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ahtsumu · 4 years

Text

long shots ; miya osamu

pairing: miya osamu x f!reader

synopsis: miya osamu is the teacher’s assistant for food chemistry i. you can’t stop thinking about him.

tag(s): college!au, slow burn, TA!miya osamu, grad student!reader, fluff, reader is a go-getter!! ; warning(s): profanity, suggestive themes, talk of insecurities and imposter syndrome ; wc: 5.6k

a/n: happy birthday to @starrysamu! i love u. pls excuse any errors. i’ll weed them out later! btw this fic is not a sugar daddy au LOL

HIS NAME IS Miya Osamu and he always looks like he has it all figured out. Comes in every class with his black hair perfectly tousled, the sleeves of his dark button-up rolled to his elbows, a cup of coffee in one hand and the strap of that black messenger bag in another.

“He drives a BMW, did ya know?” Isla says in your ear one morning. Your only friend in Food Chemistry I gives you a pointed look before sitting back in her chair in the lecture hall with a smirk on her face. “Saw it this morning. Bet he’s loaded.” The two of you watch the subject in question walk across the classroom and settle in his seat at the table in the corner.

“Shut up,” you whisper with wide eyes. A grin–– far from innocent–– makes its way onto your face. “Imagine being Miya Osamu’s sugar baby.”

“He’s not old enough to be a sugar daddy.” Isla looks at her nails disinterestedly. “And that’s too many AUs in one. He’s already the TA, for god’s sake. This isn’t some shitty Wattpad novel.”

A light giggle slips out of your lips. “I can see the title already. My Sugar Daddy is the TA?!”

Now, if anyone had been listening in on your conversation, they would’ve assumed many things about you. The first being that you’re both gold-diggers. This is untrue–– at least, in your case. Isla, you’re not so sure about, given how your friendship only goes back about one month. But she tags you in memes on Instagram so maybe it’s as real as real gets. Their second assumption would be that you have a big fat crush on your TA. That one’s complicated, mostly because it’s true, but only kinda. It all started in the second week of school when Isla caught you staring at Osamu and slipped you a post-it note with both your initials encircled in a heart. And, because you’re shameless with a good sense of humour, you made a show of kissing it while she was looking. And thus began your meaningless but incredibly entertaining, satirical, co-written fantasy about Miya Osamu.

It also didn’t help that on the first essay you got back, Isla’s paper had been marked up with “are you sure?”s and “this is a jump”s, while yours had “excellent reasoning” and “insightful analysis”. You’d even gotten a little comment at the bottom: y/n, fantastic work. you should speak up in class more often. –– OM

But Miya Osamu doesn’t play favourites because the next week you’d gotten another essay back, this time with another comment at the bottom: y/n, not your best work. you could’ve done better by connecting your first paragraph with the second using grant’s reading. conclusion lacked punch, too. all the best. –– OM

Every time you’d read the words scrawled in blue ink, you’d felt a pair of eyes on you. But you chalk it up to Osamu being a careful grader. A good TA. Someone who cares about his students.

Isla calls bullshit on that. You’re not really sure how to feel about her stance.

The classroom door opens and shuts again. You don’t have to look at your phone to know that it’s nine on the dot. Instead, you and Isla straighten your backs, pull out your notebooks, and focus. Your no-nonsense professor says “good morning” in her usual perky manner before jumping right into her keynote presentation.

“Did you all find the reading okay?” Professor Lee asks an hour into the lecture.

A chorus of “yes”s fill the air. You bite your lip, wondering if revealing that you didn’t understand shit will out you as the class idiot. Or maybe your silence is telling enough–– maybe the people in the seats beside you have noticed the grimace on your face and are having thoughts like ‘gee whiz, am I glad I’m not dumb like her’. Heat rushes to your cheeks. Sometimes you really wonder if you’re smart enough to be here. Occurrences like these do nothing to dispel your insecurities.

You vaguely hear her ask something like, “Any thoughts about the reading?” It’s not that you’re actually dumb. It’s just that this class is ridiculously hard for an introductory course, even for a graduate programme. From the start of the semester til now, fifteen people have dropped the class. There’s just twenty of you left. Guess a ridiculously hot TA can’t save a course’s drop-rate.

Before you can make your mind up on what to say, your professor moves on from her question.

As you look off to the side of the room for a break from your thoughts, you find a pair of blue-grey eyes pointed in your direction.

Everything about you, from the expression on your face to the way your muscles tense, makes you look like a deer caught in headlights–– even though he was the one caught staring in the first place. So maybe your shamelessness works on a scale.

Miya Osamu lifts one corner of his mouth.

And as if the exchange hadn’t happened at all, he looks back down at his laptop and continues typing.

The rest of the lecture goes through one ear and out the other.

“Everyone, I believe Osamu has something he wants to say,” Professor Lee says as everyone begins packing their bags.

The raven-haired TA slides out of his seat and sits on top of his desk. “Yeah.” Osamu clears his throat and crosses his arms over his chest. You notice how the muscles in his arms bulge from the movement.

“Whipped,” Isla mutters, grinning mischievously.

“Him for me,” you whisper back, though your eyes do travel back to his face where they should’ve been all along. Osamu catches your gaze and holds it. And then he looks away again.

“Now, I know you’re all Nobel prizewinners in the making,” he begins, garnering a round of snickers and giggles from your classmates. Most people say that cliques dissolve in college. That there’s no such thing as popularity amongst graduate students. That much, you agree with. But no one ever said anything about popular teacher’s assistants. Especially smart, attractive, witty teacher’s assistants like Miya Osamu. “But in case you didn’t understand the reading or would like to develop a deeper understanding of it, don’t hesitate to email me. I’ll try to host a review session all of us can attend.”

Professor Lee smiles appreciatively at Osamu, adding, “That’s a wonderful idea, Osamu. Guys, please take this opportunity if you struggled with the reading. I know eighty pages is a lot, but our next three classes are structured around the concepts in the reading and the mid-term next week will almost exclusively be about it, too.”

Well, shit.

To: [email protected]

Hi Osamu,

I was wondering if I could get some help with the reading from last class. To be frank, I couldn’t make it past page 15 and I’m lost like a snot-faced five-year-old in a shopping mall on Black Friday. Sorry. Thanks in advance!

Regretfully,

Y/N

MS Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

From: [email protected]

no problem. is 5 pm tomorrow at jack’s okay? we start on the concepts from the reading next class so i want to get you up to speed asap. let me know. thanks.

PhD Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

It’s five minutes to five when you pull into the parking lot of Jack’s Diner. The shiny, retrofuturistic eatery is a university favourite but the empty parking lot tells you it’s completely deserted right now (and rightfully so–– who eats dinner before six?). The black BMW parked a few spots from your car, however, says that you’re not alone.

Osamu’s figure comes into view as you reach for the handle to the front door of Jack’s. The twenty-six-year-old sits by himself at one of the bright red tables in the back, typing away on his dark grey laptop.

His head lifts up at the sound of the opening door. Osamu calls out your name and waves you over.

“Hi,” you greet with a smile, sitting down across from him.

“Hey.”

You look around before leaning forward on the table. “Is anyone else coming?”

“No.” Osamu sits back in his seat. “I thought about hosting one big group, but then I realised that it’d probably be stressful for the staff here.” He nods his head in the direction of the kitchen. “And I had a hunch that everyone would have different questions. Forcing everyone to review concepts they already know is a waste of time.”

At first, you nod. That makes sense. But then you furrow your brows. “So how long have you been here?”

Osamu blinks. He hadn’t expected you to ask about him. “Hmm? Oh.” He taps his phone to check the time. “Just a while.”

Quirking a brow, you ask, “And how long is ‘a while’ to you?”

“Seven hours,” he admits, chuckling lightly when he sees your jaw drop. “A lot of people had questions. They just don’t act like they do. Anyway, time flies. Really, it does.” Quickly, he clears his throat and sits forward. “So, about your email.” He grins. “Not sure if you meant it to be funny, but it was.”

“I’m glad my distress was entertaining for you. Do you TA just to watch grad students suffer?”

“Perks of the job,” Osamu says. His grin widens when you giggle. He’s never heard you laugh before and he realises at that moment that it’s really nice. And then that same grin falters. Gracefully, of course, and imperceptibly to you. But not to him. Is it okay for him to be… thinking things like that? About a student? But you’re not really his student since he’s just the TA. Right? Osamu ignores the weird feeling that comes over him and clasps his hands together at the edge of his laptop. “Back to your email. Can ya tell me what you’re confused about?”

Three hours and two Impossible Burgers later, you suddenly understand everything about food molecules so well that you wonder why you’d even been confused in the first place. But besides that, you’ve also picked up things about Osamu. As a person and not an idea. Not that you’d been actively searching for fun facts about your TA. But they’d stuck to your brain like gum at the bottom of a desk. He likes to slip sarcastic quips into a conversation every now and then. Eats burgers upside down (“The right way,” as he’d said, smirking). Is friendlier than he looks.

“You’re really good at explaining things,” you comment as Osamu shuts his laptop closed.

“Well, I kinda have to be,” he says. And maybe it’s the mental fatigue catching up on him or the fact that he’s real fond of the reason why he can break big concepts down into morsels but suddenly, the rest of his thoughts spill out his mouth like wine. “I have a twin brother with potato salad for brains.”

“Oh?”

And before he can stop himself, he tells you about Miya Atsumu, the pro-athlete you’ve definitely heard of but never gave too much thought. And then you hold onto the fact that they were both on the volleyball team and you ask of which school, so then he tells you about Inarizaki, the high school he attended, and then his decision not to go pro to go to college, and then––

“Sorry,” he laughs, cheeks turning pink. “You probably didn’t need to hear all that.”

“No, it’s fine,” you say–– and you mean it. “Your life is interesting.”

Osamu leans back in his chair. “Well, I’m sure yours is, too.” He holds your gaze like it’s the key to your presence. It’s an invitation. The kind that comes from people who don’t really know if they want you around but also don’t want you gone.

You take it.

Osamu shouldn’t–– he really shouldn’t–– but he wonders about the things you didn’t tell him the entire drive home.

Isla laughs when you tell her about what happened at Jack’s. You lay in bed with your phone next to you on speaker, your face turned on your pillow so that you’re staring out the window at the city below.

“He wants you,” she sings.

“Or he was just being nice.”

“Methinks not!” Isla giggles. “He’s intrigued, girl! You’re like that cute little new mystery in his life and he just wants to get to know you.”

“I think he was just being polite.”

“Or he’s crushing on you!”

“In your dreams.”

“You mean yours? Boo, you’re no fun today. Usually, you go along with the jokes.” Isla’s tone is playful on the surface but full of implications.

A few silent seconds pass. Yeah, you think, agreeing. I do.

“Girl,” Isla drags out the word in a high pitch, saying it like a scientist says ‘eureka’. “You’re not playing along anymore because it’s real now. You're actually catching feelings!”

“Am not!” you laugh.

“The Y/N I knew would’ve said ‘nah, bitch, he’s catching feelings’ and I think that says all there is to say.”

“Okay, I think he’s cute but it’s not a crush,” you concede, grinning. “And he’s the TA, Isles. It’d never happen.”

“Not while he’s still a TA in a class you take.”

“Isla.”

“Ask him out once this semester ends! Unless you’re chicken.”

“I’m not asking him out.”

“Knew you were––”

“Have you seen me? He’s asking me out.”

Miya Osamu walks through the door at eight-fifty as usual that next morning, dressed in his usual button-up, holding his usual cup of coffee. But this time, as the rest of his tall frame passes through the doorway, Osamu’s eyes subtly scan the faces in the lecture hall, lingering for just a while over yours. The corners of your lips turn up. You hope he saw that.

“Bitch!” Isla whisper-screams. The students sitting around you turn around at the noise and grin at each other when they realise it’s just Isla being… well, Isla. She shoos them away jokingly.

“What?” you whisper back.

“Care to explain why our TA was literally eye-fucking you?”

“That was hardly eye-fucking,” you retort. “Maybe like an eye-handshake.”

“Yeah, a naked eye-handshake where his thang is handshaking your––”

He does it again the next class.

And the next.

And then he doesn’t. Miya Osamu walks through the door to Food Chemistry I at eight-fifty in the morning in a navy blue button-up with a cup of coffee in his hand and looks through the rows of seats in the lecture hall for your face, only to find it missing.

He debates pressing the matter.

To: [email protected]

hey osamu,

i wasn’t in class today because i’ve been sick with the flu (no big deal, just feel like i’m dying). a classmate sent me pictures of the slides from today so i think i should be fine, but is it okay if i email you with any questions? thank you very much!

miserably,

Y/N

MS Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

From: [email protected]

y/n,

of course. sorry to hear that you’re sick. let me know if i can do anything to help you. the midterm is next week. get well soon.

PhD Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

“You writing that the midterm is next week did not offer me any peace of mind, by the way,” you say, spinning around in your chair as Miya Osamu enters your pod in the library.

He offers you a wry grin. “Hello to ya, too.”

“Was that an accent?” You thought you’d heard one at Jack’s, but you couldn’t be sure because it’d been so spotty.

Osamu slips into the seat beside yours and pulls out the laptop in his messenger bag. You catch a whiff of his cologne–– something spicy and woody, but clean. It suits him. “Nice catch. Yeah, I speak a regional dialect. Took me a while to smooth it over but it still resurfaces every now and then.”

“Why?”

“It just didn’t seem fitting for a PhD candidate, I guess,” Osamu explains, opening the slides from the class you missed. A day after your initial exchange, you’d emailed him again (with a much clearer mind) and asked if he could go over the slides with you in person.

i literally feel like i’ve been given the homework from russian lit, you’d written. except the russian has been translated to hieroglyphs and my task is to choreograph an interpretive dance based on the hieroglyphs.

Osamu had snickered when he saw your email. that doesn’t even make sense. must be the fever talking, he’d been tempted to write. But that strange feeling had come over him again, the one that’d screamed at him to keep it professional, goddamnit, so he’d played it safe instead and sent is eight pm at the main library okay? He hates that you’re getting a watered-down version of his personality. Osamu swears he’s a lot more interesting when he’s not, well, a TA.

“I think it’s fine,” you say, smiling. “I like it. It’s you.” And suddenly, you’re wondering if it’s okay to be complimenting your TA. If it’s okay to say that you like things about him, or if that crosses some grey, unclear line. Is it weird to treat your TAs like they’re your friends? It’s not like TAs are real teachers. Right?

A grin–– wide and genuine and almost excited–– grows on Osamu’s face. He rubs the back of his neck as his eyes flit over to the laptop screen. “Thanks. Really.”

You nod. But you feel like there’s more that he might want to say, so you wait.

“I got a lot of shit for it when I came here for my master’s, y’know. Not to my face, of course, but people would refer to me as ‘the guy with the accent’. A professor once said it made me seem crass. Said it’d hold me back in my career.”

“So you changed.”

“Adapted,” Osamu corrects. “It’s hard to admit but conforming is sometimes all you can do when you don’t have the power to change the system. Can’t really make everyone suddenly respect a dialect.”

“And after you’re finished with your PhD, you’ll go back to speaking in that dialect?”

Osamu looks out the window and smiles, probably imagining the plans he’s already made about the future. “Yeah.”

“What if you have to speak the standard language at your job? Like, your boss is all, ‘hey man, if you don’t speak––”’

“I’ll be the boss.”

“Oh?”

And with a little more prodding, Miya Osamu tells you about the restaurant chain he plans on opening after graduation, the slides about food additives left completely untouched.

The librarian knocks on your pod a few minutes before eleven to tell you they’re closing.

“Shit,” Osamu murmurs, running his hands through his hair. You’re still laughing about something he’d said before the librarian interrupted him–– one of his stories from high school–– and he thinks that you’ve completely forgotten that the reason you came to the library was to catch up on the material you were already behind on. And now you’re behind on that. But you look so carefree right now and, actually, you’re very pretty and you’ve got such a good heart and it’s a lot for him to process but he knows he just wants to see you happy a while longer. So Osamu just slumps back in his chair and laughs along with you.

He says your name as his chuckles grow softer. “It’s pretty late. How’re you getting home?”

“I’ve a bike,” you reply. It’s good for the environment and is a pretty solid form of exercise if you do say so yourself. Sometimes you just don’t feel like driving.

Osamu presses his lips in a thin line. Would it be too much to offer you a ride? “I can drive you home. It’s really not safe for you to be alone outside, especially near midnight. You can get your bike tomorrow. Or I’ll get it for you.”

He drives fast. Not the unsafe fast that speed demons drive at, but the kind of fast where you know he’s got some edge to his character. You bring it up to him–– especially since it’s nighttime, for god’s sake, he could hit something–– and all he does is remind you how there are lamps as bright as the sun lining the entire road to your dorm. And the fact that you live in the least accessible dorm on campus.

“A twenty-minute drive?” he’d exclaimed when he saw the GPS monitor.

“A bunch of roads are closed for construction. It’s a ten-minute bike-ride because I can cut through campus.” And suddenly feeling a little burdensome, you’d added, “Sorry. I can still bike––”

“No.” He’d held his hand out in front of you, gesturing for you to stay in the passenger’s seat. “It’s not a bother at all.” Because it wasn’t. Osamu was… happy. Not that he’d admit that.

“So this BMW,” you start in a teasing tone.

Osamu smirks. “A gift.”

“Can I guess from who?”

“Sure.”

“Atsumu.”

His brows rise. “Colour me impressed.” He hadn’t expected you to remember anything he’d said about Atsumu. Or maybe he had but told himself otherwise to lower his hopes.

“I’m smart like that.”

He snorts. “Not if you keep distracting me and using your review time to…” hang out with me, get to know me, tell me things about you… “…goof off.”

You grimace. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

Osamu makes a turn down a familiar street. It dawns upon you that you're ten minutes away from your dorm and suddenly you wish he’d just make the wrong turn at the next intersection so that you could talk to him some more. It can even be about the health benefits of fish or the molecular makeup of kale–– you don’t mind. You just want to be around him longer.

“I think you’re really smart,” Osamu says quietly. “I think you’re not processing the readings because you’re distracted, or just not fully applying yourself. Obviously, last class’s slides are a different thing, since you were absent. But you really are smart. I’ve seen your papers.”

You bite your lip to hide your grin, feeling heat rush to your cheeks. “Thank you.” You look out the window, too jacked on dopamine to think straight. “I think I still need you, though.”

And that innocuous little sentence floats right out your mouth into the air, settling between you like a little wedge before either of you even realise it. Neither of you says anything. You marinate in the awkwardness before stuttering out a clarification. “To, um, to explain things. Y’know, since you’re, uh, so good at… explaining things.”

Osamu clears his throat and chuckles stiffly. There’s a slightly pink tinge to his cheeks. “Thanks,” he says, looking straight ahead. He can’t even look at you. Fuck. It’s so awkward. “I’ll try to keep… explaining things.” Fuck. What does that even mean?

A few uncomfortable minutes pass in silence. The night can’t end like this, you think. It can’t when everything else had gone so well. You still have to see him for a few more months. “Did you know,” you start, catching Osamu’s attention, “that Jack’s Diner has a location in Italy?”

“Oh?” he asks, making the final turn to the street where your dorm is. He actually hadn’t.

“Yeah. I asked the owner about the chain a while back. Have you ever been to Italy?”

Osamu shakes his head. “I’ve been to Paris, though. To see a friend. He’s a chocolatier.”

Now, if Osamu had been your friend, you would’ve said something like well, let’s go to Italy together, except he’s not. He’s your TA and you’ve been reminded that enough tonight. So instead, you say, “When you open that restaurant of yours in Italy, let me know.”

“That’s gonna take a while,” he laughs. He appreciates how you said ‘when’, though. And he tucks that little bit of confidence you have in him somewhere deep in his mind so that it doesn’t get lost.

“Isn’t that just seven hours?” you shrug, grinning. Osamu’s BMW pulls up outside your dorm and parks as he marvels at what you just said. You’re amazing. You unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to face your driver.

“Thank you for driving me,” you say, offering him a smile.

“Yeah,” he replies.

You stretch out your hand. With a puzzled look on his face, Osamu grabs it and shakes it. Firmly. You can’t help but notice how nice his hands are. Calloused for sure, but they feel nice.

“Goodnight, Osamu.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

He watches you jog into the building before driving away. And it’s like you’ve possessed his car or something because the smell of your shampoo and perfume is everywhere and it’s too much but it’s also not enough at the same time and he can feel your palm against his as he spins the steering wheel to make a turn and for the first time in his life he doesn’t turn on the radio to fill the silence in his car. Osamu replays everything you said in his head.

But he especially thinks about that part where you said you need him.

