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sihtricfedaraaahvicius · 1 month

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Ostara

Note: bit of an unplanned surprise fic I came up with earlier today, see it as my one year anniversary gift to you lovely readers. extra note; I wrote and proofread this during the boop war, so any mistakes left are not my fault.

Warnings: 18+!! smut; primal play, breeding kink.

pairing: Sihtric x you (f)

summary: It's time to celebrate the spring equinox.

wordcount: 1,7k

Masterlist

The fire was bright and warm, your skin orange from its glow and glistening from its heat. The smell of burnt wood mingled with the scent of fresh ale and smoked meat, while the laughter and cheers of many roared through the clear night sky. The bonfire, which lit up the entire town, was always the highlight of the celebration to welcome back spring and its warmth and light, as well as the renewal of life, after a long, dark and cold winter. Celebrating the spring equinox was simply tradition, and another tradition that came with it every year was your husband getting drunk early in the evening, and you already weren't looking forward to it. When your husband was drunk he was always looking to pick a fight, with anyone, and you always had to drag him home. But him being much taller and broader than you, dragging him home always resulted in some weird wrestling competition you could never win anyway, so you already braced yourself for the struggle that would undoubtedly arrive later.

However, tonight… Sihtric wasn't drunk. In fact, he was very much sober, to your surprise, and he was enjoying the festivity while he never strayed from your side. His hands lingering on your waist, and his lips on your neck and shoulders whenever he saw his chance. You laughed and danced, together and with your friends, and it didn't take long before your husband became a little more needy and rough with his hands. He pulled you further from the celebrating crowd with every few passing minutes, kissing and hugging you until he had you taken to the edge of town where the thick forest began, which was starting to blossom and bloom again.

'What are we doing here?' you giggled, slightly tipsy but still sober enough to know exactly what you were doing.

'Celebrating the return of spring,' Sihtric whispered against your lips before he kissed you again, 'and the fertility of the earth,' he pulled away slightly and looked down into your eyes with a smirk, 'and of you, my wife,' he breathed and his hands found your buttocks.

'Someone is in a mood tonight,' you chuckled and wrapped your arms around his neck, then ran your hands through his long, wild and loose hair.

Your husband hummed in agreement, he would never deny he had been looking forward to this evening for several days already, withholding from getting drunk for once just so he could breed you in the forest while the whole town was celebrating around the bonfire. No one would miss the two of you or even hear you. Sihtric spun your around and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your back against his chest and he swayed you lightly in the light of the moon.

'I want to chase you,' he husked as his teeth grazed your ear, 'so, now hop, my little wife,' he chuckled darkly and slapped your buttocks firmly, which made you jump slightly, 'hop like a little bunny and run from the big bad wolf.'

You knew this game all too well. It wasn't the first time Sihtric chased after you, but it had been a while since the last time you had run and hid from your husband, and this was the first time you were to do so in a darkened forest. Regardless, you knew what to do, and as soon as Sihtric released you from his embrace you began to run, like a bunny. Quickly, with your dress hiked up in your hands you ran past the trees, into the darkness of the night, your path scarcely illuminated by the silver moon light while you jumped and skipped over branches and small bushes. You knew your husband always gives you a headstart, so you ran as far as you could while your heart was beating out of your chest. Your body trembled with adrenaline and the anticipation of your husband following your tracks and finding you. So you ran and ran…

Sihtric sniffed and raked his tattooed fingers through his hair while he gave you a chance to hide. He inhaled deeply and exhaled just as sharply, his warm breath visible in the cool, moonlit night. He already felt his arousal tightening his breeches, and his jaw was clenched while his eyes were wide and almost wild, like those of a hungry predator. His nostrils flared with each breath he took, until he decided you had enough time, and he began to run into the direction he had seen you hop away to.

Like you, Sihtric jumped and swayed through the forest, albeit much smoother than you ever could, avoiding fallen trees and broken branches while bats flew overhead and an owl hooted in the distance. And it was as if your husband could track your scent, because he instinctively followed the path you had taken, and soon heard twigs snap and leaves rustle nearby. He stopped to listen and closed his eyes, focusing on the sounds around him. And no matter how careful you were, you also knew he heard the loud splintering of a twig underneath your boots echoing through the forest as you tried to sneak further into the darkness.

Sihtric snapped his head towards the sound, just when the hooting owl flew off and bats flapped their quiet wings, betraying your presence as you had scared those with your shadow in the night. Sihtric turned on his heels, and he howled like a wolf while his cloak circled around him and moved along with his impressive body as he stalked towards you, his lips curling into a devilish smile once his mismatched eyes caught your fleeing figure not far ahead.

You looked back over your shoulder, hearing the undeniably familiar sound of your husband's footsteps as he closed in on you, accompanied by his heavy but calm breathing once he was close enough for you to hear. You squealed with excitement and an arousing sense of fear captivated you when you felt his big hands grab your waist, pulling you back towards him and lifting you momentarily off your feet. And your husband was strong, as he held you up with one arm while he removed his cloak with his free hand, covering the cold forest ground with the fur before he laid you down beneath him.

'My bunny did not hop fast enough,' Sihtric laughed soft and darkly as he nuzzled your nose and dragged his lips over yours, 'did she?'

You shook your head and gave him your best big and innocent eyes, for you had not managed to escape the claws of your husband. Sihtric shoved his hands under your skirt, digging his fingers into your warm thighs while he snarled at you, like a wolf whose mouth was watering for his prey after an exhilarating chase.

'So now,' he purred low and dangerously, 'this pretty little bunny is mine to play with… mine to taste… mine to devour… and mine to breed,' he growled and moved away, then grabbed your ankles and threw them over his shoulders before he grabbed your hips.

He leaned in and buried his head underneath your pushed up skirt, he pulled your core towards his face and you shivered with desire when you felt his warm breath on your sensitive skin. He locked your legs with his arms and delved his tongue between your folds, sucking and licking and kissing your sweet spot until you cried out helplessly and shook in his arms while your fingers were tangled in his locks, pulling and tugging as you bucked your hips against his mouth. Your moans and gasps sounded through the woods, but no one, except your husband and those bats in the sky, would ever hear the way your husband had you captured and cry for more.

And he drank your juices like a dehydrated beast, while tears pricked in your eyes and his name sounded from your smiling lips, over and over again in ecstasy until your hands released the tight grip you had in his hair, and your trembling legs slid off his broad shoulders. Sihtric then took his dagger from his leather belt, and he cut open your dress with one swift move, then sheathed the blade again and kissed his way up your exposed body, which was decorated with goosebumps while the moon made your skin look hauntingly beautiful and perfect, like a goddess.

'I only had a taste,' Sihtric murmured and kissed your neck, 'I have yet to devour you,' he whispered and bit your ear lightly.

He grabbed one of your breasts and squeezed your flesh in his warm hand as he trailed his lips down to your other, he flicked his tongue against your hardened nipple before he bit the sensitive skin lightly. He began to kiss his way down your figure again, his fingertips following the trail of wet kisses he left on your body until he reached your folds again.

'And I will devour you,' he said and looked up at you as he laid between your thighs.

You swallowed hard and moaned desperately, the sight of your beautiful yet rugged looking husband between your thighs was your favourite sight in the world. But Sihtric had other plans to devour you, as to devour you the same way he had tasted you would not be thrilling enough for him now, so he was quick to flip you over and on top of him. You gasped and a lewd moan left you when you felt his tongue devouring your core again after he had pulled you up to his face, your thighs once again locked in his strong arms, forcing you to grind down on his face as he laid underneath you. And devouring you he did, until your legs weakened and you collapsed on top of him with another desperate cry of his name. Sihtric then wrapped you in his arms and laid you down again, safe and warm on his cloak while he wasn't done with you yet, and he crawled on top of you.

'My pretty little bunny,' your husband husked in your ear and cupped your cheeks, 'I have tasted and devoured you,' he cooed.

He peppered your face with soft kisses while you smiled at him, dazed and in love and completely surrendered to the beast that your husband was for the night.

'Now,' Sihtric grinned and dragged his tongue over his teeth, 'all that lasts is breeding you, until dawn arrives.'

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#sihtric kjartansson #the last kingdom #sihtric #tlk #sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #the last kingdom fic #sihtric fic

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slocumjoe · 1 year

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companions react to sole being really sick but insisting to work anyways. they literally won’t sit down and they’re probably gonna fall out in a few minutes if they don’t

Companions react to Sick Sole that is In Denial

Aka the prompt that called high-school me tf out

Cait; Wrestles them into bed, hunts for cough syrup, force feeds. By wrestle, I mean "gently pushes until they fall over." Gives them alcohol and keeps away. Cait doesn't often get sick, but when she does, oh boy...Sole would never hear the end of it if she caught their shit. Will find spicy snacks for them to eat, to accommodate their lost sense of taste. Because Cait cares like that.

Codsworth; Absolutely not. Will use as colorful language as he can stomach to convince Sole to retire for a bit. Follows them around Sanctuary throwing a hissy-fit. Well...as much as Codsworth can throw a fit. Gets increasingly indignant. If Sole passes out before he can shepard them back home, he will consider duct-taping them to their bed, just for safety. He makes them soup and hand/claw-feeds them. Good luck sleeping with three robot eyes watching you like a hawk.

Curie; Pesters. Following them around with a rollup mattress for when they inevitably collapse. Recites a monolog about wellness and self care until they do. Very cross. Sole thinks they're hallucinating, seeing her glare and scold them. Makes their medicine herself; doesnt trust wasteland 'doctors' enough, and worries about such old, Pre-war medicine. Might start sticking things up their nose, or something, for samples.

Danse; A soldier refusing to seek attention and rest is not going to last long. He will also manhandle them, but not until they're already falling over. Makes a nasty ass...tea thing, that's great for colds/flus. Its. So. Gross. Danse knows how to make it because he himself refuses to stop working for sick rest. Hypocrite. If on the field, will personally tend to them. If not, leaves it to Cade, or any other doctor. Pesters said doctor enough he might get a clipboard thrown at him.

Deacon; Makes a similar, nastier tea thing. Spikes it with soda. Not to make it taste better. The soda is punishment to remind himself to never get sick again because it makes it fucking demonic. It makes Sole throw up and the force knocks them out. Rolls them up in a blanket burrito, raids the nearest pharmacy, and prepares a disguise. When Sole awakes, 50/50 chance they'll recognize its him.

Gage; What, is he their fucking mom? If they want to crack their head open passing out, that's their idiot choice to make. Except no it isn't, because he needs them alive, so Gage bitches the whole time, but he drags them kicking and screaming to bed. Throws medicine at them and tells them to quit being a baby. He's not getting too close to them right now. Hell. No. Also a baby himself about getting sick.

Hancock; Hancock isn't the type to tell someone how to handle themselves. He'll privately worry, and maybe hint that they should take a damn break, but until it gets bad enough they're half-way down to the floor, its not his business. When they're faceplanting, he'll step in. Also gives them some booze. He'll try to cook for them, but...uh. Chips and soda is good for colds, right? Right? [SOUNDS OF CURIE SCREAMING IN THE DISTANCE]

MacCready; Lucy was a doctor. He's got this. Or so he thinks, right up until Sole refuses to acknowledge their own illness. Okay. Shi–uuucks. What did Lucy do when he was being stubborn? Uh...that's not appropriate with Sole...what if he—Sole...? Sole–! Oh. Okay. That works. Just has to drag them into bed now. Spends extra caps for the good medicine, and for once, makes proper food. Sole remembers learning that he knows how to make his own noodles during this incident. MacCready tells them they were hallucinating.

Nick; Stands straight, crosses his arms, looks at them expectantly. Just waits. Grabs them before their legs give out, hauls them up over a shoulder, and straight to the doc's. Doc says bed, Sole is in bed. While they're out of commission for the week, plans out his lecture. It's not healthy for the brain nor body to keep moving when everything is telling you to quit. He's sarcastically coddling.

Piper; Also guilty of trying to power through. Piper is also an opportunist, however, and the moment she sees their guard fall, sees a moment of weakness, she's shoving them into their bedroom. Sole barely notices the change of environment. Canned soup, crackers, tea...and because Piper is just the best, she'll make them a dessert she often makes for Nat. Rice pudding, tarberry shortcake, she's even made honey custard. Something sweet and easy on the stomach.

Preston; Like Codsworth, chases them down begging them to just go the fuck to bed. Grabs them by the scruff of their neck before they hit dirt. Like Nick, sasses them the whole time, even if he is doting on them like a fussy mom. Remember Cait and her spicy snacks? Preston throws whatever spices he has into their meals. Hope Sole has a high spice tolerance.

X6-88; Grabs and warps to the Institute. If the Institute is gone, grabs and drags them to a doctor. He could try tending to them, but similar to Hancock, you will quickly regret asking. It's better to just have him go get medicine. He's somewhat fascinated over the concept, though. Cousers rarely get sick. And the once or twice X6 was, it was just an irritated throat or a headache. Sole is melting and yet they're expected to recover. Fascinating.

#fo4 #fallout 4 #paladin danse #preston garvey #piper wright #nick valentine #x6-88 #robert joseph maccready #companions react #hancock #porter gage #Codsworth #for the one codsy fan in the back

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x-amount-verbs · 1 year

Text

A Helping Hand - Part 29

[start here] || Part 28 || Part 29 || Part 30

[silco x f!reader] [2.9k words] [no y/n] [during timeskip] [touch-starved reader] [henchwoman!reader] [rated M] [gun-related PTSD]

AO3 Link

Things are mixed up in your head. A jumble of reality and memory, mashing together that night and minutes ago. You don’t even realize you’re going the wrong way until you’re halfway there, limbs feeling stiff and squeaky as you walk.

The Damascus street gym is locked. You stand outside, blank, for some amount of time. You have to be here in the morning anyway. Convenient if you could just blink and have it be morning.

It’s unclear how long you’re there, staring at a locked door. Eventually, exhausted, you press a hand to the metal, rest your forehead against it as you close your eyes. Your body has started to calm down, but your brain is still messy. Voice stolen, mouth sealed shut. A buzz in your head that keeps you from fully thinking anything out, so loud to drown out noise around you.

A questioning voice calls your name, and you turn your head, opening bloodshot eyes to someone half-familiar. You know a name and a face, but only in passing.

“You looking for—” They falter. “…You okay?”

“Hn.” Your single nod shouldn’t be particularly encouraging, not when you can’t even get yourself to speak, but you don’t know each other so they take it at face value.

“Need to be let in?”

“Mmhm.” Lips pressed thin into a polite smile more like a grimace, you give another, “hn,” to substitute for thanks as you peel away from their path after entering, and head straight for the locker rooms.

Should take a cold shower. Something to shock you out of your head.

Leather slapping against your skin, forcing you into the present. An inability to focus on anything else.

That would work, too.

The shot was ranged, not close enough to splatter, so your clothes are free of blood. But you still wear them into the shower as if they aren’t, too tired to change, and sensing the blood there regardless of its existence. Palms on the tile, the cold water drags your mind to the surface, like an anchor pulled to the bow, crystalizing behind, a solid block of ice to stop you sinking deep again.

By the time you realize what a completely fucking stupid idea you’ve had, it’s too late.

“…Shit.” You drag your hand against your face, clearing water from your eyelashes as you push aside the curtain and step out.

Fucking idiot.

You fumble to undo your holster, your belt, letting it all drop onto the floor. So much for saving that food for later, it’s undoubtedly ruined by whatever water made it into your belt pouch. Your gun shouldn’t be submerged either, so who knows what damage that’s caused. You attempt to tug off your boots, unable to balance until you lean against the wall and scrabble at the laces, tipping a good quarter cup of water out of them once you have them off. Dumbly running a hand through your hair, you grimace as the prosthetic fingers tangle in the braids from earlier.

“Stupid…” You grumble, wrestling off half-soaked clothes one item at a time.

They cling. The more you notice it the more claustrophobic you feel. The more claustrophobic you feel, the more desperately you try to pull, the more they seem to cling.

By the time you’ve stripped down to your underwear, panic is choking you. You lurch back into the shower stall, gasping under the cold water, finally feeling able to breathe as you unhook the front of your bra and peel it away.

Just cold water. And breath.

Just breath.

Breathe.

…

Fuck shit fucking dammit. What the fuck is going on. Why did you do that? Why did you do this?

Goosebumps bloom under the freezing cold water, but you feel more awake than ever. Fingers carefully undo the wet ties on the braids you’d made to match Jinx’s, grimacing as hair tugs and pinches.

This is bad. You’ve never felt so… detached before today. Divorced from your own body, your own mind, somehow gone and trapped at once. It doesn’t make sense, when you’d succeeded that night— the night of the shooting, you’d saved a life, spared another (for the time being), and been completely in control the whole time. Adrenaline had kept you sane and steady, had let you stay calm despite not knowing the fate of your hand.

But one fake gun pointed in your face and it all crumbles?

You comb through wet hair, jaw tight to stop your teeth from chattering. Eventually you let yourself turn up the heat to something warmer than straight ice.

It’s terrifying, if you think about it head-on, if you confront the reality of what just happened. Shooting someone without fully making the decision to do so. So you try not to remember, try not to look at the situation directly. Think around it. Let it stand as a blank space, a fogged haze, as you deal with the rest, to confront later.

Where are you now? What’s your current predicament?

Well, it’s some time after… who knows. After 11? Maybe midnight, or 1. You have no idea how much time has passed. Could be minutes, could be hours. For all you know, the sun is coming up in Piltover right about now.

You’re supposed to be at this gym at 10am. At least, that’s the schedule you’ve been keeping to. You managed to warn Wren one day that you might be late the next, and she’d been shockingly understanding. Hopefully she’ll be understanding of you showing up hours early and - you realize the inevitably of it - sleeping in the locker room.

Well, it won’t be the first time you’ve napped here, at least.

Don’t think about what happened, think about how to fix it.

Right. Yes. Good.

You have to get used to guns again. Whatever it takes. You’ll lurk at the shooting range all day if you have to. Hear gunshot after gunshot.

Stop— stop it, stupid stupid pulse, calm down, this is theoretical. Stop the racing, stop the tightness in the chest, just— stop.

You turn the faucet back to colder water, angrily; if your body won’t cooperate, you’ll just shock it again until it does.

This is sane and normal behavior and I am totally fine.

Gods, you don’t believe a solid third of your self-talk these days.

The cold water does its job, leaving you shivering and blue-lipped, but all signs of panic retreated in favor of responding to the physical shock of it. Turning the heat up again, you shed the last of your forgotten underwear and try to actually bathe, wash your hair, do all of those good reassuring things that make you feel normal and human.

You’ll sleep here. You’ll talk to Wren when she gets in.

You’ll get past this.

You have to get past this.

—

“Hey— not to alarm you or anything, but what the fuck.”

Opening bleary eyes, you find Wren looking down at you, brows furrowed in a transparent concern you rarely see on anyone in the Undercity.

“Hn. Morning,” you mumble, good hand rubbing at your eyes as you struggle to sit up.

“Gods—” Wren averts her eyes, holding out a hand, “keep the towel on, please.”

You glance down blearily. “Oh. Yeah.” Didn’t have dry clothes. At least you had the foresight to drape the wet ones over another locker room bench. You half ignore Wren’s request, letting the towel fall to your waist as you look around for your stuff. It doesn’t look that much drier than when you fell asleep. “What time is it?”

“6:30.” Again, she pleads, this time by name.

“Fine, fine,” you gesture loosely with the prosthetic hand and use the towel you’d had as a pillow to wrap around your shoulders. “I don’t see what the big deal is, you have boobs too.”

“It’s— different.”

“Not really. So yours came later, it’s all the same general stuff.” Gods, you’re sore. You grimace.

“Not cause— not cause you’re naked, cause it’s 6:30 in the morning and I’m supposed to be opening the gym and instead I come in to find a wanted woman, nude, sleeping in my locker room, potentially drunk-”

“Wanted?” That wakes you up. “Janna, I’m wanted? By who? The kid was trying to steal from me, it was— I mean, at least it was somewhat justified; I didn’t kill him.”

