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solxamber · 20 hours

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Trash Novel Chronicles: Please Let Me Live - Vil Schoenheit x reader

You get isekai'd into the worst novel you've had the misfortune of reading because apparently your life is a cosmic joke. Now all you have to do is not act like the character you've possessed and it'll be fine, you think? Your fiancé being Vil Schoenheit makes it a little harder to behave like a human being with functional braincells, but hey, atleast he likes you, you think?

w.c: 10k

You'd avoided it for so long. For months, your best friend had been pestering you to read the shoujo isekai novel of the year. According to them, it was the epitome of romantic drama, the kind that would "turn your heart into a mess of feelings" and "change your life." So, finally, after a particularly grueling week, your willpower hit rock bottom. You caved. You bought it, poured yourself a drink, and figured, "How bad can it be?"

Turns out, really bad.

You’d barely made it past the first few chapters before your brain began to leak out of your ears. Every overused villainess plot point imaginable was crammed into the story like a contest of "how much nonsense can we fit in here before the reader gives up?" The evil fiancée everyone inexplicably hated? Check. The perfect cinnamon roll male lead everyone adored even though he had the personality of wet cardboard? Double check. The heroine who was so pure that even her sneeze would be enough to unite warring nations who also happens to be the saintess? You had to put the book down and take a moment when she gave a speech about friendship that was so saccharine, your teeth hurt.

Grumbling and filled with regret, you got up to refill your drink… only to slip on bubble wrap you swore yesterday that you were going to pick up later, fall face-first into the kitchen counter, and began to bleed out.

It was a comically stupid way to die. You knew that as you lay there, watching the light fade from your vision, your last thoughts being, This is the dumbest thing that’s ever happened to me.

And then, darkness.

You woke up with a groan, your head pounding. As your vision cleared, you noticed you were lying in a very, very fancy bed. Silk sheets, gold trimming on the canopy, the works. And you were dressed in something frilly, layered, and far too complicated for someone who just woke up from a near-death experience.

"What the…"

You sat up, rubbing your eyes, only to freeze as the realization hit you. This was not your bed. This was not your apartment. This was… Oh god, no.

You whipped your head around the lavish room, recognizing it from the novel you’d been hate-reading just last night. The massive mirror above the dresser, the tapestry with an overly detailed family crest, the obnoxiously large bouquet of roses that smelled way too sweet.

You’re in the book.

Panicking, you scrambled out of bed and rushed to the full-length mirror by the wall. The reflection staring back at you was not your own. Instead, you saw an unfamiliar face—her face. The one mentioned once, maybe twice, in the whole novel before being discarded like an old shoe: the betrothed of the villain.

The fiancée who dumps him for the male lead. The fiancée who gets themselves killed in the process.

“Oh, come on!” you groaned, slapping your forehead. “I’m the villain’s betrothed? I’m that idiot who leaves Vil Schoenheit because I fall for the human incarnation of a sugar cube?”

But there was no escaping it. You were now stuck in the body of a side character so irrelevant that even her death was treated as an afterthought. The one who leaves her handsome, ambitious, gorgeous fiancé for… Neige.

No. No, no, no. You were not about to die over a soggy cinnamon roll.

Determined to change your fate, you gathered your wits and opened the door to leave the room. But of course, you ran headlong into a tall figure, knocking you both back.

“Oof! Careful there!” a smooth, yet stern voice said. You looked up—and froze. Standing before you, looking like something straight out of a high-fashion magazine, was Vil Schoenheit. The man whose heart you were supposed to break, the villain who would later descend into madness after you ditch him.

And wow. In person, he was even more stunning than the novel had described. His golden-blond hair shimmered in the sunlight pouring through the window, his purple eyes were as sharp as they were beautiful, and his posture screamed confidence.

You blinked up at him, utterly dumbfounded. You’re supposed to leave him? For Neige? You nearly gagged at the thought.

Vil raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by your wide-eyed staring. “Is something the matter?”

You gulped. Right. You were supposed to be cold and dismissive toward him, weren’t you? But how? This man looked like he could make the heavens weep with his beauty. How had your character ever even considered leaving him?

“No, nothing’s the matter!” you blurted out, a little too enthusiastically. “Actually, everything’s great! You look fantastic! I mean, not that you don’t always look fantastic—because you do—but, you know, extra fantastic today!”

Vil’s eyes narrowed. “You’re acting strange.”

Abort. Abort!

You quickly cleared your throat. “Uh, I’ve just been… thinking. About us.”

His gaze became sharper. “About us?”

You nodded, plastering on your most sincere smile. “Yes! I’ve realized… I haven’t been very, uh, appreciative of you lately. And I’m sorry for that. Really, I am. So from now on, I’ll be the most appreciative fiancée ever!”

Vil looked at you as though you’d just told him the sun was cold. He clearly didn’t trust this sudden change in attitude. “What exactly brought this on?” he asked slowly, suspiciously.

Time for Plan B. “Oh, you know, just… reflection! Self-improvement! I thought, ‘Why would I ever look anywhere else when I’ve got someone like *you* right in front of me?’ You’re… amazing, really.” You cringed internally at how corny that sounded, but Vil didn’t seem entirely put off.

“Hm,” was all he said, but his piercing gaze stayed locked on you, watching for any sign of deceit.

You were sweating bullets, but at least he wasn’t storming off. Yet.

You knew from the moment you read the back cover that this novel was going to be a dumpster fire of clichés, but you were not prepared for the sheer chaos of it all.

So, first off, we have the heroine—the Saintess—who has somehow never faced a single hardship in her life, despite the fact that she’s supposed to be the kingdom’s beacon of virtue and a symbol of overcoming hardship. She’s engaged to the crown prince, who conveniently disappears on a diplomatic mission and dies offscreen, probably to make room for her new love interest, Neige LeBlanche. Neige. That sparkly ray of sunshine who is so perfect and pure that you feel like you need sunglasses whenever his name is mentioned. Because apparently, what’s more romantic than falling for a guy immediately after your fiancé kicks the bucket?

Then there’s the second male lead, the brooding Duke of the North, who checks all the boxes: tall, brooding, handsome, tragic backstory—yawn. Of course, he’s madly in love with the Saintess, and like any self-respecting second male lead in a trashy romance, he sacrifices himself for her later. Because nothing says “I’m irrelevant” quite like noble self-sacrifice.

And don't even get started on the heroine's best friend. She’s basically there to fawn over the Saintess and then inexplicably fall for Vil, the Grand Duke, after she pressures him into apologizing for insulting the heroine's dress. Like, why? Was his dress critique that alluring?

Now, Vil Schoenheit. The Grand Duke. The guy you’re currently stuck with as your fiancé. He’s actually a decent character—powerful, intelligent, not falling over himself to worship the Saintess like everyone else. But in the novel, he’s wasted. Why? Because he’s engaged to the character you’re now possessing—Miss Mean and Cold—who treats him like dirt because she’s too busy fantasizing about Neige. You know, the guy she has no shot with because he’s destined to fall for the Saintess. Then, when your character eventually dumps Vil for Neige, she dies in a freak accident. Vil, who actually loved her (for reasons no one understands), is so heartbroken that he turns into the main villain.

Yes, that’s right—this whole mess of a plot ends with Vil going full villain mode because the love of his life ditched him for the living embodiment of a children’s snowman and then died in a way that no one can explain. Cue the Saintess and Neige teaming up to defeat him and live happily ever after.

And that’s the story. A tangled web of nonsensical relationships, conveniently dead characters, and more emotional whiplash than you can handle. And the cherry on top? You're stuck in it, watching everything unfold firsthand. It's honestly a wonder the book didn’t end up as kindling.

A few days passed, and somehow, miraculously, you managed to keep up the act. Every morning you would wake up, still half-expecting to snap out of this bizarre isekai nightmare, but instead, you were met with Vil’s meticulous morning routine and the low hum of his voice offering helpful reminders about skincare.

And the more time you spent with him, the more baffled you became.

How the hell could the original character have messed this up?!

Sure, Vil was particular—okay, maybe borderline obsessive—about appearances. His lectures about proper sunscreen application could rival the length of the Odyssey. And yes, the daily inspections of your outfit choices felt a little like going through customs at a royal border.

But… he was kind? Like, actually caring?

Every meal was an event because he made sure you were eating properly and not just shoving random food into your mouth like the gremlin you clearly were before. He listened when you rambled about your day, offering advice with this gentle patience that honestly made you want to weep. How could anyone leave this?

