#though actually i may have already shared it through an ask game oops

[nixknacks0-0]

(⁠✿⁠^⁠‿⁠^⁠) thinking about that one scene in my fic

(⁠✿ʘ‿ʘ) realizing it's a few chapters away and also not written

#favorite trope? favorite trope. #i dont want to give anything away though but i just #ooh its good #though actually i may have already shared it through an ask game oops #hm either way #trouble maker #writing stuff #bob's burgers #fanfic #wip

[jackrrabbit]

🤍 Haikyuu WIP excerpts

preview post for hq because recently i showed sara a list of my works in progress and she laughed at me and then made a dn joke like this is 2015 or something. we got:

🤍 communal property /// ushijima x f!reader x tendou 🤍 sunshower /// atsumu x f!reader x osamu 🤍 corporate ethics /// kuroo x f!reader

anyway these are all terrible first drafts and i'm not sorry. however i am very very into these pieces and if you're interested in seeing them finished, you should tell me fr fr

🤍 communal property /// Ushijima x f!Reader x Tendou

Summary: Tendou shares everything with Ushijima—his food, his dorm room, even the AVs he likes. Why not his girlfriend, too?

Tags/warnings: poly relationship in progress (only you and Tendou are dating at this point), mild suggestiveness ??, s*ze k*nk

Status: 10k words written (holy fuck lol) out of ~11k total? this bitch better get finished is2g

After the match, your voice is hoarse from screaming but you still manage to yell congratulations for your boyfriend when you meet him and Ushijima outside the locker room in the stadium. You’re pumped on the adrenaline of the game, so you don’t even protest like you usually would when Tendou picks you up in the middle of your hug and lifts you off the ground effortlessly. “How was I? Awesome, right? I told you we would beat them!”

“You did, you so did—“ Even though your throat hurts, you can’t help gushing about every rally, every soul-crushing block, every impossible spike. “—and then the guy on the left thought he was clear to shoot it but you just—“ You throw your arms in the air and mime hitting the ball down like a blocker. “Wha-bam!—and the look on his face! I thought he was going to punch you!”

Tendou laughs and lays a sloppy kiss on your cheek, just as thrilled as you are by the win. “You really liked it that much? I thought you weren’t into sports.”

“I loved it! You were so cool! I can’t believe I’m dating someone so cool!” You wrap your legs around his back and hug his face close to yours, reveling in the fact that this weirdo belongs to you wholly and entirely, that you get to have him to yourself (well, other than his roommate). “And I’m not into sports, I’m into you.”

Tendou smiles in a way that makes the sides of his eyes crinkle up and little red patches bloom over his cheeks, a look that says, I like you so much (Y/N), I like you I like you I like you, except he’s probably trying not to be mushy like that since Ushijima is standing off to the side.

You feel a little bad for ignoring him (no one likes being the third wheel, even if he never shows signs of caring) so when Tendou sets you down you turn to Ushijima. “And you! Holy shit, Tendou said you were good, but I didn’t know you were that good. The ball when you hit it was super loud—honestly, how are your hands okay? If I hit it that hard I’d probably break something.”

“My hands are fine…this is normal for me.”

But just because you’ve got them here in front of you and you’re still pumped from the exhilaration of the win, you can’t help grabbing Ushijima’s hand and flipping it palm-up to inspect. True to his word, there’s no redness, just the calluses he’s built up on his long fingers. “Wow.”

“You don’t need to worry about Wakatoshi,” Tendou tells you, grinning and then making a face. “He’s a monster, he can handle it.”

“No kidding. You’re both monsters.” You put the base of your palm up against Ushijima’s to gauge the size of his hand against yours, and without prompting Tendou grabs your other hand to press against his own. Tendou’s fingers are a bit longer, but Ushijima’s are…thicker, more solid. Your hands look like a little kid’s in comparison. “Can I be honest? Half the time I was thinking I actually feel bad for the other team. If I had to take on both of you at the same time, I’d probably cry.”

You’re (mostly) joking, but it’s still a complete shock when you see the side of Ushijima’s mouth curl up a tiny bit. You’ve known each other for months at this point, but you’ve never seen him smile until now. Half of you is wondering if this is some kind of optical illusion caused by the atmosphere and the dim light of the stadium cutting through the evening, but the other half of you enjoys it. You made Ushijima smile. You did that.

“Don’t sell yourself short, (Y/N).” Ushijima says, tipping his head to the side.

“Yeah!” Tendou chimes in, resting his chin on top of your head and folding his arms around your neck from his place behind you. “I’m sure you could take both of us. Right, Wakatoshi?”

So that’s probably a sign.

🤍 sunshower /// Atsumu x f!Reader x Osamu

Summary: [Kitsune AU] You find an old Ō-Inari shrine in the woods that may not be as abandoned as it looks.

Tags/warnings: Shinto religion, this preview is biased toward tsumu oops, yearning/soft vibes

Status: 3.9k words written out of 5–6k? total

Atsumu was the one who found you.

That’s how he likes to talk about it, that he found you, like you’d still be wandering around lost in the woods if it weren’t for him. Osamu thinks you would have found your way back home eventually but Atsumu likes it better this way, this framing that makes it seem like they saved you.

It’s hard for him to tell time linearly the way humans do but you mention once that you’ve known them for a year and that seems to fit. It’s spring now, almost barely tipping into summer, and it was spring when Atsumu found you. He remembers because of the way it was raining: light and tender, a summer rain early in the season, each little drop tapping off a leaf and then rolling into the forest bed to be eaten up by the grass and the soil.

Atsumu likes the rain, likes the sweet earthy smell it makes and the way the plants look so lush and green and alive, like they’d bleed if he sunk his teeth into them. He was out in the woods because of the rain ('Samu was in the shrine, as usual, attempting to set buckets under the millions of holes in the roof so the rainwater wouldn’t pool and rot through the wood underneath). But Atsumu was half asleep in a tree when he heard you crashing through the undergrowth, tripping over ferns and snapping every twig in your path (thought ya might be a bear, he tells you later, that’s how loud ya were) but he wouldn’t really have woken up if he hadn’t heard you singing.

(The odd thing is, you weren’t actually singing. You remember that day as vividly as they do: the warm, humid air making your skin feel sticky under your yellow raincoat; the tiny raindrops filtering through the canopy and kissing your cheeks; the ink feathering out on the damp xerox of the old map you found in your great-aunt’s attic so you could barely make out the “X” that was supposed to mark the location of the lost Inari shrine… You were cursing how stupid you’d been to go on a wild goose chase into the mountains with no cell service and no marked trail to look for a shrine that no one had seen in decades. You definitely weren’t singing.)

But Atsumu remembers it differently. No matter how many times you explain that you were just talking to yourself, when he replays the sound of your voice back then (reaching and lilting and falling, the way the birds talk to each other in the early morning, except the music of it was poured into syllables and words), it sounds like you’re singing. He wasn’t sure at first, hadn’t heard a voice that wasn’t Osamu’s in so many years that he gets tired counting them, but then he saw you push into view from between two bushes and he thought, a human!

A girl, too—it was hard to say at first because you were wearing that weird, slick jacket of yours, so bright yellow it was like an oversized flower blooming out of the grass, but then you tilted your head up to feel the rain on your face and the hood fell down and he knew. Not just a human, a girl! Atsumu wanted to yell for Osamu, make him come and confirm that there was a person wandering around not a mile from the shrine. A real person! Singing and smiling and wiping the rain off her cheeks (does that mean you like the rain, just like he does? did you come out to feel it too?) But he also wanted to surprise Osamu so he hid his tails and his ears and came down from the tree and asked if you had lost your way in the forest, since you were so far from any path…

When you think back on this yourself you’re amazed that you just went with him: a strange boy (man?) wearing a fox mask and traditional Shinto priest robes, which were somehow pristine white and red despite him having appeared from nowhere in the middle of a dense forest, who told you he had no idea what direction the village was but he could take you to the Inari shrine you’d been searching for…well. Maybe you were too surprised to be wary, or maybe you were just exhausted and lost. But you like to think you had a sense of it even then, the irrational belief that the boy in the woods was not just a boy in the woods.

Atsumu thinks you knew. Humans always understand, even when they try not to… He remembers, he took your hand that day in the forest and you saw that the claws on his fingers were too long to be human, and you said nothing because on some level you already felt it. Your skin was cool then, smooth and damp from the rain; he wanted to stop, run his hands up your arms, touch the places on your face where your mouth had been turned up at the corners and press his fingers into your cheeks.

🤍 corporate ethics /// Kuroo x f!Reader

Summary: [Office AU] The new junior marketing associate just happens to be Kuroo’s favorite camgirl, and he’s having trouble keeping his hands to himself.

Tags/Warnings: boss/employee, businessman!Kuroo as a reformed player, camgirl reader, this excerpt has a lil bit of 18+ content 👀

Status: 1.2k words written out of 4k? words total

Kuroo doesn’t watch porn.

It’s not, like, a moral principle or something. He has nothing against pornography. As far as he knows, it’s perfectly normal for single men. He just doesn’t like it…unless it’s you.

When he was in school it was easy. Being a teenager meant being so flooded with hormones that a warm breeze could get him up, and the adrenaline rush of winning a game was better than any big-titted porn actress faking moans into a shit-quality boom mic. Sure, he watched porn back then (what teenage boy didn’t?), but it was more out of curiosity than necessity. It was all kind of a mystery at that point, the way it can only be when you’re a clueless virgin and you and all your friends are too busy practicing for the next game to get girls.

Somehow Bokuto was the first one in their friend group to lose his virginity, and the memory of the dumbass self-consciously describing the experience has been lodged in Kuroo’s brain for the 10+ years since. “It was…I don’t know. She smelled good. You know how girls always smell good?” Bokuto’s hands twitched and his face was pink. “It’s just really…soft.”

Soft was right, Kuroo would reflect when he got laid for the first time a few months later. Soft, warm, wet. Sex was awkward at first, but before he knew it it was more natural than breathing.

It didn’t change much after high school, either. He didn’t get into volleyball for the groupies, but they didn’t hurt. There were girls when he played for his college team, more girls when he joined a business frat, so many girls he couldn’t keep track…they blurred together after a while. It didn’t take effort. You don’t need game when you’re 6’2 and you’re in the gym 40 hours a week, and you definitely don’t need porn.

So he never got into it. Now that he’s promoting volleyball instead of playing, things are more complicated. Kuroo’s never been the type who expects things to fall in his lap, but there are so many rules when it comes to dating in the real world. Good morning texts, anniversaries, flowers, parents. It’s exhausting. One time—seriously, just one time—Kuroo misses his girlfriend’s birthday to go watch a Jackals game, and the next time he sees her she throws her drink on him in public and keys his car. After that, Kuroo decides that until he’s ready to settle down there will be no more girlfriends. Which means no more reliable sex. Which means resorting to porn.

Which means you.

You, batting your eyelashes at the camera and biting the side of your lip. You, purring and mewing like a kitten. You, lying back on your pretty pink bedsheets in your pretty pink lingerie, sliding your hands between your legs. It takes Kuroo a full month to decide to pay for access to your website (Kenma’s unsolicited recommendation) but it takes less than five minutes for him to upgrade access to premium. You look like a wet dream—no, you look like the centerfold of every dirty magazine Kuroo managed to get his hands on when he was younger. Pristine and alluring and so deliciously out of reach.

And you make it so simple. No delicate emotional games with rules Kuroo never bothered to learn. No pretending to care how your day was. You untie the little bows on the side of your panties and lick your fingers and Kuroo just has to take his dick out and watch you. Getting off hasn’t been this easy for him since college. You’re a camgirl, you exist on his computer screen, and that’s how he likes it.

Which makes it a lot more awkward when Kuroo finds out that the only woman he’s gotten off to in the past…year, maybe?…somehow just got hired in JVA’s sports promotion department as his junior associate.

Your prim work blouse is buttoned up to the collar and your makeup is different, but he knows it’s you. You have to tell him your name twice because he’s too stunned to respond the first time, and even then he can’t summon up more of a response than a curt nod because his mouth tastes like dirt.

You smile a little awkwardly at his cool reception, and the hand you’d extended out to shake swings back down to your side. “Um, the guy at HR said he sent up my info yesterday…I’ll be working directly underneath you?”

Directly underneath me. Kuroo is taking a sip of his coffee when you say this. He doesn’t spit it out, but it’s close.

#haikyuu x reader #ushijima x reader #tendou x reader #atsumu x reader #osamu x reader #kuroo x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #tendou satori x reader #atsumu miya x reader #osamu miya x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #haikyuu imagines

[nol-an]

it was good until it wasn’t || n. patrick

inspired by the prompt, “please don’t make me choose.”

2k worth of A N G S T!! um yea haven’t written in over two years and this is my first hockey fic so bear with me. feedback is always appreciated! (this is not proofread and im sure there are probs some plot holes- oops)

__________

For so long, everything had felt too good to be true. Nolan finally accomplished his dream of playing in the NHL, and you had gotten into your dream school in Philadelphia. To you, there was nothing more important than pursuing a career in the medical field and being able to do that with Nolan on your side.

At times, the long study nights, missed plans, and occasional stressed-induced breakdowns made you question if you were ever going to meet your end goals. That feeling was definitely not foreign to you, but it didn’t necessarily make coping with the thought any easier. It was a weird feeling — four years of undergraduate school almost felt like too much yet not enough time. There was so much you wanted to accomplish, and you sometimes wished you weren’t so ambitious because the days where you felt incapable of being successful were the days that you wanted nothing more than to wallow in your fears alone.

Luckily for you, Nolan was incredibly understanding of your fears. While he knew his life as an athlete was drastically different from your life as a student, he tried his best to understand your thoughts and always told you how much he admired your drive to reach your goals. No matter how often you tried to internalize your emotions, Nolan knew better and never hesitated to be your rock. Be it in the form of verbal or physical reassurance, his presence radiated a sense of comfort that always brought you out of any illusion of doubt you may have conjured. 

He doesn’t tell you enough, but you have a similar effect on him. Your gentle touches, cute pre-game texts, and warm hugs never fail to bring a smile to his face. If he’s being honest with himself, he’s not quite sure what he would do without you. It’s not really a thought he has to worry about, though, because for what felt like a blissful eternity, the stars aligned for you two. There were undoubtedly times when Nolan and you would run into disagreements, but the desire to make things work seemingly mended any issues in the relationship.

That was, however, until everything seem to come to a head. With your MCAT exam date approaching very soon and Nolan’s season with the Flyers starting just as quickly, it was hard for the two of you to bask in each other’s presence like usual. It wasn’t something either of you really noticed, as you both understood how important the other’s career was. You knew how important this comeback season for Nolan would be, and you tried your best to let him know that you would support him no matter what. He didn’t have to say it, but you knew a lot of doubts were rushing through your boyfriend’s head and you almost mistook his increasingly reserved demeanor as nerves. 

In fact, you didn’t really give it much thought until Nolan came home from his fourth game of the season. As badly as you wished you could have attended, the remaining hours you had to prepare for the MCAT were previous and you reassured Nolan that you would be his number one cheerleader again as soon as you got the dreaded test out of the way.

Your nose was stuffed into a psychology textbook until your trance was broken with the slam of the front door to you and Nolan’s shared apartment.

“Hi, baby,” you greeted as you got out of your seat to hug your freshly-showered boyfriend. If the sound of the front door was any indication, you had a feeling that the game didn’t go as desired, and you didn’t want to push any touchy subjects. On more than one occasion, Nolan had told you how much he liked how he could escape from hockey in your presence. He loved that he could escape from that part of his life, loved how you made him feel like a normal guy. You thought this would be one of those nights where even the word “hockey” wouldn’t be uttered, but you were wrong. So wrong.

“You’re not gonna ask how the game went?” Your boyfriend pressed, his tone bitter. Pulling away from your hug, he turned his back to you all too soon and he walked towards the kitchen.

“I-I mean, you know I’m always here to listen about your games, but I just thought you wouldn’t want to talk about it?” you meekly replied, unsure of where he was going with the conversation. 

You weren’t entirely sure what the outcome of the game was, but you were definitely confused. Nolan usually didn’t like talking about the Flyers’ losses, but you were so sure something went wrong based on his dramatic entrance into your shared home.

Prompted by his silence, you continued, “Um, so was it a win?” you uttered, regretting your words as soon as they slipped off your tongue.

Slamming his water bottle on the countertop, Nolan’s actions caused your words to dissipate. Silence filled the room, the tension almost palpable.

“Well you would know if you were there, wouldn’t you?” he replied, clearly annoyed by your seemingly stupid question.

Alright, so definitely not a win.

“Nols,” you tried to reason, “You know I wanted to be there so badly, but I couldn’t. The MCAT is almo-” you were abruptly cut off.

“I know. The MCAT is only two weeks away and it’s super important for you. It’s been the same thing for weeks now, you don’t have to remind me,” Nolan finished your sentence, his monotonous and resentful tone making it clear that he had already heard the same words from you numerous times before.

Had it not been for this same tone, you would have brushed off his comment. You would have instead attributed his harshness to tonight’s loss, which would have been the third one in a row. However, his response felt condescending — like he was downplaying how important the MCAT actually was to you.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you quipped. It felt like you just recited the most cliche line in the book, but your brain and heart had already started functioning at two different rates. If you attempted to say any more, your stress from the upcoming exam mixed with the rising argument you sensed would have surely sent you into a pool of tears.

“It’s just exhausting you, know?” Nolan started, “I know you’re busy with your own things, but it sucks seeing all of the other guys getting to hug their girlfriends and wives at the tunnel at the end of games while I know I can’t have the same with you. I mean, is it so much to ask of you to just be there for me? How am I supposed to believe that you want the best for me when you aren’t even acting like it?” he argued.

“‘So was it a win?’” he bitterly recited your earlier question, scoffing at it. “You could have at least Googled the score and pretended like you were keeping up.”

You didn’t know what to say. Your confusion immediately turned into anger and shock — you thought Nolan, out of all people, would have understood your situation. Not being able to wrap your head around his current state of irrationality, it felt like hours passed before you willed yourself to reply.

“I've attend almost every game of yours. I’m sorry I haven’t been so good at that recently, but you know how much I want to do well on this exam,” you seethed. 

You were trying to stay level-headed, but anger consumed any possibility of making the discourse calm. “My life does not revolve solely around your career, and I’m sure as hell not going to always be able to put my life on hold to make sure I know what the scoreboard of every game is.” You couldn’t help but let every one of your words become coated in frustration. You thought everything you were saying was so obvious, and you couldn’t help but become more upset with the fact that you even had to reiterate these points to Nolan.

“Sometimes it feels like I’m not even dating someone,” Nolan dryly responded. “Feels like all you do nowadays is drone on and on about this test. Is this what the rest of our relationship it gonna be like? I mean, I can’t imagine what things are gonna be like once you’re in med school,” he hastily commented, pacing around the kitchen.

Every one of his words felt like a punch to your gut. His words hurt more than your face let on, every instinct in your body asking —no, begging— you to flee your current predicament.

“I don’t know what to say,” you truthfully replied.

“Is there even room for me in your life anymore?” he questioned, adding fuel to the fire. “It feels like I’m always second to your fantasy life as a doctor.”

This was your last straw. Sure, you could have tried to see the validity in his initial argument if you gave yourself time to cool down. But now, it felt like he was mocking you. The same person that made your goals feel attainable was starting to break down your confidence. The confidence that he helped you construct was now crumbling, brick by brick.

“Nolan, you mean so much more to me than that. Please, I would never want you to feel this way, and I know we can work this out we just need to tal-” you were cut off once more.

“I don't know if I can do this anymore,” he cryptically stated, letting your worst fears fester around the kitchen that felt way too cramped now.

“Nol, please,” you pleaded. Your anger immediately shifted to dread.

“I want you to achieve your dreams more than anything, but I don’t know if I see myself in these future plans if this is what the rest of your career is supposed to be like. Do I even have a place in your future plans?” Nolan sighed.

Your stomach dropped. Even though he didn’t explicitly state it, you knew what he was hinting at. It was your career or him, and he was making it clear that having both in your life wouldn’t be feasible. As if he pulled out the last brick, you finally let all of your walls down. Tears freely flowed down your face, as you tried to convince yourself that you were hearing wrong. You wanted to scream it at the top of your lungs. Of course you saw Nolan as part of your future. Hell, he was the man you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. However, his seeming disregard for your career aspirations was off-putting and made you reconsider everything.

Your eyesight, blurry from your tears, tried to focus on the hockey player. Your dejected state urged you to reason with him, but you were unsure of what to do.

“Please, Nolan. Please don’t make me choose,” you pleaded. In comparison to your vulnerable state, Nolan was composed. It was as if he rehearsed this, his blank stare void of emotion. You tried to come closer to him, but his body language told you that your touch wasn’t welcome.

“I don’t have to,” Nolan pushed himself off the counter, “The fact that you don’t already know your answer already tells me what I need to know,” he stated. Grabbing his keys off the kitchen counter, he headed to the front door before you could gather your emotions and form words.

Your anger, confusion, and hurt seemed to weigh you down, gluing your feet to the ground. As much as you wanted to stop his exit from the apartment, your body kept you in place. With a second slam of the front door, the gust of wind from the heavy door whiffled through your long-forgotten textbook, the sound of the pages ruffling mocking you. The silence following Nolan’s exit was deafening. You never thought Nolan would make you choose between your relationship with him and your career. You thought you knew a lot of things about life, really, but this was certainly something you were not prepared for.

Your world was spinning, orbiting into a field of anguish and heartbreak. As if your brain hadn’t quite registered the turn of events, you almost thought about calling for Nolan until you were cruelly reminded that reaching for him was no longer an option. Your rock was gone, and you were lost.

#nolan patrick fic #nolan patrick imagine #nolan patrick #nhl imagine #nhl fic #my writing

[sketchguk]

lover to lean on; pjm

➳ pairing: neighbor!jimin x florist!reader

➳ genre: neighbor AU, flower shop AU, smut, fluff, angst

➳ wc: 20k

➳ synopsis: for months, you can hear your no face neighbor and his ‘girlfriend’ singing and dancing and laughing and falling in love. above all, you can hear their bed banging against your shared wall, and they won’t ever let you sleep. you’d much rather stay up at night worrying about your own problems, like the weight of an unrequited crush, so of course you’re bitterly single. but one day, the apartment is radio silent. and one day slowly turns into one week and then into an immeasurable amount of time since you’ve heard his laugh. so on valentine’s day, when you’re missing it the most, you beg your neighbor to open up to you with cookies in one hand and two broken hearts in the other. 

➳ warnings: explicit language, pining, unrequited love 🤔, accidental voyeurism, unhealthy eating/sleeping habits, praise kink, body worship, nipple play, fingering, oral (f receiving), handjobs, penetration, fluffy sex

➳ a/n: oops, I uploaded this later than I expected because the word count really got me. anyways, this fic is inspired by the song call me by keshi x rainlord. go give it a listen! 

Wake up and smell the roses.

That would be a great philosophy for life if you didn’t have to wake up to the sound of sex at 2 in the goddamn morning. 

Perhaps it’s your fault for not checking on the thickness of the drywall prior to moving in, but it wasn’t exactly the first concern that came to mind when touring the flat. Now, it’s more of a personal problem than anything: you being bitter about not having sex while your neighbor and his girlfriend are going at it like rabbits 5 feet away from you. It’s not a very valid complaint to bring up to your landlord. He’d probably tell you to suck it up and get laid. 

And he’s right. 

Besides, it’s not so bad most days. You hardly even notice the sound of running water through the rusty pipelines every morning or the whizzing of the ancient radiator on cold nights. In fact, you welcome it. It’s become part of the rustic building’s old-school, pre-historic charm. 

That, you can get behind. 

But one thing is for sure. You’re never going to learn to appreciate the strangled garble of a morning blowjob in the steamy showers or the banging of the bedpost against the paper thin walls when you’re in desperate need of some beauty sleep, well deep in a state of REM. 

It’s anything but charming. 

The 3 inch thick divider between you and your not-so-considerate neighbor does absolutely nothing to drown out the soft moans and hard grunts. You can hear them loud and clear through the dead of night as if they’re right beside you. 

“My god,” you sigh, rolling around your bed restlessly. Your hand blindly palms at the sheets in search of the pillow that rests beside you, placing it over your face and sandwiching yourself between the cushions. If you can’t kill your neighbor, you might as well suffocate yourself first to avoid incrimination, shamefully persecuted for third degree murder. 

A frustrated groan falls from your lips, but it’s stifled against the buffer. The banging stops almost immediately. 

“Shit,” you hear from the other side. 

Did he come? Is it over? 

You pray, hold your breath, and lie still as if you’re the one caught red-handed. But you’re not a voyeur. At least not on purpose. 

It isn’t your fault for being a light sleeper because the only thing to blame is the flimsy partition your landlord dare considers a wall. If you could have it any other way, you would. This is far from ideal granted that you didn’t even ask for any of this, but it’s far too late to get a refund. 

Lately, you’ve been spending your nights muting out vulgar dirty talk, the occasional squelches, and the obscene skin slapping on skin. Over time, you’ve come to know your neighbor on a much more intimate level than you would have liked despite never seeing him around. Like the fact that he thrives off of edge play and praise kinks. Yeah, it’s probably for the best that his identity is kept a secret otherwise you wouldn’t ever be able to look him in the eyes again with the knowledge that you have stowed away in the crevasses of your brainー knowledge you would prefer to forget. You don’t even know his name, but you’re long past the point of being acquainted with one another, so it would pretty be awkward to ask for it now. All you know is that he’s stuck in his own bubble, too blinded by love and lust to even consider his poor neighbor. 

Most nights, you even make the effort to stumble through your cluttered, moonlit studio apartment in search of your cheap headphones that usually dangle precariously over the edge of your desk. You’ve made a mental note to invest in some earplugs and a more effective set of headphones too. 

Truly, you’re not the type to invade one’s privacy. You have nothing to be sorry about because you respect your neighbor, his girlfriend, and their sexy time. If anything, they should be the ones apologizing for keeping you awake for three consecutive nights. No less on a Tuesday. 

But perhaps the act is already done and you can let bygones be bygones. Maybe he’s already come, and as unfortunate as that may be for his girlfriend, the chances are he's low on stamina tonight. The vivace metronomic thuds against your shared wall would suggest he was going pretty hard at it too. Not that it’s any of your business. You’re happy that your neighbor is so in love, and that he can have sex all day, all night and fall into the comfort of his lover’s arms, unlike you. You’re not bitter. 

Not at all. 

You don’t mean to get invested in his relationship, but it’s just that tonight, he finished rather early as opposed to the hour it usually takes him to climaxー foreplay and edge play and all. You don’t keep track of the time per se. That’d be a little creepy, but it’s hard not to do so when you’re losing out on a precious hour of sleep each night. Especially when you’re stuck in your own overactive imagination, wondering how good his stroke game is and what type of lingerie he’s intoー

“Sorry!”

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. Then the realization hits you momentarily. 

He’s talking to you. 

They must have heard you groaning through the stupid, thin walls, and therefore, you’re responsible for this very awkward exchange. 

Your grip on the pillow loosens as you lift it over your head. 

“It’s okay!” Your voice cracks with a heightened tone, “Just make sure you use protection!” The cringe settles into the pit of your stomach as soon as you respond. You squeeze your eyes shut and mentally facepalm yourself. You should have left it alone, but your cursed mouth moves way faster than your thoughts. 

The couple whispers to one another, but it’s hushed and hurried. Faint and hard to decipher. Angry, even. The wall must be really selective on what it chooses to mute out which is absolutely perfect when you actually want to know what’s happening on the other side. 

However, moments after, you can still hear the rustle of sheets and the patter of footstepsー two pairs. Even the harsh close of the door and the soft turning of the deadbolt, a resounding click that could be heard if you were to listen close enough. 

Once again, there’s a shuffle of feet that skid across the hardwoodー one pair. A few creaks echo from the aged floorboards. And then there’s a squeak from the bed slat, a heavy mass pressing on the mattress. 

You sit in silence with eyes wide open as you trap air into your lungs in fear of breathing out. Correction, in fear of your neighbor making comments on your rude interruption. If you could pretend that you’re asleep, maybe the problem will disappear into the night. 

But it doesn’t because it never works that way. 

Moonlight filters through the pane glass windows, right between the cracks of your curtain. It illuminates your face and keeps you awake longer than you need to be. You manage to let out the breath you’ve been holding when something else breaks the silence. 

You can hear it faintly. The soft hum of an unfamiliar tune before the soft outbreak of vocals. The song is bitter, but the voice is sweet.

Your neighbor has gotten into the habit of singing whether it be at dawn or dusk, yet you can never complain given his velvety voice. Sometimes it’s accompanied by the strum of an acoustic guitar or the tap of an electronic keyboard. But one thing that never changes is his love for the same old bubble gum pop music that’s rinsed and repeated on the radio. Nothing but love on the brain. Mushy lyrics that bear no meaning to you, and frankly, to anyone who’s painfully single and/or heartbroken. 

You would have expected nothing less from this man though. His taste in music is a given. Most days, you can physically feel his warmth and kindness based on the dulcet timbre of his voice. Although you’ll never care to admit it to him, it helps you fall asleep on nights when you’re drained from work. They’re comforting songs that warm your heart, especially because he’s singing such sincere lyrics about his girlfriend. 

His love for her is pure, and it’s disgustingly cute. 

No matter how many times you try to convince yourself that you’re happy for the lovely couple while internally cringing during their late night endeavors, you’re wondering if you’re subconsciously longing for a relationship just like theirs. 

But you’d be crazy not to dream about that kind of love story. One in which the guy cooks a meal for you at the end of every night, served alongside a hot cup of peppermint tea to help you sleep better. In which he runs a bath for you, flower petals, candles, soap suds, and the whole shebang, only to hop right in behind you. Someone to keep you company while giving you a back massage, working on the hard-to-reach knots that line your shoulder blade after a hard work day. Of course at his own volition, never having to be asked to do so. 

Perhaps you’re more invested in your neighbor’s picture perfect relationship than you thought, knowing all these little, intimate details no one else should know. But once again, the thin wall is to blame. You’re not an eavesdropper. You’re just a hopelessly hopeless romantic who needs to wake up and smell the damn roses. 

Because apparently, not every relationship is as perfect as it seems. 

“Everything okay?” You don’t know why you open your mouth, but you do, and you can’t take it back. He’s long since stopped singing, but the residual silence is louder than the gentle voice that once filled the space. 

He sighs deeply. The frustration is unmistakable, and you regret ever saying anything. 

“Yeah… Just trouble in paradise.” He chuckles dryly, but there’s a tinge of sadness to it. 

The room is quiet again. You debate with yourself, wondering if you should hash it out with him or go to fucking bed knowing that you have a 7 am shift tomorrow. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” The kindness of your heart outweighs all else, but you cross your fingers and secretly hope that his answer is no just so you can finally get some shut-eye. 

“Uhm… I wouldn’t want to bother you.” His voice wavers. He sounds tired, but maybe it’s the exhaustion from navigating the rocky waters of a relationship. You’ve been there before. 

Everyone’s been there before. 

Your eyes are closed, and just when you think you can go back to bed, your mind and heart betray you. 

“I wouldn’t be bothered,” you tell him, “I’m already awake too.” 

His chest rumbles with a true chuckle this time. “Yeah, I’m sorry about that.” 

“Don’t even worry about it. I’m probably gonna invest in some ear plugs tomorrow,” you quip, waving it off. 

“You really don’t have to,” he deadpans. There’s a pregnant pause, and you’re left confused. He continues with a shaky breath, “I’m not sure we’ll be back together after this.” 

Now you’re even more confused. Were they not just ravaging one another moments ago? 

“Valentine's Day is coming up next Friday…” you muse. “You could still win her back, you know?” 

The radiator whirs in the background. It’s silent. 

“Do you love her?” You query, thumbing the pilled edges of your blanket. 

“That’s a loaded question.” 

Now it’s your turn to stay silent. 

“I think I do,” he starts. His voice is rough. “Love her— I mean.” He falters in uncertainty. “Sorry, I’ve never admitted it to myself before.” 

“That’s okay.” It’s a weak attempt to comfort him, but the situation is totally out of your hands. You don’t even know the full picture, yet it somehow feels like you’re on the other side of the breakup even though you’re just sitting in the audience, watching, or rather hearing, the drama unfold. 

Your fingers interlock with one another, resting over your chest as you lie flat on your back. The heavy weight of your heart sinks lower into your stomach. Maybe love isn’t real, or maybe it’s not meant for people like you and him. Or is it just some misconstrued concept jumbled up in your brain? Some romanticized notion you’ve only ever dreamed about or seen in movies and read in fanfiction?

