerian-Canadian Zaho's song Kif'n'dir summed you up quite nicely. Especially the text 'Je fais la morte pour ne pas mourir'. Dari: “That's what I've been doing for a long time. Keeping myself deathly still and don’t stand out too much. In the long run, you also start to believe what others are telling you, that acting is not for you.”

When did you finally stopping ‘being death’? Dari: “When I was fifteen, when I heard that Adil El Arbi and Bilall Fallah were looking for extras for ‘Patser’. That didn't mean much more than just bumping into Matteo Simoni, but I was sold immediately. In between shots, I approached Adil: “Mr. El Arbi, thank you for opening my eyes. From now on, I’ll go all out for this.” *laughs* We clicked and in the meantime we’ve become friends. I hope he thinks of me when they start recording ‘Patsers’, so that I can show how much I've grown in those two years.”

Not much later, through their casting agency Hakuna, you ended up as a suicide bomber in the Finnish-Belgian Crime series ‘Bullets’. What have I missed? How did you go from a sixteen-year-old extra to such an intense role in a few months? Dari: “I think - if I may say that - they were shocked after my casting. I’ve never thrown myself into a project as hard in my life. Whining. Shouting. Tantrums. All fucking emotions, one after the other. You’ve been looking so long for a Moroccan girl who wants to act and then you get me. *laughs* I've never loved anything as much as acting, so I’m giving everything during a casting. I know that I’m not the best and still have to learn, but I suspect my energy is making up for it. That, and I consider myself a very pleasant colleague. *laughs* I greet everyone in a Genk dialect, always walk around smiling and even bring cookies.

I've always had the feeling that I have to work harder than the rest, because people expect less of me. That's what my father taught my brothers and me. At the Liège boarding school where he studied, he was the only Moroccan in Latin studies: his classmates thought he was weird, because of his origins and the other Moroccans looked at him weirdly, because he aimed higher. "Ah, Mr. pope is back there." In the end it became so unbearable that he enrolled in the TSO (technical school), which was socially accepted.”

How does a 16-year-old feel like a suicide bomber? Dari: “They gave me a background, but I added a few things myself to make it easier. And music helps me really hard too: ‘Qui suis-je’ from Scylla on repeat and then a little method acting in that character. My mother was there on set and apparently got terrified. *laughs* I asked them not to accompany me anymore. When I see them, I come back to myself, while I try very hard to forget myself in front of the camera. I need to be able to get into a role on set. Although it remains very strange to hype yourself up for hours with the mantra 'I'm dying and I'm taking all these people with me'. Fortunately, I can also easily let go. I had to, I had exams the next day. *laughs* Suicide bomber by day, studying economy by night.”

In May you hopped around on the Croisette for the world premiere of ‘Ghost Tropic’. You play the daughter of Khadija, a woman who walks home through Brussels after falling asleep on the metro. Devos makes quiet, poetic arthouse films: it’s a huge leap from teenage series and thrillers. Dari: “It was an adjustment, yes. Before I played in ‘Bullets’, I had never even seen a Flemish film. Not a single one. Or wait: one at school. What was it called? I have to give a speech soon, with its protagonist.”

‘Daens’? With Jan Decleir? Dari: “That one! Everything I had already learned about acting was from Hollywood movies. That enlarged playing style also worked in ‘Bullets’, but when I tried that in ‘Ghost Tropic’, Bas blocked it very quickly. *laughs* "The less you do the better, Nora!" I thought about it all too hard. "Nora, just go." “Yes, but Bas, who am I? What have I been through up to this point?” I have a hard time playing without a backstory in my head.”

Did you learn something from Devos? Dari: “Bas and Maaike Neuville told me in Cannes that I shouldn’t forget to live. I was only busy with what should be my next big step, but I also have to learn to enjoy. Surrendering is nothing dirty, but if I put everything aside for this job, I’ll never be able to put content in my characters. Then they’ll give me a heavy role and I’ll get stuck.”

Sensible advice. Alarm bells already went off when I read in ‘Het Belang van Limburg’ that you certainly wanted to remain celibate until you were 27 and wouldn’t continue your studies, just focussing on your career. Dari: “In the end, I’ll study cross-media management and I’ve come back to that other one as well. *laughs* What?! I’m seventeen, I change my mind completely every month. When I am 40, I don't just want to have a nice IMDb profile to look back on.”

'9000 followers? That is more people than have seen my last film', Devos thought humbly in your Instagram Stories. Dari: “I hope ‘Ghost Tropic’ gets more visitors than I have followers, but I'm not going to bitch if only fifty people come to watch the film in the end. I just like to act and have hardly seen anything from ‘Bullets’ or ‘wtFOCK’ myself. When I'm not on set, I just feel bad. As if I'm not getting the most out of my life. 

At the very least, ‘Ghost Tropic’ gave me another experience and I was able to take my father with me, when we went to the Dominican Republic. My grandfather had passed away just before the shoot and we kind of processed that together there, while we were watching the sunrise at five in the morning. A very tender moment. Very cinematic, too. *thinks* I’m a very passionate person. Everything I experience is immediately very big. It’s all hard, good or bad. So hard that I can't always process all the feelings. *dryly* I hope I don't go crazy. I really wouldn't be surprised if that happens.”

You seem to be especially prone to obsessions. Whether it’s making music, painting or acting: if you decide to do something, everything has to make way for it. Dari: “When I got a keyboard, I was immediately very invested in my music. Making beats to accompany my slam poetry, tinkering at night, searching and keeping my parents awake until they went crazy. And then I suddenly got tired of it and started painting. Swimming. Dancing. I also played soccer for a while, mainly to get my dad's attention. During the 'consultation hour' around the tajine I could never have a chat with my brothers and father, because it was only about football and anime.”

Anime? Dari: “The men in my family are all next-level anime fans. They even speak Japanese to each other. *thinks* And I also plunged into my religion for a while, in between football and slam poetry.”

How? Dari: “When the community center closed its doors around the age of 13 and I saw a whole circle of friends go away in one go, I started clinging to something else. So, faith. At that time I also wore a hijab, because I was convinced that you could only be such a good Muslim. I was really pretty strict and took everything way too literally. Today I understand that you mainly have to look for your own interpretation.”

In the meantime, the average 15-year-old is also going through a storm for the second season of wtFOCK, which can be followed daily on Instagram and wtfock.be, good for about 400,000 visitors a week and more than 8 million watched - or at least started - episodes. Significantly more than the first season, although that also had good numbers. Especially for a series that was deliberately launched in silence. “You’re already bombarded with advertising on Instagram, subtle and less subtle,” says Dari, while she tries so intensely to make eye contact with a waiter that he almost bumps into a glass door. “I don't have any big theories about the future of television, but ‘wtFOCK’ really was a relief. It’s on the internet and you mainly do what you want with it. "Ah, I don't have to look?" That unforced approach works. The worst thing that could have happened to us, was that the press started writing about it en masse: it had to remain a bit mysterious and above all belong to the young people themselves. Normally we don't give interviews either: ‘wtFOCK’ is one big bubble that you shouldn't talk too much about.”