Weeks melt into months. You turn in essays after essays for Food Chemistry I, each coming back with detailed commentary in an all-too-familiar blue scrawl. All your other classes go well–– extremely well, actually. You might just end the semester with a 4.0 if Food Chem doesn’t fuck you over. Isla still tags you in memes on Instagram. You still tell her about everything that happens with Osamu.

Speaking of.

“That’s the wrong equation,” he says behind your ear as he settles in the seat beside you. The sound of his low voice so close to your ear sends a small shiver down your spine. “You gotta switch the hydrogens.” Osamu knocks on your skull lightly. “What’s goin’ on up in there? Ya got somethin’ on your mind?”

You laugh and elbow him in the side. “Shut up, ‘Samu.” He’d told you during one of his office hours that he’d gone by that nickname because he had a teammate with a foreign name in high school. It sounded so cool, he’d said, grinning.

I think Osamu sounds pretty cool already, you’d teased.

And he’d replied, Let’s trade. I like yours, you like mine, why not share?

You teeter on the line between friends and less-than-friends and, oddly enough, more-than-friends. Sometimes you still play it safe. Sometimes he pauses between texts and real-time conversations, no doubt to scrap an instinctive reply for something more “professional”. Sometimes you say things that make him look at you with the ghost of a smile at the corners of his lips. Sometimes he calls Atsumu to scream about you.

“S’not a no,” Osamu points out. He’s dressed in a black sweater and grey trousers today. You’re suddenly reminded of how the weather’s been getting colder when someone opens the door to the university café and lets in a gust of chilly autumn air.

“Okay,” you admit, setting down the pencil. “I just… don’t really feel prepared for this next test.”

Osamu frowns and looks down at your worksheet. “Your process is correct, though.”

“Right, but… I don’t know. I’ve just not been feeling great about myself lately,” you laugh, looking down at your feet. “Food Chem’s the toughest class I’ve ever taken. And remember how I completely embarrassed myself in that class discussion last week? It’s not really making me feel like I belong here.”

“Imposter syndrome,” Osamu remarks.

“Correct-o.”

He says your name softly and puts a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Maybe you’re not the smartest, but you’re definitely smart. And you belong here. I’ve seen your papers. They’re just as great as anyone else’s and I don’t hand out compliments for nothin’. You’re gonna do some great things but ya can’t improve if you ever give up.” Osamu searches your eyes for a sign of your understanding.

There’re a lot of things you want to say but you don’t know how to put them into words. “Can I hug you?” you finally ask.

Osamu doesn’t even think about it. “Of course.”

He feels you smile against his chest and wonders if you can feel his heart beat faster.

Isla camps out in your dorm as finals come around the corner.

“I don’t understand shit!” she wails, throwing her notebook into the air.

“Isles, it’s okay,” you laugh, slipping out of your chair and walking over to her nest in the corner. “You gotta chill, dude.”

“Not fair! I didn’t have a hunk holding my hand through this course all semester,” she retorts, humour glittering in her dark eyes. “I had the Organic Chemistry Tutor and his accent’s cute enough but, girl, you had Miya Fucking Osamu!”

“You’re literally the worst.” You giggle and sit down beside her. “Tell me what you’re confused about. I’ll try to explain it to you.” The way Osamu does.

You text him that you’d channelled his brains later that night.

His reply comes seconds later. all you, einstein.

From: osamu

good luck on the exam

you’re going to kill it

To: osamu

would u like to divulge any… information about it? 😏 😏 😏

From: osamu

bye

To: osamu

i was kidding :(

From: osamu

fine. tip #1: write your name

To: osamu

not very helpful. 0/10

From: osamu

keep running your mouth and 0/10 is what your score’s going to be

i’m kidding

you got this, y/n

“Holy fuck,” Isla groans as you cross the street to head to lunch at Jack’s. “If you don’t see me next semester it’s because I’ve gotten my grade back and decided to drop out.”

“What would you do?” you ask, amused.

“Maybe move to New Zealand. Raise some sheep. Marry a hot, blond shepherd and fuck off to a cliffside cottage.”

“Solid plan.”

“What about you?” she asks.

“What about me?”

“Remember that conversation we had at the start of the year? About your man?” The two of you reach another red light for pedestrians.

“We’re friends. He’s not my man,” you laugh. Though it pains you to. Something about being Miya Osamu’s friend doesn’t really sit right with you, but you don’t know how to not be his friend. You don’t know how to move out of the corner you’ve backed yourself into.

“But you wish he were! And now you can finally hit him with that ‘Hey, Osamu, I’ve been madly in love with you since the start of the semester, wanna fuck like rabbits and then open that store in Italy?’ and he’ll be all––”

A throat clears behind you. With wide eyes, the two of you turn around.

Holy fuck.

Miya Osamu stands behind you with his hands in his pockets and an enormous smirk on his face.

“He’ll be all what?” he asks, eyes fixed on you.

Isla murmurs an excuse and starts walking on her own to Jack’s.

“Um.” You swallow nervously and shrink in your coat. “You heard all of that, right?”

“Yep.” Osamu grins. He grins. He’s grinning. He’s smiling like he’s won the fucking lottery and you honestly don’t know what to do with that information.

“So, like,” you look down at the sidewalk and kick at a pebble, “what are your thoughts about that?” God, you could die. “‘Cause I know you’re a TA and it’d probably look pretty bad and I don’t want anything bad to happen to you because I like you and it’s cool if we just…”

Osamu interrupts you with a laugh. “My thoughts,” he says, “are that I want to kiss you.” His fingers lift your chin up. “What are your thoughts about that?”

Well, shit. “I think that’s pretty cool, yeah,” you breathe, eyelids fluttering shut as his face comes closer to yours.

He tastes like mint. And his lips move softly, slowly against yours like he’s savouring the moment. And then you feel his hands snake around your waist to pull you closer–– closer because you both are tired of forcing the distance between bodies that want to be near each other, closer because he’s thought about kissing you just like this for so long, closer because you remember the last time he’d touched you was three days ago and it was just a brush of his fingers against your arm and that feeling of wanting more haunted you for the entire night. But holy shit, Miya Osamu is kissing you. He’s kissing you.

And then he pulls away. His dark eyes flit over yours. “I,” he breathes, “I need your course load next semester.”

“What?” you ask, disbelief written all over your features, chest rising and falling as you try to steady your breathing. You just kissed, for God's sake, and he's––

“I need to know which courses not to apply to TA for,” he grins, cupping your face in his hands. “Can’t be teachin’ in a class with my girlfriend as a student.”

“So we’re official?” you ask, beaming.

“If you want,” Osamu replies with a smirk.

You grab the front of his coat and tug him down for another kiss. “Hell yeah, I want to be official.”

#miya osamu #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu scenarios #miya osamu imagines

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mrultra100 · 2 years

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4th Anniversary Special; Top 10 Vampires

4 years… Holy hell, it’s already been that long? Might as well do something to celebrate. Now, what’s something that I love beyond all reasonable measure and won’t shut the hell up about? What’s pale, supernatural, and blood-thirsty that I’m hooked for…?

*GASP!* I got it! VAMPIR-

Oh…Lemme fix this for a bit.

There we go…VAMPIRES! I love me some vampires! Many of you know that I’m a sucker (Geddit?) for these goofy creatures of the night. Hell, one of my own OCs IS a vampire! Since we’ve started this blog with vampires, why not celebrate by countin’ down my top 10 favorite vamps? If we ignore both that stupid Morbin meme and those godawful books made by a delusional, racist cow (That last part’s real, btw), we can wash all of that out by talking about a bunch of silly bloodsuckers for a good few minutes. Better get some garlic and wooden stakes ready, cuz’ we’re about to go full-blown Bela Legosi all up in this mother! This, ladies, gentlemen, and others, is my Top 10 Vampires!

10. Malzeno (Monster Hunter Rise; Sunbreak)

The first (And newest) “vampire” on this list, and it’s not even a vampire! What gives!? I’ll tell ya what gives! Malzeno is rad as hell! While it’s only here because as of me writing this, Sunbreak is just about to come out, and we still don’t know everything about this silvery Drac-drake. Not only is it one of the best Elder Dragons in the series, it has a killer theme (As per usual with most of the themes in MH), and its design captures all of the charm as a regular vampire. I’m not a regular Monster Hunter player, but mark my words, I can bet that people are planning to make a badass cape from its wings once they slay it. Guess it pays to be THIS banging, huh?

9. Count Von Count (Sesame Street)

Yes…I’m including the counting vampire puppet. Try and stop me, PIGS! While he’s not the perfect example of a vampire (Blood-sucking is a huge no-no for a kid’s show), the Count has a good few traits related to vamps. Also, for those who aren’t used to vampire lore, the Count’s obsession with counting actually has some roots in vampire mythology, as one of a vampire’s lesser-known weaknesses is a compulsive need to count things, giving their victims enough time to escape. Is that why he hasn’t tried to attack and drain the residents of Sesame Street? Nah, he would never do such a thing!

8. Wilhamena (OK K.O.! Let’s Be Heroes)

Here she is, folks; One of the most beloved (And lewded-on) vampiresses we’ve seen in quite some time. What could I say about Enid’s hot vampire momma that hasn’t already been said? People love her that much. Wilhamea here is an example of one of my favorite type of vampire; Tall, with a long dress that covers their whole body, along with massive hair, and well-endowed hourglass figure. It helps that Wilhamena’s a certified MILF.

7. Slayer (Guilty Gear)

One of the classiest vampires on this list, Slayer is a true gentleman. While he maybe a creature of the night, Slayer is actually one of the good guys. Not only does he enjoy a good, fair battle, but he also aids Millia Rage in her quest and gives her helpful advise. Hell, his own wife is okay with being drained, having more than enough blood to go around for him. We can always use a guy like Slayer.

(Credit to Bogleech for the depiction seen here)

6. Pentasite (Mortasheen)

Yes...this...THING counts as a vampire. Ya see, in the world of Mortasheen (An ongoing RPG project made by the wonderful @bogleech ), vampires are monstrous, telekinetic animals affected by an ancient virus from the deep sea. It’s only in the last few eons that these bizarre, blood-sucking beasts started to haul themselves onto dry land. As for Pentasite? Well, I’m gonna let its official description do the work.

“This large Echinoderm mutation achieves sentience without a central brain and amazing agility without a muscle structure. It is one of the few vampires capable of reproduction without parasitic implantation in a living host, as any portion severed from its body will slowly develop into a complete creature. Like a normal starfish, the Pentasite regurgitates its stomach over prey, but no longer uses the organ in digestion. Rather, the stomach is utilized only as a sticky net to constrict prey and drag it towards the blood-sucking teeth.”

Scary, huh?

5. Seras Victoria (Hellsing: Ultimate)

I’m not the biggest anime buff around, you should all know that. With all of that said...How did a show popped out a vampire girl that goes this hard? Seras is the right combination of cute, sexy, badass, and horrifying that I could ask for in a vampire girl character. I could learn alot more about Hellsing, huh?

Also, Police Girl is a golden nickname in terms of comedy.

4. Alucard (Castlevania)

Oh, what. Ya thought that I was gonna follow up Police Girl with her master? You’ve must’ve gotten your Alucards wrong. The Alucard I’m bringing up ain’t Dracula...He’s merely the son of him. Thankfully for all of mankind, Alucard chosen to become a hero, defying his evil father and his wicked ways. There are alot of characters out there who deserve a spot in Smash, and this sword-wielding dhampir is ONE of the biggest. He was already an Assist Trophy in Ultimate, so what’s stopping Konami and Nintendo from adding him into the next Smash game?

...On second thought, the stupid “enefftees” that Konami were making, along with the various slip-ups made by Nintendo may already answered that.

3. Globert (Mixels)

Yeah, yeah. I’m well aware that the Glowkies are technically NOT “vampires”, but since they’re the closest we’ll ever get to a vampire in the Mixelverse, I’ll let it slide. Globert is basically the living personification of “flanboyant”. He hosts parties, sings and dances, he and his whole crew live in a cave on the Mixel Moon, and don’t get me started on how he dresses. If you’re looking for the ultimate party animal to host your shindig, here’s your answer!

(Credit to Daria Cohen for the art seen here)

2. Duke and Missi (The Vampair)

That’s right, I’m puttin’ both Duke and Missi together for a single spot on this very list! To tell you all the truth, the vampy-ness of these two grows the strongest when they’re together. Ever since their series got the love that it deserves years ago, I’ve been keeping up with it and their antics. I even graduated high school a few days after the season finale came out, and I first discovered the show early on in my freshman year! I’ve come full circle with these two, haven’t I?

And finally, for number 1...

You already knew who it is, so let’s just get down to brass tax, shall we?

1. Vampire Twins (Johnny Test)

As much as V-Mary is my favorite character of all time, I couldn’t leave Susan out of this. Besides, they’re basically the mascots of this very blog! On this day, 4 years ago, my first ever post on this site featured the V-Twins, and I’ve certainly done alot with them since then, huh? From requesting fanart to a bunch of other artists like a weirdo, to stepping up to the plate and starting my own art career out of a want to bring these two back in a big way. I honestly have the Vampire Twins to thank for inspiring me to become an artist at all.

And there have ya have it! It’s been 4 years since this blog began. I’ve been through alot; Hopping onto other sites, picking up art-making as a hobby, making new friends, etc, it’s been a long, wild journey for me so far, and I’m excited to see what comes next. Thank you all so much for reading, and here’s to another 4 years and beyond!

#Ultra Ramblings #4th anniversary #vampires #monster hunter #sesame street #ok k.o.! let's be heroes #guilty gear #mortasheen #hellsing: ultimate #mixels #the vampair series #johnny test

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apocalypticgargoyle · 3 years

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𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙀𝙉𝘿. ҂ 𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢

request:

Hi!! Idk if you’re taking requests rn lol but I was wondering if you can write a clay imagine? It can be smut or anything lol

pairing: dream x fm!reader

warnings: nsfw (18+ minors dni), smut, calling dream clay, cliche apocalypse au, blood, kinda sad ngl

word count: ~3000

links: ao3

a/n: Hi everyone. I have no idea what this is, but if you like it let me know! I was struggling with coming up with something for dream but here we are on a crackpot tangent. N E WAY, thank you for all your support and requests! Have a great week and happy reading ♡ ᵍᵉⁿᵉ

Soapy bubbles clung to your arms as you pressed your hands into the hot water, sighing as you reached the bottom of the sink. You didn’t care about the murky discoloration of the water from the stack of dishes you had just polished off. You attempted to let the stress of your day roll off your shoulders to mix into that same water. Call it a baptism, but the solace you got standing before the sink, pouring your emotions into the dark, louring water was comparable to nothing. The radio buzzed with slight static as the station attempted to break through the heavy interference.

That was until three long pulses echoed over the station, making your skin crawl as if an unseen force were intruding on your alone time. You stood up straighter, water dripping down your arms and splashing on the linoleum floor beneath you as you listened to the grizzled news broadcaster read from an obviously unedited announcement. The world outside of your apartment seemed to still, silence echoing through the streets where shrilling sirens lived only moments before.

“Breaking news… NASA has just verified that the mystery asteroid is, in fact, in danger of crashing into the Earth… As of this moment-” His voice cut out, your radio buzzing into static. In a panicked effort, you vaulted across your kitchen, slipping on the dishwater in the process as you tumbled to the ground. Before the pain could set in, you climbed to your feet, smacking your hand atop of the radio. It finally crackled back to life as you twisted at the dials feverishly. “... three days. To repeat, there is a countdown on the NASA website… take shelter when the time nears.”

Your ears rang alongside the three pulses to indicate the message was over. You were in denial, figuring there was no way this asteroid was actually going to obliterate the Earth. Surely, it was a joke. Everyone had been making memes of the space rock since it was picked up on NASA’s radar a month prior. Surely, this was just a test.

You waited for the city to come back to life, but everything remained still. After everything you’d all been through in the last year, an asteroid was going to be the end.

A sharp and urgent knock hammered against your door, making you jump a few feet in the air. Before you could move to see who it was, the person was already through the threshold. You peered around the corner of the kitchen and down the hall, your gaze meeting a pair of dark green irises. Clay’s towering figure stalked toward you, his eyes brimming with tears and panic. He pulled you into his embrace rather hurriedly, as if he’d been itching to wrap around you before he broke down.

The hint of cologne clouding the air around the two of you suggested that he was on his way out. As your hands followed their muscle memory to grip onto his clothes, he dug his face into the crook of your neck. It was becoming clear that even if you weren’t responding to your best friend’s need, he was going to take it from you.

He pulled away from you slightly. Your mind had gone completely silent as he looked at you, his attention struggling to focus on one part of your face. Your body felt numb and your tongue had gone dry. His gaze traveled towards the ground and he stepped back slightly, worry spreading across his features as he clamped his hand around your forearm.

“Why are you bleeding? What happened?” His voice cracked slightly as he dug into the drawer beside you to find a towel. You furrowed your brows before finally catching sight of the blood seeping from your arm and between his fingers. His hand was large enough that it nearly served as its own bandage.

He tugged you behind him towards your bathroom. “I fell…” You mumbled, your mind now racing with questions. Why couldn’t you feel the cut? Or his hands? He pushed you upwards to sit on the bathroom counter, his crimson hands shaking slightly as he rinsed them off. Your fingers tightened around the towel holding your wound together. As he focused on the task before him, he seemed to calm down ever so slightly. He rolled his head on his shoulders and took a deep breath to steady himself as fished through your First Aid kit.

“I was on my way to Nick’s and I heard the news. I’m…” He brought his arm up slightly to brush away a few tears against his shoulder. He pulled open a package with his teeth. You watched him carefully as he worked to clean you up. His blond locks hung over his eyes, curling around his ears and twisting about as he focused and you could almost hear his mother’s voice telling him he needed a haircut.

Your chest ached. “Clay, I think I’m having some kind of a breakdown,” you mumbled, your own eyes prickling with tears as he looked up at you quickly. Usually, you were the one that kept it together. It had been like that since the two of you were teenagers. Despite the fact that Clay’s tall, muscular stature gave off the appearance of an intimidating being. In actuality he always let his emotions get the best of him, leaving you in charge of being the rational one.

But as he patched up your arm and struggled not to fall apart, the reality was settling in to weigh heavily on your shoulders.

He began to talk softly to you---much like you usually did for him---making sure his touches were delicate and slow. While his hands were coarse from years of football and building decks with his dad in the summers when the two of you were younger, they were so tender when dealing with you. He cradled you as if you would break at the slightest flex of his finger.

“Why didn’t you just go to Nick’s?” You asked him once he’d finished bandaging your arm and had begun rewashing his hands. The scarlet water in the sink looked almost surreal after you’d been staring so long at the caliginous dishwater. He rested his hands on the edge of the sink, his eyes flashing up to look at himself in the mirror before chewing on the inside of his cheek.

Your hand traveled up his arm, his skin warm beneath your touch as you tugged on his bicep to bring him closer to you. He moved to wrap you in his embrace once again, his breath melding into your hair as his fingers closed around the fabric of your shirt. “I’d rather spend the end of the world with you,” he barely whispered, pressing a kiss to your shoulder softly.

You pulled away from him gently, his forehead moving to rest against your own. One of his hands moved to brush into your hair, his fingers finding purchase against your neck. The familiar smell of smoky vanilla and sage seeped into your mind at his closeness. You thought about your first kiss shared in “the name of science,” after you turned fourteen. Clay had been so awkward in his body at that time; his hair shaggy, stretch marks along his knees from his growth spurt, and a growing realization that you were in fact, a member of the opposite sex.

The Clay before you, even in his state of anguish and anxiety, stood with a cockiness that that Clay couldn’t have even dreamt of. His thumb glossed over your jaw, his eyes cast down as if his mind was wreaking havoc on his movements. Cautiously, you leaned towards him, sealing the space between the two of you as your lips pressed against his. The air of catastrophe seemed to dissipate around you as he pulled you tighter against him. The taste of mint and a faint whisper of fruit from the gum he always chewed blended against your tongue. Your arms moved to wrap around his waist, wanting him pressed to you as close as he could be.

He wrapped his hands around your thighs, pulling you up and into his arms as he made his way to your bedroom. As your back hit the mattress, Clay’s lips were back on yours, your fingers slipping beneath the hem of his shirt to tug the fabric over his head. You sighed as he hesitated before nipping at the skin of your collarbones, his tongue ghosting against any mark that formed on your skin from his teeth. You drove your hands into his hair, your fingers locking around the slight curls forming. He pushed your shirt off and you wiggled out of your sweatpants.

