#just this one genuine plea that doesn’t even sound like it should be in the show | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

megatraven · 7 months

Text

Hades Doesn't Save Her (WIP)

“Don’t do this.”

It’s the last thing she can think to say, the last plea she can make. It’s only for Hades to hear, as he cradles her face in his hands. She looks into his eyes, searching for any remaining pieces of the man- the god- she had loved, but anything left is already in mourning.

As if she’s already dead.

Her grip on his wrists go slack.

Even after all of it- after she’s thrown his engagement ring back at him, almost run from the gods completely, almost taken the deal of a titan- she still clung to the desperate hope that Hades would find that he loves her enough to defy the gods. That he would love her enough to save her after all.

But he only stares back at her, resigned, as he has since the moment the gods decided to kill her.

“It won’t hurt,” he finally says, voice cool, and his aura activates before either of them can say more. Where she used to find comfort, only dread lives, now.

His power, and the power of every other Top Tier God floods her. In the back of her mind, she barely registers when the last one joins, just a split second later than every other one. It’s Aphrodite’s and, for some reason, though it hurts in the same way Hades’ betrayal does, it helps her breathe easier for a moment.

And then the world falls away.

Nothingness surrounds her, a terrible, foreboding darkness that her soul fears on instinct. A place where people like her, young and human, are put to rest.

A graveyard that takes its people when they’re still alive.

A feral sound escapes her as she struggles against her fate, fights against the inky void that grasps onto her, sinks beneath her skin.

“No... No!” she shouts, and almost on instinct, she calls forth the power of her ring, hoping it might save her, somehow.

For a moment, nothing happens.

Then-

Tendrils of gold pierce the darkness she’s been banished to, chaining across her body akin to an embrace. Part of her wants nothing more than to struggle against them, but she knows- this is what she wanted. Her saving grace.

The most she can do is hold onto them, too, and hope against everything that it’s enough to anchor her soul when the gods would see it flushed away.

Somewhere, in the encroaching dark, she hears a voice, ancient and tired. She strains her ears to hear, pushes the roar of divine power out of her mind as best she can, and listens.

“...on’t want... this.”

The chains of gold around her tighten, ever so slightly.

“Not again... ot now.”

Her mind races from the possibilities, but there’s only one person it could really be. A voice that sounds familiar and strange, heard in dreams forgotten. An essence, that watched over her for 15 years before settling into her skin itself.

A goddess that’s been missing for decades, by her own decision, only for the gods to try taking her choice away one more time.

Hera.

She misses what the goddess says after the realization comes to her, but she has a guess as to what’s being said. One last spark of genuine hope ignites in her chest.

“Then don’t let it happen!” she shouts. It doesn’t leave her mouth, but the words scream out of the depths of her soul, echoing through the dark surrounding her until it pierces through, letting more gold spill in. It joins the other chains, wrapping around her, helping her hold on.

“...ow? ...werless ag...nst them...”

“I- I don’t know. But there has to be some way. You don’t want this, and I don’t either. There has to be a way.”

The goddess is silent.

“...Please.”

Nothing.

The hope begins to slip away, but she’s desperate.

“Please!”

Her voice cracks on the word, her last weapon, and Hera answers her again.

“...One way...”

“I’ll do anything. Anything.”

She hardly recognizes her own voice, now. It’s raw and filled with something so primal, the only thing she can even think to compare it to is Hades’ aura when its screams pierced the air. For all it should hurt to make that comparison, she feels more powerful for it instead.

She feels like she’s been thrust back to a primeval version of herself, some piece of her that has existed long before humans, and even the gods themselves. A part that refuses to die, that stays alive through any and everything thrown at it.

A piece that wills her to survive, too.

“Anything...”

“Yes.” She swallows. “Anything.”

The goddess stirs, somehow. She can feel it, in her blood, in her bones, in her very soul. More light spills out across the dark, and the goddess’ voice rings clear, the barrier between them breaking more and more.

“Then you must take my place. You must forgo your humanity, and become a goddess in my stead.” Her voice rings with something terribly sad, but it’s for her, not the goddess herself. “There is no other option, not when time is so short.”

“I...” She struggles to say anything, the thought of actually becoming a goddess, of taking Hera’s place too much to process.

She did say anything, but...

“Please.”

The goddess repeats her own plea back to her, and she knows there’s no other answer.

Her resolve hardens, sharpens.

Anything.

“I’ll do it.”

“...Thank you.”

The goddess whispers it, a soft caress- and then she’s gone.

She feels it when she’s gone.

The darkness fades away completely, and light streams down on her, a perfect reflection of the ichor that burns its way through her body, waking up at long last.

Her senses begin to come back to her, a little too strongly for her to do anything more than blink away the blinding brilliance of Olympus as she comes to.

Hades holds onto her with his entire body, and she vaguely notes that she must have collapsed when the ritual started. Slowly, her eyes move to meet his, and the moment they do, he smiles.

“Hera,” Hades breathes, and the relief in his gaze is a knife to the heart. There’s hardly any trace of remorse or guilt in his expression, and it sets her blood on fire.

She didn’t think it was possible for him to hurt her any more than he has, but in that single name- she learns he never believed there was any hope that she would survive the awakening of the goddess.

Tears form furiously, thick and golden, like the blood underneath her skin, and she’s sure her hatred must be shining through just the same, because Hades flinches away.

“Not Hera,” she whispers, seething. “Never Hera.”

She sees when understanding dawns on Hades’ face, and for once, the god is tongue-tied, stumbling over his words, trying to walk his mistake back.

But it’s too late.

Her words cut through his, for the very first time. The power in them is new, and not entirely welcome, but it’s hers now.

“I will-” she stands up- “never forgive you-” and raises her voice for all the gods to hear- “ANY of you.”

Several gods start speaking at once, outraged, confused, but she ignores them easily. Any influence they’d had over her is gone now, her blood providing a built-in immunity.

“You should have thought twice about trying to kill the woman you wanted to be your missing goddess.” Her eyes haven’t left Hades, and though the rest of the Pantheon won’t understand the full meaning of her words, he will. “Especially knowing that she didn’t want to come back.”

Power rises in her like the tide, then, brilliant peacock feathers forming on a whim. With barely a thought, they rain down on the gods, drawing out godly auras and shrieks of surprise, and she uses the brief distraction to run from the throne room.

Human agents try to stop her on the way, but one look freezes each in place until she’s already out of sight, and demigods meet a similar fate when they cross her path, even Hercules.

It’s a long, winding path to the elevators, but she makes it.

She makes it.

And she steps inside, watching golden doors close on Olympus.

The moment it starts moving, down, down, down to Earth, the tight knot that’s formed in her chest loosens, ever so slightly. She can breathe again by the time the doors open up, and it takes nothing at all to shoo away the agents on guard, called on to stop her.

“Out of my way,” she growls- and they listen, auras falling back, guns holstered. Recognition burns in the eyes of some of their faces, but it only twists the knife in further, hurt on top of hurt.

And they all thought it was an honor, she thinks, bitter as she crosses the threshold.

No one else tries to stop her.

She’s halfway home before she realizes that she’s walking in the wrong direction, and a dull sort of pain tears at her chest.

She hadn’t been heading towards her apartment- she’d been headed towards Hades’ condo.

“Not there. Never again,” she mutters, and turns away, only to stop again a moment later.

“It- it probably isn’t even safe to go there, is it?” She shakes her head. “But where else...”

Unsure of where to go now, when her life’s been turned upside down, she lets her feet carry her through the city, aimless.

“There’s always Josh, but- no, I don’t want to get him involved. I don’t want to think that they’d use him to get to me.” She winces with her next words. “He’ll be safer without me.”

It doesn’t leave her many other options.

“Not my place. Not Josh’s. Not... Alex’s. Definitely not Cerberus or the other guardians. Selene and Helios always stayed with Hades. Astraeus- he’s gone, now. So where..?”

The answer doesn’t come until she finds herself standing in front of a door, pretty nondescript, with a boar emblazoned on it.

The Boarback.

“Neutral ground. That should work for now.”

#besties i have Mental Problems (<obsessed with the heartbreak of hades and mc)#lovestruck voltage #lovestruck #astoria: fate's kiss #astoria: lost kisses #labyrinths of astoria #hades x mc #hades #afk mc #afk hades #hera #afk hera #astoria #my fic #wip

2 notes · View notes

hellmouth-manor · 9 months

Text

does it make you feel better if it means something? || trial 1.7 || Hisashi || RE: everybody who said words i think hopefully

This is...

New.

A new experience.

It's like he said; he's never been caught before. Never been asked how or why before. There's never been anyone to ask-- to know to ask. Not like this, at least. So, It's new.

In a depth of light blue nothing, this is something. Hisashi supposes he'll enjoy the fleeting time he has with it.

Or, well--

He would, if not for a bit of a... Hiccup, as he would much too lightly put it.

"Cedric."

The name falls from his mouth in a sigh, and compared to how he's addressed the rest of you, Hisashi's voice is-- casual. Normal, somehow, in the way it rises or falls.

Like he's a person again.

"You did do everything right. Just-- look. I'm not above making a mistake here and there, alright? You know that. And I can admit it-- I really should have asked about it before your whole..."

He gestures with one of his hands, fingers wiggling dismissively.

"Thing started. It's mostly that I already figured getting found out meant something bad for me, so I hadn't bothered. Even I didn't expect the whole killing someone else for getting it wrong part. Like, come on-- culling your numbers when they're supposed to do it themselves? That's just... Dumb."

There is a moment, so brief that you wouldn't be blamed for thinking you imagined it, that Hisashi's brow furrows with something like concern-- discomfort-- anything real--

"But it is what it is, and we have to be realistic. You and I both know guilt like that would eat you alive well before anyone else here got the chance to do it."

And then it dissipates with a sigh.

Hisashi motions his hand dismissively, tone far too comfortable for the conversation being had.

"So we're doing it like this instead-- and I know it looks bad right now. I do. But it wouldn't hurt you to trust me every once in a while, now would it? Ah-- that's rhetorical, by the way. Thanks."

With that out of the way, Hisashi's eyes turn to others who have spoken-- still with something. Just that much more than the nothing from before.

...Prose aside, it's actually pretty obvious what that something is when he's looking at Kamiya. There's nothing unclear about it; Hisashi smiles, and you have to wonder if this is the same expression he wore before driving an ice pick into Raoul's neck given the clear intent of it.

"I'm going to be, like, so real with you right now, Kamiya. The only reason I didn't kill you instead of Raoul is because if your death rattle was half as annoying as everything else that comes out of your mouth, I probably would've kept stabbing until someone found us. Have fun with the optimism, though! Hope it helps light the next candle."

Ah. Well. Alright, then.

He takes a bit of a breath after that, and then looks at Touji, unable to do much more than quietly laugh. After all... Well, yeah. That's fair.

Who else, who else...

Alou next. The question is unsurprising. Most things Alou says and asks, Hisashi has found, have been unsurprising; a bad look for Alou, he'd argue.

But it would be easier to answer everything at once, really. Poppy's curiosity, silently returned in kind. Hibiki's disbelief, Cassandra's plea for explanation--

Ahhh...

Yeah.

Fleeting, just like always.

That new something has already dwindled, and when he finally speaks again, the gloating Alou had thought might come never does. If anything, Hisashi just sounds...

Bored.

"Right, right... How many. Does it really matter? Whether it's three or a hundred, we all know I belong right here. And no; it doesn't make me feel clever or strong. It doesn't make me feel much of anything at all. Keep thinking it might, but... Aha. Ah, well. What can you do? But if you're that curious... Somewhere over thirty?"

There's nothing facetious or sarcastic in how the number provided rises in a tone of uncertainty. It seems like a genuine estimate--

The type you'd apply to how many apples are on a tree. Not so much stolen lives.

"As for how I could do this to Raoul? Easily. And you might consider taking that to heart, Shinobu; it's a very human trait of mine."

He lowers his hand from his face, fingers curled down under his chin. Now, he speaks to the group at large again.

"You know, I should really make this clear. Despite how this all might seem, I don't have a death wish or anything like that. Not at all. It's just... Well--"

With another quiet scratch of a laugh, Hisashi lifts both hands in something of a casual shrug.

"While the rest of you were asking for video game controllers and ping pong balls, I've been privately pissing our hostesses off in hopes they'd mention something they shouldn't. People tend to slip up when they're angry, after all."

The smile he wears now is... More than empty--

But it might be worse this way, seeing genuine amusement on the man's face at a time like this.

"And let's just say that one of them said something very interesting."

#ch1 #trial #hisashi

0 notes

haadeswrites · 3 years

Text

Elysium

god this fic took forever i’m so sorry!! but hey, first fic on the new blog! <33 also y’all should really thank @iwaasfairy who listened to me complain about this fic for a solid month, she’s the reason it got finished

Cult leader Oikawa Tooru x female reader

tw: indoctrination, extremely dubious consent, blood, yandere themes, religious themes, minor character death, implied abuse & drug use, mild smut, nsfw

The island itself is breathtaking

Pristine beaches with gleaming white sand, vast swathes of lush, green rainforest and waterfalls that cascade into shimmering pools of crystal clear water. Untouched, undisturbed; a paradise. At least, that’s how Ryuji had described it.

Paradise, but only in the sense that a gingerbread cottage in the middle of the woods is paradise to a lost and hungry child.

He hadn’t been wrong. Bare feet sink into soft, white sand as you climb from the boat - the warmth just toeing the line between pleasant and burning. Gentle waves ebb and flow behind you, and there’s a light breeze that kisses your skin, the taste of seasalt carrying in the wind. Home, it seems to sing.

A laugh sounds somewhere in the distance, yet the only other figure on the beach is a man walking steadily towards you. He smiles when he sees you’ve noticed him; friendly, non-threatening. It’s a far cry from the swarming welcoming committee you’d been dreading, and you wonder if that’s somehow intentional as well.

As the boat pushes back out to sea he comes to a stop before you, “I’m Makki,” he says, pushing the fringe of his hair back and giving you a not-so-subtle once over. Whatever he sees must meet approval, because his grin only widens, “Welcome to the Commune.”

Ryuji wasn’t wrong; the island is a beautiful, deadly thing.

—

You’d never heard of the Commune before the phone call.

And maybe that shouldn’t be so surprising. You’ll be the first to admit you’re hardly an expert, but from what you do know, groups like the Commune – cults – don’t spring up out of thin air and start broadcasting their mistreatment and systematic abuse.

They’re not the kind of people that have sweet old ladies clutching their pearls and mothers shepherding their children away – at least, not in the beginning. Not entirely. They’re not out to recruit extremists to further their cause, they choose to prey on the vulnerable, the lost and the disillusioned. Those easily manipulated. You suspect that’s why when you google the Commune, all you find is a website for what essentially looks like a long term luxury wellness retreat.

‘The Commune is about healing and harmony, about returning to nature, supporting one another to forge a brighter, more holistic future together… a self-sufficient community living apart from technology and other evils of modern society.’

You fight the urge to roll your eyes as you scroll through. There’s a whisper of philosophical teachings woven throughout, a page dedicated to their founder, Oikawa Tooru – smiling handsomely in every single picture, because what would a burgeoning cult be without a charismatic leader – but there’s not enough.

So here you are, on an island hundreds of miles away from home living amongst strangers; because Ryuji wouldn’t have sounded so terrified if this was just some alternate, free-loving bunch of hippies.

And even with all that he’d told you, everything you thought you’d be prepared for, the Commune is like nothing you could’ve imagined.

Makki introduces you to Asuka, a woman only a few years older than yourself, dark haired and stunningly beautiful, and winks as he tells her to take you under her wing. She smiles brightly, eyes twinkling, and pulls you into a heartfelt hug – as if you’ve known each other your whole lives.

“We’re so glad you’re here!” she beams.

You’d like to hate her.

It feels like you're supposed to, sometimes; when she gets that dreamy look in her eyes and starts talking about Oikawa and the Commune and how lucky everyone here on the island is. Yet there’s something about her – the genuine warmth she emanates maybe, or the kindness in her eyes – that makes it difficult for you not to like her.

“You should come to the gathering tomorrow,” she hums idly one afternoon, maybe a week or so after your arrival. The two of you are sitting on the edge of the pier, legs dangling down into the water, tangled fishing nets to be repaired strewn between you.

“I always go,” you reply.

She laughs, fixing you with a knowing look, “And sit right at the very back, all but running off the moment we finish?”

And your traitorous heart skips a beat.

“It’s okay to take things slowly,” she says. “We understand that being a part of the Commune is a big change from the life you knew, and that not everybody is able to see what we see and embrace those changes.”

Asuka sets down the knot she’s working through and reaches for your hand, a gentle smile on her face, “But you shouldn’t be afraid. You’re meant to be here, I can feel it. You just need to stop fighting against it; surrender yourself to us, to the island, and everything’ll make sense, I promise.”

It’s dangerous territory. One wrong word could set off alarm bells, yet you can’t help pressing just a little.

“Do you ever miss it, then? Life outside the Commune?”

Your family. Friends. The life you left behind before you came here to be brainwashed like all of the others.

“Why would I?” she answers without missing a beat, and it’s hard to ignore the bitter flicker of disappointment you feel at her answer. “The island provides for us, we don’t have to spend our days selling off tiny pieces of ourselves just to make ends meet. It’s paradise here, and we have Oikawa to thank for that. Why would I ever want to go back?”

Silence falls between you as you struggle to think of something to say to salvage the situation. Yet Asuka isn’t even looking at you, instead staring out at the water with a strangely pensive expression.

“Did you know I was married once?” The words seemingly out of the blue, you can only shake your head. For a moment, she doesn’t reply, watching as the waves rise and crash offshore. And then;

“I was young, eighteen or so, fresh out of high school and he was a small town cop.” Her eyes flicker to yours, and your heart clenches at the sadness and pain echoing there. “I thought he was a good man, once upon a time.”

A chord strikes deep, your chest tightening involuntarily at her words. It’s not the same, of course it’s not the same, and yet…

No. You stop the errant thought in its tracks. Groups like the Commune prey on the vulnerable, you know this. People like Ryuji, like Asuka, like–

Her fingers squeeze around yours, pulling you back to the present. “Come to the gathering tomorrow. Listen to Oikawa, it’ll help.”

—

She doesn’t give you a choice in the matter – dragging you by the hand to sit right at the front of the gathered crowd that very night.

Oikawa’s handsomer up close; tall and dark haired with pretty eyes and long, sweeping lashes that frame delicate cheekbones, it’s not hard for you to see how a man like him has amassed such an impassioned following.

Once he starts actually speaking, however, you realise that his good looks and charming smile are just the tip of the iceberg. Oikawa’s utterly captivating as he preaches about the cycle of life and death and the paradise that awaits his faithful. Passionate and engaging, he speaks like he truly believes every word of the lies he’s spreading.

And Asuka, her friends, the others gathered, they eat up every word like it’s gospel truth, resounding cheers and thunderous applause deafening around you. In the midst of the rapturous din, Oikawa’s eyes flit to yours.

Slowly, he smiles – a dazzling grin that makes your stomach flip – and everything; Asuka, the noise, the others swarming around you, it all fades away.

For one electrifying heartbeat, you’re frozen in place. Just you and Oikawa, trapped in the pull of each other’s gaze.

—

You can’t forget the reason you came.

But it’s… difficult, in a way you struggle to understand. You only have one purpose for being here, one goal; find Ryuji and bring him home.

And yet, some days it’s like there’s a fog in your mind, and you have to focus to remember why you’re here at all. You catch yourself laughing with Asuka and her friends, the days passing by in a blur of endless, easy distractions.