Without any illusions about the appeal of Knack Focus to fifteen-year-olds: is this conversation a good idea? Dari: “Sounds okay to me. I’m more now than just Yasmina? And I think fifteen-year-olds do know Knack.” 

For real? Dari: “That's the book we get in History as source material in class. *laughs* I think I'll stop giving interviews again after this. A little mystery can't hurt.”

SKAM, the Norwegian series of which ‘wtFOCK’ is a remake, became a hit in its own country. That’s not always the case with foreign remakes, except for the Flemish one. It continues to gain popularity. Do you have an explanation for that? Dari: “No idea why things were less successful in other countries, but ‘wtFOCK’ is so good because it is real. We don't disguise anything, don't pour Hollywood sauce on it and talk like I talk to my friends. Apparently, a lot of teachers also follow the series to get a better understanding of their students. Smart, because we tackle all issues a teenager has in a very realistic way.”

The makers of SKAM were prepared with a tour through its country and a survey of Norwegian teenagers. Their biggest conclusion was: no generation suffers as much from performance pressure and comparison anxiety as yours. Dari: “Social media. Instagram is a very beautiful, but at the same time very scary place. A lot of girls now ask me, for example, how they can also enter this profession. But if you ask them why, it turns out that there’s no passion, they just see it as a fast road to fame. Then join ‘Temptation Island’? They see  people like Millie Bobby Brown (from Stranger Things), who is barely fifteen and has a crazy career and they let themselves be hyped about it. I should actually say 'we'. I said it already: I ​​hope I don't go crazy.” *giggles hysterically* 

About 1200 teenagers showed up for the casting of wtFOCK, but the makers did not find their Yasmina there. Dari: *nods* “In the end they also had to call Adil, who gave me the tip.”

Why do you think that is? Dari: “I get angry when someone says they want more diversity, but can't find anyone. *throws arms up dramatically* "They aren't there!" They are there. In my neighborhood alone, so much talent is packed together. You may have to do your best to find them, because if you come from a neighborhood where ambition is laughed at, you’ll not find your way to a casting. Because the TV and film world seem so closed off from the outside - and it is. I also didn't know how to do that, I was just lucky that Adil, Nora Gharib and Ikram Aoulad wanted to help me. They helped me avoid a lot of rookie mistakes. And that I won't sign myself up for Temptation Island or something tomorrow.” *laughs*

Gharib also predicted that as a Moroccan woman she would have problems with ‘Patser’. From the moment you do not portray a classic religious Muslim woman, it seems to already lead to commentary. Dari: “I've had my part too. Women who send to me that I brought shame on the entire Moroccan community, for example, because Yasmina doesn't always wear her hijab. Usually these are women who’ve seen two minutes of the series and then get angry without seeing the context. *blows* You know, I don’t care. If my parents and I are okay with it, then no one has anything to say to me. Criticism slips away from me. It really takes more than an angry DM to get me off my path, I come from Winterslag breeding.”

*** Bas Devos, director ‘Ghost Tropic’:

“I had never seen Nora at work, but her audition video immediately made me curious. At the final casting, where she had to improvise a bit, it was already clear to me after a few minutes. She did a beautiful job. Nora is not trained as an actress, but I often work with a combination of non-professional and professional actors. That really doesn't matter to me. It's all about how naturally someone relates to the camera and how relaxed you are while being filmed. Then very beautiful things can happen. And I think she also liked not having to make her character bigger in an understated film like ‘Ghost Tropic’, as that’s sometimes the case for TV. To hear that you are still playing without doing anything. 

It's cool how she dares to go for something so outspokenly at such a young age, but I did point out to her that working alone isn’t the perfect solution. She’s very fond of that international career, but it is also easy to walk into a wall there. Seventeen-year-olds have to live, right? Well, she's sensible enough, I'm not worried. She'll eventually find the right balance. At the end of the shooting period, she said she hoped we could work together again. I told her that I hope she still likes it by then. *laughs*  Who knows which films will she be in then.”

#wtfock #wtfam #older article

[delaber]

Just Friends (Part 9)

Story Summary: After moving to America for a 3-month long internship, you meet two interesting characters on a boring night out.

Word Count: 4.6K

Pairing: Rafael Casal x Reader

Warnings: Alcohol, minor drug use, smut, slight dom!Rafa, swearing, and loads of British references (sorry not sorry lol)

Chapter Note: smut smut smut smut smut smut smmmmmuuuuttt

Tag List: lonelydance mysearchforgratification ramp-it-up blndspotting summerofsnowflakes exrthangel honeysucklechocolatedrippin captaintightpants58

Other Parts: See Masterlist

"What did I tell you?" He laughed as he closed the door behind him, "you don't have to take off your shoes when you're here."

"It's the polite thing to do," you smiled goofily up at him, "what if I stepped in something icky earlier."

"I suppose I'd have to clean the floor tomorrow then," he shrugged, his eyes still bloodshot from the joint, "it's a risk I'd be willing to take."

Easy to giggles, you shot him a laugh.

"You want a drink?" he asked you and held up his index finger, "a quick word of warning; my margarita game is off but I do make a mean Long Island."

You arched an eyebrow at him, "Long Island? Are you trying to get me drunk?"

He sent you a smirk, "Your senses are already dulled from the reefer. How much more could a strong drink possibly do?"

"Okay," you laughed, "Long Island it is then - I do hope it's better than the 'Rafa Special' that you made me on New Years."

"Ouch, you big bully," he pretended to be hurt, "I lay down my guard and show you my true self and this is what it gets me? Some ignorant European tearing apart my cocktail game? I'm telling you; if I had just an ounce of self-respect, you'd be in an Uber on your way home right now!"

"I guess I'm lucky that you're completely spineless," you shrugged.

"Did you just say that?" He put down the lime he'd been holding and sent you a bemused smile.

"Let me just check; uh yes I did."

"Say it again and I'll definitely throw you out," he took a step closer to you trying to look dangerous but failing miserably.

"You're spineless," you whispered.

"One more time for Big Rafa, come on," he motioned a come on sign with his hand, stepping even closer to you.

"Spineless," you squealed and ran away from him as he started running towards you.

"I'll get you for this," he chased you into the living room where he grabbed you around the waist and threw you down on the sofa. He sat down on top of you and grabbed your wrists, "say it again," he urged you, as he easily forced your hands above your head, pinning your wrists together with just one hand. It reminded you of the night after New Years and you became strangely aroused by it.

"Okay, I'll stop," you squealed as he tickled your sides, "just let me go."

He stopped tickling you and went completely still, "never," he leaned in and whispered, lips hovering dangerously close to yours, his right hand warm against your ribs. He could feel your fast heartbeat through your black t-shirt as you made a quick decision and lifted your head up to kiss him softly on the lips.