You found yourself in front of a mirror one afternoon, pacing and gesturing wildly at your reflection, as if you could summon the spirit of the character you’d possessed. "What the actual hell was wrong with you?!" you hissed at the glass. “What kind of brain rot would make someone ditch a man like Vil?! Are you missing brain cells, or was your skull just a rental with nothing in it?!”

You paused, glaring at your reflection as if it could offer answers, but nope. It just stared back, helpless.

“Like, hello?!” you continued, throwing your hands up in exasperation. “You had a golden opportunity here! He’s literally gorgeous! He’s got hair that looks like it was hand-spun by some ancient beauty god, his fashion sense could kill a lesser mortal, and he—*gasp*—cares about your well-being?!”

You slapped your forehead dramatically. “How did you mess this up? Were you allergic to good things? Did you wake up every day and choose to be a feral raccoon instead of, I don’t know, appreciating this actual masterpiece of a human being? What, did you look at his perfect face and go, ‘Nah, I’d rather yeet myself into self-destruction?’ Because clearly, that’s what happened!”

Your reflection remained silent, offering no help, which only fueled your rant further.

“You absolute donut! You ridiculous bottle of poorly mixed potion! You—” You stopped mid-sentence, running out of sufficiently creative insults to throw at the former owner of this body. Because seriously, what kind of fool would’ve thrown Vil away?

You gripped the sides of the vanity table, leaning forward, narrowing your eyes at your own reflection. "If I find out that you gave up on this because he once asked you to wear a face mask or told you to drink more water… I swear, I'm going to find a way to repossess you just to kill you again for making me deal with this."

A soft knock at the door startled you out of your self-directed tirade. You nearly jumped out of your skin, spinning around to see Vil standing in the doorway, one perfectly groomed eyebrow raised in amusement.

“Talking to yourself again?” he asked, his voice smooth but with a teasing edge. “You know, that’s usually a sign of stress. Perhaps we should revisit that meditation routine I mentioned.”

You stared at him, wide-eyed and speechless, wondering how much he’d overheard. But then you caught sight of that soft smile he reserved just for you, and your brain short-circuited all over again.

Right. The original character was definitely an idiot.

The first major hurdle hit you when you least expected it.

It all started with what should have been a calm afternoon—a brief moment of peace where you and Vil could actually spend time together, no schemes, no weird confrontations, just enjoying tea. You were finally getting comfortable with each other, slowly building the trust that had been so fragile at the start. Finally, you thought, things were moving smoothly.

Then the overused villainess trope decided to rear its ugly head.

Vil was talking about an upcoming event he’d be hosting, his voice calm, his usual stern features softened just slightly by the moment of peace. You were finally letting your guard down.

That was until the door creaked open and in waltzed the heroine’s best friend, a girl with wide, doe-like eyes and a penchant for stirring up unnecessary drama. Behind her, looming in the doorway, was the second male lead—your eternal source of frustration from the novel. He was tall, brooding, and always, always popping up at the most inconvenient moments. A defeated looking Epel walked in behind them, with a look that screamed 'trust me I tried to stop them.'

“Oh no,” you whispered under your breath, recognizing this scene before it could even play out. You knew what was coming, and you braced yourself for the utter absurdity of it.

Vil’s sharp gaze flicked from the two intruders back to you, his brows furrowing in mild irritation. “What is it now?” he muttered, already sensing the impending nonsense.

The heroine’s friend, ever the bringer of chaos, marched right up to your table with a dramatic flair that could only come from someone who believed they were the only purveyor of justice. “I can’t stay quiet any longer!” she declared, pointing an accusatory finger in Vil’s direction. “Vil, how could you treat the heroine this way?! You’ve been so cold, so distant—and it’s clear that you don’t truly care for anyone but yourself!”

You blinked. Excuse me?

Vil’s lips pursed, the irritation growing on his face. “And what, pray tell, did I do?”

“You know what you did!” she exclaimed, crossing her arms like she’d just delivered the most damning statement in history. “You’ve been ignoring her, brushing her off, and acting like she doesn’t even exist. She’s heartbroken because of you!”

You groaned internally. Oh no, this was that scene. The one where, because Vil once made an offhand comment about the heroine’s poor choice in dresses at a ball, suddenly he was painted as some cruel villain who was emotionally tormenting the delicate heroine. It was such an incredibly stupid misunderstanding that you distinctly remembered wanting to throw the book across the room when you’d first read it.

To make matters worse, the second male lead, standing silently but brooding in the doorway, was glowering at Vil like he was ready to challenge him to a duel at any moment. Because of a comment about a dress.

“Are you serious?” you blurted out, the frustration bubbling up before you could stop yourself.

The heroine’s friend gasped, her eyes wide. “Excuse me?!”

“Let me get this straight,” you said, rising from your seat with a groan, “you’re upset because Vil, what, didn’t shower her with praise at the last event? And now you’ve decided to come in here, storming into our tea time, to complain about it?”

The second male lead’s brooding scowl deepened, his jaw tightening. “Vil has been cruel—”

“About a dress.” You cut him off, waving your hand dismissively. “Vil made one comment about her dress. That’s it. And now we’re doing this whole song and dance like he’s some kind of evil tyrant?”

The room was already tense, the heroine’s best friend visibly fuming, but you couldn’t help it. The words just came out before you could stop them.

“And while we’re at it,” you said, your voice dripping with mock innocence, “let’s talk about that dress. You know, the one you’re all so upset about. I mean, I’m no fashion expert, but who in their right mind thought wearing that shade of mustard-yellow was a good idea?”

The friend’s mouth fell open, but you weren’t finished. “I mean, she walked into the ballroom looking like a sad banana trying to go to a high society function. I get it—saintess and all that—but there’s no reason to dress like the interior of an overripe cantaloupe.”

Vil made a choking sound next to you, and you dared to glance at him. His eyes were wide with shock, but there was an unmistakable glint of amusement. Oh, he wasn’t pleased with the crudeness, but he definitely wasn’t going to stop you either.

“And you,” you said, turning to the second male lead, who had been standing there like a silent, brooding statue, just staring at the two of you menacingly. “What’s your excuse? You came in here with all this brooding energy, acting like you’re about to duel someone over the fate of the heroine. But seriously, what’s with your whole tragic hero act? Is your personality just permanent raincloud or do you practice that in the mirror?”

Vil covered his mouth with his hand, and you could see his shoulders shaking slightly. He was losing the battle to keep his composure, but he was trying—for dignity’s sake, of course.

Epel, on the other hand, had completely given up. The moment you’d said “sad banana,” he had fallen off his chair, doubled over in laughter, his face red as he clutched his sides. You weren’t sure if it was your insults or the second male lead’s thunderstruck expression, but either way, Epel was in hysterics.

“I—” the heroine’s friend sputtered, but you interrupted her again.

“Oh, and you.” You looked her up and down with a condescending smirk. “You really want to talk about fashion? Because I don’t know who told you that wearing ruffles with plaid was a look, but they were wrong. You’re out here looking like you got lost in a fabric store and fell into the clearance bin.”

This time, Vil snorted. Actually snorted. The sound was so out of place that it almost derailed your tirade, but you powered through, buoyed by his reaction.

The second male lead looked like he was ready to explode, his aura now bordering on murderous. “You can’t just—”

“Oh, can’t I?” you shot back, crossing your arms. “Because it seems like all of you came in here with the intent to stir up drama over something as trivial as a constructive remark. If you’re going to go to war over fashion, at least wear something that doesn’t look like you picked it out with your eyes closed. Scratch that, I couldn’t imagine picking that up even with my eyes closed.”

By now, Epel was rolling on the floor, laughing so hard he could barely breathe. “C-couldn’t pick it out… with your eyes closed!” he wheezed, slapping his knee.

Vil, despite himself, let out a low giggle, shaking his head in disbelief. “Well,” he said, his voice steady but filled with mirth, “I suppose subtlety was never your strong suit.”

The heroine’s friend, now red-faced and flustered beyond belief, grabbed the second male lead by the arm and yanked him toward the door. “This isn’t over,” she spat, glaring at you. “We’ll see who’s laughing when the heroine—”

“Yeah, yeah,” you waved dismissively, “when the heroine what? Realizes she’s been pining for someone who can't tell mustard from elegance? Trust me, I’m not worried.”