“Kid?” Wren’s gaze sharpens as well, embarrassment ebbing in favor of shrewd evaluation. “What kid?”

“You answer mine first.”

“Silco. Or Sevika. Maybe some other chem baron and they’re getting to you first, don’t know, just know eyes are out looking for you. Didn’t tell me why, just heard you weren’t at your place when they went looking. You drunk?”

They went looking? It shouldn’t make your stomach flip that way. You should feel scared or ashamed, not fluttery. “No. Sleep-deprived, but not drunk.”

“Then why the hell you sleeping in my locker room?”

You stare for a second, the reality of the situation coming back to you. You can feel the pained furrow between your brows as you look away. “I dunno. I freaked out. Or— I blacked out, I don’t know. A kid tried to mug me and I shot him. And then I was here. I’m not—” You feel your heart rate picking up again, and grit your teeth, forcing your breath steady. “I don’t think anything else happened in between. Just came here and— and took a shower. I mean, I have to be here in three hours, anyway.”

“…In your clothes?” Wren’s wry words are almost a relief, and when you look at her she has a brow raised at your clothes draped over the other bench.

“Didn’t want to pay the laundry service,” you say, tone dry.

“…They do like to overcharge.”

Something loosens in your chest. She doesn’t hate you, isn’t mad at you, doesn’t think you’re insane— probably, at least. And maybe you’re not. No: you definitely aren’t insane. It’s just… just bad memories, that’s all. Fucking with your head. You’ll get over it.

“So I guess I’m in early.”

“And you need a change of clothes.”

“That too, yeah.” You hesitate. Finally, some degree of shame creeps in. “…Can you help?”

The look she turns on you is uncharacteristically soft in the eyes, despite the firm line of her mouth. “Thought you’d never ask.”

You never would’ve. Before your injury you never needed to, content to handle everything alone. You are too damn lucky to have allies like Wren. Friends, even.

By the time you’re dressed in some spare clothes from the community storerooms, you’ve realized just how exhausted you are. When did you fall asleep, 1? 2? And awake again just a few hours later? All of that after whatever happened last night - this morning? - that had you a shivering wreck.

Yeah, you’re fuckin’ tired.

Wren gives in to your not-so-subtle pleading to skip out on opening the gym and doing the end-of-night (or earliest morning) drills that some graveyard shift regulars like to do. You will never understand people who go to the gym after work instead of heading home, when it’s any time past 2am.

Instead, she opens up the makeshift infirmary that’s usually locked unless there’s an emergency, and directs you to the cot.

“When you’re awake, we should talk plans for the day.”

Oh good, you were worried she’d ask what happened last night, ask for more details. You cannot handle that right now. Possibly not ever. Ideally this whole incident will be completely forgotten and you’ll never have to think of it again.

They went looking for you.

The sudden rush of heat as your face flushes with mortification makes your head spin, and you roll over to face away from the infirmary door. Gods, they went looking for you. You made enough of a fool of yourself that they had to seek you out to mitigate the damage. And then Wren just assumed you were drunk… You really did humiliate yourself that night at the Drop, didn’t you? If people are so quick to assume you’re a drunken nuisance.

You groan, closing your eyes. At least you can hide from your responsibilities just a little bit longer.

—

Inaccurate: your responsibilities have found you.

A few hours later, when your body is satisfied that it’s gotten enough sleep, you surface from unconsciousness to find Sevika dozing in a chair. Specifically, in a chair placed unavoidably between you and the door to the infirmary.

For a hot second, you consider pretending to be asleep again, waiting for her to wake up, get bored of waiting, and leave— but 100% you know she’ll wake you once she runs out of patience. Kinda shocked she let you sleep as long as she has. What time is it, anyway?

Habit has you reaching for the spot on your waist where you’d usually keep your timepiece, before remembering it’s still with your wet clothes after your mindless trudge into the shower after midnight. Grimacing, you wonder how ruined your kit is.

“Awake?” You must’ve missed Sevika’s stirring. Or maybe she really was half awake the whole time.

“No,” you mumble, half sheepish half spiteful.

Sevika’s scoff at least sounds somewhat amused. Can’t tell if it’s with you or at you, though.

“Fuck, girl, what the hell happened last night?”

She doesn’t know? “I shot a guy.”

“Yeah, we picked up on that part. But why weren’t you at your place?”

Your brain gradually dissects her loose tone. Not angry, not even strict; she really is amused.

“I shot a guy,” you repeat, pointedly.

Sevika’s brows quirk, bemused. The way she says your name has dry humor to rival Silco’s. “That’s literally your job, kid. You shoot people a lot— or used to, when necessary.”

Ok— well, she’s right, but- “This guy didn’t need to get shot.”

“You didn’t kill him,” she points out, shrugging a shoulder. “I’m sure it was justified-”

“I didn’t mean to do it,” you blurt. A flush burns on your cheeks, your ears, your neck.

Grey eyes narrow. Lips thin. But she doesn’t say anything.

The burn feels hotter, more ashamed. “He pointed a gun at me— it wasn’t even a real gun, Sevika, gods— he pointed a gun, and it was that night all over again.”

Her silence is far from reassuring.

You babble to fill the empty air. “It was a fucking paintball gun. I shot him because he had a paintball gun,” you can’t help the hint of disgust in your tone. “And then I— I don’t know. I just blacked out, and then I was here.”

All amusement has disappeared from her face, the bluish scars on her cheek seeming etched deeper. “…You know I have to tell him that, right?”

You blink. “If I’m honest, I kinda already thought he knew.” You’re not sure why. It just… feels like he’d know, instinctually. Which is stupid. You haven’t seen him in nearly a week, there’s no reason he should know anything about your life, let alone what was going on in your head when you shot a teenaged mugger.

There’s no question of who he is. Sevika is Silco’s right hand, and— Well, your right hand is his.

“You really had people out looking for me?”

Sevika grimaces. “Not quite. There’s a kid paid to keep an eye on your place - to make sure no one’s going after the investment, all that - and he usually gives the ok when you’re back at your place for the night.”

The blank expression you give her hides a flurry of emotions. Surprise, yes, but more importantly some mix of indignant and flattered. Some little spark of hope that you quickly stifle. Some hint of care. Should you be angry that Silco has you watched? Or have this fluttery feeling that he’s trying to protect you? You’re the investment, he’d made that clear— to you, at least, if not his people.

“When that didn’t come, someone traced back to the lab, heard about a shooting, your description, but all witnesses seemed to think it was justified. …Kinda the risk of mugging someone,” she muses with cynical humor.

Brows lift, tilting your head. She’s not wrong.

“He asked me to check your place, so I did. Since you weren’t there, we put out some feelers.”

Is it weird that her use of ‘we’ is as heartwarming as it is embarrassing? It’s nice to know people look for you when you’re missing, even if it’s mildly mortifying that while they were looking for you you were half-catatonic, fully clothed, in a cold shower. You cringe.

Sevika’s tone goes wry again. “We called it a night and then 7-fucking-AM I get woken up and told Wren called it in, and you’re both alive and crashing at the gym.” Her tone makes it clear that she sees absolutely no logic in choosing this place.

“I have 10am practice,” you mutter, cheeks stained.

A beat of silence, and Sevika snorts. “No you don’t.”

Your brow furrows. “Uh, yeah, I do.”

Her lips are curving to a knowing smirk as she shakes her head. “No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do.”

Another scoffed laugh. “Kid, it’s 2pm. And if you think you aren’t being called straight to the boss’s office, your brain must still be M.I.A.”

Well, if it wasn’t, it is now.

—

[next part]

[Welp. It’s been a bit. In all honesty, my writing ability has kinda up and disappeared, but I had 2.8 chapters in the backlog, so as a holiday/new year gift, have 29 and 30 (and hopefully 31, though I need to figure out how the heck to end it). I’m notoriously bad at finishing things, but hopefully these three chapters will offer resolution on… 👀 a few things.

Funny how last time I said I’d post on the 15-16th, and… well, I guess I’m 3 months late, but it IS the 16th, and I AM going out of town today, so I was technically telling the truth! 😅 I know I haven’t been replying to comments (typical shame and guilt for not updating), but I’ll be getting to those now that I have a plan for posting, and have accepted the hard truth that brain no like write right now. Regardless, I still love reading peoples thoughts and reactions, so please drop a comment or tag!

Insert your usual plugs-per-chapter; give it a reblog if you liked it, check it out on AO3 (I always recommend subscribing, so if/when I update, you don’t have to be checking every single day and be disappointed ><), and you can find the reverse POV pieces on AO3 and tumblr. Get added to the tag list by commenting on this linked post, so you’ll know when the last of the end-of-year gifts drop! ^^

I can’t thank y’all enough for sticking around and loving this fic, even if I’m flaky as hell when it comes to finishing things when my brain won’t cooperate 🤦‍♀️ I adore each and every one of you, and appreciate you to the ends of the earth. Also… I may have commissioned a few pieces of Ivy (reader OC) that I’ll try to post before the end of the year as well. There are some amazing artists on tumblr, and I love just searching the ‘commissions open’ tag and finding cool styles to comm. Some discord friends have already seen me freak out over comms, so they know what’s coming 😁 Thanks for all the support, and hope you’re staying cozy this winter! (/cool this summer, for the Southern Hemisphere folks) ❤️ -verbs]

Tag list: @hawk4president @mello-jello29 @jennrosefx @dad-dumpster @ellhd-imagination @zuckerwattencupcake @meep-moop-mystic @sherwood-forests @ariaud @witxhy-lexx @mazikomo @leave-me-alone-doctor @antoine-tte @wisteria-songs @imalovernotahater @eriseffigy @leorioaki @artificialwords @hehicular-hanslaughter-lecter @ironandglass @ughhhh177 @faraige @ilikemymendarkandfictional @jennithejester @insult-2-injury @iz-zy5 @rinadragomir @queenofspades6 @cuddlejeongin @differentladynerd @leo-the-undead @silcoitus @stepsonsilco @commotionpotion @averagecrastinator @eurydicethesage @mialobo @wierdestmoppet @bumble-bee-17 @sonicbananawithbowtie @venommie @sheisacryptid @cuckconnosieur @yew-over-there

#silco x reader #silco x f!reader #silco/reader #silco #silco arcane #silcoxreader #wip:a helping hand #a helping hand #x-amount-writes #arcane x reader

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glareandgrowl · 7 months

Note

Everyone Saw it coming if they are on my blog but

Kiyotaka Ishimaru for the ask game plsssss !

Ask game Here

Sexuality Headcanon:

Now, see, starting off with a kinda hard one... Taka's an interesting bean in what I calculate his sexuality to be. Most people assume Gay since... ya know. And while I don't think that's necessarily a bad take, its the popular take. And I am one who tends to shy away from popular takes. (I am also one to vehemently project onto the characters I love). Hence, I HC Taka as Demiromantic! (and demisexual to an extent...)

Forms strong emotional bonds with people close to him? Check. Only ever seems to fall romantically for those he is extremely close with??? DOuble check babeyyy!

Gender Headcanon:

Aaaand now its simple. Taka's a male. Cut and dry. Rather fondly a guy, I must say. He strikes me as the kinda guy who would be so excited to share with you that he uses he/him pronouns! He probably did some soul searching when he first learned of transitioning and other gender orientations only to find he was rather comfortable and happy where he was. (you know he spent hours studying to learn all he could) and would be all for helping others explore their gender too!

I know a lot of people hc him and mondo both as trans, but personally I think hes just very proud of his manliness.

A ship I have with said character:

I couullddd go the easy route and say Ishimondo... But you all already know that. Instead I'm going to go with a more... scandalous... ship.

Its KiyoKiyo. Korekiyo and Kiyotaka. Its my guilty pleasure ship.

Now, granted, I imagine this as a Korekiyo who has shaken himself of his 'sister's' grasp and is "normal" (Ie LOTS of therapy), so its more like the shy introvert getting dragged along by the loud golden retriever boy but I digress. Its sweet to me. Tall lanky and smol but strong.

(And YES this originated from Danganronpa Redemption FIGHT ME---)

A BROTP I have with said character:

Once again I could go with an obvious, that being Chihiro or Hina, but you ALREADY know this and I GO AGAINST THE ORDINARY!!!

I think Sayaka and Taka would be great friends :3

Hardworking, burnout-having besties who have to be told numerous times to slow down and take a break by their chiller, sweet yet partially annoying boyfriends.

A NOTP I have with said character:

There are so many... who do I begin with... Genuinely who do I begin with. Alr I hardly see this one in the wild but Kokichi and Kiyotaka I despise. Either that's just because I hate kokichi but-- BESIDES THE POINT. Hiro and Taka is another one I don't particularly like.

I get where it comes from, the few times they interract in the canon could be seen as brotherly (I GUESS) from Hiro's standpoint but-- Idk it just kinda rubs me the wrong way. Hiro's character in general does that...

A Random Headcanon:

Taka enjoys, and is really good at boxing. (Or wrestling) Like how some stories I've read put him on the football (soccer for us americans) team (or rugby ig idk.) I have a (self-inflicted) HC that Taka has slight anger issues hes still recovering from as a child and ABSOLUTELY uses the environment of controlled violence as a way to work off pent up steam. Any sport could do that really, but the inherent homoeroticism of wrestling is just *mwah* too good to pass up.

I know people like to HC he's into some kind of martial arts lessons for the same kind of vibe, and the art of him and Peko, but I find the inante physicality of using yer fists and body as a much more... *Taka Centric* activity. Idk.

Its the same reason he really enjoys thrill rides like rollercoasters and horror movies (if he can stand to not postulate the entire plot the whole time, ruining climactic moments and making people shush him.)

General Opinions:

HE GOT FUCKING ROBBED IN CANON MY BOY---

anyway feel free to ask me about more characters!!! This was fun :3

#longsheepanswers #kiyotaka ishimaru #danganronpa #danganronpa trigger happy havoc #ishimondo #kiyokiyo #ask game

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dancer-subclarington · 1 year

Text

📲Texts: Cucumber || Briar & Kyla

Briar: Omg

Kyla: You make fun of me for saying that

Briar: Bc you say it like out loud

Briar: Girl you’re barely dancing today

Kyla: Wow, thanks

Briar: Someone cant walk

Kyla: Ugh

Briar: Im right

Kyla: So?

Briar: IM RIGHT!

Briar: Good for you

Briar: You could have sex more than once in a blue moon ya know. I wouldn’t tell anyone

Kyla: You’d just torture me about it

Briar: Torture can be fun, little K

Kyla: Get your mind out of the gutter

Briar: Nah. Call me a tmnt

Kyla: They live in sewers

Briar: Dork

Kyla: I have 3 brothers!

Briar: Or maybe you watch cartoons with guys after sex

Kyla: Shut up

Briar: Im right again

Kyla: Nope

Briar: Ooh wait was it a girl? Did you get pegged?

Kyla: No

Briar: Cuz like Im not into the gay sex thing but come on, that’s kinda hot

Kyla: I said no

Briar: So you’re a hot talented bisexual bitch and you’re not getting pegged? What a waste!

Kyla: Jesus Christ

Briar: Do you say that during sex?

Kyla: You’re the one always talking about sex. Maybe you need to get some.

Briar: Babygirl

Briar: That’s really cute

Kyla: Thanks

Kyla: How many are you dating rn?

Briar: Not dating.

Kyla: How many are you seeing then?

Briar: Like 17. You?

Kyla: Less than 17

Briar: You’re no fun!

Briar: No numbers then. Names. 3 of them.

Briar: Besides Annabeth

Briar: Lmao its taking you so long to think of 3

Briar: At least tell me who made your fan kick look so atrocious

Kyla: Elliott

Briar: Boy?

Kyla: Yes

Briar: Mark?

Kyla: Sub

Briar: How scandalous for you!

Kyla: It was for an exam

Briar: Intriguing. Two subs have sex during an exam for which class exactly?

Kyla: Pretty sure it was home ec. We were making a salad.

Briar: And the ?

Kyla: Um and then we were not making a salad. And then we were really not making a salad

Briar: Good girl. You should get your guts fucked out of you more

Kyla: You and my dad care more about my sex life than I do

Kyla: Stop typing, you demon

Briar: Ok. I’ll just sit here and decide what kind of details I’ll make up to tell the adult class.

Briar: Salads..cucumbers.

Kyla: He didn’t need a cucumber

Briar: Because he had a dick that big?

Kyla: Lets just say it wasn’t lacking.

Kyla: Lets also just tell the adult class I am injured from wrestling a coyote.

Briar: You told them that when you were in the chastity belt in locktober. Now remind me..did you enjoy that?

Kyla: Briar.

Briar: Idk I feel like you were super cranky during that month

Kyla: Briar

Briar: And then you signed up for extra classes and privates and choreography sessions and then you dragged me into some of them and now my costumes are backordered

Kyla: You’re just now ordering costumes? I’ve had my orders in for a couple months

Briar: Good job not reminding me

Kyla: I tried to but you were with some guy in Bora Bora

Briar: So wait a week and try again!

Kyla: Belize. Or was it Bali?

Briar: I was doing an alphabet challenge and got B so I did Bora Bora, Bali, Belize, and Brazil. And had more sex than you’ve had in your whole life.

Kyla: I have sex!

Briar: Who besides Annabeth and this Elliott person? Oh and Betsy.

Kyla: She was super fun. I miss her.

Kyla: There’s lots of hot guys here though. And girls. Some of them like stuff I don’t like but Im forcing exposure to those things so I can like them.

Briar: Its not a theatre exercise

Kyla: ?

Briar: You don’t train in sex things you don’t like. There’s no reason to

Kyla: You’re not even at an academy, what do you know?

Kyla: You’d be proud of me anyway. I’ve taken plenty of classes that would be Briar approved

Briar: Do tell

Kyla: Nope

Briar: Unfair

Kyla: You let your students work on their numbers and have no costumes for them. Thats unfair.

Briar: Ok but this is unfair too

Kyla: You’ll live.

Briar: Maybe

Kyla: I’ll take your teen class on Tuesday if you’ve stopped existing.

Briar: Ugh, take them anyway.

Kyla: Then you take my minis.

Briar: Fine. They’re easy.

Kyla: They’re hard to please. And they can’t point their toes.

Briar: Teens have attitude

Kyla: Yeah but I have practice with teens bc I have you and your little horny mindset

Briar: And you give me practice with minis bc you whine and pout a lot

Kyla: Yw!

Briar: I need more info on this Elliott person.

Kyla: Don’t get excited ok? He’s claimed.

Briar: And his claim let him scene with you?

Kyla: Yes. It took special permission and everything.

Briar: Really? Did it require a demonstration 😜

Kyla: No you moron. I made it up. Im not sure if he even asked. But I totally would’ve made the cut cuz Im flexible.

Briar: Yes you are. Now tell me..what exactly do you do with that superpower?

Kyla: Lots of things.

Briar: Like?

Kyla: Use your imagination

Kyla: I take it back. Do not use your imagination.

Kyla: I can feel you imagining things

Briar: But you don’t know how to have that much fun.

Kyla: You know about me that I like coming and that I like dance and cheer. So. In combination, I enjoy myself.

Briar: What were you doing when he fucked you so hard?

Kyla: Keeping one foot on the floor at all times cuz Im always a super safe person

Briar: No you’re not!

Briar: You just sent my imagination wild

Kyla: Have fun with that

Kyla: Never mind DO NOT HAVE FUN WITH THAT, NO FUN FOR YOU

#texts #briar #characters: briar #friends #for reference #elliott #exams #para: cucumber #text: briar

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adelaidedrubman · 2 years

Note

“yes, we would not want to make daddy angry.” + nice folks being bothered

hey stella thanks for this, guess who’s back with more riverdale prompts yet again!!! the crowd boos!!!!

wordcount: 4.5k

summary: “yes, we would not want to make daddy angry” + john/jestiny | no reaping au (loosely, but there are references to canon events)

warnings: ample sexual references and banter, and about 300 words of actual sexual content that cuts off before approaching explicit. john and jessie wrestle over an item in a manner that at points crosses the line from playful into earnest physical struggle. verbal berating, emotional manipulation, all the standard nice folks botherer warnings. full jugjess. frequent use of the word “daddy” in varying contexts and implications. potentially inflammatory plane jacket related content. proceed with caution.