He gladly reciprocated your tender kiss, looking pained as you withdrew your face after just a couple of seconds.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, "I don't know what just came over me."

Rafa let go of you and got up from the sofa, "Yeah," he cleared his throat, "I'm sorry too," he took your hand and helped you up on your feet, "I'll go mix us those drinks," he said quietly.

While he went to the kitchen, you studied the guys' living room. You had only been in here once before and back then, you had been far too concerned with locating your clothes to really have a look around at the colourful posters and their personal belongings scattered around the room. Your eyes were drawn to a small shelf at the back of the room where miniature figures of Calvin and Hobbes stood. You took Calvin in your hand and examined him more closely before putting the figure back on the shelf, moving along to the next item; a gilded gramophone reading 'National Academy of Recording Arts and Sciences, Daveed Diggs, Principal Soloist, Best Musical Theater Album - 2015, Hamilton (Original Broadway Cast)' along with what appeared to be a Tony award inscribed 'Best Performance by a Featured Actor in a Musical: Daveed Diggs as Marquis de Lafayette/Thomas Jefferson, 2015 - Hamilton.'

You did a double take as you read the text on the two awards again.

Rafa came in with two drinks in hand, "I see you've found Diggs' awards," he smiled, handing you a drink.

"Are these real?"

"Very real," Rafa smirked.

"Why didn't you tell me? I had no idea!"

"I wanted to see how long it took you to figure out where you know us from," he shrugged.

"Were you in this... Hamilton as well?"

"Oh, god no," he laughed, "and by your tone of voice I'm guessing you have no idea what it even is."

"Not a clue," you shook your head and took a big gulp of the drink, "So let me get this straight: Daveed is a hardcore rapper and a Broadway musical star? I never would've guessed that!" you laughed.

"Yeah, remember the first night when you came up to us and you couldn't remember where you'd seen us before?"

"Of course."

"We thought it was a weird trick just to get us to talk to you. Ever since performing in Hamilton, Daveed has been dubbed as America's fast-rapping sweetheart," he rolled his eyes.

"Are you jealous?" you chuckled.

"Not the least. But we can never go out anymore without people feeling the need to constantly come up to him and introduce themselves. It was fun at first but now it's kind of lost its glory."

"So you thought I was a groupie or something?" You laughed, "yeah, your reactions definitely make more sense now."

"Sorry for being a dick," Rafa looked pained, "Sometimes it's necessary when you just want a quiet night out with your best friend."

"So you were a dick on purpose yet you still came over to me and apologised?"

"I did," he laughed, "I thought you were too sassy to just let go. Especially after I realised that you'd been completely innocent and that you actually thought you just knew us from work or something. It was kind of cute so I felt bad for acting like a douche."

"I still feel like I know you from somewhere else apart from that night though," you mumbled.

"Yeah, I know. Come here," Rafa said and took your hand, leading you to a room in another part of the house where you hadn't been before. The room was lined with different recording equipment and movie posters.

"What is this?"

"Our workspace," Rafa said matter-of-factly, "We record music in here or write lyrics, scripts for sketches or plays. You know. Anything creative."

"I've never met anyone with a workspace like this," you took in the room with awe.

"...and this," Rafa continued, "I'm guessing is where you know us from," he pointed to a poster titled Blindspotting with a laughing Daveed and a tough-looking Rafa facing you.

"Yeah! Yeah that's it! I remember seeing this at the movies back home," you said excitedly as you took in the poster. You remembered thinking that the two leads were cute even back then, "so you're a musician slash actor?" you looked back at Rafa who was smiling at you.

"I prefer creative genius, but whatever..." he hugged you from behind, "your term is just as good I guess."

"Why didn't you tell me that I'd probably seen you in a movie."

"You were so unfazed by me and Diggs. And I knew it wouldn't impress you so I kept my mouth shut and told Daveed not to say anything," he snickered from over your shoulder, "I wanted you to spend time with me because you like me. Not because I'm semi-famous."

"I can't believe you thought I was a groupie," you chuckled and leaned into his arms.

"You're so much more," he groaned. His lips brushed against your neck and he kissed you softly below the ear.

His movements brought you back to reality, "Rafa," you sighed, "I know you're drunk and high but we can't be doing this."

"Mmh..." he hummed against you as he pushed your hair aside, his lips still tracing along your neck.

Slowly, you turned around, his arms still around you. "I'm serious," you said.

"I know," he groaned and let his arms fall flat to his sides with a sigh.

"Maybe I should go," you said, "this was clearly a bad idea. And I have to work tomorrow."

"On a Saturday?" he arched an eyebrow at you, "or are you just saying that so you have an excuse to leave early?"

"As I told you; I'm not even halfway done with the project I came here to do, so I actually do have to work tomorrow," you booped his nose, "I'm probably going to be quite busy the next week to be honest."

"So I really won't get to see you?" Rafa furrowed his eyebrows.

"Minimally," you frowned back.

"Okay, I have an idea; since my place is closer to your lab, I'll cut you a deal; how about you stay over, I cook you a nutritious breakfast tomorrow morning and then I take you to work?"

"I don't know," you said even though you really wanted to spend the night.

"No funny business, okay? This time I'm serious," he grinned.

"You said that last time as well," you laughed, "and the time before that."

"Look, I'll even take the couch and let you have my bedroom. I just want to spend the last few hours with you if I won't get to see you for the next couple of days," he shrugged.

"Okay," you gave in, "on one condition!"

"Anything," he said honestly.

"You go for a dip in the pool," you laughed devilishly up at him.

"What, now?"

"Yep!"

"You're not serious?"

"As serious as a heart attack," you said as seriously as you possibly could in your high.

"Okay. If that's what you want," he sighed dramatically before he turned around and discarded his t-shirt in one swift motion.

"Oh, you're really doing this," you laughed as you followed him out to the pool via the sliding doors in the living room next door.

"There's a lot at stake," he said as he pulled off his sneakers and socks.

"So for this you take off your shoes?" you teased him.

"Shut up," he grinned up at you before his hands started unbuckling his belt, his pants falling onto the tiles with a loud clank.

"Okay, I was kidding," you said as he was standing on the edge of the pool wearing only his boxers, "you don't have to do this."

"Oh, I'm not taking any chances. I'm definitely doing this," he said before he took a deep breath and jumped into the freezing water. He emerged spluttering, "shit, it's so cold," he bellowed as he whipped his hair out of his face and took a few strokes, "are you just going to stand up there and admire me?"

"Oh, the deal was for you to jump in. Not me!"

"Boo, you chicken!" he grinned up at you.

"Well, you're not exactly making a single selling point."

"If you don't jump in, you're not allowed to sleep over."

"You're not serious."

"As serious as a heart attack," he grinned up at you, as he mimicked your words from earlier.

"Oh my god. I cannot believe you're making me do this!" You squealed involuntary but ended up taking off your t-shirt and jeans, dipping your toe in the cold water as you stood in front of the pool in just your underwear.

