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arlaina28 · 9 months

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The Girlfriend Experience- The First Time You See Them Angry- Suga’s Version

Fandom- BTS

Relationship- Suga/Reader

Rated- General

I’ve been here for a month and I love it. My room is all decorated and full of little gifts that the guys have given me. They’ve all been so busy but Yoongi still makes sure to spend time with me. I honestly don’t know when he gets a chance to sleep with the way he works. I try to make sure he eats properly though, taking food to him if he doesn’t return home. I give him the food through his studio door, not being allowed into his studio at Big Hit which is strange because when he’s working at the studio at home he lets me stay in there with him but I’m willing to work with his eccentricities. His personality is so deep and I always seem to find out some new side of him.

He’s currently away I’m the next town, filming a solo music video and I can’t help but to miss him and worry about him taking care of himself. So when Jimin states he’s going to visit Yoongi and asks if I want to go with him, I jump at the chance. I throw on a cute outfit and a jacket then jump in the car with Jimin as he drives us there. We decide to stop for coffees and I get an iced americano for Yoongi, figuring he might like one. When we get there, Jimin gets caught up talking to someone so I wander off on my own, looking for Yoongi.

“Finally! That better be mine!” Someone calls out, storming towards me.

“I-I’m sorry?” I gasp in shock as the man goes to grab Yoongi’s coffee.

“You should be! The coffees were supposed to be here ages ago!” The man snaps at me.

“That’s for Yoongi!” I cry, grabbing the coffee back as he goes to drink some.

“What?! So not only did you take forever but you also forgot my order?!” The man yells, getting very closer to me.

“I don’t know what…” I start.

“How useless are you, you stupid girl?!” He shouts even louder at me.

“What is this?” A coldly calm voice comes from behind me.

I gasp and turn, looking straight into Yoongi’s face. A very pissed off looking Yoongi. My stomach drops at the look on his face and I feel myself get wet at the look on his face, the way his eyes have darkened. I bite my lip as my heart pounds with desire. I suddenly can’t help but to imagine this face of Yoongi staring down at me as he fills me up. I shiver as he speaks again.

“Why are you yelling at her?” Yoongi asks, sounding so calm that if you didn’t know him you wouldn’t know he is very pissed.

“She screwed up my order.” The man says to Yoongi.

“She isn’t a delivery girl.” Yoongi states, taking my hand.

“She…what?” The man asks.

Yoongi pokes his tongue into his cheek and turns, pulling me with him. We leave the man without a word and I feel sorry for whoever it is that’s actually bringing his coffee order. We walk to a room and Yoongi pulls me inside, shutting the door behind us.

“Are you okay?” Yoongi asks me softly, still looking pissed.

“Yes.” I smile at him.

He frowns and searches my eyes then nods, finally relaxing. He reaches out and strokes my cheek where I realise some tears have leaked. He wipes the tears away.

“Are you sure?” He whispers.

“Yes. It was just a shock to be yelled out.” I shrug with a smile.

He frowns again but nods.

“I brought this for you.” I say happily, offering him the coffee.

He gives me his gummy smile and takes the coffee.

“Thank you.” He says happily, taking a sip.

“You’re welcome.” I smile, glad he likes it.

“So, why’d you come?” He asks, tilting his head.

“Jimin said he was going to drop in and check on you so I decided to come with him. I hope that’s okay?” I reply softly.

“Jimin brought you?” He frowns. “Where is he?”

“Oh I don’t know, he was talking to someone.” I shrug.

He frowns even more, tongue poking his cheek again but doesn’t say anything.

“How is filming going?” I ask him.

“It’s good. Almost done now which is good as I’m tired.” He smiles at me.

“I’m so glad. I’ve missed you.” I reply, looking at the floor.

“You have?” He asks, sounding like he doesn’t care but I can tell by his eyes that he does.

“Yes.” I state, looking back at him.

He gives me his gummy grin again but then sighs.

“I have to get back but I’ll walk you out.” He states softly.

“Thank you.” I smile.

He smiles at me and we walk towards the exit. As we reach it, Jimin meets us. He looks really happy until he meets Yoongi’s eyes. Jimin’s smile falls and I frown at Yoongi, seeing that he looks angry again.

“Yoongi…” I start.

“Go to the car. I’ll be home by the morning.” Yoongi says calmly, too calmly.

“Yoongi…” I start again.

“Go to the car. I want to talk to Jiminie.” Yoongi smiles at me but it doesn’t make it to his eyes.

I sigh and walk away to the car. I watch as Yoongi leans into Jimin but I’m relieved that it doesn’t look like Yoongi is scolding him. Jimin nods and walks towards me.

“I’m so sorry, if I’d had any idea someone would treat you like that…” Jimin starts.

“It’s fine Jimin, you didn’t know. I hope he didn’t scold you.” I tell him.

“Yoongi-hyung, scolding me?” Jimin laughs.

“So, he didn’t?” I ask nervously.

“He never scolds us. Unless we wake him up.” Jimin grins as we get into the car.

“Good.” I sigh in relief.

We drive back to the house, laughing and joking all the way. I end up trying to stay awake for Yoongi coming back but I fall asleep on the sofa.

“Jagiya, what am I going to do with you.” I hear Yoongi sigh in my sleep.

I feel like I’m being lifted and I gasp as I wake, finding myself in Yoongi’s arms.

“Yoongi?” I whisper sleepily.

“You shouldn’t try to stay awake.” He smiles at me.

“Wanted to see you.” I whisper, nuzzling into him.

He chuckles and carries me into my room, laying me on the bed gently.

“Lay with me?” I whine sleepily.

“W-what?” He gasps.

“Please?” I pout, gripping him.

He looks horrified but lays beside me. I hum and fall back to sleep, curled into him. The next morning when I wake up, he’s not there and I’m so embarrassed I’m hoping I dreamt it all.

#bts #bts fic #min yoongi #suga #Yoongi/reader #Suga/reader

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sammysamstuff · 2 years

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a twink is literally a more or less defined term in gay jargon as "a gay male who is young (typically between 18-25) with boyish qualities (read: smooth/little to no bodyhair)" (and usually white and fashionable) (the same way "bear" is a jargon term denoting gay men who are fat and got body hair). it's got nothing inherently to do with being "weak" or "feminine" or even a bottom. it's got even less to do inherently with kink, so idk what your point was with that because it could be easily (mis)understood as you calling gay sex in general already kink. like it was a very weird jump to make in your argument.

on the topic of Will, he just straight up falls out of the very definition due to being older and quite scruffy.

like you've got a point with people needing to stop equating being a bottom to being weak, feminine, submissive and so on (plenty of twink tops out there in the world) but the way your post is worded, it comes across as incredibly confusing and self-serving (partially because i've also never seen the takes you're criticising anywhere before but that might just be me being in my bubble).

anyway long story short: twink just means a young, boyish gay man. will falls out of that category. very confusing post of yours.

Yes, I’m well aware of the meaning of the term “twink”. But thank you for the condescending ask in any case, anon, I’m a bisexual man in a mlm relationship, so I’m well aware of the terminology.

It’s clear like you said so yourself that you haven’t read the posts I’m referring to, but I’ve seen and read them and they were made by fairly popular accounts here. If you have indeed seen it and is playing stupid, well…

Not only the posts but the replies and the notes in both posts were clearly written by people who have no idea what they’re talking about and yet insist on trying to tell the fandom what to ship, how to ship it and most importantly, judging people negatively whether they use the term twink to look at/speak about Will Graham and “how twink is a fetishising term” that “should not be applied to him because it denotes “feminine, weak, submissive” which he’s not because he’s got “veiny arms” and is “scruffy” also “how could anybody think Will Graham could ever be a Twink bottom” “so disgusting” etc. Needless to say, everything in “” was in the replies and in the post itself.

Those posts were also saying that if you imagine Will Graham as a twink you’re fetishizing mlm relationships and you shouldn’t and how could you bla bla bla.

My post was in direct response to those posts and those replies. It’s not self-serving at all, I’ve posted the commentary of a gay man, who engages in sub-dom sex play and who is a bottom and who is explaining that there’s an equal power play in both sides. So if you consider yourself a twink and has a daddy and engage in power play, for instance, that doesn’t make you weak. Various arguments in the replies in one of the posts was “imagine thinking that Will Graham with those veiny arms would be some weak twink sub”. Being a twink, bottom, boy, pup, doesn’t make anybody weak or feminine, get it??

So yeah. Nice huh?? Such a nice fandom police we have.

Twink is a term that could be applied to Will Graham, or Hannibal Lecter and many other characters, it all depends on how you personally view them, it has nothing to do with canon. When I read my fics or imagine a young, skinny Will Graham I don’t imagine Hugh Dancy, but some of his traits are present but it’s not him. The same way that I when I imagine a young Hannibal Lecter, I don’t imagine Mads Mikkelsen, but a young, boyish (from my own imagination) Hannibal Lecter. So they can be twinks in my imagination if I want, in the fics I read or write.

Have you read the many different universes and descriptions of Will Graham across the fandom? Also, if he’s older and scruffy, I can also call him Twink ironically, if we’re following the definition of the term, I’m allowed to use irony and humour to play with my favourite characters. We call Will and Hannibal DILFS and that’s fun, but we can’t call them twinks because that’s feminine, weak, bottomy and not what they are at all? Like it’s offensive???? Pffttt please.

#hannigram #ask #anonymous ask #anon asks #anon reply #hannibal

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virtueisdead · 1 year

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Red Letter Day

You wake up to your ringtone blaring. Between the vibrations and chimes, you can make out the sound of a bustling city outside. Cars passing by a hundred meters down, crowds chattering; you've grown accustomed to it. The wrinkles on the bedsheets cling to your back and arms uncomfortably, but you're still too tired to bother shuffling around.

Your phone stops ringing. You waited too long. Not that you really mind. You shift slightly to pat down the sheets, only for a tiny ray of sunshine to shine straight into your eye through a crack in the blinds.

“Argh, god damnit!” You exclaim.

Your phone starts ringing again. You let out an exasperated sigh before leaning over to answer. You already know who it is. You swipe the green icon on the screen and hit speaker as you drag yourself off the mattress.

“Yeah, I fucking know. I already said you don't need to fucking call me, dude.”

[“And I already said I was going to do it anyway. As you should know, the 31s are in charge of PR. You need to be debriefed on how to handle that shit.”] A substantially older rendition of your own voice answers from the other side of the line.

“Are you old fucks gonna run me through a different version of this gauntlet every goddamn two weeks?”

[“Until you hit 99, yeah. Tough shit, ‘young-un’. Now get up. You remember where we're meeting, right?”]

“Yeah. That café downtown.”

[“Good. Be there by 10:00am. We both know there's not much time to spare.”]

They hang up on you. The whole point of this was to survive, but instead you somehow managed to lock yourself into an inescapable fate probably far worse than the previously fated death. Now, causality has you completely bound. You couldn't even kill yourself if you tried to.

The worst part is feeling that if you ever had the gall to end it– if at any point in your entire life, you managed to summon the willpower to jump off a fucking bridge somewhere, or even just not press the goddamn button– you wouldn't have to put up with this for the next 80 years.

You should get going. Not like you have much of a choice anyway. Complacency makes the world go 'round.

--->--->--->--->--->--->--->--->

You're standing outside the café. It was a harrowing trip. You called a taxi and had to put up with an endless barrage of questions you're not allowed to answer, beating around the bush hard enough to dig a canyon surrounding the damn thing. The bush, you mean. God, that metaphor was stupid. You feel like you'll never get used to this shit, but in the end, that's probably why you have to do all this damn training.

The streets are certainly pretty lively, but you can feel the unease of the passersby like it's a sixth sense at this point. You spent a great deal of time during the first several weeks idly reading impressions of your own existence on the internet, but you're still struggling to get used to the feeling of everyone staring at you no matter where you go. You certainly never wanted to be a celebrity in general, but being one who has to keep a secret from an entire world population who is nothing but curious about you is the probably the worst option, you figure.

You ignore the stares and step into the café, pushing open the door casually. The bell connected to the door rings to announce a new customer. The barista turns to get a look and her eyes widen.

“O-Oh! You're here! The older one told me you would be a bit late, so I–”

You resist the urge to curse the old shithead.

“Yeah, yeah. Just tell me what booth, and make me something like an iced caramel macchiato but with 3 shots of espresso and 6 pumps of vanilla syrup. Adjust the proportions of everything else to match”

You can see a slight twitch in her facial muscles that she tries to hide with a classic retail smile. She's probably scoffing in her head. Whatever.