You gulp, pondering over how things could possibly go wrong in their seemingly perfect relationship. Well, there are millions of reasons, but maybe you’ve only ever heard the good times roll. Days when they’re frolicking in a meadow of sunshine and nights when they’re singing and dancing and laughing, head over heels in love, and everything is just peachy perfect. Maybe the bad and the dirty have yet to expose itself to you, still hidden behind an extra layer of stucco drywall and eggshell paint coatings. No matter how many times you bitch about them, the innermost part of you is still rooting for the couple you’ve had the displeasure of listening to have sex every night. But it’s always worth it, or so you think, for the sake of them being in a good place. To be undoubtedly quote unquote in love—

“Have you ever been in love?” It surprises you that he’s the one asking instead of the other way around. 

You stare blankly at the ceiling with a racing heart. Biting your lip, you speculate whether or not you should reveal such intimate details about your life to a total stranger.

“Nope,” you shake your head. He can’t see you, but you hope that your response is convincing enough. 

“Would you want to?” 

You can’t help but scoff. “Yeah, what kind of question is that?” 

“You’re right, it was stupid.” He chuckles. “Sorry.” 

“Don’t be sorry,” you warn him, “You don’t have to.” 

“Sorr—”

“If you finish that sentence, I’ll personally come over and flick you on the forehead,” you say, reprimanding him. 

His laughter is even sweeter than his voice. “Harsh. But nice? I guess?”

That’s the perfect description for someone who works in the service industry, which unfortunately, you do. 

“It’s for your own good,” you suggest, nodding your head in self indulgent pleasure. Kind of like how avoiding love is for your own good.

The silence quickly settles in, as does the existential dread. Your eyes shift around to the empty apartment before you, and you soon realize that you’re painfully alone.

The radiator goes off again and the clock ticks perpetually. The moment escapes you. 

His voice fills up the room. “Can I ask how you’re doing?” 

The corner of your lips curl up in a fond smile. You exhale a deep sigh, one of contemplation. “I’m okay… Just... learning how to deal with unrequited love.” 

“Harsh,” he echoes back.

“Yeah.” You curl up on your side, sighing and reaching for a pillow to spoon. 

“Want to talk about it?” 

You gnaw on your lip. It’s a bad habit to have. “There’s not much to talk about. It’s just some guy who always walks in at work. We make small talk, flirt a little bit, and then he leaves until the next day.” A highlight reel flashes before you, and you tug on your blanket, nuzzling into the warm fabric that offers you some semblance of comfort against the outside world as you dig your nose into the soft linen. 

“How do you know he doesn’t like you?” 

You shrug to yourself. “It’s just a feeling.”

You think the conversation is over at this point. Moments go by until your ears perk up at the faint sound of his voice. “You should ask him out.”

Your neighbor surely seems to enjoy making a fool out of you. It’s a nice thought to have though. To think that you have the confidence to ask a guy out. The guy you’re crushing on, no less. 

You satiate your neighbor anyways just to entertain the idea a little longer and give him a little push towards his own love story. “Only if you make amends with your girlfriend though.” 

“Girlfriend? Oh— no, she’s not my girlfriend,” he says in defense. 

You’re perplexed. “Wh-? She’s not?”

“No... uh, just friends with benefits,” he confesses with a cough. 

Flashbacks start to go off in your head as you try to connect the dots like some mathematical formula. Is love actually an illusion? Maybe love knows no labels, but a small part of you still wants to believe that they’re wholeheartedly in love and on the verge of marriage or something. But that delusion instantaneously bursts into dust and ashes, confirmed by none other. 

“Hey, I’m kind of tired, so I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay? I’ll make it right with her so long you talk to the guy.” He lets out a huff. “Don’t let him miss out on a good thing because of the what ifs.” 

Comfort washes over you at the sound of his advice. In a way, he’s right. Maybe it’s time that you put yourself out there in spite of the possibilities. Even if it’s utterly terrifying. 

“Goodnight,” you mumble back, wrapping your arms securely around the pillow. 

He hears you loud and clear, “Goodnight. Thanks for the talk.” 

He knocks out soon after that, but it’s hard for you to sleep when you’ve got nothing but love on the brain. 

Waking up is hell, especially when you’re running on nothing but 0 hours of sleep and a single cup of black coffee. The only thing that makes the fatigue worth it is the peaceful lull at sunrise and the absence of your noisy neighbor’s daily blowjob. It’s as if some higher power read your mind and decided that you’re worth the divine intervention just for that one fleeting moment of jubilation. 

But just like the law of gravity, for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction, and your contract with the universe calls for some cosmic karma. It’s like you’re being punished because you can never seem to catch a break. 

Work is unusually hectic, but with Valentine’s Day around the corner, it’s expected. If Black Friday is the worst nightmare for every retail worker, one can imagine a florist’s week leading up to Single’s Awareness Day, or much less commonly referred to as “A Shallow, Capitalistic Attempt to Buy Affection Day.” 

Despite owning a flower shop, you still stand firmly against Valentine’s Day and all that it represents. Maybe you’re spiteful because you’re pitifully single and surrounded by lovey dovey mush at every single corner. But as of right now, it has more to do with the extra workload that lies at your feet. 

Not only do you have to wake up at the ass crack of dawn to open shop and prepare for the deliveries, but you also have to cut and process flowers, organize dozens of overnight orders, and arrange bouquets for the day’s purchases, all before 9am. The to-do list is endless, and not to mention, the number of calls you’ve picked up in the last hour alone has already backed you up on a number of orders. It’s stressful and incredibly time consuming to say the least. 

By 10am, you’re ready to call it quits, but you constantly remind yourself that this job is your only source of income, and therefore, you have to barrel through with a bright and shining customer service smile on your face. 

At this point, you really wish you did smother yourself with your pillow last night. 

But the only thing that keeps your sanity in tact after the morning rush is the chance to make arrangements for the front display. It’s therapeutic to pick and choose foliage, sprucing them into beautiful pieces of art for passersby to enjoy. You’re grateful for the scent of seeded eucalyptus and baby’s breath which is remedial to your burgeoning headache. Even the sight of your favorite carnation is enough to ease the pounding pain against your skull. 

However, making arrangements isn’t all sunshine and flowers despite popular belief. The worst part about it is the heavy lifting. It’s labor intensive to pick up large plants like the full sized leatherleaf fern in the back room, which is now carefully lodged into a concoction of gardening soil, compost, mulch, and active charcoal. But if nobody else is going to do it, you’re going to have to do it alone. 

Lifting the hefty plant isn’t difficult to begin with, but it progressively becomes taxing when you have to carry it to the front of the store. As you emerge from the back door, the bell of the entrance chimes, signifying a customer’s presence.  

You can hear him before you can even see him. 

“Good morning!”

You nearly jolt at the sound of his chipper voice. Of course Jimin had to walk in at the peak moment of you struggling, looking like a disheveled mess with soil accumulated in your hair like a burrowed nest. You just hope and pray that it’s not smeared across your forehead like Simba.

Out of pure embarrassment, you hold the pot higher to hide your burning cheeks behind the plant despite your arms giving out. Would all of your problems disappear if you act like you’re not there? Once again, of course not, because he spots you in an instant, and you’re just not fated to have the good things in life. 

He calls out your name before stopping to place his things down at the table and rushing over to you, “Here, let me help you with that.” 

You have an ironclad grip on that ceramic pot, holding on to it as if it’s life or death. “No, it’s okay, I got it,” you say out of pure, frantic determination. 

“Don’t be silly, let me.” He reaches for the bottom of the earthenware. His hand grazes over yours before you can pull away, shifting the responsibility onto him. 

You offer him a grateful smile that extends your eyes, and he sends one back your way. 

“Where do you want it?” He asks. You can’t even get a word in before he turns on his heels and makes space for you through the narrow aisle. 

Leading the way, you show him the spot you’ve marked for the fern to hopefully reside for the next 24 hours. “Here’s good,” you tell him, pointing to the empty tile. 

Jimin bends down and gently places the plant into its new home. Then he reaches into his messenger bag, pulling out a packet of tissues before gravitating towards the spray bottle.

“I’m a big girl, you know? I could do it myself,” you whine with a slight pout. 

He grips on your right shoulder, and you’re locked in place. “I know, but I want to help,” he says with the utmost care, “And you can ask me for help whenever you need it, you know?” Jimin smiles at you, and his eyes lower into crescent moon shapes, the corners slightly creasing. Before you know it, there’s a cool sensation on your forehead. The tissue in his hand is thoroughly saturated and now damp against your skin. You recoil on contact and reach for Jimin’s wrist, ready to yell at him for the lack of warning. 

“Hey!”

“Stay still, you have soil on you,” he alerts with sharp eyes. 

You let go of his wrist and give in to his kind gesture, murmuring out a “fine”. 

While he concentrates on cleaning you up, you can’t help but look up and lock your eyes on his. You swear you could spontaneously combust and astral project from the intensity of his stare. His close proximity makes you heat up, so you’re forced to avert your eyes elsewhere out of pure intimidation. Your line of sight meets his lips, and you’re stuck in place, staring at them. They’re so pink and plush, and his tongue even pokes out a little like a sleepy kitten with slack jaw. Most of all, they’re right there in front of you, and if you could just lean in a little more, you’d be this closeー

“All clean!” He says with cheer, tapping your shoulder.

He turns around in search of the dustbin, and you shake yourself out of your own daydream before he can catch sight of you. 

You laugh it off and offer him a toothy smile, “If you really want to help, you could have gotten me a cup of coffee.”

“You’re making demands now, huh?” He asks.

“It’s more like a suggestion than anything,” you teasingly yell from the back room, grabbing the remaining flowers for the display. Meanwhile, Jimin lingers behind in the main room, admiring the freshly cut flowers laid out on the counter ready to be made into floral arrangements.

You manage to recompose yourself from that one moment of weakness by taking a glance over at the cute doodles of artwork that line your office wall. They’re little bits of happiness that keep you calm and remind you that there’s light in your life, and he’s standing in the other room waiting for you to pop a very important question. 

Upon grabbing the necessary items, you make your way back into the store. You stop immediately in your tracks, nearly colliding into a solid figure at the sharp turn of the doorway. Your heart almost stops, but you shudder away before you could tip yourself over. 

Jimin stands in front of you with his hand extended out, clenching onto a steaming, white paper cup. 

“Don’t tell me you’re scared of me and coffee now,” he laughs, reaching out once again, “Only one of us bites.” 

“That’s for me?” You ask incredulously. 

He nods his head, “Yeah, of course, silly.” 

You take the drink from his hands, and before you can thank him, he chimes in. “It’s just how you like it. Black and full of caffeine.” 

You press your lips up against the cup, taking a sip and humming in satisfaction at the drops of heaven. “Thanks, but why? And how’d you know my coffee order? Don’t get me wrong, this is really nice, but…” 

“I saw how dead you looked yesterday,” he justifies cutting you off before you can ramble on. Honest, but harsh. 

You put the cup back on the counter and continue with your task at hand, and he trails behind you. 

“Thanks, that’s what every girl wants to hear,” you banter with all the sarcasm you can muster, pulling at the flower stems despite them already being placed exactly where you want them. 

“Girls like it when guys pay attention to the little details, don’t they?” He asks with a gleam in his irises. 

You look up at him briefly before averting his eyes and wiping clean the leaves on a near fiddle leaf tree, spraying food soil at its roots. 

“Love it,” you gulp wryly. 

Jimin takes note of how seemingly busy you are, so he walks around the shop, examining the new inventory of flowers. After making your round through the store, watering all the plants that need to be watered, you return to the disembodied zinnia on the counter, waiting to be arranged. 

The silence is refreshing until it isn’t. 

“Is the coffee good?” He queries. 

“Huh?” You stop what you’re doing to casually glance his way. His back is turned to you, but he seems overly invested in the rose display. 

“The coffee,” he repeats, back still turned.  

You look at the untouched cup at the edge of the table and smile to yourself. You didn’t notice it before, but there’s a red doodle that contrasts against the white paper cup, no doubt customized by Jimin himself. It’s hard to pick out what it is exactly, but you’d recognize the flowers of God any day. The ruffled petals and thin, straight stem are simply unmistakable. 

“Oh, yeah. It’s good,” you answer politely. 

“What’s your favorite kind of flower?” He asks curiously as if he’s playing a game of 21 questions. It’s a question you’ve answered numerous times before, but facts like these can easily slip through someone’s mind. 

“Easy, carnations,” you respond without any hesitation, pointing at the display in the right corner of the store when he turns around to look at you. He makes his way to the stand, eyeing the flowers. 

“They’re pretty,” he comments, pulling out one of the bouquets to examine as if he didn’t already know. 

You hum, and maybe the exhaustion is evident in your voice and your oddly scarce exchange of pleasantries. 

Jimin carries on with the small talk anyways. “You’ve been sleeping okay?” 

You snip away at the hard, green stems, tossing them into the trash beside you. Shrugging, you mindlessly answer. “Yeah, as much as a florist can during Valentine’s week.” You snicker with good spirit. 

“That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t rest well,” he scolds you all in good faith, eyes now scanning the small assortment of cards. You hum in affirmation. 

If anything, he should be telling that to your noisy neighbor who refuses to let you get a wink of sleep. 

A creak rings through the air as Jimin rotates the card stand, thumbing through the variety. “Do you have plans for Valentine’s Day by the way?” 

You can feel your hands clam up as they stop fiddling with the lemon leaves. Your heartbeat picks up, and you’re left winded by the question. You hide behind the hesitation, nervous as to where this may lead. How could you possibly play it cool when your crush asks you whether or not you’re busy on arguably the most romantic holiday of the year? 

Play it cool because remember, you loathe Valentine’s Day. 

Your hands fumble as you pick up the lemon leaves again, snipping at the branches nonchalantly. “Uh, no, not really, you?” you gulp. Your eyes are distracted, too fixed on the greenery. 

But you look up the moment Jimin approaches the counter with flowers in one hand and a card in another. 

“Oh, who are these for?” you feign innocence in your voice as you reach for the brown kraft paper and the roll of red ribbon. 

Jimin scratches the back of his neck, hesitating. “My girlfriend,” he mumbles, but it’s loud and clear, audible enough for you to apprehend like an echo in you ear.

“I don’t have much planned yet, but we’re probably going to grab dinner on Friday,” he shrugs with hands burrowed in his pockets. He shifts his weight on the balls of his feet, eyes focused on the gray specks of the ceramic tiles beneath him. “Something casual. I’m not really huge on the whole Valentine’s Day thing.” 

It seems like every man in your life paints you like a giant fool destined for humiliation. Of course the hopelessly hopeless romantic within you deluded yourself into believing that some Prince Charming would visit your flower shop in anticipation of seeing you. Of course the flowers that he buys everyday has to go somewhere, you just never expected that each and every morning at the crack of dawn, the flowers you carefully hand-pick and wrap with unconditional love would be sent off to his girlfriend. 

Of course you’re a huge idiot who isn’t destined for love. 

It almost hurts to plaster the tight lipped smile on your face when your heart is prickled with thorns like the roses in your hands. 

You lick your lips and painfully gulp the spit down your dry throat before you open your mouth again.

“Jimin?” 

“Yeah?” 

You pause. “You can’t give these to your girlfriend” 

His eyebrows furrow and his hands run through his hair. “What do you mean?”

“They’re white roses.” 

“So? She likes white flowers.” He doesn’t seem to get the point. 

You almost chuckle in his face, and you would have if your heart didn’t hurt so damn much. So you refrain. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you that white flowers are meant for funerals?” 

His cheeks are dusted with a pink blush. He shakes his head no. “Uh, what do you suggest I give her then?” 

You sigh, looking at the hopeless man in front of you. “Do you love her?” Not even a second goes by before you ramble, not very eager to hear the answer. “You could uh- give her that fern you helped me carry earlier.” You walk back to the front display, keeping a safe distance to hide your woe, extending your arms out like a game show host revealing what’s hidden behind door #1. (Hint: it’s your heart). 

“Call it your love fern?” you shrug, laughing it off. 

“I think a bouquet is fine.” Jimin staggers behind you, checking out the other flower displays, opting for door #2. “How about the carnations you mentioned?” He pulls out a bouquet of variegated carnations painted with pink and red tips. “These are nice, don’t you think?” He looks at you curiously with doe eyes in await of your approval. 

Your mouth opens to interject, ready to digress into another lesson on the history of variegated carnations, but you bite your tongue back. 

Jimin spots your reluctance, but quickly puts it to rest. “Look, I don’t think she really cares about the meaning behind the flowers. You said these are your favorite, and you’re the expert right?”

You nod, unable to trust your voice. “Mhmm.” Even your hum cracks. “But uh, maybe the deep red ones would be more appropriate?” You cock your head to the side and quirk your eyebrow. 

“It’s fine, I swear” he reassures you, placing the bouquet on the counter before putting the white roses back in its stand. 

Your feet refuse to move as if they’re cemented to the ground, but Jimin stands there in front of you with rosy eyes, awaiting for you to wrap up the object of his affection in a pretty red bow. So how could you refuse?

You walk past the carnation display on the way to the counter, and pick up another bouquet. Pink and red variegated. “Here, these are a little more fresh. The buds are tighter, so in a few days, you’ll see them nice and big.” You smile, closed lipped. “Just in time for Valentine’s Day.” 

Jimin’s jaw loosens and his lips part. He knits his brow in a frown. “Uh, these aren’t actually meant for Valentine’s Day,” he says, running his hand through his perfectly imperfect raven hair. “She’s kind of mad at me right now,” he gives a mirthless chuckle while playing with his hands, “so I’m hoping I can make it up to her with this.” 

Ah, your favorite flowers are reduced to nothing but a gift of pity.

“She’d be crazy not to accept your apology,” you say in a soft voice, gritting your teeth behind your tense jaw, eyes fixated on the little nursling in your hold. With a soft hand, you unravel the kraft paper and delicately wrap it around the bouquet. The very one you picked up this morning and arranged the hour prior, wondering if you’ll be able to send it off to a loving home. 

Now you know for a fact that it’ll be in good hands. 

“Do you think she’d like it?” Jimin chirps in. 

It feels like your heart is on the threshold of bleeding out as he sends another prickle to the soft organ. Your concentration doesn’t even falter as you snip the ribbon. 

“I know she will.”

You tie the fabric into the prettiest bow you can muster and slide the gift of love across the glass counter. Jimin looks down at the beautifully wrapped flowers with an ear to ear smile on his face. “Thank you so much for the help, I really appreciate it.” 

“Just doing my job,” you remind him with a counterfeit smile, scanning the barcode at the back of the card. It’s a really cute card too. Sometimes I wonder how you put up with me then I remember I put up with you. So we’re even ❤️ 

You hate yourself for the fond smile you almost crack, masked behind the pained one you send his way. 

Jimin passes you a $20 bill and grabs his merchandise from the table. 

“She’s really lucky to have you,” you lament honestly with glistening eyes as he walks out the front door. 

He doesn’t catch a word you say, but he manages to shout back a “thank you!” and a “see you tomorrow!” before speeding out, setting off the bell at the top of the door without ever looking back at your dejected figured. 

You’re left alone to finish the rest of the work day, surrounded by none other than the sickly, sweet scent of seeded eucalyptus and baby’s breath, all while taking in the putrid sight of variegated carnations. 

They say that you are your worst enemy, and they are 110% correct on the matter. You don’t know why you would think that you’d have a good day on the basis of your neighbor having a crummy one. It’s not like there’s some kind of transfer of energy. It’s been proven to you time and time again that divine intervention and karmic justice just aren’t real, and apparently, neither is science. Otherwise, by that logic, you’d have a superb day. 

You would have slept through last night and woken up to a pretty pink sunrise painted across the sky— nothing but peace. To the chirping of birds in the distance and to the passing of cars on an empty street. You would have had enough time to prepare a proper breakfast— pancakes, eggs, bacon, and maybe even a nice cup of hot chocolate. Not a measly cup of black coffee to keep you awake for the rest of the busy day. You would have had a nice chat with Jimin at the flower shop about the capitalistic corruption of Valentine’s Day while he’d try to convince you otherwise. He’d prove you wrong, and you would have walked home with a blooming garden in your heart. 

But science is bullshit and the transfer of energy is a complete lie— photosynthesis being the only exception. The only thing you got out of today was a huge migraine and a withering blossom in your chest. 

So just when you think that the day could not get any worse, it absolutely does. 

You can probably blame the poor mindset you boxed yourself in— having a cynical outlook on love and life because of the dreaded upcoming holiday. Maybe it was because your crush just stomped all over your garden and plucked the flowers to give to some other girl. Or, you can put the blame on past you, the big freaking idiot who previously stripped off her bed sheets at 6:30 in the morning in hopes of being productive by doing weeks of piled up laundry. At this point, all you want to do is curl up in a warm bed, too exhausted by the trials and tribulations of life, but you can’t even give yourself the satisfaction of that because you thought you were some kind of changed woman who could manage her stupid laundry.

Newsflash, you’re not. 

The naked mattress in the corner of your apartment mocks you, so grudgingly, you take your laundry basket down to the laundry room for your most hated chore. With heavy steps, you trudge through the cold, cement basement. It’s dark and dingy down there. A little scary too, given the flickering lightbulb at the end of the hallway. Nevertheless, you march through the doors and into the rumbling alcove. 

What you find in there is startling, yet you can’t say that you’re surprised seeing that this occurrence is far from rare. You almost consider walking back upstairs and knocking on your floormate’s door, asking him if he’d be willing to do your laundry in exchange for $5 just so you don’t have to sit there, listening to some couple make out in the back corner.

Apparently, everyone in the world is foolishly in love except for you. 

You crank up the volume a little louder so your cheap headphones can drown out the sound of them locking lips with one another, but the poor quality does absolutely nothing for your abused ears. The boisterous public display of affection is deafening over the sound of your “Wallowing in Self Pity” playlist. 

You’re only capable of catching a brief glance in their direction before gagging and veering off. She’s sitting atop of the washing machine as he stands between her parted legs. They’re so lost in their own world that they don’t even notice your presence. 

Out of respect for yourself and the horny couple, you choose to occupy a washing machine at the opposite corner of the laundry room. But perhaps you can save yourself the irritation as well as the $5 in your wallet because you can hear their hushed whispers. They’ve separated themselves long enough for the guy to convince her to move to a more private location. Although she still leeches herself onto his neck, he’s attentive enough to know that they aren’t alone. He picks her up and drags her out of the laundry room with her legs wrapped around his waist, unwilling to part from him as if holding his hand simply isn’t enough. 

You roll your eyes, thankful for the quietude and the money you’ve saved yourself, but as you sit alone in the drafty basement, doing the chore you hate the most, you can’t help but think how much better it would be to do it with someone else at your side. 

Somehow you’re convinced that crossing paths with Jeongguk in the hallway is fated after thinking about him moments prior. Because it’s very uncommon for that boy to leave his apartment, cooping up all day long with his video games, only to catch a breath of fresh air for his nightly gym sessions. When you see him locking up his apartment door, you offer him $5 anyways just out of the kindness of your heart. He could probably use the money more than you anyways. 

Although you didn’t have any intention of doing a good deed today, karma still finds a way to punish you. As always, it’s bullshit. 

Upon entering your empty apartment, the space is already filled with the sonorous sounds of orchestral music. Violins, violas, cellos, flutes, oboes, and harps all performing in perfect harmony. It’s played through the walls, coming from none other than the speakers of your beloved neighbor. You wouldn’t mind the soothing classical melodies to cure your migraine so long it’s accompanied by white noise. But your neighbor’s laughter rings above the music as you can hear him count “1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3” in a triple metre. 

You know that he’s not alone because there’s also another voice laughing alongside him. The same one you’ve grown accustomed to over the months. Her high pitched squeals are unmistakable as they greatly resemble other sounds you’ve heard come from her mouth on many unfortunate nights. So you can safely assume that your neighbor and his not-girlfriend made up with one another already—

“Look at me, not at your feet!” 

“I don’t know where to put them!” 

“You’re stepping on my toes!”

“Sorry!” 

“Oh yeah, you’ll be sorry!” 

It’s hard to picture what’s happening behind the wall when you don’t have faces to match with the voices. But you don’t really need it when their bed slat creaks beneath their weight and their headboard slams against your shared wall. Not when her yelps erupt as a result of the tickle fest they’re currently immersed in. The sounds are vivid enough for you to know much more than you need to know. It almost feels like you’re intruding on an intimate moment that’s not meant for your eyes, let alone your ears. 

Meanwhile, as you struggle to tuck the fitted sheets beneath the four corners of your mattress, you wonder whether it’s worth it to leave the apartment again after such a hard day. Of course for the sole purpose of avoiding a home made porn video being filmed in the process. 

Maybe it’s not too late, and you can still catch up to Jeongguk. You could head to the gym and snatch back the $5 you generously handed him because the more you think about it, the more you believe that someone owes you for your miserable time spent in this apartment complex. But you can’t take your anger out on the poor boy from down the hall when he doesn’t deserve it. 

The sanctuary of your bed calls your name like a siren, so instead, you do what you’re forced to always do— plug in your cheap headphones, blare out some music, and move on with your day. 

And it works for the most part. 

You’re able to successfully put on your bed sheets after struggling to play a big game of tug of war with your mattress. Despite the internal push and pull, you also will yourself to do adult things like tidying up the studio, making the space somewhat habitable for humans. By 9pm, you can finally sit down and enjoy a nice, hot meal. However, you’re forced to keep your headphones on because your neighbor’s not-girlfriend decided that she couldn’t go a single day without her not-boyfriend’s dick in her mouth. 

You swear you’re going to ask him tonight why he hasn’t made it official because it’s clear as day that they’re in love with one another. You know that you definitely would be if someone offered you oral every single day. Unfortunately, nobody’s offering. Thus, you’re forced to live vicariously. 

So as midnight approaches, and the moon reaches its apex, you settle into bed with a book in hand, ready to suffer through the night. It’s difficult to concentrate on the text when your music is blasting, but you suppose it’s better to listen to lo-fi hip hop beats as opposed to the scream of “daddy” over and over and over… 

Although you applaud her for her shamelessness, you would still prefer if she could keep to herself.

Thankfully, these moments are only temporary. 

With your eyes squeezed shut, you let out a lethargic yawn. Looking over at your nightstand, you spot your ticking alarm clock. It’s nearing 1 in the morning, and you decide that you’re exhausted. Well, you’ve decided that long ago, but going to bed before midnight is admitting defeat against your own body. Nevertheless, no matter how tired you are, you know in the back of your mind that there’s no way you could have dozed off with your neighbors going on a Netflix binge with speakers fully blaring audio from The Office. It’s as if they don’t know what headphones are. 

But after “one more episode” and a disgustingly long makeout session, you can hear the shuffle of feet across the floor boards and the turning of the lock. 

It’s nearly 2 am, and the radiator hisses. It’s quiet. 

But then that’s when you hear it like clockwork. The delicate hum before the pleasant tune. Tonight, it’s not a song you’re familiar with. Something about the universe moving and happiness that’s meant to be. Mentions of penicillium and a calico cat? There’s lots of talk about letting someone love you, and that’s when it really hits you in the gut. You’re not so sure about the song, but as always, it sounds pretty. It’s not typical to call a guy’s voice beautiful, but it is what it is. It’s serene, and it’s the promise of tomorrow. It’s something you wish that would never stop. 

But of course all good things come to an end. 

There’s a purposeful knock against the wall which startles you. “Hey, I know you’re up. How’d your day go?” Your neighbor asks, breaking the silence and dragging your attention towards his voice once again. 

You tug your headphones off and walk to the other side of the apartment to lay your book down on the desk, gracefully avoiding anything in your wake because your apartment is finally clean.

“You know, sometimes I wish you would catch me on my good days so I wouldn’t have to tell you such sad stories.” A wary smile surfaces your lips. 

“Why, what happened today?” He asks with concern laced in every syllable. “Did you take my advice?” 

You climb back into bed, pulling your covers over your torso. Sometimes you feel bad about how many silent complaints you have about your neighbor when he’s actually a really nice guy. He just lacks the proper etiquette knowing that the walls are paper thin.

“IIIIIII tried to.” You drag out the vowel, hesitant to recall the embarrassing story. 

“Yeah, and how’d it go?” 

“He doesn’t like me back,” you say plainly after a moment’s reflection. 

Your neighbor scoffs. “He’s an idiot then.” 

You try to fight back the smile because as untrue as it is, Jimin is anything but an idiot. But it’s comforting to know that someone has your back, defending you in all your honor. 

This time, you genuinely chuckle. “It’s not that.... He uh, actually has a girlfriend.” It hurts to admit it out loud. “And I’m sure she’s lovely if he likes her that much.” 

“Like I said, he’s an idiot for losing out on the best thing in his life.” 

It’s impossible for you to fight back this bashful smile because it makes your heart flutter. This may be the first time you’ve felt good about yourself this whole day. 

“Thanks, but I don’t know about that though—” 

He interrupts you, “Come on, don’t say that. You’re not giving yourself enough credit.” 

You shake your head in disbelief, “You’ve never even met me, and you don’t even know what I look like.” You roll your eyes, but a chuckle unintentionally falls from your lips. 

“It’s not about what’s on the outside, okay? I already know you’re beautiful because that’s what you are on the inside.” 

“Shut up, that’s so cheesy.” You flip over on your bed and dig your face into the pillow, flustered by his kind words. There’s absolutely no way people this nice exist in this world. “I could be a troll or a vampire or something for all you know.” 

“Vampires are kinda hot. Haven’t you seen Twilight?” He banters. “And I’m sure this guy isn’t even all that great. Like, tell me something you hate about him.” 

Your hands cover your mouth, stifling a laugh. “I’m not gonna hate on him because he doesn’t like me back. It’s just the reality of it. Besides, he’s perfect.” You roll your eyes, annoyed by how flawless Jimin is in your eyes. 

Your neighbor prods at you. “I reaaallly doubt that. There has to be something. Not even a pet peeve? Maybe he’s chronically late to everything? Sings out loud in a quiet place? Has a super annoying laugh?” 

“Yes, yes, and no.” You flip your pillow over to the cold side and settle in to lie in a more comfortable position, slipping your hand beneath the cushion. “I can excuse the lateness,” you lick your chapped lips. “He also sings like an angel, and his laugh is really endearing. He does this thing where he laughs with his whole body, and he falls over every time. I like it because I know he’s at his happiest then,” you remember zealously.

“Damn, I guess I’m just projecting my own flaws now, huh?” You can hear him snort from laughter, rolling his neck and cracking the joints in his body, and then the click of his knuckles, 10 of them, one after another. 

“Ugh,” you scrunch your nose, “Don’t do that. He does it too, and I guess that’s the only thing he does that really gets to me.” 

Your neighbor cracks another joint somewhere on his body just to annoy you, and you cringe. “See, now we’re talking.” 

“I was gonna tell you that you sing well too and that I like your laugh, but maybe I’ll have to reconsider,” you taunt. “But still, you shouldn’t put yourself down for the things that show off your happiness.” 

The bed creaks from the other side. He must have switched positions for that to happen. “Thanks,” he offers. His voice is muffled, face most likely pressed up against his own pillow. “How about you tell me about the things you like about him?” 

“What? Are you trying to wound me?” You ask, slightly hurt. 

He scoffs, “No, I’m trying to prove a point here. So, tell me.” He implores like this is some kind of couple’s therapy session. Apparently, without your other half. 

As moonlight filters through your curtains and the cars whiz by on the empty street below you, you consider all the things you love and appreciate about Jimin. 

“I love how selfless he is. He’s caring and attentive... He’ll know when I’m tired and he’ll offer me coffee. He also scolds me for sleeping late and he lifts my burdens for me, even when I don’t ask him to.” You close your eyes in retrospect of Jimin and all the good things in life that he embodies. “It’s not even the things that he does for me that make me like him.” 

Your neighbor hums, letting you continue. 

“I guess it’s the principle that’s important.” You play with the sleeves of your sweatshirt, pulling on the edges to give yourself some comfort. “There are people in this world who aren’t… the nicest? I guess. And… he’s one of the purest people I know. It’s like he goes the extra mile to make sure I’m happy… and healthy.” You take a deep sigh before your mind wanders to the darker parts of your brain. “But I also know he treats everyone else like that too. Because he’s that nice. So... I guess I should have seen it coming that I wasn’t so special anyways,” you recall with tears welling up in the brim of your eyes and a knot tightening in your throat. 

“Don’t say that, you’re one of a kind,” he assures you sternly, “What’s his name? I’ll go beat him up right now.” 

You give a bitter laugh, wiping away at your eyes with the back of your hands. 