In the approximately five weeks he’d known her, John had already gotten the sense that Jestiny Rook had a distinct knack for giving him absolutely everything he wanted, in the exact right way to make him regret ever asking for it.

Every single prayer he made related to the woman was eventually answered — in a genie granting a wish, finger of a monkey’s paw curling type of way.

He had, for example, on several occasions, prayed that he would one day finally see the woman at the Project’s Sunday services. He’d prayed, just two days prior, while slinking out of the backseat of her car, that she would be so distracted by the usual song and dance of keeping an eye on where he covertly slipped informational pamphlets so as to throw them back in his face before driving away that she would fail to notice the jacket he’d left tucked under her passenger’s seat, business card with his personal number in the pocket. He’d prayed that night before bed she would find it, and decide trying to discreetly return it to him would be less likely to draw attention to the oddity of her having it (it was custom made, and a signature piece of his usual outfits, after all, and would be recognizable) than hocking it at a consignment shop would. And he’d prayed the next day, very vividly, that she’d perhaps be unable to resist the urge to wear the item while she did have it, all the better if she did so that very morning when she woke, perhaps a little more uninhibited and softened by sleep and craving his scent enough to slip into the warm embrace of the left behind coat, feel it against her skin, possibly a full, bare expanse of skin as she clung to the fabric and inhaled, maybe slipping hands beneath it to try to mimic his touch with the previous night’s memories fresh on her mind, the same way that he —

Anyways, the point was: Jessie being present for an Eden’s Gate church service, Jessie belatedly finding and subsequently returning his jacket, and Jessie wearing his jacket were all things he had prayed for.

And really, only she could manage to answer his prayers all at once, in a way that didn’t make him warm with gratitude at all, but rather sent a stinging frost of panic through him to harden his insides the moment he spotted the familiar face stepping out of the car to approach the church he stood outside of, greeting and ushering in congregants.

Because as she closed the door behind her and began confidently striding towards the church, he saw that she did not wear his treasured coat with arms slipped through to drape it over her body, but rather tied by the sleeves around her waist so that its tails practically dragged the ground, creating the illusion of a floor length skirt as her own bulky fleece lined denim jacket redundantly clothed her upper body well enough to conceal any hint of the attractive curves he knew she actually possessed. But not well enough to hide the equally ill fitting t-shirt bearing graphic of fishing line threaded through oversized bobber that was joined by a second and placed rather particularly at the base of a beer bottle to create a distinctly phallic outline, topped off in suggestiveness with foam bubbling from the bottle’s mouth and dripping down its neck and hugged by lines of block lettered text bearing the message ‘I Just Wanna Drink Beer And Jerk My Rod.’

And with the one pleasantly attention grabbing aspect of the woman’s appearance (those long, flowing tresses of bright ginger hair) tucked and hidden beneath an obnoxious knitted beanie in a likely effort at minimizing her recognizability, it would have been difficult to remember exactly what about her had ever been attractive enough to break his most recent celibacy streak for in the first place, let alone try to ensure another meeting by leaving behind the duster now disrespectfully tied around her waist to slightly drag the ground — if the ensemble didn’t also include a pair of cutoff shorts that nicely showed off toned thighs flexing as she strode confidently towards him.

And the one visible reminder she was attractive beneath all the layers of intentional tackiness honestly just made the whole thing worse, made an extra bubbling of annoyance rise in his stomach amongst the panic as he rushed the rest of the greeting line inside the church.

“Yes, praise unto The Father, may he bless us with his wisdom on this holy day,” John hurried out with the required enthusiasm as he herded the last person in, then stepped to the side to stand blocking the doorway.

Jestiny only briefly flicked her eyes towards him and nodded in acknowledgement, before darting past him to the other side of the double doors, so that he had to grab her by the fleece lined collar to yank her back out of the building and pull her off to the side, out of sight.

“What the hell are you doing here, exactly?” he demanded, keeping her just out of reach as he covertly shut the doors behind him.

“You’re really gonna fucking ask me that?” she squawked back, swatting behind her at the hand still holding her dangling by the collar, making him almost grateful for the thick fabric he could pull at harshly without tearing. “Wasn’t this exactly what you’ve been fucking wanting? Me to come to your dumbass church service?!”

“Yes, with an open mind and appropriate attire,” he hissed back, lowering his hands to grip denim at her shoulders instead, pushing her flush against the siding of the church, tucked at the corner where the entryway’s awning met the main hall. “And between the words on your shirt and those leaving your mouth, it’s obvious you didn’t come with either.”

“I’m sorry — I thought you’d also been trying to convince me y’all were all open minded and accepting, now my clothes aren’t nice enough for you?!” she craned her neck to demand with such a rise in volume he considered the wisdom of covering her mouth with his hand, ultimately deciding it would probably just make her escalate the shrieking.

“It’s not particularly about the poor quality as much as it is the intentional vulgarity,” he spat back, loosening one hand from her arm to point to the front of her t-shirt.

“Seriously, it’s — this is too vulgar for you?” she questioned, lowering her head and raising brows, darting eyes between his and the text printed on her chest. “When if I recall correctly, last time you called me out to this exact fuckin’ church, it wasn’t too vulgar to let me set you up on the altar and —”

“I remember what happened,” he hissed in interruption, equal parts grateful and anxious to hear the deep bellowing of the sermon’s start hum through the thin walls to cover the noise of their squabbling. “And that it happened when the building was empty rather than filled with an entire congregation, including The Father himself, whose judgments on the comedic value of fishing themed dick jokes I’m actually concerned with, my own distaste aside.”

“Yes,” she hummed with a merciful lowering of her volume and a less merciful roll of her eyes to stare off to the side, “we would not want to make daddy angry.”

“Don’t,” the words stalled in tightening and tensing throat, his jaw clenching with stress, “Do not refer to Joseph — to The Father, as daddy.”

She scoffed, rolling her eyes back to the front to lock onto his. “Well I’m not going to call you daddy, if that’s what you’re holding out for.”

“I do not want —” he paused, now having to remind himself to lower his own volume, drawing in a deep, insufficiently calming breath before continuing, “I’m not asking you to call me daddy either, I’m —”

“You wanna call me daddy, then?” she asked, scrunching her mouth to the side and tilting her head as if in consideration, finally popping out a bottom lip and shrugging. “No. Still no — but a softer no.”

“I want you to stop saying daddy!” he replied, hoping the words he only consciously realized upon their meeting his ears in an echo had been shouted were drowned out by preaching if they’d pierced through the church walls. “And to change that fucking shirt, or come back next week.”

“No,” she scoffed in repetition. “No way in hell I’m ever coming back here willingly,” she spat. “This is your one get. And I’m not gonna change my clothes either, daddy,” she tacked on with a defiant upward shove of her chin, ensuring, of course, that not one request went without being spitefully disrespected. “I wore this shirt ‘cause I plan on going fishing as soon as I’m done here, in case you didn’t bother gettin’ your mind out of the gutter long enough to read and realize it’s a fishing shirt, and not everything’s about you and your stupid church club.”

“Oh, trust me I read it.”

“Pleasantly fucking surprised to find you’re literate after all. I’ll keep that in mind. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m missin’ the service,” she finally sneered before shoving past him towards the door.

“No,” he said firmly, almost in a mimic of her own simple, single-minded obstinance. “You are not going in there. I’m putting my foot down.”

A brief moment of success, she at least swung back around and paused with feet planted firmly on the ground to study him.

“First off, this,” she gestured towards him with a circular wave of outstretched fingers, “is reading more bratty than daddy, just so you know.” Oh, really, and she was one to talk, petty, juvenile thing. “Second off, it’s a service open to the public, you can’t fuckin’ stop me from going in. Or do you need me to jog your memory on the finer technicalities of trespass law?”

“Oh, well if you want to get technical, you missed the portion of the day when our doors were open to the public,” he replied with a bow and gesturing wave of his hand to the now closed entrance.

“You slammed the door in my fucking face,” she growled through gritted teeth.

“Nevertheless,” he dismissed with a wave of his outstretched hand before drawing it inward, straightening his spine and crossing his arms over his chest. “Perhaps you should try being on time for something besides happy hour for once.”

“Oh, really?” she scoffed, folding her own arms over chest (at least it helped cover the shirt) to childishly mimic his posture. “I made it just past open admission time?”

“On the dot.”

“Doors closed ‘til end of service, huh?”

“Afraid so.”

“Huh,” she grunted, raising a brow at him. “So you’re not going in?”

“Well,” he cleared his throat, glancing down at his watch to see just how late he was going to be at this rate, “I’m capable of making an entrance that isn’t disruptive.”

“So am I,” she leaned forward to whisper directly into his ear in a teasing hiss of hot breath. “Just watch me.”

And with that she spun right back around towards the entrance, continuing on the short path left to the doors.

“You are not —”

“Watch me!” she tossed her head back to yell over her shoulder without pausing her stride.

“Well not with my coat,” he growled before catching her by the tails trailing behind her, finally forcing her to pause to sturdy herself as she stumbled from his tugging at the fabric. He used the momentum to lunge forward as she regained balance, shoving his other hand around her waist to work at untying the sleeves knotted at the front of her shorts.

Hell, at least if he removed that from her wardrobe her vulgar appearance wouldn’t be directly associated with him, and maybe with the hair covered the rest of her features would be forgettable enough Joseph wouldn’t make the connection if they were ever introduced under more pleasant circumstances.

He sighed with exasperation at the sense of irony her presence brought once again, as he silently prayed that if she did make it inside she would at least keep the beanie on.

His self pitying was abruptly interrupted by the sharp jab of an elbow at his ribs, then a second one bashing against his collarbones.

“Fuck you,” her curse hit his ears with equal brusqueness, particularly jarring as her skull crashed against his chin, knocking his head back. “If you wanted to keep it that damn bad, shouldn’t have left in the back of my car — like I’ve never seen that fuckin’ move before.”

“Trust me I’ve seen the error of my ways,” he choked out past the forearm now jamming against his throat, bunching a fist even harder at her waistband in retaliation. “So you can kindly return it and be on your way.”

“Oh, I’m not giving you the tacky ass jacket or the fuckin’ satisfaction of me leaving,” she snapped, digging nails into his wrist as they continued their tug-of-war over dangling coat sleeves — his opponent regaining balance and yanking them to down to tighten the knot each time he began making progress untying it, and him shooting a hand back to tug at the tails and cause her to stumble enough to buy him a few seconds of uninterrupted effort at untangling the sleeves, until she stabilized and jerked them down to restart the cycle and keep them locked in a ridiculous stalemate.

Until he finally bubbled over with frustration enough to use her next momentary loss of grounded balance to push her forward rather than waste time wrestling over sleeves in the same position, thrusting body against hers until she was pinned against the siding of the building, quarters too close for her to properly thrash with sharp elbows and powerful fists to beat him back from his goal.

“Fuck off, you fucking asshole,” she grumbled back at him.

“Gladly, the moment you return my personal property,” he hissed in reply, reaching around to work at the tied sleeves again.

“You surrendered your fuckin’ right to it,” she spat back, then — ever the quick thinking strategist, damn her — rather than try to push him off her, thrust hips forward to press flush against the siding, so that there was no room for his hand to work at the knot tied there.

“I did no such thing,” he replied, pressing his chest against her back to keep her in place with his weight as he brought a hand to her hips to grip and jerk them back, creating space between her and the wall. “In fact, if anyone is about to permanently surrender it, it’s you,” he added before reaching hand around to the front of her shorts again, already tensed to resist the force of the two smaller hands shooting towards it to grasp his wrist and pull him away.

…And thus completely unprepared to resist when her hands pushed his towards her and down instead, and past — he processed with a stupefied lag, only fully realizing when his fingers brushed lace rather that the canvas of his jacket — both the makeshift belt of tied sleeves and the waistband of her shorts.

And fuck, once he felt what he really was touching, the skin he could feel through delicate lace, its warmth sent a bolt of electricity straight up the length of his arm to fire off with erratic explosiveness in his brain, a super charged maelstrom he struggled to form coherent thought through as realization truly sunk in.

“Well,” he purred into her ear, with teasing strokes through the fabric. “It seems there are some things you’re willing to dress nicely for, after all.” He canted his own hips further forward yet, also coming to belated awareness they’d been pressed against her backside and beginning to rock them with equal teasing as her nails dug deeper into the skin of his wrist.

“These aren’t exactly fishing attire,” he continued to taunt, dipping fingertips just beneath lace, more grateful yet for the stupid beanie as he kissed along the full expanse of exposed skin of her neck. “Hell, they’re a step above what you usually wear for happy hour, for that matter. Perhaps this is what you actually came here for?” he asked before slipping hand beneath panties to brush along silken skin directly.

“Perhaps,” she replied, breathy gravel of her tone betraying its nonchalance, as did the way she finally used her grip on his wrist to guide the hand beneath her waistband just the way she wanted. “Or perhaps it was just fuckin’ laundry day.”

“Then I suppose no harm done if we get these a little dirty, hm?” he hummed with a kiss along her jawline, up to those darling dimples she could never hide, delighted to hear her own moan vibrate back along his lips.

“— because our family does not live in the digital cloud!”

And far less delighted to hear the crescendo of the sermon vibrating in harmony through the walls of the church, jolting his mind and body back to reality and causing arousal to wither and vanish as quickly as it had grown, his hand jerking away just as quickly as he jumped back to shirk from every point of contact.

And he was met not a heartbeat later with an angry glare of tawny eyes, his beanie clad beau spinning around to face him with fists clenched at her sides. “What’s your fuckin’ problem?!”

“This is a place of worship,” he replied matter of factly.

“Wasn’t a problem for you last time,” she retorted, glare sharpening.

“My brother wasn’t here preaching to an entire congregation last time.”

“Brother?” She responded, one eyebrow abandoning its effort sustaining her glare to raise in questioning. “I thought he was your daddy?”

“Father.”

“Oh brother.”

“That too.”

“Maybe,” she spat, eyes narrowing yet again, “I should just find out who the fuck he is from the horse’s mouth — along with whatever it is he’s got to say that’s so goddamn compelling.”

And with that she once again pushed past him, making her way back towards the entrance.

“Do not open those doors, Jessie,” he rumbled in warning.

“Hey,” she shot back, unimpressed and undeterred, “maybe while you’re out here trying to remember if he’s your father or your brother or your uncle or your aunt, you can spend some time also trying to figure out what the fuck it is you want from me.”

“I want you to step back from those doors.”

“Because it seems to me,” she snapped, bitterly unresponsive, “that you don’t fucking know either. You want me here, except when I’m here, then no you don’t. Except no, you do — if you can fuck me. Except you don’t want to do that either, turns out.”

“You know that isn’t —”

“So how about I make up your fucking mind for you,” she interrupted, reach now dangerously close to the handles of your doors. “I’m going in, and I don’t give a fuck if it embarasses you in front of your little church club or not.”

“Is that really what you think this is about?” he demanded, marching behind her once again, only to receive a dismissive shrug in reply. “Because it isn’t, if you bothered to listen —”

She didn’t bother to listen, or respond, continuing to reach for the door.

“Jestiny, please,” he hissed, throwing an arm over the doors yet again in a desperate bid to get her to halt, grateful to at least see that she turned head to the side to acknowledge him this time, and the door stayed still in place even as her fingers tightened around its handle. “For fuck’s sake, this isn’t about you embarassing me, or my being selectively prudish.”

“Seems like the fuckin’ case to me, fucking hypocrite.”

“It isn’t, it’s —” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, sending up one quick, final prayer she would take the next words as a reason to have some sympathy for him rather than to escalate her spiteful little lesson yet again.

“I would like for you to meet Joseph under somewhat more…” he trailed off, walking on proverbial eggshells in search of phrasing that would be diplomatic without getting him accused of condescension, “agreeable circumstances. I — fuck, Jessie, I would actually like for him to approve of you, and see the good in you, without any,” he paused again, nodding in gesture towards the front of her shirt, “intentionally provocative distractions getting in the way.”

She gave an amused laugh, and a half hearted roll of her eyes that settled with lashes slanting down to kiss her cheeks. “You want daddy’s blessing?” she scoffed, mercifully turning fully to the side without meeting his eyes just yet, flicking them towards the doors she now leaned shoulder propped against instead. “For me?”

“Yes, if that’s how you insist on phrasing it.”

“I don’t know, meeting the parents —”

“Older brother and religious leader, for optimal clarity.”

“Meeting the family,” she granted, “isn’t that a little…” it was her turn to trail off in apparent searching, scrunching her mouth back and forth at opposite corners as she weighed, dimple popping into one cheek as soon as it disappeared on the other, “not for people who fuck each other in alleyways?”

“Oh, and churches. Don’t forget the churches,” he replied sarcastically, chest fluttering with giddy delight to see the dimples hollow on both sides this time as she gave a snort of amused laughter she wasn’t quick enough to conceal.

“But really, while I hope that has been enough to demonstrate I’m not as sanctimonious as you make me out to be, I also don’t do everything we do with just anyone these days. I’d at least like to leave the option of you not intentionally alienating my family open for the time being. And you’ve taught me my lesson,” he added, holding hands up defensively. “I won’t try to force it, or lure you into anything.” Not without a more well thought out strategy, at least. “But for the love of God, could you just not walk into church with that shirt on right now?”

She paused in consideration yet again, eyes flicked to the corner in thought as she worried her bottom lip — then widening and locking on him again with a dangerous golden twinkle that signaled mischief. “On one condition.”

“And what would that be?”

“Show me you’re not that uptight,” she answered with a crooked grin.

“I told you I’m not going to —”

“Not that,” she interrupted with a scowl, waving off his offense. “Come fishing with me,” she clarified. “I wasted half my morning bein’ somewhere I didn’t wanna be. Now it’s your fucking turn,” she nodded towards him. “Pick what you’d rather have big brother daddy whatever mad at you for — my outfit, or you playing hooky.”

He let out another long, weary sigh as he weighed the options — frown curling upward into a smile just as quickly as realization struck him.

“Why, Jessie dear,” he hummed, clicking tongue against his teeth. “Is that what this has actually all been about?” he asked smoothly, stepping closer to hover over her. “An excuse to ask me out on a date?”

She curled her upper lip into a snarl, crinkling her nose in a show of disgust as she straightened her posture, evening their height difference ever so slightly and reaching for the door handle. “You got thirty seconds to decide, and offer is now conditioned on you never using the ‘D’ word again.”

He ground teeth to shake away smile and rush to consider, glancing down at his watch.

Hell, he was already going to have to come up with a satisfying explanation for why he’d been gone as long as he had. It would be easier to just stretch out whatever reason he gave for his sudden absence to fill the entire morning than to have to explain that and her inappropriate appearance.

“Very well,” he huffed with a sharp click of his teeth to draw out annoyance, while inside warmth blossomed back to life in his chest as he placed his hand atop hers, still in position resting on the door handle. “I accept. I’ll come along on your...” He hummed, upward curve of his lips returning as he uncurled her fingers from around metal with little resistance, “outing for two,” he supplied judiciously, twining the freed fingers with his own.

“Let’s get a fuckin’ move on then,” she grunted in acceptance, heel turning and pulling him along as she marched away from the church, tugging aggressively enough he thought she risked pulling arm out of socket but keeping fingers laced delicately together all the same. “We already missed peak fishing hours ‘cause of your shit.”

“I would wager we actually missed them because of your intolerance for waking up before noon,” he replied, quickening gait to outpace her and take charge in leading them in the direction of the familiar beat up sedan.

“God, it’s a good thing you’re coming along with me, ‘cause you’ve got a lot to learn about fishing,” she scoffed with a shake of her head as she scurried to outpace him along the final stretch to the vehicle.

Petty, petty thing.