It barely feels like work when you’re sitting under the shade of the trees, eating the fruits you’ve picked by hand – ripe and sweet, unlike anything you’ve ever tasted – diving off waterfalls into the crystalline water and meandering down the shore collecting seashells. Even when you are working, mending clothes or cooking with the others, it fills you with a sense of contentment you can’t quite explain.

Like you’re a part of something bigger. Like you’re doing something that matters.

Ryuji becomes a distant thought. A whisper in the back of your head, a niggling in your gut, easily brushed aside and ignored until there’s a moment of quiet. In the dead of night, the balmy summer night’s breeze kissing your bare skin, you lie awake, lost in memories of the last time you’d seen him.

Fists angrily pounding at your door, the yelling that gave way to sobs and the hoarse, desperate pleas that followed. Ryuji’s face; pupils blown wide and eyes rimmed in red, darting restlessly around as he held you too tight and begged–

Rolling over in bed, you gaze out your window at the star flecked sky, the shadows of the forest that lie at your doorstep, and wonder what it is that scares you more; that you’ve lost track of the days you’ve been here, and saving Ryuji is starting to feel like an afterthought, or that you could so easily forget all of it, find a place here in the Commune and be happy.

‘The island, it–it fucks with your head.’

Ryuji’d told you that, and you’d brushed it off as paranoia. You need to find him. Find him and get the hell outta dodge.

You can deal with the fallout later.

—

Kiyoshi.

He’d mentioned the name a few times amidst his rambling – a friend of his on the island. You’re annoyed with yourself for not thinking of it sooner, however much like Ryuji himself, trying to focus and remember the name is like wading through thick mud.

Once you do, though, finding him amongst the hundred and fifty or so inhabitants is the easy part.

There’s no strict division between genders within the Commune, however Kyoshi, despite his somewhat lean stature, is among the builders of the island and his path doesn’t often cross with yours.

From Asuka you find out that he’s been a part of the Commune for years now, before even she joined, and that he mostly sticks to himself, though you’ve seen him chatting quietly to a few of the other men, a perpetually angry looking blonde in particular.

It’s the last part that piques her interest, “Why’re you so curious, anyway?” she asks, her face lighting up as a sudden thought occurs. “Do you want me to introduce you two? To be honest, I didn’t think he’d be your type, if you’re interested, though…”

Cheeks aflame, you’re quick to shut her down. “No, no, nothing like that. I’ve just… seen him around and we’ve never really spoken, I guess.”

A lame excuse, though mercifully she lets the subject drop without too much prodding.

Therein, of course, lies the problem. Walking up to Kyoshi and casually trying to drop Ryuji into the conversation without raising red flags is risky, but what other options do you have? You’ve already spent too much time on this island.

Although, maybe Asuka has the right idea.

While you hadn’t been lying when you said you weren’t interested in Kyoshi in that way, nobody else knew that. Who would really look twice at the shy newbie striking up a conversation with the quiet, easygoing man? He wasn’t unattractive per se, and from the brief interactions you’d seen of him, he seemed kind enough.

You have enough patience (barely) to wait for dusk the following night. There’s a celebration, something about the full moon and a blessing on the island and the Commune– you hadn’t really been paying attention when Oikawa had spoken about it. Still, it’s too good an opportunity to pass up. With the fire pits crackling, and the dancing and music and the sweet honey wine flowing freely, nobody will be paying too much attention to what you’ll be doing. Hopefully, the alcohol will also serve to lower Kiyoshi’s guard, and perhaps if you’re really, really lucky, loosen his tongue as well.

Of course, you’re not banking on him telling you exactly where Ryu is or what happened to him– and that’s assuming he actually knows – but at this point you’ll take anything over the nothing you currently have. A tiny slip up, that’s all you’re asking for.

As the sun descends beyond the horizon, you play your role well, laughing and chatting amongst friends, sipping carefully at the cup of wine in your hand as you wait for an opening. And perhaps it’s your nerves working against you, but you find that it’s not just Kiyoshi your attention is drawn to.

Up on the shore, away from the rabble, Oikawa lounges back with a cup of the same honeyed wine you’re pretending to drink. For the most part he seems deep in conversation with Iwaizumi, his right hand, but every once in a while he glances up, letting his gaze roam over the crowd of his followers.

Every inch a king and his general.

And it would seem benevolent, if not for the strange smile he wears – the one that widens when his eyes catch yours.

Swallowing tightly, you force yourself not to dwell on it, to ignore the odd sensation curling in your gut and the way your skin prickles under his attention. Now is not the time to lose focus.

Pushing all thoughts of Oikawa aside, you subtly scan the beach once more, only to find that Kiyoshi’s moved, sitting now on a piece of old driftwood near the bonfire. Alone for the first time tonight.

Your legs are moving before the thought even fully registers.

“Do you mind if I sit?” you ask, gesturing to the empty space on the log beside him.

Kiyoshi smiles, the laugh lines at corners of his eyes crinkling pleasantly, and shakes his head, “Not at all.”

“Thanks.”

Taking another sip of your wine, you will your shoulders to relax, your racing pulse to slow. This has to seem natural, and so you force yourself to hold your tongue, let your head loll back and breathe deep, soaking it all in. You can hear the others in the distance, the music and the dancing, the happy laughter and shouts that beckon – you want to go join them. Even your blood seems to hum, a call of something other pulsing through your veins.

But you pay it no mind. There are more important things to worry about tonight.

Indeed, steel blue eyes have been appraising you curiously for a while now. “This is your first Lunar blessing, isn’t it?” Kiyoshi asks after a moment.

You nod, humming in agreement. Less than a month; you’ve been here less than a month. Is that a good thing?

“Are you enjoying yourself?”

A harmless enough question, and again you nod your head. “Yeah, it’s…” you pause, searching for words that won’t sound hollow. “It’s paradise. I feel like I need to pinch myself just to make sure it’s real.”

He smiles gently. “But?” he probes.

Grimly, you wonder whether Kiyoshi’s usually this perceptive, or if you’re just a really terrible actor. In a way, you suppose it really doesn’t make a difference; you’ve come too far to turn back now – at least not without raising suspicion.

So you lie with a truth, and pray that it works.

“I had a friend I was supposed to meet here,” you confess quietly, gazing not at him but the crackling flames of the bonfire, the burning embers carried off into the night. “He was the one who said I should come, but now I’m here and he’s not and every time I catch myself enjoying this–”

“You feel guilty,” he surmises, cutting you off. “Because he’s not here to enjoy it with you.”

Wordlessly, you nod – and maybe it isn’t so much of an act when your eyes begin to glisten, your smile wavering.

Kiyoshi’s silent for a moment, and you take another sip of the honey wine to hide your nerves. “You shouldn’t, you know,” he says eventually. “Feel guilty, I mean. You belong here, with the Commune. You’re happy here. Paradise… isn’t for everybody.”

He doesn’t say it to be cruel, more like he’s simply stating a fact, and somehow that makes it all the more unnerving. And it’s nothing you haven’t listened to Oikawa preach about time and time again. The Commune is for the devoted, the faithful – the lucky few – and you’ve never thought too hard about what he’d meant by that.

The Commune’s small, maybe a hundred and fifty or so people on the island. There’d been no initiation, no test of faith or trial period you’d had to pass when you arrived – at least, none that you’d been aware of. You simply stepped off the boat and they’d welcomed you with open arms.

An uneasy sensation settles into your gut, goosebumps prickling at your skin despite the heat of the midsummer night.

That… doesn’t make sense. It can’t. Absolute control’s too important in groups like this, they couldn’t just let anyone–

Kiyoshi speaks again, his calm voice pulling you from your thoughts. “What was his name?”

You blink at him slowly – stupidly. “Sorry?”

“Your friend,” he clarifies. “What was his name?”

“Oh, um- Ryuji.”

Kiyoshi’s brow furrows in thought for a moment, but he merely shakes his head, “Doesn’t ring a bell, but like I said, not everyone who arrives stays with us for long.”

He looks you right in the eye as he says it.

You don’t understand the cold, foreboding that seeps through your veins, because he’s lying. He has to be.

Ryuji was here. They were friends, Ryu’d told you that–

Why did you think this stupid plan would work anyway? That he’d tell you anything, much less the truth when this whole fucked up island is full of liars and those too indoctrinated to know the difference?

“You alright?” he asks when abruptly, you shoot to your feet beside him.

And it takes every ounce of willpower you have left to force an easy smile to your lips, raising your cup just a fraction, “Yeah, just gonna go get a refill. Thanks for the talk, Kiyoshi.”

Whether he notices that your wine’s barely touched or not, you don’t care – not as you turn on your heel without another word and head back up the beach.

Your head is pounding, your body trembling – you don’t hear the call of your name until a hand reaches out and grasps at your wrist, spinning you around.

Asuka greets you with a wide grin, Makki and a tall, broad shouldered man you think is called Mattsun standing either side of her – the former’s arm slung casually over her shoulder. “There you are! I’ve been looking for you,” she says. “Come on, we’re gonna go swimming, it’s so pretty out there!”

You glance out towards the ocean. Moonlight bathes the inky blue water, light shimmering off the rippling tide; some of the others are already out there, splashing amongst the waves.

“Clothing optional, of course,” Makki laughs, and Asuka tugs on your wrist once more.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun!”

But you shake your head, slowly pulling your hand from her grip, “I’m not feeling great, I think I’m gonna head back.”

Asuka frowns, concern marring her pretty features. “Are you okay? Do you need us to call Mizo–”

“No,” you say, cutting her off. Healer Mizoguchi is the last person you need to see right now. “I just– I just need to go lie down for a bit. You guys go have fun – enjoy the blessing, I’ll be fine.”

Makki and Asuka share a fleeting look, but it’s Mattsun who interjects before either one of them can speak, “I’ll walk you back, then.”

Your stomach churns. It doesn’t sound like a suggestion.

And the smart thing to do would be to accept his help; the walk from the beach to your villa isn’t far, and while you’re not as familiar with Mattsun as you are with Makki or Asuka, it’s not like he’s going to hurt you or anything, but–

“Really– you don’t need to, it’s fine,” you smile weakly, shuffling back as he reaches to offer you his arm. “Go swim, I’ll see you guys in the morning.”

Mattsun shrugs easily enough, falling back into line with the other two – yet there’s something in the way he grins and holds your gaze for a beat longer. A glimmer of amusement, as if there’s some joke you're not a part of. “I’ll hold you to it, sweetheart.”

The heat that floods your cheeks clashes uncomfortably with the cloying heaviness in your stomach, but somehow you manage to stutter out one last goodbye before turning back to scamper off in the direction of your room.

–But not to lie down.

There’s not a cloud in the sky, and the full moon’s bright. No need for a torch, not unless you decide to venture into the heart of the forest.

You’ve been a fool. Kiyoshi, Asuka, Makki, Mattsun; you can’t trust any of them to help you, even unwittingly. Ryuji’s here on the island – somewhere – and every second that slips away, every second that you allow yourself to forget puts him in further danger.

And so you cling to your discomfort, ground yourself in it. The prickling sensation at the back of your neck, the tightness in your chest as you slip past your villa, keeping low and quiet – they’re a reminder that there is something insidious here on the island, that you have to get out.

You and Ryuji.

He’s here. Away from the others, kept under lock and key as punishment, or maybe being forced to undergo whatever kind of glorified brainwashing they’ve got going on, but here. You need to be smart about this, because while you don’t intend to stop until you find him, tonight will be your best shot – while everyone’s distracted down on the beach.

For the first time in a long time, it feels like you have a clear head.

Creeping through the underbrush, you steer clear of the well trod pathways that lead towards habitation. You’ve been there, and to the docks, and the river.

If they’re still keeping him here (and they are, you refuse to entertain the possibility that it could be otherwise) then it’s not somewhere out in the open. A bird cries out in the distance shattering the calm of the night, and you flinch – but it only serves as another reminder that your time tonight is limited; you cannot afford to delay. You wrack your brain, trying to dredge up memories of the last few weeks, surely you must have seen something–

“Lost?”

The single word, spoken in a deep, gruff voice has your blood running cold.

Slowly, you turn.

Iwa stands behind you in the thicket, his face utterly impassive. Briefly, you contemplate whether it’s worth trying to bluff your way out of this, but Iwa’s eyes narrow, flashing in the dim light and you think better of it.

A sigh escapes you, your shoulders deflating. “Where is he– Ryuji?” you ask; a whisper rather than a demand.

Iwa’s expression gives nothing away. Did he know, or have you handed him the smoking gun of a crime that’d fallen through the cracks? Does it even matter anymore? You’re just–

You’re tired.

Exhausted. In the space of a few moments all of that shining determination and resolve; it fled, leaving a gaping hole in its wake. This has to end, you can’t keep fighting against them forever. You can’t keep drowning in this guilt, feeling torn every second that you spend here on this stupid island. You just want to find Ryuji and go home.

… Right?

A tense beat passes as Iwa appraises you, and then; “Come with me.”

The hand he places on your shoulder doesn’t give you much choice. His grip isn’t what you’d describe as gentle, yet he’s careful enough to make sure you don’t trip or stumble as he marches you north.

In the thick of the forest away from the beach, it’s eerily quiet. Every twig that snaps underfoot, every ragged breath you draw; it feels too loud. Out of place amongst the stillness of the midsummer night.

And isn’t it ironic, that for the first time since you set foot in this paradise, you feel like you’re trespassing?

A bead of sweat trickles down from your temple and your mind unwittingly drifts back to Mattsun and Makki. Are they still swimming with Asuka? Probably, you reason. It’s hard to pinpoint exactly how long it’s been since you left them on the beach, but surely no more than an hour.

And strangely, like water drawn from the depths of a well, an image comes to mind; the four of you standing in the waves, you perched atop Mattsun’s shoulders, screaming and giggling in delight as Asuka tries to knock you down again, two sets of eyes watching from the shore…

You should have stayed on the beach.

“Can I ask you something?”

“You can ask,” he replies drily – humouring you, you suppose.

Your lips quirk upwards for the briefest of moments. “What happens on the Lunar blessing? Asuka, the others– no one told me what it was.”

Iwaizumi doesn’t answer you immediately, but you feel his fingers reflexively tighten on your shoulder. Likely it wasn’t the question he was expecting; surely there were others that you could have asked – but you don’t really want the answers to those.

If you’re being led like a lamb to proverbial slaughter, what good would it do you to know it?

And yet as the seconds pass and no answer seems forthcoming from your captor, you resign yourself to the fact that your curiosity will remain unsated. You don’t even know what prompted you to ask in the first place; knowing Oikawa it’s probably some grand, meaningless spectacle. Pretty, hollow words spoken only to–

A heavy sigh draws you from your thoughts, and you falter in your step, almost tripping over your own feet in the process. Iwa’s quick to right you, urging you forward with a less than gentle nudge. “Walk straight,” he grunts, yet it lacks any true heat. Anticipation flutters through your veins, and he mutters a soft curse behind you. “Fine. It… it’s an exchange.”

An exchange? What the hell was that supposed to mean? Your eyebrows draw together, mouth opening to press the matter, but Iwa beats you to the punch.

“You’ll find out for yourself soon enough, now shut up.”

You have no response to that, so you do.

—

The two of you walk in silence for what feels like hours. Eventually, the terrain becomes steeper, the worn path you’re treading twisting and winding, and you realise you must be close to the mountains at the heart of the island.

As your breath comes in heavy pants, your legs beginning to ache, you can’t help but be lost in the beauty of it all.

The flora’s different here, unlike any you’ve seen before. Flowers bursting from the bark of towering trees, blooms of vibrant hues; reds and purples and soft, baby pinks. Even the vines at your feet curl amongst pretty white buds that gleam invitingly under the moonlight. Your jaw falls open as you gaze around in wonderment.

You forget why you’re walking, where it is that you’re heading. Iwa’s grip relaxes as a quiet gasp escapes you, and he doesn’t stop you when you stray from the path to take a closer look. You can’t resist reaching out to touch the silken petals, leaning in to smell their perfume. Soft and light and sweet, your eyes flutter shut, a smile creeping across your visage.

It reminds you of home. Not your actual home – the rundown, tiny shoebox apartment you gave up before you came here – but something deeper.

Home, like the long summer days spent playing in your parents’ backyard. Home, like afternoons curled up by the window, watching the rain come down in sheets outside.

Home, like the comfort of arms wrapped around you; two hearts beating in sync.

“C’mon,” Iwa interrupts after a minute or so, his voice a touch less gruff. “We’re almost there.”

Dazed, you find yourself nodding, allowing him to guide you back to the path. This time, he doesn’t grab you by the shoulder, seemingly content enough to walk by your side.

True to his word, it’s only another few minutes before you see it; a wooden villa, four times the size of your own and far, far grander, set amongst a clearing of trees on the mountainside. Confused, your eyes flicker from the villa to Iwa and back again. Gossamer curtains billow lightly in the breeze, a warm, inviting glow spilling from the open windows. Surely this cannot be where he meant to lead you… and yet he merely stands at your side, arms folded across his broad chest, watching you expectantly.

“You gonna make me carry you up there?” he asks, not unkindly.

Swallowing tightly, you shake your head.

Another glance, and you catch a shadow lingering by the window. Your heart skips a beat, apprehension curling in your gut as you begin to walk, every step feels less steady than the last. You’re almost glad when Iwa takes you by the arm; if only so that you have something to focus on other than the growing tightness in your chest. The villa, with its pretty flowers and airy, elegant grandeur is far from the isolated cell you’d been afraid of, yet the uncertainty of what you’re walking into eats at you all the same.

Is this where they’ve been keeping Ryu, or has he brought you here for another reason?

Nothing, however, can prepare you for what you find inside. Warm light emanates from lanterns that bathe the room, and your eyes widen as you stare around you.

Strange, gold carvings inlaid with mother of pearl decorate the thick, woodens support beams, a pot of incense burns on a table overflowing with fresh fruit. There’s a jug of the same honeyed wine you’d drank earlier in the night and two cups set on an ornate stand nearby – just within arms reach of one of the chaise lounges.

Iwa affords you little time to gape, drawing you further in. Silken tapestries hang from the walls – you’re pulled along too quickly to truly take note, but the brief glimpses you get hint at a story; a divine being cast from his home, lost and wandering.

It tugs at something buried within you, and uncomfortable, you tear your eyes away.

The two of you reach a closed door at the end of the hall, and Iwa pulls you to a stop, knocking once.

“Come,” a familiar voice calls.

You stiffen, though perhaps you should have foreseen this outcome. Who else would Iwa bring you to but to him? Distantly, you register his grip relaxing, the sound of the door sweeping open and his voice at your ear.

“Go on.”

And it’s funny, you think, how two halves of yourself can be so at odds with each other. Because while your stomach twists itself into knots, goosebumps prickling at your skin, your legs stumble forward of their own accord.

Two steps forward, and your breath catches in your throat.

It’s a bedroom, that much you can deduce from the decor, but that’s not what captures your attention. Nor is it Oikawa, leaning against the bureau with a genial smile – at least not at first.

No. In place of a back wall, there’s open space, not so much as a panel of glass obstructing the view before you. And what a view it is; from this height you can see the sprawling forest below, the coastline dotted with bonfires and the moonlit ocean shimmering beyond. Where the floorboards end, there are steps, you realise as you unwittingly inch closer, leading to a cascading spring – likely fed from the waterfall you can hear rushing nearby.