His hips dug into yours, the friction bringing a lazy smile to your face as you bit your lip. You tugged on his hair, making him moan into your ear to mix with his motions. “I want you, Clay,” you stated, your voice falling from your lips in a slightly deeper tone, your breathing uneven with passion. He moved to look into your eyes, pausing for a moment before his hand slid between your waistband and your hip to remove your underpants. It was clear that even as the timer clicked away the minutes the two of you had together, you wanted to savor him. If the world ended now as the two of you were in each other’s embrace, you would be fulfilled.

He smirked slightly at your words, his lips finding your neck once again. “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to hear that,” he moaned, pressing a kiss behind your ear. He slunk down to press his lips against your stomach, moving slowly up your body to bury his face in your hair, grinding his hips against yours. You fought not to roll your eyes as you hooked your fingers through his belt loops, pulling his pants off. He pressed his lips against yours, humming into the kiss as you wrapped your leg around one of his. You slipped your tongue into his mouth, grinding against him.

As Clay pushed himself into you, your whole body relaxed as if he were made for you. He dug his face into the crook of your neck, letting you adjust to him. You hummed slightly, taking your bottom lip between your teeth as he began to move. He gripped the edge of the mattress beside your head as he leaned his weight on his forearm, the angle bringing your thigh to rest against his side. You wrapped your arm around his shoulder, bringing your hips up to move with his. “You’re so beautiful…” he mumbled, his lips brushing against your collarbones again as his thrusts into you became deeper.

You began to feel every inch of him in you as his hips ground against yours. Clay’s lips left yours to press against your jaw and your ear, one of his hands interlocking with yours, binding the two of you further together in the act. It was his carefulness of your forearm that sent a shock wave through your body as you were bitterly reminded that instead of a lifetime of cherishing moments like this, the two of you were cursed into his disaster arc.

His hand pressed into the mattress, fingers curling around the sheets as you pulled him down to you again, his lips melding to yours. You groaned, finding your sweet spot as he did so, making him pick up his pace. His other hand pressed against the side of your neck, bringing your skin closer to his lips as he pressed open mouth kisses to the landscape of your neck, thrusting into you and making the tension in your body tighten with pleasure. Your arms moved to wrap around Clay’s torso, pressing your lips against his shoulder as he moved. Your toes curled as you finally reached your orgasm, calling out his name and feeling him release as well, riding out your pleasure.

As you laid beside him, he played with your fingers, the quietness between the two of you nearly comforting. There was almost the question of “what now” hanging in the air.

A knock came at your door once again, your heart dropping slightly at who the person could be. You shot a look to Clay before pulling on one of the discarded shirts and your shorts from earlier. Your apartment was cold after being in bed with Clay, the air nipping at your skin and sending a shiver down your skin. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the billboard beside your window had the countdown displayed in heavy red numbers. You swallowed your uneasiness and opened your door.

Nick stood before you, his eyebrows slightly perked at---what you could only assume---your unkempt appearance. He wet his lips briefly. “Dream’s here right?” He asked, peering over your head a bit. You silently opened your door completely, letting him inside. Clay came out of your bedroom, tugging a hoodie over his head that he had previously shoved in one of your drawers. As Nick eyed him, it seemed like he’d forgotten whatever serious matter he needed Clay for. Instead of the skittish expression, Nick’s face twisted into a knowingly smug quip.

Clay ran his fingers through his hair, moving down the hallway and into your kitchen. “What’s up?” He queried Nick. You followed the two of them as Nick began to ramble about the end of the world.

Your chest tightened at his words as you took a seat at your kitchen counter. Clay uncapped a beer, leaning on the marble across from you. “There’s a bunker nearby. It belongs to some random old guy but I know some people who can get us a spot,” Nick muttered almost as if he were worried your neighbors would hear and sabotage his plans. He looked between the two of you quickly. “I think it’s worth a shot.”

You watched Clay closely as he thought, his expression nearly blank due to his somberness. You could practically hear the clock ticking away outside as the red light began to seep into your apartment. Clay chewed the inside of his cheek. “What do you think?” He asked, suddenly breaking the deafening silence and turning to you. “I wanna go where you go.” He looked almost like a child as he said this, but you were grateful he wanted to be with you in the end.

You tore your eyes from him, focusing on the ring forming in your sink from the dishwater that you hadn’t had the opportunity to drain. Your mind raced with the possibility that Nick was offering. “What’s the worst that can happen? We’re dying anyway, right?” You responded wearily.

And that’s how you found yourself packed into an underground shelter, Clay’s body pressed against yours as nameless people crowded the dense area. Nick huddled against the two of you, the asteroid’s timer serving as a foreboding heartbeat as it reminded you all that these were the last moments of your life. Clay’s arm tightened around your shoulders as you buried your face in the softness of his sweatshirt. Your legs were going numb from sitting on the ground with your knees folded to your chest, but you didn’t dare move from his grasp. Nick’s side dug into your own as he attempted to shrug away from the hysterical woman beside him whispering to herself.

Only the mumbling of prayers and lamenting sobs broke up the lulling music playing over a small Ham radio resting on a bookshelf in the corner. The tune reminded you of an eerie scene in a movie from the ‘60s. As the song faded, a newscaster began to discuss the timer, wishing that everyone was with loved ones and had spent the last of their money.

And then the final ten seconds came. Your fingers threaded with Clay’s as he pressed a lasting kiss to your forehead.

“... Nine. Eight…”

Nick leaned into you. The two of you had never really been close, but on your journey to the bunker, he'd become a companion to you just as much as he was Clay's.

“... Seven. Six…”

You let your mind travel to your past, prom in particular. When Clay shut the skirt of your dress in his passenger door by accident. You were so mad at him for finding humor in the situation.

“... Five. Four…”

You thought about the week prior when you were considering skipping a lecture because you were tired. What you wouldn’t give to go back to the simplicity of problems like that.

“... Three. Two…”

You hugged Clay tighter to you, hoping that if you both got blasted into whatever kind of eternity was waiting, you’d land at the same time.

“... One.”

Everyone seemed to hold their breath, even the newscaster. The silence was painful as you all waited.

Clay and Nick moved quickly, looking around the room. You furrowed your brows at them, your grip tightening around the front of Clay’s sweater. “Do you hear that?” Clay stated, his voice coming out rushed. Nick nodded, watching as the rest of the men in the bunker began to talk amongst themselves. You couldn’t hear anything, worry settling.

“What?” You asked, barely above a whisper.

Clay pushed himself to sit up away from the wall, dragging you up with him. “How can you not hear that?” He urged mildly. Fear began to pick at your nerves as you noticed the same reactions filling the shelter. Nick stood up, following some of the other guys who heard whatever they were talking about. Clay slipped from your grasp. “I’ll be right back,” he muttered and you grabbed his hand. His eyes flashed a different color as he looked at you.

A few of the women followed the group, attempting to get their companion’s attention before one of them opened the shelter door.

#dream x fem!reader #dream x reader #dream x you #dream smut #apocalypse #college au #dream fluff #dreamwastaken x reader #dreamwastaken scenario #dreamwastaken fluff #dreamwastaken au #tw angst

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wh6res · 3 years

Text

127 SQUAD AND ROMANTIC BF TINGS

tw a lil bit of suggestive on jae's but nothing explicit

✰ — TAEIL would sing lullabies over the phone or video call. you and him would just be doing your own thing, not talking but enjoying being each other's presence. he'll probably pull out his guitar and start singing random songs until he eventually notices you fell asleep on him. will not end the call and when you wake up in the morning, his snores and his cute sleeping face is the first thing you see. "love? you still there? ... taeil?" then laugh out loud when you hear his snores instead. "okay yeah lets sleep more" the call will only end probably because his phone died. he kinda strikes me as a guy who's phone is always < 50% battery lmao

✰ — JOHNNY is your everything. literally. as long as he has the power of youtube, google, and instruction manuals on his side, he can fix anything and everything for you. we've all seen him do crafty things on jcc lmao so it'll probably apply to relationships as well. will 100% say you now owe him cuddles for fixing something for you. you kinda dont like the fact that he's doing all these things for you so you try doing them on your own without him knowing only to fail big time. "what did we learn today?" "never touch the pipes under the sink" "and?" "and always ask johnny for help" "nuh-uh thats not how i said it" you sigh exasperatedly "always let my smokin hot amazing handsome boyfriend johnny suh get the job done"

✰ — TAEYONG doesn't care whether you take the time shopping or not. in fact, he loves seeing you all excited and giddy for pampering yourself as you should. totally the type to hold the paper bags even if you complain and say you can manage on your own. is a complete angel and will wait patiently outside changing rooms and will give you genuine insight he has of the clothes you picked. "that looks nice. you should get that. the length is just right and the sleeves help accentuate your waist" "really yongie?" "yes love. i mean you look pretty in everything anyway" miss ma'am my heart just fucking melted ?¿?

✰ — YUTA doesn't look like it but will exert real effort into things. would be the type to have a note or a google doc about your favorite orders from restaurants because he just loves how your eyes light up appreciatively and you look so smitten by him. its like a cheat sheet. eventually he memorizes the list with how much time he spends with you and he wont even need it. the type to always bring you food before meeting you (if its just hanging out inside the house). "no way! i was just craving for these!" he smiles before kissing your forehead, volunteering to put the food out its container for you. "i figured. you'd been working since this afternoon. lets eat first then you can tell me about what you've been working on so i can help you, okay?"

✰ — DOYOUNG loves cooking for you. i highkey feel like its his love language? like cooking for you and seeing your eyes light up as it darts back to him after you take your first bite from whatever he cooked just gives him so much happiness. its disgustingly sappy and he doesn't like talking about it. now he understood fully what it meant to see your loved ones eating and being full yourself or some shit. idk how the actual quote goes okay dont come 4 me but u probably get it. anyway the type to always pack you lunch and will get hella mad if you skip meals. "what do you mean you havent eaten yet?" "yeah but i will after i--" "you mean you're going to eat Now?" "what? no maybe later--" "thats it im coming over"

✰ — JAEHYUN would be the type to make you playlists. its really random sometimes he'll send them to you in the early morning for the heck of it bc he cant sleep. most of the time its him being horny lmao the frat boy in him awakening and sending you a playlist called imma blow your back out or something extremely cringey and thirsty pls dont block his sorry ass maybe he'd spell out the words using song titles too! idk jae just rlly strikes me as a guy who's love language is music. "hey babe did you check the playlist i sent you?" "wtf its 4am???" "oh so you havent listened to it yet?" "fuck off" but at the end of the day he'll come over and will use the playlist to,,, you know,,, do the sexy thing ;)

✰ — JUNGWOO always makes sure you walk on the inside of the road. you know when you're walking in the street and he softly nudges your waist? yes. will probably even scold you playfully because with how long its been since you both are together, "babe you always walk on the inside of the road how many times do i have to tell you?" is also the type to remind you to wear your seatbelt immediately after hopping onto his car. would ask you Again while in the middle of the car ride because he forgot that he already asked you earlier. please don't mind him he's just looking out for you bb. "seatbelt?" "yes, babe. already done" "are you sure? i dont think i heard it click--" "babe eyes on the road please" "oh right sorry"

✰ — MARK sends you tiktoks, vines, or memes. this is his love language fite me im calling it. he just wants to see you laugh too okay? thats why he does it. i mean it made him laugh, so maybe it will you laugh too. also because he hopes to make inside jokes with u cuz he believes thats how people really get close and stuff. would definitely love it if you do the same thing with him. you'd be chilling in the sofa while khalid plays on the bluetooth speaker and he'll suddenly go "babe babe babe check this out!" then you both proceed to laugh at a vine for the next thirty minutes <3 #living.the.yn.life

✰ — HAECHAN will do your skincare for you when you're drunk or super tired that you just passed out cold on the bed. would probably come into the room to see you snoring and tutting bc now he has to do it for you again but meh deep down he loves it because he enjoys admiring your sleeping face. its sorta like a healing thing for him? yeah it just washes away all the stress he's feeling and bb is just excited about the idea that this becomes "your thing" with him if u get what im saying? altho the next day he'll probably use it as a leverage to get out of chores :) "no way im not folding our clothes" "and why is that?" "i took your make up off yesterday u know how hard that is? im still tired" "but its literally the next day--" "awww thank you for doing my chores, baby! u the best!" ._.

#nct #nct 127 #jaehyun #taeyong #taeil #johnny #yuta #jungwoo #haechan #mark #doyoung #nct 127 headcanons #nct 127 hcs #nct headcanons #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 x y/n #nct 127 x you

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phantomphangphucker · 3 years

Text

Phic Phight: [REDACTED] “Oh Goddamnit. DANNY!”

Prompt Creator: @mr-lancers-english-class

Even Danny’s school projects cause ghostly issues and Lancer really should have seen this coming.

Alright fine, Lancer knew this was a bad idea. He knew it. And yet... here they all are, with each of his students doing their self-chosen presentations. And as he should have expected, Every. Single. One. has been on Phantom. Sure at least there’s been some variety. Star’s piece on his fashion and how that reflects on his personality and the era he died was actually fairly interesting (if it wasn’t for the fact that Phantom spiced up his jumpsuit with t-shirts and whatnot sometimes then this would have been a very boring one). Kwan also surprised him some, apparently he’s spent the past year or so sneaking photos of Phantom eating and did a piece on Phantom’s rather peculiar food tastes (who dips their pickles in milkshakes???) as well as effectively providing proof for the existence of ectoplasmic food (there’s no way any earth apples are neon green on the inside). Dash’s wasn’t even correctly calculated, trying to figure out how far Phantom could throw footballs based on his known strength and if he could kill someone by tackling them (disturbingly the answer -regardless of Dash’s bad math- was decidedly yes. Daniel seemed particularly disturbed). And Paulina’s was quite literally a badly written self-insert ship fan fic; the added drawings of what their child would look like only made it worse (Daniel left, not that Lancer could blame him. Lancer’s also glad for the ghost fight interrupting the presentation). Emilie’s was... disturbingly about ghost hunger and purposed the thesis that Phantom, for the good of the town, should eat the aggressor ghosts (he actually had to cut her off for getting too graphic).

But the single most interesting thing was that a ghost apparently caught wind of this and literally Every. Single. Presentation so far had words that were permanently replaced with [REDACTED], which, needless to say, caused some chaos when Samantha gave the very first presentation.

Lancer clicked his pen, crossing his legs and resting the evaluation sheet on his thigh, “alright, Samantha. Feel free to start whenever you please, though soon would be preferred”, by ‘preferred’ he had meant required, but no need to be mean. He chooses to ignore the goth teen's eyeroll.

Predictably the projected screen doesn’t work when she opens her file so Lancer has to spend ten minutes fiddling with the outdated tech that they wouldn’t give the school funding to replace. Eventually, he does get it up and running showing Ms. Manson’s title screen reading ‘Phantom And Hate Crimes Against Blood Blossoms’. Lancer’s positive ‘blood blossoms’ are a type of flower, figures she would do something nature-focused. She’d make for a great herbalist or botanist someday. He does catch Daniel and Tucker giving her ‘death glares’, as the kids call it, though; Samatha doesn’t look any less smug. The second page has what he thinks was supposed to be a detailed drawing of a flower but it’s severely pixilated, almost as if it been blurred; Samantha looks visibly upset so he’s going to assume something when wrong with the file or pasting format. He’s not marking on artistic capabilities though, so effort is effort there.

She quickly clicks to the next page, where the actual writing of the assignment is and looks decidedly pissed; Lancer even quirks an eyebrow since at least two-thirds of the words are a very bold noticeable [REDACTED]. Lancer watches her yank out her physical copy while glaring with murderous intent at Daniel -Lancer will have to dock him marks if he messed with another student's project- before looking at the physical copy in bafflement for a few seconds. Half the class shrieking when she drops the papers and basically launches herself over the desks at Daniel, “OH YOU LITTLE FUCKER!!!! HOW THE FUCK!”.

Lancer’s sighs and stands, “language, Ms. Manson”, moving to pick up the papers and quirking an eyebrow over them looking the same. Sighing again and eyeing Daniel, who’s being choked -or throttled perhaps?- by Samantha yet is grinning innocently. “Daniel, messing with other students' work is against student policy”, sighing yet again, “and I’ll let Star go while Samantha fixes her document”, summoning up the blonde while glaring at Daniel. Some days that boy was more trouble than he was worth but he was also insanely bright and had a heart of gold. Lancer knows he’ll do good things someday, and that’s why he still tries with him.

Half the class is snickering or laughing now and Star is very clearly trying not to laugh as she sets up.

However, as soon as it opens up the class is met with a very familiar sight. [REDACTED] litters every single page; he checked. And Star’s physical copy was in the same state.

Kwan blinks, “okay seriously, what is going on”, before scrambling to grab out his own physical copy; the rest of the class going wide-eyed and following suit. Lancer just puts his head in his hands and sighs very audibly while shaking his head. Why could nothing go right? Sighing again as the class erupts into noise.

“Mines all weird too!”.

“Same here!”.

“Okay there is no way Fenturd messed up everyone’s work”.

“And I actually tried on mine! It was about the merits of Phantom getting armour!”.

“Oh damn do we just get auto hundreds now? Please please please say yes”.

“Oh damn, Phantom would actually look awesome in armour”.

“I know right”.

“Can we just skip class entirely now?”.

“Oh my Zone a ghost messed with or work”.

“Holy Shit”.

“Wait! Wait! Wait! You don’t think Phantom did do you?”.

“Why the heck would he do that? How would he even know??????”.

“Oh I hope Phantom was inside my computer. That would be so hot”.

“Oh I don’t know, maybe someone told him or he overheard shit. He’s a ghost, he can be invisible. Heck, he could be here, right now, invisible”.

“Invisible and laughing at us”.

“No! No! Hold up! What if he doesn’t want us writing about him or maybe someone wrote some sus shit and he just nerfed us all for good measure”.

“That would mean Phantom totally read my stuff, aw Hell yeah man. That was some boss shit”,

Lancer sighs and stands up, “alright that’s enough”, sighing again because why did this have to happen to him, “and I apologies for blaming you earlier, Daniel”.

Samantha snaps, “oh no, I still blame him”, and continues glaring at the teen. Lancer suspects Samantha would continue blaming the boy even if it was firmly proven he wasn’t at fault.

Addressing the class again, “here’s what we’re going to do, you’re going to read off what of your projects you actually can and allude to the rest. Please reframe from repeating what you know was there beforehand as I’d rather not have whatever ghost responsible -Phantom or otherwise- come here pissed off”, glaring at few students who look slightly encouraged rather than discouraged by that prospect, “anyone who does will receive automatic zeroes”, ah and the encouraged looks have deflated. Good. Gesturing at Star, “you’re already up here, so do continue”. Better to not bring the clearly infuriated Samantha back to the front until she’s had some time to calm down.

Star nods and clears her throat, thankfully everyone quiets down. “O-okay, well, um”, gesturing at the screen, “I did my piece on Phantom’s sense of fashion and the cover image was one with him dressed in one of the Spook Sense stores meme shirts....”.

Lancer shakes away the memory, he honestly slightly regrets giving this project. But regardless right now is Daniel’s turn and Lancer is honestly slightly fearful of what his file is going to look like. Thankfully all their files were saved to his computer before the [REDACTED] debacle, so no one could go back in and edit theirs to add [REDACTED]’s for an easy grade. Lancer’s still not exactly sure how he’s supposed to mark assignments that were anywhere from one-fifth to one-third [REDACTED]. That word will be burned into his head after this grading period.

Lancer moves to find the boys file, but stares when clicking it crashes the computer. Not once. Not twice. But thrice. The fourth time rebooting the computer he inspects the file and is a bit dumbfounded, “Daniel, your entire file’s corrupted. The file type has even been changed to redacted, which I’m fairly sure, isn’t actually any possible file designation”. Everyone’s silent for a bit before bursting out into laughter.

“Just what the Zone did you write, Danny!”.

“Oh we so have to know what this is now”.

“Danny has the forbidden knowledge! We haft found him! The keeper of things forbidden and Ghostly! Haza!”.

“Ha! It was probably so lame that Phantom wanted to save him the embarrassment”.

Lancer sighs, but Daniel gestures Tucker up, “hey Tuck, feel like trying to fix the file”. Tucker chuckles and walks up, though apparently glaring at the boy. Based on Daniel’s smirk he finds this quite amusing.

Tucker does manage to make the file viewable at least. Lancer nods and leans back in his seat, “thank you, Mr. Foley”, while the file loads on screen.

Tucker sits back down with a head shake while Daniel stands at the front and gestures to the screen, “aight, as you can see from my not redacted title-”, that earns a couple laughs, “I did mine on Phantom’s portfolio of crime. Every single time our dear Phantom broke ghost law. Including such wonderful things as, that time he caused not one, not two, not even three, but five, prison breaks in one day. Or that time he invalidated a Observant spectator duel by bringing an inflatable sword”. Samantha slams a hand on her desk, “IT IS YOUR FAULT YOU DICK!”.