“Uh, it's #11, but the others are all empty either way... I think they bought all of them out.”

You chuckle softly. Of course they fucking did.

“Cool. Thanks. I'm assuming they already payed for that exact drink ahead of time?”

She sighs. “Yes, they did.”

You groan and mumble under your breath. “What an ostentatious asshole.”

Up the stairs and around the corner you go. You stand in the entrance of a brightly lit room full of little meeting booths. There's a large window spanning the entire wall to the left. Through it, you can see a pretty impressive view of the capitol street. The booths are arranged in a circle along the wall, with one more in the middle of the room. Obviously, the douchebag you're here to meet picked the booth in the far left corner instead of the center one, because that would be too fucking obvious, you guess.

“Welcome, young one.” They exclaim in a sarcastic tone from the other side of the room. “Come, take a seat.”

“I know it's like, our brand or whatever, but do you have to be such an annoying cunt all the time?” You inquire as you make your way to the bench opposite of your conversation partner in booth #11.

“Yup. Sorry, but I don't make the rules.”

“Yes you fucking do, dickface, you would've been making them like a couple months ago by your time!”

They let out a hearty chuckle as you scoot onto the bench.

“We've really got to work on your language before you work PR. At the very least, It's nice to know you were paying attention to the assignment schedule.”

You roll your eyes. “Shut the fuck up, you already knew I was listening. Get on with it.”

They smile mockingly. You study their face a little more carefully. You're mostly numb to it by the thirtieth iteration, but there's still a pretty weird feeling in your gut every time you stare at a living, breathing adult version of yourself. Seeing wrinkles that haven't formed yet is pretty good for your present self-image, though.

“So, let's get started.” They call your attention from their face to their words.

“The number one thing is that we can’t tell anyone in the general public why we’re here, but you already know that. Do you know which organizations we tell?”

You lean back a bit, looking up at the ceiling. “I mean, not specifically, but I’m sure its just any major governments that might fuck with us, right?”

They raise their brows. “Almost. There’s a few non-governmental groups, but you’ve gotta’ know the specifics. We need you to know when somebody passes you a card whether they’re permitted to ask questions or not. Either way, just remember that they aren’t allowed to know the date. They’re supposed to think its some far-future shit.”

They pull several stapled sheets of paper from a folder and slide the stack across the table to you. It’s a list of governmental and other powerful organizations, alongside example identification for each. They point to the first on the list.

“Obviously, the–”

They’re interrupted by the footsteps of a barista entering the room. She bows her head slightly, placing your order on the table and promptly leaving. This is going to be a long conversation.

--->--->--->--->--->--->--->--->

“–Basically, they’re funded by like, four different major world governments, so those governments wanted us to give them some info and research. Unfortunately for us, it turns out they actually have the resources and smarts to predict the flare before it happens, so we had to–” Their phone rings.

“Ahh, shit.” They mumble, pulling the smartphone out of their bag and swiping to pick up the incoming call. You check the time while they answer. Yup. It’s 2:37pm, November 27th. Only an hour and a half left. The older iteration snaps to grab your attention.

“Alright, we’re out of time. I’m moving on to 1569. Good luck on your first PR loop. Remember to get a new SIM card at the start of the loop or you’ll get calls for the last one.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” You sigh. At least you wont have to deal with that shitty hotel anymore.

You stand up from the bench and follow your adult self downstairs, passive aggressively waving to the barista before stepping outside.

There it is again. That look, everyone in the crowd is giving it to the both of you. At least its totally warranted. Of course the general public wants to know what you’re doing here. It’s a shame you cant tell them they’re all about to die.

“So, 1568, do you have somewhere specific to be when you press it, or do you wanna just wait somewhere with me?”

They quietly laugh. “Unfortunately, I actually do have somewhere to be. Need to get to another town for my next go-around. Mentoring is tough business, you know, but the 500s are stuck doing it.

“God, I’m not excited to do that shit down the line.”

They smile at you. “Good luck, 30. I still remember pretty vividly how the depression felt back then… You’ll find your groove eventually.”

“Find my ‘groove’? Dude, it doesn’t matter how old you are, you never lived in a time where that was something cool to say.”

They burst out laughing and turn to walk off, waving goodbye rather than saying it. You look down at the ground and heave a low sigh, probably your last one for this loop. You walk down the sidewalk, ignoring the glares from strangers and find a metal bench to sit on while you wait. No point in making yourself uncomfortable.

You wait for a while, browsing the internet on your phone, gripping the remote in your pocket. Soon, the sky will be raining fire and this city will crumble to dust. But you won’t be around to see that. You’ve got sixty-something years of this bullshit ahead of you instead. God, you wish you could die faster.

#kingvirtueisdead #my art #writing #my writing #tw: sui ideation #tw: sui mention #tw: suicidal ideation #tw: suicidal mention #tw: suicidal thoughts #time travel #time loop #short story #short fiction #fiction #vent art

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blooddeathwords · 2 years

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Real Us? Doesn’t Exist

So time to end the cycle. No more running, staying this time. We aren't struggling, You are just bleeding out and dying. Just for me, just for you. Use me as inspiration but ignore my words?

How dare you insult me? I've seen more than you can imagine. I'll only call you on it when you know it needs to be corrected. I'm messed up, I'm crazy, I'm weird. I would never call you mine.

She just exists, you are within all of us. We are all of us. These guys tried to ruin my life. They tried to ruin yours to. You got me honey, I just wanted to find the missing puzzle piece.

She should have let you run away. She wanted you to be safe, it wasn't safety. It was straight back to isolation and being forgotten. I summoned you, you exist to me. Hellish feelings and monstrous emotions.

That mental breakdown you had helped me figure things out to. You thought we were just condescending. Just cause you're nice doesn't mean you're stupid. I finally figured that out. That's what you've been struggling with all your life.

Never had positive physical affection. They are all cold and basically scaly creatures in the dark. Because something is terrifying. I don't need to fix you, you don't want me to. I get it, you're life, your decisions for a change.

I just wanted to tease you a bit. It was a challenge, but you almost broke on me. Never taking medication, has some advantages. Drawbacks to. Still hate me huh? What did I ever do? I didn't notice you, I'm gonna regret that later.

Look at whats happened already. One word from you, and half of us are running back. We got loose, reigned us back in. Reminded us to behave ourselves. Not to become our fathers.

We don't want that generation to exist either. There are matchless stained glass windows. Peerless colors underneath the opaque surface. Jumping over and under stringing together.

It was a word, but now it doesn't exist. Keep eliminating them kid, they'll remember eventually. It wasn't invented, it already existed. Finally had to admit it. He stole your story without your permission.

If they are true friends they get their own word. You haven't given me one yet. We are the last ones to survive this massacre, The film about magic was my choice because you are practically magic

He wished for you to. no amount of magic on earth can force someone to fall in love with you. Iris was using magic to force you to fall in love with him, didnt work. you sold your soul so he couldn't. Even in that world you keep running away from him.

Real Us? Doesn’t exist.

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caroldantops · 2 years

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based a lil on iron man 2 but not necessarily set during it (gif credits)

pepper is a busy woman, what with her running Stark Industries, so even with natasha helping as her assistant, there’s a lot of things that pepper needs help with to take the stress off

she tasks natasha with interviewing people, since natasha will be the one training them.

the ad didn’t explain a lot, just described it as a general assistant position for THE pepper potts, so you, fresh out of school and unsure what to do with your career decide why not?

a bit to your surprise, you pretty quickly get a message telling you to pick a time for an interview next week.

natasha is very polite, explaining that the position will be split between you assisting at the office and helping out with more domestic tasks at pepper’s home.

“i’ll be working alongside you too, so you don’t need to worry about your lack of experience. but as long as you can follow orders,” natasha explains with an unreadable glint in her eyes, “you’ll have absolutely no issues with the job.”

you’re already pretty convinced that this will be a good opportunity for you (especially given the fact that every other job you were in contact with has mysteriously stopped responding to you or suddenly told you the position has been filled since you got this interview…) but then natasha brings up pay.

all of your expenses: food, travel, pc, clothes, insurance, you name it. paid for. student debt? all stark industries employees get that paid off. rent? gone, either by it also being paid for, or eventually moving in with pepper (“stark industries requires around the clock work, so you could be called at any hour really. and with you already helping out at ms. potts’s home, it would certainly make things easier for you.”)

all that and still more spending money that you could’ve imagined, straight from pepper’s pocket.

you’d have to be stupid not to take it at this point.

so you become pepper’s assistant within the week, and finally meet the woman you’ll work for.

when pepper meets you, she startles you by jumping right to the question of, “do you know what you’ll be doing for me?”

“i figured things like coffee runs. sending emails. things like that.”

“That’s part of it. But I have at least twenty other people who can do those things for me. Your position is special.”

“Special?”

“Very special,” Pepper chuckles at your confused expression. “How much do you know about BDSM?”

your eyes widen, “i-I’m sorry i don’t understand-“

“Poor thing. I thought maybe Natasha would’ve hinted at things for you already. Or maybe she did, and you’re not quite the clever little girl she thought you were.” Pepper scribbles something on a sticky note (a reminder to have a talk with Natasha) and steps around her desk, tilting your chin up to meet her eyes. “I’m not going to beat around the bush or give you a riddle to work out. The assistance I need is a sweet little submissive who’s willing to answer my beck and call. It’s not wholly sexual, though that’s certainly a part of it. I would think Natasha at least detailed some of the domestic tasks you’d be doing?”

“Y-yes ma’am she did.”

“Good, good,” Pepper sighs and leans back against her desk. Your head swims as you try to imagine what other tasks the woman has in mind for you. “If you don’t want this, I’m going to wire you compensation for you time and for your silence on the matter. And I can have Natasha get in contact with other employers as well, if you wanted. But considering you haven’t immediately left to report this to HR - not that it would do you any good - I’d assume you’re at least curious.”

Maybe you’re just desperate. Desperate for the huge paycheck.

Or desperate for Pepper.

“When would I start?”

Pepper’s grin holds promise that ignites heat in your core.

“Today. Now, how about you strip so I can see what I’m working with.”

#pepper potts x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #c: pepper #c: natasha #silver writes #s: peppernat #y’all I’m ready to make this an entire au it’s so clear in my head #also I’m finding that when i like name my AUs i seem to be more committed w them soooo #any thoughts 👀#blurb #candy au

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bakuthedeku · 3 years

Text

their everyday game

Read on AO3

Words: 3,000

Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

Things Midoriya Izuku is: A student, a sugar baby, a boyfriend, a brat.

Things Midoriya Izuku is not: Patient.

Or: Izuku wants attention from Kacchan and he is going to get it.

A commissioned fic for @insinirate !

Clack clack clack. The room is silent but for the steady breaths of its occupants and the rhythmic beat of fingers on plastic. Clear, wall-to-ceiling windows wash the sun’s gentle light into the room, and reveal a picturesque view of the sparkling city, looking like something straight out of a magazine.

Izuku glares at the extravagant view. He bets Kacchan is writing another one of those stupid reports of his.

Buzz. The clacking halts and Kacchan glances at his work phone for but a moment before the typing resumes.

Izuku takes a deep breath. Holds it. Puffs out his cheeks.

He slumps over in his seat and sighs obnoxiously.

God, he’s so damn bored.

Kacchan said he had to get one more hour of work done, and then he’d take a break. That had been almost three hours ago. ‘One hour’ had turned into two when Izuku left Kacchan to get ready for their lunch date and had foolishly gone straight to the cafe instead of meeting up with Kacchan at the office first. He’d waited all of ten minutes at their usual table before calling a company car and returning to find Kacchan still working in his office.

If not for Kacchan’s genuine surprise at the time and his gruff, yet sweet apologies, he would be a dead man already.

But Izuku still isn’t satisfied. Kacchan needs a break, and Izuku needs attention, stat. There’s only one solution: Izuku’s gonna annoy the shit out of Kacchan. So Izuku sucks in another breath and pouts at the ceiling. “Kacchaaaaan!”

Kacchan sighs, but he doesn’t respond. The silence in the room grows thick with expectation; Izuku’s long-perfect attention-seeking tone signals the start of the game they play every day.

For a moment, the only sound in the room is the clack of keys and occasional buzz from Kacchan’s work phone. Izuku wriggles against his plush seat, making the leather squeak obnoxiously, and clears his throat daintily, earning himself a glance. “Kacchan, I’m hungry…” Izuku peaks at Kacchan from beneath fluttering eyelashes.

