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blackbird0blog · 2 years

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Yamanaka Ino’s Guide to the Walk of Shame Chapter 2

Read chapter 1 first

Chapter 2: The Raunchy Report

Shinobi nicknames are earned.

The Yondaime got his by mastering the Hiraishin and being too fast to see – the Yellow Flash. Jiraiya was dubbed the Toad Sage only because he became one. Uchiha Itachi earned his by the bloody slaughter of his clan, known as the Clan Killer.

Shinobi monikers are earned, and they’re also very literal.

As she clutched the paper in her hands, limbs trembling and eyes wide with horror, Ino knew she was going to be given one of her own.

This is it, she thought hysterically, I’m going to be known as, 'That Fucker’ for the rest of my short and miserable life.

In her hands was a copy of her mission report – the highly confidential, unmentionable, unspeakable mission to River.

Her leaked, highly confidential, unmentionable, unspeakable mission report.

If Ino thought her disgrace after she had slunk back into Konoha, thoroughly debauched from the most exquisitely sinful one-night stand in history was terrible, then the self-loathing she felt now eclipsed it by orders of magnitudes.

Was it not enough that her walk of shame had been for literal miles, across two countries and through the entirety of Konoha, wherein she had to fully confess to her sins at the end of it?

Apparently not, because here she was, back before Tsunade in the Hokage’s office and absolutely steaming with mortification.

Somebody leaked her mission report.

“Somebody leaked my mission report!” Ino shrieked, ripping the paper in her dismay.

This was the kind of thing that featured prominently in her nightmares.

Most shinobi dreamt of blood and gore and the agonised faces of their loved one dying. Ino would tell them they’re the lucky ones.

Her nightmares featured Uchiha Itachi finding out what, exactly, Ino had put into her mission report.

If the kunoichi had written an ordinary statement – one of the bland, detached, professional reports that they taught you to write in the academy – then it would still be bad, though not as bad as this. But Ino hadn’t written a bland, detached, professional report, because she was a stupid, idiotic moron who loved ruining her own life and screwing herself over.

“Oh my god,” Ino said as she swayed where she stood in the Hokage’s office. “Oh my god, I think I’m going to faint.”

The room spun and blurred around her, but she was deprived of blessed unconsciousness by Tsunade’s glowing green hand on her forehead bringing everything back into horrible clarity.

“You know, I’m surprised you’re over-reacting like this-”

“Over-reacting!?”

“-when you’re the one who wrote it like you did in the first place,” Tsunade finished.

The Yamanaka’s face took on a green tinge as she thought back to her report, and the process she had gone through to write it.

Anyone who knew her would say Ino could be a petty bitch when she wanted to be. She would even agree with them and thought it was one of her better qualities. Only now she desperately wished she hadn’t given into such ruinous impulses.

Two months ago, the chuunin had treated herself to her promised bubble bath, gotten all flustered over the marks she found on her body, slept a full sixteen hours, then had eaten an enormous greasy breakfast when she woke up.

You know, all normal things to do after a one-night stand.

Afterwards it was time to face the music, and Ino had gotten to work on her assigned task. Except–

Except how was she supposed to summon up the sheer shamelessness required to accomplish said task!?

There she was, shut in her room and trying not to think about the many people who were going to read all about how she’d banged Uchiha Itachi, when the same insanity that had driven her to carry out the act in the first place possessed her again, and she was compelled to write her report the way she did.

Ino had thought if she had to blush and cringe her way through writing it, then everyone who read it should be equally as horny, embarrassed, and mortified as well.

So she’d written their encounter in all its graphic and carnal detail –

– because accurate accounting and precise detail was important, she would later argue –

– and in a novel-like manner –

– because Ino was petty and wanted people to feel the same mortification she did at being hopelessly turned on by Uchiha Itachi –

– though far filthier than any she’d ever read before.

She had even put Icha Icha to shame, and by the time she was finished, Ino knew she’d created a literary masterpiece guaranteed to make any reader stop and take a cold shower midway through.

Hah! And Shikamaru claimed her hobby of reading trashy romance novels was a waste of time; well Ino sure showed him. Not only had they been very informative when writing her own explicit scenes, but they had also instructed her on how to perform a blowjob.

The Yamanaka had vindictively submitted her report to the Hokage one week after that disastrous mission to River, and for a whole month afterwards, all those in the know were unable to look her in the eyes.

Tsunade would break into hysterical giggles at the mere sight of her, and you could have fried an egg on Shizune’s face. Shikaku’s expression would spasm uncontrollably and he’d come up with some shoddy excuse to flee the room, whereas Elder Homura had been torn between distaste and embarrassment – though Koharu had looked appraising, almost like she was impressed.

Hell, even Morino Ibiki had stared like he’d never seen her before.

The only mercy she received was that her father had been kept out of the loop due to a ‘conflict of interest’. They believed – and Ino was inclined to agree – that Inoichi wouldn’t be able to summon up the ‘appropriate emotional distance’ to make a sound judgment.

“Besides,” Tsunade’s glee-filled voice broke her out of her recollections. “You seemed perfectly alright during your…” she waggled her eyebrows, “performance evaluation.”

Ino cringed.

Oh gods.

She had suppressed the memories of her cross-examination interview for the sake of her continued ability to function as a person.

Ino had been here for far too long already, and she had already cycled through stutters, blushes, cringes, and every display of embarrassment and then some. She’d likely invented a few more during the interview she was giving to the gathered higher-ups.

By this point, Ino had gone so far beyond the point of no return that her face was calm as she stared at the panel arrayed before her. She had transcended to a state of Zen; the complete disconnection from the mundane that monks spent a lifetime trying to achieve. Ino had accomplished this feat during a single mission debrief, and it wasn’t over yet. In contrast to her placid mien, Morino Ibiki shuffled twitchily through his papers.

“After you regained consciousness, why did you then proceed to have intercourse again with Uchiha?”

Ibiki seemed to think that if he clung to his professionalism, he could pretend he was above embarrassment, infringement of privacy, and shame.

“I had just awoken to the realisation that I’d had incredibly lewd, amazing sex with Uchiha Itachi in a cave, so my logical thinking abilities were somewhat impaired.”

Ino had decided to relieve him of this foolish notion.

“But I knew I had to keep all parties in the temporary alliance happy and alive, so I decided this called for more incredibly lewd, amazing sex.”

Tsunade’s amber eyes shone with barely supressed mirth, and she bit down hard on her lip. Elder Homura’s expression clearly conveyed how scandalised he was, while Shikaku made what sounded like an aborted whimper.

“And why did you decide to-“ a violent twitch, “pleasure Uchiha orally.”

“At this point my legs weren’t capable of supporting me, much less of running, so they needed time to rest. And I thought I ought to get biology and endorphins on my side, and that after a blowjob Itachi would be less inclined – both mentally and physically – to follow me.”

The Hokage’s shoulders were shaking.

“It was a very logical thing to do-“ and because Ino was a petty, terrible person, she added, “-and I recommend it as the course of action for other Konoha shinobi should they ever find themselves in my position.”

Tsunade suddenly stood up.

“Excuse me,” she said, voice strained.

The Hokage dashed from the room, wrenching open the door and slamming it shut behind her. But not before an explosion of raucous laughter could be heard echoing through the concrete corridor of T&I’s lower levels.

Well Ino was glad someone was enjoying themselves.

A cough brought her attention back to the panel arrayed before her, and Ino marshalled her expression back into something suitably professional.

She was sure no one was buying it.

“So you managed to escape,” Shikaku prompted, obviously trying to end things as soon as he could.

“Yes sir. As I wrote in my report, my journey back to Konoha was swift.”

She believed she had ended her report with: ‘Tits bouncing and hair flying, I ran like I was fleeing a starving beast; one that if I lingered for too long, would devour me whole.’

Ino knew that her imagery had popped into their heads because everyone collectively cringed. Misery really did love company because their mortification was a balm to her soul.

Ibiki coughed. “While your… attention to detail is to be commended, your embellishments -

“As the person involved, I believe my thoughts and feelings are necessary for you to get a full and accurate picture. They should also prove useful for your evaluation,” she interjected smoothly.

Ibiki’s face flattened, and she could see the very instant when he gave up.

“Yes, thank you Yamanaka-san,” he said blandly, his expression blank. Ino was a hundred percent sure he had begun dissociating.

“Is there anything else you’d like to add?” Shikaku looked very much like he was praying for her to say ‘no’ so this would all finally be over.

It reminded her so much of Shikamaru’s own expression when he was about to call her a troublesome woman for the umpteenth time, that Ino – completely stripped of dignity and bereft of shame – felt her mouth open without her permission.

“It was a clusterfuck,” she deadpanned. “And I mean that quite literally; it was a cluster of fu-”

“Aright!” Shikaku yelped and shot out of his seat. “Meeting adjourned!”

He legged it to the door faster than she had ever seen him move her entire life.

Ino glared at her leader.

“We agreed never to speak of that,” she hissed angrily. Tsunade chortled mirthfully.

“This isn’t funny!” The chuunin grabbed the Senju’s shoulders and shook her, forgetting herself in her hysterics. The older kunoichi placed both hands on Ino’s own shoulders.

“Everything will be okay.” Amber eyes looked reassuringly into her own.

Ino was not reassured.

“How is anything okay?” she snapped. “Everyone in the Elemental Nations can read my mission report!”

She thrust a hand in a north-easterly direction.

“The Raikage is sitting in Kumo right now, reading about me and Itachi banging in a cave! Orochimaru and Sasuke are in Sound, finding out about his brother’s hot and steamy encounter with his former classmate!”

Ino gripped her ponytail and yanked it wildly.

“Itachi himself is reading about fucking me and is probably plotting my murder right this instant!”

She screeched the last words, panting heavily. When she next spoke, her voice was eerily calm.

“He’s going to kill me.”

Ino had written an erotic porno with him and her as the main characters, one which Jiraiya himself would have been proud to lay claim to, much less star in. Said porno had been leaked by some dead man whom Ino was going to murder painfully and was now out for public consumption.

Wild, crazed blue eyes bored into the Godaime. “I turned Itachi into a porn star.”

“He’s not going to kill you,” Tsunade said, though Ino noted she sounded rather doubtful.

“An international porn star.”

The Hokage winced. “Okay, he might kill you. But look on the bright side –“

Ino goggled. What bright side!?

“-your name and ID were blacked out in those reports, so people will have no clue you were involved-”

“Itachi will know!”

“-and no one believes it actually happened,” Tsunade continued without a hitch. “In fact, I’ve got reports that some flunky who works as a low-level black-market clerk in Earth Country is actually selling copies of your mini-novel for a surprisingly high price.” The famous medic chortled. “I’m surprised he has the balls to do it, it’s not like Itachi’s name was censored.”

Ino stared, aghast.

“But that just goes to show no one believes it’s real, or else I’m sure he wouldn’t dare– “

Ino’s soul-rending wail cut her off as she collapsed to her knees, once again falling to Tsunade’s office floor.

“I’m not even profiting from my own porn; someone else is profiting off my autobiographical smut! I can sink no lower!”

XXX

Despite Konoha’s best efforts, the counter-intelligence division’s attempts, and Ino’s desperate prayers for the world to end – her report remained out there for everyone to read. The sheer… obscenity of it ensured it spread like wildfire, and Ino had cursed her past self so many times for being daring, stupid, and competent enough to write it as she had.

Why, why had she thought this would be a good idea?

Like Tsunade had predicated, people didn’t believe it was real, though it was heavily debated because everything except the identity of the male lead lent credence to its authenticity.

It was stamped with the Hokage’s seal, had actual processing numbers and codes scribbled on it, and contained information like Itachi’s ankle injury with an attached copy of the medical report to corroborate it. People with far too much time on their hands had looked up the meteorological data for that date, time, and region, and confirmed there actually was a huge storm that night.

Thankfully however, the sheer absurdity as well as the contrast between Itachi’s reputation (stone-cold killer) with his character in the report (sexy, thirsty beast), meant no one was taking it seriously. Most people thought it was written by some deranged lunatic with both a major crush and huge grudge against Itachi to get back at him for something.

But that didn’t stop people from reading it, and worse – gossiping about it. The fact that someone had written an erotic porno starring Uchiha Itachi was so scandalous it spread faster than you would believe, especially since people had a morbid fascination with crazy things that could get them killed.

Ino spent her days trying not to flinch and quiver every time she heard mention of it. Which was why when requested for a mission outside of Konoha, the agitated kunoichi had leapt at the chance.

You’d think she’d have learnt from the last time.

“You.” Ino stopped dead when she saw who her team leader would be.

Shiranui Genma, also known as ANBU Sparrow, grinned goofily at her as she walked into the Hokage’s office. She turned straight back around and marched out, only for Genma to appear beside her and drag her in.

“No,” she instantly refused.

“You-”

“Absolutely not.”

Shikamaru and Neji stared in incomprehension while Tsunade watched on like this was the greatest entertainment she could ever ask for.

“There’s no way I’m going to be on his team,” Ino emphasised the word with such disdain that Genma snickered.

“…is Ino-san a necessary member for this mission?”

If Neij hadn’t sounded so thoroughly confused when asking, Ino would have been deeply offended. As it was, she simply wanted to get far, far away.

“Ino is a kunoichi among kunoichi. She is The Kunoichi,” Genma stressed, waving his hand empathically. “There’s no one better I could have on my team.”

The Yamanaka would have loved the praise if she had earned it for literally any other reason.

“You were specifically requested by Special Jounin Shiranui for your skills in interrogation and medical ninjutsu,” Tsunade lied blatantly.

Yeah right, Ino scoffed in her mind. Who did she think she was fooling?

“With Shikamaru and Neji, you’ll make a very well-balanced team.”

Even though she knew Genma just wanted her along to poke fun at her, Ino still wrestled with indecision. To remain in Konoha where people were unknowingly gossiping about her, or to go with Genma who would knowingly and gleefully rub it in her face.

As if reading her mind, the Hokage continued before she could decline again.

“This mission will be a joint operation with Hidden Sand. Both Suna and Konoha have vested interest in the Kaneki pass, and because it lies in the Land of Grass, you will be supervised by a team of their shinobi who will also act as your guides. You will be take part in investigating and resolving a large poisoning incident that has taken place.”

“Who will be the leader of the joint teams?” she asked. If it was Genma – or worse, someone more unbearable - she would rather disobey her Hokage and remain in Konoha than go.

Tsunade glanced down at her papers. “Grass will take overall command because you’ll be operating in their territory.”

Ino felt a burst of relief. If Kusa was in charge, then that was alright. And Gaara would likely send Temari to represent Suna, so that was even better; she wouldn’t stand for any of Genma’s nonsense.

Perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

XXX

Ino stopped dead when she saw who Suna’s team leader was.

“You.”

She turned straight back around and marched out, only for Genma to appear beside her and drag her in.

“You bastard!” she hissed at him. “You knew Kankuro would be the one in charge didn’t you!”

Genma’s grin gave him away, and Ino swore she would strangle Tsunade when she got back. Of course Suna had informed them who the leader of the team would be – why hadn’t she asked!?

Because she hadn’t realised anyone would ever think to send Kankuro to represent anything internationally. Ino repressed a shudder.

“Where’s Temari?” she asked Kankuro, who looked both confused and insulted at her reaction.

“On another mission. Anyway, what’s wrong with me?” he crossed his arms.

“You gossip too much,” Ino said flatly.

Kankuro boggled. “You’re saying that? You?” he turned to Shikamaru. “What crawled up her ass?”

Genma burst into a fit of unmanly giggles. Ino flushed crimson and stomped on his foot.

Shikamaru shook his head. “Beats me. She’s been like this for the past week.”

Thankfully for Ino’s sanity and Genma's continued existence, the Grass shinobi stepped up to brief them on their mission.

The Kaneki pass was a major trade route that connected the north of the continent with the south. Huge shipments of goods moved through there, and recently it had been seriously affected by seasonal flooding that was worse than normal. This had displaced numerous people from their homes, had caused illness to rise and bandits to plague the roads. Normally, this would all be taken care of by Grass’ own shinobi, but there was an additional issue.

There had been a huge incident that was hushed up wherein an entire town had been killed overnight. Grass shinobi had investigated and found it to be a poison that they'd never seen before, hence why they had reached out to Suna and Konoha - the best poisoners and healers respectively.

They needed to identify and take care of whoever was responsible, preferably before the news leaked out and all merchants stopped using the route, causing huge economic losses to all three countries.

The mission started off normally.

Ino, Genma, Kankuro and one of the suna shinobi remained behind to carry out their investigation on the poison, while the Grass team led Neji, Shikamaru and the two other Suna shinobi to the town.

But before they could make much headway, they received a call for back-up from the forward investigation team. Of course, they dropped everything they were doing and came running instantly.

The first thing she saw when she arrived on the scene was a very familiar black and red cloak.

Ino’s heart stuttered for a second before her brain processed the rest of what she was seeing, and she nearly sighed in relief. Then she realised she was actually relieved to see Hoshigaki Kisame, and quickly adjusted her mental state to be appropriately terrified.

Kisame was destroying the joint Leaf-Sand-Grass team, with several men bleeding on the ground, one of them gasping as he tried to keep his guts in after his abdomen appeared to have been shredded.

She instantly zeroed in on her patient as Genma leapt to join the fight. The Suna shinobi was in a bad way, and the Yamanaka focused intently on fixing his internal injuries so she could stop the bleeding.

“We have another incoming!” Neji barked, and Ino briefly shifted her attention from the patient she was healing to her chakra sense. The blood drained from her face and her green medical jutsu stuttered and died.

“Oh my god,” Ino moaned. This couldn’t be happening. “We need to leave!”.

How could this be happening?

“What is it?” Shikamaru hissed back, eyes glued on Kisame, brain visibly racing.

Before she could speak, the answer appeared on a branch on the far side of the clearing, figure silhouetted by the sun. Golden light spilled over dark hair, what little of his pale skin that was visible shone, and red eyes stared down at them like an untouchable god surveying the mortals below.

Everyone froze as Uchiha Itachi leapt gracefully to the ground and walked to Kisame’s side, an unconscious man hung over his shoulder in a fireman’s hold. Silent feet carried him closer, and the mixed team came to their senses and scurried to regroup around Ino’s position.

“Come to join the fun, Itachi?” The mist-nin greeted his partner with a toothy grin.

The Uchiha glanced around contemplatively, gaze sweeping the scene before coming to rest on her, and Ino’s whole body chilled like she had been dunked in ice. Neji and Shikamaru instantly shifted to stand in front of her, the Nara bristling defensively.

“Ino.”

Her spoke her name casually in his smooth tenor, like they were neighbours who had just bumped into one another on the street. The sound seemed to ring in the air, a physical weight that bore down upon her chest, making it difficult to breathe.

The named blonde in question gazed back at the man she thought she would never see again with eyes as wide as saucers, like a rabbit caught in a trap.

“Itachi,” she squeaked, face trying to pale and flush at the same time. Her pulse thrummed in her ears.

This was like her every nightmare come to life.

“Itachi, you know this chick?” Kisame asked, analysing her closely, taking in her pale skin and blonde hair, features that she never should have written into her report.

Itachi hummed, and if she didn't know better, Ino would swear he sounded amused. "We're...acquainted."

Heart caught in her throat, Ino watched with dread as realisation dawned on the Kiri-nin's features.

“No,” Kisame said, hushed and disbelieving. His eyes darted between the two of them.

“No,” he repeated. “No way!”

A wide shark’s grin stretched over his cheeks, splitting his face from one side to another. Ino could have combusted on the spot.

Kisame threw his head back and howled, the other shinobi all staring in abject confusion. Ino dreaded when that confusion would morph into horrible, visceral understanding, all the while Itachi remained infuriatingly inscrutable behind the high collar of his cloak. Tension in the clearing spiralled even higher amongst the mixed group of shinobi as Kisame continued his ostentatious display of mirth.

Eventually having to use his sword to keep himself propped up, Kisame’s laughter wound down.

“Ino, huh,” he said speculatively.

Uchiha Itachi and Hoshigaki Kisame, two S-ranked missing-nin, knew her name. If the gods had any mercy left, they wouldn’t have -

“So this is the chick who had the guts to bang you in that cave?”

- read her porn.

…Her life was over.

The silence that fell over the clearing was like nothing she had ever heard before. Even the birds and trees seemed to hush as everyone tried to mentally process Kisame’s words, not sure if their ears were working properly. Nobody spoke.

Nobody except her, unfortunately.

“That’s me,” Ino’s mouth operated, entirely independent from her mind. “Yamanaka Ino, gutsiest banger this side of Fire.”

She instantly wanted to stab herself.

The reactions were explosive; Neji and the Kusa-nin whipped around to goggle at her, Shikamaru released a garbled, incomprehensible noise, and the Suna-nin at her feet she had previously been healing gurgled like he was dying. He might have actually been dying, but no one paid him any mind.

Because in addition to Kisame’s grin widening and Genma choking on his senbon, Itachi snorted.

Uchiha Itachi actually snorted.

Along with Ino, Kisame gawked, then he let loose another bellow of laughter.

“Wow, no wonder you let her go, Itachi; she's hilarious!”

He snickered, smile widening as she flushed.

“You know, before this, I was a hundred percent sure Itachi was asexual." The Kiri-nin leered. “Nice,” he drawled, before chuckling again.

Ino very deliberately did not meet Shikamaru’s gaze as it pierced her face with the strength of his incredulity. She could practically hear him screaming, ‘Is it true!?’

“You know what?” Kisame sighed happily. It was an incredibly disturbing sight. “This is amazing, I’m in such a good mood that I’m not even going to kill anyone anymore. What do you think Itachi?”

“They can live,” the Uchiha said indifferently, his gaze still fixed on Ino. Her skin felt like it was tingling and burning beneath the weight of his regard. “We have already completed our objective.”

The swordsman nodded sagely.

“Plus, it would be a waste to kill such a talented author.” Kisame waggled his eyebrows at her, “I’ve never read such a filthy story; if you ever retire one day you should totally write more porn. I would buy it.”

Ino tore her eyes from Itachi’s own – eyes she had stupidly been staring straight into. She looked over, dead inside.

“Thank you, that’s exactly what I wanted to hear,” she deadpanned, making the mist-nin grin again.

“Well.” Kisame hefted his great sword and swung it over his shoulder back into its strap. “We’ll be off then. Nice to meet ’cha.”

He winked at her and in the blink of an eye, he was standing at the opposite side of the clearing. Ino barely had the time to get her heartrate under control when Itachi also vanished and reappeared beside his partner, then paused. He glanced over his shoulder to look back at her.

Later, she would recognise the man over his shoulder from the bingo book as the poisoner they had been after, but right now, he didn’t even register in her mind, so focused on Itachi’s presence.

With the barest upwards curve to his lips, Itachi said, “See you around.”