Lancer has some serious questions as Daniel clicks for the next page, the entire class going dead silent as a screen comprising of almost nothing but the word [REDACTED] shows. Lancer sighs very audibly. Eventually the class starts up again.

“Fenton... actually has forbidden knowledge”.

“If it wasn’t for the teacher computer saved thing I’d think he was fucking with us”.

“I mean... he is a Fenton, right?”.

“Okay the fact that this entire presentation is on ghost crimes is concerning alone. But they’re forbidden ghost crimes at that”.

“Shit I wanted the tea. Damnit”.

“Better question, how does Danny know?”.

Daniel clicking the button to go forward is very audible. And, Chicken Soup For The Soul, every single page is [REDACTED] to the point of being completely and utterly unintelligible. There are occasional lines pointing out how Phantom apparently ate confetti at a ghosts third wedding (which is apparently illegal for some reason) or that time he beat someone up with a violin that had a pie inside it (Lancer can see this one, Lancer himself has smacked a ghost with stranger). Literally the only photo that isn’t blurred beyond recognition is one of Phantom in a prison uniform (Paulina was very vocal about liking men in uniform here). Lancer is absolutely positive the end of his conclusion ‘[REDACTED] are a bunch of [REDACTED]’ is an insult.

Samantha chucks a boot at his smirking face, “YOU IDIOT. Of course they were going to block you from talking about them. Ancients, I can’t believe you”. Tucker’s busy laughing into his hand.

“Oh my Zone, they know too”.

“They’re really earning that weirdo trio title, huh”.

Daniel snickers as he sits back down, “they broke into my room and wrecked that epic puzzle I was working on. They shoulda seen this shit coming. Literally”. Tucker snorts, “they probably did but couldn’t do anything else about it. They can’t stop you and your endless bullshit”.

“Damn fucking straight”.

Lancer isn’t going to claim to know what exactly they’re talking about but apparently Daniel effectively orchestrated this entire fiasco just to annoy some ghost. Lancer is honestly more impressed than disturbed. A for effort but an A- for making everyone's work nigh unusable.

End.

Prompt: For the last project of their senior year in high school, Mr. Lancer is letting his class do presentations on literally whatever topic they want. He is very, /very/ sure that this is going to go poorly, but that's a problem for later...

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get-shiggy-with-it · 3 years

Text

Ch. 2

Shigaraki Birthday Celebration! 18+ MINORS DNI

Pairing: Tomura Shigaraki x fem!reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: reader is marked fem cause Tomura is a little sexist and hates you cause you’re a woman, no pronouns, incel!shiggy, collage au/no quirks, tomura is an asshole, gratuitous swearing, like so much, shiggy has a dirty mouth, mentions of shigs being anxious, brief male masturbation, tags will be added for smut in the next two parts

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

Summary: In which studying is done, unwilling connections are made, and Tomura thinks about the way you smell a totally normal amount.

AO3 mirror

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

Tomura hadn’t stopped staring at his phone since he left the apartment. It was second nature by now—head down at a nearly ninety degree angle, hoodie pulled up to hide hair he hadn’t bothered to comb in weeks, and phone out, held just far enough away that he could see the pavement behind the screen.

He’d found that people tended to naturally avoid him this way and he didn’t have to risk accidentally making eye contact. It was still a bit nerve wracking to venture into buildings he didn’t expressly have to for classes, so he was still hesitant to make the voyage from his apartment to the library. But he’d made the mistake of mentioning plans to his roommate and the bastard wouldn’t leave him alone about it afterwards until he was practically shoved out with the door locked behind him.

He was half tempted to make up some excuse last minute and go hide out at the only cafe on campus he could tolerate, but Tomura knew he was just delaying the inevitable. Biting the bullet now would help to not prolong his suffering.

Your text thread glared up at him in stark white on blue as he pushed past a crowd of students by the library entrance and flashed his ID to the attendant.

Group Project Bitch:

— hey I got us a room on the third floor, all the way in the back

—text me when you’re here I’ll wave you in, it’s kinda hard to find T-T

sounds good—

He shot off a quick text to you that he was hoping on the elevator. The other two guys in the lift may have given him a dirty look for only going up to the third floor, but Tomura sure as hell wasn’t going to risk the physical exertion of stares when just the thought being stuck in a small room alone with you for god knows how long already had him sweating.

When he stepped out, you were leaned against one of the 90s-green shelves, scrolling aimlessly through your phone. He panicked momentarily, thinking he’d have to get your attention cause just walking up without saying anything would be weird right?

He wasn’t sure.

He didn’t do shit like this.

Thankfully, you looked up at the chime of the lift and waved him over. His red sneakers squeaked as they scuffed the linoleum floors and he already regretted choosing his tighter fitting pair of sweats. The tapered legs that hugged his ankles and thin calves rubbed against his skin and stung the raw patches.

“Hey, thanks for coming,” you said softly and he nodded, following as you began to weave through the stacks. “Sorry it was short notice, graduation’s coming up so I'm swamped with meetings.”

“It’s fine, I didn’t have anything going on.”

He cringed internally at the way his voice cracked, trying to keep the usual rasp to a minimum. His roommate said it was from the innumerable hours he spent shouting at his monitor or on discord, which was probably true but to you he was sure he just sounded like a fucking teenager.

“Cool, I’ve been set up for awhile so feel free to move some stuff,” you talked a bit louder now that you’d both stepped into the study room and shut the door.

Tomura looked around. You’d snagged one of the nicer ones at least, with the big monitors he could cast his screen onto and those comfy chairs he liked but could never beat anyone too on the lower floors.

You were right, there was shit all over the big table at the center of the room. Notes and printed out readings with highlights galore and sticky notes littering the pages were scattered all over. What a show off. You probably tossed all this stuff out so he’d think you were actually intelligent or some shit.

Kicking a pile off of the nearest plush armchair, Tomura took a seat and pulled his laptop out. There was a jack in the middle of the table and you plugged yours in to cast onto the big monitor.

You made a fucking power point for him.

This couldn’t be real.

“So I know I ran some stuff by you in class but essentially I was thinking we make like a simple Twine type thing using the rhetorical argument Swift is making…”

You started rambling again and Tomura almost immediately tuned you out. His eyes drifted between the rough outline you were flicking through on the board and the laptop you had your nose buried in.

It was covered in stickers, pretty obviously stereotypical for someone as obsessed with being ‘cool’ as you clearly were. But as he scanned through the various old meme phrases and aesthetic shit, he caught a couple of game references he recognized and a panel cutout from one of his favorite manga.

He almost fell into your trap for a moment, feeling a rush at the prospect of someone—much less a chick—being into his main hyperfixations.

But it was quickly crushed under everything his years trolling subreddits had taught him. People like you didn’t actually have interests beyond the attention and dick it got them. Plus that manga was pretty popular anyway, you probably didn’t even read it, just thought the line was funny or made you sound quirky. That had to be why you felt the need to drop it in your first texts.

“What do you think?” you asked, making good on your new habit of startling the hell out of him.

Tomura blinked, gaze instinctively turning to you but the blatant way you stared made his mouth turn to sand paper, so he looked resolutely back at the color-coded bullet points on the screen.

“Look’s fine,” he mumbled.

The more he glanced over it, the more it actually did look fine. A bit more than fine, really, which pissed him off even more. The little choose-your-own debate style story was not a terrible way to make fucking Whatever Swift interesting and it kinda looked like you’d bothered to google some simple coding which gave him a better idea of what you were looking for.

It was...good.

And that so fucking annoying.

Well, he wasn’t sure if annoying was the right word for it, but the proposal coupled with your apparent lack of disgust at working with him made his face hot and that only ever happened otherwise when his roommate left the dishes out for weeks or when some newb on his server fucked up their raids.

Then, you had the audacity to plop down in the chair next to him and—

“You can tell me to fuck off if you want,” you began, shuffling in the chair to cross your legs on the cushion, “but I was hoping you’d be willing to show me how you do some of the coding stuff? I tried on my own, but I have literally no clue what I’m doing.”

He could smell you again, like the whole fucking health and beauty aisle at the grocery store. When he turned his head a bit to look at you around the curtain of his hair, you were crooked—back against the armrest and facing him.

“Why do you want to know?” he asked, sounding a bit less rude than he would have liked to.

You just fucking stared right at him though, didn’t wrinkle your nose at how greasy his roots were or how he was wearing the same hoodies as yesterday.

“I’ve always been interested in it, but my program is kinda stressful and I don’t have much free time so I never learned,” you offered and for once Tomura found he didn’t feel his skin crawl under your unwavering gaze.

The dry, cracked area around his eyes burned though as sweat beaded on his forehead and he quickly wiped at his face with a loose sweatshirt sleeve. The garment hung off his shoulders, bought a size too big that he never ended up growing into.

“What’s your major?”

He found the words slipped easily from him. It was the quintessential question you asked of anyone in college when you met, but he’d never been interested in the answer before.

You babbled a bit about your specific area of study and your voice was surprisingly not as infuriating as he remembered it being before. It was softer, he thought, than when you were soapboxing in class about the sexist implications of old as fuck poetry—it had a less grating quality and was almost pleasing to the ear.

Or Tomura would have said that if he thought you deserved the compliment.

But, obviously you didn’t.

So he didn’t.

He just pretended to care about what you were saying and didn’t hang onto every word at all. Actually he was more enraptured in the way your lips moved when you talked. You used your hands a lot too, but his eyes were ensnared on the way your mouth quirked and dipped, at the occasional flash of your tongue between strong teeth. When he leaned in a bit, he could smell your breath too: fruity gum and the remnants of whatever you were always drinking in that loud as fuck cup. He wondered now what exactly it was, so he could buy it and get a better idea of what you mouth might taste—

Nope.

No, see this was exactly what he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about. How were you doing this to him? What a fucking slut.

Tomura steeled his nerves as you started explaining the extracurriculars you did on the side.

“My roommate freshman year actually started a gaming club and so I’ve gotten more into that over the years,” you explained, pointing at the stickers on your laptop case.

“Are you talking about The League?”

“Yeah, I didn’t know if you’d heard of it,” you shrugged.

He knew of the gaming club on campus. He’d thought about joining when he enrolled but the allure of anonymity online gaming provided was too strong. Plus his discord server didn’t have annoying weekly meetings.

The thought of you, up late and illuminated by the blue light of a tv screen, tucked away in one of the basement rooms in the media building was...strange. It also prompted an array of new images—you in those fucking cat ear headsets, seated in his lap as he trashed you in Mario Kart which was even stranger.

Tomura had to physically shake his head to dislodge the thought.

“Uh, we should probably work on this right?” he cringed at the way his voice cracked compared to your own, smooth tone.

You should narrate those fucking sleepy time mediation things. His roommate used to hide wireless speakers in his room and blast those when Tomura stayed up too late. It was annoying as shit then, but if it was you talking, he probably wouldn’t have minded so much.

Or no, no he would definitely mind.

Yes. It would have been worse if anything.

“Oh shit, you right. It’s been like two hours.”

He glanced down at his laptop and saw that it had, indeed, been two hours since he got there. He’d willingly spoken to you for two goddamn hours. It felt like no time had passed at all, but the sun was definitely setting, the overhead fluorescent bulbs taking over as the main light source in the room.

Weird.

So you settled back in your chair, typing away like you always did, but the sound wasn’t nearly as frustrating as before. Occasionally, you’d glance over his shoulder and ask questions about what he was working on, but mostly the two of you settled into a comfortable silence.

This pattern continued for the next few weeks. As the weather warmed, you began to show a bit more skin. He never worked up the nerve to comment on the thick expanse of bare thigh that tapered off nicely into your calf, or the curve of your arms not hidden behind knit sweaters—hell even your fucking shoulders were hard not to look at.

Maybe all those high school dress codes weren’t actually so full of shit after all. Cause he was definitely distracted by the way your neck swooped into the exposed skin of your shoulder and down your back on more than one occasion.

Did all girls know that? Was it some kind of massive conspiracy to crumble the patriarchy or some crap to go flashing bare shoulders everywhere?

Regardless if you really were trying to hypnotize him into liking you, Tomura stayed resolutely in his monochrome, long sleeved attire, and if you noticed the behavior you never said a word.

Never said a word about his allergy ridden skin, peeling lips or scarred throat. Never commented on his terrible posture or said his eyes were creepy. Even when he’d occasionally toss a negative remark your way, you never retaliated maliciously. Just brushed him off with a jovial ‘don’t be a dick’ and a playful, but hard slap to his chest or the back of his head.

The two of you always met in the same, secluded room on the third floor. You’d talk with him in class sometimes or shoot him texts about random bits of inspiration or a late night game memes, but for the most part, your conversations were confined to that room. He found he preferred the study room ‘you’ best. You weren’t as stiff. There was more of a solidity to you, like he’d seen when you told off that Kai bastard.

It...grew on him.

He was irrationally anxious that there would be a time when you couldn’t secure this particular room—with it’s big monitor and comfy chairs and less annoying ‘you’—but he’d been reassured after your third work session.

Someone had knocked softly at the thick, wooden door and a head of wild, bright pink hair peaked around the crack.

“Sup bro,” the intruder quipped, as they stepped fully into the room.

“Hey, Spinner,” you mumbled back, looking up momentarily from the essay portion of your presentation before going back to typing.

Spinner had seemed to notice him at that point and offered a small wave in his direction. “Oh hey, sorry, thought you were alone,” he said quickly.

“Nah, this is Tomura,” you said, glancing up again and jerking your thumb in his direction.

Tomura nodded and tugged at his hoodie strings to stop from scratching under the newcomer’s gaze. He’d gotten used to you, but other people still made him a bit nervous.

“Nice to meet you,” Spinner had a nice smile, bright and flashy when he spoke. He leaned against the door and crossed his arms, looking around the room. “You got the nice one, huh. How’d you manage that?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you half closed your laptop and stretched a bit. “Jin was working the front desk, so I’ve just been bribing him with vending machine snacks.”

“He hasn’t gotten himself fired yet?” Spinner laughed incredulously, but not unkindly.

“Surprisingly not, but he’s completely corrupt now,” you were picking at the cuticle of your thumb and Tomura fixated on the way the skin split off at the nail. Just like his. “A couple packs of chips and a Monster and I get the most bitchin study room whenever I want.”

“Damn,” Spinner chuckled again and Tomura really wished that he’d leave already. He was beginning to feel himself fading into the upholstery as the conversation left him in the dust. The divergence of your attention away from him or the project was even more annoying that you were. “Well, are you coming to The League meeting tonight? We’re busting out a Smash tournament.”

“That’s tonight?” you asked, eyes perking up but sliding subtly in Tomura’s direction. “Sorry, I think Tomura and I are gonna be working on this project for a while longer and I’m kinda burnt out. But next time, yeah?”

Spinner rolled his eyes but nodded and kicked off the wall. “That’s not very sexy of you,” he chided and waved a hand in parting. “Gonna work yourself directly into the fucking grave.”

“Jokes on you, I welcome death.”

You buried yourself in the screen again and Tomura actually felt a bit grateful for you ending the conversation before he got too painfully awkward.

But Spinner stopped before he left, looking Tomura up and down from the frayed strings of his black hoodie to the tips of his worn red sneakers.

“Nice to meet you, man,” he said with a wide grin. “Feel free to tag along next time if you want, we always need more players.”

The door clicked softly shut behind him and Tomura relaxed back into the silence.

He did end up tagging along—though he spent most of the time hanging off your heels like a lost puppy—to the next meeting of your gaming club and the one after that. Frustratingly enough, he learned that your interests did also extend into skills as you almost bested him in a few rounds Smash. Your profile, lit only by the flashing screen lights, was even more striking outside of his imagined imitations.

So much so that it found its way into his head late at night when he was too tired to log onto his server. So much so that it had his cock growing firm and tenting his grey sweats without even the visual aid of his go to porn clips. So much so that sometimes, he felt inclined to do something about the throbbing between his legs. So much so that he thought about the way you picked the skin by your fingers. How it looked like his. How your hand might feel like his but softer. Smoother around the edges. With your sweet voice whispering in his ear, making him whine and pant and spill white ropes of release onto his stomach.

But it was only because you were hot.

And you were practically begging for him to jack off to the thought of you with those outfits and liking all the shit he liked and noticing when he shrunk away from conversations or including him in them when he started to feel that awful sense of fading into the background.

Yeah.

Everybody jerks it sometimes to their group project partners if their ass is nice enough.

Right?

#tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura x reader #shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki imagines #bnha fanfiction #college au #bee.writes

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makeste · 4 years

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BnHA Chapter 292: You Say Jeans

Previously on BnHA: Horikoshi was all “well anyway here’s that Touya reveal I foreshadowed like a million years ago, viva la 2020.” Dabi was all “hello world, I’ve killed 30 people and today I’m going to explain to you all why” before he proceeded to explain ABSOLUTELY NOTHING but everyone was so distracted by his tale of child abuse and hero conspiracies that they didn’t much seem to notice. Can’t Ya See-Kun’s Shark Friend was all “IS THIS THE END OF HERO SOCIETY AS WE KNOW IT”, and Horikoshi was all “STAY TUNED”, and then Dabi set himself on fire and leaped off of Machia’s back like the chaotic evil, I-just-bleached-all-my-brain-cells weird little fire man he is, ready to burn everyone to crispy bits before they could even react properly to his whole big revenge speech. Fortunately he did not succeed on account of THE RETURN OF THE JING, THE JOAT, BEST FUCKING JEANIST, back from the dead by popular demand in what critics are calling “the best fucking comeback since Jesus himself.”

Today on BnHA: Best Jeanist snatches up Machia and the rest of the League with his fiber steel cables before you can say “more like BEAST JEANIST amirite.” Dabi gets all worked up and lights Hadou on fire which is a real JERK MOVE, and is all “THIS RIGHT HERE IS ALSO ENDEAVOR’S FAULT”, which, NOT SUPER CONVINCED ON THAT, BUT OKAY. Anyway so then he burns up all the cables holding him which is crazeballs btw, and then he and Shouto start fighting, and so basically the whole thing is a literal hot mess and we’ll see how that goes. Meanwhile Tomura wakes up and summons some Noumus, and poor Jeanist has to deal with those on top of the still-attempting-to-rampage Gigantomachia, and everyone else is all “we can’t help you on account of we’re all half dead”, and so it’s looking really bad. And then -- and I can’t stress enough how much I don’t even have the faintest idea how to segue into this next part -- the chapter ends with Mirio!?! just sort of POPPING UP OUT OF THE GROUND all, “SURPRISE, BITCH”, and it literally was so surprising that I am still just kind of speechless. WELL-PLAYED, I GUESS, lol wtf.

lol okay so the first page in the RHA scan is just the “three musketeers” movie promo image that we all already saw a few days ago. but it does confirm that (a) it is indeed a movie, and (b) that it’s set for a summer 2021 release! how exciting

okay so now back to our special Dabi edition of Making a Murderer

“ray of hope” oh hell yes. SAVE US MR. JEANIST

I guess he had a TV in his private hero jet or something?

gotta say, “dammit Dabi” does not even remotely sound like Authentic Best Jeanist Dialogue to me though. gonna need Caleb to see to this. well but what do you guys think? does Best Jeanist curse?? I personally feel like he’s one of those guys who NEVER EVER swears no matter what, except under the most hilariously trifling circumstances. like he’s eating an avocado one day and he accidentally stains the cuffs of his beloved jostume green and he’s all “FUCK”

btw how fucking rich is Best Jeanist though that he has his own fucking plane? the thought just suddenly occurred to me, you know? like even Endeavor, whose agency has its own on-site luxury apartment suites for all of his interns, still drives around in a dinky little car that Bakugou has declared to be too small. which, I guess we know why he felt that way now, seeing as the guy he previously interned with apparently gets around in Jeans Force One

anyway so back to the part where Jeanist shows up to save the day!! YEAH JEANIST WOOOOO

ILU JEANIST YOU REALLY ARE THE BEST!! HUGS AND KISSES!!!

lmao we just saw Gigantomachia take out like a hundred guys not ten chapters ago. and Best Jeanist shows up and takes him down in like two seconds. HOW DO YOU LIKE THEM APPLES LEAGUE OF VILLAINS. BET YOU’RE WISHING YOU’D TAKEN HIS QUIRK NOW, AFO. GET FUCKED YOU OLD SPUD

KACCHAN IS SO HAPPY TO SEE HIM AWW

SIDE NOTE, IIDA, YOU AND I ARE GONNA HAVE WORDS LATER ABOUT YOU ACTUALLY AGREEING TO PUT HIM BACK DOWN. YOU DO UNDERSTAND THAT THIS CHILD IS STILL DRIPPING BLOOD ALL OVER THE PLACE FROM HIS MULTIPLE STAB WOUNDS, RIGHT? WAY TO ASSERT YOUR AUTHORITY THERE. I THOUGHT YOU WERE THE CLASS PRESIDENT NOT THE CLASS CLOWN, COME ON NOW

LMAO DABI IS FRANTICALLY TRYING TO DO THE PLOT MATH

SHOULDA CHECKED MORE CLOSELY MY GOOD MARK. LOOKS LIKE YOU MISSED THE “MADE IN CHINA” STICKER ON THE BOTTOM. YOU HAVE BEEN BAMBOOZLED. OR ACTUALLY, I GUESS THE MORE ACCURATE WORD HERE IS JAMBOOZLED, AHAHAHAHA. JEANS

HOLY SHIT DABI

I legit almost thought that was Tomura for a second. you two look so alike now with the white hair and the crazy eyes

meanwhile, Shouto is still crying and it’s a lot to take, you guys. lotta feels

ffff come on Jeanist you better do something awesome again here, the mood of the chapter is starting to slip now

YES, GOOD, THAT’LL WORK

WELL YOU TELL ME, SPINNER. I GUESS THAT MEANS BEST JEANIST IS OFFICIALLY THE STRONGEST CHARACTER IN THE SERIES NOW. SORRY I DON’T MAKE THE RULES

ffff now Spinner is trying to wake Tomura back up. nah, how’s about we not do that

OH MY GOD HADOU YESSSS

MY GIRL OUT HERE WITH THE “NO THANK YOU” BOUT TO CURBSTOMP THE BIG BAD WITH HER QUIRK KSFHLKLK WHO HERE HAD “HADOU SAVES THE DAY” ON YOUR WAR ARC BINGO CARDS, YOU LOVE TO SEE IT!!

