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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

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Portrait of a Dangerous Man🎨4

Warnings: (series) non-consent sex and rape; slow creep; cucking; (this chapter) only plot hehe

This is dark!mob!Clark Kent x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: Your dream of having your work hung in an art show comes true but your first buyer is not all he seems to be.

Note: I’m at my tipping point, I swear. I’m dealing with everything in our household, new bed (delayed delivery yay!), cleaning, cooking, dog walking, and working. My only escape are my fics and this weekend I’m telling everyone to fuck off so I can do the writeathon... but sorry for the rant, enjoy more Clark.

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Wednesday trickled by like sand in a glass. You could hardly keep your eyes open as you typed away and a double espresso shot was the only thing that saw you through your hours at the gallery. Vanessa was excited for her next event and already asking after some new pieces from you. You promised her some from your storage unit to stave her off as you held in your yawns.

You collapsed into bed that night beside Marcus. He complained about his day until he drifted off and you followed suit shortly after. You awoke with a decision, the echoes of your boyfriend’s gripes in your head and heart. You hated how miserable his job made him, how dull your own was. It felt like there was nothing else but the almighty dollar.

You called Clark after an email to Jim, your nerves alight in anticipation of the disgruntled reply. It didn’t matter. You were done. You didn’t need to worry about the all caps messages and curt zoom calls.

“Hey,” Clark picked up, he sounded out of breath.

“Oh, hey, sorry, it’s me,” you swiveled in your chair, “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

“Nope, just getting in a work out,” he grunted, “you’re not bugging me if you have good news for me.”

“I think… I do,” you forced out, “I just sent in my resignation.”

“Mmm, you don’t sound… happy,” he hummed.

“I am, I think I’m just processing it,” you replied, “I said I’d let you know today so I’m letting you know.”

“Well, how soon can you be here?” he asked.

“Today?”

“Sure, why not?”

“I guess, I could leave as soon as you want me,” you said.

“I’ll send a car,” he intoned, “I’ll give the driver your number, if you don’t mind.”

“Yeah,” your voice almost squeaked, “I can do that.”

“Alright, sweetheart, see ya soon.”

The line cut out and you lowered your phone slowly. You stared at Outlook and the new email icon along the taskbar. You closed the laptop and stood. You could worry about the fallout later, right now, you had to get ready for another day of painting.

🎨

It was starting to feel like deja vu every time you arrived at Clark’s house. You got out and thanked the drive, Jeremy, before he drove off. The doors opened before you got to the top of the steps and your host was already dressed in the same outfit he wore for each session. His hair was neat but his beard was even thicker than before.

“I think you can tell I’m a little antsy to start,” he chuckled, “how are you, sweetheart?”

That pet name caught in your mind again. It might just be a habit of his. Nothing more than an absent-minded word.

“Me too, honestly,” you smiled, “but I have a weird question for you.”

“Ask away,” he said as he walked with you through the foyer.

“The beard… you want that in the portrait or--”

“Oh, ha, yeah,” he ran his fingers along his jawline, “I guess I wasn’t thinking. You’re the artist, what do you think?”

“Well, erm, either way is fine,” you said, “I was just… wondering. I’m not even close to starting on, uh, you yet. I mean, right now I’m just working on the background and basic shapes.”

“I’ll let you make the call when you get there,” he said, “say the word and it’s gone.”

“Alright,” you came to the top of the stairs and he pointed you ahead of him.

He followed you as you entered and you went about filling the jar with water and resituating the set up. He sat as you mixed and chose your brush. You climbed the ladder and peered around the canvas at him. He took on the same pose as usual and you dipped the bristles into the pigment. You could make a happy life of this.

🎨

Clark shifted and cleared his throat. You rolled your wrist and glanced back over at him as you drew your hand back from the canvas. He braced the chair and pushed himself up.

“How about a break?” he asked as he shook out his arms, “back’s a bit stiff.”

“Sure,” you said, “I think I could sit down for a moment.”

You took a step down the rung of the ladder but your toe slipped and suddenly your palette was against your chest. You slid down backwards as Clark rushed over and barely kept you from toppling the entire thing over. You laughed at yourself as he righted you and looked down at your paint-streaked shirt.

“Jesus,” you muttered.

“You okay?” he asked as he kept his hand on your upper arm, “be careful.”

“Yeah, I’m-- clumsy, is all,” you carefully pulled away and set down your brush and palette.

“Come on, sit,” he pulled up the stool and planted it before you, “take a minute.”

As you sat, he stretched his arms over his head and then out to the sides. He paced around the other side of the table, long strides as he worked the cramps from his long legs. He stopped and came up to play with a brush as you leaned an elbow on the table.

“Well, I did have another offer for you,” he said, “I was thinking of waiting but might as well ask now.”

“Oh?” you raised your brows curiously.

He swished a slender brush in the air then lowered it and picked at the tip.

“I’m having a get together on Saturday, some business friends and the like,” he said as he set the brush back with the rest, “it won’t be work. You’ve earned some time off. You can even bring the boyfriend.”

“Saturday?” you pondered, “I’m usually at the gallery on Saturdays.”

“It would be great networking,” he said, “and I already told all my friends about you. They’re excited to see your work. It will almost be like a viewing and it’s only right the artist is there.”

“I could make it work,” you mulled, “Marcus would love to come back.” You snickered, “he loves this place.”

“It’s a nice house,” he said casually, “a bit big for one person… hence, the party.”

“I’ll put it in my calendar,” you stood and slid your palette closer and cleaned it off to remix the mess of paints.

“Great,” he said as he rounded the table and brushed close to you, “it’ll be nice to look at a mug besides mine, huh?”

You laughed as you squeezed out the dark paint and nodded, “ha, sure.”

🎨

The rest of your week was spent much the same. Jeremy drove you to Clark’s and you went up to the studio to continue your work between small talk and silences that grew so thick you had to break them with mindless comments. It wasn’t enough to focus on the path of your brush as the man tugged at your attention.

Marcus was excited when you told him about the party. He raved about how he needed to let loose, about how much expensive alcohol he was going to drink, and the awesome backflip he was gonna do into the pool. You reminded him, he hadn’t done anything like that since college but he swore he could still do it.

You didn’t share the sentiment. You were anxious. You were flattered to be invited but despite what Clark said, it still felt like work. His friends were going to be there and he apparently was trying to sell them on your art.

You didn’t realise until after you hit send on your email, but you put your livelihood in this man’s hands. A man, you reminded yourself, who was little more than a stranger.

On Friday, a day you were thankfully not called to the mansion to teeter on the ladder and paint, the buzzer rang and drew you off the couch from amid your YouTube binge. The man on the speaker called back that he had a delivery and you let him up. You took the box from him, the thick silver ribbon giving away the sender even before you could read the tag.

Inside you found a black dress with little gemstones set into the fabric like stars in the sky. It was nicer than anything you’d ever owned before and a pair of silver shoes were tucked in beneath the outfit. You took the shoes from the tissue paper and something else shifted in the bottom.

You reached in and revealed a velvet box from the depths of overzealous stuffing. You opened the lid and found a simple chain of diamonds. You gaped in disbelief. They were real. The fake ones didn’t look so nice.

You phone chimed before you could even think to call Clark. It was as if he could see you. You answered and your voice warbled pathetically.

“Hi, I was just gonna call,” you touched your throat as it constricted.

“Yeah? I got the notification that it was delivered,” he said, “you like it?”

“It’s too much,” you gulped out, “really, I can’t--”

“I want you to look nice. I want you to feel good and have a good time,” he said, “I feel like you’ve been working so hard. You need a chance to just let it all go.”

“Look, I…” you were uncertain how to handle it. It was more than generosity but you felt wrong denying it as much as you did accepting it, “I’ve never had a boss buy me diamonds. At least let me give those back.”

“Boss?” he mused on the word, “I suppose, but you gotta dress the part now, sweetheart. You’re gonna rub shoulders with a lot of rich dicks like me. Pardon my language.”

“I didn’t realise it was such an upscale thing,” you put the velvet box down and turned to sit on the couch beside the large box. You played with the silver ribbon and chewed your lip.

“Sweetheart, it’s nothing, you got this,” he said, “trust me, if you can win me over, my friends will be child’s play.”

“Mhmmm,” you stared at the tv mindlessly, “Clark?”

“Yeah?”

“Why are you doing all this?”

There was silence and you heard him sigh then a subtle metallic click.

“Because I can. And you’re a talented artist. Didn’t all the big painters used to have patrons back in the day? You know, Da Vinci and all that.”

“Sure, I guess--”

“Look, sweetheart, I’m glad you like the dress, I gotta go.”

He hung up abruptly and you turned your phone to stare at it in confusion. You were starting to get a bad feeling and that little voice in that back of your head, that little sabotaging bitch, whispered in your ear. No, you wouldn’t let your self-doubt get the best of you this time. You either grabbed this chance or you spent the rest of your life doing menial work and painting the world as it passed you by.

🎨

Friday night, Marcus couldn’t stop rambling about the party the next day. You just couldn’t get over the tickle in your chest, the same one you got before job interviews and doctor’s appointments. You were on edge, even as you spent your stress on him, your body writhing against his as you panted and pouted. It had been a while since you fucked. All the work and the stress had just let things slip past you. Maybe with your new gig, you could get back to those early days when it was all you wanted to do.

You slept soundly. You blamed the sex and the momentous week. You got up, had a lazy brunch time meal, and beat Marcus at MarioKart several times over before he convinced you it was time to get ready.

You pulled on the gifted outfit after fighting with your make-up and hair. You gave a little tada spin to Marcus and he lifted his brow as he tried to figure out his tie.

“Wow, where’d you get that?” he purred, “fuck, let’s be late.”

He ran his hands over your hips as you neared him and fixed his tie for him. You giggled and planted a kiss on his lips.

“Jeremy’s on his way,” you warned, “I don't wanna bite the hand that feeds.”

“Oh, and it feeds you well,” Marcus chirped, “you think he’ll let me have a spin in the McClaren?”

“Maybe, but I wouldn’t. I don’t need to scrape you off the side of the road,” you took your phone as the screen lit up, “come on, he’s here.”

“Fuck, babe, really, you’re gonna make me follow you out of here with your ass looking like that?”

“Stop,” you tittered, “you know, there might be more sellers tonight?”

“Oh yeah? I guess you’ll be paying a mortgage soon enough.”

“Me?” you scoffed.

“Sure, I’ll be your sugar baby,” he kidded.

“Well, baby is accurate,” you teased as you stepped onto the elevator, “please, just behave.”

🎨

You were surprised to see Vanessa at the party but reassured to see a familiar face. Clark had been distracted by his other guests and you did your best to mingle, letting Marcus take the lead until he was distracted by another guest’s Rolex and started asking too many questions. If you did start selling art to these kinds, you suspected you’d be paying for a lot of overpriced brands. That was a worry for another time.

You stood with Vanessa and a man she introduced you to. Bruce Wayne was tall and his dark-hair was combed back neatly as he spoke over the glass of wine in his hand. You were bored of the Monet-Manet argument, one you’d heard a million times from the stubborn gallery owner, and you were at your limit of socialisation.

You excused yourself and put down your unfinished drink on a table. You looked around but couldn’t see Marcus anywhere. The last you saw him, he was with Clark but you couldn’t find him either. You frowned and wandered between the pairs and trios gabbing around the room.

Just past the bar, you looked back and still no sign of either man. You huffed and your heels clicked into the foyer and to the stairs. You’d go to the studio and sit for a moment and collect yourself. You just needed to take a breath.

You climbed the stairs slowly, the din of the party floating up behind you. You came to the top but stopped as your eyes were drawn to a pair of open doors opposite the studio. You neared and stayed against the wall as you peeked inside. Marcus admired an old-six shooter and spun the barrel.

“You got everything, man, I swear,” you hid behind the door frame and listened.

“Eh, it’s all just things,” Clark replied, “I bought that from an auctioneer down in Texas. A verified antique but it just hangs here. Not good for much but looking at it.”

“Dude, what I wouldn’t do to live here? Have cool guns and even cooler cars? Shit, you know how fucked it is that my lady is making bank and I’m over here with my dick in my hands? I mean, I’m proud of her but… I mean, if I could get paid thousands for drawing, I would’ve tried to learn.”

“She’s good. Dedicated,” Clark remarked, “she’s special. Worth more than money.”

Marcus hummed and you heard the barrel click back into the place. Neither of the men spoke as you heard something shift and Clark cleared his throat. Subtle footsteps moved around the room and you pressed yourself to the wall. You should leave and let them talk but you couldn’t help but be curious.

“Isn’t she?” Clark prodded.

“Y-yeah, but… I don’t know. I just wish I had more,” Marcus said, “I probably sound like a chump, huh?”

“You can’t have it all,” Clark replied.

“Says the guy who can buy anything and everything,” Marcus moped.

“Oh?” Clark intoned, “so… how about it then? Fifty thousand.”

“For what?” Marcus chuckled nervously.

“Her,” Clark answered.

“Her-- I… my girlfriend?” he sputtered.

“If money can buy me anything, that’s what I want,” Clark said firmly, “it’s a one time offer… whether or not you agree to it, I’m gonna fuck her.”

You skin crawled at his words and you covered your mouth in disgust and shock. You inched closer to the door to hear better as you waited for the response.

“One hundred,” Marcus said.

“Seventy-five,” Clark countered.

“That’s my girlfriend, dude,” Marcus hissed.

“And yet you’re haggling with me over her. Eighty.”

You tore yourself from the wall before you could hear anymore. You felt hollow and heavy all at once. Your eyes were glossy as you scurried over to the studio doors and pushed the left one open. You unhooked the diamond necklace and tossed it onto the paint-stained palette and rolled up your brushes.

You stormed over blindly to the easel and pushed it over. It clattered to the floor loudly but you were already out the door and halfway down the stairs. You gripped your clutch and the bundle of paintbrushes tightly as you continued on outside and the blurred outlines of luxury cars passed you by.

You stomped up the long drive in your heels as you flicked away tears and pulled out your phone. You knew it was too good to be true. Any of it; your art, Clark, Marcus. You weren’t good for anyone unless they could get something out of you.

#clark kent #dark clark kent #dark!clark kent #clark kent x reader #fic #series #dark fic #dark!fic #superman #portrait of a dangerous man #dc #dcu #mob au #au #mob!au

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ohmysparkle · 3 years

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🌙 Part I

🌙 Pairing: Jung Jaehyun (NCT) x Reader, Johnny (NCT) x Reader

🌙 Genre: Angst, Soulmate au

🌙 Word count: 3K

🌙 Warnings: the sadness of it all!!! Drinking, mentions of abandonment and cheating, mental illness and bad coping.

🌙 Series Masterlist

🌙 Note: This series was sparked by an ask from my first account. It’s been collecting dust for a few months, but I’ve always had the intention of finishing it!! It’s been slightly rewritten.

🌙 Tag List: @justineasian

Life was…

Well, something.

Sometimes you would say it was horrible. Horribly lonely, horribly difficult, horribly pathetic. Sometimes you would say it wasn’t worth living. Sometimes you looked back on all of the milestones in your life that brought you to where you were and you’d say it wasn’t worth it all. But then, you had one thing in this complicated life that sometimes made life with living.

One thing, one person: your soulmate. Now, everyone had theirs. Everyone was destined to meet them at least once. Most of the time, they spent their lives together, in love and union. Other times, they would meet at the wrong time and place, or already be enamoured with others. Regardless, you looked forward to meeting yours, and you mustered the strength to start every day with a smile, just in case today was that day.

Some people described meeting your soulmate as a sort of ping in their mind, others as if the world was colorless before and then became full of color, some even said it was like a magnetic force pulled them towards each other. Something would happen that would make you undeniably certain that you had met them - something monumental.

You felt giddy and giggled at the thought of what you would feel. Would today be that day? When you finally had someone beside you, someone to build a home with? ‘Could I be that lucky today?’

Maybe you were too focused on it. You longed for it. It was the answer to everything you had ever asked for. Love - which had been so absent in your life, had been a difficult thing to find. For years now, without your parents, you had been lonely and searching for someone you could feel loved and protected by. Perhaps that led you to so desperately and easily throw yourself into the arms of the wrong men, assuming that the most superficial things meant true love, meant happiness and security. When the veil of your enthusiasm, and your ignorance, finally peeled back, reality would crash down on you - leaving you feeling betrayed, hurt, and worst of all stupid.

Maybe you shouldn’t excite yourself so much over the prospect of your soulmate? What if it was just another heartbreak? You’d heard these stories before - it could happen. People aren’t born a certain way, they become a certain way as they live life, as they live as their own selves and it was possible to stray so much from your original self that the love you were destined for at birth was no longer fated to be.

Maybe, just maybe, you should have prepared yourself better for that horrible, horrible outcome.

As you had just begun attending university, you had slowly acquainted yourself with the campus. Today of all days, you decided to sit down at an unassuming coffee shop that rested in what seemed to have once been a residential house. The tables were plentiful among rooms strewn with books and old furniture, there was a stale scent from the old paper and wood, matched with some sweet brewing chai and rich coffee. It wasn’t too full, moderately quiet. You thought it would be a nice replacement to your usual table at the library.

You snake through the tables and bulky chairs as you try to find the perfect spot, your hips occasionally grazing the furniture, when -

“Excuse me, you dropped this.” Someone says as you’re nearing a table, and as you turn to see the stranger holding up your student ID, you feel it.

A dizzying, pleasant sensation that elevated your senses to a new standard. Everything seemed brighter, clearer, more vivid, and it all drove you to him, his eyes, his face, his voice, even his scent. Whatever it was, he could feel it too, as his eyes went wide while looking into yours. It was like you were absorbing everything in your surroundings with every fiber of your being, but all of it began, and concluded, in your perception of him.

You slightly dipped backward from the intensity of it all, your knees going weak from the sudden onslaught of feelings, but he caught you in his arms, and it felt so right. Your ears rang, and at some moment, which you hardly perceived, both of you were sitting down on a small couch that he had steered you towards.

It took a moment for the two of you to regain your senses, and naturally you looked towards each other.

“I’m Y/n.” You finally say, looking at him with a beaming smile… until… he casts his eyes downward.

“What’s your name?” you finally ask him. Had his resolve been stronger, he would have resisted the sweetness in your voice. He would have ignored you, he should have left you.

“Jaehyun.” He finally says. It’s all he says, he has already said one word too many.

“Jaehyun. I like that name.” He was probably feeling nervous, you reason, he most likely is at a loss of words.

“Look, Y/n.” He says while abruptly getting up and standing in front of you. “I know what we just felt means we’re soulmates, but I can’t do this. I don’t want to do this. And look, this isn’t about you, you’re probably a nice girl, but you should just forget this happened and go find yourself someone who actually wants to love you.”

And after that rant, which left you completely frozen and baffled, he left.

He just left.

As if you had dreamed him up and he hadn’t even been there in the first place - he was gone.

You didn’t understand. It didn’t make sense. You were still dumbfounded and after that encounter you had been so distraught that you just headed home. After hours of replaying the scenario over and over again in your mind, you finally settled to cry over it until you fell asleep.

Your only conclusion was to find him. You needed to see him again, talk to him, and reason with him. What had been so wrong about him meeting you that he abandoned you like that? He abandoned you as if you meant nothing to him.

It’s odd now, that after meeting your soulmate you felt so lost. It was a bit stupid on your end; every day went on to the next based on the hope that you would meet the one, but it never occurred to you to think beyond. What comes after?

There was no splendid meeting, no love at first sight, only rejection. What else was there for you to look forward to? What happens now?

So, after that, waking up in the mornings went back to what they used to be. One horrible day after the other, mustering the strength to start the day with a smile, just in case today was that day when you’d meet your soulmate - for the second time. It would have been worse to surrender to the fate that you’d never see him again, because then the days would become voids; nothingness heading toward nothingness.

It’s funny how you measure time. Time is energy, energy forcing yourself to get up and live, energy spent and consumed, replenished with food and drink and sleep, and then all over again, like a battery draining and recharging itself. Except there is no purpose to this energy, it was just existence.

It was actually three days. A dozen or so cycles of your ups and downs, and on one dreary walk to a campus cafeteria to grab lunch, just when your energy was about to deplete, you saw him.

It was like a bolt of lightning shot through you and you were awake again, aroused from the limbo. He didn’t see you, he was at a table with his friends, and you still don’t know if it was the connection that blindly led you to him, or your need for answers, or just the desire to see if he would accept you the second time around. Nonetheless you approached, stubbornly.

One of his friends noticed you first, handsome, and he nudged the one sitting beside him with a suggestive raise of his eyebrows, a sort of ‘check her out’.

“Can I help you with anything cutie?” Says the first young man.

“Um… I need to talk to him.” You answer, meekly pointing towards Jaehyun who sat near the pair.

“Oh, do we have a date?” Said the second, teasing and flirting.

“No, I need to speak to Jaehyun.” You say a little more loudly, and at this, his eyes raise from the notebook he was preoccupied with, and again they go wide. It was as if time froze when he looked at you, and as he stayed frozen in place his friends gradually caught on to the strange interaction.

“Jaehyun, can we please talk?” You say again, firmly and resolute. It took a shake from a third young man who sat beside him for him to finally react.

“No, sorry.” He said as he buried his nose back into his notes. His third friend looked up at you in confusion and sympathy, and it was obvious that some of his friends had been taken aback by his abrupt tone. But you stood your ground.

“Jaehyun, you and I should speak.” You surprised yourself with the steadiness of your tone since you felt your emotions begin to build up. The heat spread upwards from your neck to your face. After years of being cast aside, these situations no longer made you feel small or saddened, but the anger still managed to escape from you. Indignation - this wasn’t right. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

And yet here you begged.

Jaehyun simply acted like you weren’t there. You gave him a few seconds, the same third friend leaned into his ear to insist that he “say something”, but Jaeyun acted as if nothing was happening. Others at the table looked at you with a bit of pity, another thing that made you angry. It all made you furious.

“You can pretend all you want that I’m not here, but we both know perfectly well that you shouldn’t be avoiding this. At least have the decency to talk to me, you coward.” The tears stung at your eyes and your voice began to pitch upward and shake as your words progressed. Frustration, anger, rejection. The words were spit out like venom, and before they could see a single droplet of the pain spill from your eyes, you had left.

But at night, after you went home and kept crying, it was that same old sadness and smallness that absorbed you.

How many days had or hadn’t you slept by now?

You didn’t count.

How many classes had you missed?

No idea.

Meals and water?

Sometimes when you felt like you needed them, other times when you just felt like it; be it less or more. Drunkenness and candy highs. Hunger and coffee. No decent meals to be seen though. Water on occasion.

You’d been going to the nearby 7-11 so often that a couple of cashiers knew your name by memory now, memorized from your ID. They’d throw you a concerned look when they watched you walk out with nothing but junk food and alcohol, sometimes at unreasonable hours.

It’s during one of these supply runs, when you’re sipping wine from the bottle while walking back to your apartment on a particularly hot afternoon, that someone stops you.

“Hey! Hey, excuse me! Hey!” You can hear someone running behind you. Oh goodness, this is not something you’re looking forward to. Why can’t this wine just be drunk in peace?

You don’t even turn to meet the source of the voice, instead, you find him running around to your front to stand face to face with you and cut off your path.

“Hey! You’re Y/n, right?” He asks breathlessly. You slurp some wine from the bottle, holding it flimsily from its neck while your other arm carries another bag full of more depression supplies.

“Yes.” You answer, regretting you were not yet tipsy. He looks a bit concerned at your state. A stained tank top with a strap hanging off of your shoulder, worn out denim shorts and flip flops, a careless bundle of hair. Sure, it was a reasonable look for the hot afternoon, but in your current disposition, he could tell you weren’t doing well.

“Can we talk somewhere?” He asks with worry.

“No.” Goodness, just move out of my way. You begin to walk past him but he backtracks so he’s still in front of you and he grabs you by your arms.

“Please, it’s about Jaehyun.” He finally says. You wanted to say no, but something compelled you to agree. No, nothing really compelled you, it was more just the ease of agreeing. You didn’t have the energy in you to fight back.

“Fine. Come along.” You say, moving to continue the short walk towards your apartment building, on which he wordlessly trails behind you.