All of Ino’s blundering speech had been transcribed word for word, because it was a mission report and she hadn’t been allowed to leave these details out. As such, everyone knew those had been her last, blurted words to Itachi after their… encounter.

“Pfft!” There went Kisame again. “Itachi, did you just make a joke?”

As they walked away with unhurried steps, Ino could only stare helplessly at their retreating backs, garbed in the infamous black and red cloak of the Akatsuki.

They were leaving.

Itachi wasn’t going to kill her.

Wait, Itachi wasn’t going to kill her?

“You’re not going to kill me!?” she shrieked.

Does that mean she now had to live with everyone knowing she’s the kunoichi who banged the infamous Uchiha Itachi in a cave!? The kunoichi who wrote world-famous literotica about it? The one where she described her debauchery, in all its carnal, exquisite glory?

“I’ll never live this down!” Ino wailed, and she heard another spurt of laughter from the direction they’d gone. She whirled towards it.

“Itachi!” she roared. “Get back here and kill me like a man! How am I supposed to show my face anywhere now?”

“I’m sure everyone will love to see your face,” Kisame’s sly voice called back faintly. “And a lot more of you too.”

“Asshole,” she snarled with feeling, and would have said a lot worse had Shikamaru not clamped a hand over her mouth.

The Yamanaka yelled muffled insults ineffectually in the direction the Akatsuki pair had gone before slumping into her teammate’s hold. For a long moment the clearing was silent with only Ino’s panting to be heard.

“Holy shit.” A masculine voice, filled with disbelief, broke the stillness.

Kankuro was staring at her with dazed, stupefied awe.

“You’re the mystery girl in Scorching Sin!?”

Ino choked on her tongue.

“What!” She leapt from Shikamaru’s grasp. “You named my mission report!?”

The look on her face must have been truly thunderous, because Kankuro took a step back.

“It wasn’t me!” he yelped. The puppeteer held his hands up defensively, nervously eyeing her livid expression. “That’s just what it’s called in Suna!”

“They call it Scorching Sin in Suna!?”

Ino’s knees gave out.

“Itachi!” she screamed to the heavens. “You fucker!”

This was all his fault.

XXX

The walk back to Hidden Grass was unbearable. Never before had there been a group of people so decidedly uncomfortable. The Grass-nin looked like their entire worldview had just been up-ended, Shikamaru and Neji couldn’t look at her, and Genma wouldn’t stop grinning like a loon.

Kankuro also couldn’t resist one final dig.

“You know if they made reports like that in Suna, I would help Gaara with his paperwork a lot more often.”

Ino swore it would be the last thing he ever said.

Kankuro’s sniggering turned into screams as Ino did her very best to murder him.

Thanks for reading, and stay tuned for further chapter 😁

#itachi x ino #romantic comedy #crack fic #crack taken seriously #tsunade senju #fanfic #fanfiction #naruto fanfiction #naruto #comedy #ino

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

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All The Colors

Corpse Husband x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Colorblindness, Swearing

Genre: Fluff, Romance, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: The colors are not always seen but rather felt. Just like Y/N feels the colors through their best friend and boyfriend Corpse. That’s how they realize that what they can’t see is the most beautiful and genuine feeling in the world. The feeling of knowing something and someone so deeply.

Requested by my dear friend Lulu, who you might have known as greenieofshield. Unfortunately she’ll never get to read this fic and I’ll never forgive myself for not putting it out sooner but I’ll also never forgive the universe for being so cruel as to take her away so early. She was one of the best people I’ve ever met, always so full of optimism, always there to brighten up my day and make me smile. Always so strong and brave, never falling victim to the hate she received despite not being deserving of it. The world lost an angel the day she died and I as well as so many other people will forever miss her.

Love you and miss you with my whole soul and hear, Lulu. Hope they’re treating you right in heaven ❤

For what it’s worth, Y/N has never asked people to describe the colors to them. In their eyes that seemed like the equivalent of poorly patching up a wound: they could hear thousands upon thousands of descriptions of each color and still wouldn’t be able to imagine it. The descriptions would only make that worse to them. So to avoid feeling even more like they’re missing out they never asked.

However, that doesn’t mean they haven’t developed their own way to ‘visualize’ and imagine colors throughout the years. They’ve tried loads of different methods, few of which stuck around and not for long either. That is exactly why they frequently used to tell their friends: “You can’t paint me a rainbow with black and white and shades of grey and expect me not to feel like I’m missing out on something. Paint me the gloomy sky on a rainy day and only then we’ll be even cause you’re seeing the same greys I am.”

Little did they know how drastically their logic was about to change in the following years.

Speaking of said following years - they met Corpse who became one of their best friends in practically no time. And within just a few months of that friendship’s blossoming, a romance sparked. A romance their friends would jokingly refer to as ‘romance of a lifetime’. Maybe it was said jokingly but Lord knows they weren’t wrong in saying so because the two were completely head over heels for one another -s till are to this day - and never shied away from showing it.

Y/N and Corpse met through Rae who Y/N was staying with while on a little vacation to Los Angeles. To be even more specific here, the two met through a game of Among Us, the game responsible for many wonderful friendships since its release.

“Guys, guys, guys.“ Y/N said after sparking up a bickering session for falsely accusing ‘blue‘ of faking a task in Navigation during the final round for the day, “Here’s a little rule of thumb for whenever we play together again: don’t trust me if I accuse a color instead of a name.“ It’s safe to say that statement rose a few eyebrows in the Discord call, the confusion serving as amusement to them before they explained themself, “Oh, why that is? Hm, I don’t know, maybe cause I’m colorblind.”

Rae who was in on the scheme the whole time and was struggling to hold in her laughter finally snapped while the rest of the players were left processing the information that had been dropped on them.

“But you practically kicked our ass every single round?!“ Corpse said, amazement and confusion in his tone.

“Expect the unexpected from this schemer, take it from someone who’s known them for a decade now.“ Rae said, winking at her friend from across the room. Not failing to notice the blush on their cheeks while doing so though.

“Corpse, are you calling me a good liar?“ They poked a stick at him teasingly, desperately avoiding Rae’s gaze which widened the second she realized why her friend was so flustered by Corpse’s remark.

“Practically a con artist.“ He replied to them with a laugh, earning one from them in return.

And so they practically conned him into falling in love with them with their quick wit, sarcasm and cuteness. If someone is to ask Corpse if he expected to fall for Y/N, he’d probably say yes.

“They were like a magnet the moment they entered the lobby and started talking.“ He said once on a live stream in response to a question he received in the chat regarding Y/N, “It wasn’t hard at all, falling for them. What took me a while was realizing it. While I was referring to them as ‘best friend’ all my friends were rolling their eyes and going ‘Sure, bud.’ Just took me a bit to realize why.”

Luckily, it didn’t take him too long to grasp what his heart was actually screaming at him. Good thing they came to terms with it so soon too, otherwise they would’ve driven their friends insane.

Anyway, enough about what happened and what could’ve happened under one circumstance or another, what matters is the ‘here and now’ of their relationship. And trust me when I say it has never been better and it keeps getting better every day.

The beauty of what those two have is in the tiny every day things that they do for each other, the good morning texts even though the other person in probably just in the kitchen making breakfast while the other cannot find it in them to get out of bed; or it’s laced within the calls between them when neither of them are home or at least one of them is out and about, busy with a task they’ve probably been putting off for far too long. Don’t get me wrong though, the romantic gestures aren’t rare either. Random gifts are exchanged by them on regular intervals but one consistent and super romantic gesture that repeats a few times every year (of the two years they’ve been dating) is Corpse giving Y/N a bouquet of flowers.

A detail Y/N couldn’t help but take notice of was the fact that the bouquet was always made up of the same flowers with only small changes to the arrangement of them and maybe some tiny ones added too. Unfortunately, they aren’t artificial so they couldn’t have kept them thought they wish they could’ve. That being said, it goes without saying that those flowers mean the world to Y/N, the gesture actually - they know flowers are a common gift to give but anything they receive from Corpse is so special and makes them feel like the only person who’s ever received such a gift.

And so they got curious, they had to ask. They had to ask the question they never thought they’d actively ask considering their view of the topic. But they still did.

“Hey Corpse.“ Y/N spoke up out of the blue, breaking the silence that had fallen over them while they watched the movie they were only partially interested in given how exhausted they both were from devoting themselves to their respective tasks and responsibilities throughout the last few days.

Corpse hummed in response, the arm wrapped around their waist doing a little motion as if encouraging them to continue, his gaze immediately traveling down to his partner.

“What color are the flowers?“ They asked, gazing at the bouquet - a gift they had received from him for their birthday a few days prior - in the vase on the dining table.

They waited a few seconds but when they didn’t hear nor feel any sort of response from him they couldn’t help but look up at him. Upon doing so, they saw his small smile as his eyes too remained on the bouquet. “They’re black and white.“ He replied eventually, “Black roses and white daffodils.“ His gaze wandered away from the vase and down to meet theirs, “I don’t want you to think I’m seeing them in their ‘full beauty’ while you only see them in black and white. You are seeing them in their full beauty and not missing out on anything. They are absolutely beautiful black and white as they are.“

As a response to his answer, Y/N couldn’t suppress the growing smile on their face no matter how hard they tried. So they didn’t try at all, they let the smile lighten up their face before speaking up: “You’re a wonder, Corpse.” They said, pushing themself as upright as they could to be able to kiss his cheek. “However, you’re wrong.” They say when they pull away, smirking up at his confused expression, “My world was black and white until you came into it. You’re all the colors, Corpse. Your love’s red, joy’s yellow, sadness blue, chaos green. Love red. You’re all the colors and out of all the people that have tried to describe to me how they look, you have managed to do that just perfectly without even trying.”

Little did they know that’s exactly what he thinks of them - their world is black and white because all the colors live within them. Because they are all the colors.

And maybe they both are, seeing as how they came into each other’s lives exactly like the rainbow after the pouring rain.

@maat-the-prescriptive @simonsbluee @save-the-sky @itsminniekat @hacker-ghost @bi-andready-tocry @imtiredaffff @jazzkaurtheglorious @hereforbeebo @fandomgirl17 @chrysanthykios @maehemscorpyus @loraleiix @letsloveimagines @annshit @i-cant-choose-a-username-help @enigmaticmaze @divine-artemis @waterlilypat @idontknowwhatthisisfam @evi-ka @classyandfabulous00 @redperson58 @lilysdaydreams @solowheein @mythicalamphitrite @axen-gers @luckygirl144 @nj01 @buddyemily @the-albino-lioness @stardream14 @gdhdkfnn @nomadicgypsyy @preciousskye @fluffysuicideunicornsworld @o-kaelin @manacharlotte @awkward-youtube-trash @lolalee24 @bonky-beerns @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian @strawbrinkofdeath @teenloves @tams0527 @browneyespinkhair @starstruckllamapuppy @daisychains012 @y0ulooked @tinytacosuitcaseflap @supernatural-is-my-only-life @jula-pauline @melodykitty @just-that-bi-girl @crazybutconfidentaf @lowellshade @alphakees @bellero @weallneednamjesus @starryhanji @boiled-onionrings @husherstan @fockingwhore @melaningoddessthings @prettypastelpetals @haleypearce @godwhyamiawkward @y-napotat @daisychainyoonmin @little-miss-rebel3 @free-wheelin-bi-sexual @redmoon261 @darkacademic2 @wiseflamingoqueen @into-the-end @namikhai-i @nastiablr @thelittleplantlover @mirktuan @dont-hyuck @jjk-bunny @vintagegothlover @easygoingtheatre @itsrandombooklover @miiaivi @emmybaybee @befourgolden @jjk-is-my-shit @eternalteaaars @spacebadgerx @princesslunalight @acequinn14 @samm48 @misselsbells06 @simp-lykawa @fo-love @marishimomura-blog @therealglenncoco @cinnamonbun332 @killtherandomness @sanshinexxxsan @fee-btheweeb @press-lay @cathleenpotgieter16 @jazzydoesstuff @moonlxghtbay @forestrain2000 @hyunjinhugs @blood-of-fandoms @lovellylies @ukiyolixx @simpforhpcharacters @chrisdylan17 @parkerjisung @pedernille @theodonyous @wineandionysus @malfoystilinskii05 @morbid-x @coryisagee @jessewa26 @scoobydooluver97 @mindintheskies365 @raeanneinwonderland @indecisive-empanada @gluttonypalace @loriane2503 @btsiguess-kpop @khaoticbunny @lucidlycactus @smiithys @rottenroyalebooks @kpopgirlbtssvt @fangirl-tc27 @fr0z3n-1 @notmesimpingfortechno @shotarosleftpinky @kunoi-chan @idk-whats-wrong-with-me @yikeroonie @goldenstarofthunderclan @poetry-and-tea @ama-do-writing-stuff @wishbonewolf @emeraldxhope @t0xick1tty @kusuinko @speakyourselfloveyourself @sophia902103 @lo-manburg @classsykittykat @dmgama @depressedpuppythatneedscoffee @btsiguess-kpop @akaashi-baby @gun-jong-simp @geschichtenfee @yerapotato-wp @browneyedgirl365 @thysagclub @sparklycloudnight @helloatomicshadow @queentorresstuff @vtte @val-gal @lucy-bunny17 @aaliyahh0 @katluckybear @boyleanti @straybids @franchesca-791 @cosmicstorm19 @averyisbackinthetrashcan @aomi-nabi @xlanawriter @allensimpsforcorpse @sunnyrae-cessh @ladykxxx08 @meowiemari @renupf @booklover76 @sra-verissimo @beatrhizn @blueberrystigma @beatrhizn

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pillow-anime-talk · 3 years

Text

genshin month ; seventh day.

synopsis: The gentle reprimand turned into a huge argument, but... you just couldn’t pass by a young man who didn’t care for himself at all.

# tags: scenario; current relationship; romance; mild drama; crying; scaramouche is an asshole, but i promise it’s a fluff; sfw

includes: gender neutral reader ft. scaramouche {genshin impact}

“Hey, baby, it’s pretty late... Umm, I think you should finish your job and get some rest. I can prepare you a warm bath. Sounds good?” You timidly approached your beloved one, who had been spending time uninterruptedly in his small office for several hours, surrounded by thick and old books, still unopened letters and suspicious papers. So the young man looked at you over his shoulder, and then snorted, returning his full attention to the parchment on which he wrote a lengthy message to the other ten members of Fatui.

You sighed under your breath at his behavior and decided to get a little closer to his sitting person. You finally touched both of his tense arms and was about to open your mouth to remind him again of taking care of his own health and to offer him some warm tea and his favorite peanut-flavored cookies, but Scaramouche quickly pushed your warm fingers away as he looked at yours a bit surprised face with an angry expression.

“Scaram...”

“Can you leave me the hell alone? I think you can see that I am doing something important and I have no time for your stupid whims and childish behavior.” His voice was mocking and upset, and you took a step back, silently apologizing; surprise was an emotion that was most apparent in your body language. “Ahh. Don’t apologize to me ‘cause I’m sure you will do the same afterwards. Can you... just leave me alone and disappear from my sight? Thanks.” He asked, but his eyes were still placed on the yellowed paper and the black ink surrounding the long bird feather.

“Oka... No.” You clenched your two fists, then closed your shiny eyes, opening them after a short moment. “No, I won’t let you alone. You don’t sleep, you don’t eat anything, you haven’t even rested for several days! You are busy with your work all the time and you aren’t at home, and if you show up here, you don’t even dare to greet me like a normal partner does! Additionally I...”

“All right, are you done? Then you can leave or whatever.”

You opened your eyes wider, feeling the first tears welling up in your corners. Your lower lip trembled and your fists clenched even tighter; you almost felt that your fingernails pierce your soft skin and form small, white crescents.

“You are insolent. I’m not surprised that everyone in Fatui and the city hates you.” You turned your body, and when you left the room you still didn’t get an answer to your last statement.

Perhaps because you were right, and Scaramouche knew it, and simply didn’t have the courage to confirm those hard-to-swallow words.

{ ･ﾟ✧ }

From two hours you were sitting at the kitchen table, trying to occupy your own thoughts with something more down-to-earth and with something to help you calm down; so you decided to pull out some colored paints and paint a set of mugs that until now was – to be honest – boring and completely white. You added some pretty flowers, little birds and butterflies, which made them look much more charming and homely. You even smiled when you finished painting the fourth cup and put it back to dry.

Meanwhile, the navy-blue-haired boy had been watching you from a few short minutes, wondering whether to come up to you and apologize or just let you know with a low cough in his own hand that he’s here. Eventually, however, he left the safe place behind the oak doorframe, and as soon as he approached the square table, he grabbed your hand with his slightly larger one.

“Hey...”

“Hmm? What are you doing here? You didn’t want to see me and you told me to leave you alone, if I remember correctly.” You grunted as you pushed your hand away and dipping your brush in thick, red paint. Scaramouche sighed and his throat felt indescribably dry. Of course, he knew he had crossed the line and shouldn’t take out his stupid emotions on you.

You were literally the only person around him who was always nice to him, who truly loved him, who would do anything for him to keep him happy and safe. Why then did he act so... horrible towards you? Is it because of stress and work? Maybe ‘cause of the fact that he had an argument with Signora? Or maybe by subordinates who have recently shown incompetence? There were so many reasons, but none of them were you and the male knew he had screwed up so badly.

“Sweetheart...? I’m... s-sorry.”

An apology on his part was rare. He didn’t apologize to his associates, strangers or even ‘friends’. So you turned your head and looked at him with a little confusion.

“... And that’s new.” You laughed as you put the wooden brush and cup on the wood. “You hurt me, you know that? I didn’t expect this from you.”

“I know, and I feel gross about it. But... But know that you are the only person I care about and I don’t want you to be sad because of me. I’m done with my work and I think tomorrow... we can go on a date? You’ve talked recently about wanting to see other cities...” He turned his face so that you wouldn’t notice the tiny blushes on his cheeks, but you could clearly see the cute, pinkish color on his ears and nose.

“The most I wish you would never be like this again to me; and lest I have to say such ugly things in defense. I am sorry about that too... I just... you know I’m just worried and I want you to forget about your work sometimes and focus on yourself. Umm, since you are free now... maybe you want to help me decorate these cups? I would be very, very happy.” You suggested, synchronously touching his cool knuckles and smiling as gently as possible.

The Sixth Member of Fatui was more than glad to join you and make amends for his previous nasty behavior. Plus, you both knew that this stupid quarrel only brought you closer to each other and also showed that you were honest with your feelings towards the dark-haired man; you really cared about him, and the boy appreciated it... indescribably much.

previous day ; kaeya ♡ next day ; fischl and rest of elecro users

#— ⛩️#genshin impact month #genshin impact challenge #genshin impact #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x y/n #genshin impact scaramouche #scaramouche #scaramouche imagines #scaramouche scenarios #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x y/n

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boldlyvoid · 3 years

Text

ain't it fun? | part two

Part Two

summary: reader just needs an NA meeting before they have a meltdown, they end up with the best friend they could ever make.

warnings: falling in love, fluff, hurt/comfort, implied/referenced smut, non-descriptive

a/n: so glad you liked part 1 I couldn't help myself from continuing

word count: 3k

from the beginning

She’s laying in his bed, one of his friends showed up early and she’s pretending she’s not there. But his friend brought breakfast and it smells good and she’s starving.

After crewing the hell out of her lip and 5 minutes of hyping herself up; she gets up off the bed, still in her sweater and shorts from their movie night, and she slowly opens the bedroom door, peaking out to see if Spencer was in view.

“Hello?” A friendly man spots her, standing as he makes his way to shake her hand. “I’m Derek.”

“Y/N,” she smiles.

“Pleasure to meet you,” he smiles back. “What’s going on here?” He gestures to her and then back to Spencer as he exits the kitchen and sees her.

“We watched star trek all night, if you don’t believe me I can make him recount it to you from memory?” Y/N replies, smirking like she knows him just as well as his friend.

“And how might you know Spencer?” Derek teases right back.

“He’s my best friend in the whole world,” she replies like it’s nothing, “and I live across the hall.”

Derek shoots a look at Spencer that’s almost proud, almost emotional, like a mom who heard she’s going to be a grandma, “Is that true?”

Spencer blushes, “she’s my best friend.”

“Tell me how this all happened!” Derek is more than excited, sitting down on the couch with a wide grin as he waits to hear more.

“Um, we met in the hall, we have the same interests and now we watch movies together and have sleepovers with candy and popcorn, like we’re 13-year-old girls? I’ve even braided his hair,” she avoids the real reason why they met. Unsure if Spencer has told anyone about his drug problem or not.

“And now I’m going to go finish sleeping in my own bed,” she makes awkward finger guns at the door accompanied by her most awkward smile and she��s off.

Spencer follows her out into the hall, closing the door and looking at her apologetically; “I’m sorry, I won’t tell him anything more about us if you don’t want me to?”

“Us?” She questions? “You tell me you love me a lot, but you’ve never told me who you want me to be to you… I want you to think about that and then come and see me later.”

“Can I have a kiss? It helps me think better,” he whispers as he leans in.

She rolls her eyes, playfully, leaning in as well until their lips meet. It’s soft and sweet and she wishes there could be more, but for now she has to go.

Once she’s inside, she leans against the door of her apartment and listens to see when he goes back inside. Only what she hears is even better, “Derek, I’m going to have to ask you to leave so I can go ask her to be my girlfriend.”

He shoos the man from his apartment, avoiding all his questions and convincing him to finally leave by saying, “you’ve been telling me for months that I need to get over it, and now you’re going to stand here and stop me from telling her I love her, again?”

“Again?”

“Derek!”

“Fine.”

And then he’s knocking on her door, “who is it?” She teases.

“Y/N, open the door, please?” He begs without a single regret behind his tone.

She opens it slowly, “yes?”

He tilts his head with a look that screams; ‘come on?’

But she looks back at him as if to say; ‘what about it?'

“Are you really going to make me say it?”

“The first step in getting help is admitting you have a problem.”

He laughs at the absurdity, “you’re kidding?”

“Spencer, even though you’re a pain in my ass; would you like to be my boyfriend? I’m asking because the words make it real, and I would like you to really know how I feel, thanks for coming,” she extends her arm into the apartment, gesturing for him to walk in and he does so with a laugh.

“I would love to be your boyfriend,” he responds once the door is closed. “I’m sorry I made you feel like I didn’t want this to be real?”

She can tell he’s not sure why he’s apologizing, “I need confirmation. I can’t sleep in your bed almost every night for a month, and just have to guess if I’m allowed to call you my boyfriend when my mom calls and asks why I won't text her back at night.”

“Oh,” he looks upset. “I thought that by telling you that I love you that it would work, but I understand. I really would like to be your boyfriend and be yours for however long you’ll have me.”