"Just jump in," Rafa laughed, "What you're doing up there is pure torture."

"Okay. You're right," you took a few shallow breaths before counting to three, jumping in the pool close to Rafa. As you emerged, you pushed your hair out of your face, "so cold!" you squealed, "why did we do this?"

"I did it for you," Rafa laughed, treading waters in front of you, "I actually don't find it as bad as I had anticipated."

"You stay then! I'm getting the hell out of here," your teeth clattered as you began climbing the ladder, a laughing Rafa following close behind you.

You were shivering as you reached the top of the ladder, desperately clutching your arms to keep what little warmth you had left.

"Hot shower?" Rafa laughed.

"Yes, please," you nodded and followed Rafa to the bathroom where he turned on the shower for you as you immediately started undressing, ready to step in as soon as the water turned warm.

"It'll only be a minu- Oi!" Rafa said and quickly looked away. He had turned around from the faucet only to be met by you standing in front of him wearing only your soaking panties.

"Oh relax," you rolled your eyes at him, "you've seen me naked before."

"That doesn't mean it isn't just as... exciting," he gulped, desperately looking at the ceiling, "Uh, there are towels over there and I'll - uh - I'll find you something comfortable to wear for afterwards, okay?" he edged out the door still not looking at you. From the other side of the door he bellowed, "Uhm, on second thought. You can just use my bathrobe - if that's alright with you."

"It's fine Rafa," bellowed back with a laugh as you stepped into the warm water.

You stayed in the shower for a couple of minutes until you felt the heat return to your fingers and toes. You quickly dried yourself off, and pulled on the only bathrobe you could find, assuming that it was Rafa's. "That was lovely," you said as you met him in his bedroom. He was wearing the same trackies you'd seen him in before. "No shower?" you lifted your eyebrows at him.

"We have a cold shower by the pool," he said slowly with a laugh, "and I desperately needed it."

"Oh how old are you?” You laughed at him, “you can't even see breasts without getting turned on?"

"Not when they're yours," his face reddened slightly suddenly matching his eyes, "and especially with your nipples all hard like that."

A cold shiver went down your spine. "Yeah, sorry," you ended up saying.

"Oh don't be," he grinned, "it was a marvelous sight that I'll definitely cherish when I'm alone in bed at night," he winked at you, "it just excited me... Excites me now just thinking about it to be honest," he looked away from you with a small grin, clearly uncomfortable in his own skin.

"Yeah me too," you admitted, "it feels stupid to not be allowed to touch when we're so close to each other in so little clothes."

"We could just say 'to hell with it'?" He smirked.

"No, Rafa," you said sternly as you sat down on the edge of his bed.

He sent you a challenging look, "...or we could - you know - just... talk about it if you want to?"

"Talk about what?" you arched an eyebrow at him. Your decision was non-negotiable.

"Just talk for a while about what we'd like to do if the situation was different," he shot you a wink, "That's innocent."

"No it's not?" you laughed, "Not at all."

"I know," he smiled at you, "I'm just trying to get creative. We have to work with what we got, you know."

"Friends don't talk about what sexual stuff they'd like to do to each other," you shot him a look.

"Hey - can we just cut the bullshit for a few seconds?" Rafa said quietly, his Adam's apple bouncing in his throat as he swallowed hard, "don't call us friends when we clearly aren't,"

"Maybe this wasn't a good idea," you looked at him carefully

"You keep saying that," he sighed, "yet you're still here."

You put your hand on his arm, "I'm having a hard time too, you know. You're not the only one who wants this."

He shot you a sideways glance, "why can't we just say to hell with it then?"

"Because I know myself and this is what I have to do if I want to return to England with a somewhat sane mind."

"Whatever you say," he groaned as he threw himself down on the bed, his legs dangling over the side.

You lay down next to him and you put your hand on his chest, playing with the straps of his hoodie. He pulled you close and caressed your back with his fingertips, "do you want me to go sleep on the couch?"

"You can sleep in here with me," you said softly, "I'm going to miss you the next couple of days."

He kissed the top of your head, "yeah, me too," he said, "the last time you stayed over, my pillow smelled like you for days. It was pure torture. But it came at a price; your hair was everywhere. It was like having a dog again," he laughed.

"A small souvenir," you laughed, "sorry."

"I forgive you. But only because you look so soft in my bathrobe," he brushed his fingers over your back, "do you want me to get you a t-shirt to sleep in?"

"Yes please," you said and let him go to his closet where he pulled out an old tee with the words Raiders written on the front.

"A pirate shirt?" you eyed the logo.

Rafa shot back his head and laughed whole-heartedly, "Damn girl, don't you dare disrespect my favourite football team like that."

"You mean American football team. Your favourite football team better be Chelsea!"

"I'll be partial to Chelsea in soccer if you're partial to the Raiders in football."

"I can pretend I like the pirates," you teased him.

"Oh shut up," he chuckled and walked towards the door, "I'll let you get changed," he said and closed the door behind him.

You disrobed and pulled on his Raiders shirt, glad that it covered you like a dress as you didn't have any dry underwear to wear. A short dress albeit, but still a dress.

"Are you decent?" Rafa asked from the other side of the door.

"Yep," you said and let him in.

"Ah!" he said when he saw you in the Raiders shirt, "my favourite girl sporting my favourite team."

"Don't get any ideas," you grinned as you crawled under the covers.

He stripped down to his boxers and joined you under the covers, pulling you close, "just a bit of friendly cuddling," he whispered against your neck, his hand trailing up and down your sides.

"Okay," you whispered back, enjoying his arms around you.

His fingers brushed from your waist and down your sides all the way below the hem of the t-shirt, fingers coming to a halt on your upper thigh. He lifted his head from his pillow and whispered, "are you not wearing any panties?"

"Uhm no," you said sheepishly, "they were all wet from the pool."

You felt the outline of a bulge emerging against your backside right before he pulled back from you with a groan.

You turned around and faced him, "I didn't mean to torture you on purpose," you snickered.

"I know," he said in a strained voice, "just give me a minute to calm down." He blew out some air and stared determined at the ceiling.

"What are you thinking about?" you asked him after a couple of seconds.

"I'm trying to remember all the players on the Raider's team," he said, "and I definitely try not to think about you on top of me."

A familiar warm feeling spread in your abdomen. Now you were thinking about riding him as well.

"Too much?" he looked over at you when you didn't answer him.

"Ehm," you cleared your throat, "no. No, it's a... nice image," you smiled at him, the heat between your legs growing more and more.

"It got to you too, huh?" he laughed at you.

"Uhm, yeah," you said, "it's probably because we're high."

"That Long Island didn't exactly help either."

"Definitely not. It's too bad we're not allowed to touch..."

"Yeah..." he agreed, "we could... you know... just go to sleep."

"Yeah..." you said. His suggestion from earlier about talking dirty to each other without touching flashed in your mind. It wasn’t as if it would break your code. “Or we could just lie here next to each other and talk for a while..."

