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whateveriwant · 4 years

Text

Dreaming of Angels

Summary: Bucky finds himself dreaming about his girl. His gift from heaven. His angel.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Word Count: ~3.9k

Warnings: violence (blood, guns, death), SMUT 18+ (vaginal sex), biiiig ANGST (like, astronomical levels of angst)

Prompt: "Just Like Heaven" - The Cure

A/N: Hello! So, I have to warn you: this is a sad one, folks. Tbh this got much deeper than I expected (wow that sounds pretentious), but that’s life, I guess. Let me just say that I know some of Bucky’s actions may be OOC, but I did it for the angst, alright? So don’t @ me, lol. Also, given the title of the song and this fic, I went pretty heavy-handed with the religious theme. As this is written from Bucky’s POV, I wanted to portray how he interprets the world/his views on religion – not necessarily the reader's. But if my use of biblical imagery makes you feel uncomfortable/unrepresented, then I want to sincerely apologize. It was truly not my intention to exclude anyone in writing this fic, no matter the religious associations I made. With all that being said, this was written for @nellblazer 's 80’s Challenge! Congrats on your 6k followers, Nell! To any and everyone who reads this, I hope you enjoy!

Bucky reclines in his beach chair, letting the sun warm his skin. For once, it's a lazy day. Apparently, supervillains take days off, too. Thus, a gathering of Shield agents and Avengers decided to visit the Stark-donated private beach for their welcomed day of respite.

While most of the beach-goers are out in the water – playing chicken fight, Marco Polo, and other silly games – Bucky is content to stay lounging where it’s warm and dry. He watches Sam get knocked off of Steve’s shoulders by a well-timed push from Wanda, chuckling as he resurfaces to splutter out a mouthful of water.

Bucky continues to watch his team’s antics when he notices a figure approaching his flank. He turns his head, seeing the new Shield agent walking up to him.

Well… “new” is a bit of a misleading title. She’s been an agent for several months at this point – definitely long enough for Bucky to have bred a healthy infatuation with her – but she’s still technically the newest addition to the organization.

She stands before him, her head eclipsing the sun – her own personal halo formed from the obscured rays. It’s beautiful. Ethereal. Angelic.

“Why are you all the way over here?” She asks, bright eyes looking at him curiously. “You’re so far away from everyone.”

Bucky blinks a few times, ridding himself of his dazed expression. He shrugs casually, “Just didn’t feel like getting in the water today.”

But it’s more than that. He’s used to being alone. It’s familiar. Comfortable. Safe.

“I hear ya,” she laughs, giving him a beaming smile. “I might go dip my toes, but I’m not trying to get my hair wet, you know?”

Bucky grins, nodding to show his understanding.

“Mind if I sit here?” She points to the vacant chair beside him.

“Not at all. Please,” he extends his arm, giving her the go ahead.

She smiles again before sitting down, letting out a low sigh as her eyes slowly drift closed. Bucky watches her for a few minutes, admiring the glow she emits – how the sun kisses and reflects off her skin. His eyes travel over the length of her legs, the curve of her hips, the dip of her clavicle.

Does she know how beautiful she is? How breathtaking?

She sits up suddenly, snapping Bucky from his drifting thoughts.

“I think I’m gonna go walk along the shoreline. Want to join?” She turns to him, a slight quirk to her brow.

“Nah, I’m fine,” he shakes his head.

“You’re sure?”

He gives her a half-hearted nod and shrug, choosing to stay by his lonesome like usual.

“Or... I can stay and keep you company, if you’d like.”

He shakes his head again, more fervently this time. “No, please, don’t stay on my behalf.”

He doesn’t want her to stay out of a sense of obligation. Or worse: pity.

“You go on ahead. I’m okay by myself," he tries giving her an encouraging look.

“Well… alright,” she smiles, but there’s a sadness hidden behind her eyes. “But feel free to join me.” She stands, making a start towards the water’s edge.

Bucky watches her pad down the beach, walking towards the horizon. A trail of delicate footprints follow after her – left behind in the sand, waiting to be swept away with the tide.

Does she see the way I look at her? Does she know how much I've fallen for her?

No, probably not. She’s too good for me; too pure. What would she want with this broken soul anyway?

He doesn’t verbalize his thoughts, but he projects them outwards – letting them be swallowed up by the waves. Breathed in by the cosmos. Known only by God.

~*~

Suddenly, the image shifts.

She’s walking away from him again. But this time, it's into a bunker. It’s just the two of them here; Sam and Wanda cover the sky, Steve and a few Shield agents are tunneling through an underground entrance, and the rest are on the other side of the fortification.

Bucky’s never had a mission partner before. And honestly? He’s never really wanted one. He prefers to fly solo. It’s just quicker that way. Easier. Better.

At least, that’s what he likes to tell himself.

Because, if he’s going to actually be truthful, he was beyond relieved when he found out she’d be his partner for this mission. They’re walking into this practically blind – what little intel they have doing next to nothing in warning them of the potential dangers that await.

It’s not that she’s incapable of defending herself, nor is it that other agents would do an inadequate job of watching her back. Rather, Bucky’s just more assured that he’s the one who’ll be looking out for her today – that he’ll be safeguarding her.

They enter through the thick, concrete archway, quickly descending to the subterranean levels of the facility. Following the desolate hallways, they come up empty handed. No intel. No enemies. Nothing.

At a fork in the hall, she turns to Bucky, being all business.

“You take the left, I’ll take the right,” she nods towards the respective corridors.

“Why don’t we just stick together?” He asks, puzzled by her suggestion.

On any other mission with any other partner, Bucky would’ve happily split up. But given the circumstances of this mission and this agent he’s paired with, Bucky is hesitant to separate the partnership.

“We’ll cover more ground in less time,” she states matter-of-factly. “Really, Sergeant Barnes, as a military man, I thought you’d be all about efficiency,” she smirks.

“I’m more concerned with safety, actually,” his voice is completely devoid of humor.

That being said, she does have a point. If they take separate paths, they’ll cut their time in half – meaning the sooner they’ll get back to the safe confines of the jet outside. While they haven’t encountered anything yet – or more specifically, anyone – that doesn’t mean the rest of the bunker is threat-free.

But despite the ‘what-ifs’ that could await them, Bucky relents to her suggestion – wanting to expedite the mission and get out as soon as possible.

“But keep your comms on and have that at the ready,” he adds with unwavering conviction, indicating the firearm in her hands.

“You got it, Sarge,” she says seriously.

They trek down their separate corridors. All the while, Bucky has her talk through the comms – telling him everything she sees and finds. Again, it’s a whole lot of nothing.

As they descend further and further into the earth, their comm link starts crackling – struggling to penetrate the yards of concrete between them. Bucky stops in his tracks, tapping at his earpiece.

"You there?" He asks her, getting silence in return. He says her name, trying to catch her attention. "Agent? Report back."

Again, he's met with zero response from her end. Then suddenly, her voice breaks through the silence – sounding garbled and choppy.

"Sergeant… surroun… half a doz… Help!"

Even if it weren't for the sentence fragments he hears, the panic in her voice has Bucky flying down the hallway at a break-neck speed.

I knew we shouldn't have separated. I knew something would go wrong if I wasn't there to protect her.

Worry runs rampant through his thoughts as he winds through the maze of corridors, frantically trying to locate her.

As he nears another passage, Bucky hears shouting coming from the end of the hallway. Turning the corner, he stumbles upon a gruesome scene.

Five bodies litter the floor – crimson pools lying beneath each hole-riddled corpse. At least she put her gun to good use, a proud tone paints his thoughts.

Bucky turns one more corner, unfortunately finding the sixth and final foe still alive and well. What's worse, the man has Bucky's partner pinned to the wall – choking the life out of her.

Bucky doesn't hesitate; he raises his rifle and sends a bullet through the man's temple. The man immediately slumps to the ground – Bucky's partner similarly falling down now that she's no longer being held up by her throat.

Bucky races over, kicking the man’s body out of the way as he goes to kneel before her. Blood covers her face. Though most of it belongs to the corpse on the floor beside them, the sight still sickens Bucky – defiling her usual purity.

One of her hands holds her chest to collect her breath while the other holds her thigh to stanch a gunshot wound. Bucky unzips his tactical vest to rip off a piece of his undershirt – quickly applying a makeshift tourniquet around her leg.

“We need to get you to the jet,” he says resolutely. “Can you stand?”

She nods, still struggling to breathe. Bucky helps her to her feet and, as soon as she’s standing, she tosses her arms around his neck. At first, he thinks she’s just lost her balance. But then she tightens her hold on him, pulling him into a suffocating hug.

Bucky is stunned for a second. Then, tentatively, he reciprocates – firmly wrapping his arms around her waist. He holds her for a few moments in complete silence – every thought banished from his mind other than the feeling of her body against his.

He eyes an outline on the wall behind her: a splatter of blood in the shape of a downward facing crescent moon – her head accounting for the negative space in the pattern. It’s a terrifying image. A crown of blood. A red halo.

A few sobs shake her frame and Bucky shushes her, rubbing a comforting hand over her back.

“It’s okay. You’re safe,” he whispers. He stares at the impression on the wall a while longer before finally shutting his eyes, turning his head to press his lips to her hair. “I’m here. I’ve got you, Angel.”

~*~

The image shifts once more.

She’s in his arms again. But this time, she’s in his bed. She lies beneath him, bared in all her glory. Her hair is splayed out around her head, creating a halo of locks.

“Do that thing with your hips,” she bites her lip, giving him a faux innocent look. “The thing that makes me scream.”

“You mean this?” He grinds against her, his length rubbing her bundle of nerves.

“YES!” She cries out. “THAT!”

He chuckles, continuing to grind his pelvis against hers. He doesn’t enter her yet – just simply rocks to and fro over her sensitive bud.

Her brows knit together, absorbed in the feeling he stirs in her belly. “Keep that up and you can make me wifey tomorrow,” she pants.

Bucky suddenly halts his hips, drawing a pathetic whine from her mouth. “What did you say?” He asks, bewilderment coloring his voice.

“We can go to the courthouse first thing in the morning for all I care,” she says breathlessly, trying to appease him. “Just keep moving,” she wriggles in an attempt to find that much-desired friction again.

He grabs her hips, forcing her to keep still. Cocking a brow, he gives her a confused look. “I’ve never asked you to marry me.”

She shrugs, “I know.”

“Then why did you say that?” He’s not angry, just perplexed.

Sighing, she pushes him onto his haunches, sitting up with him.

“Because... I know you want to ask me,” she says carefully, gauging his reaction. “And yet, you’re stopping yourself,” she frowns.

Bucky is stunned. She’s right. Totally, completely, one hundred percent right. He’s wanted to ask her for a while, but he’s never followed through. He doesn’t know how many times he’s caught himself browsing rings before stopping, refusing to humor the possibility of a marriage with her.

Matrimony is considered holy for a reason. It’s meant for those pure of heart and soul; people like her. Not for the damaged and broken; people like him.

Thus, he can’t bring himself to subject her to that – to tether her to him when there’s so many others who are right for her. Better. Worthy.

She places a palm against his cheek, gently cradling his face. He leans into her hand, savoring the warmth her touch radiates.

“I love you, Bucky Barnes, more than anything in this world, and I don’t want to be with anyone else but you. So, if you’ll have me…,” she drops her hand from his face, grabbing his hand and weaving their fingers together. It’s a silent vow of unity. Commitment. Forever.

“...I’m all in.”

Bucky's speechless, his mind filled with disbelieving thoughts. This must be a dream. This seems too good to be true. This can't be real.

And yet, it is.

She wants him. This girl, this gift from God, this angel sent from heaven… wants him. Bucky's never felt more blessed in his life.

He rears forward, pulling her into a passionate kiss. She giggles against his mouth as he lays her back down, settling between her thighs. He lines up and slides into her with ease, feeling the way her warm walls hug him.

Being with her like this is Earth-shattering. It steals his breath every time, lest his lecherous words desecrate such a wonderful, sacred act.

This is bliss. Peace. Paradise.

~~~~~

Bucky wakes with a start, a whisper of her name falling from his lips. The bedsheets are twisted around his legs, trapping him in their cotton embrace. One of his hands is outstretched, grasping at the space beside him in bed. Cold. Empty. Alone.

It’s been a while since he’s dreamed about her.

But no, they’re not just dreams. Memories. Things he’d actually experienced once upon a time – what feels like a lifetime ago. Really though, it’s not nearly been that long.

He grabs the pillow beside him, burying his face in the silk. It doesn’t smell like her. It hasn’t in a long time. A choked sob leaves his throat and Bucky’s quick to wipe away his tears – not wanting them to stain the pillowcase; it’d just be one more thing of hers he’d ruin.

He tosses and turns, willing himself to fall back asleep. This time, hopefully, without her beautiful visage filling his dreams. He’s not sure he could handle any more tonight.

~~~~~

Several more nights pass and each one has Bucky dreaming about her again and again – getting progressively more difficult as the nights roll on. It’s torture finding such sweet solace in his dreams only to wake back up to his bleak reality.

Of all the terrible things that have happened to Bucky, this is the cruelest joke God’s ever played on him. Bucky should’ve known there was a catch to meeting an angel. To loving one and being loved in return. To calling her his.

In truth, Bucky always knew she was never his. She always belonged to Him. She was just on loan – just another one of His creations that had a 'return by' date. And that date has come and gone.

Bucky can’t keep doing this night after night. Seeing her face, hearing her voice, feeling her skin, but knowing it’s just a dream – knowing he’ll wake up alone once more – is the most painful thing he’s ever experienced. He’s tried enduring it for her sake – really tried with all his might – but he can’t do it anymore. He’s not strong enough.

Bucky never thought it would come to this – that he’d ever willingly subject himself to the decision he’s chosen. Not after what Hydra put him through for so many years.

It took a lot on his part to convince the rest of the team, but he was able to make them see that this is the only thing that can mend his broken heart. Splintered soul. Fractured mind.

Call him a coward, but it was easier being alone when he didn’t have anything else to compare it to. It wasn't quite living – that Bucky is certain of – but it was better than the mere surviving he does now.

His fingers graze the picture frame in his hand. He’s collected all of the other images of her, but this is the last one – his favorite one. Thus, he wants to enjoy one last look at it.

She stands in a field of coral- and blush-colored peonies, a golden sun setting behind her. She smiles brightly at the camera. Glowing. Beaming. Radiant. Bucky traces the angle of her jaw, the curve of her lip, the line of her neck – all the places he used to do on her warm flesh. That feeling's now replaced by the cold glass in the frame.

“I love you,” he whispers, tears pricking his eyes. And if God is merciful... “Maybe I’ll see you again some day.”

He leans down, pressing a soft kiss against the glass. As the tears obscure his vision, he wipes them away – needing his final look at her to be through clear eyes.

“Goodbye, Angel.”