With that, they both stormed out, slamming the door behind them in a huff of embarrassment and frustration. The second they were gone, you let out a breath and sank back into your chair, grinning at Vil, who was now openly smiling.

“You really didn’t hold back, did you?” Vil said, his amusement evident despite his usual calm demeanor. “I don’t approve of such… crude insults, but I must admit—” his lips twitched— “it was rather effective.”

Epel, still recovering from his laughing fit, managed to haul himself back into his seat, wiping tears from his eyes. “That was… that was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen,” he said between gasps for air. “I can’t believe ya said that right to their faces!”

“Glad to be of service,” you said with a grin, though your heart was still pounding in your chest. You couldn’t believe you’d actually said all of that out loud. But judging by Vil’s pleased expression and Epel’s ongoing laughter, it had been worth it.

Maybe surviving this trash novel wouldn’t be so bad after all.

You’d barely had time to process how bizarrely normal your life as the villain’s fiancée had become when the next absurd isekai plot point decided to rear its ugly, trope-filled head again.

It all started at yet another lavish tea party. Honestly, you’d begun to lose track of how many of these events you were forced to attend. They all blurred together into a haze of polite smiles, floral patterns, and far too much sugar.

This time, you were seated next to Vil, who, as always, looked like he had just stepped out of a renaissance painting. You, on the other hand, were trying not to spill tea on the new dress he’d insisted you wear. The dress itself was lovely, of course—Vil had impeccable taste—but the whole setting made you feel like you were constantly walking on eggshells. Especially since she was here. The heroine.

Today, though, you were determined to get through it without any drama. Just smile, nod, and let the heroine do her thing. Easy, right?

Wrong.

Everything had been going smoothly, too. The heroine, in all her sunshiney glory, was seated at the table, surrounded by her usual group of admirers. You had been doing a great job of fading into the background until someone—the hostess, perhaps?—brought up your previous adventures.

“Oh, didn’t you once accompany the Grand Duke to deal with that bandit problem on the eastern border?” the hostess asked, fanning herself with interest. “What a thrilling ordeal!”

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, feeling the weight of too many eyes on you. “Well, I wouldn’t say thrilling exactly…” you began, trying to downplay it, but your nerves had other ideas. “I mean, the heroine here was probably off rescuing some poor lost puppy while I was just, you know, holding down the real danger.”

The air went cold.

The moment the words left your mouth, you froze. The table fell silent, save for the quiet clinking of teacups being set down. Every eye was on you. The heroine’s wide, eyes blinked at you, full of hurt and confusion. And across from you, the second male lead—Mr. Tall, Dark, and Brooding—looked like he was ready to leap across the table and strangle you on the spot.

Oh no. Oh no no no. Why did you leave your filter at home?

You opened your mouth to apologize, but before you could, the second male lead slammed his cup down on the table, the porcelain rattling ominously. “You dare insult her honor?!” he roared, rising from his seat like some kind of vengeful storm cloud. “I will not stand for this!”

*Why did I say that?* You cringed internally, face turning a bright shade of crimson. "I-it was a joke—"

“No,” he declared dramatically, pointing a finger at you. “I demand satisfaction! A duel for her honor!”

You were still too stunned to respond, your brain scrambling to make sense of the situation. A duel? Over this? All you’d implied was that the heroine wasn’t exactly… battle-hardened. Surely that wasn’t duel-worthy? This man was acting like you’d called his mother a turnip or something worse.

The heroine, ever the epitome of grace, tried to intervene. “There’s no need for—”

But Mr. Broody wasn’t having it. “No! Her honor has been besmirched, and I shall defend it with my life!”

Vil, who had been watching this spectacle unfold with an expression of mild disgust, finally rose from his chair. His cool gaze swept over the table, landing on the second male lead with all the intensity of a snake about to strike.

“If anyone’s honor has been besmirched,” Vil said icily, “it’s mine. And I will not allow my betrothed to be disrespected by the likes of you.”

You blinked up at Vil, stunned. “Wait, you’re going to duel him? Yourself?”

Vil turned his piercing gaze to you, and though his face remained calm, there was a glimmer of something softer in his eyes. “Of course,” he said. “I would never entrust such a matter to anyone else. Besides…” His lips curled into a smirk. “It’s been a while since I’ve put an upstart in his place.”

You gulped, suddenly feeling a bit light-headed. Was it getting hot in here?

The second male lead, apparently unaware of just how screwed he was, smirked triumphantly. “Very well! Let’s settle this once and for all.”

The duel was set for the next day in your estate gardens. You spent the time leading up to it pacing back and forth in your chambers, wringing your hands in nervous anticipation. Somewhere along the way, you’d decided that you needed to do something—anything—to support Vil. So you had spent hours learning how to embroider a handkerchief, your fingers aching from the effort. By the time you finished, you were practically shaking, but you were proud of the result.

You didn’t expect Vil to be touched, let alone notice that you’d worked so hard. But when you handed him the handkerchief just before the duel, his eyes widened in surprise.

“You made this?” he asked, holding it delicately between his fingers, as if it were some priceless artifact.

You nodded sheepishly. “I figured, you know, for luck. Or to rub it in his face after you beat him. Whichever.”

Vil chuckled, his usually sharp expression softening. “Thank you,” he said, his voice low. He then noticed the small needle marks on your hands and frowned. “You hurt yourself.”

You quickly hid your hands behind your back. “It’s nothing! I mean, I’m fine. Just a few pricks here and there.”

Vil’s expression softened even further, and for a moment, he looked almost… touched. He carefully tucked the handkerchief into his coat pocket, a small but genuine smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I’ll be sure to put this to good use.”

You didn’t swoon. Well, maybe just a little.

The duel was, in a word, ridiculous.

The second male lead strutted around like a peacock, his sword gleaming in the afternoon sunlight as he swung it dramatically for the small crowd that had gathered. “Prepare yourself, Schoenheit!” he bellowed, pointing his sword at Vil.

Vil, on the other hand, looked utterly unimpressed. He barely glanced at the man before calmly removing his coat and handing it to you. “Hold this, will you?”

You took the coat with a nod, trying not to pass out from how effortlessly graceful he looked even in the midst of preparing for a fight.

The second male lead lunged forward with all the finesse of a drunken ox, his sword clashing loudly against Vil’s. For a moment, it looked like a real duel—until Vil, with a single fluid motion, disarmed the man in one clean strike. The second male lead’s sword went flying, landing in the bushes several feet away with a pathetic thud.

The crowd gasped, and you had to stifle a laugh. It had barely been five seconds, and the duel was already over.

The second male lead stood there, stunned, his hand frozen mid-air where his sword had been. He blinked once, twice, then turned bright red with embarrassment. “W-what?!”

Vil, ever composed, didn’t even break a sweat. He sheathed his sword and gave the man a cold, dismissive look. “This duel is over. Consider your demand for satisfaction... fulfilled. Now, kindly leave before you embarrass yourself further.”

You bit your lip, trying not to giggle as the second male lead sputtered and tried to come up with an excuse, but it was clear to everyone that he had been utterly humiliated. Even the heroine, standing off to the side, looked like she was struggling to keep a straight face.

As the second male lead stumbled off, defeated, Vil turned to you and offered his hand. “Shall we go?”

You took his hand, still trying to process how easily he had won. “You were amazing,” you blurted out, your heart fluttering as you gazed up at him. “Seriously, that was… wow.”

Vil smirked, the corner of his mouth twitching with amusement. “Of course I was.” He then leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper. “And I expect a proper reward later for defending your honor.”

Your face went beet red, and you were pretty sure you’d forgotten how to breathe.

Yep, you thought as he led you away, his hand still in yours, surviving this trash novel might not be so bad after all.

It happened at one of those overly extravagant banquets the royal court liked to throw. You spotted Neige from across the room, all bright eyes and an innocent smile. He was the epitome of purity, as if his very presence could summon woodland creatures to frolic at his feet.

And you hated him on sight.

You watched in disbelief as everyone around him melted into puddles of admiration. He was practically glowing, and his overly cheerful, squeaky voice was grating on your ears.

The overly saccharine male lead stood there, looking like a cross between a baby bunny and a sentient cupcake. Everything about him screamed "pure-hearted." You nearly gagged on your drink, hoping no one noticed your grimace.

Vil noticed your sour expression and leaned in. “Is something the matter?”

“That’s him, isn’t it?” you said through clenched teeth. “The one I used to follow around?”