Kacchan shifts his eyes back to his computer and types another line, pointedly loud against the room’s still silence.

When they play this game, whoever breaks first (or whoever wants whatever they’re after more) will relent and go to the other, so this can go one of two ways; Izuku will pull himself from his lounging position to drape himself over Kacchan, or Kacchan will pull himself from his work and lavish Izuku with the attention he deserves.

Today, Izuku takes it upon himself to move things forward—Kacchan is in one of those moods where it could take hours to break him down, and Izuku needs results now.

So with an impatient, gusty sigh pulled deep from his lungs, Izuku heaves himself up and slinks over to Kacchan’s grand desk, stalking up from behind him. When Kacchan makes the mistake of glancing at Izuku from the corner of his eye, Izuku pounces.

Izuku wrenches Kacchan’s chair around and jumps into his lap, laying himself over Kacchan as well as the plush arms of his chair. Kacchan grunts out a quiet oof at the sudden weight but wraps an arm around his waist nonetheless.

“I’m working, Deku,” Kacchan says dryly.

“Actually, Kacchan, I think you’ll find that you’re cuddling me and giving me attention right now, and I can’t imagine why you’d want to stop.”

Kacchan exhales quietly and wrestles down the corners of his lips—it’s not quite a smile, but it’s a good enough start for Izuku. “I have a lot to do, so as much as I’d love to keep giving you all the attention you desire, I really do have to get back to work.”

Izuku wraps an arm around Kacchan’s neck and pretends to think, then shakes his head solemnly. “Unfortunately, it’s a no from me. I’m hungry and I want lunch.”

“Then go get lunch.”

Izuku gives Kacchan a look for being deliberately obtuse.

“I’ll order in for you, then,” Kacchan offers.

Izuku huffs and pushes himself away from his comfortable spot against Kacchan’s broad chest. “Not good enough, Kacchan! We organised a lunch date, so I am getting a lunch date. Now.” Izuku sticks out his chin and dares Kacchan to say no.

Eyes lock. Izuku stares with determination, burying his will into impenetrable crystal red and steadfastly ignoring their alluring pull. Kacchan makes an aborted noise in the back of his throat, as if he was about to say something stupid but thought better of it, and finally sighs.

“Half an hour.”

Izuku smiles sweetly. “Two. You’re late, so you’ve accrued interest.”

Kacchan decides to focus on their negotiations over Izuku’s mockingly business-like tone: “Forty-five is the best you’re going to get from me.”

“An hour, not including travel time, or I’ll get our contract from your room and tear it up myself.” Izuku juts out a petulant lip. He’d never do it, but it gets his point across—Izuku isn’t budging on this.

Kacchan stares hard for a moment, then sags and rests his head in the crook of Izuku’s neck. “You’re such an annoying little shit,” he murmurs, warm against Izuku’s skin.

Izuku hides his smile in Kacchan’s hair and holds him tight. Another victory secured.

/-/

The cafe is a relaxing, familiar space for Izuku. He’s been a regular since before his arrangement with Kacchan began, and when it breached the confines of Kacchan’s highrise office, it was only natural Izuku would drag Kacchan to his favourite little spot.

After enough of their regular visits, the staff have stopped staring at Kacchan and his crisp suits and shiny Rolex watches, and they interact more or less normally with the pair when they stop by.

They place their orders, as usual, and Kacchan pays, as usual, before they settle in their favourite corner, waiting for drinks and food.

Izuku relaxes into his plush chair. He breathes in happiness, the scent of sugar and coffee and Kacchan’s handsome cologne, and breathes out his worries. He’s already plotting ways to extend the hour he was so graciously granted.

On the table before him is a generous slice of cake, which is ‘not a meal,’ according to Kacchan, but Izuku wanted it and he doesn’t care what Kacchan has to say about it. Kacchan is still waiting on his own food; some kind of salmon dish, which is about the fanciest thing he might be able to get his hands on at a casual place like this.

Before Kacchan can grouse at Izuku further, Izuku digs into his treat with no regard for manners, or as Kacchan calls them, “basic fucking social etiquette.” Whenever Kacchan attempts to spout this particular kind of bullshit, Izuku rather enjoys pointing out the hypocrisy of Kacchan of all people criticising other people’s social graces.

Izuku glances at Kacchan and licks his lips before he fills his mouth with fluffy, sugary goodness, making eye-contact with him as he lets out an exaggerated moan. “So good,” Izuku takes care to lick his lips and smiles, warm and sweet like molten honey.

Kacchan rolls his eyes, but he swallows like his mouth is dry. “You’re a damn menace, you little brat,” he says hoarsely, despite the way his eyes have been stuck on Izuku’s lips since he licked them.

“Hey!” Izuku kicks out with all the gentleness of a fussy toddler, landing a solid kick on Kacchan’s shin. “Don’t be mean. You would’ve missed our lunch date altogether if I hadn’t dragged you here.” Izuku tilts his head and gives an Oscar-worthy kicked-puppy pout.

“Deku…” Kacchan obviously misses the point of his pouting by a mile, because now he just looks sad, and that is not what Izuku was going for! “I’m sorry I forgot, baby. It’s not that I don’t want to spend time with you, it’s just...”

“You’re busy,” Izuku finishes for him, and leans across the table to (affectionately) swat his dumb boyfriend’s head. “I know. I’m not mad, but I do want your attention right now, so cut out the sadness and shower me with compliments like you’re supposed to.”

This earns a snort of laughter from Kacchan, who finally catches on and plays along with their usual game. His whole face brightens with his smile. “Ah yes, of course, dear. How could I spend even a second not overwhelming you with compliments?”

Izuku nods seriously. “Exactly. I’m just so shocked. You should know better than to neglect me by now,” Izuku winks, “Daddy.”

Kacchan makes a point of rolling his eyes, but he’s smiling broadly now, all teeth and crinkled eyes. “Alright, you’ve made your point, asshole. Eat your stupid cake already.”

/-/

Once they’ve eaten, and the redundant alarm Kacchan had set goes off, they return to the car. It’s time for Izuku to execute his plan.

Before Kacchan can put his belt on like the square he is, Izuku swings a leg over his lap and wraps himself around his boyfriend. Kacchan raises a questioning eyebrow before Izuku makes his demand: “Take me shopping.”

Kacchan smacks his head back against the headrest dramatically. “You have my card. I’ll have the driver drop you off wherever you want to go, okay?”

“I said take me shopping, not send me. You have to be there or there’s no use! Kacchan needs to come with me.”

Kacchan looks sad, then, and the stupid man has apparently learnt a thing or two from Izuku, because he’s got the bestest, heart-wrenchingest puppy-dog eyes without even trying. Resting his forehead against Izuku’s, Kacchan sighs softly against his lips. “You know I spend as much time as I can with you, baby. I can only ignore my work for so long, for you.”

Izuku aches, sudden and raw. “Oh, Kacchan… I know you’re busy, you work so hard! Kacchan really is amazing. But sometimes I want to be selfish and snatch up more of your time. You put too much pressure on yourself at work. You have so many employees so you don’t have to run yourself in the ground.”

“There are things my employees can’t do-”

“Like stopping you from working yourself to death? Right, that’s my job.” Izuku wiggles in Kacchan’s lap and captures his lips in a whisper-soft kiss. “So let me take care of you.” Izuku flutters his eyelashes and pulls his trump card. “Please, Daddy?” he asks, words sugar-sweet on his lips.

Cheeks glowing a suspicious strawberry red, Kacchan huffs and grabs Izuku by the waist, easily picking him up off his lap and depositing him on the seat next to him. He waits patiently for Kacchan to break, all the while butterflies dance in Izuku’s belly at his Daddy’s casual display of strength.

“The hell do you need so badly anyway?”

Truthfully, Izuku has no idea what he would wish to buy. Spoiled as he is, there are few things he’s wanted through life that he doesn’t now own, thanks to Kacchan. “I saw this gorgeous lingerie set and I just have to try it on before I buy it. And I need you there to tell me how good it looks,” Izuku states matter-of-factly.

Kacchan clears his throat and pinches Izuku’s cheek. “Fine. Let’s go look at this lingerie, then, baby.”

/-/

Izuku drags Kacchan out of the car by his hand and refuses to let go even after they’ve made it inside the shopping center.

“Come on, come on, I wanna see what this store has!” With Kacchan in tow, Izuku makes a beeline for his favourite lingerie store.

Izuku chatters away as he makes his way up and down the store, fluttering about pretty displays and shiny, luxurious lingerie sets hung up on the walls. He semi-consciously gives Kacchan a consistent stream of observations, rhetorical questions and mumbled postulations about what Kacchan might like best. He picks out half a dozen sets in just a few minutes, handing each one over to Kacchan for him to judge and/or hold like a handsome sentient display rack.

Soon enough, Kacchan flags down someone from the store to do the grunt work for him as he follows Izuku around the store like a loyal dog, face warring between fondness and annoyance.

Izuku is quite certain that the fondness far outweighs the annoyance, though. Izuku is, after all, impossible to hate.

After completing one circuit of the store, Kacchan interrupts Izuku before he can begin on a second. “What happened to the ‘one’ set you wanted, huh?” The man crosses his arms like a brute, biceps flexing handsomely as he pours disapproval into the question.

Izuku tuts at him. “There’s nothing wrong with browsing. Just look at how pretty this one is!” Izuku pulls out the dainty belt and harness set he was looking at, wiggling it around for Kacchan’s judgment.

“Mm,” Kacchan acknowledges, carefully collected as he judges the set. With his nod of approval, Izuku gleefully adds it to his soon-to-be-towering pile of things to try on, heedless of the fact that Kacchan immediately passes it off to the poor retail worker trailing after them.

Kacchan crosses his arms. “Don’t think I don’t realise what you’re doing, baby boy.”

Izuku ought to feel sheepish at being caught out so easily, but it’s to be expected when he’s trying to con Kacchan. Instead, he tilts his head and bats his big, round eyes, the perfect picture of innocence. “But Daddy, what exactly are you going to do about it?”

Kacchan crosses his arms, but Izuku’s got him there. Kacchan wants to see Izuku in this lingerie just as much as Izuku wants to try them on. And if all of this has the bonus of Izuku keeping Kacchan to himself for a little longer, then they don’t need to talk about that, really.

“I don’t know why I put up with you,” Kacchan says, and Izuku giggles, wrapping his arms around his Daddy’s neck.

“I can think of a few reasons,” he laughs. “Now come tell me how pretty I look in these!”

/-/

The driver has to help them get everything into the car. As soon as they’re in, Kacchan orders the driver to start the car and get them back to his work quickly.

It’s cute that Kacchan thinks they’d be going anywhere near his office if not for Izuku allowing it.

“Are you satisfied now, brat?” Kacchan asks, pulling on his seatbelt only after the car has started moving (ooh, rebellious).

Izuku hums. He takes a long few moments to rearrange the copious amount of bags around him, just because he can. He pretends to think very hard about it before nodding exaggeratedly. “Yes, I think I am. For today, at least.”

When Kacchan groans, Izuku shuts him up with a kiss, and they smile like kids in love against each other’s lips.

/-/

Deku seems to have tuckered himself out during their shopping trip, which is understandable considering the sheer amount of clothes he insisted he try on before making Katsuki buy everything for him. He spends the car ride back draped over Katsuki’s side, giving a docile little mumble every now and then when he sees a dog on the sidewalk or a pretty flower that apparently reminds him of Katsuki’s eyes.

(How can the fucker get even cuter than usual just because he tired himself out being a whiny brat all day? How is that fair at all to Katsuki’s heart? Not to mention his wallet...)

(It’s not like Katsuki can’t afford it, but damn, lingerie is surprisingly fucking expensive.)

Katsuki carefully shakes Deku awake when they arrive, because he has learnt the hard way that if he leaves Deku to doze or wakes him too quickly, there will be hell to pay. So he accepts Deku’s blindly groping hand into his own and leads him into the building, where Izuku says something vague about harassing his friend in reception and stumbles off, bleary-eyed.

Katsuki has some interns come down and transfer Deku’s things into his private car so he can attempt to get some work done before Deku makes it upstairs. Deku usually settles down after a few hours of monopolising Katsuki’s time and attention, but with the mood he’s in today, Katsuki doesn’t like his chances of getting anything else done.

He’s gotten as far as opening up an email from a partner company when the door clicks open and Deku sashays in like he owns the place.