He sets the frame face down before exiting the room, heading to where Wanda waits for him.

~~~~~

Bucky paces back and forth in his room. He’s restless, but he’s not sure why. He feels like this day is important – that there’s something he should be doing – but he can’t remember what exactly. For all he knows, it’s just another mid-Spring day.

As he continues his tread, he hears a noise coming from the hall. Peeking into the corridor, he sees the remainder of the team not currently on a mission walking by. They’re dressed well – in their “Sunday best” as Bucky’s mother would’ve said – and Steve’s even holding a bouquet of some kind of pink flowers.

“...gonna visit her like we do every year,” Bucky hears Steve say. “He’d want us to, even if he doesn’t remember.”

Bucky steps into the hallway, curiosity piqued. “Who are you visiting?” He asks the group, stopping them in their tracks. “And why are you dressed like that? It’s like you’re going to church.”

They’re all silent for a moment, exchanging unreadable looks with one another. Finally, Steve speaks up. “Uh… we’re visiting my mom, Sarah. It’s the anniversary of her passing so I wanted to leave her these,” he gently waves around the flowers.

“And we thought we’d come along for, um, moral support,” Wanda adds, gesturing to her and Sam.

Oh. So that’s why Bucky felt like today held some importance. He’d apparently forgotten the date of Sarah Rogers’ passing.

“Do you mind if I come along?” Mrs. Rogers was an important woman to Bucky – almost like a second mother to him – and he wants to pay his respects.

The group exchanges another round of looks before eventually conceding, nodding for Bucky to join them. He quickly changes into more formal attire before heading out with the others.

The trip to the cemetery is relatively quick. However, along the way, the congregation makes a stop at a local florist’s – picking up a couple of additional bouquets.

“For Winnifred,” Steve offers one to Bucky.

“Right. Thanks,” Bucky accepts the white roses, realizing he should pay his own mother a visit since he’ll already be there. And while he finds it strange, Bucky doesn’t question why two bunches of flowers were purchased from the shop; he figures it’s none of his business.

The group arrives at the cemetery and traipses along the cobblestone path. Everywhere they turn, they’re surrounded by a maze of headstones. A sea of epitaphs. A monument of loss.

They stop first at Sarah Rogers’ grave. Steve hands Wanda the bouquet of pink flowers before placing the roses atop the headstone. He tilts his head downwards, saying a few words of grace, before standing in silence.

Bucky closes his eyes, internally reflecting on his own words for Mrs. Rogers. After a few moments, he feels a hand on his shoulder.

“Come on. Let’s give him some time to himself,” Sam whispers.

Bucky opens his eyes, spotting Wanda rubbing a consoling hand over Steve’s back. Bucky looks over to Sam, nodding in agreement.

Bucky and Sam make their way over to Winnifred Barnes’ plot several rows away from where Steve and Wanda remain. Bucky sets the roses down before repeating his motions from earlier: closing his eyes and internally voicing his words.

After several minutes, Steve and Wanda rejoin their side – the pink flowers having disappeared from Wanda’s hand. Steve whispers something to Sam to which he nods.

“Excuse me for a moment,” Sam says, taking off towards the direction of the entrance.

Bucky watches after him, seeing him stop before another headstone.

“Would you like me to say a few words?” Steve asks, drawing Bucky’s attention back to Winnifred’s grave.

“Please,” Bucky gestures for Steve to go ahead.

As Steve begins talking, Bucky looks back over to Sam. He sees him press a kiss to his fingers before placing them against the headstone. Sam wipes at his cheeks, regaining his composure, before returning to the group.

Once Steve has finished his speech, the group heads to leave – having no other plots to visit. As they’re walking towards the entrance, Bucky dawdles at the back of the group. When he gets a chance, he separates from the others. He's curious to see who Sam paid a visit to and thus wants to investigate.

Bucky walks over a row or two, easily finding the plot he had seen Sam standing before. It’s a beautiful headstone: impressively large, rectangular-cut, white marble; someone must’ve really cherished this person to choose such an elegant monument for them.

He notices the fresh, pink bouquet set atop the marble. It’s oddly similar to the one Wanda had been holding earlier, though, Bucky can’t imagine it is the same bunch. Why would Wanda have left it here?

Bucky doesn’t recognize the name engraved in the marble. While the woman shares his surname, so do many other thousands of people in New York. Besides, the hyphen in her name tells Bucky this woman is most likely not a blood relative of his – “Barnes” having been the surname she adopted from her partner in life.

He looks over the inscription on the headstone. There are no specific dates mentioned, just simply the years of her birth and death – the latter being only a few years ago. She was still a young woman – still had a long life ahead of her. He wonders what could’ve brought about an early demise for someone with so much life left to live.

Bucky reads over the rest of the engraved elegy. The last words impart a final goodbye from the woman’s loved ones.

A beloved daughter, friend, and wife. Rest in Paradise, “Angel”.

Bucky doesn’t know who this woman is, but whoever she was, she must have been deeply loved by those she left behind. And judging by the reaction Sam had while standing by her plot, she must have really been something special.

As with the other two graves he visited, Bucky thinks a few words of grace. It doesn’t matter that he doesn’t know her; it’s simply the respectful thing to do.

“It was nice to meet you…,” Bucky looks again at the plaque – the last word seemingly a term of endearment for her. “...Angel,” he addresses her.

The nickname rings with familiarity as it rolls off his tongue, but Bucky can’t place why. He lets his fingers lightly graze the marble as he passes it, walking back to join his team. After a day full of mourning, they all need a bit of a breather.

Once they arrive home, Bucky slinks to his room, shutting out the rest of the world with his door. He lays down in bed, closing his eyes as the sheets tenderly embrace him.

When it’s my time, will there be someone to leave me flowers? Would anyone ever want to?

Bucky doesn’t know the answers to these questions – completely unsure about what his future holds. For now, he’s resigned to continue living his life as he always has.

Comfortable. Peaceful. Alone.

__________

A/N: I’m sorry, but I did tell you it was sad. Also, I hope I didn’t ruin this song for anyone. It’s actually quite upbeat and not at all depressing like this fic lol. Anyways, I’d love to know what you thought! Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed!

#nellblazers80schallenge #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes angst #marvel #mcu #oneshot #female reader

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hogwartsmysteryho · 3 years

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Omg, I love the Swiftie game maybe a little too much, ngl 👀 You are amazing!

Seeing as I'm the most terrible person at choosing and you said multiple requests were fine....

How about Seliot, Lizion, and Dylanielle? 💛💛💛

(If you only want to do one, that's so fine!)

eeeeeeeek let’s talk some taylor!!!!!!!!!!

seliot - “The Way I Loved You” (Fearless) eliot belongs to the marvelous @kc-and-oc

“He is sensible and so incredible /And all my single friends are jealous” this is pretty straightforward: eliot is a very sensible ravenclaw, and there’s a reason selene is into him in the first place. and i too would be jealous of anyone dating adam brody’s face.

“He opens up my door and I get into his car / And he says you look beautiful tonight / And I feel perfectly fine” eliot is quite the courteous little gentlemen when the two are getting along, and i feel like this line fits with that one wildflower prompt u did for these guys!

“But I miss screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain / And it's 2AM and I'm cursing your name / You're so in love that you act insane / And that's the way I loved you” if i could only use one word to describe seliot, i’d say passionate. and that includes their breakups and heartache as well as their good times. the chorus of this song really captures that passion that i associate so strongly with seliot.

“Breaking down and coming undone / It's a roller coaster kind of rush / And I never knew I could feel that much / And that's the way I loved you” rollercoaster is one way to put it, and a really perfect, really fitting way to put it i think. i especially love the “i never knew i could feel that much” because hey, it’s their first love, and it’s very intense!

there’s another verse about some more positive and cute relationship things, and then the chorus repeats. then we get the bridge: “He can't see the smile I'm faking / And my heart's not breaking / 'Cause I'm not feeling anything at all / And you were wild and crazy / Just so frustrating / Intoxicating, complicated” seliot is many things, but it’s never boring, and there’s never any question how real the feelings are behind it. this song compares a seemingly perfect relationship to a wild and passionate one, claiming that those feelings just weren’t there in the perfect one, and that it’s through all of the crazy fights and breakups that they know how strongly they feel for each other.

hehe if u need some good bitter breakup songs for these two, i am, once again, dropping this album here :)

lizion - “Wonderland” (1989 Deluxe Edition)

“Flashing lights and we / Took a wrong turn and we / Fell down a rabbit hole” all right so this would be that part in aob where lizzie is realizing her feelings for orion, and she’s metaphorically falling into this rabbit hole because of all of the drama.

“You held on tight to me/ 'Cause nothing's as it seems / And spinning out of control” lizzie’s whole world is falling apart- she’s fighting with rowan, charlie, and sometimes skye while going through this big emotional crisis. but, throughout it all, she has orion to hold onto.

“Didn't they tell us don't rush into things? / Didn't you flash your green eyes at me? / Haven't you heard what becomes of curious minds? / Ooh, didn't it all seem new and exciting? / I felt your arms twistin' around me / I should have slept with one eye open at night” the astronomy tower scene! lizzie gets caught up in her feelings and alcohol and gets a little too rash, which has disasterous consequences.

“We found Wonderland / You and I got lost in it / And we pretended it could last forever (Eh, eh) / We found Wonderland / You and I got lost in it / And life was never worse but never better (Eh, eh)” orion is such a wonderlandiful guy, isn’t he? the vibe that lizion gives off to me is that they seem like they can be in their own little absolutely adorable world together (especially in rockstar au!) “life was never worse but never better” i’m not sure what to add it just feels like it fits, you know?

“But there were strangers watching / And whispers turned to talking / And talking turned to screams” frigging rumors. but, another important point of their relationship and obstacles in aob!

“I reached for you, but you were gone / I knew I had to go back home” that point when lizzie chooses rowan over orion

“And in the end, in Wonderland / We both went mad” well, they didn’t actually, but there was a point when i was worried they were gonna go mad from all that stress!

side note - wildest dreams totally gives me rockstar! lizion vibes, even though orion doesn’t really fit the bad boy narrative the song has :)

dylanielle - “You Are In Love” (1989 Deluxe Edition)

“One look, dark room / Meant just for you” c’mon now, these two are totally the make-eye-contact-across-the-classroom-and-smile type.

“Buttons on a coat, lighthearted joke / No proof, not much, but you saw enough” one of the most important parts of this beautiful friends-to-lovers ship is that they show their love through little interactions (*cough* shadow puppets *cough*), rather than reallly grand romantic gestures. it’s not huge proof, but it’s enough to know theyre in love.

“Small talk, he drives / Coffee at midnight / The light reflects the chain on your neck / He says, "Look up" / And your shoulders brush / No proof, one touch, but you felt enough” even when they had one scene that they featured in that zadie and reva story, it was very clear that they were a couple from their casual and normal activities, like studying together, or getting coffee at midnight. and they’re totally the type to accidentally brush shoulders!

“You can hear it in the silence (Silence), silence (Silence), you / You can feel it on the way home (Way home), way home (Way home), you / You can see it with the lights out (Lights out), lights out (Lights out) / You are in love, true love / You are in love” all these two have to do is walk next to each other, and you can just tell!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

then we get some more little things lyrics that totally fits them, and we get this gem: “And for once, you let go / Of your fears and your ghosts / One step, not much, but it said enough” they both have the same ghost: this looming quidditch legacy draping over both of their heads! it’s through each other that they can help themselves in that regard.

“One night, he wakes / Strange look on his face / Pauses, then says "You're my best friend" / And you knew what it was, he is in love” it… it just sounds exactly like them! are we sure this song is older than this ship? it just fits too well!

“And you understand now / Why they lost their minds and fought the wars / And why I've spent my whole life trying to put it into words” no specific comment, just ugh these lyrics r so good!

send me a character or relationship and i’ll break down a t swift song i think suits them!

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kuinliekkienroihu · 3 years

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I (crysuzumushi, haha) am working on answering your ask game prompts, you picked two of my very favorites, thank you! I'm gonna ask you to do Kaname too! And Byakuya.

Okay, thanks for the ask!! Sorry it took so long to answer, i wrote a novel. Also sorry for all the spelling and grammar mistakes, English isn’t my first language

Kaname:

1. Favorite thing about them

How he always seeks to act according to his sense of justice. Also he's one of the best written characters in the entire series. He's very complex, which makes him feel kinda like an actual person with understandable actions caused by his past. There are a lot more things, but i'm not good at putting things to words so yeah.

2. Least favorite thing about them

How underutilized he was as a character. I'm really glad there's more of him in cfyow, even though i've only read the first part

3. Favorite line

" I follow the path least soaked in blood. The path I walk is justice."

4. BrOTP

I have many, mostly Shuhei, Aizen, Gin and Sajin

5. OTP

6. NOTP

hmm, i don't like him and Aizen romantically at all, same goes for Sajin

7. Random headcanon

He has a plant garden in Las Noches in which he grows, among many other things, the ingredients for Aizen's tea, which is Kaname's secret special mix of herbs. Aizen really misses the tea Kaname made for him.

8. Unpopular opinion

He did nothing wrong, or rather, all he did was (more or less) justified

9. Song i associate with them

10. Favorite picture of them

This is my favorite too

Byakuya:

1. Favorite thing about them

Yes. I love every single thing about him. Even the things others would consider as flaws are perfect. I really like how calm and collected he is regardless of the situation, he's intelligent and calculating.

A very well written character with, in my opinion, the best character development. Especially his relationship with Rukia from ignoring her out of pain (since she looks almost identical to Hisana), protecting her to keep a promise, letting her be executed to keep another promise to genuinely caring about her and saving her life in many occasions, clearly regretting what he did to her and trying to compensate for his actions.

Kubo wrote his development extremely well, in the end of the series he's objectively a better person than in the beginning, but his personality didn't change much. He's still the same overly serious, stuck up asshole we know and I love him for it.

Another thing I love the most about him is the fact that he's another walking contradiction. But somehow, these contradictions make a paradox or a perfect harmony without cancelling each other. Kubo did an amazing job making him have many layers in his character. There's this line from a book (had to look it up, the book is called "the chrysanthemum and the sword") that the author used to describe Japanese people, I think I read that in someone's ig story and it got stuck in my head since it reminded me of Byakuya so much, and in my honest opinion, describes him rather thoroughly, especially second, third and fourth ones. His zanpakuto, which is one of the infinite reasons I love him, being fully portrayed by the second one "both militaristic and aesthetic" being combined into the beautiful but deadly weapon Senbonzakura is.

"both aggressive and unaggressive, both militaristic and aesthetic, both insolent and polite, rigid and adaptable, submissive and resentful of being pushed around, loyal and treacherous, brave and timid, conservative and hospitable to new ways"

When you think about it, he has the most fitting zanpakuto for his personality compared to the other shinigami and the way he uses it is one of the tiny details which make him, him.

His spot as a captain and the head of the Kuchiki clan is in my opinion fully earned (rest of the nobles (except Yoruichi) can go fuck themselves) (sorry Tara, ignore this please lol). He is hardworking and precise, almost workaholic, has trained hard from a very young age and puts duty above everything. But he still has a hidden "work mode: off" -side which we see occasionally as cracking a dry joke or the wakame taishi fuckery in general. Latter being, in my honest thoughts, hilarious and adorable.

There is a lot more but i literally can't list everything. This is already a hell of an essay.

2. Least favorite thing about them.

My answer is probably as you can expect: none.

There is one thing i don't really like, but it's about the writing.

!!TYBW SPOILERS!!

In the beginning of the arc i think that immediately releasing bankai, especially when he knew it was gonna be sealed, was out of character and i would have been very upset if he stayed dead, since the action which resulted in that was not something he would do.

3. Favorite line

“If it’s for the sake of my pride there’s nothing I won’t destroy.”

I know it’s from a filler but this line just sums his whole character, personality and motivations up so well.

4. BrOTP

I have so many, i want him to have friends lol. But to point out the most significant ones i'd say Rukia, Renji, Kenpachi, Toshiro and Ichigo

5. OTP

The only one i really ship him with is Nanao. Hisana is kind of “it’s canon and i’m fine with it.” I haven’t seen enough of her to form an opinion about the ship, but it’s obvious how much Bya loved her and it’s so sweet.

6. NOTP

Okay, i have never mentioned this before since i know many of my followers/mutuals ship them. Renji. The only ship I. Can't. Stand.

Like, platonically? Yes, they're bros. But romantically or especially sexually? No. Fuck no.

I don't care if you ship them, good for you, but please tag the stuff so it gets filtered.

7. Random headcanon

He sleeptalks a lot. And it's not mumbling, he talks the same way as when he's awake but it's absolute nonsense.

Byakuya, asleep: Do not eat the drawer.

Hisana, awake: *watches him in utter confusion*