How easy it would be to brush aside your worries, you think, to shed your clothes, slip into the cool, calm water and lose yourself entirely. Even amongst all you’ve seen and experienced on the island so far, this is incomparable.

“Stunning, isn’t it?” Oikawa murmurs, coming up behind you.

His voice startles you, yet when you turn, you find him not gazing out at the scenery but rather at you, that same strange, knowing smile curling at his lips.

“Some days, I admit, it’s hard to tear myself away,” he continues, unbothered by your stunned silence. “But even I can’t neglect my duties for too long.”

You swallow, tongue darting out to wet your lips. Confusion twists through you at the conversational tone, surely he hasn’t brought you here just to chat about the impressive views, yet there’s no hint of disapproval on his face, no indication that he’s anything less than pleased with you.

It’s unnerving to say the least, but you’ll play along with his game if that’s what Oikawa wants.

“Beautiful,” you say, though the words feel woefully inadequate even as you speak them.

He hums in agreement, something akin to pride flickers in his eyes at your assessment, “A labour of love, I suppose. But… everything you see here, everything I’ve built, it comes with a price. You understand that, don’t you?”

“I-I’m sorry?” you stutter.

“Paradise,” he elaborates, his smile widening. “There’s no give without take. Those people down there,” he nods down at the beach, the tiny, ant-like figures still milling about, “the lost, the beaten, the abused – I gave them what they so desperately sought; a sanctuary. A life without struggle, without suffering.” He pauses for a moment, reaching forward to take your hand. You almost flinch, almost skitter across the room to put as much distance between you as you can, but you don’t–

His palm is warm as it envelops yours, a pleasant heat that seems to spread through your veins, easing your tense muscles. There’s nothing to fear from him, you’re safe with Oikawa.

“Aren’t you happy here?”

Yes.

“What about the price?” you ask instead, though it takes more concentration than it should to force the words out.

Oikawa’s thumb sweeps along the back of your hand. “I never said it was your price to pay,” he soothes.

There’s something wrong with that sentence, but another sharp knock at the door draws your attention before you can think too hard about it. You turn out of instinct, barely aware of the way his hand tightens fractionally around your own.

A single finger at your jaw coaxes your attention back to him. “If you built a paradise, wouldn’t you give whatever necessary to ensure it flourished?”

Oikawa stares at you expectantly, deep brown eyes searching your face as he waits for an answer. Agreement would be the logical choice – the one he seems to want from you – but even as your lips part, the only sound that escapes is a breathless, confused noise.

When you were a kid, maybe six or seven, your parents took you to the beach one day and you waded too far out into the water. The waves were bigger than you expected; all it took was one mistimed jump and you were dragged under.

It wasn’t for long, probably only seconds, and ultimately you were fine – but you remember those few seconds so vividly. The feeling of helplessly tumbling through the water, fighting to break the surface but not knowing which way was up. Your lungs crying out for oxygen, the disorientation and dizziness, the panic.

It feels like that now – like the floor’s dropped out from beneath you and you’re just hurtling through empty air, desperately trying to slow yourself down with nothing to grab onto.

None of this makes any sense. Your emotions are shot to pieces, too many parts of yourself being pulled in different directions and you’re not sure which ones you can trust anymore. How can you be? Oikawa’s still holding your hand, smiling at you, and you just want everything to stop for a second so you can right yourself and breathe–

The door opens.

Iwaizumi appears in your field of vision, dragging a bound, hooded figure behind him. And because this is all some big, cosmic joke, you get your wish. Both of them, actually.

Time slows.

Even with a burlap sack pulled over his head, you recognise the man Iwa shoves to the floor and sneers at.

Hundreds of miles, weeks of uselessly traipsing around this fucking island, and finally–

Finally, you’ve found Ryu.

There should be relief. Fear, considering his current state, yes, but Ryuji’s here and he’s alive and as the hood is ripped off his head Oikawa squeezes your hand and the only thing you feel is… anger.

Not a heated flash that surges through your blood. It’s slow and seething, insipid. You look at him, locked in place as empty, pleading eyes meet yours and all you can think is that all of this – everything – is his fault.

“Asuka told you why she came to me, didn’t she?” Oikawa asks.

Your brow furrows, why–why is he asking you that now, how did he even–

He slips closer behind you, letting your hand go in favour of your shoulder, his spare dragging lightly along the bare skin of your arm. “She was lost, in so much pain. The physical wounds, they heal after a while,” his voice is right in your ear, a low murmur that sends a shiver rippling down your spine.

It isn’t an unpleasant feeling.

“But the scars inside, well… sometimes those fester.”

Gagged and bound, kneeling at your feet, Ryu doesn’t even try to make a sound.

He’s thinner than you remember. Face gaunt and bruised; there’s a half healed, mottled yellow one painted across the left side of his jaw, one eye purple and swollen. You glance at Iwa, standing stoically behind him, muscular arms folded across his chest. His work, you wonder, or others as well? You notice the tear tracks running down his face, catching the light of the lanterns, but it’s as if you’re seeing it all through a thick pane of glass. None of it reaches you, there’s nothing but that simmering, ugly feeling in your gut.

Oikawa hums, “I told you that Paradise wasn’t for everyone. It’s a haven, yes, but there are those who simply… don’t belong.”

His body’s so warm, pressed up against yours. Fingertips graze along your side, and this time you don’t bother biting back that tiny, breathless moan. Iwa briefly smirks at it, but there’s no embarrassment. Why should there be? Your eyes flit back to Ryu, bowed on the wooden floor.

Another memory resurfaces; A sharp crack and a ringing in your ears, Ryuji, eyes bloodshot and glazed, falling to his knees, clutching frantically at the leg of your pants as endless apologies spill from his lips.

It wasn’t him. It was never him.

“He hurt you,” Oikawa purrs. “He kept hurting you, I saw it.”

The words wash over you like waves breaking on the shore, but you find yourself nodding anyway. It was the truth, wasn’t it? A thousand tiny hurts, piled up on one another until you finally broke.

And you’d still come when he’d called.

Listened to him when he’d begged you not to hang up the phone.

“Iwa.”

The brunet moves towards a grand chest of drawers pushed up against the western wall. An ornate dagger sits atop, strange and beautiful; the blade isn’t steel or any metal you’ve seen before, but some kind of black stone, the handle intricately carved ivory. You hadn’t even noticed it before, Oikawa’s room filled to the brim with odd trinkets and treasures, but now that you have, it’s hard to tear your eyes away.

Iwa takes it and carries it over towards the two of you, holding it with the utmost care.

“Obsidian,” Oikawa informs you as he accepts the blade from his friend, bringing it in front of you both to show it off. “Pretty, isn’t it?” And while you can’t see his face, you can hear the smile in his tone.

He isn’t wrong though.

Ever so carefully you reach out, the soft pads of your fingertips running along the obsidian surface, surprisingly cool to the touch. The razor sharp edges – wavy and asymmetrical, leading to a tapered point – you’re careful to avoid, almost positive you’d draw blood with the slightest touch.

“Take it,” he urges, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear.

Obediently, you turn your hand over, your fingers wrapping around the hilt when he presses it against your palm. And as long fingers curl around yours, you idly wonder how old the dagger is – there’s not so much as a scratch on it, yet there’s something about the weapon in your hand that feels ancient. It thrums under your combined touch.

Oikawa jerks his chin at Iwa, and with a short nod and one last, lingering glance cast your way, the latter exits once again.

Leaving you and Oikawa alone with Ryuji.

“It’s almost time,” he remarks – though time for what, you’re not entirely sure. His lips press against your hair, his arm dropping from your shoulder to your waist, drawing you flush against him. “I know why you came to me, the lies that led you here.”

Both of you turn your attention back to Ryuji at that, the bound man now shaking with the force of his muffled sobs, snot dripping from his nose. That bitter resentment rears its ugly head again, soothed only by Oikawa’s pacifying hum, his thumb now rubbing slow circles at your side. “Shh, I’m not angry – none of that matters now. You’ve found a home here, no? You want to stay on the island with me.”

You swallow, nodding your head rapidly. The thought of having to leave now, of being forced out after everything you’ve seen and felt and experienced here, you– you can’t fathom it. You don’t want to.

Ryuji’d wrought so much damage, but even before he’d swept through your life… had you ever been happy? Were you ever truly accepted – or loved, for that matter?

You can’t go back to that life. You won’t; he’ll have to drag you kicking and screaming from the shore. The Commune is your home, this is where you belong. Here, with Oikawa.

“Good girl,” he croons, another kiss pressed to the crown of your head. You beam at the praise and Ryuji crumples a little further. “Death begets life, you understand now, don’t you?”

You glance at the obsidian dagger in your hand and then at Ryu, beaten and bruised, bowed in forced supplication before you, and nod.

His fingers tighten around yours, “Then do it.”

Leaning forward, you reach for Ryu, fingers lightly trailing down his ruined cheek, curling at his chin to coax his head upwards. He squeezes his eyes shut, pain and regret etched over every inch of his face, but he doesn’t fight you.

Baring his throat to your dagger, Ryuji’s pleas take the shape of your name.

Muffled, thanks to the gag, but unmistakable. And for one single moment, you falter.

This… this is wrong; for all his faults, and god knows there were plenty, Ryu didn’t des–

A wave of calm washes over you, allaying your fears, your doubts. Your breath leaves you in a heavy gust, taking with it the tension in your shoulders, and Oikawa’s voice, smooth and honeyed, reaches your ears once more, “Nothing comes without a price, doesn’t he deserve to be the one to pay it?”

With your hand still tucked inside of his, your arm moves with a will of its own; slashing with inhuman grace.

The dagger cuts deep, Ryuji’s eyes snapping open in shock as a spray of warm blood hits you both. He chokes – a horrid, wet, gurgling sound – wide, pleading eyes frantically shifting between you and Oikawa. Every beat of his failing heart sends fresh blood spurting from the gaping wound. It drenches his front, splatters across your dress, your face, crimson pooling at the wooden floorboards at his knees. His mouth falls open and shut, trying and failing to form coherent sounds and you just stand there and watch, the dagger hanging limply at your side.

It doesn’t take long; seconds at the most.

Ryuji’s slumps to the floor, his body finally growing still as the light fades from his eyes. There’s a beat of absolute silence, and then–

Oikawa shudders behind you, a strangled, drawn out moan leaving his lips. You try to turn, but his arms lock around you, every muscle tensing, his back arching. The dagger in your hand grows hot, burning the soft skin of your palm, but with his fingers still tightly entwined with yours you can only whimper and endure it.

With a hoarse, guttural roar, a pulse of pure energy surges through the room like a shockwave. Every cell in your body lights up, electrified, buzzing; a dizzying euphoria unlike any you’ve felt before coursing through your blood.

Across the island, voices cry out in delight, a symphony of life. The trees tremble and shake, invigorated and renewed, fresh buds bursting from the forest floor, blooming under the light of the full moon.

The harvests flourish, even the river swells in response to the call.

Death begets life, just as he promised.

And with every inch of your body alight and singing with pleasure, you can barely think much less protest (and why would you want to?) as Oikawa roughly yanks you around, hungry lips crashing against your own as his fingers pull and tear at your bloodstained dress. He wastes no time with foreplay, and you suspect only begrudgingly takes a moment to hoist you up against him and carry you to his bed.

There’s nothing gentle about the way he hauls your hips to his, sheathing his cock inside of your warm, tight cunt with one savage thrust, but you don’t care.

Not as you cling to him, fingernails raking along his shoulders as he presses your thighs further apart so he can fuck you deeper. It’s hard and rough and brutal, yet you moan for him all the same, his name a prayer swallowed up by feverish, claiming kisses.

Tonight, bathed in blood and the soft glow of moonlight, you offer your god everything.

—

“Look, look!”

A small hand tugs at your skirt, and you glance down to find a little girl with pretty, dark curls holding up a crown of woven flowers.

“Do you like it?” she asks.

Carefully, you take it from her, bringing it closer to examine. She watches you intently as you study it, lifting it this way and that to appraise her work, humming thoughtfully for good measure. “I think it’s beautiful work,” you tell her after a long enough pause, and you can’t help but smile at the way she lights up, preening under your praise. “Why don’t you go show your mama? I’m sure she’ll be very impressed.”

The girl nods rapidly, thanking you before skipping off in the direction of her parents. The sun’s hanging low in the sky, the fires already being readied for the night ahead. You’re not unaware of the watchful gaze that carefully monitors your every move, and the moves of anyone who ventures too close by. Soon enough, you’ll return home to the heart of the island – anticipation fluttering in your belly at the thought of what awaits you – but for now, you let your feet sink further into the sand, closing your eyes as you bask in the lingering warmth of the setting sun.

At least until the sound of your name being called draws you back to the present. Yet it’s not Iwaizumi approaching, but rather Makki, two strangers trailing along behind him.

“Thought I’d find you here,” he grins, throwing a casual arm over your shoulders. “This is Kaneo,” he gestures to the man, “and his wife Manaka. They arrived this morning, I’ve been showing ‘em round.”

You turn to the couple, smiling sweetly as you extend a hand, “Welcome to the Commune.”

#yandere haikyuu #yandere oikawa x reader #yandere oikawa tooru #yandere oikawa #yandere oikawa tooru x reader #cult au #tw: religious themes #tw: dubcon #tw: blood #tw: minor character death #tw: abuse #hades.dark #oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru x reader

435 notes · View notes

rocorambles · 3 years

Note

your seijoh writing is so on point and just if you ever got the time, would you mind writing a virgin!iwaizumi scenario thingy?? i feel like you'd do a fantastic job writing it and just ahh thank u for doing gods work!!!

slifjsldifj This was such a soft request and after writing so much dark content, I felt like I should mix it up a bit~

Warnings: NSFW

You supposed you shouldn’t be that surprised to find out Iwaizumi is a virgin. If he had been born and raised in the states, sure, it would be shocking to say the least. But pre-marital sex is more taboo in Japan and when you give it more thought, as much of a catch as he is, Iwaizumi doesn’t hit you as someone who would easily sleep around even if he could.

And that only makes your heart flutter even more, the realization that he thinks the relationship you have, the love you have for each other is special enough to share this intimate moment together.

It’s Iwaizumi’s first time, but it’s you who’s a nervous anxious mess, face heating and throat swallowing as you lock eyes with the spiky haired man who’s on all fours on top of you. You’ve had numerous cuddle and makeout sessions, but you’re highly attuned to the toned arms and thighs on either side of you, every fleeting brush of skin against skin making your pulse race faster. But it’s the way green eyes stare at you in adoration and amazement, fully taking in every bare expanse of newly revealed skin that has you feeling like a blushing virgin all over again.

“What? Never seen a naked woman before?”

“Actually, no I haven’t. Not in person anyway.”

The blunt honesty and amused quirk of his lips only flusters you more and Iwaizumi chuckles at your gaping face, lowering to softly kiss you and soothe your nerves.

You wonder if it’s possible to be addicted to kisses, finding it almost surreal how any tension you have instantly melts as your lips connect. And with your nervousness set aside, there’s nothing you want more than to be even closer to the man pressed against you, to have him and let him have you as he pleases.

You’re already unbelievably wet from pure desire and you whimper when Iwaizumi stares in awe at how you’re practically dripping as he takes his time feeling, touching, and kissing every inch of you. Even you’re stunned by how you practically whine for more when he tentatively takes in one of your nipples between his lips, sucking at the sensitive bud.

“Fuck you’re so beautiful.”

“Hajime!”

Your face heats in embarrassment at how genuine his words are, how he can’t get enough of examining every part of you. But your hips instinctively buck in a silent plea for more when he carefully positions the tips of his cock against your opening.

“Tell me- tell me if it hurts, okay?”

Only the slight stutter in his sentence indicates his nervousness and inexperience. But it’s enough to make your own courage flare up and a mischievous smile finds its way on your lips as you wrap one leg around Iwaizumi’s back, urging him forward and closer to you.

“Hajime, I’m literally soaking wet. It’s not going to hurt. It’s going to feel amazing. Now move on with it.”

“Brat.”

There’s a playful smile on his lips and you both laugh as he lightly bends down to nip your lower lip in punishment. Your heart warms when you see his usual confidence in green eyes, but then your eyes roll back and you barely comprehend anything other than the slide of his cock against your walls, the delicious stretch of your pussy being filled.

The man above you is also lost in his own world, in the unbelievable feeling of how warm, wet, and tight it feels to slide balls deep inside a real pussy. Fuck, he’s barely been inside of you and he’s already ready to blow a load. Fuck, fuck, fuck…

You can see the struggle on the handsome face above you, your walls clamping down in arousal at how good he looks and sounds as he grunts in pleasure, face contorted in bliss. You wouldn’t blame him for ending too fast his first time, but...an idea comes to you.

“Milk bread.”

“Huh?!”

You burst out laughing at the confused outrage on Iwaizumi’s face.

“You looked like you were about to bust a nut already so I decided to distract you. Guess it worked.”

Iwaizumi scoffs in disbelief, an annoyed huff of laughter escaping him. But he can’t deny your little trick has worked and his resolve hardens at the way you teasingly wink at him.

“Let’s see how much longer you’ll be able to keep laughing.”

Before you can even question what he means, you yelp, moaning as he begins to rock in and out of you, hips finding a rhythm and when they find it, he slams in and out of you, calloused fingers digging into your waist as he thrusts in and out of you.

This time it’s you who’s overwhelmed. Fuck, you knew your boyfriend was fit, but you hadn’t expected this intensity your first time. Your fingers claw at toned arms, mouth unable to form words as you moan with every move. You can feel your walls and muscles beginning to tighten, a knot inside of you growing and growing. And then a thumb is circling around your clit and you’re falling over the edge, pussy convulsing and milking the cock inside of you.

That’s all it takes to have Iwaizumi join you and you both cry out as he releases inside of you, his hips stuttering a few more times before finally sliding inside of you one last time, his body gently draping over yours as you both come down from your highs.

“Not bad for your first time,” you joke between pants. But your heart flutters, stomach twisting in nervousness and excitement when green eyes glare at you, a hungry look in them. And then you’re yelping as Iwaizumi suddenly rapidly moves, easily bullying your twitching legs open as his face finds its way between your legs, lips teasingly brushing against your clit before suddenly wrapping around the already oversensitized bud.

“I’ll show you ‘not bad’.”

#haikyuu smut #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi smut #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu fic #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu imagines

237 notes · View notes

tokrev-roses · 3 years

Text

Pieces

Mikey’s s/o gets/got hurt by a rival gang – Headcanons + tiny drabble

Genre: Drama, tiny bit of Fluff and Angst

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, bruises, and fighting. Nothing too heavy or graphic, since this is rather short

There is so much room for all kinds of scenarios

Mikey goes to war with gangs, that hurt the friends of his friends so you can imagine what hell would break loose, if someone comes for his partner

First of all, is Mikey able to intervene while it still happens, or does he find it out afterwards?