"Yeah?" he looked over at you with an excited smile, "what do you want to talk about?"

"Definitely not riding you slowly," you grinned, "or your lips around my nipples."

He gulped, "Yeah, and not your mouth around my cock either. Let's not discuss that."

"Or how you feel when you're inside me," you breathed heavily.

"Oh fuck, no, no we definitely can't talk about that. Or how I'd start off by kissing you all over your body. All the way from the top of your head and down your neck, leaving small teasing kisses down your breasts and all the way down to your ankles. And then back up again to your little hotdog," he said darkly.

"Yeah!" you imagined his warm lips against your skin and felt the goosebumps emerge on your arms, "...and we can't discuss how I'd respond to your teasing lips by pulling your hair while I open my legs for you. Or what you'd do next.”

"Well... in that case, we probably shouldn't discuss how I'd bring out my tongue and taste you while my fingers were slowly working their way in and out of you," he panted. You let out a moan as you arched your back and Rafa continued, "yeah, and you'd moan just like that for me."

"But regardless of how good it felt, I'd still push you away from me and get on my knees in front of you."

"Fuck!" Rafa hissed beside you, fighting hard to keep his hands above the covers.

"I'd take you in my hand and lubricate your glistening head with pre-cum before I slowly move my hand up and down you a couple of times to warm you up."

"I'm already warm, love" Rafa chuckled.

"Good! I'd grab you by the root and I'd lick you all the way from the root to the tip, bringing extra attention to that particularly sensitive spot just below your head," you said slowly, "my soft tongue would be all wet and sloppy as I run it up and down your length while I maintain eye contact with you, showing you that you're in complete control of the situation. And I'd make sure to massage your balls as I continue to pleasure you with my mouth," you breathed heavily, "and you'd look down at me and caress my hair while my mouth was full of you, slowly bucking your hips bringing you further down my throat. And I'd groan around you as you hit the back of my throat, sending vibrations all the way up to your balls."

"Okay, fuck it, I can't take this," Rafa said resolutely and pulled the covers away to reveal the enormous erection tugged away in his boxers. He pulled out his cock and started stroking it slowly in front of you with a few shallow breaths. He shot you a look, "not... against... the rules," he panted as he continued to pump his hand up and down his length.

"Well, if you're doing it, I'm doing it!" you said as you spread your legs, your fingers immediately flying to your core as you looked at Rafa's movements. "What happens next?" you panted.

Rafa took a couple of shallow breaths before he continued, "I pull out of your mouth just before I come down your throat because you know I'm close and you beg me to fill you up instead. So I pick you up from the floor and throw you on the bed and you're looking at me with this hungry look. And I kiss your tits while I slide inside you. And you're so warm and so wet for me," he groaned.

You moved your fingers up and down your slit, fidgeting with your clit with your right hand, while your left hand pushed up the Raider's t-shirt and started massaging your nipple. A small moan escaped your lips as you imagined what Rafa was explaining to you, "and you fill me up completely," you panted, "and you turn me around before you slam into me from behind, smacking my ass and pulling my hair. And you're so good that I grow tight around you, begging for you to let me cum."

"Yes," he groaned.

"- and you pull my arms and fixate them around my back so you have the perfect angle to fuck me while I grow tighter and tighter around you as you slide in and out of me. And I feel this raw heat starting in my stomach and it's spreading fast to the rest of my body as you fuck me faster and harder than you ever have before. And you pull my hair and I moan helplessly for you."

Rafa started moving his hand faster and faster as he was looking at you narrating your own orgasm.

"- and when you finally let me topple over the edge, I scream out your name with my release like this; Rafa," you moaned, "oh Rafa".

"Fffffuck," you heard Rafa hiss beside you right before he came with a loud groan, cum staining his stomach and chest, "fuck!" he continued to pant beside you with his eyes screwed shut, cum still leaking from his tip. His hand was still laced around his throbbing cock, but no longer moving when he desperately opened his eyes and turned his head. "Fuck," he repeated when he looked towards you with your fingers still at work.

"Fuck you're hot!" you panted beside him, looking at him as you drew in sharp breaths, your fingertips slowly entering yourself.

Rafa's eyes flooded with lust once more, "Fuck this," he spat, "come here," he took your hand and pulled you on top of him, your back lying flat against his cum-stained chest. His right hand found your core immediately and he started working his long fingers in and out of you while his left hand was circling your clit.

"Not... part of... the plan," you panted on top of him while his fingers moved in and out of you, his lips kissing your throat and neck.

"Oh, do you want me to stop?" he said and removed both of his hands from your throbbing core.

"No!" you whimpered on top of him, moving around desperate for friction.

"Shut the fuck up then," he whispered darkly against your neck as his hands resumed their positions. He worked like this for a couple of minutes while you writhed and moaned on top of him, your walls tightening around his fingers as he kissed and licked your neck.

"Fucking cum for me," he whispered as he hit your g-spot repeatedly and sent you over the edge crying out his name with pleasure.

His hands moved slower and slower, until he pulled his fingers out of you, his palm travelling all the way up your body, coming to a halt as he cupped your breasts lovingly, "I could get used to this," he whispered, kissing your neck and sending shivers down your spine.

You stayed on top of him for a couple of seconds while he continued to caress your breasts and nipples, kissing your neck occasionally with small sounds of affection.

When you had come down completely from your high, you climbed down from him and positioned yourself under the covers. Rafa pulled on his boxers and snuggled up against you.

"That was not part of the plan," you yawned as he held you tight.

"It won't happen again. Now shut up and go to sleep," Rafa smiled against your neck

#rafael casal x reader #rafael casal #daveed diggs #blindspotting #rafael casal imagine #smut #rafael casal fanfiction #bay boys

[omoi-no-hoka]

My native language is English and I have a speak problem where I can't correctly pronounce certain letters / sounds / words. I worry that when I speak Japanese this speech problem will carry over. Do you know if people in Japan care if I have a speech problem or if they don't like foreigners who can't speak Japanese correctly. Growing up with a speech problem has led to me being made fun of so I wanted to know if this will apply in Japan too.

Thank you for your ask! I’m sorry that you’ve had a hard time. My little brother has a speech impediment and severe dyslexia that’s given him trouble all of his life. He has certain letters, sounds, and words that he can’t say or will just skip over when speaking without realizing. He was bullied a lot for it, but now he’s an adult and a regional manager! He’s well respected by his peers and does well. I’m sure that you can do the same if you haven’t already! 💗

Anyways, I want you to please take heart in the fact that Japanese people are incredibly kind to foreigners that are attempting to learn the language! There are many Japanese people with speech impediments, stammers, and the like, and I’ve never encountered anyone being discriminated against because of it. 

Japanese people do not expect foreigners to have perfect pronunciation. They have a stereotype that we all speak with a harsh American accent (or whatever our native language may be). So if your pronunciation isn’t flawless, they will probably just think it’s your accent, and not that you have a speech problem. 