Byakuya, still asleep: Give him a pink tricycle.

Hisana: To whom?

Byakuya: Head captain Yamamoto

Hisana: *trying not to laugh*

Another hc that i have is that he is a closet metalhead and likes especially power- and symphonic metal (this might sound very weird if you know nothing about this kind of music lol)

8. Unpopular opinion

His actions in the soul society arc were understandable. He was put between the bark and the tree (i hope you get what i mean) and had to choose from just letting things happen and going against central 46 and all of soul society (or at least that’s what he thought). Also the line he said to Ukitake, which is still easily in top5 most asshole things he has said/done, in my opinion shows what he thought of Rukia’s execution and why he didn’t do anything to prevent it. “Once you’ve let one of your people die.. ...two or three more make no difference.” Both of his parents are dead, Hisana is dead, Ginrei is most likely dead and he thought for 100 years that Yoruichi was dead too. I think Byakuya thought losing one more person he cares about couldn’t hurt more than it already has and therefore didn’t think it was worth breaking the promise he made in his parents’ grave and trying to save her. And that fucking breaks my heart.

9. Song I associate with them

I have a 6h long playlist which I’m not gonna post. Can’t choose just one lol.

10. Favorite picture of them

*digs through nearly infinite pinterest board, tumblr and phone’s gallery*

This is (one of) my favorite manga panel(s) of him. I love how calm but powerful he looks. The lines representing the heavy spiritual pressure. Like an inescapable doom approaching (which indeed was the case). And for some reason i love it.

My favorite fanart, which i obviously can’t post since you can’t post others art so here’s the link: https://www.deviantart.com/keelerleah/art/Bleach-Byakuya-Looking-Back-127254804

and then one which I think is official art or at least an edit of it, if I’m wrong please lmk

#long post #sorry this took 2 and half eternities to complete #bleach #kaname tosen #byakuya kuchiki #ask game

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bqstqnbruin · 4 years

Text

Teach me something 4

I’m sad Calgary went home but at least the Blues did, too.

ANYWAY here’s the last part of Teach me something (unless I think of something else to write about), and let me tell you, this is s o f t Matthew (in my opinion)

The song at the end is called Fathers and Sons from Working: the musical

I hope you like it!

Read the other parts: part 1// part 2 // part 3 _______________________

“One last thing before the bell this is going to be really quick so I need everyone’s eyes on me,” you spit out in one breath, “I posted the homework problems online on Hess’s Law and those are due next class so please make sure you do them!” You managed to get everyone out, praying that all your students actually listened to what you said.

Making a mental note to send out an email to the class, your students rush out the door and on their way to lunch. Trying to set up quickly before you had your next class, you hear, “Hey, mom?” coming from behind you. Your son, Oliver, is standing in the doorway, a worried look on his face.

“Hi, Ollie. Do me a favor, get out the hot plates from under these cabinets and put two on each bench, ok?” He puts his bag down by your desk, bending down to help you out with what you need.

“Mom?” he asks again.

“Ollie.”

“Does Dad know what we’re going to tonight?”

“Well, that depends. Did you tell your father?”

“No. I thought you did.”

“Oliver, I told you. You were the one who wanted to do this, and you asked me not to tell Dad, so I kept my word. If you want to tell him before we leave tonight, then that’s up to you.” You look over at your son, just standing there in staring at a hot plate. His curly hair just like Matthew’s, the same eye shape, but your eye color, built like his father, but not as much of a pest.

“What if he doesn’t like that I’m doing this because it isn’t hockey related?”

You let out a little chuckle at how nervous your son was. You couldn’t help it. “Your father wants nothing more than for you to be happy. He doesn’t care what you do to get there. If you want to tell him before we leave, then that’s up to you, just know that I’m driving either way and we have to pick up Tessa from her swim practice so she’s going to smell like chlorine.”

“Mom, he’s going to think it’s dumb!” Oliver whines, sitting down on one of the stools.

“If he says it is then you tell him it’s dumb that his mouthguard was never in his mouth when he played. How your father even still has teeth is beyond me,” you say, sitting down next to your son with your lunch. If he was going to talk during your lunch period, he might as well eat with you.

“Mom!” he whines again, getting his own lunch out.

You stare at your son as you chew on the sandwich Matthew had made for you the night before. You couldn’t believe your baby boy was a freshman in high school already, let alone worrying about what his dad would think of tonight. “Is this something that you’re proud of?”

“Yeah,” he says, staring at his own sandwich.

“Then, bub, your father is going to be happy. Dad doesn’t care how you get there,” you tell him, ruffling his hair, “As long as it doesn’t end up with you in jail.”

He laughs, swatting your hand away from his hair. “I just hope I don’t mess up.”

“I won’t care if you do,” you shrug.

“And you already have your tickets?”

“Ten seconds after they went on sale I got three of them.”

“And Aunt Rory will be there?”

“Aunt Rory will be there with Uncle Logan.”

“What about Uncle Johnny?” he asks, talking about his godfather, Matthew’s old teammate.

“Everyone who you asked to be there will be there. And if they aren’t then I will personally drag them by the ear for another night and make them pay for my ticket.” He laughs, thinking you’re joking. When he realizes you’re not, his eyes go wide.

“And none of them have told Dad?”

You can’t help but laugh at his worry. Even he has to know it’s just nervousness for tonight. “I told everyone that if they told your father then we would no longer associate ourselves with them.”

“Mom! Isn’t Aunt Rory Tessa’s godmother?”

“Yeah, and Uncle Johnny is your godfather, what’s your point?”

“Can you do that?”

“I can and I will if someone disappoints my son. Don’t think your father wouldn’t do the same. But you gotta get going! The bell’s going to ring and you have French on the other side of the school,” you tell him, trying to ruffle his hair again.

“I’ll see you tonight?”

“Bye, bub,” you say, kissing his head before he runs out the door.

The rest of the school day goes by with every free minute having your mind occupying by Oliver’s worry over Matthew’s opinion. It’s not like Oliver was giving up hockey for this; he was doing it in addition. Plus, if Oliver wanted to stop hockey and do this with his life, you were going to support him, whether Matthew liked it or not.

You get home before Matthew, patiently waiting until you had to go get Tessa from her swim practice, making dinner for the two of you, putting some aside for your daughter to scarf down while you were in the car. “Babe, I’m home!” Matthew calls right as you finish the food.

“Good timing!” you say as he kisses you hello, taking off his suit jacket. Now that he was a retired player, the Flames had him doing things in the front office. What exactly he did, you weren’t sure, but frankly, you were too scared to ask at this point. “We have to hurry up: Tessa is done with practice in half an hour and then we have to get over to the high school for Oliver.”

“Is Oliver’s practice bag still in your car?” Matthew asks, sitting down with you to eat your first dinner alone in what was probably months. You look at him, pretending to think if it was. He probably thought that Oliver had a game tonight. “Ollie brought it to school with him today, I think.”

Matthew just shrugs, seeing to buy it. The two of you eat a fast dinner, remembering to grab food for Tessa. Oliver had said they were having pizza tonight together, so you didn’t need to worry about him. You just to worry about Matthew.

The two of you run out of the door on your way to get Tessa, Matthew grabbing one of his old Flames jackets on the way out. He loved seeing his son playing hockey, it took him back to the time when he did, just like his dad used to watch him and Brady. You felt bad lying about Oliver having a game since he loved going to them so much, but this was Oliver’s secret that he wanted you to keep.

Driving to the pool where Tessa had swim practice, Matthew couldn’t stop talking about something that was going on with the team. You tried to pay attention, but just like when you were talking to him about science, you had no clue what the other was saying. You filled it his breaks in speech with “That’s nice, honey,” and “Oh, interesting.” He knew you didn’t understand anything, but you let him talk anyway because it made him happy.

“Hi, mom, hi dad,” Tessa says, bouncing into the car. Matthew hands her the food you made for her, not saying anything as she snatches it and starts diving in.

“So how’s my little barracuda?” Matthew asks her, prompting an eye roll from his daughter.

“Dad, I told you, we’re just barracudas. We’re not little anymore, we’re 11.”

“Yeah, no, not how this works,” Matthew says, “You’re my little girl until I die.” You can’t help but smile as Tessa groans, knowing how much Matthew loves your children. Oliver really didn’t have anything to worry about.

“Don’t be a pest, please, you aren’t on the ice,” you tease as you pull into the high school.

“Are we picking up Oliver from here? I thought he was getting a ride from the rink?” How your husband thought anything is beyond you, but that wasn’t the issue right now. Tessa was doing everything she can not to burst out laughing at Matthew’s naivety.

“No, we’re going in,” you say, getting out of the car.

“Why?”

“Babe, please, just trust me,” you say, dragging him into the school.

“Why are we going in this way? The rink isn’t here.” Matthew whines, Tessa stifling a laugh. You were getting there just in time that you could sneak in as the doors were about to close, you may or may not have convinced a student into keeping the door open until you showed up.

“Shush.”

You find your seats, Rory, Logan, and Johnny all already there.

“What are we doing here? What are you guys doing here?” All of you but Matthew knew what was about to happen, the other three just smiling and shrugging. “Y/N, aren’t we going to miss puck drop?”

You try your hardest not to laugh as the director steps out on stage to introduce what was about to happen, “Don’t worry, we won’t miss anything.”

“Hello and welcome to opening night of our show this year: Stephen Schwartz’s Working.” The audience starts to clap, Matthew looking more confused than anything. “We have a really great show tonight, including some freshman talent that we look forward to having for the next four years, our seniors that will be leaving us, and everyone else in between!” She goes on to say a little more, Matthew completely confused as to why you were there and not Oliver’s nonexistent hockey game. The show is short enough for there to be no intermission, which means that Matthew had no time to ask questions until after the show.

Most of the show goes by, Matthew anxiously checking his watch for the puck drop that wasn’t going to happen.

After about an hour, Oliver walks out on stage for the first time. You hear Matthew suck in his breath as he takes your hand in his. You look over at him, a smile on his face bigger than one you had ever seen, and Oliver hadn’t even done anything yet. He had no idea Oliver was in this, nor did he know what was about to happen. You rest your head on Matthew’s shoulder, Oliver swinging a guitar from his back to his front, you not even noticing he had it there in the first place. Neither of you knew if Oliver could even play guitar.

He starts strumming, goosebumps covering your skin as you get lost in the melody of the somber song he’s about to sing. Matthew could barely keep it together as his son started singing. “I hear a lotta songs say ‘where you goin’ my son?’ Now I know they’re true. Boy, you never stop to think how fast the years run, now they’re taking you.”

Listening to the song, Matthew thinks about the day Oliver was born. Fourteen years ago felt like yesterday, you sitting there in the hospital beaming down, Matthew remembering his heart stopping as soon as he held son, tears welling into his eyes, Oliver’s little hands reaching out to touch Matthew, opening his eyes and yawning immediately after; Matthew thinking that everything in that hospital room was all he could ever love, until Tessa came along, too.

“I remember you was three ‘n’ a half, your ma and me, we’d sit there after things got quieted. We’d laugh at some new word you said, how tough you were to get to bed, and we’d plan the night away. Planning for your kid”

Those few nights when three-year-old Oliver and baby Tessa fell asleep at night at the same time, you and Matthew sitting on the couch, watching TV. You were so tired, the school year just getting into the swing of things, the hockey season about to pick up, after Oliver had that nasty fall that sent him to the hospital. He remembers you talking about an excited Oliver got seeing his daddy on TV, baby Tessa squealing as she copied her brother’s noises. Matthew sat there, listening to you, thinking about how he could never have pictured a better life.

“I was your hero then. I couldn’t do no wrong as far as you were concerned. You thought I was the best of men. The tables hadn’t turned, you hadn’t learned how little time it takes. And daddies make mistakes.”

Matthew felt a tear escape from his eye, not even realizing that he felt so emotional over the song. He didn’t know if it was the fact that the song was about a father seeing his son grow up before his eyes, or that it was his own son sitting there singing. He knew Oliver didn’t have a perfect picture of his dad; hell, he watched his dad get in fights nearly ever game, probably knew every swear word that existed by the time he was seven. Matthew was the reason Oliver ended up in the hospital for the first time when he was three, all the other times after he had started playing hockey because Matthew did, and so did his dad.

Oliver keeps singing, every line taking Matthew to another place in his own childhood or his life as a husband and a father. When he was younger, he thought his greatest accomplishments would be as a hockey player, but damn, he was wrong. It was this, right here. It was Oliver, Tessa, you, the life after hockey and the life inside your home.

You hear Matthew sniffle, feeling him move a little. You look up at him, wiping a tear that had fallen down his cheek. You can’t help but smile, thinking of how happy Oliver will be that his father actually is proud of him. You sit up and kiss him on the cheek, setting back down on his shoulder as Oliver enters into a monologue, still strumming along on the guitar.

“This may sound square, but my kid is my imprint, you know what I mean? This is why I work. Every time I see a smart young guy walkin’ by dressed real sharp, I’m lookin’ at my kid. You know what I want? I want my kid to tell me he’s not going to be like me. I want him to look at me and say, “Dad, you’re a nice guy, but you’re a freakin’ dummy.” Hell, yes. If you can’t improve yourself, you improve your posterity. Otherwise, life isn’t worth nothin’.” Matthew doesn’t hear the rest of the song. He could previously count the number of times on one hand when he’s cried the way he was now: the night he proposed to you and you saying yes, both times you told him you were pregnant, and the first time he held Oliver and Tessa. He’s trying his hardest not to make any noise. He did not need anyone looking at him sobbing like a child while his kid is putting on a performance like this.

He glances at Rory and Logan, both of them beaming at the stage like he was their own son; Johnny looking completely lost, but he knows that he’s proud of his godson, too.

“Now it seems I always knew, why I do the things I do and the things I never did. Why I work my whole damn life: so’s I could give a better life than the one my dad could give me/ I give it to my kid.” Oliver stops strumming, everyone bursting out in applause. You and Matthew were probably the loudest ones cheering, not caring if you caused a scene for your own child. Tessa was trying to shrink into her seat out of embarrassment while the two of you were the only ones standing up and screaming. Oliver tried not to break character; trying to keep the straight face once he heard his parents voices, his dad’s voice, as the rest of the cast came out for the finale. “You think about a piece of work. Even, let’s say, Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel. This beautiful work of art. But what if he had to create the Sistine Chapel a thousand times a year? Don’t you think that would dull even Michelangelo’s mind?”

Matthew couldn’t stop smiling: Oliver and Tessa were yours and his Sistine Chapels. He couldn’t think of anything better than what he had. Honestly, he wants Oliver to have a better life than he had, like the song says, but he doesn’t think that’s really possible. He doesn’t think anything could top what he has.

The song after Oliver’s is the last one, everyone leaving the stage and coming back out for bows. Oliver is one of the last people out. Matthew has no idea, but you know that it means he’s one of the most important people in the cast. Regardless, everyone you were with; Tessa, Rory, Logan, Johnny, all of you couldn’t help but jump up when Oliver came out to bow. You could see the red form on his cheeks through the makeup. He looked like he was looking for you in the crowd, even though he wouldn’t be able to see you with the light shining in his face.

Everyone starts to file out of the auditorium, Matthew just sitting there like he’s unable to move.

“Are you mad we didn’t tell you?” you ask, the rest of your group standing around you. “He thought you wouldn’t like that it wasn’t hockey and got nervous.”

“I wish he would have told me,” Matthew says. “I’m not mad.

“You just have to tell him that.”

You all get up to go meet Oliver out in the lobby of the auditorium. You see him standing there with someone else in the show. “Oliver you were amazing!” you gush, definitely embarrassing him in front of his friend as you hug him. Johnny and Rory praise his performance, Matthew standing back while Tessa even compliments him.

Oliver looks at his father, nervous as his dad stands behind you. You push Matthew towards his son. He’s obviously a little hurt about Oliver not wanting to tell him, but he’ll get over it. “Are you mad?” Oliver asks.

“Mad? Of course,” Matthew stops. You can’t help but smile at the way he was teasing your son, even though Oliver looked genuinely afraid, “I’m not.”

You hear Oliver release the breath he was holding as Matthew takes him in for a hug. “Fuck, I couldn’t be more proud of you.”

“Matthew! Language!” you scold.

“He plays hockey, it’s nothing new,” he shrugs. “But, bud, why didn’t you want me to know about this?”

“It wasn’t hockey so I didn’t think you would enjoy it as much. You always say hockey is something we share and that’s what you love about it,” he says, not looking at his dad. You could tell Matthew’s heart was breaking a little bit over that.

“Oh, come on. I loved it because it made you happy.” Oliver looks up at him. “That’s all I care about.”

“Told you,” you say, shrugging, knowing that Oliver would hate to get overly sentimental.

“Mom!” Oliver says, Matthew just laughing.

“But tell me more about this show. I really only paid attention when you were on stage,” Matthew says, running his hand through his hair.

“It’s a musical from, like, the 70s, or something,” Oliver starts to stay.

“Yeah, I was in it when I was a senior in high school. I was the teacher,” you cut in.

“That’s right, you would have been in high school when this came out.”