Vil followed your gaze, and for a moment, his lips twitched in the faintest show of amusement. “Yes. That’s Neige.”

You snorted. "I can't believe anyone in their right mind would prefer him over you."

Vil's lips curled into a smirk, and he tilted his head slightly. “Oh? Is that so?” His voice was silky, dangerously low, but you could see the flash of satisfaction behind his eyes.

“Yeah,” you muttered, still glaring in Neige's direction. “I mean, look at him. He’s so… good. And not in a ‘wow, what a decent person’ way. It’s like he’s one bad haircut away from sprouting fairy wings and breaking into song.”

Vil let out a low chuckle, right next to you ear, (Lord, have mercy) the sound sending shivers down your spine. “I never thought I’d hear you speak this way about him. You’ve been fawning over Neige for as long as I can remember.”

You rolled your eyes, throwing your hands up. “That was the old me. The dumb me. I mean, have you seen you?” You gestured dramatically toward him. “How could anyone even look at Neige when you exist?”

Vil was quiet for a moment, watching you intently. His violet eyes glinted with something unreadable, but you could tell he was pleased. Oh, he was very pleased.

“You certainly have changed,” he murmured, the smirk never leaving his lips. “And I must admit, I find it rather… delightful.”

Before you could respond, a very familiar voice rang out from behind you. “Ah! What a beautiful reunion this is! A moment filled with l’amour, sparkling like the stars in the sky!”

You nearly jumped out of your skin as Rook Hunt appeared seemingly out of thin air, his hands dramatically clasped together as he beamed at you both. “I have seen many couples in my lifetime, but none quite so radiant as you two.”

You blinked, trying to recover from his sudden appearance. “Rook… were you just… hiding in the curtains again?”

Rook, ever the dramatist, placed a hand on his heart and smiled wistfully. “Ah, but how could I stay away when the beauty of your love draws me in like a moth to a flame?”

Vil raised an eyebrow. “Rook, you’re not helping.”

“Non, non, mon ami,” Rook insisted, twirling in place with a flourish. “I am merely basking in the glow of what is surely a love for the ages! The way your eyes meet, the subtle tension in the air—it is magnifique!”

You sighed, shaking your head, though you couldn’t help but chuckle at Rook’s antics. Meanwhile, from the other side of the ballroom, Epel was watching the scene unfold with barely concealed amusement. He caught your eye and shot you a grin, raising his glass as if to say, Good luck with this.

But the fun wasn’t over. Oh no. Neige, the human embodiment of a children’s choir, started making his way toward you. As he approached, his bright eyes locked on yours, his smile so innocent and wide that you almost felt bad for what you were about to do.

Almost.

“Good evening!” Neige greeted you, his voice as sweet as sugar. “I don’t believe we’ve had the chance to properly meet.”

You stared at him for a moment, unimpressed. “Yeah, uh-huh.”

Neige blinked, clearly taken aback by your lack of enthusiasm. He probably wasn’t used to people not immediately falling at his feet. “It’s truly wonderful to meet you! I’ve heard so much about you.”

You squinted at him. “Mm-hmm.”

Vil, standing beside you, looked positively elated. You could practically feel the smug energy radiating off of him. He wasn’t even hiding his smile anymore.

Neige continued, oblivious to your complete disinterest. “I’m so glad we’ll have the chance to spend time together in the coming months! I hope we can—”

“Yeah, no, I’m good,” you interrupted, turning away and pointedly ignoring his very existence.

Neige blinked again, looking like a lost puppy. You almost felt a little bad. Almost.

Vil, on the other hand, looked like Christmas had come early. His arm slipped around your waist, his touch gentle. “I must say,” he murmured into your ear, his voice laced with amusement, “I’ve never enjoyed one of these balls quite so much.”

Yup, maybe this novel isn't that trashy after all?

Everytime you think this novel might not be that bad, it manages to prove you wrong.

The day had finally arrived: the Founding Day Ball. The event to end all events, where the kingdom’s most distinguished were honored in a grand ceremony. And, of course, at the top of the list of honorees was Vil, who might as well have been carved into the actual history of the kingdom itself with how perfect he was.

As his partner for the evening, you were dressed to the nines, dripping in elegance you didn’t even know you were capable of. When you caught your reflection in one of the massive ballroom mirrors, you had to do a double-take.

"Who is that?" you whispered, eyes wide. "Oh. It’s me."

Honestly, if there was a chance of impressing anyone here, you were impressed with yourself.

The ceremony went as expected. Vil was awarded the highest honors, his name met with thunderous applause as he gave a speech that left the crowd swooning. You found yourself half-clapping, half-gawking, wondering how this man kept getting more perfect. Like, was he actually human?

But as the evening progressed, the dreaded scene you despised the most crept into the evening, like a bad smell at a gourmet dinner.

After the ceremony, it was time for the opening dance. Naturally, Vil, being the epitome of grace and nobility, was the prime candidate to lead it. You were fully expecting him to ask you, but before he could even turn in your direction, the heroine — yes, that heroine — appeared out of nowhere, like she was materializing straight from the pages of the worst romance novel ever written.

“Vil,” she said in a voice that sounded like honey and broken promises, “I trust you’ll grant me the honor of the first dance.”

You blinked. *Excuse me?*

She said it so confidently, as if it were a foregone conclusion, like she was used to the world revolving around her whims. It was the equivalent of someone just cutting the line in front of you at the store and expecting applause for their audacity.

Vil, for his part, didn’t even flinch. His expression was as cool and elegant as ever, but you could see a flicker of amusement in his eyes.

“I’m afraid,” he said, voice smooth and polite, “I already have a partner for the first dance.”

The heroine’s face froze in a way that almost made you choke on your own breath. “W-What?” She blinked rapidly, as if her brain couldn’t process the fact that someone had just told her no.

You, too, were a little stunned, for a seperate. Was she actually planning on throwing a tantrum right now? In public? At a literal state function?

“B-But you always dance with me,” she stammered, voice rising in disbelief, her face turning an alarming shade of pink. “I’m supposed to be your first dance!”

You physically had to stop yourself from snorting. Always? He has never even looked at her for longer than five seconds! You couldn't recall a single time Vil had given her anything beyond basic pleasantries. The only reason she’d be in his line of sight was because she was constantly putting herself there.

Vil’s lips twitched slightly, though whether it was out of irritation or amusement, you couldn’t tell. “I don’t recall ever dancing with you,” he said calmly, as though she were discussing someone else entirely.

The heroine blinked, clearly taken aback. “W-What?”

Vil’s voice dropped to an even icier tone, leaving no room for misunderstanding. “In fact, I dislike the very idea of it.”

The heroine made a strangled sound behind you, like a baby bird trying to scream.

You looked around the room, half-expecting hidden cameras to pop out, because this had to be a prank. Who acts like this?!

And as you floated onto the dance floor with Vil, you couldn’t help but marvel at the absolute insufferable nature of the scene you’d just witnessed. This was, without a doubt, the moment that solidified your hatred for the trash-tier novel world you’d been trapped in. People like her actually existed here?

Behind you, the heroine stomped her foot like a petulant child, completely ignored by the crowd. It would’ve been almost sad if it wasn’t so ridiculous.

And as you twirled under the chandeliers, feeling Vil’s warmth beside you and the heroine’s tantrum echoing faintly in the background, one thing became crystal clear:

This novel may have been trash, but at least you were the one dancing with the prince of perfection.

It hit you like a ton of bricks one day—completely out of nowhere. You had been sitting in Vil’s study, watching him work. He was meticulously going over some documents, his brow furrowed in concentration, his golden hair falling perfectly in place despite him having been there for hours. You were supposed to be reading through some kingdom protocol book, but instead, your gaze kept drifting over to him.

He’s so… beautiful.

You blinked, the thought suddenly snapping you out of whatever trance you’d fallen into.

Wait…

Your eyes widened. Oh no. Oh no no no no no.

You slammed the book shut, startling Vil from his work as you stood up abruptly. “I-I need some air.”

Vil raised an elegant eyebrow, clearly amused by your sudden panic. “Something the matter?”

“No! Nothing’s the matter!” you said, far too quickly, your voice an octave higher than usual. You stumbled over your chair in your haste to get out of the room, nearly tripping on your own feet. “I just—need to—um—fresh air, yes, exactly!”

Before Vil could say anything else, you bolted from the study and down the hall, your heart racing as though you’d just run a marathon. You darted into the nearest empty room and pressed your back against the door, your mind swirling with confusion.