So please don’t be discouraged. Japanese people will be kind and accepting!

Also, you’re probably wondering why I chose this gif that seems rather unrelated. This is from the anime Durarara (which I only just discovered a couple months ago haha) and has a really delightful cast. It takes place in Ikebukuro, Tokyo, and most of the characters are Japanese, but there’s a ton of foreigners that are prominent characters too, and I really love how they’re depicted. The girl up above doesn’t have a head, so she texts like this to speak. There are lots of other foreigners in this show that speak with an accent or have perfect Japanese, and all of them are treated well by the Japanese characters. Anyways, it’s a great show and I recommend you watch the first season if you’re okay with some darker topics. 

#japanese #study japanese #learn japanese #japanese pronunciation #nihongo #asks are open #ask me anything #Anonymous

[odelschwanky]

You Should’ve Told Me (Kensei Muguruma x Female Reader)

Word Count: 3335

You sneezed.

"What're you doing out here, (y/n)? You're all wet! You could catch a cold you know. You should know that."

The rain, which you had sat in, had stopped not too long ago and the chilly air decided to hang around for a while. The lake shimmered a golden peach, reflecting the sunset on your tear-streaked face. You look up with sad eyes at your Captain.

Kensei's face displayed a mixture of surprise and sympathy. You could tell he didn't know what to do. All he ever did was make fun of you, and you had to take it with a straight face, of course.  He must not have thought you had emotions at all. Seeing you cry was probably an uncomfortable sight for him.

He sat down next to you on the stone bench, his sleeveless uniform exposing his bare arms, which radiated warmth to you through your shihakusho. His slender grey eyes peered out at the lake, a placeholder for where his true concerns lie.

"C'mon. Why are you crying?" He grumbles this almost angrily. This made you recede into your shell more, afraid that he might criticize you again, which he did very often.

You use the sleeve of your uniform to hurriedly wipe your face. My captain can't see me like this!

"It's nothing, Taichou."

The relationship you and your Captain had was strict. He acted so intense and so serious, and while you tried your best to be the same way around him, it was difficult. You were emotional, sensitive, and still a young officer. Being 3rd seat wasn't anything to sniff at, and you were seasoned in that respect. For your age, however, Kensei Muguruma had taken some getting used to.

As your captain, he did a mix of parenting, teasing, scolding, bullying. He treated you more like a kid than a subordinate. He yelled at you for every little thing you did wrong, and even some of the things you did right. Still, after all that, you could see through the harsh words and reprimands, see that he was trying to teach and improve his subordinate.  The words weren't meant to hurt. They still did.

"No, it's something. Tell me. The quicker you tell me, the quicker I can take care of it, and the quicker you can wipe that stupid look off his face."

You looked at your superior dejectedly. He really didn't know. This time, he was the problem.

He had gotten on to you for a recent mission. He was upset that you didn't call for backup against the Hollows in the Rukon District. When he read the briefing, he freaked! Conveniently, the news was that you had some trouble and were minorly injured trying to protect your team.

When you got back, he didn't hold back on the barrage of reprove. He called you into his office to shout at you, naming you a 'selfish, irresponsible, fool that didn't see the silliness of her actions'. You got the job done and succeded in making sure everyone was safe so you didn't understand what the problem was. You thought about it for a long while, noticing that he didn't make any sense. He called you selfish for protecting your team. He called you irresponsible for taking responsibility. You were yelled at, but you didn't even know why.

That whole debacle days ago, but it was something about this time that really broke your heart. It might have had something to do with how much you'd come to care for him. All you wanted to do was impress him and be a good, reliable officer to him. You admired him, looked up to him. All you wanted him to do was appreciate you. Every time he yelled at you though, it made you feel like you were getting farther and farther away from that.

"I told you, I'm fine... Please do not worry."

Kensei shook his head in frustration, slamming his hands on his legs. You flinch. "As your captain, I'm ordering you to tell me!" His loud, fierce voice was nothing new.

"You... you hurt my feelings."

Kensei's face changes into something that looks a lot like astonishment, an expression that was new for him. "What?"

You cast your eyes down at your hands, which were clasped in your lap. You repeated what you had said. "You hurt my feelings..."

Kensei narrowed his eyes into slits and stood up, towering over you. You could see the beginnings of the signature tattoo on his stomach, the vibrant black ink gleaming on every ridge of his rippling midsection.

"Is this about the mission?"

You nod slowly, avoiding his gaze. He was intimidating enough already, but the tall, muscular Captain loomed over you, sending you back into submission. He always had a way of doing that, even without trying.

"Are you serious? You can't possibly be upset about that! You're never upset! You-"

"I am upset. I just don't show it." You say this quietly, shoulders slumped and head low.

You decided this was a good enough time to come clean as any. You decided to tell him just how long you've been feeling this way.

"Captain, I just need to-"

He interrupted you before you could say anything more. "You shouldn't let something like me scolding you make you miserable. You shouldn't take it personally. You know how I can be..." His words didn't seem to mean anything at all.

"Will you just listen to me for two seconds!" You had jumped off the bench, away from Kensei, and turned to face him erratically. He went completely silent.

You had just yelled at your Captain. This is the first time you've ever talked back to him. You've never done anything like that before. The twist and drop in your stomach were irrevocable. What had you done? You prayed he wouldn't come back with something stronger. You knew you couldn't take it. You were at your breaking point. He didn't say anything though. Now that you had his attention, you let your emotions spill out uncontrollably.

"I can never seem to do anything right with you! It's either you treat me like a problematic child or you review me as an inadequate subordinate! You shout at me and insult me, call me names all the time! You constantly ridicule, or belittle, or- or criticize me! Maybe I'm not good enough for you or something! You tell me not to take it personally, but it's very, very personal when I feel like you hate me! You're absolutely awful!"

You blubbered his transgressions in a frantic list. Your tears were bubbling in your eyes and rolling down your cheeks, and quite embarrassingly your nose was beginning to run. You couldn't stop sobbing. All of your pent up anger, frustration, and feelings of worthlessness came erupting out of you all at once. You coughed and sputtered, out of breath.

"I don't want to be your third seat anymore!"

What you said was impulsive, yeah, you knew that. You didn't mean it really, but the stress Kensei had put you under for months, it was beginning to be too much. You didn't want to leave him, he was your everything for all intents and purposes...but you didn't know how much you could take.

"I don't hate you."

Kensei did something unexpected.

He grabbed you with ease and pulled you into his arms. You continued to bawl, but he was there to comfort you. You buried your face into his robe, which had the same soothing musk smell of your Taichou. You breathed it deeply with each sniffle between your cries. His large, strong arms tightened around you, making your stomach flutter. He rested his chin on your head, fully encasing you in his safety.

"You're acting like a child," he spat.

"Why do you treat me this way?" You begged him to tell you, gripping his clothes in your fingers while you wept. It was irrational now, the way you were behaving. You just wanted compassion.