Despite your current humor, your apartment managed to stay clean. It looked neat, tidy, cozy, like it belonged to someone in better spirits. That was something that Jaehyun’s friend found entirely surprising.

“Sit.” You gestured toward the small living room while setting your bag on the kitchen counter, not once letting go of your wine bottle. His friend sat, and wondered how to best approach the subject at hand.

“You’re his soulmate, aren’t you?” His friend suddenly asks and you chuckle before bringing the bottle up to your lips again. “I - I’m sorry that’s not how I should have started out.”

“You’re right.” You simply state.

“I’m Johnny.”

“Hi Johnny.”

“Look, I know this sounds weird, but I felt like I needed to talk to you. Jae sometimes… he’s difficult.” Johnny sighs, “I kinda guessed what had happened and I felt like someone needed to tell you about it.”

“Shouldn’t he be telling me about ‘it’?” You reply flatly. Standing before him, looking down at the tall man, you begin to feel a bit regretful of your coldness towards him. He didn’t seem ill-intentioned, and the more you looked at him and puzzled together his reason for approaching you, you assumed he’d been there to extend a bit of an olive branch. You sighed too, and Johnny saw the firmness in your posture soften a bit. It surprised him though, that you sat beside him, and his heart broke a little as he saw your downcast eyes.

“What do you need to tell me?” You ask in the softest of voices.

“I tried to talk to Jae about it… about why you came up to him the way you did and why he ignored you like that.” You hum in response, letting him know you were listening.

“At first I thought you were just another one of those girls.” He continues, “But Jaehyun had seemed different for a while so I asked him about you.”

“What do you mean ‘another one of those girls’?”

“Well, Jae’s pretty popular… and he’s got a bit of a reputation.”

“I’ve never heard about him before.” You reply, “I just started studying here.”

“Well, maybe it’s best if you hear it from me then. But Jaehyun, he’s not good - I mean he is a good person - he just… does bad things sometimes.”

“… Johnny?” you ask after a while of silence.

“Someone hurt him, really bad. It was the first time he had fallen in love, she was his first everything… and she was sleeping around with people behind his back the entire time, but Jaehyun caught her. She claimed that the guy she was sleeping with that time was her ‘soulmate’, and that it was a moment of passion, but she was going to tell him… just a bunch of excuses…”

“And?”

“Turns out he wasn’t… just another guy she was sleeping with. It took him a while to piece the entire story together, but you can guess how he felt about it.”

“Oh.” You still don’t look at Johnny.

“The way he treated you… it isn’t about you. He’s spent the last couple of years breaking one heart after the other. He just can’t love - and it’s his way of getting back at her, I guess.” Johnny grabs your shoulder and turns to look at you but your eyes still avoid his. “He’s not a bad person. I tried talking to him but he never listens, he knows he’s not right but I’ll try to make him listen, I promise.”

You begin to cry, curling into yourself and Johnny can’t help but hug you. You let him. It only felt natural.

“I waited for this my entire life..” You sob with a cracking and hideous voice, and with awfully wet sniffles. “This isn’t fair! He could love me and you’re telling me he’s just too mean to! It’s not fair.”

“You’re right, and I’m sorry, I promise I’ll talk to him. For you.” His words were reassuring, but you found more comfort in the gesture of it all. Johnny - who you had just met - was Jaehyun’s friend, but at that moment he felt like he was yours.

He stayed there for a while, rubbing and patting your back. You could tell it wasn’t the first time he had tried to mend the broken hearts Jaehyun had left behind.

You lifted your head up, meeting his eyes just inches away from his face. Your cheeks and lashes wet, your face hot and eyes red. He couldn’t help but swipe the tears away with his thumb, and your natural reaction was to lean your face into his palm.

“Thank you, Johnny.” you tell him once he’s stepping out of your apartment, “Thank you for everything.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll talk to him, I promise you.” He sends you one final solemn smile before turning to head out.

It’s odd that now, after meeting your soulmate's best friend, you didn’t feel so lost.

#nct angst #nct jaehyun angst #nct Johnny angst #nct imagines #nct au

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get-shiggy-with-it · 3 years

Text

Ch. 4

18 + Minors DNI Please Check Rules Before You Follow

Pairing: Tomura Shigaraki x fem!Reader (brief reference to Dabi x Hawks)

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: smut, allusion to nausea (once), brief sacrilegious language (dabi), mentions of alcohol (dabi), mentions of smoking (dabi), dabi is just a whole warning of his own, gender neutral pronouns for reader, fem cause they're called a woman as an insult, Shiggy is an asshole, grinding, degradation,

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6

Summary: In which a project is completed and a new one begins

AO3 Mirror

Taglist: @dillybuggg (shoot me an ask if you want to be tagged)

Your project was almost complete.

In some ways, it sort of felt like the end of an era. To Tomura, who was a creature of habit by nature, it was doubly strange to imagine no longer spending hours a few days each week locked away in your little study room with you bugging him to teach you simple html and him not-so-discreetly sniffing your hair.

He still hadn’t asked you out or whatever he’d been trying to do, much to Dabi’s chagrin. And because of this, Tomura was consistently plagued with the feeling of time running out.

You were supposed to meet today for probably the last time seeing as the presentation was coming up at the end of the week. He knew it was now or never at this point. If he didn’t fucking say something now, he never would and then he’d have to live with the same his roommate wouldn’t let him live down.

So instead of heading directly to the library after class, Tomura took the old route back to his apartment and shot you a quick text—praying to the fucking boner gods, as Dabi called them, that you’d take the bait.

would you mind putting the finish touches on shit at my place?—

there’s some parts i gotta do from my desktop—

That wasn’t completely a lie. It was nicer working from his pc setup, but before he wouldn’t have let you come anywhere fucking near there. Not until he’d finally accepted that you’d wormed your way into his brain somehow and he couldn’t live another day not knowing what your tongue tasted like.

bitch (endearing):

—no problem

—what’s your address?

Tomura’s heart fucking pounded mercilessly against the bony prison of his ribs. It wasn’t like he was a stranger to some good old fashioned anxiety, but he’d never felt a strange stirring in his stomach quite like this. Like he might puke, but in a good way.

He quickly sent back his street and apartment number, and waited on the corner until you texted back that you’d be there in an hour before he rushed inside.

“What the hell are you doing, creep?!” Dabi snapped at him when he burst through the door and yeeted his backpack onto the kitchen table.

Tomura didn’t answer, just made a beeline for the bathroom and slammed the door. He doused himself in record time, unbothered by the hot water causing red, patchy flare ups to bloom over his skin. He was almost disgusted with himself for putting in this much effort for someone like you. Someone being definitely kind of a slut if the way you dressed was a good indicator. But he just kept thinking about the way your hair or skin smelled so goddamn good when you leaned in close and he wanted you to be obsessed with him in the same way. Wanted you to want to bury your face in his neck and breath him in.

When he stumbled out into the hall moments later, towel drying his hair roughly, Dabi was taking a shot over the sink.

He looked at Tomura like hell had frozen over.

“Two showers in like a month?” he mused, sucking his teeth as the alcohol slid down his throat. “What’s the occasion? The fucking, second coming of Christ?”

“Well the bitch is coming over so…”

“Oh, that is a fucking miracle,” Dabi whistled and knocked back a second shot.

Tomura glared, stepping into his room and tossing his towel aside to tug on his nicest pair of black joggers and t-shirt that gapped a bit at the front, showing off a large expanse of his chest. It made him a bit nervous even just looking at his reflection but you definitely stared the few times he’d taken off his hoodie while you were working, so the risk seemed worth the reward.

“Yeah, well you’re gonna have to piss off for the night,” Tomura shouted into the kitchen as Dabi sauntered over to lean against his doorframe.

“You know, I conveniently do have a dick appointment with my own bitch, but now I don’t want to go.”

His tone was teasing, eyes hooded and clearly enjoying how flustered Tomura was already before you’d even gotten here. Tomura moved to snatch another pillow and do battle but Dabi raised his hands up quickly in defeat.

“Oh no, no, I just fucking did my hair for this Keigo asshole you are not gonna ruin it with that petty shit,” he shot back and disappeared somewhere into his own room. “I’ll be out of your greasy ass hair don’t worry.”

Tomura seethed and bit back of reply of his hair for once not being greasy as hell, but the multiple cum stains—both his and his nasty fucking roommates—marring the comforter caught his eye.

“Ugh,” he mumbled and balled the whole thing up, shoving it under the bed and spreading out one of his merch blankets from that manga you both liked.

Hopefully you wouldn’t think that was too cringey, but he had definitely seen your room plastered with merch in the background of your social media profiles which he totally did not stalk at all and maybe jerk off to on occasion.

The rest of his room was quickly cleared by a combination of shoving random crap into his closet and filling up their recycling bin to the brim with empty energy drink cans. He tackled the kitchen next which wasn’t as hard as he’d expected. Neither he nor Dabi cooked all that frequently, so the dishes weren’t an issue and the vague, lingering smell of whatever the fuck Dabi had been smoking early was cleared out a bit by leaving the balcony door ajar.

He checked the time on his phone obsessively, about ready to pound on Dabi’s door and throw him out on the step when the man in question emerged on his own—black platform boots donned with his ass hugging ripped jeans and a loose tank top.

He had on fucking eyeliner.

God and he thought Tomura was being desperate.

“What? Wishing you’d locked this down first?” Dabi sneered, grabbing his jacket from the rack and shoulder checking Tomura on his way to the door.

“I—” he stammered for a second, bristling as Dabi towered over him a bit in those fucking boots. “No, asshole, just leave before they get here.”

But at the exact moment that Dabi rolled his eyes and flung open the door, Tomura’s phone buzzed in his pocket. Looking up in mingled horror and embarrassment, he watched the door hit the wall and reveal you, a little more casually dressed than usual looking stunned as Dabi grinned down at you with pierced lips.

“Hi, I’m-” you started but Tomura’s live-in nightmare cut you off.

“Oh I know who you are, dollface,” Dabi wiggled his fucking eyebrows at you, clearly playing up the dramatics as much as possible to a degree even Tomura didn’t think he could pull off. “Name’s Dabi—”

“Uh, yeah and he was just leaving,” Tomura hissed and placed his shoulder firmly in the center of his roommate’s back, launching him onto the welcome mat as you side-stepped through the door.

“Yeah, see ya later creep,” he fucking winked as the door slammed shut in his face.

Tomura’s cheeks burned in the following silence which was only broken by your quiet chuckle. He noticed you did that a lot. Laughed at things without even thinking about whether it would sound weird.

“He seems like a lot,” you mumbled and glanced around at the living room/kitchen/foyer of his tiny apartment.

“Yeah…”

He thought he might feel the same sort of disturbance he usually did when Dabi brought his dates home but you seemed to fit easily into the space, unobtrusive but bright against the dingy walls.

“So, should we get to it?” you asked with a wry smile, spinning to face him and silhouetted by the sun set filtering in past the balcony.

He may not have felt the usual discomfort of intruders in his space, but his hands shook where he clutched at his thighs nonetheless. And just like always, if you noticed the bunched up fabric and the not so slight tremor in his bony arms, you didn’t say a thing about it.

You looked so good propped up on his bed, back against the wall and legs dangling off the sides as the now strangely comforting sound of your furious typing filled his room. It had been a few hours now, and Dabi had been true to his word, seemingly gone until tomorrow morning. The room was illuminated only by your screens and his small desk lamp that lit up your legs like a stage spot light.

His mind fogged over more than once with the fantasy of laying in between them.

“I just shared the final bit of script,” you said, breaking the comfortable silence.

The notification pinged at the top of his screen and he hummed in acknowledgement, plugging in your last pieces of text and saving the program.

And just like that.

It was over.

“I think we’re done,” Tomura whispered.

He didn’t really mean to say it so softly, but it felt strange to talk at full volume so he rasped out the words, knowing you wouldn’t care how shitty his voice sounded.

There was a creak and soft footsteps behind him as you shuffled off the bed and over to his desk. Your hands rested way too close to his shoulders than necessary while you leaned over his chair to look at the finished product.

It was still a little rough around the edges but Tomura found himself feeling a swell of satisfaction now that it was complete. All things considered, you’d come up with a pretty damn good concept and he liked knowing he played a role in helping it come to fruition.

The piece you picked was weird as shit. Some political satire about eating babies, lots of juxtaposition about the private life versus the public self and some bullshit rants on the nature of humanity blah blah blah.

It actually reminded him of you a little bit, now that he thought about it as he took advantage of you position to stare intently at your eyes scanning the screen. Not the eating babies thing, but the whole private self stuff.

In the half semester he’d spent locked away with you in quiet rooms and noisy, dimly lit basements, he could see such a stark contrast between the you he’d known from class all those weeks ago and the you currently sighing in relief over his shoulder.

Softer, more real—not so Stacy, bimbo, pick me slut like he’d always imagined you to be.

“Damn, we did it my guy,” you nodded, clearly impressed with yourself and him as well, which had Tomura’s chest puffing out just a bit under the attention. “I could fucking kiss you, I thought we’d never get it done.”

You turned to him, eyes closed in a half laugh but Tomura was so far from laughing. Cause you were really, really fucking close and he could smell you again and you’d been chewing that fucking gum cause it was hot on your breath. He knew, he really did, that you were kidding, that this was just a thing people said when they were relieved but he couldn’t help the weird, deer in the headlights stare that his face froze in.

Blinking, you raised your eyebrows at him questioningly when he didn’t make some crude comment about your chest brushing against his arm or shrug you off like he might have before.

And then you got this knowing, little mischievous look that reminds him far too much of Dabi for a split second before you pressed your face just an inch closer.

His eyes flicked down instinctively to your lips and his face burned when realized there was no way you didn’t see how he looked at you. Shockingly, despite the churning in his gut and the shaking in his legs, Tomura leaned forward just a bit too, working up enough scant courage to maybe close the gap. But then you started laughing?

It bubbled up quietly in your chest, more of a giggle than anything else.

You were laughing and shaking your head and his stomach fucking dropped to the ground and his face was on fire cause you were laughing and that meant he’d been fucking played like a goddamn fiddle but—

But then you gave him this faint smile and you weren't laughing anymore, because you were kissing him.

You were fucking kissing him.

Which, while yes he had set out to have this be the end goal of the night, he hadn’t actually believed it would ever happen. He’d never felt it in his bones like he thought he was supposed to.

And holy shit your lips were so soft??

So soft and smooth with no cool, sharp metal poking or pulling at the splits on his. It was like fucking crack, or what he imagined crack might be like with the way your mouth just glided against his. It was so easy to follow you, which was good cause he didn’t have a goddamn clue what he was doing for the most part. But you made it feel simple, and you even ran your tongue over the little scar that bisected his lips in this painfully adorable way that had Tomura pitching a tent in his pants like lightning.

God and when you pulled back and just enough to look at him again:

It was like every one of those cutesy, shojo manga suddenly made sense. The panels where the main characters look at each other and flowers bloom off the fucking page while they stare with those dark, hungry eyes—

Yeah.

Yeah he got it now.

And he was gonna ride that wave while he had it. So Tomura steeled himself and surged forward, grabbing both your arms and smashing his face much less gracefully against yours. He stood and you straightened with him, that same half giggle slipping out in the gaps where your lips parted on his as he clacked your teeth together and pulled back at the jarring sting.

“Eager are we?” you had that stupid smile on your face again but he honestly didn’t care anymore if it was an act or if your face really just looked like that with no fucking ulterior motive.

“Shut up,” he muttered, trying to catch your lips again and you mercifully let him.

Tomura nearly fucking came in his pants when you licked into his mouth and oh fucking god he really could taste the gum and that loud ass shit you were always drinking. Dabi was right, this was a fucking miracle.

Did other people always taste this good or was it just you?

He responded enthusiastically to say the least, sucking your tongue into his mouth and letting out a choked little noise when you prodded the back of his teeth. The movement of your legs, pulling him back towards the bed went mostly unnoticed until he felt himself tipping forward, landing with a thump on top of you as you both tumbled onto his mattress.

Tomura’s lips wondered boldly down your throat, smelling the soap or lotion or whatever the hell made you so fucking baby smooth compared to him and he actually growled into your nape when you laughed again.

“God, what the fuck is so funny?” he sounded muffled from where he was tonguing at the fleshy joining of your neck and shoulder.

“Sorry, sorry,” you pressed your lips against the peeling crown of his head and that alone made up for the interruption, “I’m just basking in the glory of being right.”

“About?” Tomura nipped at your skin once before lifting his chin to rest on your sternum.

“I just always thought you were sorta into me, but it was hard to tell cause you’re so quiet about that kinda thing.”

“....oh,” he didn’t really have an argument for that so he didn’t try to fight you.

“Did you think I didn’t notice all the convenient excuses to touch me or like the fact that you’re mean as shit to everyone else but me?" you asked not unkindly as you stroked a hand through his hair, frizzy from being left to air dry. “I also got the vibes you thought I was a slut anyway and it wasn’t super clear if that was a turn on or not.”

He cringed a bit at the blatant way you acknowledged all ruder inner monologues about your character.

“Well, I did a bit initially,” Tomura glanced off to the side, suddenly finding the chipping paint much more fascinating. God he really wanted to get back to the good stuff. “But I don’t now…”

“Oh no,” you cupped his face, running a thumb against the cracked skin on his cheeks and didn’t cringe when the drying skin flaked onto your shirt, “that was a pretty astute assumption.”

“Uh, what?”

He felt his draw drop and you dipped your thumb past his front row of teeth, toying with the pooling saliva.

“All the better for you though,” you continued dragging his chest against yours so he could feel your nipples through his shirt, “cause that just means I know how to show you a good time, and I get the feeling you’ve never had that happen before.”

You punctuated your words with roll of your hips against the fucking iron rod in his pants. The noise that left Tomura was inhuman.

He thought back to the day you got partnered with him. How he thought it would be a fucking nightmare and Tomura wanted to let the record show that he officially retracted that statement. This was in no uncertain terms, actually a wet dream come true and he was sure Dabi would never fucking believe him unless he walked through the door right now.

“That works,” he stuttered around the finger in his mouth and you reared up to wrap your legs around his waist.

Your lips found his again and he hummed in approval only cut off as you rolled so he was laying back and looking up. When you pulled back, he shivered at the way you raked your nails over his chest.

“So, you gonna tell me how much of a disgusting whore you think I am?”

#tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki x reader #tomura imagine #tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki x you #dabi #bnha fanfiction #bee.writes

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averykedavra · 4 years

Text

Push My Luck

What’s this? Me posting a prompt pic on the same day as the prompt? Inconceivable! But analogince is The Best Ever, so I managed to do it! It’s enemies to lovers Ultimate, guys. You’re missing out.

(Tagging @tsshipmonth2020! Title from Don’t You Go by All Time Low. You can find this fic on Ao3 here!)

Prompt: Pick your favorite Soulmate AU and write about it! I picked an AU where you receive a black mark where your soulmate first touches you, that turns colorful when they do.

Pairing: Platonic Analogince

Words: 6561

Warnings: death mention, swearing, arguing, insecurity, a very brief fight scene with one (1) punch, crying, a bit of anxiety

Virgil, as a rule, doesn’t take risks.

The world is a big scary place. Lots of ways to get kidnapped or mugged or threatened just by leaving the house. So he tends to do the bare minimum. He doesn’t speak up in class. He doesn’t talk to other kids. He doesn’t mention his soulmates or the fact that he hasn’t met them yet. When the guidance counselor asks him for the seventh time what his career goals are, he just shrugs.

Life is easier if he keeps stuff close to his chest. If he stays out of everyone’s way. If he gives people less of a reason to hurt him. Life is smoother if he hides and life is calmer if he’s quiet.

Life is safer if he lives and lets live.

And today he broke that rule, so is it any surprise that everything went to shit?

He didn’t even mean to. He’d heard the yelling and looked closer, just out of curiosity, and to know if he should start running. It wasn’t anything big. Logan and Roman were arguing in one corner of the hallway. They’d been giving each other dirty looks all through class, so it was no surprise. Virgil didn’t know what their problem was, but whatever. Not a big deal.

Then it actually sank in.

Roman and Logan were fighting.

Roman and Logan.

Roman? Yeah, sure. He wasn’t a great student, and sometimes he got a little passionate about stuff. Or a lot too passionate. He looked angrier than Virgil had really seen him, his hands flying around and his eyes narrowed, but still, it seemed pretty normal.

Logan, on the other hand--Logan was an honor roll student. Top of the class, probably gonna be valedictorian and go to Harvard and take over the world someday. He wasn’t the worst ever, but he was definitely stuck up, and he followed the rules like his life depended on it. Virgil had barely seen him raise his voice before.

And he was yelling.

Virgil couldn’t even make out the words, but he recognized several swears. Logan was ranting and his hands were balled by his sides and he was ignoring all the people staring at them. He looked like a bowstring, drawn taut and ready to fire.

What the hell had Roman said?

Virgil had inched closer, keeping several people between him and the argument. But he’s fucking short, a fact that perpetually annoys him, so he was forced to find an open spot pretty close to Logan and Roman.

They were inches from each other, face red. Virgil’s heart pounded in his ears as Roman’s voice pitched up. Fuck. He shouldn’t have come here--arguing was no fun to watch, and his breathing was already growing strained. Ugh, couldn’t they just stop? Logan was supposed to be responsible, right? And there should be teachers around.

Virgil tried to muscle his way back through the crowd, but nobody let him pass. Everyone was too focused on watching Logan and Roman tear each other apart.

He really hates this school sometimes.

So Virgil was stuck there, tapping on his leg and trying not to panic, hoping against hope that they’d shut up--Logan had called Roman a nasty name and Roman had fired back with something Virgil didn’t fully catch, but it sounded like a threat--Logan had tensed--

And Virgil knew.

In that moment, seconds before it all went to shit, he knew. He saw Logan draw tight, a bowstring, and he knew in an instant that this was gonna blow in Roman’s face.

Admittedly, though, he didn’t expect what actually happened.

He didn’t expect Logan to step forward and punch Roman.

In the shoulder. His fist hit Roman square in the fucking shoulder, and Roman stumbled back. It looked like it hurt. It sounded like it hurt, a dull thump that echoed through Virgil’s bones.

Suddenly, the entire hallway was silent.

Roman bent over and rubbed at his shoulder, grimacing. Logan just stood there, hand pulled to his chest, eyes wide.

Logan hadn’t meant to. Virgil could tell. He opened his mouth, probably to apologize, maybe to ask if Roman was okay--

“The hell?” Roman yelled, straightening. “Why the fuck did you do that? What’s wrong with you?”

Great. Goddammit, Roman, couldn’t you have shut your big mouth for two seconds?

To Logan’s credit, he didn’t immediately fire back. But the apologetic look on his face did harden. “I didn’t--”

“Fuck, that hurts, ow.” Roman gave his shoulder a final wounded glance, like he was mad at it for betraying him. “Christ. Specs, you’re an asshole.”

“I didn’t mean to--”

“You fucking hit me!” Roman yelled. And there it was. There was what Virgil was afraid of--the moment Roman snapped, stepping forward and raising a hand.

Virgil doesn’t remember his thought process. It was probably something like fuck fuck fuck.

But one part of him must have been like fuck no. Fuck no, they were not gonna have a fistfight with Virgil trapped watching them.

Without thinking, Virgil dove between them. He grabbed Roman’s wrist. He pressed a hand to Logan’s chest. And he yelled “Fucking stop, jeez, will you quit it?”

Silence so terrible it almost ripped Virgil open.

Both Logan and Roman were staring at him. Strangers. Strangers he’d barely talked to in his life. Who he’d just ran in the middle of, and what if they yelled at him, what if he got hurt or got in trouble, and the whole fucking hallway was watching, what was Virgil thinking--

Roman didn’t pull his hand away. Logan didn’t move. It was like Virgil had frozen everyone in place.

“Stop,” Virgil repeated, his voice shaky, “or I swear I’ll pull the fucking fire alarm to get you guys to shut up.”

His skin was tingling. He wanted to run, but he couldn’t unglue his feet from the ground. Eyes bore into him and Roman and Logan were still silent.