You and Matthew both look at Oliver, who seems to really believe the statement he just put out there, “How old do you think we are?” you ask, dumbfounded.

“Your grandparents were born in the 70s. We were born in the late 90s,” Matthew says, his voice getting a little higher out of frustration.

Rory, Logan and Johnny are standing with you, laughing at the fact that your children think you’re twenty years older than you actually are. “Hey, Johnny, Rory, the kids know you’re both older than us,” you point out, Oliver and Tessa nodding in agreement, their laughter stopping as they realize the kids probably think they were born in the 60s or something.

“Your father has no concept of science, you two have no concept of math or time, oh my god, I’ve failed as a teacher,” you start to mumble, Matthew still having a minor freakout over his children’s opinions on your age.

“Shit, we’re all old,” Matthew lets out.

“At least we’re going to be getting older together,” you say, this time trying to embarrass your kids. Matthew pulls you in for a kiss, Tessa and Oliver groaning over your PDA.

“Ah, you have a lifetime of this, kids,” Matthew says, kissing you again as you leave to go home.

#Matthew Tkachuk #Matthew Tkachuk imagine #flames #flames imagine #calgary flames #calgary flames imagine #nhl #nhl imagines #hockey #hockey imagines

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oikawas-bae · 4 years

Note

uwu can I request an Oikawa x reader where he’s dating reader but she goes to shiratorizawa and he doesn’t know she’s Wakatoshi’s younger sister until he sees them hug and he took it the wrong way

Oikawa x Reader

Alright but this is literally an awesome prompt😦 I had so much fun writing it and I hope you have as much of a good time reading it. Also sorry it’s SUPER LATE

Word Count: 1.4k

“I hate how Shiratorizawa is so far, couldn’t you just move to Seijoh?” A whiny voice came through the phone as you held it eagerly close to your ear. Despite dating for six months, every time Oikawa called you couldn’t help but feel a jolt of energy in every muscle of your body. The sheer sound of his voice was enough to have you fawning and you did. Trust me, your brother Ushijima saw enough to know you were smitten with that Oikawa. But he couldn’t help but crack a smile when he heard you singing love songs with an ear-to-ear grin knowing you were thinking of Oikawa or the way you playfully pranced to the dinner table after ending a phone call with your boyfriend.

“I’ve got business here, it’s not all about you Tooru!”

“Okay okay. I’ll pick you up in a few, where do I meet you again?” Oikawa sounded tired. It really would have been much easier for both of you to go to the same school but you hadn’t met until last year when you’d entered high school and caught the setter’s attention as the cute girl in the third row of the stands on Shiratorizawa’s side. By the time you got together he’d been a third year and you saw it as a waste to give up all of your friends and familiarity with Shiratorizawa just so you could go to school with Oikawa and only see him during lunch break.

“The gym. Thanks, hun. See you in a bit.” And you tapped the end button on the call. You looked to your brother who towered above you and he was only looking back at you with that stone face he wore around but you knew exactly what he was thinking. “Don’t look at me like that, you know he’s got me wrapped around his stupid little finger. No need to rub it in.”

Ushijima hummed lowly and ruffled your hair, pushing you lightly in front of him in the direction of the gym. He’d always been soft for his baby sister. Only a year younger than him but you were the most precious person to him. It surprised pretty much everyone how aggressive he could be on the court but how gentle he was with you. Tendou always used you as a bargaining chip to get Ushiwaka to do him favors, “I think (y/n) would think you’re a really cool brother if you did this for me you know?...” and boy did it get him every time. He just liked seeing you at your happiest and he’d never seen you more radiant than since you started dating Oikawa. He wasn’t too fond of his little sister having a romantic relationship with anyone but he trusted you and liked seeing you so giddy all the time. It was almost like he shared your emotions and whatever you felt, he felt.

____

It was a while before Oikawa arrived at Shiratorizawa so you’d sat down to chat with Tendou and Ushijima; Ushijima to keep you company and Tendou because he didn’t feel like practicing with the rest of the guys.

“You guys think I should pay for his bus ride or something? I feel bad for making him come all the way here…” you bunched your skirt in anticipation.

Tendou scoffed, his intertwined hands catching his head falling back, “it’s not even that far. You should use that money to buy us a victory dinner next game.”

Ushiwaka shot Tendou a strict glare, “I told you not to talk to (y/n) so rudely.”

You shook your head insistently, “no no, it’s fine, Waka-kun. Tendou is right, I have to stop thinking of this relationship like he’s doing me favors. It’s a mutual give and take thing, Oikawa picks me up everyday because he cares and I don’t need to pay him if he cares.”

Tendou nodded, his head bobbing as if that’s what he was implying when it wasn’t, “exactly! It’s like how birds clean crocodiles’ teeth and prevent the crocodiles from getting infections while the bird gets a meal of their own from eating the food stuck between their teeth! They don’t pay each other, it just works!”

“Please don’t ever compare my relationship with Oikawa to a bird and a crocodile…” You blinked at his awful analogy, looking up and catching a glimpse of a wandering Oikawa outside.

Your stomach bunched into a thousand knots at the sight of him, “Tooru! In here!” You sprinted up from the bench where you sat and rammed into his disoriented figure. He returned the hug so that his arms were completely wrapped around you, “I’ve been coming here to pick you up for six months but everytime, this school seems to get bigger and I just keep getting lost.”

“You just have a bad sense of direction,” you pulled away and dragged him into the gym, “I’m just gonna say bye to my boys, wait a sec will you?”

You didn’t give him a second to acknowledge your rhetorical question before you jogged in Ushiwaka and Tendou’s direction. He found it remarkably bizarre that you were friends with those two. He’d never imagine that you’d associate with someone as weird as Tendou and Ushiwaka wasn’t a very sociable person to begin with but somehow you’d managed to become very close with the two of them. He’d assumed it was just your irresistible charm and innate kindness that allowed you to befriend them.

“Bye bye Waka-kun!” That was the first signal that had him beginning to worry. You’d called Ushijima by his first name, you couldn’t be that close…Not even Tendou, Ushijima’s closest friend called him by that name.

The second was Ushijima smiling at you. Hold up, rewind, back up. Ushijima never smiled at anyone except when he got really excited. Oikawa was tapping his foot in worry and impatience, no one but he was allowed to be that excited around you.

The third cause for alarm was Ushijima pulling you into a bear hug that practically enveloped your entire body into his broad chest for a good three seconds.

Oikawa would’ve maybe tolerated it if Tendou had done that but Ushijima? No. He’d already had an uncomfortable connection with him with all his pestering for him to go to Shiratorizawa.

Oikawa stomped forward, pointing an accusing finger at the tall and formidable Ushiwaka, “What do you think you’re doing, Ushiwaka?”

Tendou and you stood there, ears perked and interested to see what was about to happen.

“I’m saying bye to (y/n).” He answered simply.

“You and your bland answers. They work to your advantage in situations like this huh? I didn’t know you were interested in flirting with girls. But hey, you do what you want but leave my (y/n) out of it. She’s my girlfriend and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t swallow her whole with those giant hugs of yours.” The air between the four of you was silent after Oikawa’s bitter rant.

That was until Tendou snickered to you, “He’s just jealous of Ushijima’s broad shoulders.”

The redhead’s comment in combination with the awkward silence following Oikawa’s absurd condemnation had you doubling over in laughter. To make it even more comedic, Ushijima didn’t even speak against it, he didn’t even look like he understood, he was always blind to the subject of affection.

“You really are not a genius, Oikawa Toru.” You wiped a fake tear from the bottom lid of your eyes, fighting back another fit of laughter. The shorter brunette arched a brow, “Ushiwaka is my brother, you doofus.”

His angry teeth grit fell and his face instantly felt like it was about to blow up in embarrassment. He’d just falsely called out Ushijima, your respectable older brother and exposed himself as a jealous boyfriend.

“I-Sorry- Wait, your last names? This doesn’t add up? You’re not a Ushijima.” Oikawa sputtered.

“I took my Dad’s last name.” You crossed your arms, letting go of the final urge to laugh. Ushijima still looked confused, “let’s go, Tendou I leave it to you to clear this up to my brother. We’ve got stuff to do.”

Tendou dramatically saluted in your direction before you turned around and gave a final wave.

“Wow, I can't believe I just found out that he was your brother....”

“You would’ve known earlier if you came to Shiratorizawa...”

Oikawa shuddered, “Uggh not you too.”

“I couldn’t resist.” You chuckled cutely and he couldn’t suppress the growing blush on his cheeks and the warmth in his chest from looking at you. He really wished he knew you earlier. Maybe then he would’ve taken up Ushijima’s offer and gone to Shiratorizawa.

#haikyuu!! x reader #my writing #oikawa x reader #oikawa toru x reader #haikyuu #reader insert #haikyuu imagines #my writes #haikyu!!#haikyuu!!#ushijima wakatoshi #oikawa x ushijima!reader

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in-superbloom · 3 years

Text

8 songs, 8 rules (or something)

RULES: 8 song prompts & tag 8 people

hai hai so @bandsanitizer tagged me to do this lil fun game so here we are <3 alison i can't explain how much i love opportunities to talk about my music so pls just feel the soul crushing hug i'm sending you right now 💜

also i'm completely incapable of choosing only one thing for anything ever – let alone music, so enjoy this catalogue of all over the place songs with a lot of unsolicited commentary <3 also all links are from spotify because i don't support iphone supremacy <3

anna from the future came to say: this got way too long, so i'll put it under the cut & i'm sorry in advance if you're reading this and pls know you don't have to read it at all, i won't blame you 👁👄👁

1. favorite song at the moment.

oh man. gotta say starting line by our resident sad boi hemmo ofc. it hasn't left my head since i first listened to it & i'm honestly still digesting it 🥺 but also ! can't not mention my main men <3 wrecked by imagine dragons also just came out and already managed to give me way too many breakdowns which is completely uncalled for but i can't complain 💜

2. a song you associate with your favorite ship.

which one 👁👄👁 i have so many favorite ships that i just stopped keeping track of them lmao but like, i don't really know? i used to associate songs with ships a LOT when i was younger but it's been a while since i did it. so let me check.

oh boy okay, alison mentioned glee which reminded me of klaine and the amount of love i have for these stupid lil gay men. the song that immediately stands out for me is teenage dream (acoustic) which yes it's the katy perry song but like. big big sad. i literally can't listen to it without wanting to cry. if you know the context, you know. and if you do, i'm sorry </3 this is not my absolute favorite ship ever but it's the one i relate with music the most, so let's leave it there or else this will get way too long lmao but also ! all you need is love 💖

3. a song that could be about you.

ehhh i have a whole playlist of these. like. over 100 songs. so let me pick 😌 okay there's too many so let me list them or else i'll end up talking too much about each one:

hear me - imagine dragons (13-years-old me cried over this on a weekly basis no joke) // clean - taylor swift (no link bc we're waiting for the taylor's version) // my kind - alessia cara // body - julia michaels // matter of time (interlude) - ashton irwin // memórias - pitty bc this woman singlehandedly built half of my personality so i gotta mention her <3

4. a song that you think is underrated.

look i might make a whole playlist for this someday, but for now i'll list artists that i think are underrated with my current favorite song from them:

honest - mali-koa // bardot - raffaella // i like myself (most of the time) - k.flay // get high - herizen // breaking my bones - friday pilots club

and honestly? my man ashton irwin does not get enough credit for the masterpiece that is superbloom and i'll never shut up about it <3 i know 5sos is not really underrated but i think we all know how things would play out if/when all the boys release a solo album, and we're getting a taste of that now, so yeah. gotta praise my main man <3

5. a song that reminds you of a good memory.

very unsurprisingly there isn't many for this category bc unfortunately my brain mainly associates songs with bad moments in my life 🥴 however, i will say more than words by extreme bc it reminds me of my babe/soulmate/love of my life @bluesdelis and of the best month of my life hands down. not much context for this one bc it's too damn special and personal but it's our song™ so yeah <3 (but i also almost put the glee version <3 love you tho 😌🖤)

6. the last song you listened to.

brutal - olivia rodrigo, shocking i know 😌 it was playing from my disco cowgirl playlist while i showered <3

7. a song that makes you laugh.

at this point almost anything from glee, especially if it's from season 4-5 lmao (why glee won't leave my head, alison this is your fault) but i already talked about them so let's go with don't phunk with my heart by the black eyed peas bc this song is absolutely ridiculous & i love it 💖

8. A song you want your mutuals to listen to.

all of the songs mentioned above <3 😌 but let me leave one from my new favorite band (thank you kaykay): hush - the marías ❤ so in love with this album 🥺

tagging: @bluesdelis @suchalonelysunflower @wastelandcth @ijustdontlikepeople @mulletcal @littledrummerangie @aintmyjewelry @talkfastromance4 💜 (i have no idea at all of who already did this so i'm sorry if you have !! but if you haven't, no pressure at all !! <3 and if you see this & wanna do it then i'm tagging you 😌 pls do it & tag me bc i love to take a peak at people's personality through their music <3)

also if you've read all of this? i love the shit out of you 💜 and i'm sending you the warmest hug and a tender forehead kiss 😚💓 here have a candy too 🍬

#oooof okay #this took some work but i freaking loved it #people should not give me the power to talk freely about music bc i won't ever stop 😌#thank you so so so much alison 💜#this feels like i'm showing my whole soul online so like !!!#but i really love talking about this so <3 #anyways #tag games #anna talks music #about anna #my lil 🐢🖤#music #think that's all #can you tell i have a libra mercury ! i could've never guess that 🥴#i'm sorry i know i talk too much but no this is not gonna change <3 #tagged #music games #alison <3

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chemiste · 4 years

Text

Sweet Secrets

This is for my first writing night, using the flower prompt list I made.

“Ice plant/sun cup for writing night w Harry“

-to the anon that requested this, I hope this is what you were looking for!

“Hello Ladies and Gents! Tonight we have with us a very special guest, Mister Harry Styles!”

Emerging from the curtains, the superstar himself strutted out. He looked very fresh in a blue velvet 3 piece suit, his rings accenting the look perfectly.

After a quick handshake, the two men sat in their respective areas. James smiled eagerly, ready to get the show on the road.

“How are you doing old man? Kids alright?” Harry said, a slight chuckle in his voice.

James rolled his eyes, “They’re doing fine, you sod. Everything coming along for the third album? I’ve heard whispers that it’s gonna be the best one yet.”

The rockstar grinned, pulling on his lip to give him a moment while he collected his thoughts.

“Ah, well, here’s to hoping everyone thinks that.”

“You cheeky boy! So ‘humble’ am I right?” James asked the audience, doing quotes around the word ‘humble’.

“Alright, enough with the pleasantries, I’ve spoken to your team and they’ve agreed to a last minute game I like to call, Sweet Secrets!”

As the audience cheered, the curtain on the floor of the stage rose, showing a table filled with tiny deserts, ranging from brownies that bore the Late Late symbol, to pink and blue petit fours that had Harry’s Album covers painted on the tops.

The look on Harry’s face was pure terror and a bit of excitement. The singer made a quick glance to Jeff, his manager on the side of the stage who looked absolutely thrilled.

Okay, this may or may not be revenge for when H changed all of Jeff’s underwear to lingerie on the trip they took to Italy 2 weeks ago, but who was keeping score?

After a quick commercial, the lads were each sitting at the table, a small plate in front of them with a fork and knife set to the side.

“And we’re back! Harold and I are about to play a brand new game called Sweet Secrets!”

H made a big deal of laying his napkin in his lap, earning a few snickers from the crowd.

James continued, “The game is simple, you choose one of these delicious things in front of us and cut into it! Theres a small plastic ball inside that hold a slip of paper with a question! You can either answer the question, or eat the whole desert infant of you. Got it?”

The audience clapped and Harry nodded, slightly worried but also amused, this should be too bad. Right?

“Okay, Harry you can start.”

“Okay, hmm,” he glanced down at the options in front of him, deciding which treat would be the easiest to consume if he abstained the question inside. “How about this one?”

He plucked a strawberry cake pop from it’s holder, the HS embroidered into the fondant simmered under the studio lights and he moved it to his plate.

He cut into the pop and pull the little bobble out, taking the piece of paper out to read.

“Okay the question is, how many times have you skinny dipped?”

He laughed as a few girls screamed upon hearing the concept of him being naked, James as well in a fit of giggles.

“I guess, let see,” Harry counted the few moments on his fingers, going onto his second hand before stopping at a finger.

“Eight-ish? I used to go with a couple mates when we were ‘round 15 so I don’t know if I’ve done it in a while for the fear of my dick being plastered on the daily mail is terrifying enough.”

James went, going for a brownie, his question being, “Does your partner snore and if so, has it ever been so bad you’ve woken up?”

Needless to say, Corden ate the damn brownie.

The next question Harry had was a bit more, scandalous, it being, “Has someone ever bed so bad in bed you couldn’t get it up?” Thankfully the treat he had chosen was a small thing of jello, not too terrible.

“Okay, I’ve chosen the carrot cake, and my question is “which celebrity have you met that you wish to never see again?”

The audience roared at the question, egging James on to reveal his answer.

“I’m gonna go with Kevin Spacey, not that nice when I first met him and then all that stuff came out so…”

Harry and him going into their own childish tactics, pointing at each other while exclaiming “eh?” Before they broke into song, “let’s call the whole thing off!”

The two went through the game a few more times, Harry eating a rice cake, a slice of cake and 2 more cake pops. James ate the same amount, so easy to say the boys had had their fill of sugar.