“My point is that there are other guys out there who are just as caring. And they should make you feel special because you are, and it’s what you deserve. So if the next guy who comes along doesn’t treat you that way, I will beat his ass, okay?” He says in the most nonthreatening voice ever.

You chortle, “Okay, yeah, sure.” You’re not totally convinced of that. 

“You’re probably right, I don’t want to fight and embarrass myself after promising you that,” he giggles. 

“I appreciate the sentiment though.” Earnestly, you do. You don’t know many guys who are this nice, Jimin being the exception. “How ‘bout you though? It sounds like you made up with your not-girlfriend? I hope that wasn’t you in the laundry room earlier,” you tease, deflecting the attention away from you with a raised voice. 

He gladly takes the bait. “Oh shit, that was you? I’m so sorry.” He rolls around the bed in a fit of sweet laughter, and the slat creaks. “And yeah, we did,” he breathes out with a shallow huff after regaining composure. He sounds nonchalant about it. 

“You don’t sound very happy?” 

“No, I am,” he deadpans. 

You wait for him to continue, but he doesn’t. “Can you tell me what it is that you like about her?” You ask. 

He doesn’t answer immediately like you’d expect, but he’s dwelling on the answer. 

“I love how kind hearted she is,” he thinks out loud. “She’s a natural nurturer.” 

You can hear the smile in his voice, and you can’t help but reciprocate because of how pure that is. 

“Like... she’s always so bright, and…” he stops. “I just don’t know how to explain it. You’d have to meet her to know what I mean.” 

“Yeah you should invite me over so I can meet her.” You both chuckle knowing that you should meet one another before meeting his fuck buddy. 

“I think you’d like her actually. She has this beautiful soul… I- I don’t even know. She just sees the best in everyone. I know that she probably has her own struggles, but I don’t think she’ll ever let anyone know about them,” he mulls over, going on a tangent. 

“Why’s that?” You curl up on your side, hugging your pillow like you do during every conversation with him. It’s as if he’s recalling a bedtime story for you. You let out another yawn, and although you’re on the verge of falling asleep, you stay up a little longer just to hear him talk. 

“I’m not so sure why… I guess I love her and hate her for this...” He reflects. 

You hum, acknowledging him while urging him to continue his train of thought. 

“I don’t know... but she’s the type to suffer in silence for the sake of seeing other people around her smile. And… I don’t think she’ll ever admit when she’s hurt or when she needs help. She puts others before herself. Like, she’s so hellbent on putting on a happy face so that others can be happy too.” 

You nod to yourself, understanding what he means with every word. 

“And It’s not like she fakes her happiness or anything,” he continues as if clarification is needed. “She’s just… such a joy to be around. She makes everyone feel welcomed… and comfortable… And when she’s really happy, like genuinely happy, it feels like everything is right in the world.” 

You can tell he has a big, doting smile on his face. One simply cannot talk about a love like this and not smile. 

“I only wish that she’d be vulnerable with me so I can make her world a little brighter too.” 

“That’s really sweet, and also, I lowkey feel attacked right now,” you let out a dry chuckle. 

“Sorry,” he laughs. “But I think that’s why you two would get along well.” 

“Set up a date, and I’ll come over,” you joke with raised brows. 

“Hmm… I’ll have to think about it,” he teases. “Oh, but uhm... if we’re still on the conversation of what I like about her, physically, I love her smile. I swear to God I stopped in my tracks the first time I saw her… and it still happens every time.” 

“That’s cute,” you smile fondly. 

“When she looks at me, I think the whole world stops for a second because I can actually feel myself get vertigo,” he giggles innocently. “And she’s also got this super adorable snort-laugh that never fails to bring out the best in me. God, it’s beyond cute, you don’t even know.” 

“It sounds like you’re in love,” you suggest, curling up tighter into a ball, squeezing at your pillow. “I don’t see why you haven’t made it official yet.” 

The pause is filled by the whirring of the radiator and the ticking of the clock. 

“Yeah… I don’t know either.” 

Waking up, you find out that going to bed with a broken heart is a little easier than going to bed with a hopeful one. Perhaps it’s the emotional exhaustion that puts you to rest, but it doesn’t mean you’re any less fatigued. All your efforts are put into your work, and in a way, tending to flowers has served as a distraction from the wilting ones that reside in your chest. 

When in reality, you should find a way to revive those instead. 

But as Jimin stands before you, you can’t resist the shriveled petals that land in the pit of your stomach like cherry blossoms in the midst of spring. You really don’t know how you manage to bear discourse about Valentine’s Day when he’s unknowingly sitting there with wide eyes, listening to you talk about unreciprocated love that’s so obviously directed towards him. 

“You mean to tell me that you read romance novels and watch rom-coms, but you hate the most romantic holiday of the year?” 

“Exactly,” you nod as if it’s indisputable. 

He gives you a questioning look with a crease on his forehead and lips pressed together in a straight line. “Make it make sense,” he challenges.

You finish chewing on the forkful of salad you popped into your mouth before answering. “Can I rant about it?” 

Jimin gives you the go ahead and you continue, “I don’t think you understand how much of a die-hard hopeless romantic I am.” 

“Actually, I think I do,” he scoffs and raises his shoulders confidently with eyes closed as if it’s a matter of fact. “That doesn’t prove your point though,” he counters. 

You put your hand up, motioning him to stop interrupting, “Let me finish.” 

Jimin shrugs and grins from across the counter, allowing you to proceed. 

“When I love something, I put my heart and soul into it. I believe in passion, chivalry, and true love.” He hums in agreement as you count down each item with your fingers as if it’s an unofficial list of all the things that encompass a hopeless romantic. “And for me, Valentine’s Day is a poor excuse to spend money and show off all the things you’ve received from your significant other.” 

“That’s valid,” Jimin nods, agreeing while munching on his fries. 

“Like, why spoil someone on this particular day? What happens during the other 364 days?” You spew. 

Jimin mouths “365,” correcting you on the technicalities of a leap year. 

You click your tongue, moving on to the point. “Are they not cherished for the rest of the year? I would hope that my boyfriend makes me feel special for more than a single night.” Your forehead creases, too livid at this point to even realize how sadly single you sound. 

You’re too busy ranting, accidentally speaking over Jimin to hear him reassure you that you are special. “Also there’s just so much pressure to make the night special, as if they have to plan something, otherwise they’re not the ‘perfect couple’ or the ‘perfect man.’” You emphasize with air quotes. 

“I felt that one,” he chuckles, shaking his head. 

“You see my point now?” You acknowledge him sullenly. There’s a tug on your heartstrings at the mention of his girlfriend, but you drive your point forward in hopes of changing the direction of topics. You don’t even want to think about whether or not he’s made plans with his girlfriend yet. 

“And what’s the deal with chocolates?” You yell, completely frustrated, throwing your arms up. “They’re totally overpriced. And cards? Cheesy and terrible. My Instagram feed? Flooded with PDA, and it's a big stab at singles like me.” You enunciate angrily, driving your fork harshly into your salad once again. 

He laughs and nearly falls off the stool he’s sat on top of before swiftly catching himself. You snicker at his unadulterated cuteness. 

“How ‘bout flowers?” He questions with ketchup lingering on the corner of his mouth. 

Picking up a napkin from the edge of the counter, you mindlessly reach across to wipe at his lips, still in the process of ranting. “Don’t get me started on flowers,” you shake your head, folding up the napkin on the table. Jimin smiles at you as your eyes train on the fork that digs through your salad, stabbing into the poor vegetables. “Florists overcharge for them, and I hate it because I didn’t get into this business for the purpose of cheating people out of their money.” At this point, you’re rolling your eyes, seething at the thought of Valentine’s Day. 

“Why’d you get into the business then?” He asks, silently offering his fries to you, the ones you’ve been eyeing ever since he revealed his lunch. 

“Because I love flowers,” you say plain as day, reaching to grab a fry. “Because they make me happy, and when I send them off to someone, I know it’ll make their day a little brighter too.”

You wave the fry around in the air before sticking it in your mouth. Capping off your empty bowl of salad, you don’t seem to notice how Jimin looks at you and the understated beauty you exude. 

“It’s cheesy, I know! You don’t have to look at me like I’m crazy,” you whine, briefly looking up at him with round eyes, turning around to toss your garbage. 

Jimin flashes you a big, toothy smile, “No, you’re not crazy. You’re just... exactly what I thought you were.” His voice is low, almost as if he’s thinking to himself. As if they’re words you’re not meant to hear. 

“Thanks? I think,” you giggle, unsure what he means. “Are you saying I’m predictable?” You inquire.

“I meant refreshing.” The crinkles at the corners of his eyes form as he grins. “I’m just trying to figure out why you don’t have a date for Valentine’s Day.” 

“First of all, I don’t need a date,” you say in defense, teasingly offended. 

“I know that, and you know what I mean. But you deserve to be treated like you’re speー” 

“Second of all, I do have one.” 

“Oh. You do?” He asks, creasing his brows and biting his plush lips. 

“Yeah, with myself,” you jest with a smile, elbows resting on the counter with hands cupping your face. 

Jimin’s chest deflates with an exhale, finally letting out the breath he’s been holding. “What, are you gonna watch The Notebook until you cry?” He pokes at your shoulder like a tease. 

“I’m not that predictable,” you eye him with a gleam in your iris, fully knowing that it is the case. “But maybe,” you affirm with a sly smirk, “after I close up the shop at midnight though.” 

“Knew it,” he scoffs. “But why are you closing so late? You should go home early so you can cry and watch The Notebook.”

“Mmm.” You hum, standing up from your stool and turning to hide the downturn of your lips. Running a rag underneath the faucet, you turn to wipe down the counter free of any crumbs. Jimin lifts his elbow up as you glide the cloth across the glass until it’s squeaky clean. “Let’s not forget that it’s Valentine’s Day, and I run a flower shop, Jimin. People are going to come by for a bouquet until the last second.” You exasperate, shaking your head in disapproval of all the last minute shoppers. 

“You can’t get anyone else to lock up?” He suggests. 

“They’ll hate me forever if I force them to work until midnight,” you reason, “Besides, it’s not like they’re single, so it’s fine. I can do it myself.” 

“I really think you should be resting though. You haven’t been sleeping well lately, right?” He asks with concern in his intonation. 

“I can take care of myself, I promise. I’m gonna treat myself after work anyways.” You do a little dance that consists of shimmying your shoulders and bouncing up and down on the balls of your feet. 

He smiles at you endearingly with wide eyes, “I don’t think crying to The Notebook is a form of treating yourself.” He repeats as if the joke will never die. 

You shake your head and click your tongue exclaiming, “If you must know, I’m gonna bake cookies.” 

“Are you gonna share with me?” He pleads. 

Your tongue pokes at your inner cheek as if you’re thinking about it. “Hmm, I don’t know. I might eat them all in one night.” Your lips purse in a taunt. 

His mouth forms a pout, and you’re forced to give in to him and his bright puppy dog eyes. 

“Ugh, fine, but only because you asked so nicely, I guess I can make some extras,” you groan, pressing your lips together straight like an arrow. You nudge his shoulder with your own despite the squeeze at your heart and the softening of your eyes, “For you and your girlfriend.” 

It’s not like you had to mention it. But it’s been on your mind since yesterday, and you’re sure that the only way to fix a broken heart is to learn to accept it. Even if it means plucking out the thorns that are lodged in your heart until it feels numb. Empty and devoid of life. 

“Girlfrie- oh, right, right. That’d be nice,” he sputters out, body stiffening, “Butー”

“Maybe I can bake them Thursday night?” You offer. “So you can pick them up on Friday if you buy flowers for her?” Your eyes blink in a failed attempt to wink. 

Jimin stifles a laugh at your pitiful endeavor. It’s really pathetic how hard you try, pretending that you’re not hurt right in front of the guy who stormed into your garden. 

But you suppose flowers can’t grow without a little bit of downpour. 

He licks his lips, and his smile falters. “Riiight, but it’s okay, you should enjoy your cookies on Friday night because I’m not sure I’ll be around to buy flowers that day anyways.” 

“What do you mean?” You ask, perplexed, head cocked to the side. 

“Uh, don’t worry about it, okay?” He says, brushing it off before taking a look at his watch. “I have to head back to work though, my break is almost ending.” You watch him carefully with narrowing eyes as he collects his belongings, scrambling to head out the door. With the exit half opened, he turns around to bid you goodbye. “I’ll see you soon, okay?” 

The bell chimes and he’s out of sight. 

You can’t even process his words because you’re too busy staring at the exit trying to figure out what the hell just happened. 

Adulthood is just an endless cycle of sleeping and working, but it seems like you’re lacking in the former activity seeing that all you do is work. In the final stretch of Valentine’s Day, with a few more days to go, you’re just about ready to crash and burn. 

Upon entering your quiet apartment tonight, you fail to do anything productive. You nose dive into bed and curl up into a cocoon at the strike of 10 pm. Somehow, you don’t even care enough to tug off your jeans or remove your smudged makeup. You’re ready to accept the consequences of bad skin and a stained pillowcase because the only thing that matters is that you knock out the moment your head hits the soft linen. There’s no time to replay the events of today or plan for tomorrow when your eyelids weigh you down into a deep slumber. 

There’s not a single thing that can spur you. Not even the shining of the moonlight over your profile or the rhythmic whizzing of cars on the empty street beneath you. Even when there’s a police siren ringing in the distance or a rumble from a descending airplane in the atmosphere above you, you don’t bat an eye. You can’t even hear the hum of the rusty pipelines when your neighbor hops into the shower at the breach of dawn. Even the whirring radiator and the ticking clock blurs into nothing but white noise. 

They’re all there to keep you company as you lie down in a bed of withered roses. To offer you comfort in your barren Renaissance garden. 

You can’t seem to put your finger on it, but you wake up feeling like it’s the best night of rest you’ve gotten in the last week despite it being a short lived slumber. It’s definitely the most consistent night of sleep you’ve had in a while. And even though you went to bed without dinner, it didn’t hinder your sleep whatsoever. It only means that you can eat a full breakfast to power through the day. 

And powering through is what you do best. 

Apparently, the world is up against you because you can’t remember the last time you even got to sit down. You’re constantly on your feet, attending to customers and fulfilling orders. There’s no time to breathe even when you’re literally enclosed in a greenhouse. There’s always something to do, and stopping to take a break means slowing down the process. It’s not an option you want to take. 

At the end of each day, you’re wobbling back home with sore muscles and blurred vision. Your ability to function is beyond your own imagination. Your definition of “functioning” has diminished to standing on your own two feet although that still bears a challenge for you. 

The sustenance in your body is nearly nonexistent, especially because you’ve been neglecting your self-care. Typically, you don’t think about eating on the job. It’s honestly not on your mind because there are only two things that occupy your brain space: (1) Work and (2) Jimin. 

Somehow, Jimin takes better care of you than you do yourself. And without him around, you’re a walking corpse. He’s always providing you with lunch and snacks, leaving you sticky notes with reminders to hydrate yourself. You didn’t realize that you needed him this much to remind you of the simple tasks like drinking or eating or… smiling.

Sometimes he draws cute flowers or scribbles plant puns on the post-it notes, sticking them onto obscure places that are hard for you to find. Your favorite one being the time he wrote “I love it when you call me big poppy.” 

He claims that the notes are designed to make you laugh, even for the few that are not very funny. They definitely do brighten your day, especially when you have the ephemeral chance to glance at them hanging up above your desk in the back office. Smiling at the itty-bitty illustrations has become second nature to you. When you’re going through a rough day, aka everyday, and you’re in need of a breather, you wander into the back room to pace around, only to come face to face with a kaleidoscope of doodled butterflies spanned across a string of rainbow post it notes.

He once drew a sunflower and said something cheesy about how your laughter is the embodiment of sunshine— how it would be a crime against the flora population if you were to go a day without laughter. 

It was corny and far from being right, but it was so perfectly Jimin. 

When he does stupid shit like that, it makes you feel like the biggest lovesick idiot in the world. In your naive past, you thought that the smiles he sent your way were ones reserved for you and only you. You were convinced that the shameless flirting was a silent mechanism used to express his inclination towards you. You assumed that the daily visits to your flower shop were formidable attempts to get to know you better. A little part of you hoped that the songs he shared with you equated to sharing a piece of his heart. 

You absolutely were sharing. You just didn’t realize that you’d be sharing with someone else. 

So when Jimin consigns adorable puns that melt your heart, and he stops by with a cup of coffee, just know that they’re acts of friendship. When he spends his lunch breaks at the flower shop and sings songs that remind him of you, he’s coming from a place of kindness, not attraction. 

It is true that Jimin’s your sunshine, but it’s also a fundamental principle to botanists that too much of something is bad enough, and too much of nothing is just as tough. And deceiving yourself into believing that he was all that you needed had scorched up all the flowers in your garden. 

The drought he put you in didn’t prepare you enough for the brewing storm. 

It pains you to say that you need him more than he needs you because even if he isn’t romantically interested in you, you would have hoped that he’d stick around as a friend. His waning presence leads you to believe that he’s simply not interested. 

Maybe you were too invested in what could have been between the two of you, you failed to see what was right there in plain sight. 

Somehow, you still wonder if he thinks about you as much as you think about him. And it’s pathetic granted you’re incredibly busy with work and your own crippling health. Yet thoughts of him still pop up throughout the day more than you would like. No matter how much you want to forget about your infatuation, you simply can’t will him away because of how often his beautiful face flashes before your eyes. You want to push him to the back of your mind, but whether you’re in need of a breather during your hectic schedule, admiring his stupid puns and butterfly mosaics, or you’re in need of some company in your eerily quiet apartment, doing laundry or having a meal all to yourself, you still can’t get the sound of his sweet laughter out of your head. 

You don’t know how it’s possible, but you manage to close up shop long before midnight. It’s a blessing and a curse because you are absolutely wiped out. Not only are you mentally checked out, but ironically, your flower shop is destitute of flowers, completely sold out from the holiday. As you clean up the barren space, you can’t help but feel as if a big weight has been lifted off your shoulders. The stress of Valentine’s Day is over, and you can finally go home, lie in bed with a tray of cookies, and enjoy the beauty that is Ryan Gosling. 

You even consider closing the store all of tomorrow because you need the day off to recharge. So as you print out and paste your notice on the glass door, you’re dumbfounded to come across a sliver of paper that’s already attached on the other side. Opening up the door and letting in a gust of cold air breeze by you, you remove the sticky note that’s been unknowingly attached to your entrance. 

Not a daisy goes by that I don’t think of you.

The smile that tugs on your lips grapples against the ache in your heart. Quickly, the fond smile melts into one of hurt and disappointment. Your left hand balls into a tight fist, marring crescent moon shapes into your palms. Meanwhile, your right hand delicately fiddles with the tiny square between your fingers, debating whether or not you should crumple up the paper and toss it away to be long forgotten. You’ve never been so confused about your feelings until Park Jimin came into your life, but you tuck the little daisy doodle into the pocket of your coat with a sigh. 

With every passing year, Valentine’s Day becomes a little more bearable than the previous. Tonight feels like any other night, but better. You’ve come to accept that if there isn’t someone who can make you feel special, you might as well do it yourself. 

Making a meal for you that doesn’t consist of ramen or 5 minute rice while dimming the lights and sparking up some candles is undeniably part of the healing process. And that’s what tonight mainly consists of. It’s all about love and self-care. 

With your laptop perched on top of your dinner table and your Netflix queue lined up, you mindlessly mix at your wet and dry ingredients with a wooden spoon. Nothing has made you feel more at ease than the comfort of watching your favorite movie on repeat and the sweet taste of raw cookie dough on your tongue. Sometimes it’s the simple things in life that can put a smile on your face. 

As you wait for your cookies to bake, you settle into bed with your legs crossed and back pressed against the headboard. Laughter from the speakers of your laptop fill the space, and you can’t help but laugh along with the characters, disrupting the peaceful ambiance of your apartment complex. The rumble of your laughter subsides, and the movie rolls on from scene to scene. 

Your ears perk up like Pavlov’s dog when the oven goes off. You turn your head so quickly you nearly get whiplash, but it’s all worth it for the love of chocolate chip cookies. The aroma of sugar is enough to will yourself out of bed and conveniently press pause on Ryan Gosling’s charming face. 

Pulling on your oven mitts to retrieve the hot platter, your body begins to sway around to the sudden echo of music. The soft guitar strums reverberate through the walls and against the vacant space of your studio. Your body stops moving to the acoustics when you realize where the noise is coming from. Looking up, your eyes bore into the eggshell walls as if you can see through it. But you soon space out, focusing on the vibrations of the nylon strings instead. 

The song fades out and the quietude breaks you out of your reverie. You blink in confusion, trying to remember the last time you heard from your neighbor. Although you haven’t spent much time in your apartment in the past week, you miss the late night chats with him. Lately, you’ve been knocking out as soon as your head hits the pillow for some much needed rest. You haven’t heard his voice in forever, and especially not his angelic singing voice. Even tonight he refrains from singing in place of just practicing his guitar. 

It’s a bit out of the ordinary. 

His side of the wall is surprisingly quiet tonight. You would have expected him to be out and about with his girlfriend, but at this point of the night, they would have been jumping at each other's bones. Yet the gentle patter of footsteps and the lack of banging would suggest that he’s flying solo tonight. 

Despite your curiosity, you’re not sure whether or not you’d want to bring it up in case it reopens some wounds. You think it’s best to leave it alone for the time being until he’s ready to come to you instead. 

So as you proceed with bingeing your movies, there’s something in the back of your mind that still distracts you. It’s literally a crime that you’ve sat through 2 hours of The Notebook, yet you haven’t shed a single tear because you’re not even focused on the film in front of you. Rather, you’re thinking long and hard about the last time you heard your neighbor laugh in sincerity. 

You really couldn’t care any less about the end credits that roll in front of you. Rather, with your chin propped up in the palm of your hands, you listen intently to what’s happening on the other side of the wall. It’s bizarrely quiet, aside from the sad symphony of string instruments that ring in the background of the ending credits. 

When your screen turns black, you shut off your laptop and stow it away, knowing in your heart that you’re no longer in the mood for a romantic movie marathon. You make your way into your kitchen and reach for the cookies that have cooled off by now. But somehow, it feels wrong to sit here in enjoyment of your own company. Yet at the same time, this batch of cookies was the only thing you were looking forward to all week. 

Nothing seems to satisfy you. 

The only desire that creeps upon you is the desire to spend the night with someone else by your side. Frankly, it’s stupid because you know that you don’t need a man, and even the whole world knows that you don’t need one. Especially not on Valentine’s Day because you’ve made it abundantly clear that you hate February 14th with every fibre of your being.

However, the idea of having a friend at your side doesn’t seem so bad at this point. 

You transfer all the cookies from the tray onto a smaller plate, arranging the delectable morsels into a presentable fashion. 

With your slippers on, you make your way out of your apartment, letting the door close softly behind you. Standing in front of your neighbor’s abode, you nervously shift your weight on the heels of your feet. Midnight is approaching, and you wouldn’t want to disrupt his night like this, but it just feels right to knock on his door and offer your company. Just to check up on him because perhaps he’s in need of some companionship just like you. And who wouldn’t want some chocolate chip cookies? Baked with 80% sugar and 100% love. 

Mustering up all the courage in your body, your hand comes up in a tight fist, knocking at the wooden door. You wait a moment, but to your dismay, there’s no evidence of movement on the other side of the partition. You would have heard his footsteps by now, and perhaps the turning of the deadbolt, but it’s dead silent. 

Perhaps he didn’t hear you, so you knock a little harder this time.

Nothing. 

As you stand outside, lost in naivety, you wonder whether you should try to make a fool of yourself and knock again. It’s been a good 5 minutes of you debating between speaking up to get his attention or giving up and retreating to your studio in embarrassment. Then you mentally facepalm yourself remembering that it’s incredibly rude of you to drop by without any kind of warning. 

But still, you had his best interests in mind. 

You think that the third time’s the charm, so in a last attempt, you knock with full force. 

“Uhh, hey!” Your voice shakes and cracks. Blame it on the nerves. “I made some cookies, and I thought I’d share some!” You semi-yell in hopes of catching his attention. 

“One second!” Oh, thank God. You can hear the bed frame creak on the other side and the skid of footsteps across the floor boards. 

Your heartbeat weirdly picks up because of the fact that this is quite literally the first time you’ve come face to face with your neighbor. The late night chats with him have always made you feel comfortable, but there’s a certain nuance to meeting him that shakes your nerves. 

You brace yourself as you hear the lock turn, eyes casting down towards the plate in front of you. 

“I didn’t know that today’d be the day we meet like thiー” He says as the door swings open. 

You look up expecting to greet him with a smile, but the one you had prepared falters from your lips. 

“What’re youー” 

“Y- You liveー” 

You stutter over one another, lost in confusion. Staring into the very familiar set of brown eyes in front of you, you’re confounded by your new discovery. 

Jimin stands before you, running his hand through his black locks as he opens the door wider, stepping aside to let you through. 

“Hey, neighbor?” He sounds disoriented, untrusting of his voice. 

You’re stood frozen at the foot of the entrance, unsure as to how you could possibly process all of this. 

“I heard you made cookies?” He asks, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “Here, come in.” He gently tugs on your sleeve, coddling you because of the state of shock you’re in. 

You nod your head, barely cognizant of what’s being said. But your feet still shuffle through the entryway, and you slide off your slippers at the front door. 

“This is so crazy,” he says, taking the plate of cookies off your hands. You’re both surprised that you have yet to drop them. He places the plate onto his coffee table, and his back is turned to you as you stand to the side, playing with the sleeves of your sweater. 

How much weirder can this situation possibly get? 

“You mean to tell me that we’ve been neighbors all this time and we didn’t even know?” You ask, sucking your lips inward, cocking your head to the side. Your words are a jumbled mess, but Jimin has become a master at deciphering your incoherent words through the thin walls many nights in a row. 

“I’m just as surprised as you! I can’t believe I didn’t connect the dots?” He exclaims in dismay, patting the seat beside him on the couch as an invitation to you. 

Your brain feels as if it’s lost all of its cells because you have so many questions, yet you can’t seem to articulate them. As you sit down, you close your eyes and rub at your temples, praying that you’d wake up from this odd dream. 

“There’s no way I could have connected the dots,” you sputter in collection of your thoughts, completely exasperated. “I just don’t understand.” 

You fiddle with your fingers, and Jimin takes your hand in his. His touch is soft, and as much as you want to pull away, you give into him because there’s no way you’d ever deny him, especially not when he looks at you with those big round eyes. 

“I have so many questions,” you admit, rubbing at your eyelids. 

“Shoot.” 

“Uhm,” your head shakes wildly. “I don’t even know where to begin?” Your eyes widen, shocked by how nonchalant he’s acting. As if he didn’t just lead you on and ghost you days on end, pretending that everything’s okay now. 

“Take your time,” he chuckles reassuringly, offering you a calming smile. 

“Uhm… How are you? I guess? Th- that’s kind of the first thing I wanted to ask you before… I- you know.” 

Your heart gallops because he’s looking at you, biting his lip. And you, you are completely weak for the man who holds all of your affection in the palm of his hands, yet you can’t handle his smoldering stare, so you avert your eyes elsewhere. This is downright cruel and unusual punishment. 

You continue, “Because I haven’t spoken to you much lately, you know?” 

“You wanted to check up on me?” 

You blink away, eyes now focused on the vase of wilting flowers on the coffee table. Pink and red variegated carnations. You inhale deeply, trying to calm yourself and regulate your breath. Your body stiffens and your shoulders tense. Even your jaw tightens, but you manage to nod your head. 

“I’ve been better,” he admits sullenly. 

Your hand lets go of his, pulling back to seek comfort at your side. It just doesn’t feel right to hold his hand so intimately when he’s made a mess of your head and your heart. You just can’t do it to yourself, and you can’t do it to him or his girlfriend. Especially not when his heart belongs to her. 

You open your mouth as if you have another question to ask, but none of them are coherent enough to utter. There’s plenty of noise ringing in your head, but it’s all nonsense. 

Jimin gently rests his hand on the ball of your knee, almost like a graze, but his touch is hot, and you brush him off with the recoil of your leg. 

His shoulders slump, and his eyes soften. His hands retract to his lap, respecting your wishes. He gulps, and noticeably the lump in his throat goes down in a swallow. 

“Hey, it’s just me, okay? You don’t need to be scared.” He displays his palms out to you as a peace offering. A symbol of vulnerability. The tension in the air is palpable, but you still manage to keep your guard down in front of him. 

Because this is Jimin. The guy you’ve come to know and unfortunately love. But it’s just that you’ve never seen Jimin like this.

“Yeah and that’s kind of the problem,” you breathe out. Your brows knit into a frown, and he looks at you in bewilderment, with wide eyes, parted lips, and stress tousled hair. “I- I don’t know if you’re Jimin the mysterious neighbor who’s been nothing but nice to me, or Jimin the guy from the flower shop who pretty much made it loud and clear he doesn’t want to see me,” you scoff. 

“B- butー What do you mean? We’re the same person.” His eyes narrow, and he shakes his head subtly trying to convince you. He fiddles with his fingers, cracking his knuckles out of bad habit.  Shifting his body so his knees are pointed towards yours, nearly in contact, he refrains from the much needed skinship. The heat radiating from his body is something you’re familiar with, and although it once brought you comfort, you can only feel resentment. 

“Of course I want to see you? Iー I?” He’s a stuttering mess, shaking his head from side to side as if you’ve got it all wrong, but you interject because you have so much to say, yet you haven’t expressed yourself to your liking just yet. 

“I don’t know about that!” Your hands clench up at your sides until your knuckles turn sharp. “Because neighbor Jimin is telling me he has a fuck buddy he thinks he’s in love with, and flower shop Jimin has a girlfriend he doesn’t want to talk about. So what is it? I’m hearing a lot about mixed feelings for this one person, and… if you’re involved with someone, I don’t want to get in the middle of this,” you spit out more harshly than expected, inching further and further away to the edge of the couch with your arms crossed over your chest. You gulp down a thick glob of spit in hopes of washing down the acidic sting in your throat, but it’s like bile just sits there on your tongue. 

“Let me explain, okay?” He begs of you. 

You sit there in sullen silence, staring at the carnations in your peripherals, ready to have him break your heart all over again. You nod, but you don’t even bother turning to face him, unsure whether or not you’d be able to hear him talk about how he’s in some complicated relationship with someone else. 

“Please, look at me?” he pleads with a sniffle, “I need to know if you’re okay.” His voice cracks, and you finally look his way. You’re far from okay, but seeing him with glossy eyes, you also know that he isn’t either. 

He licks his lips, and his hand comes up in desperate need of tucking the stray strand of hair that’s fallen in front of your face. But he decides against it in fear of rejection, and he rests his hand on the ball of his knee instead. Your line of sight falls to his shaking leg. You hesitantly reach across to close your hand softly around his in comfort. His movement stops instantly as he lets out a huff. 

Licking your lips, your eyes gaze towards your hands, and you can’t help but imagine how they’d slot into one another so perfectlyー 

“_____?” Your eyes shift to lock with his and there are tears that brim at his corners, but they’re kept at bay, refusing to fall. 

“I-” He exhales. 

You squeeze his hand a little tighter, and you don’t know if it’s more for yourself or for him, but it gives him the strength to continue on. 

“Look, that girl and I? We weren’t in a relationship. I promise you. I told you that we were friends with benefits because that’s what we were.” He insists, hoping the message gets across to you, but your heart drops lower into your stomach at his admission. You don’t even want to picture him with some other girl, yet you know way more about their relationship than you would have ever wanted. 

Hell, you were even convinced that they were in love. A highlight reel of the last few months spent in your apartment flashes before your eyes, and your grip on his hand loosens. You think back to the days when Jimin was just some faceless guy, dancing around with his supposed girlfriend, having pillow fights, running warm baths, making out beneath the stars, and fucking around with her like they were in love. 

But he continues in hopes that you’d understand his point of view. “It was easier to tell you the truth because you didn’t know who I was, and you wouldn’t have judged me for it. So I was an idiot, and at the flower shop, I told you she was my girlfriend because it would have been easier to explain this complicated mess.” A single tear cascades down his cheek, and he wipes it away with the crook of his elbow. 

“I mean, she wanted it to be serious, but there was just something pulling me back. And do you know what that was?” 

You shake your head no and pull away, unsure how much more of this you can take. 

He looks you dead in the eyes, but you can’t even look at him for another second because the wilting carnations are sitting there, mocking you. 

“_____, you asked me the other day what I liked about her, and I was wracking my brain trying to come up with an answer... It wasn’t easy because you were the only person I thought about.”

A sudden tear escapes from the corner of your eyes, unbelieving, but you compel yourself to look back at his visage, checking for any tells of a lie. He doesn’t even falter. 