Roman whipped his hand away first. He cradled his wrist to his chest as if he’d been burnt. Logan just stepped away and left Virgil with one hand extended in open air.

The silence stretched on again.

Virgil felt, suddenly, that he’d fucked up. Deeply and fully. He felt--wrong. No, not wrong. But different, like he’d been skewed off his axis, like something was fundamentally off.

Logan was dead silent. Roman was staring at his wrist. He looked from it back to Virgil, and Virgil caught a flash of purple.

Oh, shit, had he hurt Roman? Good fucking job, Virgil, deescalation by further violence.

“Sorry,” Virgil stammered out. “Um, is your wrist okay?”

Roman just stared at him like he’d sprouted two heads.

Virgil glanced at Logan. Logan was also looking at Virgil, but more like Virgil had been diagnosed with a terrible contagious disease.

Okay, he’d expected backlash. He hadn’t expected whatever this was.

“What?” Virgil demanded.

Roman held up his wrist. A purple smudge where Virgil’s hand had been--a bruise, fuck--

Except, no.

It was a deep, shimmering purple, ridged like Virgil’s hand had been covered in paint when it touched Roman.

Virgil looked down just to make sure his hands hadn’t been covered in paint.

What.

The.

Fuck?

One palm was covered in red ink, the other in blue. And before today, they’d been black, because that was his soulmark. He’d sworn they hadn’t changed. But here they were, practically glowing, deep colors pooling in his palms--

Where he’d touched Roman and Logan.

Fuck.

Virgil slowly looked up. Roman had pulled up his sleeve and was staring at a blue splodge on his shoulder. Logan was still cradling his hand, and now, Virgil could see red on the knuckles.

“No,” Virgil blurted out. “Fuck no.”

He didn’t even feel guilty about it. Because no. No, these couldn’t be his soulmates, he must have touched someone else--

“You’re--” Roman shook his head. “Come on. You?”

Logan just stood there, clutching his hand, looking like someone had pulled the world out from under him.

Virgil’s words had dried up in his throat.

And that was when the teachers arrived.

And to make a long lecture short, Virgil is now in detention, seated at a desk between Logan and Roman like they wanted him to keep them apart. He’d tried to say he was just trying to break up the fight, but all the spectators had mysteriously vanished when the teachers showed up, so now he’s here. Drawing circles on his desk and sneaking glances at his soulmates.

His soulmates.

It wouldn’t even be so bad if it was Logan. Logan’s a little bit uptight but he’s smart, whip-smart, the kind of smart that leaves Virgil in the dust. He’s got a firm voice and knows all sorts of words and doesn’t hesitate to raise his hand. He’s in the debate club, and Virgil went to one of their meetings for Jan’s sake--and damn. He remembers seeing Logan on fire, eyes gleaming, making up arguments on the spot and making them sound concise as if he’d practiced them for days. Logan’s a tutor--he helps other students. He works okay in groups. He’s a little socially awkward, and Virgil doesn’t think he has many friends. But neither does Virgil, so it’s fine.

It wouldn’t even be so bad if it was Roman. Roman’s a little bit dramatic but he’s passionate, fiery, so certain that everything he says is worth listening to. He loves to do voices. He talks with his hands and lets them fly around like butterflies, wiggling his shoulders and beaming like just being here is the best thing to happen in the whole entire world. He’s a theater kid. Virgil got dragged to one of those plays once. Roman’s a good actor--Virgil hates to admit it, but he didn’t realize the main character was Roman until halfway through. They didn’t even give him a new haircut or anything. Roman just...stepped into someone else’s skin.

It wouldn’t be so bad if it was one of them.

But it’s both. Red and blue, smeared on Virgil’s hands, invisible when he touches them like they’re stuck beneath his skin.

Both of them.

Logan and Roman.

Who just tried to fight each other.

Shit, why does the universe hate Virgil?

He groans and lets his hands fall to his sides. He glances at Roman, who is twirling a pen in his hands and pointedly staring at the ceiling. He glances at Logan, who is pointedly doing his homework, jaw clenched.

Virgil sits in the middle of them and has no fucking clue what to do.

The best option? Stay put. Shut up. Do what he’s always done. He’s lucky he only got detention, and he’ll still probably be grounded for this--he shouldn’t push his luck.

He runs a hand along the colors, remembering all the weeks and months and years they were pure black. He always wondered how he’d meet his soulmate. Who they’d be. How he’d manage to touch them with both palms first.

Now he’s found them.

And they fucking hate each other, and probably Virgil too.

And they’re sitting with him in silence, and the detention room is empty because the teacher left to file a report on them, and the door is locked but the windows are open and wind blows across Virgil, smelling like old leaves and asphalt and exhaust.

He should be going home. But he’s stuck here for another hour with two people who hate each other. And he’s been jammed between them, a peacemaker, a bridge.

Virgil isn’t good with peace.

But he’s not good with very much, so--why not try?

What does he have to lose, except for his afternoon and his life and his grades and his shaky reputation and the tolerance of the two people meant for him?

“So,” Virgil says slowly, and lets the word ring through the room. “We’re...soulmates?”

Roman glances at him, appears to decide it’s not worth it, and looks away. Logan just keeps scribbling on his homework assignment, but Virgil notices his pencil skids on the paper for a microscopic second.

And they fall into silence again.

Well, good job, nice try, time to give up--except fuck no. They don’t get to ignore him. Not after they got him in detention.

“Yo,” Virgil almost yells, clapping his hands. “Fucking talk to me.”

“And they say I’m the dramatic one,” Roman mutters, but he looks at Virgil, so that’s a start.

Logan, however, just groans and opens up his backpack. He pulls out some earbuds and plugs them into his phone.

“Hey, hey, no.” Virgil waves a hand at him. “Get those away from you. We’ve gotta talk about this.”

Logan mutters something that might be “Don’t think there’s anything to talk about.” But he doesn’t put in his earbuds, so that’s a start.

And Virgil takes a deep breath and he isn’t fully panicking yet. So that’s a start.

“We’re soulmates,” he says again, because maybe they haven’t fully grasped that.

“Unfortunately,” Logan agrees.

“Don’t remind me,” Roman groans, lolling back in his chair and letting his hair flop over his eyes.

“Fine, I get it, you hate me, I hate you, cry me a fucking river.” Virgil sighs. “But...like, shouldn’t we at least try? To talk about this? Soulmates are, like--a big deal?”

“The biggest of deals!” Roman declares automatically, like he’s made this speech a million times before. “Hearts and souls intertwined, chosen by fate to be each other’s companion, in love before knowing of love itself.”

Logan rolls his eyes.

“But,” Roman admits, his hand falling, “I must say that I didn’t expect--um, this.”

“Join the club,” Virgil mutters. “Well, sorry to ruin it for you.”

“You didn’t ruin anything,” Logan says, giving Roman a look.

Roman gasps and straightens in his chair. “How dare you! You were the one who--”

“Guys! Guys!” Virgil holds up his hands. “Please don’t kill each other, that’d be traumatizing.”

Roman gives Logan a sneer before turning away. “I suppose it would be unchivalrous to wound the bitch, not that that stopped him.”

“Chivalry is an outdated concept,” Logan snaps back, but he’s not actively trying to rip Roman a new asshole, so that’s a start.

Virgil takes another deep breath.

“So,” he says slowly. “We’re soulmates. What do we do now?”

“Preferably nothing,” Logan says. “I have homework to finish.”

“You’re doing homework in detention?” Roman shakes his head. “You’re such a nerd, it’s almost too much sometimes.”

“What else am I supposed to do?” Logan asks. “Lounge about for an hour?”

“Beats me, I don’t want to be here.” Roman checks the clock and winces. “I’m missing theater practice.”

“You’re a theater kid,” Logan says, rolling his eyes. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Well, at least I have passion for something, instead of being dry as dirt--”

“Guys!” Virgil yells.

Roman huffs and Logan turns back to his homework.

Ugh.

“Guys,” Virgil repeats, “can’t you have one civil conversation?”

“He hit me!” Roman whines.

“He’s an imbecile!” Logan says at the same time.

They turn to glare at each other over Virgil’s head. Virgil’s now beginning to understand why they hate each other so much--they get on his fucking nerves.

“Then apologize,” Virgil grinds out. “Say sorry and move on so we can actually figure out what to do.”

“Apologize?” Roman repeats like Virgil’s asked him to dance the tarantella.

“Yes.” Virgil leans back and folds his arms. “Fucking do it. Now.”

Logan gives Roman a long look. “Er...how is your shoulder?”

“It hurts,” Roman says.

Logan lets out a quick breath. “Ah. Well...I am...I should not have hit you.”

“Duh, Bill Nye the Science Tie, of course you shouldn’t have.” Roman rolls his eyes. “Kinda-apology kinda-accepted, I guess.”

“Your turn,” Virgil says.

“Ugh, do I have to? I wasn’t the one who caused injury!”

Virgil gives him his best do it or I will cut you glare.

“Fine.” Roman sighs loudly. “I...Logan. Today, I made you angry. I do that quite a bit. And you retaliated with violence, like a stupid caveman.”

Logan looks about to throw his pencil at Roman’s face.

“But,” Roman says hastily, “I should not have provoked you. It was very unprincely of me to be so cruel. So...I apologize. I guess.”

“Then I forgive you,” Logan says shortly. “I guess.”

“So we’re all good,” Virgil says. “I guess?”

From the looks on Logan and Roman’s faces, things are certainly not all good.

But what the hell. It’s a start.

“Great.” Virgil spreads his hands. “Now--what the fuck do we do?”

“We’re in detention,” Logan points out. “We cannot reasonably do anything.”

“We’re in detention,” Roman agrees, sounding like this is the greatest injustice he’s ever faced. “My moms are going to be really mad.”

“Tell me about it,” Virgil groans, because he’s realizing that yeah, his parents are gonna be pissed. “I’ll be grounded for like a month, thanks a lot.”

“I didn’t do anything!” Roman declares. “You were the one who decided to run into the fray!”

“Yeah, to stop you two from killing each other.”

“And why did you care?” Logan asks. It’s a sharp question, sharper than Virgil knows what to do with, and Roman’s own annoyed gaze falters.

“Because--” Virgil catches himself. He doesn’t actually have an answer. Not a real one. He just...did it. “Fighting would get you guys in trouble.”

Logan looks away, and Virgil feels like he’s said something wrong.

“Well, so much for that, Hot Topic,” Roman complains. “We’re all languishing together in this penitentiary.”

Virgil smirks. “Aw, you think I’m hot?”

Roman wrinkles his nose.

“Keep it down,” Logan mutters, bent over his homework again. “I’m studying for my trig test and if I fail, it’s your fault.”

“As if,” Roman says, and Virgil catches a hint of bitterness in the words. “You’ll get an A triple-plus no matter if you study or not.”

Logan sighs wearily. “They don’t give A triple-pluses, Roman.”

“A double-plus, then!” Roman waves his hand. “I wouldn’t know, I don’t get them like you do!”

“Is that supposed to be an insult?” Logan blinks. “Are you accusing me of cheating?”

“I don’t know, are you being accused of cheating?”

“That doesn’t even make any sense--”

“Guys!” Virgil yells. “I am so tired of being the taskmaster here--can we focus?”

“On what?” Roman snaps. “The fact that we’re soulmates? I’d rather not!”

“Soulmates don’t mean anything,” Logan says, slamming his binder closed with a snap. “They’re useless platitudes. Virgil, we don’t have anything else to talk about, so please be quiet and let me work.”

“Useless platitudes?” Roman somehow manages to look even more offended. “Do you have any sense of romance? Whimsy? Fate?”

“Fate is a human construct,” Logan says. “And soulmates have no bearing on reality.”

“Uh, my wrist is purple right now?” Roman waves it up and down. “I didn’t dip it in grape juice, did I?”

“I’m not saying they’re not real,” Logan says, spreading his own hand with red smeared on the knuckles like blood. “I’m saying they don’t matter.”

“Of course they matter!” Roman folds his arms. “Soulmates are the epitome of human connection, they’re someone you’re fated to be with--”

“If that’s the case,” Logan interrupts, “then why am I soulmates with you?”

Roman opens his mouth and closes it again.

“And me,” Virgil adds. “I exist.”

“And Virgil,” Logan says.

Roman gives Virgil a disappointed look. “Cute, but doesn’t make up for my other soulmate punching me.”

“I said I was sorry!”

“No, you didn’t!” Roman rolls his eyes and slouches further in his seat. “I shouldn’t have expected anything, you’re like allergic to emotions--”

“I’m not--”

“Guys!” Virgil groans. “You know what? Fine! I’ll fucking give up! Go sit in silence, I guess!”

“Wonderful,” Logan says.

“Fantastic,” Roman says.

So they sit in silence.

And Virgil could-should-wants to leave it there.

But he’s come so far already. And he’s not gonna give up. Not now.

These are his fucking soulmates, and they already hate him, so why not push his luck?

“We’re soulmates,” Virgil says slowly. “That’s not--that’s not gonna go away.”

“What do you expect me to do about it?” Roman asks.

“I don’t know, accept it?” Virgil holds up his palms. “Soulmates may be bullshit. But they’re not bullshit to literally all of society. We’re gonna get questions. Lots of them.”

Logan nods, and for the first time, Virgil thinks he’s actually listening.

“I could make something up,” Roman says, but his voice is thin.

“No, Virgil has a point.” Logan rubs at his own knuckles. “Besides, half the school saw our little debacle earlier, so doubtless rumors are already spreading.”

“Great,” Virgil mutters. “Exactly what I needed. Attention.”

“It’ll be alright,” Logan says hesitantly. It’s so out-of-character for him and so different than everything else he’s said that Virgil almost chokes on thin air. “Doubtless they will forget in a few days, even if at first things are overwhelming.”

“Besides, nobody cares about you, anyway.” Roman winces under Logan’s incredulous look. “What? Nobody does! He’s, like, a freaking shadow demon--I didn’t know his name until two weeks ago!”

“Wow, thanks,” Virgil says. “Way to make a guy feel special.”

“And I hate to say it,” Roman adds, rubbing at his neck, “but those first few days? People will be on us. So many questions. They’ll want to know what happened.”

“Well...” Virgil summons his courage. “What did happen? I didn’t even hear what you guys were arguing about.”

Logan shifts in his chair and Roman looks uncomfortable.

“It was one of those snowball things,” Roman says, waving a hand. “Y’know?”

Virgil stares at him and waits for him to explain.

“Small stuff turns to big stuff.” Roman bites his lip. “I dunno, I made a comment during class, Specs got on my case about it, and it all just kind of escalated into a big huge mess.”

“What comment?” Virgil asks.

“Don’t even remember.” Roman shrugs. “I think Logan misused infinitesimal. He thought it meant really big but it actually means really small--”

“It has the word infinite in it!” Logan complains. “It is a misleading word!”

“Wait.” Virgil holds up his hands. “You got into a fistfight over one fucking word?”

“I wasn’t the one who tailed me after class to complain about it!” Roman defends. “And I wasn’t the one who made it a fistfight!”

“Jeez, L,” Virgil says, wincing, “that sounds pretty rough. Why’d you get so mad?”

Logan tightens his grip on his pencil. “Roman said, and I quote, ‘Seriously? Infinitesimal means really small! I thought you were the smart guy, why'd you make such a stupid mistake?’”

Logan’s voice dips in the middle and almost cracks at the end. It’s left there, fraying and tight, and fuck, Logan’s hurt. He’s pressing everything into himself, Virgil can tell, and he’s upset.

Virgil repeats the words in his head. They’re not too bad, really--but they also seem to have hit a giant nerve.

“Okay,” he says lightly, trying not to sound as lost as he is, “yeah, nevermind, Lo. I do kinda get why you were mad now.”

Roman shifts. “I--okay. Thinking back, it was not the most...constructive choice of words. But in my defense, he took it way too seriously!”

“Well, you were the one who lashed out like a little bratty baby!”

“You were the one who freaking punched me!”

“Guys! Fucking come on!” Virgil sighs. “Could either of you contribute, like, an ounce of constructive criticism?”

“I will if he does,” Roman says, and he’s half-pouting now. It’s fucking irritating in a way that bubbles up in Virgil’s chest and sets fire to his bloodstream. But Logan’s not any better, staring Roman down like he’s completely ready to go for round two.

“Constructively,” says Logan, “your comment was out of line.”

“Constructively,” Roman fires back, “shut your fucking mouth.”

“You’re throwing a tantrum. I do not engage with tantrum-throwers--”

“Oh, like you didn’t blow up at me?” Roman sneers. “Or would you say your temper is...infinitesimal?”

“You make one mistake!” Logan yells. “And this is what happens!”

Roman rolls his eyes.

“Why did you feel the need to point it out?” Logan throws up his hands. “What possessed you to announce, in front of the entire class, that I failed? I understand that you want to make a mockery of my mistake, but you could have had the decency to keep it to yourself!”

“Wh--” Roman splutters. “Mockery of your--I just made a joke! It was a joke, C-3P0!”

“Yeah.” Virgil looks at Logan and bites his lip. “I dunno, that kind of...sounds like a you problem?”

“It’s a me problem that he--”

“You made one mistake!” Roman stares at him. “You made one singular mistake, I teased you about it, and it’s not a big deal!”

Logan slams his hand on the desk. “It’s a big deal to me!”

“Why?”

“Because I can’t afford to make mistakes!”

Roman reels back like he's been slapped. “Well, if you get that pissy about one little screwup, why aren’t you upset that you fucking punched me?”

“I didn’t--” Logan presses his hand to his chest. “Roman, I--”

“Forget it.” Roman turns away. “Just forget it, I guess.”

Logan stares at him.

“I didn’t--” Roman swallows, staring at the floor. “I didn’t realize what I said. I say stuff without thinking sometimes, blurt stuff out--and I guess I was just--” He curls into himself a bit. “You’re smart, and you always know stuff, and I’m--I’m not. So I guess I--got excited that I could finally correct you. That you were...human.” He takes a deep breath. “And now my reputation is cemented as problem child, I might get kicked out of the play, and my parents are going to yell at me for eternity, so yay! Fabulous. Everything is bitterly jittery and not very glittery, and I, for one, would like to stop talking to you.”

Logan looks like he’s been slapped in the face. Roman huffs out a small, sharp laugh and starts playing with his pencil, looking like he’s holding back tears.

“Breathe,” Virgil murmurs. Roman glances at him quickly and takes a breath. Virgil gives him a little smile, and he thinks, for a second, he gets one in return.

“I’m sorry,” Logan says quietly. “For punching you.”

“Well, that just fixes everything, doesn’t it?” Roman glares at Logan with red-rimmed eyes. “I thought I told you to leave me alone.”

“Right.” Logan turns away. “Right.”

Roman sniffs once and is silent.

Logan slowly puts his binder away and lays his head on his desk, covering it with his hands. Virgil sees a flash of red on his knuckles. Somewhere on his chest is Virgil’s handprint, thick and purple.

They’re soulmates.

Virgil wonders if that’s why they can hurt each other so easily--they were made for each other’s hearts and know exactly how to break them.

He wonders if he’s fucked up by even trying to get those two to talk. Roman is crying. Roman is pressing a hand to his mouth and crying, and Logan has a hand fisted in his hair like he wants to tug it loose.

Virgil bites his lip, reaches out, and slowly pulls Logan’s hand away from his hair. Logan lets it drop limp to his side. Virgil scoots away and sits on his chair, drawing tornadoes on his desk, noticing idly that the teacher never came back. She just left them here, alone, and the air smells like exhaust and wet because it’s started raining. Virgil hadn’t noticed. It’s raining and the sky is iron-grey and he just really wants to go home.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers to the desk. “If I just made things worse, I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault,” Roman says, his voice brittle. Virgil glances at him. He’s wiping tears away and attempting to smile. “You were the only one working at it, so it’s no wonder it fell apart.”

Logan is silent. Virgil expected nothing else.

These are his soulmates, and they hate each other and hate him, and he feels like he’s going to cry.

Logan shifts on the desk. He’s still covering his head with one hand like he can disappear through sheer force of will. Virgil stares at the red on his knuckles. Soulmates. Soulmates and here they are, a bunch of juniors in detention, broken beyond fixing.

He doesn’t even know why he tried.

He should have known better.

“Why did you try and stop us?”

Virgil jerks his head around. Logan’s still curled up on his desk. His voice is whisper-quiet.

“What?” Virgil asks.

“Why did you try to stop us from fighting?” Logan's hand curls on the desk. “I’d just hurt Roman, I deserved whatever he decided to do, why did you try to stop us?”

Virgil gapes at Logan. Roman’s quiet too, and when Virgil looks at him, he nods. He wants to know the answer.

So does Virgil, if Virgil’s being honest.

He takes a deep, shuddering breath.

“You were freaking me out,” he says simply. “I wanted you to stop yelling, because I was afraid I’d get hurt.”

Roman looks away.

“And...and after that--” Virgil clutches the sleeve of his hoodie. “I dunno. You’re--you’re my soulmates, and--everyone says soulmates are supposed to get you. Be your friends, or whatever. I--” He curls tighter into himself, running a hand along the cold chair beneath him. “Let’s not make this any more emo than it has to be, but--friends. Those sounded...pretty cool to me, I guess.”

He chances a look up. Roman is watching him carefully. Logan is still a pile of hair and hands and shirt on the desk.

“I don’t...” Roman’s voice wavers, and he swallows. “I...I can understand that.”

Virgil stares at his hands.

“I’m sorry,” Logan says weakly.

“I know,” Virgil says. “So does Roman.”

“No, I’m really--” Logan pushes himself off the desk and turns to them. “I know, I know you don’t want to hear it, and I get that, but--Roman, I didn’t mean any of what I said. I promise. I was just--”

“A jerk?” Roman asks, but the jab falls flat, and Logan doesn’t even seem fazed.

“Yes,” he agrees. “I was.”

“You said it, not me,” Roman says.

“You also said it,” Virgil points out.

Roman gives him a glare.

“I was a jerk.” Logan cups one hand around his arm and begins to hug himself, looking at the blackboard instead of Virgil or Roman. Someone left a half-finished equation on there, and the chalk dust spells out all the faded problems before. Virgil catches snippets of dozens of different handwritings, none of them fully erased.

“You gonna continue?” Roman asks, his mouth lifting in a smile. “We don’t have all day.”

“I...” Logan chews on his lip. “I suppose I was...angry. I don’t like being wrong.”

“Nobody does,” Virgil says. “That’s normal.

“I just--” Logan takes a deep breath. “People always assume I’m just gifted. That I haven’t fought to have the grades I do. It’s completely illogical, since intelligence isn’t something you’re born with. I’ve tried my hardest to be where I am. And if I slip up, I’ll fail, and I’ll be right back at the bottom again!” He takes another deep breath, reaches down, and pulls out his binder. “I’m...I’m going to study now, if that’s alright. Feel free to talk.”

Roman and Virgil give each other a look. Then Virgil realizes he’s communicating wordlessly with a guy he hates.

Well, he doesn’t hate them. They hate each other.

Except right now, neither of them are glaring at each other.

It doesn’t erase much. The words are still there, etched in chalk and unable to be removed. But it’s a start.

And Virgil decides to push his luck just a little bit more.

“How do you feel,” he says slowly, “about us being soulmates?”

“How do you think?” Roman asks, his voice immediately souring. “I think we all made it pretty clear.”

“No, I mean--” Virgil waves a hand. “Yeah. We...we don’t like each other much. And we’ve clearly all got a lot of shit to work through. But--how do you feel about the idea? The, I dunno, possibility? That maybe one day...we wouldn’t have to hate each other anymore?”

“Sure,” Roman says. “That’ll happen. We’ll all just become best buds.”

“Roman,” Logan snaps. “You can say you don’t like me, you know.”

“That’s not--” Roman pauses. “I wasn’t--I was thinking you wouldn’t like me. Actually.”

“What?” Logan blurts out. “Why on earth not?”

“Um, ‘cause we fought? I called you names?” Roman waves a hand at himself. “That wasn’t exactly soulmate behavior.”

“I hit you!”

“Only once!” Roman folds his arms. “And you’re...you’re smart, and stuff. You deserve--yeah.”

Logan stares at Roman for a very long time. “What can I do?”

“What?” Roman asks.