“But don’t worry,” she tacked on as she reached forward to swing the the passenger’s side door open with her free hand, then leaned forward to scoop the piles of chip bags and soda cans littering the seat into the floorboard with equal courteous chivalry, “we got all Sunday,” she offered with sarcastic reassurance, pausing to lean propped against the frame of the car. “And if you’re good, I’ll even let ya sit on daddy’s lap and hold the pole,” she added with a lopsided grin and a quick wink.

And before he had to the chance to grumble in annoyance at her immaturity or fire back a biting retort, she snaked the hand still clasped in his around to the small of his back in embrace and leaned forward to place a warm, gentle kiss against his lips, making eyelids flutter shut at the unexpected tenderness.

…Then flutter back open just as quickly as she broke contact a heartbeat later with a gruff clearing of her throat, wordlessly wiping her lips with denim sleeve as she darted behind him to make her way to the opposite side of the car without comment.

He sighed in thorough defeat before sliding into the passenger’s seat, flattening the collection of trash littering the floorboard with his shoe. “And perhaps afterwards I can teach you a lesson on the benefits of the modern waste disposal system,” he shot towards the woman rounding the hood of the car before slamming the door shut, certain he would receive another childish barb in reply the moment she was in the car herself.

In fact, he would wager that was what he had in store for the rest of his Sunday.

Yes, she really did find a way to give him everything he ever wanted.

But god, there really were times he regretted ever asking.

#aaaaaaand apologies for proofing and formatting errors new post editor detested <3333 #otp: stop bothering these nice folks #my writing #prompts

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spinchs-field · 1 year

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thinking about the Mechs and how strong they are physically. because im weird and enjoy muscular characters. anyway headcanon list incoming

Jonny: honestly kinda weak in the sense that he can’t lift much weight. doesn’t bother to work out, but could probably do really good with cardio for obvious reasons Nastya: quite the opposite; she works with machines all the time and is able to lift whole car engines with only a little struggle. very stronk (: Ashes: can deadlift anyone in the crew and then some. somehow able to beat Raph and Tim in arm wrestles Raphaella: same as Ashes but more. she’s forced to do all the heavy lifting (aka dragging corpses of the crew back to Aurora) because her wings make for faster transport. only one that can pick up Brian with zero struggle Tim: the routines he went through during the military never really left him, so he’s pretty fuckin ripped. though he tends to overwork himself and usually ends up passed out from exhaustion because he just doesn’t know when to stop Brian: when you’re made of nothing but copper and bad decisions, you can do just about anything if you think it’s funny enough (easily the strongest on the crew but never uses it for useful shit) Marius: pretty buff, but can’t lift much with his mechanical arm because the pull on his muscles starts to really hurt after a while. has managed to beat Ashes in an arm wrestle once. never again TS: Jonny saw it crush someone’s skull with its bare hands once. do with that what you will. Ivy: plenty of upper body strength from bookshelf climbing, but only really good at carrying her own weight.

#spinch speaks!

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logicalbookthief · 3 years

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Christmas Movies Ranked by How Anti-Capitalist They Are

It’s a Wonderful Life

Movies that make you want to pick a fight with the 1% and also weep with joy. Absolutely a classic and anti-capitalist at its very core. Will convince you we need to start oppressing landlords again.

“Just remember this, Mr. Potter, that this rabble you're talking about... they do most of the working and paying and living and dying in this community. Well, is it too much to have them work and pay and live and die in a couple of decent rooms and a bath? Anyway, my father didn't think so. People were human beings to him. But to you, a warped, frustrated old man, they're cattle.”

SAY THAT!!! George Bailey said fuck landlords, all my homies hate landlords, they have NO rights. Local man believes poor people are human, dedicates his life to helping them, and in his time of the need literally the whole town comes together to support him and his family. Class solidarity ftw!

“Remember no man is a failure who has friends.” Bitch I CRY EVERY GODDAMN TIME.

10/10

Home Alone

Soundtrack goes hard, the wacky hijinks even harder.

Loses points because the bandits had a prime opportunity to seize and redistribute some of the wealth from this ritzy Chicago neighborhood and instead they focus their energy on trying to kill an 8-year-old who outsmarts them at every turn.

2/10

Elf

A family favorite in our house. Touches on the overworking and mistreatment of employees through Greenway Press – Walter forced to choose between being with his family on Christmas Eve or losing his job, it’s implied Deb has a pet grooming business on the side to makes ends meet despite being a receptionist at a NY publishing company, etc.

Honestly most of the points come from Jonie’s underrated yet highly relatable storyline. She works in retail, exhausted and cynical towards the high-paced Christmas season which gives her little to no relief or reward, since she’s surviving on ramen noodles and using the employee showers because her water was cut off. Not expanded on enough to be considered a true Marxist piece but the effort is appreciated.

5/10

Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer

Although the meme is correct in that Rudolph’s red nose becomes desirable only once it proves to be useful, it does get points for exposing the harmful nature of forced conformity and those alienated by these capitalist ideals -- Rudolph, Hermie, the island of misfit toys -- are given a place to belong despite the perceived “flaws” that before made them undesirable.

Also the elves definitely have a free dental-plan now thanks to Hermie and are hopefully on their way to unionizing. Fucking superb you funky little misfit.

6/10

Klaus (2019)

Turns a member of the bourgeoisie into a man I’d trust to carry my mail. Respect for postal workers this movie contains was ahead of its time.

No direct takedown of the establishment but a heartwarming message -- “A true selfless act always sparks another” bITCH I may be crying -- that emphasizes the importance of giving to others even when there is no selfish motivation to do so, which is inherently anti-capitalist.

8/10

The Santa Clause

Scott Calvin starts as a toy executive who takes part in the commercialization of Christmas. He was probably a business major so automatically loses points.

The Santa dynasty itself seems to operate under the cutthroat rules of the business world where you must overthrow (or in this case, throw him off the roof) the former CEO in order to seize power.

Elves have not unionized or seized the means of production by the end.

0/10

A Christmas Carol

THE ORIGINAL. Charles Dickens was not even in the neighborhood of fucking around with this one. CREATED the anti-capitalist Christmas genre!!

Rich man treats his employees like shit and gets terrorized by three ghosts on Christmas Eve. Force him to redistribute his wealth by dragging him through a montage of his most epic fails -- oh, hey, remember when your fiancé left you? -- and make him listen as all his employees and relatives complain about his stingy ass.

They end this slideshow by throwing this dude into his own grave. DIRECT ACTION.

Like damn, the ghosts really said, “If you hoard your resources and ignore those in need when you could directly improve/save lives with no cost to yourself, you will die ALONE and you WILL pay for your crimes in hell.” Literally watching this movie is a catharsis for anyone who is or has been poor and working class.

I’m including all versions of this movie but a special shout out to the Muppet version because it fucks the hardest.

100/10

How the Grinch Stole Christmas (2000)

Listen I’m not even in realms of joking with this one. This movie is THE anti-capitalist film of the holiday season.

WhoVille commercializing Christmas and a fixation on consumer culture to the point where anything and anyONE who cannot be commodified -- aka the GRINCH -- is alienated? The Whos rediscovering that people should be cherished over material items once it all is stolen and they must confront how empty the holiday has become??

Cindy Lou becoming disillusioned in Christmas -- at an age that coincides when many children (those who celebrate Christmas at least) lost belief in Santa and had to wrestle with what the holiday means with the magic gone and they’re more aware of the rampant consumerism that taints the season?? Her resolve to find a meaning that goes beyond material consumption because if a holiday founded on goodwill doesn’t extend that goodwill to everyone, even those society deems undesirable, then what’s the point???

The Grinch despising Christmas because he is unable to participate and isolated from the Whos and also the better qualities within himself? His alienation serving to demonize him further as it allows the public to narrow his valid criticisms of the holiday down to him being different and thus inherently predisposed to evil?? And hmm isn’t it interesting that a LOT of this demonization comes via Mayor Augustus “generously paid for by the tax-payers of Whoville” Maywho, Mr. 1% himself.

The upper vs working class divide evident in the light show competition between Martha May and Betty Lou Who?? The opening scene of the shopping frenzy that mirrors our own consumerist culture and overworking of retail/poster workers??? This entire monologue:

“That's what it's all about, isn't it? That's what it's always been about. Gifts, gifts... gifts, gifts, gifts, gifts, gifts! You wanna know what happens to your gifts? They all come to me. In your garbage. You see what I'm saying? In your garbage. I could hang myself with all the bad Christmas neckties I found at the dump. And the avarice... the avarice never ends! ‘I want golf clubs. I want diamonds. I want a pony so I can ride it twice, get bored and sell it to make glue.’"

MARXIST KING. MENTION IT ALL.

1000/10

#christmas #christmas movies #how the grinch stole christmas #a christmas carol #elf #klaus #rudolph the red nosed reindeer #home alone #it's a wonderful life #the santa clause #this was a labor of love please clap

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slasherholic · 3 years

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synopsis: you reflect on a few incidents in your relationship with asa that really should have tipped you off as red flags while you wait for him to come back and torture you some more.

contains: gender neutral reader, graphic depictions of violence and torture, psychological torture, death, kidnapping, rib trauma, referenced abuse, current abuse because it’s fucking asa, I’ll throw in manipulation and gaslighting just to be safe.

note: quite a few scenes and tidbits in this were heavily inspired by a chat I had with the brilliant and lovely @sanguine--honey, so thanks again for letting me include those in this fic c:

word count: 4k

(Part One, Part Two)

Asa Emory / The Collector x Reader | Loose Ends | Part Three

When he finally unchained you from the pole he dragged you violently up several flights of steep stairs. His strength seemed tireless no matter how much you struggled.

You were bruised and battered and smearing blood on the floor behind you when he got to where he was taking you. He ignored the desperate way you were still screaming at him and threw you violently in a black trunk in a room with bright white lights and steel lab tables. He had slammed the heavy door shut so hard the force of it knocked a painting off the wall. Many locks turned on the other side. You clutched your stomach with both hands and doubled over and began to dry heave.

You sat crying in the dark. When the tears wouldn’t come out anymore, you looked for a way out. Tried to feel around the edges. Your arms burned terribly and you could smell your own body fluids lingering among the overwhelming smell of disinfectant loitering in the air. Your face ached from where he’d held your mouth to silence you when he plunged the needle in. There was a perfectly round hole in the side of the trunk, the size of your pinky nail, that appeared to have been made with a drill. An airhole. Or a peephole.

But the trunk itself was locked up tight. There was no getting out.

You studied the room through the peephole. There were four other trunks sitting upright on the floor to the left of you, at least that you could see, lined up one after the next to form a semicircle. Each was a different color—red, blue, green, brown, in that order.

You called out very softly and asked if anyone was there.

Silence.

Sniffling again, you sat with your knees curled tightly into your chest, and allowed your mind to romp.

There had been signs, red flags abound, and you had ignored them, made excuses for him in your head, filed every uncomfortable incident away to be rationalized at a later date. You might not have known until the very end that he was this. But you had known enough. Asa, beneath his carefully manufactured charm and suave, was the coldest man you had ever met.

So you arrived at the crushing conclusion that you had nobody to blame for this but yourself.

There had been one instance, close to the start of your relationship, or whatever it was you had with him, where you found yourself very inebriated in his expensively furnished living room.

Asa had implied over dinner that he would like to go upstairs and have sex after you were finished, and he’d cleared the plates off his dining table nearly twenty minutes ago. You challenged him to arm-wrestle first.

“Please?” You spread your legs out on his blue persian rug, intent on staying awhile.

Asa sat across the room from you in the cushioned chair closest to the hall, his hands folded in his lap. The look on his face was growing rather unamused.

“I already said no. Can we move along?”

“Come on, have a little fun.”

His expression grew more dour still.

“You’re drunk. Very drunk. I thought I told you to go easy with the drinking.”

“You, Dr. Emory, are being a total stick in the mud.”

You pestered him about it until he humored you.

He took you by the hand and set your arm up on his nice coffee table which he had cleared delicately of a stag beetle specimen in a spotless glass display.

“Count of three.” You slurred, a smile growing in your eyes, one he didn’t care to return.

“One.”

He adjusted his grip dexterously around your fingers. His arm was bigger than yours by far.

“Two.”

The thick tendons in his wrist jumped out. It would be no contest. You wanted to try anyway. You thought it would be fun.

“Three.”

You fought against his hand with everything you had. You laughed. Asa let you struggle against him for a few moments, regarding you with an utter lack of concern on his face. For all your efforts you couldn’t budge his wrist by a centimeter.

Then he smashed your hand so quick and hard into the coffee table your knuckles throbbed and you yelled.

The laughter fell from your face like a stone. You jerked in his grip. His hold moved down to your wrist where he held you tightly and didn’t let go. Suddenly, you didn’t like the way he was looking at you.

Asa, leaning forward, spoke to you very slowly, and made you linger on every syllable, as if you were stupid.

“Are you finished? Shall we move on? Or would you like to go again?”

He squeezed your wrist a bit harder. You could feel the pulse in your arm quickening, throbbing in his grip, which was getting tighter every second.

You let him take you upstairs without suggesting any more games.

In the morning, you hardly remembered the sex, but your hand was bruised. Asa didn’t mention anything to you about it as he got ready for work. It was the last time you had ever been drunk around him.

You jolted awake in the trunk. Your arms burned in a way that sent vicious chills through your extremities. There was a wet stain on the wall where you must have fallen asleep at some point. Resting a hand on the trunk, you stared cautiously through the peephole.

Asa wasn’t there. But the painting that had fallen was back in its place on the wall.

Your stomach sank. You thought some more to try and distract yourself from the pain in your arms and your aching body.

There had been that one night in the park. The night you stayed awake many sleepless hours trying and failing not to remember what you witnessed.

The sunset had dissipated and the only light remaining in the park was what filtered down from the black street lamps towering like spires all along the sidewalk. Asa had touched something on the bench he didn’t like, and had gotten up to wash his hands in the nearby bathroom.

You watched a pair of moths fluttering around each other near the lamp across the path and noticed someone approaching from the corner of your eye. Assuming it was Asa, you turned to ask him what species he figured they were.

It wasn’t Asa.

The mugger shoved you forcefully off the park bench. You spilled onto the cold sidewalk, knocking your head on the concrete.

“Give me the fucking wallet.”

The man must have thought you were alone. He wore black jeans and a grey t-shirt. He brandished a short switchblade at you which you stared at with wide terrified eyes. You were shocked to silence, frozen in place.

The mugger made a grab for the wallet in your shaking hands.

And Asa had tackled him from behind with such force that both men went spilling into the grass on the opposite side of the path.

He was back on his feet by the time the mugger was still clambering to his mud-stained knees. You watched Asa’s hand go somewhere beneath his olive jacket as he pulled out a knife you hadn’t known he carried. He flipped it in his grip and held it with the blade angled down toward the grass. His face had become profoundly unreadable.

His movements dripped with practice and polish as he sized your mugger up. The muscles in his legs were spring-loaded as he stalked back and forth along the grass. Every step had a purpose.

He dove in for a slash across the man’s stomach. You saw blood spray in a wide arc and heard the man make a painful strangled sound. Asa ducked beneath a clumsy swipe for his face, stepping away again. He passed his knife from one hand to the other; now, he was circling the man. Not adjusting his stance. Circling him.

The man lunged at him with a grunt. The switchblade raced for his chest. Asa caught his wrist and slashed him deep across the thigh.

You’d always known his reflexes were astonishingly quick. Once, you dropped your expensive camera while photographing the exhibits at the museum, and he had grabbed it before it hit the ground, lecturing you in a more-or-less jesting manner about getting a lanyard for it as he stood to hand it back to you, an incident which at the time had made your cheeks warm.

Asa planted his shoe squarely in the man’s abdomen and kicked him away hard. The man made a guttural sound as he tumbled back on the grass, gasping for air, and Asa let him clamber to his feet again, still circling. The look on his face was no longer indifference. It was something far more intense.

The man turned, staggering, and tried to run.

Asa was faster. He tackled him again, wrestled him brutally to the sidewalk. The man swung blindly, got lucky in his desperation—and clipped him across the shoulder.

Asa snarled. Not a grunt, it had been a snarl, low and throaty, like an animal.

He slashed violently at the man and his knife flashed sharply in the lamp light. Blood erupted from the cut in a heavy mist. The man fell back on the ground, dropping his own blade, clutching his throat. Asa straddled him on his knees, and grabbed him by the face, wrenching his head up. You heard the crack of the man’s skull meeting the concrete from where you sat.

The man started shouting desperately for help.

You watched Asa raise his knife. His arms and shoulders flexed and strained the sleeves of his jacket. You knew by the look on his face alone that you were about to witness a murder. Before you knew what you were doing, you were yelling at him to stop.

Asa didn’t hear. Or he ignored you.

He drove the knife hard into the man’s stomach.

The man made a wet strangled sound, bringing up his arm to try and block the onslaught, because Asa was already raising his arm again.

He stabbed the same spot. Every stab that followed was faster. The man’s yelling became screaming and you saw Asa’s hand shift to cover his mouth. The man’s muffled screams fell to thin whining. Then ragged wheezing. Then, stopped.

A cricket chirped beyond the reach of the street lamps. The moths fluttered near the bulb across the path.

Asa straightened up his posture. His nostrils flared heavily with breath. He seemed to take in the gored body on the concrete beneath him, which had gone motionless.

Five seconds hardly passed before he stood, slowly, rising to his full height, carefully side-stepping the body. The man’s blood trickled off the tip of his wet knife and dripped on the concrete next to his black dress shoes. His jacket sleeves and the sides of his charcoal pants across his thighs were stained with long dark swaths. He rolled his shoulders. The breeze tousled his disordered hair.

There had been a few moments you could recall when it really occurred to you how big Asa was.

He wore flattering clothes often, and your eyes were sometimes tempted towards the wide muscles in his chest, but the way he talked to you was very ensnaring, as he always seemed to have something interesting or intelligent or just plain sarcastic in a dry but not-to-be-taken-seriously way to say; so when he spoke, you found it difficult to look anywhere but at his handsome face. You only really witnessed the scope of his strength when you slept with him. The ways he was able to handle you when he wanted made you feel, at times, incredibly vulnerable around him.

Asa had turned his whole body toward you when he considered you where you sat huddled on the sidewalk, reigning in the hot breaths which broadened his chest and spiraled into the chilly night. The man’s blood had gotten on his cheek. You started to shiver. He regarded you with a look that read staggering disapproval, as though this, and what would inevitably follow, was not worth his time, as though it might as well have been your fault, as though he was currently considering very strongly doing something about it later in private.

“You should call the police.”

Before you knew what you were doing or why you were really doing it you scrambled for your phone in your pocket and tapped on the screen with very shaky fingers, “9-1-1.”

The ambulances pulled up to the street corner first followed shortly by two squad cars. Asa stood up slowly from the green park bench to meet them, and you stayed kneeling on the cold sidewalk.

He introduced himself to the officers as Dr. Asa Emory and dealt with their questions very professionally. At one point, he had pulled a neatly folded paper out of his wallet, which the questioning officer took, shined her flashlight at, and returned to him, nodding her head. The story was very apparent: a couple walking in the park had been assaulted at knife-point, and a registered concealed-carry weapon had been used to dispatch the aggressor.

The officers came over to question you. Asa, standing off to the side, removed his bloodied jacket, which he hung neatly over the park bench. He watched you closely. The look on his face was like the prick of a thorn.

You diverted your gaze away from him and nodded at the officer’s questions dumbly, staring at the medical workers as they bagged up the body on the sidewalk. An EMT was called over, who concluded that you were in moderate shock, and that you should go to the hospital.

“I won’t be riding along with you.” Asa was down to his tan sweater, rubbing his newly cleaned fingers together at his side, which he had been given bottles of water to wash off at his request. The indifference on his face didn’t lift as they strapped you down to the gurney.

“The officers have a few more questions, so I’ve agreed to go with them down to the station.”

His words were factual and rhetorical, as if your input on the matter wasn’t at all needed, so you didn’t say anything back to him.

It was the last you heard from him until he showed up in your hospital room several hours later. Your stomach lept a little when the door opened and he came in.

He was wearing a change of clothes, his hair groomed back into place, looking very much the part of respectable Dr. Emory again. He had brought you dinner from the lobby downstairs.