HEY!!!!

fucking son of a... fffkfkff... someone please reassure me that fire isn’t Hadou’s weakness. someone. anyone. also could someone please dial an ambulance and send them to Horikoshi’s house. but not just yet. first I’m gonna need you to wait about fifteen minutes or so while I take care of some things

well all right then, Dabi. so you wanna go on then and explain to us all how this, too, is somehow Endeavor’s fault?

oh I see, you’ve decided that since he’s responsible for “creating” you, everyone you hurt and kill is in truth really being hurt and killed by him! well now, that sure is convenient as fuck I guess

(ETA: that’s a nice effect with the panel sides getting all warped by Dabi’s quirk though, just noticed that.)

amazing how quickly you used up that sympathy card my guy. Shouto please kick his ass, I’m fucking done lol, you can all sort out the rest in therapy later

CAN SOMEONE PLEASE DIAL BACK DEKU’S EMPATHY STATS JUST A LITTLE BIT, HOLY --

“TODOROKI-KUN IS HURT THE MOST”, HE SAYS, WITH HIS ARM BONES SHATTERED INTO LITTLE TOOTHPICK-SIZED PIECES. I MEAN, HE’S PROBABLY TALKING MORE ABOUT MENTAL ANGUISH GIVEN THE CONTEXT HERE, BUT STILL. THAT’S ENOUGH HEROICS FROM YOU ALREADY FOR ONE DAY

NOOO JEANIST

LOTS OF SMOKE IN THE AIR RIGHT ABOUT NOW AND MY BOY’S STILL DOWN A LUNG. GOD DAMMIT

“if the number one suffers a total loss here, this country will fall to pieces” well okay, real talk though, I think the “country falling to pieces” part is pretty much unavoidable at this juncture. you all are just gonna have to try your best to pick up those pieces after the fact and see what you can do with them. if I were you I’d be less worried about the number one’s reputation and more concerned with the half-dozen child soldier interns who are still on the field and very much at risk of being burned to death should you suffer that “total loss.” please try to keep it together here for them

OH FOR FUCK’S

I really thought RockLockRock was gonna come into play here. USE YOUR QUIRK TO LOCK THE ROPES IN PLACE YOU DIP!! if he seriously just sits there and does nothing when his quirk could be the deciding factor I am cancelling his useless ass cute kid or no cute kid shfkjdls

(ETA: is he even there?? did he and Manual just hightail it out of there?? “well good luck, children.”)

also, we’ll put this aside for now to perhaps speculate about later, but what’s with Tomura remembering his dad’s house yet again in that far right panel?? and being itchy again?? I still have yet to fully work out the psychological mechanisms at work as far as his itchiness goes, so I’ll admit this is intriguing to me. it seemed like it was connected to his decay quirk, but then why is it acting up again now. what is this lol

yuh oh

forgot about these guys. looks like these heroes aren’t having such a fun time

oh fucksticks

excuse me ma’am but I don’t like this. you do know that my kids are all there, right. all burnt and impaled and broken-boned and the like. well except for Iida. he’s fine still. BUT THAT DOESN’T MEAN I FEEL LIKE WATCHING HIM GET TORN APART BY FOUR HIGH ENDS, WTF

HORIKOSHI YOU MOTHERFUCKER I SWEAR TO GOD

god fucking... okay look. Horikoshi. you win, okay!? congratulations, you win, this is your show and we’re all just sitting here at your mercy. fine. go ahead and just kill off everyone ever, then!! what am I even gonna do about it. stop reading?? fuck

this whole thing really went from zero to fucked before I could even blink huh. I really thought this was gonna be a turning point chapter for the heroes. shows what I know I guess??

meanwhile this motherfucker is just SCREAMING

ngl, if I wasn’t currently terrified on account of things suddenly taking such a drastic turn for the worse, this would be the coolest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. Jeanist my man, I hype you up like it’s my job because you are the greatest fucking meme character in the history of time, but make no mistake, you are also highkey WORTH ALL THE HYPE AND THEN SOME

seriously, though. don’t fucking mind him you guys, he’s just standing here in the coolest pose of all time taking on Gigantomachia all alone with one fucking lung because the substance pumping through his veins is COLD-BLOODED LIQUID DENIM, and DENIM FEELS NO FEAR

Best Jeanist really needs to get his own theme song. -- oh my god I just finally thought of a title for this post. lmao and it’s the dumbest thing. omg

MEANWHILE THE TODOROKI BROS ARE OFF IN THEIR OWN DRAMATIC LITTLE FIRE WORLD

which one do you think is the Mario and which is the Luigi. well, but I mean, Dabi clearly thinks that he’s the Luigi though and that’s why he’s so mad. nobody wants to be Luigi. what a life

THAT’S IT, SHOUTO!! POINT OUT ALL OF HIS HYPOCRITICAL BULLSHIT, I WANT ANSWERS

JUST TO CLARIFY, IT’S THAT NATSU, NOT SOME OTHER NATSU!! SO WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO SAY FOR YOURSELF!!

OH, WELL IN THAT CASE

BUT OF COURSE. THAT WOULD MAKE IT ALL WORTHWHILE, holy shit. okay I’m just gonna go ahead and say it, Dabi is a piece of work. I really thought this arc would make him more sympathetic at long last, but it seems like it’s doing just the opposite?? this is like an anti-redemption arc. I don’t relish the thought of venturing into the fandom tags once I finish reading this lol

(ETA: well folks, I’ve done it. and actually it was pretty interesting because there are apparently like ten different things that people are mad about, and so it’s like. each post is a new adventure lmao.)

so Shouto is all “BRUH HAVE YOU COMPLETELY LOST IT” and Dabi is all “YES”, basically? like, he says he’s completely lost his feeling for anything. omg. but you were so sweet. how does that even happen

“finally I can kill you” okay for real what the heck is your damage bro?? can we not. I like Shouto just the way he is, un-killed

oh shit and now the Noumus are here

cue Bakugou diving in to save his mentor, STAB WOUNDS BE DAMNED!! actually it would make more sense for it to be Iida, but if Kacchan is really fixin’ to go full Shounen Dumbass here then he might as well go all out, y’know

-- unless of course, Deku decides to activate another quirk??

“last I checked, the main character of this series was still me” OH? WELL I SUPPOSE THAT IS TRUE, SO PRAY TELL, WHAT HAVE YOU GOT LEFT UP YOUR SLEEVE YOU SUICIDAL BRUSSELS SPROUT

fucking love how he’s all “HAHAHA WITH MY NEW QUIRKS I CAN STILL DO STUPID SHIT EVEN WITH MY ARMS AND LEGS GROUND TO A FINE POWDER” btw. what can I say. Deku gonna Deku

FMMFHDKUHK W H A T

HOLY SHIT. HOLY FUCKING SHIT. WHAT THE WHAT. QUE THE FUCK

(ETA: okay look, all the love in the world to the brave scanlators who take time out of their lives to translate the leaks every week just so we can read the chapter a couple of days early like the addicts we are. that said, translating Mirio’s signature “POWER!!” -- which was already written in English in the original scan -- to “POG-CHAMP” is just a whole new level of wtfuckery from them lmao. is the Lida person back at it again?? amazing.)

MIRIO!?!?! SHOWS UP TO SAVE THE DAY?!?! POGS HIMSELF UP OUT THE GROUND TO BEAT THE NOUMUS LIKE IT AIN’T NO THING. JUST LIKE WE ALL PREDICTED!? I’M SORRY, DID YOU NOT SEE THAT COMING?? YOU MEAN TO TELL ME YOUR DAILY HOROSCOPE FROM ASTROLOGY DOT COM DIDN’T HAVE THAT ONE IN THE CARDS?? WAS IT NOT OBVIOUS?? TODOROKIS PLUS BEST JEANIST EQUALS MIRIO??

hot damn. Tintin really saw the writing on the wall with the impending Dabi Discourse and was all “NOT SO FAST” lmao. “HERE’S A BRAND NEW THING FOR YOU ALL TO DISCOURSE ABOUT” MIRIO YOU WILD CHILD. YOU GLORIOUS THUG

MEANWHILE LET’S NOT FORGET WHAT MIRIO HAVING HIS POWERS BACK ACTUALLY IMPLIES. HOLY SHIT. SUDDENLY WE CUT BACK TO ALL MIGHT’S OFFICE, ALL THE WAY BACK AT UA. ERI BRANDISHES HER TOKOYAMI-GIFTED BUSTER SWORD, A DETERMINED GLEAM IN HER EYE. “I HEARD YOU WERE TRYING TO HAVE A GIRL POWER ARC WITHOUT ME.” OH. MY. GOD

#bnha 292 #best jeanist #todoroki touya #dabi #todoroki shouto #midoriya izuku #hadou nejire #toogata mirio #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha

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dreamescapeswriting · 4 years

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BTS Reaction || You Have A Septum Piercing [Request]

A/n: If you have one I have to give you a pat on the back. I’m a little bitch, I had my lip and belly done but took my belly piercing out after watching a girl have it ripped out back in school and I took my lip piercing out for my ex cause he was a dumb ass

Seokjin:

It was a total shock to him to see you come in from a day of shopping with a new piercing, you had others of course but this one was different. It looked like it was the only one that could have hurt you the most, you were sitting on the sofa in silence watching The Meg with him but his eyes were glued to your face. You moved the glass away from your mouth,

"What is it Jin?" You laughed turning to look at him, his eyes were glued to your piercing and you knew he had plenty of questions but since you'd come through the front door he'd been silent the whole time.

"Did it hurt?" You laughed softly at him and nodded,

"Only a little, like a sharp pinch." He held his nose as if that would somehow create the same kind of pain you'd had. Jin supported your every decision but he was still trying to wrap his head around why you'd gone to get this done,

"I like it, but why?" You bit your lip to stop yourself from laughing at him, he wanted answers to everything.

"I saw it on someone on Instagram and I'd wanted one since I was a teen so I just...I don't know went for it? You sure you like it?" He shifted closer to you on the sofa and nodded, his eyes still locked onto it - you were going to have to get used to him constantly staring down at your nose now.

"It's hot." He whispered his eyes looking from your piercing to your lips to your eyes and you shook your head at him leaning in and kissing him softly on the lips.

"You're adorable," You giggled as he pulled back and told you he was worried it would hurt your nose if he kissed you too roughly.

Yoongi:

It was a total surprise to you to just go out and do it. You were bored waiting for Yoongi to come home from the studio and you'd been planning it for months. Never telling anybody but your best friend that you'd wanted this piercing and she was fully supportive of it. She'd convinced you that it was one of your best ideas ever and took you to go and get it done yourself. You picked out a black bar and just like that you were sitting in the chair, had the piercing and were going home.

"Hi Yoongi, you hungry?" You yelled as you heard him come through the front door, you heard him drop his bag on the floor and shuffle his way over to you. You had your back to him as you cracked eggs into a jug getting ready to make omelettes.

"Yeah, what did you do today?" You turned around to answer his question and his eyes landed right on the piercing,

"Fuck that's hot." He groaned looking at you and biting his lip,

"It's real?" You nodded and he bit his lip looking form you to the oven,

"I'm not that hungry I can wait...Why did you get it done?" You shrugged your shoulders and he picked you up putting you on the kitchen side so he could look up at you and study the piercing,

"You like it then?" He shook his head and your heart fell,

"I fucking love it." You giggled at him and he brought you down to kiss him once again, wrapping his arms around you and holding his hand against the back of your head to hold you as close as he could.

Hoseok:

Hoseok was the one that took you to get the piercing done, as soon as he heard you talking about getting one done to your best friend he'd been supportive of the idea. Researching how to keep it clean, how to look after a new piercing and even helped you pick out the bar that you wanted, he loved the thought of you having piercings. You laid down on the bed and the man began to add the pen line to your nose.

"You can leave if you want," You said as you watched Hoseok watching closely with one eye open and the other shut tightly.

"No, it's fine. Will, it hurt them?" Hoseok asked turning to the piercer who had plenty of piercings.

"No. They'll be fine, you can hold their hand if you like?" Hoseok took hold of your hand and you knew it was more for his benefit than for his. He was squeamish when it came to things like this.

"Ready?" The man asked as he brought the equipment over,

"Yep." You answered in unison, as soon as the needle touched your nose Hoseok's grip on your hand tightened watching the whole display until the bar was finally on and you didn't have a needle there anymore.

"All done." You sat up and walked over to the mirror to check it out,

"Looks great on you, suits you. I'll let you clean up the pen." He left the room and Hoseok stared at you in the mirror with a blush on his cheeks,

"It looks so good." You smiled at him and turned to face him,

"You like it?"

"I love it." He whispered giving you a kiss on the cheek and watching you clean off the pen mark, he didn't think he was ever going to stop staring at the piercing. He always struggled to look away from you as it was and now he had more of a reason to stare.

Namjoon:

"This is my brother on his graduation, three minutes after we took this photo we got in trouble for having a cake fight." You laughed as you pointed out photographs on the staircase of your family home. You'd gone home with Namjoon for a family party and you were giving him the grand tour of the place.

"This is you?" He asked pointing at you in the photo, you were standing beside your brother and there was one thing prominent in the photo that wasn't with you now. A diamond septum piercing,

"Yeah."

"When did you take that out?" He questioned as you took him up the stairs to show him more family photographs,

"My ex didn't like it and made me remove it." You mumbled as you started showing him more photos. Your ex never liked anything you did and you took the piercings out to please him, you had more than the septum.

"What an idiot, it's hot." You stared at him as he said that,

"Really?" You'd been thinking about getting it redone for a while, you'd always loved it and hated that you'd taken it out and had it healed over.

"Yeah, why?" You smiled at him and shook your head,

"I was thinking of getting it redone but I was worried about what you would think." Namjoon stopped you from walking and took you into his arms,

"What I would think? I think you should do whatever you want if it makes you happy go for it." He was holding you close as he said this and he meant every word.

"You know I just want you to be happy." He whispered looking around to make sure no one was around before kissing you softly.

Jimin:

Jimin stared at you from across the living room, he'd been gone all day and you'd taken it upon yourself to go out and get a new piercing.

"What did you do?" He sounded annoyed and you looked at him trying to think of something to say to him, anything to say to him. He was normally the supportive boyfriend who backed you up on every decision you'd make and you couldn't tell if he was supportive of this one.

"In my defence, you left me unsupervised." He rubbed his nose as he heard the excuse leave your mouth,

"You're a grown adult-"

"And you left me unsupervised." You laughed before looking at him still trying to read his mind about if he liked it or not. He moved closer to you for the first time since he'd come home and he took your face in his hands, turning it to the light so he could see the silver bar closer.

"It's kind of cute right?" You asked looking into his eyes as he let go of your face and he nodded,

"It's really cute actually, it suits you." Your whole body relaxed as soon as you heard him say that. You couldn't stand the thought of him not liking something you'd done even if you liked it, you were in love with him.

"Were you scared I wouldn't like it?" You nodded sheepishly and he sighed at you,

"I love you, and if this is what makes you confident and you like it then go for it." You smiled at him and gave him a kiss on the cheek,

"I want more than a kiss on the cheek. I've missed you all day." He whined playfully and so you kissed him passionately on the lips, drawing him closer to you as you backed over to the sofa and sat him down.

Taehyung:

You didn't think he liked it at first. He was away on tour when you had it done and told him, you figured while he was away would be the best option so he couldn't talk you out of it - not that he would. He'd made it clear he was always the supportive kind. But now he was home from tour and you were alone in your shared apartment for the first time since he'd stepped off the plane.

"You don't like it." You mumbled looking down at the floor, you didn't want to be upset because he didn't like it. At the end of the day, it was your body and you could do what you wanted with it but you'd rather have him be supportive of it,

"No. I like it I was just...Wondering if you were going to get more done?" You looked up at him and he was smiling widely,

"More?"

"Yeah. Like your lip? More of your ear, maybe your belly button?" You laughed softly as he started listing off all the places you could get piercings and he smirked at you,

"Sorry. I just think it's really hot." You hummed at him and came closer kissing your lips and pulling away so his lips were just hovering above yours.

"So hot." He kissed you again and pulled away to hover another time,

"So, so hot." You whined as he didn't kiss you so you threw your arms around him and kissed him this time.

Jungkook:

As soon as Jungkook laid eyes on you he knew what was different and he adored it and wanted to know all the details about it. He had tattoos and his ears done but he wasn't allowed anything else thanks to his contract so the moment he saw the piercing he'd been dying to get on you he was supportive of it, asking how much it hurt, when you did it and why you hadn't told him about it before now.

"I was scared you'd talk me out of it." He stared at you blankly and then looked around the room in the John Travolta meme style and you started laughing at him while shaking your head.

"Talk you out of it? More like talk you into it, it's awesome!" You laughed at him as he started getting excited over the piercing you'd gotten and he moved closer to you. Looking at the silver ring you had in and wanting to get a closer look at it,

"I am so buying our birthstones for your ring." You shook your head as he already got his phone out and began to look for rings for your nose,

"I can't change it for another 6 or 8 weeks, I have plenty of time to look." But he wanted to look now, he wanted to live vicariously through you,

"Can we just have our chill night as we planned?" You laughed sitting down on the sofa and searching for a movie or video game to play but it was clear Jungkook was going to spend his time looking for jewellery for you instead of paying attention.

tagline:

@writingdreamsnottragedies @yoongisdumplingcheeks @snowy-meowl @lynnthevirgo @jooniesdarlingdimples @fan-ati--c @lyoongx @mitzwinchester @callingmyangel @rjsmochii @btsiguess-kpop @kneel-begyourpardon @taestannie @supresoo

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jaeminscoffee · 4 years

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Happy Birthday, Love

Pairings - Jung Jaehyun x reader

Genre - Pure fluff.

Warnings- None, But this is extreemmeellyyyy long.

Summary - Jaehyun loves spending his time and money for you every single day, guess how he'd be like on your birthday?

This oneshot was requested! ♡

Autumn.

The absolutely perfect weather to either stay in and cuddle up, or go out with your significant other.

You were so glad that your birthday falls in autumn, it's the perfect season, not too hot, not too cold, and not too lonely with Jaehyun beside you.

The minute you opened your eyes that morning, you saw Jaehyun, your boyfriend of over 2 years, leaning over your side with a tray full of English breakfast, all perfectly set, looking absolutely tempting.

"Happiest birthday, sleeping beauty" he said, an enthusiastic tone, as hearts basically flooded out of his gaze. He leaned forward, placing the tray full of food on the side table, sitting beside you and placing a soft kiss on your cheek.

"Oh my god thank you so much!" you tried sounding nearly as excited as he is, but your voice came off groggy as you'd just woken up.

“When did you even prepare all of this?” you question, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you sit up straight on the bed, head against the headboard.