“What can I do?” Logan repeats. “How can I...begin to make things up to you?”

“You don’t have to--” Roman laughs a bit, but it fades away. “You’re serious?”

“Yes.” Logan nods. “I wronged you, and I want to make it right.”

“Oh.” Roman gives Logan a bit of a smile. “Um, thanks?”

“No problem. Now, how can I assist you...to make up for mistakes one might have made prior?”

“That aren’t a big deal,” Virgil reminds him, “and that you’re going to be better than, okay?”

“Right,” Logan says, and he looks so relieved--it’s like he’s an entirely different person than the one in the hallway.

Then again, Virgil met his soulmates and immediately yelled at them. They probably all have hidden depths.

“Well,” Roman says slowly, a smirk spreading across his face, “if it’s anything, I wouldn’t mind infinite access to all of your notes--”

“No,” Logan says.

“Worth a shot.” Roman groans and collapses dramatically onto his desk. “Now I’ll fail my test. Thanks a lot, Specs, you’re a real pal.”

“I could--” Logan pauses, but Roman doesn’t interrupt. “I could...tutor you? If you wished?”

“What?” Roman snorts. “Better men than you have tried and failed."

“I’m serious.” Logan points to hs chest. “Always am. I wear a necktie.”

“You wear a necktie,” Roman agrees, “and it’s fucking incredible.”

“I’m trying to help and you’re making fun of me!”

“No, it’s--” Roman shifts. “I think--you pull off the necktie. So it’s fine.”

“Oh.” Logan blinks for a few times. “Regardless. I would like to offer my tutoring services.”

“And like I said, don’t bother.” Roman sinks a bit. “I’m no good at school stuff.”

“I highly doubt that,” Logan says. “Most likely, your education experience has been lacking. But you’ve shown creativity before--mainly in the inventive insults you’ve thrown at me--and I think in a one-on-one environment, you could flourish much more.” Logan pauses. “If--if you’d like, of course.”

Roman watches Logan for a few seconds. “You know what? I might just take you up on that. Er...thanks.”

“No problem.” Logan adjusts his glasses. “I know it can’t begin to make up for everything, but I think it would be...a good starting place?”

“Yeah.” Roman shrugs. “And that’s kind of all we need.”

“Thank you,” Logan says. “And, of course, Virgil.”

Virgil jumps. He’s been just sitting here, kind of smiling, glad they’re finally getting along but feeling kind of like a third wheel. He should have figured his soulmates would like each other better--

“Virgil!” Roman declares. “Our dashing prince who rescued us from the jaws of hate and malice! A thousand thanks to thee!”

“Um--” Virgil blinks. “You’re...welcome?”

“You did wonderfully,” Logan says, smiling a little smile at Virgil that makes Virgil ‘s face burn. “You went above and beyond what was expected.”

“How can our relationship fail with such a tireless helper at the wheel?” Roman asks.

“Relationship?” Virgil repeats. “Uh, dude, don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“Virgil’s right,” Logan says. “Again. A, we are not in any sort of relationship. And B, any such partnership would come to naught if we only relied on Virgil’s expert advice and did no work of our own.”

“Yeah, good point.” Virgil nods. “I am not doing this again, sorry. Get a real fucking therapist, please.”

Roman nods and has the grace to look sheepish. Logan smiles at Virgil again. Fuck, a smile that cute should be illegal, Virgil’s going to perish. He’s going to die right here in this classroom and never make it out of detention.

“So...work.” Roman shifts. “Tutoring?”

“Tutoring.” Logan pauses. “And...perhaps exchanging numbers?”

“Forward,” Virgil says. “Buy me dinner first.”

“I can if you’d wish--”

“It’s an expression,” Roman says almost fondly. “But of course, I will gladly share my phone number.”

“Great, we can make a group chat.” Virgil grabs his phone. “And I get to make it, too, so I can name it whatever I want.”

“Oh no,” Logan says.

“Oh, yes.” Virgil smirks. “You’re my soulmates, you know. You’re stuck with me.”

“Falsehood.” Logan shakes his head. “I’m glad you’re my soulmate. You too, Roman.”

“What?” Roman looks about to cry again. “Really? I--well, you two are...prickly. But...I like you. You challenge me on my bullshit--not that I’m often bullshit-y, of course. It’s...it’s nice. To have you guys.”

Virgil looks between them. “You’re both assholes and I’m still mad that you got me detention. But--if you’re willing to give this a shot...so am I.”

“Take a leap of faith,” Roman agrees.

“Take a risk,” Logan says.

“Push my luck.” Virgil smiles. “If you’d like.”

Roman smiles back. “I would like nothing more.”

“Phone numbers?” Logan offers. “Then...perhaps we could arrange an outside-of-school meeting? We can think of it as a second chance to get to know each other?”

“Nah.” Virgil shakes his head and holds up his palms. “We already did. Don’t think we can change our first meeting, L.”

“Fair,” Roman says, rubbing at the purple on his wrist.

“But maybe that’s okay?” Virgil ventures. “It’s not perfect, but--it did get us here, in the end. Hating each other slightly less.”

“Speak for yourself,” Roman says, but he’s grinning. And even Logan is relaxing in his chair.

The rain thrums outside the window, the air smells like chalk and wet trees, and Virgil is starting to wonder if taking risks might be worth it after all.

If they lead to this--two smiling faces, close to him, and a world of possibility before them.

The future has always scared Virgil. Today, though, he’s looking forward to it. A future with them. A future where they could be friends. They’re not close yet, they’re not all good just yet, but they’re willing to try. All of them.

And that’s a start.

“No fighting, though?” Virgil asks. “Promise me that, at least. I’m done playing mediator.”

“I promise,” Roman says.

Logan nods.

There’s half an hour left of detention. But they spend it together, and Virgil’s shocked at how quickly time flies when he’s got people to talk to.

Possible-friends. Future-friends. And maybe Virgil will mess it up, and maybe he won’t, and right now things are...good. Things are good. Things are looking up. Things won’t be perfect, and things can’t be erased, but they can try.

Virgil rubs his colorful palms and smiles.

Life is safer when he lives and lets live. Life was safer when his palms were black.

But life is more beautiful, more colorful, when he lets himself live it.

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#virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #sanders sides #analogince #prinxiety #logince #analogical #soulmate au #high school au #sanders sides fic #averywrites #is this me projecting my frustrations with the education system #and being classified as a gifted child #maaayyybeeee #you can't prove anything okay

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chibioomi · 4 years

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𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐞 - 𝐩𝐭 𝟐

￫ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐞 ! : prohero!bakugou x prohero!reader

summary: he’s used to grabbing the attention from everyone in the room, mainly due to his loud persona. everyone seems to know who is but her, and that bothers him. he makes it his mission to get her to notice him.

tags: fluff, lil bit of romance, lots of crack

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y/n was staring at bakugou in pure confusion. “do you remember me now?” what did he mean by that? was he someone she was supposed to remember?

blinking at him a few times, your eyebrows furrowed together. you were racking your brain for the many possibilities you would know the strange man that propelled himself into the air to get your attention. was he someone you went on a date with at one point? or someone you had saved?

“i’m sorry but . . . no, i don’t?” a nervous laugh escaped your lips as you gave him half a smile, rubbing your neck. he held an aura that was so familiar yet so foreign.

the blonde man just looked blankly at you. you could’ve sworn you saw a look of disappointment on his face, but it disappeared just as quick as it came, if it was even there. it almost made you feel kinda bad for not knowing who he was. almost.

“well, if you don’t mind, i’m gonna go-” your finger pointed to the sky as you prepared to take off, but the man held his hand out, signaling for you to stop.

“we went to u.a. together. you were always hanging with todoroki and deku. i don’t really know how you would constantly forget where our class was, but you always did, without fail. one day you asked mina to teach you how to do this crazy stupid dance move and you knocked over two lamps in the dorms with your wings, and aizawa-sensei punished you to a week of cleaning. i’m not sure how, but you were always the only person that never even looked my way. and i thought i liked it at first, but anytime i tried to actually talk to you, your dumbass would act like i was some complete stranger.”

as he listed off a bunch of different random events from your high school years that you vaguely remembered, it creeped you out at first. how did he know all of this about you?

narrowing your eyes at him, your head tilted to the side. this was what you believed to be your first time actually getting a good look at him. his hair was full and spiked, and it looked like it took him either hours or no time at all to do it. i wonder if it’s softer than it looks . . . his red eyes held a different type of understanding to them. as if he’d went through a lot, even at his young age. which would make sense, if he said he was in the same class as her in high school.

that’s when it clicked. you were thinking about the few times she hung out with mina and her group of friends. there was always that one angry person at them that was constantly yelling about something, most of it you would usually drown out. you weren’t sure why he was so uptight about everything, and if his throat ever hurt from shouting all of the time.

but the name wasn’t coming to you.

“i think- it’s- oh ! bakubro, right ?” what a strange name.

“huh ?! no !”

“no ?” you weren’t going to continue to guess, not really fond of hearing him shout too much. “look, i’m sorry i forgot you, or whatever. i’ve never really been good at remembering things. i hit my head a lot when i was learning to fly,” raising your index finger, you tapped your temple a few times. “still do, sometimes. buildings have it out for me, i swear ! i don’t even see them half of the time, then bam ! i’ve hit a window !” he didn’t look all that entertained at your explanation, but that’s all you could give him as some sort of explanation. “but um . . . i’m l/n y/n,” you offered your hand out to him. he seemed so keen on grabbing your attention, the least you could do was entertain him for a little.

“bakugou katsuki.” the name was so familiar to you. you could clearly hear aizawa-sensai saying it as if you were still in his class. “a lot of people used to call me kacchan.”

“you’re kacchan ?!” eyes widening, you took a step back from him. midoriya still talked about him whenever you two got together, and even though all of the stories he’d told you about them from their middle school years, you’d expected a different demeanor from bakugou. even from the very limited encounters you could remember.

he was always so loud, crude, and oh so very rude.

but here he was. he had put his life in danger just to get you to remember his name.

“well, kacchan, i promise i’m not gonna forget you any time soon.”

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four months had passed, and you and bakugou spent almost every weekend together. even during work throughout the week, you’d swoop down to his patrolling area to grab lunch or just walk around with him. you honestly never thought you’d find yourself calling the man you couldn’t remember for the life of you, your best friend.

bakugou grew fairly comfortable around you. he quickly caught on, noticing that you didn’t like when he yelled, so whenever you were around him, even when he was out with the bakusquad, he’d dial his tone down until he saw that you were no longer flinching at the sound of his voice. you’d later explain that you never really liked when someone would yell at you, or anyone else in that matter. as a kid, when you weren’t aware that your wings took up more space in a room, you would knock down different things at home and at school, which would cause your parents and teachers to yell and scold you. and the protective person in you didn’t want anyone else to feel so belittled.

he also began to learn the little things about you. he learned what your favorite color was, your go-to meal after rather hard days of patrolling, that the gold on your wings was in fact something you were born with, and how ditzy you really were on a daily basis [ which he found rather adorable, but he wasn’t going to admit outloud ]

and today was one of those days in which you never failed to remind him how much of a clutz you are.

your landing wasn’t the prettiest one, your heels skidding against the pavement, stopping a few feet in front of bakugou, when you were ideally aiming for just behind him. once your feet were planted on the ground, you turned to face him with a small pout etching the features of your face, your wings drooping low, hinting at the fact that you were upset about something. groaning quietly, walked over to you, his arms crossed over his chest.

“what happened this time?” he asked, knowing you had some stupid story to explain the look on your face.

“what do you mean this- yanno what, nevermind. i got this big ass bruise on my forehead because some people don’t take into account the fact that there’s flying heroes !” prodding at the darkened skin, she then winced at the feeling.

“you ran into another building, didn’t you ?”

“no ! maybe . . . okay, what if i did ? what does the glass gotta be so clear for ?” throwing her hands in the air, her wings lifted also, causing her to get glares from the people passing by that she hit. muttering a few sorries, bakugou started to question how she even became a top hero, and how she even managed to go from five to four in the few months he’d known her. sure, she was popular with the kids, and people found how dumb she was just an act for interviews. if only people really knew . . .

“you outta be more careful, dumbass.”

“blah, blah, blah, dumbass this, dumbass that. that’s all that ever comes out of your mouth when i tell you this stuff ! it’s like you don’t care. you’re a sadist, aren’t ya ? you like seeing me in pain, huh ?”

“y/n, please shut up.”

“just admit it !”

“no.”

“oi, you’re no fun.” narrowing your eyes at bakugou, you then crossed your arms over your chest. “grab lunch by yourself.”

“you’re such a big baby,” grabbing your forearm, bakugou started to drag you down the sidewalk, to your dismay, along with all of the bystanders that were hit by your wings. finally tearing your arm away from the pro hero, you started to walk along with him, knowing if you tried to make a break for it, it would cause a scene since he would chase after you.

once you made it to the ramen shop you both frequented, you took your usual seats at a booth in the far corner. it gave a nice view of the city outside, and it was close enough to one of the exits, so that if something went down, you’d easily be able to exit the restaurant.

after ordering, you both fell into a silence. usually he’d be ranting on about something his friends did the day prior, or some dumb “extras”, and in return you’d catch him up on the adventures of the dekusquad or whatever interesting thing that happened or what you saw on patrol. and at first, you found it comfortable, until each time you glanced up at him, he’d suddenly redirect his attention somewhere else, and vice versa.

when did i get so nervous around him ?

“stop staring, you weirdo,” you finally said, and that caused him to laugh. finally, something to break the growing tension.

“i could say the same to you,” squinting at his statement, you rested your chin in the palm of your hand.

“what’s on your mind, bakuboo ?”

“how many times have i told you not to call me that ?” instead of answering his question, you shrugged your shoulders. thinking of your question, he had to turn his head to hide the blush that was growing on his cheeks. you. you were on his mind, and have been a lot, lately. ever since you two became closer, you’ve plagued his thoughts and sometimes even dreams. it almost felt like you were taunting him.

“you know, you sure do talk about that y/n a lot,” kirishima stated one night he, bakugou, denki, and sero were hanging out. y/n had offered to take mina out clubbing so the boys could have some ‘time to themselves’.

“no i don’t, shut up, shitty hair.” plopping down on the couch of his apartment, he flipped on the movie they’d all picked out.

“it use to be about how she never notices you, and now it’s all lovey-dovey.” denki added, settling into his spot in front of the couch, popping a few kernels of popcorn into his mouth. the statement earned a hit to the back of head from bakugou.

“maybe he likes her,” sero made sure he was a good distance from his explosive friend when he added his comment, but it didn’t save him from his glare.

it wasn’t even a statement bakugou could bring himself to reject. why would he lie about it ? he did like you, and it was an annoying feeling. he wished he didn’t, that would’ve made his life so much easier, especially when he was the one that would go out and help y/n pick out dresses for the different dates she’d go on. none of the men ever [ gladly ] lasted long. they’d make it up to date two before either y/n declined the offer for the next one or they’d do something stupid, and she’d bluntly say you’d never want to see them again [ that she learned from bakugou ]

kirishima could see the storm swirling inside of his friend’s head, and he leaned over to nudge his side. “why don’t you tell her ? what’s the worse that could happen ?”

“you’re thinking about me ?” y/n’s eyebrows raised in surprise as you tilted your head to the side.

“huh ?” furrowing his eyebrows out of confusion, bakugou turned to look at you.

“i asked what you were thinking about, and you went ‘you’.”

did he really say that out-loud ?

“oh, um, well-”

“well, i was thinking about you, too, bakuboo.” you interrupted with a grin, reaching both of your hands out to grab one of his. “i know this is gonna be corny and you better not make a big deal out of this, and you know, if you don’t feel the same way, we’ll just act like it never happened. but i do like you a lot, katsuki. a lot more than, yanno, just being friends.”

at first, bakugou didn’t know what to say. he wasn’t expecting a confession, honestly. he’d always thought he’d be the first one to say something. but it makes sense, with how fast your thoughts come, and how scattered they are. the cold wind hitting his hand from where yours were previously grabbing his pulled him out of his thoughts. your sudden burst of confidence had evidently died away, the way your wings folded around yourself, something he realized you did when you were nervous, embarrassed, or felt unsafe or uncomfortable. he assumed you were a bundle of nerves at this point, with his prolonged silence.

“i like you, too, dumbass.” he finally replied, reaching back out to take your hand.

“really ?” his words pulled your attention away from the edge of a napkin you were picking at.

“i wouldn’t have said it if i didn’t mean it.”

“you say a lot of things you don’t mean !”

“no i don’t.”

“yes you do ! like when you said that you hated deku.” bakugou snorted, taking a sip from his water.

“i do hate deku.”

“nah, i think you’re in love with him. always picking fights and whatnot. you just want his attention.”

“i’ll start picking fights with you more often, then.”

“. . . no thank you.”

A/N: i’m supposed to be doing my assignments for business but :D i got bored and this was calling to me. i wasn’t gonna post until tomorrow but i’m kinda excited, imma start on my todoroki fic soon and work on a bunch of haikyuu headcanons. anyways, i hope you guys liked this one, i might make it a mini series just because i really like the idea of bakugou with someone a little ditzy and i have no idea why

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neon-junkie · 4 years

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The Last of his Kind - Chpt.1

Summary: A handsome young man approaches you at the bar after catching you checking him out. Names are exchanged and drinks are downed, and you seem to have fallen for him a lot harder than you realize.

Pairing: Jack Marston x f!Reader

Word Count: 3941

Rating: SFW

Tags: Post-RDR1, Saloon, Drinking, Flirting, Slow burn, Strangers to lovers, Gambling, First dates.

Notes: finally, some Jack Marston content, because this man deserves some love!!!!!!!!! to clarify, this is set after RDR1 and the epilogue, so Jack has already killed Ross and is now just trying to move on with his life.

To everybody's surprise, you'd done it. You'd managed to move out of your parents' house and buy a small home on the edge of Blackwater, with a chicken coop and a tiny garden around the back of the house. It's homely enough, perfectly decorated and surprisingly warm, even in the winter. The fireplace provides more than enough heat to keep your one-room house cozy, and you always get that wholesome feeling in your chest as you sit against the window, watching the snowfall with a hot beverage in your hands. It was nice to be able to work in the town that you live in, your place of work being less than five minutes away, and sometimes you like to shake up your morning commute and walk along the docks, overlooking the water and the land in the distance. The view is beautiful during the day but even more so at night, as an array of lights dance along the horizon. You'd heard about a city across that lake called Saint Denis, and although people have told you time and time again that it's huge, you can tell from how far across those lights go, as well as how bright they are. Maybe you'll visit that place one day. The furthest you'd ever traveled was up to Strawberry, only because your parents live there, and down south was a complete mystery to you. You're aware of that place called Thieves Landing, and you dare not to travel south because you fear that everywhere else will be as chaotic as that place.