Her heart melts in her chest, he's so nervous and shy because he truly means it. His heart is in her hands now, “how long are you available?”

“Forever.”

“I have more questions,” she whispers as she moves closer, pressing their bodies together as she holds his sides and he holds her shoulders.

“Okay.”

“What did you mean out there, and also sorry for listening, but I’d like to know…”

“It’s okay,” his words are soft. “I’m um, a virgin?”

“Oh?” Her eyes shoot wide open, “I was expecting like an ex who broke your heart?”

“Oh no, I’ve never… I don’t... no,” he shakes his head profusely. “I’m not in a rush either, I just wanted him to leave me alone. That’s not what I’m in here for.”

She smiles, “I am too…” she whispers, “I’m really glad you are too, actually.”

“You’ve thought about it?”

“Think, big brain, go back to right before I closed my door that first night…” she teases him before making a fake VHS tape rewind sound that always makes him laugh.

“You wanted to leave the group because you can’t sleep with members while you’re healing,” he smirks at his recollection, “I mean, other than the general attraction, have you thought about the possibility of that happening for us one day?”

She nods again, “one day, I’m cool just making out with you for now, actually. But yes. I would like for you to be my first because I trust you the most out of every single person I’ve ever met.”

He looks like his heart is exploding as his grip on her shoulders tightens, “I would like for you to be mine too, eventually.”

“Eventually,” she repeats with a small smile, leaning in for another small kiss.

“Derek left without his breakfast, and he didn't even get a chance to touch it yet…” Spencer whispers against her lips.

She laughs through her nose, kissing him once more before pulling away, “come on, boyfriend.”

—

She’s been in Quantico for 5 months, 3 of which she’s now spent with Spencer.

She’s laying beside him as they watch star trek and her mind is off in space. She can’t focus on anything other than the thought of her rent coming due and how she’s probably going to have to decide if she wants to leave after her 6-month lease is up.

“Spence,” she whispers, “do you know any other cheap apartment buildings in the area?”

“Why?”

She turns to face him, the yellows, reds and blues flash across the screen and illuminate him lightly, “I don’t have enough money to keep living here, and I don’t want to move back in with my parents.”

“Would you like to move in with me?” He asks carefully, “don’t feel pressured to say yes, it’s just I’m never really here and I don’t want you to leave.”

She smiles at the offer, “If I move in I have to tell the disability people, and then my disability money will change because you make so much and they still believe that men own women when they get together, like some what's yours is mine, shit.”

“Really?”

She nods, “yeah. They'll want to know how much you make every month when I get my statement and then they decide what I deserve because if you’re making money, clearly I’m taken care of, right?”

He can hear her sarcasm and he knows it's just to mask the hurt, and she can tell by the way his whole face changes.

“Wrong,” Spencer is oddly defensive. “That is so wrong, there are so many women in this country trapped with terrible men who abuse them. They never see a single dime of the money that comes in, and if they have children they are lucky to receive money for groceries. I’ve seen all of it first hand, it’s horrific, and yet they still think they can take care of disabled women who are in more need of money than anyone else?”

“I love you.”

“What?” He stops, breathing, blinking, everything. He just stares at her as he comprehends it.

She hasn’t said it back yet.

“I love you.” She repeats it and smiles, tears welling in her eyes as she appreciates how much he really does care; how much he really gets it.

“Lie, tell them you’re back with your parents. It’s not like they check-up and then just stay here. Move your things in and make this your place too, do whatever you want to it, it deserves to be lived in.”

“You’re really serious?” She’s not sure why she’s so surprised, he’s been saying he loves her every single day for the last 2 months and 3 weeks.

She’s loved him the whole time, but she’s afraid of that at the same time because once she loves him out loud, then she loves him for real and that’s scary. He has a scary job and he’s never home and if she loves him then she has to deal with that and the fact he might not come home one day.

He nods gently, “I know you need a lot of space for your art supplies so move whatever you need to to make room. I think you’re magnificent, and I don’t think that you should feel held back, I'll do anything to help you with your little craft store.”

A tear slips past her eye and towards the pillow, she blinks as she smiles, unable to speak as she just appreciates his kindness, “I think when whatever is out there made your soul, they were like 'this one; he’s special, we’re only making one of him and he’s going to go through some shit, but it’s because someone else is too and they need each other.'”

Spencer’s smile grows, large and toothy as he moves in closer to hold her. Noses pressed together, they’re hugging basically now, arms wrapped around each other and legs tangled as they enjoy the moment. It’s so nice, there’s nothing left to say.

They’re content with each other.

—

She moves what she needs into Spencer’s apartment the next week, he’s out of town and it’s easier this way with him out of the way.

It’s easier to miss him in here though, everything smells like him and feels like him, and his personality is on every single wall. She wants him to come home so badly, living without him for random bouts of time was the worst part of their relationship.

The rest of her things are in boxes in her apartment, waiting by the door for when Spencer comes back. He offered to put everything in his old Volvo Amazon and meet her parents for the weekend and her mother was through the roof over it.

She has called 4 times in the last week to ask about all Spencer’s favourite meals, what he likes for breakfast most mornings and if he had any allergies. She’s cleaned the “guest” room, which was really just where she slept before, and she was very clear that he was allowed to sleep with her as long as no funny business happened.

That was the funny part.

They still weren’t doing it and she was fine with that, so was he. Neither of them was ready, emotionally nor physically. They’ve both been through some terrible things that make it very hard for them to want to share yet.

She loves him more this way, while the sex would probably be amazing and she knew they were both getting off anyway and they weren’t secretive about it, at all. They just didn’t do it together yet… and she was starting to want to.

The most they’ve done is the occasional mutual masturbation session and that was just when they were too lazy to do it when they were alone, earlier in the day, and just needed to in order to finally sleep. It was always quick, quicker than when she would do it alone because he was just so cute like that.

She found herself getting off to thoughts of him more than anything else the longer and longer they shared more and got to know each other.

Because while, yes, they live together and they’re dating; they’re still really just best friends and roommates. They don’t see each other as often as they want to, they have separate friend groups, she has meetings on the other side of town now and they’ve never even been on a date.

For how fast they looked to be moving to anyone who knew them, they were going extremely slow behind the scenes. The reality is, they were following the rules of addiction recovery more than the rules of society.

She wasn’t really ready to take on the emotional commitment of having sex with someone when she wasn’t really over her trauma. It went far deeper than just her addiction, there was more Spencer had no idea about and she wanted to make sure he knew everything before he met her parents.

So like always, they got into bed as soon as he returned and they had a cuddle conversation. It was soothing to not only feel the other person close, but they both stimmed by running their hands over something soft. He knew something was up as soon as he walked in the door and she asked for a cuddle before even saying hello.

He didn’t, however, expect the long-winded backstory of her childhood to be the issue. He was silent the whole time she explained, he cried with her as his cheek rested on her forehead and her tears fell onto his shirt below her face.

Learning his past was just as hard.

She cant imagine how no one could love him, no one took him in and offered him shelter and love and warmth. He deserved kindness and family. He was worth the world and then some to her, and it hurt so deeply to think of no one showing that to him. He’s spent the last 25 years just searching aimlessly for a single iota of respect.

No wonder he fell in love with her so easily.

—

The first time is terribly awkward but incredibly euphoric… and they cry after. Not from sadness or regret; no, they’re so in love and so happy with their choices, it’s more of an overwhelming overflowing of emotions that was bound to erupt along with them.

“This has to be the most vulnerable time in the entire world if you really think about it,” Spencer justifies why he’s crying as he starts to get anxious about being too much. “I mean we’ve already seen each other naked and know each other outside… we might as well share what's going on inside too.”

She nods against his sweaty chest, “I used to be really upset that my doctors put me on Dilaudid. I still hate that all this happened to us, but I’m really glad we don’t have to be alone anymore.”

“Me too,” he whispers.

It gets easier the more they do it. It’s still always hilariously awkward, they were so stupidly in love it translated into every moment; like when they attempted shower sex and knocked the curtain down and got water everywhere. Or the time they attempted a quickie in the bar bathroom and his boss walked in, and they had to try not to laugh or move or do anything as they made the most awkward, silent, eye contact ever, in the corner of the stall.

Being horny and awkward was the worst combination but they made it work pretty well.

He was tender and loving and he listened to instructions well. He was a quick learner, he was happy with whatever she wanted and he always, always, tried to finish last. (He wasn’t that lucky) but he was a truly nice guy.

She loved him more and more as the seconds passed. He was just so wonderful, he had his up and downs but they always had great communication, and he understood her unpredictability from her disabilities. The best part was that he loved her regardless of how she was when she woke up in the morning, and she always went to bed with either a kiss or a text proving he loved her.

Before they knew it, a year had passed and she was laying in his bed while he got ready for work. She loved watching his selection process, his colour coordinated closet and handy-dandy tie organization rack. He was so cute, and he always looked so amazing.

“I don’t want you to go in today,” she whispers with a pout.

He takes his phone off the dresser and calls in then, “yeah, Hotch I’m really not doing well. I don’t know what we ate last night but I— yeah thank you.”

He puts everything back in the closet and crawls right back into bed, he snuggled back in close and she smiled at her job well done. He didn’t need to be at work as often as he was, he had a lot of personal and sick days stored and they were always telling him to use them. He deserved a break for that beautiful brain of his, an 8-hour turnaround between psychopaths wasn’t good for anyone, especially not the 2nd most prized possession of the FBI.

“What do you do during the day when I’m not here?” He asked, genuinely not knowing how she occupied her time outside of his presence.

“I sleep until 11,” she whispers as she snuggles in closer.

He’s warm and cuddly and perfect. Naps in the morning are possibly the best periods of sleep someone can ever experience. It’s so relaxing to reward the body with more time, and it’s even better when it includes the perfect snuggle companion.

Taglist:

@g0lden-cth @doctorspenceryeet @samuel-de-champagne-problems @reiding-recs @ssavanessa22 @spookyspence @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria@reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @jswessie187 @k-k0129 @calm-and-doctor

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid request #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #aint it fun

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fabricated-misslieness · 3 years

Text

pairing: prince xiao x servant gn reader

req: no | wc: 1.62k | royal au

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 (you are here) | part 5

taglist: @hanniejji

a/n: low graphic pic

The following days at the palace are tense. Nobody wants to speak about Rex Lapis’s death, in fear that it will spike a new argument. Servants that rush and bustle around the halls can barely even stare at each other, for the siblings’ fights are so harsh and loud that their horrible words still ring in their ears.

Before, as the servants dined together, they spread hearsay. Now the dining hall is silent, with the only sound being cutlery and plates. Each loud clunk of cutlery against porcelain is piercing in their ears.

Rex Lapis upheld a certain peace. With his death, there was anticipation around the corner of every action. Would the kingdom collapse? Who would take the spot of monarch?

The Adepti’s meeting with the Liyue Qixing was only in a few days. If the reunion failed to find a new ruler, doom would surely initiate.

But that was not a servant’s burden. For now, as one of the most trusted, you were to speak with the funeral parlor to begin preparations for the Rite of Parting.

It had been many years since the last Rite of Parting took place, a parting wish for one of the Adepti. Each one was directed and prepared by the Wangsheng Funeral parlor, the only funeral parlor in the kingdom. Their current director was infamous for her humorous spirit, rare for solemn occasions, but however they may behave, the Rite of Parting will not be a matter to be laughed at.

Their consultant was also famous, even in his short term of work. He was known to be calm, reserved, polite, and extremely knowledgeable. Though his reputation did not prepare you to see your supposedly dead king again.

He smiles politely at you from his office chair while you gape at him. Gathering your manners, you greet him with a bow, “Pleasure to be doing business with you, mr. Zhongli. I’m-”

“(y/n), yes I know. Take a seat.”

He may not look like Rex Lapis and he may not have the exact same mannerisms, but this was your king. You were sure of it.

“Rex-”

“Zhongli.” He corrects. “Not many people have seen through my disguise, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

You gulp, nodding. “I’m here to discuss the Rite of Parting.”

He cuts you off for the last time, “I know, and that is taken care of. Here is the contract, it has all the information you need. All you need is to take it to the Adepti and they will discuss it, but I have a feeling there’s information that you want.”

“I… yes, there is.” You gulp back the shock. This man in front of you is your dead king, but he’s going by the name of Zhongli. “Wha… why?”

“I’ve always been disconnected from my citizens. Despite this, they depend on me far too much.” He speaks of conflicting matters, yet he speaks of them so calmly and simply, even busying himself with paperwork as he does. “They create a false image of me, and they praise those ideologies. There are many things that they say I do, many ways that they say I behave, and amplified many qualities that I have always shown to be something greater. I was flawed, yet they thought of me as perfect. The people no longer followed a king, instead, they followed the pseudo-god of their imaginations.”

A frown paints his lips, and with a sip of tea, he smiles once more. “I am a regular man just like any other. I have desires and I have flaws and I deserve to take action on them. Do you understand now?”

“Yes.” It was true that the king was not perfect, just as Yuheng Keqing proposed. No person was perfect, and the same went for every monarch of each kingdom.

“You have more questions?” It was more of a statement than a question.

“Who should be the new monarch?”

He smiles, in a cheeky way that you’d never seen on the king, “That’s making it too easy for you. Nevertheless, a question is a question. Who has governed Liyue for just as long as I have? Who upholds law and who helps the citizens? I’ll give you a hint, it’s not the royal family.”

“The Liyue Qixing?”

“Precisely.” He clears his throat, “But like I said. I’m a regular man. All prophecies of mine are meant to be seen as suggestions, rather than definitive word.”

“Now, you must have something for me in return. I have given plenty of answers, so it’s time you give me some too. Why do you stay with the royal family? I formed this contract with you to become our servant. Now that Rex Lapis is dead, there’s no need to stay. Why are you still serving them?” That was a question you did not have a prepared response to, but one answer shone brightly in your mind.

“Xiao. He… I care for him, and he does for me.” It was simple, yet complicated. Simple, yet it showed all the feelings you had towards the prince.

“He was always attached to you.” Zhongli states as a matter of factly, in a way that brings warmth to your cheeks. “Just as the citizens of Liyue depended on me, he depended on you.” He chuckles, “Minus the fake ideologies part, of course.”

“Well,” He nudges the Rite of Parting documents your way, “I believe that is all. Good day, (y/n).”

“Good day, your majes-” He smiles, eyes crinkling as if he’s seeing an old friend.

“Have a nice day, Zhongli.”

“Welcome home.” Another thing you didn’t expect that day was Xiao waiting for you at the door of the palace, not to mention that he considered the place to be your home. “Where have you been?”

Ever since you comforted him, he was warmer with you. The loner prince who you knew nothing about suddenly became the person you knew the most about. You hadn’t noticed just how much he liked you until your meeting with Zhongli. “Gathering Rite of Parting documents. Where are the Adepti?”

Xiao griances, most likely remembering the horrible arguments from a few days prior. “Doing their own things. Can the meeting… wait for later? I don’t want to have a reenactment of what happened the other day at the moment.”

“Sure.” You nod. “I just need to drop off these papers with another servant. Is there anything you need afterwards?”

“I… have something to show you.” He looks at anything from you, arms behind his back. He seems nervous yet excited at the same time.

“Okay, I’ll be at your room as soon as I can.”

It seemed Xiao had a lot to show you. You had no idea what he had to show off, and you did not think it entailed leaving the city.

The prince walked ahead of you, leading the way. He didn’t dare look you in the eyes, and anything he said was short and to the point. Nevertheless, he did not seem to have a rude intention. He was merely nervous, and you know that because he’s showing the most emotion you’ve ever seen him express.

Xiao stops and sits on a rock platform once you reach your destination, the hill just about overlooking the kingdom’s harbor. “I sneak off to this place sometimes to look at the view. It clears my head.”

“Even after I tuck you into bed?” You ask, taking a seat next to him.

“I- yes.” He seems ashamed to admit it. “Are you mad?”

“Why would I be?” You give up on seeking his gaze, taking in the sight of the harbor instead. “I can see why you come here, the view is beautiful.”

It’s lucky that you’re no longer looking at him, because if you locked eyes while he glanced your way, the prince would’ve flushed red. “This wasn’t the only thing I wanted to bring you up here for.” Your beauty under the slowly setting sky of Liyue was magnificent, it almost made him trip over his words.

“Well, what do you have to say?” As the blue sky turns into hues of warm colors -reds, oranges, yellows- it blends in with the warmth of Liyue. The beauty of it has you captured, but Xiao has seen it plenty of times.

“I like you.”

You turn to him to speak, which makes him immediately snap his head away from you. “Xiao, I-” Before you can assure him that you reciprocate his feelings, he cuts you off.

“I know a relationship would only burden you and distract you from your duties. I know that perhaps you wouldn’t have time for me. But… could we at least try?”

The warmth on his cheeks is forgotten when you laugh, which makes Xiao snap his head at you. Clearly he wasn’t expecting that sort of reaction from you. “Xiao, I was going to say I liked you back.”

“Oh.” He claps a hand over the lower half of his face in an attempt to hide his hot blush. Color stands out between and above his fingers.

Your laugh almost humiliates him more. “You won’t burden me, Xiao! You’d cause more joy than anything.”

He nods slowly, “Okay.”

“Okay.” You repeat. “Do you.. want to kiss?”

Xiao moves his hand just a bit, uncovering one of his cheeks, an invitation to kiss him there. He’s most likely never kissed anybody on the lips, so you’d have to save that for later.

Though a mere kiss on the cheek seems to overwhelm him. As much as you want to, you don’t tease him about it.

“Come on, let’s head back, my prince. It’s getting dark.”

My prince… no more ‘your highness’ from now on.

#xiao x reader #xiao x gn reader #genshin x reader #genshin x gn reader #genshin royal au #🌺-m.fluff

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kireimarkeu · 3 years

Text

Yellow; l.mk

+another repost, one of my favourite works ever. its unfortunate not many liked it... ;-; but im still gonna post it anyways. i did not make any changes to this fic.

summary: a journey where boxer!mark and you start to fall for each other.

5.8k words... it wasn’t supposed to be this long.. sorry guys ):

i changed the title because sunflower reminded me of johnny lmfao! also i know you guys don’t like long fics but istg i didn’t want it to be so long either ;;

warnings: mentions of blood & violence, f words

+Day 1

The loud cheers were really starting to annoy you. Why did you let your friend drag you here in the first place?

You let out a grumbled sigh when your friend had pulled your hand, leading you closer to the ring. Truthfully, you hated anything that has got to do with blood or violence. You didn’t dare tell your friend that since she told you that she has always wanted to go to an underground match.

People were pushing you around as you struggled to keep your balance. You hold onto your friend’s wrist, to avoid from falling.

Your friend must have noticed your discomfort and leaned towards you, “you okay?”

Shaking your head, you reply, “yeah... this- this is just not my type,”

She pouts, “do you want to leave?”

“No, no, you’ve been waiting for this, let’s just watch the match,” you reply, looking back to the ring. Your friend nodded, looking back front.

The match started within a few minutes, both participants standing on each side started getting closer, waiting for one of them to throw a punch.

“That’s Jung Jaehyun,” your friend says, pointing to the one who had chocolate abs. He had some parts of his black hair dyed a dark green, which really suits him.

Jaehyun.

He was handsome. Pretty face— really pretty face. However, his neck was filled with tattoos, which gets rid of his cute demeanour. You already knew he was the type to get lots of girls just by doing nothing.

“And that’s Mark Lee,”

Your eyes gazed on the boy with black hair.

Oh.

He’s cute. He’s really cute. Super cute features. Plump lips, cute cheeks— you just want to pinch. You were surprised why he would be in a ring with such adorable features. You wanted to coo at his ears, why are his ears so cute?

If you were to pick one, you would pick the latter. He’s just your type.

Great, you’re doing it again. Thinking which boys you would choose.

Shaking your thoughts away, you focus on the match.

Jaehyun suddenly throws a punch, to which Mark managed to dodge. Mark suddenly throws a punch, straight to the other boy’s cheekbones.

You let out a gasp, flinching at the sight. Though, the crowd continues to cheer.

In a blink of an eye, Jaehyun has Mark under him, his arm tightening around Mark’s neck.

“Isn’t that dangerous?!” you screech, turning to your friend who was happily watching the match.

“That’s what makes it fun,” your friend winks.

Your mouth was left wide open as you look back at Mark who was struggling to breathe. You notice Mark tapping on Jaehyun’s arm as the latter lets go of his crazy tight grip on the boy.

“This is crazy,” you whisper out.

Despite being absolutely terrified of the scene that had just happened, you wanted to see more.

After a few matches, it was declared Jaehyun had won this time’s match. You actually expected it- seeing how he was slightly more builded than Mark. At the same time, you were disappointed that Mark had lost the match.

The people around you started getting closer, excited by the first match. It was making it hard for you to breathe.

You tap your friend’s shoulder, “I am going to step out for a while,”

“Do you want me to follow?” she asks.

You shake your head, “no, enjoy the rest of the match,”

“Okay, text me if you need anything,” she tells you as you let out a hum and step away from the crowd. You climb the flight of stairs, pushing the tinted glass door open. You take a deep breathe, finally able to breathe fresh air.

You rest your back against the brick walls, fishing out your phone to reply to some texts and scroll through Instagram.

“Hey,”

“Oh, jeez!” you jumped, your hand pressed against your chest, turning to see Mark.

Mark laughs, staring at you in amusement, “weren’t you from inside? I saw you,”

You gulp and nodded, “yeah, yeah I was, I saw you too,”

You scan his features. He had multiple bruises and cuts on his cheekbones and lips. You notice a deep cut on his eyebrow, and a bruise on his neck. You look back up to his eyes.

“Are you okay?” you ask him, pointing to the bruises painting his face.

He chuckles at your question, wiping the blood staining his lips. “Your first time here?”

You nod, your head moving to scan the cuts on his face, “are you going to clean that up?”

“I’m okay,” he reassures you, a small smile playing on his lips, “this is nothing,”

You wince. That was nothing? You would be crying in pain if you had that many cuts and bruises on you.

“Okay,” you whisper.

“I’m Mark,” he says again, “what’s your name, pretty?”

Your face turned a crimson red, “y/n,”

“y/n,” he repeats, the name rolling out of his tongue smoothly, “beautiful name for a beautiful girl,”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his words, “how many times have you used that phrase, Mark?”

Mark was flustered for a moment, but quickly regain his coolness, “well, as of 3 seconds ago… once?”

He laughs when you grimace at his response, shaking your head in astonishment.

“So, what were you doing in an underground boxing, y/n?” he asks you, “you don’t seem like the type to be around this area,”

“My friend has been dying to come to an underground match and she dragged me with her,” you explain.

He hums, “ah, your friend? She really caught Jaehyun’s eye earlier,”

You smirk, knowing your friend definitely has been crushing on Jaehyun too.