If he arrives at the scene and the are still bullying you, standing around you in a circle, he will not hesitate and destroy each and every last one of them

I mean it

Mikey protects the things that are important to him with his life, not able to bear losing them

But that sounds more romantic than it really is

You will have stand there and watch as he punches one after the other

He is in total tunnel-vision, the damage he causes far more severe than what they did to you

Since you’re usually not involved in the rougher gang stuff, It would be the first time you see the Invincible Mikey, Leader of Toman, with your eyes

And let’s be serious: the brutality would shock you

besides your better judgement, you go and try to stop him

Your voice fails to reach him, he hears it, but it is dull muffled, as if under water

You do not dare to touch him

Only if you finally scream, begging him to let the bloody face of the middle schooler go, he would be freed from the shackle of his dark mind

Mikey knows his demons, he himself fears that numbness inside of him, although it comes in handy for things like this

And now he doesn’t know what to do, bloody kid beneath him, your tear-stained face in front of him

He is genuinely terrified and frozen

Now it is on to you to take the pieces and put them, put him back together

Mikey needs people to do that for him, he cannot do it himself

Take his hand, lead him away, lend him your strength

As I have mentioned in another post, he is someone who needs emotional guidance, so please guide him

Talk about this, tell him, that he overreacted, tell him what he should have done, do it right after the incident. It will be one of the only times when lets his guard down completely, when he will take your words in. he might not fully understand, might even question you, but deep down he absorbed every word, and he will think about it for the next days and weeks

Different scenario if he were to find out later

You tried. You tried to keep Mikey away from you. You faked to be sick, convinced your parents to let you stay at home, told Draken, that you had the flu and that he should, under no circumstances, let Mikey come close to you.

Why? You asked yourself. Why not just tell him and let him have his way with the guys that harassed you on your way home. Show them, what he was capable of.

The answer was simple: You wanted to protect Mikey. From those vile people, from starting a gang war just because you couldn’t protect yourself, but most of all to protect him from himself.

You had seen his wrath, deadly determination in his eyes, stone-cold darkness freezing his soft features. You didn’t want that to happen.

Your mirror reflected a gloomy existence, unsure, whether the short lie would do the job. Those bruises would take longer than a day to heal, that was for sure. The bruises on your wrists were a morbid tattoo of the big hands your abusers kept you in place with. Similar marks could be found on your jaw, where they had used equal force to keep your face up.

It was impossible to convince your parents a second time, they hardly believed the badly acted coughs and headache this morning. And Mikey was like a satellite, revolving around you, showing up when he deemed fit, not when it was convenient. And Draken was only able to do so much. Mikey had the last word.

The piercing sound of the bell made your heart skip a beat. You had a queasy feeling, and the soft voice of your mother confirmed your suspicion

“Hello Mikey, have you come to see y/n?”

Draken had failed and now you were doomed.

--------

Silence. 5 Minutes had passed since his arrival and no one had said anything. Draken had left the room 3 minutes ago, unable to bear the awkward tension in your room.

You couldn’t do anything but stare at your feet, a wet layer lingered on your eyes. You were ashamed. Ashamed for lying to him, ashamed, that he had come her, bringing all kinds of medicine in plastic bag, ashamed that you were so weak to begin with.

You took all the courage you had left and looked up into his face. You were met with a Mikey you knew to well, a Mikey you hated to see. His tense jaw and straight lips weren’t the scariest thing. The black orbs, absorbing every light, cold and hard, just like the person they belonged to.

The bag fell on the ground as your body collided with his. You were used to make the first step when it came to Mikey, but this was the hardest on yet. Your arms stayed limp beside you, and so did his. But your face was hidden in his neck, while he laid his head on yours, the weight being nothing but comforting.

“It is okay, you know. I’m fine.”

Your soft words were met with silence. With anyone else, you would be worried, scared, that the person would be too angry to speak or too disappointed to answer. Not with Mikey. It meant he gave you a chance. He listened.

So, you told him what happened. That those guys messed with you, but that you managed to run away. You told him, why you lied. That he shouldn’t make your problems to his problems. You told him the name of the small street gang, because you knew he’d ask for it anyways.

“Mikey. I don’t want you to fight them. Please.”

Silence. Again.

He thought about your words. Considered them, questioned them, and came to his own conclusion.

Your wrists interlocked behind his back, to make your silent plea more prominent.

He mirrored your actions, like always, like your Mikey does.

There was no blame, no accusations, just Mikey, you, and your beating hearts.

“Y/n. Tell me.”

“Hm?”

“Tell me…what you think. Always. Don’t keep your thoughts from me.”

He could feel your hesitant nod.

“And I won’t be able to keep your promise. We will have a talk with them.”

Disappointment was about to flood your mind when he continued:

“Me, Ken and you.”

And the negative feeling turned into relieve. Because there was no way you would let him lose himself in his dark place while you were around. You collected his pieces and glued the back together. That was your purpose, that was, what he needed.

So, I didn’t really understand whether you’d prefer headcanons or a fully written scenario, so I went for a mix. If you are unsatisfied, please let me know and I will write something else!

Wishing you a happy day,

Rosalie 🌹

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers mikey #tokyo manji revengers #manjiro sano #mikey x reader #sano manjiro x reader #mikey imagine #manjiro sano imagine #tokyo revengers x reader

828 notes · View notes

merakiui · 3 years

Note

What do you think of the concept of yan!xiao, childe venti trapping their darling in a teapot?

I feel like they would be less restrictive since the darling wouldn't necessarily be able to escape most likely, so they wouldn't worry about restraint much. Esp in Ventis case...he is the God of freedom so while his darling isn't exactly 'free' they're still kinda free in a way that they have their own world to be free in?

Xiao would probably be somewhat restricted, but only just keep them in the house because he probably wouldn't trust them to be by themselves yet--he figures they may try to run off and hide from him or something

Childe would probably let them try to "escape" on purpose and would be absolutely amused when his darling finds out they wouldn't be able to leave

(cw: yandere, captivity, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, mention of children and implied stockholm syndrome for childe’s part)

Venti doesn't exactly lie to you, but he does trick you. He's aware that it's not the nicest thing to do and that it's not exactly captivity if you're living in a world that resembles the one outside. Only this pocket-sized world is nicer and happier and there aren't any people to get in the way. He tells you about it when you're vulnerable. Maybe you're drunk or you're crying your eyes out because something horrible happened. Either way, you're not in the right state of mind when you make the comment: "I wish I could live in my own ideal world for just one day." And this is great news for Venti because it makes relocation so much easier.

He shows you the teapot and explains it briefly, leaving out certain details. It's better if you don't know everything about how the teapot works. After all, ignorance is bliss. Venti tells you how to get in, but he doesn't tell you how to get out. And the way he describes it makes it sound so tempting—as if living inside this teapot for a bit will cure whatever's bothering you. You decide it wouldn't hurt to spend a day or two inside the teapot to see the little world Venti holds in the palms of his hands.

It's a lot of fun at first. You and Venti glide from the top of the mountains in Emerald Peak, he sings melodious ballads as you look up at the sky, and the two of you play hide-and-seek inside of the house, playfully popping out of rooms and laughing when you’re caught. Eventually the charm wears off and you start to yearn for the outside world. It’s not the same in the teapot. As pretty and peaceful as it may be, it still feels so empty. And when you bring it up to Venti he finds small ways to change the subject. It probably plays out like this:

“Venti, I’d like to go home now.”

“But we were just about to play another round of hide-and-seek! Come on! Don’t be a spoilsport! One more round? Then we’ll leave.”

Or he’ll tell you that you’re already home. There’s always a big smile on his face when he says stuff like that. He’s happy that he gets to spend so much time with you and no one can interfere. But it does get annoying when you start to beg for the old world. Your pleas to leave will fall upon his deaf ears. Venti does feel a little bad when you start to sulk, but his sympathy is short-lived. Let’s not forget that you were the one who wanted this. You wanted to live in your ‘ideal world.’ And isn’t this ideal?

As an adeptus, Xiao is aware of Sub-Space Creation and the effort it takes to construct a presentable teapot. He’s been working hard on his ever since you came into his life. Before he knew you he didn’t have a reason to put effort into it because he stays at Wangshu Inn, but after he met you he started working a lot harder. He tries to make the teapot as comfortable as possible. You mentioned you like dogs or cats in passing? You can find a few in the teapot. You said you like berry bushes and flower fields? There’s a bunch in his teapot. He probably has a nearly perfect model of your room in there as well. Before he brings you into the teapot, he’ll often sit in that room and make sure everything replicates the original, down to the bed frame and the fabric used for the pillow case.

He’ll put some of your things in it just so it feels more personal. Xiao knows he’s stealing from you whenever he does this, but it’s not like you ever noticed anything was missing. Besides, it’s all going in the teapot anyways. You won’t even need your real room or mortal possessions anymore. Xiao is actually quite proud of the teapot and manages to fool himself into thinking you’ll like it, too. And you do (for the first few days, that is). He’s very forward with his question of whether or not you’d like to see his teapot. And you eagerly nod because the two of you are friends and Xiao wants to show you something he made and he looks a little…excited? There’s definitely light in his eyes when he gets your agreement to view the inside of his teapot.

Once you’re inside, you’re genuinely surprised. It’s far more beautiful than you could have ever imagined. The Floating Abode is a really gorgeous landscape. You’re so caught up in looking at the sunset and the flowers and the animals that roam the teapot that you aren’t aware of the horrors that lie just beyond. You’ll find the room that resembles yours in no time and it’s really creepy. As much as you try to tell yourself that Xiao means well and wouldn’t actually do something like this on purpose, it’s hard to ignore the fact that everything is practically identical to your room. It’s so, so strange. You want to ignore it, but you just can’t. It’s so obvious.

It’s definitely creepy, but you don’t have the heart to tell him.

You hold your tongue because you don’t want to hurt his feelings. You’re really the only close friend he has, so you’d feel bad if you insulted his interior decorating skills. Xiao’s pleased to hear that you like it so much. Praise falls from your lips like a waterfall and it gives him a sense of relief. He’s so happy that you like it and since you’re okay with it it’ll be fine if you live here. When he tells you that, your brain freezes and you’re not sure how to respond.

“Live here? Like…permanently?”

And to your shock he nods.

Xiao is far less lenient than Venti. With Venti everything feels like eternal, childish fun with the idea of freedom sprinkled in. But with Xiao it’s definitely a harsher form of captivity. You aren’t allowed outside because he’s worried you might fall off of the bridges that connect the floating islands or you might try to find your way out of the teapot. So you’re confined to the mansion. It’s got everything you could ever need and the interior design matches that of your home perfectly. Just treat it like it’s your own home and it won’t be so bad. You definitely try to see the good in this situation because you care about Xiao, but it’s so hard when he’s keeping you here like you’re just another addition to his teapot.

It’s miserable, but at least you can count on him to visit you every single day.

Childe is very receptive to the idea of owning his own little world in a small teapot. Maybe he was holding you captive before he came upon the teapot and while you’re sleeping he relocates you. You don’t expect to wake up in a new location, but you assume you’re still somewhere in Liyue. Childe finds it cute that you’re so startled, clearly confused with the change in scenery. And when you glance at the surroundings on the Cool Isle, it feels like you might have a chance. Childe seems to think so because he waves you off, telling you with the sincerest voice that you’re ‘free to go.’

You don’t need to be told twice and so you run because you’re invigorated. You can leave and he’s not coming after you. Childe doesn’t even raise his bow in warning. You’re actually leaving him and he’s letting you! But it feels too good to be true. A day passes and you learn that there’s no one else to help you. So you find an empty shack on the shoreline and you hide in it because survival is the only thing you know right now. And the day goes by, the night comes, and morning makes its arrival. You’re still safe. He hasn’t found you.

And it really feels like you can make it out of this. Even if there’s no one around, you can still find something to help you. You’d take anything at this point. By the end of the week, you’re losing sight of your goal and you really just want to head back to the mansion and nap on a comfortable bed. You’ve been catching the crabs and the fish and doing what you can to start a long-lasting fire. When Childe finds you, you’re so exhausted from running and hiding that you collapse into his arms. And he smiles so sweetly while he tells you something that shatters your entire world.

“You did well, comrade, but this isn’t Liyue. You have no need to run.”

It’s not even Teyvat. It’s another world entirely—one existing solely within a teapot. And everything comes crashing down when you realize just how impossible that makes any escape attempts. No human contact. No energy or life that comes from meeting with friends and seeing family. It truly does feel like you and he are the only people in this world.

Childe knows that you’ll adjust to this new world whether you like it or not. It was fun to toy with you in the beginning (and it still is) when you didn’t realize this was the world inside the teapot. But now he just wants to settle into a comfortable life. He takes every chance he has to visit you and eventually you’ll find yourself succumbing to the relaxing pleasures of domestic life. You learn how to cook delicious meals with Childe’s help, you collect seashells on the shore to cure your boredom, and you’ll take care of any chores or housework. It warms Childe’s heart to see you accepting this life.

Maybe the two of you can start a family. Maybe he should get a few pets to liven up the house. It’s not like you can get away from him while inside the teapot, so it’s a recipe for anything to happen. And you’ve come to learn that what happens in the teapot stays in the teapot.

#chit chat #yandere #yandere venti #yandere xiao #yandere childe

298 notes · View notes

violet-knox · 3 years

Note

1 I would love to request a story for you if it´s still fine to do it, my request is a smut story with a quiet virgin female reader who is popular with opposite gender mostly because of her attractive physical appareance and for that when she confess that she have a romantic interested in him. He thinks is a lie or a joke to hurt him somehow but when she insist that her feelings are honest and she is willing to do anything.

Beauty’s Curse

Pairing: Young!Snape x Half-Veela!Reader

Summary: As Valentine’s day quickly approaches, you find yourself surrounded by more and more people asking to be yours, but you have your eye on someone else.

Warnings: (SPOILERS) Spiked drink, manipulation

Word Count: 6679

A/N: To be honest, I was a bit hesitant with this request because I knew it would be a rather big challenge. I didn’t want to write anything superficial or cliche, but I thought this would be a great opportunity to break the stereotype of “that pretty mean girl” and show that no one should be judged on their looks, even those who are considered attractive.

I took inspiration from a situation I found myself in more or less recently, so please do read the warnings before reading this even though they are crossed out unless you really don’t want spoilers.

Nearly six years had passed and the comments from your peers had never once eased. Valentine’s day had become your least favourite holiday from the never-ending line of people asking you to be their Valentine, each year worse than the last as your popularity increased. You knew it wasn’t their fault, not entirely. You were half Veela after all, something you never dare tell a soul. Rumours went around in your fourth year when you hit puberty, an invisible glow seeming to surround you as you walked down the hall, heads turning as they ogled you in amazement. ‘It was a gift’ your mother would always tell you, but you could never see it that way, especially after you’d agreed to go out with that boy a few years above you last year, finding out his charm only extended so far until his true colours showed. Since then, you’d done everything you could to contain your influence over those who yearned for you, knowing you’d never know true love if the man you ended up with only did so from his inability to resist you.

You wanted to know what love really felt like, real love not the admiration the Slytherin boys chatting you up now were showing. It irked you how they’d suddenly surrounded you like this, three of them, all taller than you, all of whom were doing their best to impress you. One spoke of his father’s status at the Ministry of Magic, offering to take you anywhere you liked on Valentine’s day. Another tried to persuade you with the offer of visiting his mother’s shop in Westminster; the most luxurious dress shop in all of London he claimed, anything you wanted his mother could have you fitted for. The last boy had the nerve to try and hand over a necklace with the most amount of diamonds you’d ever seen, saying he’d offer you anything you liked if you agreed to be his Valentine. You had to hold yourself back from rolling your eyes, the necklace barely managing to snap your attention back to them as your eyes instead wandered to the end of the hall where you saw another Slytherin sitting on the ledge of a window with his nose in a book.

You could still remember back when that was you sitting alone somewhere in the castle in your first year, everyone passing you by like you didn’t exist, your own nose shoved in the tenth book you’d been reading that week. Of course, that part never changed, you were a proud bookworm, one who’d much rather spend the evening diving into the pages of a good book than surrounded by people gawking at you. The only difference now was it was much harder to find a place where you’d be uninterrupted, but you always found a way, a small corner in this giant castle to call your own and escape the real world if not for a short moment.

“Sorry, but I can’t be any of your Valentines.” You spewed a quick apology to the Slytherin’s and pushed passed them, only to watch the boy you’d been intrigued by slam his book shut and dramatically swift away down the stairs.

He’d seen enough, the necklace turning his stomach into knots as he thought about the stupid bet they made before walking over to you, how they each thought they could buy you over with some luxury he could never afford to have. They didn’t even acknowledge his presence as they spoke, didn’t even bother to notice he’d hung back, that he stood by to watch them get rejected by the person who’d been known to reject everyone since first year. You seemed so kind and of course, it probably helped that you were a Hufflepuff, helped your ruse of being everyone’s friend, but he saw through you. He was the only one that did just as he was the only one to see through Potter. Everyone who was popular with the entire school had a dark side, he knew it, even if he hadn’t seen yours.

“Severus!” He turned around in surprise as he heard his name called out, unable to recognize the voice. His expression immediately turned sour when he realized it was you who’d run after him, calling his name to get his attention. He turned around and began walking away, one hand holding his books tightly as the other formed a tight fist. “Severus, wait!”

You were almost surprised to see someone so bluntly ignore you, shun you like you were nothing and you knew it was an act of dislike towards you, the way he looked at you making it very clear he did not want to speak with you. Yet you couldn’t help but yearn over him all the more. The only person in the entire school that seemed to see you as just another student, the only person who didn’t look at you like you’d blessed the very ground you walked on and he wouldn’t even give you a moment to speak.

“Severus,” you tried again, finally catching up to him as you placed your hand over his shoulder, Severus nearly twisting your wrist as he spun around, acting like your hand had burned the spot where you’d touched him. “I was just wondering, if you’d perhaps like to go out sometime?”

“What?” Severus rose his brow, wondering if he’d heard you correctly. It almost sounded as if you were asking him out, you, the person everyone in his life compared to perfection, the beauty of an angel, kindness comparable to no one else’s. You who’d chatted with the entire school, made friends with everyone, enemies with no one, would choose him?

“It-it doesn’t have to be a date if you don’t want it to be. But I just thought, well I thought it would be nice to have a chat with you some time,” you said, feeling the heat rise to your face as you tried to ease the tension. Severus' expression only darkened with annoyance as his suspicion of you grew.

“Did Avery put you up to this? Nott? Or Potter?” he blurted out. He couldn’t believe you thought he’d fall for such an obvious ruse. That he’d be desperate enough to accept your deceptive invitation, and when he found out who it was that plotted this interaction, he was going to make sure they never tried something like this again.

“N-no! Why would you say that?” You looked at him with shock, your heart sinking as you felt yourself nearly knock yourself over as you hit that defensive wall he had built around himself. You knew he wasn’t exactly liked by the other students, that he had a much tougher time than he deserved, but you’d never imagined him reacting like this when you finally built up the courage to ask him out.

“I’m not falling for this,” Severus shook his head as he dismissed your advancements. He turned around and resumed walking down the stairs, leaving you to your own failure though he wasn’t surprised to see you running after him.

“Severus wait!”

“Tell whoever sent you to piss off!” He brushed you off without stopping. Reaching the ground floor, he continued to walk towards the Entrance Hall without so much as glancing your way.

“Severus no one sent me, I swear,” you tried to make him see reason, to show him you were being genuine, but as he spun back around, his hair turning dramatically with him as his strands quickly settled back into place, framing the annoyed look on his face, you could tell he wasn’t willing to let his guard down for even a moment and consider your intentions to be pure.

“Really? Then why?” His words came out more as demands rather than a question, but you wouldn’t let it scare you away. You didn’t want to give up the one chance you had at a genuine relationship with someone who saw you as more than just a pretty face.

“Why what?”

“Why in Merlin’s name would you ask me out when you already have the entire school ready to put their heads on the chopping block just for a moment with you?” His tone made you wonder if he was asking the question out of curiosity for your answer or if he’d already made up his mind, that no matter what you said he wouldn’t believe you anyways. You had half a mind to walk away, telling yourself you deserved better, but this was what you wanted wasn’t it? Not to be run after, try to be bought over in some way? You wanted someone to go out with you and love you for who you were, to resist the natural attraction of your Veela DNA.