Am I falling for him?

You slapped a hand over your mouth, horrified by the realization. “No… no, this isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. I’m in love with a character from this awful, brain-numbing novel?”

You slumped against the door, groaning as the full weight of the situation sank in. How could this happen? How could my first true love— you gagged at the phrase —be from this trash novel?

There was no escaping it now. The butterflies in your stomach every time Vil looked your way, the way your heart skipped a beat whenever he smiled, the fact that you wanted nothing more than to be close to him… it was all painfully obvious.

You buried your face in your hands. “I’m going to die. I’m going to die of embarrassment in this ridiculous world.”

And the worst part? It wasn’t even one of the good isekai novels. You’d somehow gotten stuck in what could be considered objectively the worst one, and yet here you were, head over heels for a character who—against all odds—turned out to be the most amazing person you’d ever met.

“Oh god,” you muttered to yourself, sliding down to the floor, your head falling back against the door with a thud. “I'm in love with Vil. I’m doomed. Completely doomed.”

“Mon Dieu! What a revelation!” a voice suddenly rang out from the shadows.

You yelped, whipping around to see none other than Rook Hunt—perched in the corner of the room like some kind of overly dramatic bird of prey, his hat casting a mysterious shadow over his eyes. His entire being radiated excitement, and you swore you saw actual sparkles in the air around him.

“Rook?! How long have you been there?!”

“Long enough, my dear,” he said, voice hushed with reverence, as though you had just confessed your deepest, most tragic secret. “Ah, love! The torment, the longing! The exquisite despair you must be feeling!” He took a step forward, eyes gleaming with unbridled enthusiasm. “But fear not, mon ami, for I, Rook Hunt, shall be your faithful cupid! Together, we shall make Vil see the truth of your affections!”

You blinked, stunned. “Uh… I’m not sure that’s—"

“Ah, but you must!" Rook declared, swooping down to kneel dramatically before you. “Love, once realized, must be pursued with all one’s passion and determination! Do not let this opportunity slip through your fingers like sand in the wind! I shall assist you!”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the sheer intensity of his expression made you falter. Rook was looking at you like this was the most important mission of his life.

Honestly, what did you have to lose at this point?

With a deep, exhausted sigh, you muttered, “Fine. Fine! I’ll do it. Help me, Rook.”

Rook’s grin stretched so wide it was borderline terrifying. “Excellent! This will be an adventure for the ages!” Before you could even process what you’d agreed to, Rook leaped to his feet and clapped his hands together. “But we will need more help. A certain someone with a youthful spirit and just enough mischievousness to add that je ne sais quoi to our plans.”

Oh no.

Cue Epel.

“What the hell are you ropin’ me into?” Epel grumbled as Rook dragged him into your predicament not five minutes later.

“I have volunteered you for a most noble cause, mon petit pomme,” Rook said, not even breaking stride as he swept Epel into the room. “Our dear friend here is head over heels for our Vil, and we are going to help them win his heart”

Epel paused, blinking at you in disbelief. “Wait, Vil? That Vil?” He gestured vaguely in the direction of where Vil’s office was.

“Yes, that Vil,” you said flatly, already regretting every life decision that had led you to this point.

Epel gave you a dubious look. “And you agreed to let Rook help you?”

You groaned, dragging a hand over your face. “Don’t remind me.”

“Alright, fine. I’m in.” Epel shrugged, a wicked grin creeping onto his face. “If we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna do it big.”

Thus began the most absurd, over-the-top, and borderline catastrophic schemes in an attempt to prove your love to Vil Schoenheit.

It started innocently enough. You wanted to make Vil his favorite tea. Simple, right? But Rook insisted that it couldn’t just be any tea. No, it had to be presented with an air of mystery and allure.

“Bring it to him while reciting a sonnet of devotion!” Rook suggested. “Declare your admiration with each step, so that he understands the depth of your feelings!”

“I’m not reciting a sonnet, Rook.”

Epel, on the other hand, was far more pragmatic. “Or you could just… write him a note and leave it with the tea?”

That seemed normal. Rational. You’d take Epel’s advice. So, you snuck into Vil’s room, left the tea and a note on his desk, and slipped out before anyone noticed.

The next morning, Vil eyed you suspiciously over breakfast. “Did you leave tea in my study last night?”

You nodded, trying to play it cool. “Yeah, I thought you’d appreciate it.”

Vil’s eyes narrowed, but you swore you saw the corner of his lips twitch into the faintest smile. “I see. How thoughtful.”

Then came Operation: Compliment Vil at Every Opportunity.

Rook, of course, insisted you be poetic. “Tell him his beauty rivals the very stars in the sky!”

“I’m not saying that.”

Epel chimed in with a much more straightforward approach: “Just tell him his hair looks nice. It’s always nice.”

But Rook’s enthusiasm was contagious, and before you knew it, you found yourself blurting out, “Your radiance is blinding today, Vil! Truly, I must shield my eyes from such ethereal beauty!”

Vil, who had been in the middle of inspecting his reflection, froze. His eyes darted to you, and he gave you a strange look.

“Are you… feeling alright? Did you perhaps get bitten by a stray Rook?”

You shook your head vigorously, your face heating up from how ridiculous you sounded. “Totally fine! Just… appreciating your beauty! Yep. Normal stuff.”

Vil didn’t say anything, but you could see a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. He looked amused—and maybe a little pleased—but more than anything, he seemed confused.

At least he didn’t think you’d lost your mind. Yet.

You were convinced this novel had it out for you from the beginning, but this? This was a new low. The memory loss trope, the final attempt to make your life as ridiculous as possible, had arrived—right on schedule.

You knew how it was supposed to go. You’d hit your head (a complete accident, obviously), wake up with no memory of Vil, and immediately make the worst decisions possible, like falling for that knockoff prince, Neige. Cue dramatic heartbreak, public humiliation, and eventual abandonment. Classic trashy novel shenanigans.

But apparently, the universe—or whatever cosmic force was in charge of your suffering—had decided to take a vacation after all the work it had been putting in. Because when you opened your eyes and saw Vil leaning over you, worry etched into his perfect face, instead of forgetting him, you were… immediately smitten?

What?

And it didn’t stop there. When he took your hand in his, gently kissing your knuckles in that heartbreakingly tender way, it was like a light switch flipped. Your memories came rushing back, completely bypassing the whole convoluted plot about amnesia and bad decisions.

Because of course in this disaster of a novel, the solution to everything was true love's kiss. The most overdone, eye-rolling cliché in the history of romance, and yet here you were, living through it.

You almost laughed out loud. Of all the tropes this novel had thrown at you—evil fiancées, jealous heroines, duels for honor—this had to be the funniest. It was as if the universe had taken one look at your situation and said, “You know what? Let’s skip the suffering and go straight to the ridiculous happy ending.”

True love’s kiss. Really. This novel is mocking me at this point, you thought, fighting the urge to scream. But hey, at least you didn’t have to deal with more drama. And as Vil’s concerned gaze softened into a relieved smile, you couldn’t help but think that, maybe, this was one trope you didn’t mind after all.

You'd almost given up on confessing. Maybe you'll just live like this forever, your fate was sealed. The novel clearly doesn't want you to tell him how you feel.

But there was another ball (because apparently that's the only place that nobility had be at in this novel. What was this? the 108th ball of the year?) You'd decided that you'll ask him for a stroll under the moonlight and just tell him.

Of course, the novel is not on your side. What's new?

The ball was going well—well, for you and Vil, anyway. You’d just finished dancing, and he looked absolutely stunning, as usual. You were basking in the afterglow of all the whispered praise and envious stares. That is, until you overheard someone bad-mouthing Vil.

Of course, it had to be the heroine’s best friend, who was apparently using this grand occasion to air her grievances.

“I just don’t understand why Vil is always so cold to her,” she whined, loud enough for everyone within a three-mile radius to hear. “She’s the saintess! She deserves kindness and adoration, not disdain.”

Cue the dramatic gasps from the crowd. Ah, here we go.

You shot Vil a look, but he merely shrugged, rolling his eyes. He clearly didn’t want to start any trouble. But you? Oh, you were about to flip the table on these idiots.

“Excuse me,” you began, stepping forward, the crowd parting like the Red Sea as you made your way over. “I couldn’t help but overhear your incredibly loud complaints about my fiancé.”