Your closest friend and co-worker, Belle, had told you that the land down south was actually quite nice. Well, the scenery was, but Armadillo was almost always riddled with some sort of plague, and the other town down there was completely abandoned. The name slips your mind, but it's no matter as you'll never head down there. She's been to Thieves Landing many times for gambling trips and has egged you on to come with her one day, but you worry that it'll be your unlucky day and you'll end up in some sort of mess, so better safe than sorry. Instead, Belle likes to play her games at the Blackwater Saloon whilst you mingle and relax. She's tried to teach you before but there are so many cards and so many rules. You've gone this far in your life without getting addicted to a fun way of losing money, and you're happy to continue living your life without it. And that's where you are now, sitting at one of the tables with Belle, having a rant about some customer you served today who has his own nose way too far up his ass. A few drinks have been shared between the two of you and you can tell from the way Belle keeps looking at the Blackjack table that she wants a game sooner or later. Blackjack was the only game you knew how to play, only because the dealer does all the work, though you'd still rather save your money, even if luck tended to be on your side and you'd exit the game with a small profit. "Shame I was in the back when it happened," Belle tells you after you've finished laying out what happened to her. "What would you have done? Barked at him?" you say with a laugh. "I would have!" Belle says proudly, then lets out a bark, a surprisingly realistic one that catches the attention of a suited man at the table next to you. He pulls an odd face but turns his attention away as the two of you laugh. The town knows by now that the pair of you are a little odd, but times are changing and women seem to be asserting themselves more and more every day. Just last week, you saw a woman dragging out her husband after she'd caught him chatting to a woman at the Saloon. Normally, men would step in and try to defend the husband, saying the woman clearly wasn't 'doing her job' as a wife. But a bunch of men had stepped in and told the man off for being unfaithful. You're welcome to this change, and although there's no man in your life right now, you hope that he'll be a kind and gentle soul. Well, you wouldn't marry anybody who isn't, though you'll always have that worry of marrying a man who lets himself go the second the wedding rings are on. Let's hope things are different for you. Belle snaps you out of your daydream as she perks up again. "Ugh," she says as she rolls her eyes. "Another cowboy. I thought they had died out. He must be a wannabe, though I'm unsure why anybody would want that life." You're about to ask who she's on about but your eyes drift over to the bar, fixating on the stranger leaning against it. He's tall with sun-kissed skin, his cheeks a little rosy as he's just walked in from the hot evening outside. For a cowboy, he's clearly got good hygiene, as his hair falls nicely against his shoulders, his facial hair is neatly trimmed, and his clothes are perfectly clean. Maybe he's just trying to look the part but is a little too soft for the lifestyle? Either way, he looks young, maybe around his early twenties. The way his brows naturally furrow brings a soft smile to your face, as he's clearly trying to look a bit tough but he's quite adorable instead. "I'll give him credit, he is handsome," you tell Belle as your eyes stay locked onto him. "He's probably the only handsome cowboy to ever exist then. They're all so dirty and smelly," Belle shakes her hair. She's clearly not had a proper look at him, though you're thankful as you're definitely calling dibs on this one. "He doesn't look it," you tell her, your eyes briefly flicking over to her. "He's only just walked in and you're already planning the wedding, aren't you?" Belle says with a laugh. Belle's laughter has caught his attention, as he looks over to your table, his eyes locking onto yours. You gulp and quickly look away, giving Belle a small kick under the table to stop her from laughing. "What?" Belle asks. "Your laughter's caught his attention," you tell her, your eyes wide and glued to her. Belle looks over at the bar and grins as she looks back at you. "My laughter may have caught his attention, but his eyes are definitely fixed on you, sugar," she chuckles. You can't help but peek over at him once more, instantly looking away as you realize that yes, he's staring directly at you. You see his head move and check again, letting out a sigh of relief as he's now turned his focus to the bartender as he orders a drink. "What perfect timing. There's finally a space at the Blackjack table, meaning you'll be left on your own, looking all pretty and available," Belle says with a chuckle as she stands. "Belle, don't do this," you sigh. "He's just a boy. This ain't the first time you've chatted up a stranger at the bar," Belle replies. "They were different! Well, this is different. He just seems... you know," you attempt to explain. "You've caught feelings already. I understand." You're about to jump on the defensive and say you haven't, but Belle cuts you off as she hands you some change. "How about you go get a drink for yourself and if things go south, get one for me too and use me as your escape route, alright?" A long sigh escapes your lips before you respond with "fine." You stand up also, Belle flashing you a smile before she turns and heads to the Blackjack table. As you walk over to the bar, you count through her change, checking to see how much she gave you but to also prevent your eyes from awkwardly catching the strangers. He's stood at one end at the bar, yourself at the other. The bartender serves you your drink and the leftover change is put into your pocket. After taking a sip of your drink, your look out the corner of your eye at the stranger, noting the way his head quickly turns. He was definitely staring at you again, but you're just as guilty as you're now staring at him. The sight of a pair of guns on his hips tells you that what Belle said was true, that he's definitely a cowboy, or whatever they now call themselves. The gunbelt he wears is worn down and you assume it's been passed down to him, meaning at least one of his parents lived the same lifestyle. "Something catch your eye, Miss?" somebody asks. You shake your head a little as your eyes trail up his body and oh shit, he's speaking to you. "What?" you blurt out, the panicked expression on your face making him softly laugh. "I said, has something caught your eye, Miss?" he asks again, a lot slower and clearer this time. You suddenly realize how awkward you must have looked, staring down at his gunbelt, though he may have thought you were staring at something else instead. "Oh, I was... admiring your gunbelt," you honestly tell him, though it sounds odd saying it out loud. "My gunbelt?" he double checks with you. "Yeah... it looks well worn," you tell him as if he doesn't already know. "It is. Was my Pa's," he tells you, his eyes briefly flicking down to the piece of equipment. "Was that really what you were staring at?" he asks you with a soft smile as he looks back up and draws his focus back to you. "Yes!" you say with a nod. "I promise." "Heh, sure," he laughs again. "I ain't ever had a woman check me out before," the stranger tells you as he bridges the gap on the bar, taking the few steps over to you and leaning against it. His body is turned mostly towards you, but his elbow rests on the bar top. He crosses one ankle over the other, his spurs clinking as they move, sending a shiver down your spine. You've heard many stories about true cowboys and you've seen the odd wannabe or bandit, but something felt authentic about this stranger. "I promise you, I wasn't being perverted," you explain. "I don't view checking somebody out as perverted. You're only admirin' them, no harm can come from that," he says with a shrug. "But I can see how flustered the thought is making you, so how's about I buy you a drink to settle your nerves?" the stranger offers. He adds on a "sweetheart" at the end, the sound of that petname coming from his voice draws you to him even more, and you find yourself agreeing to his offer in a heartbeat. He's polite when he orders, using his manners and checking with you on what you'd like. You finish up the drink you currently have as he pays for your next one. Either you didn't hear, or he snuck this in as you were occupied with downing your drink, but he orders a shot on the side. At least he ordered gin, as despite it still burning, it doesn't burn as much as whiskey does or leave that awful feeling in your throat. "Thank you," you say as he slides your drink over to you, followed by the shot. "May I know your name?" you ask him. "Marston. Jack Marston," he tells you as his attention focuses back on you, the bartender moving away to serve somebody else. "And yours?" "___," you tell him. "Pretty name for a pretty woman," he says with a smile as he picks up his shot. You can't help but shake your head a little at the cheesy comment, but you pick up your shot and clink it against his glass, both of you necking the burning liquid. There's that nasty feeling in your throat, trailing down and settling in your stomach. You lightly cough, placing the empty glass on the bar top and taking a well-needed sip of your drink. Jack doesn't seem phased, taking a much smaller sip of his drink and licking his lips, probably savoring the taste. "You alright?" he asks. "I don't often drink liquor neat," you explain, letting out a small cough and chugging some more of your drink. "I'll get the next round," you tell him, deciding that shots are definitely off the table. "We're doing rounds? I can't take money off you, sweetheart," Jack informs you. "But you can take drinks off me instead," you correct him. "Alright. If you insist," he says with a smile, shaking his head at you. "So," Jack begins after having another swig. "I noticed your friend went straight over to that Blackjack table. You not much of a gambler then?" he questions. "Oh, Belle? Yeah, she loves it. I just can't wrap my head around it, apart from Blackjack because I'm not doing any of the work," you shrug. "I could teach you sometime? Card games just kinda click without you even realisin'," Jack replies, shifting more of his weight against the bar as he relaxes against it. "She's tried to teach me so many times and I just can't figure it out," you say with a soft laugh. "She's tried to take me down to Thieves Landing many times, saying I'll definitely win there as apparently they're a bunch of morons, but I just don't trust a place with a name like that." "I don't blame you," Jack nods in agreement. "But the folk down there are nice, despite the name. It's more of a lawless place but the area has its own morals and codes." "I dunno," you drawl, nervously fiddling with your drink. "Trust me, it's alright. Maybe you'll head down there one day and bump into me," Jack tells you. "Do you visit it often?" "I'd say I'm a regular there, yeah. I tend to visit a lot of places down south," Jack replies before taking another sip of his drink, finishing the bourbon off. "What're they like?" you question. "I've only been up north to Strawberry as my parents live there." "I haven't been Strawberry since I was a kid..." Jack pauses. He's clearly having a flashback moment, though his attention quickly turns back to you. "Down south is alright. There's the occasional bandit that you bump into on the roads, but the town folk are kind." "Occasional bandit?" you question with a concerning laugh. "You make it sound so inviting." "Well, down there is 'uncivilized', or at least that's what rich folk describe it as," Jack explains. "And what would you say?" you question, finishing off the rest of your drink. "Me? I'd just say it's a different part of the land," he shrugs again as he gives the bartender a wave, who nods in return to indicate he'll be right over. Jack turns his attention back to you. "But if you ever want me to take you down there, I'll keep you safe," he says with a wink. "Ain't you a bit young to be tryna keep me safe? 'Specially from bandits?" you tease. "I may be young but I know how to work a gun," Jack informs you. "It's in my blood," he adds on. You're unsure on what exactly he means with that last comment, but you decide not to press into it. Thankfully, the bartender comes over to serve you and you buy the next round, without any shots this time. Your stomach has barely settled down from that gin, and your body feels sickly enough from being chatted up by this handsome stranger. The drinks go down quicker than you realize. Jack seems well-composed, though he's beginning to slur a few of his words and stumble whenever he excuses himself to the restroom. You, on the other hand, are struggling to keep yourself sober-looking. This stranger has scrambled your nerves and you've fallen into the liquor for comfort, and now you're having to deal with the outcome. You stumble back into the Saloon after taking a leak. Jack is still at the bar, leaning against it as he swirls the booze in his drink, fiddling with something to pass the time. Belle had found you moments ago to inform you that she was heading home, giving you a nudge and wink as she tells you that you look very happy with this handsome stranger and that she assumed you wouldn't be needed her back up plan. You'd said goodnight to her after insisting that you weren't just going to take this one home, that something about him feels different and you want to see where it takes you. Jack flashes you a smile as he notices you approaching, trying not to laugh as you narrowly miss stumbling into a stranger. "You alright?" Jack asks as you. You're about to reply that you're just fine, but as you go to lean against the bar, you stumble over your own feet and almost fall flat on your bum. Jack's reaction times are still immaculate, even whilst tipsy, as he manages to catch you before you can hit the floor. Your eyes lock onto his as you realize the pickle you've gotten yourself into, and both your expressions turn nervous once you notice how close your faces are. Jack helps pull you up to your feet, though an arm remains around your waist, your hand resting on his shoulder to keep yourself up. "I'm gonna take that as a 'no'," Jack tells you. "What? Oh! I'm fine, trust me. Just a little tipsy," you reassure him with an embarrassed laugh. "I think you mean 'drunk'," he says as he shakes his head. "Maybe I should get you home?" Jack suggests. "You don't have to walk me back," you tell him, but Jack quickly shakes his head and waves his hand, dismissing your claim. "Not only is it the right thing to do, but I doubt you'll make it home on your own," Jack comments, concerned for your safety, not just from strangers, but from the liquor in your system. "If you insist," you shrug, taking up his offer. "I very much do." Jack gently removes his arm from around your waist, only to offer you his arm instead. You link your arm through his, your other hand holding onto his upper arm as he walks you through the Saloon. As you exit the building, you notice your reflection in the large windows, and your stomach begins to spin at the sight. You quite like the look of yourself and this handsome young man, a curious duo but you fit together like two pieces of a very odd puzzle. Is it wrong to already take a liking to him? Especially when you only met him a few hours ago? You'd heard about 'love at first sight' and all those other cheesy terms from the books you read, but maybe they write about those things for a reason. You're snapped out of your daydream as Jack makes a clicking noise with his tongue. The sound of hooves clopping against the stone floor makes you snap your head over your shoulder, noticing that one of the horses that was hitched outside the front of the Saloon is now following closely behind. "I assume she's yours?" you ask him. "She is," Jack confirms as he leans his other hand out to loosely hold onto her reigns, leading his horse as well as leading you. "So, you don't live in town?" "I don't," Jack tells you. "I live on a ranch in the Great Plains," he informs you, tilting his head down slightly to look at you. "A ranch? That must be hard work," you let out a sigh. "It.. erm... Yeah, it can be. There ain't really many animals there anymore. It's hard to run a ranch by yourself," Jack replies and you notice the darkened tone to his voice. "I won't ask," you tell him, not wanting to pry into his private life. "I'll tell you about it someday," Jack tells you. He catches your eyes and gives you a smile, reassuring you that you haven't accidentally stumbled into anything too personal. "So, who's this lady then?" you comment as you peer over at his horse. "Oh, I just call her nag," he shrugs. "You haven't named her?" you say with a slight laugh. Maybe he'd only brought her recently, but from the way she's sticking beside him and loyally following, you assume otherwise. "Yeah. I ain't really sure why, I just haven't," he tells you. "Well, we've gotta name her!" "We?" Jack questions. "So, you want to see me again?" he says with a smirk and a flirtatious tone to his voice, making you softly laugh. "If you'll let me," you flirt back. "Of course I'll let you, sweetheart. How about I take you out some time?" Jack questions, coming to a halt outside your house. "I'd love that. You know, there's a nice Bistro in town that I've been wanting to try out. We could go there?" you suggest. Your arm slips from Jacks as you talk, standing in front of him instead. You can't help but reach out and gently stroke his mount's nose, picking up on how well-groomed she is. "Sure. When are you free?" Jack questions, watching you pet his horse. He can't help but smile at the sight, his nag warming up to you quickly. "Wednesday?" you suggest, giving you two days to mentally and physically prepare yourself. "Wednesday it is," Jack says with a nod, his eyes trailing back to yours. There's a slight pause as you move your attention back to Jack. You try not to smile too much but you can't help it; this handsome young stranger is making you feel a hundred things at once, but he seems the same, flashing you a smile in return. "Thank you for walking me home," you comment. "It's no problem. Now, you should get yourself inside before you stumble over something else," Jack teases, enjoying the way your cheeks turn red. "Alright," you say as you roll your eyes, walking up the steps to your porch. "Does 5 sound good? for Wednesday?" you ask as you turn back to him. "5 is good. I'll come by here," he says with a nod as he climbs up onto his nag, shuffling about in the saddle until he's uncomfortable. "Now go on, Miss. Get yourself to bed," Jack tells you. "I will. Goodnight, Jack," you say with a smile. "Goodnight, darlin'," Jack says as he tips his hat at you. He taps his spurs against his mount's stomach, his horse slowly trotting away. Jack's eyes remain on you until you enter your home, ensuring you're safe inside. Once inside, you lock the door and lean back against it, holding your chest like a cheesy girl who's fallen in love. You can't help but smile, though you think you're only swaying about because you're still tipsy, but who knows? You get ready for bed, Jack staying on your mind the whole time. It's incredible how one person has made you feel this way in such a short amount of time, though the nerves of your date have already begun to sink in. Hopefully, the date will be just as good as tonight, maybe even better. But you have tomorrow's shift to get through first.

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fayeimara · 3 years

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Meant To Be || One For Every Billion

6. By My Side | Pt 2

Somehow, you're not surprised to see Toru walking up to you and Hana, with Iwaizumi and Maki trailing behind him. There's another boy with them that you haven't met before but you don't have time to pay him much attention because chocolate boy leaves them behind and makes it to your side faster than you thought possible.

"Happy Birthday, Oikawa."

"What a face you're making Y/n-chan! Aren't you happy to see me?"

"To see you stalk me all the way here? Honestly up in the air about it."

"But you indirectly invited me." He's pouting again.

"How's that, exactly?"

"When you said you couldn't celebrate with me because you had tickets for this park. Wasn't that your way of telling me that you wanted me to come to you instead?"

"I-" You manage to hold back a smile at his obvious attempt, "Don't you guys have practice?"

"Not for a couple days! So we're staying overnight to celebrate my birthday!"

"Yes, we've established it's your birthday, Oikawa." You remind him dryly, mostly to cover your close slip of mentioning that you'll also be staying here tonight.

"Call me- oof." He's cut off with a hit to the back of his head as Iwaizumi, Maki and their other friend finally make it to you. Two guesses who smacked his head.

"Hey Y/n."

"Hi Y/n!"

Both Iwaizumi and Maki greet you and you figure you should introduce Hana as well. She's been looking like the audience at a tennis match and probably has oncoming whiplash at this point.

"Hi, Iwaizumi, Maki! It's so nice to see you guys again! This is my friend Hana, by the way."

She blushes really lightly but confidently greets them at your introduction, "Hi! Nice to meet you."

"Hi Hana!"

"Hi.. Hana." You think Iwaizumi's hesitation is caused by the fact that you only gave her first name but you won't say for sure just yet. He clears his throat before adding, "And this is Matsukawa."

Toru cheerily adds in, "Just call him Mattsun!"

"Hey." He does the classic guy head nod without a change in expression. You're pretty sure you're destined to spend today with at least one expressionless companion by your side at all times but you're incredibly used to it thanks to most of your male family members and a couple best friends. Though Key would laugh and tell you that you're one to talk, but that's back at school where a lot of responsibility sits on your shoulders.

Here, you can be whoever you want to be, and that thought is freeing.

"Well... since you came all this way, I guess it won't hurt if we join your group for a little while. We do have to meet up with my cousins and Hana's siblings in about an hour though."

"Only an hour? Why not just have them meet us and we can all spend the day together!"

"Do you really want to spend your day with more strangers than friends?" You're starting to feel genuinely bad at this point instead of the amused exasperation you first felt.

Which all goes away when he shrugs at you with the sweetest smile and responds, "As long as I get to spend it with you, angel, it'll be another perfect birthday!"

"Right, well, apparently not with your friends who came with you."

Iwaizumi actually lets out a chuckle?! You're almost too stunned to hear his words, "Yeah, well he's shittykawa for a reason. But, hey, who'd turn down a day riding roller coasters? With or without trash tagging along."

"Iwaaa-chaaan!"

You barely had it so is it weird to say you missed this? The easy bonds of this group that feels as comfortable to slip into as your own back home?

"You like coasters too Iwaizumi?" You ask, deliberately ignoring Toru, "Hana and I both love them!"

"We were just about to go on this one, if you want to join?" She speaks up with a smile aimed at the guys, even Toru. Oh my, she's really too nice, you can't help but smile at her kind, fair attitude.

It's Iwaizumi that answers her though, blushing as well, "Uh.. sure, it's the new one this year, right?"

"Yeah.." Their voices drift off as they drift away to the end of the line up that's been pushing and pulling a little with the ebb and flow of the people around your group while you were all standing and talking.

The four of you remaining stare after them for a minute before looking at each other like, who knew. Then Toru actually goes and says, "Well, well... who knew?"

On principle, you have to divert, "What are you going on about? Let's join the line before we lose them."

You walk after them and Toru falls into step beside you, "Careful, angel, it's getting quite busy and you could easily get lost."

You scoff, "Right, like I couldn't just call or text someone to meet up with."

"What if you were put in danger?" He's not teasing or being silly even though he has a smirk on his face, he actually looks pretty serious.

"Would that be from the rides or the hyper children or the tired parents...?"

"There are all kinds of people here, Y/n-chan." The two of you step into line behind Hana and Iwaizumi, "But stay by my side, and I'll make sure to protect you."

"Who'll protect me from you?" You joke.

But instead of teasing back lightly, his expression turns smug and he aims a pretty tempting smile at you, "Why would you need protection from me? Worried you might fall for me?"

Yeah, you guess you walked into that one, "For the guy that stalked me here on his birthday?"

"You invited me!" It's almost surreal, how easily he slips in and out of his silly, cheerful personality to the deeper aspects you have yet to fully discover. As friends, you mean.. right?

"Okay, I guess that's the story we're going with."

You didn't realize completely but his friends have once again sectioned off to give the two of you room. Although in Iwaizumi's case, you don't think it was too intentional this time. He and Hana seem to be really hitting it off, her cheerful demeanor off setting his more serious tone in a pretty cute way.

Her head's thrown back laughing at something he's said, her eyes closed so she doesn't see that he's looking over at her through the corner of his eye with a small smile on his face. See? Cute.

So it's no surprise when your group reaches the front and he follows her over to the two-seater at the very front. You move towards the second pair of seats - you swear, the front is always the best - and you don't have to look behind you to know Toru is following.

"Hm? Where's Maki, I want to see if he laughs or screams?"

Toru smirks at you while gently pushing you forward so he can move in front of the other seat you're currently blocking, "He and Mattsun took the back, good luck getting them at the front of any ride."

"So I'm stuck with you?"

"Lucky me, huh? Now I get to see if you laugh or scream." Wow, okay. You don't think that's an innuendo, but he said it like he was flirting so it's pretty confusing.

You roll your eyes as they list the typical rules over the loudspeaker, talking low even though there's noise everywhere, "Depends on the ride."

You take a chance to glance at him, pulling an Iwaizumi and looking over the corner of your eye, but you're caught in that decadent pool of chocolate the moment you meet his gaze. He's looking directly at you, not even trying to pretend otherwise.

That's how you start to ascend, looking at each other without saying a word. People around you both are hollering and calling out as you near the precipice and you're the one to break eye contact first, pulling away to study the world at your feet.

As you finally do reach the summit, you meet his eyes again briefly but now you've got an anticipatory, exhilarated smile on your face and his eyes slightly widen in response. You love roller coasters. And this is your favourite part.

You're already laughing as you start to drop and you don't know if he ever looks away. All you know is that his hand finds yours and they stayed locked together whether your arms fly up in the air or drop back down to the bars.

Prev | Next

Masterlist

Behind The Scenes!

-The "what a face you're making" line is a direct reference to the previous birthday chapter, a year before in the story, in which Y/n thinks the exact same thing in reference to Toru <3

-Hana and Hanamaki.... didn't want to point out the obvious but I actually didn't even realize it myself until much later. But I guess the name still stood out to me for a reason when I had to decide what fit her character lol

A/N: I'll get to a rant about this at the end of this episode but... I really did revive my thoughts on Oikawa by writing him...

Taglist: @delusivist, @prettyinblack231, @kac-chowsballs, @sakusasimpbot, @hawkthekinnie

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dabis-girl · 4 years

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Mine pt.2 | Dabi x Reader | Smut 18+

A/N: its been way too long my loves lets just say I’ve been busy. Anyways this is a follow up to the very first fic I ever published on here. Not sure if this will be come a whole thing but let’s just see where this goes.

Warnings/ Tags: Dubcon, breeding kink, humiliation ( I think that it but let me know.

Word count: 2.5k

Summary: After your last encounter you distance yourself from your evil lover and he doesn’t take too kindly to that.

Read Part One Here

It had been 3 weeks since the last time you had seen Dabi, you had been ignoring his calls and texts. He had gone to far last time usually, you could keep up with his sadistic practices but you had never been okay with being fucking into of a stranger. It appeared that he realized that he had gone too far this time, he had even sent you a gift box filled with lace thongs the replace the one that he had given away. You couldn’t quite place your finger on what upset you the most about that night. What it how he made you into a spectacle or like his property, no one had ever treated you like that.

You tried your best to focus on training and trying to get recruited by a professional hero agency hopefully, you could get pick up as a sidekick. Training had fallen by the wayside after you met Dabi, proving that he was only a distraction. It’s not like he was too supportive of your hero dreams anyway, he always teased you about wanting to be a hero. He didn’t believe that you had it into, not with your weakness being you damned evil lover, there was no way you could hurt him on purpose even if you had to. It wasn’t easy, but you had to put all of that to the back of your mind while you completed your last year at UA.

It had been so long since you had slept with the window open, you used to leave it open for Dabi to sneak in but you missed the way having a window open made the room less claustrophobic. You had meant to close it before you went to sleep but you have drifted off while watching a movie. You woke up in the middle of the night and the tv was off and the room was pitch black, the moonlight poured through the window reminding you that it needed to closed. It was too late, he was at the edge of the bed staring down at you with a starved look on his face. He had scared you making you retreat to the corner of the bed, he stood over you with a small blue flame sitting atop the palm of his hand. Weeks had passed since he’d slutted you out and completely embarrassed you in front of his colleague, that was the last night you two had seen each other. That night you told him you never wanted to see him again.

“You’ve been ignoring my calls.” He said as he looked down at you with a menacing grin.

“I told you we have to stop, Dabi. “ You said clutching the blanket off the bed. In that same instant, he’d quickly put out the flame and harshly grasped your face with is rough scarred hand.

“And why is that? Am I getting in the way of your hero dreams?” He teased keeping a firm grip on your jaw. “I bet you’re dripping right now, thinking about what I’m going to do to you.“ You shake your head and he tightens his grip. “Let me finish little girl.” He growled. “I know what you need, to make this all better. You need me to drag your slutty ass out into that hallway and make you beg me to fuck you, in front of all of your stupid friends. “ He let out a laugh that scared you but also made you even wetter. “ Am I right?” This humiliation kink that he’d developed was one that you’d never be able to escape.

You knew that you were already wet, your cunt had started drooling the moment you laid eyes on him, it was out of your control. As much as you could try and deny it he knew that you were just as disturbed as he was. You tried your hardest to be opposed to his twisted fantasies, but he had no qualms about shoving his hand down your pants and seeing for himself. This is the reason he constantly taunted you because he knew your protests were empty.

You didn’t answer and angered him so he picked you up and tossed you over his shoulder heading for the door. You kicked and fought him until he finally released you. He gazed at you and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he began to cress your face and leaned in for a kiss, painting his lips on yours. He tased like ash and whiskey, his taste excited you as you leaned into his kiss. Just as he as placed a hand on your lower back you sank your teeth hard enough into his lip to draw blood. He reflexively pinned you to the wall, with a loud thud you could feel my slit silkening beneath him as the bulge in his pants strained against you.

“What the fuck?” He spat through gritted teeth. Licking the blood that oozed from his wound he smiled at you. “Playing hard to get tonight I see.” He chuckled

“Get off of me.” You didn’t even believe the words as they came out of your mouth. Wiping away your saliva he wasn’t angry like you thought he’d be instead, the look on his face was one of amusement. He liked to chase, and you were playing his favorite game.

“Tell me I’m wrong and you don’t want me. “ He said as his hand traveled down the length of your torso to your thin cotton underwear to tease your clit. “Come on say the word and I’ll stop.” He teased. You thought that you’d had more willpower than this, not a single word of protest left your mouth instead you soft moans peppered the air. He had instructed you to lay on the bed, you didn’t move.

Your hesitance perplexed him, by the point you had usually given in. Alas, here you were standing in the same place that he had left you. His eyes narrowed as you were challenging his authority. He took a stance in front of you and folded his arm across his chest, the ice glare of his turquoise eyes caused goosebumps to erupt over your skin. His patience was wearing thin, you had never seen him this angry at least not at you.

“What now?’ His voice was flat and gravelly impatiently peering down at you. Your chest heaved as each breath was heavier than the next.

“I told you that we have to stop Dabi.” You deified your body calling out for him. This performance wasn’t any more convincing than your last. “ Can you leave?” You managed to choke out with almost no conviction.

“This again?” He rolled his eyes. “ Fine, we’ll just have to do this the hard way, Doll.” He said just as his hand seized around your neck. “That’s what I thought.” He chuckled as he threw you onto the bed.

You didn’t fight back, Dabi glared down at you as you laid on the bed with no further protests. He tormented you for being a slut and making him go through all this trouble, he called it a sick fantasy. Dabi was a sadistic lover and it made sense that he would all of this would just feed into the twisted mind. A feeling of unease washed over you as you thought about what you were doing, playing into his perverted delusions. As much as you’d hate to admit it you were just as sick as he was, enjoying yourself like this.

He was standing over you while you had assumed your position on the bed, eyes pleading with him. He kneeled between your legs removing your panties and for a moment he just stared at your exposed mound in all its slick glory. He reached out a finger nuzzling it betwixt your folds reveling in what he’d done to you. The twitching of your clit caught his attention, he said that it was if she was dancing for him. He was purposefully ignoring your needy clit, causing you to thrust your hips towards him causing your throbbing bud to brush ever so slightly against the bridge of his nose. The sudden contact caused your body to shudder, craving more you buck your hips with even more force. Dabi had grown tired of your impatience, he grabbed roughly grabbed at your inner thighs forcefully pushing you back.