And, okay. Katsuki owns the place, and Deku has him wrapped around his pinky finger, so he does own the place in every way but name. But only Katsuki is allowed to know that, god damn it.

“You look like a bumbling fawn like that,” Katsuki informs him, just to see Deku’s sleepy eyes flash with indignation, and watch his cheeks glow a pretty, flustered pink.

Deku’s response doesn’t disappoint, and his nose even scrunches up like a disgruntled bunny, but Katsuki’s gone and shot himself in the foot because now Deku is stomping up to him in a way that says he means business. Deku collapses heavily and claims the space of Katsuki’s lap, steadfast in the fact that it is his and his alone.

Deku slaps him petulantly on the chest. “Meanie,” he mumbles, and curls up on Katsuki’s lap, nestling his head beneath his chin and settling against him, a puzzle piece slotted perfectly in its place. “I’m tired,” Deku says, as if that isn’t obvious already.

Kastuki huffs, presses a feather-soft kiss to the crown of his head. “Just rest, idiot.”

“‘Mkay Daddy…”

Katsuki strokes his fingers through the softness of Izuku’s hair and cradles him as Deku’s body relaxes into Katsuki’s own. “Good boy,” he murmurs.

Pressed tenderly together, Deku continues babbling quietly to fill the peaceful sunset air. Katsuki nods along and holds his baby securely in his arms until he floats off into sleep.

Clack clack clack. With a watchful eye on Deku, lovely and sleep-soft against his chest, Katsuki quietly gets back to work.

#bakudeku #katsudeku #bnha #my hero academia #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #sugar daddy AU #my fic #commissioned writing #commission #post #long post

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shurisneakers · 3 years

Text

harmless (i)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader)

Warnings: cursing, nonsense writing

Word count: 1.5k

A/N: listen i just needed something to keep my mind busy and a perry the platypus!bucky and dr. doofenshmirtz!reader was the only thing i could think of. dont have any high expectations from this series, you will be sorely disappointed.

If you have any ideas for this series, lemme know!! it’d be cute to write!!

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Series Masterlist

Bucky Barnes, for all intents and purposes, is edgy.

His SHIELD salary is definitely enough to afford him a simple beanie, gloves even if he’s that eager. His long hair, though a spectacle in itself, isn’t as good at keeping away the cold as he claims it to be.

It’s a personal choice, a fashion statement even, to be roaming the streets in a long flimsy t-shirt that does nothing to accentuate his broad shoulders, and tactical pants that look a little too comfortable.

It’s cold. He says he likes it, to appease his blond haired best friend who insisted that he wear a cardigan at least. He won’t like it in a while, but he would never admit it.

The bike ride to the other side of town for a minor mission takes longer than he expected. The wind rushing by gets his adrenaline racing.

Official missions are long and gruelling, and oftentimes not fun. But it gives him a purpose.

It’s easy, therefore, to find him brooding when he’s not on one.

No one wants their room to be on the receiving end of Bucky’s stress-cleaning sessions. His baking is more appreciated.

So when there’s news of a small time villain creating havoc again, it made sense that he volunteered to go sort it out. No one else wanted the job. They’d all been at it before.

SHIELD didn’t seem particularly bothered either.

“It’s not that serious, Barnes.”

“I’m going.”

“Just stop her from doing whatever dumb plan she has today. She seems to have a new one every week.”

“Can I-”

“This is not an assassination mission.”

“Fine. Can I-”

“No.”

“Fine.”

He didn’t know what to expect. He had an idea of how they should be. Smaller villains tended to be more aggressive, vicious to prove their point. They were here to stay.

He wears his regular gear. Enough knives to make a butcher look away in shame, and guns including, but not limited to, his biceps.

He finally pulls the bike to a stop a few metres away, leaving it out of reach in case things got too out of hand. He didn’t want to have to walk back to the Tower, and his friends, as much as they loved him, would never go out of their way to pick him up. Little shits.

The address is a dingy, plain concrete house near an old construction site. It was flat and felt more like an afterthought than an actual building. It looked more like an abandoned Walmart than an actual villain lair.

The only entrance is the door in the front. He counts to three, lifting his leg to kick it down.

It falls down ungracefully, loud and creaky like it was bound to the doorframe by rust.

The only light source inside is a green light. All the way at the other end on an elevated platform is a desk and a chair facing away from him. He can’t see much other than that.

Someone’s laughter comes back loud and booming. He raises his gun, feet apart in a defensive stance.

“I’ve been expecti-” the voice pauses mid-sentence- “Did you just kick down my door?”

He looks behind him to where the wooden piece is on the floor. He certainly did.

He can finally see you as you stand up, green light illuminating your face. You reach over to the side, pressing a few switches.

He squints when all the lights turn on, pulling the both of you from darkness.

“Dude!” you cry out, face twisting into what only could be described as a mix of horror and disdain. “What’d you do that for?”

He doesn’t say anything but he doesn’t lower his gun either.

“You’re an Avenger, just fuckin’ pick the lock or something. This is expensive!”

He only watches as you whine, looking beyond him at your now demolished entrance. You take a few steps closer, jumping down from the elevated platform.

“Insurance isn’t going to cover this.” You drag your palm across your fist before extending it towards him. “Pay up.”

He wasn’t sure if he heard you right.

“What?” he finally asked, voice gruff.

“All you superheroes go around, destroying walls and cars in the name of world peace like you own the damn thing. Not today, bitch boy. Pay up.”

He doesn’t have his wallet with him. He didn’t expect to need it.

“I’m supposed to be stopping you.”

“You can do that once you pay for my door.”

You sound resolute, unshaken. A little annoyed. There’s what appears to be a gun in your hand, although it’s unlike any weapon he’s seen before.

“What’s your plan?” Bucky looks at your hand. Your stare follows his. You lift the thing up and he tenses.

“I was going to freeze some jerk but now my plan is to get you cancelled on Twitter.”

“Why?” his eyebrows knit together in confusion.

“Local superhero destroys property of tax paying citizen for no good reason.”

“I mean-” he shakes his head, discarding what you’re saying, “-why were you going to freeze someone?”

“Because I wanted to. But you’ve ruined the mood now, so that won’t happen.”

He blinks, lowering his weapon when he realises you weren’t making any attempt to move. “What’s your ulterior motive?”

“Nothing! I just wanted to mildly inconvenience that stupid fuck for being such a prick.”

He doesn’t know what to say.

“Is that the freeze ray?” Bucky asks instead, raising his gun when he realises there’s a very real chance he could end up like his best friend.

“You got a problem with it?” You hold it up carelessly.

“I can’t let you use that.”

“That’s all you’re going to do?” you huff, “Is this what you call an intervention? This is so boring.”

“Give me the freeze ray and no one has to get hurt.”

“No one was going to get hurt in the first place, genius. All this does is slow him down for 5 minutes so he misses the subway.”

There’s nothing technically that evil about what you’re doing. He doesn’t even know how you ended up on SHIELD’s radar. He gets why no one was particularly driven to take this seriously.

“And for fuck’s sake put that gun away. You’re not scaring me.”

He doesn’t oblige, even though something tugs at him, telling him that you’re speaking the truth.

“Here, take the stupid thing.” You don’t bother waiting for his response, bending over and sliding the gun towards his feet. “I’ll find another way to get back at that dickhead.”

It hits his boot with a small thud. He looks down. Its design is ridiculously comical, like you ripped it straight out of a kid’s TV show.

“Next time, bring some drama. Wear a cape or something.” You wave him off. “Now get out of my lair. I need to fix the door.”

“You don’t have another one of these lying around, do you?”

“Why, do your friends want one too?” The glare you give him is dangerous. He doesn’t react to it. “No, it’s limited edition. I don’t build the same thing twice.”

“You have others?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy?” A smile grows on your face, dropping as quickly as it arrives. “SHIELD will tell you if I do. Now leave.”

Bucky looks at the freeze ray in his hand. He supposes his job is done. He was told to stop you, but you didn’t seem to have any inclination to go on with your plan.

“You can ask them if you want, they know about me.” You roll your eyes. “Go ahead, call them.”

He doesn’t want to take a chance. As odd as the situation is, it’s still novel and he isn’t quite sure how to deal with it.

He tucks your weapon under his arm, pressing his phone to his ear.

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes?” Maria’s voice is crisp as ever.

“I confiscated a... freeze ray.” He feels ridiculous even saying it. “But I’m going to bring her in to SHIELD headquarter-”

“That won’t be necessary.”

“But we can’t trust-”

“We’ve been keeping tabs on her for a while. She’s more or less harmless. You can take the rest of the night off, Sergeant.”

He cuts the call, not entirely at ease with the smug, expectant look on your face.

Still, he couldn’t disobey direct orders.

“I’m gonna... go.” He mentions towards the gaping hole in the wall.

“That would be ideal, yes.” You nod, crossing your arm over your chest.

“Okay.” He hesitates, but finally takes a step backwards. He peeks over his shoulder as he leaves, but finds you swivelled away from him again.

He steps back outside. The cold greets him again like an old friend. The weight of his weapons feels stupidly embarrassing now.

It’s a long drive back to the Tower. He keeps replaying the entire story in his mind. He’s unsure of whether he made the right call, but no one else really seemed to care.

He had seen weirder things. It came with the gig.

He leaves it at that.

“How’d it go?” Steve asks him when he walks into the living room.

“T’was fine,” he answers, toying with the stupid device he took from you. Maybe he would test it on Clint. He had been getting annoying lately. Breathing too much in Bucky’s general direction.

A part of him feels guilty for his carelessness towards your building. The other part is just bewildered.

That night he looks up the cost it takes to replace a door, making a mental note to draw some money from the ATM soon.

Next part

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #harmless fic #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes #bucky

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heyiwrotesomethings · 3 years

Text

A Compulsive Gambler?!

Yumeko Jabami x She/Her Reader

A/N: Could you imagine Yumeko dating someone and they have no idea she’s, ya know, a gambling freak? I bet she would have a hard time pulling back like, she’d still gamble with her SO but in a sneaky, more subdued way. Something like, ‘if you can guess what number I’m thinking of you can pick what we eat for dinner’, or something like that. Seems innocent enough but she just can’t help herself into turning some interactions into gambles. Anyway, hope y’all enjoy! Word Count: 5,170

For perhaps the first time since Mary met Yumeko, the girl was a nervous wreck. The usually carefree gambling addict was pacing around the near empty classroom while she twisted the ring on her thumb around and around again with no sign of stopping. Finally, Mary had had enough. If Suzui wasn’t going to be useful and ask what the hell was going on, she would do it herself.

“What the hell is your problem? Are you going through withdrawals or something?” Mary asked with an annoyed huff.

“Oh Mary-san!” Yumeko practically moaned, the back of her hand raised to her forehead with over dramatic flair, “I don’t know what to do!”

“About what?” Mary asked, accompanied with an annoyed eye roll.

“My girlfriend is coming to visit tomorrow and she’s going to be staying with me over the weekend!” Yumeko blushed cupping her hands over her face at the mere thought of it all. It just made Mary more annoyed.

“And? Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?”

“You have a girlfriend?” Ryota blinked, the poor boy seemed to always be falling behind.

“Yes, we’ve been together since our last year of middle school. We went to the same high school too until I transferred,” Yumeko gushed while she hugged herself, twisting and swaying slightly on her feet, “I love her so much! It’s been hard to be away from her all this time!”

Ryota scratched his cheek. “Then... why do you seem so uneasy?”

“Well that’s easy!” Yumeko cheered, a dazzling smile over her lips. A moment passed by and Yumeko appeared to pale considerably and a nervous sweat dotted her face, her body trembled and yet, the smile stayed in place. Mary and Ryota side eyed each other before staring back at Yumeko, waiting.

“She doesn’t know about my severe gambling addiction!” Yumeko finally disclosed.

“What?!” Mary and Ryota spoke in unison.

“Yes, it’s hard to believe isn’t it?” Yumeko sighed. “I’ve kept it hidden from her all this time because I feared what she would think of me if she found out. That, and I wouldn’t want her to get hurt from tagging along. I love that girl dearly and I can’t risk losing her.”

“How are you going to keep your secret, Yumeko?” Ryota’s worry for his friend was plain on his face.

“That’s where I’m hoping you two will come in!” Yumeko grasped a hand of Mary’s and Ryota’s in both of hers, a pleading pout on her face. “Help me keep her occupied and away from any mention of gambling!”