“We should set them up!” you say excitedly.

+Day 15

2 weeks later, you were back at the same place. This time, you weren’t forced, you had begged your friend to bring you again. You would go alone but being alone in a place filled with rowdy men scares you. You knew your friend would agree since she wanted to see Jaehyun too.

“You usually don’t like this type of things, why are you suddenly so excited?” your friend asked, grabbing her bag, while you were tugging on her arm.

You bit your lip nervously, knowing the exact reason why, but you refuse to tell her.

***

“You’re back again,” says Mark, looking down at you with a smile plastered on his face.

“Yeah, I just need some break from the chaos at school,” you explain. You were actually doing well in school. Unlike other students, you let out your stress from doing work and projects.

Mark hums as he looks around, “wanna go somewhere quieter?”

“But—” you turn away to find your friend, but she was nowhere to be found.

“She’s talking to Jaehyun,” Mark tells you.

You turn back around, holding your breathe when you see Mark leaning awfully close to your face. When he saw your flustered state, he started smirking, letting out a low chuckle.

“Come,” he says, tugging on your elbow, pulling you out of the crowd. Climbing the familiar stairs, the both of you walked towards an empty playground. The both of you take a seat on the swings.

“It’s kinda scary to be in a playground at night,” you state, looking around the extremely quiet area.

You hear Mark laugh at your statement; you look at him confusingly. “You know what you remind me of?”

You raise your eyebrows.

“A sunflower,” he tells you, making you blush. “Anything with the colour yellow,”

“And why is that Mark?”

He rests his head on the rope of the swings as he stares at you, “You seem like someone who is absolutely cheerful, everyone needs someone like you in their life,”

You smile at his sweet words.

Your eyes gaze on his hands that was wrapped in bandages, blood seeping through them.

“Are your hands okay?” you ask, nodding your chin towards his hands resting on his lap.

He looks down at his hands then back at you, smirking, “why? Did I make you worry?”

You look at him like he was crazy, “of course you did! The guy went pretty hard on you,”

Mark felt embarrassed at that. You came to watch his match twice and he still couldn’t win in front of you.

He looks away from your gaze, “it was nothing,” he murmurs.

You were quiet for a while. You felt guilty for bringing it up, knowing he was already beating himself up for it.

“You did great,” you blurted out, “I came to support you actually,”

“Really?” he chuckles, his gaze still on his shoes.

“Yup, you did so well, I think I should take you out for lunch,” you blurt out without realising. Your eyes widen at what you had just said.

Oh god, why did you say that? Did you have no shame? What if Mark didn’t even feel the same way?

Mark swiftly turns to look at your confused face. Fuck, he just wanted to hug you so bad.

“Are you asking me out on a date?” he asks, an amused grin plastered on his lips.

Oh god.

You quickly face away from the boy who was staring at you with amusement. “N-no,”

He lets out a defeated sigh, “damn, really? I was hoping it would be a date,”

Oh fuck, he was smooth.

“Shouldn’t you be asking me out on a date?” you huff.

“Do you want me to ask you out on a date?”

“No! I mean—”

“Y/N, will you go on a date with me?”

+Day 17

The date was originally scheduled in 5 days but Mark was too excited and had asked you to meet slightly earlier, to which you agreed.

This time, Mark wasn’t in a tank top and shorts, he didn’t have cuts on his face or bloody hands wrapped in bandages. He was dressed in a button up and black skinny jeans.

He’s so adorable.

“What,”

“What?” you look at him weirdly.

“You keep staring at me,” he points out, “do I have something on my face? Or am I too handsome?”

You grimace at his words and threw a fry at him, giggles leaving your lips.

Mark wanted to take you out on a proper expensive date, but he was also a broke college student— just like you. He felt bad about not being able to take you out on a proper date, but you had reassured him that you’d rather eat McDonalds kids meal than eat a $50 meal that is the size of a pea.

“You know,” you start, leaning back on the chair, “If I saw you for the first time, I wouldn’t believe it if you told me you were a boxer,”

“Why?”

You shrug, “you look like a baby to me,” you tell him, “just wanna pinch your cheeks,”

He scoffs, puffing out his chest, “I may look like a baby, but I fight like a man,”

+Day 23

Mark: hey are you coming later

You: where?

Mark: my match you loser

You: I don’t think so :(

You: i have a bunch of work to do :((

Mark: :(

Mark: oky then :/ make sure you rest enough

You: I will :) don’t worry haha

+Day 25

“I didn’t know Mark had many girl friends,” your friend says.

You raise your eyebrows at that. The both of you weren’t official yet, only at the talking stage. He has never mentioned his friends or his family, but the information had your suspicions growing.

You pretend to not be affected by the words, “how’d you know?”

“You know the day you couldn’t come for his match?” you hum, “I think he invited some girls because they were all hugging and talking,”

You would be lying if you weren’t heartbroken by your friend’s words. However, you have no rights stopping him from seeing his friends. The both of you weren’t a couple.

“Aren’t you guys a couple?”

“No,” you answer with a sharp tone, “it’s his life he can do whatever he wants.”

“You’re not fazed by it?”

“Why would I be?” you murmur, “he’s not mine to begin with.”

+Day 35

Mark: hey :)

Mark: it’s been a while

Mark: I miss you

You: I knw haha

Mark: are you coming for my match tomorrow night?

Mark: no no you have to come tomorrow!!

Mark: ok?

You: hahahah

You: I will oky

You: im finished with my work & all so why not haha

You: but I need you to come get me hehe

You: my friend wont be following so its just me :3

Mark: that’s great!!!

Mark: I’ll send u home too ok

You: oky Markie :3

+Day 36

You had your hands resting on Mark’s face, cleaning up his bloody face. Mark had lost this time round; his opponent was three times your size and had beat Mark down like a pipe.

“I don’t even know why I support you doing this,” you mumble, wiping the blood running down his face, “you make me worry too much,”

“I’m okay.”

You glare up at him. “If you think this is okay then I don’t what’s your definition of the opposite.”

He frowns at you but didn’t say a word.

It took you a good 30 minutes to clean up all of his wounds. You lean away from him, “make sure you rest for a week,”

He hums, staring at you, “thank you,”

You felt bad for being so harsh on him. You reach for his hands, holding it in yours, your thumb stroking the back of his hand.

“Can you take me home now? I’m tired,” you sigh.

Throughout the ride home, you had one of Mark’s hand resting on your lap. You didn’t let go for a second, loving the warm feeling of his hand clasped in yours. Before you knew it, his car stopped infront of your apartment building.

You pout, turning to face him., “I don’t wanna leave yet,”

“Me neither,” he chuckles, “don’t go,”

You lips break into a grin, “you loser,”

He hums.

You unlock the door, ready to open the car door but Marks tug on your hands. You face him. He lifts his free hands, his pointer finger tapping on his cheek.

You snicker at his actions, your pointer and middle finger pushing his cheek away. You stick your tongue out when he pouts at you. You open the car door and left the car, shutting it, turning to face the boy who was still pouting.

“Thanks for today,” you say, “make sure you rest for a week before you start working again,” you reminded him.

Upset that you didn’t kiss him, Mark clicked his tongue and gestured for you to go in.

+Day 40

Your eyebrows furrow when you saw the pictures Mark was tagged in Jaehyun’s photo. You knew this photo was recent from the evident bruises on Mark’s face.

You had already warned him to completely heal for a week before going back to work but why was he so stubborn?

The girls who was surrounding the guy you like didn’t go unnoticed by you. You noticed how he had his arms snake around both girl’s waist.

Shutting your eyes close, you let out a frustrated sigh.

“Is this from today?” you ask your friend, showing her your phone.

Your friend takes a look and nods without hesitation.

A loud and angry groan left your lips. Getting up from the couch, you stomped to your bedroom, shutting the door as you climbed in bed.

God, why was liking a boy so hard?

Tears started rolling down your cheeks. You were so frustrated with Mark. You liked him so much that you hated seeing him being hurt— even if it was something he loves doing.

It wasn’t the first time he was seen surrounded by girls. Although the both of you weren’t in an official relationship, you didn’t enjoy seeing him touching girls. Maybe you were being dramatic with the girls, but did you really want to date someone like him? Someone who could potentially be taken away in a flash?

You sit up, rubbing your eyes with a deep sigh. Everyone deserves a chance, even if he had hurt you.

You turn on your phone to send Mark a text.

You: you went to work today?

It took him less than a minute to respond.

Mark: how’d you know?

You: jaehyun’s Instagram

You: I thought I told you to rest?

Mark: sorry :( it was just a last minute match

You: hm

Mark: but on the bright side, I won this time!

Right. Of course he would win the match when you’re not there to support him.

You: was it fun?

Mark: yeah! Our friends came to support us

You: ohh who?

Mark: just some ex-school friends, you don’t know them haha

You: okay hha

Mark: you’re not angr right? Haha

Mark: angry*

You: no why would I be

You: you’re not my boyfriend so I have no right to be

You: mad

+Day 58

“Hey,” Mark sends you a bitter smile, “you okay? Been a whole year since we last saw each other,”

“It’s been 2 weeks, Mark,” you reply dryly.

Mark pouts and takes a seat next to you, “two weeks too long~”

He leans his head on your shoulder as his gaze on your phone. You turn to him slightly, offering your bubble tea to the male who happily accepts. He rests his hand on the plastic cup and your hand holding the cup, pulling it towards his lips.

You giggle, “you’re so cute, Mark.”

He squints his eyes cutely at you as he continues sipping on your drink. You didn’t complain, you love seeing him all happy.

You clear your throat, earning his attention, “I want to ask you something,”

He tilts his chin upwards, “what’s up?”

You try to think of a way to phrase your words together without sounding possessive.

Mark notices your furrowed eyebrows, he cracks a grin and nudges you with his shoulder, “don’t be so serious, what’s up?”

“Are you going to introduce me to your friends?” you blurted out.

Mark fell silent at your question. He wasn’t annoyed or anything— not at all, he couldn’t ever be mad at you. But it was just so sudden, where was this all coming from?

“I mean- you don’t have to, if you don’t want to,” you explain, “it’s not like I want to,” you laugh awkwardly, looking away from the male.

“N-no,” he stutters out, “it was just so sudden, where is this coming from?”

“I’m sorry,”

“Do you want to meet my friends?” he asks.

“I’m not forcing you,” you state, “it’s just a question- it’s not important,” you mumble the last part.

He let out a chuckle, “I want you to meet my friends,” he says, “but, they just…”

You purse your lips, already expecting the answer. Of course he won’t introduce you to his female friends. It would be a lie if you said you weren’t disappointed, but you couldn’t do anything. you can’t force him into doing something he doesn’t want to.

“I’m sorry,” he sounded sincere, too sincere. It’s weird.

You feign a smile, “It’s okay, but I have to go now,”

He frowns, watching you stand up to grab your bag, “already?”

You nod, “I’ll see you when I see you, I guess,”

Before he could even hug you goodbye, you had already left the bubble tea shop.

+Day 62

You had this habit of overworking yourself whenever you were down. You had drowned yourself in projects and work. The incident that happened a few days ago has left your mind, especially when he hasn’t sent you a single text.

“Hey,” your friend called, you hum in response, although your gaze was still glued on your laptop. “Have you been talking to Mark lately?”

Your fingers freeze at his name. Suddenly you were furious just by hearing his name.

“Why?” you reply crudely.

“He’s been asking me about you. Did something happen?” your friend asks, worried about you.

He’s been asking about you? So he has been thinking about you this whole time? Your heart fluttered a little at the thought. You genuinely liked Mark and it sucked that the both of you were already having arguments even before being a couple.

You bit your lip, turning around to look at your friend, “what did he say?”

Your friend passes you her phone, showing the text message between the two.

Mark: hey, im sorry if im disturbing you but

Mark: is y/n okay?

Mark: we haven’t been texting lately and I thought she needed space so i gave her that

Mark: I just want to know if she’s okay? If shes eating healthily?

Your lips tugged upwards at the text. God, he was so cute. You scroll down a little more to read more texts.

Mark: could you update me everyday on how she’s doing?

Mark: I miss her :/

“He really likes you, you know,” your friend says abruptly.

You pass her phone back, looking up at her.

“I know I’m not officially his and I have no right on stopping him who he should hang out with,” you explain, “but it upsets me seeing how he’s being surrounded by girls every single night,”

Your friend places her hand on your shoulder, her thumb caressing your shoulder comfortingly, “you should talk to him about it.”

She was right. Communication is key. You can’t keep it a secret forever. If it upsets you, then you should voice out.

You were going to talk to him about it.

+Day 67

You were at the underground boxing area again. Mark had texted you to come and support him. You were going to talk to him about it today. After his match. This was the only way that was going to make you feel better.

This time, you were standing near the wall, furthest from the boxing ring. Mark had warned you to stay here because of all the rowdy men crowding the area.

“With your petite size, you are just going to be stepped on,” he had said.

You locked eyes with Mark who was standing in the ring. You automatically grin at him. Mark struggled to keep a straight face after seeing your adorable smile.

‘Good luck!’ you mouth, lifting your hands to show a thumbs up, then sending a heart to the male.

Mark’s heart flutter just by looking at you. He looks away to keep a straight face. Soon, the match started.

“Hi,”

You swiftly turned to see a handsome male standing next to you. You send him a polite smile before turning back to look at Mark.

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

“I’m just here to support a friend,” you say plainly, your eyes gazing on Mark intently.

“I see,” the man says, “I’m Yuta,”

Does he ever stop talking? You hum, hoping it would stop him from talking to you.

“What’s your name?”

You wanted to roll your eyes at his question. You face the man, “I’m y/n,”

“Beautiful name for a beautiful girl,” he flirts, winking at you. You grimace at his words. “You’re really pretty,”

You didn’t respond, irked by his presence.

“Do you hate talking or something?” he asks you. He rolls his eyes when you didn’t reply. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

“No, I don’t, Yuta,” you sigh.

“Then? Do you hate me or something? Do you hate someone you’ve never met?” he asks you, leaning closer to you.

Unbeknownst to you, Mark saw you talking to the male and was distracted by it, which resulted in him getting punched in the jaw by his opponent.

Loud gasps and whistles filled the room.

You quickly turn to see Mark laying on the ground, getting stepped on by his opponent. Your hands went up to your mouth, watching in horror. Once his opponent was pulled away, you ran to find Mark, but was stopped by Yuta grasping your arm.

“Let go of me!” you shrieked, pushing his arm away, running to find Mark.

You see Mark in the room, holding his jaw painfully while Jaehyun helped him bandage his hand.

“Mark!” you call, running up to him. You instantly hold onto his elbow, scanning his face that was littered with bruises. He had a black eye too.

Mark meets your worried gaze. His eyes held something different— anger and annoyance.

“Are you okay? Are you badly hurt anywhere?” you ask.

The male suddenly pushes your grip off him, looking away from you. Your eyes widen at his actions.

Did you do something wrong?

You look at Jaehyun, hoping he would signal you something— anything. But he only looked away from you guiltily. You frown at the both of them.

“Mark?” he ignores your voice.

You felt your heart clench painfully. You didn’t know what you did wrong for him to treat you this way. A disappointed sigh left your lips as you turn around, leaving the underground boxing match.

You rest your back against the brick walls, you felt tears trail down your cheeks. You came here with Mark and was expecting him to drive you home, so you didn’t bring any money with you.

“Fuck,” you whisper, your fingers wiping the stray tears.

You fish out your phone, unlocking it but only to see a black screen. You harshly pressed on the button multiple times but it wouldn’t turn on. Great, your phone must’ve died. You look around, trying to find someone who could help you out.

“Are you going to get in?” a deep voice says.

You look up to see Mark standing next to his car.

+++++

A shaky sigh left your lips, brushing away the tears that wouldn’t stop leaving your eyes. You look out the window, hoping it would distract you. Another tear rolled down your cheeks.

“Stop crying,” Mark murmurs.

You wanted to scoff at that. How ironic, especially when he was the one who made you cry.

“I’m fucking trying,” you say through gritted teeth.

The car comes to a halt as you see your apartment building outside. However, you didn’t leave his car.

“Did I do something?” you ask. You have been dying to ask the question ever since.

He rolls his eyes, “I don’t know y/n, did you?” he responds sarcastically.

“Can you stop that?!” you shout, turning your body to face him, “Just tell me what I did so I can fucking apologize!”

He scoffs at your words, “who was that man? Openly flirting while I was in a match?”

Your brows knit in confusion. Is he being serious?

“Firstly, I don’t know who the hell that man was, and I was definitely not flirting with him,” you explain, “and secondly, you’re not my boyfriend. So, even if I wanted to flirt, I am allowed to.”

This relationship was starting to get confusing.

“We are in the talking stage!” he shouts, “technically you are mine.”

You laugh at that, “really? I can’t flirt with anyone but you’re out here hugging and touching random girls!”

He becomes quiet, looking away from your intense gaze.

You push your hair back, frustrated. “what now, Mark?”

He looks down at his lap, playing with his fingers. He felt like crying— he never cries. “I don’t think this is working out,” he whispers, voice cracking. “I think we should stop seeing each other,”

You feel your lips tremble, tears threatening to fall again. You close your eyes, the tears falling down your cheeks. Your hands clenched into fists, hoping it would stop you from letting out sobs.

“Okay,” you mutter, “I’m going to go,”

When you reached your apartment, your hand immediately rests on the wall, steadying your balance. You couldn’t even breathe properly as you let out loud sobs. Your heart was beating rapidly from your unsteady breathing.

You felt like you were going to die. You didn’t expect this to hurt so much.

You are going to get through this. You will get through this.

+Day 83

It has been a few weeks since you had last seen Mark. You had spent most of your time in your room crying your eyes out. If it wasn’t that, you would be sobbing on the couch while your friend would try her best to comfort you.

You didn’t have the energy or appetite to eat. Your friend always made you drink lots of water and would sometimes make a sandwich for you.

Your friend had secretly sent text updates to Mark, but he would just ignore them. He was hurting as much as you were. Just by hearing your name, his heart would clench painfully. Mark had spent most of his time at the ring, taking out his frustration by throwing punches and kicks.

You were washing the dishes since your friend had left to support Jaehyun in the underground match. She had invited you to come with her, but you’d rather stay home, knowing Mark would probably be there.

Your phone started ringing. You let out an annoyed sigh, quickly putting the plate on the rack, then walking over to grab your phone. You answer the call.

“What?” you sigh, “I’m busy cleaning, you know?”

“y/n,” your friend breathes heavily. This was weird. “Can you come here?”

Your eyebrows knit in confusion, “what? Why? What happened?”

“Mark passed out,” she tells you.

Your eyes widen, “w-what?”

“He’s going to be sent to the hospital, you need to come, now,”

+++++

“What room is he in? Is he okay?” you ask, looking at your friend and Jaehyun with wary eyes.

“He’s okay,” Jaehyun says, “he’s in the room,” he nods towards the door.

You had tears threatening to leave your eyes. You couldn’t help but let the tears fall. You felt your body grow weak, you squat down, covering your face with your arms as you let out loud sobs.

It was all your fault. If you hadn’t taken care of him more often, none of this would’ve happened.

Your friend frowns at your state. She bends down and pat your back comfortingly. “Go in,” she persuades, “he has been dying to see you,”

You lift your head to look at her, a small pout on your lips. Your friend wipes your tears with her thumb, smiling at you.

Letting out a soft sigh, you stand up, smoothing your hair and your pants. Walking towards the door, you knock softly before sliding the door open. Mark tilts his head, seeing you walk in quietly with your lips pursed.

He didn’t know what to do. Should he send you a smile? Should he act cold?

When you got closer to him, you scan the state he was in. He had his forehead bandage and his arm in a cast. His lips were busted, a plaster on the bridge of his nose.

“Hey,” you say, voice still raspy from the crying earlier, “what happened?”

He clears his throat and looks away from you. He feels bad making you worried. But at the same time, he didn’t expect you to be here.

“Just a few bruises here and there,” he says.

“Mark.”

“It’s nothing, really!” he exclaims.

You glare at him, “fuck you,” you spit. “I came down here because everyone was so worried about you. I was so worried about you. And now that I’m here, you’re going to tell me it’s nothing?”

Mark was unbelievable. God, why do you like him so much?

His eyes soften at your words. He bit his lip nervously, intimidated by you, he slowly looks up at you, “I just don’t want to worry you,”

You scoff, “your job already worries me, Mark.”

He pouts without even realising. He looks down at his lap guiltily, playing with his fingers.

You felt bad for shouting at him. Letting out a huff, you amble closer.

“You’re okay now, right?” you ask him.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, his gaze glued on his lap.

A pregnant silence fills you two, unsure of what to say to each other. You didn’t want to leave, and Mark doesn’t want you to leave. You bit your lips awkwardly as you look everywhere but Mark.

“I think I’ll leave now,” you say, “I have work to do and I don’t want to… disturb you,”

You stare at him, waiting for him to say something. Anything. disappointment fills you when Mark looks away from your gaze. You turn around, ready to leave the room when Mark calls your name.

“Did you mean it?” he asks, “that day,”

You stop in your tracks, your back facing him. Your grip tightens on your sweatpants.

“Mean what?” you repeat, “you suggested it, Mark,”

“I know,” he breathes, “I regret it,”

You missed Mark. You missed his dumb jokes and his annoying laughter which you loved so much. You turn around to look at him.

“I don’t like seeing you this way, Mark,” you confess, “your job scares me, it worries me,”

“What can I do to make you not worry, y/n?” he asks, eyes widening, “should I stop doing it?”

“That’s not what I meant,” you reply harshly, “if you would actually let me stay by your side, it might ease my worries,”

You step closer to the boy, your hand resting on his cheek. He subconsciously lean against your soft hand.

“I’m sorry for what I said the other day,” he professes, “I..I didn’t mean what I said,”

You take a seat on the chair that was next to his bed, holding onto his hands tightly. “Then, why would you say that Mark?”

“I just—“ he sighs, “I just didn’t want to lose you to someone else, y/n,” he explains, looking up at you, “we weren’t even dating yet! I just knew that I genuinely like you.”

Your heart clench at his words. “I didn’t like seeing you with other girls either,”

“I know,” he huffs, his free hand going up to ruffle his mop of black hair, “I was just stupid,”

Your thumb strokes his hand comfortingly, “It’s okay. It’s all over now,”

“I don’t want to deal with this anymore,” he tells you, “all this, jealousy and possessiveness.”

Is he going to…?

“I have been dying to ask you this question for the longest time,” he continues, “would you like to be my girlfriend?”

507 notes · View notes

gryffindors-weasley · 3 years

Text

Promises

Draco Malfoy x Slytherin!Reader

Summary: After you have an unpleasant encounter with Lucius Malfoy, it leaves Draco in fear of losing you. Though he can’t seem to keep himself from you.