“For someone that was so set on wanting me out of their life, you are acting a bit desperate now, aren’t you?” He taunted. “ I should make you beg for being a defiant little brat, make you submit to me finally. Maybe I’ll take you with me, this hero school is getting to your head.” He ranted still gripping your thighs. Your feral whines were making it hard for him to hold out. “ Your pleasure is in my hands and I don’t hear any begging” He cupped his hand behind his ear. You bit your lip in an effort to hold back your moans and pleas, angering him more. It worked, he was livid, abruptly he let go of your legs and stood. “Fine, I’ll leave.” He said plainly, making his way to the window.

“Please.” You gasped scrambling to the edge of the bed following after him. “Dabi... please stay.” You said gripping at his shirt pulling back toward the bed. He looked down at you viciously before shrugging you off.

“Why should I?” Dabi said coldly, your facial expression dropped at his words. You pleaded with him apologizing for your actions. “With all the stunts you’ve pulled today you’re lucky I’ve kept my composure.” Dabi ranted, he was frustrated this dynamic was getting old. Tonight was going to be your last night in the dorms and you hadn’t the slightest idea. He began to unbutton his pants freeing his dick, allowing it to spring up and bounce off of his lean torso. The same one that had violated you so sweetly as you were bent over the armrest of a filthy sofa. “Show me your sorry slut.” He commanded.

You reached out and wrapped your fingers around his dick satisfied with the weight of him. Stroking him admiring the bulbous tip, you hungrily licked your lips as you watched a bead of precum dribble out of the tip. You took him into your mouth, he moaned as he watched his length disappear as you sucked him down allowing him to bottom out. In the back of your throat.

“Fuck.” He moaned, grasping the top of your head as you bobbed up and down around him. He had begun to thrust his hips into your mouth causing you to sputter and drool. He shoved himself down your throat savagely, wrecking your throat. Finally, he halted his assault letting you up for air admiring the thick string of saliva that connected the two of you. Looking up at him you could see the lust in his eyes, his gaze was it’s most ferocious as swooped you up laying down on your back, knees parted waiting for him to fill you.

He trailed his length over your slit coating his dick in your wetness before teasing at your entrance. It was apparent that things would go differently tonight, it wasn’t normal the way he was acting. Usually, he would devour quickly as he was a very busy man but now he seemed to want to take his time. At last, he sank into you at a devilishly slow-pace you let out a loud yelp as he entered you fully before withdrawing before slamming into you with no mercy. His hands moved to grip your ankles forcing your legs further apart and his thrusts seemed even deeper than before. Dabi was looking you in your eyes while he penetrated you, he watched your face contort as he pummeled into you.

He withdrew himself from you and flipped you over onto your stomach. Planting his hands on your hips he pulled your ass into the air, you felt his tongue on your clit sucking and slurping up the juices that flowed out of you. Without warning he rammed into roughly once again picking up a vicious pace, he continued to reach around and grab you neck lifting your head off of the bed he adjusted his grip so that his hand grasped your jaw. The arch of you back deepened and Dabi leaned down to plant a kiss on your forehead. It was abnormal for him to show this type of affection during sex but you weren’t opposed in fact you found your pussy clenching around him. Dabi continued to push you off of him, grabbing your hair to align your face with his pelvis he entered your mouth again.

“Look at you.” He gleamed. “You look so good cleaning up your mess.” He brushed his fingers through your hair while he watched you slobber on his dick. Having had enough he pushed you back onto the bed entering you with a primal force. He pushed himself into you repeatedly hitting your spongy core.

“Yes Dabi, please.” You begged for your release knowing that he’d give it to you. At this point, you were out of control writhing beneath him, your hands searched for something to grasp. At first, it was the sheets, but you had managed to pull them completely off the bed and they were now bunched around the bodies of you and your lover. The next attempts were the pillows but Dabi had snatched them away from you so that you’d end up gripping at his wrists. Your release was close and he could tell by the way that pussy was tightening around him.

“Cum for me Doll. “ Dabi said before he kissed you. Like clockwork, you came undone beneath him. Seconds later he came himself thrusting harder into you to burry his seed, he let out a throaty groan as the walls of your cunt milked him. He’d never came inside of you before, it shocked you especially considering the be knew you weren’t on birth control. You jumped off of him and watched in disbelief as his seed dripped out of you. “Congratulations you’re gonna be a mommy.” He laughed. “Now get your things you’re coming with me.” He said.

“What do you mean? “ You spoke with confusion. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You can either come with me now or wait a few months for your stomach to swell and people to start asking questions.” He said as he zipped his pants. “The choice is yours.” He shrugged. He hoped that his plan would work he didn’t know if you were actually pregnant but may you were shocked enough to take his words at face value.

“You’re right. “ You said defeated. There was no way to pinpoint what you were feeling, the mix of emotions were bittersweet. On one hand, you were leaving behind everything you had worked so hard for, and on the other, you were going to be with the man that you love carrying his child maybe.

Ultimately you decided that Dabi was too good to give up as if he’d ever let you go anyways.

#mha dabi #bnha dabi #my hero academia #boko no hero academia #mha smut #dabi x reader #mha villains #my hero fanfic #Bnha writing blog #mha imagines

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hold-my-hand-kuroo · 4 years

Text

A Bouquet For You || 02 - Carnation

A Bouquet For You Masterlist

taglist: @disgruntled-gay @moonchild-kun94 @skyguy-peach @error707-thememelord @o51oc @nanacee @prettysetter @sugawsites @shareyourfandomfaves

The next morning is exactly what you feared. You wake up late, missing the three alarms that you had set for yourself, and after some deliberation, you decide to go without breakfast. Not your best idea, but between being late on your first day or a hearty meal, you’d choose the former any day. First impressions were important.

“Are you sure you’re not going to eat?” Kenma asks, watching you fumble around with your shoes at the doorway. “Or actually, where are you even going this early?”

“Work. First day,” you say hurriedly. Turning the doorknob, you turn back to give him a quick wave or something similar to it. “See you. I’ll be back later tonight.”

“B-bye?” he responds like a question. After all, Kenma still doesn’t understand why you’re conversing with him like a real person. The feeling of living with someone after so long feels foreign, and he’s continuously caught by surprise with your behavior. Even a rush, you still poured a glass of milk for him, forgetting that spirits don’t need calcium for strong bones. He drank it nonetheless, being very confused.

Work is exactly what you had imagined it to be. Hell. Within your very first hour, you’re bombarded with new tasks and papers. “Experience is key,” your supervisor had said, but between the directions being fired at you and more coworkers just giving you endless stacks of files, you quickly are at a loss for what to do. Between flipping through the manual and managing your work properly, you find yourself already utterly exhausted by lunch break.

Lunch break. That was your next problem. Nobody wanted to involve themselves with the new, troublesome rookie, leaving you to eat on your own, albeit quickly, because you wanted to get things done.

“D-do you mind if I sit here with you?” a small, shaky voice stammers. You look up from scrolling through your phone to see a short, blonde woman. She grips tightly at her lunch bag, eyes quivering. “You don’t have to let me, though! I don’t want to be too pushy!”

“I don’t mind!” you answer kindly, offering the chair next to you. You watch as the woman of nerves shakily takes the spot. “Actually, thanks for offering. I was worried that I was going to have a hard time getting along with other people.”

“It’s always hard on the first day. I’ve been here for a few months, and it’s still really difficult for me!” she agrees. She seems more relaxed, shoulders going down slightly. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, the woman opens her lunch before jolting upright. “I’m sorry! I never introduced myself. I’m Yachi Hitoka!”

You vaguely remember her name, and you realize that it’s the person whose desk is right next to you. You’re embarrassed, to say the least, realizing that you barely made sufficient introductions to the people around you. Offering your own name in turn and apologizing profusely, the two of you get along better than expected. As it turns out, Yachi, though having only been at the company for less than half a year, was a designer genius. Often tasked to be the leader of poster projects, your coworker who seemed only to be made out of nerves was a master at what she did. You hoped to be like her one day.

“It’s a little rough at first,” she admits, wiping stray crumbs off the table, “but you’ll be fine. To be honest, I saw some of the samples you sent in with your resume. Just a peek though! Your pattern-designing is really interesting and pretty, so I think they’ll be useful in the future. If you need any help…you know…feel free to ask me.”

After lunch, you feel like a new person. You’re not sure if it’s just getting food in your system, or Yachi’s genuine optimism and show of support, but you’re determined to work harder. After getting chewed out by your supervisor for making multitudes of errors in the files, you’re back at rock bottom again. Expected.

Walking out of the office building, you trudge your way back home, squeezing your way through the mob of people all rushing to get back home at the station. Taking the train was economical on your part, but a massive hellish experience. You always took notice to stay near the doors, but eventually, people would just push you toward the middle, and you’d be stuck there. Pushing your way back out was a million times worse, as you never felt good about shoving other passengers, even if their actions warranted it.

From there, you carefully follow your GPS back to your apartment complex on foot. You didn’t exactly know yet the area that well, so you were careful to not get lost. As you’re walking, you stop and notice the little florist shop and its display of pink and red flowers. They’re small, and the way the setting sun hits the freshly watered petals, reflecting glimmers of light, fascinates you. Walking closer toward the shop, you lean down and admire the delicate beauty in awe.

“Sorry, but that’s just display. We’re currently out of carnations,” a familiar deep voice informs, followed by the closing and locking of the door. You look up to the source and let out an audible gasp. “Oh, hey. It’s you.”

“So that’s what you meant last night by cutting and dying,” you muse, looking at your neighbor and the daffodils he has in hand. “And here I thought you were some kind of gang leader.”

“I suppose what I said taken out of context sounds pretty bad,” he chuckles, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. He looks down at his bouquet and motions them toward you. “I was gonna give you this when I got back, but I guess it doesn’t matter now. Here. Congratulations on moving in, Neighbor.”

“Thanks,” you laugh, graciously accepting the house-warming gift. “Although, it’d be better if I could get a name to thank. I’m Y/N by the way.”

“Shit, did I never mention a name?” he murmurs, tsking. You almost laugh again. Poor introductions seemed to be a pattern, and you were one of the worst offenders. “I’m Kuroo Tetsurou. I’m, as you can see, the owner of this shop. Some people call me a florist, but I’m really a plant magician.”

“I’m sure you are,” you reply with a roll of your eyes. “Did you just get off from work?”

“Yup. This shop closes every day at 7 PM. Won’t be catching me doing overtime.”

“What about last night?”

“Except when I forget things, which usually doesn’t happen,” Kuroo clarifies with a smirk. He glances at your offense attire and raises a brow. “First day not so good, huh? Are you going home? I’d be willing to lend an ear if you’d like.”

“How kind of you,” you sigh, then nod tiredly. “It’s my second day here, and I already have a therapist. Lovely.”

“It’s good to complain a little from time to time.”

Following the florist, you hum a little in contemplation. Then, taking a deep breath, you being to talk about how terrible your day was and how you’ve been yelled at more times today than ever in your life and that reading the manual over and over again actually didn’t help, but none of the senior workers were very approachable. To be honest, you felt a little bit silly, opening up so quickly to a stranger, but once you started, you couldn’t stop. In fact, you don’t even notice when you’re right in front of the door to your apartment room until you hear the jingling of Kuroo’s own keys.

“Sorry, I got a little carried away,” you murmur, embarrassed for what seemed to be the millionth time that day. “I didn’t mean to rant-“

“But you look so much better after letting a little bit of steam off,” Kuroo interrupts, flashing you an insanely bright smile. “Hey, don’t worry about it. Since we’re neighbors that share the same route home, let’s just be friends, yeah?”

“Y-yeah?” you say like a question. “I mean, yeah. Sounds good.”

“Then, see you around, or maybe tomorrow, Y/N,” the florist concludes, unlocking the door to his room, already halfway in. “Hope tomorrow goes better for you.”

“Thanks,” you reply, giving him a wave before stepping into your own home. Setting your shoes aside, you quickly wonder what to do with the flowers. It’s not like you had a vase ready, so you take an empty water bottle out from the recycling instead. Carefully setting the yellow buds into the container, you leave it at the center of the table, deciding that the centerpiece brought a little life into your apartment.

“Hey,” you hear Kenma murmur, walking out of your room with console in hand. You then remember that you really did more life in your apartment. “Nice flowers.”

“You’re not even looking at them,” you chuckle and roll your eyes. “The neighbor gave them to me. Do you like them?”

“They’re fine.”

You laugh again at his aloof attitude and try to throw away the parchment paper that was used to wrap the bouquet. It’s until then that you notice a small note flutter down onto the floor. You bend over and pick it up, wondering if it’s a price tag or something of the sort.

“Hey, it’s Kuroo. You probably already knew that lol. Anyways, I hope u like daffodils. Keep them away from direct heat, and they should live for a while. Since we both seem to be like night owls, feel free to cure my of my boredom. XXX-XXX-XXXX”

“Why are you smiling in the middle of the kitchen?” Kenma asks, brow raised, and in hindsight, you must have looked dumb. If a ghost thought you were creepy, the look you had on must have been just terrible.

“Nothing,” you say quickly and scramble to set the note aside. You know he doesn’t buy it, but you don’t care or want to elaborate on how the florist next door’s kindness made you feel unusually warm. Surprisingly, finding your first friend in a new area was much more relieving that you had expected it to be, especially when your new friend seemed so open and lived close by. “It’s just a note on how to take care of the daffodils.”

“Oh.” There’s a brief silence, and you brush it off as him going back to his game. “I guess that’s fitting since they mean new beginnings or something like that.”

Now that was odd coming from a ghost who couldn’t even remember why he was still here.

“How do you know that?” You watch as he comes to a realization too, eyes widening ever so slightly out of sheer surprise. HIs reaction reassures you that he isn’t lying to you about the amnesia, and you let out a sigh of relief.

“I’m not sure.” He’s frowning, seeming to rack his mind for any clue, anything at all to remind him of where his knowledge came from and why he couldn’t move on. It’s all fruitless in the end. “I…really don’t know.”

“It’s okay,” you reassure, giving him a small smile. “It doesn’t matter that much anyway. I don’t mind cooking another portion, especially when you eat so little. Or maybe I eat a lot- Well, whatever.”

From the couch, Kenma nods and sinks into the cushions. Still, he wants to know why out of everything he could have remembered, why were they the flowers. In his current state, he can’t imagine himself as a flower buff in the past; hell, he doesn’t remember being the sun, but every morning when it rises, he feels like he’d hate to be in it, so if he can’t stand the outdoors now, he probably couldn’t either in the past. He thinks hard and long, but when you call him and tell him that’s dinner’s ready, all he can do is give up and go listen about your day.

It’s all so strange, he thinks.

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #kuroo tetsurou #tetsurou kuroo #kuroo #tetsurou kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo x reader #kenma kozume

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suffering-and-happy-about-it · 4 years

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I want to tell you... (Part 7.)

Description: Nathan Drake is not the exact definition of an unhappy man. His job is steady, his friends still see him from time to time, he plays football, but his marriage is his main problem. Many things will change when a special person comes to his life.

Part Summary: It was becoming more and more obvious that something isn’t right between Nate and Elena, just as he was discovering how much of an amazing person you were.

A/N: A lot has changed ever since I started this damn series... It is MORE than a year old. And I still do love Nathan, he deserves all the love and cuteness, smut and attention his brother gets. Like... I love Sam too, and y’all know that, but sometimes you need the softness and love in your life. ♥

A/N: Just a quick reminder that this Nate is in his early 30s’ and Sully is in his early 40s’. It takes place after Honor Among Thieves, where Nate and Elena and Nate got married, but didn’t found the way to work the things out.

Word counter: 2.8 K

Tagging: @missdictatorme, @peakymarvels, @nemodoren, @flavorishy

Series master list: H E R E

Nathan’s car sing-along playlist: H E R E

Nathan couldn't believe what he had just done. His blue eyes were scanning the phone, his lungs weren't getting the amount of air they needed and his heart was racing. He had just called you. Asked you if you'd like to hang out with him. And you said yes. Nate breathed out steadily, and before he could stop himself, he was doing his happy dance.

Nathan, being a grown-up he seemed to be with his muscles and 5'11 height was a small kid inside an adult's man body. For starters, he was always singing and dancing when he was happy, or when he tried to kill some time in his car - and he wasn't a good singer at all. He had his happy dances when no-one could see him dancing. Another thing was that this man adored the movie Notting Hill with Julia Roberts and he cried every damn time he saw the movie. He loved to buy himself an ice-cream, was loud, and loved to laugh. He was dorky in his own, irresistible way as Elena often put it.

Oh, Nathan stopped. What would've Elena think about this? She would be most probably cool with him seeing a friend, right? Like, he went with Frazer for beers and stuff, why would be Elena worried about him going to play some Scrabble with another friend? A girl he had just met? A girl he was all over his heels for? Nathan shook his head as he stood in front of half-emptied wardrobe since El had taken most of her things with her, already dialing her number. She answered after a small while.

"Hey, hey, did something happened?" - She mumbled sleepily, having Nathan curse under his breath. He forgot about the time difference thingy. He was creating various looks on the bed, thinking about what is most suitable for the occasion.

"No, I'm fine, I don't have anything broken just yet, the flat didn't catch on fire, everything's fine here." - The man named every horror scenario he could think of, finishing it with a slight chuckle. Elena on the other side didn't find it funny at all, leaving a frustrated sigh to make her husband realize she isn't in the mood for his jests. - "But Sully has a girlfriend." - He mentioned just, by the way, settling on a dark blue t-shirt and khaki pants that made his ass popping as Chloe told him many times. These pants were old, but they were still presentable.

"And you're calling me at three a.m. to tell me that Victor found himself a girlfriend? Nate... I have to wake up early today." - Elena sighed, doing something in the background. She knew that once Nate had woken her up, she won't be able to fall asleep again, so she went to make her a cup of coffee.

"I am not calling you at three a.m. just to tell you that Sully has a girlfriend, who is at least fifteen younger, by the way. I'm calling you because a friend asked me if I wouldn't mind hanging out with her because her boyfriend is at work, so..." - He left out a small pause, rolling his eyes around, walking around the flat like a little boy.

"Nathan, let me remind you that you're thirty-and-something years old man who has the right to decide who he wants to hang out with." - "And won't you be mad ar me, or jealous, or something?" - "Do you want me to?" - Elena asked with a dry chuckle. Nathan didn't expect that Elena would be so cool about this. He expected a lot, but not such a calm attitude. Nathan had quite a time while trying to come up with an answer for Elena.

"Listen, I just wanted to let you know." - Nate sighed in the end, waiting for a moment before hearing Elena chuckle on the other side of the phone. - "Yeah, but you still woke me up this early. Unforgivable." - The woman joked and for a moment, Nate felt seriously bad about himself and the whole situation around you. - "I love you." - Nate whispered after a moment, waiting for her answer. But, just like the last time, there was no I love you said back.

"Enjoy the hangout and don't drink too much. You know how much you love Notting Hill when you're drunk. Bye." - His wife whispered in the end, ending the call. The man felt hurt for a reason he couldn't exactly name. Nathan was an endless romantic with his whole soul - he loved to cook surprise dinner for Elena when they were together, he brought her flowers at least once a week, bought her some sweets when he felt like the needs to sweeten her life a bit and he once even did the cliché thing with petals leading to the bed. This man needed to feel he's being loved, that he's being appreciated and cared for.

Yet Elena seemed to be super-distant even if she knew about it. But Nathan wasn't the type to pressure into doing things, he was too sweet for that. He cared for the woman and wanted nothing more than seeing her contained. And so far, it seemed she's more or less feeling happy in some way.

After ten minutes of preparations, like styling his hair with water and finding the best was to style his t-shirt, he set to go to the market, as he promised you. This man loved ratatouille with his whole heart. It was somehow reminding him of the days when everything was way simpler. When he was younger and he and Sam were traveling through the states, he was the one doing the cooking when they didn't have enough money for picking something at a Chinese restaurant. And ratatouille was simple and quick, not that much expansive. And his lemon cake? Jesus, you'll love it.

Nate was just arguing about the cost of the zucchinis when you texted him your address, telling him you somehow managed to clean the place up. Which filled Nate with new energy - so much that he paid a horrendous amount of money for a couple of fresh zucchinis. It wasn't too far from the market, so maybe, if you'd like to know where to get the best fresh goods, he could take you there. Nathan caught himself grinning and humming a song when he finally walked through your street - you lived in the modern, yet indie-feeling one. The houses were small, almost as if in a Mexican village and each of them had a different color. There was a bright, yellow one, then one with a blood-red facade, grass-green one, and your house had a color of the sky. It could be known that you're a student, as you told him because bands and independent artists were playing on the streets until the deep night, so the rant was significantly reduced and this was a part of the city young people lived in.

Yet it filled Nate with this sort of energy and it made him grin as he watched a guitarist serenading for some tourist, who was giggling. It made him feel a bit younger than he was... Well, he wasn't old by any means, but he still was a dude in his thirties, so he wasn't the youngest in the game either. But soon enough, he was calling you as he stood in front of the door, tapping his feet around nervously. Suddenly, he heard someone calling his name, and before he could say something, he saw you leaning down from your balcony, waving your hands wildly.

"Watch out for the keys!" - You cried out, pulling your hand out so he would see them. First, he chuckled and then nodded, so you let them fall. It was the first time you've seen someone catch the keys to their palm. It took him barely a minute to run the stairs up and dear Lord, he had this grin as soon as he saw you. You had this jean overall with one of the suspenders fallen off your shoulder, a white t-shirt and messy hair. Jesus, you were looking even better than Nate remembered you.

"Hey there." - You smiled goofily, stepping aside from the door, finding the man in. - "And welcome to my kingdom. Please, we hope you don't mind a bit of mess." - You giggled and stopped him when he wanted to take his shoes off.

"I don't mind a mess since I am a bit of one myself." - Nathan answered back playfully, finding this new sense of confidence inside of him. It made him feel good when you laughed out loud at the statement, shaking your head with an unbelieving smile. Your place was really cute and as far as Nate could tell, it suited you... And your boyfriend. Most of the things was still in the boxes, the furniture was unassembled and... - "Why didn't you tell me that you need help with painting the walls?" - Nate asked you.

Jesus, that didn't even cross your mind. Nathan was still a stranger to you, even if you called him a friend already. You met for this one afternoon a week or so ago during the storm, but you hadn't talked since that day. He didn't even text you or anything. So, naturally, it didn't come across that you could ask Nate to help you with accommodating the new household. The only thing you've had fully equipped was a kitchen - and that was because you already bought the flat with an equipped kitchen and bathroom.

"Calm your horses, I've had enough of a hard time to make sure the water is running so you can cook me the damn lunch. I'm starving." - A joke left you as you opened up the living room windows. Nate's expression was enough for you to start explaining. - "Mike usually does this stuff, I'm the worst technician you could befriend, so, don't ask me to repair stuff for you, okay?" - Oh shit, Mike. Your boyfriend. Right. Don't let your feelings get the best of you, Nate, the man spoke with himself.

"So, what does lunch, Scrabble, and painting your living room sound like?" - Nate asked and put all the vegetables on the table, smiling at you daringly.

"Oh, no, no, no. I asked you to hang out with me, not to slave work for me." - You marched right next to him, pulling out some knives, pans, and pots for him. - "And you'd ruin your t-shirt and I don't want to buy you a whole new one. I'll manage on my own." - This made the man chuckle as you still kept talking to him while chaotically running around, assembling the dishes for him. You were going through various boxes on the ground, having a slight furrow on your face.

"Yeah, I can see how you're managing with these tomcats all over the wall, good job. I mean it, I have a day off anyway." - The man answered you with a soft giggle at the end, already working with the vegetables. What surprised him was that you stood next to him in the next minute, helping him with the cooking.

"Your wife would be angry that you wouldn't be home for dinner. It must've already weirded her out that you're going to cook lunch for this random girl." - The topic of Elena made Nate gulp quietly, letting the playful grin disappear from his face. For a moment, you thought you hit the soft spot, but then the man bumped with his elbow to your upper arm.

"Elena... She's out of the states now. She's working on an article in Thailand, and for your information, she was proud of her hubby doing such a gentleman thing about not letting a girl starve to death." - Oh, crap. Nathan wished for the things to be as he was interpreting them. He wished to talk about with Elena, because maybe if their relationship would've been better, he wouldn't crush on you straightaway. But those were only speculations. What could Nathan know?