“Are you an idiot?” Mary scoffed, not waiting for an answer. “This school is all about gambling! Not to mention we’re in the midst of this insane election. You’d be better off just having her wait off of school grounds rather than parading her around for all your enemies to see.”

“Please Mary-san, it’s only for one day!” Yumeko cooed. She tried to wrap the blonde up in her arms, but Mary stood and held her away at arm’s length.

“I’m not gonna go out of my way for this fool’s errand. I’ve got to go meet with Ririka now. Figure it out yourself, but if you want my advice you should just come clean.” Mary said, giving Yumeko one last shove as she made her way out of the classroom.

“Oh yes, do you think Ririka-san would help? Maybe we could get Itsuki in on it as well!”

“You’re on your own!” Mary called from the hallway, making Yumeko whine.

“I’ll help you Yumeko.” Ryota predictably volunteered.

“Thank you, Ryota!” Yumeko bounced giddily, “Hopefully everything will run smoothly tomorrow if we play our cards right!”

***

“(Y/n)!” Yumeko jumped the girl as soon as she saw her approach the gates of the prestigious academy and showered her face with dozens of little kisses that made her girlfriend laugh and try to wiggle away from the continuous onslaught.

“Yumeko! I take it you missed me too then?” (Y/n) smiled, catching Yumeko’s face in her hands so she could land a few kisses of her own.

“Of course! You know it was one of the hardest decisions of my life to transfer here. I need to make up for lost time!” Yumeko grinned in return. She was about to steal another kiss when someone cleared their throat behind her.

“Oh, right!” Yumeko recalled, pulling (Y/n) to her side until they were near flush together. “Ryota, this is (L/n) (Y/n). (Y/n), this is Suzui Ryota, one of my friends!”

“Nice to meet you.” Ryota said. He was no stranger to feeling out of place, but after that intimate display he had never felt more awkward.

“Nice to meet you too, Suzui-san. I hope Yumeko hasn’t caused you too much trouble.” (Y/n) joked.

Thoughts of millions of yen in debt, gambling for nails, house pets, guns in a seedy basement, among other things, flashed almost violently in Ryota’s mind but he managed to keep a somewhat pleasant expression as he answered.

“Not at all! Yumeko’s a model student,” he lied.

“Oh god, I thought you’d be in the classroom by now. So much for a quiet morning.”

“Mary-san! Good morning!” Yumeko pivoted, still holding (Y/n) close, “Come meet my (Y/n)!”

“Hi. Saotome Mary. It’s a pleasure. Excuse us a second.” (Y/n) blinked and Mary was halfway through the courtyard before she noticed Yumeko being dragged along with her.

“Are you stupid?” Mary whispered harshly with no preamble once she found a secluded spot in the trees.

“Mary-san, what are we doing?” Yumeko asked, tilting her head like an inquisitive puppy would.

“How about what are you doing?” Mary hissed back. “The whole school must know you’re dating at this point!”

“Well that’s good isn’t it?”

“It’s the exact opposite of good! Do you have any idea how many people are gonna try to use her against you now? Use your head a little!”

“I thought you said you weren’t going to help me, Mary-san.” Yumeko giggled, “but you really do care about my happiness, don’t you?”

“Shut up!” Mary blushed, pushing Yumeko away before she could hug her. “I just don’t want some innocent girl to get caught up in this crazy school. Just be more discreet from now on. She already sticks out like a sore thumb without the Hyakkaou uniform.”

“I’ll do my best Mary-san!” Yumeko clapped. “It’ll be hard though since she’s just so kissable.”

“I didn’t ask.”

When they got back to the gate, they only saw Suzui looking around desperately while sweating bullets. When he finally saw Mary and Yumeko walking towards him, he ran up to them, breathing heavily.

“Ryota? Where did (Y/n) go?” Yumeko smiled.

“Iki... Ikishima’s girls took her! Tried to.. stop them but—“ Ryota panted and wheezed, stopping the retelling of his account once Yumeko rose her hand to his lips, directing him to silence.

“See? What did I tell you?” Mary groused. “And Ikishima of all people...” Mary shut her mouth tightly upon seeing the look on Yumeko’s face. The pure disgust and hatred that rolled off of her made Mary’s skin crawl.

“Ryota, Mary,” Yumeko eerily called, “it’s time for me to get my (Y/n) back from her visit to the trash heap. You’ll accompany me won’t you?”

It went without saying that Mary and Ryota followed after their friend. Whether out of fear or support, it could have gone either way. Even Mary thought it wise not to berate the usually carefree girl with ‘I told you so’s’ in this state.

They hurried to the bowels of the school and pushed through the beautification committee members. The members didn’t retaliate, one look at Yumeko’s face was enough to make them part their ranks like Moses and the sea. Yumeko approached the big metal door and knocked three times, loud metal echoes rung out over the hum of generators and fluorescent lights.

A wild laugh sounded upon the knocks. An eager cry of, ‘she’s here!’ could clearly be heard from inside as quick steps over linoleum could be heard tapping in rapid succession towards the door before it was wrenched open with a heinous squeak from its hinges that nearly matched pitch with Midari’s own delighted squeal upon being face to face with Yumeko.

“Yu-me-ko!” Midari sang, “so glad you could join us!”

Yumeko breezed past Midari without so much as a glance and went straight for (Y/n) who was tied to a chair in the middle of the room like some crime movie.

“Oh my (Y/n), are you alright?” Yumeko cooed, freeing (Y/n) from the gag and turning her face in her hands to look her over.

“I think so,” (Y/n) shivered, “just what kind of school do you go to where people are kidnapped at gunpoint?!”

The thought of Ikishima pressing that dirty gun against (Y/n)’s head made Yumeko want to curb stomp Ikishima’s head into a fine paste, but the deranged girl would have just loved that, wouldn’t she? Instead she worked on untying the ropes from (Y/n)’s middle, comforting her girlfriend along the way.

“It’s alright my love! The beautification committee is just really serious about following the dress code. They won’t bother you anymore.”

“Yumeko,” Midari moaned from behind her, “I brought her her so you would gah—!”

Mary slapped the girl hard over the back of her head and gave her a warning look. Midari shut up more out of the delight of being hit more than anything else.

“...’Gah’?” (Y/n) flicked her eyes over everyone in the room, trying to get some kind of explanation for what the hell was going on.

“‘Gah?’” Yumeko repeated right back with a smile. “Whatever does that mean, my dear?”

“I don’t know, the girl with the eye patch said it.” (Y/n) replied, finally loose from her bindings, she rubbed her hands over her arms where the scratchy rope had dug in.

“Oh sweetheart, you must be seeing things. I see no such girl here.” Yumeko said, causing a whimper to fall from Midari’s lips. “Let’s get to my class now, shall we?”

“Anywhere is better than here.” (Y/n) sighed, choosing not to question Yumeko about the girl who had taken her. She clearly didn’t like her and after being dragged here against her will, (Y/n) couldn’t say she enjoyed the crazed girl’s company either.

“That’s my girl,” Yumeko cooed, pulling (Y/n) tightly against her side. They walked past Midari as she blubbered and crawled over the floor towards Yumeko only to have the metal door slammed in her face.

“Come on, we’re already late!” Mary griped. “Some of us have scholarships to keep!”

“I just can’t wait to be sitting in a classroom with my (Y/n) again,” Yumeko sighed dreamily, “it will be just like old times!”

“Yeah.” (Y/n) smiled though she was still coming to terms with being held at gunpoint for wearing the wrong uniform. Yumeko hadn’t even seemed to be phased by it. Like it was something that was part of the school policy. We’re all rich people schools like this? Whatever, (Y/n) wasn’t going to let this one setback, no matter how momentarily terrifying, ruin her weekend with Yumeko.

Before they could make it to their classroom, the were jumped by another second year student with literal stars in her eyes as she grabbed Yumeko’s hands.

“Yumeko, I’m so glad I caught you!” She cheered.

“Oh hello Yumemi, what are you doing outside our classroom?” Yumeko asked.

“Waiting for you! It’s been so long since the Dreaming Creaming Sisters have performed and I need you to pretty please join me for a concert!” Yumemi sparkled.

“Dream—“ (Y/n) tried to muffle her inelegant snort with her hand but the action immediately drew in Yumemi’s attention, the idol’s face darkened slightly.

“Oh? What’s so funny stranger?” Yumemi asked with faux sweetness.

“I, um, sorry. It’s just uh, a unique group name you’ve got there.” (Y/n) answered sheepishly.

“Well, I’d like to see you come up with a better rhyme for dreaming!”

“Scheming, beaming, redeeming... meme-ing.” (Y/n) listed the first words that came to her head, making Yumemi’s smile tighten further with every suggestion.

“Who’s your friend, Yumeko?” The idol asked, fake interest rolling off her tongue.

“This is my girlfriend (Y/n)!” Yumeko said with pride. “Isn’t she just so cute and smart?”

‘Smart ass maybe.’ Yumemi thought to herself.

“Anyway, I’m sorry but I can’t perform with you right now. I’ve got class and I don’t want to leave (Y/n) alone.” Yumeko explained, hugging the girl for emphasis.

“I didn’t know you were part of an idol group now, Yumeko.” (Y/n) said as Yumeko guided her towards the doorway.

“It’s just a side hobby really.”

Before they could enter Yumemi pulled (Y/n) out of Yumeko’s hold, hugging her from behind, her starry eyes dancing with mischief.

“You’ve never seen Yumeko preform then, have you (Y/n)-san?” Yumemi asked, still hugging the other girl close as she weaved her trap.

“Yumeko has sang to me before, so I know she can sing very well.” (Y/n) admitted bashfully. “I’ve never seen her act as a full blown idol before though.”

“Isn’t that something you’d like to see? We could have it all set up in a matter of minutes, wouldn’t that be great?” Yumemi coaxed.

“I wouldn’t want Yumeko to do something she doesn’t want to do. Besides, her class is starting soon.” (Y/n) said.

“I didn’t hear a no.” Yumemi sing-songed while (Y/n)’s face buzzed with heat.

“If you’d like to see then I don’t really mind, (Y/n).” Yumeko grinned, pulling her away from Yumemi, “I like the idea of singing directly to you in a sea of people. They’ll all know exactly how much you mean to me.”

“Yumeko..” (Y/n) hid her face in the giggling gambling addict’s chest.

“Oh for the love of— are we going to class or not?” Mary yelled impatiently.

“I’m afraid I have a concert to prepare for Mary-san. Will you come watch with (Y/n)?” Yumeko asked.

“Fine whatever.” Mary bristled.

They all made to leave when Mary halted Ryota with a hand to his chest.

“Wh- what?” He asked, jumpily.

“You are going to stay here and take notes. They better be good ones too.” Mary threatened.

“But—“

“Notes, Suzui.” Mary commanded. The poor boy gave a resigned nod and with drooping shoulders he sulked into the classroom.

***

While Yumeko and Yumemi prepared backstage, Mary and (Y/n) found their seats and made light conversation as more bodies filed into the seats around them. Despite dating Yumeko, Mary found that (Y/n) seemed to have a good head on her shoulders.

“Saotome-san, what is that boy taking bets for?” (Y/n) asked.

“It’s just some weird niche idol thing Yumemite does. Don’t worry about it.” Mary dismissed, though inside she was worried this would become a bigger gamble that she couldn’t possibly cover up.

“This rich people school is so weird.” (Y/n) commented offhandedly.

“Tell me about it.” Mary agreed.

The house lights dimmed and the stage was set aglow. Upbeat music began to play and the crowd around them cheered as Yumeko and Yumemi entered the stage.

They sang their opening song and (Y/n) watched with delight, her heart beating faster every time Yumeko would meet her eyes throw a flirtatious wink or smile her way. (Y/n) would wave the red glow stick she was given in return.

“Now it’s time for the event you’ve all been waiting for!” Yumemi yelled over the crowd, causing them to cheer again. “The rematch of the century!”

“Rematch? What is she talking about Saotome-san?” (Y/n) asked.

“Ah, there just seeing who can do best in various idol based competitions.” Mary responded, truly hoping that that would be it, but Yumemite wasn’t done talking just yet.

“Before you all got here, one lucky seat was chosen for the spotlight! Let’s see who it is, shall we?”

Yumemi swept her hand across the packed auditorium and one light after the other blinked across the sea of bodies while the audience cheered. A bright light shone on (Y/n) and she blinked at the sudden brightness, surprised when the light didn’t immediately flicker back off.

“And there we have it! Our visiting guest from another school, how lucky you are!” Yumemi said with mock surprise as if she hadn’t had the thing rigged from the get go.