“She and I? We fought so much because she was convinced I had feelings for someone else. And you know?” He shakes his head,  “…It’s true. I couldn’t think about the things I liked about her, but then when I thought of you. My god, it was just so much easier to talk about the things I loved about you because you’re the one I like. I didn’t know how to express that, okay? The songs that I wrote? The ones you hear me sing day and night? Fuck…” He rubs at his eyes, and they’re evidently red from all the tears welled up. “They’re all about you, and you didn’t even know,” he sobs out. The first drop of tears came out steadily, but as you examine his face in total shock, the tears begin to cascade down his face. 

You wrap your arms around his neck, now understanding where he’s coming from. It’s all a little more clear to you, and there’s no need to continue on if he’s in hysteria like this. His arms instinctively squeeze around your waist, holding on tight, too afraid that he’d lose you if he were to let go. 

“I didn’t have my feelings sorted out because I was comfortable with where I was, but it’s not like it made me happy,” he confesses. You hush him, running your fingers through his hair and caressing his slumped back. Sitting in silence, you can only hear the sound of your breathing falling into sync with his. Occasionally, the radiator would go off and a car would drive by on the street beneath you. 

You tell him that it’s all okay and that all is forgiven, but he still continues in justification of himself. “And I was convinced that you’d think I was a horrible person for liking someone else when I’ve got a complicated relationship going on, okay? Because that’s how I felt about myself, and I swear we broke it off, but I was too embarrassed to come to you because I didn’t know how to explain the mess I got myself into. It’s all my fault, and I’m so so so sorry, you have no idea.” 

He’s wracked with sobs, but you hum, listening intently to his every word. They’re coherent enough for you to realize that you’ve both made mistakes because of a huge misunderstanding. 

The Jimin that you know and love is right here in your arms, and there’s nothing you can do but forgive and forget. 

“I’m so, so sorry,” he cries out with a hiccup. “I promise you that you’re the only person I care about.” 

You whisper sweet nothings into his ear, hoping that he calms down because there’s really nothing to apologize for. “What did I say? You don’t have to be sorry, okay?” You remind him. 

He lets out a breathy exhale, “I messed up,” he hiccups, “I don’t deserve this. You.” 

Your hands rest on his shoulder, gently pulling back from him, but he clings on tighter to your waist. Looking down at the sweet man beneath you, you smile to yourself. 

“Jimin,” you murmur.

“Hm?” 

“You have no idea what you do to me, do you?” You shake your head, and a soft chuckle vibrates through your chest. Still, you keep him in your embrace because although it may seem like Jimin is the one in need of a hug, you need it just as much as he does. 

“Can I tell you a story?” You ask. 

“Yeah,” he breathes out, tickling the skin at your sternum. 

“I think I caught feelings for you the first time we met. Do you remember that?” He hums as you reminisce on the memory. “It was some random Sunday, and you walked in looking for a bouquet for your mom, but you realized you didn’t have enough cash on youー” 

Jimin laughs beneath you, and it’s the way that he laughs that makes you realize you need that in your life. A cheshire grin spreads across your lips, and that’s when you know you can’t go a single day without hearing his laugh again. 

“You didn’t have enough cash, so you pulled out a post it note and scribbled an IOU.” You can barely get the sentence out without chuckling to yourself. Jimin has stopped sobbing at this point, being reduced to a few sniffles here and there. You deem it as the right moment to pull back from his embrace so you can look him in the eyes. 

“You drew a little daisy for me and that’s when I knew you were really something else.” 

You cup his cheeks, and a grin tugs on his lips, matching the one on your face. His eyes shine in the dim light, just like how the sun radiates in the day time. A single tear trickles down his plush cheeks, and you wipe it away with the pad of your thumb. 

“Look, I’ve liked you for as long as I can remember, and I have to admit that it hurt me when you said you had a girlfriend, but it really hurt me when you left without saying anything.” 

His eyes cast downwards as if he’s ashamed, but you place your hand beneath his chin, bringing his attention back up. 

“Know that I’d never judge you for the decisions you make and for the relationships you have, okay? And I don’t think you’re horribleー” 

“You don’t?” He cuts you off with his big pleading eyes. 

“No, far from it,” you beam, “I still think you’re the most selfless person I know.” 

Jimin’s face drops at your confession, “Oh my god, I’m so sorry if I ever made you feel like you’re not special, because to me, you’re the most extraordinary person in this world.” 

He cups your face, noticing that your eyes are starting to well. Drops of tears roll down your face, and Jimin’s quick to dry them away, pressing his lips against your cheeks to collect the drops of salt water. As you smile, another stream of tears pour from your ducts. Soft pecks are trailed against your skin, and you think you’ve successfully washed away all the pain. 

You can feel the flowers in your heart slowly starting to bloom in preparation for spring. 

“Why’d you stop?” You ask, opening up your eyes. He’s merely a few inches away from you, stuck in a daze. 

His eyes can’t decide whether they want to look at the gleam in your irises or at the curvature of your lips, flickering between the two. 

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No.” Your whimper is hardly loud enough for your own ears, but he hears you loud and clear. 

His hands rest at the sides of your neck as his thumbs run over your cheeks, grazing over the flesh of your lips. “Can I show you how special you are to me?” 

You nod your head, and Jimin is overcome with the urge to kiss you, inching closer with puckered lips. They’re soft against your own, plush and pillowy. You melt into his touch as if he’s the light of your life. You think you could cry again from the sheer amount of euphoria built up in your little heart. Having him in your arms is all you could ever ask for. 

He pulls back slightly in need of a breath, and you take the opportunity to climb into his lap, with knees settled on either side of his taut thighs. 

“Missed you,” you whimper against the column of his neck, nosing at the sensitive skin. 

Jimin’s breath hitches as he bites back a moan, “Missed you more.” 

“Not possible,” you trail gentle kisses against his collarbones, pulling back on the cotton of his t-shirt to expose more of his neck. 

His hands rest on your outer thighs thighs, squeezing tight on the muscles. You reach behind you to grab at his forearms, urging him to move his hands higher onto your body. He takes the hint immediately and experimentally squeezes at your ass. Your lips part from his neck, and Jimin takes the opportunity to latch his mouth back onto yours. 

His lips are gentle in contrast to the firm grip he has on you. But with your weight resting on top of him, core pressed up against his crotch, you can feel how hard he is beneath you. In need of some release, you start to move your hips back and forth, grinding over his hard on. 

Jimin gives you a lingering kiss on your lips, pulling back with a harsh groan. You offer a teasing smile, and he leans forward. He supports your weight at the bottom of your ass as your legs wrap around his waist. You nearly yelp when he stands, holding you up in his arms. 

“I got you,” he reassures, pressing his lips firmly against yours, walking towards his unmade bed space. He lays you down gently on top of the messy covers, climbing between your legs. You whine upon the release of his lips, but his mouth leaves hot kisses down the column of your throat, causing you to gasp.

“Is it okay if we take this off?” He asks, thumbing at the hem of your sweater. 

You nod sitting up, and he tugs the material off for you, tossing it to the edge of the bed. Upon sight of your bare chest, he molds into you, lips suctioning around your pebbled nipple. His other hand massages at your unattended breast, squeezing at the supple flesh.

“You’re beautiful,” he hums against your body.

You’re easily affected by his words as your back arches and your legs hook around his torso. Canting your hips upward, you signal to Jimin with a whine that you’re desperate for his touch. 

“There’s no need to rush, baby, we have the whole night,” he warns you, leaving a kiss between the valley of your breasts. 

You cry out in frustration, but it soon subsides when he satiates your needs. You relax when his hand lowers into your sweatpants, cupping at your heat. His middle finger traces at your entrance, running it up and down your panty clad slit. Your hips lurch once again, but Jimin presses your hips down, flush against the mattress. 

As his tongue circles around your sensitive nipple, his fingers decide to dip into your underwear. The obscene sound of your juices squelching can be heard when he presses his finger into your tight hole. Inserting a finger in, you can feel your walls stretch around him. A cry falls from your lips as he begins to rub at your clit with the pad of his thumb. 

Jimin inserts another finger, and your cunt feels so hot with the amount of friction. Pumping two fingers in and out, there’s a pleasurable burn that ripples throughout your body. Beads of sweat form on your hairline, and you wipe them away with the back of your hand. You can practically feel your heart beating out of your chest. 

“Tell me how it feels, okay?” He asks, switching over to your other breast.

“You feel so good,” you mewl. He hums against your nipple in affirmation, biting lightly at the perky bud. 

“Jimin?” You call out for him. 

He parts from your chest to look into your eyes, fingers still pumping in and out of you with flexing biceps. 

“I think it’d feel better if you’d fuck me,” you admit, no filter needed. 

“Shit,” he groans, slowing down the pace. “I want to eat you out first though.” 

He retracts his hand, and you feel empty without him inside. Your sweatpants and panties are tugged off in one swift motion, casted to the side along with your sweatshirt. Looking up with stars in your eyes, you can see that Jimin is still fully dressed. You open your mouth to tell him about your wishes, but he must have read your mind because he pulls off his t-shirt and throws it with no regard. 

Beneath his clothing, he reveals to you his robust body. You’re dripping with lust, and it must be so obvious from the way you stare at his abdominals. Everything about him is so well-built, and you curse the talented dancer in front of you. 

“Like what you see?” He teases, winking at you as he descends down your body. 

“Love it,” you moan. 

His breath is hot against your wet pussy. With juices dripping down your ass, you ruin the linen sheets beneath you. His fingers play with your core, spreading your swollen lips to reveal your flower, admiring how pretty your cunt is. 

Sitting up with elbows propped, you look down in frustration between your bent legs to see Jimin licking his lips, staring at your heat like he’s ready to devour you. He kisses at the long, dark lines of stretch marks that reside on your inner thighs before his tongue presses softly against your wet clit, kitten licking at the bud. Reaching out, your hand balls around the white comforter to anchor yourself down. As you spread your legs wider, Jimin’s hands hook around your limbs to rest at your thighs. He presses them down, restricting your movement. 

His tongue laps at your heat with no mercy, licking a stripe up your sex and tracing letters onto your clit, sending your nerves aflame. Your breaths are shallow as you pant, melding yourself to the mattress. He flicks his tongue, prodding it against your hole and delving in and out. He massages your tight walls as it clenches around his tongue. 

There’s a knot in your stomach that forms embarrassingly fast, but you can’t help it when his plush lips give your cunt so much attention, sucking harshly on your clitoris. He looks over at your features, taking notice of your reactions, licking over and over the parts that make you squirm the most. 

Your face scrunches in pleasure, nearly toppling over the edge. But you’re not ready to come. Not yet at least. Not without having Jimin’s hard cock inside of you. 

Jimin is relentless against your pussy, but he doesn’t even let up when you call his name out. Your grip around the comforter loosens in favor of digging your fingers into Jimin’s luscious black locks. 

“Jimiiiin,” you whine, tugging lightly at his roots. “I need you, please, please,” you beg. 

He leaves a kiss at your bud, and you shudder in response. Jimin climbs up your body, and you shiver at the loss of contact. 

“You need me, huh?” He teases, “You want to come?” You nod your head ardently when he presses his red, swollen lips against yours. He grapples with your mouth in a bruising, passionate kiss. With clicking teeth and suckling tongues, you can taste yourself off of his plush lips, completely drenched in your arousal. 

Trailing your hand down Jimin’s sturdy body, you can’t resist running your hands over his perfectly sculpted abs. But on your descent, you pull on the strings of his heather gray sweatpants, loosening the elastic around his waist. 

Your palm slides beneath the band, tucking beneath his boxer briefs. His eyebrows scrunch, and he gasps against your mouth when you wrap your hand around his hot, veiny cock, stroking at his erection. His cheeks flush as you swipe your thumb over the head, collecting beads of precum on your fingers. 

He shudders at your touch. “Oh my God, I might die if you keep doing that,” he nearly cries. 

You smile against the skin of his neck, sucking at his pulse point. Meanwhile, Jimin reaches over to his nightstand, pulling out a condom. He nearly falls off the bed, losing balance on his knee when you stroke his cock a little faster. 

As Jimin sits up, trying to open up the packaging, you careen forward to pull off his sweats. You can hardly pull it down below his thick ass given the position he’s sitting in. But it’s enough for you to pull his dick out and wrap your hand around his girth in all its glory. 

While waiting for Jimin to take out the condom, you decide to tease him like he deserves. Switching positions, you lie down on your stomach in front of him. With a glob of saliva built up in your mouth, you spit onto the head of his cock, watching it drip down the shaft and onto his balls. You glide your hand up and down to spread the saliva, making sure he’s nice and wet. His balls tighten the moment you suckle your lips around his slit. 

You look up at Jimin with wide eyes in hope of some praise. 

His eyes stare into yours, but he quickly throws his head back. “Fuck, fuck, fuck I’m not gonna last, please, I know your mouth is like heaven, but I want to be inside you,” he rambles. 

He tucks your hair behind your ears and rests his hand beneath your chin, tilting it upwards. His lips meet your forehead in a sweet kiss before you lie back down on the bed, spreading your legs wide open as an invitation. 

Jimin ungracefully pulls off his pants down the rest of his legs. He pumps his thick cock in his hands before sliding on the condom and lining himself up at your entrance. You groan, reaching out for his wrists as he glides his length up and down your folds, making sure you're nice and wet for him, fully prepped. 

The callous on his thumb is rough against your clit as he rubs down on it, easing the discomfort of penetration. Your velvety walls stretch around his member as he sinks into you inch by inch. 

You’re gasping for air as he sheaths himself inside you, but you remain calm because Jimin peppers kisses all across your face. 

“Are you okay?” He asks, concerned. 

“Mhmm,” you hum, “Might need a second.” 

His nose nudges at your cheek, “Take all the time you need, baby.” 

Moments go by until you’re comfortable with the stretch. You don’t know how Jimin has so much patience with you when you can literally feel his dick twitch inside your pussy, impossibly harder than he was moments prior. But like the angel he is, he still waits for your go-ahead. 

“Jimin, you can move,” you whisper, cupping his cheek and offering a butterfly kiss. 

His mouth finds his way to yours, and he kisses you with so much fervor. You’re too distracted by the kiss to notice him slide out of you. 

But your lips part slightly, letting out a gasp when he drives his dick back into you, setting a moderate pace. Your hands reach for the skin of his back, latching your nails onto the smooth surface. The slap of skin on skin is obscene as his hips meet yours, pumping himself inside of you. The delicious burn has you digging your nails into his shoulder blades, scratching at his taut muscles. 

You weren’t wrong to say that you can’t go another day without hearing Jimin’s laughter, but at the time, you were not privileged enough to hear his moans against the shell of your ear. That is the one thing you don’t want to ever live without, too spoiled by the sensual man above you. 

Jimin fucks into you deeply, changing his angle as he shifts his weight onto his knees. His calculated thrusts to your g-spot sends you closer and closer to the edge. His eyes focus on your pussy, watching his dick disappear inside of you like an addiction. With a firm grasp on your hips, he lifts you higher to help you reach your orgasm. 

“Jimin, I’m gonna come,” you gasp, gripping your walls tightly around his length. 

“I know, baby, you can come.” He lowers himself onto his elbows so he can come face to face with you. His hands reach down between your bodies, and he rubs harsh figure eights on your swollen clit. You lean forward, pressing your lips to his as waves of pleasure crash over you. Your body trembles beneath him, moaning his name like a vice. 

Jimin rides out your high, pumping into your tight hole until your legs nearly give out. He doesn’t dare pull away, continuing to circle your clit until you’ve nearly reached your limits. Your walls pulse around his cock, squeezing around his shaft until he’s nearly at his edge. His hair is matted to his forehead, slicked by sweat. You brush away the loose strands with the tips of your fingers. 

“Are you close?” You breathe out, hush and quiet, cupping his jaw with the palm of your hands. 

“Mhmm,” he gulps, rutting into you, pumping your cum in and out as it sheaths his shaft. 

His pace falters as he approaches his orgasm, hips stuttering against yours. Jimin nearly collapses on top of you as he spills himself into the condom, moaning into the cusp of your ear. His chest presses up against yours as he attempts to catch his breath.

You trace soothing circles onto his back as he basks in the afterglow of post orgasmic sex. 

His breathing soon evens out, and it’s comfortably quiet, that is with the exception of the radiator hissing in the corner of the studio. 

“Wow.” He kisses your temple before pulling out, letting the remains of your cum flow out of you. He rolls over onto his back, pulling you into his warm embrace.

“So on a scale of 1-10, how special would you say you feel right about now?” A smug smirk tugs on his lips, and you playfully smack his pecks. 

“Does this answer your question?” You ask, peppering 10 kisses onto his lips. 

“Mmm, no, I didn’t quite hear your answer” he says, leaning in for another kiss, “Tell me one more time?” 

And as Jimin kisses you goodnight, you know in your heart that the heartache and the loss of $5 are all worth it in the end if it means you get to wake up and smell the roses with Jimin at your bedside. 

#bts smut #bts fluff #jimin smut #jimin fluff #jimin #park jimin #bts angst #jimin angst #bangtan #bts #fic: lover to lean on #fanfic #fan fic #fanfiction #fan fiction #flower shop au #jimin x reader #bts fanfic #bts fan fic #bts fanfiction #bts fan fiction #bts x reader #jimin scenario #jimin imagine #bts scenario #bts imagine

[yasuda-anis]

A Blessing for a Friend

One of my first released works for Anis, I wanted to give something to a friend of mine. To @writer-and-artist27​, Vy I’m glad to have met you and I love your stories. I hope we can keep being friends for a long time.

As for what I listened to while I wrote this it’s Wonderful Future or Prekasno Daleko. Just cause I really like it and the mood got me excited. May your future be bright.

The heavy smell of bread blew into Anis’ face, fogging her glasses in a few seconds. It seemed that despite all the enchantments that Medea and others had placed on them for protection and preventing them falling off, some things could just never be avoided.     Anis waited a few seconds for them to clear up, enjoying the rich scent of vanilla and almost drooling. But it was important that the last part be done right.

If she messed this up, the whole thing would lose more than half the impact. But the heat coming out of the oven was still intense enough that she hesitated reaching in, even with her gloves and apron.     “Need a hand there Master?” A cheerful voice called out behind her before a large heavy paw settled on her shoulder. It was a familiar feeling, but something she hadn’t felt for a while. 

“Thanks Tamamo,” Anis sighed as she stepped aside. “I’ve been out of the kitchen for a long time so-”     “No problem, no problem Master!” She grinned as her tail whapped her master gently. “I see you when you come to eat everyday so I do see you. But this is certainly something new.”

Back in the days of Chaldea… that was - never mind. When she had first arrived Tamamo had been there for her. Making sure she ate, making sure she had someone to talk to, and more importantly, being there for the warmth Anis had been missing. Back then, Anis would always stop by at least once a week to be with her- to talk, be pampered, spar, or just to get some motivation. It had been some time since Anis had come back to see her.     Cat had come to visit herself mainly. But that was enough of that.     “It’s a bit of a special occasion,” Anis confessed, breathing in the warmth from the tray Tamamo passed under her. “I really wanted to do something for her.”     The fresh pastry was then quickly flipped over into a small basket, the smell of vanilla a bit more muted now. Cat moved over to bring over the picnic basket and pack in plates, utensils and some drinks.     Anis put on her gloves- made out of materials she was sure a regular mage would kill her for- and reached into a small box to pull out small clay figurines. She then cut small holes into the pastry and inserted them, quickly closing up the holes with nata.     The figures had been a group effort between her, Medea, and Nito. Making them heat resistant and non toxic had been a bit trick, but according to Medea the materials were easy enough to come by.     “All ready here!” Tamamo saluted with feral glee. “Now! Quickly before that other cat burglar comes in!”     Anis had factored in anyone coming in to try and steal it. But even the best laid plans need to adapt quickly, she thought as she wrapped it up in cloth and shut it in the basket. But alas, the smell, however faint, still escaped the basket. She would have to hurry. Or else…

“I’m off then! I’ll be back later!” Aniis yelled as she started moving quickly to the door. She could run. But the chances she could trip weren’t her main concern. Gotta act natural. I have an important appointment! But too fast and they’ll catch on!

    Tamamo waved her away with a handkerchief, calling out all sorts of fun jokes at her. Anis waved back and went off the hallway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The hallways of Novum Chaldea were packed. The early days of an empty Chaldea faded in the first months, and Anis was used to wandering both in her old Chaldea and in this one like a metro station.     Staff and servants moved in their flows- the main speed being kept except for a few who were assumed to just be beyond reprimand. Anis would normally be a patient walker, her pace easily adjusted to suit whoever she was walking with. Today though she wove and dashed through the flow, trying to minimize her impact by calling out warnings to those ahead.

Excuse me! 

Pardon me! 

Sorry! 

Hi! 

Sorry, a bit busy! 

No problem, just gotta go!

Not right now thanks!

Oops! You good? I’ll make it up to you later!

Sadly though, the kids had caught her. As she expected. The child servants were always on top of any delicious snacks and treats in the base before the other two threats of Jaguar, who would demand them, and Ibaraki, who would never bother to ask and just take it.     I lost 5 minutes to negotiations, but hopefully I can still make it on time! The kids had realized quickly what the occasion was, but demanded an equal treat and participation in one of their tea parties. Apparently, Mori was hosting this one as his first foray into western tea ceremony. 

But there it was! The door to Vy’s room! With one of her servants waiting out front as usual. Today it happened to be Emiya and Artoria, or Art as Vy called her. The pair had been chatting in front of the door before noting Anis, a bit winded, approached them.

“Hello there you two,” Anis panted, checking inside the basket to make sure nothing had spilled. “Is she back yet?”

Opening the basket had apparently been a mistake, since the culinary duo immediately caught onto what sort of treat Anis had brought and smiled. “She is not back yet, but if what you brought tastes as well as it smells I should believe my master will enjoy it,” Arotria smiled, her gentle gaze clearly showing her desire to try some as well.

“It’s been a while since I smelled something like this. Is that-” Emiya approached, starting to reach out to the basket.

Anis flinched back, covering the basket with her free hand. “Sorry about that, it’s best as a surprise ya know? Don’t worry though, it’s meant to be shared.”

Artoria nodded. “Indeed. You should learn to be patient like me. After all, Miss Anis has told us quite clearly it was meant as a surprise for all of us.”     A letter had gone out to Vy’s main servants last week, indicating that on her birthday, they should split into two teams- one to distract Vy, and one to stand guard and prepare the room. Anis had barely made it to the room before the deadline.

Anis held out the basket to Emiya, until he took it with both hands. “I’ll just leave this with yall then and head off after telling her-”

“Telling me what?” 

“YA!” Anis yelled and stomped her foot hard to prevent from accidentally swinging her elbow towards the voice. A very bad habit that had been the sad result of both martial arts training and poor nerves. 

“Eeep! I-I’m sorry Aqui! I didn’t mean to scare you like that…” Vy mumbled, wrapping her arms around herself. “It’s been a while since we saw each other, so-”

Anis breathed out, trying to relax. “It’s fine- fine” Anis breathed out again, her heart rate returning to normal. “Happy birthday Vy.”

She said it in the gentlest tone she had. Because it was her. One of the kindest souls she’d ever met, and deserved all the respect and charity the world had in return. Even Anis’ servants would treat her kindly and take time to chat with her from time to time. 

“Thankie Aqui,” she smiled back in the way that had made her so warm to all she met. “What's that? It smells delicious~” “Hold on there little sparrow,” Robin grinned as he put a hand on her shoulder, earning a small pout from her. “I think we should all go inside and get the full surprise right?” Anis nodded, glad to not disappoint. “We came up with a nice little thing for you Vy!” Anis smiled, something she wasn’t too familiar with, but she was glad her tone at least matched the mood. “I wanted to give you something as thanks for what you’ve given me and others here. And sorry to say, I won’t take no for an answer.” “Muuuu. This better not be something too big Anis.” _________________________

It was a simple affair. Anis had simply planned to leave the gift after explaining, but Achilles and Emiya had forced her to take a seat at the table. Apparently, she had a responsibility to see it through to the end.     The cake sat at the center of the table- a Rosca de Reyes, a delicious pastry in the shape of a round loop topped with concha sugar in vanilla, chocolate and strawberry. There were also some fruits as well, but only on half of the cake since Anis didn’t care for them.

The main gift though was the act of cutting the cake, Anis explained. “See, this is technically a celebration cake that’s eaten either on christmas, or on the actual feast day in January,” Anis explained as she passed the knife to Vy on the opposite side of the table.

“Let me get that for you,” Robin said as he started to reach out for the knife only to have Anis give him the look she usually gave those who started deviating from the rules in board games.

“The main thing is cutting it, Robin, so she needs to choose what part she wants and cut it herself,” Anis explained, tapping the cake. “It’s not just a cake you know, it’s a game.”

Vy tilted her head and squinted at the cake. “A… game? Like, with rules?” 

“Not that kind of game,” Anis chuckled as she waited for Vy to grip the knife. “See, it’s about making choices and seeing if you get lucky.” Vy still looked a bit confused, but eventually started cutting into the Rosca, the rich smell leaking out with each cut.

Crshh!!

“W-what was that?!” Vy pulled the knife out and looked inside the cut. “Is there food inside too? But it was so hard?”

“Got one already?” Anis asked, a bit surprised at the game starting off so quickly. “I tried to mix up the placement, but with your good fortune it makes sense you’d hit it off on your first try. Make your next cut for now, okay? But only cut as much as you can eat.”

    So Vy, still a bit confused, cut again, and hit something she couldn’t cut again. The look on her face though was more of curiosity and interest though, which helped relax Anis a bit. She held out a small spatula and Robin took it to lift her piece out, pulling a bit hard to separate the piece, revealing-

“What the? Is that?” Robin asked, not entirely sure of what had just happened.The other servants were all mostly curious as well, leaning forward to see. 

A small blue bird’s head poked out from the left side of the slice, the rest of its body supposedly buried inside. On the right side though, was a small tile with a flower motif that fell onto the plate with a small clink.     Vy picked it up and looked it over. The small white ceramic tile was two sided- a lily on one side and a lotus on the other.

“Two prizes so far Vy! Congrats!” Anis clapped, excited to see the reactions of surprise. “The game is meant to be that each person has a chance to find a prize and get good luck! I kinda adjusted it though and just made plenty of small prizes so every one of y'all could get something. So please, go ahead and enjoy it.”

Vy and the other servants started to get excited and began to cut their own slices to find prizes. A large variety of small figures and decorated tiles came out- a miniature crystal horse, a golden chariot, a lion cub, a golden ram, even a miniature Fou! The cake wasa soon gone and the figures were gathered in front of the empty plates, with Vy enjoying the rising atmosphere.

She deserves it honestly. She’s been working hard to take care of so many people. I just gotta give back something. Anis knew how late Vy stayed up at times- both working and because of stress. She also knew from how Fujino treated her that there were obviously more details about her past that shouldn’t be approached. But the unconditional love her servants had for her… Honestly, it made her a bit jealous. But that was fine. She had her own servants she cared for and could rely on. And a fellow master who she could always count on to hear a lovely tune sung or performed. A wonderful flower that bloomed once in the ice and now again in the sea. 

Thank you for being born Vy. I’m glad to have been able to meet you. And more so that you could consider me a friend. May you overcome all your hardships, and keep  your kindness forever.

#mastersona Anis #A gift #my first long writing attempt! #Sorry I couldn't proofread it #I wanted it to be a surprise #I hope you like it though #Vy #Happy birthday

[meltwonu]

| caffeine |     [chapter 5]

pairing; fratboy!wonwoo x female!reader

this chapter’s notes; oral(male receiving), face-fucking, hair pulling, some name calling, masturbation, minor panty sniffing. 😈🥴Much like SE this doesn’t follow any of the drabble game posts/blurbs that precede it otherwise it also wouldnt make sense jkfhksh there are some similar plot points as one of the posts i made but its not directly related! 💕💕A bit of a shorter chapter this week but thank you for your continued interest~💕💕💕 

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - x - x - x - x - x

True to your word, you find yourself at a SVT House party a few days later.

You wonder how any of them can even deal with the amount of people currently crammed into every square foot of the big house because you can barely keep it together. Minghao is nowhere to be seen, obvious. And Mingyu currently towers over everyone else in the kitchen where you stand; pouring liquor straight into Jihoon’s mouth. You raise an eyebrow at the sight, taking a sip of your own cup before you turn to exit the bustling kitchen.

It wasn’t that you were a prude or hated parties; it was more-so the crowd that really turned you off. Also the fact that SVT parties usually only ended when the law enforcement swung by and you typically did not want to be around when and if that happened. You really had to know how Minghao dealt with this.

“Whoa there baby, not so fast!”

An arm wraps around your waist and tugs you into their warm chest and you immediately spin around in their hold to see who the culprit is. “Um, can I help you?” He was definitely taller than you, had a beaming smile, and cute mole on his cheek. 

“Yeah! You almost left without introducing yourself to me, cutie~” 

There’s a laugh on his lips after and if you weren’t already involved with someone from SVT House, this guy would’ve definitely been your pick. “Why should I go first? You’re the one with your hands on me.” To your surprise, he lets go of you, backing up slightly to give you some space.

“Oops, sorry, haha, you’re right! My name’s Seokmin.” He smiles at you, extending a hand towards you which you take as you introduce yourself. “That’s a cute name! Say, you wanna get out of here?” You try to refrain from laughing, of course that was his goal. “It depends, where are you tryin’ to take me?” His smile turns into a smirk, eyes smoldering as he peers down at you. “Hmm, guess it depends where you wanna go? There’s a lot of rooms in this house, cutie. And I can take you to any of them.”

It’s at this exact moment you realize that everyone that’s part of SVT House apparently takes a course in flirting. “What do you say, baby? I could show you somethin’ new, if you’d like.”

“Actually, I think I have to have a word with her.”

The familiar voice has you turning to your side, meeting Wonwoo’s inquisitive stare as he brings his own cup to his lips. “Oh… okay. Nevermind! It was nice meeting you though!” Seokmin shares a look with Wonwoo before leaving, a pout on his lips before he exits.

“Wow, didn’t think I’d actually run into you here Wonwoo.”

The said male smirks, placing his empty cup down on the cluttered countertop before he starts to push you out of the kitchen and into the hallway. There’s a few people scattered about in the tight space, but thankfully more empty than the kitchen had been.

“I live here. Why wouldn’t I be here, princess?”

“I mean, Minghao tells me he usually stays in his room when you guys have parties… I just assumed you were the same or something.”

Wonwoo leads you to a restroom in the hallway, gently pushing you in before he turns to lock the door. “Oh? Think I’m a goody two shoes even after everything I’ve done to you? You’re too kind, sweetheart.” He backs you into the countertop, arms caging you in as he stares down at you.

“No, I never said that. Trust me, I know you’re not.”

Wonwoo tells you that his room is off limits when you ask. That it’s a luxury you need to earn before he takes you there. You pout at him at first, but you accept it for what it is. For now.

Instead, he pushes you down onto your knees, hands immediately flying to the waistband of his jeans to undo the button. You watch him, hands already behind your back as you try to get as comfortable as you could with the rug digging into your kneecaps.

“Your little show the other day was real cute, princess. We should do that more often when you don’t show up to see me. I always miss your tight cunt, baby.”

You nod up at him, eyes focused on his half hard cock coming into view when he pushes his jeans and underwear down enough. “But for now, I want you to suck me off with that slutty ‘lil mouth of yours. And no hands.”

“Yes, sir.”

Wonwoo guides his cock to your mouth, tapping the head of it on your cheek before he drags it across to your lips. You part your lips, welcoming his cock into your mouth as you begin sucking on the head. Groans spill out of his mouth as he watches you; his left hand still guiding his cock into your mouth as his right hand goes straight for your hair. He threads his fingertips through your hair, pulling on it enough to get you moaning around him.

Little by little, you take more and more of Wonwoo’s cock into your mouth until he’s deep throating you. And you can feel him getting harder and harder in your mouth as you hollow out your cheeks around him.

“Fuck, your mouth is so fucking small… You’re so good at sucking my cock.”

 By now, he already has both of his hands in your hair, holding you still as he thrusts into your mouth. You rub your thighs together, moaning around him when you feel how wet you are. “Mmh, I know how much you want me to take you upstairs and fuck your pretty cunt open. You only get that if you’re a good girl, y’know?” He lets out a heartless laugh, continuing to use your mouth to get off.

You whimper around him, eyes teary as you look up at him. “Oh, I know, sweetheart. We’ll get to that eventually.” He thrusts into your mouth particularly hard as you sputter around him. You know for sure you already look like a complete mess, eye makeup smeared and spit and precum dribbling down your chin. There’s a vague noise which sounds like knocking coming from the other side of the door and it reminds you that there’s an entire crowd of people just outside.