The heroine’s best friend froze, clearly not expecting you to get involved. You smiled sweetly, but your eyes were throwing daggers.

“Let me set the record straight. Vil isn’t cold to her because she’s the ‘saintess,’” you air-quoted the title, “He’s cold to her because she’s an insufferable brat who’s so used to getting her way that she throws a tantrum every time someone says ‘no.’”

More gasps from the crowd. You could see Neige stiffening across the ballroom, already sensing where this was going. But there was no stopping you now.

“And don’t get me started on you,” you pointed at the best friend, your tone dripping with sarcasm. “You’re out here defending her honor like you’re some knight in shining armor when, let’s be real, you’re just as bad. You fawn over her like a lost puppy, expecting her to shower you with praise when all you do is enable her delusions.”

Vil, somewhere behind you, was probably trying not to laugh. But you weren't done.

“And as for your precious Neige over there?” you tilted your head toward the prince-wannabe, who was looking more and more uncomfortable by the second. “He’s not some perfect angel either. He’s just a guy with an unsettling talent for showing up at the most convenient times, with that same doe-eyed, clueless expression, making everyone feel sorry for him.”

You didn’t stop at Neige.

"And as for you," you said, spinning toward the brooding Duke of the North, the infamous second male lead, who had been leaning against a pillar, looking every bit the tall, tormented, handsome cliché. “You’re not fooling anyone either. You’re the king of melodramatic entrances. Always lurking in the shadows, trying to look mysterious, but really, you’re just sulking because no one’s paying attention to you.”

“Oh, I’m sorry—are you brooding? Again? Let me guess, you’re thinking about some dark secret that you’ll drop at the most inconvenient moment to make things worse for everyone, right?” You mimicked his deep, serious voice. “‘It’s the burden I must bear… alone.’” You threw your head back in mock agony, hands dramatically placed on your chest.

He straightened up, clearly offended, but you didn’t give him the chance to speak.

“And stop pretending like you’re some tragic hero,” you added, lowering your voice with a sharp edge. “You’re just a guy with commitment issues who sacrifices himself because you can’t handle the fact that the heroine doesn’t want you. Let it go.”

There was dead silence. You half-expected a chandelier to drop just for the dramatic effect. Even Vil had to look away for a moment, probably to hide the fact that he in tears, about to burst out laughing.

The heroine was slack-jawed, her best friend looked like she wanted to melt into the floor, and Neige… well, Neige just looked confused. As always.

Satisfied, you dusted off your hands and turned back to Vil, who was looking at you with a mixture of shock and awe, as if he’d just witnessed some divine intervention.

You let out a satisfied huff and turned to leave. "Come on, Vil, I can't stand to be in the same room as these second-rate characters any longer, let's bounce"

Once outside, you saw Vil was still recovering, a smirk pulling at his lips. “I think you may have traumatized half the ballroom.”

“Good,” you huffed, crossing your arms. “They deserved it. Especially that brooding Duke. ‘I sacrifice myself for the greater good.’ Ugh, give me a break.”

Vil chuckled, sliding his arm around your waist. "Still, you didn’t have to go to such lengths for me."

You stopped in your tracks, spun around, and looked him dead in the eye. “Of course I did! I love you, Vil. I couldn’t just sit there and let them trash you like that.”

The moment the words left your mouth, you froze. Oh. Well. There it was.

Vil’s eyes widened, a rare, unguarded expression crossing his face. For a moment, he just stood there, taking in your words. Then, without a word, he cupped your face in his hands and kissed you, soft but sure, like he’d been waiting for this moment as much as you had.

When he pulled back, his smile was the softest you’d ever seen. “You love me,” he repeated, almost like he couldn’t believe it.

You nodded, a bit breathless from both the confession and the kiss. “Yes, Vil. I love you. Even with all your ridiculously high standards and obsession with skincare.”

Vil laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that.”

Vil pulled back slightly, his hands still resting on your waist, and asked with a quiet, almost teasing tone, "Well then, since you love me so much... should we get married?"

You blinked, your brain taking a second to catch up. "Wait—what? Married? Like, right now?" You stared at him, heart racing, before suddenly, an idea lit up your face like a firework. “Oh my god, yes! Let’s do it. Let’s get married ASAP. Like, today. Right now. Do we even need a ceremony? We can find an officiant and—boom—done. Just tell me where to sign!”

Vil’s eyes widened, taken aback by your sudden enthusiasm. “Are you… serious?”

You grabbed his hand, absolutely buzzing with energy. “Of course, I’m serious! Why wait? This dumbass universe keeps throwing garbage tropes at us, and honestly? Getting married right now is the perfect way to flip the script! Take that, fate!"

Before Vil could respond, an overly excited voice erupted from behind a nearby pillar. “Oh là là! Mon cœur can hardly handle this romance!” Rook leaped out from the shadows, practically sparkling with joy, as if he had been waiting for this very moment all his life. "The passion! The declaration of love! And now, a spontaneous wedding? Magnifique!”

“Rook!?” Vil’s voice was a mix of amusement and exasperation. “Have you been spying on us?”

“Spying?” Rook gasped dramatically, placing a hand on his chest. “Non, non, Vil! I was merely ensuring your well-being as any devoted friend would!” He gave a wink, clearly pleased with his role as an unintended audience.

“Me too!” Epel poked his head out from behind another pillar, grinning sheepishly. “I mean, who’d wanna miss out on somethin’ like this? Y’all are gettin’ married!”

Vil let out a long, tired sigh, but you could see the faintest smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I can’t believe this is happening,” he muttered.

“Oh, it’s happening,” you said, grabbing his arm again and dragging him forward. “We’re doing this, and it’s going to be the best wedding in this entire stupid book, Rook, Epel, you’re both invited. Wait, scratch that, you’re both in the wedding party now!”

“C’est incroyable!” Rook twirled dramatically, hands clasped together, already imagining his outfit for the occasion. “I shall be the most loyal and stylish groomsman! Oh, l’amour!”

“And I get to wear somethin’ fancy, right?” Epel asked, already envisioning something much cooler than his usual attire.

Vil was now fully grinning, his initial surprise turning into genuine amusement as he looked at you with sparkling eyes. “You really are something else.”

“Yeah, and now I’m gonna be your something else forever.” You beamed up at him, still holding onto his hand like you might drag him to the altar yourself right now.

“Well then,” Vil sighed, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Let’s get married.”

Before you could even start plotting where to drag Vil to find someone to officiate, Rook suddenly gasped, clasping his hands together dramatically. "Mon dieu! How could I forget? I am more than prepared for this moment!"

You and Vil exchanged puzzled looks. "What are you talking about, Rook?" Vil asked, raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

Rook grinned, remviong his hat and and dramatically pulling out a folded piece of parchment. "Behold!" he announced, waving the paper with a flourish. "A certified license to officiate weddings. I took the liberty of acquiring it long ago, knowing that one day I’d be the one to unite you and your beloved. C’est le destin!"

“You’re… licensed?” Vil blinked, looking at Rook like he had officially lost it. "And you're walking around with the license in your hat?"

Rook nodded with a dazzling smile. “Why yes, I’ve been preparing for this glorious day! Every flower petal, every gust of wind, every glance of love I’ve witnessed between you both has been leading to this fated moment!” He struck a pose, the parchment still dramatically held aloft.

You stared at him, then back at Vil. "Okay, I know this is ridiculous, but honestly? This is the funniest thing I’ve ever heard, and I kind of love it. Let's just let him do it."

Vil put a hand to his forehead, trying to suppress a chuckle. "Are we really doing this?"

“Yes!” you declared, squeezing Vil's hand. “If we’re going full chaos, we’re going all the way. Rook, officiate the hell out of this wedding!”

Epel, watching the entire spectacle, burst into laughter. “Only in this house, I swear…”

Rook practically sparkled with joy, bouncing on his feet. “Oh là là, it will be my greatest honor! I’ve been rehearsing my officiating speech in front of the mirror for months”

“Months?” Vil repeated, a mix of disbelief and exasperation in his tone.

“Mais oui! Every day, I’d wake up and say, ‘Today could be the day!’” Rook sighed dramatically, already tearing up. “And here we are. It’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of. Now, shall we begin? I have the vows prepared, unless you have your own?”

You leaned into Vil, barely holding back laughter. “I have zero regrets about this. Absolutely zero.”

Vil sighed again but couldn’t stop smiling. “Only you could make something this absurd seem perfect.”