"I think it would make you angry to know," Kensei says, petting your hair awkwardly.

"It's made me angry this whole time when I didn't know," you whisper sadly. All your words were muffled by his warm clothes. You couldn't bear to let him see your ugly face, so you kept it hidden in his chest. Kensei stayed silent, making you scared of what he was going to tell you.

"As your third seat, I'm ordering you to tell me," you mocked his command from earlier. It wasn't very authoritative or convincing. You had no energy, no strength left. You were completely defeated. He took a deep breath and held you tighter. He scoffed at your feeble attempt to have some backbone. You both knew you didn't really have any... if today was any indication.

"I'm hard on you because you're great, and there's so much potential in you. When I see an opportunity to tell you something so you can improve, I tell you. I know I'm a tough Captain, but I didn't know it was making you feel this bad."

You didn't understand. "Why would that make me angry?" You asked. He squished your cheeks harshly between his large fingers and made you look up at him. Everything was blurry from the tears.

He took the corner of his haori and used it to wipe your eyes. His hands were clumsy on you, good-naturedly rubbing away the wetness from your red cheeks. He wiped your nose too, heavy-handedly ridding you of the snot from your dramatic meltdown. You stared at him while he did this, examining his bashful, embarrassed scowl. Even now, he was a little rough around the edges. He was trying his best.

You sneezed, sniffling once more. Your nose twitched a little. This made him turn a rosy color and quickly turn away. You wish he didn't. The two of you out of the embrace, side by side again. "I'm not done, idiot."

It took him a while to gather himself, and he still couldn't meet your eyes.

"I lost my mind over that mission... I just kept imagining the possibility of you getting hurt any worse than you were. I was angry you didn't call for help, angry that you didn't call for my help. You did it all on your own instead of calling me to help you. I just wanted you to understand that it's my job to protect you." He sighed and glanced at your thoughtful face. "I need to protect you."

Protect me, you repeated in your mind. The way he said it, his simple choice of words... was desperate. You knew your Captain was always there to protect his squad. Right now though, he was talking about you. You wanted your Captain to protect you, but you wanted to show him you could do it by yourself. You thought if you could prove to him you could, then maybe he would approve of you.

"I can do things on my own, Taichou. I'm not a little girl." Sure you were young, but you were a woman still. You weren't too much younger than him. He needed to consider that.

He nodded solemnly, his glower softening into a contemplative expression. "You can do things on your own and you've shown me that. But you're still able to rely on someone... especially me, your Captain."

You wanted to ask him if he meant relying on Captain Muguruma, or on Kensei. Those were two totally different things. Recognition from either of them would suit you fine since it was more than you've ever had. Deep within you though, there was a craving for what lay underneath the white haori. You wanted the sensual side of Kensei that didn't have anything to do with the Gotei 13, or Squad 9. You wanted a version of him that only existed for you. A Kensei that nobody else could have. You knew that was impossible though, and you had already set into your mind that your childish fantasy was unachievable.

"I do rely on you, Taichou. It's just hard to sometimes when you're always poking fun at me, or deprecating me... It hurts. Especially from you," you admit, faintly. His was the opinion that meant the most to you. There was plenty of gossip that went around the Seireitei, and it troubled you as much as the next person. However, whatever Captain Muguruma thought of you had double the weight. So when he acted like he didn't think very much of you at all, it hurt twice as much.

"I hurt you," he gruffed in disapproval, shaking his head. The rasp in his voice was deep. He raked a hand through his snowy hair, only for a few strands to fall back into his face. You were both looking at the shimmering water, which became more energetic with the twilight while the sun went down. "It wasn't my intention..." He muttered this, shoulders drooping. He looked a lot like you right then. Disheartened, heavy.

It was sick, you realized, still having this silly pash with your Captain that has been mistreating you for so long. He was your superior, and also a total jerk. The fact you could disregard those two, very important, things and still have feelings for him was absurd.  You tried to convince yourself that is was a stupid, meaningless crush for a long time. You knew it was more than that, though. It was more than just a brief infatuation, because if it wasn't, why had you devoted yourself to him? Why did you put up with him so meekly? Why were you still around?

You stayed silent, wondering if that was all. You wanted to go back to your quarters and sort this out with yourself, sleep for a long time, and pretend this never happened. Something was telling you he still wasn't finished, and he looked like he was mustering up the courage to say something else.

"I had no idea, y' know, you were touchy." He paused. "If I had, I would've treated you differently..."

It didn't seem like an apology to you, but you sat and listened because you wanted to hear him out. It was a while before he said anything else. The way he had started to speak was choppy like he was wringing the words out of himself every time. Your Captain was a prideful man, so these confessions were out of character for him.

The wind had started to pick up and you had begun to hold back shivers. Still, you waited.

"The teasing, and the rest of that bullshit," he rubbed the back of his neck. "It's no excuse, but I don't know how else to show how I feel."

How do you feel?  You wanted to ask him. You just looked at him though. You wanted him to tell you, on his own volition. You didn't want to coax anything out of him. He yanked you to face him, rather aggressively, his hands on your shoulders.  "Don't you understand what I've been trying to say?" He questioned you apoplectically like you were supposed to have put the pieces together by now.

You shook your head as he let his hands skim down the shoulders of your kimono. This whole conversation was just one big mixed signal. He was still calling you stupid names, but he wiped your tears. He was apologizing and explaining everything to you, but he still sounded harsh and sore. What exactly was he trying to say? "No. You're just confusing me," you tell him. You looked deeply into his eyes. He was entranced for a moment, lost in your large irises, still glimmering from your tears. His face was so soft, so gentle in that moment, pulling at your heartstrings. His lips parted just slightly. You could see the moisture on them. The soft, purple dusk outside made you see his vulnerability.

"I love you, damn it," he mutters quickly, resuming his severe tone because of his embarrassment. His hand was on his face, massaging the bridges of his nose. You could tell it took a lot for him to say that. By this time, his face was a deep claret, and you could feel his heat. "I'm not good with my words or my feelings, so I just ignore it all. I didn't want to give in, and all this time I've just been shoving you away. You're my third seat! Those stupid feelings were getting in the way of work because every time I looked at you... I can't explain the feeling." He reasons with you, all flustered and fast. You put your hand on him to urge him to just stop talking. You wanted to enjoy this moment with Your Captain. With Kensei.

"I just love you. " He finishes.

Tears welled up again in your eyes, happy ones this time. You smile up at him. "Taichou," you whisper endearingly. This seems to send him to a different place. The way he looked at you right then was special. This moment was special.

"Stop crying."

He smashed his lips against yours in a lusty, sloppy kiss. Your eyes were wide in surprise, but you quickly closed them to enjoy your Captain's touch. Since he had hugged you the first time, his hands had rarely left you, traveling to different parts of your body: your shoulders, hair, face. This time they were on your back, fingers splayed out to steady you against his body. He pressed you into him, firmly. The embrace made emotion well up in you excessively. You were shocked, happy, confused, relieved. Kensei didn't hate you. He loved you. He loves me, you thought.