“Baby, I’m gonna cum in your mouth. Be good and swallow it all for me, okay?” You nod slightly, relaxing your throat as he picks up the pace; the hands tangled in your hair tighter than before.

The knocking gets quicker and louder just as Wonwoo cums, a faint ringing in your ears as you swallow down all of the warm liquid. You can feel some of it dripping down your chin as he continues to shallowly thrust into your mouth, riding out his orgasm.

He lets go of your hair as he braces himself on the countertop above you, catching his breath as he stares down at you. You finally use your hands to brace yourself against his thighs, cleaning his cock with your mouth.

“Such a good girl, sweetheart.” Your throat feels impossibly sore; giving Wonwoo head after drinking earlier was probably not the best idea. “T-thank you, sir…”

“Hey! What the fuck is going on in there!?”

Right. The knocking.

Wonwoo gives you enough space to stand, legs shaky as you try to wipe off the cum drying on your chin while simultaneously trying to smooth down your messy hair. He tucks himself back into his underwear before he zips his jeans up, looking just as normal as ever. You check yourself in the mirror, only to find your lips swollen and eyes red from crying. There’s no way whoever is on the other side of the door won’t know; you just hope they’re too drunk to notice.

Despite the knocking, Wonwoo cages you against the sink again, tilting your head up to meet him in a searing kiss. It tastes like alcohol and cum, but he doesn't seem to mind. He drags a hand up your naked thigh, pushing the skirt you were wearing up until he can run his fingertips over your covered slit. 

When he breaks away from the kiss, his lips ghost over yours, a smirk on the edge of them. “Take off your panties for me.” 

“H-huh?”

“I can feel how wet they are and I want them.” 

You decide to let him, letting him drag the wet material down your thighs until you step out of them. He brings the soaked material to his face before smelling them, moaning as he does. Wonwoo pockets them right after, just as the knocking becomes unbearable.

When Wonwoo thinks you’re decent, he sidesteps you to open the door, revealing Seokmin on the other side.

“Fuck, are you serious? Should’ve just said you had dibs, bro. Anyway, party’s over man, someone broke Soonyoung’s gundam in the living room and he’s raising hell and jumping onto the tabletops. I think they need you.” Wonwoo doesn’t reply, instead wrapping a hand around your wrist as he drags you out of the restroom and back into the hallway.

“Sorry, sweetheart. Guess we’ll have to continue this another time.” You watch as he turns and starts walking away, surely to take care of whatever is going on in the living room. The stickiness between your legs is unbearable now that there wasn’t anything keeping it inside your panties, but you just need to get home so you can take care of it. Leaving yourself a mental note to send pics of yourself to Wonwoo later. He’d surely punish you for touching yourself without his permission, but you’d deal with that later.

“Hey, you gonna be okay? It’s kinda late to walk back. But I can walk you back if you want?” Seokmin comes up behind you, arm braced against the wall.

“Huh? No, it’s okay. I’ll, um, get a taxi or something. It’s not that far.”

“Okay. Might wanna text your dick appointment when you get in, though. That guy may not seem like it but he worries.”

That night when you get in, it’s a quick race to get undressed before your legs are spread on your bed.

Your idea of letting Wonwoo know you’re fine is sending him pictures of your state of undress and videos of you thrusting your dildo into your wet pussy. You even take the time to send him some audio clips where he can hear your whimpers and your wetness while you play with your toy.

You imagine it’s Wonwoo’s hands all over your body and Wonwoo’s cock deep inside of you. You even take the time to edge yourself twice; imagining it’s him making you whine and wait. His deep laugh and filthy praise on your mind when you cum hard; back bowing off the sheets as you cry out.

There’s a satisfied sigh on your lips when you slide the toy from inside of you, tiredness settling in when you sit up to get cleaned off. Getting off alone was fine, but it definitely wasn’t the same as actually fucking Wonwoo.

You were definitely going to the library tomorrow.

#fratboy!wonwoo #wonwoo smut #svt smut #seventeen smut #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo imagines #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios

[uhhhhyandere]

I love, love, love you ❤️ I was hoping I could request where the main character begs for Yandere Light to let her get a doggo bc she’s so lonely since he made her quit a job. Like full on having a full ass fit. I’m talking full blown brat shit. Just how he would react and what she would have to do to convince him if you catch that drift 😏😉

yeah, i know what i said in my last post. whatever. never believe anything that comes out of my stupid mouth i am the single biggest sob in the universe. 

um… i took this in a… direction to say the least. someone has to stop me from riding suck n’ ride smut bc… it always goes like this. 

next light smut there is going to be ass-eating or i swear to god my name isn’t kerry literally all im thinking about is giving him a rimjob. really. this is where we are at folks. 

warnings: smut, face fucking (oops), dick sucking, sex, rough sex. he not happy boi

word count: 3.5k 

All you did was watch dog videos anymore. Of course, you watched them because you literally had little else to do during the day, but you just… happened to be more open about it when Light came through the door. Did it have anything to do with the fact you’ve been thinking about getting a furry friend to keep you company from the silence of an empty house and the dark recesses of your mind?

No, of course not. It had nothing at all to do with it, and it certainly had nothing to do with the fact that if you ask him directly, he would say no before any more words could breach the air. You would have to be creative, because when Light said “no,” there was no more argument, and you wanted this argument.

“A Pug. Wow. Beautiful.”

“Look, it’s a—it’s a Corgi. Oh my—wow. That’s amazing.”

You’d play around with different sizes.

“This Mastiff? This gentle giant? Can do nothing wrong.”

“This Bichon matches with the snow!”

And you’d talk about listings you just happened to see online from the local shelters.

“This one—wow. All of her shots. She looks so nice. Oh, and potty trained! What a girl. Damn.”

“He’s sitting down—oh a paw. I see a paw. Can he do the other paw? Oh, yes he can. Also has all his shots. Wonderful.”

Considering the man you lived with, you were pretty positive that he figured out your intentions day one or day two max. It’s been about a week since you’ve been… outgoing in your interest. At this point, it was a game as to who would break first. You bet he was waiting for you to get annoyed with his ignoring of anything you said related to the subject with how blatant he was with shirking you off, forcing you to simply ask.

You weren’t going to make it so easy on him. Though he happened to be the king of hiding his emotions, you knew you had to be getting to him. Light would never admit it, and he would certainly never show it. He wanted to keep that satisfaction as far away from you as possible.

So, you turned up the heat.

Before, you would break off the dog topic after a time, wanting to etch it in your daily schedule only bits at a time. Now? It’s the only thing you talk about, no matter the actual subject at hand.

“There’s another event we have to—.”

“The animal shelter is having an event in the park next week for adoptions.”

“I’m going to have to go for groceries soon.”

“Look at this weenie dog dressed in a weenie costume.”

“I—.”

“Doggo cute.”

It was only a matter of time until—.

“This French Bulldog is—.”

“Y/N.” His voice was clear, demanding. Even after all this time, like a teacher scolding elementary students, it immediately brought you to silence. You sat on your shared bed, legs crossed, as he leered down at you from the bathroom. “I would say it was cute at first, but you know it’s a waste of time to try asking anything indirectly. As if I would succumb to your manipulation, but I let you carry on. You would get bored. You would stop and think and realize that it was pointless to keep it up, but you persisted. I thought to myself maybe you were just trying to see if I would crack and give you the satisfaction of indulging in your antics, and I was right.

“It begs the question. Why didn’t you just ask directly? Easy. Because I would say no, and you would be correct. To allow something else besides me your devotion? Not likely. But what? Did you think showing me videos of Shibu Inus and Pomeranians would make me want one first? You have the logic of a six-year-old, Y/N,” Light began to unbutton his shirt, “Did you honestly think it would work? Or did you simply want to get a rise out of me?” He removed the shirt entirely, then lifted his undershirt over his head just as easily. Light tossed the fabric into the hamper, leaving a pale, lithe abdomen on display. He turned to fully face you and took two easy steps forward. “Why would you want one in the first place? Have I not given my fiancée enough attention recently? Is this your way of getting back at me, hm?”

You were almost at an even height to his belt buckle, but you did your best to ignore that as his eyes demanded attention upwards. His gaze was near malicious, but not quite so. Ah. Lascivious. That’s what they were. You swallowed the knot out of your throat.

“Y-you wish.”

“Your hesitation is very resounding. Then, if you’re so sure, indulge me. Don’t tell me you wanted a distraction from your loving husband-to-be. I know you didn’t want something else to focus on besides me when I’m away at work, so tell me. Tell me why you desired a filthy, shedding ball of fur. Your answer may earn you some mercy.”

You unfolded your legs from underneath you as your foot began to numb under the weight of your leg. Your hands glided back and forth on your thighs. Was there a point in lying? No, scratch that. Was there a point in lying to someone who already knew the truth? Well, his own truth that Light would undoubtedly make yours. There was little purpose in making it worse on yourself.

“No, you’re—uh—right.” Light set his hands on his hips.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I’m just… lonely when you’re at work. So… yeah.” You risked a peek upwards. Oh, geez the smirk on that fucker. “I’m sorry.” His arms rose from his hips to cross over his chest.

“For?”

“Huh?”

“What are you sorry for? Annoying me for days with your drivel? Wanting a mutt? Lying?” You furrowed your brows. “Oh, that one confused you, hm? Alright, well, if you won’t admit it, I can do it for you. Lonely-“ he scoffed- “You can’t be serious. Such a blatant lie from your lips. The second time you are insulting my intelligence. I’ll ask one more time. Where does your motivation lie?”

“I’m not lying!” You hissed, jumping off the mattress to stand. “What—just what am I supposed to do all day cooped up in this place like a goddamned prisoner? Clean? The place is clean. Cook? As if you’d even let me try. Watch TV? My brain is rotting. You don’t even let me help kids with math anymore online. Just what am I to do? Next thing I may just throw myself out the window—,” Hands gripped your shoulders, causing a slight pain at the intensity.

“You think I’d let you? I expect you to stay here and be good and thankful that you are where you are. I, just as much as you, know—knew women who died to be in your shoes, and you’re ungrateful to be alive and safe? You want more?” You tried to shrug out of his grip, and he allowed you to take the steps away from him.

“I’m asking to be a human being, for fuck’s sake! I’m going to sit here and go crazy. Isn’t it enough that I don’t fuck with the rules anymore? I’m quiet. I don’t say anything. I put every façade you ask me to. All I want is something for me! Something to distract me from literally going insane here! To distract me from everything.”

 Light’s eyes sometimes spoke more truth than his mouth ever could. Right about now, the browns were all-consuming, aflame with ire, but his lips were upturned in a challenge.

“A distraction. Caught in a lie, Y/N. Bad form, even for you. After all this time, you still can’t face reality, dearest. I knew you’ve been pitting your mind in some gutter you call the truth. Makes this all easier to accept, but to go to the physical extent? I won’t allow it, and you won’t be able to recess your mind for long, so enjoy that pleasure while you can.” He paused, countenance recessing to something more composed. “You love me, don’t you, Y/N?”

“Yes.” There was no hesitation, no lie in that affirmation. It was the easiest of his questions to answer. “I love you.” Light inhaled deeply, chest flexing with the exhale.

“With love comes compromise, correct?” You responded with a glare. His tone was all too insinuating. “So, let’s compromise, yes? I hate arguing with you.” He reached an arm out, hand open. Your eyes glanced between the extended limb and his eyes before cautiously taking it. His hand squeezed and pulled you in tight. Light twisted and adjusted you so when he fell onto the bed, you landed comfortably on his lap. Releasing your hand, he brought his own up to gingerly glide his fingers across your cheek, a trail of bumps in its wake as it curled into your locks. Almost like a lover. Almost.

His fingers seized the strands and pulled, forcing your head back and opening your neck for his mouth to latch. “Then compromise, dearest. Prove to me what you think you deserve.” He spoke against your skin, open-mouth kisses with a hint of teeth between his words. “And I’ll make judgement.” His hand let go of your hair and traced to the back of your skull to slant your lips onto his impatient ones. The other wrapped itself to pull your body closer until he pushed you off with an unexpected force, almost knocking you to the ground.

From the unbalanced position, you watched him adjust his position to lie in the center of the bed, head angled to watch you from the pillows with both his hands as another cushion for his crown. Light smirked, watching you stand straight. “Well, go on. Compromise.” 

Light was never on the bottom. It was non-negotiable. Being anything else was utterly unacceptable for a god. This situation, despite the physical placement of both bodies, was no different. You may be the one crawling on top of him, fiddling with his belt buckle, but he had every bit of this situation in his control. Under his watchful gaze, you removed the strip of leather and threw it across the room.

“You’re going to have to help me here,” you muttered after undoing the fly. Wordlessly, he obliged, allowing you to slip the trousers off of his person. You glanced at his feet. Thank god he took his shoes off already, so he only lied in his boxers.

No, you would never be accustomed to this.

“You always look like it’s your first time,” he remarked. “As if you haven’t seen my cock before. From my recollection, you should be quite familiar with it by now.” You inhaled sharply. “Unless you don’t want to compro—.”

“Shut up,” you hissed, crawling to straddle his legs. “Just be quiet,” you said more quietly. You reached out to rub the only half-erect cock through the fabric. Only small groans were elicited above you. Light was not a noisy one, to say the least. It took your first, painful, terrible experience of deep-throating to even get him to moan fully.

“Do you think teasing is going to get you anywhere?” His voice is always composed during sex, and it really was alarming because… you really couldn’t relate. You glowered, fingers digging under the waistband and pulling. He helped again, lifting so you can get the fabric off. “If you think you’re doing anything fully clothed, I should take a cold shower.”

You made quick work of taking the layers of comfort clothes you had on, off. “You really know how to put on a show,” he deadpanned.

“Shut. Up.” You returned to your position, seeing his cock now fully erect from your previous work. You were sure you were wet, but you ignored it as best you could. You had a feeling you would not be serviced tonight. Before you can even lean down, he spoke again.

“Beg for it. Beg for the honor of sucking my cock. Convince me you deserve it if you believe you are so entitled.” There was not a single physical restriction to keep you from taking it into your mouth, but his words were powerful enough to keep you still. Light was daring you to try and misbehave, and you really couldn’t help the physical reaction his words always do to you.

“Please—,”

“Pathetic. I can have any girl in my bed. I can stick my cock in any person interested, and here you are, an ungrateful brat who wants more. You’re making quite an unremarkable argument for yourself. Perhaps I will take away—.”

“Please, Light. Allow me the honor of sucking your cock, of you fucking my throat. I want the privilege of swallowing your seed. Fuck—please. I’ll do anything.” You leaned down close, but not touching anything. You only lifted your eyes up to his. “Please. I know I’ve been bad. Please, let me make up for it.”

Your words in bed were always forced. He knew you hated dirty talk as much as you did, therefore he always made you speak, always made you confess how much you craved him, wanted him, and whenever you spoke it was hardly ever in lies. Your embarrassment was too prominent in your body language to tell him otherwise.

“Go on, then. Show me.” You licked up his length first, then around the head and back down. “Teasing will get you nowhere,” he repeated. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes and took him in, inch by inch. Light was incredibly average despite his ego. It wasn’t impossible to fit the entire length into your mouth with slow adjustment, but that didn’t mean it was fun. You would continue to work his length, getting more and less intense with your pressure and the speed your head bobbed. Still, there was little reaction from him, not there really never was any mind the grunts you could make out. Your inclinations to keep going, and you did until you pulled back.

“How’s—,” His hand was at the back of your head immediately, forcing your head back down, pushing his cock down your throat, pushing until you could feel his balls against your chin. No hair. He was pristine down there. You convulsed, gagged, choked, but he did not release his grip. Hand keeping its hold, he dragged your head up just a hair enough to thrust upwards. Water began to pool at the waterline of your eyes. You had to relax your throat, or this was going to be just worse.

But it was hard, so hard at the pace he was thrusting at. You squeezed your eyes shut and took it the best you can. Listening to his quiet grunts and groans, you forced your lips to continue covering your teeth, but you could not force your throat to loosen. Drool pooled at both sides of your mouth, carelessly falling into both him and the sheets along with the liquid of your tears. 

“Your throat is so fucking tight. That’s it. Choke on my cock. This is what your dirty mouth deserves.” Your limited experience could be to blame for its restricting. That, or the selfishness of the man whose grip on your hair tightened even more right before he allowed you to breathe once more.

And breath you did. Gasping, reeling for air as drool continued to leak down. From beneath your hair, you looked at Light, his eyes wild and alive with lust. Small heaves from his smiling mouth mixed with your wet and heavy ones. “Do you think you deserved that, dearest?” You finally wiped your mouth and shook the spit from your arm. “You’re lucky I am so generous. Come. For doing such a decent job.” His hands patted his hips. Swollen eyes met his. “Ride me, before I change my mind and fuck you into the mattress.”

Regaining some semblance of control, you moved to straddle his length. “Oh, your pussy is glistening. Did me fucking your throat really do that much to you? You loved to be controlled, don’t you?” You did not answer, shaky hands guiding his cock so you can sink onto it. You groaned at the feeling. “Tell me how good it makes you feel. How only I can make you feel like this.” You bit your lip, sinking down another inch or so.

“God, Light. Your cock feels so good. Only yours can make me feel like this. No one—no man, no woman, no person—can make me feel anything—like—this—fuck!” You sunk down to the hilt before you lifted yourself again, easing yourself up and down his length. “It’s so good—so good.” Light allowed you more time but decided your gentle pace was not enough to soothe him. He roughly grabbed you and flipped your positions.

“Too slow, Y/N. What did I say about teasing?” He brought his hips back and then snapped them into yours. You screamed, and you wondered if the neighbors would call again, but his pace did not relent.

“Light—please. It’s too—too much! It’s too fast. I can’t…” He smiled, a wicked grin over you.

“And you won’t. Don’t you dare think about cumming. I decided you don’t deserve it. This is your compromise. You get to live, marry, and get fucked by me, and only by me, and I will only have eyes for you. You’ll never feel like you need a… distraction again.” You clenched your teeth and pushed your head farther into the pillows. “I feel you clenching onto me. Don’t you dare think about disobeying me.” His thrusts were even, balanced.

“Please, please, please let me cum. It feels too good. You feel too good. I’ll do anything.”

“Then don’t cum.” You threw your hands back and gripped the headboard, feeling it rock in rhythm to his thrusts. They were beginning to become, sloppy, wild, he was close while you were holding back for dear life. “Y/N. You are mine and mine alone. Your body. Your actions. Your mind. I am the only thing you are allowed to think about.” With one final push, his seed released, filling and coating your insides. He rode it out, making sure every drop stayed. He hated to have to wash the sheets after, though your drool stains remained.

Pulling out, he retreated and stood, ignoring your writing, unfulfilled form. “Come. You aren’t going to sleep like—get those hands away from there. Let’s get you clean before you ruin the sheets even more.” Like before, he extended his hand to your heaving form. “Alright, alright, I’ll take care of you, but you need to get cleaned up first.” An unstable hand fit into his own. His gently pulled you to stand and allowed you to lean your weight onto his.

Hot water cascaded down your body. Though Light effortlessly scrubbed washed his hair, you could not bring yourself to match his speed, and by the time he was already done, you hadn’t even washed your body yet. You heard an incomprehensible mutter amidst the running water as he left you alone. He was washing his face as you finally emerged, wrapped in your towel. No romance tonight, you figured. Not that it was any different than any other night. You followed, brushing your teeth, washing your face, and taking your pills while he huddled in bed.

You could only dream of romance anymore. Getting your pajamas on, you approached the empty side of the bed. Before you could get on, Light shifted, opening his arms and staring at you expectantly. You froze. Did… did he want…? “Well, come on.” Ah. Was this supposed to be the ‘I’ll take care of you,’ he mentioned earlier? You supposed he would never wash you in the shower, so this would have to be it. You swallowed and fell into them, feeling his arm wrap you close to him so you lied nearly on your stomach, face buried in the crook between his neck and shoulders. His arm lied around your neck, the other near your elbow on the arm that sprawled on his chest. Oh, hello? What is this?

Ah. This is the quote-on-quote, attention he promised as a fiancé. His eyes remained closed as you stared. How forced was this? You wondered if he hated it, if he saw it was succumbing to your wishes, but it was unlikely. Perhaps it was him showing the physical love outside of sex that you lacked thinking it would keep you from having another outburst as you did before. Him keeping his side of the compromise so you would keep yours.

You allowed yourself to close your eyes before you thought too hard about his actions. The more you thought about it, the more—and less—real it all became, but if he was offering more conventional couple things: cuddling, dates, attention, you would not pose another argument.

“So, no dog?” you whispered.

#yandere light yagami #yandere light yagami x reader #yandere death note #light yagami x reader #reader insert #yandere reader insert #yandere x you #yandere x reader #uh oh spaghettio #tw: yandere #tw yandere

[obeymeluv]

Ohhh how about the boys reacting to a lower demon hitting on reader? Like aggressively hitting on them that it’s already quite uncomfortable? Or it could be the shy, almost sweet type?

Hey there! Holy wow, how long has this been here? I usually check Tumblr from my phone and I guess message notifications don’t come through? So sorry T_T

Either way, Nonnie, this isn’t good :o

Divider from Glitter Geeks

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“It cannot be helped, for I am born of sin and they inspire it in me.”

♥.·:*¨¨*:·.♥.·:*:·.♥.·:*¨¨*:·.♥ ♥.·:*¨¨*:·.♥.·:*:·.♥.·:*¨¨*:·.♥ ♥.·:*¨¨*:·.♥.·:*:·.♥.·:*¨¨*:·.♥

Lucifer

This is the BIGGEST, ULTIMATE NO

Like, all of Mammon’s past transgressions don’t POSSIBLY add up to this insult

At first Lucifer pays no mind because you seem to be integrating into the Devildom and furthering Diavolo’s grand plan. Good!

Then it starts to gnaw at him and he really pays attention. Call it the keen eye of an ex-angel, to watch over humans

Half of him is earnestly trying to plan things to say on the way over, not hearing how his own footsteps echo thunderously with impending doom, but half of him can’t even concentrate due to the overwhelming sense of wrong.

You seem very uncomfortable, this lesser demon is more incompetent than he thought possible, and there’s something hot and nauseating burning in him. It almost hurts to clear his throat, honestly

It feels like the part he’d forgotten about...almost all that Satan was. He honestly thought he didn’t have any wrath left in him, for pride seemed far nastier a thing to be stuck with

He lets those big black wings, once the pride of the Celestial Realm, unfurl in a great and terrifying display. He used to shine in the Celestial Realm when he revealed his true form, but in the Devildom it translates as pure heat

He fans his wings to cool the air around you but the lesser demon now knows his looming shadow and his terrifying presence

If the demon is bold enough to stick around, Lucifer introduces you as the resident human transfer, discourages them from making you late, and suggests any further interaction happen in the presence of one of your seven guardians (“Of which I am one.”)

Although he mentioned seven guardians, it’s clear that he’s the key guardian. The one who will oversee all, and that’s enough to send the demon skittering away.

It takes a few minutes for the air to cool and his wings to fold back in and Lucifer uses that time to glare a burning hole into the lesser creature.

Finally he looks at you and asks you how you’re feeling. Nothing bad happened? Do you need to file paperwork?

Would probably consort with Diavolo to cast a minor enchantment so you could protect yourself if one of the brothers weren’t around

Mammon

You think another demon’s going to get close enough to talk to you? While in the presence of your NUMBER ONE MAN?! Ha!

Mammon may complain about having to go to classes and tries to convince you to ditch more often than not, but he really does look out for you

And boy is Greed’s Avatar so he’s not going to skimp on the company

That also means he’s not going to share your company when he doesn’t feel like it

Mammon may not be openly flirtatious like Asmo, but he knows all about swindling people for their heart (for it is just as valuable as money) and he knows when this demon comes slithering up that he’s BAD NEWS

He’s clever with money-making schemes, has successfully stolen from almost all of his brothers to pawn things, and has brokered deals with witches in such a way that he’s barely affected. Boy’s going to know how to dodge a creep

And for a while, it works. He teaches you back passages and all sorts of little things

But, inevitably, you have to face it alone. He’s not going to always be there.

And he kicks himself when he’s not. Seems he’s only minutes late but ANYBODY who knows you--like your number one man!--knows you’re uncomfortable and THE GREAT MAMMON has to do something!

What does he do? The biggest, loudest, flashiest thing possible. THE BIGGEST SIGN YOU COULD GIVE ANYBODY

If the demon isn’t discouraged from Mammon yell-talking at you halfway down the corridor, Mammon gets to see the delicious way he deflates after he throws an arm around your neck and starts apologizing to ‘his human’ about being late

If he’s in a bad mood that day, he’ll probably toss the demon a single Grimm and tell him to get lost or go buy himself something nice.

The height difference is probably pretty significant so it’s easier for him to just scoop you under his arm and carry you down the hall. Or let his tail wrap around you and walk you down the hall.

Leviathan

I’d be interested to see Levi in this position, honestly. Part of me thinks he’d be too shy to do anything, instead sulking in his room, but part of me thinks once he sees you as a friend (or something more) he’s going to go to bat for you

If it’s that second one, he’d be slyly demeaning. Being the third-born, he’s probably got an intelligent sarcastic streak like Lucifer and a subtle underhandedness like Mammon.

As the Avatar of Envy, his main game is to make the lesser demon feel insignificant by pointing out how little they know you. They’re not your real friend like him so obviously they’re nothing.

He’s much better, anyways. They’re an NPC, he’s Player 1.

I’m also very, very curious about his position in the Devildom Navy. Is that some kind of a switch-flip moment where he can command a room no questions asked, or is it some kind of wickedly good strategy innateness?

Being a background person (and having Asmo as a brother), he probably overhears a lot of gossip. He’d probably drop some real gossip, something embarrassing. Probably say you were needed by Lucifer, as that’s more to-the-point and believable

The aim of the game is to send the demon away, to create distance. Mission accomplished.

Satan

He won’t intervene until he gets the idea that you’re uncomfortable. It’s a whole process with this one.

On the one hand, he wants you to be able to handle yourself. If you are not enough to send the creature away, then he’ll intervene. Partly because he’s technically responsible for you, partly because he cannot stand idly by and entertain this idiocy.

Satan has many tricks but his favorite one is to freeze the demon out by ignoring him.

Totally dominates/inserts himself into the conversation. Makes the demon feel like he isn’t there.

If that doesn’t work and your scrambling to corroborate him or just back out of the conversation, Satan speaks for you. (”We’re studying later.”, etc.). If the demon tries for another day, Satan just coolly adds ‘and tomorrow’ or ‘for the rest of the week’ until the point is made.

The longer this issue continues--despite his help--the more the Avatar of Wrath begins to reveal himself. That aura alone is usually enough to send anything running.

Kinda feels like he made an ass of himself no matter what, and apologizes after you two are alone. Is very cute and embarrassed.

Gives you a biting book. It’s an enchanted tome you can train not to bite certain people. You two are the only ones that can hold it. He looks forward to seeing how many people it bites before the week is over (a little too happy). 

Asmodeus

Oh the many ways this could be handled! Asmo has so many ideas!

At first his little heart skips a beat because how cute is this?! A cliche romance unfolding in the halls of RAD between a human and a demon? Then his little ‘radar’ begins to ping and he realizes not all is well or cute

He was kind of glad, honestly. You could do MUCH better (like him!)

It could be as easy as Asmo sliding in and charming the lesser demon to leave you alone, walking away in a stupor, or more complicated and sinister

Asmo’s never done anything truly, intentionally sinister but rumor mills can be pretty devastating. The lesser demon may find himself at the center of some unsavory rumors that cause him to slink around the general populous

The narcissistic fifth-born probably has something of a following. He may appoint some of his followers as body guards or just extra eyes to keep you safe

Or he could do a total 180 and make this lesser demon seem totally dreamy to others so they get chased and leave you alone. Yes, he quite likes that one!

Then there’s the traditional route, the most obvious (which Asmo prefers because, honestly, you two would be the CUTEST couple) where he’s your boyfriend and you guys didn’t want to tell anyone but OOPS! SECRET’S OUT! Great, now go away! Wait, take a picture for his Devilgram first! Okay, now go. 

Beelzebub

Probably takes Beel a bit to notice your discomfort. If he’s not distracted with food, it’s because he didn’t want to act in bad faith. What if you actually liked talking to that demon? What if you were just awkward like Levi? It’s a delicate matter.

Beel is no fool, though. He’s very friendly. If he introduces himself and the lesser demon doesn’t quit his behavior, Beel will then turn serious.

Tries to emphasize to the demon that you’ve said no

May show muscle or offer up a challenge. Sometimes people are hard-headed like that and need action.

“You want to date them? Beat me in an arm-wrestling competition.” (they won’t)

Beelzebub can be down-right crafty. “You want to date them? Beat me in an eating competition.” (he’s the undisputed champion).

I think he’d use his size in a good way. If this demon keeps cornering you/pestering you, Beel’s going to make a habit of walking between you or just picking you up until the demon gets the hint that if Beel’s around, he’s not talking to you

Belphegor

The smallest part of him is too tired to deal with this but he’s powered by the sheer amount of HELL NO and decides he has to fix it.

Fix it once and it stops

Belphie, like Satan and Lucifer, has  a low tolerance for stupid things. This demon is one of them.

Very cut-throat and point blank. “They’re not interested. Go away.”

Lord Diavolo and Lucifer expressly mentioned they couldn’t use their powers on YOU, not other demons. Belphie can probably make people really sleepy. He’d make this demon so deliriously tired that he couldn’t flirt with you

Definitely the type to make the demon pass out in the hall and leave him there. Head injury? No clue, he had to go to class. It’s okay, the other RAD students probably won’t step on them.

So mad about the demon. “Honestly!” as he fluffs his pillow angrily after you two have settled in your next class. It’s the angriest nap he’s ever taken.

I don’t think he takes his pillow to school but you can bet he’d but a brick or something in it and whack them. Maybe try to suffocate them. Probably wouldn’t risk his precious pillow like that.

I bet he’d fake nap if the demon tries to flirt with you in class. LOUD, OBNOXIOUS, GRATING fake snoring.  

Hope you liked it :)

[beneaththetangles]

First Impression: Girlfriend, Girlfriend

Hey guys, Josh here, and….hoo boy…do I have a one for you. I should’ve known that this new series would be something…special…when even after much discussion, NOBODY at Beneath the Tangles volunteered to take it on. But me being the foolish dope I am, I jumped at the chance…and I now question everything.

You would think that after trudging through Rent-A-Girlfriend’s premiere episode that I would know better than to mess with a show that has the word “Girlfriend” in the title that isn’t called Mysterious Girlfriend X, but I am a glutton for punishment it seems. Girlfriend, Girlfriend is…well…it’s not gonna win any awards this season, as far as I can tell from this first episode. I mean, if you’re into harem romcoms, this one MIGHT give you something to sink your teeth into as it is, admittedly, a somewhat unique take on the harem anime trope, but from my eyes, this show just leaves you with so many head-scratching, face-palming moments, that the idea of coming back every week for the better part of two months fills me with trepidation and fear. But is it REALLY that bad? Or does it fall into the “so bad it’s good” category? Lets find out. I’m Josh, and this is my First Impression of Girlfriend, Girlfriend.

Let us pray.

Except that…

Our series starts with our protagonist, Makoto Itou—sorry, I mean Naoya Mukai. Seems our boy is living the dream right now. He’s currently going steady with a cute girl named Sekai Saionji—sorry again, I mean Saki, who he has had a long-time crush on since childhood, and is FIERCELY devoted to. And when I say “fiercely”, I mean that literally—this dude confessed his love to Saki once a month every month since first grade…and only now that they’re in high school did she finally return his feelings and they started going out. You know, that’s dedication…creepy, CREEPY dedication. But hey, the heart wants what the heart wants, I guess.

While waiting on Saki to finish up with basketball practice on the school roof, a mysterious purple-haired girl comes up and rather abruptly confesses her feelings to Naoya. Because that’s where all the best confessions take place, of course. That or underneath a blooming sakura blossom tree. Anyway, our new girl’s name is Kotonoha Katsura—oops, sorry again…Nagisa Minase, and it seems as though she has feelings for Naoya herself, putting in hours everyday to make herself look as attractive as possible, and spending 8 hours and tens of thousands of yen to make a perfect lunchbox for him. Because that’s what all girls do whenever they want to confess to a guy they only just got the courage to speak to! Naoya is taken aback by this showing of love, and initially does the right thing by saying that he can’t return her feelings because he already has a girlfriend (what any NORMAL guy would do). However, Nagisa is not dissuaded by this news, and says that she’ll never give up on him and will confess her feelings again one day. This seems to strike a nerve with Naoya; he doesn’t want to turn down Nagisa, nor does he want to betray Saki. So what does he decide to do?