James glanced over to the producer before turning back to the camera, “it seems we’re running out of time so Harry please chose your last desert. Fingers crossed it’s good enough to get my show on the 5 o’clock news!”

H smiled before taking a breath and picking up a petit four, the one with his first album cover on the top.

Harry scanned through the question, instantly dropping his hands and and tilting his head to look at the ceiling.

James snatched the paper out of his hands as the rockstar stood up out of his chair, groaning. The burly brit he used to call his friend laughed as he read the slip that cause Harry’s reaction.

“Ha ha ha! Oh boy H, you’ve really brought this on yourself! He pulled the only golden slip in the whole bunch, you know what this means!”

From off stage, a few techies rolled on another plate. This time the petit four seated before them was a real cake, an a big one at that.

Corden got up as well and stepped over to the bigger cake, “The question, for those of you wondering, is, what’s your biggest secret?!”

The audience’s reaction was instantaneous, claps and screams echoed through the studio.

Harry sat back down, in his chair slightly defeated. He made a move to grab his fork and knife, heading over to the big cake. Boos rang through the room, especially chants of “answer! answer! answer!” Soon enough the whole studio was saying it.

James raised his hands to slice the crowd, turning to his mate standing beside him.

“What’s it gonna be H? Easily let us in on your biggest secret, or…” the host gestured to the giant cake before them.

Harry held his face in his hands before holding up the fork and knife

…and placing it down on the table.

The audience cheered as he stood, front and center, ready to spill his biggest secret.

James started bouncing in side spot, equally as excited as the audience before them.

“My biggest secret is…”

“I’m engaged.”

Harry could’ve sworn a few light bulbs popped from the sound in the studio. The sound could probably be heard outside the building, maybe even a few blocks further.

James grabbed onto Harrys jacket and pulled the boy into a hug, the surprise on his face overwhelmed by the joy of hearing the news one of his closest friends was getting married.

The audience calmed slightly as James quickly lead Harry to the couch, hopefully to get the bride to be’s name.

“Harry! I can’t believe this! Congratulations!”

“Thank you, I’m very happy as well.”

The host shook his hands before planting them down on his lap as he had said on the couch with H.

“Who’s the girl? I didn’t even know you dating someone!”

The boy’s cheeks warmed a sweet pink, he rubbed the back of his neck, accidentally bringing forth a small chain that had a ring hanging on it.

Harry’s engagement ring.

“Well, we didn’t want the media breathing down our necks so we might’ve devised a plan to keep everyone on a different trail.”

“Do I know her? Have I met her?”

The singer chuckled, “Oh yeah, probably talked to her a bunch as well.”

James brow furrowed as he tried to go through anyone he’d talked to that could be associated with Harry in the past year or so.

Then it seemed like a lightbulb went off.

He looked up at Harry with a shocked expression, “No, wait, is it,” the host took a pause, waiting for Harry confirmation that it was okay to say the name.

With a glint in his eye he turned to a crewman off stage. “Can we please have Harry’s PA come to the couch?”

The audience chatted loudly amongst themselves, looking towards every person with a head set, wondering if they’d be the one to step up onto the stage.

Not detected yet, a girl with h/c hair cautiously approached James from his back. She wore black jeans, a slightly to large rolling stones t-shirt, a headset, and converse that had been colored in the rainbow along the edge.

She poked James in the shoulder, giving him a small wave when he turned around.

“Y/N! Congrats! I can’t believe you kept it under wraps so well.”

Y/N crossed over to Harry, sitting down next to him, a little finicky under the gaze of so many eyes.

Harry spoke up, “We thought this would be the best way to be able to stay close but not have to be nervous for anyone with a camera seeing us together, we kept the PDA to a zero in public but it was great to have that sense of safety the cover provided.

“No longer though, eh?” James grinned. Harry turned his head and smile softly at his fiancé, “Nope, no more hiding.”

That earn a round of applause from the audience, seemly in awe of the sweet couple before them.

James laughed, “You realize though that now every celebrity and PA are gonna be looked at as secret lovers from now right?”

“Oh, oops!”

#j'swritingnight #harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry styles x y/n #harry styles one shot #one shot #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles blurb #harry styles late late show #james corden

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uwua3 · 4 years

Note

that taichi headcannon for jealousy broke my heart :( could you do one where he finds another person? one that makes him laugh, ruffles his hair, games with him etc~ a happier one!

oh no!!! i’m so sorry here u go *offers u a new, super cool heart that is angst–proof* ♡ yes, i definitely want taichi to find ~ love ~ like he deserves because he’s such a puppy 🥺 i adore him endlessly so him having a happy alternative is Required Immediately!

summary: love came in many forms—including platonic best friends

warnings: heartbreak, unrequited love

author’s note: i actually went a bit more different route with this! i know this prompt typically means a romantic love, but i didn’t really feel like it would fit. this is a best friend! reader x taichi, and i am so happy with the message in this! go best friends!!!

love is love and you shouldn’t have to rush into a relationship to find it. your friends love you, and although it’s not the same, it’s more than enough ♡ love isn’t just what you do for others, so don’t try so hard to be loved. people will love you for you, not whatever romantic movie–based idea you have of them. i hope you know you are loved. i love you ♡

word count: 2,106

music: ily (i love you baby) – surf mesa ft. emilee

a skater gets back up.

🍁🛹 nanao taichi

taichi missed being in love

he missed writing all those heart–shaped love letters made of pink construction paper and his exaggerated, overwhelming feelings with red pen. he’d write their name in pretty cursive that took so many tries, he dotted the i’s with hearts, he color–coded it so well that it was just an explosion of valentine’s day

he missed dedicating his favorite songs to them, hearing it randomly in his shuffled mix and immediately thinking of them. he missed explaining what the songs meant, feeling all types of love when he repeated them over and over again

he missed creating playlists with them in his mind, forming it so it flowed perfectly and it was like he handcrafted the album himself. he missed sending the link and listening to it on repeat like a lovesick fool

he missed sending good morning/night texts, putting all his time aside just to fall head over heels again like he was on his skateboard. taichi knew he was a good boyfriend, that he loved with all of his heart and his feelings were real. but, he missed all of it, he missed love so much. taichi needed love

(it was so fucked up, but taichi sometimes listened to all the music he dedicated to them at night and stared up at his dark bedroom ceiling, crying just wishing he didn’t break it off. that he kept the toxic relationship going for just a bit more, just for the attention. he missed them)

so, taichi knew what he had to do. he actively started looking for love, not caring if he was going to get hurt again or if his heart was weak and broken from his last situation

(taichi’s reliance on love was so unhealthy, that even his friends got tired of his whining and eventually stopped communicating back when he went on a rant again)

(taichi didn’t mind, his dependency and need to be someone’s and be their one & only was too strong for him to even consider any other rational solution)

but you, you came out of no where

taichi was busy scrolling through his instagram following list, trying to find out if anyone cute was single. he could slide into their DMs with a fun message, be as enthusiastic as possible to avoid being left on seen. he was considering if he should start a digital conversation as he rode home from school

(he wasn’t the best multitasker. taichi was skating to the dorms, texting on his phone without looking up. he was casually skating before bam! he hit a curb, tumbling to the pavement as his phone flew a few feet away)

taichi groaned, knowing he was going to get scolded and laughed at by autumn troupe the moment he showed up to the dorms like he lost in a fight. as he moved to lay on his back, taichi rubbed his eyes as the sunlight was suddenly blocked from his vision

taichi opened his eyes and looked up, you were looking over him with wide, concerned eyes as you were saying something about first aid and asking if he was okay. taichi just blinked, not hearing you over the ringing in his ears as he stared at your face

you were cute! this could work, taichi just had to say some clever pick–up line you’d like. you would maybe find it so witty that you’d give him your number, you two would walk, form a momentary bond where he’d fall in love, and then you’d leave. taichi couldn’t believe fate finally recognized he needed a partner so it made him fall for them instead (literally)

taichi was about to open his mouth before you took his hand and pulled him up, helping him stand and he stared at your face, trying to process the situation. why were you helping? were you interested? did you want to go on a date? taichi blushed, never having someone ever be this direct to him

in reality, taichi’s sense of perception and reading between the lines was so warped. taichi romanticized his entire life, the way you touched his arm and made sure a completely random stranger was okay. this had to be the universe’s calling! but really, he just fell in love with everyone he met and pretended like his soulmate was out there

(maybe, this was all just an elaborate game to prove to himself that someone could love him. maybe, taichi just wanted to be worthy of someone’s love)

last time, he purposely fell off his skateboard to get a person’s attention. but this time, you were the one who came over to help. maybe, this could be different

“hey, hey! are you okay?!”

when the ringing subsided and he could pick up on your voice, taichi kicked his board up and swung it in his open backpack, putting his free hand out as he grinned like he didn’t just embarrass himself in front of you

“nanao taichi, great to meet you!” he exclaimed, smiling like his elbows weren’t scraped or his uniform was in desperate need of an ironing. he had a dull headache and he needed an ice pack for that bruise on his hip, but he looked so happy

you carefully took his hand, shaking it as you warily wondered how could someone be this happy after crashing like that (it was honestly a wreck, he looked like he could’ve died from the way he landed)

you said your name and the rest was history as he picked up his phone, wincing at the cracked screen, as he asked for your number

from there on, it was the start of a healthy friendship. at first, taichi tried to force this image he had onto you, convinced the timeline was basically telling him he had to do everything in his power to fall in love. but you shut him down quickly, emphasizing you guys were only friends and you weren’t about to risk this great friendship for some fling taichi wanted

honestly, it was for the best. taichi respected your boundaries and backed down (especially after you were adamant on not entering a fake relationship for the attention). when taichi took off his rose–tinted glasses and realized not every relationship he had meant pursuing some fantasy of love only he could imagine, your friendship with him became even better

taichi wrote you letters when he genuinely meant them, not because he felt like he was obligated to. sometimes, when he was so appreciative of how much you were there for him, he wrote pages of what you meant to him. they weren’t heart–shaped, but it had even more meaning because you actually read them and ruffled his hair, saying he was the bestest friend ever

you loved it! even though, he didn’t try as hard as he always did. he wrote your name normally, but you still smiled when you read it. he didn’t dot his i’s with hearts, but you still joked about how messy his handwriting was, and it didn’t bother him! it wasn’t perfect nor a representation of his lovey–dovey heart, but you loved it more than anyone else he ever did it for in his past

(his heart swelled with pride, not because he did something romantic, but because it made you happy. taichi was happy you felt loved, and were loved. was that the true purpose of letters? taichi didn’t think he could’ve wrote letters that were just plain without all the love clichés in the world, but you enjoyed them just the same without the flowery language)

taichi even sent you songs he knew you would love. you always listened to them, even sent back feedback about what you liked. but, taichi didn’t think it was romantic in any way. you appreciated that he took his time to send you something he associated with you. you always sent one back, but it wasn’t random, he always had on repeat whatever you chose because it fit him so well

he even remembered the first time he created a playlist for you on your birthday, selecting the same amount of songs as your age with thoughtful consideration. but this time, he didn’t go overboard and nitpicked at every single beat and rhythm. he just picked songs that made him think of you in a random order, and you still loved it. you even sent a video of you listening to it and shooting a thumbs up to the camera

(taichi’s heart doubled in size. you knew him so well! you knew what he liked and always paid attention to his likes & dislikes just like he did with you! you put in just as much effort with him, you really tried in this friendship and it wasn’t for the gifts he’d shower his future significant other with)

taichi always said good morning/night to you, but you didn’t yell at him when he forgot sometimes. you always said it back and even texted him first on occassion

(his heart was truly overwhelmed with all the subtle love you showed him. for once in his life, taichi felt like this was love. but he didn’t have to follow every romance movie’s rules or imitate every protagonist ever to get that love, all he did was be his true, authentic self)

taichi stopped himself from forcing love onto everyone he met. on nights when he felt like texting his ex again, or rekindling old relationships that didn’t work out for a reason, you stayed up with him, reminding him how much pain he went through and he couldn’t just put himself through hell again

taichi had to accept not everyone was his soulmate–to–be, that maybe this wasn’t his time to be in love. it took so much time to know that he’d rather be in love for a very long time than in short bursts

(not because it was more romantic, but he deserved a long–term, stable relationship that wasn’t just him begging for validation)

you taught him he was more than the people who played him in the past. he couldn’t sink to their level and start messing around just for the satisfaction, he would fall in love with someone right and it would be all worth it

(you two even once got into an argument. when taichi was going on and on about wanting a partner, you cut him off angrily, frustrated he wasn’t listening to your pleas for him to stop. you were so confused why he kept doing this to himself on purpose and if he was going to turn into some player. he kept ignoring you, whining about some partner before you gave up, telling him you couldn’t handle it today)

(that’s what it took for him to snap back to reality, taichi apologized immediately and tried his best to avoid ranting so much. at the end, you were always right and wanted the best for him. taichi had to accept that)

you provided taichi with real love that wasn’t because because he did all these romantic things, it was because you liked him for him. he stopped trying to see you as a potential lover and loved you as a friend, and that was more than enough

taichi had skateboarded to your house, rapidly knocking on your door as you came outside to see him with a boquet of flowers and your favorite candy. your heart dropped, oh no, was he about to confess when you made it clear—

“i love you.” taichi said, passing you the gifts as you stood shocked. you couldn’t believe it, you told him numerous times you two would never be in a relationship like this... you were about to object, reprimand him before he burst out laughing, holding his stomach as he hopped off his board

“oh my god! your face!!!” taichi hollered, trying to contain himself as you smacked his head with your boquet. you were genuinely so freaked out but breathed a sigh of relief once you saw he looked at you the same as before. taichi wasn’t in love with you, but—

“i just came to say i love you, as my best friend. i love you, and you taught me real love. i love you.”

your best friend, taichi, smiled just like that day he fell off his skateboard and scraped up his entire body. you hoped he never changed and stayed the same romantic nutcase as before, but for the right person

as you hugged him, taichi realized he didn’t need a relationship. he needed love, and his best friend was more than enough

#nanao taichi #taichi nanao #a3! act! addict! actors!#a3!#act! addict! actors!#a3! actor training game #a3! headcanons #act! addict! actors! headcanons #mankai a3!#mankai company #a3! x reader #a3 x reader #taichi x reader #a3! taichi #a3 taichi

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forasecondtherewedwon · 4 years

Note

Sorry to bother you but are you still doing that song shuffle game? Then I have a number - 2 Thanks for your time <3

Not a bother in the slightest! I think I’ll always be open to shuffle prompts because it’s just a good creative exercise. Thank you!! This one got more than twice as long a little longer than the previous ones I’ve done for this game.

“Can I Sleep in Your Arms?” - Willie Nelson Left me lonely and cold and so weak/And I need someone’s arms to hold me/’Til I’m strong enough to get back on my feet

no hold to hold on you

“Peter,” May says gently, pushing his hair back from his face with a warm, comforting hand, “what can I do?”

He shakes his head.

“It’s ok.”

“I know this is hard,” his aunt presses. “Tony meant a lot to you.” Peter sniffs and wipes his nose with the back of his hand.

“Don’t get me started again,” he says with a wet laugh.

“Alright. I can put something stupid on TV and pretend not to see you crying at the other end of the couch,” she offers. “How would that be? You wanna get your PJs on?”

He’s touched by the way she’s babying him. Sometimes, it gets on his nerves, but under the circumstances, the overabundance of tenderness brings him back to the early days after Ben’s death and how careful he and May were with each other. Although they don’t share this loss in the same way they shared that one, it doesn’t negate her instinct to shelter him from the world.

“Nah,” Peter says with a deep sigh. “I don’t think I have the energy to get changed again.”

When they got home from the funeral, he took off his suit as quickly as possible, threw on a t-shirt and sweats. Everything soft and formless―the very opposite of the feel of the other kind of suit in his closet. The ones Mr. Stark made him. The one in particular that he was wearing when his friend and mentor died right in front of him. He squeezes his eyes shut for a minute and May rubs his back firmly, reminding him of her presence. No new tears escape. His eyes feel hot, his cheeks dry from all the tears he’s swiped away today.

“You wanna go spend some time with Ned? Maybe sleep over? I swear I won’t take it personally that you don’t feel like hanging out,” his aunt says with a sympathetic half-smile.