Requested by @kiiramalfoy : “i would like to order something with Draco where the reader is Slytherin, and they date, and Draco’s father hurts the reader, and Draco cries a lot for fear of losing her.”

Warnings: mentions of injury, scars, anxiety, fluff

A/N: Thank you for the lovely request!

You exhaled a quiet sigh, one of many that afternoon though the sun was beginning to dip lower into the sky and turn over to evening. It’s golden rays still cast its beauty, however, coloring everything it had landed on in varying hues of a warm orange the more time that goes by. It had always been your favorite time of day for that very reason, that and it was when you could spend most of your time with Draco.

His midnight black blazer had long since been discarded in a crumpled heap in the grass next to you, the top two buttons of its matching dresshirt undone and its corresponding tie loosened around his neck. The light breeze caused a ripple in the water of the Black Lake, the edge not more than a few feet from where the two of you resided against the same old tree you claimed as your own.

This very location was one the two of you had claimed as a whole for that matter, a place that was secluded and nearly unfrequented by most. Despite that fact, Draco had always felt he’d been a target for prying eyes as of late, but he couldn’t seem to keep himself away from you for very long. He’d tried. He’d tried so hard to withdraw himself and keep you away, if only to keep you safe was his reasoning. But his reasoning quickly became overshadowed by his desperate need to be near you, to be with you. So he broke the promise he made to himself not long after it was made.

He lay in the grass with his head in your lap while you sat there, tucked comfortably between the thick roots of the familiar old oak tree. Unseen grass stains litter his black slacks but he couldn’t bring himself to care about such trivial things, instead focusing on the warmth of the sun on his skin or the sweet smell of your perfume wafting his way every time the wind blew. A few stray stars had begun to twinkle directly above the two of you as evening slowly crept in, lightning bugs flickering like glowing yellow dots along the waters edge as they flutter aimlessly through taller blades of grass.

Your hand had been absentmindedly running through his hair as you read a new book, making sure to miss the few sections where a wildflower or two was carefully woven into it. They offered a burst of color in contrast to the iciness of his hair. It took everything in him not to fall asleep at the comforting feeling, because he wanted to take in every single second he had with you in fear that there wouldn’t be more. Though sometimes the task of staying awake wasn’t very difficult when his hair pokes in his eyes or you gasp upon reading something surprising in your book, your hand pausing its movement right over top of his face. Still, he wouldn’t trade these moments for the world.

“Are you going to talk to me, Love?” He asks softly, peeking one eye open to look at you.

“After this chapter, Draco,” you say, though you weren’t entirely sure what he’d said, your eyes focused on the tattered pages as you run your hand down his cheek gently.

“You’ve said that three chapters ago,” he huffs, though he isn’t truly angry.

He sits up quickly, the sudden movement causing the delicate petals once tucked in his hair to tumble lightly to the ground like feathers. You laugh down at your book and shake your head, turning to the next page. He leans over and presses a soft kiss to your cheek, another to your jaw, smiling softly when he sees the pink blush beginning to appear on your skin. However, your attention doesn’t seem to falter from the pages you read from, so he kisses your cheek once more before settling his head on your shoulder with a sigh.

His smile widens a fraction when he feels you rest your head on his though, the small action appeasing his need for your attention momentarily. He takes in his surroundings, the reflection of the pointed rooftops of the castle not too far away, rippled and distorted on the lake. The puffy clouds colored with pinks and oranges and yellows, and the grass swaying gently in the breeze. Yet with all the beauty set out right in front of him, it all paled in comparison to you. And surely someone had to have been wondering where the two of you had been all day, but that wasn’t of any importance to him.

Truthfully, he’d abandon any and all things just to be with you.

His attention is soon focused on your hand, more-so the scar that rests atop it. His fingers brush over the pale scarlet splotch on the back of your hand, one that blossoms slightly further up your arm. One that he’s cast numerous Episkey spells on, and several healing potions gathered from Madam Pomfrey. But not even his rather vast knowledge on healing could permanently fix it. He doesn’t think it makes you any less radiant, never, but he remains horrified by the means of how it’d been put there. His very own father. The thought still taunts him with each day that passes and he fears it might never go away.

7 Months Ago

You walked through Diagon Alley in search of the few items left on your list in preparation for your seventh year. It wasn’t as extensive nor did it feel as important, but you still wanted to go. The pathways were crowded with excited young students experiencing this place for the first time. Though you weren’t as worried this time around because you had taken this trip by yourself now that you had been old enough to.

You were startled by the firm grip placed heavily upon your shoulder, your gaze quickly and dreadfully meeting icy blue eyes when you look to your left.

“Mind if I have a word?” Lucius asks, his smile far from friendly.

Of course he knew you’d be there, and you were starting to regret coming here alone.

You swallow thickly, though you remain calm as you try and control the spike in your heart rate. You barely have the time to give a nod in response before he veers off into an unfrequented alleyway, the sneer on his face now completely gone in favor of a more hardened expression.

“Do you think I am blind to what you have been doing?”

Your eyebrows knit together in faux confusion. “Blind to what?”

His jaw clenched at your apparently clueless words and he took a step closer. His stare was intense as he seemingly towered over you, as if he was reaching into the very depths of your soul to pull out whatever secrets you may have been keeping. Ones you fought desperately for him to be unaware of. “Whatever it is you think you have with my son must come to an end.”

Your heart had froze in your chest at the statement, and you clench your fists at your sides to keep your trembling hands from becoming obvious to the man in front of you. “I don’t believe I know what you’re talking about, Mr. Malfoy.”

He laughs bitterly, his eyes scanning your expression as if he could detect the very fact that you were lying. You took a step back from him. “You are merely a distraction and nothing more, you would only bring disgrace to the contuation of the Malfoy name and you know it. You’ve already brought shame to yourself.”

You try not to let his words have any affect on you, though the task is proving to be far more difficult than expected as stinging tears press just behind your eyes. But still, you were becoming angry at his taunting words as he tried to antagonize you. “How so?”

You’re startled by his sudden grip on your wrist, and he tugs it up to eye level. “You might have the purest magic running through your veins, but that does not make you worthy of anything at all. You and your family’s infamy and regrettable choice to defy the Sacred 28 have no place here, you don’t belong,” He says, teeth gritting, “Either you listen to my words now or I’ll just have to do something about it. Won’t I?”

You flinch at his harsh words as you try and pull yourself from his grasp. It only tightens, unrelenting as his nails dig into your skin and you suppressed the urge to cry out. However, it still hadn’t stopped you from speaking your mind.

“Regrettable? My families morals and their ability to defy your terrible ideals and not frown upon individuals you deem to be less than you is not regrettable. At least my family knows what love and kindness is,” you quip, narrowing your eyes up at him.

You watch the anger twist his face into a threatening glare, the pressure on your wrist almost becoming too much to bear. It felt as though it’d snap in two if it got any tighter and you couldn’t suppress your tears as one rolls down your flushed cheek.

“What are you doing?” A voice sounds behind you.

You glance over your shoulder to find Draco, having difficulty masking his surge of emotions as he catches sight of the tears lining your eyes. Then his eyes bounce to his fathers face, furious and so full of venom he couldn’t bring himself hold his stare. Then his eyes landed on your arm.

His worst nightmares seemed to have been coming true right before his very eyes, and he mulled over his next actions quickly. If he protects you from his father, it’d confirm the relationship the two of you held in secret and he would more than likely lose you. If he doesn’t, he’d singlehandedly destroy your trust and lose you that way. The thought made him sick to his stomach and his head spun with worry as he made up his mind.

“Relashio!” Draco utters, his fathers grip on you faltering. You tug your arm away and rush to his side, though your attempt isn’t all too easy.

A searing pain scorches the back of your hand, the sensation traveling up the top of your wrist as you recoil your hand to your chest and peer out from behind Draco. The flames extinguish from the wand in Lucius’ hand just as quickly as they appeared, the very flames that kissed your skin in his spiteful attempt to hurt you. To scare his son with the consequences of his love for you. The horror was apparent on Draco’s face as he drops his wand, looking at his father through glossy eyes.

“Draco, you’re doing it again,” you sigh quietly, marking your page before closing your book and setting it aside for the first time since you’ve been out there.

“Doing what, darling?”

“You’re thinking about it again. You’ve got that look you always have when you do,” you say, knowing he’d try and convince you otherwise. “I know that look.”

His thumb brushes ever so gently against your hand despite the tension in his jaw as it clenches. He closes his eyes and takes a breath to steady his emotions. “Sorry.”

You sigh lightly and press a chaste kiss to the corner of his jaw, lingering there for a few moments before you spoke up softly. “I’ve dealt with worse, you know.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” He asks, more so a scoff, the idea of you experiencing anything worse than that moment making his stomach churn and twist in knots. He turns to look at you with furrowed brows and a slight frown, though you remain positive.

“Ideally yes,” you say with a soft laugh, one that makes his heart flutter in his chest as you take his hand in yours, “though I take it it’s not working.”

He’s quiet after that, frustration simmering in his stomach as he tries to control his temper for your sake. His gaze shifts to the sky above him once more as he rests his head back on the crumbling bark of the decades old tree. It’s not his fault, not entirely and he knows that. You knew that. It was his fathers doing and if he had been there sooner he wouldn’t have let it happen. You knew he’d protect you, right?

He could only hope that you knew he’d endure a lifetime of pain just so you never had to experience a single drop ever again. It was risky of him to defy the promise he made to his father, never to see you again. It was a deal he’d made before storming back to his room in a bout of angry tears that persisted for the entirety of the night. He doesn’t believe he’d cried over anything at all quite like this. But you’ve etched yourself in every part of him so much so it’s made it impossible to deny the profound love he feels for you. He could only last three weeks without you once your final school year had started again, barely that, his lingering stares only increasing his longing for you until he cracked.

He’s pulled from his thoughts by the feeling of you twisting the ring around his finger, the cold silver band sending a shiver up his arm. It’s a habit you’ve picked up, he hadn’t been sure of where it came from, but you did it. Much like the way you often button and unbutton the cuffs of his dress shirts; he can’t remember how many he’s had to replace because they eventually fall off.

Regardless, he doesn’t mind the habit, but the very ring you’re playing with is one he’s grown to dislike considerably. The swirling metallic snake only reminds him of his father, his family, and the mistakes he’s made up to this point. Most notably, what it’s put you through. He’ll get another ring for you to twirl, but he cannot bear wearing this one a moment longer.

He slips it off his finger and stands to his feet abruptly, walking over to the waters edge.

“What are you doing?” You ask curiously, getting up and wandering to his side. You watch as he examines the ring, running his thumb over the silver snake curling across the front.

He lifts his hand and throws the ring, watching as it bounces once across the shimmering water before disappearing with a small splash. His lip curled up in anger as he grabbed his tie, hastily plucking the matching house pin from the black fabric and throwing it with more vigor. It goes farther than the last, though the action does very little to release the animosity towards his father.

“Draco stop,” you say, grabbing his arm and turning him to face you. It wasn’t until the water calmed again that he looked at you again. His chest heaved slightly, cheeks tinged a soft pink as he stares down at you.

Tears line his eyes as he stands before you. “I don’t want to stop. I want to rid myself of everything that has to do with this place.”

“Would you just calm down? For me?” You ask quietly, offering a patient smile as you grabbed his hands gingerly. “Being angry and upset isn’t making matters any better, Draco. You’re only souring your mood.”

You reach up and wipe a frustrated tear before it could fully roll down his flushed cheek, your thumb tracing over it in a way that set him at ease almost immediately. He closes his eyes as he finds himself leaning into your touch, trying to focus on the warmth of your hand on his skin rather than the anger pressing insistently within his chest.

You have a way of doing that, he realizes. He feels you could take any situation, no matter how miserable, and make it brighter. You could take his sorrows and change them to utter happiness. Perhaps that’s why he was so attached to you. You’d always be there to keep him from sinking, it didn’t take much effort on your end. He could get through anything if you were there to pull him through it.

“How are you so care free? About all this?” He asks once he’s calmed down a bit, both intrigued and envious as he brushes your hair behind your ear. The tips of his fingers trace down your neck, grasping the green tie dangling from it softly as he sighs, his hand running down your arm until it envelops your own tenderly.

You smile up at him, the contours of his face becoming more apparent the lower the sun sets in the sky. “I’ve spent the entirety of my life under scrutiny for my family’s choice one way or another,” you start, brushing the blonde strand away that dipped in his eyes. “It grows tiring after a while, and you learn to tune it out.”

His crease between his brows deepens slightly as you wrap your arms around his neck, his arms quick to hold you close to him with the intention of keeping you there for a long while.

“Words only hurt you if you allow them to, Draco. It’s not always going to be easy, but it’s true,” you say, reaching up to smooth the worry between his dark brows before your hand slides down to rest on his chest, the other tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck. “I’m scared for the future, I think we all are. But I want to focus on what’s here right now. With you.”

A soft smile pulls at the corner of his mouth as he pulls you closer, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, another to your jaw, and perhaps the softest just below your ear. Your perfume was sweet and enchanting as it flooded his senses and left him lingering there for a few fleeting moments, his remaining anger subsiding completely.

“Tell me we’ll be okay,” he asks, barely just above a whisper. His reluctantly pulls away from the crook of your neck, pale blue eyes bouncing around every inch of your face in search of doubt.

You smile sweetly at him, gaze flickering up to his eyes before you lean on your toes and press your lips on his, gentle yet firm as your hands settle on his cheeks. Any traces of tension he had left dissolves in that very moment, his arms caging you tightly against him as your shirt crinkles under his grip. It’s as if nothing else mattered, and to him nothing ever mattered more than you. When you parted, he chased after your lips for another kiss, soft yet full of love as he smiled softly.

“We’ll be okay.”

—

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy one shot #draco malfoy angst #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy fic #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you #harry potter fic

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zukkoxx · 3 years

Text

first kiss!

w/ deku, denki, bakugo

deku🥦 a/n : n/n= nickname

deku had always respected you and your choices since the beginning of your relationship.

it had only been about a month since you started dating, and he never did anything without getting permission first.

he made sure to look at you questionably with his palm turned upward when wanting to hold your hand.

or waiting with his arms out for you to hug him instead of going in himself.

he just really liked you and never wanted you to feel uncomfortable in the relationship.

but as the months went on and you two began to get a little closer, he couldn’t help but want to do more things with you.

he found himself staring at your lips as you talked way too many times.

resisting the urge to just dive in and place his mouth against yours at that moment.

but he would never instigate it unless he was sure you wanted to as well.

please! give him the hint!

anyways, it was friday.

you and izuku were just chilling in his dorm after a few hours of intense studying. you guys wanted to get all your school work done so you didn’t have to do anything over the weekend.

it was a pretty boring night, and you guys ended up watching a weird pro-wrestling match that just happened to be on the t.v.

“this is so fake.” you giggle, watching the exaggerated movements of the wrestlers. “there’s no way that hurt.”

“i know right. imagine if they went against anyone in our class. they’d be blown to bits!” izuku agrees

“i can’t believe people actually watch this.”

“you’re watching it. aren’t you?”

you side eye your boyfriend at his remark, and silently nudge his shoulder. “i’m right though. you seem interested too.” he teases.

“i’m only watching cause you put it on.” you poke his stomach a few times and he drawls back. “hey! no tickling!” he says, but goes to reach for the space between your shoulder and neck.

you scream, and cover your mouth so no one could hear you outside of the dorm. “please izu! stop it!” you laugh

“what was that n/n? cant hear you over all that giggling.”

“i’m sorry! i’m sorry!” you yell, and after a few seconds, he stops the absolute torture to your neck, and you both fall onto the bed, catching your breaths.

izuku stares at you with a smile, breathing heavily.

he places a hand on your cheek, not really thinking about his actions. you pause, and follow his hand, turning your head towards him.

“you’re so pretty, y/n.”

“thank you. you’re not too bad yourself izuku” you both laugh, staring at each other.

and for a moment, izuku could see your eyes drifting down to his lips.

do something. do something

“y/n, i’ve been meaning to ask you something for a while now. but i didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” he suddenly says, a light blush forming on his cheeks.

“i doubt anything you’d say could make me uncomfortable. what is it?”

“can i...” he sighed, trying to slow his heart rate. “may i please kiss you?”

your eyes widened, and you laughed a bit. “you don’t have to ask izuku. we’re in a relationship! i’m totally fine with it.” you smiled and he noticeably calmed down. “oh thank god.” he breathes.

the hand on your cheek lingers down to your jaw, and you see him lean in.

with one more questioning look, you nod giving him permission, and he finally presses his lips against yours.

it’s slow and soft. tender and loving as it feels like time goes in slow motion.

after a few seconds, he pulls away, eyes meeting yours in satisfaction. “thank you, n/n.” he says, before leaning in to peck you again.

denki ⚡️

you and denki always had a weird relationship

you both would flirt with each other, make bashful comments and gave each other slight touches every once in a while.

but you guys never talked about what you actually were.

you were just going with the flow, and you both seemed to be fine with that.

but denki really liked you. like a lot. and he never said anything due to the risk of ruining whatever type of relationship you guys had.

being your friend was better than being nothing to you at all.

sometimes he wished he could just drop everything and tell you his feelings for you, but that was nearly impossible to him

it was up to you to actually initiate something.

it was night time at the dorms, and you had just came from the kitchen after grabbing a drink.

you slowly made your way up to your dorm, but paused when you heard your so-called friend denki’s voice coming from kirishima’s dorm.

“come on guys. you know what we have is nothing serious. why would i mess up a great friendship for some stupid feelings?”

you squinted your eyes, wondering who he was talking about. a slight hope in your heart that it was about you.

“dumbass! y/n clearly likes you too!” you heard bakugo’s voice say, and you nodded harshly in agreement, as if anyone could see you.

“don’t you think we would’ve been i a real relationship by now if they actually did like me?” denki asked, and silence was the only response.

you internally groaned and face palmed your forehead.

how could you be so stupid!?

you liked denki too. you have since you both started talking.

but half of you always thought it was just denki being his usual flirty self. you knew he had a thing for a lot of girls in your class in the past, you didn’t think you were any different.

and you definitely didn’t come up with the idea that he may have wanted to be in a relationship.

what you had just heard shocked you, to say the least. and you made a mental note to talk about it with denki soon.

you were about to walk away from the door when it opened, revealing denki and baguko about to walk out.

all three of you froze, and you see the red haired kirishima on his bed pop his head up from behind the other two boys.

“the hell are you doing here?” bakugo asked gruffly. “just...getting a drink.” you held up your glass of water that was starting to precipitate on the sides.

“h-how much of that did you hear?” denki hesitantly asked.

“enough.” you looked down, embarrassed that you had been caught eavesdropping.

denki stepped in front of bakugo, closer to you, “look y/n i know you probably don’t feel the same. i should’ve told you about my feelings the day we started talking. it’s okay if you don’t want to be friends anymore. i know i made this awkward.”

your eyes widened at denki’s statement and you raised your hand without the cup, shaking it in disagreement. “what no!” you said, making all three boys look at you confused.

“denki...i like you too.” you said, looking up to meet his eyes. “i never told you because i thought you didn’t want anything serious, which is stupid. i should’ve known you weren’t that type of person. i can’t believe i thought you’d break my heart-“

your rant was cut off when you felt a pair of lips crash into yours.

the bright yellow hair that dangled in front of your face let you know it was the boy you had been crushing on for years now.

you closed your eyes, falling into the kiss.

it was kind of quick and a spur of the moment type thing, and when he pulled back, you both were panting.

“you have to idea how long i’ve wanted to do that.” denki said as his thumb swiped across your bottom lip.

“you losers! go get a room!” bakugo yelled from behind denki.

“glady.” the electric boy said with a grin, grabbing you hand and pulling you down the hallways

bakugo 💥

you and bakugo’s relationship was always on the slower paced side.

him being emotionally unattached most of his life and being hard at physical touch made for a lot of long and drawn out first times.

he didn’t hug you until about four weeks after you started dating, when you had come back from a long mission with the hero you were interning

and he never held your hand for more than a minute. he always claimed that it was because his hands were sweaty, but you always noticed how his cheeks turned red anytime you tried to cuddle up next to him.

you knew it was hard for him to be vulnerable around someone, even the people he cared about.

so you respected his decision and didn’t push him into doing anything he didn’t want to.

if that meant no cuddles until you were 4 months into the relationship, then that was the price you’d have to pay.

by the time you reached a half year in your relationship, the most you got from bakugo was a quick peck on your forehead. and that’s if he was being generous.

you always wandered when he would just go right for the bag, and place a fat smooch on your more than ready lips.

ugh. that’ll be the day.

speaking of...

it was the middle of the week. lunchtime.

you were in line, getting a school lunch for yourself because you were too lazy to make it that morning.

while you were waiting in line, whistling to yourself, you heard a familiar and almost menacing voice come from behind you.

“y/n!? is that you? ugh what a grand surprise!” monoma said with his hands held high.

“hello monoma.” you greeted tiredly.

“rumor has it, you and a particular boom boom boy seem to be a thing now.” he says.

“we’ve been a thing for a while monoma.”

“well i couldn’t tell, being the way he rarely interacts with you during the day.”

you rolled your eyes at the comment. sure, monoma was being dramatic as always, but you couldn’t help but feel the truth seeping through his words.

“that’s none of your business monoma.”

“awww did i strike a nerve y/n? i sincerely apologize. although...this might have been a wake up call for you, don’t you think?” he asked disgustingly sweet.

you were about to respond when you heard your boyfriend’s voice come from behind you. “shouldn’t you be with class B you weak, annoying little vermin?” he yelled before looking down at you. “this idiot messing with you babe?”

your eyes widened at the pet name he usually refused to call you, but you were even more surprise when bakugo gripped you chin and turned it so you faced him.

you didn’t have a chance to think before his lips was against yours, his tongue quickly sliding against your bottom lip before he pulled away, pulling on your lip with his teeth for an extra umph.

when you both separated, he looked at monoma with a smug smirk, causing the embarrassed boy to run back to his class.

you still weren’t able to find words as bakugo looked at you again. “that was fun y/n. i should do it more often.”

bakugo you sly dog ;) anyways, all your comments or requests would be greatly appreciated here! ->🥀

and if you happen to reblog, plz give credit. have a good day/night my loves!

#my hero acadamy #my hero headcanons #my hero fanfic #deku x y/n #deku x you #deku #denki headcanons #denki x reader #denki x y/n #denki x you #deku headcanons #bakugo katsuki #bakugou x you #bakugou x reader #bakugou fluff #bakugo headcanons

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pillage-and-lute · 3 years

Text

Pins and Needles: Part 3

Part 1, Part 2

———- 🌷 🐺 🌷———-

The butter yellow of the awning of the new tattoo shop carried on inside. The color scheme was classy, though.