Does he spend some time trying to come to grips with his feelings?

Does he talk with someone who could offer up some sage advise?

Does he tell Nagisa, “Look, I have a girlfriend and I’m really happy with her, but maybe we can just be friends?”

NOPE! None of the above!

This MoFo decides to go for the “Have Your Cake and Eat It Too” option, and ask Nagisa if she would mind entering a relationship with him AND his current girlfriend. Because WHY THE HECK NOT?! And of course, Nagisa does the right thing and turns him down; after all, what self-respecting girl would want to be in a relationship with a guy who already has a girlfriend. Who in their right mind is okay being the backup girlfriend? That would be just silly–

OH COME THE EFF ON, NAGISA!!! YOU MEAN TO TELL ME YOU’RE ACTUALLY DOWN FOR THIS?! REALLY!?!? Good grief…

Anyway, the two run off to tell Saki the news after her practice. At first, Saki she seems happy with this new “friend,” until Naoya reveals that he actually wants to bring this new girl into the fold as another girlfriend. Saki takes this news about as well as you would expect—she pulls a Saitama and One-Punches him. However, Naoya is not dissuaded by this and sees this as being the only real, logical solution to this “problem.” Modern problems require modern solutions, I guess.

When Saki understandably grills Nagisa asking is she really okay being part of this arrangement, our purple-haired cutie is totally down for whatever, really wanting to be part of this foolishness. Eventually, both Naoya and Nagisa begin begging Saki to at least consider his proposal, promising her endless meals, money and…ahem…other things…and eventually…she agrees to give this whole thing a try. Naoya then has the bright idea to improve relations between his two new girlfriends by inviting them to live with him in his house.

Oh, but what about his parents? I mean, surely they would have something to say about their son wanting to date two girls at the same time and let both of them live under the same roof, right? Well, in this particular show, Naoya states he doesn’t even live with his parents and thus can bring the two girls into the house with no problems, having to only speak with Saki’s mom to get the all clear. I know this is a common trope in anime, especially in harem anime—the parents are either away on a business trip, divorced, or caught an acute case of dead, and usually the anime makes a point in pointing out what the situation is. This time around, the show doesn’t even bother with explaining anything and Naoya says that he just doesn’t live with his folks!

Later that night, while the two girls are sharing a bath (because of course they are), they discuss the elephant in the room…sex. Saki admits, much to Nagisa’s relief, that she and Naoya have yet to have any love-love time; heck, they haven’t even kissed yet. It’s then when Nagisa confronts Naoya; what EXACTLY does he want the nature of this relationship to be? Naoya actually ADMITS that he eventually the three of them to have love-love time. However, Naoya admits that they should perhaps get to know each other better and thus decides to put that feeling aside for the time being. Wow. What a guy.

And in fact, I think that’s the prime failing of Girlfriend, Girlfriend. Our male lead is just not a very likable guy and, as weird as this may sound, has not earned this affection of either Saki or Nagisa. What has he done that makes us stand up and say, “Hey, he’s a great guy—he deserves having these girls love all over him!”? To me, a good harem anime has a protagonist that doesn’t seek out the harem, but rather deals with the personalities and situations that comes to him, and from that, makes a decision, all the while remaining equally considerate to the others. Naoya only seems to be in this situation because he WANTS to be. This is a problem of his own creation! It’s like unscrewing a lightbulb from a lamp, smashing it on the ground and saying, “Oh, dang! I can’t see! The room is too dark! What on earth am I going to do?”

With regards to the female characters in this show…well…I don’t really know what to say here. One thing that I had to ask while watching this is, “What are YOU GUYS getting from this?” I mean, all we hear about is what Naoya wants; we don’t hear about what the other girls want out of this and what Naoya can give to them…especially Saki, who has, for all intents and purposes, been coerced into this entanglement, and is getting no obvious rewards from this other than still being Naoya’s girlfriend. What does she gain from this? And with regards to Nagisa…why is baby girl so intent on being 2nd?! Why is she seemingly okay with the idea of sharing this BOY with another girl? Both of these girls need their heads examined, and I think I need mine examined at the end of all this.

So where does that leave us with Girlfriend, Girlfriend? Well, lemme put it this way–if you ever wanted a happy version of the video game/anime School Days, this is for you. If you want watch a show that is just going to be a mindless yet well-animated romp, this is for you. Other than that, stay the heck away. As someone who actually likes a good harem anime every once in a while, this one just feels like it’s just trying too hard to be unique and just ends up falling on its face. I may stick around with this one for another episode or two just out of morbid curiosity to see if it can get any worse, but other than that, I’m giving it a hard pass and it would behoove you to do the same.

=====

Girlfriend, Girlfriend can be streamed through Crunchyroll. Read our thoughts on all the new summer anime series, in addition to comments from our other writers, on our Summer 2021 Anime First Impression master post.

#Anime #First Impressions #Girlfriend Girlfriend #Kanojo mo Kanojo #Summer Anime 2021 #Articles #Author: The Cajun Samurai #Author: Josh

[lousimusician]

I Want You Back (Part 8)

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: Peter was too blind to realize that you were slipping through his fingers

Word Count: 6,002

Warning: Angst, mentions of death and trauma

________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Every street you walk on I leave tearstains on the ground~                      Following the girl I didn’t even want around~

~~~~~~~~~~~

It was one of the longest and most painful weeks of Peter's life.

Peter had grown up experiencing a lot of heart ache but this, this hurt in an entirely new way and he had no idea what to do with himself. He's lost a lot of loved one's throughout his life, but he's never lost anyone that he's had to see again every. single. day.

He couldn't bring himself to do anything anymore. Eating, showering, he couldn't sleep, let alone patrolling. It had even popped up in the Daily Bugle about Spider-Man's absence this last week, but he just didn't care anymore.

If it wasn't for May, Ned, and MJ, he would've just been rotting away in his bedroom in that maroon hoodie of yours.

Peter regretted asking if you wanted to get back together, why in the world did he think it would've been that easy. He grew up with you and if there was one thing about you it was that you were stubborn when you put your mind to something.

He had ended up stalking both you and Brad on Instagram. He felt himself die a little every time you posted about the other, but what felt even worse was the realization that you had deleted every post Peter was in, that night he spent two hours straight just crying.

But what felt so backwards to him was that now that it was Saturday night and it was the first time all week that he didn't get to see you in person, instead of that making him feel better at all, all he wanted to do was go and see you, even if it did hurt. 

He just really missed you.

And when he saw his suit hanging in the closet... he couldn't resist.

He fought every thing in his head that screamed how bad of an idea this was and in the first time in a week, he put on his suit. But instead of going out to fight crime, he went to go see you instead.

Peter glanced at his reflection in the mirror in his bedroom after having just slipped on the suit, mask in hand. He looked like a wreck but he couldn't care less, and with a sigh he tugged on his mask, the eyes suddenly adjusting for him.

"Hello Peter." Karen's voice greeted. "It's been a while, is everything okay?"

"Not really." He responded, heading over to his window and beginning to climb out. "I'll tell you later." He mumbled, making his way on top of the fire escape.

"Okay. There's a robbery currently two blocks away."

"Oh.. Are the police on their way?"

"They are half a block away from the crime."

"Then they can handle it themselves tonight." He said, shooting a web at the building across from him. "We're gonna visit (Y/N)." And with that he swung on the web. Karen fell silent on the swing there, which wasn't too long, you only lived a few buildings away.

Once Peter had reached the building next to yours, he climbed up to the roof. Before the two of you dated and you found out he was Spider-Man in Sophomore year, he would sometimes swing by to check in on you after he went patrolling, something about fighting crime then going to see you safe nd sound always comforted him, and he found that the roof of the building next to yours, as creepy as it sounds, had the perfect view into your window. And viewing you from the roof was much more inconspicuous than hanging out on your fire escape.

"Why are we visiting (Y/N)?" Karen asked, once Peter reached the roof. "I thought you said she broke up with you?"

"She did." He answered sadly. Peter walked to the edge of the roof, your bedroom window coming into view. "I just wanted to see her." He crouched down on the ledge so he was sitting on his haunches.

"Peter?" 

"Hm." He hummed.

"Do you miss (Y/N)?"

"..Yeah I do... a lot actually." He mumbled. 

The curtains of your bedroom window were pulled open, he couldn't see you but the light was on and he could see the familiar bedroom that he's been in a countless amount of times.

"Have you tried asking her out again?"

Peter let out a short sarcastic laugh. "Yeah but it's not that easy, she's with someone else now... and she hates me." 

Just then your bedroom door swung open, making Peter immediately tense as he watched as you walked in, running a hand through your hair and shutting the door behind you. Peter held his breath as he watched you move about your room. 

Was this an invasion of your privacy? Yes. Did Peter understand that? Of course. But right now all he wanted to do was see you. He wanted to remember what you looked like when all of your attention wasn't on Brad, he wanted to remember what it was like, not to see you with a scowl every time he was near you.

Right now all he wanted was to bask in the peacefulness as you went about your night.

He watched as you walked over to the bookshelf in your bedroom that only held your comic books and he watched as you picked one out.

You grabbed the comic book and made your way over to your desk, which happened to be right in front of the window.

And it was the first time that week that Peter finally felt relaxed as he just observed the quiet scene. He watched as you flipped the page every few seconds, the way you bit your lip, when you pushed back a strand of hair away from your face. It was all so simple and mundane but it was you. And Peter would kill to be laying on your bed right now and watching you read from there, like he usually did, instead of now having to watch you from the rooftop of a building, but this was all he had of you now.

All he had were the few things you left at his place, the pictures and the videos, one shared class, and this moment. And he had come to face the fact that he had actually lost you now, and so he was prepared to draw this moment out as long as possible.

But unfortunately, all good things come to an end, and once he saw you flip the comic shut and stand up to close your curtains, he knew it was time to go.

So with a heavy heart, he swung back to his place, having to face the fact, yet again, that he broke your heart and now you didn't want anything to do with him.

Nightly visits became a regular.

Every night at 8, Peter would swing by your place and just watch. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn't help himself as it became a guilty pleasure his. Some nights he'd end up crying the whole time, others he wouldn't say a word. And he knew he should try to move on but he still didn't want to, he was terrified of forgetting you.

He was also able to slowly get back into patrolling, but only for a short while. His spider sense hadn't been working properly and he ended up getting hurt often, even showing up to school with a black eye one day.

Eventually two weeks had passed and Peter hadn't felt any better, the only things that did improve was that he had started to eat again and he wasn't crying as much as he was before. But he still couldn't sleep very well and he was still constantly depressed about the whole break up which had been starting to affect his grades in school.

Currently Peter was in lunch, sitting with Ned. MJ had decided to sit with you and Brad, and right now he couldn't take his eyes off the two of you as he glared daggers into Brad as he watched him play with your hair while you talked to MJ.

"-ter..Peter." Ned said, pulling Peter out of his thoughts.

"W-what?" He asked in surprise.

Ned sighed. "I've been trying to get your attention for like two minutes."

"Oh sorry, what were you saying?" He asked, glancing over at the two of you again.

Ned shook his head. "Doesn't matter... Do you want to switch seats or at least sit on this side, so you don't have to see them?" He asked, referring to you and Brad.

"No, I'm fine..." He trailed off, his eyebrows furrowing when he saw Brad moving closer to you, and press a kiss to your temple, making Peter snap the fork in his hand in two. Ned looked at it in surprise as Peter looked down at the now broken utensil. "Oh...oops." He said, dropping the piece that was still in his hand.

"Are you sure you don't wanna switch?" Ned tried again.

"No, seriously, I'm fine." He said shaking his head, looking back down at the lunch tray in front of him.

Ned sighed again. "Y'know I don't mean to sound pushy but- when are you going to get over her? It's been over a month since you two broke up and you're a mess- you never even showed up to see Star Wars with me." 

"Right..I'm sorry Ned, it's still in theaters, we can go this weekend...." Which was a promise he did keep, because if he didn't at least make an effort with his friends, he'd just be as bad as before. "I just, I don't think I can move on."

"She's moving on though and you're just gonna hurt yourself more if you don't start to try. She already told you she didn't want to get back together." He said referring to the conversation that you and Peter had in the prop room, Peter had told him and MJ about it the next day at lunch.

Peter pushed his lunch tray away and put his arms on the table, resting his chin on top of them as he looked up at Ned now. He shrugged. "But what if she changes her mind." He mumbled.

"But what if she doesn't?"

Peter fell silent, and instead asked another question. "Do you know when she stopped calling me pretty boy?" That had been one of the questions that were gnawing at the back of his mind, but most of all he wanted to know why he didn't notice.

Ned frowned, "I don't know... just that it was a long time ago." Peter fell silent again, making Ned decide to change the subject. "C'mon let's go to the computer room and play some games." He said. Peter nodded, and the two of them left the cafeteria, with Peter throwing another glance at you.

Peter got through the rest of the day, feeling out of it as usual. He was thankful when the last bell of the day rang and he was finally able to go home. He was at Ned's locker, he rarely stopped by his own anymore due to awkward encounters with you, when his plans for the night suddenly changed.

He saw you and Brad walking down the hallway, hand in hand, as you both headed towards the exit. Usually the two of you never left together, since you took different ways home, and now out of sheer curiosity about what the two of you were up to, he wanted to follow.

"I'll see you tomorrow Ned." He quickly rushed out as he made his way down the hallway, hearing Ned mutter something back in response. 

Peter kept a lot of distance between you guys as he followed you outside, and once the three of you made it farther away from the school and it was clear that the two of you were headed towards your apartment, he quickly ran into an alleyway and changed into his suit, leaving his backpack webbed beind a dumpster. And with that, he was quickly swinging towards your apartment.

Again, he knew how wrong this was but all the common sense in the world right couldn't stop him from wanting to know how Brad treated you when it was just the two of you.

Peter only had to wait about 15 minutes before he saw your bedroom door being pushed open, through your window, from where he layed on the edge of the roof. "Wait- Karen, they're here!" Peter whisper-yelled, interrupting the conversation he was having with his A.I. Peter quickly sat up and leaned forward, the eyes on his mask narrowing. 

You walked in, Brad following close behind and closing the door once you were both inside. He dropped his backpack off by the door, while you out it by your desk where you usually left your bag. Brad walked over to your bed and fell on top of it in a starfish pose, while you sat down at your desk. The space between the two of you put his pounding heart at ease and helped him swallow back some of his jealousy. It was clear the two of you were speaking to one another but he couldn't make out the words the two of you were saying.

"Karen can you activate reconnaissance- whatever?"

"Activating enhanced reconnaissance mode." She said, and suddenly he could hear both your and Brad's voices loud and clear, and your giggles suddenly floated through his ears.

"I think you have a couple fans." You giggled, looking at Brad from your spot at your desk.

Brad raised an eyebrow at you. "Care to explain what you mean?"

"A couple of freshmen girl's came up to me today and started asking questions about you."

Brad started laughing along with you. "Really? Like what?"

"They asked if you were nice, and I told them yes. Then they asked how smart you were, and I told them very." You smirked at him. "Then they decided to get a little personal and asked if you were a good kisser." 

Brad smirked back at your flirty tone. "And what did you tell them?"

"I told the-"

"Karen deactivate reconnaissance mode!" Peter shrieked.

"Deactivating enhanced reconnaissance mode." And suddenly your voices cut out, and Peter let out a sigh of relief, falling back onto the rooftop.

Peter groaned. "That was awful."

"Is that Brad?" Karen asked.

"Wha- oh yeah... That's Brad." He grumbled, sitting back up and daring to look back over the ledge, to see what you were doing. He breathed another sigh of relief when he saw the two of you getting up to grab your backpacks, probably about to start on homework

"She seems very happy with him."

Peter rolled his eyes. "I bet she was happier when she was with me." 

"I thought she broke up with you because she wasn't happy."

"Well before the blip." He sighed for the umpteenth time. "God the blip ruined everything... But anyway, I don't trust Brad." 

"Why's that?"

"Because- Because it's Brad!" He yelped. "What kind of guy asks out a girl who just got out of a three year relationship. And he also just seems very controlling, he's always dragging her by the hand places and just the way he talks to her sounds like he's trying to manipulate her or something, I don't know. And also he hadn't seen her for five years with the blip, you'd think he'd move on during that. I don't trust him." He sighed. "...I just wish I knew why I pushed her away, if that didn't happen, we'd still be together."

Everything fell quiet as Peter went back to observing the two of you, but it turned out to be pretty boring, which actually ended up being something he was grateful for. He didn't know what he would do if the two of you were all touchy behind closed doors. 

About two hours passed before Karen spoke up again. Peter was laying back down on the ledge, just gazing at your face through your window.

"You know Peter, I could psychoanalyze you if you want." She suddenly piped up.

Peter furrowed his eyebrows. "Why would I want to do that?"

"Well, you've stated multiple times that you don't quite understand why you pushed (Y/N) away, except for that it had something to do with the blip. So if you want I can psychoanalyze you to see what the cause was."

Peter hummed. "That actually doesn't sound like a bad idea. Okay you can do it." He gave permission.

Karen was silent for a moment, processing whatever it was she needed to process before starting again. "It seems to me that after the blip and having to come to the realization that the world was in shambles and dealing with the stress from everyone expecting you to be the next Iron Man, you overworked yourself as Spider-Man to live up to these expectations and tried to at least attempt to fix the world. And also after the blip, you had to face the fact that the Avengers are practically non-existent now, along with the fact that Tony Stark is dead and instead of dealing with your grief properly you pushed it to the back of your mind and started to unconsciously push (Y/N) away, because you felt that Mr. Stark along with the other Avengers had sacrificed a lot to save the world so you sacrificed one of the only things that made you truly happy as a way to justify not being able to sacrifice as much as the Avengers had."

Peter fell silent, the gravity of what she said, feeling like both a weight had been placed and lifted off his chest at the same time. "Karen?"

"Yes Peter?" 

"What's wrong with me?"

"I'm sorry, I don't quite understan-"

He quickly, sat up. "Seriously what's wrong with me, I hurt this amazing girl all because I didn't know how to grieve! How the hell do I not know how to grieve, I feel like that's all I've been doing my entire life!" He shouted. "I will be the first one to admit that I fucked up, and I fucked up bad. And if I could re-do the whole thing, I would've just talked to her or aunt May about how I felt, even if I didn't understand it! And I feel like with everything you just said it's still no excuse for what I did to her, she didn't deserve anything I put her through. And god! What the fuck am I doing right now, I've been spying on my ex girlfriend when she deserves to finally move on and be happy for once, even if it is with Brad." He was panting now. "And also what the fuck was I thinking when I asked her if she'd go out with me again, am I insane, of course she wasn't going to agree to that, not even to mention how selfish and insensitive that was of me to even think about asking her that!... Why am I so fucking stupid." He sighed, shaking his head in defeat. In that moment he turned his head to look at the two of you.... and how Brad was now getting awfully close to you... spinning you around in your chair.....and leaning down to kiss you....

"Whoah! Whoah! Whoah!" Peter yelped, "Karen they're kissing!"

"Isn't that what couples do?"

"Yeah, but that's my girlfriend!"

"You just said she's your ex- girlfriend." She corrected, making Peter groan. 

"That's what I meant- I need to stop them! Look they're going to her bed now!" He shrieked as the two of you stumbled backwards to your bed, Brad sitting down as you placed yourself on his lap. "Shit! Karen what do I do!?" He couldn't shoot a web- if you saw one of his webs you'd know that he was there.

He looked down at the roof noticing a piece of rubble that broke off of the ledge and in sheer panic he picked it up and threw it at your window. But unfortunately he miscalculated how hard he threw it and suddenly the sound of shattering glass filled his ears, as well as your and Brad's ears as the two of you snapped your heads towards the window. Peter's eyes widened and he dropped flat on the roof, the risen ledge blocking him from view.

"What the-?" Your voice now rang through the air due to the broken window.

Peter slightly peeked his head out from behind the ledge, seeing how the two of you stared at the broken window in surprise and confusion. "I think we should get your parents." Brad said, looking at the mess, the broken glass scattered all over your desk.

"Yeah- c'mon." You said, the two of you shuffling out of the bedroom to find your parents.

Peter sighed in relief and sat up, looking back over the ledge and your now shattered window. "Oops..." He muttered, and the realization of what he just did sunk. ".... I think I need help, I can't keep doing this." He sighed.

"If you're sorry and still in love with her, why don't you try winning her back?" Karen suddenly asked.

"What?" Peter asked incredulously. "Because that's crazy, and I already told you it's not that easy."

"No one said it was going to be easy."

"Yeah but... she hates me. I screwed everything up." He said sadly.

"Everyone deserves a second chance Peter." 

Peter let out a short self-deprecating laugh. "I've already tried apologizing, she doesn't want to hear it.''

"Try again."

"I ca-"

"Then again." She cut him off.

"Kar-"

"And again." She cut him off again. "Until you get it right."

Peter fell silent, soaking in what Karen just told him. "But... what if I annoy her? What if it just makes her hate me more?"

"You'd be fighting for her Peter."

He fell silent again in thought, the hopeless romantic in him feeling a bit of hope at the thought of fighting for the girl he loved. It would be hard, and it wasn't something that would work overnight but if it won you back... then it'd be worth it. It was true he fucked up, and no one knew that better than him right now, but he also knew if he had a second chance he'd do everything right this time. Losing you had been one of the worst experiences he's gone through. He was still deeply in love with you, and if it didn't work...he would respect your decision, and finally move on. But if it did, then everything could go back to the way it was before the blip.

"Alright." Peter jumped to his feet. "I'm gonna fight for her. Do you mind if I bounce some ideas off you?" He asked.

"Not at all."

"Thanks... I need to clear my mind though, so we're gonna go for a swing around the city.... and who knows maybe stop some crimes." He said, now in a slightly better mood, even feeling a little bit of excitement as he started to come up with ideas and plans on how to win you back.

And with that, he shot a web and began swinging, planning on staying out for a few more hours.

--

You ran a hand through your hair, watching as your mom was cleaning up the glass from your desk. You were sat beside Brad on top of your bed. 

"So how did it break again?" Your dad asked as he stood behind your mom, trying to get a look of the window frame.

You shrugged. "There's a piece of concrete on the fire escape, I think someone threw it at the window."

Your dad frowned. "That's weird."

"At least neither of us got hurt." Brad said, making your dad purse his lips, not responding.

You placed a hand on his knee and gave him an apologetic smile.

Neither of your parents were fans of Brad. They clearly preferred and trusted Peter more and having this sudden change of you bringing home a different boy. But then again they didn't really know what the last few months with Peter had been like.

Your dad sighed, "I guess I'll call someone and have them replace the window while your in school."

You hummed. "Alright."

You hadn't noticed Brad staring at something in your room, until he tapped you and asked. "What's that?" You looked in the direction he was pointing in and spotted the box labeled 'Peter' in the corner of your room.

"Oh, that's just all of Peter's things." You shrugged. "Took me a while to find everything he's left, I need to give it back sometime." You huffed, it's been over a month since the two of you broke up, but it still weighed heavy on your heart.

"Oh Peter." Your mom suddenly said. "I miss him." She said sadly, and you could see Brad was beginning to feel awakward again.

"Yeah." Your dad agreed. "Good kid."

You rolled your eyes. "Whatever." You groaned. 

Brad's phone suddenly vibrated and he quickly picked up, finding it as something to distract him from the situation. He let out a quiet groan, "I gotta get home. My mom just texted me."

You pouted, "All right, I'll see you tomorrow." You said, leaning up to kiss his cheek before he got up.

"Bye." He hummed back. "Um have a good night Mrs and Mr (Y/L/N)." He said, earning a grunt from your dad and an absentminded 'bye' from your mom.

Once Brad had left you flopped back on your bed. "Do you guys have to be so curt with him." You groaned.

"We just don't know him very well yet." You mom said. "And we miss Peter, he's such a sweetheart."

You groaned again. "Yeah but now he's my ex so can we please stop talking about him already."

"Fine." Your dad agreed. "We'll try to be nicer to Brad and forget about Peter, then. But I still don't trust him, something just seems off with him, and I know you don't like Peter anymore but he was a good kid. Besides you're the one who can't let go of his things."

You shot up in youd bed, "What!?" You yelled afronted.

He gestured to the box you had been talking about just minutes before. "You found all of his things weeks ago and yet they're still here." He said in amusement, clearly finding your frustration entertaining. There was no malicious intent behind his words, your dad just liked to tease you.

"Fine." You said. "I'll take them back to him now." You said in a challenging voice.

"Alright then, go. Be back for dinner." He grinned.

"Fine, I will." You stood up from your bed and headed over to the box, picking it up. "I'll see you guys in like 45 minutes then." You said before leaving your bedroom and heading for your front door.

"Try and make up while your there!" Your dad shouted out.

"Shut up!" You called back over your shoulder, hearing him laugh shortly after.

You rolled your eyes and slammed the door shut behind you as you started walking down the hallway.

But gradually began to slow down until you came to a full stop as you realized what you were going out to do.

You looked down at the box in your hands and bit your lip.

Giving Peter back his things and going to his place to take back yours really made the break up feel final. Sure, you haven't spoken to him in what felt like forever, but... you still had his things and as long as you had his things, he'd still be somewhat apart of your life.

You were a better actress than what people gave you credit for. Yes, you looked and felt much happier after the break up, but it was a lie if people thought you were moving on smoothly. And the fact that Peter tried to apologize and that he kept staring at you in class and at lunch. It pissed you off how he started to care again, and that was probably why you felt like you had taken two steps back. But when it came right down to it, Peter hurt you but Brad made you happy. You liked Brad, you really did... which is why this was good. 

You'd go to Peter's give his stuff back and get your own things and then you'll continue to move on.

And with that thought you were walking down the hallway again, beginning the 15 minute walk to his apartment.

--

By the time Peter had reached his apartment, after deciding to call it a night, he was in a much better mood.

His talk with Karen helped lifted his spirits tremendously and now Peter felt more determined than ever, because now he was forming a plan. And that determination was a much better feeling than the hopelessness he had been feeling after you lashed out at him in the prop room. 

Peter was on the side of his building as he climbed up the wall to his window. "I think it could work." Peter said to Karen. "It'll be a lot of trial and error, but-" He pushed his window open and began to climb in. "I think it could..work...." He trailed off, his eyes widening immediately in shock, because the moment he climbed through the window was the moment May had walked into the bedroom with you close behind, box in hand. "(Y-Y/N)?"

May inwardly groaned, she had been expecting Peter to be out longer and to be honest, she was a little nervous to see the two of you interact after the state Peter's been in all week. Especially after Peter's failed attempt to fix things, which he had told her all about.

You were tense, seeing May was.... awkward, but now you went completely rigid as you saw Peter climb in through his window as Spider-Man. "Hi.." You greeted lamely.

In a few seconds Peter finished climbing in through the window and now stood fully in his bedroom. He tugged his mask off, "W-what're you doing here?" And just like that, the better mood he had been in was extinguished.

You held the box in your hands a little higher, "I have a bunch of your things you left at my place, and I wanted to pick up my things too."

Peter felt like he was caving in on himself with your words. "Oh..." He muttered.

May cleared her throat awkwardly, "Okay, I guess you two will sort everything out yourselves..and I need to go and finish dinner." She said before shuffling out of the room, leaving you two by yourselves.

"Um.." You start, "I only have the one box... and I kinda need it to bring my stuff home, so..." You trailed off, ignoring that desperate gaze in his eyes, which seemed to be the only way he could look at you now. 

"Oh, s-sure." He stuttered, coming over to pull the box out of your hands, quickly placing it on his bed, before rifling through it, using it as a distraction.

You looked around the room for the first time since the break up. It was much smaller than his room in his old apartment, since he had to move after the blip. You quickly noticed the chair in the corner of his room, stacked with a bunch of your belongings.

"Oh are those my things?" You asked as you wandered over to the chair.

Peter looked back at you, "Oh y-yeah..." He felt a tug on his heart, realizing that you were really taking your stuff back, and it hurt him more than he thought it would've.

"Where's my blanket?" You asked, looking through your stuff.

Peter's eyes suddenly widened as a blush over took his cheeks. He looked down at his bed, seeing the familiar pink fabric tangled with his own blankets. "Um..." He started, noticing you had spotted the blanket on his bed, with obvious signs that he had slept with it. "Uh... It got cold last night...." He said in an attempt to cover up his embarrassment. "Sorry.." He grabbed the blanket and reluctantly handed it to you.

"It's fine." You said, fighting off your own embarrassment. "And uh... my hoodie?" You ask, placing the blanket with the rest of your things.

Peter stiffens, 'Shit' he thinks to himself, because currently, said hoodie was in his backpack (he started taking it with him to school) and said backpack was still webbed behind a trashcan in some random alleyway.

"Oh I- I don't have it." He blushes furiously.

You furrow your eyebrows. "What? What do you mean you don't have it?"

"I... I don't know where it is...Got lost." He says, clumsily making up an excuse.

"Okayyy?" You drag out the word, suspicion laced on your tongue. "Guess I'll have to get a new one then."

Peter sighs in relief for two reasons, 1) you didn't press on the matter of him "losing" it and 2)....He'd get to keep the hoodie.

"If that's everything, I guess I'll head out now." You walked over to Peter and pulled the now empty box in front of him, with you and over to the chair.

Peter bounced back and forth on the balls of his feet, watching as you put your things away. It was awkward, of course it was. But somehow that same question that had reared it's head in lunch was back on the tip of his tongue.

"Okay, I'm gonna go now, so uh bye." You said, box now filled with all your things as you started heading for his bedroom door.

"When did you stop calling me pretty boy?" He suddenly blurted.

You stopped, letting the question sink in before looking back at him. "... When you stopped calling me princess." You answered simply.

Peter frowned and stared at the ground. ".... For what it's worth... I really am sorry." 

You sighed. "I know you are.... I just wish you figured things out sooner." You said before continuing to walk out and all Peter could do was watch, his world feeling shaken as he might be watching you leave his bedroom for the last time, and he really couldn't handle that thought.

He sat down on his bed, already missing your blanket and he knew he'd have to go get your hoodie before bed, the only way he could sleep now was if he was enveloped in your scent. 

He couldn't stand not doing anything anymore, his plan suddenly coming to mind again.

That determination from earlier slowly started making it's way back in.

He blinked away the tears. He was tired of crying. He needed to stop feeling sorry for himself and listen to Karen.

Peter was going to fight for you, and he was going to do it right. And hopefully by the end of it you would be his girlfriend again but if it came down to it he would settle with just being friends...

Because Peter didn't want to live a life that you were no longer apart of.

But right now, he needed to talk. Peter didn't want to start anything new with you just to screw up again, and the only way he was going to be able to work through his grief and emotions after the blip was to talk about it. 

So later that night, he asked May if he could talk to her, and of course she said yes.

He was determined to get better for you, and prove that he wasn't the Peter that pushed you away anymore.

So....

Peter talked...

And May listened.

~~~~~~~~~~

A/N [IMPORTANT]: I will be on vacation these next two weeks so I will be missing the next three updates!!! (Sucky timing, I know, we only had two more parts to go)

Part 9 will be up on Saturday the 17th at 12AM EST!!!

The taglist is closed!!!

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#peter parker x reader

[foxy-knowledgeseeker]

maikka and rayllum for the ask game? (- thinkingisadangerouspastime)

Maikka

when I started shipping it if I did: I don't maybe three months ago when you brought it up in the Aang Server ajdfaskjfsalfs

my thoughts: I LOVE THEM. I had never thought about them until you mentioned it, but the second you shared your thoughts, I was like "I can *see* it!" And now this pairing is in my top for three for both of these characters (mostly because I just think Mai is the second most shippable character, after Aang). It's so unexpected, but I honestly think they would vibe, and

What makes me happy about them: I love to think Mai would find Sokka annoying at first, but his sense of humor, being either really dumb or at his own expense, would end up growing on her, and he would become one of the people that can actually make her laugh (other than Aang ofc!). I also have a headcanon that they are both foodies and would bond over that! Finally, their characters lend to some interesting post-canon concepts when it comes to their roles as politicians/leaders of their respective nation/tribe, Mai's status as Zuko's ex mixed with Sokka's status as one of Zuko's friends, the absolute POWER COUPLE they would be as two nonbending weapons specialists with Sokka being more melee specialized and Mai being more ranged. Just...so much potential!