“Because you’re brilliant and love to read. Because you aren’t like everyone else. Because you make me feel normal.” You poured your heart out to Severus only to have him scoff in your face, rolling his eyes, clearly finding your words less than truthful. You’d never admit it of course, but you did, in a way, lie. You’d admired him for so long now. All you saw was his good sides, but you couldn’t bring yourself to admit such a thing. “Please, Severus, give me a chance.”

Severus stared at you a moment, surprising himself as he actually debated your plea. He wanted nothing more than to believe you, to believe someone would be interested in him in the way you claimed. But it was you. How could he believe the most wanted person in the entire school would choose the most hated? He wanted to get the truth out of you, to embarrass you when you admitted to your real intentions and perhaps that’s exactly what he should do. Perhaps he could get you to blurt out the name of the imbecile that would soon regret trying to mess with him like this.

“Fine. There’s a Hogsmeade trip this weekend. I suppose I can spare a few hours with you.” He agreed to your invitation as he made plans of his own, immediately setting off to the dungeons when you smiled and nodded. You looked almost relieved that he’d finally accepted, almost like you had some other agenda and of course, he’d find out one way or the other. He was tired of the harassment, the humiliation from everyone in this school, tainting it with their insolence and stupidity. This was his home, the one place in the entire world where he could belong, and he wouldn’t let anyone push him around any longer.

This was the last straw. He was going to make an example out of you and whoever it was pulling your strings. He’d make the entire school regret making him out as a punishing bag, a joke for everyone to laugh at. What more could he lose? His best friend had already abandoned him, his Slytherin peers eager to do the same, only ever defending him out of obligation for their own house. He had no one, nothing to care for except his own reputation. He’d come to Hogwarts wanting to make something of himself, to build himself a future better suited for a Prince than a Snape and that’s what he was going to do one way or the other.

He made his way to his dorm first, retrieving the stash of potion ingredients he hid under his bed and cross referenced what he needed from the notes he’d taken in the back of his Advanced Potion Making textbook. He had nearly everything he needed, but he knew he could get the rest from the potion’s cupboard before Potion’s class today. It would take some time to brew and he’d probably have to stay up tonight, but he knew he could finish it just in time for his ‘date’ with you.

You’d spent all week excited for the weekend. Every day you woke up with a smile until finally the day of the Hogsmeade trip arrived. You were the first to wake, preparing for the day as your nerves grew, your friends questioning why you seemed so happy all of a sudden, but you brushed them all off. You didn’t want anything to ruin this day, knowing they’d laugh if you told them you were going out with Severus. You just wanted to enjoy your date, to be left alone and show Severus there was someone in this school who would love nothing more than to spend every second of the day with him.

Naturally you’d show up early and of course you were prepared. You sat at a nearby bench with your nose in a book as you usually were when you were alone and despite the crowd that grew with every second that past, Severus had no trouble finding you, rather surprised you weren’t surrounded by people all laughing, waiting to see what would come of your plan to humiliate him today. You were reading Magical Theory, one of the most boring books he’d found in all of Hogwarts’ library, yet there you were, enticed by every word, flipping the pages like you couldn’t go another second without reading.

“H-hello,” he said, startling you as you shot your attention up from your book to him. He felt his heart racing, his nerves escalating like this was a real date. But it wasn’t, it couldn’t be. He was here for one reason and one reason only; the truth. He shouldn’t be feeling guilty for something he had yet to do, but he did. A sliver of him didn’t want to hurt you, instead hoping that this was real, that you were here because you were genuinely interested in him, but he knew better. How could someone as popular, as liked and as beautiful as you be interested in him?

“Severus, I’m glad you showed.” You gave him the widest smile he’d ever seen anyone give him as you closed your book and stood up.

“I said I would didn’t I?” Severus rose a brow at you, taken back by the enthusiasm in your tone.

“Yes, but you seemed reluctant the other day.” Truth be told, you half expected to spend the day alone in absolute despair trying to distract yourself in that book as you pretended like you weren’t hurt from being stood up. But he came and he seemed much less defensive than before.

“Shall we?” He gestured to the group of students making their way down to Hogsmeade. You nodded your head and happily joined him as you walked side by side amongst the crowd. Severus was already suspicious of you and your intentions knowing if he was alone, he would have been called ‘Snivellus’ at least once by now. He felt shielded around you, like no one could touch him and for a moment, he was relieved to feel normal for once.

“I loved your presentation in Defense last week,” you commented, hoping some light conversation would help ease the mood before you found a place to settle for the day. Severus glared at you in surprise, wondering if you were trying to butter him up or if you had actually paid attention during class unlike the rest of his useless classmates.

“Really? What did you like about it?” Severus questioned your honesty, wondering if he could catch you in a lie before your ‘date’ even started.

“I love how in-depth your research was on cursed objects and your theory of their origin was intriguing,” you said with a smile, holding back your enthusiasm in fear of scaring him away. But you couldn’t help it, you admired Severus and how brilliant he was. You felt the heat rise to your face as you thought about the first time you saw him with his nose in a book, the first time you’d ever found yourself pulled away from your own book. “I noticed you like to hang around the Defense section of the library, is it your favourite subject?”

“You’ve been spying on me?” Your question had the opposite effect that you wanted as you saw his wall rebuild itself around him thicker than before. But you’d never give up knocking and asking him to let you in, to give you a chance and show him he could trust you.

“N-no, I like to hide in the library at times and I just noticed you were a regular as well,” you said, but you could tell Severus wasn’t convinced. He could almost see the crack in your claims, trying to cover them with some made up weak lie.

“Why have I never seen you in the library?” The interrogation continued, Severus seeing his victory in his line of sight. He had you cornered and was ready to end the day now when you admitted your true intentions. A smirk began to grow on his face as he thought of the victory at the end of his fingertips. He could almost see the horrific look on the face of whoever is to blame for this day.

“Pince lets me sit on the second floor overlooking the library, it’s only meant for staff, but she noticed my inability to have a moment to myself and rescued me one day from another mob of people looking to make conversation with me.”

“That’s kind of her,” he said, gritting his teeth as you slipped away from him, freeing yourself from his near grasp. His lips stretched into a frown as his revenge faded away. The longer he spoke with you the more his hope that this was real grew. You surprised him with your lack of self-absorbent qualities and your interest in what the Hogwarts library had to offer. He never imagined having so much in common with someone with your popularity, always assuming you’d be a lot more like Potter than himself.

He looked over at you as you nodded, your smile enriching the twinkle in your eye as you gleamed at him with joy. You were so happy to speak with him, to have a casual and light conversation, to share things with him you’d never shared with anyone before. It felt good to open up a bit, to show that other side of you that stayed hidden away when you spoke to your friends or classmates. It was almost freeing, and you only hoped with time, Severus could feel the same with you.

“So, where should we go?” You asked, unsure of what his favourite places at Hogsmeade was. He didn’t seem the type to enjoy a trip to Honeydukes and you knew he didn’t have enough money for the bookstore.

“We could grab a table at The Three Broomsticks?” Severus suggested as he gestured towards the pub. You nodded your head and made your way over, opening the door and began to make your way to the first empty table you saw. You smiled when Severus pulled on your arm and pointed to the booth in the back instead. He was always such a loner, though you couldn’t help but wonder if he preferred the seclusion now because he didn’t want to be seen with you. You wouldn’t blame him for being skeptical and you were thankful he was giving you a chance, but trust was so important in a relationship and you didn’t want to start it off with an inability to trust one another.

“Go ahead, I’ll grab us some drinks.” You nodded and made your way to the booth, making yourself comfortable as Severus walked over to the bar. As you slide to the middle of the booth, you began to appreciate Severus' choice in seating, realizing how well hidden you were from everyone, not wanting your day interrupted by someone who thought Severus had kidnapped you and forced you into a date because they thought someone like you shouldn’t be out with someone like him.

Severus didn’t take long to bring you your drinks, setting them down before shuffling into the booth beside you, grabbing his drink and taking a few gulps. His nerves had finally settled in and he almost wished he’d ordered something stronger for himself. The moment of truth had nearly come and at any moment now he’d get what he came here for, but he was afraid. He feared what the truth may bring him, that if by some small chance you were being honest before, he was about to ruin a love that could have been.

“Thank you,” you said as you reached for your own drink and took a sip. “Not just for the drink, but for giving me a chance as well.”

Severus gulped down the guilt that grew in his chest. There was no going back now. He had to find out the truth, even if you seemed genuine with your feelings towards him. “I was curious to know why you’d want to go out with me.”

He dipped his toes in the water as you both continued to enjoy your drinks and as he hoped, you began to open up to him, though perhaps not in the way he would have thought. “I’ve admired you for quite some time and have been trying to build up the courage to talk to you for a while.”

You put your drink down in shock by your sudden outburst of words. You hadn’t meant to say all that, even if it was on the tip of your tongue. Furrowing your brows, you pressed your lips together, unsure of how you’d lost control so suddenly. You felt like someone was pulling your strings, like they had slapped you on the back so hard, the words just flew out of your mouth. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say all that.”

Severus narrowed his eyes at you, doubting his own abilities and wondered how this could possibly be. He was so sure this was a trick, that you were being deceitful, put up by someone else to embarrass him, but your truth was far from what he was expecting. You were real, you were interested in him, and he’d made a terrible mistake. “S-so no one put you up to asking me out?”

“No of course not. You’re the only person I’ve ever met I felt like I could truly fall in lo-” You clapped your hands over your mouth before you could say anymore. Your eyes widened as you bit down on your tongue, muffling the words you could not believe were about to be heard by him. You looked at him in fear, feeling completely helpless. Your freewill had been stripped away from you and you found yourself unable to control what came out of your mouth. “W-what’s going on?!”

“I-I’m so sorry (Y/N). This was not how I imagined things would go,” he said, his sympathetic tone making it harder for you to stay calm as your heart pounded angrily against your chest. Every fiber in your body told you something was wrong, that you should run, but you couldn’t, you didn’t want to. You’d waited so long to be here, to be in this moment alone with Severus, you didn’t want it ruined.

“What are you talking about?” You let yourself speak just enough to ask for clarification, to give Severus the chance to explain himself, to give you the explanation you needed to stay here with him.

“I-I slipped Veritaserum into your drink. I thought I could get you to admit this was a trick. I didn’t expect this. I’m so sorry.” You looked at him with absolute horror, your heart breaking into a million pieces as his betrayal sunk in. He’d manipulated you, used you like a puppet when you’d done nothing but open yourself up to him. You’d trusted him like you’d done with no one before, and he tossed that away like it meant nothing. Your eyes swelled with tears, unable to look at him any longer. Your legs immediately swept you from your seat as you glued your mouth shut, trying to escape the prison Severus had trapped you in

“(Y/N) wait!” Severus cried after you in desperation, unable to believe how he’d messed up something he could only dream of having. You were an angel that anyone would have felt lucky to be with and he was the demon you’d chose instead. The demon who’d scared you away from love, from happiness, from a good and honest relationship. He tried to grab your wrist, but his hand failed to hold onto you as your skin, your oh so perfect skin grazed his fingertips. You ran out the door with tears dripping down your face and a hand over your mouth, leaving him deserted. His eyes followed you until you were no longer within his line of sight, running to get as far away from the monster who’d broken your trust, your faith in him.

Slumping back in his seat, he stared blankly at his hands, the hands that had spent all week brewing a potion that was meant to bring him peace, a sense of power and control over his own life, yet it brought him nothing but an empty heart and crushed aspirations. Your words rang in his ears, the kind tone you took with him, the loving look you gave him all sinking in much differently now that he knew for certain they were real. He looked up at the drink that had ruined his second chance, the chance at a happy life, a life where he no longer had to be alone and swung his arm at it in anger.

The pub fell silent as glass shattered, the drink spilling all over the floor as Severus pushed himself up and began storming out the door, ignoring the calls of the angry bartender who stood over the mess he’d made. Severus ran in the same direction he’d seen you head, but found no sight of you. He had no idea what he’d say or why he so suddenly ran after you without thinking. He just knew he had to find you. He couldn’t give up on the miracle he’d been asking for all his life, someone who truly cared for him, who liked him for who he was and could look past his flaws.

He looked around and found himself in a lost haze, unsure of what to do next. You were gone, vanished like a figment of his imagination and he was left here to wonder how he’d managed to get so lucky to have the one person the entire school was after fall for him. He looked back at the road back to Hogwarts before he found his legs suddenly jolting him forward as if his body knew exactly where to go. He couldn’t understand what was happening, how he felt like he had no control over himself. His mind was cycling as it tried to comprehend what was happening, how he could be driven on nothing but emotions, his feelings for you pushing him to run as fast as he could back to the castle and up those flights of stairs.

By the time he got to his destination, his hair was sticking to the sides of his face, his lungs gasping for air as he felt his entire body heat up. His heart pounded angrily against his chest, shouting at him to keep going, that he wasn’t done until he’d found you, but he’d never run so much in his life, never felt so unable to breath, even after the massive panic attrack he had the night after the Whomping Willow incident.

Looking around the library, he found his way to the door he knew only staff were allowed to open. His hand bolted for the doorknob, tugging on it to find it locked. Pulling out his wand, he tried to unlock it with no luck. His fists pounded on the door in frustration, he needed to get in there, he knew you were in there, he could feel it. You’d trusted him enough to tell him about this place and as much as he was aware you didn’t want to see him, he needed to see you. “(Y/N)! (Y/N)! Please open the door! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean for this to happen. I didn’t think- I didn’t know!”

Severus hung his head low as he pressed himself to the door. This was as close to you as he knew he’d ever get again. He’d ruined any chance of a relationship with you and you were right to hide away from him. He was destructive, ruining anything he touched, anyone who spoke with him or dare come near him and perhaps that was why Potter felt the need to hex and curse him every time they saw one another. He couldn’t let it go on, he had to try and mend things, if not to at least make up for what he’d done.

“Please, at least let me undo what I’ve done. I can cure you and if you don’t want to hear what I have to say then I’ll leave. But please let me fix this.” Severus shut his eyes, tears threatening to fall as his forehead met the door. He stood there in silence, wondering if he’d hurt you so bad you’d abandoned the one place you felt safe in this school, if he’d done to you what Potter had to him. He’d become what he hated and was about ready to retreat to his dorm when he heard the doorknob turning, the door slowly opening as he took a step back, his eyes wide as he wiped away the tears that rolled down his cheeks.

Your eyes met his and you felt your disappointment melt into anger. Your jaw hardened as you locked your teeth together, doing everything you could to keep from speaking another word to Severus. You watched him snap out of your gaze and begin to fumble with his robes, pulling out a small stone and presenting it to you. You stared down at it confused, wondering what kind of apology this was meant to be.

“It’s a bezoar. I know it’s not the most comfortable solution, but it’s all I have,” Severus offered it to you, hoping you’d take it, that he could try and regain your trust once again. He held out hope as he watched your posture relax the slightest bit, your hand hesitantly reaching for the stone. He wouldn’t dare speak a word or move a muscle until you indicated what it was you wished of him next. From this moment forward, he would do nothing you didn’t ask for, say nothing you didn’t demand.

Tossing the stone into your mouth, you swallowed hard and groaned at the feeling of its rough texture travelling down your throat. You heaved for air, but for the first time since you ran out of The Three Broomsticks, you found yourself able to relax your jaw, your fear of spilling your guts disappearing. Straightening your back, you looked at Severus who seemed unable to move or breath, waiting for your command to do so as his wide eyes stared desperately into yours. You’d never felt so conflicted, your feelings for him clouding your instinct to slap him for what he’d done to you. You never felt so humiliated, so used in your life. Severus had gone from the person who’d treated you like a normal human being to the one person in your life who’d hurt you worse than you ever thought you could be hurt. But you still couldn’t find it in you to shove him away and lock him out of your life. So instead, you closed the door behind you and stood your ground with your arms crossed, waiting for Severus to explain himself.

“I-I’m so sorry.” He nearly choked on his words as they came out when he saw the look on your face, the frown you wore. No word would ever be large enough to truly depict how he felt right now and as much as he wanted to say more, all he could do was apologize.

“You already said that,” you mumbled in a whisper, speaking against your own trauma from the truth serum that Severus had given you. He looked so sincere, so desperate for your forgiveness. You’d never seen him like this before, clawing at someone else for something only they could give. He’d always been such a strong person even if others would disagree. He wasn’t presumptuous as he was proud of himself and his achievements, but the person who stood before you now had no pride left to show. He had nothing but regret and torment in his eyes.

“And I can never say it enough. I should never have put that potion in your drink and I wish I could take it back. I didn’t think you were being genuine. I was so sure you were lying to me.” He spoke honestly, hoping you’d have faith he was being truthful with every word he spoke, that you could at least put the trust in him he failed to put in you.

“Why?” You couldn’t let go of the sheer stupidity of what he’d done. His reasoning didn’t make the slightest bit of sense to you, and if you could understand why he did it, maybe you could begin to forgive him.

“Why? Because you’re you and I’m me and why would I ever believe you of all people would be interested in me?” Severus went on as if the question was an absurd one to ask, the answer so obvious, even a house elf could see it. He wondered how you couldn’t see his hesitation, why you’d ever think he’d simply accept the fact you were interested in him.

“Because I said that I did!” you said bluntly, rather offended he questioned your intentions at all. Never had anyone second guessed you to this extreme before and you didn’t appreciate it in the slightest.

“I know, I just-”

“Didn’t trust my word?” You looked completely heart broken, more so then when you realized he’d slipped truth serum into your drink. He could see trust was something you cherished between those you let close to you and he’d completely ruined his chance at gaining it from you.

“No, I didn’t. I couldn’t. Not after the way the school decided to brand me all those years ago.” Severus had no hope of convincing you what he did was justifiable because even he knew it wasn’t. All he could hope for was for you to understand his hesitation, to understand why he had to do something when you approached him to see if you were genuine in your intentions.

“I’ve never treated you that way,” you retorted.

“I know. I’m sorry and I’ll understand if you’ll never want to speak with me again.” He put the ball in your court, completely at your mercy. Whatever it was you decided to do, he would respect it, but every inch of him begged you to give him another chance, to let him have a proper opportunity to have someone in his life that would care for him, to have a happy ending. But as Severus stared into your blank eyes, he could tell he hadn’t swayed you in any way. It was his fault and as he had nothing more to say, all he could do was turn around to walk away from everything that could have been.

“That’s it?” Severus stopped as you called after him, turning around in surprise as he stared at you blankly.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’re just going to walk away? You’re not going to try and fight? For-for this?” You gestured between yourselves with a sliver of hope in your eyes. You knew you shouldn’t have expected much from him, but a part of you hoped he’d be a little more resilient to giving up on you, especially after all that time you’d spent admiring him from afar.

“I-I didn’t think there was anything to fight for,” he said truthfully, looking at you with wide eyes as he walked back to you. He stared at you intently, trying to read you, to figure you out with all these mysteries surrounding you. How could someone so beautiful fall for him, want to be with him enough you’d be willing to give him a chance at redemption when his own best friend wouldn’t give him such a thing?

You took a step forward, wanting so badly to have all those talks with him you’d dreamed of having, to enjoy spending time with him if not to simply read together and find comfort in each other's company. You wanted to go back and give him a chance to redo the evening, to have it end much differently than yours and if it were anyone else, you would never have given him the chance to explain himself. But it wasn’t someone else, it was him. It was the one person in this whole world who you thought could break your curse, who seemed immune to it.