During Geralt’s mostly misspent youth, he’d been inside his fare share of tattoo and piercing parlors. He’d never gotten a tattoo, and his piercings had mostly been his own work, but still, the culture seeped in. He had learned to expect a lot of red and black and exposed brickwork. There was nothing wrong with that look, but he considered the interior of Pins and Needles to be much more friendly.

The walls were a deep blue, denim, if he had to name it, or perhaps Prussian Blue. It was on all the walls, and the ceiling, with the floor in a dark, smooth wood. He wasn’t sure if that was kept from the last shop or was newly installed. The counter was in the same polished, dark wood, so he supposed it was new. All the accents were dandelion yellow, or yellow brass if they were metal. His leg brushed up against a velveteen chair, something of a vintage style, and of course, in that same buttery yellow.

The waiting area had the chair, a matching loveseat, and a high-backed chaise lounge in a teal color. It had more green to it’s color than the walls, and was in a lighter shade, but it was adjacent to the color of the walls, and a pleasing focal point. Overall, Geralt was impressed. The blue and yellow color scheme could have easily been overdone, but it was masterful, and clearly completed by someone with an eye for color.

Ciri was delightedly pouring over a piercing display. Geralt was startled to realize he owned the exact display box. It was, in fact, a large glass terrarium, the metal that same shiny brass. The shelves of piercing were cleverly angled and set within the case so that they were all visible.

“Nice display case, isn’t it?”

Geralt turned, and there was Jaskier. He had a BB8 coffee mug in his hand, and a shimmery teal shirt unbuttoned low. It framed his sternum and the peaks of color visible through his chest hair and pointing down in a tempting arrow to--

“urk,” Geralt said, choking on his own tongue.

“Priscilla found it on the side of the road one day, the legs were scuffed to hell and one was missing, but the glass was intact, so she took it back to her house and fixed it up.”

“I have the same one,” Geralt managed, the tips of his ears reddening.

“Oh, as a display case?”

“Um, it’s a terrarium.”

“Is it really?” Jaskier beamed and Geralt felt like he was dying. “I always thought it was a funny shape. It makes such a lovely focal point along that wall though.”

Ciri was beaming as well. “Dad keeps succulents in his. Is Priscilla the lady that does piercings?”

“She is,” Jaskier said, tilting his head so that his hair flopped and Gerald got a better view of his undercut and dangling chain of a cuff piercing on his ear. “Are you in the market for a piercing, miss...”

“Ciri,” she said, sticking her hand out to shake. “And my dad might get a tattoo sometime, but he’s being a baby about it and doesn’t know what he wants.”

Jaskier shook her hand and levelled a devastating grin at Geralt. “Well, some things aren’t to be rushed, but if your dad ever want’s a tattoo, I’ll give him anything he wants.”

Geralt desperately tried to reel his thoughts in from the absolute trainwreck that that statement illicited. Obviously Jaskier was just trying to sell his craft not offer...anything else.

“Are you taking walk-ins for piercings?” Ciri asked.

“Absolutely,” Jaskier said, turning and shouting. “Priscilla?” Down the hall of the shop where, presumably, the actuall tattooing and piercing rooms were.

“YEah?” came the response.

“Got a consult for you!”

She poked her head out of a room, smiled quickly, popped back in for a second, then emerged. “Hiya, sorry, I was just doing a little sketching, how can I help?”

“I’d like an industrial piercing please,” Ciri said.

Priscilla tilted her head, eyes squinting slightly as she, apparently, assesed Ciri’s ears. “That’ll suit you well, left or right side?”

“Left.”

“Cool,” she looked to Geralt. “I’m assuming you’re the dad?”

“Uh, yes,” Geralt said, feeling wildly out of his depth.

“Great, and does she have your permission for the piercing?”

“Oh, uh, yeah, absolutely.”

“Cool,” Priscilla said, digging behind the counter. “I’ve got paper work for both of you, and then we can get this lovely lady poked full of holes.”

Geralt’s stomach flipped over. Despite how many times he had actually stuck a fucking sewing needle through his own ear as a teenager, he couldn’t stand the thought of normal piercing needles.

“It’s okay, Dad,” Ciri said as they were handed paperwork and pens. “You don’t have to hold my hand or anything, you can wait out here.”

“Great,” Geralt said, looking at the paperwork. Pretty standard stuff, parental release, aftercare papers, all that. He signed quickly and returned the relevant documents, keeping the aftercare instructions.

“Thanks very much,” Priscilla said, checking for signatures before smiling at Ciri again. “Got any jewelry picked out?” They walked over to the case as Ciri gestured to some.

Jaskier was looking at Geralt assessingly over the top of his coffee mug. “You know,” he said. “Most dads aren’t this cool about piercings.” He licked a bit of foam off of his lip and Geralt tried very hard to pretend that he hadn’t seen the flash of a tongue piercing.

“I, uh, I’ve got plenty of bad ones, I’d rather she got her’s done professionally.”

“Bad ones?” Priscilla’s head jerked up. “Can I see?”

Geralt nodded as she was already bustleing over. He brushed the strands of hair that escaped his ponytail back so she could see his ears.

“Amatur work for sure, although no lasting damage, where’d you get these done?”

Geralt flushed. “I did them, uhm, way back.”

“Oh god, you didn’t buy one of those cheep piercing guns, did you?” Priscilla asked, poking gently at Geralt’s ear so she could look at the back of the piercings. Jaskier smiled at Geralt’s probably confused expression.

“No, I used a needle.”

Priscilla pulled back, eyes wide. “A sewing needle?”

Geralt shrugged guiltily.

“Yeah, okay,” she said quickly, turning to Ciri. “Hold out your pinky, you have to make me a promise.”

Ciri’s brow furrowed, but she linked pinky fingers with the excitable piercer.

“I promise,” Priscilla said, gesturing with her other hand for Ciri to repeat after her.

“I promise,” Ciri said.

“Not to pierce myself.”

“Not to pierce myself,” Ciri said, smiling.

“No matter what my dad did.”

“No matter what my dad did,” Ciri finished. “I won’t, don’t worry.”

“Good,” Priscilla said, releasing Ciri’s pinky from it’s hold and sending a theatrical shiver of disgust toward Geralt. “A sewing needle, yikes. C’mon kiddo, we’re gonna stick a needle through your ear, and I’ll show you how a real piercer does it.”

She hurried Ciri into the back room, grabbing a couple sealed packages on the way, needle and jewelry, Geralt presumed.

“Don’t mind Prissy,” Jaskier said. “She’s just very big on piercing safety.”

“No, I agree,” Geralt said. “I was a really stupid kid back then.”

Jaskier smiled and came out from around the counter a bit, leaning against the side, hip jutting in those ungodly tight leather pants. “Ciri seems pretty smart though, does she get it from her mother?”

“Um,” Geralt said, the sight of those long, leather-wrapped legs making his mouth weirdly dry. “I suppose? Her dad was pretty smart, too.”

“Ah, so you’re not her biological dad?” Jaskier said, leaning forward. Geralt wondered for a second if he was fishing, but surely not, pretty tattoo artists didn’t flirt with frumpy guys like him.

“No, uh, but I’ve been her guardian since she was just a baby so...”Geralt trailed off, unsure how to finish.

“That’s very cute.” Jaskier’s eyes trailed down Geralt, then back up. To his shame, Geralt realized he hadn’t even removed his apron.

“You know,” Jaskier said, conversationally. “My dad would have never even thought about letting me get a piercing.”

Geralt looked over the form in front of him, piercings in each ear, more than one, even, a nose ring, and that ellusive tongue ring, as well as the colorful tattoos that swarmed over his skin. “That worked out well for him,” he said without thinking, then blushed.

Jaskier, though, laughed, head back, shoulders shaking. “Indeed,” he said at last. “I shrugged off my father’s wishes rather fully, I think.”

The bell rang as another person entered the shop and Geralt stepped aside as Jaskier went back behind the counter. He sat on the yellow chair and watched Jaskier’s lips--and that hint of silver on his tongue-- as he made the young woman a tattoo appointment.

Jaskier’s hands, full of rings and swirling ink, were so quick on the computer keys, and when he talked with them, they were so expressive.

Geralt wanted to hold one.

Unfortunately, by the time the young woman was gone and Geralt could have possibly had Jaskier’s full attention again, Ciri was all done. Geralt paid, thanked both Jaskier and Priscilla, and went over the care instructions, before he and Ciri crossed the road.

It felt very much like a retreat.

———- 🌷 🐺 🌷———-

Tag List!

@jaybeefoxy @sweetiepieplum @holymotherwolf

#geraskier #tattoo au #flower shop au #the witcher #geralt x jaskier #geralt is a good dad #but a dating disaster #DO NOT do your own piercings kids

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softykooky · 4 years

Text

sanctuary: six

summary: leaving your father was easy. leaving them? well...that’s a different kind of strength. 7.9k words.

genre: mafia au, fluff, major angst

pairing: ot7 x reader

warnings: toxic and dysfunctional familial relationships, mentions of domestic abuse (physical and verbal), swearing, ptsd & trauma, poor mental health, mentions of anxiety & panic attacks, reader goes to therapy, hurt, argument/yelling, the boys are mean...

author’s note: i made you guys wait long enough hehe :) hope you like it, please let me know what you think! and please take notice of the warnings!! they are there for a reason <3

♡ series masterpost ♡

Your nightmares have gotten better...somewhat. Better in the sense that you don’t let them carry over as much to the next day. Better in the sense that now, there are seven smiling faces that greet you every morning to help the fear dissolve. But they still relent as strong as ever, and make you toss and turn every single night with no pity.

They’ve gotten more frequent since that meeting with your father. More vivid. Some nights, your nightmares are so bad that you just end up migrating over to Taehyung’s room right next to you and sleeping on the edge of the bed (though you just end up wrapped around each other in the morning). Taehyung never bats an eye. Only opens the side of his thick duvet for you to crawl into and flicks on a lamp because he knows you don’t like the dark after a nightmare.

Tonight is no different. From the other side of the wall, Taehyung can hear your pained whimpers and mumbles that he can barely make out. Your sheets rustle as your body protests the vivid dream, and he can’t help but to bolt out of his comfortable position to check up on you. You’re still deep in restless sleep when he opens the door and approaches your bed.

“Y/N, sweetheart, please wake up”, he soothes, caressing the side of your face with one hand. “It’s just a dream.”

The yellowing bruise on your cheek has begun to fade, but it still makes their blood boil every time they catch sight of it. Seeing it right now makes Taehyung want to burn the entire city down and your father along with it. But he is here for you. And Taehyung (and the other six) cannot be anything but soft towards you.

“Baby, wake up”, he says again, louder this time and it makes you begin to stir out of sleep. You quiet at the contact of his skin but your eyes remain closed and that fitful frown is still on your face. Taehyung doesn’t know that his mere presence brings you comfort. Even when you’re not conscious.

He takes the authority to nestle under the covers next to you and it’s as if your body just naturally gravitates to his, tucking yourself into his arms like a linking puzzle piece. It’s a selfish reason, and Taehyung doesn’t want to tell anyone, though he has a feeling the guys already know and also share his belief. But he secretly treasures the moments that he gets with you, even if it is for a heartbreaking reason such as nightmares.

He loves the feeling of your body next to his, and the blankets that get just a little too overheated because the both of you are human furnaces. He loves the gentle thud of your heartbeat on those nights that he holds you closer than normal, when you shake like a leaf through your dreams and he is your tether to the ground.

And to think, just a while ago he was yelling at you from the other side of the wall, complaining about your loud crying. He wants to go back in time and kick himself. Taehyung’s scared. He’s never really cared for someone like this before.

You are already safely stowed away in his wide chest when a shadow walks by the room. Taehyung is not surprised when Yoongi creaks the bedroom door open, and not surprised when he sees Jimin in tow.

“We heard her all the way from upstairs.” Yoongi mutters through a yawn. Jimin just sighs and looks at your sleeping figure with concern and longing. The two men shuffle into the room and as Jimin lifts up the blanket to flank your other side, Yoongi sets himself at the foot of the bed. Not that any of them lacked space, of course. The boys made sure your room was properly equipped with a large California king.

“It’s been getting worse. I don’t know what to do. I want to help her, but I-”

Taehyung finds himself getting choked up through his words. They all feel the same way. It’s just that there’s been too many nights where he’s had to hold your broken pieces together while you scream out the ghosts of what has happened to you. If it’s too much to bear for the seven of them, looking from the outside, they can’t imagine how it must feel for you.

Jimin reaches over, your body nestled between the two of them, and inserts his hand inside Taehyung’s, caressing the thumb back and forth of his skin.

“I guess all we can do is be here on the nights that are difficult.” Yoongi tilts his head so that he’s looking at you, still drifting off in your dream with a pained expression on your face.

“She’ll get through this. She’s strong.”

The words that Yoongi whispers into the night air of your bedroom are hopeful. Uncharacteristic for a man like him, but when it comes to you, optimism is the only choice. He’ll allow himself to have hope if it’s for you.

The four of you fall back into shallow sleep, and time passes by differently when it’s night time and your bones cry for rest. They fall in and out of consciousness for a minute or a couple hours, none of them are sure. All they can focus on is their worry, and you continue to battle through your war of bad dreams. Jimin and Taehyung awaken again when you begin to stir.

You quiver like you’re cold, even when you’re sandwiched in between two warm bodies and they both snuggle in to hold you even closer. But you remain lost to your nightmare and begin to cry tears that drip down and dampen the fabric of Taehyung’s pajama shirt. He knows you’ll apologize profusely for that in the morning, but he couldn’t give less of a damn about his shirt. The feeling of you crying in his arms makes him feel like an utter failure.

Jimin wipes away the wet trail that the tear left behind on your skin, and wants to cry himself. He doesn’t know how to take your pain away, and wants to scream because sleep is the only time where you can truly rest and the universe deprives you of even that.

“I’m so sorry, princess. We’re here.” He whispers to your unhearing ears. “We’ll be here.”

When your cries begin to get loud and your muttering becomes pained, the door is softly opened again. This time, it reveals a wide-awake Jungkook and a not so awake Hoseok. Yoongi rolls his eyes but can’t help the fond smile that paints his lips.

“Jungkook, I told you to stop staying up so late playing video games.” he whisper-scolds, and Jungkook looks sheepish in the lowlight of your bedroom. They’re not surprised by his late night antics by any means, and they’re also not surprised that he abandoned them to check up on you. They all know Jungkook has an unreasonably tender spot for you.

“Is it her dreams again?”, Hoseok says, pure worry leaking out of every word and staring at your impossibly small self in Taehyung’s hold. There’s no annoyedness in his tone. They’re all just deathly concerned about you.

Pushing Hoseok inside the room and quietly closing the door behind him, Jungkook situates himself on the loveseat next to the bed, while Hoseok just plops on the plush rug, snatching a throw pillow and tucking it under his head. Jimin sweeps a stray hair away that had fallen into your face.

Though they’re all trying to close their eyes and sleep, they all know that tonight will be a restless one. If you are not peacefully sleeping, they won’t be able to either. And it seems that that statement applies to all of them, when not even 10 minutes pass until Namjoon and Seokjin make their way to your bedroom, for the same reason as the other five. They wordlessly set out pillows and blankets on the floor beside your bed, nestling into each other for warmth and hoping that you can feel their sincerity even in sleep. And if anyone could see them now: big, bad mafia bosses cuddling together to help you through a night of bad dreams, Bangtan would force them to sign non-disclosure agreements. For you though, they could do this for hundreds of nights.

When all seven are there, you miraculously slumber peacefully through the night. For the first time since Taehyung crept into your room, you are resting comfortably, quiet and undisturbed. And when you start snoring, Taehyung wants to cry with sheer relief. It was as if your subconscious vied for the presence of all the boys, and now that you have it, they finally allow themselves to drift off as well.

The last thing you expected when you woke up this morning was to be dripping in sweat and much too aware of the extra three bodies on the bed with you. Ones you don’t remember going to sleep with last night. You have no recollection, just remembered that you went to sleep alone and now the seven men you’ve grown far too fond of were in the room with you, still snoozing the day away.

At the foot of your bed, Yoongi stretches his limbs and groans when the sunlight peaks through the curtains into his eyes. He squints away the sleep and smiles dopily at you from under a blanket. Hopefully he doesn’t notice the way you practically melt at just his gaze.

“Morning, sweetheart.” His throaty morning voice makes you blush two shades of red.

“Good morning”, you whisper back, not wanting to wake any of them up. They just look so adorable and so completely exhausted. Yoongi bets that all of them would rather forfeit their positions as mafia bosses before telling you it’s because they stayed up all night worrying about you. “Um…”, you murmur, eyes darting around the room, “why are you all in here?”

Yoongi doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t want to admit how whipped they actually are for you.

“You were...having bad nightmares. So we wanted to come make sure you were okay.”

Your eyes widen at Yoongi’s confession, and it reminds you of when Namjoon had done the same for you all those nights ago. It makes your heart ache and bloom at the same time because well..no one’s really cared enough to do something like this for you. Something so simple yet significant. You blink away the mistiness in your eyes, looking around the room once again.

Three of them are on your bed. The rest are distributed across the floor and Jungkook’s slung uncomfortably on a chair. When you look back at Yoongi, it seems like he already knows all the thoughts running through your head. He already knows the words you want to say, but don’t know how to articulate.

“We’ll do this every night if we have to, Y/N. For as long as it takes.”

You leap from your spot under the blankets to wrap Yoongi in a bear hug, burying your face in his shoulder as he buries his in your hair. Though you are overheated from the cuddling and still dazed from sleep, you hold him with as much sincerity as you can muster. You have a feeling he can tell when he holds you back just as warmly.

The movement makes Jimin and Taehyung wake in unison and as they rub the fatigue from their eyes and land on the sight of you perfectly swathed in Yoongi’s arms, the two of them think it’s a sight they could get used to waking up to. They wonder if you feel the same way.

“Thank you.” Your words are airy and light in his ear, but Yoongi knows their true weight. He doesn’t say anything. Just plants a soft kiss on the side of your temple and relishes in the scent of your shampoo.

When he stares past your shoulders, he meets the gaze of Jimin and Taehyung, who are fondly peering at the two of you. Years of being with each other, they’ve learned to communicate certain things without having to say anything. And right now, in the gentle morning light, the realization is beginning to seep in.

Perhaps the way they care about you is more what they had expected.

Living with the seven of them is an adjustment. Getting accustomed to a rhythm and routine in a house that’s the headquarters of an underground powerhouse is easier said than done. You were constantly surrounded with uncertainty and tiptoeing danger but you had never felt unsafe. They were there. And as long as you had them, this house was sanctuary.

You’re not in any immediate danger. Your father had basically agreed to leave you alone for the foreseeable future and the media had begun to calm down. However, when the tides have settled, the boys are able to see you up close and personal and at all the ugly scares you’ve tried to hide from everyone. They’re able to see what those years of trauma has done to you.

Whenever someone’s voice booms too loudly across the mansion, yelling orders at subordinates or for any other reason, you start to quiver like a leaf in the wind. When one of them reaches towards you too quickly, for simple things like a wave or to hold your hand, you can’t help but to flinch in anticipation. And you try to hide it, but it’s impossible not to notice.

They notice everything.

They always do, when it comes to you.

With every mannerism and survival instinct that has been involuntarily drilled into your subconscious, they all grow angrier that you’ve been subjected to this pain. Hoseok has had to talk Namjoon down from sending their entire fleet to dismantle the ambassador a couple too many times as they continue to learn how deep the trauma with your father truly runs.

“Y/N…”, Jin hesitantly mutters, fiddling with the food on his plate nervously, “have you ever thought about...going to therapy?”

You freeze in between a chew and swallow, eyes staring into his with an innocent deer-in-the-headlights expression. You look like you might have a panic attack, and Jin is quick to cut the tension.

“N-not that we’re forcing you to do it, my love. It’s only a suggestion. It’s just that..maybe it would be good for you. To talk about things and get professional help.” By the way he says it, and the way the other boys are staring at you expectantly, you realize this is something they’ve probably been discussing for a while now. And though it’s heartwarming to know that they care about your health, the idea of going to therapy is deathly daunting.

“I don’t know, guys…” You twist your hands in your lap, a nervous habit to show your discomfort and they all instantly regret bringing this up at all. You keep your gaze glued downwards. You’re afraid that if you look up, you’ll just see disappointment from the ones that you’ve grown to care about so much. You don’t think you could handle it.

“Could you look at us, Y/N?” Namjoon’s voice is soothing and there is no single trace of anger or frustration. You slowly tilt your head upwards and meet his eyes.

“At the end of the day, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. If you don’t want therapy, then fuck therapy, princess.”

Namjoon feels gratification when his statement makes you smile, and his heart suspiciously flutters in his chest.

“But we just want the best for you. We all want you to heal because…”, Namjoon looks around and makes eye contact with the rest of the boys, whom he knows share his same feelings.

“You’re so important to us.”

You’ve known this. You know that they care about you even when your mind forces you to doubt that anyone does. But when you hear it like this, so raw and unfiltered with sincerity leaking in every letter, it ignites something that you haven’t felt in a long time.

Hope.

You take a glance next to you at Jungkook, whose warm smile makes your lungs feel like molten honey. At Yoongi, who looks back at you with gentle eyes. At Hoseok, who is impossibly soft with you. At them all. It makes you realize something:

You don’t want to go to therapy. It’s scary and you’re not really sure if you want to talk about your father or your family or anything that happened before you met Bangtan. But you have people who care about you now. And if you didn’t want to do this for yourself, then, well... you would do it for them.

“You don’t have to decide now, but-”

“I’ll do it.” Your voice slices through Taehyung’s words. “I’ll go to therapy.”

“Are you sure, Y/N?”, Hoseok questions. Though he wants you to very badly, he wants you to do it on your own terms. And though your statement is strong, he can see the doubt and uncertainty swimming in your irises.

“No, not really.” you whisper, and they practically deflate so you are quick to remedy their dejection.

“But...I know that I want to get better. I know it’s going to be hard, but I want to get better.” You take a deep breath.

“For you. All of you.”

The room falls silent, and the noise of clinking cutlery against porcelain plates stills. They could only look at you and wonder what country they have saved in their past lifetime to deserve to stumble upon someone like you. Someone so wonderful, and so damaged but so determined to heal. For them. For all of them.

Jungkook scoops your hand in his, and when you look in his eyes, you are stunned to see that there are unshed tears pooling at his waterline. He looks at you and there’s something in his gaze that you can’t place. Something lovely that makes you feel like all this hurt has been worth it. Jungkook looks at you like there is something worth looking at.

“We love…” From your other side, Jimin starts speaking, but cuts himself off halfway through and suspiciously glances around the table, meeting the gaze of the six other boys who already know how he wants to finish that sentence. But he doesn’t.