"Do you have her picture? I'm kinda curious about what she looks like. If that isn't... Too weird, of course." - You stuttered out. Nathan was caught off guard with your wish, but in the end, he wiped his hands and pulled his phone up, showing you a photo from their most recent vacation in Brazil. She was smiling into the camera, holding a glass of wine and her hair was let down. She was also beautifully tanned at the time. You opened up your mouth, smiling at the sight of Nathan's wife. - "Wow. She's like... Pretty. You're one lucky guy, Nate, I tell you." - As if, Nathan answered, but he did his best to nod and hum in agreement.

When this weird little thingy about Elena was off the table, you both concentrated on your cooking. Nathan could see why you told him that you're not the best cook either, but you were doing his best to help him. But the pie was even more fun to prepare than the ratatouille. First, you shoved the main course into the oven, making the sweet end after that. It was both looking miraculous to you since you would eat anything the man would serve you. And no matter how hot the food was, you had some appetite. Nathan hadn't seen anyone eat his food with such a passion for a long time - not even in the restaurant.

When the lunch was over, you pulled an old box with scrabble out of nowhere, putting on the table. - "Now, now, what you have to understand, Nate, is that this box is a relic. I wouldn't be surprised if it would be older than me... So, naturally, most of the letters are missing and you'll have to have hella imagination playing this game." - You presented him, putting the board down. This was a nice spent time while letting the food settle down inside of you - you were laughing a lot with Nathan and his main tactic. The man was trying to convince you that most of the words he made up were real. Soon, you pulled a dictionary, and Nate knew he's screwed at the moment.

When you proved Nathan you're actually like... Ten times smarter than him, it was the time to paint your living room. The sun was slowly setting down, so you lit up every light you could find and blasted some playlists on your laptop, making the man dance at once song. Which made you laugh from the bottom of your heart.

"What?" - Nate turned to you with the roll in his hand, already having paint on his face.

"This was... So... Terrible. I suppose you hadn't picked Elena on your dancing skills, huh?" - You mumbled, drying the tears off. Then, you stepped forward to take the paint from his face, still chuckling at the memory of him dancing. But Nathan's world just stopped for a moment when he felt your hands running on his face, your fingertips touching him gently. It made his heart jump a bit higher with joy, even if he had to fought the urge to lean into the warm touch.

"Unfortunately not, but, I am just a good dancer and you're jealous." - Nate teased you when he gained his consciousness back, making you stop as you watched his face unbelievably. With a burst of laughter, you smacked his shoulder playfully, leaning away.

"That's how it is?" - You asked, finding a different song in the playlist to show Mr. Drake how real dancers dance-like. - "Yeah, that's how it is." - Nate answered light-heartedly, looking at you already vibing to another song. With one daring look, you turned at him, making the craziest dance creations Nathan had ever seen. After a while of your theatrics, the man finally chuckled, continuing with painting the wall. He was leaving around eight in the evening, just a while before Mike came home from work and listened about your adventurous day.

On his way home, Nathan stopped at one of the artists, listening to the girl playing guitar and singing for someone she was deeply in love with. And instead of Elena, he was thinking about you when he was putting a few dollars to the guitar case. He couldn't wait to see you again.

#nathan drake x reader #Nathan Drake #Uncharted #nathan drake uncharted #nathan drake imagine #victor sully sullivan #elena fisher #he is in love #i can tell already #oh lord #may you have mercy with my soul

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wonhosmistress · 4 years

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Chapter 2

Length: 1,597 words

Summary: After two days of Michael staying at Marina’s house he begins to feel at home from all the kindness the members of his new family keep displaying to him and meets a girl who he possibly falls for.

Warnings: Pure softness, mentions of possibly falling in love, mentions of terms of endearment, (missed some? Let me know!; I’ll fix it)

A/N: My god...here goes my second series update this week lol. When I first started writing this chapter for this series I was stuck on the first two paragraphs for months on end and I honestly had no inspiration what so ever, I honestly almost abandoned my bb before even attempting to continue following the story. Enough of my ranting! Here’s Ch.2 for Happy and I seriously hope y’all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing this out all day today.

Two days had gone by after Marinas’ kind soul had offered her home to Michael to stay and the thought alone made his mind feel at ease because even though he didn’t know her that well yet he could feel that she was as kind as people came. Maybe he was wrong all along. Not everyone was out to get him, it gave him hope because who in their right mind offers their home to a stranger out of impulse? She didn’t even hesitate; she didn’t judge him by his appearance or how “dirty” he might have seemed to her. Only two days in being in her welcoming home had somewhat changed his way of thinking which was a shocking outcome because of years of being in a hateful, and toxic home. He thought that nothing could ever possibly change the way people saw him.

It terrified him even more now because he still hadn’t told Marina what he was or what he was capable of and it made him anxious. His tired eyes stared sightlessly at the dark ceiling of his room with a million of negative thoughts running through his mind about what would happen once he would reveal his true self to Marina. The sound of the soft opening and closing of a door caught his attention making his eyes wander over to the bright light from the hallway that shined in through the small opening of his bedroom door. It seemed to be one of the other roommates who resided upstairs with him considering that Marina and Lily had rooms downstairs. He looked at the clock on the small end table beside his bed, reading 6:45 in the morning and sighed frustratingly and trying to go back to sleep.

“Good morning, sunshine!”, said Lily to Marina as slowly made her way from her room and into the living room. She looked over at Lily sporting some cute mom-jeans she made into shorts and a simple white shirt with stripes across it—she still couldn’t comprehend how this girl eventually became her friend. “What time is it?” Marina asked as she tied her medium, dark, black hair into a high ponytail making her way towards the kitchen to pour herself a cup of coffee. “It’s nine in the morning. Wow, I still can’t believe you slept through all my noise.” “When I told you, I was a heavy sleeper I wasn’t kidding.” “by the way how long have you been up?” Marina asked Lily as she sat down on one of the stools that they had bought for the island in their kitchen. “I’ve been up since six, why?” She looked at Lily in shock at how early she had gotten up but then again, she shouldn’t be as surprised since her best friend had been getting up at six every single morning. “I went for a quick run, returned did some chores before anyone woke up, took a shower and here I am.” She told her.

“Good Morning, how did you guys sleep?” They noticed Parker walk in the kitchen and serve himself a bowl of cereal with milk, they both smiled at him and gestured him to join them in the table. “I just woke up and Lily...well she’s been awake for four hours, how did you sleep?” Marina asked as brought the hot cup of coffee near her lips. “I slept great. I was planning to go down to the store later today. You’re more than welcome to tag along if you’d like?” “Yeah, I was actually planning to take a trip to the store today too,” Lily said as she grabbed an apple from the pile of fruit in the white basket that decorated the middle of the dining room table. They all turned their heads towards the sounds of footsteps from the stairs that was approaching them, Michael walked in looking like a disheveled morning mess and it made them all smile at how slightly bothered he looked to be up so early.

“Morning my little night owl, did you go to sleep late last night?” Lily asked as her voice exuded a chipper tone. He looked at her with half-closed eyes avoiding the sudden bright light that shined throughout the room. “I went to sleep early. I just suddenly woke up around six in the morning and couldn’t go back to sleep.” He said as he pulled a chair out to sit down in the table along with Marina and the other guy that he had just noticed. “That’s a shame. That’s why I keep telling y’all to go to bed at a consistent time!’ she looked at Marina and Parker trying to avoid eye contact since he guilty of going to bed late. She plated two waffles, sliced fruit and decorated the waffles with whip cream and sprinkled chocolate chips on them as she set the plate down in front of Michael, “I’m looking at you, Parker!”

Marina softly giggled at how hilarious it was that Lily was sternly scowling at Parker. “Is this for me?” Asked Michael still in a complete daze from barely waking up. “Yes, it is sweetheart.” she smiled at him warmly. “why?” “Well because you just woke up and you still look like you’re half-asleep, so you aren’t in no state to make or serve yourself anything. Plus, I’m sure you’re hungry.” “Thank you.” He said before digging into the waffles. He could savor the way the melted butter into the spongey waffles and he never had them before but now it was probably going to end up being his favorite breakfast food. “Have you seen, Dena?” Marina asked Parker as she got up to wash her cup. “Last time I saw her was last night before she went to bed.”

The loud sound of muffled colorful cursing filled the bottom floor of the kitchen making every single person in the room look at each other. They already knew whose soft voice it was, that making such a ruckus in the early hours of the morning. Michael looked confused as Lily went upstairs to bring Dena to the kitchen to have breakfast. “That was Dena, she usually wakes up just as early as Lily to get some things done.” “Those things being painting.” It all clicked in Michaels’ brain now that Marina had told him about the other resident living in this household. He had not even heard them entering the room until a strangers’ voice divert his attention from Marina to them, “Hey, sorry for the loud noise this early.” she apologized to them as she stood in the archway of the kitchen. Michael looked at her like he had never seen another person in his life before. His eyes slowly scanned her physique, she displayed what seemed to be some old jeans that were transformed into homemade high waisted shorts and a paint-smeared, large, muscle tank top exposing her lean, muscular arms which radiated such strong feminine vibes from her. “Hi! I’m the other noisy roommate. I’m just kidding, I promise I’m not that noisy.” She said smiling towards him as she extended her hand out to give him a handshake, he took her hand returning the handshake. His eyes darted back and forth from her smile to her brown, almond-shaped eyes and from that moment he felt the oddest sensation of tenderness all over his body right then he knew he was captivated by her.

“Michael?” Lily said trying to redirect his attention back to reality. He turned towards Lily, Marina, and Parker noticing how everyone’s eyes were fixated on him and what had just happened to him. “um-” “ssh...It’s okay.” Marina said trying to avoid the awkward conversation from occurring right then and there. “You want some breakfast?” Lily asked Dena breaking the silence, as she walked towards the island pulling up a stool to sit on. “No, thanks. I already had breakfast.” She replied as her eyes looked at the new kid sitting across the dining table from everyone. “This is Michael, He was staying in the park two days back. He told me he has no family.” Marina said looking back at Dena as she introduced him to the rest of the family. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Michael. My name is Dena and I’ve been living here with these wonderful girls for three years and as of two days ago you have been initiated to join the family.”

He timidly smiles at her and everyone else, so it didn’t seem like he was just paying attention to her but to everyone it already seemed pretty obvious that he was already head over heels for Dena. They tried their best to keep the conversation going to not embarrass him since they already knew how that felt, being completely outed about something and feeling like the world was going to end over something so trivial. “We’re going to the store later, want to tag along?” Parker asked Dena as she served herself some water. “Nah. I’m good, I got to run down to the art store for more tarp to cover my floor.” She said as she leans against the corner of the wall. “Alright, Michael do you want to come with us?” he asked. “Yeah, I actually need to get some clothes.” “If that’s the case then we’ll just end up heading to Target so we can get both food and clothes,” Marina said looking at Lily. “And don’t worry about it, we’ll pay for it.” She reassured him smiling at him.

Tags: @sojournmichael, @yourkingcodyfern, @thegraphitechronicles , @lostin-fern , @langdonalien , @cocotheangelchild , @michael-langdon-appreciation , @sammythankyou , @rocketgirl2410 , @langdonsplaytoy

(Want to be added for future updates? Let me know!; send an ask, leave a note or dm me!)

#cody fern #michael langdon #sojourn michael #ahs apocalypse #ahs s8 #duncan shepherd #happy #ximes' inferno #writing #soft! michael vibes #michael langdon fanfiction #ahs season 8

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un-deux-zero-quatre · 4 years

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“come be my teacher”

→ pairing: kim seokjin x (f) reader → genre: fluff, crack, if you squint it’s slow-burn → part i: 2,208 words → author note: inspired by a cute TA and my miserable effort in a korean language course while studying abroad. unlike y/n’s bold self. i never actually made efforts to get to know boys on campus, but then again i was never blessed to attend school with worldwide handsome jin. this is my first fic so hopefully you enjoy it, let me know what you think :)

(gif found on sbs website)

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You dabbed at the sweat droplets that formed on your forehead as the elevator to the sixth floor dinged to signal its arrival (fucking finally, you thought to yourself). You stepped out alongside a few other students heading towards room 605 for intro to Korean. A student sitting on the floor with his back against the windowed wall caught your peripheral. You glanced in the most casual manner you could pull off, but he was too busy looking down at his phone and you were forced to keep walking in the throng of students in the busy hallway. He looked cute, but honestly, half the campus was attractive boys that never gave you the light of day. Plus, having hiked half a mountain and power walked a large portion of your campus, the only thing on your mind was finding a seat to sink into, getting your heavy backpack off your sore shoulder, and downing the ice cold water in your HydroFlask. Not another cute boy who would ignore you. You made a beeline for a desk near the middle of the room, next to the giant windows. After not so carefully dumping your backpack on the desk table, you reached over to pull the window open, wondering why the hell you thought that wearing a long sleeve hoodie over black leggings during spring in Seoul seemed liked a good idea when you got dressed this morning. “I think my last brain cell stopped functioning the minute it started getting warmer,” you say to your deskman and friend, who is immersed in her music but gives you a sympathetic smile. Being that it was just the first week back to school, the classroom was still half empty. Most students would likely pile in gradually after managing to find the correct classroom… Yonsei was not exactly a small campus. Even local students found it difficult at times to navigate the famous campus.

You took this as an opportunity to lazily get going on the notes projected on the board. It was mostly stuff you’d get on the syllabus anyway, but you figured it wouldn’t hurt to have a digital copy; you did have a knack for misplacing important documents when you needed them the most and you did not want to have to suffer anymore than you anticipated from a course titled ‘Survival Korean.’ Despite having lived in the capital city for a couple months, your Korean had barely progressed from being able to order coffee and read instagram captions. Err, 70% of some instagram captions. So here you were at 8:45 am on this warm and cloudy day, sitting next to your practically fluent friend, mentally playing off your anxiety about being forced to brokenly speak in front of people who probably were only taking the class for an easy A. Before you knew it the professor was calling for attention to commence the class. You barely listened but maintained eye contact and nodding confidently to assert dominance. At least thats what you thought your half-assed efforts were doing for you. “Throughout the following weeks you’ll be working closely with a group of hand selected TA’s who will help you on your weekly tasks. They have worked hard to prepare engaging activities for all of you so please look forward to their lessons.” He signaled at a few older students scattered across the wall opposite to your seat, who flashed friendly smiles or lifted their hands up to identify themselves. You scanned and your eyes fell on one boy with wispy bangs and a soft pout on his lips.

Your one brain cell, as lame as it was at times, immediately recognized him as the boy who was sitting outside the classroom before class started. Getting a better chance at seeing his features you realized he was lowkey more handsome than other boys you’d seen on campus. Everyone knew Yonsei was notorious for attractive and bougie students but you did not expect to have a TA that looked like an Oscar nominated actor. You wondered if he was as kind as his eyes presented, or if he was a case of reverse-bitch face. You were brought back to consciousness when he turned and your eyes connected. You remained expressionless when his plump lips curved upward slightly. You felt your chest clench of embarrassment and quickly shifted your eyes at other students, focusing on each one for a few seconds to play off the fact that you were obviously drooling for this stranger. Why did you feel yourself burning up? It’s not like you have never seen a pretty boy. You weren’t the type to get so worked up over that. You cringed at yourself for feeling so affected that you didn’t even notice the professor had finished talking and students were shuffling to put their stuff away.

You felt your friend poke your arm, “Dude, let’s go.” You looked up at her and slammed your MacBook shut. “Oh— yeah sure! Do you have class right now?” She looked at her phone and groaned, “Ugh, I still have a whole hour before it starts. Let’s go chill somewhere.” Swinging your backpack over your shoulder you followed her out the classroom’s back exit, lowering your gaze to fiddle with your AirPod case just in case another opportunity for you to make an ass of yourself presented itself. You snapped the case open, swinging your hair around to plop the earphone in, missing handsome boy who was standing by the podium by the front door, watching you with curiosity, a tiny smile once again on his lips.

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“I seriously cannot believe we never realized they sell kaya toast here! Why do we always play ourselves?!” your friend sighed as you trudged up the massive concrete steps to Daewoo Annex Hall. “Maybe it’s because we always insist on going off campus to our fave cafe, we just can’t help being so loyal.” The main floor was buzzing with the loud chatter of students mingling in between classes, many of them ordering or waiting for their ritualistic iced Americanos to be served. You joined the short line to order, glancing at the menu above the case of baked goods. Your mind foggily drifted back to handsome boy from earlier. You wondered if he found you weird for staring so intently. By no means did you have a resting bitch face, but your natural expression doesn’t exactly scream approachability.

Though it had only been a few seconds of staring, you recall how sparkly his eyes had been. His wispy hair framed them perfectly, and alongside his dark eyelashes it was no surprise you were so immediately entranced… You caught yourself; who can even manage to look that attractive so early in the day?! Since when did good looks even mean that much to you? He was probably an asshole anyway, using the TA position only to exert power over undergrads who couldn’t afford do much but beg for mercy during office hours and rant online about shitty policies.

You felt your nose scrunching up into a frown when a loud laugh brought you back to the present moment. Looking down from the menu to the register you noticed a wavy haired, uniform clad barista throwing his head back at what seemed to be the funniest joke in the world. He flashed a boxy smile at whoever was leaned over the bar waiting for their coffee all while his hands expertly handled the register, tucking away won bills and passing a receipt to the customer who just finished ordering.

“Wow, I guess all the cute boys decided to torture us today,” your friend whispered, raising her eyebrow at you. You couldn’t even try to argue with her, this boy definitely contributed to evidence that only attractive students attended Yonsei… kind of like how handsome boy did as well… As if the universe had heard your mind ruminating, and decided it was time to intervene, the person leaned over the counter turned to look in your direction, and you had to bite your tongue to not gasp when those sparkly brown eyes connected with yours.

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You know those cheesy rom-coms where the protagonist finally meets her true love (or whatever) for the first time and the world magically melts away so that it’s only the two of them? Or how in Bollywood movies when the heroine locks eyes with the bad boy love interest and boom, cue sensual but still cute song with perfectly timed choreography? You loved that shit but never for one second believed it applied to the real world.

So why, God why, did you feel like time had stopped the second his eyes met yours and nothing else, especially not your midday politics class, mattered? “Hey! You’re one our teachers for survival Korean, right?” Your friend’s voice cut through your bizarre cinematic moment. She had stepped forward to order while she greeted none other than mister handsome boy. Although it had felt like an eternity, only a few seconds had transpired so the odds of you looking like a blithering idiot to others was very slim. “Yeah, you have a good eye, there’s about 10 of us there,” he smiled at your friend. “Are you both in the class? My name’s Seokjin, I’ll be teaching the lesson in a couple weeks.” You friend shot a quick smile at him and turned to the barista to order. You glanced quickly at her, the barista whose name tag read Taehyung, and then back at handsome b— err, Jin.

Since both your friend and Taehyung were busy in a transaction, you had no choice but to keep the conversation alive. “Uhh yeah, we are… my name is ____,” your eyes finally settled on his. He straightened up from the coffee bar, starching his arms up and brushing the back of his head.

Fuck, he was tall.

“Are you gonna order coffee, too? Speaking of, where’s mine? Ya! Tae!” He motioned over at the register and you remembered the sole reason for you climbing a steep hill 10 minutes away from your next classroom. You mumbled a soft oh, thanks and faced back to the register to order. It looks like Taehyung had abandoned his spot to make Jin’s drink, so a kind-eyed but sleepy girl took your order instead.

Stuffing your loose change back in your cardholder you made your way over to the main lobby where your friend stood with Jin and two other boys. “Ugh, I think I’ve had enough of feeling awkward for today,” you thought as you slowed down your steps. Always a queen with perfect timing, as you arrived you heard Tae scream out Jin’s name and order and Jin waved goodbye. “See you next week! Don’t forget to pick up a good notebook!”

“What,” you deadpanned as your friend turned on her heel to stare at you with an expression you only saw when stumbling across an aesthetic new cafe.“What are the odds of us getting such a hot TA for the easiest class ever?! And he’s not a complete jerk, wow.” HA, your lips pursed out as your inner monologue from an hour ago quickly flashed in your find. “I mean, maybe now he’s nice before he actually gets to teach us, what if he completely switches up? Also excuse me, but easiest class ever if you already speak Korean only! I’m not ready to take L’s in front of everyone,” your hands ran through your hair as you plopped down on a couch. “It’ll be fine, maybe Jin can be your motivation.” If the eyes emoji were based on anything, no doubt it was your friends iconic expression. As you opened your mouth to protest she dove away back to the coffee bar for your drinks.

Blowing air out gently from your pursed lips you dwelled on what’s to come. Okay… maybe if you kept an open mind the class (and this very specific TA) wouldn’t be so awful. You did choose to come abroad to a country where didn’t speak the language in hopes of eventually becoming fluent, after all. What good would negativity do? And anyway, it’s not like Jin would be teaching the entire course, so he probably wouldn’t even be able to clock how awkward he made you act (not that you understood either, its not the first time you see a cute boy.) As your friend came back holding two iced caramel macchiatos you resolved to just be as gentle on yourself as possible this semester. You had faced high stress and lost enough sleep last semester over things that were not worth it in the long run, and the thought of handling things the same way again felt draining. Even if it meant looking like a dumbass in front of the class asking wtf anything meant after reading a wall of text, you were going to put in effort in doing well to avoid issues later on and nothing was going to distract you. Not even soft, perfectly messy hair or pretty brown eyes or pillowy lips that curled around words so perfectly you had to restrain yourself from daydreaming.

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sweetcatmintea · 5 years

Text

A Stranger’s Stress

Flash fiction Friday! :D Remember way back when I said A Stranger’s Kindness was a stand alone? And then went and made a bunch of discount continuations? We’re at it again folks! I hope you enjoy another day with the stranger and the kid (and aren’t getting sick of them yet <u<;;)! Feedback is appreciated ^u^

Thanks again for organising and hosting @cawolters!

Prompt: We Are Not Alone

Words: 1499 orz

Previous parts: 1, 2, 3

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Sometimes you have a bad day. Just a heaping pile of unwanted events. You get up, three new rejection letters. You boil the kettle and the milk’s gone bad even though you know you only bought it last week. Your awful bitter coffee spills down your shirt – your favourite, naturally – after you trip over a toy that you specifically remember having asked the night before that it be put away. There’s a notice that the rates are going up again and now the window’s broken thanks to a bored kid losing control of a ball. Thoughts nag at you that the kid should be in school or something. You know this but you don’t know it it’s safe yet and you haven’t worked out a cover for why you have a kid who, for some reason, has missed a lot of class time. No pressure but if you botch up, it’s yours and the kid’s necks on the chopping block but how are you supposed to be able to work that out and maintain your late grandmother’s cottage and look after Sudden Child and find a job and those rejection letters aren’t going to read themselves and that takes time. You know, just your run of the mill stuff. It might just be me. It seems unlikely that these experiences are universally shared. Although, I am sure that a lot of people have been in a similar situation as me now, kneeling over broken glass, duct taping it out of the carpet. I guess you can say I’ve been a little … tense lately.

The kid’s settled in well. His nightmares haven’t been so bad since we put up those stars. He’s really taken to gardening as well which, I’ll never admit out loud, is somewhat touching. We haven’t heard anything from his folks or the police. It should be singing and smooth sailing, but I feel paranoid. Like disaster is looming over us while we carry on, oblivious. There’s no way it was that easy. It’s in every story. The instant the villains..? heroes..? Characters, breath a sigh of relief, crunch! Beartrap. I’m serious about schooling as well. I’ve got to sort it out, I want to, bit damn if it’s not nauseating to think he might be recognised.

“I’m really sorry.” He’s not as whistley now his front teeth have grown back in. Unfortunate buck teeth until the rest of him catches up. He’s been hovering – figuratively, those wings are still too small to be more than decoration yet – the entire time I’ve been cleaning. Of course I’m not letting a seven year old pick up glass. How stupid do you think I am?

“I know. It’s fine.” I think I’ve got all the pieces. Another tape canvas to be sure.

“I tried to stop it, but it was too fast.” His fingers worry the fraying hem of his shirt. I’ll have to get him new clothes again soon. More money.

“Look kid, accidents happen. It sucks that the window broke, but no one was hurt. That’s what matters. Now you know to be more careful next time. You can help me put the new panes in when I get them. Fair?”