“Severus, why don’t you treat me like everyone else in this school?”

Severus stood in silence a moment as he thought back to how easily everyone worshipped the ground you walked on, how you always seemed to have a trail of people behind you, admiring you for no reason other than your looks. His thoughts wandered to Lily and how Potter seemed just as enchanted with her as the rest of the school did to you, how he’d only become intrigued with Lily after finding out she was a kind witch who lived in Cokeworth.

“I just-I suppose I just never thought of you in that way because I didn’t know you, and I never thought you’d be interested in knowing me.” Severus tried to be as honest as he could, watching you with hope. He held onto the fact you hadn’t run away, that you’d given him the chance to speak, to hear him and understand him. You were so kind, nothing like he would have ever imagined and he knew if he was ever so lucky as to get a second chance with you, he would never take it for granted again.

“Well, I am,” you said with a smile. You’d always been rather talented at reading people after the absurdity you’d seen from others, and Severus had truly wanted to make amends. You prayed your faith in him wasn’t misplaced, that he meant every word he said and that he saw what you saw. “If you are.”

“I am.” The words flew out of his mouth faster than he could process. He jumped at the chance you offered, beyond excited for the happy life he saw ahead of him. “Would you perhaps like to try again?”

You nodded your head eagerly, excited for your do-over date. You almost wanted to forget what had happened today, to approach things with him from a fresh perspective. “Valentine’s day is coming up. Would you care to share a cup of tea with me at Madam Puddifoot’s tea shop?”

“Really?” Severus couldn’t believe how kind hearted you were, how willing you were to see the good in others and how tremendously lucky he was to have found you, or more accurately, have you find him.

“So long as I’m buying this time,” you nodded with a laugh, eliciting a smile from Severus as you began making your way out of the library. You smiled as you finally got to see the real him, the person you grew infatuated with, the boy who you saw hope for love with. For the first time in your life, you felt content, excited for the spark you felt growing inside your heart. You could experience love for the first time in your life, real, pure love and you couldn’t wait to see what more it had in store for you.

#Severus Snape #Severus x reader #Severus Snape x reader #Snape x reader #young Severus Snape #young Snape x reader #my fanfic #my writing #pro Snape #snapedom

409 notes · View notes

pastelwitchling · 3 years

Text

Michael tells Alex about the Dictator.

Michael was leaning forward on his knees, staring at the flames of the bonfire. He was slowly losing his mind, he knew it, but that didn’t make him pick up his phone and call Max for guidance or Isobel to apologize. He didn’t call Maria to ask if she was having any visions about his future, or Valenti to look him over for a burn mark he might’ve miraculously missed.

Mr. Jones had told him all he’d needed to know, and now the rest of the world felt muffled, like there was cotton in his ears. He didn’t want to talk to his siblings, he didn’t want his friends’ advice or insight. He didn’t think he could ever move away from this bonfire again, watching the flames taunt him. Because they knew they couldn’t hurt him, and that it was torturing him.

When a car drove up to the junkyard, Michael was flooded with memories of another late-night visitor. He looked up, traitorous hope climbing his throat before he could help it. When he saw Isobel behind the wheel, his heart sagged back to the bottom of his stomach, and he returned to staring at the fire.

It was frightening how, even after a year apart, just the thought of the airman cut through his haze like a knife.

Isobel stepped out of her car and stood across the bonfire, her arms crossed. She sighed. “I think you should talk to Alex.”

Michael’s eyes flickered upward. Isobel looked shaken, and the brotherly part of him wanted to be protective and concerned, but the bigger part couldn’t muster the will.

He offered a small, humorless smirk, the only kind he could manage, and held his still untouched beer bottle to his lips. “Pardon?”

Isobel wasn’t having it. She came to stand in front of Michael, blocking his view of the flames. “You’re not okay,” she said simply.

“Would you be?” he answered without looking at her, the cruelty evident in his tone.

“I don’t know why you’re listening to Jones of all people,” she tried. “You’re the one who said we shouldn’t –”

“Is,” Michael cut her off, shutting his eyes. “Not now, okay?”

Isobel said nothing for a moment, then huffed. She grabbed the chair nearest Michael, pulled it closer, and sat down, facing him. “You need to talk to Alex, Michael. You’ve . . . you’ve never listened to anybody like you listen to him, and he’s smart. He’ll tell you what I already know, and . . .” she shook her head. “Maybe you’ll believe him.”

Michael said nothing. He said nothing as Isobel sighed, kissed his temple, and told him she’d come by again in the morning. He said nothing as she got in her car with a final plea for him to go see Alex. He said nothing as she drove away.

He said nothing because he couldn’t admit that he’d been terrified of this beyond anything else. Facing Alex again, after everything he’d done. But he wanted it. He wanted to see Alex so badly, and though he knew it might only push him further over the edge until he felt nothing at all, he also knew he would be worse off not seeing Alex at all.

When Michael dared ask himself what he wanted, the answer was clear; he didn’t want to see or talk to anybody, but he could manage just enough strength to talk to Alex. Only to Alex.

On his way to Alex’s house, he thought of all the ways he could explain what he was doing there, where to begin in what he’d discovered. But it looked like Alex had somehow known he was coming because he didn’t give him the luxury of working out a script in his head. Instead, Michael found him in his front garden, kneeling in the mud and pulling at weeds. He had one hand on the dirt beside a few roses, as if careful not to accidentally hurt them.

Michael pulled his truck to a stop, watching the ends of Alex’s hair stick to his skin with sweat, the way his brows pinched in concentration, but his hands worked gently. A lump formed in Michael’s throat. He thought about the things he’d said to Alex almost two years ago, and the way he’d made him feel.

“I don’t think we’re good for each other, Alex.”

“I like Maria, okay?”

“I’m saying no.”

Michael shut his eyes tight. What right did he have to talk to Alex now? He clenched his jaw and swallowed thickly. He started to turn the steering wheel when Alex glanced up and their eyes caught through the windshield.

Alex straightened and raised a hand in startled greeting. Michael hesitated. He should’ve driven away, escaped as quickly as possible, but he hadn’t seen Alex in a year, and only barely glimpsed him at the bus stop when he’d come back before he quickly turned away, unable to stand the sight of him and Forrest together. And he missed him. He missed him like he didn’t think he could ever miss anybody.

Seeing him now had Michael itching to be closer, to touch. Before he could tell himself it was a bad idea, he parked his truck. Alex pushed himself to his feet as Michael stepped out.

“Hey –” Michael started and stopped as Alex breathlessly pulled him in for a one-armed hug.

“Hi,” Alex said and started to pull away, but Michael kept a hand on his back, keeping him close for a few more seconds. He turned his face into his hair, breathing him in. He was so warm and felt so good, his soft strands tickling Michael’s cheek.

When Alex finally stepped back, Michael saw that he looked tired, but was smiling, his cheeks dusted pink. “I was going to come see you tonight.”

“Y-You were?”

“Yeah,” Alex dusted the mud off the hem of his shirt, but Michael’s hand was still on his waist. “We haven’t talked since I got back. I missed you.”

Michael let his hand fall and allowed himself to stay close. Just for another few minutes, before Alex found out the truth about him and pushed him away in disgust.

He forced a chuckle. “I’m flattered, Private.”

As Alex searched Michael’s face, his eyes narrowed, and his smile slowly dimmed. “What’s wrong?”

Michael’s brows furrowed and he was about to shake his head, to say nothing was wrong, then Alex pursed his lips and said, “That bad, huh?”

He tried for another chuckle, but it got caught in his throat and sounded weak to his own ears. “Alex, I don’t –”

But Alex was already dusting the dirt off his hands. Michael briefly noted the strange new ring on his finger. At his confused look, Alex smiled, “I’ll put some coffee on.”

Ten minutes later found Michael in Alex’s living room, two steaming cups of coffee on the table in front of them. Michael sat on Alex’s couch, while Alex took the bench in front of his keyboard. He had changed into his sweats and an Air Force t-shirt, and Michael kept alternating between fear of what he would say, studying every freckle on Alex’s face and neck, and ogling his strong arms. He was always toned, but it was evident he’d spent the last year working out.

“You look good,” he thoughtlessly blurted.

“And you’re stalling,” Alex said, blushing.

“I’m not,” Michael truthfully said. “You look really good.”

“Guerin,” Alex leaned in. “What happened?”

Michael met Alex’s eyes and felt his own burn, the plagues of his mind coming at him at once with the genuine care in Alex’s eyes. He wondered how many minutes he would have before that kindness turned to cruel satisfaction.

“Karma,” he said. “I . . .” he looked down at his lap, his fingers playing. “I think I know who my dad is.”

Alex’s eyes widened slightly before his captain’s training kicked in, and he schooled his expression to one of indifference. “Okay. Who?”

Michael shook his head. He whispered, “A monster.”

At the confused furrow of Alex’s brows, Michael launched into the story of everything Jones had told them. He thought it’d be impossible to speak at all, but Alex held his gaze and it gave him a strength he didn’t think would last outside these walls.

By the time he was done, he was pacing the length of the living room, and Alex watched calmly from where he sat.

“This guy might’ve chased my mom and Louise off our planet in the first place,” Michael raged, his heart racing. “My mom – my mom, Alex – made Max in a lab so she could use him.” A rough chuckle escaped his lips. “And all the crap I gave you because of Jesse –”

“Guerin,” Alex said gently. “Sit down. Please.”

Michael clenched his fists, and sat down. He shook his head, staring at his cold cup of coffee. “What do I do now?”

Alex raised a brow. “What do you mean?”

Michael looked up at him. “Alex,” he reminded him, “my dad’s a villain.”

“So is mine,” Alex sighed, taking their mugs to the sink. “It happens.”

Michael stared, and stood to follow. “Do you not get –”

“I get that this is freaking you out,” Alex said simply, and turned to face him. He leaned against the sink. “I get that you’re angry.”

“Angry?” he scoffed. “I’m a monster’s son!”

Alex raised a cool brow. “So?”

“So my parents are supposed to be heroes!” he slammed his fist against the wall, and all the furniture jumped a good foot before falling back down.

Alex looked unaffected, but when he spoke, his voice was soft. “I know.”

“My mom used Max! My dad destroyed everything!”

“I know.”

“Fire,” he breathed, “fire doesn’t hurt me, Alex.” He shook his head. “It feels wrong.”

Alex took Michael’s face in his hands. “It’s not.”

Michael opened his mouth on a silent sentence, whatever he was going to say next lost as Alex brushed his cheek with his thumb.

“I . . .”

Alex gently pulled Michael in against him, hugging his shoulders. Against the crook of his neck, he whispered, “I’m sorry your family’s more human than you wanted them to be.”

Michael shuddered. He tried to push Alex away, to get angry, but in his embrace all he could feel was the desperate need to be closer. He ended up grabbing Alex’s hips, his fingers curled tightly in the material of his shirt.

“Why don’t you hate me?” he demanded. “Yell at me, laugh, tell me I deserve this!”

Alex held him tighter and shook his head.

“Why not?” he urged through grit teeth, his eyes burning. “I do deserve it, Alex. I made you feel like crap because of your dad. I . . . I left you alone –”

“Shh,” Alex said softly, raking a gentle hand through Michael’s curls.

“Hate me,” he begged. “Please, get mad at me.”

“Am I monster,” Alex asked, and Michael stilled, “because of my dad?”

Michael was already shaking his head. “You’re my hero, Alex,” he said without missing a beat. “But –”

“And you’re mine,” Alex whispered, his lips brushing the bare skin of Michael’s shoulder where his shirt was pulled back. It made it very hard for Michael to think.

He opened his mouth to argue, to say something, but before he realized his vision had gone blurry, big fat tears were falling down his cheeks and onto Alex’s shirt. Alex held him even tighter.

“We’ll figure it out,” Alex said lightly, as if this was no big deal. As if he had no doubt in his mind the kind of person Michael was, the hero he was. “Everything’s fine, Guerin. I promise everything’s fine.”

Michael’s hands slowly came up Alex’s back, his fingers clawing through his shirt and into his skin, holding him back even tighter.

“I missed you, Alex,” Michael breathed, and buried his face in the crook of Alex’s neck. “I missed you so much.”

Alex chuckled softly. “I’m flattered.”

#alex manes #michael guerin #malex #malex fic #malex fanfic #malex fanfiction #roswell new mexico #roswell nm #malex angst #malex fluff #tyler blackburn #michael vlamis

151 notes · View notes

aonesteddybear · 3 years

Text

According To Him

akaashi keji x female reader

warnings: cheating, soft angst, body worship oral sex (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex

word count: 5001

notes: this is for the nsfw hq server collab, which the prompt was " I wonder what he would do if he knew you were with me right now ” akaashi was one of two of the pieces i wrote for this collab so be sure to keep an eye out for terushima which will be posted later in the day. be sure to check out the masterlist here and see all the other great writings and artwork done!

thanks for the beta @daishou-s

Hot tears slipped down your cheeks in frustration as the door slammed. The apartment was eerily quiet. The only noise filling your ears was the occasional soft sniffle as you furiously rubbed at your eyes, willing yourself to stop crying despite the very real reason behind them.

The sheets puddled in your lap, and despite the soft chill covering your skin, you couldn’t bring yourself to cover yourself- your bed no longer brought you the comfort you sought. Yet again, your fiancé had left you to go practice volleyball with his team post-sex despite having agreed to dinner with you. He had kissed you, apologizing as he got ready despite your pleas, but Bokuto Koutaro really only had one love that claimed his heart, and it was always glaringly obvious it wasn’t you.

You could beg him all you wanted, but at the end of the day, he would choose his sport over you. It didn't always bother you. In fact, you had encouraged it for the longest time, even as he skipped out on dates or outings for practice. However, leaving you for the others had long since grown old, especially when you wanted nothing more than to curl up in his arms and be held.

He always would promise to make it up to you, showering you in gifts and lavish trips and soft words, but it didn’t change the fact he really only seemed to be at ease on the court and between your legs.

Still, there was one person you knew you could always turn to. As long as you have known Bokuto, Akaashi Keiji has known him longer. The former setter had always dealt with Bokuto’s tantrums and emotional mood swings, and he didn’t seem to mind when, even now, you turned to him for help.

You always assumed it was because Akaashi favored Bokuto, the two of the remaining close friends and meeting frequently even though they had graduated and had no actual ties holding them together. After seeing him around for so long, you had also warmed up to him, and now, you also sought him out for comfort, despite the soft whisper of it being inappropriate, which you often forced down.

Still, you found yourself reaching for your phone and clicking the familiar contact. After a few moments of it ringing, the phone clicked as the other side picked up.

“Hello?” Akaashi’s voice carried through the phone, and you sniffled pathetically again. “Y/N, are you okay?”

You nodded, forgetting he couldn’t see you. “Yeah.” God, even your voice sounded pathetic. “Can you come over?” You found yourself whispering before you considered the words.

Akaashi was silent for a moment, and you found yourself wondering if he would agree to the proposition before he spoke. “Sure.” The sound of keys jingling made you swallow, because of course your boyfriend's friend would come over to see you when your boyfriend wouldn’t even stay. “What’s wrong?”

You rubbed at your eyes again. “It’s Kou again. He is...infuriating, sometimes. We were supposed to have dinner, but someone texted him, and of course he agreed. We’ve been planning this for the last week.” You found yourself babbling, the words spilling before you could stop it even as silent tears rolled down your face in humiliation.

“Okay, okay. It’s okay, Y/N. I promise. I’ll be there in a few okay? I’ll tell you when I get there.” His words were soothing, and you mumbled an agreement. As he hung up, you forced yourself to wipe your tears once more.

You looked down at your chest and the splattering of hickeys Bokuto had left on them, and you touched them lightly before your hand fell. You could feel the soreness between your legs, left over from his energetic thrusts, and you didn’t want to think of the mess he had left there either.

Still, Akaashi was on his way, so you forced yourself to stand, moving from the bed and grabbing an old, oversized shirt and a pair of panties from the drawer as you made your way to the bathroom. As you cleaned yourself up, taking care of the new bruises and fluids left from your actions earlier, you didn’t fight the tears or the pit in your stomach.

You tried washing your face, patting cold water on your eyes to remove the puffiness that was there, but eventually, you ignored it, simply wiping it on the shirt. Akaashi had seen you worse than this.

As if on cue, a knock on your apartment door had you jumping. You walked out, dragging your feet as you went before you opened it without looking. Akaashi stood outside the door, his fist raised if he was about to knock again before you had opened it.

Upon seeing you, his features softened, and he stepped into your space, pulling you into a hug as you sniffled into his shirt. His hand was gentle on the back of your head, petting your hair lightly as he soothed you, the door shutting behind him. “It’s okay. I promise. It’ll be ok.”

You clung to his words, replaying them in your head in hopes that he was right, because at this point you were ready to leave. You were so sick and tired of Bokuto’s antics and not appreciating you.

As if Akaashi could sense your train of thought, he pressed a soft kiss to your head. “He loves you, a lot.” At this point, you weren’t sure who he was trying to convince, because Bokuto clearly wasn’t here showing it. “I’m sorry he’s doing this to you.”

You hum in response, enjoying the contact with Akaashi, but even you realized how wrong it was for you to be seeking comfort in your fiance’s best friend's arms. Which is exactly why you pulled back, and Akaashi reluctantly let you.

“Do you want a drink?” you questioned, and Akaashi smiled so softly, his eyes just as sad as yours were.

“I know where everything is. Go sit down.” He coaxed gently, and you nodded.

You could hear him as he rustled through your kitchen, finding your cups and the water you kept chilled in the fridge. When he brought it out to you, you were already sitting on the couch, a blanket drawn up over you as he handed you a cup, which you took, swirling it gently in your hands as Akaashi sat next to you, his body angled towards you as he watched you.

“Drink.” His words were a soft command. You obeyed, lifting the glass to your lips as you sipped it lightly. “Now, tell me, what happened.”

Your words spilled out then, rushing out your mouth as quickly as your tears did as you told him exactly what happened earlier. How he had come home late, barely talked to you before he was ushering you to bed. Then, he had just left after, despite your anger and the fact you had plans together. “It’s like he doesn’t even care about me, Keiji. He just wants me for sex.”

Your final words tumbled out as you finished breaking down, soft sobs shaking your shoulders as you sobbed. Akaashi hummed, taking your cup from you as it threatened to spill as he sat both of your cups down on the coffee table.

He once again pulled you into him, letting you rest your head on his chest as you cried, and he resumed his head-petting, just as you liked. “It’s okay.” he promised, his words comforting even as he buried his own face into your hair.

He knew he should feel guilty about it, how he was holding you so selfishly and breathing your scent, which would fuel his late night thoughts despite your genuine heartache. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to push you away, and not let you clutch him so desperately and use him either.

“I’m sorry he’s doing this. He should realize how blessed he is to have you.” Akaashi’s words were whispered into your hair, but you couldn’t help the soft noise of confusion as you pulled back to stare up at him.

“What do you mean?” You questioned attempting to pull away from his chest, unsure if you liked where this conversation was going, but his grip was tight and prevented you from pulling away from him.

“I mean, he is being selfish. It’s what he does. You’re amazing, and he should worship you like you deserve.” His words were gentle as his thumb ran over your cheek, wiping off the tear tracks there, and he looked so very sad as you flinched away from it.

“Keiji, I don’t know-” You started, and he shushed you gently, his finger brushing against your lips.

“It’s true. I would treat you better. I should have never given into him.” His words were soft, musing, as if he didn’t mean to speak them, and before you could question further he was leaning forward, his face suddenly too close. “Can I?”