He sat in the only chair in the room as you picked at the warm mashed potatoes in the black tray, and made conversation about how you were handling things, and if there was anything he could get you, and though it all felt very shallow and obligatory you found yourself playing along as best you could, because sitting in the room alone with him was giving you very obvious goosebumps.

Asa drove you home later that night. You got out of his car without a word, went to your door, and quickly did the lock behind you.

After falling into bed, you were afraid of him. You couldn’t bring yourself to admit it then; you tried to cling tightly to the parts of him you still thought you loved. But from then on, you were, genuinely, afraid of him.

What made it worse, you suspected he saw it, too.

His holds on your wrist when you turned away from him before he had quite finished lecturing you about something very irresponsible or just plain ignorant you had done were firmer. There was the way he moved his jacket occasionally when he shifted his posture, and you caught a glimpse of his holstered knife for a moment too long. And how, when he asked you a question—one to which you didn’t immediately have an answer—he turned all his attention on you, and began to approach you, boxing you in, cutting off your escape, slowly repeating the question.

He’d known. Without a doubt, he had known.

Sobbing started in the trunk next to you and it jolted you harshly out of your thoughts.

It sounded like a man. A younger man. You tried to talk to him.

“Hello?”

Sudden silence fell. You repeated yourself.

“Is someone there?”

“-Yes.”

The voice came out very quietly. For a moment, you didn’t say anything. You didn’t know what there was to say.

“What’s your name?”

Silence for another moment.

“It’s Noah.”

There was rattling as Noah shifted in his trunk.

Noah told you he’d been taken on a Tuesday. A horrendous sinking feeling settled in your stomach at that.

Tuesday was six days ago. Asa had come back very late that night smelling strongly of disinfectant and nitrile, as he did sometimes. You figured he'd stayed past closing hours at work for something important but asked him about it anyway, in the name of making casual conversation, an occurrence which had been growing steadily more reclusive between the two of you. His response had been clipped and curt. You didn’t ask him any more about it.

Noah seemed to hear Asa coming down the hall before you did.

“Stop. Stop talking.” His voice was suddenly desperate, laced with terror. “He’s coming back. He’s coming back. Please don’t talk. Don’t say anything.”

But that wasn’t part of the plan.

The locks clicked open on the other side of the black door.

You started pleading at him with your raw hoarse voice the second he stepped into the room.

“Asa, please! You know I didn’t tell anyone! I’ll do anything you want, you know I will! Asa, please!”

You weren’t even sure what you were begging him for. Please let me out. Please clean my arms before they get infected. Please don’t hurt me anymore.

He shoved your trunk so violently as he walked past that your head knocked against the wood and everything went dizzy for a moment.

Through the airhole, through your fresh, blurry tears, you watched him squat down, and unlock the brown trunk next to yours, the one the young man was in.

Noah couldn’t have been older than his early twenties but his face was exhausted and gaunt. His shirt was gone and his red sweatpants were soaked through with sweat or something else. The shackles around his wrists and ankles rattled as Asa’s arm darted into the trunk.

He wrenched the young man out by his tangled brown hair. Noah made an anguished sound, but didn’t struggle much as Asa hauled him swiftly towards the operating table.

It occurred to you then what Asa had drilled the peephole in your trunk for.

The young man begged desperate things while Asa locked his shackled wrists and ankles down to the fixtures on the table. No. Not again. Stop. Please don’t do it again. You looked closer, noticing the long row of stitches running down his side, the skin around them still red and puffy, and thought you might be sick.

Asa grabbed him roughly by the face, and leaned in very close, settling his hand on his bare abdomen. He said something next to Noah’s head too quiet for you to overhear. Noah’s chest heaved rapidly. Asa stood again, and gave the side of his ribs a light stroke before he walked away.

The young man on the table had paled fast. He lay staring at the ceiling with huge unblinking eyes, trembling, looking very much in shock at what he had just heard.

Asa took his time choosing the surgical tools from his cabinets. You watched him prepare the room, too afraid to look away. Maybe it was all a bluff. Please god let it be a bluff. He laid out two separate trays on the stainless-steel countertops, putting his tools in one, and set an extra out near the sink.

It wasn’t a bluff.

Noah was very awake when Asa began to cut his chest open.

His body obscured your view of the table but you knew the exact moment the scalpel sank in because the young man made a horrible screeching noise and began thrashing violently in his chains in a huge clamor. His body seized and his eyes rolled back in his head. He seemed to try to vomit; nothing came out.

Asa did not carry out his work hastily. Finished with the bloodied scalpel, he set it in the tray adjacent to his clean tools. When he turned away from the counter, you glimpsed his face.

The look of steady concentration he wore was no different from the times he’d let you watch him process an important specimen or sketch or paint. He clamped Noah’s skin back with pairs of forceps, and peeled off his wet black gloves, beneath which he was already wearing a fresh pair.

You took in the sight on the table while Asa went to the corner of the room to discard the gloves. Noah’s wet red ribs glistened beneath the long hanging lights and you could smell the slippery viscera from where you sat. You watched them expand as his lungs inflated with tortured breath, which was no longer anything but a bloody gurgling deep in his throat.

Asa came back, going next for the surgical pliers, ghosting his hand along his options until he seemed to settle on the proper one. When he looked up, pliers in hand, he was deliberately, unmistakably, casting his gaze across the room at your trunk. As if to make sure you were still watching.

Your heart nearly stopped. Air wouldn’t come in.

Then he returned to his work and started clipping Noah’s ribs off.

You could hear the bone snapping every time. The young man passed out more than twice on the table and that was the only time there was silence in the room.

Asa deposited the rib clippings in a third tray, and went to wash them free of blood and tissue in the steel sink while the near-corpse on the table made awful rattling noises, struggling to breathe; Noah seemed to be watching Asa, too, trying at least, but the immensity of his struggle had burst capillaries in his eyes.

Asa laid the ribs out on a pristine white cloth, organizing them from shortest to longest, toweling them individually off, and went about measuring them lengthwise with a yellow tape, then again around their circumference. He placed them gently in a bin, sealed the lid tight, went for a pen, and wrote something in his neat handwriting on the label.

You watched him take a curved needle and load it carefully with fine black suturing thread pinched delicately between his finger and thumb. Noah screamed and squirmed weakly with all he had left as it went in, which wasn’t much at all. Asa pulled the needle in and out, bringing his skin back together until his gaping chest was shut again.

The young man was still alive when Asa hauled him back into the trunk, a fresh row of black knots holding his ruined flesh closed.

Or at least he was still twitching, blinking, drawing shuddering agonized breaths through his wide-open mouth from which there ran an endless trickle of saliva and blood. The bottom of his stitched-shut chest was concave where his lower ribs used to be. He didn’t look like he’d live another hour. You hoped he wouldn’t.

Asa shut the lid and did the latches.

He went back to the counter for the ribs, taking an indirect path around the table, which carried him right towards you. You scrambled back from him as fast you could. The trunk didn’t let you get very far. You felt his fingers rap along the lid from one side to the other and couldn’t choke back your broken sound.

He left through the heavy door, doing up all the locks, and this time, you heeded Noah’s advice. Your mouth stayed utterly, obediently, shut.

After a few minutes of hopeless wheezing, Noah fell silent in the brown trunk, and never made another sound after that.

#asa emory #asa emory x reader #the collector #the collection #slashers #horror #slasher x reader #reader insert #writing #fanfic #darkfic #tw: torture #tw: abuse

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btsmosphere · 3 years

Text

Lost in a Book | JHS

~summary: you and Jung Hoseok don’t exactly see eye to eye. but when you (literally) fall headfirst into a whole other world, that becomes the least of your worries ~pairing: hoseok x reader ~word count: 8.5k ~enemies to lovers, college au, fantasy au ~rating: g ~warnings: naughty freudian slip, sexual tension, arguing, fire

~a/n: this is my gift for the wonderful @moccahobi‘s birthday! I am so lucky to be friends with someone as funny, hard working and gorgeous as you and I hope you have a great day!! and no, of course I didn’t choose the biggest bingo square only to forget and write this in a week.. (okay, I did, so pls go easy on any errors!) as always the lovely admins at @thebtswritersclub came up with a fun challenge to prompt this story, so I will be including my makeup palette bingo square at the end so you can see what prompts I used for this! enjoy x

The moment you had seen Jung Hoseok coming through the door, your eyes rolled.

Almost entirely made of large windows, the front of the coffee shop you worked in allowed you to see all the passers-by. So when you spotted your classmate coming down the street, laughing loudly with a couple of friends, you had prayed that he would just pass by.

Of course, you could never get what you wished for.

“Yoongi-“ you tried in vain to capture your friend’s attention, but too late. Yoongi hadn’t even looked around from where he was scrubbing coffee cups when a familiar voice reached your ears, making you groan internally.

“Y/N! Hard day at work? You look frazzled.”

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” you drawled, resigning yourself to serving him.

He simply leaned on the counter, sagging with laughter.

“Always service with a smile with you, isn’t it?”

“I’m sure you’d be just as tired if you even tried to focus in class,” you fired back.

His grin didn’t even falter. But at last, he dropped his teasing. With a scoff he ordered a tea and turned around, scrolling on his phone with his back to you as you got to work.

It seemed you had grabbed Yoongi’s attention after all, judging by the poorly-hidden snort from the washing up area.

Scowling, you chucked together a cup of tea distractedly, only too relieved when you pushed it over the counter to be rid of Hoseok. So when he sipped it only to wince in disgust, your heart sank.

“Jesus, where’s the caffeine? This is so weak.”

Your desire to argue back lost its short-lived wrestle with your customer service training, and you were reluctantly offering to make a new one. This time, you forced yourself to pay more attention. You knew that way, you could actually get rid of the nuisance on the other side of the counter.

“You see Y/N, the bag goes in the water,” Hoseok remarked, leaning over to see what you were doing.

Shooting the most passionate glare you could muster had the undesirable effect of sending him into peals of laughter.

Eventually, after making a point to leave the teabag in for much longer – at least until you noticed his fingers begin to tap on the countertop – you passed over his second cup with a sarcastic smile. His mood didn’t seem to have dampened that much, but he left without a fuss.

“You have great chemistry.”

The dry remark from behind you had you whirling around to glare at Yoongi instead. He stood in front of his stack of clean washing, observing you with a smirk.

“I don’t think Jung Hoseok knows what chemistry is,” you grumbled.

But as you set to work, a little aggressively, on scrubbing the counter, you never would have guessed how right you were. Or that it would soon become your responsibility.

“So when we sleep, what part of the brain transfers memory from white to grey matter?”

“…what’s grey matter again?”

“I think you could do with some more of it,” you muttered in lieu of an answer.

Hoseok lifted his head from his arms just enough to fix you with reproachful puppy eyes. Sighing, you tugged the textbook back across the table towards you, flipping a few pages back and jabbing your finger at the relevant passage.

Raising an eyebrow, he read it for the second time today with a growing frown.

“Long term…” he said at length.

“Long term memory!” you groaned, dropping your forehead against the heel of your hands.

Behind you, you knew Jungkook and Yoongi were watching this unfold with amusement. You weren’t sure you could take much more of this.

If you had envisaged this when you had signed up for your college’s mentor program, well, you may have changed your mind.

At last, the hour dragged by. Apparently Hoseok wanted to be there as little as you, collecting the books and leaving very quickly once you were done. Though your shift was over, you were sure you might explode if you didn’t get to rant about the guy right now.

Huffing, you marched over to the counter.

“He’s such a jerk!” you threw your hands out, “his ego’s so big, it’s like he thinks he’s too good to even try! And now it’s up to me to make sure he isn’t so behind, but there is so much to do!”

Your coworkers weren’t helping. Both had given up suppressing their laughter, openly enjoying your pain.

“You guys are no help,” you grumbled, folding your arms.

“Just be patient,” Jungkook offered, “it might get better in time.”

“Patience is not something Jung Hoseok inspires,” you retorted, “and I’m being good enough as it is! I even had the generosity to lend him my textbook!”

“You’re a saint,” Yoongi chuckled.

A withering glare later, you slung your bag over your shoulder and bid your friends a tired goodbye.

Much as you hated to admit it, there may have been some truth in what Jungkook told you. Patience did seem to be the key after all. A lot of patience.

A few more meetings had passed, and Hoseok remembered a lot more now. You weren’t sure whether it was due to the quality of your teaching or just a desire to avoid your constant scolding, but it didn’t matter too much. The result was what counted.

You were to meet again today. As always, he came as your shift finished so that you could work in the café.

“You like him really.”

Jungkook’s voice tore your eyes away from the clock you had been watching.

“I’m sorry?”

“You like him,” he repeated, “I’ve never seen you so impatient to get off work.”

“What? I’m not,” you scoffed, “it’s just-“

The little jingling bell above the door interrupted you. Never finishing your thought, you left Jungkook to meet Hoseok at the counter.

“Tea?” you asked him.

“Not if you’re making it,” he quipped, eyes already skimming the menu on the wall behind you.

You scoffed with a roll of your eyes, but said no more. Hoseok’s teasing eyes returned to you as he said,

“Think you can manage a hot chocolate?”

“Of course I can make hot cock-“ your eyes widened at your momentary slip “-chocolate. I can make hot chocolate-“

But for all your correcting and muttering, there was no hiding your embarrassing moment from Hoseok, whose eyes lit up with surprise before laughter spilled out of him in reams.

“I didn’t mean to make you so flustered, Y/N!” he cackled.

Biting your tongue, you hid your burning face from him as he half-collapsed against the counter with the force of his laughter. You angrily set to work on the drink, milk sloshing in the jug as you thrust it under the machine.

“With whipped scream on top too, huh?”

Hoseok’s incessant mocking didn’t stop until you had handed him the drink. If anything could prove to Jungkook just how wrong he was, this should do it. Still, you didn’t dare to turn around and see what your friend made of the situation.

Mixing the powder into the hot milk forcefully, you glared down at the cup.

Damn Jung Hoseok! He couldn’t be any more infuriating if he tried. It wasn’t your fault he was so annoying it made it hard for you to think straight. No one else managed to rile you up so much as him.

You gave him the drink with a side of deathly glare. It only served to amuse him more.

Safe to say you were dreading the next hour.

Clocking off soon after, you hung up your apron regretfully and headed across to your usual table. Thankfully Hoseok was a bit more subdued now.

Unfortunately, you were about to find out why.

“So, Y/N,” he started as you were sitting down.

This brought your attention to him straight away. Your eyes narrowed as he toyed with his mug on the table, avoiding your eyes.

“So, uh, that textbook you lent me-“

You had a bad feeling already. Looking around, you didn’t notice it on the usual pile of books.

“Where is it?” you cut him off.

At last he raised his head to meet your eyes, and you didn’t like what you saw.

“It’s not like we need it that badly anyway,” he began, though you weren’t sure you had ever heard him sound so hesitant, “we finished most of the stuff in there anyway…”

“You lost it, didn’t you?”

“Well, yeah. And I think I also spilled some-“

Not waiting for him to finish, you exclaimed your frustration.

“I can’t believe you! Just because you don’t see a use for ever picking up a book, I need that! I don’t have that kind of money spare either…”

As you raked a hand through your hair, Hoseok decided now was the time to be helpful.

“Gosh, I was afraid you would do this. We have a library for a reason, you know?”

Stopping your train of thought abruptly, you lowered your hand to glower at him.

“And now you’re going to make me go in the library? Ugh, you really have it out for me.”

Incredulous laughter followed. Hoseok leaned back in his chair, observing you with raised eyebrows.

“You’re telling me you believe in those stupid rumours?”

Shifting uncomfortably, you shrugged.

“Well, you’ve got to admit the place is creepy, right? And my flatmate said she knew that girl Cindy-“

As you spoke, Hoseok’s laughing grew louder, steadily filling the café until you were forced to stop.

“What?” you hissed.

“We’ve all heard about “Cindy”,” he made quotation marks in the air, “but that’s just a story! The older students made it up to scare newbies – and it would seem it worked. But everyone knows the scariest thing in the library is just the course reading.”

Biting your tongue, you didn’t muster up a response. You would only face more ridicule if you argued about this.

“Don’t forget the librarian,” you joked half-heartedly.

Hoseok chuckled lightly, and you were glad he dropped the topic after that.

But still the issue of your sorely misused textbook remained.

There was nothing to be done. You had to go to the library.

It may seem a ridiculous thing to be scared of, especially for someone who loved books, but, as Hoseok had kindly refreshed your memory of, there were… stories. The campus library at your college warranted a degree of wariness.

Most commonly told was the story of Cindy, supposedly a student at the university many years before. No matter how dramatic the story was made, the essentials were the same; she had gone into the library and never come out.

Logically, you knew that this was just one of those quirky urban legends that came to surround certain places.

Nonetheless, your nerves only worsened as you entered the grand building.

On your way in, you only passed one other student. Most people were leaving uni at around this time, but you needed to hang around anyway because your shift was soon. You had sent a quick text to Yoongi to let him know you would be there once you found the book, and somehow it comforted you a little that someone else knew you were here.

Moving through the first few rows of tall bookshelves, you had to pass by the main desk on your way to the section you were looking for.

Doing your utmost to tread with care, sandals making as little noise as you could manage on the wooden floor, you walked on.

As you drew near, the librarian looked up. Greeting them with a bright smile, you didn’t let it show that your heart was really thumping in your chest.

Hurrying along, you only slowed once you had entered the right section. Near the back of the library, it was dimmer as no light from the window reached all the way into the corner. Utter silence dampened the air. Not even the rustling of the librarian sorting papers could be heard from here.

Alone with the hushed sound of your own breath, your eyes flicked along the rows, searching for the right name.

Spotting it at last, you wasted no time in reaching for it. But as you tried to slide it from its spot, you were met with resistance. Perhaps it was very tightly packed in its place.

You tried again with both hands. It was still wedged in, but you felt it give a little so kept pulling. You managed to tug it out a little way, but this time, the book tugged back. Holding onto it as tightly as you were, you stumbled forwards, nearly slipping out of one of your sandals.

Gulping, your brow creased. More determined this time, you tried once more, but it seemed the book only retreated further among its companions on the shelf.

Breathing heavily, you stepped back. Books were not meant to do this. You swore it had moved by itself.

Maybe Hoseok would call you crazy if this was your reason for not getting the textbook. But, you thought, staring back down the empty row of shelves, a science textbook was less important than not getting involved with the strange happenings of the library.

Already you were questioning your sanity. Books didn’t move.

Looking back at it once more, it appeared perfectly unassuming. There was nothing unusual about the book. Maybe your mind was playing tricks, driven from the fear you felt about this place.

Breathing deeply, you reached your hand out for one last try. Picking up a book couldn’t be that hard. As long as you didn’t fear it-

Your fingers came into contact with the spine, and not a moment later, the book shrunk right back. But though it shot out of sight between its neighbours, your hand was stuck to it. Your intent to snatch it straight back at any sign of movement failed, and you were yanked forwards.

Flying clean off your foot now, your sandal clattered to the floor among the silent shelves behind you.

Your stomach jerked at the sudden movement. Now, as you plunged towards the shelves, you screwed your eyes shut, anticipating the imminent collision.

None came.

Instead, your insides seemed to be suspended. You had not crashed, but still your feet didn’t meet the floor; though your eyes were closed you were certain you were falling.

Rapidly upping its pace, your heart tried to punch through your ribs the longer you were in this state, fearing your landing. Panicked, you took great gulps of air, limbs flailing fruitlessly.

You landed.

It felt like you had been falling for a long time – too long – yet the force you hit the ground with was not painful. For a second, it expelled air from your lungs, but by the time you had rolled and tumbled enough to land on your back, you were sucking in a shaky breath.

Blinking, you turned to look around you. Your arms struggled to push you from the ground, but you heaved to sit up anyway.

This was like nowhere you had ever been.

No parquet was beneath you here. The ground was earth, sparse tufts of grass growing from it. But in places, the foliage was abundant, great swathes of vibrant grass surrounding a nearby rock which protruded from the ground.