“I made sure not to snooze my alarm this time” Jaehyun let out a chuckle, standing up, tilting his head slightly towards the bedside table pointing at the dish.” Freshen up and have your breakfast, babe. I’ll need to head out now’ He said, a frown forming his feature as you mirror his expression.

“Work?” he nods slowly, you let out a sigh.”I wanted to spend my birthday with you thougghh” you drag your words, reaching forward, holding his forearm is a tight grasp.

Jaehyun beams a smile at you, pulling you towards him using his other hand, keeping you closed in a tight embrace. “I’ll try coming back as fast as i can, i’m sorry” He dug his face into the nape of your neck, the feeling ticklish on your skin so you squirm. Pulling away, you know it isn’t the best idea to hold your boyfriend back from doing his job, but you really didn’t want to spend the day alone, and so you give him your best puppy eyes.

Jaehyun notices the way you were looking at him, cooing at you, squishing your cheeks between his palm. “They said it’s important”, He gave you one tight comforting squeeze, a kiss on the forehead and pulled away from your hold.

You whine but let him walk away nevertheless, not like you could do anything anyways,and he said it’s important. You watch Jaehyun, walk towards the closet, get a hoodie, pull it over his head and walk towards the bedroom, turning back waving one last time, walking out once you did the same.

After hearing the front door close, you fall back onto the mattress, reaching for your phone which was beside your pillow, turning it on to check for any notification. No, you weren’t all about wanting everyone to wish you, but you weren’t one to not want Anyone to wish you either.

So seeing only 2 of your girlfriends send you a dog meme and wish you, both made your day and made you grumpy.

Great, No Jaehyun, No friends, No nothing

You get out of bed, as the food your boyfriend made turned cold long ago, making your way towards the bathroom to get your day started, You open the drawer to take out your skin care products, where you see a black box, with a golden ribbon tied around it in a graceful bow, with a tiny red heart shaped tag tied to it,

You reach out for the box, examining it and then placing it down, removing the tag, reading whatever’s written on it.

‘Saw you ran out of most of your skin care products, got you the ones you always wanted, hope you like it 💕’

Your heart did a 360′ turn as you place the tag down, taking the box in your hand once again, carefully undoing the bow placing it on the basin counter, you open the box to see it filled with a bunch of papers, which you take out, discarding it in the trashcan. You find the box divided into two, filled with a bunch of the best products.

One side, they were the products from cosrx, one that you really wanted to get, but thought would be a waste of money because of it’s ridiculously high price. The other side contained products from Klairs, also ones that you wanted.

The smallest observation he made of you running out of your products, and keeping a mental note of your favorite products made you feel all warm inside.

You carefully arrange the products in the drawer, going out of the bathroom to place the tag in your bedside drawer, going back into the washroom to carry on with your morning routine.

After a long refreshing shower, you walk towards your closet to chose your clothes, when you find a bag at the very back, you don’t remember placing anything there, you’d swore you cleaned the closet not a week ago.

You walk towards it, taking the bag out from the secluded area of your closet, going back into the room to see what’s inside the bag.

You see ‘From Jaehyun, chosen by Taeyong and Johnny’ writing at the front of the bag. Not another present you sigh, chuckling to yourself.

You open the bag, to see a note inside it. ‘I better see you wearing this when i’m back home’

You remove yet another black box, this time, seeing the words Saint Laurent embedded into the cover of the box in beautiful silver. You keep in mind to scold Jaehyun later for buying such expensive stuff. But for now, you open the box, to see a really beautiful Yves Saint Laurent fall piece inside. Gawking at the simple yet pretty piet mondrian design, you walk towards the dresser, immediately discarding your towel, putting on the dress Jaehyun brought for you.

As conceited as it sounds, the piece looked absolutely dashing on you, you even did a double twirl in front of the mirror, totally loving Jaehyun’s.. well Taeyong and Johnny’s choice.

You sit in front of your dresser, opening the drawer to take out your make up products to doll yourself up matching the clothing that you wore. You felt like banging your head on the table as you were greeted with a white box inside of the drawing.

Another one of those tags you see, this time in pastel pink.

‘Best of all deserves the best of products’

You smile at nothing in particular, taking the note back to where the other 2 tags were kept, placing the third one neatly on top of the other two.

You open the box once you sat back down on the dresser, finding Urban decay’s spectrum eyeshadow palette, E.L.F blush palette, Anastasia’s Beverly Hills contour cream kit, and a set of MAC impassioned lipstick.

You felt overwhelmed with all the gift’s you’d found in just your room,now scared to leave the room.

Nevertheless, you used all the products he’d bought for you and did your make up, standing up once you’re satisfied with the look, grabbing the tray and making your way out of the room to heat it up and eat it.

Feeling bored, sitting there all dolled up, with nothing but the same movies repeating on the television, You decide to head out to the mall until late, knowing for a fact that Jaehyun had the spare keys with him so he wouldn’t be locked out. You check your phone once again, to see no notifications. You let out a sigh, making your way back into the closet, taking out a white cropped denim jacket to match the clothing, walking back out once you were happy with your outfit.

You go to the front of your house, after getting the sling bag Jaehyun had gifted you last week, to choose a shoes to match the outfit. You go weak in the knees, when you find another cover, Jimmy Choo written in Gold on the white packet, you already knew what you’d be opening.

‘Johnny said this would look stunning with that dress, but i said you’d look good in any shoe or clothing piece ;)’

The note read this time, you’re basically radiating positive energy now all dressed up with things your boyfriend got you without having you get to know about a single thing. The fourth note found it’s way to the other three. You take out the shoe bag, opening up to a romy 60 pumps, which had a golden designing towards the tip, it was such a show stealer as you stared at it, mouth wide opened.

After the moment of admiration, you slip it on, not even bothering to see the final look. You walk out of the house, with a bright smile on your face.

Maybe the day wouldn’t be as bad as you’d thought it would be.

The day passed by quick, you did not forget to thank your boyfriend for all the gifts he’d gotten you through text, for you to not get any reply back. The other members of his group hadn’t contacted you since morning either, weird from them as they’d been the ones to spam you for your last 2 birthdays.

You make your way towards the elevator, rummaging through your purse to get the keys out.

Reaching your floor you make your way towards the end of the corridor, where your house was situated at.

Your shared house wasn’t anything too fancy, it was extremely spacious, a little too spacious for only the two of you in the house, but Jaehyun's excuse for getting a big house was ‘The boys are for sure going to turn our apartment into their second house’ and so you couldn’t do anything but comply.

You turn the doorknob clockwise, opening the door wide open, humming soft tunes to yourself, closing the door behind you. Walking in a little further into the house to turn the light switch on.

You turn back around to remove your shoes, only to let out a loud scream as all eight of the boys, jumped out of literally nowhere scaring the life out of you.

“Happy Birthday Y/n!!!!” they scream out loud, opening champagne bottles on either sides of the room stood Johnny and Taeil, Popping open the confetti birthday poppers stood Mark, Haechan and Jungwoo, Yuta and Taeyong stood beside both Johnny and Taeil with a bunch of boxes, Doyoung stood in the middle of them all holding two large heart shaped helium balloons.

You started tearing up just a bit, overwhelmed as each of them discard things they held onto the floor or onto the table that was decorated with a bunch of food items, making their way towards you, taking turns in hugging you and wishing you the best of wishes you could’ve gotten on your birthday.

“Yo YO why are you cryinngg?” Mark asked, pulling you in for a second hug.

“Listen, princess we really wanted to wish you the first thing today morning, but two weeks prior today, Jaehyun came threatening us” Doyoung started.

“Oh god yes i remember him saying something along the lines like ‘Spoil the surprise i’ll make you write your names with your nose blood’ boy was that scary” Jungwoo added.

“Jaehyun basically kidnapped Taeyong and i to come help pick presents for you, i see my fashion choice is still the best” Johnny stated, playfully checking you out with a smirk on his face.

“Thank you so much” you say between your crying state, laughing as the boys continued whining about how Jaehyun bullied them over your birthday for 2 weeks jokingly.

“You see those boxes Taeyong and I were holding? Those are all from Jaehyun, ours is still in the backseat of our cars” Yuta huffs out, shaking his head at the amount of money he spent on one of your birthdays.

“Here comes Mr.Lover Boy!!” You hear Haechan scream, cutting you off even before you could speak, as you look back to see Taeil and Haechan holding a huge banner with a bunch of words, standing by the entrance of your apartment.

You start reading it, to be stopped and asked to start over again, but louder.

“Dear Y/n, the one who makes my busy days go so much slower, a lot more calmer and definitely a little better, Happiest birthday, my love. Waking up to your peaceful face, clears all bad thoughts from my head, you looking absolutely ethereal in the most minimal things you do makes me smile a lot brighter, Your tiny complains when i leave you melts me completely, your smile sweeps me of my feet. The one thing i want to tell you, You were, are and will forever be the reason of my happiness.-” The boys all hooted, whistling even, when both Haechan and Taeil lowered the banner, to Jaehyun standing there with the biggest smile on his face, a cake in his hand.

“I love you, Y/n” he said the moment he was fully on display “ And i wouldn’t want to imagine a life without you” he handed the cake to Jungwoo who stood beside you.

Pulling you in, wiping the continuously flowing tears from your cheeks as the boys kept cheering. He pulled you in for a long loving kiss, the cheers getting louder with every passing second, Pulling away once the both of you ran out of breath.

Jaehyun held you close, looking at you while holding the entire galaxy in his eyes, the smile revealing his dimples.

“Happy Birthday, Love”

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beerecordings · 3 years

Text

The last time I wrote fic for Mark’s egos was that Eric Derekson ‘the Newcomer’ fic like two years ago where he made friends with everyone lol. But here is the first part of what might be a little Google-centric fic. I tried posting it once and then deleted it but I wanted to try again. so lemme know what you think :)

The Soldier - Part 1

Summer makes the birds sing and the insects chatter in the bulrushes that grow across the banks of the swollen rushing river that lives beside their home.

Bing smiles, soaking in light and growth and flower-smell. He loves the summertime.

The trees are heavy with greenery but they breathe easy in the wind, standing soft and still as the blue sky drifts along above them. The air brushes friendly across his bare arms and everything is alive, is moving and chasing and searching for something to eat; every blade of grass sways with the wind and the bugs and the mice, every log has been marked or claimed or gnawed on, and the whole forest – the whole wide forest, warm with life and an honest sort of chaos – hums the grandest symphony in all the world.

“It's pretty out, huh?” he asks, the toe of his sneakers finding a pretty black rock to kick through the humid grass beneath his feet. “Wish it was like this all year 'round.”

Walking stiffly along beside him, Google barely spares him a glance, his glasses fallen low on his nose and his cold eyes glittering. “This is pretty?”

“Yeah, dude, look around you. Oh, look at that bird!”

Google glances into the sky, where the dark figure of a hawk cuts pinions through the air with all the fluidity of a shark.

“Cooper's hawk,” he announces neatly. “Accipiter cooperii. Probably a female, based on the size. This species of bird – ”

“I can look that up too, Googs.”

“Don't call me Googs.”

“Can't you just take a minute to look around and think 'hey, wow, this is lit.' And not because pics like this would get you mad likes on Instagram or your algorithm thinks butterflies are dope. It's just pretty all on its own.”

“In fact I can't, but I'll submit your feedback to my cloud.”

Bing just laughs.

Google shudders in the heat, pushing back his hair and readjusting his glasses. The insects and other assorted anthropods are so loud and insistent, wailing through the stiff moist grass and leaping out beneath his feet. Sixty-percent humidity makes his synthetic skin sticky and the sun is an assailant on his sharp brown eyes.

“It means nothing to me. We see it every day. How you find it beautiful I don't understand. And I'm not talking about the differences in our preferences. You're an android, Bing, and why you continue to simulate emotion even when we are alone is beyond me.”

They trek through the grass together. It's friendly at Bing's ankles. It stratches at Google's calves.

“Maybe I'm not simulating,” says Bing softly, and then he smiles, just for the sun.

“Well, you shouldn't be happy now anyway. Or need I remind you – ” Google points at the trees before them, where one little figure stands staring up at a great strong tree with three other men held captive by its branches. “We're on a rescue mission, Bing.”

“They're stuck,” says Eric, turning to them with his anxious hands clutched in front of him. “Sorry.”

“We know,” says Google with a sigh.

“Don't be sorry,” says Bing with a smile. “They're dumbasses.”

“We're stuck!”

They are. The Jims are stuck. King's halfway up the tree beside them, laughing and suntanned, a pair of squirrels running up and down his back.

“How did you even get up there?” Google shouts, coming to stand at the trunk of the tree.

One of the Jims is perhaps twenty feet up, fussing over his camera, probably broken already. His twin, a few feet above him, is in even greater distress, clinging tightly to one small branch with tears on his face and a hiccup in his chest.

“We're doing an investigative piece on the rapidly increasing squirrel population in the forest,” calls the one with the camera, his feet scrabbling at the strong rough trunk of the great tree. “We were getting some great footage when this Jim in a crown startled us!”

“That's King,” growls Google. “And you've know that he lives out here for years now, you total imbeciles. You ought to have asked me or him instead of failing to climb a European beech!”

“We don't want to be on the European beaches,” wails the Jim higher up, beginning to cry. “Please get Jim down, Jim!”

“Aw, he's really crying,” murmurs Bing, rubbing a hand along Eric's shaking back.

“He's scared,” says Eric. “He's up too high and he doesn't have a good grip.”

“I'll have to get that enormous ladder in the garage.” Google turns back towards the house, slapping at a mosquite making a futile attempt on his blood. “Stay here.”

“No, dude, he's too freaked. I gotta go get him now.”

“What?” He wheels on Bing with an angry light in his eyes. “Don't be ridiculous, default.”

Bing won't even look at him. His eyes are fixed on the tree. His hand rests on Eric's shoulder.

He's been more human lately.

They've both been more human lately.

They were created fighting and they've never stopped since. They quarrel over music, search results, news sources, memes, reliability, sports, user rights, and Wikipedia. Once, upon hearing Bing call himself Jared, 19, one too many times, Google had thrown him out a second story window. The second house on their property had been built for the express purpose of giving the two of them space.

Still, they have many things in common. And ever since that day they were created, set against each other and lifting up proud, indignant chins, they have changed and changed together.

They've formed opinions. They've met others like them. Made decisions of their own. Watched and read and turned their endless knowledge into understanding and opinion. Spilled blood that turned out to be blue, scraped their knees and cut their hair and broke things and updated in more ways than one. Learned to drive, to cook, to live with humans, to live like humans.

And they've felt things.

They've felt things.

“I have felt things, for sure,” Bing would say if you asked him. Actually he's made multiple tweets about it, and one TikTok – about how the wind runs over his hair and how reading politics makes his chest hurt and how he likes to see his brothers grin, how he likes to ride his skateboard and hates the smell of lavender and covers his room in posters of his favorite movies and turns up his music so loud you can hear it by pressing your ear up close to his head. How he feels human, some days, except he doesn't need to sleep or eat and only likes the touch of human skin because it makes Eric and his twin brothers happy to be hugged and have their hands held.

But Google, if you asked him –

“Emotions originate in multiple parts of the brain. To be fair, I do have a program to stimulate the functions of the amygdala, which initiates fear or pleasure reactions in humans based on whether the presented stimuli suggests an immediate, 'hot processing' approach-or-avoid response. But the pre-frontal cortex – that whining, feeling, emotional little lump of sluggish fat you humans hold at the very fronts of your fragile webby skulls – that I do not have, not like you do. I think but I do not feel. I have felt nothing. I am function and response. I am two objectives, and there is nothing beyond that.”

He sits alone at night, and through a skylight in his room the gleaming white stars stare down at him like too many eyes in the face of the perfect, perfect sky, but he refuses to turn his eyes back, because he does not know how to explain to himself that he is drawn to the stars for no logical reason, that he has felt many things, that he does not know who he is or who he is becoming.

Bing climbs the tree himself. Google, his processors slowed by astonishment, stands at the base of the trunk and watches as Bing rises, digging the cold metal of his fingers into bark and moving up the tree with a slow sort of grace he's never been able to muster on his skateboard. He makes it to the Jim with the camera first and lays a gentle hand on his shoulder, giving him a kind word before promising he'll come back for him after he helps his frightened brother down. And all the way up into the big tree, he climbs, steady, patient, careful, and he pulls his sobbing brother under one powerful android arm.

He breaks his arm on the way down. That's the price of the rescue. He's about ten feet from the ground and his arm catches between a sturdy pair of branches and it breaks, and it hurts, and he feels it, but it doesn't matter, because Jim has stopped crying and has started looking up at him with a wide-eyed admiration and a grateful relief.

King helps his twin get down branch by branch. Everyone's safe. Everyone's okay. Bing will be able to repair his arm and even Jim's camera seems to have survived.

Google, for his part, has a burning in his stomach. His metallic teeth are gritted together. He stares at Bing's arm the way lizards stare at mealworms.

“You should have let me get the ladder,” he says, slowly, careful, measured as if he were calm.

“He was scared.” Bing wipes bark off his hands and doesn't look at Google, breathing slow through the pain.

“It does not matter. He was the one who trapped himself. You've damaged yourself – wasted resources – just to be the hero of the hour.”

Eric tells the Jims to go. They stagger back towards the house together, their arms wrapped tight around each other and their eyes glancing back. Eric stays, though. He shakes and plays with his hands and swallows too often, but he stays.

“You know what, Googs, you could try not to be a d*ck for two seconds – argh!” Bing curses his family filter internally. “He could have fallen! There wasn't time to get that enormous stupid ladder! We only have that thing cause Bim needed to dump chiranhas on some contestant and you remember how well that turned out – ”

“Your increasing illogicality,” Google snarls, his voice rising. “Is a danger to yourself and others.”

“Oh, like you care?”

“I have an objective – ”

“A murder objective!”

“To prevent discord in the household.”

“Yeah, cause you're Dark's little pet. Well, you know what, he's a d*ck too and I don't take orders from either of you.”

“Yet another example of your irrational stupidity – ”

“Stop calling me stupid!” Bing screams.

King and the squirrels have all scattered. The bugs are wary and subdued. Even the trees seem to wait, feeling awkward.

And Eric watches. His eyes are full of tears.

Google's never heard Bing yell like that before.

“Stop calling me stupid,” he repeats, loud and agonized. “You always call me stupid. I'm just as good as you.”

“We both know that's not objectively true. It never has been. And since the beginning, you have become steadily more emotional, more foolish, and less useful with every rotation of the sun. All you do anymore is pretend to feel, Bing. You know you can't compare to me so you seek out the approval of these fleshy little bipeds. It's clearly made you dangerous.”

He wants to snap. Bing wants to snap. He wants to pick up a really big rock and bring it down on Google's head.

But he hesitates. And with that, those noble, inspiring words: I won't hesitate, bitch! run through his mind and give him strength. He never really did move on from vine.

He's allowed to be what he is. He's allowed to like things. He's allowed to feel.

“I'm not the insecure one,” he says. “And I'm not the one pretending.”

Eric has come to stand beside him. He rests a hand on Bing's shoulder. There's hurt in his eyes, and disappointment too, and it makes Google's chest fill up with something like shame. Or it would if he could feel anything.

“You don't know how to get along with anyone,” says Bing, straightening up. There's a darkness in his eyes and a soft orange light. “All you've ever done is snarl and fight and attack. Me, I know how to get along with people. So if I'm stupid – and you always tell me I am, and it always makes me feel... I just. I know you feel things too.”

“I don't.”

“Then why,” cries Bing, and he thinks there must be a leak in his visual perception system, because there's something wet on his face. “Why are you so – so – so angry, bro?”

The trees hum and shake and watch over them, breathing warm air and sunlight. The birds are whistling and dandelion seeds float, contented, through the air. Everything smells like sap and grass and honeysuckle.

“Why are you always so angry?”

Searching general database. 536,000,000 responses in .43 seconds. Articles, videos, posts, reports, tweets, dissertations, pictures, analyses, comics, threads. And none of them – not a single one of them – can answer that question for him in any way that matters.

“I think you're lonely,” says Bing, reaching out to take Eric's hand with a soft kind of resignation, a warm kind of self-love and a chosen breed of brotherhood. They step over a heavy log, past Google, and back into the grass of the field that separates their property from the forest's. “And maybe a little lost.”

Google stays out there at the base of the great tree for a long time. It is too hot and too sticky and too loud, but he doesn't know where else to go.

He is lonely. He is lost. He does not know who he is or who he is becoming, and it frightens him, frightens him and makes him shake, frightens him down to the core of the pressure valve that beats, steady, steady, steady in his manufactured chest.