“Ned? Yeah, maybe.”

Peter hasn’t even thought of Ned today, which is weird. Under completely different circumstances, Ned would’ve loved being by his side, meeting all those Avengers. Peter could’ve downplayed it as no big deal and watched his best friend’s eyes light up, and Mr. Stark would’ve acted all― His shoulders droop. So maybe it’s good he doesn’t have any memories of Ned and Tony side by side. Ned’s a separate part of his life that Peter can retreat into right now.

“Yeah? You let me know if you don’t stay overnight, or if you want me to come get you, or―”

“May,” he reminds her quietly, “I can get home by myself.”

“I know that. I know. I know you can.” Her mouth turns down and her nostrils twitch, but she’s as good at holding back tears as he is. Probably better. She runs a hand across his shoulders, then lets him stand.

Peter collects his phone and keys, slips his shoes on, flips his hood up. May’s waiting at the door of their apartment.

“Don’t do anything tonight,” she says. He frowns. She looks down, almost guiltily. “I know you feel compelled to help people, but if you could just… just get from point A to point B without getting mixed up in anything…”

“Ok,” he promises, because she doesn’t need that worry right now. He can make sure he doesn’t end up under a truck or in front of a knife or inside a bank that’s being robbed for one night.

“Thank you.”

“Love you, May,” Peter says, hugging her almost as hard as she hugs him.

“Alright. Say hi to Ned for him.”

He turns so she doesn’t have to hold that smile on her face too long for his benefit.

Outside, the world is dark and empty, so he should stick to well-worn paths. But he doesn’t end up at Ned’s. He ends up at MJ’s. She had a few members of the decathlon team over for an extra prep session before a competition one evening, then another time, Ned and Peter did a movie night with her. It was mostly Ned’s doing. He said they should get to know their new captain better and Peter felt nervous and awkward about it, but it turned out fine.

The ease with which he can pull her address up in his mind doesn’t explain his unconscious decision to arrive at her building. Since Peter’s here, he sends her a text. She lets him in.

“Quiet,” he says when he’s come up and she’s locking them inside her apartment.

“My parents are in Philly, visiting my aunt.”

Unlike normal, MJ doesn’t bombard him with questions or stare him down with suspicious eyes. Thank god. He’s tired. Immortally tired. Something old and soft plays from the other room. He could hear the song’s lyrics if he focused, but he tunes into the beat of MJ’s heart instead. Somehow, it’s even more soothing.

“Come and sit down,” she says.

Peter follows her to the couch, far less familiar than the one he sat on with May. Still, he associates the darkness of the room and the comfort of his seat with being taken care of. He wrings his hands.

“Sorry for just showing up,” he tells the carpet between his socked feet.

“It’s ok.”

“We buried Tony today.”

“Oh.”

He doesn’t know he’s crying until MJ’s arms wrap around his shoulders in a tentative hug. Shameless, Peter twists and presses his face against her neck, weeping into her skin. She hugs him tighter, bringing one leg up onto the couch to make it easier to hold him close. His hands scrabble at the back of her long-sleeved shirt. Over ugly moans, he catches the sound of her sweetly shushing him as her fingers rake through the back of his hair and pet his neck.

“It’s ok, it’s gonna be ok. It’ll be ok, Peter. Today’s the hardest day. It’s alright. Get it out. Or you don’t have to think about it if you don’t want to. But if you do, that’s good. No, don’t be embarrassed. It’s ok, you’re alright. I’ve got you. I know. It’s ok that it’s hard. Are you thinking about your uncle? Of course I know about that. Shhh. It’s ok. It just means you cared about Stark. I bet you were really important to him too. Everything’s gonna be alright. It’s over now. All the bad stuff is behind you, Peter. You’re ok. I’m here.”

Her words go on and on. Peter doesn’t know for how long, except that it’s almost as long as he cries. MJ holds him together so he can’t break apart while he feels all of this. Hiccupping with stress and sadness and embarrassment, he tries to apologize, but she just shushes him some more. When the tears finally slow, he looks at her. Quickly, she’s up from the couch, getting him a drink and dragging a blanket over his shoulders on her way back.

“You’ll give yourself a headache,” she says, shrugging off the plain kindness of a glass of water. “Crying always gives me a headache.”

“What do you cry about?”

What a dumb way to make conversation, Peter thinks. Morbid and too personal. Sipping his water, he’s confused to see his question make MJ blush and dart her eyes away from his.

“Dumb stuff.”

“I don’t think anything you could think about would be dumb.”

“Thanks, Peter,” she says, looking surprised. “It’s just, you know, crying over things I don’t have.”

“I hope you get those things.”

She gives him a funny look, but it’s gone by the time he takes a tissue from the box she’s placed at his feet and blows his nose.

“I think about him everywhere,” Peter groans in frustration. See how sheer annoyance works at keeping the misery down. MJ hums like she’s agreeing with him, then stops abruptly. “I’m sorry,” he says again. “I can’t believe I just came over and―”

“It’s seriously ok. I mean it. Let’s not do that asinine adult thing where social etiquette demands that we go back and forth without actually asserting our needs,” she rants, pulling her knee up to her chest and gripping it with both hands. “Be here, be sad, and stop worrying about it.”

It’s amazing to him how much softer MJ is one-on-one. Still assertive to the point of occasional curtness, but unexpectedly attentive. He hopes she doesn’t cry often. He hopes consoling others is something she’s naturally good at, not because she’s had a lot of practice. Nobody deserves a life full of grief.

Peter splashes water in his face in the bathroom and means to tell her he’s gonna go. He’s worn himself out with crying. Instead, he sits back down on the couch. She was looking up at him. He doesn’t want to go yet. May thinks he’ll be at Ned’s all night. Like she knows his aunt’s plan from earlier, MJ puts the TV on in the background. What she doesn’t do is flee to the opposite end of the couch. She stays near him, looking straight ahead to give him privacy because she is apparently a deeply decent person.

He follows up the mystery of how he ended up here rather than at Ned’s with the mystery of how he and MJ are sitting apart one minute and have their arms touching the next. They go from that to her hand slipping into his. (Her heart speeds up―wait, does she care about him as more than a friend?)

From that to his head dropping sideways onto her shoulder.

To MJ’s cheek against the top of his head.

To sleep.

music shuffle fic game!

#my writing #spideychelle #spideychelle fic #spideychelle fanfiction #peter parker #peter x mj #peter x michelle #peter parker x michelle jones #michelle jones

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therainroguefanfiction · 4 years

Text

✰ My Best Friend (Katsuki Bakugo)

Genre: Friendship, Fluff

Word Count: 1,567

Pairing: Reader, Bakugo

World: Boku no Hero Academia

Prompt: “Good, let’s keep things that way.”

Author’s Note: This was written for Xin’s 1k Raffle! If you’re not following them, please do so because they are wonderful! @sugacookiies – congrats on 1k, darling! I’ve been having soft Baku feels lately, so I wanted to write something for him, I hope you guys enjoy!

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Bakugo Katsuki is your best friend, an unlikely companion for someone lacking fighting ability. Yet, on the first day of class, you were naturally attracted to one another like magnets. No one could understand it, but you were the one person he never raised his voice to, though he did try to motivate you to get stronger by training with him. Usually, it just ended up with you playing a game on your phone while you watched him workout. He would never admit it out loud, but he genuinely enjoyed your company. You, on the other hand, had no qualms about letting people know that you cared about him and enjoyed spending time with him.

Most people viewed him as a jerk incapable of feeling anything but anger and he had earned himself quite the reputation at U.A. high and he had experienced first hand the things people said about you simply because you hung out with him. Your own reputation was being ruined simply by associating with him. This irked him.

And so, like always, Bakugo made the decision to end the friendship without consulting you. How did he do this exactly? By avoiding you as if you had caught the plague. Now, you knew the ash-blonde like the back of your hand. While you didn’t really pay attention to the other students in the school, you would be lying if you said you didn’t hear the things they said about you and him, but it never bothered you in the least. You were happy having him as your friend, so why would you care what random students have to say?

You wouldn’t allow Bakugo to pull himself away and isolate himself. What kind of friend would you be if you did that? When he stopped waiting for you every morning so you could walk together, you decided to wait for him instead. Because he lived farther than you did, you had to start getting up earlier to get there before he left, but that was fine with you.

You stifled a yawn as you waited outside his house, back against the fence that surrounded the property. The sun had yet to rise, the sky a deep, velvety black as the stars started to fade. Frogs could be heard croaking in the distance, their songs mingling with crickets trying to attract mates. It was humid out despite the lack of sun, the air thick and heavy as it settled over you.

You were tired, getting a couple hours less sleep than usual, but that was natural. After a week or so, you’d be used to it and it wouldn’t be much of a problem. While you waited for the ash-blonde to appear, you entertained yourself with this otome dating game that Mina had told you was god tier. You were quite curious to see if she was right and, upon opening the app for the first time and seeing the anime-esque opening it provided, you were hooked! Time passed in the blink of an eye.

When Bakugo finally left his house, carrying his bag against his shoulder, he never expected to step through the threshold of the gate to find another human being kneeling down against the wall. He stepped back in surprise, vermillion eyes widening. He most certainly hadn’t expected to find you there. “Y/N? The fuck are you doing?”

“Oh, hey Katsuki.” You smiled up at him, tucking your phone into your bag before standing up and nearly falling over because your legs had fallen asleep, the pins and needles making your face scrunch up.

He helped steady you with a scowl. “How long have you been sitting there, idiot?”

“Umm,” you tapped your chin in thought, turning your gaze to the sun that was slightly rising across the horizon. “I woke up at four, I think.”

His eye twitched in annoyance, but his heart fluttered with warmth. “You’ve been sitting out here for two hours? The fuck is wrong with you?”

You huffed, stomping your foot to try and rid yourself of the uncomfortable sensation in your legs. “I was going to ask you the same thing.”

“Hah?”

“Did you really think I was going to let you end this friendship?” You offered him a bright smile, reaching up to rub at his spikey locks.

“I-I don’t want to be your friend, idiot.” He swatted your hand away, his cheeks dusting with just the slightest touch of red. He wanted to yell at you, to call you a dumbass and order you to stay away from him, but he just couldn’t. How many hours had he spent trying to send you a horribly cruel text message to try and get you to hate him only to be unable to hit send?

You tilted your head, face blank as you met his eyes – a challenge, he knew. You could read him like a book, no matter how hard he tried to hide what he was feeling. It was all there for you, on display within his eyes, but that was part of your quirk. “I know you’re lying, Katsuki. Is it really so hard to accept that you deserve to have friends? To be loved for who you are? Is it really so hard to believe that you can be loved? Accepted?”

“W-What the fuck are you -?” Bakugo swallowed hard, turning his back to you so he could break the staring contest. He had never seen you as serious as you were in that moment and that, along with the words you spoke, unnerved him. He didn’t like it. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

You smiled softly as you approached him, hugging him from behind. His back tensed against you and you hummed, gripping him tighter. “It’s okay, you don’t have to admit it. I know your feelings, Katsuki. I won’t let you be alone because I love you and care about you. Even if you try to push me away, I won’t let you unless I know you genuinely don’t like me. I don’t care what people think or say about me, I’m just happy getting to spend time with you.”

Why was his heart beating so quickly within his chest? Why was his face heating up? He felt so warm inside and he had to bite down hard on his bottom lip to try and get his emotions in check. There was so much he wanted to say to you, but the words just wouldn’t form on his tongue.

“No matter what you do or say, I’ll always be by your side. You’re my best friend, after all~” You lifted your head to peer at him, offering a soft smile. “So no more trying to push me away, or I’ll kick your ass!”

He scoffed at the declaration. “As if you could.”

“I’ll certainly try!” You laughed, releasing the boy from your hold. “Come on, we’re going to be late.”

Bakugo said nothing as he walked by your side down the street, but his mind was running wild with thoughts and feelings, and he couldn’t quite grasp any of them. Why was it so damn hard to just say what he felt?

“If you keep making that face, people are going to think you’re constipated.”

“Shut up.”

“Don’t overthink things, idiot.” You teased, bumping your shoulder against his. “Just accept my friendship and let it be. Life will be a lot easier, trust me.”

For a moment, he remained silent and you were sure he had no intention of replying, but when he finally managed to get his thoughts together, you were left surprised by what he chose to say. “Thank you…”

You stopped in your tracks, eyes widening a bit. Your eyes shimmered with happiness as you looked upon him, knowing that he was slowly becoming a better person, a stronger person. He had made so much growth since starting at U.A. and he still continued to change. It was a slow process, but you were so proud of your best friend.

He stopped when he noticed you weren’t moving, glancing back at you. “The hell’d you stop for? We’re gonna be late.”

“Katsuki?”

“What?”

“Thank you for being my friend!” You chirped happily, closing the distance between you.

He only grunted in response, continuing down the street, but you didn’t miss the soft smile playing upon his lips.

“You’re going to start picking me up again, right? Waking up at four in the morning is hard~” you pouted, back slouching as you thought about the extra sleep you could have gotten.

“Yeah… I’ll pick you up tomorrow.”

“Good, let’s keep things that way!”

His vermillion eyes met yours, shining under the light of the early morning. “Make sure you’re up and ready or I’m leaving your ass behind.”

“Yes, sir!” You straightened your back, giving him a mock salute that had him rolling his eyes.

Bakugo Katsuki was a rude boy, incapable of controlling his temper. He found it hard to express himself, choosing to keep his emotions locked tightly behind thick iron walls. He didn’t like it when people got too close to him, he didn’t like how vulnerable it made him feel, but deep down, he was grateful to the people that didn’t give up on him. He was grateful to you, his best friend, the person he genuinely loved with his entire being.

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📜 Read more by checking out my masterlist 📜

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yeehawkins · 3 years

Text

double feature! tagged a few days ago by @coffee-cat dfnsjbk thanmk u may uwu

RULES: answer the 8 song prompts, then tag 8 people

1. favorite song at the moment: so i usually say my favorite song is Never Let Me Down Again - Depeche Mode, bc it is my favorite song of all time

but at the moment? really vibing with Suicide and Redemption - Metallica

2. a song you associate with your favorite ship: shipping,, haven't heard that name in years. i got nothin, sorry!

3. a song that could be about you: so basically all the songs i have on hand of "this me" are a lil sad lol, but for the least edgy option that i still very much feel "wow this me" at? Too Much Time On My Hands - Styx

4. a song you think is overrated: oh wow this is actually tough lol. i can definitely think of answers, but i'm trying to think of something that i both think is overrated and i don't particularly enjoy

aight unfortunately, can't think of anything in that department! so i'll make up for it by giving (imo) an overrated song from 2 artists i like (but still like the songs)

Just Can't Get Enough - Depeche Mode

Seek and Destroy - Metallica quite the vibe difference lmao

5. a song that reminds you of a good memory: Puzzle Plank Galaxy from Super Mario Galaxy 2! i was doing a real 🤔 at this, but considering i just hung out with this person last week, i remembered when one of my best friends brought over both Super Mario Galaxy games (2 was the one we really played)

...and i remember losing my shit upon hearing this song because i had heard a remix using sound clips from j*ntr*n and had no clue of the original song existing so i got like, Positive war flashbacks njfbdsjk (since this was, before that guy was revealed to be shitty)

6. the last song you listened to: Master of Puppets - Metallica

7. a song that makes you laugh: basically read this question as "which nsp song do i pick" lole Thunder and Lightning - Ninja Sex Party. it has such this epic feel and then you get lines like "my meaty clackers" njkdfbskj

8. a song you want your mutuals to listen to: don't pick sunday rain don't pick sunday rain

...damn my 2AM brain i gotta pick it

Sunday Rain - Foo Fighters

concrete and gold is a CRIMINALLY underrated album. the drummer, taylor, sings on this track! people like to dog on his vocals but dammit i love it

"oh so dave must drum then right?"

nah Sir Paul Mccartney does the drums

that gushing aside, the song really is just, fantastic vibes. words hard rn, pls listen to this song is good i promis

tagging!!!! im sorry i gotta be lame and say: anyone who wants to!

#woag is me #my met-hating follows must once again: suck it #almost picked a met song for 8 but decided to be a bit merciful lol

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starstruck-thirst · 4 years

Text

She Wants Revenge

Part 6

Pariston Hill: Maybe She’s Right

Series title is from band based on the same name. The chapter title comes from the song ‘Maybe She’s Right’ by She Wants Revenge. You can find it by clicking the here. Sincerely I hope you guys listen to these songs because they are picked very specifically.

QUICK NOTE: Thank you all for reading this and being patient. I hope that the ending will leave you feeling satisfied, or at minimum feeling something deep and potentially haunting. This was a year long project and I'm very happy to have seen it through.Each comment left I read a million times. I sincerely appreciate each and every one of you for reading, leaving likes, and sharing your own words. I hope to see you in the next thing I write. ☆

Part 1 of series is here.

Warnings: Blood, fem dom, dubious consent (dub-con), mental manipulation, PTSD, light choking, slight impact play, NSFW ______________________ Even without nen abilities, anyone would have sensed the tension in the air. It hung thick like a fog over the sea, masking whatever potential dangers and terrors could lay just beyond the boundary of vision.