His smooth, wet lips had no trouble gliding over yours. You had no trouble keeping up. Your bodies seemed to be in rhythm, breathing, beating as one. His tongue was quickly entangled with yours, and you couldn't begin to explain the sensation. You throbbed everywhere. It was aggressive, intense, stubborn. Everything about Kensei was this way, and now you could finally feel that this part of him was too. It was different though. There was no more uncertainty. It was better.

His spiritual pressure had gone haywire, and you could feel the hair on your arms stand up from his passion. His grip on you loosened, and his hands sunk down to your waist. He fretted with your obi, but ultimately let it be. His hands so close to your bare skin sent an aching sensation to your core.

"You... should always tell me... if I hurt you," he groaned between gasps against your lips. He resumed kissing hungrily, smooching your red mouth loudly, repeatedly. "You should have told me." His breath was warm, rolling off his lips. His tone was still angry somehow. His eyebrows were furrowed with regret and his hands were turning your body inside out with desire.

You panted, breathless from his kiss, and looked up at Kensei, getting lost in the heat of his steel gaze. His irises were like molten metal turning your blood white-hot with want.

"You should've told me too."

He holds you close like a precious item, nestling your face into his shoulder. You sniff, just to smell him, just to have that ingrained in your mind. You were cold now since the nighttime had fully arrived. Kensei could feel you shivering.

"I told you that you were gonna catch cold."

"I want to stay with you." You didn't want to leave him. You wanted to feel him by you, to make up for all the times you cried. He kissed you on the temple and rubbed your shoulder.

"Then let's go home."

He rose from the seat and grabbed your hand to help you up. He draped his haori around your shoulder to keep you warm while you walked. You knew your Captain was going to take good care of you now.

#bleach fanfiction #bleach anime #bleach #bleach x reader #kensei muguruma

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Hello! Forgive me if you already did this and I accidentally skipped it on the masterlist haha. May I request some of the SDR2 cast (I would love if you included Hajime and Akane in it but you don't need to ofc!) with a gender-neutral SHSL Plague Doctor S/O and maybe they surprise them with a Plague Doctor plushie and the Plague Doctor S/O ADORES it? Sorry if I'm being super specific fahhfsi

Wait woah I LOVE PLAGUE DOCTORS. Also I figured that some can give a plushie, while others can give an item that resembles a plague doc in some way!

.........

Hajime

During his free time with you, he was intrigued (tho at the same time grossed out) by all the things plague doctors did to treat their patients.

Even so, you found your way into his heart--despite him being a mere Reserve Course student.

He sees just how scary you are when defending him (especially when Nagito mocked him for being talentless during the Killing School Trip).

He feels like he owed you for standing up for him.

So he commissioned Kazuichi to make you a mechanical bird with the likeness of a plague doctor.

You find it in your mailbox one morning and immediately rush to his cottage to hug him.

Teruteru

“You know if you’re feeling hot and sweaty under all that garb..you can always take it off. I won’t judge~”

Of course he finds you flattering even though you’re always cloaked, complimenting your body.

If he goes too far though, you’ll be sure to jab him with your cane as a warning.

When that first happened, he felt really bad about making you uncomfortable.

So he decided to make you a bento box, with the rice and other ingredients being in the shape of a plague doctor mask.

It’s probably the best bento box you’ve ever eaten in your entire life.

You forgive your chef bf with a kiss, and he’s right back on cloud nine.

Gundham

You’ve become closer to Gundham more than anyone.

Probably bc he sees you’re protected from the “poison” that he apparently had in his flesh.

So he didn’t mind holding hands with you when you two started dating.

You’re both just a perfect match: dark aesthetics, interest in the supernatural, and animal lovers.

You teach him about your old ways of curing illnesses, and he listens with awe and fascination.

He wanted to give you something as a symbol of his eternal gratitude.

So when he came across a plague doctor plushie online, he believed it was the perfect offering for you.

And he was right.

It sits on your shoulder all the time now, just like how one of his Dark Devas do.

Mikan

Despite you two having vastly different ways of treating patients (with her methods more modern and yours more traditional), she still loves you a lot.

She's grateful that you easily scare Hiyoko away whenever she bullies her. All you gotta do is wear your mask and she runs away crying.

Mikan herself finds it scary, too, but..also cute???

She's conflicted.

Though she’s scared of you mentioning any leeches, so you stopped doing that and only threatened to throw some at Hiyoko.

One day Mikan tries surprising you with a plague doctor plushie, just a small token of her endless appreciation for you.

Only to, of course, trip and fall into your arms while the plush ended up in a puddle.

She’s understandably upset and starts crying, but you soothe her and pick up the soaked plushie with a smile.

You let her know you appreciate the gift...then it's happy tears from the timid nurse that follow.

Nagito

"Oh, I understand why you still wear that attire....I'm surprised more people don't when they're around someone as disgusting as me-"

You’re a little irritated he always says that, as you know it’s far from true. But you have a lot of patience.

One day you roll up to class without your mask, and Nagito stares at you like you’re a whole new person.

But he compliments you, though you stop him before he compares your appearance to himself.

You’re always so kind and patient with him--and you’ve had your fair share of people dying around you.

He doesn’t quite know how to thank you for just..being there for him.

So he buys you a plague doctor plush. Even though he keeps doubting you’ll actually want it.

After a series of unfortunate incidences, he finally manages to give it to you.

Seeing the smile on your face was worth all the bad luck he endured.

Impostor

Like them, you never reveal your face often.

They understand why, but one day they decide to make a deal with you: they'll reveal their true self if you do the same.

So you agree.

And wow...you're absolutely stunning beneath the mask. They love you even more now! 

Though if you ever need to put it back on, they won’t judge. They’re just happy you were comfortable with them.

However they had another reason they wanted to see your face...and it was so they could surprise you with a small plague doctor plushie they ordered online.

Seeing your smile made them chuckle.

Adorable indeed.

Kazuichi

Has a panic attack every time he sees you wearing the mask.

Even though he knows it’s you he just freaks out.

You reluctantly leave it off around him.

And of course he’s gonna compliment you every chance he gets.

On your one month anniversary of dating, he makes you a wind-up toy of a plague doctor. 

It’s even got a cane that moves up and down, as well as a lavender-scented air freshener built into the beak!

You love it to death and call it adorable.

Though Kaz only replies,“well not as adorable as the real deal~"

"......w-was that a good line? Please tell me it was-”

#clanask #anonymous #danganronpa x reader #goodbye despair #hajime hinata #hajime hinata x reader #teruteru hanamura #teruteru hanamura x reader #gundham tanaka #gundham tanaka x reader #mikan tsumiki #mikan tsumiki x reader #nagito komaeda #nagito komaeda x reader #ultimate imposter #ultimate impostor x reader #kazuichi soda #kazuichi soda x reader #headcanons