These rocks were also plentiful, though not of regular size. They poked from the ground, rough surfaces being seized by moss of all colours.

Other plants stretched higher still, all in shades of purple, green and blue. Climbing slowly to your feet, your eyes traced up the stem of a slender tree whose leaves drooped downwards with their size.

The only thing you could hope to recognise were roses that grew in places, curved petals familiar atop their stems that wound around larger plants.

In the scattered canopy above you, there appeared to be vines as well. Climbers, perhaps; it appeared as if they were winding around ceiling beams above you, except that they were in open air, pale sky stretching above them.

Very deliberately, you blinked.

Nothing changed.

Jaw hanging open, you turned slowly around. This place continued the same everywhere you looked. You certainly weren’t in the library anymore.

Taking some effort to breathe evenly, you forced your feet to still.

Remembering your phone, you quickly reached for it. But as you repeatedly pressed the power button, the screen remained black. Either you had let it run down, or it wouldn’t work in this alien place.

You replaced it in your pocket with bitter disappointment and continued to stand still, observing this place.

Purposefully, you walked towards the nearest rock. Given the way you were transported here, you were a little wary of touching random objects, but you tentatively reached for the mossy surface. Briefly grazing it, you jumped backwards, expecting something to happen.

Nothing. Just the springy surface of moss, solid and very real.

Staring at the rock, your mind ran in uncomprehending circles. How had you got here? Why? How could you get out?

Cutting through your thoughts, a thump came from behind you.

Startled, you jumped around, eyes darting in panic around the world you had found yourself in. Nothing seemed to have moved…

A cough, followed by a groan, drifted from somewhere.

Frown deepening, you stepped forwards. A few paces brought you around the next rock, bigger than the last. Not only was it taller than you, it was bordered on one side by more of the tall plants, blocking your view of what was behind it.

This was definitely where the sounds were emanating from. As you cautiously rounded the boulder, rustling sounds reached your ears.

Reaching the trees, you peered between two dark blue trunks. Every muscle in your body was tense, ready to spring away at the first sign of danger.

Instead, you were greeted with the shape of a person. They wore a dark jacket, their hair also dark, but they were facing away from you where they sat.

For a moment you stood frozen. You were divided: should you announce yourself? Maybe they could help you? But for all you knew, they might not feel kindly towards you. What would another person be doing in this strange place?

Before you had the chance to decide, let alone move, the person slumped backwards to lie down, huffing a great sigh as they went.

Your eyes widened. Now you could see their face — and you certainly hadn’t expected this.

“Hoseok?”

Squeezing between the trees, you pushed your way into the small clearing he lay in. On hearing your voice, he twisted towards you with wide eyes.

“Y/N?” he jumped up, eyeing you suspiciously, “what is this place?”

“I have no idea,” you answered honestly. Then, “what are you doing here?”

Echoing your earlier words, he said, “I have no idea.”

After a moment, he seemed to remember something and looked around sharply.

“I found this,” he told you, pointing at the ground some feet away. There lay your sandal from earlier.

“Oh. Thank you.”

You flashed an awkward smile and went to pick it on, sliding it back onto the foot it had lost not long ago. Then your silence resumed.

Briefly, you did nothing but stare at each other. Then you stared again at the bizarre scenery around you.

Hoseok was first to move. Apparently becoming tired of your company so soon, he turned away with hands on his hips and began to pick through the undergrowth, which was thicker here than where you had first landed.

Even if this was all the company you were granted, you were eager to keep it, and so followed him.

A few minutes passed. Eerie silence was all around, save for the tentative brush of your footsteps against plants. He hadn’t complained about your presence, though, so you eventually decided it safe to speak.

“Did you… fall here?” you ventured.

His eyes snapped back to you. With a nod, he confirmed it.

“From the library?”

Slowing down, he allowed you to catch up and walk at his side.

“Yeah, why? You too?”

“That’s what happened to me,” you nodded, “but… what were you doing in the library?”

But Hoseok never heard those last words. A deafening, crunching crash resounded through your quiet conversation, drowning you out.

Both of you reacted quickly, spinning to the source of the monstrous sound in fear. Your hammering heart only sped up as you located a dark shape above the treetops.

“There!” you cried, grabbing onto Hoseok’s sleeve.

He spotted it as you pointed, for it was rapidly growing, soaring towards you.

“What is that?” he yelled, stumbling backwards.

You had nothing to offer in reply, instead watching with wide eyes as the creature flew closer still. Still grasping at Hoseok’s sleeve, you tugged at it, looking around for the nearest cover. He made no move. Struck dumb with awe, he seemed to be rooted to the spot.

Turning back to the sky, you were panicked to see the beast drawing closer. You could make out a long snout protruding from its head, spiny wings beating slowly and yet carrying it swiftly over the land.

The monster was enormous, blocking out a chunk of the open sky.

Not wanting to hesitate any longer, you pulled Hoseok forcefully with you as you retreated under the cover of a thick patch of foliage. He complied, still unable to tear his gaze from the flying creature.

You almost daren’t look, even now you were secluded among shadow. But curiosity overcame you.

It was near enough on top of you now. You held your breath, terror washing over you at the sight of it, close enough now that you could make out scales on the thing’s large belly. They glimmered a blazing red as it moved.

But its pace was fast, and it continued quickly, long tail etching a path through the sky behind it.

“Was that…” you breathed, after you felt enough time had passed to be safe. But your thought was too absurd for you to speak out loud.

However, Hoseok finished it for you.

“A dragon?”

Both of you slowly turned to face each other, matching expressions of perplexed shock painting your faces. You opened and closed your mouth, but no words presented themselves.

Your gaze was only severed by the return of the same cacophony to the air that had first heralded the dragon. Only now, it was louder.

Ducking by reflex, you whipped around. Above the treetops, the dragon was returning.

Still filling the air, the sound was that of treetops rupturing as the scaled beast flew low over them, snapping them like matchsticks. Once again, it seemed like the thing was coming straight towards you.

“Let’s move,” you shouted over the noise.

Hoseok didn’t need telling twice.

Side by side, you raced between trees, feet and clothes catching on leaves and vines that spanned the floor. Plunging on nonetheless, you kept your eyes set determinedly ahead.

By the time your lungs demanded you stop for breath, you were sure you must have gone a considerable distance from where you had first been hiding. But the deafening crashes from above had become no quieter.

Slowing down, you sagged against a tree as you gasped for air. Just in front of you, Hoseok looked around, finding you holding yourself up shakily against the trunk.

With a look to the sky and back at you, his face sank further, eyes wide and afraid.

“Y/N!” he cried.

Lifting your head, you met his eyes. Still panting, you turned to follow a finger he raised as he took trembling steps backwards.

Overhead, the leaves seemed to shake. A shadow was sliding along the forest floor as above it, twigs and branches rained down, bouncing from their lower counterparts until they disappeared into the shrubbery.

The dragon was following you.

“Come on!” Hoseok’s voice reached you somewhere among the din.

Spinning, you found him holding a hand out to you, gesturing maniacally for you to continue. You had barely caught your breath, but forced yourself to push away from the tree and run towards him once more.

What did surprise you was that he waited for you. When you came within reach, his outstretched hand was grabbing you, pulling you along at his side.

But there was no time to think of that. Chest heaving with exertion, you willed your feet to move faster underneath you in an attempt to flee the dragon.

All at once, the tall tree trunks you had been running between, almost dense enough to form a forest, stopped. Realising too late, the two of you shot from the cover at full speed, only to find yourselves utterly exposed.

Skidding to a stop, you looked to Hoseok in panic.

Before you could take another step, shadow fell over you again, but it was not cast by harmless trees. The roar of splintering branches grew to an overwhelming crescendo as the dragon caught sight of you and dived, uncaring for the insignificant wood pushed aside by its bulk.

Beside you, Hoseok screamed hoarsely. Together you fled backwards, knowing there was no hope of outrunning your pursuer.

In a few seconds, the beast had descended, giant nostrils flaring at your eye level. Curved fangs gnashed.

With horror, you saw a glow brighten the deep tunnels atop its snout.

In the corner of your eye, you spotted another rock, rough surface towering from the ground. You barely had time to think before you were shoving Hoseok to the side so you fell together behind the barrier. Not a moment later, blazing orange flared, obscuring all other sights as fire erupted from the monster’s jaws and nostrils.

You gave no thought to the position you had fallen in, your push having left you tumbling directly on top of Hoseok. His scream rang in your ears, only rivalled by the crackling heat in the air as his arms wrapped around you. You too were curling up, hands shielding your head in some attempt to shelter.

Thankfully, the rock you had chosen was one of the larger ones and took the brunt of the blast.

Not that it encouraged you much, considering the persistence the beast had shown so far. The dying away of the heat and fire only brought on dread, gnawing low and incessant in your stomach, of the next blast.

Barely daring to breathe, you stayed still, huddling against Hoseok, who did the same.

Any moment, you expected another massive roar to rip through the air. A swipe of the malicious claws or the sizzling heat of dragon flame. The longer you waited, the harder your heart rioted in your chest.

“Students.”

You jolted violently as a loud voice resonated through the air. But it was not the dragon.

Looking around showed you no one who the voice might belong to.

“It is gone,” the voice said.

Hoseok’s hold around you was loosening. Swallowing, you became aware of your proximity and carefully extracted yourself, not looking him in the eye as you moved to sit next to him instead.

It was true that no indicator of the dragon’s presence had made itself known, but you were not inclined to trust a faceless voice. You crawled to peer around the edge of the rock. Finding the space empty, you emerged further.

The clearing was totally deserted. The only evidence of the recent fearful moments was the debris of burnt leaves and broken branches scattered across the ground.

“Who are you?” Hoseok raised his voice, though it shook a little.

You returned to his side, the voice replying as you sunk down beside him.

“Students,” the voice repeated. It was level and calm, but awfully cold. The word was spoken with disdain. “I doubt you would recognise such a voice as mine. You young humans know not the value of words, of books. I am the librarian.”

You blinked in surprise. Next to you, Hoseok sat forward from the rock you leaned against.

“You are? Can you get us out of here?” he yelled, aiming his voice at the sky for lack of target for his pleas.

“Certainly not. I am the keeper of this land. You see, due to the neglect of your kind, my creatures are only kept alive through written word, and I cannot let them be endangered. Students are all the same. Careless. I do not appreciate those who vandalise or waste the knowledge granted them through books. And so, I cannot let you take another one.”

“It’s just a science textbook,” you muttered.

Meanwhile, Hoseok was growing more desperate.

“We won’t!” he called, “just let us out!”

Ringing silence was all he received in reply.

Eventually, he flopped back against the rock with a huff. Worrying your lip, you turned to him, though you had nothing to propose for what you should do next.

His hair was a dishevelled now, strands falling into his eyes which he now turned to you. To your surprise, his mouth curved back into a smile, breathy laughs bursting from him as he rested his head back on the rock.

He shook his head.

“This is crazy.”

You had to agree.

Turning your despairing eyes away and to the surrounding forest again, you were surprised to see movement among the trees. But this creature was not enormous or fire-breathing. A sandy-coloured tail waved, blurring in the air.

Bounding through the trees and coming to a stop at the forest edge, came a labrador.

Staring in bemusement, you found the dog looking right back at you. It was panting, mouth open in a smiley-looking shape. Its tail continued wagging enthusiastically behind it.

Just as you opened your mouth to tell Hoseok, the dog went rigid, body jerking as it barked across the space.

Sitting up straight, Hoseok spotted the dog as well, and together you watched it.

The dog watched back, standing still as if waiting for something. It reminded you of the way your flatmate’s dog used to wait for you to throw the ball when you played with her.

After another minute of stillness, it barked again, then turned and ran. You jumped to your feet as the yellow tail went wagging away through the shadows.

“What are you-“ Hoseok exclaimed as you started towards the trees, following the dog’s path.

Already tired, your legs lagged behind the dog’s pace and you nearly lost sight of the sandy fur. But you kept your eyes trained on it. This animal did not seem unfriendly, or angry. Something told you that you could trust it.

“Where are you going?”

You hadn’t noticed the pursuing footsteps until Hoseok was grabbing your arm, forcing you to stop. Looking around at him in annoyance, you shrugged him off and turned back around. But you had lost sight of the dog now, finding the forest empty.

Your shoulders slumped.

“I was trying to do something to get us out of here-“

“By getting more lost?”

Hoseok’s eyes blazed with anger and he threw his arms out to punctuate his yell with frustration. Opening your mouth, you returned his outrage.

“We’ve been lost since we got here! We don’t know anything about this place, but we can’t just do nothing!”

“What can we do? You heard what the librarian said.”

His volume had lowered and he took a step back.

Breathing out, you did the same, noticing only now how you had crowded each other’s space in your anger. Swallowing down your own frustration, you levelled your gaze at him. His words spoke of despair.

Sighing, you pushed a hand through your hair.

“There’s no use in fighting,” you muttered, “and I’m scared too. But we have to try.”

Lifting his eyes to you, Hoseok felt then as if he was seeing you for the first time.

You shared his fear, and had spoken that out loud, but still the steely glint never left your eyes. Rather than run or hide, you stood tall, resolved to find a way out, no matter how hopeless this crazy turn of events seemed.

“Hoseok?” you called, rendered hesitant by his silence.

Giving his head a quick shake, he averted his gaze from you.

“Hobi,” he spoke.

You frowned.

“I’m sorry?”

“Call me Hobi,” he repeated, “if we’re stuck here forever, I won’t be able to stand it if you call me Hoseok all the time.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Taking that to be some odd form of agreement, you turned around and started to pick your way again through the forest, no matter how blindly. The only vague thing guiding you was the notion that the dog had left this way, but that certainty grew weaker with time.

The only thing bolstering you were the steady steps of Hobi right beside you. A reminder you weren’t alone here.

“Sorry for losing your textbook.”

Smile quirking your lips, you turned to Hobi. He was steadfastly ignoring your gaze, kicking his feet through the low undergrowth while his hands were buried in his pockets.

“If you hadn’t done that, I wouldn’t be here now,” you hummed.

That caught his attention.

“Hey! At least I’m apologising!”

“Doesn’t fix the fact we’re lost in… well, wherever this is,” you chuckled, “though I’m sure it’s worked out well for you.”

“What do you mean?”

“If I hadn’t come here to replace my textbook, you would be here all alone.”

Hoseok simply tilted his head in vague answer.

After a few short moments of quiet, you resumed the conversation.

“So, what were you in the library for?”

He let silence stretch out for longer than you expected, and you slowed your steps to look at him. His eyes were wide, and when he spoke, it was with a nervous smile, as if he wasn’t sure he should be smiling.

But he was too quiet, and all you heard was something that sounded like ‘yuzbook’.

“Sorry?” you frowned.

With a long-suffering sigh, he finally spoke up.

“I was looking for your science book as well.”

Your eyebrows shot upwards.

“You were?”

“Yes.”

“I thought you had decided it was my responsibility? Even though you lost it.”

“Exactly, I had lost it. I felt bad.”

“Ha!” you exclaimed, jumping around to dance in front of him, “Jung Hoseok admits remorse! What is the world coming to?!”

“I told you to call me Hobi,” he grumbled.

A smile was still bursting at your lips, but you calmed down and returned smugly to his side.

“My bad. Hobi wanted to do something nice! For me, of all people! Maybe this really is a dream…”

“You dream about me?” he grinned, teasing right back.

“Eugh, of course not,” you scoffed.

His laughter filled the forest, and you were glad of it. At length, it faded and you walked on.

“But, turns out you were right to be scared of the library,” he admitted quietly.

Simply nodding, you kept going. By now you had lost all hope to have remained on course with the dog you had seen earlier, but there was little use dwelling on that.

Most of the way, you had been trekking through forest, but now the trees were thinning. Once again, they began to be clustered in patches near protruding rocks.

Coming between two waist-height boulders, you found a pond lying cradled by short grasses and more rose plants.

Agreeing on a break, you and Hobi slumped down at its bank, though you also agreed not to drink it. Hobi seemed much more distrustful of everything you came across in this curious land than you, but there was no harm in caution, you supposed. It was true that, on getting closer to the water, it appeared to glimmer silver.

What that meant, you didn’t know, but didn’t care to investigate.

Reclining on the ground, you breathed deeply. The pond was in a large clearing, similar to the first place you had crash landed in. You couldn’t escape some dread that all this time had brought you in a mere circle to the beginning, but there was no way to be certain.

Forest lined one side of the oasis, while the other stretched away, obscured behind that rocky landscape dotted with an array of foliage.

As you scanned the area idly, a familiar blur of motion had you sitting up with a yelp.

“There! Did you see that!” you cried, but began running without waiting for a reply.

Twisting to attention, Hobi clumsily took to his feet after you.

“You sure?” he called after you.

You kept running. You had seen it – it had been right here. You were certain it was trying to lead you somewhere, and you felt compelled to follow it.

Plunging between rocks, Hobi’s slower steps faded behind you. Uncaring, you continued, eyes alert for any sign of your goal.

And there it was: another brief glimmer from just beyond the next clump of plants. You were so close. This time, you were going to reach it. It would get you out of here.

Still running, you didn’t care that the way wound deeper through the terrain, nor that the world around you darkened as you went. No, your mind was set. You kept moving.

When you finally reached what seemed to be the midst of the darkness, it never occurred to you that this was never what you had been looking for. All you were filled with was delight; in the middle of the dark clearing stood a grove of roses. They were taller than the roses you had seen so far, growing thickly and close together.

In the blackness, the petals emitted a soft glow that shone through their delicate veins.

A smile curved your lips. But as you took a slow step towards the luminescence, something emerged from behind them. It became clear that the roses themselves were not glowing, but the creature. A unicorn.

White coat shimmering with its every move, it seemed to glide over the landscape. The slender horn protruding from its head appeared crafted by the finest silversmith, with hints of colours dancing along it even in darkness.

All breath was stolen from you. Your startled exhale left a cloud lingering in the air beside your lips which glittered as the majestic animal walked in front of you.

Either it didn’t see you, or didn’t mind your presence, because it proceeded perfectly calmly. Keeping your eyes fixed on it, your feet stumbled after the serene creature without you willing them to.

You barely blinked as you followed the graceful unicorn, desperate to keep your eyes on it. You couldn’t have torn them away if you wanted to. Just watching the animal had all your tension melting away: legs feeling heavy, mind fogging. All your worries dissipated as easily as smoke in the wind.

The world was silent. It was as if your ears were plugged as you reached out, somehow confident enough to touch the noble beast.

Another step closer.

Your fingers stretched out, ready to meet the sleek, glowing coat-

“Y/N!”

A blow knocked you sideways, a weight falling with you as the shout of your name rung loudly in your ears. For a split second, you winced, expecting to be crushed on the ground, but already a hand shielded your head. Instead, you landed on a body, held securely in the person’s arms.

Gasping, you found yourself breathless. Your gaze had been severed on being tackled, and now that you blinked, dark clouds seemed to lift from your vision.

Looking around wildly, you were slow to come to your senses, but the person was already shifting.

“We need to move.”

That voice was familiar. Looking around, you found Hoseok’s eyes trained on you as he struggled to stand with your weight against him.

Clumsily getting your feet underneath you, your mouth opened, but a shriek filled the air before you could speak.

Clapping your hands over your ears, you winced at the piercing wail splitting the air.

Hoseok, however, wasted no time. He grasped your wrist, pulling you stumbling across the clearing behind him as he sprinted away.

Wide-eyed and breathless, you twisted to look behind you. The unicorn was still there, but it wasn’t glowing, just plain white. But your eyes only caught it for a second, before a darker shape was swooping from the sky.

Feet pounding, you fled the shrieking beast as it descended in a rush of feathers.

Glinting talons flashed, inches in front of your face as the bird-like shriek reached its peak.

And then you were plunged into shadow, squeezed between leaves and petals.

Hoseok slowed, dropping your hand, but you were practically frozen. You staggered backwards, eyes trained on the spot those razor sharp claws had been.

Above you, the shrill cry was quieting, echoing around the land as your attacker circled higher once more.