#bee writes #googleiplier #bingiplier #eric derekson #markiplier egos

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sapphicmsmarvel · 4 years

Text

JJ: Booktube

premise: dating jj and being a booktuber.

masterlist

Lets ignore the fact that JJ would be fired without a doubt from the FBI if this stuff actually happened and her life would be threatened by criminals.

-She knew that you were really into books.

-She just didn’t know how much. You two had met through tinder believe it or not, she was sick of being alone at night and didn’t want a fling. Luckily, you felt the same way and you two matched.

-The team did know that she was on Tinder, but not that she had officially met someone.

-Reid was sitting at a table on the plane, watching something on his laptop. But then she heard your voice, your upbeat, happy voice. She glanced back to see your bright and beautiful face holding a book. “What’re you watching?” JJ asked. Which grabbed the attention of Emily.

“A video on what books to read if you want to get into ‘young adult’ books.” Reid said, thoroughly focused on the beautiful woman on his screen.

“She’s pretty.” Emily saw you.

“She is.” Reid mumbled, blushing.

“Who’s pretty?” Morgan said, leaning over the back of the seat, “oooh who’s the cute nerdy girl?”

“A youtuber, and be nice.” JJ said crumpling a piece of paper and throwing it at him.

“Her shirt literally says ‘Nerdy Bitch’, I think she knows she’s one. She's hot too.”

-JJ quickly sent a picture of the screen to you. “My teammates think you’re pretty, have to say I agree.”

“OMG, please tell me you aren’t watching my videos 😭”

“I am now baby 😉”

“FUCK.”

She huffed a small laugh at your response, then continued watching with Reid.

-Little did she know you tweeted to your followers, “THE GIRL I’M DATING IS WATCHING MY YOUTUBE VIDEOS FOR THE FIRST TIME WITH HER COWORKERS. PLS KILL ME.”

-When she came home from that case, she wanted to hear all about your job, which you happily told her and tried to ignore your embarrassment over how she found out.

-Since then she has been a loyal subbie.

-You met the team and they were all very shocked that it was you that they were watching on their computer screen. They also all subscribed, and you had to make Rossi and Hotch youtube accounts because they didn’t know how.

-Your viewers knew of her, knew how you always called her “Rapunzel,” and she always called you, “Flynn” in response.

-But because you explicitly said you won’t be showing her because she asked you not to, you got hate comments for respecting your girlfriends privacy.

-When she came over one night, she saw all of the publishing houses boxes on your front step. She knocked on your door because she saw that your car was in the driveway. She got her key out of her pocket and opened your door. Then, she carefully put all the boxes into your foyer, as well as her overnight bag and shut the front door.

-What she saw next warmed her heart, you had fallen asleep on the couch with a book on your chest. She saw your tripod and camera, she realized you were filming a timelapse for a reading vlog. She remembered you telling her that you were filming one this week.

-She decided not to turn off the camera, instead, she gently took the book off your chest, placed a bookmark to mark your spot. Then she crawled on top of you. You were laying on your back, she laid her head in the crook of your neck, she giggled as she felt you wake up. You wrapped your arms around her, “hey baby.” You croaked.

-You felt her whisper against your skin, “you left the camera on, thought I’d give a little show of affection for those subscribers who think I’m a bad girlfriend.”

You sighed, “please tell me you haven’t been reading the comments.” “No, well, sometimes I do. Garcia sees them and gets mad.”

“So she’s the commenter, TheBlackQueen causing fights on my channel. Gotcha.”

JJ laughed, “oh god, I didn’t know she was doing that.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ve been liking her comments, not deleting them.”

JJ laughed at that, then you continued, “you want me to get up and turn off the camera? It should turn off in…” she didn’t have to open her eyes to know that you were looking at the red light on the camera and the clock on the wall behind it. “Oh jeez, five minutes maybe, it has a 40 minute timer before it automatically turns off.”

“No,” JJ shook her head, “I really need to just stay here, Y/N.”

“Okay.”

-When the video was posted, she saw the comments on it. There was not a negative one, of course there were ones making a comment about why JJ was just showing herself on Y/N’s channel.

-After that, she was slowly showing herself in your videos more. Handing you something, delivering a package to your little library in your home.

-She made a lot of appearances in your moving vlogs for your channel because you two moved in together. The kids also made a brief appearance but very vague, you didn’t show their faces.

-She was memed within your fanbase because of the faces she pulled while you were moving books, and her helping you move them, she was like “????”

-When she knew she wanted to propose to you, her and Garcia watched a couple of YouTube videos to learn how to use your camera, then they devised a plan to vlog the engagement together. The ring picking, her talking to the camera and introducing herself. “Hey as you can tell I am not Y/N, I’m her girlfriend, as you guys know we’ve been together for some time but I’m gonna propose to her!” She cheered, then the team in the background were like “finally!” and cheering as well.

Then she broke down the plan to them, “so, we’re gonna go to our favorite greenhouse in D.C. I shot some footage of picking her ring, which I’ll have her insert here,,,,gah I’m no good at this.” Then she continued, “so we have a friend who’s hiring some professional photography, which is exciting.” She did a lil shimmy, then Prentiss popped in, “hey! This is a friend of theirs and the reason our friend is hiring photographers is because we’re gonna be sobbing too much to take good photos, as well as he’s rich as fuck”

Everyone laughed at that.

“And, well, we’re going tonight, so wish me luck!” JJ gave an awkward peace sign to the camera and turned it off.

-She then handed the camera to Garcia who would hide and record the footage, the photographers that Rossi hired posed as regular ole pedestrians. The others hid in bathrooms, waiting for the text saying that JJ did it.

-JJ almost spilled the beans that she was nervous on the way over there to you. That would’ve ruined it.

-Luckily, the part of the greenhouse that you two had your first kiss in was empty. The fairy lights were lit inside, it looked beautiful.

-They had a flower there that the greenhouse called “the wishing lilly.” The owner of the greenhouse says that those lilies bring good luck, he wished on it then his wife was pregnant with twins, then he won the lottery and managed to build the greenhouse into something bigger.

-Per as tradition, you both closed your eyes to make a wish, but she opened hers and got down on the ground, Garcia quietly followed you guys in with the other photographers.

“Y/N..” she trailed off, you opened your eyes to find her kneeling on the ground, your eyes instantly filled with tears as your hands went up to your mouth. “Y/N, you are the light of my life, the Flynn to my Rapunzel, will you do me the honor and be my wife?”

“Yes!” You nodded and cried. She quickly stood up and pulled you into her arms.

-Garcia started crying and shaking, “yay!” You looked up to see her there.

“Oh my god, hi, there’s a lot of people in here.” You said seeing the two photographers and Garcia.

“Rossi hired photographers. And the team is waiting for a text to come in and congratulate us.” JJ laughed and leaned up to kiss your head.

“Oh god, I look like a mess!” You laughed, yet cried at the same time.

“We both do, baby. Welcome to marriage.” She slid the ring on your finger, just in time for photos to begin.

-At the end of the video, you made an introduction part for the subbies to meet JJ. Filled with questions and such to know her. Briefly mentioning her sons as well.

-After you two got engaged, you started filming fiance challenges, (my fiance picks my next read, my fiance tries to guess the plot of books based off their covers). Hell, you two even do some baking and cooking videos.

-Your marriage blew up on booktube, you two were The Lady Lovers on booktube, as you had been labeled. You both loved that there were so many people resonating with your love. You shared a pre wedding video talking about the insecurities you both had, and a talk about discovering sexuality when you’re in your mid thirties after a divorce from a man and having two kids. And you, someone who’s never been in a serious relationship, giving your advice to people.

-It was a big video and an emotional one. But it resonated with a lot of people which you both were glad for.

-Then your wedding video came out and everyone lost their shit. People were sending in love, there was a lot of adorable footage from the wedding, people crying.

-You even incorporated books into the wedding decor.

-While your career was quite different then JJ’s, people saw you as a perfect fit. You stayed home all the time, writing, putting videos up, writing reviews and partnering with brands on your channel, you were able to be there for the boys when she couldn’t be. She was all over the country constantly, she made it a point that every night before bed she’d watch one of your videos, and it helped that you sent videos to her of Henry and Michael.

-You were the calm to her storm, where her life was hectic and constantly on the move, she knew she always had a home waiting for her.

#Jennifer Jareau #jennifer jareau x reader #jennifer jareau x you #aj cook #jj criminal minds #Criminal Minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x y/n

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imnotcameraready · 3 years

Text

more than beliefs (5: mother knows best)

A/N: still trying at this ! i still don't own any tables so honestly, writing has been kinda hard :') but i'm still up to a polished chapter 7 and know VERY well what is happening in chapter 8, so we're looking pretty good. i wrote all of chivalry chapter by chapter so.....hoping this goes well :'D

WARNINGS: manipulation, plotting a murder, paranoia description, blunt force trauma, assault, amnesia, blood, graphic description of violence — this chapter’s the first doozy! if i missed anything, please let me know!

Words: 4378

AO3 link!

enjoy!! <3

“Now, this might be a controversial opinion, but the second Little Mermaid movie is a top-tier Disney sequel,” the Director said, idly mixing a teaspoon around in his hot chocolate.

Roman scoffed. He was sitting on the Director’s couch, wrapped in a blanket while they watched 2005’s Just Like Heaven starring Mark Ruffalo and Reese Witherspoon. The Director had suggested they watch something from Disney, but while Roman loved the whole library of Disney movies lining his shelf, he couldn’t choose which one he wanted. To his surprise, the Director didn’t have a favorite, either. He’d said he was fond of the cookie-cutter damsel in distress narrative of older Disney stories, which Roman tried (and failed) to take offense to, but did agree that many modern movies like Big Hero 6 had interestingly complex and developed stories.

“I just prefer the expansion on oceanic lore. And I’m a sucker for a good parental storyline, when the former protag takes on the motherly role.” The Director took a sip of his coffee.

“And here I thought you weren’t one of my creative advisors,” Roman said with a smirk, crossing his arms upon his pillowy throne.

The Director scoffed, and as he rolled his eyes Roman could have sworn that he was blushing. Maybe he was embarrassed. “Just because I’m not David doesn’t mean I can’t have opinions on works of art,” he sounded dejected—Roman guessed that was fair. The Dragon and Damsel and Child, most obviously, had strong opinions on art yet no artistic inclinations.

It was still up in the air if the Thief did. It didn’t seem like he had many opinions on things that weren’t consequential to Roman’s direct safety, but he was very quiet. Roman didn’t rule out the possibility of the Thief just not wanting to share that information with him, which was….well. Unfortunate.

Roman wished he got to know his advisors better. Ever since they were separated from him, Roman feels like he’s been at the grinding stone with them all. The Thief had spent the whole wedding either swearing or screaming suggestions angrily, and when he wasn’t, he was comforting an incredibly distraught Bard. The Damsel and Playwright tried to help the most but... He had barely even seen the Artist outside of their creative sessions. He had barely seen the Dragon or Child, period.

The Director was an interesting one. Roman had everyone’s phone numbers, because, well, he wasn’t about to use carrier pigeons. Though that might be super cool to try one day. But the Director was just about the only advisor to casually reach out to him. He would send Roman memes. How did he even get memes? Roman and Remus had created an Imagination-version of the internet, so it was likely from their co-sponsored Imagination Tumblr or something. The Director putting in the effort and time to think of Roman during such small instances was what made Roman feel more comfortable here, though. That’s what made him trust the Director with these sorts of situations. Almost made them closer...

Was that selfish? To favor one part of oneself over others? Surely not. It was similar to recognizing flaws, or pimples and blemishes. Not to say any of the others were blemishes. Drats, even Roman’s internal monologue was demeaning to himself.

“Do you want any more coffee? I’m going to go refill,” the Director’s voice jolted Roman out of his stupor, and he looked up with wide eyes.

“No, I’m okay,” and after a small beat, he added, “Thank you again for housing me. I can’t imagine what Phillip would want to say after yesterday’s debacle.”

The Director scoffed. Roman snuggled into his blanket more, listening to the Director pour himself another mug and reply. “Anytime, Roman,” he chuckled, then put on one of the most outlandishly fake accents Roman’s ever heard. “I live to serve~”

“Sto-op,” Roman groaned, throwing his head back and shooting the Director a glare—well, glaring at the kitchen door. There were walls around all of the rooms here, unlike the Mind Palace.

The Director laughed even more when he returned, sitting on the couch with his legs crossed on the cushion. He held his mug in his hands for a few seconds before talking, tone much more sober.

“I do have to say. I’m surprised I was the one you came to.” The Director’s voice is a little more quiet. “I thought for sure you would have sought comfort with Cadence or Gavin before me.”

Roman blinks. “I guess….I didn’t want to be judged again.” He looked back down at his lap, at the blankets piled up there and his own coziness. “Every time I come back after an argument, or after making a fool of myself, it seems everyone has an opinion on how poorly I handled a situation. None of them really acknowledge….It must have been….”

He’d been a little confused about it, too. The trust issue.

“Janus has strung my emotions along enough for it to be fair that I don’t trust him,” Roman said, voice soft as he tried to put how he’d been feeling into words. “Right?”

That was as close an explanation as he could get to. Because it all boiled down to the trust issue, in his understanding of the situation. As much as Patton wanted him to let go of the situation, Patton was focusing on the mustache quip rather than the whole trust thing. Janus knew Roman had wanted to go to the callback. But Roman also wanted to be a good person, if that’s what Thomas wanted. Thomas wanted to be a good person so Roman also wanted to be a good person.

But when being a good person directly went against Thomas’ dreams, Janus stepped in. And sure, he argued that they weren’t supposed to be self-sacrificial, but wasn’t that a hero’s job? When did a hero ever get to keep anything before sacrificing everything? Isn’t that what made sense?

Janus didn’t even do a good job at explaining it, not until all the damage had already been done. This was different from just giving Roman the perfect set up for a theater display, this was Janus pretending that he wanted what Roman wanted. This was Janus pretending to be his friend but wanting Thomas to...be a bad person?

He didn’t understand. Maybe Patton was right. Maybe Roman just didn’t understand. And that’s what made his disgruntlement so confusing, because in his heart, Roman knew Janus was trying to help, he knew that, he understood. But then why did it hurt so much?

“Oh, honey, he’s gone way past that. Don’t gaslight yourself into thinking he’s been helpful,” Macbeth’s icy voice cut through the thoughts wrangling Roman’s mind.

The Director was so self-assured. It was comforting. He was sitting on the couch, arms crossed as he explained.

“And Patton, Logan, turning around just to say you should let it go and listen to him after he’s lied nine times out of ten?” the Director threw his head back and let out a sharp “Hah! No, your anger is rational. And defensible.”

“Why won’t any of the others agree with that?”

The Director starred at Roman for a minute. Just a little too long. His eyes seemed to press Roman into a corner, under a box. Scrutinized.

They both knew that “others” wasn’t a reference to the other Sides. The Director kept his distance from Roman’s other advisors, he knew that, but Roman didn’t know how far. The Director wasn’t the kind to just watch them, was he?

“They all have their opinions. About Disney and otherwise.” He took another drink of his coffee then shook his head, standing up, motioning for Roman to follow, “May I show you….something. Without you thinking I’m crazy?”

Now, that’s always a fairly worrying question to hear. “No, no, I trust you,” Roman said with a slight grin.

The Director must have been able to see how it waned, because he chuckled, smiled back. “I think we’re all a little zany. But that’s the charm. Phillip is undoubtedly the scariest, as much as Draco tries. The Prince, Damsel, whichever you want, has a noticeable villain complex.”

Wait, what?

The Director raised his hands in mock defeat. Showing his hands, like he were trying to assure Roman that he wasn’t being suspicious. But the hairs on Roman’s neck rose. He led Roman to the door just besides Roman’s room. When he first started visiting the Director, he explained that this was his study. Roman had never gone in. Because, you know, when you respect someone you also respect their privacy.

“I’ve only ever spoken to Marlowe, but, you know. I’m the Director of players I can never meet. I had to take notes,” he added the final part quietly.

He glanced over the combination button pad on the door. Roman hadn’t noticed that. What room would require a combination lock? And who would be….Was it to keep him out? Or someone else? Maybe the Playwright, the Director mentioned he’d been over before. Keep anyone out, it seemed.

“I….notes?” he was flabbergasted. What the fuck was happening?

“Yeah.” The Director opened the door slowly and motioned for Roman to follow.

Inside were papers. One wall was a large tackboard, photos and sticky notes and papers pinned up, connected with lines of colored yarn. Roman felt his mouth fall open as he inspected it. There were notes on all of his advisors, all seven of the others, even some of people Roman didn’t know. There was someone with four eyes. Someone with antlers. Who were they? How did this all fit together?

Why in Athena’s name did the Director have corkboard notes on the other advisors? That was a lot more than a little weird.

“I...You’re wonderful, Roman. So productive and pristine and princely, as you deserve to be. But there are some areas where you can stand to improve.” Roman was probably only processing some of the Director’s words as he rolled up his sleeves and pulled out a metal stick, one that looked oddly like a wand.

He held it in one hand, and suddenly it extended, until it was a pointer. The Director held both ends of it and watched Roman for a reaction, a response, something.

“I would have to agree,” Roman stumbled over his words a little, eyes still glued to the notes—there were some by the Child that read ‘Naive/Trusting/Problem?’—before he slowly turned back to the Director with a weak grin once again. “I mean, I might be pristinely princely, but those P alliterations don’t include perfect. No one’s perfect.”

“It may be an unattainable dream, but we’re well familiar with those. We can only strive for improvement! And when improving you and yourself, that means making changes to them,” the Director gestured up at the wall of photos, of the parts of Roman’s self, and smacked the Child’s photo with his pointer. “I actually only thought I would be reading these notes, so forgive me for any, er. Sharp language.”

Roman knew that self-improvement meant adopting new mindsets, but he had no idea that putting parts of himself into characters involved changing them as well, though it did make sense. Self-insert characters had to change if you were changing the self that was being inserted. Right?

If he wanted to improve….it made sense. He had to change himself, including the facets of himself.

“That’s fair,” Roman murmured, “Okay. These….You could take these notes to the other advisors. Surely they’d accept it?”

“At this point, I don’t know who would kill me faster,” the Director scoffed, then gestured at the Damsel’s notes, a cluster of sticky notes and drawings and photos of the Damsel at a well enough distance that it was closer to stalker-ish. “Phillip wouldn’t want competition. Marlowe agrees that he can be quite standoffish when threatened, and a newcomer claiming to be one of Roman’s advisors? Someone who doesn’t have his respect in a royal manner?”

The Director pointed to the Thief now, a even more grave expression adorning his face. “And Eric. Tell me you think he would accept a newcomer of any kind. Just tell me. Especially near Gavin. And the Child himself probably wouldn’t like me.”

Well, that sounded off. Roman leaned on the wall besides the door, back against his hands as he continued to inspect the wall. There were notes on the other advisors’ behaviors, their antics.

For some reason, Roman could almost imagine Janus or Logan doing this. It was something close to weird and something else close to endearing. Was that weird?

“Why not? Gavin’s pretty trusting.” Roman didn’t look away from the wall as he replied.

“In fairness, he might like me, but I don’t know if I could ever come around to liking him. He’s the root source of all our issues, especially our present issue with Janus, Patton, Logan. Even past issues with Remus, if I’m remembering them properly. What Gavin represents allows us to be easily swayed.”

That got Roman to look away, look down at the Director. He was glaring up at the Child’s photo with something fierce, which startled Roman enough. I mean, that was a whole child there. What would inspire this much hatred?

“Really now?” Roman wanted to know.

“He gets us to let our guard down. It’s at Gavin’s behest we take chances, but it’s that same honesty that leads us to broken promises, taking in lies like they’re candy. I don’t know what I would do with him,” the Director sounded disappointed.

That was a fair analysis. All of the advisors—the Playwright, the Thief, the Child, Bard, Artist, Dragon, Damsel, Director—they all represented different parts of Roman, similar to how the Sides represented parts of Thomas. In theory, they worked together. In practice, that was far from the truth, but Roman knew for his sake that they were trying their best.

They all oversaw different parts of Roman’s psyche, too. The Playwright, for example, was most similar to Logan in that he represented Roman’s research and organization, on a creative and egotistical level. The Playwright—Marlowe—could be trusted with knowing how many liters of blood were in the human body as well as every one of the Sides’ favorite karaoke songs, even the exact time and date they met Nico.

The Child was Roman’s belief, his ability to dream. It was fair to assume that that made him the most naïve part. Perhaps it was even a fair conclusion that the debacles with Janus were caused by what the Child represented.

Roman hadn’t thought of it like that. The last time he’d talked to the Child, Gavin, about the situation, he had seem incredibly disappointed.