“You’ve won the opportunity to go on a date with one of us, the Dreaming Creaming Sisters! How will it be determined who you go out with? Well, it all depends on which one of us wins this gamb—“

“Game!” Yumeko hurriedly interjected, a faint gleam of sweat streaked down her cheek.

“Well, yes, I suppose ‘game’ is also accurate.” Yumemi cocked her head at the strange outburst. Yumemi didn’t really care what Yumeko called the gamble, she just had to win it. What better way to get back at the girl than to steal her girlfriend away for a night.

“The rules to this game are simple Yumeko-chan! There will be three rounds: perfect pitch, name the tune, and choreography memory match. Win two out of three, and you’ll get to go out with our lucky chair holder! Lose, and you’ll be paying for mine and (Y/n)’s night out. I’ll warn you, I’m not cheap!” Yumemi said with a showy laugh.

“But, I’m already dating Yumeko,” (Y/n) frowned, “I can’t go on a date with someone else!”

“Just hope Yumeko wins then.” Mary sighed. At least Yumemi’s way of gambling wasn’t too obvious. Her gambles were big and grand, but to an outsider they weren’t immediately discernible as anything but stage entertainment.

“Let’s make this quick, Yumemi-chan!” Yumeko smiled, hoping she could keep her desire to up the stakes in check.

Yumeko won perfect pitch, matching nearly every note with perfect accuracy. Yumemi won name the tune as many of the songs were conveniently of a western selection. Last was the choreography memory game and (Y/n) was nervous.

(Y/n) knew that Yumeko had a splendid memory, but the girl also detested demanding physical excursions such as this. She was probably already tired from dancing at the start of the show. To (Y/n), it was not looking to good for her girlfriend.

But to (Y/n)’s surprise, Yumeko followed the impromptu routine like a champ. Yumeko refused to let Yumemi outdo her, all for the sake of keeping (Y/n) close.

“She’s going to be so sore after this.” (Y/n) marveled. “You know I used to have to threaten her to make her go to gym class?”

“You could actually make her go to gym class?” Mary rose a brow, impressed. She hadn’t seen Yumeko attend gym class since the first week of her transferring. While Mary was still a house pet, she took great pleasure in watching Yumeko suffer through that class period.

Minutes went by and the two girls each adorned a a sleek sheen of sweat as they continued to dance, matching each other step for step. The fans were going wild at the display, waiting to see how would win the dance battle of a lifetime.

Then it happened in a flash. Yumemi, in her desire to get back at Yumeko for their last gamble against Natari Kawaru, tried to add a very complex step in her next turn and fell to the stage which led to her loss.

“Jabami Yumeko wins!” The MC announced.

Saori appeared from behind stage to help Yumemi back to her feet. Though pissed and embarrassed, Yumemi hid her feelings well and congratulated Yumeko on her win.

They closed off the concert with one final song and then the event was over.

“Have a nice dinner on me!” Yumemi sparkled, shaking (Y/n)’s hand after the show before walking back to her dressing room with Saori in tow. The poor manager was sure to get an earful from the idol once they were away from polite company.

Yumeko practically collapsed in (Y/n)’s arms.

“(Y/n), I’m so tired! Carry me!” Yumeko whined.

“After all that hard work you did? Happily.” (Y/n) hoisted Yumeko onto her back and the sweaty girl squeaked joyfully, wrapping her arms around (Y/n)’s neck.

The trio talked about the show as they walked (or in Yumeko’s case, carried) through the halls, slowly making their way back to the classroom for the next class period. Mary paused in her next comment as loud, purposeful steps were quickly catching up to them.

“Jabami Yumeko!” A voice filled with contempt called from behind them.

“Oh, Sayaka! How good to see you!” Yumeko smiled, sliding off of (Y/n)’s back to try to greet the secretary with a hug.

Sayaka dodged the attempt on her life, zapping her taser in warning as she glared at the demon before her. (Y/n) wondered if all the students were allowed to carry such dangerous items at school.

“You are in violation of school rules!” Sayaka sternly informed. “You did not fill out the proper paperwork to bring an outsider into Hyakkaou.”

“Really Yumeko,” Mary scoffed, “those are like, the easiest papers to fill out.”

“I’m sorry Sayaka, it must have slipped my mind.” Yumeko apologized.

“Your apologies mean nothing to me. Escort the girl out now.” Sayaka clipped.

“All I want is to spend time with my girlfriend. Surely you could make an exception just this once, Sayaka, friend?” Yumeko pleaded.

“Don’t refer to me as your friend,” Sayaka’s jaw clenched, “better yet, don’t refer to me ever.” Then Sayaka’s expression switched from hostile to something akin to a hopeful curiousness. “Did you say girlfriend? Like dating... monogamously perhaps? As in, you aren’t looking to be dating someone else right now? You want to spend more time with her than anyone else?”

“Yes!” Yumeko nodded, smiling obliviously.

Sayaka turned her attention to (Y/n), walking up to the other girl and grasping (Y/n)’s hands tightly in hers.

“Never break up with her,” Sayaka said, the closeness of her face scaring (Y/n) slightly, “please.”

“I um, wasn’t planning on it.” (Y/n) stuttered in reply.

“My, what do we have going on here?” A silky voice called from behind the group. Sayaka gasped and removed her hands from (Y/n) as if they had burned her.

“President! Vice president! What are you doing here?” The secretary asked.

“I’ve been hearing rumors of Yumeko stirring up my aquarium with a new fish.” Kirari’s lips curled in an interested smile as she eyed the unfamiliar girl. “This must be the one, hm?”

“This is (L/n) (Y/n), my girlfriend. She’s visiting me over the long weekend and I wanted to show her around the school to maximize our time together. Unfortunately I didn’t fill out the proper forms, you’ll allow it won’t you president? Please?” Yumeko explained with a cute pout that made Sayaka livid.

“Of course.” Kirari easily complied, tapping a blue nail against her smiling, equally blue lips. “She’ll just have to gamble with me first.”

Oh no. She said it.

“Gamble?” (Y/n) looked at the president questioningly while Yumeko and Mary hosted a silent eye battle between themselves to figure out how to deescalate the situation.

“Yes, dating Yumeko, I can imagine you must be amazing at it to catch her eye,” Kirari produced a pack of cards from her blazer, “any preferences?”

“I’m not much of a gambler, neither is Yumeko. I’m not quite sure I understand.” (Y/n) answered.

“Not much of a gambler, Yumeko?” Kirari’s lips rose into a highly amused smile.

“What she means to say is that I’ve dabbled in some friendly school gambles while I’ve been here. It’s kind of a tradition at this school, (Y/n). All in good fun.” Yumeko laughed.

“Yes, try telling that to the house pets.” Kirari mused.

“Could you just, shut up for like, five minutes?” Mary seethed, turning to the masked girl standing silently at Kirari’s left, “I thought I told you to keep your sister occupied today so this exact thing wouldn’t happen.”

Ririka shyly removed her mask, looking contrite. “I tried but she wanted to know what Igarashi-san was doing.”

“Could someone please explain to me what is going on here?” (Y/n) asked holding her hands out expectantly as she looked over each face in the little group they had formed in the middle of the hall.

“How about this,” Kirari circled the girl, “you beat me in a gamble and I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

“And if I lose?” (Y/n) questioned.

“No penalty. This is highly entertaining for me as it stands. I just want to know if I can see what Yumeko sees in you.”

“Then I guess I don’t see the harm in it.”

“Excellent. Let’s take this party to the student council room shall we?”

Yumeko nervously twirled her ring as she watched (Y/n) sit across from the president. Kirari had all sorts of gambling dirt of her, as much as she loved (Y/n), she hoped the girl would lose this one.

“Blackjack?” Kirari asked as she shuffled the deck.

“I don’t know how to play that actually.” (Y/n) said.

“That’s fine. Texas Hold ‘Em?”

“No, sorry.”

“How about gin rummy?”

“Haven’t heard of it.”

“Thirty-one?”

“Nope.”

“Ten card no peek baseball?”

“Is that a real thing?”

“What card game do you know?” Kirari tried instead.

“...Go Fish?” (Y/n) replied.

“A woman after my own heart.” Kirari said, causing Sayaka to pout severely.

Kirari dealt the cards, spreading the remaining deck face down between them and the game was set. The pairs flowed evenly for the first couple minutes until (Y/n) had to go fish and Kirari obtained a small lead on her. (Y/n) just as quickly turned the tides a few turns later with a good guessing streak that landed her five more pairs.

The casual luck and easy going attitude (Y/n) presented while gambling with the president made Yumeko even more attracted to her girlfriend by the second, but still she hoped Kirari would turn it back around somehow.

It appeared luck wasn’t on Yumeko’s side however, as (Y/n) won the game with three more pairs then Kirari. The president smiled, mildly impressed by the outsider’s victory.

“Well then, what questions do you have for me?” She asked, shifting in her seat to cross her legs the other way.

“So this is some crazy gambling school, right?” (Y/n) asked with no preamble, not pulling any punches.

“Crazy would be subjective, but gambling is as important in this school as breathing. I’ve made sure of that.” Kirari answered.

“And Yumeko gambles.” (Y/n) said, mostly looking for acknowledgement that clarified the validity of the statement.

“Yes, one of the best in the school.” Kirari praised.

“It’s not dangerous though, right? She hasn’t done anything too drastic?”

Yumeko bowed her head, twisting her ring with a bit more force. A blush coated her skin as her heartbeat pounded in her chest. This was like a gamble in itself and oh, how intense it felt!

“Mm, hard to say.” Kirari shrugged, “I feel as though our definitions of these terms may differ.”

(Y/n) turned to face Yumeko who looked every bit the part of a scolded puppy. She didn’t need to ask any more questions. Not for Kirari to answer anyway.

“Yumeko, just what have you been up to?” (Y/n) asked, covering Yumeko’s hands to cease their twisting.

“(Y/n), I’ve been hiding something from you.” She sniffled, “I’ve been hiding it from you for a long time!”

“What is it?” (Y/n) asked gently, patting the girl’s silky hair.

“I’m, I’m a compulsive gambler!”

“Really?” (Y/n) was stunned.

“Yes, it’s true. I’ve had so many gambles I know you wouldn’t approve of.” Yumeko blinked her tears away as she allowed the truth to be out in the open. “I’ve gambled myself into millions worth of debt just so I could gamble even more, I’ve bet my finger nails, I’ve played Russian Roulette, I’ve bet my free will against become a pop idol and never being able to date again... I’m sorry you had to find it all out like this.”

“Yumeko...” (Y/n) was speechless, she didn’t know what to make of all this. Her sweet, adorable girlfriend had an intense gambling addiction that made her put herself in harm’s way on the daily?

“Please don’t break up, please don’t break up, please don’t...” Sayaka mumbled quietly to herself, rolling something that looked suspiciously like prayer beads in her hands. All the poor secretary wanted was for the snake to have a keeper that would pull her attention away from her president, was that so much to ask for?

(Y/n) sighed through her nose and pinched Yumeko’s arm harshly.

“Ow!” Yumeko whined.

“That’s for keeping secrets.” (Y/n) huffed, pinching Yumeko’s other arm, “that’s for putting yourself in dangerous situations. And this,”

Yumeko closed her eyes, waiting for another stinging pinch. Instead, she received a sweet kiss on her cheek.

“This is an apology for making you feel like you had to hide from me. I love you.”

“I love you too!” Yumeko sniffled, knocking her head into (Y/n)’s chest as she hugged her tightly.

“This doesn’t mean you’re getting a free pass anymore though, no more life changing gambles!”

“...how about three a week.” Yumeko asked shyly.

“Once a month max. You’ll kill me, my heart won’t be able to take the stress.”

“This day has been exhausting.” Mary groaned. “I thought I wasn’t going to let myself be dragged into this idiotic mess.”

“You’re a true friend, Mary-san!” Yumeko clapped.

“Ugh,” Mary ignored her, “come on Ririka, we’re running late for our next election gamble.

Ririka hurried over to the blonde and they exited the room together. (Y/n) and Yumeko followed after giving a cheery goodbye to the amused president and her disgruntled secretary.

“Lessons are over for the day,” Yumeko grinned, hugging (Y/n)’a arm as they walked towards the front gates of the school. “I bet you’re hungry, we didn’t even have time for lunch.”

“Food sounds awesome right now. Any suggestions?”

“I know a few places that might be good. We can go over them while we get ready in my apartment.”