He nods eagerly, brightening despite my frank tone. At least he’s gotten used to that.

I get up, bones creaking in protest. I feel old. Tired. It was lucky I didn’t break my ankle on that damn toy. Kid follows me to the kitchen. Might as well get a start on lunch. Paper catches my eye when I get the bread from the pantry. The calendar month is wrong already. Where has all the time gone?

“Could you fix the calendar?” Probably better to get that sorted before I forget again.

“Yep!” He’s as zealous as ever. Why do kids love doing all those little mundane things? Y’know, pushing crossing buttons, taking tickets from the deli dispenser, pulling sticky note sheets off, that sort of thing. Weird little goblins.

“Guess what!”

“What?”

“It’s my birthday month!” He thrashes his tail, nearly sending the trashcan flying in his excitement.

Already? I don’t let my hands slow. One small act of keeping it together. My mind races on. Stars above. The window wasn’t enough? I have to get him something, obviously, kids deserve birthday presents. And a cake. Would he want a party? How am I supposed to facilitate a party of one?? I’ll run out of money soon. I thought this would be a whole ‘new leaf’ situation. But if I keep getting rejections, I’m going to have to start stealing again. At least it’ll get those guys off my back. What about giving the kid a decent role model? I can’t give him much, but I thought I could do that for him. If I go back to my expertise and get caught, that’s it. All anyone will hear is that some crazed thief kidnapped a little boy. He’ll get shoved straight back into their hands no questions. A pat on the back to his rescuers and I rot. I can’t let that happen. I’m trapped. I’ve never been trapped before. Not like this.

He’s still waiting for a response. The enthusiasm draining from him the longer I delay.

“You… You’re not cancelling my birthday, right? I’m really, reaalllyyy sorry about the window..”

“ENOUGH ABOUT THE DAMN WINDOW!” I regret it immediately. He cowers, stumbling over apologies.

A second to breath.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.” This time, I do stop. Giving him my full attention, crouching to look him in the eye. “I’m not mad about the window. I told you, it’s fine. I was… feeling stressed and snapped. It was wrong for me to take out my feelings on you. Can you forgive me?”

He pauses. This is not something he’s gotten used to. I wonder how many time’s he’s been given an apology. He considers my words, then nods.

“I forgive you.”

“Thank you.” I finish up the sandwiches. “What do you want for your birthday?”

“Um!” Another pause. Faux thought. He already knows what he wants. “Can we go fishing? I’ve always wanted to try!”

“Fishing?” That wasn’t what I expected.

“Yeah! You know, on a boat, catching fish with strings! You’ve got a boat, right?”

“What? Why do you think I have a boat?”

“Well, you do live near the water and, you know, you kinda have lots of things that maybe you shouldn’t have…” Not wanting to commit to the accusation, he trailed off, twiddling his thumbs.

“Do you think I’ve stolen a boat?”

“Mayybee…”

“Do you know how hard that would be? You can’t just decide to acquire a boat for the fun of it. You have to sell those things.”

“Is that a no..?”

I sigh. I don’t fish but it is his birthday. “I’ll see what I can do. No promises but I’ll try.”

“Really!?” Stars, his eyes shone. “Thank you!” He launched a hug at me. Kids.

“Okay. That’s enough. Take your lunch and off with you. Go do whatever it is gremlins do. I’ve got a call to make.”

He gave a final squeeze before running off, giggling. I flip open my phone, plugging in the one person who may be able to help. She answers on the third ring.

“Hey Grace, it’s me.”

Quiet laughter. “I know who you are dummy. Caller ID.”

“Right. Uh, you remember Grandpa’s old boat?”

“The one Gran left me? Yeah. Hard to forget when I can see it now.”

“How would you feel about going fishing with me and someone?”

“You hate fishing.” There’s a note of accusation in her voice. I hope this is the right decision.

“I do. It’s cruel and unnecessary. But that’s a rant for another day. See, there’s this kid…”

“What kid? Why do you know a kid?” She doesn’t leave room for an answer, barrelling on. “Wait! I swear to god, if you tell me you stole a kid –“

“First of all, there are a lot of unfair accusations going around today. Second, I’m deeply offended that you think the only way I’d know a kid is through dishonest means. Third, you’re right, I did.”

“What the actual – actually, never mind. Two minutes then I’m calling the cops.

“The long and short, he’s Tainted and his parents were pretty much torturing him. I’m trying to help him, I swear.”

Grace was silent for a long moment. We’ve had our differences. Bridges a patchwork of scorches and repairs. I don’t know how she will respond but I hope she can at least sympathise. She was always the one to bring home injured animals when we were young. If she wants to cut ties after this, that’s fair. As long as she doesn’t rat me out, it’ll be okay. Finally, she sighs.

“That sounds like the sort of dumb thing you would do. Alright. What can I do to help?”

I guess we aren’t as alone as I thought.

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Tag list

@cawolters, @inkovert, @snobbysnekboi, @kainablue, and @i-rove-rock-n-roll

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Sorry if this one isn’t at my usual quality. My brain’s kinda fried today :T Hopefully things’ll be running smoothly again next week ^u^

#writing #Flash Fiction Friday #fff21 #my story #original story #short story #slice of life #writblr #A Stranger's collection

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pllandcompany · 6 years

Text

Natural

Summary: Hospital!AU. It's Logan's first day back...and he's late.

Warnings: discussion of medical procedures, mention of past drug use/addiction, blink and you miss it mention of past child abuse, chaotic medical situations, blood mention, implied nsfw (non-graphic, just some high charged smooching), arguing, some weight/body/eating mention, some swears

Pairings: Romantic Logince; QPP Moxiety

Tagged: @ziallwarrior @thefallendog @apologieslogan @trueunreal @flyingfreeyt @thecatchat @crofters-jam @jakesmolbean @band-be-boss-blog @ab-artist @asylia-5911 @backatthebein @oonagh-una

Notes: Logan's back and there's gonna be trouble...well, kind of. As always, heed the warnings and enjoy!

If today was a day that Roman's life depended on his ability to stand still, he would most certainly have met his maker at the hands of Virgil Davidson.

"Dude. Your trauma gown is straight. Stop messing with it, you're gonna tear it." The fidgety neurosurgeon was more than getting to him.

"I'm sorry, Virge! I can't help it; I have all of this...nervous energy." He twisted the mint green trauma gown in his hands one more time. Virgil reached out and stilled them, forcing eye contact between them.

"For God's sake, find a way to help it before you make me lose my mind. What's got you all bunched up anyway?"

Roman sighed heavily. "Logan is supposed to come back today."

"Seriously? I didn't even know he was home! How long has he been back?"

"Three whole weeks, Virgil. And we've spent most of that together when I'm not at work. He's still antsy about sleeping alone, especially in his apartment."

Virgil pursed his lips. "I'm gonna guess you didn't say anything because he asked you not to."

"You have to know I was dying to tell you all. He's been doing so well, meetings twice a week, he's talking, laughing, eating. He’s getting healthy and we’re getting…happy. But you know how stubborn he is and last night, he was nervous. I offered for him to stay at my place and we could go in together, but he insisted that this was something he had to do alone. And now he’s late! I mean, what if he got cold feet? What if he…?”

“Relapsed? You really think a bit of nerves would make him use?”

“I think a bit of nerves would make him think about using, yes. I’m trying not to hover or worry or push but…I just hope he’s taking care of himself, that’s all.”

“Dude. Take a breath and stop acting like he left you. He’s fine until he isn’t. And whatever happens…you deal with it then. It’s okay until it’s not.”

Roman stared at Virgil incredulously. “‘It’s okay until it’s not?’ Inspiring, Virgil.”

“Look, the rig is pulling up and I’m riffing here, all right? You just…you can’t panic. You’ll make a rash decision if you panic.” The ambulance rolled into the dock just as Virgil was shouting his last sentence. Roman hung back, looking uncertain. “Court? You gonna help or no?”

“Ah…if you don’t mind, I’m gonna sit this one out. See if anyone’s seen Logan.”

“Uhhh, I have!” Roman turned around to a shocked Virgil staring at Logan kneeling on top of the patient’s gurney.

With his hand in the patient’s chest.

“Logan, what the hell?!”

“30-year-old male, MVC victim with penetrating trauma to the chest. Patient began to decompensate rapidly and I had to perform an emergency thoracotomy in the field to tamponade the bleeding. The defect is ventricular and I have it, I have my finger on the hole, but he needs surgery immediately.” Logan looked up to two stock still surgeons, shock petrifying their limbs. “Well? What the hell are you two standing there for? Book an OR, get me surgical privileges, and help me save this man’s life! Let’s move!” The two paramedics began to transition the gurney from the ambulance to the ground, causing Virgil to snap out of his stupor and hop into action.

“Badass move, Dr. Taylor. Welcome the hell back.” He smirked at Roman who was working his jaw around an unspoken sentence. “You heard the man, Roman, make those calls!” It took the neurosurgeon until the gurney was rolling into the building to pull out his phone.

Guess I found him.

****

“And last but not least, I know it’s been a week now but let’s everybody give a warm welcome back to Dr. Taylor who came flying in from his sabbatical with an impressive save!” Chief Thomas burst into a round of applause that sent flaming stripes of embarrassment across the cardio surgeon’s face. He made eye contact with the other attendings briefly before looking down at his hands, shaking his head lightly to signal the end of their cheering.

“Emergency thoracotomy in the field, Logan, bold first day back,” the chief continued to gush, obviously prepared to turn this into a teachable moment. As he circled the attendings, Virgil caught Logan’s gaze and rolled his eyes, mouthing here comes Lecture Mode towards him. Logan fought the urge to snicker as he focused his attention back on the meeting.

“I simply did what had to be done to save the patient’s life, Chief.”

“Exactly! You were willing to do whatever takes to get that good outcome, to save that life. Sometimes you have to know when to take that risk, to make that bold move because a lot of times, it pays off. Now, I know we’ve had times here where the risky move…has cost us dearly. And since then…we have been a staff running scared. But we need to remember that Dr. Taylor has personally and literally faced that defeat and still chooses to go above and beyond, to take that risk. That is the type of surgeon I want in this hospital: one who isn’t afraid to stare death in the eyes and still do what needs to be done to send death running scared instead. So, go out and be brave, surgeons. Be fearless, be bold and challenge yourselves. Take. Risks.” With that, the chief left the conference room, effectively dismissing the meeting. The room was silent until the ortho attending stood up, stretching his lanky limbs before pushing in his chair.

“I guess we’re done,” he drawled. “I’m so glad I came to this.” Patton shivered as he and the other attendings left, he and the other three bringing up the rear.

“Ugh, that ortho guy is so…slimy. I swear he gives me creeps.” Virgil smirked, chuckling quietly before glancing at Roman whose face was beet red and hard as stone.

“Roman? Yo, dude, you gotta breathe. What’s wrong?”

“Stupid. Reckless. Insensitive piece of sh-“

“Roman, language!”

“No, that man…has no idea!” Roman abruptly stopped in the hallway, causing Patton and Logan to nearly run into each other. “If he knew what Logan has been through, if he knew what facing that risk nearly took from his, from us-“

“Roman-“ Logan tried to interject but Roman wouldn’t be deterred.

“No, no, if he knew, he never would have made that idiotic, reckless, insensitive speech! Of all the…moronic, self-centered-“

“Roman, stop, stop!” Logan stepped forward and grabbed both of Roman’s hands, silencing the irate surgeon. “You don’t need to be so angry. I’m fine. I am past all of that now, okay? We’re past it. So no more ranting or enemies or anger. We’re okay now. Let’s just…work.” Logan fixed Roman with a gentle look and squeezed both of his hands again as he left. Patton followed shortly after him, clapping a supportive palm on the neurosurgeon’s shoulder. Virgil stayed behind and let the man in front of him process for a quiet moment before he leaned into Roman’s space to whisper in his ear.

“You guys are still going to therapy, right?”

“Uh, yeah, Virge, of course.”

“Good. Because there’s no way he’s just magically fine after that trigger fest of a meeting.”

Roman sighed deeply. “Yeah…I know.”

****

“I have a question.”

“Do you always announce when you have a question, Roman?” Dr. Picani quirked his head, genuinely curious about the behavior. Roman acted like he didn’t even hear him.

“Where was your father throughout all of this? Who was there to protect you from…her?”

Logan froze slightly, mind whirring at rapid speed from trying to piece together his thoughts. “I…I guess…no one, really. I protected myself. Occasionally, I stayed with friends if it got to be too much but I never told them why I was over there. And my father was an attorney to very prominent and very wealthy members of our community which in turn contributed to our wealth with every successful outcome he obtained. Each case required his undivided attention. Which honestly, now, I understand why. I would not have had the opportunities I had without his support.”

Roman shook in his head, a muted sort of sympathetic anger bubbling in his chest. “Correction: his financial support. Apparently, he couldn’t be bothered to protect his own son from what was happening in his own damn house…I don’t know how you’ve survived all of it. I don’t understand how you’ve managed to overcome what you have.”

Logan paused for a moment, crossing his legs and screwing up in face in inquisition. “Interesting. So, you would say that I have indeed overcome it? My past, I mean?”

Roman stared at him briefly in confusion. “I mean, yes, of course, look where you are now, you’ve come so incredibly far.”

“Really? That’s interesting considering that just last week you were ready to go to war with our Chief of Surgery over the mere possibility of something he said hurting me, implying that I’m clearly not over it. So, which one is it, Roman, am I a survivor or a victim?” Dr. Picani shrank back into his seat, cringing as the heated tete-a-tete began.

“What? Okay, excuse me but that’s what people do when they care! Maybe you’re a stranger to that but I know what it means to protect the people I care about!”

“Don’t…you EVER say I am incapable of love because it hasn’t always been shown to me! Don’t you ever say that again!”

“Don’t make me the villain for wanting to keep you from getting hurt again!”

“Don’t assume that I am so weak that every possible thing is going to hurt me!”

“Maybe if you would ever actually talk to me about anything, I would know when to back off!”

“Oh, for God’s sakes, Roman, have you ever considered that maybe, just maybe, I’m not saying anything because there’s nothing to talk about?”

“That is a lie and you know it!”

“Oh, so now I’m a liar?!”

“Okay!” Dr. Picani shouted, desperate to stop the shouting match. “And that’s time!” Both men abruptly closed their mouths and looked at the clearly uncomfortable therapist in shock. “Okay, so, a lot to unpack here. We will…definitely pick this up in our next session?”

“Where the hell are you from?” Roman interjected quietly. “Why do you always say that word like that?”

“It’s not important,” Picani answered quickly. “Okay, well, we’re done for today so…you two cool cats get outta here and…” Picani watched as Logan stood up and stormed out without a goodbye and Roman trailed behind mouthing a quick apology over his shoulder to the bewildered man.

“Try not to kill each other,” he mumbled to himself.

**** “So, the patient is stable for now but I need you to closely monitor their intracranial pressure. If it starts to spike, push Mannitol and page me immediately. Hopefully, we won’t have to go back to the OR anytime soon and they’ll have a chance to heal more. Got it, Dr. Johnson?” The resident nodded eagerly, drawing a small smile from the attending. Just as they were finishing up, a knock on the doorframe caught both of their attention.

“Ah, Dr. Taylor. Here to grab me for lunch, I presume? Give me just a moment, I’m almost done updating my resident.” Roman turned back to the young doctor and continued reviewing the post-op notes. Logan impatiently tapped his fingers against the metal frame, pursing his lips.

“Actually, Dr. Courtland, I need you for a consult. Could you possibly come now?”

Roman turned slowly to face the cardio attending, incredulity raising his brow. “Just a minute, Doctor, we are almost finished. I apologize, Dr. Johnson, where were we?”

“It’s an urgent matter! Doctor. A matter of…urgency.” Logan doubled back slightly, embarrassed by his outburst. The freckled resident nodded jerkily in the direction of the insistent surgeon. “You can go, Dr. Courtland. I can handle it from here and I will page you only if absolutely necessary.”

Roman smiled tightly at the young doctor before turning around to glare at the source of his irritation. “Very well. Dr. Taylor, lead the way.” Logan turned and broke into a brisk walk, practically dragging Roman through the hallways until, to the neurosurgeon’s utter shock, he pulled them into an on-call room.

“What the- Logan, what is- mmph!” Without warning, Roman’s back was being pressed into the wall. His brain short-circuited as the heat from Logan’s lips suddenly became all he could process. Logan deftly reached over and locked the door while still maintaining contact. After a moment of heated passion, he pulled back to gaze into Roman’s eyes, smirking when he realized the pupils were blown wide.

“Well, Doctor, while I do feel that your position is sound, I’m not sure I’m totally convinced we’ve come to a conclusion on this urgent matter. I do believe I’ll need a little more convincing before we can move forward.”

“Logan, what is this? What- what are you doing right now?”

“Oh, come now, Roman, don’t pretend like this is something new to you. Allow me the privilege of joining in on the fun everyone seems to have in here.” Logan started in on the crook of Roman’s neck, knees wobbling at the feeling of those warm lips against his skin. He bit back a decidedly inappropriate moan in an effort to speak.

“This is insane, we are at work, we are working.”

“True, but Dr. Picani did also tell us to have fun and be spontaneous. Something about all work and no play comes to mind.” Logan drawled out the sentence in between kisses. The poorly used idiom snapped Roman out of his stupor and he shoved Logan away from him, the room silent save for their ragged pants. “Roman, what the hell?”

“No, Logan, no, stop, stop this now! This…this is not spontaneous, this is…what is going on? Are you stressed? Are you scared? This is not like you, talk to me, what is wrong?” Roman was truly worried as he watched Logan’s eyes fill with angry tears. He grabbed his previously discarded lab coat and unlocked the door, fixing Roman with a hurt and frustrated look.

“I am so sick of talking.”

The slam of the door made Roman jump out of his skin.

**** “Hey there, Roman! You headed for the gallery?” The bright voice of Patton Parker rang in Roman’s ear and he slowed his pace while the pounding steps of sneakers caught up to him. He couldn’t help but smile at Patton’s infectious grin; clearly the fetal surgeon was thrilled about something.

“Good morning, Patton! I wasn’t planning on heading that way but I have a light morning so I certainly could be. By the looks of it, there must be something good going on already.”

“Oh no, it’s not for a while but I want to get there early and make sure I get a good seat for this one.” Roman’s smile grew bigger at the sheer giddiness of his colleague.

“Virgil’s operating, huh?”

“No! You- you really don’t know? It’s Logan’s surgery today; he didn’t tell you?”

Roman’s face instantly fell. “Wh- what?”

“Yeah, Logan’s doing an ex vivo heart auto-transplantation and tumor debulking! He found a giant sarcoma in this woman’s chest and she thought it was just heartburn! He showed me the scans a couple of days ago, it’s wrapped around the pulmonary artery, I mean, it’s going to take hours! It’s his first really big case since he got…back.” Patton suddenly noticed the haunted, faraway look in Roman’s eyes. “He…he really didn’t tell you?” Roman swallowed twice heavily, quickly trying to orient himself in relationship to Logan’s office.

“No…no, he did not.” To Patton’s horror, the neurosurgeon broke into a sprint.

“Roman, wait! Wait!” Patton threw his hands up in the air just as Virgil jogged up next to him.

“Whoa! Why are we yelling at a running Roman?” Patton bit his lip sheepishly and turned towards the skeptical trauma surgeon.

“I…I may have done a thing.” Virgil’s expression went from amused to slightly scolding in seconds.

“Patton…what did you do?”

“Did I mention that those scrubs look amazing on you? Purple is definitely your color.”

Roman kept running until he got close to the door of his boyfriend’s office, slowing his pace to catch his breath. The cardio surgeon jumped at his desk when the door was loudly forced open and then shut, Roman panting in the middle of the room.

“All right, I’ve had it! I’m putting a stop this! This can’t continue anymore!” Logan blinked twice in response.

“Good morning to you too, Dr. Courtland.” Roman was not anywhere near amused.

“No, no more jokes, this is serious! Logan, I can’t let you operate. Not today, not on a surgery this big and if you insist on cutting, I’m reporting you to the Chief!”

Logan leaned back in his chair, removing his reading glasses and levelling Roman with a stern look. “I see. And why may I not operate today, if I might ask?” Roman stepped closer to Logan’s desk and implored him with a desperate stare.

“Because…you’re not okay. You’re not transitioning well, I can see it and you are not ready to take on a case this massive, a case you didn’t even tell me about. It’s too dangerous!”

Logan stood up, crossing his arms defensively across his chest. “Perhaps I didn’t tell you about it in order to avoid this exact overreaction.”

“See?!” Roman blurted out. “The fact that you’re hiding things from me is another sign that something is wrong!”

“Oh God, Roman, enough! Enough of this! You are so hellbent on finding something wrong that you are, in fact, creating a problem where none exists!”

“Because I know you, Logan! I know you don’t always say things when you need to!”

“No, Roman, you knew me! But things are different now! I’m different!”

“Right, and lying by omission to me yet again is a shining symbol of change!”

“Oh my God, okay, well you know what is? My ass!”

Roman flinched as if he was physically assaulted by the offhand comment. “I beg your pardon?”

Logan flushed slightly. “Yes, my ass. My ass is different. It’s huge now. Which is fine! I’m fine with it…save for the difficulty I’ve had with pants. Honest to goodness, I had to wear the elastic waist scrubs for my whole first week back until my new ones came in.” Both surgeons started to chuckle lightly, the tension slowly seeping out of the room. Logan smiled gently at Roman, stepping forward as he continued to speak. “Do you know why that is, Roman? Because for the first time in months, I actually have an appetite and as a result, I’ve put healthy weight on my body. Do you know what else has changed?”

Roman leaned in to Logan’s space, spellbound by the calming shift in atmosphere. “What else?”

“Patton’s jokes and puns. Not their content, per se, but the fact that I can actually follow them now. Occasionally I may even laugh at a few. You see, now that I’m not constantly numb and my mind isn’t clouded from substance abuse, I can think clearly and follow a line of thought to its completion. Oh, Virgil’s sarcasm fits under this category as well.” Logan stopped directly in front of Roman and brought him into a gentle hold around his waist.

“Quite a lot has changed, Roman. But do you know the most important that has changed? The fact that I can feel the change and embrace it. The fact that I can take stock and see just how wonderfully different things are now. And yes, there are times that it’s overwhelming to think about all of the ways that things are different. Ironically enough, you know what gets me through those moments? It is my changed perspective that helps me see all of the wonderful grounding constants in my life. Like my love of medicine and surgery. That didn’t change. Or my passion for poetry. That’s still here. Or you.” Roman looked up at that last comment, unable to contain the joyous tears that sprung up.

“Me?” Logan cleared his throat, equally as choked.

“Yes, you. You who never left my side, even when I was at my worst. You who pushed me to be better. You who stands in front of me alive and loving me more thoroughly than I have ever been loved. You who wants so badly to protect me from everything because you love me so much. You and your love is a beautiful constant in my life and I am so grateful for it. But I know that I am a change in yours and while I have had all of this time to process, you haven’t. You need time to adjust. You need to give yourself the time to see that the change in me is real and constant. You need to let me protect you. You need to let me love-“

“Love you,” Roman breathed. “You love me.”

“Yes,” Logan chuckled, wet and slightly broken, “I do. Very much.” Roman smiled bright and genuine at Logan for what felt like the first time in weeks. Logan laughed again, the warmth in Roman’s eyes radiating against his face like sunlight. The laughter spread to the neurosurgeon who leaned and kissed his partner’s nose, giggling. Once their laughter died down, a ponderous look came over the wavy-haired man, concerning Logan slightly. “Roman?’

“I still don’t like that you didn’t tell me about your ridiculously awesome surgery but…in light of recent confessions, I’m willing to forgive you.”

“I am genuinely sorry about that; I did not mean to worry or hurt you.”

“Again, you’re already forgiven. Tell you what. When you save this patient with your mad, magical surgical skills, why don’t we…reschedule that consult? You know, to celebrate a job well done?” Logan grinned, blushing from ear to ear.

“I could be amenable to that proposition.” Roman rolled his eyes fondly at overly formal phrasing.

“Oh, thank God. There’s my nerd.”

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