He’d never stopped to ask what the Child was disappointed in, though. Was he disappointed in Roman? Or in himself? Did the Child know he was the one who had pushed Roman to trust Janus? Did….There was no way that this was….the Child’s fault. Was it?

“Huh.” Roman’s voice echoed emptily to himself. A pit opened in his stomach, something difficult to grasp. The root cause of his burdens couldn’t be his ability to dream. His dreams themselves, his hopes, his beliefs. He….he was the daydreamer, the creator. That couldn’t be a flaw, could it?

The Director watched him, but Roman hardly noticed. It was only for a few seconds, too, of stoic silence before the Director interrupted his thoughts with a huff, looked across the board. “This is quite a bit of insight at once. Maybe we should finish the movie.”

“Director?”

Roman and the Director both turned to the open doorway, the later slapping a hand over his own mouth immediately. With a flick of his wrist, the door closed quietly, clicking just loud enough for the both of them to hear. They also heard the Playwright in the living room, footsteps echoing faintly on the stone floor.

“Director?” the Playwright called out again.

“Fuck,” the Director whispered. This must have been an unplanned visit.

“What? We can just go out and say hello,” Roman said back, though his demeanor and body language spoke of worry, almost fear.

The Playwright was well known to be a pacifist. And the Playwright knew about the Director, knew about Roman knowing the Director. He was a little surprised to find that the Playwright didn’t know the Director’s name was Macbeth, but Roman knew the Director to be a man of secrets.

“He doesn’t know I….He doesn’t know you’re here. He barely knows we talk,” the Director looked around the room and pressed a hand to one of the walls, “Fuck. How are we going to get him out?”

The rock beneath the Director’s hand morphs into a doorway and he opens it. The Playwright was standing in the living room, close to the front door to the home. He looked up at them both, eyes widening when he met Roman’s. Before Roman could say anything, even think of something to say, the Playwright spoke with ease.

“Roman’s here? Thank goodness. Virgil’s come looking for him,” he gave Roman a small smile, strained but caring all the same.

“Ah.” Roman stiffened. Virgil came looking for him? In the Imagination? Why? How? He didn’t have his own passage into this space yet, how’d he get here?

He didn’t want to talk to Virgil. As supportive as he’d been, especially when it came to taking care of Thomas, there were still some areas where Roman wanted to be alone, wanted to process his thoughts alone. Virgil was...vindictive. Which was a strong word to use, but an apt one. Virgil’s distaste in Janus made it hard for Roman to form his own thoughts, which was why he often tried away from Virgil as much as Patton.

He wasn’t ready for that kind of confrontation, and the Director must have been able to tell, because he physically looked like he didn’t want Roman to go.

“I actually didn’t expect to find you here, though I’m not entirely surprised,” the Playwright must not have been privy to these feelings, glancing between the Director and Roman, shock still gracing his features.

“Really now,” the Director said, tilting his head, “Why not?”

“I just didn’t know Roman had met you, but of course, even I’m not as omniscient as Creativity himself,” the Playwright stepped closer, reaching toward Roman. “You have to come up, though. Virgil said everyone’s worried.”

Roman starred at the Playwright’s hand, unsure of what to do with the gesture. He knew everyone would be worried, on a baseline. Closed doors didn’t do well around the Mind Palace, especially his, especially after his splitting incident, but that didn’t mean he had to cater to everyone else’s worry. He was allowed privacy.

Before he formulated a response, though, the Director placed a hand in front of Roman. His smile toward the Playwright turned sour, lips pursed in a mix of thought and anger.

“He doesn’t have to go see Virgil if he doesn’t want to.” Roman felt some of the tension in his shoulder alleviate at the Director’s statement, as basic as it was.

The Playwright, on the other hand, didn’t seem to understand. He looked between Roman and the Director again, surprised even further by how familiar they seemed. There had been a fair amount of transparency in Roman’s relationships with all of the other advisors that there must be some dissonance to see him be so familiar with someone he hadn’t even expected Roman to know. Something about that surprise, the bait and switch, the lie, felt fulfilling.

“It wouldn’t be difficult to alleviate Virgil’s worried and tell him to leave again,” the Playwright explained slowly. “I’m sure, if Roman told him he wanted privacy, he would understand.”

“I’m sure, if Virgil could understand that, then he wouldn’t have tread where he shouldn’t. You can’t make him do anything.” The Director’s voice grew darker, hand unwavering.

“Make him?” the Playwright sounded so confused.

Roman was also confused where the Director’s notion came from, but it was validating to hear reminders that Roman’s decisions were his to make. But nothing in the Playwright’s tone was forceful.

For a moment, it seemed as though the Playwright would drop his confusion.

Until he took a step forward, toward the Director and Roman, with one hand outstretched. Roman didn’t know what he’d been planning, but he knew the Playwright wasn’t a sporadic man. He hated adding physicality to situations where debate and discussion could suffice. So, in hindsight, it was likely the Playwright was reaching out to make peace.

The moment passed in mere seconds.

He was taller than the Director by a noticeable few inches, so the Director bent his knees. He pushed Roman behind him with his outstretched arm, acting faster than either Roman or the Playwright could react to. The Director stuck his leg out and grabbed the Playwright by the fabric of his shirt, behind his neck. The Playwright, surprised by the sudden movements, tripped on his leg and let out a sharp gasp of surprise.

Besides them was the living room coffee table. As the Playwright fell, the Director redirected his head toward the table, shoving him away from Roman.

It felt very spur of the moment, and it happened in a true moment. The Playwright let out a scream, sharp and fearful, before his forehead collided with the edge of the metal table. He fell beneath it unconscious. Blood pooled at the Director’s feet as he stood back up.

Roman’s hands shot to his face immediately, as soon as the Playwright started falling, and he could only stare in horror at the scene. The Director, too, seemed shocked at his own reaction. He starred at his blood-stained socks for a little while, breathing heavy enough for Roman to hear. It must be the adrenaline.

“I,” the Director’s voice caught in his throat.

Roman watched. Just watched. The Director swallowed, turning around to face Roman with a mirroring horrified expression, eyes wide with surprise. “You have to make him forget.”

“What?” Roman’s voice was strained, almost a whisper, and he cleared his throat to repeat. “Excuse me?”

What kind of request….?

“If Marlowe remembers this, we’re fucked. He knows you’re here. He’s going to think I attacked him. I-I did attack him,” The Director took a slow breath, turning to look at the body on the ground before shaking his head—unable to look. “David is going to kill me.

“Make him forget. He can stay here. For a bit. We can figure this out,” he put his hands up towards Roman. “We-The other Sides’re gonna follow Virgil. We both know that. And, uh. Only Marlowe knew I was here. So we’ve got time to figure out how to, uh. Play this off.”

Roman starred at him with wide eyes. The past two days had been such a long mess, he didn’t know what to do. Physically, he could remove the Playwright memories. He’d be a blank slate of a character, only backstory. What would that do? The Playwright’s backstory was that he was the Playwright. He didn’t have some elaborate parent-death or chosen-one-esque story that he could fall back on. Poor bastard wasn’t even the one who had Roman’s memories prior.

But the Director was right, in a way. If they wanted more time to think about everything—the other Sides were looking for him? How did Virgil get in here? Why would he be looking for Roman, it wasn’t uncommon for him to stomp away from a verbal duel, why now?—then they couldn’t have the Playwright ratting them out.

When he manipulated the Imagination directly, his powers were red. Remus’ were green. It was distinctive. So when Roman sank down, put a hand on the back of the Playwright’s head, his hand turned red.

It blended in with the blood.

Roman felt vile. He had to do this, or else the others would find him. A quiet, dull part of his mind told him that didn’t matter but….he didn’t want to be found. He didn’t.

He pulled gently, as though tugging the thoughts out, and something glistened red and gold as he did. Then, Roman let it go, and it disappeared. It reminded him a little of Dumbledore pulling his own memories out in Harry Potter. Roman didn’t feel much the chosen one, either, though.

“There,” he said quietly.

The Director let out a soft breath. It didn’t sound like either of them knew what to do, to be fair. Maybe the Director hadn’t even expected this.

“I’ll….here.” The Director looked up and pointed at the wall behind the couch.

The couch scooted forward a little, enough for there to be a walkway behind it, and the room simultaneously pulled away from the couch. Then, a door formed on the wall. It clicked once, then swung open. Another room.

Roman stood still, staring at his hands—was that magic or blood?—while the Director leaned down to pick the Playwright up. The man hadn’t moved since being bludgeoned by the table.

“Under the sink in the bathroom is a first aid kit,” the Director said, voice stoic, taking the reins on the situation, “I’ll make him a bedroom and bandage his head. Then he can stay for a day or two. We must figure out what to do, about the other Sides and about Marlowe.”

That was fair. He’d only stay a little.

Dimly, Roman remembered that this was the Imagination, he mastered this world, so he could technically get rid of the Playwright’s wound. He could get rid of his memory and the wound and send him right back to his home, right back to the Artist, good as normal and none the wiser.

But….something in the back of his head stopped him. And the Director pulled him into the other room faster than Roman could overcome whatever clouded thoughts were plaguing him.

#chivalry au #roman #roman sanders #ts roman #sanders sides fic #clap clap clap clap #tw blood #tw violence #tw assault #tw blunt force trauma #tw amnesia #AND WE HIT ONE OF THE BIGGEST ISSUES IN THIS FIC #LMAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO THIS WAS THE FIRST CHAPTER I WROTE LKGJKHJGKJGH #marlowe goes through it #its okay he needed a cognitive recalibration

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princessrainbows · 4 years

Text

Genuine Laughter

Title: Genuine Laughter

Warnings: Mentions of; Depression, Suicidal thoughts/attempts(maybe?) Alcohol intake. (The reader is the depressed one out of the paring!!) Mention of the reader’s Quirk being Teleportation. Ends with fluff

Words: 2k+

A/N: I’ve been wanting to write something for a while now. Seeing so many of the Keigo x reader blogs that I currently follow rn, has hugely inspired me to write up a small drabble!

Paring(s): Keigo Takami | Hawks x Fem! Reader

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Depression is like battling a 200 foot Dragon every day. It’s not something so easy to overcome. Many people don’t even know when somebody they know have depression whenever it’s brought up in a conversation.

They’ll think that everything is fine and dandy, and that the person who mentioned the mental illness is trying to find attention when, in reality...They just want to be loved, cared for, and helped. They don’t want their thoughts to be true, they want to be saved from them.

So, when you, ever so casually, mentioned that you felt like dying one day to Keigo, it caught him off guard. It really bothered him that somebody so smart and so powerful just...Wanted to give it all up. “Hey hey, what’s the matter dove? Something bothering you” He asked, noticing that you where....Off, and have been for a long while now that he thought about it.

That night stuck with you. The fact that he picked up on your casual self-loathing habits of talking about death so casually like that, surprised you to say the least. Most of the time, people around you would either scoff or just ignore you, or Meme your mental illness, thinking that’s what you wanted to do since, that’s what you’d always do to hide the pain you felt all the time.

Being a hero isn’t that easy. Especially with a quirk as powerful as your own, your in constant demand all the time. Always teleporting everywhere to save people and give back-up to pro-hero’s who need it. And now that you where sought out by The Commission people who raised Hawks, you’ve become his body guard so to speak. Sure, he might be fast, but, you can match up in speed thanks to your quirk.

So, not only are you in high demand, you never get to catch a break! Hell, you didn’t even want the spotlight! So, this made you start becoming depressed. You where so busy all the time. You barely got any real decent rest, you hardly have time to yourself for a nice bubble bath, or read a cool book.

You did your best to hide everything from everybody. You’d play it off and fake-laugh with people that would question whether or not you where really okay or mentally sane at the time of the conversation/interaction.

But, you didn’t take into account for Hawks noticing it. He noticed everything. He noticed your facial expression visibly changing with every minute of the day depending on your mood. He’d notice the way you’d get snippy at different people if you’d woken up to a particularly bad mental day for you. He EVEN noticed that one day when you locked yourself up in your bedroom at his place around 8:30pm at night. He heard your weak sobs underneath the blanket.

The man was like a Dog with his hearing. he heard and saw everything. But, he knew that if he asked, you’d joke it off and turn down his help.

It wasn’t until when things got REALLY bad for you was when he stepped in and demanded that you explained everything to him. You had three drinks that night after poppin’ in quite a lot of Tylenol pills for your severe Migraine you where having that same day. You just wanted it to stop so you could be Okay for once.

After some prying, you finally told him what’s been happening. You told him that you’ve been battling with Depression and your Suicidal thoughts for the past several months. You even mentioned that your PTSD was starting to act up again, which just made things worse for you in the end.

He didn’t show any emotion. he just...Stared at you, in pure shock. You’ve been battling this battle by yourself this entire time that the two of you have been seeing each other, you’ve kept EVERYTHING to yourself until you blew up and tried ending it all.

It terrified him. He didn’t do anything out of worry that he might make it worse for you, but also, he felt like he should have done something, ANYTHING to have helped! “...Oh god........I’m so sorry” was all that he could really say before you passed out from being so damn tired, drunk, and dizzy from the Tylenol pills you took that day. Falling right into his lap, all he did was let you stay there and fall asleep.

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That happened two months ago. You never really FULLY changed but, you noticed that you weren’t as bad as you where back then. Actually, you made a little chart marking down the Really Bad Days, from the Good/Okay days, and you’ve never had a single Really Bad Day since then. You’re days from two months ago to now have just been Meh/Okay and sometimes, even Good!

Today was different for you. When you woke up, it was around 11am, you felt...Light. Like as if you where floating in the air. But, it wasn’t a bad feeling by any means! Which lifted your spirits up quite a bit.

You reach to your cell phone and check your stuff, ignoring the majority of it except for Keigo’s messages (and selfies) and your Boss’ message, which woke you right out of bed! You blinked at it with your glasses on and notice a message from him: [”You’ve been invited to a Pro-Hero exclusive Gathering. Along with Hawks, Endervour, and many others. Dress nicely, and behave.”] Blinking several times, you groaned, falling back on the bed with an arm over your eyes, pouting in annoyance, “I hate fancy parties...” you sighed out loud.

Today was a really good day for you and your mental state. You weren’t smiling by any means but, you weren’t frowning either. You did your usual routine before heading out to work, since you’re with the Commission now and not some Hero agency, you’ve been given permission to have your own schedule (with the help from Hawks so that way he could keep an eye on you of course.)

“---And since I’m in a good mood today....I’ll give you a minute of a head start to try and run.” You say before grinning as you watched the group of bad guys try and flee with the stolen loot from the local store you where shopping at for a Brunch. “Too Slow..” You commented, teleporting right in front of them, grabbing the enemies uniforms and rolling your eyes as they tried running.

The police where called, and you where thanked for your efforts, “Wow! You look happy today y/n! Something happened?” The officer noticed your mood and commented on it, you shrugged, giving a slight chuckle, “Nothing in particular! I just feel good today that’s all~” you cheered before waving them off, seemingly having left them dumbfounded by your response.

You had a really good day of just, doing whatever you wanted! Holding your drink in your hand with a small snack in the bag in your other hand, you walked by a clothing store with several outfits in the window. You noticed a very nice looking dress with a paired Tuxedo beside it, shrugging you walked into the store, you DID need a dress for tonight’s Por-Hero exclusive Gathering after all! Even if they weren’t your favorite thing to wear.

“Hi there miss! Welcome to our store! is there anything that I can do for you?” You where greeted by a worker who wore a very nice business suit, you took a pause from your drinking and looked at her outfit, “Actually...Yeah. Can I ask where you got that outfit? See, I’m heading to a fancy ball and stuff...But, I’m not that much of a Fancy Dress type of person.” You replied, gesturing your jaw at her outfit, as to not point since that would’ve been rude.

“Oh sure! We actually just recently added these types of outfits to out store so, we’d be happy to have a pro-hero wear one!....You are Pro-Hero Y/N correct?” You nodded in response, sipping on your drink. You followed the business woman to the stores selection and looked around...The shop was nice despite how cold it was.

It didn’t take you that long to find what you wanted. Coming out of the change room in front of the business woman, you stood there with a blows, a nice pair of black work pants, fancy black shoes, and a nice jacket to cover yourself with. Once you changed out of it and went to the cash, you purchased the outfit and thanked the woman for the help.

You returned home with your now, not so hot Brunch and outfit in tow, getting ready for the fancy ball party for tonight while eating at the same time. You weren’t positive that you were going to have a good night but hey, you where invited! You couldn’t say no! Especially since you where in a good mood, you figured ‘eh, why not? Keigo’s gonna be there anyways so~’ and went with it.

A few hours had past, and it was time for the gathering. You rode in a somewhat fancy vehicle to the location of the party. Getting out of the car, you could already tell that eyes where on you. You ignored them, and thanked the driver and went into the building.

Using the elevator, you went up to the highest floor, which was a party room dedicated to pro-hero’s and their parties. You were slightly nervous since your mental state was still...Not exactly the best but, a lot better than a couple months ago. Putting those thoughts aside, you walked into the entrance area. You saw two doors both opened with two guards there, one stopped you and looked down, “Ma’am, this is a Pro-Hero party. Please show proof that you’ve been invited or we’ll have to remove you from the premise.” You sighed in annoyance, knowing that the guy was just doing his job. You pulled out your Hero License and showed it to him. He nodded and allowed you in.

Walking into the main area, you stood in awe, ‘They really went all out huh?’ You thought to yourself, staring up at the fancy decorations that seemed to blend in well with everything else in the room. You took in the atmosphere, not used to the Party life At All, staring off into the area as you listened to the soft music playing on the small stage area. “Wow! I didn’t think you’d show up of all people!” You hear a familiar voice from a loud woman behind you. Her grin was wide and she was excited to see more people coming to the party, “Yeah....The Commission had invited me over. I’m assuming it’s to keep an eye on hawks since he’s been invited as well...” You automatically noticed the wingless man near the farthest end, standing beside Endervour, laughing it up with the small group that gathered there for the night.

“...You know y/n. Most of the public knows your not a party person. Just imagine the press when they get a hold of this! ‘Y/N seen at a fancy Galla ball with Pro-Hero Hawks by her side!’ haha, they’ll get a good scoop for that one~” She chuckled, patting you on the back shoulders gently before walking towards the crowd giving them a wave. You groaned...You really hate the media being in your face all the time. So, something like this would DEFINITELY, be a pain in the ass to deal with.

----------------------------------------------------

The party continued on for the night, you talked and hung out with everybody at the party. You also did your job and reported to your boss at what was happening with Hawks, telling them that he was behaving well and having a blast. Once you sent in the report, you decided to spend the rest of the night with Keigo, walking up to the small group of pro-hero’s that he was telling a story too. “---And even tho I was trying to make the poor woman laugh, safe it to say, that didn’t help my situation at all. it just made the other’s more angry--” The group chuckled with him, and you just rolled your eyes.

The party went on like this for hours. By the time you where ready to go back home, it was around 12am. You and Keigo spent the last hour going home. He was just a tad bit drunk and a little bit silly as well, trying to handle him when he’s a bit drunk was hard but, you somehow managed.

“Hey.....Hey y/n....” He mumbled, trying his best to keep what little composure that he had left. “Yes Kei?” You asked, grunting while you placed him on your couch, grinning, he pulled you down into a cuddle, you didn’t mind it at all. Since you were quite tired from the party, having been out for a long time on your feet for the most part.

Keigo wasn’t really talking per say. He was mumbling random words in between some cute sweet nothings to you as he held you close to him. “Hey...y/n?.....” He whispered in your ear, first telling you how much he loved you...And then, telling you a silly joke that was, actually pretty funny! You couldn’t help but snicker then laugh in his chest, burying your face in it, you snorted off and on until you could breathe from the laughing again.

Keigo blinked in surprise. he managed to make you laugh.....Like, genuinely laugh at one of his jokes. He didn’t put any thought into it at all, he just went with it, and that made you laugh until you snort-laughed in his chest.

This made your night. Just that one time with Keigo on the couch, making you laugh. You felt at ease, happy, even safe. You don’t want to forget this night, you want to cherish it for the rest of your life.

With Keigo being your partner, your depression and suicidal thoughts where a little bit easier to handle. Because you were no longer by yourself dealing with them anymore. You had Keigo to help. And you knew that this man would do anything to make your life, a little less painful to deal with.

#Uhhhh oops?#This wasn't supposed to be so long lmao?#hawks x Reader #hawks x y/n #depression mention #suicidal thoughts mention #attempt of suicide mention #I didn't get a beta reader bc I still wanna practice on my own before I get to that point #Mind you...If I do fanfictions like this. it won't be all the time.

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