Not all funerals had such a weight, but this wouldn’t be the first or last that would.

Due to circumstances being what they were, the funeral was held in a rented hall and not at the hunter headquarters. Letters had been delivered to inform any and all they were allowed to come and pay respects to a fellow hunter, and so the hall had been specifically chosen due to its large size. But with the large number of people that did actually come, hunters and non- hunters from the headquarter offices alike, the large room still felt small somehow.

People taking turns at the urn of ashes and portrait to say final goodbyes before milling about with the rest of the crowd kept the room abuzz with strained activity. Everyone was still unnerved about the lack of lead on the murderer. If HQ couldn’t figure out a break into their own offices, how would they ever find a murderer? The feeling of piling issues helped to add to the tension fog in the room, but one question hung heaviest:

Who had tried to kill Pariston Hill?

It was customary that higher ups would go to a funeral of a dead hunter if they were able, but this one was so strained that Netero and the entire zodiac had come (minus the boar, naturally). The relationships between members of the zodiac were dodgy at the best of times, but now the other members especially didn’t seem to want to stand too close to the vice president in question. Pariston wasn’t too bothered by this.

In fact, it was hard to tell if he was bothered by anything. The occasional person would approach him and offer their condolences, and he’d take them with as much grace as he could, but there was a quiet about him that people couldn’t place.

Rumors were fast travelers in offices, so people knew that there was previously some kind of relationship with the deceased... or had been again? It was hard to be sure. But everyone knew that she was dead from pushing Pariston out of the way of an assassin’s blow. So that was reason enough for many to offer him their words specifically, relationship or not.

Pariston’s brown eyes caught sight of Thesander talking with Netero in the corner. He still had yet to pin the man down again to find out what he had been up to on the day of the break-ins, but now it might not matter. Today he was part of the security detail and would be hard to corner without anyone noticing. Making sure that no one tried anything at the funeral involved frequent check-ins, and Pariston wanted to have an uninterrupted conversation.

Sadly, the presence of security didn’t make many people feel any more reassured. After all, they hadn’t been able to solve anything so far.

“Thank you, keep checking in,” Netero said with a nod.

Thesander bowed before turning to leave, catching Pariston in the corner of his eye before pointedly looking away. With an obvious frown, Pariston considered revisiting the man at a later time today after all.

“How are you feeling?”

Netero had approached Pariston while he was lost in thought, but even caught off guard he didn’t let on that he had been less than prepared.

“A bit tired, actually,” he responded, moving his attention to the chairman. “I suppose that is what one is to expect from a funeral.” All of his usual quirks were still in place, the appropriate smile of one who was doing ‘their best’ with matching tired eyes.

“True. I assure you that security is doing all they can.”

Pariston knew that Netero meant in protecting the event as well as finding answers. But he honestly didn’t anticipate that the effort would be of any use to anyone.

“I’m sure they are. I think I’ve had about as much as I can stomach today, though. If you’ll excuse me.”

Netero watched Pariston as he left. A few other hunters noted his exit as well, causing a new wave of hushed whispers to rise up. He wasn’t acting his usual self, but what was to be expected? A threat on his life and the loss of someone that he was obviously close to would do that to anyone.

So he knew people would convince themselves. It was a convenient cover for the time being. But Pariston wasn’t one to be left wondering too long, and security or not, he had a need to find his own answers.

~*~*~

He entered into his apartment, dropping his keys unceremoniously onto the side table by the door with a loud clatter as he let out a long, aggravated sigh. His previous intel had been useless, but he wasn’t giving up. This was why he had people and they were going to do their fucking jobs, he thought as he dug his phone out from his pocket.

He too hastily punched a phone number in, pushing his way into his office in an adrenaline fueled rush. Rarely had he felt so aggravated, so much so he was being careless. He had gotten so accustomed to being in control of his world, and at minimum his own home, that he had let some of his caution slip.

And opportunity knew when to strike.

Before he could push the call button on his phone a noose slipped around his neck with a quiet ease. The silk rope caught tight before he had time to think. He dropped his phone so both hands could go to the rope and grip it, trying to pull it loose from his neck.

Distracted with the rope, the assailant easily tripped Pariston, a knee pushed into his back to accelerate his fall. There was no time to think as a thin needle slipped into his neck below the rope as he slammed into the ground.

He grunted with effort to recover as both hands scrambled to push up off the ground. Even as he got to his knees, the person on his back remained where they were: one knee against his spine and trying to force him back down, one hand still holding the rope tight, the other pulling the needle free of his neck.

He thrashed his elbows backwards, attempting to do anything to knock his assailant away. His increased heart rate only helped whatever had been in the needle course through him faster and quickly he tired. Legs losing the ability to function and making him fall to his knees when he tried to stand. He felt the carpet rub against his face before losing consciousness.

You panted, sitting on Pariston’s back, rope still in hand and a fine sweat covering your forehead. You had done it. You had subdued Pariston. His body was completely still as you loosened the rope enough for him to be able to breathe easily again. You waited several minutes before allowing yourself to relax, just in case he had been pretending.

He wasn’t pretending, you were sure.

“Now for the rest,” you muttered, turning Pariston over and standing. “I think we’re overdue for a little revenge, Mr. Hill.”

~*~*~

Pariston’s coming back to consciousness was slow, and you watched his head roll from side to side as he fought off the lingering effect of the drugs.

While he had been having a nice drug induced nap you had used the time to prep his office for your own uses. New chain loops in the floor, a few tools added to the items on his desk, and of course enough rope to try out a few different ties you had been thinking on over the past few months.

Admittedly, you had to give yourself credit, the pose you put him in was quite pleasing. Naked, he knelt in the center of the office floor with ankles tied to chain loops you’d installed. His arms were bound together behind his back; ropes running between his wrists and up to his elbows for another connection point before tying into a chest harness that you had rigged to the ceiling so that when he woke he was already on his knees, partially suspended.

Long had you dreamt of the day you’d have Pariston kneeling helplessly before you. And now that dream was reality.

Groggily he lifted his head and looked up at you, eyes focusing to see you in his office chair watching him in turn. You had allowed yourself a few dramatics: a long black coat, white garter stockings, heeled boots. You knew it was a bit pretentious, but if you didn’t do it now the opportunity wouldn’t come again. He smirked at you and hung his head as a guttural chuckle rolled out from his chest.

He wanted you to prompt him about it, you knew. Pariston’s games were so obvious to you now. But you didn’t say anything. Instead you sat, head resting on your fist as you leisurely leaned on the arm of the office chair, waiting for him to be done with his own theatrics.

“I know about you breaking into my office,” he said finally, lifting his head to look at you, eyes completely dark and devoid of his usual fake sweetness. Even his grin was just a twisted mimic of his normal one.

“I would hope so, we are sitting in it,” you replied simply, showing no fear or concern at his appearance.

His eyes narrowed. He knew you were playing with him, and as much as he was able he wasn’t going to let you. “Telling the association about my… activities won’t be worth all this effort. I have already put into place countermeasures to assure that.”

“Oh, Pariston,” you said with an exasperated sigh as you dropped your arm to lean forward in the chair, “I don’t care.” Your face was only two feet from his as you leveled with him. “Do you think I care what you have done to those poor missing hunters? Though to be fair… eighteen is quite a lot.”

He didn’t respond; his face didn’t even shift at all in reaction to what you said.

You stood, walking around the room to a wall that had a familiar art piece hanging on it. This too you had added while he napped.

“Or is it you think I care what you have done to other women?” you asked as you caressed the painting that had been titled ‘Snare’ in what you knew was Pariston’s honor. “Though I do have to admit, this one was an interesting person. Truly talented.”

Still refusing to give you any power, Pariston was silent as you looked the painting over again. “No,” you continued at last as you turned to face him again. “I don’t care. But!”

You started towards him again, reveling in his watching you from his place on the floor, “I wanted you to think I cared. I wanted you to think that I was gathering intel about those hunters. That way you had something to focus on, a plan that you could curve and best me in.” You smiled as you made your way round him to the desk at his back. “Pariston Hill. Vice Chairman. The Rat. You always were so presumptuous.” Silently, you picked up the riding crop from the set of items you had placed upon the desk in preparation earlier. “Always thinking you were one step ahead of everyone around you.”

The sound of the crop singing through the air to strike his back was the sweetest music you had ever heard. As expected, he made very little noise. But the quiet hiss he couldn’t hold back was equally as sweet a sound.

“You always stood so tall and sure,” you continued, bringing the crop down again. “Sure no one could touch you. No one would get a step ahead of you.” Another smack. “But now look at you.”

Walking around the rest of the way, you stopped in front of him, placing the crop under his chin to urge him to look up. The thought to resist crossed his mind, you saw it as plain as day, but that would be giving you a power he didn’t want. Instead he went with the movement, as if it was something he was allowing you to do. “On the ground like the rodent you are.”

A wide smile was still on his face and it admittedly was starting to annoy you. “I knew I was right.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I think it is safe to say there is much about this situation you overestimated.”

He laughed again, shaking his head. “I knew you hated me,” he said looking up at you with a spark in his eyes again. The corrupt dark of his face would have made you second guess yourself in the past. But now it had the exact opposite effect: it gave you a new rush, something bubbly and warm. It traveled from your heart out to your limbs and made you laugh. A nice, long, true laugh.

Squatting down, you put your right hand to his face, cupping it tenderly as you stifled the noise back. “That was your mistake, Pariston. You didn’t make me hate you.” In your head you envisioned your fingers slipping into his skin, probing deep into his face as you fed into the desires of your heart. You wanted him to truly feel what you had to say. “You made me love you.”

You remembered the feeling of butterflies on your first kiss. The ill guided sense of feeling like a prized possession when he became jealous. Your burning rage at seeing another woman on his arm at the gallery. So many things you remembered and fed directly into him, and as you did you watched his face.

Even the proud man he was couldn’t remain neutral when bombarded with such strong desires. His smirk faded and a look of pain started to grow in his eyes, his entire demeanor changed into something you couldn’t recognize. “Don’t you remember that last night? Even as close to literal insanity as I was, I still remember it.”

Hand still on his face you leaned in to his other ear and whispered, “I trust you. I love you. I’ll be a good girl for you. I love you so much, Pariston.”

His skin went cold under your hand and you pulled away to stand again. “I suppose part of that was a lie after all. I have no intentions on being good for you now. Now I’m being good for me.”

You moved the office chair to the side of the room as Pariston hung his head, processing all that you had just pumped into him.

“You wanted to know what I was doing for a year, didn’t you? You asked only a few days ago. You know… the day I died,” you continued, coming back to him and circling to his back once more. “I think it is time I showed you what I am capable of.”

Everything inside of you felt like it was on high alert. You hadn’t taken any dark, powerful, and overwhelming desires in a while. So this was all your own. The thrumming of energy that you could feel down to the tips of your fingers, the hyper-aware senses, the twisted cravings that whispered in your ears. This was all you.

Not borrowed. Not shared.

“I decided that maybe it was time to train up my nen abilities at last. You’ve gotten just a little taste of them just now, but to be honest… I’ve been holding back before today. Waiting for this chance.” You slid your hands over his back, keeping the crop in your hand between finger and thumb for the moment. “Not only can I use my manipulation ability more accurately now, but a nice side effect appeared after our relationship. I can feel your desires, get traces of your thoughts. Then I can turn them over in my hands and mix them with my own and make you feel what I want. It’s a handy trick to have as well as general manipulation. Would you like to see?” you asked in a hushed voice, sliding your left hand down his back and around to his chest.

Naturally he didn’t respond, and you stopped with your hand over his heart. “Pariston, you will do whatever I want. You will not use nen, and you will not stop until I give you permission. Answer me that you understand.”

The rush of nen that flowed from your hand directly into his body felt like a river compared to your previous encounters. This was your ultimate level of ability, a level 4. Something you promised you would only use on Pariston. He would be compelled to do anything, even if it could be something that caused him great harm.

“I understand,” his voice replied, dull and lacking any of his normal trills of joy.

You shivered, his response resonating inside of you so strongly that every hair on your body raised. “You can sound more excited about it. I’ll still allow you to speak however you want. Perhaps you’ll want to call me a slut again as I make you lick my boots,” you muttered in his ear before pulling away and shaking your hands, still feeling the rumble of excitement in knowing your ability was working as it intended.

“Do you still feel you ‘know me’, Pariston?” you asked, bringing the crop down on his back with a harsh slap, a pink blush blooming on his white skin. You knew personally that if you let it blossom a bit more it would deepen into a red stain. You hit him again, walking around once more to see his face.

“Look at me,” you commanded.

His head trembled as he actively tried to fight your command now, but was unable. Finally he’d stopped smiling, the lines of his mouth curved somewhat downward as something inside raged unseen. It only made your own smile grow.

Dramatically you opened your coat and let the dark fabric slip from your shoulders to reveal the white lingerie set. “Don’t you remember? That was what you told me when you gave me this. So tell me, do you know me?”

You could see his shoulders tense, every part of him wishing to regain the upper hand. “Yes.”

“Interesting,” you said, stepping forward so you could rub your leg against his face. “Tell me more.”

A fresh grin. “I helped create you. You’re just emulating me. So of course I know you.”

“Not entirely true. I have more creativity,” you said, hooking your leg over his shoulder so that your inner thigh was next to his face. “Show me a bit of affection, won’t you, dear?”

He was so deep in your control that commands didn’t need to be terribly specific, as long as the intention was clear. As you commanded he turned his face into your leg and kissed the sensitive flesh. “We’ve had a lot of good times together, haven’t we? Just because the roles switched a bit doesn’t mean we can’t both enjoy it.” He didn’t respond, kissing his way up your inner thigh as you leaned into his movement. “Tell me the truth, Pariston, are you enjoying this even a little?”

His lips brushed the white underwear teasingly, and he answered with eyes lowered. “Yes. A little.”

“Would you prefer to be standing where I am right now?”

“Yes.” This answer was faster and firmer than the previous. Dutifully he continued to nose and lip at your underwear in a tender fashion that you had rarely seen.

Even at the beginning of things the first time, he had never been truly gentle. Something about it was exciting in its oddity.

You tilted your foot on his back to press a heel into his muscles as his tongue lapped at your pussy. The action earned another uncontrollable hiss from him. “Not too far. We have a lot to do,” you said, pulling your leg away again.

“Stand up,” you commanded, pulling the rigging rope that you had tied off on the side of the room to help coax him to move quickly.

Paristion stood, wobbling just a touch as blood rushed to his legs from having knelt so long. You tied the rope off once it was taut enough to keep his body hoisted if he were to try and dead weight on it.

“Oh, you’re a bit hard,” you pointed out, approaching him again. Teasingly you ran the crop under his testicles, then up the shaft, watching his leg muscles tense as you did so. “Maybe you like this more than you’d like to admit.” You leaned in close so you could see up into his face. He looked back at you, refusing to back down each time you stepped up.

Putting your hand into his hair, you pulled his face to yours to kiss him, using the connection as an opportunity to fill him with desire again. Want me. Look at me. Want me so much that it hurts. That was what you wanted more than anything else on the planet. You just wanted his undivided attention, lust, love.

“I’ve waited so long for this,” you told him as you dropped the crop, letting it hang by the strap on your wrist so that you could take his cock into your hand. “I’ve dreamt of you looking at me, unable to do anything as I teased you.”

You pressed against him with your palm and rubbed up and down with force. “Don’t hide how it makes you feel,” you told him, kissing his throat. “I want to hear you.”

Warm, sighing breath turned into a quiet humm as you resumed biting and sucking the perfectly even skin. He had marked you so many times, but you were not allowed to do the same. ‘It’s proof you’re mine,’ he had told you, and so you had savored each hickey and lash in the private sanctuary of your bedroom.

He pressed his hips forward to help create more pressure in your hand as you bit his neck particularly hard, the iron taste of blood slipping into your mouth with the next suck as Pariston groaned reluctantly into your ear.

“Should I leave you on edge as you did to me?” you whispered, licking your lower lip free of the tiny trace of blood that had escaped. The wound wasn’t big, and the amount of blood was slight, but seeing the mark was satisfying. “Would that be fair, you think?”