“W-We love that you want to do that for us”, he coughs, and you return it with a smile.

Did a part of you want him to say something different? Something deeper? You’re not sure, but the tinge of disappointment in your stomach that follows his words is a sign.

Could you allow yourself to think that someone could actually genuinely like you past platonicity? Much less seven powerful men? After years of your father telling you the complete opposite, accompanying each scathing word with a bruise, it’s difficult to believe anything different.

Therapy was, in a word, completely exhausting. It was tiring dancing around the subject of your father’s abuse, your mother’s neglect, Soyeon’s blatant denial and just the complete package of being the eldest daughter to Ambassador Yoo. When they all had scheduled you for 4 sessions a week, you immediately wanted to decline and opt for one. But their eyes had all looked so hopeful. So excited for you to get professional help, and there was no possible way you could have turned them down.

Progress is frustratingly slow, though. Some days you just want to quit.

You plop unceremoniously on the large plush sofa, grabbing the nearest throw pillow and cradling it to your chest. The boys are all in the other room, but are now fully aware of your presence after you slammed the front door and huffed your way to the comforting couch. They can practically feel the rays of stress emanating from you.

“Y/N? Baby? What’s wrong?” Jimin is the one that first approaches, and the rest stare on with concern leaking out of every pore. And when you reply with a sniffle and hiccup, their hearts all collectively break.

You feel a dip in the couch and crane your neck to lock your teary eyes with Jimin’s, whose brows are deeply furrowed. You involuntarily launch into his arms, tucking your face into his neck, and inhaling his cologne that always manages to calm you down. You hear them all shuffle around you.

“It’s just..”, your voice pitifully cracks, “hard.” From your position, they are thankful you cannot see the heartbreak in their expression. It’s so hard for them to see you as anything but happy.

“I don’t know if I can do it”, you breathe out, feeling a new wave of tears begin to rise. You want to cry even more at the thought that they would be more disappointed in you. .

But there is a warmth from your other side, and you don’t know who it belongs to as it sits next to you.

“I’m so proud of you, Y/N”, Namjoon whispers oh-so-softly. They are such simple words. Arguably mundane and ordinary. Then why does it knock the wind right out of your chest? Why does it light up your dark tunnel? He’s proud of you. They all are. Even when you are an emotional mess with low mental energy, Namjoon is sitting next to you and telling you that he’s proud.

You erupt into heart wrenching sobs that won’t seem to stop no matter what you do. It’s the kind of cry that feels like a weight has been lifted off your chest. A cry that comes straight from your core and it sounds painful but truthfully, it’s just relieving. You know that all of them are worried out of their minds. You can feel it in the way Jimin shakily holds you as tight as he can, as if you are delicate chipped porcelain in his arms.

But this is how you rebuild. With the seven of them by your side. You tell Namjoon to cancel your future therapy sessions the next day. Your psychologist was far short of revolutionary, and when they all asked you why, you admit that it’s not the therapy that’s helping you get better.

It was just them. Being around them. Talking to them.

It was Seokjin carding his hands through your hair and rubbing out the tension that always inevitably develops in your temples. It was Namjoon letting you lounge quietly in his office as he goes through paperwork, enjoying your presence as much as you enjoy his. It was Yoongi and Hoseok rambling to you about their adventures on the field (leaving out the gory details, of course. They wanted to keep you innocent and soft). It was Taehyung sneakily replacing your pink peonies as soon as the first petal began to wilt, even after the infinite amount of times you told him it was unnecessary. It was Jungkook and Jimin making excuses to spend the afternoon snuggled up on your bed when you all knew it was simply because they wanted to hold you.

It was all of them tiptoeing around affection, craftily sneaking in spare kisses and touches on the skin. Holding you a little longer than necessary, a little more tenderly. Intertwining your hands under the dinner table, or when their subordinates weren’t looking.

You notice the way they blush more often, if you let your touch linger for too long, or if you brush past them and make skin contact. You notice how pet names are easier to spill from their lips; ones like: my love, honey, sweetheart, baby...and you can’t help but to completely indulge in the way it is addressed only for you. Little ways to subliminally tell you that perhaps you meant more to them than they were ready to admit. And you would be lying if you said your feelings for the seven of them were completely platonic. You would be lying if you said love wasn’t on the brain.

Perhaps you are the missing piece to a puzzle they hadn’t realized was unfinished.

“Hyung...I think I love her.” Jungkook is unsurprisingly the first one to voice it. The six others don’t even bat an eye.

“No, Jungkook. I know you love her”, Hoseok whispers back in the tense silence of their meeting room. You are fast asleep on the floor above, but their hearts call out to you through the short distance.

“I am too. We all are.” It is a truth they’ve known for a while. Sooner than they’re proud to admit.

“I guess now all we have to do is figure out how to tell her.”

They did want to. Tell you, that is. They wanted to shout it from the rooftops and make it known to the world that you are the angel that has snatched their hearts without even realizing it herself. If it hadn’t been for the disaster that suddenly struck their mafia, the boys would have already bared their souls to you. But timing was never kind.

Bangtan were not known to be gullible. Not known to be easily fooled. So when Taehyung ran into their meeting room, red-faced and clenching his fists so hard they turned white, the Judas in their gang had come as a scathing surprise.

One of their inner circle. Someone they had poured their trust and faith into, who had learned the system of their syndicate, had been a mole the entire time. Of course, they had disposed of him quickly, but the damage had already been done to their business. Allies and affiliates were backing away from collaboration in fear that Bangtan had been breached by law enforcement. Shipments were going missing more frequently, and even the lower hierarchies of their gang were beginning to become doubtful. To say the least, the seven of them were under debilitating stress and frustration.

Nowadays, things were different than before. You were mostly kept in the dark about their business but you knew that something had happened. Something to make them so wound up, and it worried you to no end. It’s impossible not to notice how tense the house had become.

Taehyung no longer stops by your room late at night, and in the early hours of the morning, you can still hear the frustrated clacking of his keyboard from next door. Not that you needed him to help you through your nightmares, but...you’ve gotten used to his comforting presence next to you.

Jungkook doesn’t seek you out for random conversations, and Namjoon just completely disappears in his office most days, not sparing you a single glance when he does manage to show his face outside. He locks the door now. You take it as a strong message that you are no longer welcome, and it upsets you, but you understand they are going through a rough patch. Your job is to be the least bothersome person you could possibly be.

But Yoongi just flat out ignores you now, and you know Hoseok pretends to care about whatever topic of conversation you bring up. You can see right through his empty affirmations and nods. The kitchen is completely void of Jin, and there are no more clanging pots and pans when you try to cook for yourself. And Jimin is just like the rest of them: absent and indifferent to your presence.

You know that it’s not you. The problem on their plate is bigger than you, but it still feels like you are a walking, breathing burden. You know that it’s not you, but your mind tells you they don’t want you here anymore. They’re sick of you.

Two weeks pass by, and they’re still so cold even after all your attempts at trying to be calming comfort in their chaotic lives. They still talk to you, but it’s strictly refrained to small talk that feels obligatory and like they have better things to do than spend time with you. They’re so busy that you often find yourself hanging out alone in the garden or making light conversation with the maids, or gang rookies that hang around the mansion.

And it hurts to admit, but they don’t notice when you begin to regress to your old behavior. They don’t notice when you begin to flinch at anything that moves too quickly again, or the way you begin spacing out more than usual when you delve too far into your thoughts. They don’t notice when your nightmares start worsening again, too busy in their pooling stress to hear you toss and turn late at night and emerge from your bedroom with red, sunken eyes in the morning. You are relapsing into the learned behavior from your father, and you are terrified to admit it to yourself. But after a particularly bad day of anxiety and panic attacks, you put your fear aside to talk to the boys again about going back to therapy. It was virtually pointless, but you won’t let the seven of them take the brunt of your mental health when they had so much going on already.

You timidly make your way down to the lower level of the mansion, slow footsteps leading you to their meeting room, where they’re all engrossed in their work and you can feel the tension choking the air. None of them notice your presence at first, until you cough to get their attention. They all snap their heads up and stare.

“Hey, could I um..talk to you guys for a couple minutes?”

You feel like a specimen under a microscope. You used to be so comfortable talking to them. Now it just feels unnatural.

“Can it wait, Y/N? We’ve just lost another shipment, and it’s a big one”, Yoongi grumbles from his seat, rifling through a tall stack of papers with a permanent crease in his brows.

“Okay, then when can we-”

“We’re just really busy right now.”

Jungkook doesn’t mean for his voice to be so loud. He probably didn’t even pay attention to it, but it makes you flinch and stumble backwards. Makes you melt more into the girl you used to be. The one who stayed quiet out of survival, diminishing under the authority of a loud voice with cruel intentions. You know he doesn’t mean to do it. But you can’t help but see the face of your father again, and those long-healed scars seem to re-flicker with pain.

Still, these were your boys. So you push on.

A deep breath. “I was just thinking that maybe I could go back to-”

“Y/N, please. We don’t even have enough time to breathe. I’m sure whatever you need can be addressed later.”

The room falls into silence. Their message is loud and clear. And though it's painful to hear, it’s your own fault for exaggerating your place in their lives. He was right, it could be addressed later...you were just being a bother.

“Right. Sorry.” Your halfhearted mutter falls deaf on their ears. They haven’t spared you a single ounce of attention, eyes still glued onto their work. You swallow down the heavy feeling in your throat and force the tears away. Why does your chest feel like someone’s twisted up your heart?

You’re always so sensitive, Y/N. Such a crybaby. You can’t even take care of yourself.

The tread upstairs back to your bedroom feels like an arduous journey as you try to hold yourself together and pretend like their actions hadn’t hurt you. But they weren’t responsible for your trauma. Your problems. You couldn’t blame them for not making it a priority, when their empire was threatened.

They don’t hear you that night when you hold a goose-feather pillow to your chest and sob out the fear of being unwanted again. They don’t show up at your bedroom door when you wake yourself up from crying through a nightmare.

You’ll figure it out yourself, with or without a therapist and with or without depending on them. From now on, you decide to make yourself invisible, focusing all your energy on dragging yourself out of the dark place you’re stuck in once again. So if you have to suffer in silence for their sake, so that they don’t have another insignificant loose end to worry about, you’ll do it. It’s the least you can do.

But you’d come to learn that those words are easier said than done.

“Miss Y/N?” There is a light knock at your door, and the soft voice of the maid barely penetrates through the thick wood. You remember her name was Jun. The noise goes through in one ear and out of the other, and you can’t even find it in yourself to reply.

“You haven’t left your room in two days. I was just...making sure you’re okay.”

Her statement shocks you out of your dazed stupor, and you hadn’t even realized the amount of time you spent staring into space, limp on your mattress.

It was getting harder. To just function and drag yourself out of your bedroom so you didn’t, and two days unknowingly passed. But to you, they only felt like hours. Time passes by differently when you’re blindly navigating through trauma.

It’s hard to sit up and slowly tread to the door, and your bones ache after not moving for so long. When you open it, guilt pools in your stomach to see her worried expression. Though you can guess why she looks so concerned. You’re a complete disaster.

“Oh, honey…”, she sighs, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “here. Let’s get you into some fresh clothes.”

You mindlessly let her help you out of your days old T-shirt and sweats, mindlessly let her guide you into the shower and turn on the water, mindlessly let her rub shampoo into your scalp. You don’t even have the energy to open your mouth and tell her the water’s too cold. You’re still stuck inside your own thoughts, and you can only hear your father’s voice in your ear as he repeatedly affirms how worthless you are. Useless Y/N, that’s what he would say. Good-for-nothing Y/N.

You’ve somehow gotten it into your head that the reason why they’ve been so absent with you is because they don’t know to tell you they want you to leave. After all, staying in the Bangtan mansion was only supposed to be a temporary solution. Maybe this is how they kick you out.

When Jun wraps you in a fluffy towel and drags you out from underneath the showerhead, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Your cheeks are sunken, and the dark circles under your eyes look almost painful. And somewhere along with that reflection is the image of your father. His angry face, glaring at you and screaming why you let yourself get like this.

“Jun, have they…are they still busy?” Her eyes widen at the first words she’s heard from you, but there is sad sympathy on her face in a split second and you’ve already gotten your answer before she can say anything.

“Yes, dear. The bosses are very occupied. But they can always make time for you, hm? They care about you a lot, you know.” Jun’s statement makes you frown, but you don’t retort. Maybe you used to think that they cared, but now it just felt like their kindness was out of obligation. They felt guilty for sending you back to your father. Or perhaps they used to care for you. But now...you weren’t so sure.

When she manages to get you downstairs, in the kitchen, and set you in front of a bowl of soup, the boys are nowhere to be found. Jun tells you they’re out doing business and you tell yourself you’re not hurt that they hadn’t even noticed your absence for the past two days.

They’re just roped up in other things, that’s all.

After your shower and meal, Jun insisted that you take a stroll around the garden, and specifically instructed you to check out the new peony bush she had just planted. She mentioned it was per request of the seven bosses, but you had a hard time believing any of them would be concerned with something like that during this time. They hadn’t even made the time to talk to you.

You hadn’t realized how much you needed to be outside and breathe in fresh air until you stepped out into the grassy space. Even though the solitude was getting to be too much, you were experiencing a newfound peace that you wanted to keep for as long as possible. Jun was right, and the peony bush was absolutely gorgeous. You actually feel like an alive and functioning human being. It was surprising that you were so dependent on the boys that without them, falling apart was inevitable. But now you were coherent and not so drowned in your toxic mentality (you’ll have to thank Jun profusely later), and you feel determined to talk to them again. About going back to therapy, no matter how useless it felt back then, and try to get on your own two feet. Now that you had seen and felt how serious it was, you wouldn’t be so complicit if they tried to silence you.

From over the tall hedges, the sounds of wheels rolling on gravel could be heard before the tense slams of car doors. The sound of Jungkook and Namjoon’s low muttering falls on your ears and though it sparks excitement inside you, you’re also fearful of what they might say. You don’t think you can handle another swift rejection like last time. Their indecipherable conversation ceases when you hear the entrance doors close, and seal them inside while you are still out here in your own world.

The white peony that’s cupped in your hand feels so fragile and soft that you don’t want to touch it anymore. It makes you think of them. Of how delicate it feels recently and how you’re so deathly afraid of them changing their minds one day and kicking you out with nowhere to go. Maybe you’ll just wander around again. There’s a distant cousin in the states also, but you’d have to figure out how to get out of the country without alerting your father. You shake yourself out of your intrusive thoughts.

No way your boys would do that to you.

Right?

The way back from the garden to the house is brief, but your anxiety about talking to them lengthens the trips and the feet feel like miles. You are wrapped up in your thoughts the entire way, and when you make your way into the house, you almost don’t notice the angry voices that are bouncing off the walls. It sounds like Taehyung is yelling, and the sound curdles your stomach. You hate it when people yell. It just reminds you of your father.

You follow the commotion to the kitchen, extra cautious and apprehensive. The sheer volume of their reprimanding seems to shake the house and your hands begin to quiver as you get closer. Peeking out from behind a wall, their backs are to you but you can see the face of a sheepish boy who hangs his head, gaze glued to the floor as the seven men continue to berate him. You recognize him as one of the newer members that was initiated a couple weeks ago; you’ve talked to him a couple times and he was never anything but courteous. He looks like he’s about to cry and it makes your heart ache.

Your attention pans back to the seven out of shock. The only time you’ve seen them this angry was at the meeting with your father, so you can only imagine what that young boy has done to land himself in this position.

“I told you a fucking million times too many, Lee. I told you to check in with the shipments as soon as they arrived in Myeongdong. So imagine my fucking surprise when I get a call notifying me that they’re all missing. Stolen.” Namjoon’s voice cuts straight through the room. His fists are clenched and even from the back, you can tell the expression on his face is one of scalding fury.

A shipment? They’re this infuriated over a shipment?

“I-I’m sorry, Boss. Please, I...please forgive me. I know it’s no excuse but I’m new here, a-and I swear this will not happen again.” He shrinks into himself and you quietly whimper in sympathy.

Yoongi humorlessly chuckles. “You swear? The only valuable thing you have to swear on is your life. And even that’s not worth much.”

It’s moments like these that you forget how cruel and ruthless they can be. They’ve always been so soft and gentle with you before, you forget they are mafia bosses overseeing an entire empire. That they’ve gotten here for a reason. You forget that people fear them. But you remember now.

Lee stays silent and still refuses to look up, but you can see the way his knees shake uncontrollably. He is one person standing up against 7 huffing bulls, so angry they can’t see straight so if you - tiny and meek you - has to be the one to come to his defense, so be it.

Because you’ve been that person going head to head with a bull. You see yourself, terrified and regretful, in Lee. And you’ll be damned if you have to watch and not do anything about it. Your heart beats thunderously in your chest but you push past the fear.

Their heads all snap up in surprise when you march into the kitchen and stand in between them and the boy, who looks even more painfully young up close and sporting that deer-in-the-headlights expression. You lock gazes with each of them, swallowing your nerves before speaking.

“Is it really that big of a deal to yell at him like this? Look at him”, you gesture to the cowering person behind you, “don’t you think he’s had enough?” Your voice is still soft, and such a contrast to their angry ones. But it seems like your gentle tone just makes them even angrier, and snaps them out of their initial shock.

“A big deal? He cost us thousands in shipments! I’d say that’s a pretty big fucking deal to me, Y/N.” Jungkook bursts out, exasperatedly running his hands through his hair and looking at you with an angry frown. You flinch at his volume. The stress on their shoulders is more apparent than ever.

“Why are you defending him, Y/N? You don’t even know who he is”, Jimin spits, growing even more irritated. There’s a hint of jealousy in his words and it’s so subtle that you don’t even notice it.

“I know that he doesn’t deserve to be yelled at like this for a little mistake. One that I’m sure he is regretful of making.” It suddenly feels daunting when you realize that you’re going up against all of them, and now, they’re all staring at you with the same anger that was meant for the one that messed up their shipments.

“And what if that mistake is a sign that he’s traitorous? Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised. Seems like that’s a trend going around here.” From behind you, Lee is quick to open his mouth and begin to protest, but you interrupt and speak strongly. It seems this disciplining session has morphed into a full blown argument between you and them.

“It was one person. I get that it’s shitty, and I’m sorry it happened. I understand that you have to be on watch now and extra cautious. I do.” You sigh, a pleading look in your eyes but they remain stone cold.

“But one person did that. Are you going to treat everyone like they betrayed you? Are you going to treat me like I betrayed you?”

“I don’t know Y/N, you were so quick to defend him. Maybe you did. I wouldn't put it past you.”

Taehyung’s words run through you like a hot knife to butter. You almost stagger back at the shock. You’re no stranger to hurtful words but when they are coming out of his mouth, it hurts tenfold. How could they think you would betray them?

They promised to trust you, didn’t they? They promise they’d believe you after they failed to the first time. Now it just feels like you’re that spoiled little rich girl again in their eyes, standing in front of them and pleading your innocence.

“W-what? No, I-”

“You know nothing about our world, Y/N. You can’t possibly understand.” Jin’s silver voice is colder than you’re ever heard it.

“I know that, but could you just please-”

“As a matter of fact, this is a mafia business matter”, Yoongi shoots, poisoned words designed to hurt.

“I’m not sure why you’re here at all, Y/N. Just leave.”

Gone is the strong persona that you had put up to protect this young boy. Gone is the confident woman who thought she had the will to stand up for herself, much less someone else. You can only keep your eyes glued to Yoongi, and hope that he doesn’t see your heart crumbling right in front of him. How had he aimed mindlessly at your insecurities, and shot a bullseye into the biggest one?

Maybe you did, Y/N. I wouldn’t put it past you.

Blame it on the blurriness through your tears or the sheer shock running through your veins, but you can’t find one smidgen of regret or guilt in his expression. On any of their faces. Just anger and annoyance, aimed directly at you. And suddenly the spacious mansion feels all too suffocating.

You know nothing about our world Y/N.

The words you plan to say die on the tip of your tongue, as quickly as they came. There is nothing that comes out and in the aching silence of it all, the way you maintain eye contact with each of them speaks volumes. Yet they are blind to the way you are ripping at the seams, and oblivious to the turmoil they are putting you through. The coldness of their gaze and words shoot through your core, like a blade of ice piercing through your heart.

I’m not sure why you’re here at all.

Just leave.

In short, right at this moment, they look like strangers. Strangers who know what scares you, what foods you don’t like, your favorite flowers, your favorite color. Strangers who have seen your heart, welcomed it, and who were now crushing it in front of you.

What a fool you were to think that they could reciprocate your feelings.

What a fool you were to think that they wanted you as much as you wanted them.

Your pained chuckle is a discordant sound in the tense quiet. Their stares burn on your skin and though you are trying so hard to now show how utterly broken you feel, you wonder if they even notice. when you look back into the eyes of the boy directly in front of you, he is still so angry and red you find it hard to believe anything but your alleged cold, hard truth:

The seven boys you have fallen in love with utterly despise you. Perhaps they always have.

“Yeah”, you whisper brokenly. “Maybe I will.”

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madmythologist · 3 years

Text

Drink Play Pt. 1 (Vore Warning)

“Is it him again?” One asked.

“Yep, same kid,” another replied.

“Well, who wants to host him today?” The first questioned.

“I’ll do it,” a third answered without a beat passing the owner of the casual voice’s lips. A woman in the middle of securing a disposable frill beneath her short skirt, a thin mesh laced with herbs and spices.

“Aren’t you clocking out in… what, fifteen minutes?” The second speaker cocked her head.

“Yeah,” the volunteer nodded, “I’ll just see if he’ll take me home.” She shrugged, pointing to the original subject of the conversation to indicate who she was referring too. Said subject was a young man standing in line, keeping his eyes down, hand holding the opposing arm and obviously looking to make himself as unnoticed as possible. A funny thought, his soon-to-be-hostess mused, seeing as he was supposed to be a predator.

“Are you sure?” The first speaker asked, looking at her cautiously.

“Yeah, it’ll be fine,” the hostess assured her with a dismissive wave of her hand.

A moment of pause followed that. “Alright, I’ll take care of your punches.” The woman, who was apparently the volunteer’s manager, assured her.

The young man, a regular at the cafe, went about his usual order. One camomile tea with one host. It was so routine by this point that the man’s hostess already put on the appropriately flavored clothing beforehand. It took no time at all, a simple task of pouring the carefully measured hot water into a teacup and his hostess vaulting over the rim in a practiced motion.

Effortlessly, the young woman came to rest on a seat of glass- a shelf protruding from the inside of the cup designed for someone her size to sit on. Her back arched a moment as her skin adjusted to the practical hottub she hopped into. She was used to the sensation, but it always sent a wave of heat through her frame no matter how many times. Steam floated about the surface as the herbs embedded in her clothes began to tinge the water a pollen yellow.