“What… what was that?” you panted.

“That was close,” Hoseok responded, no humour in his voice. “I was calling to you! Why didn’t you move?”

“You were?” you frowned, “I-I didn’t hear. I don’t know what happened.”

Light frown creasing his brow, Hobi looked seriously down at you. Swallowing, he looked you over. Your heart still trembled, trying to take in what had just happened, and you looked up at him fearfully. Was he angry?

Fixing his eyes on your own, Hobi stepped forward, bending to draw your faces closer together. Holding your breath, you stiffened, heart rate rocketing as his breath fell warm over your cheeks.

Then he reached his hand out. You forced yourself to hold his gaze, not sure why your face was growing hotter under his scrutiny.

His fingers met your hair. They pulled gently at a strand.

“You had this in your hair.”

Blinking, you found him holding a rose petal up, the hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

“Right. Thank you,” you spoke awkwardly, snatching it from his hand.

“Let’s stay here for a bit,” he said then, turning around as if nothing had happened. However, you didn’t complain. You didn’t want him to see your burning cheeks.

Hobi had pulled you into the grove of roses you had seen earlier, which grew some way above your heads. The bushes were close together, providing the perfect cover. You heard no more of the shrieking monster as you walked after him through the plants.

Beautiful flower heads were nestled everywhere, the graceful bundles of petals peering at these strangers walking through their home.

Eventually, Hobi came to a halt. When you stopped at his side, he pushed aside some leaves to show you what lay beyond.

You had reached the other side of the grove and a new clearing lay before you. Unlike the other places you had been, there were no tall trees or wide rocks rising from the ground. At last it was flat.

But, most noticeably, in the middle of the clearing there was a building. Deep blue walls rose from a gold base, thin pillars winding upwards to support the corners of the many-sided roof. Small arched windows were set high up in the walls, through which you could see a silvery glow from inside.

Hobi looked around the space before emerging. No longer impatient, you wholly agreed with his caution and also peered out carefully.

As you remained mostly hidden by the roses, something came running around the house.

The dog.

Same as before, it stood looking at you, smiling mouth and wagging tail welcoming.

First, you looked to Hobi.

“What do you think?”

“You were right,” he replied, “the dog seems alright. We should give it a shot.”

Smiling, you felt assured now you were in agreement. Not stopping to think too much about the action, you placed your hand resolutely in Hobi’s and stepped forwards.

This time the dog did not begin running away, waiting for you by the blue house wall instead. As the two of you drew closer, you bent a little, holding your hand out to the creature.

“Hi!” you cooed, ignoring Hobi’s light scoff from beside you.

The dog poised as if it would bark back, but instead it looked towards the house. Following its gaze, you looked through the window and instantly fell silent.

Inside, a figure was sitting, though you could only see their head and shoulders – and a pair of wings. They fluttered lazily, glinting in the silvery light.

“The librarian,” Hobi murmured.

Nodding, you looked back to the dog.

“Will you help us?” you whispered.

Its tail wagged harder.

Smiling, you reached out to give it a gentle pat, ruffling the soft fur between its ears.

Satisfied, the sandy blond animal turned around, tail blurring all the while. It trotted away, leading you around the house. On passing the windows, you both ducked, fearing what the faerie would do if they discovered you here.

A short dash, looking over your shoulders, and you finally reached a thick row of trees. Squeezing behind the large trunks, you were surprised to see large wooden doors waiting for you.

If not for the lingering worry of the librarian somewhere nearby, you would have laughed out loud.

Hobi rushed forwards, grasping the dogs ears and ruffling them enthusiastically.

“You got us out!” he whispered happily.

You were amused to see the dog’s smiling mouth grow wider, tongue hanging out with his praise.

Jumping up with a brilliant grin, Hobi walked to the door. Waiting by the handle, he let you also say goodbye to your four-legged saviour.

“Thank you,” you told it with a loving pat. For a moment, you looked into the dog’s eyes, wishing you could somehow convey your gratitude.

Then a thought came over you. Tilting your head, you frowned slightly.

“Cindy?”

The dog’s tail whirred back into motion, hopping up and down a little at the name.

Breaking into a smile, you patted it affectionately.

“Good girl, Cindy,” you grinned, “thank you.”

Then you stood to join Hobi’s side. He lifted the great handle, which made a concerning thunk in the quiet.

Hurriedly slipping through, you fell against the other side of the wood as he followed and shut it firmly behind him. You were back at the entrance of the library, the glass doors at the front of the foyer showing the road beyond it, no different than ever as cars and pedestrians hurried along.

“Who let someone like that work in a school?” you laughed, incredulous.

Hobi laughed loudly at last, the sound bringing a bigger grin to your face.

You had made it out.

All of a sudden, a pinging sound rang from your pocket, soon over taken by at least five more.

Pulling out your phone, you found it alive again, the screen lit up and full of messages.

“Yoongi’s wondering where I am,” you muttered, “my shift…”

Hobi pushed away from the wooden door, starting to walk with you across the entrance hall. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he nodded.

“Yeah, um, I should get going too, I guess.”

Opening the main doors, you stood outside on the steps, at a loss. A bus rumbled past.

“Okay,” you spoke at length, “yeah. Er, see you around.”

Smiling briefly, Hobi took a few hesitant steps back before he committed to walking away. One last wave and he was engulfed by the crowd on the street.

You sighed and set off in the opposite direction.

The bell clinked, swinging wildly above the door as you hurried over to the counter.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” you spoke as you set your stuff down.

Turning to lean against the counter, Yoongi shrugged.

“’s’alright. Where were you though?”

“Ah…”

What were you meant to say? Your head was still spinning from everything that had passed, but you knew no one would believe you if you told them the truth. Shifting a little, your teeth nipped at your lower lip while you tried to come up with a reasonable excuse.

Meanwhile, a knowing look was sliding onto Yoongi’s face.

“I see,” he grinned, and then, to your mortification, winked!

“No, you don’t- that’s not-“ you protested, but he was already snickering and turning back to the washing up.

Shaking your head, you concluded that whatever his belief was would make as good as excuse as any. At least he had made it up for you, saving the hassle.

You got to work.

Over the next couple of days, everything ran like normal. Except for you, nothing was normal.

You still had no idea how such a small amount of time had passed while you and Hobi were busy running for your lives in fear of the librarian and their crazed world. You had barely been late for your shift afterwards; when it was time for bed you had collapsed straight in, feeling as if you had been awake for two days straight.

Of course, you had never gone back for that textbook.

In college the next day, you had taken a detour to class, stubbornly avoiding the building that had all but kidnapped you, wondering at the fact no one else seemed to realise.

At the café later on, you waited impatiently for any sign of Hobi outside. He was the one person you desperately wanted to see. Surely he must be feeling the same? He would understand.

But you waited and waited, serving countless other customers without much thought. He never came, and so you were left to question your own sanity by yourself.

Nothing about your impromptu adventure made sense.

If it had been real, why didn’t Hobi act like anything had changed? You certainly couldn’t pretend that nothing had been altered between you while you had been trapped in that strange world inside the library.

Perhaps it had been a dream. All of it seemed so implausible that even recollecting it sent you spiralling with more questions.

But there was one hope. Even if Hobi remembered nothing of what transpired, you were still supposed to tutor him. You would see him next week, and try to assess what he might remember.

So when your phone buzzed that night, screen lighting up with a message from him at last, you had expected to arrange this week’s session. But all it said was: come outside.

Though you frowned, you weren’t going to pass up this chance.

Sliding off your bed, you quickly stuffed your feet into your slippers and tried your best not to break into a run on the way to the door. Collecting yourself first with a deep breath, you pulled it open.

The first thing you took in was empty space outside your door. Blinking at it, you couldn’t prevent the disappointment from creeping in. But then your eyes flickered downwards.

There at your feet lay a rose.

Your lips parted in wonder as you stooped to pick it up. Taking it between your fingers, you rolled it gently there. It was the exact same as those delicate flowers that had filled the grove where you sheltered together in the library.

A smile tugged at your mouth. It only grew as you remembered the identical petal Hobi had pulled from your hair.

He remembered.

The relief that washed over you was dizzying. Clutching the flower to your chest, you smiled out of your doorway once more, silently thanking Hobi.

But you wouldn’t have to be silent for long. Your eyes landed on a figure leaning against a lamppost a few metres away, smiling right back at you.

As your eyes met, Hobi stood straighter. His mouth shifted to a radiant grin. He had come back to you.

Thank you so much for reading!! And again, send lots of birthday love over to @moccahobi!! As promised, here is the beautiful bingo card I used for this story:

taglist: @aianloveseven @preciouschimine @un2-verse @ddaechwita @taegularities

#thebtswritersclub #j hope imagine #jung hoseok imagine #bangtanarmynet #btscreatorscorner #purplearmynet #hoseok imagine #jhope imagine #jhope x reader #j hope x reader #bts fantasy au #j hope fluff #hobi fluff #bts enemies to lovers #hobi enemies to lovers #bts college au

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seriouslysnape · 3 years

Text

The End of the Week

Cedric Diggory x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Language. Slight sexual implications.

Word Count: 1,856

A/N: Requests are still being written! I’ve just had this idea foreverrrrr. I gotta show my golden boy some love. I don’t even know what to name this.

“Hey! It’s just hot in here.”

Cedric was as perfectly content as he could possibly be in this moment. He couldn’t even begin to imagine something better than where he was right now. You were curled up next to him, and the way your head was nuzzled into his neck was spreading extra warmth all over his body with each gentle exhale through your nose onto his skin. The Hufflepuff common room was as still and quiet as could be, considering that everyone else had gone to bed for the evening.

It had been a hectic week for the both of you. Your schedules had been overcrowded with long Quidditch practices and impossibly difficult exams all while trying to throw in some social time into the balance. You hadn’t seen much of each other that week, only sharing loving glances when you passed in the halls or stealing quick kisses and small conversations between classes.

The end of the second term was just around the corner, which meant that your workloads would only increase until it was time to leave for summer break. Cedric had made it a priority to spend every free moment that he had with you. He was hoping for you to spend summer vacation with him and his family, but in case his plans fell through, he wanted to be sure to see you as much as possible.

Friday night had presented a break in the week’s chaos, both of you jumping on the opportunity like a hungry cat on a frightened mouse. Cedric basically snatched you out of your last class of the day when his Quidditch practice was canceled, which opened up his entire evening. The two of you were practically running hand in hand as your feet involuntarily made their way to his prefect room, the serenity and silence of it was calling your names.

Cedric had tossed you onto his bed, attacking you with sweet kisses and doing everything he could to draw laughter out of you. Not being able to be with you or touch you over the course of his stressful week had been killing him. You were his comfort, his single source of solace when life became too much for him. He always felt a little piece of himself missing when he strayed from you for too long.

Cedric had shown no mercy when your waist was between his knees as he tickled and teased at your sides and wherever else he knew you were ticklish. The sound of your happy giggles were music to his ears, which is how he could never bring himself to stop until your lungs were gasping for air and you were desperate with your pleas.

“Ced, stop!” You shrieked through strained laughs.

Cedric’s smile never left his face as he withdrew his hands, chuckling lightly as you wiped the tears of laughter from the corners of your eyes.

“I’m sorry, sweet girl. I’ve just missed you.” He admitted, lowering his head and kissing you again once you had caught your breath.

You smirked under his soft lips, bringing a hand to cup his cheek. His heart fluttered at the feeling of your thumb stroking his slightly flushed skin and the way you pushed him onto his back to deepen your kissing.

“I’ve missed you too. I hate this time of year.” You remarked, resting your chin on his chest.

Cedric’s hand was resting on the back of your thigh, his fingertips fiddling with the hem of your skirt.

“Oh, come on. You love springtime.” Cedric corrected.

“Yeah, I love seasonal allergies that kick my ass every year,” You grumbled sarcastically; “I mean because we hardly see one another this time of year.”

A knowing sigh fell from Cedric’s mouth, allowing his hand beginning to run lazily across the exposed skin on your leg.

“I know. But we have summer to look forward to,” He mewled; “You know it gets so hot at home that you have to strip down to next to nothing...” Cedric purred.

With a shocked gasp, your arm swung out to playfully smack his shoulder at what he was insinuating.

“Cedric Diggory!”

He laughed with his usual hearty, light voice, gripping you under your arms and pulling you up next to him from where he was lounged up on his pillows.

“What? I can’t think about my pretty girlfriend wearing nothing but her knickers?” He teased, kissing softly on your neck.

“Not if we’re going to be staying with your family. You have to keep your hands to yourself when they’re around.” You instructed.

Instinctively, your hand came to the back of his head and your fingers buried in his fluffy hair to direct him to your more sensitive areas on your neck. Cedric hummed happily, securing that you were flush with his body and entwining one of your legs between his.

“Quick nap before dinner?” Cedric suggested, noting that dinner was in an hour and a half.

You perked up at that, eagerly snuggling up to him ever further and draping the covers over the two of you. You and Cedric were exhausted. You could feel the tiredness creeping its way into your bones, and even Cedric’s muscles were much more tense than usual. A small power nap was definitely in order.

“Yes, please.”

Cedric wrapped his arms around you, his warmth cascading over you in a heavenly way. You were out like a light, your eyelashes fluttering every few minutes or so. Inky darkness had begun to paint the sky over Hogwarts, making the half-moon much more visible as stars began appearing alongside it. Cedric had to wrestle you out of bed, fighting your begs for five more minutes under his warm sheets, because he knew good and well you’d stay curled up for the rest of the night if he didn’t get you up now.

Once you were dragged away from your slumber sanctuary, he persuaded you to follow him to The Great Hall for dinner, walking with your fingers interlaced and whispering sweet nothings to one another.

You and Cedric had very well become the power couple of your year. If Cedric was around, then you likely weren’t far away. Adolescence wasn’t an easy stage of life for anybody. Cedric considered himself lucky every single day that he had someone to take the journey with him. You and Cedric had blossomed into incredible young adults together, braving the wizarding world with the other in tow.

Cedric’s future revolved around you, and there wasn’t a single aspect of his life that he hadn’t made sure you were a part of. He had decided long ago that he wanted to marry you soon after graduation. Later down the line, he wanted to have little Diggory kids running around with your eyes and his hair. His life was yours, and yours was his.

You had protested going to dinner because staying cuddled up with Cedric sounded much better than choking down chicken for the fifth time in a week. But Cedric told you that he wanted you to get some food in your belly before any more shenanigans, so denying you kisses until you had eaten supper was the only way to put his foot down.

He swept you away once you had both eaten, carrying you off into the Hufflepuff common room. Cedric usually would hang around the common room after dinner to make sure that no one was out after curfew, or until he was too tired to care anymore. Cedric never put too much energy into keeping an eye on mischievous Hufflepuffs, considering there weren’t many anyways and they were always far sneakier than Cedric could keep up with.

Hufflepuffs of all ages straggled in and up the separated staircases to their dorm rooms, some of them sauntering past you and Cedric and some stopping to rant about their stressful week. Turns out that you weren’t the only ones who had been through the wringer.

It was late now, you and Cedric being the only ones still up and energized from your nap a few hours ago. Cedric was soaking up every second of this moment, not wanting to forget this feeling in his heart. If he could end every day like this then he’d be the happiest man on Earth.

“It’s a Hogsmeade weekend,” You announced, carefully breaking the silence; “You want to go tomorrow and I’ll buy you a Butterbeer?”

Cedric snorted and looked down at your huddled frame, amusement clear on his face.

“Since when have I ever let you buy me anything? As long as I’m breathing, I pay for meals.” He proclaimed.

“It’s a Butterbeer. I’d hardly consider it a meal,” You said; “I just want to spoil you like you do me.”

The bubbly laughter that came from the Hufflepuff boy’s chest sent a flash of care through your cells, your heartbeat speeding up at the sound of his joy.

“Oh, but I love spoiling you. I have to take care of my favorite girl.” He confessed.

A hot rush went straight to your cheeks, a shy smile appearing on your face that Cedric couldn’t possibly miss. His lips left a small kiss on your cupid’s bow, his voice lowering in the sweetest way.

“After all these years I still know how to make you blush.” He noted with a grin.

“You are very charming, Ced,” You complimented, fidgeting with the collar of his sweater; “And handsome.”

Now it was his turn to blush, his cheeks flooding red with a bashful smile. He caught your look of entertainment, and he was quick to defend himself.

“Hey! It’s just hot in here.” He half-lied, motioning towards the crackling fire in the fireplace just a few feet in front of you.

“Is it now?” You laughed, crawling over and placing a knee on each side of him. Your hands rested on his shoulders, a shudder going down your spine at the feeling of his grip on your hips. Your lips just barely brushed over his, a new mood taking over the room; “It is getting rather warm in here...”

Cedric let out a groan of temptation when you kissed him and rolled your pelvis into his, creating the most delicious friction. It didn’t take long for Cedric to dominate over you, pushing you into the cushions of the sofa and pinning you underneath him. His lips were hot wherever they sucked or left kisses, his aura and familiar feel was your favorite thing ever.

“I’ve always wanted to make love to you here.” He mumbled, removing his belt from his pants before pushing your skirt up past your hips.

His hair fell onto his forehead in soft tufts when he lowered himself again to look down at the girl he had fallen so in love with. The only person he’d ever truly love with every ounce of his being.

“I love you.” He murmured passionately as he always did.

“I love you, Ced.” You returned.

His kisses and touches resumed, arousal growing and hearts beating with one another’s. It was a perfect moment.

And an even better way to make up for lost time.

#cedric diggory #cedric diggory x reader #cedric diggory x female reader #cedric diggory fanfiction #cedric diggory x you #cedric diggory x y/n #cedric diggory imagine #cedric diggory blurb #cedric diggory oneshot #seriouslysnape

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introloves · 4 years

Note

i saw you mention destroying virgin hinata,,,,,pls elaborate. i didn’t realize i needed that in my life but omg. head full many thoughts

omg my first drabble for hinata, lets see if i can do this sunshine justice bc brazil hinata lives rent free in my head so we going with big muscle, sun-kissed hinata for this one hehe (ALSO OOPS THIS GOT KINDA LONG SORRY!) also this is for f! reader!

he felt guilty, hinata felt absolutely guilty looking at you like he wanted to devour you.

the way your thighs looked beneath the dress you wore, your soft skin, you looked supple and beautiful.

you were perched on his couch, legs crisscrossed, comfy around your boyfriend.

“sho?”

“y-yeah?” you giggled at the way he seemed to be absolutely out of it.

“you’ve been staring at me for a long time, you okay?” the tips of his ears flushed red, he looked away swiftly, unable to meet your gaze.

“yeah! its just...” he exhaled, steeling himself, “you look good.”

hinata pinned you with a stare you’ve only seen him sport during volleyball.

oh.

this time you ran hot with his gaze, your hand came up to block him from view while you basically simmered into the couch.

he was on you in no time, prying your hands away, he thought that he had made you feel bad. you quickly dismissed his claims. explaining to him just how intense he could look.

by this point he was well aware of the feelings simmering in his stomach, no one had ever made him feel like you did. you made him feel like a man, so far his life practically evolved around volleyball, he just recently squeezed you in. you had been quickly taking a larger part of his heart, and as he hovered over you, wrists still in his hand, he realized that he was aroused.

he felt gross at the thought, you weren’t doing anything particularly sexual, just the way your skin looked presented so pretty for him made his baser instincts flare.

your eyes formed half moons as you smiled brightly up at him, still in a playing mood you shook free of his grasp, wrestling your much stronger boyfriend down beneath you.

your dress had hitched itself even higher as you perched on his lap not caring about flashing your undies at him, hinata always made you feel safe and you weren’t a very modest person anyways.

he squeaked as you settled right on top his dick, which was growing with need, throbbing at the heat currently situated right atop it.

“s-stop you shouldn’t-“ he squeaked out, your eyebrows furrowed at the sudden change in attitude he had.

“shouldn’t what?” you asked, leaning forward to try and lock your gaze with his. he jumped, hands coming to clamp down on your waist.

ohh.

your eyes widened at the realization, he was hard against you.

he made a move to tug you off him, but you placed a hand on his forearms.