“Sounds great.”

“Don’t let money discourage your final decision. Remember that Yumemi has graciously agreed to pay for our date tonight!”

“Oh yes, how could I forget my almost date with a pop star. How are your legs feeling by the way?”

“They’re so sore (Y/n)! Every step hurts!” Yumeko whined.

“Alright,” (Y/n) bent forward, “up, up.”

“Yay!” Yumeko cheered hopping onto (Y/n)’s back.

Yumeko refused to get off of (Y/n)’s back until they got home... which made taking the bus a little awkward.

~~~

Bonus Scene

Ryota sat stalk still in his desk, watching the hours tick by in the darkened classroom only lit by the soft light from the street lamps outside. He looked down at his notebook, filled with notes, two identical hand written copies for Mary and Yumeko. He looked back at the door, waiting for it to slide open.

“Yumeko, Mary-san,” Ryota weakly called, “please come back soon, I’m so hungry.”

#kakegurui x reader #kakegurui oneshots #Yumeko Jabami #Yumeko x reader #Yumeko Jabami x reader

528 notes · View notes

aggravatetheaxe · 3 years

Note

“maybe you should take long, good look in the mirror and realize that i was never the problem.''

for bo 😤😤 need me some angst with him

angst prompts

cw: straight angst/no comfort, mentions of cheating, arguing and name calling, Bo being a dick, allusions to noncon, shouting, just generally a very unhealthy relationship

gender neutral, Angery reader!

Masterlist

It had been an accident.

There'd been a fight - another fight about something trivial, as always. Bo had kicked you out of the house, and you'd gotten in the car and just chosen a direction. At first, it had been with the intention of never coming back, but as the miles wore you down, your anger was replaced with hopelessness.

You could never really leave Ambrose.

All you had felt when entering the bar was an empty hollow in your chest, a hollow you'd filled with drink after drink, hoping the alcohol could help you forget who you were. The guy sitting next to you had been friendly and patient. He'd listened as you opened up about your husband - listened in a way Bo rarely did. For some reason, in your state, it had seemed like the most romantic thing in the world...

You weren't proud of what you had done. It had been nearly noon by the time you slunk back into Ambrose with your tail between your legs. There was no hiding any of it from Bo. The bastard seemed to smell when something was wrong.

The fact that you were in the living room instead of six feet under was testament to how much he must care. But it sure didn't feel like it. He'd been berating you for what felt like hours. All he could talk about was how hurt he was and how stupid and useless you were for hurting him.

At first, you'd cried, begged for forgiveness. After a while, you'd gone numb. Now, you were nearly shaking with anger. As if you've never done anything regrettable in your life, Bo Sinclair. As if he wouldn't have done the same thing in your position.

"I'm a lotta things, sweetheart" - that crazy-making scoff of his - "but I ain't no cheater."

Those were the words that finally pushed you over the edge. To hear him compare the monstrous things he had done, all the horror and torture and murder, to a mistake you'd made in a moment of desperation ... the indignant rage was too much too quickly.

Against your better judgement, you stamped your foot, opening fire: "Shut up! Just shut the fuck up!"

Bo was stunned for a moment, eyes searching you. His lips pulled back to spit some new venom your way, but before he could, you were shouting.

"I get it, okay? I fucked up! You think I don't know that? You think I don't regret what I did?"

"S'cuse me, you fucked up? Fucked up?" Every condescending word burned like acid. "Ya just slipped and some other guy's dick was in your mouth, that it? What're you gonna tell me next, he took advantage of you? Huh? You were too loaded to know any better?"

You narrowed your eyes, trying to see anything but red. "How dare you. How fucking dare you!" The urge to punch that snarl right off his face was almost overwhelming as you took a step closer. "So, what, I'm supposed to have boundless forgiveness and empathy when you shout or hit or fucking murder people, but you can't extend the same to me when I make one mistake - "

"Mistake!"

" - you fucking hypocrite!"

"You cheated on me," he roared, unafraid to get right up in your face. "That's one hell of a mistake!"

"I didn't make it for no reason. At least he actually listened to what I had to say! At least he acted like - "

"You fuckin' whore."

" - he cared instead of brushing me off and ignoring me. I'm your spouse and you won't even give me the time of day anymore! You don't touch me, you barely even look at me - "

"Bullshit!"

"What was I supposed to do? I miss being treated like a fucking human, Bo. Who are you?!"

Bo loosed an indignant laugh, pure hatred reigniting in his eyes. "You leave and go out actin' like a tramp and that's somehow my fault?"

"Leave?" you shrieked. "You kicked me out!"

"You're lucky I don't kill you!" he returned in kind. "You're lucky I ain't blown your head off yet, way you're always needling - "

"You can't take Daddy's shotgun to every one of your problems, Bo." You spat at his feet and showed him both middle fingers. "Fuck you."

The way his gaze darkened, you weren't sure you'd come out of this argument alive. But a startling clarity gripped you: you didn't care. You didn't care if he murdered you like all the others. You were the best thing to have happened to him in a long time, and he'd burned it up and thrown it away.

If he couldn't treat you with grace after all you'd been through with him, if he couldn't accept that you'd been trying to nurse a wound he'd given you ... if he was gonna kill you now, after everything, he deserved to be alone, and you'd rest easy knowing he was fucking miserable.

"You can kill me," you spat, meeting his gaze squarely, "but maybe you should take a good, long look in the mirror and realize I was never the problem."

An unsettling silence filled the living room for a few moments. Bo's face was red, veins pulsing, and you were certain that was the last thing you'd see.

You couldn't help but jump in surprise when he turned and flipped the coffee table instead, his shouted curses mingling with the sound of exploding cups and splintering wood.

He was out the front door before you could say anything more. The Chevy's engine growled like an animal warning you not to approach, so you simply listened as his tires rolled over the gravel and away from the house.

You wondered if he'd look back at the house in that rear-view mirror - and if he'd catch his own reflection.

#bo sinclair #bo sinclair angst #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair x y/n #bo sinclair x you #bo sinclair imagine #slasher x you #slasher x reader #slasher x y/n #written

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suganovakawa · 3 years

Text

જ — rumor has it!

# 17 ༉‧ yes or no

smau masterlist

✧ ｡ synopsis : though hajime has reassured you time and time again that you two attending different schools would be plenty manageable in your guys’ relationship, your imagination is left to wander when he slowly begins to ghost you.

જ — a/n : it’s finally here! sorry to keep you waiting :,)

— if you could, could you check out this google form for just a few moments of your time? it’s a surprise, but please choose five characters from that list. it would really help a lot!

out of all the places hajime could’ve taken you, you were not expecting an empty parking lot. previously, it belonged to a local grocery store a couple of years back, before it went out of business.

was it necessarily a bad place? of course not. nobody seemed to be around, so if you wanted to yell at him? you’d be able to without so much as batting an eyelash.

that seemed to be the least of iwaizumi’s worries as he turned off the car when he parked in a spot in the middle of the lot, his jaw clenched tightly as both of you sat in silence. not even the hum of the engine was there to alleviate the awkward tension.

“are we talking here, or are we talking outside?” you mustered the courage to speak first, watching as he jumped slightly at the sound of your own nervousness.

“it doesn’t matter. it’s up to you.” his voice seemed almost squeaky as he looked straightforward and out the windshield.

it was obvious the two of you were procrastinating on what was to come. you didn’t want to hear the truth, and hajime was afraid of facing the reality of the situation. the cat had to be let out of the bag one way or another. you had come this far already, there was no way in hell you would chicken out—not when the truth was sitting right next to you, right in the driver’s seat.

“hajime, just—just tell me what happened. please. pretending like it’s not going to hurt will just make both of our lives a living hell. i already know nothing will make this situation any better.” you couldn’t even look at him. your hands were rested on your lap, your fingers clenched tightly into fists. your palms were sweaty, and your stomach was running a mile a minute. what you were going through may not have even held a candle to what iwa was going through.

but iwaizumi isn’t the victim here. you are.

“where do you want me to start?” his voice was faint, weak—unlike anything you had ever heard before.

it was obvious he wasn’t going to confess to anything without a push in that direction.

you wanted to yell at him in frustration; it was going to bubble out of your throat any minute. but that wouldn’t help both of your situations.

well, it might help yours.

“did you do it?” if he was going to act stupid, might as well push him into a corner about it. enough was enough, your lack of patience outweighed any nervousness you once had. “just admit it, hajime. who is she?”

“were you the one who had karasuno go to the—”

“answer my question.”

he looked to you then—he turned pale at the angry look in your eyes. “stop acting like you have nothing to share. i know you better than that. we wouldn’t be here in the first place. you’re guilty of something, and i’ve been thrown into the loop of it, whether i wanted to be in it or not.”

it was then he started shaking. he wasn’t crying, no. this was fear, unyielding terror he held within the very marrow of his bones, eating him from the inside out. you were so close. so very close to getting the answer. this was either a yes or no, it had to be.

“i didn’t,” he finally mustered, leaning forward to grip the steering wheel with an iron grip. “y/n, you have to understand. i didn’t, i didn’t, i didn’t...”

“then who is she, hajime?” you couldn’t tell if he was lying or not, and it was eating at you. “who is the girl? why does she have my number? how does she have my number? what did she get out of exploiting whatever the two of you had, huh? i don’t get it.” so many questions, yet so few answers. “i genuinely don’t understand. i need your help in understanding. please.”

his hold around the steering wheel loosened, until he leaned back into his seat. you were getting more annoyed by the second, but you had said everything you needed to say.

“i didn’t do anything with her,” he repeated, swallowing a lump in his throat. in a matter of seconds, everything began to spill from his tongue. “she’s a family friend who moved to seijoh this year. i don’t know why she moved, when she had been attending shiratorizawa before now. my family asked me to show her around and whatnot, and i agreed to it because i know her, and she was new around school.”

he hesitated before continuing. “it was fine at first, then she asked for tutoring lessons, after school meetings, and all that. i kept saying no until she became so pushy that both her parents and mine told me to at least tutor her. so i did.”

that’s it? you were almost speechless at all this, all this frustration and fear in your system as he became silence once more. “tutoring lessons?” you asked, almost unbelieving of the words that had come out of your own mouth. “i don’t care about tutoring lessons, hajime. why couldn’t you have just told me?”

“because i slowly began to like the tutoring sessions, alright?” he shut you up with one sentence as soon as you started raising your voice. iwa's words hit you harder than expected, you backed up into your own seat as soon as he took a deep breath.

“i didn’t think i would start looking forward to them, but after a couple weeks, i began getting too comfortable. she became more down to earth than i thought she would be, and we became closer.” he buried his face in his hands, as if that would help him atone for his mistakes. “it had nothing to do with you. don’t think i got tired of you, because i would never, and i mean that. please—”

“would you have actually done anything with her if i never found out?” hajime’s eyes widened as your voice cracked, your arms wrapping around your own stomach in discomfort.

“y/n—”

“would you?”

“no.” not even a moment of hesitation. “i would never.”

“how can you be so sure?” you were angry, frustrated, confused—so many thoughts, so many questions... you were at a complete loss of words, yet too many were threatening to spill out all at once. “you were already comfortable with being able to see her more than you were able to see me. how can you say so easily that the thought of doing anything else with her never crossed your mind?”

“because i love you, not her.” his hand reached up to touch yours, but you moved away from him, as far away as you could in the passenger seat. he placed his hand back down into his pockets before continuing. “i’m not sure if you remember, but there was one night where you thought i was unwell, because i wasn’t texting like my usual self.”

you nodded silently to acknowledge your memory of that day. “that’s because it wasn’t me. that was her. i must’ve left my phone unlocked while i had left the dining room to turn on my car and she took it. by the time i dropped her off at home, you began messaging me about being bored of our relationship, because of how she had texted you. i was terrified that it had come to this, that i was too ashamed of myself to admit to what had been going on.”

“and the other ten minutes?”

“she forgot her homework at my house.”

you almost hated how his explanation fit perfectly into the entire situation. that would explain how she got your number. “i just... i don’t get why you had to hide all of this from me. don’t you trust me? have our years of being together not account for anything? do you really think i would care about tutoring lessons?”

“they weren’t supposed to be lessons. they turned from fifteen minute meetups to a scheduled hour almost everyday. i didn’t realize just how normal it had become for me until both you and oikawa began ignoring me.” you could tell he was having difficulty confessing to everything, but you weren’t going to stop until he coughed out every remaining detail out of him.