You swallowed. “Can you do what, Keiji?” you questioned, and he smiled softly.

“Can I show you how I would treat you if you were mine?” His words were gentle, filling you with a lull of soft security, and before you knew what you were doing, you found yourself nodding even as he was leaning even further forward.

His lips pressed against yours, fitting securely against your lips as you sucked in a sharp breath. He was gentle- much more than Bokuto ever was- his lips moving against yours, and after a moment, you found yourself responding to them in turn.

Hands touching your neck made you jump even as he pressed further into you, holding you securely to his body so you couldn’t escape from him. As your lips parted to object, his tongue brushed against them before sliding into your mouth.

The whimper you let out was eagerly swallowed as he licked into your mouth, pushing his tongue against yours and enticing you to play with him, which you found yourself reluctantly doing. Your tongues molded against one another, slid against one another, before he was pulling away, gasping in breaths of air even as you leaned forward, chasing after him.

His forehead pressed against yours, his fingers tightening on your neck, feeling the drumming of your pulse against his hand. “Please,” his whisper was low, deep, and needy, and you found yourself leaning forward into it.

“Please what, Keiji?” you questioned, and he let out a soft whine in response, a noise that made your thighs clench together and all reason fly out of your head.

“Please….” he hesitated, pondering his next words, as if he didn’t know exactly what he was about to ask. “Please let me touch you. Touch you properly.”

You swallowed again, and for a moment, your eyes met his, and the thought of what you were about to do crossed your mind, but rather than focus on it, you pushed it from your thoughts. You couldn’t mull over it, not yet. “Okay.”

The word was all the permission he needed, a sharp whimper escaping his lips as he pushed back into you. His other hand attached to your hip, sliding first up over your shirt before he was dipping down, and pushing at the shirt.

As his skin connected with yours, you let out a sharp hiss, which he eagerly caught, his tongue pressing against your lips yet again as you opened for him. As his hands traced up your body, his hands connecting with your breast, he tensed, as if he realized what he was doing also.

He pulled back ever so gently, his eyes searching yours as his lips parted, but any words he was about to say disappeared in his throat just as quickly as you licked your lips. His lips connected with yours once more, desperate, as his hand opted to grope at your breast, squeezing the tender flesh before he pulled back to pinch at the nipple lightly.

“Fuck, you’re so gorgeous.” His words were whispered into your mouth as you gasped into him, back arching up into his touch as he pulled at the bud. “He’s so stupid.”

You let out a soft noise at that in objection, but he didn’t give you the chance to speak as he nipped at your lips eagerly instead. After a moment, his head dipped from you, his hands moving down to push at your shirt until he was able to wiggle it up past your breasts.

The sharp exhale was audible to you as he stared at your chest for a moment before his head dipped to kiss at the valley between them. He pulled back just far enough to shift where his head was before he latched on to your nipple, sucking it gently into his mouth as his tongue pushed over it in excitement.

His pace was gentle, soothing, and relaxed as he sucks at tender flesh. His teeth grazed the bud just for a moment before he soothed it with his tongue. “You’re so perfect.” The words were whispered into your flesh as he nuzzled at it, his other hand palming softly at your other breast as his eyes flicked up to your face.

As your eyes met, his name fell from your lips in a soft sigh, a mournful sound, and he smiled gently. His lips released your nipple, moving to the other side to suck on it as your hands came to grip his hair.

He hummed in response as you tugged lightly in the soft curls of his hair that were beginning to form from the length. His lips wrapped around the new bud, sucking it into his mouth as you whimpered his name out again.

“Keiji, please.” The words were whispered, but his ears caught it anyways, so very attentive on your body’s response to his actions. His mouth released from your chest as he turned to look up at you, and there was no mistaking the dark glint in his eye from anything other than lust for you.

He pressed another kiss to your skin. “What is it, darling?” his words were gentle, covering you in comfort as his hands rubbed tenderly into your skin. Yet as your lips fell open, no words came out. You didn’t know what to ask him for.

The idea of what you were doing was finally beginning to set in, a warm bubbly feeling masking the terror of being caught later on. Yet at the end, it wasn’t you who spoke.

“Can I take you to bed?” His words were sweet, much nicer than the given implications of what would occur if you said yes. He was taking charge of the situation and guiding you to comfort like he always did.

Your hands moved on their own to cup his face, pulling him up into yours as you lent forward and wrapped your arms around his neck, your foreheads pressing together gently as you held him to your body. The hum he let out filled you with warmth, your toes curling in an excitement you hadn’t felt in a while as he pressed a gentle kiss to your nose.

“Yes,” the word fell from your lips without much thought. The idea of telling him no, pushing him away from you, left you with even more anxiety than holding him did.

“Come, little one.” His instructions had you moving even before he pulled away, clutching to his body as he helped you to your feet and ushered you in front of him towards the bedroom. As you crossed the threshold of the room, you swallowed, feet pausing as you gazed at your bed, which was still tousled from earlier.

Sensing your hesitation, Akaashi’s arms wrapped around you from behind, his hand coming up to force you to stare up into his eyes. “If you don’t want to, we can stop.” He assured, pressing his face gently against yours once more, and you couldn’t help the whimper that fell from your lips as you pressed further into his.

“No. I want to.”

You knew he was giving you an out, promising to stop at any point should you want it, but it didn’t change the fact of how desperately you craved wanting to be wanted. So you angeled your head up, kissing first his jawline and moving to the corner of his lips.

“Please, Keiji,” you whispered, and this time you both knew exactly what you were asking for, and who was Akaashi to deny either of you?

His hands moved, shifting to spin you around to face him further as his hands came up to tangle roughly in your hair, and his other hand slotted against your hips as he carefully walked you backwards until your knees hit the bed.

Before you could collapse onto it, his hands were moving to push at your shirt once more, removing his lips from yours just long enough to tug your shirt over your arms and head before he was throwing it to the floor and pressing back further into you relishing how your body felt flush against him.

He could feel your nipples pressed against his body, even through the skin as you whimpered in frustration. Your hands reached out, tugging at his shirt, and he laughed lightly against your lips as he pulled back. His hands fumbled with his shirt for a moment, undoing the buttons by his head, before he was tugging his own shirt off and discarding it.

As his body pressed against yours, with only bottoms separating the two of you, he let out a sharp sigh into your lips. Your hands smoothed over his skin, running over muscles and skin you had never experienced before.

Yet, just as quickly as he started the kiss, he pulled away. His hands nudged your hips further back on the bed as his head dipped down to kiss at your neck. You hummed in response, fingers lazily running over his back as you rolled your hips up into him.

“Easy,” he breathed out into your skin, moving to kiss at your collarbone, and then back down your chest. “I want to take my time, show you properly how much you mean to me. Is that okay?”

You nodded, licking at your lips as you watched him move further down your body, stopping only to kiss at spots randomly, just to hear and feel the responses you gave to him. When he reached the band of your panties, he hesitated, pressing a kiss right against the line. His eyes flicked up at you as his fingers ran over the band carefully.

“Are you sure?” His words were gentle, but clouded with desire. You let out an annoyed whimper, tired of his hesitation.

“Keiji, please.” You found yourself repeating even as he frowned, pulling back slightly, and you lifted your hips to chase after it as his hands pushed down, effectively holding you in place.

“I want to hear you say it.”

You let out a whine, licking at your lips as you reached out for him. “Yes, I’m sure. I want you, Keiji.”

Akaashi hums then, a delighted glint showing in his eyes as he mulls over your words in his head. “You sound so beautiful when you say that.”

His hands tugged at the band of your underwear, pulling it down your legs, and you feel your legs closing at his intense scrutiny, suddenly shy.

“Shhh,” he soothed, his thumb running over your mons. “You’re so fucking perfect.” He promised, and you let out a soft whimper in response to his words.

His hands nudged your legs open as he pushes his way in between them. His eyes were level with your cunt, and you couldn’t help the warm flush that spread up your body as you covered your face with your hands shyly, and his fingers gently pushed open your lips to stare at your core.

“Perfect.” he repeated, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the top of your slit before you could object. Just as quickly, his tongue slid out, licking up your slit as you let out a sharp gasp of his name.

Before you could try and wiggle away, his hands connected with your hips, grabbing them tightly as he held you still, his eyes connecting with yours as he pressed his face into your core. His tongue slid out to lick sloppily at your hole as you feel him push into you.

“Keiji!” His name was slurred, your mind hazy at the stimulation he was giving you. He was so different from how Kotarou usually ate you out. Akaashi was much more neat, his tongue pushing in and out of you repeatedly even as you squirmed underneath his grip, desperate for more.

Yet, as your eyes flicked down to look at him, his attention was focused solely on you. Blue eyes knocked your breath away as they locked with yours, and you couldn’t help the whine that slid out as you attempted to arch your hips up into his mouth.

“Please.”

Akaashi hummed in response, a satisfied noise that had you blushing from the vibrations as his tongue pulled away from your hole, licking up your slit slowly yet again until it flicked over your clit.

The grin that spread across his face was shameless as you jumped, hands flying down to fist in his hair at oversensitivity as you let out a squeal of his name. He repeated the action, enjoying how you flinched and cried at the pleasure as he continued to repeat the assault on the sensitive bundle of nerves smugly.

“It’s too much.” You whispered, but ever-attentive, he caught it. He let out a hum in response even as you whined at the vibrations, but rather than back off, his lips wrapped around the bud as he sucked harshly on it.

Your back arched up off the bed as your fingers tightened in his hair. “Fuck, Keiji!” you cried out, hips jerking under his hands as they pushed you down. Even as your eyes squeezed shut, you could feel his eyes on you, watching your face closely as he memorized your movements, ingraining them into his mind, and he held your hips flush to his face even as you squirmed against his grip.

As the ball in your stomach exploded. His name was all that fell from your lips in a chant as you came around him. His fingers worked you steadily through your orgasm, your body trembling around him as you crashed down. As his movements caught up with your body, you let out a cry, pushing at his head desperately as you attempted to push him away.

“‘s too much!” You repeated, words slurred and heavy in your mouth as your body jerked with overstimulation.

The man finally gave in, pulling away to kiss his way up your body as you grabbed at his face, kissing him eagerly as you pushed at his remaining clothes.

“Please?” The word was asked against his lips, barely audible as you gasped into his mouth. He nodded in response, his lips never leaving yours as his hands fumbled with his boxers, pushing them down his legs.

As you reached down, wrapping a fist blindly around his cock, his hips canted forward, a sharp groan escaping his lips against yours as you curiously stroked it. He was heavy in your hand, solid and warm. You could feel the precum leaking down from his tip, wetting your hand as you ran a thumb curiously over it.

As you tried to pull away, his hands caught you, holding you against him even as you let a soft squeak in protest, wanting to taste him in your mouth as well. “It’s fine,” he breathed out against your lips as if he could hear your thoughts.

“This is about you.”

His hands nudged you back, pinching at your skin playfully as you wiggled backwards further up the bed. He stopped you, pushing you flat back onto the bed so he could loom over you.

He pulled back, panting heavily against your lips as his eyes scanned your face once more, and you couldn’t help but acknowledge just how pretty he was, the light illuminating his head behind a shadow of black hair.

You reached up for him, trying to pull him back down against you, but he gently knocked your hand away as he looked down at you, eyes soft.

“I don’t have a condom.” He sounded apologetic, unsure of his words, as he examined you and your reaction to his statement.

You hummed in response, gently rubbing a thumb against his cheekbone as he turned his head into the pressure.

“It’s okay,” you promised softly. Koutarou never wore a condom with you, prefering to fill you up, which you didn’t mind, but it helped that you were on birth control already. You also trusted Akaashi, and if he said he was safe, you had no reason to doubt him.

“I can pull out?” he offered, voice raising at the end of his words in question as he proposed the solution, and you nodded softly.

“That’s fine with me.” You approved, and this time it was him who hummed in approval as he shifted upwards close towards your hip. As he pulled back to rub a thumb over his own head, and you felt your mouth dry at just how pretty his cock was.

He didn’t give you long to look, gently gripping your hip with one hand as he held his cock with the other. He ran the tip of it along your folds, smiling softly as you jumped at the sensation of it bumping into your clit.

As soon as he deemed it slick enough with your own juices, he angled his hips to push it lightly against your opening. He teased you just for a moment, gently pressing against the hole without pushing into it until you whined out his name. It was a pitiful sound that had him pushing his hips forward and entering you with a soft exhale.

You felt your body tense up around him at the new sensation. He was a bit smaller than Bokuto, not stretching your walls to the same level, but it still left your toes curling at the new sensation of Akaashi inside of you.

Your sharp whimper filled his ears, your hips arching up into him as he bottomed out within you. You reached up, grabbing at his shoulders as you pulled him into you. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling his face into yours as you kissed at him.

“Fuck,” You breathed. “Can you move please?”

He hummed in response, nipping at your lip softly. “Yes, of course.”

His hips rolled into you gently, testing your response, and you let out a whine in pleasure as you tugged at his hair. He was slow, testing out your responses as you squirmed underneath him.

His name fell from your lips as you angeled your hips slightly higher, urging him to speed up.

“Shhh,” he hushed gently, kissing you as his hands moved to push your hips down. “You have to be patient.”

You frowned, grabbing at his back as you whimpered in frustration. “I don’t want to be patient, Keiji.”

He pressed a finger against your lips, leaning forward to kiss you as he pulled his finger away. You let another huff as he shifted, grabbing your hips and jerking them upwards so he could move his hips easier into you.

As he thrusted into you at this new angle, you let out a sharp yelp. Your hands scrambled at his arms as he hit the spongy spot inside your walls. A soft sob escaped your lips as he repeatedly began to hit your g-spot.

“Please, please, please.” You chanted out, back arching up into him in time with his thrusts. “Just like that.”

He smirked, leaning forward to cup your face in his hands. “You’re so gorgeous,” he purred, leaning down to kiss you tenderly.

Your tongue ran along his lips, eagerly pushing into his mouth as he opened for you. As your tongues pressed together, Akaashi’s hand slid in between your bodies to rub at your clit. As his fingers connected with your body, you jerked away from him at the sensation.

He let out an amused noise as he held you steady, pushing his fingers against you as he rubbed at your clit in time with his thrusts, and you jerked in pleasure.

As your body spasmed around his cock, he tensed as you milked him perfectly. “You’re so perfect, darling- you deserve to be worshipped,”

His other palm spread across your body, rubbing at your breasts softly as he pinched at your nipple lightly watching as you flinched, squirming under his attention.

“You should be treated like the goddess you are, and if he won’t do it, I will.” He promised, his thumb increasing in speed on your clit as your muscles spasmed. “I wonder what Bokutou would do if he knew you were with me right now.” he crooned out softly as he watched you cum around him.

As you grabbed at him, you buried your head into his shoulder, and your cunt spasmed around him.

“Keiji!” You cried out, clutching at his body desperately.

As his hips pulled back out of you, his hand left you to dip between you two yet again, except this time it was for his own pleasure. His own pleasure crested over him as he stroked himself to completion, painting your stomach white.

However, as he relaxed into you, the sound of the door creaking open made you both jerk away from one another, and you were left staring into the inscrutable eyes of your fiancé, who took over the scene in front of him with a strange amount of calmness.

“I don’t know, why don’t you ask me?”

#akaashi #akaashi keiji #keiji akaashi #akaashi keji x reader #akaashi x you #akaashi x y/n #akaashi x reader #Female reader #reader insert #hq #hq reader insert #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu reader insert #hq server collab #spicy #bella writes #fukurodani

846 notes · View notes

jjkpls · 3 years

Text

the wishlist (m) - 2

“Since when do we buy each other sextoys?”

> genre : light angst, fluff

> pairing : jeon jungkook x reader (f)

> words : 5k

> content/warnings : back at it again w/ the bff2l; one sided love, lot of pining; sextoys talk; explicit language; ambiguous infidelity; chaotic oc; clueless koo

previous - next

It all starts with the first box and the vague memory of a warm touch on your face.

When you wake up that morning, groggy from exhaustion and the sensation of having spent the night waking up, again and again, you sense something. You struggle to point out if you’ve dreamt or if it really happened, but there’s the lingering of a warm hand's trace, cupping your cheek, soothing the stress lines on your forehead, and softly brushing your hair back from your face. You can’t tell if it’s happened but it left a lovely sensation both on your skin and heart.

You get up and out of bed, slowly stroll to your living room with a lazy hand raising to your head, meaning to scratch at the snake nest you expect to be sitting on it. Instead, your fingers are met with a rather neat braid you definitely didn’t go to sleep with as you were too fucking done with this day to even try and deal with your tight bun -the very bun that elongated your time to fall asleep by at least a good half an hour. The same fingers that caressed your face took care of your hair and you know exactly to whom they belong.

Of course, giddiness ensues and the mildly serious feeling of mortification -you despise the idea of not knowing in what state he found you, in what state of ugly, of dishevelled, of smelly. There’s no room for embarrassment in this friendship, not this kind anyway, fortunately or not, he’s seen you at your worst (at a time when you didn’t care much if he did or not) so it counters, always a bit, the shame.

He hasn't left your side yet, has he? And he’s exposing himself to this face of yours, so why should you feel bad about it? He sneaks into your apartment at night just to brush your face and bring the covers up to your chin, tuck you nicely in as if he’s your mom or something, so why should you care. He doesn’t seem to mind. He never seems to mind. He’s the best of friends. The best of all the people you know and the best of your friends.

And of course, naturally fitting this role, you’d find the morning of Christmas, a mysterious box you’ve never seen before sitting on your coffee table.

The girls, your friends, have presents for you, you know they do, but yesterday you were working and couldn’t see them, therefore, the little celebration was reported and you didn’t expect, you wouldn’t expect them to come at night or early in the morning to bring you your gifts. It can wait (so they decided).

But Jungkook is sweet like no one else is.

And he came to wish you a merry Christmas even if you were too tired to wish him back and he left a present for you.

There’s not a name attached to it but it’s obvious it comes from him. There’s just a post-it he stole from your desk, with a Merry Christmas written on it, the lines of the letters, round and neat, you’d recognize from any other lettering and a bunny with teeth as big as the eyes smiling at you, drawn next to it.

The box is so pretty, you feel an actual pressure thinking about opening it, as if there is a certain way, a proper way, to go about it.

And apparently, there is. You go wash your face and rinse your mouth, prepare yourself one of your good teas, tear the curtain wide open and slowly, almost ceremoniously, take a seat on the ground, right in front of it.

The box is neat. You don’t know what’s inside, probably a perfume or some kit for the bath you’d assume, but you already know that whatever is inside, even if it’s not of your liking -which is impossible, it comes from Jungkook-, will be balanced out by the appearance of this perfectly elegant, tasteful box that you’ll use again to stock anything, maybe your face masks, maybe nothing -it’ll just sit, looking good on a shelf.

It’s a pastel blue, with a black rose drawn on top of it, the icon to a brand you absolutely don’t recognize. With fingers trembling with excitement you drag the box to yourself, it’s mildly heavy, for some reasons, it gives you a little rush of anxiety. There’s just a tiny black ribbon holding the box firmly closed. A tiny pull on it and it slips open.

Slowly you lift the lid, a grin already plastered on your face, hurting your cheeks. You expect a blinding magical light to come out of it, with the sound of bells ringing near your ears and sense to suddenly knock into you as you’d understand what wondrous present is in front of you.

But none of it comes. There's just a thing hidden inside a black satin bag.

It’s not a perfume nor a bath kit and you’re confused.