What makes me sad about them: Realistically, I don't see a relationship working very long-term for them because I always imagined Sokka would want to stay in the South Pole or, at the very least, *really close* to the South Pole, but Mai would not be a fan of the cold. I almost always imagine them eventually breaking up (sad!) OR imagine them in some kind of AU. This is not to say the right kind of narrative finagling can't give them their happy ending; I just haven't played around with it a lot.

things done in fanfic that annoys me: There is not a whole lot of Maikka fanfic out there, and I honestly worked through pretty much the whole tag a couple months ago. My biggest grievance with Maikka fanfic is that most of the fics out there seem pretty shallow right now (short, modern au one shots where the characters have been flattened) or the writer has Mai just like...bullying Sokka...constantly, and not even in the fun, flirty way. Just in the..."you have convinced me they don't even like each other" kind of way. With their common interests but potential to meet any variety of relationship roadblocks, I just want something a little *more* for them, ya know!

things I look for in fanfic: Oop I already answered sorta above, but I love when Maikka fanfic has them confront the issues of their separate roles in their cultures/societies, their shared histories with Zuko, but also plays into their shared interests and compatible personalities. Just let them like each other, but also let them struggle to overcome challenges of circumstance!! It's more fun that way!

Who I’d be comfortable with them ending up with, if not each other: For Mai, either Zuko, Ty Lee, or Aang. For Sokka, either Suki, Aang, or Toph (this is where I out myself as a closet Tokka shipper >.<).

My happily ever after for them: One of the ways I imagine them getting a happily ever after is like...maybe if one of them has a more permanent ambassador position in either location or perhaps an au where they both end up in the same city in a university system as like professors or consultants. Or any number of modern aus have potential. I could be convinced of married Maikka with kids because I think Sokka is actually very family oriented and Mai would be a good mother, but I imagine they would have kids much later than their friends.

who is the big spoon/little spoon: We recently talked about "very tall water sibs" in the server, and now I love it, so I picture a very tall Sokka and a still pretty tall Mai (like Sokka's 6' to Mai's 5'11"), and I think they would mix it up and take turns being the different spoons OR they would be that couple that cuddles face to face, limbs all tangled.

what is their favorite non-sexual activity: EATING or practicing weapons. I love the idea of Sokka teaching Mai to sword fight and Mai teaching Sokka how to throw daggers. I imagine it's something they could both nerd out about.

Rayllum

when I started shipping it if I did: When I first watched the show! I was hoping they would get together and THEY DID, and I was very glad to see it.

my thoughts: They just got that best friends to lovers, mutual respect, learning and growing together, accommodating for each other's strengths and weaknesses goodness! I just them!

What makes me happy about them: I love that Rayla introduced Callum to a whole world full of magic, where he could really thrive with his talents! And I love that Callum believes in Rayla and knows her to be capable and brave and never lets her forget it! They just emulate the kind of relationship I would want with a partner!

What makes me sad about them: Can't think of much right now, but I suppose the xenphobia they have to deal with from their people on both sides. It must be so hard to grow a relationship with that kind of animosity coming from the people they love!

things done in fanfic that annoys me: I have not read much Rayllum fanfic (other than yours!), so I don't have an answer for this really. Stay tuned because I plan on reading more fic for them this summer!

things I look for in fanfic: I want them to deal with the challenges they face in that mature, emotionally intelligent way they always have! I just love when they team up to overcome the odds because they do make such a great team and respect each other's skills and ideas so much! Give me badass duo Rayllum any day!

Who I’d be comfortable with them ending up with, if not each other: Um...honestly I don't think there are many age appropriate characters that have been developed enough for me to have an opinion. I know I don't like Claudia with Callum. Maybe Soren with Callum? I get straight vibes off Soren, though...Oooooh maybe after they have grown up, I could get behind some Callum x Aanya? Just for fun. And I think Rayla would be happiest with another elf, if not with Callum OR I do like an aroace Rayla headcanon, so maybe even no one, and she has a plethora of queer platonic relationships with the whole gang!

My happily ever after for them: Callum moves to Xadia to grow his skills as a mage, and he and Rayla live happily ever after living and learning together and using their skills to help people! I love the idea of Callum finding a home with the Moonshadow Elf community.

who is the big spoon/little spoon: Rayla is the big spoon, no I do not take criticism.

what is their favorite non-sexual activity: Maybe a niche headcanon, but I love the idea of them really getting into their universe's equivalent of chess (I don't remember if they have one in canon, but if not, I headcanon there is a chess-like game). I think Rayla would get really competitive about it, and Callum would approach it very methodically.

Send me a character, ship, or list of characters and I will answer these questions about them

#this was so fun! #i love both these ships so much #thank you for the ask #thinkingisadangerouspastime #emily answers

[kodzuken-pie]

From afar | Pt.22

Asahi x reader smau

A/N : FINALLY!! This part is going to be a little bit different as I wanted to do a scenario for the date! Also it’s going to be a bit long OOP

previous || next || masterlist || bonus

——————————————————————————

“Thank you sir!” He smiled happily, looking at the necklace that he was going to give her later that night.

Stepping out of the little jewelry shop, he grabs his phone to check on the time. He shoots her a text to let her know that he’s on the way. The phone in his hand lit up and he read her response, smiling at it.

She puts her phone down, heart beating fast at the exchange. Her face was red and warm, thinking about him made her this way and she loved it. Snapping out of her dreamy state, she starts getting ready.

“This is annoying. I don’t know what to wear.” She huffs. A knock on the door startled her a little.

“Hey y/n. Morning.” Her brother peeped his head in to greet her.

“Ah morning Toshi! Sorry was I being noisy?” She greets him back.

“Ah no, but you look like you're struggling?” He says, walking into her room.

“Yeah, I can’t decide what to wear.” She was pouting while looking at her closet.

“Can I help?” Her brother asked.

“Uhm yeah sure I guess.” She moves out of the way.

After a few minutes of him going through her clothes, he comes up with something that was actually really cute. Not just one outfit but a few, all very cute and pretty. They went through a lot of different outfits until they found the perfect one.

“This is it!” She exclaimed. “Thank you bro!” She smiles at him.

“I arrived at the perfect time, good.” He says, taking deep breaths so calm himself.

After a last deep breath, he knocks on the door. He hears someone say they’ll be at the door so he just stood there, calming himself. A minute or two passed and the door opened revealing an older woman that looked just like her.

“Oh h-hi! My name’s Asahi, I’m here to pick up your daughter y/n.” He smiles at the woman.

“It’s nice to meet you Asahi, I’m y/ns mom. Why don’t you come in for a bit, have a glass of water. I’m pretty sure she’ll be ready soon.” She gestures for him to come in.

He thanks her as he walks in, nerves still getting the better of him. He walks over to the living room and sits on the couch. A little bit after that he hears her voice, sweet like an angel.

“Asahi! I’m so sorry, I hope you weren’t waiting too long!” She says a little shyly.

“No it’s fine!” He rubs the back of his neck and gives her a smile. “Y-you look b-beautiful by the w-way.” He adds, looking away hoping that she wouldn’t notice the growing blush on his face.

“Thank you! You look amazing as always!” She says in a teasing tone.

He stood up and walked over to where she was standing. They both said their goodbyes and went on their way.

“Alright! So, where to first?” She asks when they’re outside.

“Well it’s almost lunch time, so maybe we can go get something to eat?” He says suggestively, even though he had the day planned.

“That sounds good! Did you have a place in mind?” She smiled at him.

“Oh yeah, there’s this place I’ve been wanting to go to and I thought you might like it too.” He brings out his phone to show her.

Her face lit up and he let out the breath he was holding in, in fear that she might not like said place. He had been tipped off by her friends about this place, how she’s been wanting to go there. He took the chance and he was relieved that she was excited.

“Asahi! I’ve been wanting to go there too!” She was very excited now.

“Really? I saw it last week and I thought that may have been somewhere you wanted to go to.” He had his hand on the back of his head.

“Let’s go then!” She took his hand and pulled him towards the direction of the cafe.

They arrive at the restaurant, hand in hand and walk in. When they walked in, they were instantly amazed at how it looked. It was a cute little cafe, the atmosphere was warm and cozy. A whole bunch of books lined one of the walls, some looking old and worn and some looking new. A couch was placed in front of the bookshelf and It may have looked small and cramped but it seemed like she really loved being there.

“I can’t believe we're actually here. Thank you so so much!” She squeals.

She held his hand tighter and smiled brighter. His face turned red and he looked away, embarrassed and flustered. She giggles and teases him for this. They were then greeted by the host and seated.

“They have so much good stuff here!” He was surprised, looking at the menu they were given.

“A lot of them are your favorites too.” She says nonchalantly, not taking her eyes off the menu.

He peeked at her and he blushed. She was concentrated on the menu, finding the perfect food item for them to share.

*Maybe we can do that thing with the milkshake? Or I can even feed him like a slice of cake but sharing a milkshake would definitely be cuter. What am I thinking? Gosh!* These thoughts filled her head as she flipped through the menu over and over, her brows knitting.

“Hey, are you ready to order?” He asked in a soft voice, snapping her out of her growing frustration.

“I think so? Is it ok if we share a milkshake?” she was peeking through the menu, hiding the blush that was creeping up to her face.

His eyes widened in surprise at her request. “Oh yeah, we can.”

A soft smile appeared on her face. They were both thinking the same thing and they were both trying to hide their excitement. The server came to take their orders and then they waited.

“So, just curious but. Where are we going today?” She raises an eyebrow at him.

“It’s a surprise.” He answered, smirking at her.

“Come on just tell me! Please?” She says pouting.

“Not going to work.” He says, keeping the smirk on his face.

It was a surprise that he didn’t give in to her pouting so she gave up eventually. He chuckled and poked her cheek and made her smile. Their food came and they spent the next hour enjoying each other’s food and company.

“That was so so good!!” She beamed, giving him a big grin.

“It was! The pasta you ordered was so delicious!” He says as he finishes wiping his mouth.

The server took away their empty plates, leaving them with their dessert and the milkshake they ordered. The milkshake stood in the middle of the table, two straws in. They both kept looking at the shake and at each other, trying to look innocent each time. Asahi decided to pick at his cake slice. Taking a bite of it, he closed his eyes and relished the delicious flavor. She took a bite of her brownie with the ice cream on top of it and she was in heaven.

“You need to try this!” They said in unison, chuckling afterwards.

“Here, try some!” He said as he takes a piece off and is gesturing for her to open her mouth so that he could feed her.

“That’s wow, amazing. Try mine!” She did the same and she giggled.

“What a cute couple those two are. Makes me remember the old days, right hon?” An elderly lady said quietly as she sat next to what looked like her husband. She stood up and went to the two. “You know you two remind me of me and my husband over there.” She points at him and he waves, giving them a small smile. “I can see that you two will spend your whole life together and grow old with each other. Your love is so pure. Don’t forget that, don’t forget days like this when you’re having a bad one alright?” She smiled sweetly at them and walked back to her husband and gave him a small kiss on the forehead.

The two were speechless. They slowly looked at each other and smiled, he took her hand and squeezed it softly.

“I really do hope that’s the case.” He whispered loud enough for her to hear.

“Asahi…” She pressed her lips together and tried to stop herself from crying. “I do too.” She spoke up when she was able to.

His eyes widened at her response and he gave her a sweet smile. They finished the rest of their dessert, paid and left, making sure to wave goodbye to the old couple. They made their way to their next destination, stopping every now and then to look at a few shops. Their hands intertwined with one another, holding each other tightly.

“Wow Asahi! An amusement park? Did you, Noya and Bokuto plan this? Cause I’m pretty sure they’re here too!” She asked, looking at him.

“Nishinoya and Bokuto-san are here too? I mean I knew they were having their dates today but I didn’t know it was going to be here?!” He exclaimed, a little surprised.

Giggling, she reached over to cup his face and give him a quick peck on the cheek then pulled him to get inside. They walked around and played a few of the mini games around. Hand in hand, they walked through the park, ate food and played games.

“Hey Asahi! Let’s go on that one!” She said pointing towards the Ferris wheel.

“Oh sure! Just give me a second.” He checked his watch and made a face.

“Hm? What’s with the face? Are you worried we’ll miss the fireworks show?” She said, moving so that she was looking at his face.

“W-What?! How’d you know about the fireworks?” He was shocked, thinking that his surprise was probably ruined.

“There’s literally posters about it everywhere, Asahi.” She pouted.

He looked around and saw the posters and sighed in relief. “I guess I thought I could surprise you with that.” He rubbed the back of his neck, not looking at her.

With her free hand, she made him look at her. “This is the best day ever, Asahi. Surprise or not, I enjoyed this date. Now! Let’s get on that Ferris wheel. Hopefully when we reach the top, the fireworks would have already started!” She said cheerfully.

“Oh.” For a second, he just blinked not knowing what to say.

“Well? Let’s go!” She practically dragged him towards the Ferris wheel, getting in line.

“You’re right then huh? We wouldn’t have to find a good spot to watch the fireworks.” He said, thinking out loud.

She smiled at him as he said this. He rubbed circles around the top of her hand as they patiently waited to get on. As soon as they were about to be seated, the announcement for the fireworks show blasted through the intercom.

“Five minutes until the fireworks show folks! Make sure to find that special spot!” The announcer said.

Asahi looked at his watch again. The timing was perfect, he thought. By the time their car was at the top, the fireworks would be at full swing and he could give her the necklace that he had bought. All he had to do now was calm his nerves.

They were called on to get into the next car, the last people in before they started the Ferris wheel back up. The fireworks started as they were at the halfway point, his nerves followed the beat of the fireworks bursting in the air.

“It’s so pretty! Asahi look!” She turned to look at him, her eyes sparkling.

The way she looked at that moment took his breath away, the way her eyes sparkled and the wonder on her face. He was grateful for this moment. Now all he had to do was to wait until they were at the top to give her the necklace. As soon as they reach the top, the wheel suddenly stops.

“The wheel is stuck at the moment, don’t panic this happens every now and then.” The announcement at the intercom said calmly.

“Oh? Hmm guess we’re going to be here for awhile. At least we can enjoy the show!” She grinned.

His heart was now beating like crazy but he didn’t know if it was because he was nervous or if it was because of the overwhelming feelings he had for her.

“Hey, y/n. I have something for you.” He said, taking her hand in his, not looking at her reaction as he placed the small box on her palm.

She turned to look at him and then at her hand. The small box made her heart jump. She wanted to cry, even though she hasn’t even seen what was inside. She held the box tightly and opened it and felt the tears rush down her face.

He then looked at her and saw the tears rushing down. He got disappointed for a second and knew that she would like it.

“Asahi.” She said in between sobs.

He was ready for her to be angry, mad and disappointed.

“I love it.” She whispered.

The words echoed in his mind as relief flowed through him. She urged him to help her out the necklace on and then she pressed her forehead against his. They stared at each other’s eyes and before he knew it, she had given him a kiss. He didn���t know what to say or how to react when she pulled away but he did know he wanted more. Cupping her face, he pulls her in and gives her a deep and wanton kiss. All of a sudden the world stopped. The intimate moment felt like it lasted forever.

“You are amazingly beautiful.” He said after he pulled away from her, gazing deep into her eyes.

The tears kept coming at her and all she could do was embrace him and feel him in her arms. He started rubbing circles around her back to comfort her. They stayed like that until they felt the wheel move again. She sat next to him and held his hand, resting her head on his shoulder as they descended. As soon as they got out of the car, they were met with familiar faces. Nishinoya and Sunny were next to each other, hands intertwined and next to them was Bokuto and Hiromi. You met up with them and spent the rest of the evening as a group.

As they reach her front door, she turns around with a big smile on her face.

“Thank you for today Asahi! I had a really fun time!” She was happy.

“I did too. I’m really glad you enjoyed it.” He says shyly.

“I love the necklace by the way.” She says, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“You do?” He put his hands on her waist.

“Mhmm. Good night Asahi.” She whispered.

“Good night y/n. See you Monday?” He whispered back.

“Mhmm.” She answered, nodding a little.

She pulled him in close as she was on her tiptoes and they ended the night with a kiss.

——————————————————————————

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[fuwafuwamedb]

From Utu’s Temple Pt 4 (Gilgamesh, Siduri, Hakuno)

Thus far: 1, 2, 3

__

Was it a crime to kill one’s sister?

Maybe not kill, but maybe seriously injure so that her legs no longer carried her all the way to wherever in Ereshkigal’s own realm she’d gone.

Ur-Nungal bit his lip, looking around the temple carefully.

Gula was a pestilence, an absolute monster of a baby sister and there was no better evidence of this than right now. Today he was supposed to spend time with grandfather Utu, learning how the priests held the ceremonies that were coming up, and instead he was lying and roaming around the building like a complete idiot.

His mother had noted Gula was gone and had panicked as he’d gotten dressed.

He’d known that little fool was only going to be doing one thing: getting mom one of her favorite meals for here in the temple.

Ummum’s birthday was coming soon. It was normal for them to want to celebrate it, but they were not supposed to leave the temple. At all.

“I swear to the gods,” Ur breathed, making a show of looking under the pews as his mother passed by, “when I find you, Gula, I’m going to force you to do all my chores for a year. Cleaning the priests’ horses, carrying in the firewood, and I’m going to make you kill the chickens for meals.”

She’d cry like a baby.

Praise Aya.

His mother slipped out of the room, busying herself with helping a few of the temple maidens. Ur slipped around the front doors, grabbing his stashed cloak on the way out.

His sister was going to be beaten.

What kind of idiot went running around outside without telling anyone, anyway? There were laws, rules that they had. If their abum ever found them, they’d be killed because the man was a bastard.

“Sorry, ummum,” Ur murmured, practically sensing the ire his mother would hold for him thinking such a thing.

The bridge was just out of town. He knew it well enough.

The boats were off in the distance still, so that didn’t seem to be a problem. There were a few more people out and about as he meandered towards the waters, but he didn’t…

“Did you hear?”

Ur paused, shifting a little to have his face be seen.

“The king was seen here slaughtering enemies,” a merchant nearby murmured to some companions. “Ended up carrying a body towards the palace.”

“A body?”

“Yeah, I don’t know who it was, but it must have been a child. The figure was quite small. Couldn’t miss the king’s grin though. The person must have been important.”

The king had been near…

Ur moved closer to the bridge, noting the blood splatterings and the gathered crowd. There were soldiers gathered along the waters, checking for something in the water’s depths as a pile of sliced bodies were piled nearby.

But the guards didn’t make him pause, the bodies did.

That poor aim couldn’t be mistaken. Only someone as stupid as the person he was thinking of would slice in that kind of way. Who aimed for the face when the throat was available?

There were other wounds though, deeper, harsher wounds. Several of the bodies there were severed in places, with swords still poking out of them.

Ur slipped closer, glancing to the gossiping fools and the soldiers. He pulled one of the shorter swords out.

Utu hadn’t been kidding about how heavy these were.

He felt the thing almost clatter before he pressed it up against himself and looked around again.

A few people were turning his way, their brows furrowing and their mouths thinning. He could see one preparing to talk to him before the gossip turned back up.

Ur made a show of turning away from the scene by pulling his hood over his face a bit more and slipping back towards the kingdom, but the sword weighed more and more with each step he took. He could open those gates, but…

He bit his lip, glancing up towards the palace.

Ummum first.

Ur picked up the pace as he returned back to the temple, keeping the cloak around himself all the way to his chambers that he shared with his sister. The blood from the sword had smeared on his clothes, ruining them. The blade was so sharp that he’d actually managed to cut holes into the fabrics he had kept between the blade and his person.

There was even a cut on his leg.

“You’re doing my chores for two years,” Ur murmured, “and you’re going to begin every day by bringing me my meal.”

Gula would regret ever bothering to come out of their ummum when he was through with her. First she couldn’t do magic well. Then she ran off and did the gods only new what. Then she had the gall to disappear like this.

“Ur-Nungal! Gula!”

Ur cursed, slipping into one of his plainer robes and stashing the blade and bloodied garments under the bed. He hurried to the door, ignoring his slight leg pain from the cut and smiling brightly.

“Ummum!”

“Ur, where’s Gula?” His mother sighed softly, coming over to the door. “Why are you sweaty?”

“Ah- Gula and I have been playing a hide and seek game that requires you to not only find the person, but to catch them too,” he lied. “She’s too fast, ummum.”

Thank the gods he had his father’s talent for being a lying jerk. His mother laughed softly and knelt down, her brown eyes gleaming a little as she leaned in close enough to wipe at his face.

“Ummum-“

“Utu would like to teach you how to do the priest’s ceremony today. Did you forget about that?”

Oh no.

“Ur?”

“I ah… I think I left the outfit that grandfather gave me in the temple somewhere.” He smiled as best he could, “oops.”

“I saw it in your room last night-“

“Y-yeah, b-but then Gula wanted to see it and she made a hole in it so I had to ask one of the temple maidens to fix it and then I think I may have left it in the main hall.”

“Ur-“

“I’ll go look for it!”

“Find your sister and get some dinner as well! Aya wanted to eat with you while I help with some upstairs cleaning-“

“A-actually, Gula and I already ate!”

“What?”

Ur laughed a little. “Yeah, Gula and I went to eat earlier, but Gula will probably need a bath because you know… She’s not as good at table manners as I am.”

“There is that,” his mother agreed.

“Can you tell grandma Aya for me?”

His mother pressed her lips to his head, nodding. “You and Gula still need to take a bath-“

“We can do it! We’ll spend all tomorrow together! Let me draw our bath and everything!”

She didn’t even try to argue, since someone called for her. His ummum simply leaned in, pressing her lips to his forehead and giving him one of those warm ummum hugs of hers. Before long, she was already heading towards the stairwell to the upper floors of the temple.

And now, he could manage this.

Ur closed their bedroom door, sighing as he put the bolt in place.

His sister was in so much trouble.

Ur pulled the sword back out, focusing hard to open those strange gates and shoving the sword into them. He looked around, grabbing his robes and grumbling as he slipped out the window.

The streets were still busy, still bustling. Despite having his cloak, now there was a slash and he had blood stains on his dark cloak. He could see the palace in the distance, but getting there was another task altogether.

Alleys were only so much help. It was still dark outside when he made it to the stairs.

Stairs that had no guards.

Ur frowned, looking around and hurrying up to the next level of the ziggurat.

There he could see figures. There were some soldiers higher up that were standing around. Going that way wouldn’t work.

He opted for a servant entrance.

Ur pulled his hood down, looking around at the hallway he’d found.

The torches were dying here, like someone had been here and had left a while ago. He could see a few servants pass, but he pulled his hood over his hair again and pressed to the wall.

No one noticed him.

How did this king survive with such poor guards?

What a bastard.

“Sorry, ummum,” Ur whispered once again.

He would have to make his ummum something really nice in return for all the lies and for covering up Gula’s little trip. If she was here, he’d find her and get her home.

“OH!”

Ur felt his body slam into someone as he turned the corner, knocking him from his feet. His hood fell back, his eyes drifted up to the woman who’d stepped into view.

“You- You must be-“

He didn’t even hesitate, sprinting around the woman and running in the direction she’d come from. He didn’t pause, ignoring the cloak that left him as she grabbed it. He had to run, had to hide so that he could find his sister.

“BOY!”

No, he wouldn’t listen to the woman.

The palace was filled with bad people. All of them mocked the gods and ignored all nice things, opting for being behind their terrible king.

He heard armor clanking. He ran away from that.

Higher and higher into the place he went, climbing the stairs and not daring to look back.

A set of golden doors were ahead.

That’s where he’d go.

He could hide behind something or slip around the guards when they entered the room and slam something before the doors to block them from leaving.

Yanking the door with a foot against the other, Ur rushed into the room and slammed the door shut.

There was a pounding in his ears.

There was a pounding in his chest as well, but he couldn’t focus on that. He could taste something metal in his mouth, he could feel himself covered in more sweat. He’d be sneaking him and Gula some food when they got home, but-

“What is this?”

The voice was too soft, too pleased. There was a coldness coming to his veins as Ur turned around slowly, noting the blond man sitting up in the bed. His own face, a bit older bit his face no less, was looking back at him.

“To think you’d come-“

Ur closed his eyes, forcing those strange gates from before open.

He pulled the sword out from before, glaring at the king before him.

“Where is my sister?” Ur hissed.

“Hmm?”

“Where. Is. My. Sister?”

A figure shifted in the bed, the brown hair in the dim torchlight unmistakable now.

Finally!

“You are my son, are you not?” The king rose from the sheets, standing up on tall legs to a towering height. Those red eyes gleamed, glowing as he looked over at him. He was all fine fabrics and glimmering gold.

“No, I’m not.”

“Oh?”

“I don’t have an abum. I don’t need one!”

“You lie so poorly,” the blond monster teased, that smile flashing as the king stepped forward. His body seemed to jingle as he moved. “You must get that from Hakuno. She’s always been so bad at lying. She never could keep a secret, especially from me.”

“Give me my sister and leave us alone,” Ur growled.

“Put the sword down before you hurt yourself, child. Your hands cannot even hold that thing.”

“I’m highly trained!”

“Liar.”

A series of gates opened. The lights went out.

Ur barely had the chance to react before he felt something slam him up against the wall. His sword was knocked from his hands, clattering away into the depths of the darkness.

He couldn’t breathe!

“You lie so poorly,” the king’s voice murmured. “It seems your ummum was soft with-“

The words were stopped with his head slamming forward, banging into the king’s ugly face. At his surprised yelp, Ur sprung forth, running for the door nearby.

His eyes landed on a garden, the sound of footsteps hurrying after him.

Once the man made it out here, he’d-

Something smacked the back of his head, sending him stumbling to greet the dirt. A figure nearby gasped.

“Siduri, what are you doing here?”

“I called the soldiers to search the palace with me for a young blond boy that was running around,” the woman from before replied.

“It seems my son was eager to join his sister in being here.”

He couldn’t move. His head hurt. His leg was aching.

“My king, his leg-“

“Fetch one of the apsu. I do believe the boy pulled one of my poisoned weapons from the gates just now in an attempt to kill me.”

“Should I-“

“He will be a good boy.” The words echoed around him, the sight of the man’s smile looming nearby as he felt his consciousness fading. “After all, he is the prince of this kingdom.”

#drabble #drabbles

[seokiloquy]

Sniff - Kuroo & Kozume

AU: Werewolf (with hardly any werewolf content, I’m sorry)

Requested (I may have changed it a bit, oops)

Word Count: 2.1k+

Miyagi prefecture was home to many subsidiary pack groups that often were at odd ends with each other. Other prefectures had more balance, forming alliances and annual gatherings to share resources and information. Tokyo was a good example of such, though there were smaller groups that covered less ground, they had a balance. Miyagi did not. Though you were never at the forefront of the various battles that happened between the packs, typically spending your time working on the gardening side of things (which had its own conflicts), you often watched from the sidelines as the various hunters and athletes competed against each other. Training, practicing, getting stronger.

Shiratorizawa was at the top of the food chain in Miyagi, they had the strongest hunters and the largest pack. Aoba Johsai was a rising opponent but never quite made it to the top. Other groups often watched the competitors duke it out when they crossed paths, practice or otherwise. Karasuno, your home base, was small. Most of the buildings in the surrounding area were short and the ground was great for harvesting. Other packs came to your home in need of rice or other vegetables. It had been years since Karasuno was seen as a pack with a fighting chance in the annual trials. The generation that had been known to be award-winning athletes had now grown out of their peak metabolic state, moving on to join the workforce. Very few continued in their sport.

Your family was the head of harvesting. Your father worked with roots and your mother took charge of the pickings, and in your free moments outside of school, you worked in the rice fields. Breaking your back (and others) to gather all the grain when you weren’t learning through the day. 

It was crunch time this year. By some odd chance, three of your town’s teams had made it to the national tournament, beating out the arguably stronger teams of Aoba Johsai and Shiratorizawa. Because of this, you (and everyone else in the community that weren’t part of the training teams) had to gather as many resources as possible to award the winning communities in their respective fields at the end of the tournament. 

Everything hurts your brain nowadays. This time of the year was a drag. Despite being happy about your pack’s success, you desperately wished that only one team had succeeded. Now, you had to gather three times more rice than you normally did. 

Sadly, Karasuno never qualified for any of the traditional competitions. Hunting, tracking, and speed wasn’t in high demand for a mostly harvest based group. It was the new age games that Karasuno managed to succeed in. Soccer -just like every year-, Tennis, and Volleyball. The latter two were the surprising wins.

“(L/N), do you want a hand with that?” Yoshida was in his final year of participating in these games but as a member of the pack’s soccer team, the two of you had gotten to know each other over years of competition.

You gladly handed over the large wicker basket that held the harvested paddies, “Thanks.”

“You’ve got your work cut out for you this year, don’t you?” the dark-haired player asked rhetorically.

You sighed, “I still have to mill every grain,” you sniffed, “You know what, give that back.”

“Huh? Why?” he asked, handing the large basket back.

“Oujiyama.”

Without warning, besides the brief name you had given, the tennis captain railed into the side of the soccer player, tackling him down. The large wolf easily shifted into his normal form, laughing at the startled man below him. Yoshida growled, easily retaliating and turned the quaffed hair of Oujiyama into a bird’s nest. Bouncing the wicker basket in your arms, you sighed and left the two competing wolves to wrestle in the dirt.

“If I didn’t know any better, I would think you two were alpha’s fighting for a mate’s attention.”

Oujiyama was the first to recover from the tussle on the ground, brushing off the dirt from his shoulders, “I am an alpha!”

Yoshida, a beta, took the comment as a compliment. He started skipping to catch up to you.

“Maybe, but I know better. Your guys’ egos are just massive.”

Yoshida stopped skipping and swiped the basket from you with a pout.

The three of you travelled to the outer edge of Karasuno’s community, where a small truck was parked. Yoshida dropped the basket in the back along with all of the other containers of food and draped the tarp over it all. 

“Are you guys heading in early?”

Nodding, you tied the blue tarp down to the edges of the truck. “Ya, we have to finish preparing the rice and help set everything up before all the packs show up.” You let out a whining breath, “It’s too much work. Luckily others from other packs will be there to help and the teams that are already in Tokyo will be helping too.”

With the help of some of the other paddy workers across Tokyo, you managed to mill all of the rice that had been brought in three days. Those days were spent waking up before the hunters came back from their treks at dawn, and working on your knees until long after the sun had set. Now your muscles hurt, your nose was stuffed and you desperately wanted some tea.

Stupid sniffer.

“(Y/N), you’re off work right? Can you go to the sport competition sites and bring some of these towels?”

“Huh? Oh sure,” you held out your arms to carry the stack of soft materials. “Which ones should I go to?”

The suit-clad woman checked the list in her hand before pointing behind you. 

“If you walk south you can take a circular route from the wolf and human sprint courses, through the tennis courts and basketball gyms to end up at the volleyball gym. The Tokyo teams are practicing and all of the other packs are expected to arrive later this evening, make sure that there are enough. Oh, those too,” she pointed to a towel filled cart.

Your brain felt numb again. You laughed pitifully as the woman walked away, watching as she yelled at a few brawling wolves on the path. Dropping the towels onto the rolling cart to your side, you began pushing the large weight in the direction of the tracks. You desperately wanted to smell the clean cotton but your nose was clogged. A whine escaped you.

Most of the competing players were taking breaks, a lot of the boys had shifted into their wolf forms to lounge in the sun and pant while a majority of the girls decided to stick to the shade and drink water. They both thankfully took the towels you delivered, though a few came close to biting your hand as they did.

While at the tennis court Oujiyama ran up to you, racket held tightly in his mouth whining for you to pour water over his head. You complied but weren’t too happy about it.

It was only when you made it to the volleyball courts where the players had been playing rigorously. You delivered the towels to the girl’s teams before making your way to the boys, who were yelling much louder than you would expect them to.

“Excuse me, sir, I brought some towels.”

The old man looked your way. His arms were tightly crossed over his chest and his eyes seemed to be set in a permanent glare meant for scrutinizing every movement before him.

“Oh, thank you,” he said, flicking his wrist to look at the watch that was hidden under his red sleeve. “I guess it is a good time for a break. Boys!”

All the heads on the court turned your way, including those that were clearly from different packs. The old man looked sent a questioning look in the direction of the other coaches, who gave a positive nod.

“Break!”

Immediately all the players ran in the direction of their water bottles. Some shifted in hopes to get there faster than the others, nearly breaking their bottles in the grip of the wolf jaws, and startling their managers in the process. Some began to line up before you, politely asking for towels to which you responded by gently holding them out or dropping it around furry necks.

“You seem tired,” the last one said in a hushed tone.

You let out a sigh, “I’ve been preparing rice for the winning prizes for the past few days, and now that that’s done I need to help with other preparations before all the packs arrive.”

The boy hummed, taking a sip from his bottle, “do you at least get to have a break to watch the games?”