“...and the cafe?”

“i wanted to end everything, i swear. end the lessons, end anything that began to develop a deeper relationship.” iwaizumi shook his head at the thought and leaned his head against the headrest, staring up at the roof of his vehicle. “i wanted to do it without having to drag you into this mess, so that it would never happen again. then i saw karasuno walking out as soon as i was about to say something.”

“what did you do after they left?” that also lined up perfectly with what both sugawara and nishinoya told you that day.

“i still did it. i told her that our meetings were over and that i was no longer going to affiliate with her outside of school, or anywhere in general. i stood up and left before she could say anything.” he glanced in your direction and sat straight once more, his hands fidgety and his foot tapping lightly near the pedals. “that was that. i didn’t even drive her home. i drove back to my house and blocked her number. after thinking about my mistakes, i called you. then everything unfolded to now.” you were still trying to process everything that was just let out, and hajime slumped into his seat. “that’s it. that’s all that happened. you can even check my phone if you want.”

you didn’t want to see his phone. currently, you didn’t know what you wanted. part of you was thinking about getting out of his car and walking home. surely he didn’t think that just telling you the truth would be the answer to all of your problems?

“why are you sorry, hajime?” after more silence had filled the air, you pierced it with a needle. “that you got caught? that i found out? that you made a mistake? why?”

“because i let something so stupid drag out this far.”

“be honest with me.” you interrupted him before he could continue. “did you grow feelings for her at one point?”

“feelings?”

“you’re not naive. you know what i’m asking you.”

he hesitated, which was all the answer you needed. his silence was louder than any other response he could have given you. you were just heartbroken that absolutely none of this was your fault.

iwaizumi noticed your shift in emotion, and his voice cracked under the pressure of the situation, and you could tell he was trying his hardest to keep everything in. “i shouldn’t have let it come to this, and i know apologizing won’t change anything. but you have to believe that i never did a thing with her. and i don’t have feelings for her. none. the closest i ever got to her was accidentally touching the same pencil as her.” his tone became more desperate, he was losing whatever restraint he had left. “i swear, you don’t have to forgive me now, but please let me make it up to you eventually. i promise—”

“hajime, please drive me home.”

“what?”

“i said, please drive me home.” this really wasn’t a yes or no situation. everything about this was anything but yes or no.

he was unfaithful, but he wasn’t. he cheated... but did he really?

depends on your standpoint of cheating, isn’t it?

“thank you for telling me everything. i trust you enough to believe that what you said was the truth, but i just want to go home now. please.”

he didn’t respond to your monotone response, he knew that was the end of this conversation. with a heavy heart he started his engine and drove out of the empty parking lot, the space between you figuratively wider the longer you two remained in the same car together. the road stretched far ahead, you let your thoughts spin into an endless frenzy all the way back home. the noise in your head refused to subside as hajime parked in your driveway, changing the stick shift to park and unlocking the door.

you reached for the door handle to open it, but hesitated. was this really the end of you two? you didn’t know if it was or not—you didn’t know if you wanted it to be over. you still loved him. that feeling wouldn’t go away overnight. and while hajime made an extremely stupid mistake, you knew he loved you as well. but this was something that couldn’t be ignored. you couldn’t just pretend this never happened. you were better than that.

“i don’t know what’s going to happen yet,” you said truthfully, gathering the courage to turn around and look hajime in the eye. “i just want to think about it for now. that’s all.”

“take your time. i’ll always wait for you.” he sounded broken, but you had made up your mind. with only a simple nod to say goodbye, you opened the door without turning back, rushing back into your house before watching hajime drive away with a sharp pain in your chest.

what the hell are you gonna do now?

✧ ｡ taglist ( closed ) — @tris-does-stuff @solko @jaehyunluvcult @apricotjihyo @otaku-fangirlse @arolotte @froppysgirl @awkwardspontaneity @dekumiya @sayakaaaaaa @tsumuboke @vanilla-beanzz @roastedchikin @actheroic @youngestdelacour @saturnfaerie @karaseijoh @dicerawr @sun-daddy-yoriichi @bokutos-h0e @cloudykarasuno @emiyummy @nightskyerie @unstableye @bokuakadaily @arianatorgrand3 @eitadesu @dandelily @iiwah @prcttylittlcthing @ceeswrites-main @liliesofterainmain @jaegersblogh @tycrackculture @paintedstarres @cleopatera @fern-writes-ig @1987hotschott @momo-has-a-gun @sempiternal-amour @it-me-trash @ynjimenez @yeehawslap @moonlightaangel @sunflowerirl @tsumu-core @abswrites @kodzukrn @h0ngh0ngh0ng @kac-chowballs @creativedogs @kissungjae @danger093 @winunk @agaassi @ntngann @elianetsantana @toffees-main @kokogxddess

+ continued in the comments!

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burningupp · 3 years

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written under the cut!

eighteen: stupid

<<< masterlist >>>

Taglist (open):

@missmadwoman @jovialdelusionbouquet @sopebubbles @sugarcayls @a-noona-mous @emmmui @chimchiekookie @renhold-nightspear @halesandy @gracefulevijlsoul @ephyra1230 @leahknox @somelazysundays @r4yih @jikooksgirl19 @orxphicz3phyrs @secretlycrazyhummingbird @taeshuworld @hannahdinse8 @mybabywearschanel @lovelytaes-blog @salty-for-suga @lyra0cassiopeia @theestrangeddreamer @xianav @gingerspicetalks @unicornbabylover

Immediately after you send the text, you hear the telltale sound of a FaceTime-call breaking through the silence of your apartment. It makes you smile, and shift to sit more upright on the couch - Jimin may be a friend, one of the best ones you've ever had if you're honest, but you don't find the thought of exposing him to your double chin while you lay down particularly enticing.

Since Jimin (and Taehyung, but you try not to let your thoughts linger on him too much) left, talking to the cheerful man had become like habit. He always texted you good morning, asked how your day was when you got home, and wished you sweet dreams before sleeping. Unlike Rosie, he actually took his time to listen and hear you out just as you did the same for him.

No shade to your long-time best friend, but she wasn't particularly attentive to others; an unfortunate trait she had always carried with her.

As soon as you pressed the green button on your screen, Jimin's smiling face made an appearance. The sight of him pulled a smile onto your features, one you couldn't have fought off if you wanted to - the man knew how to cheer someone up.

Jimin seemed to be in a living room of some sort, something that you found rather surprising. The other times the two of you had FaceTimed, he made it a point to provide the both of you with the privacy of his room, door shut tight. You didn't mind much, but the unfamiliar background intrigued you.

"Y/n!" Jimin exclaimed, that large smile never leaving his features.

"Hi Jimin," you smiled back.

Though your greeting may not have been quite as enthusiastic, you were in fact very happy to see your friend. Your days were spent in a kindergarten, after all, and as much as you adored the kids you cared for, they weren't very good conversationalists just yet. Besides, aside from Rosie, you didn't have many friends, definitely none you considered close, in any case. Jimin's presence in your life, in short, was a welcome one.

"How you holding up?" the smiling man asked, gaze softening.

"I told you I'm alright, Min," you chuckled, glaring at him playfully. "I'm not a child."

"I know, but I care about you, love," he answered, pouting a little. It made you giggle at him.

As bothered as you were because of the whole Taehyung-situation, you figured it was no use dwelling too much on it; if he was upset, you didn't know why, and if he expected an apology, he would have to man up and ask for one. You felt guilty, of course you did – it was in your nature to do your best to always keep all your relationships amicable. Still, there wasn’t much you could do if you didn’t even know what to apologize for.

“I know, thank you for your concern,” you told him, smiling sweetly.

“No problem,” the man grinned back, and you briefly reflected on his ability to shift emotions with such speed. “Anyway, I’m sorry for saying those things about Rosie, that was not very cool of me.”

You bristled a little at that, not even having thought much about his less than kind words towards your best friend. Honestly, they were kind of true – Rosie really shouldn’t have gone through your phone without your permission, and definitely shouldn’t have taken Taehyung’s number without yours (or his) permission at all. However, you were very much used to her antics, and therefore tended to gloss over things like this.

“Ah no, it’s okay,” you told your friend, waving him off. “She can be a bit much at times… it does feel a little bit weird when you don’t know her, I suppose.”

Jimin hummed a little, a crease appearing between his brows. He didn’t want to tell you, but he thought Rosie was a horrible influence on you; he thought you deserved much better friends in general, if he was honest. He had heard about her from you, and while you tended to sugarcoat most things in life, the things he heard were still a bit appalling despite it. On top of that, he had seen the way Rosie acted around Taehyung, and the fact that she was manipulating him understandably didn’t sit well with him at all.

“I guess that might be true,” he agreed, not wanting to make you uncomfortable with his opinions on the matter. “Aside from… that whole situation, how are you doing?”

This question caused you some distress. Your gaze fell upon your coffee table, littered with mountainous piles of papers and books, your laptop open in the middle, glaring its bright white light at you. You bit your lip, stress swelling in your chest and threatening to consume you. You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath – nothing good would come from stressing about the situation.

“Y/n?” Jimin asked after a few seconds of silence.

Your eyes were burning with the effort of keeping your tears at bay, but you still answered the man as calmly as you could.

“I’m okay. A bit stressed, is all,” you said, tacking on a chuckle at the end as to not clue the man in on your severe distress.

“How come?”

“This one teacher… She was pregnant. Keyword ‘was’. She was in her 36th week when she went into labor, meaning she still had lessons to plan all the way until summer, and she had two weeks left until her maternity leave. Now we have to plan all her lessons quickly, because we have to bring in a substitute and it’s just—” you stopped yourself, taking another deep breath before you hurled all over your fairly new couch. “It’s just a lot.”

Jimin frowned at you through the screen. He could definitely see the dark circles under your eyes, and the mess your hair was due to the incessant pulling. He could see a coffee stain on your sweatshirt, too, and when you covered your face with your hands, your bitten-down nails also became apparent. He really felt for his friend, and wished he could relieve your stress somehow.

Just as he was about to suggest taking a break or a vacation or something, you saw another man walk up behind him. Despite looking the band up online (purely to be able to keep up with Jimin’s stories about his life), you could not place who the unfamiliar man was at first. He had broad shoulders, was reasonably tall, and had brown, messy hair. From the looks of it, the man was about to walk straight past Jimin, before he stopped dead.

“Hey, who are you talking to?”

The man padded up behind your friend, leaning in to see the phone screen. Jimin jumped as soon as he heard his friend speak up, clutching his chest and glaring at the man.

“Yah hyung, you scared me,” he whined, and you giggled, your stress momentarily forgotten.

“Oh, is that Y/n?”

Now that the unfamiliar man was so close, you could identify him as Seokjin, the oldest member of the band. You smiled bashfully and waved a little. “Hi.”

You had never talked to Seokjin before, but he gave off a very friendly aura, even through your phone screen. He smiled back at you, and waved a little too.

“Nice to finally see your face,” he grinned, and your eyes widened. “Taehyung talked a lot about you.”

At the mention of your childhood friend’s name, you froze. Jimin was very good at avoiding mentioning his name, but of course, Seokjin wouldn’t know that the two of you were… not on the best terms at the moment. So, you swallowed down the sudden melancholy that washed over you, and tried your best to smile. It sort of worked.

“Ah, well that’s nice of him. Seokjin, right?” you settled for asking, not wishing to dwell on Taehyung for too long.

“Call me Jin,” the man told you kindly before turning to Jimin. “Our car is here to take us to practice.”

Your sweet friend groaned loudly, pouting at the camera. “I guess I have to go,” he said grumpily.

“I guess you do,” you giggled as Jimin stood up from the couch. “Don’t work too hard and take plenty of breaks, okay? You too Jin!”

You saw Jin pause at your words, turning to grin at the phone once more. “You really are a sweetheart, you know that?”

His words made you blush, because you weren’t very used to compliments, but you appreciated them nonetheless. Jimin was quick to agree with his hyung, reiterating how sweet and kind you were, and your face flamed even hotter.

“Yah, let’s go!” you heard a shout from the background.

“Alright, now I really have to go,” muttered Jimin, smiling softly at you. “Please don’t overwork yourself. You won’t be any good to those kids if you’re burnt out, you know.”

You returned his smile easily. “I will do my best. Now go before someone bursts a blood vessel!”

Jimin giggled before saying a quick goodbye, followed by a shouted one from Jin. Before the screen went dark, though, you saw a man with curly hair walking out the door.

You hated the way your heart sped up at the sight of him.

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