Masterlist

Okay, this became way longer than I expected it to be but to be fair, i was on an extreme caffeine high and i'd just finished an assignment that had been beating my ass

#Vil x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst x reader #au: nobility #vil schoenheit #vil schoenheit x reader

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pleasantlycrazyworld · 3 days

Text

Logan's girl

Summary: Jessie's girl inspired; Jean has feelings for Logans girl and Logan over hears and gets insecure

Logan woke up to you in his arms and warmth fills him seeing you so peaceful in his arms. He hated that he had to get up, but he managed to move you away from him without waking you and he sneaked out of the room to start making breakfast for the two of you.

When he was heading to the kitchen, he overheard Jean talking to Storm while they were drinking coffee at the table in there. He didn't think anything of it and was about to continue going into the kitchen before he heard his name and your name, when he heard that he froze and started to actually listen to what she was saying.

"Logan is a great teammate, you know he's starting to be a good friend of mine but lately something changed itsn't hard to figure out, he got himself his girl and I-I really want to make her mine..." Jean admitted to Storm her feelings that she's been hiding for a while, and Logan felt his eyes widen.

He heard Storm gasps lightly "Jean you don't mean -" Jean cut her off and continued her ramble. "It's been killing me to see her watching him with those eyes, and she's loving him with that body, I-I just know it! And he's getting to hold her in his arms late at night!! I wish I was with Logan's girl, and you know I just feel so dirty when they start talking cute I wanna tell her that I love her, but the point is probably moot...she really does love him doesn't she?" Jean asked weakly, already knowing what the answer was. Storm felt for her friend, but at the same time, she couldn't believe what she was hearing.

No one has ever seen this side of Logan. Logan was actually in love, he really loved his girl. Anything with eyes could tell that she was the man's soft spot, and he was really starting to soften up with everyone around him, not just her. The two of you had been together for a few months now but in that spam of time Storm could see a change in Logan that she hoped lasted. Storm just hoped Jean didn't do anything stupid and left the couple alone. Hopefully, Logan never found out how the red head felt towards his girl.

Unfortunately, he heard the whole confession. He decided that breakfast was something the two of you could go out for and went back up to the bedroom as quietly as he could. While he was heading back to your shared room he was trying to remain calm and to keep his claws in so you wouldn't be able to tell right away that he was upset about something so early in the morning.

"Baby...princess," he shook you awake. You groaned and tried to ignore him, but after a while, you admitted defeat and just woke up. "Whaaat??? It's so early, bub." You groaned louder, rubbing your eyes. Usually, hearing you call him bub resulted in him giving some sort of snarky comeback reminding you that he isnt your bub he's your handsome man, but today, it just made him drag you out of bed. "We're going to breakfast, thought we'd go to your favorite diner angel." He got the two of you dressed as you leaned against him and practically slept on him.

He had to drag you out of the mansion, he couldn't be in there anymore knowing there was someone else in there who wanted his girl. He didn't want to see Jean or Storm or anyone, and he didn't want you to be around Jean anytime soon. The two of you got to the diner alarmingly fast and as the two of you sat across from each other, you could tell something was bothering him. His jaw was locked, his brows were furrowed, and when the food arrived he was violently stabbing his eggs.

"Lo... my handsome man, what's bothering you, baby?" You asked a bit timidly, your voice was full of concern. You could tell he didn't want to tell you, he was avoiding eye contact but finally the two of you met each other's eyes and he sighed before sitting up straighter. He cleared his throat before telling you what happened, "I overheard... something today. It was um interesting?" He cringed thinking about this morning before he sighed again and continued explaining, "Jean, she said she has, she's been having feelings for my girl." His jaw clenched harder than before, something you thought was impossible and made you worry he would actually break his teeth.

"Your girl? But that's me," you said innocently with a shrug, not connecting the dots. Logan nodded with a look on his face that read, 'Don't make me say it again, please.' "Yeah, my girl princess..." He said again, waiting for it to connect in your head, and when your eyes widened, he knew that everything was connected. "Logan....I..." You didn't know what to say, honestly. You hardly knew Jean. You worked with her a handful of times, and the times you do interact, she does get flirty.

You started to think back on the times she flirted with you in the past and the incidents that may have shown her feelings clearer.

"Did you change your hair? It looks beautiful," she twirled a piece of your hair, "and it's so soft. What shampoo do you use, sweetheart?" --- then there was the time after you made dinner for everyone. She thanked you for your hard work and amazing food, and she graced your arm with her hand softly before walking away. --- or the time where during a movie night you noticed how she sent glares your way while you were cuddled up with Logan on the recliner but you had just assumed she wanted to be in his lap, not wanting to have you in her lap.

You cringed at the realization and you were praying that Logan didn't know about the flirty past few weeks. You knew this would hurt him even if he had nothing to worry about. He didn't know why it bothered him so much, he trusted you, loved you and you loved him but the idea that someone else, someone strong, pretty and younger could love you better than him just ate away at him.

When the two of you got back to the mansion you avoided Jean as the plague, it was clear that the two of you may have overheard that she had growing feelings towards you and she was devastated. She had a strong feeling that even if she didn't confess to you, she still ruined your friendship somehow. It became more clear to her that you two learned about her feelings when later that night she overheard you two moaning each other's names loudly, as if to claim one another to everyone else in the mansion. The next morning she couldn't make eye contact with you, when she did her eyes immediately went to the hickies that covered your neck.

Tagging:

@userchai

@mahi-tamashi

@100percentlazybonez

@lanassmarty

@western-pyro

@misscrissfemmefatale

@marit332

@navs-bhat

@fluffy-b33z

@chaimshelii

@helpyourself-9

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett imagine #wolverine imagine #wolverpool #wolverine x reader #deadpool and wolverine #deadpool 3 #deadpool #poolverine #hugh jackman #logan howlett smut #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan howlett xmen #wolverine x female reader

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quadrantadvisor · 2 days

Text

DPxDC Danny/Jason Soulmates AU WIP

Jason's timer read 044389:21:08, when the display suddenly went dark. 44,389 hours. Five years, 24 days, 13 hours, 21 minutes, and 8 seconds until he was fated to meet his soulmate.

Or not. Because the time stopped.

It wasn’t supposed to happen. He did his research, and with the resources at his disposal (namely, a batcomputer,) he knew for a fact that there should be no way to defy the fate of a timer. People had tried. Avoidance, isolation, putting a hit out on your own suspected soulmate. Nothing worked. Trying to delay the inevitable put you on the path to meet it. Sure, there were people who lamented the unfairness of their own situation, who were devastated they never got time with their soulmate, famous deaths on opposite sides of a battle, etc. But soulmates always, always met eachother, face to face.

Not him, though. His soulmate was dead. Five years early.

Bruce didn’t get it. Dick wouldn’t talk about it. Alfred only looked at him with pity in his eyes.

Jason wasn’t sad that he was the only person on the planet who’d never meet his soulmate. He was fucking angry, because it wasn’t fucking fair. It was another person in his life who was supposed to care about him that he’d never get to have.

So when he found out he had a mom, somewhere out there, who he’d never had the chance to meet… he had to go. How could he not?

It was Sam who noticed, when it happened. Danny had just finished a stupid fight with Boxy, and he, Sam, and Tucker were finally ready to call it a night. Danny de-transformed and grinned, shaking the thermos proudly. “Gonna get these guys back into the Ghost Zone,” he said, when suddenly-

“Danny!” Sam yelped, and snatched at his arm.

Danny stumbled, nearly dropping his precious cargo. “Whoa, Sam, what-?’ he stopped, looking as she turned over his arm, baring his wrist.

His timer was dark, like people who’s soulmates were dead. The numbers still showed, faintly, but they were stationary. The countdown had stopped.

Ice spread through Danny’s veins, like the cold that rushed through him when he went ghost, but worse, so much worse.

Danny’s ghost form didn’t have a timer, which honestly freaked him out, but as a human it had always behaved completely normally. When he turned back, it would be there, the time having elapsed just the way it was supposed to. It had been so reassuring. He was alive. He’d make it at least five more years, and be able to meet his soulmate, who would hopefully be able to accept him the way he was. He wanted that so badly. He wanted someone beyond his friends to talk to, to know him as a person and a ghost. He wanted to not be afraid anymore.

He’d just passed the five year mark, not that long ago. He’d been so excited to be that much closer to someone so important.

And now something was horribly wrong.