A bit scared.

Honestly, maybe a little shameful part of you has guessed it. But the louder yet weaker rest of you can’t see it. It would be too... ludicrous. And wouldn’t make sense, would it? You’ve never actually seen any in real life so how would you know what the packaging would look like and how would you come to this conclusion now? And how, why, how would he, Jeon Jungkook, come about to offer you this?

Doesn’t make any sense.

But somehow, when you pick up the courage to open the little bag and drag the object out of it, you hardly even gasp in surprise when you discover a dildo. You just let it drop to the table, thumping loudly the fake wood.

Why did you guess it to be that and why did he get you this shit?

Scorching red seize your face and your whole being.

You are infuriated.

How dares he? You are mortified. How dares he?

What does this fucking mean?

A joke?

Is it a joke?

If it a joke then what’s the fucking point? It’s not fucking funny. It’s weird as hell and you can’t believe he came in the middle of the night, pretending to be Santa to leave you a fucking kidding present as if your miserable life needed that.

And if it’s not then what the actual fuck? Does he think you’re that desperate? Does he have really no notion of boundaries?

Conveniently your phone lays centimetres away from the offending thing, you don’t even need to get up to grab it and therefore, you start looking furiously for his name in your recent call list. After only two rings as if he was just expecting your call, his bright hello reaches your ear.

“What the actual fuck, Jeon?” He must hear the madness in your voice, both the anger and the hysteria. There’s a pause during which he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t make a sound and you even check your screen to make sure he hasn’t hung up on you.

“That’s- not- the reaction I expected.” He sounds sheepish. Mumbled words, lisped syllables, long pauses.

“What did you expect?” You yell a bit, you can just picture him, dragging the phone out of earshot and winding, the same way you do when your mom who doesn’t get the concept of telephone screams in it each time she calls you. The realization hits you, that in your quiet little apartment, in this (for once) quiet morning, you are screeching like a banshee. You quiet down instantly, some of the anger soothed down by embarrassment. “Are you insane?” You whisper in his ear and comically, he starts whispering too, with the same alterations to his usually bright and open tone.

“M’not. I just- you said that’s what you wanted so I got it for you.”

Now he’s making stuff up and blaming this insanity on you and that serves to raise a bit more the bar of anger -along with the loudness of your voice, “When have I ever said that I wanted a-“ You choke on your own saliva once your brain realizes that you’re supposed to say the word, out loud, to him. In an angry whisper, as if someone, your mother, for example, could be listening “fucking dildo!” You blush furiously at that and it’s ridiculous. Probably the reason why you didn’t own one in the first place and maybe shouldn’t yet. Because you’re a grown-ass woman of a quarter of a century, living alone and admittedly independent and responsible for your own existence, but you can’t even say the word “dildo” out loud to this asshole of a friend who apparently, and that’s new news, doesn’t have an issue talking about sex and everything related to it with you.

“Y-you said-“ There’s a pregnant pause. You can’t know for sure since you’re not seeing him if he’s faking it or not but he sounds confused as hell. Like he genuinely doesn’t understand what’s wrong. Moron. “You said you wanted sex but not a boyfriend so I thought- it’s pretty much- it’s exactly what it is. Why are you so mad?”

The question in itself serves to drag you a little further over the edge. So much so, it clogs your brain with anguish and leaves you unable to give him an answer.

When he’s starting to talk again, maybe ask again his question, you just hung up, slamming your phone down on the carpet.

You hear it vibrate to life twice before it shuts down completely. Good. At least he knows you well enough, still, to assume rightfully so that you won’t pick up his calls anymore. Not today.

You just have the time to pack the dildo back in its bag and inside its box, throw away your tea that tastes unbearably bitter and maniacally scrub your face in an attempt to get rid of the red patches that don’t want to fucking leave before the telling high beeps of your front door’s digital lock alert you. Your face is soaking in cold water, another attempt to cool it, your face and your troubled mind.

You mean to ignore him. Dipping your head further in the filled up sink, closing your eyes tight shut hoping somehow it’ll help you push aside the calls of your name better.

For a few seconds, it works. You can’t hear him anymore. You wonder if the furious pleas you were chanting in your head could have been loud enough to make the sound of the door slamming behind him as he would have left, completely quiet.

He’s such a try-hard. You hung up on him because he’s saying batshit crazy things and his first reflex is to barge in your house again. You really need to change your lock and not tell him. You can do that. You’re an adult and you have the right to your own fucking place. It’s not a fucking benevolent stay in, for fuck's sake.

The cold water really seems to work. You feel better, light-headed, coming down after the earlier hysteria. And knowing that he’s left and won’t pursue this mess any further, for now, surely helps a lot.

Except it doesn’t last for, as soon as your face leaves the water, your hands reaching clumsily for a towel that falls magically in them, one wipe at your eyes and your worst nightmare is standing right in front of you.

“Fucking- Jungkook!” Burying your face back in the towel, drying your face as much as possible, maybe even trying for a second to suffocate yourself, you wish vainly that when you’ll take it off he would have disappeared.

He is still here though. Watching with dark eyes and a straight severe line replacing the cute button he owns for a mouth, he looks awfully serious for a guy that’s never really serious. Your towel ends up centimetres away from his face, he catches it right before it touches him. You hoped it would blind and confuse him momentarily, long enough for you to escape but of course, this guy would never miss a shot, even a surprise one.

“Why are you like this?” He asks when you try and push him from the ribs, out of the door frame. You hate that you think about it. About his chest being so hard and warm and his fucking smell of sweat that you’d recognize amongst any others (pretty easily as any other makes you gag and this one, probably because you’re a primary animal guided by hormones, leaves you dizzy and wanting). He doesn’t budge until he decides to, mercilessly stepping aside to let you through. Because you’re an idiot, you don’t think and head for the living room and it’s only once you’re there, very aware of his steps following you, that the devilish object of your discord is right fucking there, obnoxiously sitting on the middle of your coffee table. You groan and squeeze your eyes tight.

What meditation technique, an extra effective one, could you use right now before you definitely lose it and throw yourself out the window?

Before you find one, you end up clinging to the opposite wall, forehead pressed to it, back to him, in a vain attempt to suppress yourself from the situation. You might look a little insane or at best, somehow on edge, but who cares at this point?

“Jungkook, if I don’t pick up your call, do you think I want to see your face?”

“But why though?” His tone is still harsher than usual. You notice it and you notice you don’t hate it either. What a little bitch you are. If you like his usual self, with the bright smile, soft words, boisterous laugh, dainty manners, you can’t deny that this rougher version of him, genuinely pissed off as you’ve never seen him, tickles your fancy. You’re fucked. “Seriously these days you- you’re such-“

“I’m what?” You bark, swirling on your feet, expression distorted by an offence he hasn’t even made yet. You completed the sentence he’s never finished with terrible words that you’ve never heard him use talking about anyone: bitch, hysterical, cunt.

“You’re trying to pick a fight with me all the fucking time, I don’t get it!”

Now you feel terrible. You’re still bothered by the raw edges of his tone, it’s literally sending electric shocks to your lower tummy. But his eyebrows have dropped and his fiery dark eyes have turned shiny and sad, your heart hurts in your bosom.

Ugh.

You’re such a bitch.

“I’m sorry. I know I’m insufferable. I’m on my period. Sorry.” You send a mental apology to womanhood. You're just an idiot lacking imagination.

Jungkook frowns, his eyebrows dancing in all kind of ways, before they settle for an, unfortunately for you, attractive finale, one straight down, one tilt up. He stares at you, dubious.

“For three weeks. You’ve been on your period for three weeks.”

The first thing you take notes of is the fact that he dated it way shorter than you would have. Honestly, you found yourself becoming a weirdo with inappropriate feelings that reindeer you into an asshole for at least a month and a half. Before that, it was extremely tamed, totally under control. You’d just notice his handsome face and cute smiles and nice smell, thinking “oh yeah that’s right. He’s kinda attractive. How funny I never really noticed.” And slowly it progressed to not being able to handle him touching you without having something close to a panic attack.

The second thing you note is that he doesn’t believe you. His stare is insistent, turns a bit dark as he lingers, studying your own eyes with judgment in his. He’s frowning even more, looks down at the floor and sighs so deep, heartbreakingly so. He looks hurt that you’re lying and don’t want to share what's really been up with you. If only you could be a better liar.

“It happens sometimes, all women are diff-“

He just sat down on your sofa, eyes fixed on the blue box. Before you can finish your sentence, he sends you a glare that awfully looks like a threat. You shut up. He doesn’t believe you anyway. He knows you and your periods (sort of) way too well. He knows you’re in pain the first day, you’re a bit tender on the following ones and he takes it upon himself to be gentler and not try to play WWE with you on those but you don’t turn into a mean dragon. This much he knows for sure.

There’s something he’s seeking for within the box. He’s grabbed it, holds it now in between his fingertips, piercing virtual holes into it. It’s probably the answer he didn’t find in your eyes.

It makes you flush furiously. Seeing his pretty hands with his long fingers touching it. Here’s the reason, he would have caught it on your cheeks if he wasn’t so busy looking for it elsewhere.

“I really thought that- you’d like it.” He sounds so saddened. You’re caught off guard. Again. So this present wasn’t meant to be a joke. It is a genuine one. It makes sense that he’s hurt then. You’re shitting all over his gift but how could you not? How could he believe that you could just accept that for a random gift? Slowly he makes the top of the box slide up, pout sucked in in concentration, dimple out. Your heart seems to stop at that. He’s not going to take it out, is he?

He can’t take it in his hands.

You’ll die if he takes it in his hands.

Fortunately, he just opens the box, looks at the satin bag, looks at it with a pained expression as if he feels bad for the thing, then closes it back.

“The woman at the shop said that it’s one of the best ones, for starters.” He sulks like a child. Bottom lip all plumped out, shiny eyes under curved eyebrows.

Jungkook looks up at you, ultimate sad puppy look on.

“She said the size and the texture were perfect if you’ve never used one before. It wouldn’t be too... what was that again?” He asks aloud as if you’d know. And you’re mortified. On behalf of him. The concept that he’s not embarrassed right now and that he went to an actual shop, browsed through the shelves and asked an actual saleswoman for help is absolutely insane. Unbelievable if it were not for the sincerity he’s dipped in. “And I picked blue because I know you like this colour. It matches your planner, doesn’t it?” He adds as if he’s not sure when obviously he knows.

It is surprisingly very close in shade. And so what? He expected you to love it so much, take fucking aesthetic pictures with it and your planner sitting on your fake marble desktop, next to Diego the succulent? What an idiot. And for how fucking long did he talk to that woman?

Silence hangs heavy between you. You watch as he scowls some more, mumbles under his breath while staring with despair at the box.

Slowly, resolute to be the better friend you have not successfully been these past weeks (months), you leave your protecting wall. Taking a seat on the carpet, on the opposite side of the table, you do your best to ignore the blue patch invading the bottom of your vision and try to give him the softest expression you can come up with at this moment.

“Why are you so butthurt?”

His curiously perfect round eyes raise in a swift motion, pouty lips agape in a silent little gasp.

“Sorry.” You apologize before he even gets to respond because, maybe, you could try harder to be good and nice to him.

“Because it’s a present.” He starts at a very slow pace. He pauses between words like he’s addressing a dim, dim brain. And he might be honestly. But he’s one to talk. How can he not see an issue? “That I’ve looked for and bought for you. That’s why I’m butthurt, what do you mean?”

“But- since when are we buying each other-“ You need to grow up. There’s no one else but him hearing you and since your last conversation about it, when he too was embarrassed, he’s able to say it just fine apparently. Still, you whisper the following, “sex toys?”

“Since you turned twenty-five and said you were interested in it.” His right-hand raises from the box to start flapping the air and you know it means bad news. He’s upset. When he needs his hands to further accompany his speech, it means he’s a bit too taken by the conversation. And in this case, you don’t feel like it’s a good idea for him to be. “When you were fourteen and into Legos, I bought you a set of Legos.”

Hardly makes sense.

“You’re just going to pretend it’s a random present?”

“It’s not random. I put thought into it.” His eyes are digging up intensively in your own. It might be desperation that leads you to remain still, allow him to look. Hopefully, he won’t dig deep enough to find stuff he shouldn’t. “Why do you hate it? I thought- I don’t know- you’re a- flourished single woman and-“

Flourished? Really? The words don’t come out of your mouth but he reads them on your face and an adorable smile cracks open the mask of gravity.

“Jungkook.” You owe him an effort. Maybe you should look into why it requires an act of inhuman courage for you to admit your shame. It might be because if he were anyone else, you’d be embarrassed by the present for five seconds because clearly, you’re still half of a fucking child but soon enough, you’d probably be enchanted by the thing. Who doesn’t need a good sex toy? You definitely do. You thought about getting one for a long while but never got to it for some reasons and here’s one offered to you (in a very pretty shade of baby blue).

The thing is you don’t think about anyone sexually except for him (and his friend Jimin, once in a while, just by curiosity because the guy is a very sexual being). If you don’t even consider them in this light, you don’t have to think about them using it, do you? But he’s all you think about, unfortunately. And you’re friends. And it feels like one step closer to your fantasy while simultaneously one step closer to betrayal. And he certainly is not offering you this wishing for you to keep close in mind the fact that this is his. His present. He knows about it. Maybe can think of you using it and liking it without any further implications. Because obviously, it’s not like that for him. “It's awkward. How can you not see that.”

“Is it? What is?”

“First of all, we don’t- we- don’t even talk about... it. And suddenly you’re buying me- this?”

“Yeah, I realized that too!” It’s too much enthusiasm. Eyes too big and hands not leaving the air. You can already guess his next sentence. It’s probably going to be a terrible suggestion. “I talk about sex all the time with the guys,” Your eyebrows jump to your hairline at that. You’re not even that surprised but the formulation could probably be fixed. “and you talk about it with your girls, right? But we’ve known each other the longest and we never talk about it. Isn’t it fucked up?”

“I wouldn’t say ‘fucked up’-”

“Well, I would. I am.”

“Don’t you- don’t you see that you’re a boy and coincidentally you can easily talk about it with the guys who happen to be boys and I am a girl, right? And I-“ Who would have thought? It took you fifteen years to finally be giving him the beginning of the talk about the birds and the bees. You would have given it to him sooner if you’d have known how far behind he’s been.

“But what if I need girl advice-“

“I’m sure Jimin knows a whole lot about girls, Jeon.”

“From a girl point of view. Real girl advice.”

“Jungkook-“

“If I ask what the G spot exactly feels like, what-“

“Jungkook!”

He’s amused, the fucker. He’s not as clueless as he sounds. But the crooked grin on his face is too telling. He might just be messing with you. Usually, when he’s just playing he wouldn’t insist so much, he wouldn’t take the conversation this far so surely, there are some genuine intentions. However, he's still having way too much fun.

With his frowned nose, and squinting shiny orbs and stupid bunny teeth.

“You’re just embarrassed, aren’t you?” You might have terribly loud red streaks painting your cheeks that you try naively to cover with your hands. He can see it all and silently, he nods his head, looking like he’s reached the final touch of his experiment. “How? What happened to the teenage girl who spent her nights writing dirty stories about Harry Styles?”

Horror.

How the fuck-

“How the fuck do you know about that?”

“You showed me!” He defends, hands high above in the air like a soccer player claiming innocence. “You did! You don’t remember?” No, you don’t. But you can tell he’s not lying. Apparently, young you was quite the fearless bitch.

What happened indeed?

Years happened. A growing sense of self-preservation along with them. Undesired feelings for an idiot with a bunny smile. An inappropriate sense of shame along with those.

“Anyway. So it’s a bribe for girl advice?” You ask, chin pointing to the box. Jungkook looks down on it, drums his fingertips lightly on the top before he looks up, beaming.

“Sort of.” Shrugging, he adds with a shifty eye that telltales a certain vulnerable sincerity. “I just wish for us to be able to share everything. Be comfortable like before.”

“Before what?” He stares for a long time, mouth shut. He then blinks the moment away and for the first time, you might believe ever, Jungkook looks like he might have a secret too.

“Just before. Back in the days, I mean.” He simply explains. His attention is back on the stupid box. He’s staring at the rose on top of it. Fingers playing with the corner of it.

“Back in your old days.”

“You’re older than me. So you really don’t want it?” Here he comes again with the sad puppy face. Why would it be breaking his dumb little heart to refuse a dildo from him? What kind of insane parallel universe is this? “Is it like a 'men are fine but little Jeon Jungkookie still has cooties so I can’t accept his present, it’s gross'?”

“Something like that.”

“Oh.” Defeated, he sighs. Another one of those soul-harming sighs. “Fine. I’ll get it refunded and you’ll buy yourself something else with the money then.”

Is he really going to make you do that?

As if the question is even to be raised. He can make you do anything.

“No, Guk, sorry. It’s fine. Sorry.” You start, hands clasping over the box you drag your side of the table. The only way you can do it is if you don’t actively think about what’s inside. “I’ll keep it. Sorry.”

“So you kind of want it?” He is grinning from one ear to the other. You can feel him giddy and excited, kind of jumpy on his seat and really, you don’t see any difference with the excitement he portrays each time he gets you any kind of presents and you tell him that you like it.

“I won’t use it.” It’s almost a threat. Eyes squinted in severe slits, index finger millimetres away from poking his eye. “It’s a gift so I won’t make you get a refund, that’s rude but- I won’t use it.” After a second of seemingly deep reflection, he breaks out in his loud, annoying boyish laughter. Eyes watery at the corners and hands clapping like a stupid seal. “I’m serious!”

“Sure.” He’s still cackling, the idiot. “But you should. The lady said it’s a best seller too.”

“Great. I don’t care.”

He has his eyebrows high, a twitch in his wide grin, and the amused black orbs. He doesn’t believe you one bit. “Course, you don’t.”

The idea that he sincerely expects you to use it might drive your delusional brain for a loop. He just wants to be the best gift-giver, the best Santa, and wants you to make good use of whatever he's got you. But how can he not consider that you could not use something like that, to pleasure yourself, when it’s directly related to him, your best friend? It’s weird as hell. It can’t be just weird to you.

Unfortunately, there’s no one you can come up with the question to have them agree with you. You already know what the girls will say. They’re even worse than you when it comes to Jeon Jungkook and your ambiguous (on your side solely) friendship. They’ll say the ship is sailed and start buying themselves bridesmaid matching dresses.

They don’t understand. It’s not like they’ve grown up with someone like him. Someone rather simple, authentic and kind, so much so, so much more than most people, that it turns him complicated because so different from other humans you can meet. There’s nothing to be read in between the lines with him. It’s always lovingly honest, blatant, generous.

He doesn’t mean anything else behind the gift besides a “have a good one!”.

And you didn’t mean anything else but the truth when you said you wouldn’t use it.

At the moment, anyway, you meant it.

A/N: hoping it makes sense and is not too raw, edited it at midnight TT; may i manifest a sugar daddy that would pay me to stay home and write fanfiction for you guys all day :). i really hope you like it, and hope also that you can handle the secondhand embarrassement because even i struggled. let me know what you think of the series so far, sending everyone reading this an infinite amount of virtual kisses and hugs, take care of yourself, love yourself and others a lot, BYEE.

tag list: @moon-asia @btstrasht @jkbangtan7 @taehugger @kaepjjangiya @daggerbeneathmygown @cuteipat @jinsalpaca

PLEASE ASK TO BE TAGGED IN THE COMMENT FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER! TY <3

#btswriterscollective #networkbangtan #ggukienet #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #my writing

331 notes · View notes