Gripping his cock firmly, you pumped him as your hand in his hair pulled his head back with a cruel tug. His perfect lips were open as he groaned and panted, silhouetted in the dim room from your perspective. Had he enjoyed watching you as you enjoyed watching him? Did he see art in you?

You licked your hand, making it wet and slippery so that when you resumed your fast and hard hand job Pariston’s knees buckled almost immediately. It didn’t take long before he came, white cum covering your hand as he moaned his release.

“Good boy,” you praised, releasing his cock and hair at the same time before wiping his cum on a towel you had kept on the desk with the other supplies.

Surprisingly, he remained standing with his own strength. But while he stood there you could see his eyes trying to focus as his shoulders tensed and loosened, a little cum still dripping from his tip. He was trying to break the manipulation.

“We’re not done just yet. I am just warming you up. Wouldn’t want you to go soft on me when I’m still using you,” you told him as you gripped the crop again.

“Stand up straight,” you said, bringing the item against his ass to emphasize the point. He snapped back into position at the command.

“Do you know what it is like to love someone, Pariston?” you asked, rubbing a hand down one shoulder to his arms, feeling their strain and testing the muscles to see if they needed a rest. “The kind of love that makes someone choke the life out of their infant in a tub so the dirty and dark world can’t touch them. The kind of love that causes children to hug a pet to death. A man shoots his wife so that she can never leave him. A love so deep, enthralling, and consuming that it roots through every part of your brain? Pleasure, fear, hunger.”

As you spoke, you finished rubbing each arm and then moved back to where the ropes were tied off, dropping the crop to the floor as you went. As you released them entirely, Pariston wobbled, following your command to stand straight even without the support of the rope suspension. His arms fell to rest against his back and he softly sighed at the relief.

“Don’t move from that spot unless I make you. And do not touch me unless I tell you to,” you commanded, in case some part of him managed to find a loophole in command and break through in any small amount.

Despite your caution, you still picked a knife from the desk and used it to cut the loop that attached his ankles to the floor. Then you pulled the suspension rope free of the harness and tossed it to the side. He didn’t move the entire time.

“Even when I’m bored I think of you,” you confessed, running the blade along one of his thighs, just enough pressure to open up a thin line of blood, but not enough to cause real bleeding. “Do you know what that feels like?”

“I know what you’ve shown me,” he replied, face obscured by his shoulder from where you stood.

A part of you felt disappointed. He couldn’t lie to you, so his words had to be truthful. Yes, you had known that he didn’t love you. At this point you didn’t truly want him to, because that would have made things complicated. But there was that small part of you that was still so enamored by him that it hurt to know he never loved you.

Yet at the same time it was freeing to the rest of your mind. The part that had suffered, cried, picked up a knife and thought about suicide. For that part of you, it made everything so much easier.

“And I’m not done showing you,” you said, sounding normal despite the slight lump in your throat from the battling emotions.

You took in a deep breath and grabbed the loop around his wrist, pulling him backwards to the desk. Using your arm you swept the desk clear, office supplies and your own items clashing to the floor and scattering in a mess. Pariston looked over his shoulder, frustration plain on his face as he watched you make a mess of his personal desk. You looked back at him as you knocked the only item left on the desk that you had missed- a pen in an elaborate holder- on the floor with the rest.

As you slid onto the cold desktop, you released the rope before leaning back to watch him comfortably. “Face me,” you commanded, and he did. Grabbing the harness and tugging him between your legs you put as much skin to his body as you could. Thighs to his sides, chest to chest, one arm curled between your breasts so you could keep a hold of the harness. “Kiss me… like you love me,” you said looking up into his eyes.

It would have been sad, maybe it was still sad, if it wasn’t something that you specifically requested to make as much of a connection as possible. You wanted his mind to reach into the desires you fed, the feelings you contained, remember how he hurt you and be forced to reenact those things that had landed him where he was.

He hesitated, and you wondered if he would resist because he couldn’t be forced to do something he pretended to do before, but then he leaned down. His arms were still trapped behind his back, so he was unable to touch you, but all the same he brushed your lips with his before kissing you softly. No biting, no tongue, just soft press of lips. Then he kissed you again, taking your lower lip into his, pressing you backwards, and you cupped his chin with the handle of the knife you hadn’t let go, temporarily forgetting it was there.

As he kissed you, you imagined morphing into his skin and letting everything you had felt over the course of a year unleash into his body. The red vines of his desires pulled at you in retaliation, slipping under your skin and trailing your veins as both of your desires became a complicated and inseparable tangle.

You could barely focus to bring the knife to his back and cut the knot that kept his wrists together. With it broken the rest of the tie around his arms could easily slip off with movement. His hands immediately went to your face, pulling you to him as he simultaneously pushed your body further backwards onto the desk. With your eyes closed you could still see him, bright red vines coming from his skin and sinking ever deeper into yours, as your own skin connected to his before breaking apart when you moved.

It took effort to pull his mouth off of yours so that you could say anything. Perhaps that had been part of the plan, but you weren’t going to give up all the power and potentially let him slip away. Now you opened your eyes to see him staring at you, the spark in his eyes you had seen several times before perfectly in place in the darkness. Even if he hadn’t loved you truly, there had always been this strange, disgusting passion.

It would have to do.

“Love my body,” you whispered, “Until I am satisfied.”

Already he had been completely hard; you had felt his cock against your leg growing stiff as you kissed. Easily he used one hand to push the white panties to the side and spread your labia to enter into you. But unlike the previous recent times he didn’t enter into you with one hard thrust. Instead he eased inside at a nice pace. Not agonizingly slow or harshly fast.

You moaned, and he used his free hand to pull your bra up to reveal your breasts. Creating a steady pace with his hips, he licked your nipple before biting lovingly around it. Comparatively to all the times before, these were chaste, tiny love nips.

He rode you like this for some time as you held onto him with your thighs, watching his every move as he existed to please you for the first time. You reached down and put a hand on his throat, making him look up at you as you applied just enough pressure to have the threat of choking him available.

“Harder now,” you told him.

He happily obliged. One arm next to your head kept him steady as he built up speed. Your command earlier must have still been working, because he was groaning as he moved inside of you, something he rarely did with this much intensity.

As Pariston moved inside of you, gradually you applied pressure onto his throat. His groans turned into muffled noises as you kept the grip loose enough for him to breathe, but with a bit of difficulty. With time the act was morphing into something more familiar, rough and dark as he snapped into your hips with vigor.

You still had his harness in one hand, keeping him close and the feeling of power in both hands. “Work my clit,” you told him, breathy and surely flushed.

His free hand immediately moved to do so as he continued to work you. Even this movement was hard though, he pressed on the sensitive nub with too much energy but it was just what you wanted at this moment.

Your body tightened up and you cried loudly as you orgasmed, Pariston following soon after.

Every part of you felt good, and slowly you felt like Pariston’s desire vines retracted from your body. You thought at first that being left back to your own devices would make you feel empty and hollow, but it didn’t. You still felt as whole as when you had started.

Pariston, on the other hand, collapsed to his knees, and you released the harness at last.

He was panting hard, harder than what would have been normal for regular sex, but you had come to expect this from using your ability. He was exhausted from manipulation, and you could see him still trying to fight it off as he put his hands on the desk to each side of your hips.

“It’s no good, Pariston,” you said with a pleased sigh, enjoying the last little high of your orgasm before sitting up. “You’ll pass out before you break it.”

“What’s your plan then?” he asked, looking up at you as you moved to more comfortably sit on his desk to look down at him. “Eventually the association will come looking for me.”

You pouted. “I know. I have been thinking about this a lot, you realize.” You noted the trembling in his limbs. They were tired and still trying to fight to move against you. “Lay down before you tumble over.”

He frowned, but moved so that he would have room to do so anyway.

“I’ve thought about it almost every day. Several people have asked me what I’ll do with you,” you said, standing and adjusting your panties and bra so that you were somewhat back to normal.

“We’re not quite done. Sure someone will look for you. But not today. You attended a funeral and made it quite obvious you weren’t yourself. No one will be looking for you for at least two days, I would suspect. Was that fun for you by the way? My funeral? You didn’t look like you were having fun.”

Pariston closed his eyes, let out a long breath, and when he reopened them it was as if he were himself again. He was smiling, and spite being vulnerable on the floor he seemed to have made some kind of peace. “Tell me, (y/n), when did you decide you’d have to kill me?”

You hid your reaction by going to the fireplace in the corner of the room. It was getting dark out and no one would question the smoke. Pariston often liked to light it in the evenings. As you turned the dial for the gas you replied, “When you asked me if I hated you at dinner.”

The realization that you loved this monster, someone who would hurt you and do everything he could to crush you, had pushed that last remaining wall in your mind.

With a whoosh, the fire came to life before you. The warmth licked your thighs and you stared into it for a moment, strengthening your resolve.

“I’m sure you understand it was the only choice,” you said, turning back to face him, still enjoying the sight of him watching you. Having his full attention like this was so special. “Unlike you, I can’t just break you and abandon you. I’d just find you again. Or maybe this time you would find me, after all I have done to you. It would become a cycle never meant to be broken. The only way to be free of the cycle, is to make it go away.”

“Or,” he said, lifting a hand to brush stray hair from his face so he could see you--or more accurately, so you could see him--perfectly, “we just don’t stop the cycle. Stay with me, (y/n)-”

“Adra,” you interrupted.

He looked at you, and a glimpse of something passed his face, but he continued, “Stay with me, Adra. I’ll forgive you for acting out this once. Then we can go back to how we were.”

So easily his voice had slid back into honey and promises. He was so very good at that, and it’d be a lie to say that the pull at your heart wasn’t strong.

Without responding, you went to the knife you had dropped and picked it up lazily.

“Back to how we were?” you asked with a sweet tone, letting the emotion of that love sick idiot slip out of your mouth like water. Carefully you straddled him.

“Of course. I accepted you back last time, didn’t I? Obviously I care about you, Adra,” he said, lifting a hand and brushing his knuckles over your face as you closed your eyes, enjoying the sensation.

With your eyes closed you breathed out, slow and ragged, then licked your lips. “Put your hands to the floor,” you said in the same sweet tone. Both wrists dropped to the floor. “And don’t move unless I tell you to.” You knew you had already said that command. So how he had touched your face like that you weren’t sure. But you weren’t going to lose focus and slip up like you had before.

With a breath in you opened your eyes again. “If you can give me the one thing I desire from you, Pariston, I’ll do anything you want.”

With your skin touching his you could get a read on his desires again, and he was definitely trying to obscure them by thinking about your desires. But it didn’t work. The red vines were curled and ready to strike, ready to possess and break. His words had been truthful. They would go back to how it was before. Before when you were the one taking orders, and he had done hateful things to you.

“Name it. What is it that you want, darling?” he asked with an iconic grin.

“I want your heart.” You let that truth hang in the air for a moment. “Tell me truthfully, can you give me your entire heart?”

He paused, shock and confusion clear on his face. But he couldn’t lie, it had been a command.

“No. I can’t.”

“That’s why I’m going to just take it. I’m going to take from you the only thing I’ve ever wanted, the thing you’ve refused to ever give me.” You held up the knife, silver shining in the fire light. “And then… I’ll be free.”

~*~*~

Epilogue:

“Time of death was last night,” Thesander said, stepping around the office items strewn on the floor.

“That is impossible, I called and checked on him last night,” Netero replied, his usual jovial mood completely clouded over as he stood in the office of his former VP. “Just to see if he was doing okay from the funeral the day before.”

“It must have been after that,” Thesander replied. “We’re still figuring out a timeline.”

Netero pinched the bridge of his nose, frustrated that somehow three major incidents had happened so close together and all at once. They had to be connected. They had to be solved.

“Keep looking for clues,” Netero barked at the chosen CSI team as he left the office to think.

He didn’t get far, as Cheadle was waiting for him in the hallway.

“The lead was a dead end,” she said, foregoing drawing it out with the circumstances being what they were. “We couldn’t prove anything with the intel. If Pariston did make those hunters disappear he covered it very well. With luck we found the man Pariston had privately assigned to investigate the break-ins. He said Pariston seemed sure that (y/n) had something to do with it. You might want to talk to him,” she informed him with a quick hushed voice so as to not gain the attention of anyone else that was in the large apartment sweeping for clues.

Netero scowled. “What the hell happened here, Cheadle? Who was targeting Pariston?”

She sighed and looked around the hallway once before looking at her boss again. “It seems Pariston had many past relationships that ended… badly. My theory is one of them finally caught up to him, sir.”

“That would explain the body,” he responded, hands on his hips as he thought over the situation. “The body?”

Knowing Cheadle wasn’t exactly a fan of Pariston, Netero considered not bringing it up. But as he looked into her face he knew he had to if he wanted her help to solve this. “Pariston’s cause of death was removal of his heart.”

Thesander sighed, tipping his hat down over his forehead, hoping no one had noticed his sudden stillness and quiet breathing while he had listened in on the quiet meeting outside. Luckily he had always had good ears, a little known fact and one that could escape notice in times of stress.

“Thesander, do you think I’m a bad person?” she had asked him on the day of the break-ins, looking sadly into her tea. The small break room had been quiet before, only the sound of coffee brewing had filled the silence until she spoke.

He had almost spilled his coffee at the sudden question before looking at her. “N-no! Of course not. You’re just… You’re doing your best. I think everyone who works here knows that.” And it was the truth. While some people might look down on how she had handled things a year ago, her coming back spoke volumes to her strength.

She sipped her tea. “I think someone is plotting to set me up for something. I’m scared.”

Thesander hesitated. He knew the office rumors: if you got too close to someone Pariston was involved with, you could get hurt. Literally. But it was just office gossip. The morbid rumors created by people with too much power and time. “Hey. As part of security I’ll do my best to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

She licked her lower lip and reached out, grasping his arm with her left hand. “Thesander, you wouldn’t let anyone hurt me in any way, right?”

His heart picked up. She looked so sad, so vulnerable. He had to help protect her. Had to. “Of course I won’t,” he replied, and meant it.

Her eyes looked up from her tea and into his, and he felt weak at her smile.

“You promise?” she asked, with more energy.

“Of course I promise.”

She squeezed his arm once and left the break room, leaving Thesander to reflect on the strange encounter alone, until Pariston had made his sudden entrance. It was immediately obvious to him why someone would ask such a favor when the VP was looming over you, looking at you the way Pariston had. That was when he knew that he would do whatever he could to protect her.

But then she had died and he had done nothing to prevent it. A feeling of regret had lived in his heart since that day.

“At least one problem fixed itself,” he quietly said with clear malice, looking at the cloth that covered the body still in the room.

Scouring the room one more time, Thesander stopped, seeing a hair next to the fireplace that didn’t look anything like Pariston’s. With a gloved hand he picked the item up and observed it. A flash of her face came to his mind.

“You find something?” a coworker asked from behind him.

“No,” he answered easily, “Just some of Pariston’s hair. I’ll bag it anyway.” The other man took that as well enough and moved out into the hallway to check in his own findings with the president.

Thesander put the hair into his pocket before making a very fast sweep of the room for any other signs of her. Another hair but nothing else. He pocketed it too before his coworker came in, making a mental note to do a deeper search for signs of her having been here when he was alone again.

“Netero says to take the painting too. I dunno why but he wants it,” his coworker said. “Man, he really did have a good taste in art, didn’t he?”

“Guess money does that sometimes,” Thesander joked back. The other man laughed and left the room to join the rest of the squad that was meeting in the kitchen.

The painting above the fireplace was entrancing, he had to admit. The dark reds, black, and white combinations created a feeling that was hard to describe. Almost as if you got too close it would trap you inside of it. But it was almost beautiful in its horror. A sense of hope somewhere in the white maybe?

He wasn’t sure. He didn’t know anything about art.

“Promise?” she had asked.

#star fic #long post #hunter x hunter//#pariston hill//#she wants revenge the series #dark fic #warnings at the beginning of post #finale

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