“Thankfully,” you said as you leaned against the now empty cart, sniffing. “It’s like this every year to an extent but this time we have three groups competing which means three times the work.”

The boy took the space beside you, letting his weight shift the cart slightly. “What pack do you come from?” He asked.

“Karasuno.”

“Ah, do you know Shoyo?”

You shrugged a shoulder, “I’ve never actually spoken to the volleyball team, but I’ve seen them around. I tend to spend most of my time working, so any of the people I talk to are mostly out of convenience.” You thought about Yoshida and Oujiyama for a moment, “Or they just pester me for food.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing, sorry.” You dug your shoe into the wooden floor, “So what’s your name any-”

“Hey Kenma.”

“It’s Kozume. That’s Kuroo.”

“Tetsurou.”

The tall black-haired player that had interrupted the boy you were speaking to -Kozume- walked over with his hands placed on his hips. He breathed deeply before letting out an amused huff. Kozume huffed.

“You’re willing to talk to a stranger you just met over your own team? That’s new.”

“The stranger’s name is-”

“(Y/N).”

“That. And unlike the team (Y/N) actually relaxed and not loud.”

“Are you saying that that’s not relaxed?” Kuroo asked, throwing an arm out to gesture back to his teammates.

The boys he was referring to were all sprawled across the floor breathing heavily. One, in particular, was in his wolf form rolled onto his back while holding the squeezable water bottle between his teeth, squishing it, and chugging down the contents that poured out. Kenma pushed off the cart to stand next to Kuroo.

“That’s exhaustion, not relaxation.”

As the two bickered back and forth, you spun around to grab the handle of your cart.

“I’ll just go. I’ll see you two around.”

They paid you no mind, continuing to argue over Kenma’s relationships with his teammates. Despite the topic being focused on the dyed blonde, Kuroo seemed to be the more passionate of the two regarding the topic.

Nodding, you shuffled backwards while chewing your lip. The coaches, having caught your exit, sent you grateful smiles and waves that you returned before scooting yourself out of there.

Meeting your own packs volleyball team was an interesting experience. As soon as the bus doors opened a few of them, in the canine forms, jumped out and began running around the open parking lot. They howled continuously until their captain had to yell them down. You started speaking to Ukai and Takeda, showing them a map of the area.

When the Nekoma volleyball team came to greet them it seemed as though all hell broke loose. Nekomata came to your side, gently taking the map from your hands and began leading the coaches in the right direction.

You began walking behind the older men, silently listening in to their conversation and chiming in wherever there was a turn to be made.

Kozume began to walk alongside you, taking who turned out to be Shoyo with him. How you managed to participate in their conversation was beyond you, but you mentally thanked Kozume’s ability to keep the energetic orange talking for the lack of silence.

When the Karasuno volleyball team managed to get all their bags inside their rooms you sighed happily, now free of work. 

“You should go rest, a lot of the games start tomorrow and you don’t want to miss them.” Kuroo had popped up, startling you slightly.

You turned to face his hunched figure head-on. “I’m mostly planning on watching tennis and soccer games. My friends are playing.”

“Well, using that criteria you should be planning to watch our games too.” Kenma had somehow managed to get away from Shoyo and sneak up behind you. He looked a bit drained but not much more than he normally would.

“Huh?” you sniffed again.

Kuroo smiled cheekily and leaned a bit further down, making it easier to see both of his eyes through the hanging black strands.

“Well, you should come to see us play. Don’t you think, mate?”

Despite being the person that controls posting these, I don’t tpically have things to say.... oops - Bacon 

Posted: 03/07/2020

#haikyuu x reader #kuroo tetsurou #kenma kozume #kuroo x reader #kenma x reader #Haikyuu #x reader #oneshot #oneshots #haikyuu oneshots #haikyuu reader insert #reader insert #aus #haikyuu aus #fluff #haikyu #anime x reader #anime #manga x reader #manga

[aswallowssong]

OWP (but make it December?) Day 12 - My BFF

These are back too! I forgot I had already written this one (bless) so I guess the one that’s basically just silliness will have to wait until tomorrow... oops?

Read on AO3

-----

JJ had brought the game under the guise that they could only play so much poker in a five hour flight. 

Kit knew that it was really because Hotch would never let them play five hours of poker on the jet. Someone would come away wounded.

She also knew it was for her benefit. She’d been working between sites for two months, and she didn’t know much about anyone on the team, save for Morgan. Even with their morning workouts, they were surface level friends at best. 

Somehow she thought that it might have been Hotch behind it, but she couldn’t be sure, and she wasn’t going to ask. While still holding fast to the mantra that she wasn’t a part of the BAU team, the more they made an attempt to include her, the more she wished it were true.

“Okay, this one says, who’s your best friend?”

“Lame,” Elle said, her small grin full of mirth. Morgan nodded, “Yeah, that’s a boring one. Why do you always pick the most mellow cards, Jayje?”

JJ pouted momentarily. “You have to pick off the top, Morgan. What was I supposed to do, look through the cards until I found one I liked? That’s cheating.”

“Actually, I don’t think you can cheat in games like this, because there isn’t a point system. No winner, or loser, would be affected by the cards chosen.”

“This isn’t a game you can win,” Kit said, “If there isn’t a point system, how would you win at all?”

Reid thought for a moment with his eyebrows pulled together before he looked over at JJ and said simply. “This isn’t a game.”

“I didn’t say it was a game,” JJ said evenly, though the annoyance radiating off of her was entirely palpable. Elle shrugged as she and Morgan shared a look, but Spencer wasn’t done. “Actually, you said ‘Okay everyone, we aren’t playing cards for five hours, we’re playing a game that’-”

“Who’s your best friend, Reid?” Elle said, effectively both cutting off his verbatim quote of JJ from an hour before, and his impending death-by-Kit-glare if he continued. She hated when he quoted someone back to themselves. It felt like Reid trying to show off, and she hated a show off. 

Reid was clearly caught off guard, though he was the one next to JJ. The rule was that everyone had to answer but the person holding the card, and Reid was seated on JJ’s other side. “Oh, um. I don’t know. Morgan?”

“Aw, thanks Pretty Boy,” Morgan said, heckling from across the table. “I’ll say you, but just because you said me, and you make the coffee in the breakroom almost good compared to the way Elle makes it.”

Elle, who was next to Morgan, rolled her eyes and shoved at him. “Listen, that coffee sucks without my help.”

“Who’s your best friend, Elle?” JJ asked, she and Kit sharing the same laugh as they watched the two bicker back and forth. Elle thought for a second before she said, “I guess Liza. She and I went through the academy together, and then we were both in Seattle. We get together when she’s in town and try to talk, but…” She trailed off and gestured vaguely, but they all knew. Kit nodded along with the others. She felt like she barely ever talked to her siblings anymore, especially the ones she didn’t live with. The BAU was running them all ragged, one day at a time.

Elle looked up at Kit, nodded at her. “Alright, Lep. You’re last, go ahead.”

“Hotch and Gideon didn’t go,” Kit said, nodding towards the men on the other side of the jet. They both insisted they were not playing, but they’d still been asked every question, and both had answered with little to no interest.

“Haley,” Hotch said easily, without even looking up from his file.

“David Rossi,” Gideon said, barely glancing up from his book before looking back down.

The group of five around the table were silent for a second before Elle nodded, looking over at Kit and saying, “Okay, there you go. Haley and David Rossi.”

“Who’s yours?” JJ said, giving Kit a small, encouraging smile.

Kit took a breath and tilted her head. “Um. Oh, okay. Monty, easily.”

“Monty isn’t your best friend,” Morgan said, and Kit raised an eyebrow at him.

“Oh, no?”

“No, she’s your identical twin sister who you work and live with. That’s not friendship, that’s codependency.”

Kit raised an eyebrow at him, eyes going hard and defensive. She knew he was joking, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. “Okay, so, Ari then?”

“Don’t you all live together?” Reid asked, tactlessly. “That would make Morgan’s reasoning sound for both your… twins? Siblings? How are you supposed to phrase that?”

“Cúpla,” she said easily, “Ari and I aren’t identical twins.”

“You’re in a set of triplets,” Elle pointed out. “I think that counts.”

These fucking people.

“Okay, well, then…” Kit trailed off, ears burning as she realized she didn’t really have any friends that weren’t Ari or Monty. They spent their time together on Sundays, the only day they all had off, and Kit saw Ari in the evenings and Monty leaving work. All her other time was spent in the clinic, or at the BAU.

“Then?” JJ prompted, and Kit sighed and looked away from their group. “Then I guess I don’t have one.”

“You don’t talk with any of the girls from the clinic?” Morgan asked, and Kit shook her head. 

Elle prompted further, “What about your academy roommate?”

“Monty,” she said quietly, one hand coming up to tug at her left braid while the other slid along the leg of her pants. 

Morgan spoke again, gently throwing an elbow in her direction, “No secret boyfriend?”

She knew he was teasing. He was trying to bring the mood back up; the mood she’d clearly just crushed by admitting that she didn’t have any friends at all. “I don’t have time for a secret boyfriend, even if I wanted one,” Kit said, rolling her eyes and swatting at his shoulder. 

Reid looked confused at the other end of the table, next to Elle. “We have a two day weekend every week. Surely if you wanted to go out, you could go on either Friday or Saturday night without seeing sleep repercussions?”

Kit shook her head. This conversation was very quickly going from sort of sad to super depressing. “I work Saturdays in the clinic. My only day off during the week is Sunday, and if we’re on a case, I don’t get a day off at all.”

“You work six days a week?” JJ asked, clearly unaware. Kit didn’t care, she’d never told them, and hadn’t anticipated it coming up. She didn’t really care. Why would she?

She was sort of glad the conversation was scooting away from her lack of any conceivable friendship.

“Yeah,” she said with a shrug, “I have to keep my hours balanced. Three days with you, three days with them.”

“That doesn’t leave you a lot of personal time for friends.” Elle crossed one leg over the other, actively wrangling the conversation back into the super depressing. Kit wished she would have left it alone, but she knew it was strange. What twenty five year old had literally no friends?

They were quiet again for far too long. Kit refused to look up, or around, or at anything at all. She focused on the dryness of her hands, constantly chapped and raw from washing and washing in the clinic. She was startled when, out of anyone sitting there, Reid spoke up. 

“You talk to us,” he said simply.

The other three nodded immediately, words tumbling and spilling as if they’d all been wanting to speak up, and now the floodgate was open for them.

“You came to my apartment when I got strep,” JJ said. “I wouldn’t have called anyone but a friend for that.”

“And I’ve never had a better training partner,” Morgan said, “No one else is competitive enough.”

“I didn’t think anyone else would share the same taste in music as I do, but then we caught you at the bar, and I knew you were cool before, but that really sold it.”

Kit looked around at them before feeling a small smile tug at the corners of her mouth. She knew what they were doing, of course, but the feelings coming off of them were genuine. They meant what they said, and she was incredibly grateful. She didn’t let the tears that threatened to prick get any further than a threat, but she had to physically swallow and clear her throat before she could speak.

“Thank you. All of you. I guess… I guess you guys are my best friends.”

Morgan scoffed, giving her a smirk and nodding towards Reid. “You may have to fight Pretty Ricky over there for it,” he said, watching for Reid’s reaction, which was exactly what they all expected it to be.

“‘Best’' is a qualifier of relative quality, which means that its place as a superlative adjective makes it of a singular quantity. Superlative adjectives are used to show-”

“You can have more than one best friend, Spence,” JJ said, cutting him off and nodding toward Kit, who’s cheeks lit a similar color to her hair. He seemed to realize and read the situation, though he’d already shoved his foot in his mouth, and instead of continuing just said quietly, “Right. Yeah, obviously. The world isn’t a thesis.”

“The world isn’t a thesis,” Elle echoed before nudging the deck of questions towards him. “Your turn, Doctor Reid.”

He fidgeted with his fingers before pulling the top card from the deck, reading aloud, “What is your favorite color?”

“No!”

“Throw the whole game away!”

“It’s not a game! We’ve established that this does not meet the qualities that allow something to be a game!”

“Shut up, Reid!”

Kit watched as the jet settled, all of the attention being pulled away from her as a warm presence settled in her chest. 

Yes. These people, who drive me crazy, and have no concept of personal care of any kind. These people are my best friends.

#Brenna writes things #or at least she tries #October Writing Prompts #OWP #day 12 #My BFF #Criminal Minds #SCRC #Kit needs some friends

[arigatouiris]

daughter of artemis // p.p — [07]

c h a p t e r  s e v e n

Pairing: Peter Parker x Demigod! Reader [Female pronouns]

Warnings: swearing; angst [a lot of it]; greek mythology rewritten [completely my interpretation of it, oops]; slightly based off the games god of war and assassin’s creed odyssey; hurt/comfort; cliche; fluff [on later chapters sometimes]; mentions of sex and gore; slight alternate universe

Follows events after Endgame, but Tony, Natasha, Steve, Loki are alive in this universe.

Author’s Note: Ohohoho~ Finally a proper reveal! Let me know what you guys think! Also, this story may follow FFH plotline (I haven’t watched it yet, I’ve got a show for tomorrow since being an adult sucks and I have no choice but to wait till the weekend to watch it). Anyway, hope you guys like this chapter!

Word count: 4193

07 // θυμός anger

❅

That day she waited for class to end, but didn’t seem too impatient about it. Sitting back, she waited till everyone left class so that it would be easier for her to spot the Hyena janitor. The Hyena henchman was the only henchman who hadn’t seen her, even back in Olympus. So there was no way for him to find out who she was. (y/n) sat back, opened the newest book she was reading, and simply waited. Everyone was already eager to leave, and it would happen soon enough.

However, she felt a presence appear before her. Presence of two, if she was precise. Looking up, her heart skipped a beat as she met the gaze of Peter Parker, and his best friend, Ned Leeds. Smiling instantly, and trying to cover up any signs that she recognized him, she waited for him to say something first.

She still couldn’t believe that she had found him. His eyes were just as they were in her vision; brown and warm, a hug that was invisible whenever he looked at her. He represented all things soft and caring, especially with how awkward he was with his own introduction. She didn’t know who he was to her, but there was something about Peter Parker that made her feel at ease. After all, all those years ago, she held onto his vision as something that comforted her; all those nights she couldn’t sleep, she grappled onto Peter Parker’s brown eyes for comfort.

All of which, he had no idea about.

    “What’s up, Peter Parker?” She liked saying his whole name, like a character off a book that you grow to like as soon as they are mentioned.

    “Ned and I were thinking if you'd maybe, want to watch Star Wars with us?” Ned nodded from the back, looking excited.

She chuckled before cocking her eyebrow confusedly, before tilting her head a bit. Peter looked at Ned who ushered to her once again, impatiently.

    “The movies. They are simply amazing, (y/n).” Peter said, grinning.

    “Especially the fifth and sixth ones.”

    “So many chilling moments.”

    “Even though the prequels might be questionable, Obi Wan makes everything bearable—”

    “Oh and the fights!”

    “Can’t forget how badass Yoda is in those moments.”

    “And I actually like Rey a lot, despite the whole commotion.”

    “It’s like when women are shown as strong in movies, people just get offended and call them names like ‘Mary Sue’ or whatever—”

    “Peter.” (y/n) said, giggling, forcing both of them to stop rambling, and look at her with red faces.

    “So, what do you say?” Peter asked, and she noticed the nervousness in his voice.

Her heart broke as she said, “I can’t today, Peter. I’m sorry.”

For some strange reason, the boy read her tone as cold. As if his entire morale fell, he began to understand why people called her intimidating. It wasn’t intimidation as such, it felt as if no one was on par with her. She wasn’t just regular, there was something special about her (he knew she could fight like a badass, but even more than that). Peter couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Stepping back, he understood where he stands. Ned looked over at his friend and understood his disappointment.

    “I’m sorry.” (y/n) said, but that didn’t help.

    “No, it’s fine! I mean—I get it. Well, see you around.” Peter said, his ears red with embarrassment, and his heart shattered.

    “Come on,” Ned whispered and ushered his friend out of class.

(y/n) watched them leave and kept her gaze fixed at the door even after they had left. Pressing her lips together, she looked down and felt terrible on the inside. Even if she wanted to go with them, she knew she couldn’t. She was fighting to be a God! What use was mingling with mortals? Even if she had seen Peter in her vision, there was no way she could become friends with him. She was well past that now.

Peter on the other hand, took it like a proper rejection. He didn’t have a crush on her per se, but he did definitely want to be friends with her. She found it easier to talk to him when she had nothing to share; almost as if she wants everything about her to be a secret. By being friends with Peter Parker and not as Spiderman, she would have to expose herself more than she would have to expose herself to Spiderman.

And even if he understood this, Peter didn’t quite like it. He felt Ned’s hand on his shoulder and turned to his friend with a glum expression.

    “She’s missing out, pal.” Ned said, offering his friend a kind smile.

Peter smiled back and said nothing. There was nothing to say.

❅

Half an hour had passed since Peter and Ned left the classroom. She could hear absolutely nothing from outside, and she knew this was her chance to take a look. Feeling the dagger inside her pocket, she walked out and spotted the janitor near another classroom, far ahead of her own, and watched him.

Taking a couple of steps toward him, she picked up her pace and walked over to the Hyena janitor, wondering if he could spot her and understand it was her he had to kill.

    “Excuse me,” She spoke, alerting the janitor’s attention. He was blonde haired, blue eyed—a grown up version of the Pigeon boy her uncle had shot an arrow through five years ago. “Have you seen a book titled ‘Leaves of Grass’?”

This was bait. She knew she had to make sure. If he responds to her, then he’s out. She knew of the machines Zeus had built, they were incapable of human communication. They had no soul, they had no emotions. They were vessels that were made for one thing and one thing only.

He stared at her and turned away, continuing to clean an impeccably clean spot on the ground. (y/n) watched as the mop twisted and turned on the floor, before shooting her gaze at the janitor again. This is it, she thought, gripping the dagger inside her pocket.

    “You two are such losers.” She heard a girl’s voice, causing her to freeze at spot. Turning to look ahead of the janitor, she saw Peter, Ned and a curly haired girl wearing a sweatshirt, walking toward her.

She blinked before relaxing once more. She noticed Peter’s expression, which was of hurt, before nodding once at him and turning away. Walking as quickly as she could outside the school, (y/n) felt anger surge through her veins. It would have been easy, she thought as she sprinted out of the school.

    “She definitely doesn’t like me.” Peter said, sighing.

MJ looked at him with a funny expression. Turning away from him, she stared at the ground as they continued to walk outside the school. For some strange reason, MJ didn’t like the girl, who was far too secretive for a teenager to be. It wasn’t just because Peter might have been interested.

As soon as (y/n) reaches home, she kicks the door open and lets out a guttural scream. Her face was red with anger, and her hands were shaking. The only way she could calm down was if she went up to her terrace and trained, and that was exactly what she was going to do. Quickly changing out of her jeans, (y/n) wore black tights, with her regular grey tank top, tied tapes around her hands and ran up barefoot.

She liked being barefoot because it reminded her of how she would run, back in Phokis. Heading to her terrace, she brought the punching bag to a standing position and supported it using rails, and started to punch. Tears filled her eyes each time she thought about missing the chance, but there was always tomorrow.

And tomorrow she wouldn’t just leave.

What felt like hours later, she felt a presence behind her. She knew who it was before she could even think words in her mind. However, she ignored Spiderman and continued punching the bag. She knew he could sense her anger, and she knew he must probably be confused as to why she was so angry, but there was no helping it. Even if this was a vulnerable moment for her, and even if Spiderman saw her at her weakest, she couldn’t stop herself. This was her equivalent for crying.

    “(y/n)?” His voice now seemed strangely familiar.

Turning to face him, Peter noticed the dried tears on her face and waited. Why was she crying? What had happened? She was fine when he had approached her that afternoon, what had suddenly caused a drastic change? Worry filled his veins, but he didn’t want to show it. He was still a tad bit bitter with how she had brushed him off earlier, but now he was starting to think if there was a reason to her being cold.

    “Spar with me, Spidey.” She said, tightening the tapes around her hands. Her knuckles were bloody because of all the punches she had thrown, but she didn’t care.

    “What?” He was confused, and not to mention, shocked. Before he could respond any further, (y/n) ran to him and landed a kick on his chest.

Spiderman fell backwards but got up immediately. He wanted her to stop, but with the way she was raging, he knew words would not reach her. So he decided to defend himself against her until she cooled down. But, he made a mistake in calculating if that would be easy. Her speed was incredible, she landed kicks and punches as if she were trained for years. Grabbing Spiderman’s hand, she twisted it behind his back and kicked the back of his knee, forcing him to the ground.

He winced, and she stopped. Breathing heavily, (y/n) let go of his arm and stepped back. She looked at his form on the ground and then looked at her own hands. He wasn’t even fighting back. Blinking away tears, the girl walked over to the edge of the roof and sat down, as she always would, letting her legs dangle below her. Spiderman followed suite, sat beside her, and waited. He didn’t know why he waited, but he knew she wasn’t okay.

He had never seen her this agitated before. He had always seen her calm and collected, sassy whenever he asked her a question about herself that he knew she wouldn’t answer. But right then, (y/n) was being as transparent than she had ever been before. Spiderman thought that was confusing. She bent down and put her face in her hands, and Peter wondered if she was crying.

After several minutes, “Have you watched Star Wars, Spidey?”

Spiderman was taken aback. He knew she was asking him this to avoid talking about whatever was bothering her, so he decided to play along.

    “Yep. The movies are great! Why, haven’t you seen any?”

She shook her head, sitting back up straight. Her lips were pressed together in a thin line. Spiderman continued to talk.  

    “The movies, they’re simply amazing, (y/n).” Peter said, unconsciously.

(y/n)’s eyes widened instantaneously. Turning to Spiderman, she frowned a bit.

    “Oh yeah?” She asked, waiting for more signs.

    “Yes! The storyline is incredible, and my favorite is Empire Strikes Back, it’s the fifth movie. And in the new sequels, there’s a lot of debate going on as to who Rey is and these characters, they’re going to stay with you forever, you know?”

(y/n) smiled softly before putting two and two together. Before she could say his name out loud, Spiderman got up and apologized.

    “There’s been a robbery at 8th street, I have to go!”

(y/n) smiled at him before nodding once. “Go save lives, Spiderman.”

Spiderman, or in simpler terms, Peter Parker in disguise, shot her a thumbs up before jumping away. He’s Spiderman, she thought as she continued to sit there for a while longer. That’s why both of them were in my vision. Spiderman is Peter Parker. Strangely, this didn’t confuse her, neither did it surprise her. It was as if this information was something she had always known but only forgot. Chuckling, (y/n) went back to training some more.

❅

Apollo entered her apartment with food that night. (y/n) stared at him as he made himself comfortable, setting the food on the table and ignoring her presence. She knew what he was doing, she knew why he was there. Walking over to him, she grabbed a box of noodles and walked away, not saying a word. Apollo glared at her, before deciding to break the silence.

    “What is wrong with you?”

    “People are going to find out you and I are related.” (y/n) said, rolling her eyes and opening the box of noodles.

    “That’s not as problematic as them finding out you’re not entirely human.”

She scoffed before replying, “They won’t,” taking a whole mouthful of noodles, she continued, “I’ve been careful.”

    “Oh really? Then who’s the weird spider suit boy you’ve been chummy with?”

She froze. Looking up at her uncle, and giving him the nastiest glare she could conjure, “He’s a friend. And we know nothing about each other.”

    “Right—”

    “His identity is a secret, and so is mine. We just talk about animals and other stupid stuff.”

Apollo took out his own box of noodles and sat opposite of where his niece was sitting. He was currently wearing a white tee-shirt, casual shorts and his hair was a mess. It didn’t matter, Apollo was a Greek God, he looked handsome.

    “Are you sure his identity is a secret?”

(y/n) ignored him and continued eating her dinner. Taking the hint, Apollo backed off.

    “What do you plan on doing, (y/n)?”

    “What do you mean?” She asked in response, focusing primarily on the noodles.

    “You know. With the henchman showing up and everything.”

    “I’m going to kill him, and the other two, wherever they are. And then I’m going to end Zeus’ reign and become a God. I thought you knew this.”

Apollo nodded once before saying, “What about your father?”

(y/n) froze. Not looking up at him, she said, coldly, “What about him?”

    “You wanted to find him. You came here looking for him.”

There was an uncomfortable silence in the air. Yes, she was hellbent on finding her father and whoever this Pepper person was. But that was years ago. That was before she knew what her mother wanted her to do. Now there was no one else to carry out her prophecy; no one but herself. She had to take a stand. And if she was to become a God, then there was no need for finding her father.

(y/n) licked her lips and finally looked at her uncle in the eye. Placing the box of noodles aside, the girl folded her arms and watched him intently.

    “You know who he is, don’t you?”

The shock presented itself rather clearly on Apollo’s face. (y/n) smirked bitterly before once again starting to eat, shaking her head to herself.

    “I… I don’t—”

    “You brought me here to New York, out of all the places in America, where I meet two of the people in my vision. Tell me, uncle. Why New York?”

Apollo stared at his niece in wonder. How long had she known? When had she figured this out? He gave her far too little credit; (y/n) was a demigod, she was smarter than any other regular mortal. To even think he could keep this a secret from her was silly of him. Apollo felt ashamed, far too ashamed than he had ever felt before.

    “It’s easier to extract information from a mortal. So, mother didn’t tell me who he is. But, you know.”

Tears fill Apollo’s eyes for a strange reason he couldn’t pinpoint. Blinking them away, he hoped his niece’s pain doesn’t convert to a feeling of betrayal.

    “I’m… I’m so—”

    “My mother willed it that I don’t know who my father is. So that he is safe and kept away from all this rubbish. So, let it be that way. And besides, once I become a God, I can’t live a normal human life. Finding my father is completely redundant.”

     “(y/n)...” Apollo let out, without realizing. 

     “I’m not who I was, uncle.”

To think the God of the Sun could feel this sad was absurd, but he felt it. As a matter of fact, he felt practically nothing. He didn’t watch as his niece took the box of noodles and went ahead to dispose it. He didn’t notice her tell him she was going to bed. Apollo sat there, alone, feeling miserable and missing his sister. There was a slight tingle at the ends of his fingers, a tingle he couldn’t remember having ever felt before.

What do I do? He asked his dead sister. What do I do, Artemis? She’s turning into the one thing you never wanted her to become.

Apollo sniffed the tears behind and rubbed a hand across his face.

She’s turning into a God.

❅

It had been close to a month since Thanos was defeated. And yet, for Tony Stark, the fear hadn’t truly disappeared. It was like the feeling after an anxiety attack, there was still a lingering fear that made you worry that something more was to come, but even if you knew that this was all for now, the feeling never quite went away. Tony had imagined victory to feel different from how it felt at that moment, but he was glad nevertheless.

Morgan was asleep by his side and even if he probably could never use his right hand again, Tony was alive and was back with his family; a family he loved more than he could love anything in the world.

He was certain that he would die that day. However, there was something strange that Tony saw that he couldn’t quite tell anyone else about. A voice, right after snapping his fingers. Tony heard a voice he hadn’t ever heard before; the voice of a girl. It felt familiar, but he was also certain he hadn’t heard it, but the familiarity stemmed from it being a nice, warm feeling. He couldn’t remember her words, nor could he remember her face, but she was there. For those few seconds after he had snapped Thanos and his goons into dust, she was there, with him, holding on to him, keeping him alive.

Turning to Morgan, he wondered if the voice belonged to his daughter. Grown up and well, guiding him, shielding him, protecting him and keeping him warm.

Coming back to not being able to feel his right hand, things were quite simple. He hated being handed things, but now things were always being handed to him. He knew for a fact that when he could get up and move about, he would definitely do something about his hand situation. Even if Pepper advises him not to, there was always a rebel living inside Tony’s heart.

The door opened and in came Pepper, offering him a loving smile and turning to their daughter with warmth.

    “She’s asleep.”

    “After listening to the thousandth story for the thousandth time.” Tony retorted.

Pepper chuckled before carrying little Morgan, holding her in her arms.  

    “Someone’s here to see you, Tony.”

    “Please tell me it’s not Steve, I can’t bear to see Steve right now, I don’t even have a—”

The door opened and Natasha smirked, “I’m not Steve.”

    “Oh, hi, Nat. Yes, just walk in, I’m completely fine and don’t have anything on me that is embarrassing or weird.”

Natasha rolled her eyes, “I’m going to ignore that comment.”

    “Sit down, you look distressed. Don’t tell me another creature is here to wipe off the universe. Good thing I still have another good hand.”

Pepper gave her husband a look. “Too soon?” Tony asked, before sighing and leaning back on his bed.

However, Natasha was distressed. On her way to Tony’s cabin, Natasha was heading over to the Stark industries—where the Avengers were still operating. She observed a rather strange person trying to enter Stark industries, a strange symbol on their jacket.

A symbol she had seen from five years ago. The symbol of a wolf, engraved on his jacket, just like a Sloth had been engraved on another jacket. Evading him as smoothly as she could, Natasha knew she had to confirm something, and that could only happen here.

Natasha had almost forgotten about (y/n). She remembered confirming with Pepper about going to Greece years ago, but now she had something to show for it. She couldn’t quite call the world peaceful just yet, having fought one of those crazy mud beasts that were after the girl five years ago. Pepper sat down on a couch with Morgan in her arms, still asleep.

Looking up at Tony, she let out a breath.

    “You’ve been to Greece, right?”

Tony blinks at her. “Loads of times. What is this? A random question and answer—”

    “I remember you asked me that years ago.” Pepper recalled.

Natasha nodded, “Yeah, the art gala thing. Tell me about it.”

    “Nat, is there another threat? Tell me there’s no threat, I cannot deal with another threat right now. Do you understand—”

    “Tony. Answer the goddamn question.”

Pepper looked at Tony and then at Natasha. The way she looked seemed calm, and she guessed that it wasn’t a threat, but something else. Natasha’s inquiries resembled the questions you’d ask a boyfriend on his whereabouts. She stood by the door, folding her arms in front of her chest. 

    “Hmm, well, that art gala thing was close to 20 years ago. There was this incredibly, ahem, attractive woman—”

    “Go ahead, and say the word. I knew you were attracted to her.” Pepper said, with a smile.

    “They were twins. Alec and Aria. Phew. I can’t ever forget her.” Tony said, leaning back, almost mumbling.

    “Why not?” Natasha asked, curious.

    “Well, she told me something very important after we...you know...”

    “You had sex with her?” Pepper asked, surprised.

Tony shrugged before saying, “She told me I loved Pepper. That it was always her. That when I dream, it’ll always be her.”

Pepper’s eyes widened. The blonde woman tried to fight back a smile that was coming her way, but couldn’t. She looked away, blushing.

    “Well, at least she didn’t make a mess of things and call you names for leaving her or anything.” Pepper said, rolling her eyes.

    “No, no. Actually, she was quite relaxed about everything. She wasn’t bitter, she wasn’t trying to make me stay or anything. It was almost as if she was a saint. Nothing bad about her, I’m afraid. I think,” Tony scrunched up his face, “She was the only woman who didn’t try to kill me after we had sex. We actually had a proper conversation after we did the deed.”

    “She had a twin brother, right?” Natasha asked Pepper.

Pepper nodded, “He was incredibly handsome, women everywhere were just fawning over Alec, it was incredible how he didn’t ever lose control of himself like a certain billionaire.” Tony gave his wife a look.

    “Did he look like this?”

Natasha showed them both a picture. It was of a grown man and a girl, almost thirteen years old, their backs facing the camera, standing beside one another, at the edge of a roof. He was turning to her, so his face was visible from the side, but the girl’s face was not.

    “Oh, yes! That’s him. I can’t ever mistake it.” Pepper said, touching the picture.

Tony frowned before asking, “Why do I think that’s not who we’re talking about?”

Natasha smirked at Tony’s response. 

    “This is a picture from five years ago. After the snap,” Pepper and Tony nodded, waiting for Natasha to continue. Black Widow pointed to the girl in the picture and continued, “She’s his twin sister’s daughter.”

Neither of them say a word. It was as if Pepper had already figured it out, as one of her hands flew to her mouth. She looked at Tony, who still didn’t take the hint.

    “Tony,” Natasha pressed. “How many years ago did you go to Greece for this gala? Tell me the exact number.”

Tony looked straight into Natasha’s eyes, “Eighteen. It was somewhere in 2005.”

    “This girl is 18 years old now, Tony.”

Only one word could describe what Tony was feeling. Only one word made sense for the moment. That word was the only response to something like this, which made everyone understand that Tony had understood what Natasha was trying to tell him.

    “Fuck.”

❅

series taglist:

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