With that, she looked up to see her last customer of the night. Not that he was looking at her. No, he was looking at the handle like it was the most curious of features in the world. Not the person scarcely the size of his own finger sitting in his cup, but the fact the cup was left-handed. There was but a second his eyes glanced over her, immediately flicking to a small detail of the saucer her makeshift tub was resting on the moment he realized she was actually looking back. He towered over her like a skyscraper, stretching innumerable feet into the air, even with her being on a countertop. How was it that he was the nervous one?

“Thank you for your time.” Even with his massive, booming voice, it still came out as a tepid, stuttering utterance. Then again, that was all she’d ever heard out of him. Quiet, timid words. The statement itself was a simple courtesy that seemed to pop up with these establishments, a small thanks to the host for their time and company.

“No problem, big guy.” She replied casually, leaning back into the curve of the cup as he nodded, lifting his hands to the small dish and glass.

Being lifted was far from a new sensation, enough so that she could note the subtleties, rather than focusing on bracing herself. For example, this man’s hands were shaking. Not unbearable, but the slight vibrations alongside the ripples rolling to the center of the water was a dead give away. The trip was short, of course, the gentle- if not jittery swaying carrying her to one of the empty tables near the corner of the building. Same spot, every time.

An audible “klink” signaled that she was back on relatively solid ground. A tabletop- but solid ground as far as she was concerned. Her customer sat down a second after, back to the corner and facing the rest of the room. He looked far from relaxed, but at least didn’t have his hands trembling now that he wasn’t holding her. While he got situated, the girl simply ran her hands through the water, stirring the tea part of the drink around and getting some more of her own flavor mixed in. That was what she was doing sitting in a giant’s cup, after all.

This young man, despite his recluce demeanor, was supposed to be a predator. Her predator. Thus he, and giants like him needed to sate a craving of theirs long since ingrained into their instincts. And a person like hers flavor steeped into a drink seems to suffice, if drunk often enough.

The first few minutes of this interaction were awkward, to say the least. The man didn’t say much of anything beyond a “pardon” to warn that he was lifting the glass, and a “sorry” upon finishing with that sip. She pondered, for a moment, how to break the silence. She had decided to jump into this position to get to know this giant, after all.

“Pardon,” he uttered for the fourth time or so, prompting a smirk as the repeated motion of his left hand lifting the glass was carried out. Once again he wasn’t looking at her, like he was ashamed of this whole thing, couldn’t look at her outside of his peripherals. So, with a simple movement she decided to fix that.

Once brought before the awaiting maw that barely dared to open even a crack to let the warm liquid pass between his lips, his hostess simply let herself fall forward. Easily she caught herself on her hands, laying along the wall of the cup, water rushing past as she peered into his mouth like she was looking under a bed. He, however, didn’t take this so casually, shoulders hiking up and lips pursing shut as he tried not to jump.

“A-are you alright?” The first time she’d ever heard his voice with any air of urgency, a hissed whisper as he tilted the cup back a bit. She simply smiled at her accomplishment, those wide eyes nearly crossing to focus entirely on her minute readjustment.

“I’m fine, just wanted a closer look.” She offered coyly, prompting a raised brow from the young predator as his face was spattered red.

“Wha… what do you mean?” He asked, eyes only daring to glance away this time to make sure no one else was watching. Then they were right back on the occupant of his drink.

“I wanted a better look in your mouth. Go ahead and drink, I won’t slip.” She offered, not making any move to get back to her seat. He just looked at her for seconds that felt like minutes, instinctively wetting his lips as his mouth suddenly felt dryer than before he’d just taken a drink.

“I don’t… I can’t-” he stuttered.

“I promise,” she interrupted, “it will be fine.” He swallowed dryly, eyes scanning the room once again.

“If,” he paused, eyes landing back on her. “If you’re sure.”

A simple nod was all she offered in response, butterflies fluttering in her stomach this time as she felt the cup shift, water sloshing gently over and around her. The faintest tremble rocked her spot, the first time since he only needed to use his left hand. Just like before, the rim rested on his lower lip, the upper separating to let a crevice open up before her. A sigh from the goliath’s nose passed by her as he finally tipped the cup back. Water began trying to pull her into that warm abyss. She wasn’t sure she would have minded that, but she did make a promise. Thus she pressed her hands into the glass, doing her best to look inside while her subject tried not to blush harder. That attempt, however, went out the window when he felt miniscule, curious fingers rest on his upper lip. A chill ran up his spine, sparking something euphoric in the back of his mind. And to his surprise, he didn’t pull away.

“Open up.” She breathed, taking a turn of whispering while she gently pushed his lip up. Another sigh, this one shuddering as it passed his lips and fogged the glass all around her. Tentatively he followed instruction, lip twitching as he allowed her a better look into the cavern of velvet and ivory. It was dark, warm, and damp. A lively muscle of pink gingerly guiding the tea to the back of his throat, massive teeth framing it with their interlocking counterparts hanging overhead. Curious as those were, her eyes wandered back to his throat, ring of muscle opening briefly to close once again and gulp down the liquid laced with her flavor.

Slowly, the tinted water came to a stand-still, cup tilting back, and fingers sliding off the sensitive skin of the giant. She wasn’t sure which of them were more speechless from the exchange, both looking at one another and nothing else for a moment.

“Good?” He asked, not bothering to lower the glass this time. Inches from his face she remained, finally pushing off the rim and settling back into her seat that was above the water level now. Even with the surface being warm from the drink, compared to the threshold she was just on the precipice of, she had to fight the urge to shiver.

“Good?” He repeated tentatively, this time getting her to look up into the massive pools of his eyes.

I could get a better look.

“Do you like this stuff?” She dodged the question, kicking her feet lightly in the water to show what she was asking about. “You get it everytime.”

“I, uh… not exactly.” He admitted, brow raising questioningly again. “I just get it because…” he trailed off.

“Cause it’s supposed to be calming, right?” She guessed, “The camomile?” He nodded.

“Not… for you, though?” She continued, sounding more like an accusation than a question.

“Ah,” he smiled sheepishly, “no. Just don’t want… you, for example, to be nervous.” It was about what she expected, it was clear as day this guy didn’t express these urges of his easily, nor did he seem to be proud of them.

The girl took all of this in, alongside the fact the man was left handed and simply never bothered correcting the fact he was always given the wrong handed cup, and two simple questions began to form in her mind. Both of which, she was quite sure she knew the answers to.

“Have you ever…” She trailed off, her own nerves getting the better of her. Taking the opportunity of heat rising to her cheeks, she took the opportunity to once again play coy.

“Have you ever actually… sated that craving of yours? Properly- I mean.” She mused, damp-tipped hair shifting as she cocked her head. The question, alongside the consciously cute body language made the shy man avert his eyes downward once again, face shading darker once more as his lips pressed into a strained line.

“I-I ah- no,” He stuttered, fingers trembling on the delicate handle, “no I haven’t.” She nodded thoughtfully, fully expecting that answer and making sure to avoid a strong reaction. After all, she knew that if that question wracked his nerves that badly, this next one she was going to have to be very careful with.

That train of thought was interrupted when her seat began to shift once again, lifting closer to that ashamed expression as he took an unconscious sip to try and calm his nerves. With a small smile, she shifted back off of her seat, coming to rest sitting in the curve of the cup, legs splayed out to her side as she simply watched this everyday action on a scale and angle that no one her customer’s size could dream of seeing. She bit back a giggle at the realization his mouth was open just a hair more than when he first started drinking. She’d gotten somewhere.

“And, would you like to?” She asked as casually as she could manage, watching his widen for but a second before hardening harshly as he held back his reaction. That was, until he went stock still, feeling that miniscule hand placed firmly on the cupid’s bow of his upper lip.

“Easy,” she crooned, “I can help, if you’d like.” She breathed, hand tracing down and beneath his lip, fingers massaging into the tepid tip of his tongue, fascinated by the sight of his eyelids fluttering at the sensation.

“I’m off for the evening, so I was wondering if you’d be so kind as to walk me home.” She explained with mocking formality, retracting her hand to rest in her lap.

“Will a detour or two, of course.” She added, a sly wink looking up to those massive eyes of his, baring something she’d never seen in him before. Something exciting, something that set her nerves on end and a shiver up her spine.

Hunger.

#safe vore #soft vore #implied vore #vore writing #gt #Giant/tiny #GT writing #myth posts

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sokkascroptop · 4 years

Text

traitor. (sokka x f!reader) pt 13

part 1 | part 12 | part 14

A/N: Here’s a cute little part. Occurs in ‘the headband’ episode, but doesn’t encompass the whole episode, just the important parts :)

Y/N sat there in silence after Aang told her what he had learned in just one day at a Fire Nation school. What did that mean for her education of five years at one? She tugged one of their blankets around her shoulders because even next to the fire she was shivering. She felt like she had been punched hard in the stomach and all the wind was knocked out of her.

“I don’t know about this,” Aang whispered. “It feels wrong to steal someone else’s clothes.”

Katara and Y/N exchanged a look. “I call the silk robe!” Katara shouted as she jumped over the rocks they had hidden behind.

“But I guess if it’s for the good of humanity… I call the suit!” Aang followed her.

The rest of them joined and ran between the lines of clothes looking for anything that might fit. Y/N was reaching for a pair of pants when Katara stopped her. “Pick something else.”

“Why?”

“People are used to seeing you wear Fire Nation clothes. You’ll be more recognizable if you pick something you always wear.”

“Fine.” Y/N wrinkled her nose and pulled a deep red skirt from the clothesline.

“This too.” She whipped a shirt at Y/N’s face. When she caught a look at it she shook her head wildly. “No way!” Y/N worked to keep her voice low so the man they were stealing from couldn’t hear her. “It’ll be hard enough to fight in a skirt, Katara. I’m not wearing it.”

---

Y/N poked at the bare skin of her midriff. “I mean seriously, Katara. I have to shrug this shirt on like it’s a robe and it ties in the back. If a bad guy gets ahold of that I’ll be half-naked.”

Katara pulled her hair out of its braids and hair loopies and didn’t spare a glance at the other girl. “You complain almost as much as Sokka.”

Y/N huffed and crossed her arms. “I don’t.” She unwound the leather tie around her braid and let her hair hang loose down her back, tying a similar top knot to Katara’s. “Let’s just go find the others.”

“How do we look?” Katara asked the other three. Y/N gave a very unenthusiastic twirl. Y/N turned back to notice how Aang’s eyes widened and he blushed as he looked at Katara. Y/N raised an eyebrow and glanced at Katara’s face, who was looking back at Aang with soft eyes. What is going on here? Y/N hummed in thought.

“You look like a girl,” Sokka said as his eyes bounced from Y/N’s skirt to her face.

“Thank you for that astute observation. I am a girl,” Y/N replied drily.

Sokka was blushing furiously. “No, I mean–”

“Oh, Katara. Your necklace,” Aang interrupted.

Katara rubbed the carved bone. “I guess it’s pretty obviously from the Water Tribe.”

“Don’t worry,” she patted Katara’s shoulder. “We’ll get you something else in town so it doesn’t feel like you lost it.”

---

Y/N slid the new bracelet she had bought around her upper arm while she listened to Aang talk. All of them bought something to make their disguises more authentic, while also being able to feel more like themselves; a new Fire Nation necklace for Katara, a flame pin to hold together Sokka’s top knot, a headband for Toph and the bracelet to help hide the burn scar on Y/N’s bicep.

“I used to visit my friend Kuzon here a hundred years ago. Just follow my lead.” Aang confidently turned the corner of the building they were behind and winked at a guy on the street. “Greetings, my good hotman!”

Toph pulled on Y/N’s elbow. “Is this really how they talk in the Fire Nation?”

“Uhh.. you know, I didn’t go into the city much but I’m almost one hundred percent positive that no they don’t,” Y/N whispered.

“Spirits, do not stop him. This is hilarious,” Toph laughed as Aang tipped his head to another man walking by, calling him ‘hotman’.

“I wouldn’t dream of it. I wish you could see the looks people are giving him.”

The five of them stopped in front of a restaurant. “Oh, I didn’t know we were going to a meat place,” Aang said a little dejectedly

“Everyone here eats meat!” Sokka exclaimed. “Even the meat!” He pointed over to a cow-hippo who was eating meat off the ground. Y/N’s stomach turned at the sight. Maybe she didn’t want to eat meat today either.

---

Aang left, promising to meet them in the same spot outside after he found something vegetarian. Ten minutes had passed and there was still no sign of him. Katara was beginning to pace with worry.

“He could have gotten lost looking for something to eat, right?” She asked the rest of them.

“We could go look around for him?” Y/N offered. When she noticed the hint of fear in Katara’s eyes, she added, “Nothing happened to him of course. He probably just got lost! Or he’s looking at some shop. How about you and Toph stay here, wait for him to see if he comes back. Sokka and I can wander the town looking for him.”

“We can?” Sokka asked.

Y/N nudged his ribs.

“We can,” he confirmed. He popped the last bit of his elk-caribou kebab in his mouth and threw the stick away. “Aang will come back and we’ll feel silly for being worried about him.”

“I hope you’re right, Sokka.” Katara said.

---

“Ooh, let’s look in this shop,” Sokka marveled, pulling Y/N along with him. It was only a shop full of little trinkets and bags but everything Sokka saw excited him.

“What do you think of this bag?” Sokka tossed the strap over his shoulder and posed.

“You have an Earth Kingdom bag back at camp that looks the same,” she retorted.

Sokka rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but now that we’re here, I need a Fire Nation one.”

Y/N shrugged and Sokka took that as her statement on what she thought of the bag. He placed it back on the table and picked up a ceramic box. “What about this box?” he asked.

She took it from his outstretched hands and inspected it. It was a black box with a golden Fire Nation flame on top. “What are you going to put in the box?” she asked as she handed it back to him.

“I–um, cool rocks that I find?”

Y/N hummed, amused. “And what are you going to do with the box full of cool rocks?”

“Put it in my bag,” Sokka muttered. “Fine! I won’t get it!”

---

“You’re not very fun to shop with.” Sokka said when they left.

Y/N looked up at the sun to check the time. “We’re supposed to be looking for Aang, not shopping.”

Sokka waved his hands. “Aang is fine. He’s the Avatar, he can take care of himself.”

“I’m assuming by the way Katara reacted that he doesn’t necessarily go off by himself a lot.”

“Katara–” he paused to think of the right word, “–she mother-hens us.” He held up his hands defensively. “Not that I’m saying we don’t need it, because sometimes it’s nice, but she worries entirely too much.”

Y/N stopped a fruit stand and picked up a ripe peach. “I don’t know, it’s kind of nice.” She passed along a few coins to the merchant and handed a second one to Sokka.

“How is it nice?” Sokka asked, then bit into the flesh of the peach.

“I don’t know. The way I grew up there was never anyone worried about when I would come home, you know? I just came and went as I pleased and then when I moved to the palace it was the same way.”

“You lived at the palace?” Sokka blurted out.

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” Y/N watched as Sokka cut the pit of the peach out with a small knife and tossed it into the road. He nodded at her to continue. “I moved to the capital to go to school and about a year after, I moved into the palace.” She bit into the peach and wiped the juice off her chin with the back of her hand.

“Why though? Why not live with your parents?” He asked, his brows furrowed in confusion.

“Do you always ask this many questions?”

“I’m just trying to figure you out,” Sokka stuttered.

“Why?” Y/N giggled. She abruptly stopped when Sokka blushed and gave her a look she couldn’t decipher.

“I just want to,” he finally said. “We don’t know anything about you.”

“Well, if you must know–it’s embarrassing–but my parents encouraged it actually. They were ecstatic that I was able to get close to the Royal Family and even though we weren’t nobility they had this absurd fantasy that I could marry Zuko.” Y/N covered her face in humiliation.

Sokka shared a look of disgust. “Fire Prince Ponytail, huh?”

She smiled at the joke, but it faded quickly; the hurt of Zuko’s betrayal still heavy on her heart. “He wasn’t always like that.” Y/N ran quickly to his defense. “I knew him when he was still good.”

Sokka collapsed on the ground and leaned up against a wall. “So tell me about it.”

Y/N sat next to him and bumped his arm with her shoulder. “About what?”

“Your palace life, Princess.”

---

The sun was setting when her and Sokka headed back to the cave. The streets were lined with paper lanterns and Y/N could hear lively music being played somewhere. It was busier than it was during the heat of the day and Sokka and Y/N were frequently bumped into from all sides, right into one another. Finally, after losing him twice in the crowd she looped her arm through his. She felt him tense up under her touch, but immediately relaxed.

“Oh, hey, what’s that?” She pointed off in the distance to a wooden board that looked like it had pictures posted all over it. She weaved them around the crowd to stand in front of it. It was a bulletin board full of advertisements, lost items, found items, and wanted posters. Her eyes ran across the assortment of them–The Blue Spirit, an Admiral named Jeong-Jeong–until her eyes landed on one in particular.

“Yeah, they put these out when we first started traveling with Aang.” Sokka poked at a yellowing poster of Aang in his airbender clothes. “Luckily they won’t be hunting for him anymore.”

“Yeah. They aren’t hunting you,” Y/N pointed at the only poster that drew her attention. The one with a similar likeness to her face. “But I think they’re hunting me now.”

Sokka peered around them to see if anyone was watching and ripped the poster down and shoved it in his pocket. “We need to tell the others.”

They only stopped running when they reached the mouth of the cave, the sun low in the sky.

“Where were you two?!” Katara scolded. “We waited for you to come back but you never did!”

“We looked around for Aang but–” Sokka started. He unfolded the poster from his pocket.

“Well did you find him?” She asked.

Sokka and Y/N shared a look. “You mean you didn’t?” Y/N fretted.

“No and Toph and I came back here when we couldn’t find anyone–”

The four of them jumped a noise outside. Y/N reached back instinctively to grab the hilt of her sword just when Aang strode in with Momo perched on his shoulder. His clothes were muddy and there was dirt on his face like he’d been chased through the woods but he was smiling. “Hey guys!”

“Where have you been? We’ve been worried sick!” Katara raced to pull him into a hug.

Aang sheepishly pulled off his headband. “I got invited to play with some kids after school.”

Sokka’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline. “After what?!”

“I enrolled in a Fire Nation school and I’m going back tomorrow.”

“Enrolled in what?!” Y/N thought Sokka was going to pass out.

“Let’s just sit down and talk about it,” Y/N suggested.

“I’m learning about all the propaganda they teach–”

Behind her, Y/N knew that Sokka was still talking, still flailing his arms around but she couldn’t hear the words he was saying because–

“Propaganda?”

Everyone froze, unsure of what to do next. Y/N could hear Toph behind her by the fire. “Oh no.”

“Um–”

Y/N wasn’t sure what to think. “No, don't even think about not telling me! What do you mean they teach propaganda at Fire Nation schools?”

---

What did Sokka, Katara, Aang and Toph think of her as they realized that these were the things that she grew up learning? That she had foolishly believed that the Air Nomads–known pacifists–had created an army big enough to destroy the Fire Nation so they had to be taken out first. That the Earth Kingdom and Water Tribes, after hearing of the destruction of all the Air Temples and supposedly the Avatar, had joined together and invaded the Fire Nation. That she had believed in and supported the idea that the Fire Nation was doing the right thing, that cleansing the world of troublemakers and creating obedience and peace in the villages was ‘the only way’.

In the back of her mind, Y/N was trying to reason with herself, You knew the whole time. That’s why you left, that’s why you're trying to do good with the Avatar; to right the wrongs of your Nation. But it didn’t matter. She’d believed long enough for it to be harmful.

“Not to take away from the frankly alarming things we just learned but–” Sokka handed Aang the poster. “–we also found this when Y/N and I were in town.”

“What is it?” Toph asked.

“It’s a wanted poster for Y/N,” Aang muttered.

Katara jumped up to join him in reading it. Y/N didn’t need to see it again. She’d memorized it the first time she laid eyes on it.

And suddenly, her day was ruined. She couldn’t remember the taste of the peach she had eaten that afternoon or the feeling of the sun on her face. She couldn’t remember what the music sounded like as her and Sokka wandered out of town or what it felt like to spill her life story to someone who wanted to listen.

“Maybe I should go,” Y/N said numbly.

“What?” Katara said looking up from the poster.

“I’m putting you all in danger by being around you. Without me you’d be free to roam without the fear of being caught in the back of your minds all the time. It would be better for all of you like that!” Y/N was starting to get mad. Why couldn’t they see it? Why couldn’t they understand that this is the best option for everyone? That she was trying to save them?

“Why would you say something like that? How is that better?” Toph argued.

“Because you don’t need me here anyways? How could you want me around after hearing what Aang learned at school. Mind you, up until ten minutes ago, I believed every one of those things to be true!” Y/N stood up and paced around the cave, no longer able to be sitting still. Their campfire threw wild shadows of her form on the walls.

Y/N was beginning to feel like her outburst was due to more than just learning about Fire Nation propaganda but she couldn’t stop her mouth from moving. She stopped in front of them all for a second. “Tell me exactly what purpose do I serve on this mission?”

She took their silence for an answer. “Exactly,” Y/N growled.

Sokka stood up with her. “Not everything needs an exact purpose! You just fit with us!”

“But I don’t!” Y/N shouted. Her eyes and nose were stinging with unshed tears. Y/N rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands to keep the tears at bay for just a second longer. “I need a reason. I need a purpose. I have to have one! I don’t know how to describe this feeling. I’m just... lost. And–and I don’t even know how to explain it to you. How do I try and explain that my life has no meaning when I have no one to serve? I sit here with you guys and I’m wondering how you even wanted me to come when there was no reason for me to be here? I can’t even be your Fire Nation guide because I’ve never even seen most of the cities and apparently, I don’t even know my own history!”

Y/N looked at Katara. She blinked and twin tears traced down her cheeks. “I told you. I’m weak. I care about someone who wants me dead so badly she made me a wanted person. And all I want is to make her better so I can go home and I just can’t get past it all.”

Y/N put her head in her hands and sobbed. She felt two arms wrap around her waist and a head lay on her shoulder. Two more arms wrapped around the both of them. And pretty soon all five of them stood huddled in the cave in a group hug.

Y/N sniffled. “Why are you all comforting me like you’re my friends?”

“You are our friend,” Katara murmured into Y/N’s shoulder. “Don’t you want to be friends with us?”

Y/N whimpered. “I really do. I guess I just needed to hear you say it.”

“If it makes you feel better. I have no problem bossing you around.” Toph’s voice was muffled from the pile they were in.

Y/N smiled through her tears. “Thanks, Toph.”

---

A/N: listen, I don’t care if I made you cry, because I cried while writing that scene more than once and that’s all that matters.

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