“l-let me... help you.”

he was your boyfriend after all, this was something boyfriend and girlfriends did.

those words like a punch to the gut, he was sure he was going to cum embarrassingly fast with how just your words affected him.

he nodded, releasing a breath he didnt know he was holding as you smiled... and began rocking your hips against him.

there was no soft build up, he quickly blinked in awe at the feeling of your cunt dragging over his dick.

his hands kept a bruising grip on your waist, biceps bulging with the restraint of ‘dont cum, dont cum, dont cum’ playing over and over in his head.

your own pants lingered in the air as his dick provided the hardness you needed to get off, there was little barrier between your undies (which were soaking... much to hinatas pleasure) and him.

hinata had never felt like this, the fantasy of a woman’s heat so close to him paled in comparison to you rocking against him. his toes curled, his own hips rocking up to meet you.

he couldnt keep up, this was too much too soon for him. he didnt wanna cum in his pants like a teenaged boy. he was ashamed at how little expirience he had, but he still wanted to make you feel good.

you sped up suddenly, wanting to see how he’d react to your teasing, but it felt like his world was tilting on its axis.

he stopped you, mustering all the strength he could to keep you still above him.

“s-stop! stop... please stop.” he cried.

“you dont wanna?” you huffed, struggling to keep your undulating hips still. hinata groaned out a painful noise, he ran a hand through his vibrant hair in frustration, and embarrassment. how was he going to tell his absolute sexy girlfriend he was twenty something and still a virgin.

with a deep breath he managed to stutter out a coherent sentence.

“i’m a virgin.” the words hung heavy around him, he sat there once again unable to meet your gaze.

you shuddered at the confession, it was like a switch had flipped. you once again moved against him and hinata all but choked at the feeling of your cunt work yourself over him.

“i’m going to ruin you.” you rasped out, hands coming up to cup his face as you held him against you while your mouth clashed against his.

“fuuuck.” he groaned at your words, his head thrown back agaist the couch to breathe, disconnected from your kiss for just a second.

you were going to ruin him? those words played over and over, he pondered the thought before he realized he wanted you to ruin him.

he nodded, unable to speak, his tongue heavy in his mouth.

you made quick work of his pants, moving his boxers down his thighs.

your eyes roamed up his dick, it was so pretty. it was pale and much bigger than what you had thought, you knew it was going to give you a good burn once you sunk down onto it.

it was your turn to let out a fucked out noise and hinata ate it up, swallowing hard at the way you regarded him.

“all good?” he questioned, nervous at having someone else look at him like this.

“oh shoyo, its better than good. you have such a nice cock.”

and with that you move your panties to the side, once again hinata tenses at the look of your dripping pussy. he moans unabashedly at the sight, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as you begin sheating yourself onto him.

hes never felt anything so tight, his eyes wide as he stares up at you in awe.

you thought you’d hold up better than you were currently, maybe it was because it was shoyo filling you up, or because of the position you were in made him reach inside you extra deep, whatever it was you panted like a dog in heat.

“sthat okay?” you slurred and he could do nothing more than nod, eyes tightly closed. his hips jerked beneath you, twitching.

you bit your lip at the jolts, knowing he wasnt going to last long.

“i’m already close. i’m sorry, im so sorry.” he whines, and you quickly shut him up.

“shh.” you coo, starting a slow pace up and down his cock.

“youre doing so good, youre doing so good for me.” you whine, choking on the way he felt against you... fuck maybe you were going to cum.

however that thought is short lived as you impale yourself onto him, over and over.

“fuck! i’m cumming! i’m cumming!” he babbles, taking a hold of you and pushing you down on him, you let him, you let him use you for the time being while he cums hotly inside you.

hinata jerks with the force of his release, cumming harder than he ever as.

you do nothing but coo above him,

“there you go, cum for me.”

he’s dizzy with your words and the way you clench around him to prolong his release.

hes well spent by the time he finally stops painting your pussy white with his cum.

there’s a minute of reprieve, just breathing against you until he gasps as he realizes just exactly what happened.

he grabs you unexpectedly. pushing his nose right between your boobs, laughing.

“youre my first!” he laughs, the type of laugh that comes deep within his stomach.

“and you just made me cum so hard.” he holds you tight, hands roaming your back, squeezing your ass slightly.

you laugh with him, heart so very light because with hinata everything is so easy.

“you know i’m going to pay you back for that right?” you make no noise, still processing what he means by that statement- until he makes a show of pistoning his softening cock in and out of you, making an absolute mess, his cum and your slickness dripping down his balls, slickening your thighs, making you squelch against it all.

you pant, worried about your pussy as you remember his insane stamina.

“w-what a second shoyo! you need to wait, aren’t you still sensitive?” you question, and he pins you with another intense gaze.

“whats that gotta do with anything?” he deadpans.

he had the gaze of a predator now, as you looked up at you between your tits.

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rocorambles · 3 years

Text

Realization

Pairing: Kyoutani x Reader, Iwaizumi x Reader (one-sided)

Genre: SFW, Coming to terms with feelings, Meet Ugly, Falling in Love, Slow Burn, Fluff

Prompt: Meet Ugly

Summary: There’s a difference between liking someone and liking the “idea” of someone.

A/N: This is for the HQHQ SFW Meet Ugly collab. Check out the masterlist here and be sure to read all the other talent-packed content on this list!

“Thanks for all your hard work.”

Your face heats, a flustered smile and giggle escaping you as you grin at Iwaizumi, heart soaring from his praise, chest constricting at how handsome he looks when his lips twitch upwards. It’s only a brief moment, but it means the world to you. You begin to bow in respect to your senpai, only to be cut short, both your heads sharply turning towards the gym door as it slams open with a loud bang.

And just like that, Kyoutani Kentarou has ruined your special moment as he determinedly stares at Iwaizumi who merely sighs at the familiar sight of the second-year. Funny how Kyoutani finds himself at the volleyball gymnasium more now that he’s left the team than when he actually used to be on it.

“Race me.”

You sympathetically smile at Iwaizumi before scurrying off to help put away the rest of the gym equipment as the ace begins to make his way towards his underclassman, tuning out the typical scene, knowing how it’ll end, how it always ends. And sure enough, it’s another indisputable win for Iwaizumi.

Iwaizumi - 31 Kyoutani - 0

For someone who’s in your class and your year, you hardly know a thing about Kyoutani other than the fact that he’s as sullen and silent in the classroom as he is outside of it. But as you curiously turn your attention to his figure slumped on top of his desk as you wait for your homeroom teacher to arrive, you have to admit his tenacity is...admirable to say the least.

Aoba Johsai is renowned for its volleyball team and although you hadn’t known a thing about the sport, you were easily swayed by your friends and classmates into watching a game, interested in seeing what the big deal was about. In all fairness, you’re not sure if you necessarily like the sport itself any more than you did that first game. But when you saw Iwaizumi Hajime spike a ball, you were instantly hooked.

Everyone and their mom is smitten with Oikawa Tooru and while you can appreciate your senpai’s charisma, skills, and attractiveness, it’s sharp green eyes and a strong and silent demeanor that captures your heart.

One game turns into two. Two games turn into three. Before you know it you’re donning a teal shirt, shouting and cheering the team on as an official member of the Aoba Johsai Cheer team.

The entire team is treated with almost reverence and certainly respect. So imagine your surprise when you’re watching them practice and a loud growl suddenly echoes throughout the room, Kyoutani stalking towards Iwaizumi with almost hostile aggression. You nervously fidget, unsure if you should do anything, worried he might hurt your crush. You’ve heard the stories of the infamous Mad Dog and his temper, but you can’t imagine Iwaizumi doing anything to warrant any of the younger boy’s anger.

Yet no one else seems to be concerned, the third-years briefly glancing at the two before continuing on with practice. So you stay put, intently watching the unfolding scene, only to rapidly bink in shock when Kyoutani barks at Iwaizumi to arm wrestle. And like a surprisingly addicting reality show, you can’t tear your eyes away as Iwaizumi easily agrees and proceeds to win, as Kyoutani scowls but politely (albeit stiffly) bows in respect to the ace before angrily storming out like a dog with its tail between his legs.

But much like a reality show that plays on the same trope over and over again, you also begin to barely acknowledge the strange daily competitions Kyoutani instigates, just wryly shaking your head in amusement when you hear Kyoutani’s familiar snarl, internally praising Iwaizumi for his patience and good-natured spirit as he goes along with Kyoutani’s whims.

Cut to a few months later, you worriedly gaze at Iwaizumi who looks worse for wear, hovering over him to make sure he’s hydrated as he holds a cool towel to his forehead while he sits on the bench, taking an uncharacteristic break.

“Iwaizumi-senpai, maybe you should go home if you’re not feeling well. It’s not good to push yourself too hard if you’re sick.”

The brunette groans in agreement, sheepishly grinning at your concerned face.

“Alright, alright. Stop looking at me like I’m going to die. I’ll go home-”

He’s cut off by the gym door slamming open and both of you whip your heads again once more as Kyoutani storms towards you two.

“Race me.”

“Not today, Kyoutani. I’m not feeling well-”

“Chickening out? Didn’t take you for someone who lets a little cold-”

“SHUT UP!”

Both boys instantaneously stiffen and quiet down, staring at you wide-eyed and in shock. But you’re not done and you stomp towards Kyoutani, turning yourself into a flimsy barrier between your rude classmate and your senpai, getting between the two and shoving your finger in Kyoutani’s chest.

“Iwaizumi-senpai is sick and he’s going to go home and rest. He’s not going to play your stupid little games that you always lose anyway and you’re going to walk away and stop being so rude to your upperclassman.”

If you weren’t so fired up, you might be proud at how you’ve flabbergasted your fellow hot-headed classmate, leaving him speechless as he stares at you, mouth gaping. But a fire is blazing inside of you and you bare your fangs at him.

“Go. AWAY!”

Your raised voice hits a chord in Kyoutani and there’s tense silence as both of you practically growl at each other before he shoves his hands in his pockets and storms off, muttering angrily under his breath. But when the gym door clangs shut behind him, all your bravado dissipates and you curl in on yourself in embarrassment as you feel everyone’s eyes still on you.

But you startle when a loud raucous laughter fills the air and you turn to pout at Iwaizumi who’s howling in between coughs and sneezes.

“What’s so funny?”

You don’t mean for the question to be as sharp as it is and you cringe when you hear the defensiveness in your own ears, an apology already on your tongue. But your words get stuck in your throat as your body heat skyrockets when a calloused hand endearingly ruffles your head.

“Thanks for standing up for me. I didn’t realize I had such a scary guard dog.”

You shyly look into playful green eyes, only to whine in protest and wrinkle your nose in distaste as he continues on.

“You remind me of Kyoutani when you get fired up.”

“Yeah! It’s like watching two angry chihuahuas go at it. Scary~”

“Shut up, Shittykawa!”

You exchange smug grins with Iwaizumi as Oikawa dramatically complains about the volleyball sized bruise on his forehead before the two of you walk back home together, already leaving the day’s events behind you.

Or at least you tried to.

You can feel eyes boring holes into your head as class drags on and you don’t need to turn to know who it is. Ever since your little showdown, Kyoutani has made it a point to keep you in his sight, staring at you throughout class, only scoffing in return when you snarkily tell him that as smart as you are, he might find it more helpful to actually take notes from the blackboard in the front of the classroom.

Should you be more unnerved by the fact that you’ve caught his interest and that he can’t seem to keep his eyes off you? Maybe. But you don’t feel any creepiness or danger from his intense gaze and if you’re honest, you find it disturbingly cute (although you’d die before you admit it). It reminds you of a cautious puppy trying to study and gauge another puppy who’s entered their home and space.

You suppose you’re passing whatever mental examinations he’s running you through when he unexpectedly joins you at your lunch table one day and you find you don’t mind the comfortable silence that settles around the two of you as you continue on with your meals like nothing is out of the ordinary.

It’s subtle, so subtle that you don’t really notice your newfound closeness until Yahaba briefly mentions it one day as you’re helping the team clean up.

“When did Kyoutani and you become so close?”

Close?

That’s not a word you’d necessarily use to describe your relationship, but as you ponder his question, you can’t deny where he’s coming from. Kyoutani has become something of a protective shadow, appearing out of nowhere as you make your way to and from school, rudely pulling you back whenever he deems you too close to the side of the street as cars zoom by, hostilely growling at men who come too close to you on crowded train cars, smacking more than a hand or two that drift too close to the hem of your skirt.

And in return you’ve found yourself mindlessly blabbering on and on to him, telling him whatever’s on your mind, nosily peeking over his shoulder and correcting mistakes you notice in his homework, passing bites of food from your bento to his.

Close. The two of you are close. Something warm flutters in your chest at that realization.

It’s like a veil has been lifted from your eyes and you suddenly really see Kyoutani for the first time as the two of you walk to and from school and classes. You see the lean toned muscles of his forearm as he insists on holding your bag for you. You see the well-meaning soul behind all the barks and feral eyes. And suddenly the weight of his eyes on you feels heavier than before and you unconsciously move to pat the rumples out of your skirt and shirt and make sure your makeup is intact.

You find your own eyes straying towards his figure as he furrows his brows in concentration, paying attention to the scrawled equations on the board. You no longer ignore his daily competitions with Iwaizumi, surprising yourself with your sudden quiet internal wish for Kyoutani to win as you watch the two race and wrestle against each other. Meanwhile unknown to you, narrowed eyes hone in on the comfortable companionship between Iwaizumi and you, something uncomfortable churning in Kyoutani’s stomach as he observes the carefree way you smile and laugh at everything the ace says.

Kyoutani and you have been assigned to classroom cleaning duties and both of you work in an easy natural harmony, comfortably maneuvering around each other as you sweep and wipe down the room. So you’re surprised when you bump into a hard object, turning around in confusion and coming face to face with Kyoutani who is intensely staring you down.

“What do you like about Iwaizumi?”

You’re stunned, mouth wildly moving around as you try to form words, but no sounds come out.

Your crush on Iwaizumi is a poorly kept secret. You’ve never been subtle and you have an inkling even the vice-captain himself is well-aware of your feelings for him. So it’s not Kyoutani’s awareness of it that’s leaving you speechless. It’s your instinctual response of denial that shocks you to your core.

“I- don’t like Iwaizumi?”

There’s silence as Kyoutani narrows his eyes and stares at you in a mixture of disbelief and confusion.

“Was that a question?”

“Shh! I’m trying to think.”

Kyoutani rolls his eyes, but he settles on top of a nearby desk, patiently waiting and watching as your thoughts race.

You like Iwaizumi. You’ve always liked Iwaizumi. But you wonder if you’ve ever truly liked the upperclassman in the way you believe you did. He’s hard working, responsible, kind, handsome, and physically gifted. He’s a man’s man, someone who everyone looks up to. He’s the shiny glossy page of a magazine that catches your eyes, showing you a vision of a picture perfect world you wildly create and build in your mind. He’s the older brother and mentor you’ve always wanted. He’s protection, comfort, and guidance. But even then, he’s always at arm’s length, on a pedestal you’ve forced him on, unattainable, unreachable. He’s not Kyoutani.

Kyoutani. Rude, gruff, brash Kyoutani with his few words and feral snarls. He’s not Kyoutani and yet when you think of bleached hair, your heart starts pounding and you instinctively want to lean in towards the silent wall of lean muscles that hovers around you, keeping you safe, listening to every word you say. You think of countless meals, walks, and hangout/study sessions. You think of sharp words and growls mixed in with laughter and fondness.

Iwaizumi is just a pretty pipe dream you’ve concocted. He’s a great senpai, a good man, who you've used as the center of your rose-tinted imagination. But you don’t really know him. Not the way you know Kyoutani. Your feelings for Iwaizumi are silly, whimsy, fluffy and cloud-like, a vapid perfect world that doesn’t exist. Not like the raw and tangible bolts you feel around Kyoutani as the two of you bicker about who has the right answer on their homework when your responses differ, excitedly talk about your favorite dog breed, or discover your new go-to fried chicken place together by accident one day while the two of you are aimlessly strolling through town.

You like Iwaizumi, but you like Kyoutani.

It’s like a lightbulb has flipped on over your head, but you know you’ve been silent for too long when movement catches your attention from the corner of your eyes and you turn to see Kyoutani’s legs beginning to impatiently fidget.

“I don’t like Iwaizumi.”

The conviction in your words startles both of you, but you continue on.

“I saw him spike a ball and my mind got carried away. That’s all.”

There’s so much left unsaid, so much implied and yet, somehow you know Kyoutani understands what you really mean when he abruptly stands up and reaches for both your school bags, carrying them on his shoulder as the two of you exit the classroom, an uncharacteristic softness in his next words.

“Yeah, he’s a pretty cool guy...for an upperclassman.”

No one pays any mind as the gym doors slam open at practice yet again, but heads turn when Kyoutani turns his back on Iwaizumi and makes his way towards Oikawa who’s curiously staring at the approaching second-year.

“I want to rejoin the volleyball team and I’m going to be the ace after Iwaizumi graduates.”

Chaos erupts as people choke on their water bottles, surprised and outraged exclamations and whispers flooding the space. But as irritating as Oikawa can be, you have to admit he’s always been good at finding and honing potential, at swaying people to his ways. And you beam in surprise and excitement as Kyoutani begins to warm-up with the team, stretching and jogging amongst a sea of teal.

You’re jolted back to attention when someone sits next to you, smiling at Iwaizumi who drinks some water as he observes Kyoutani.

“You have something to do with this?”

You balk at the hidden connotation of his words. As if you’d have any influence on stubborn, strong-willed Kyoutani who’s always done what he wants and you fervently shake your head side to side in denial.

“Me??? I’m just as surprised as you are. If he doesn’t even listen to you, what makes you think he’d even hear what I have to say-”

You’re silenced by the loud echo of your name being called, turning your head to the middle of the court where the team is lining up, getting ready to practice their spikes, looking at the second-year who’s scowling at you. (If Iwaizumi notices the way Kyoutani’s glare deepens when he notices the ace sitting so close to you, he wisely doesn’t bring it up.)

“Watch me spike.”

Your jaw drops at the demanding statement, indignation beginning to fester in you as you get ready to retort and tell him he can’t tell you what to do, let alone interrupt practice to order you around. But then you remember…

“I saw him spike a ball and my mind got carried away.”

There’s no way that’s why he’s…

And yet…

You clamp your mouth shut, eyes carefully watching as he bounds towards the net, leg muscles contracting and expanding as he leaps in the air, arm swinging overhead, a resounding smack filling the air as he slams the ball over the net. It’s mere seconds and yet it feels like eternity to you as Kyoutani eagerly whips his head towards you the second he lands back on the ground, making sure you were watching, You’re not sure how the gut-twisting awe and pride you feel translates onto your face, but it must if the slight upwards twitch of his lips are any indication as he makes his way towards the back of the line, getting ready to do it all over again

“Congratulations. I think you’ve officially bumped me down to number two on Kyoutani’s ‘people I give a shit about’ list.”

“Senpai, it’s not like that!”

“Yet. It’s not like that yet.”

There’s a pause as you can’t bring yourself to deny his words, something hopeful and nervous twining and entangling your beating heart at the heavy underlying meaning of Iwaizumi’s words. But you wince, crashing back to reality when a finger roughly pokes your forehead, any complaints dying on your tongue when you see the softest knowing look in green eyes.

“I’m happy for you and I wish the two of you all my best.”

To anyone else, they’re sweet words. That’s all. But you know better. You can see the official rejection of your unconfessed feelings in the way Iwaizumi carefully chooses his words. You can feel the acknowledgement of your past feelings for him in the way his hand gently, but firmly grips your shoulder in consolation and reassurance before he trudges back to practice himself.

Yet it doesn’t hurt the way you thought it would and as your heart bids a final fond farewell to the brown-haired, green-eyed protagonist of your past dreams, you turn to Kyoutani, ready to begin a new real adventure together.

#kyoutani x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #kyoutani kentarou #kyoutani fluff #haikyuu fic

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