“Dude, that’s jacked up,” Tucker said, noticing the problem with wide eyes.

“Did anything happen today?” Sam asked, her expression hardened with determination. “Did you notice anything weird while you were transformed?”

Danny shook his head. “No, no it- it was running while we were at school, and we’ve been fighting ghosts since then. I don’t know when it would’ve…” Danny could barely make himself speak. “Is it my fault?” he said, almost to himself. “Did I spend too much time as a ghost and it just-”

Sam gripped at his hand. “No, Danny, it isn’t your fault. Whatever the problem is, we’re going to figure it out, okay?”

“Yeah man,” Tucker added, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, maybe your parents can actually help this time? Weird magic science is kinda their thing, right?”

Sam looked less sure, but nodded all the same. “You’re going to meet your soulmate. Okay?”

“Okay,” Danny said, quiet, looking down at the stopped numbers on his wrist.

Edit: Added a readmore

#calling this a wip because it's obviously just set up but i haven't worked on this since i wrote it #i actually wrote it because of a prompt on a dead on main event week but never posted anything then #so i may as well now #timer soulmate angst! my favorite #danny phantom #dc #batfam #dpxdc #dp x dc #dead on main #long post #not quite long enough for a readmore i dont think but if anybody complains I'll add one #my rambles #my writing #fanfic #soulmate au #soulmate timers #edit: what was I thinking of course it needs a readmore #this is why we don't post at 1 am folks

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yuvany · 24 hours

Text

COUNTING SHEEP

𝐄𝐍𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐄𝐍 when you feel exhausted

OT7 enhypen x fem!reader . . . CONTENT / WARNING(S) : fluff + skinship + kisses + petnames + est relationship . . WORD COUNT : 848 . CHECK BOX !!

福 > LIKED THIS ? — " ENHYPEN BEING TIRED "

𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚

You were so tired that you didn't even want to wait until you reached somewhere more comfortable to sleep rather than the cool floor. You didn't mind, but Heeseung did. He walks into the corridor and saw you curled up on the floor with your legs tucked to your chest. He has a questioned look on his face and hunches down. Heeseung figures that you won't wake up, and lifts you into his arms to carry you to the bedroom to get a proper sleep. You wake up mid-way and Heeseung asks, "Is my princess finally awake?" You don't respond, but only rubs your eyes. "I must say that you did look comfortable." He chuckles and you kiss him on the cheek.

( rest of the members under the cut ! )

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚

Nothing worries Jay more than seeing you knocked out from exhaustion. He had seen you step foot into the house and taken a seat on the couch not too long ago, and now, you were out like a light. Jay figured that he could help you out and runs over to your room to grab your blanket and returns quickly to throw it over your limp body, being extremely careful not to wake you up on accident. Then he walks into the kitchen and prepares tea leaves while the water is boiling. After a while, he returns with a hot cup of tea and places it on the coffee table for when you wake up. He leans over and whispers, "Sweet dreams, my love."

𝗦𝗜𝗠 𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗬𝗨𝗡

Sees your head hovering over your desk with papers scattered everywhere. Jake curiously peeks from the bed and sees that you aren't writing anything and just exhales loudly. "Babe, what's up?" Jake asks, his voice seeming to smooth everything for a second. You groan and stretch your back. "I've been reading this over and over, but I can't seem to comprehend what it's saying." You complain. Jake jumps out of bed and rests his head on yoru shoulder as he looks at the paper. "How about we do it together, so you can sleep faster?" You nod at his idea and in return he kisses you on the cheek.

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗛𝗢𝗢𝗡

Raises an eyebrow at the sight of your tired state, you notice this and raise your own. "What happened to you, sweetie?" He asks, opening his arms for you to walk into. "Wow, thank you." You reply sarcastically. Not accepting his hug. "You know I didn't mean it like that. Talk to me, pretty girl." Sunghoon says, lightly wrapping his arms around your shoudlers. You hug him and sigh into his chest. "Been a rough day at work, love." You say, feeling his palm run up and down your spine. "Let's get you changed and you can tell me all about it." Sunghoon slowly guides you to the bathroom.

𝗞𝗜𝗠 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗢𝗢

Sunoo woke up in the middle of the night, wanting to go get himself a glass of water, but when he stumbles into the kitchen he sees you sitting there in front of your open laptop. "Sweetheart? What are you doing up so late?" He asks, his voice sounding huskier than you recognise. "I just remembered I needed to finish this." You say and show him what's on your laptop screen. "It's late though, can't you do this tomorrow?" He asks, his fingers finding your scalp to massage. "But I really need to." You say, but he suts you off and says, "You also need sleep, and I'm in need of cuddles anyway." He pulls you out of your seat and you give in with a sigh.

𝗬𝗔𝗡𝗚 𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗪𝗢𝗡

"I'm so tired, won.." you mumble into his chest, the movie not being in your interest any more. Jungwon draws circles on your shoulder and kisses your temples. "Then we can go to sleep, angel." You hum stubbornly and shake your head. "No need, I can go to bed while you finish this movie." You explain, rubbing your eyes. Jungwon in turn shakes his head too. "It's either both of us, or none, babe." You sigh, feeling bad for him in this situation since you knew how much he wanted to see this film. "I'm not that tired any more," you lied, and he senses this, so he pulls the blanket over the two of you, and snuggles close to you with a smile. "Now it's sorted!"

𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗠𝗨𝗥𝗔 𝗥𝗜𝗞𝗜

You sat beside him while he was playing a video game, and throughout the time you spent together, your head would bump against his shoulder a couple of times due to the long day you already had and the dark setting illuminated by the soft lights of the television screen. Having your boyfriend beside you didn't change much of the fact either. At one point, you dozed off, and Riki hadn't realised it until you started to softly snore. He turned his head and was ready to say something until he saw your tired figure. He smiles to himself and helps you into a more comfortable position before turning off the game and cuddling close to you.

─── ꒰ 𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗘𝗦 𝗙𝗥𝗢𝗠 𝗬𝗨𝗩𝗔𝗡𝗬 ꒱

[ consider reblogging and liking this post if you enjoyed it !! I hope you liked this just as much as I did ^3^ ]

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starlightazriel · 3 days

Text

bee 11

desc: modern bestfriends > lovers (femreader) (tattoo artist az)

warnings: 18+, drug/alcohol addiction/recovery, reader overthinking/insecure/depressed, jealousy, archeron sisters have entered the chat, angst, fluff, co-dependence(and all the trauma that comes with it),

wc: 4.2k

a/n: wow i'm so sorry this took so long as some of you know i been going through some things anyyyway we've come so far since the beginning myyy goodness, as much as I love sober az I already miss the az who was doing a line before a tattoo, but alas after all the drama last time I hope this makes up for it <3 kisses xoxox

other parts on my az masterlist

eleven

Sixty days.

Sixty days of loneliness.

Sixty days of an empty house.

Sixty days of overthinking.

Sixty days of gut wrenching anxiety.

Sixty days of no contact.

Sixty days of not hearing his voice.

It had been my idea, the whole no contact, and now, it felt like it had been the worst fucking idea in the world. Facing him now seemed impossible. Would he look different? Would he be different?

Fucking idiot. Do you know how much can change in sixty days? Sober Ariel won't even want you.

It had been maybe a week in when the seed of doubt had blossomed in my gut. The regret for the dumb idea that space was the best thing for our relationships, time to figure ourselves out so we could add to each others lives— instead of depending on each other. Him, needing me, me needing to be needed.

It was such a fine line between give and take and I had offered every last piece of myself to him without a hesitation. With him gone, with him healing, getting better... What would he need me for? What was I supposed to do with myself? School was hardly distracting, and finals coming up should have helped but only made it worse.

Rhys and Cass had visited him, a few times, they had also gone on another Vegas trip, without him obviously, apartment hunting. That did nothing to soothe my gut either, that was real. It was happening in mere months they were moving to Vegas. Neither did the way they all stopped talking about him when I was around, did he tell them something? Did he tell them he was going to break it off with me for good when he got home? Or did my friends really think I was that fragile? That I couldn't even handle hearing about him?

'I would let Rhys sue me for breaking contract before I would leave this city without you.' his previous words echoed in my mind, I had been so sure he meant it when he'd said that to me, so sure that I would never be alone again.

And of course I wanted him to get clean, but somehow, everything felt different now. I wasn't so sure of anything anymore. Would he still feel the same way?

I hadn't even looked into transferring schools. He had told me to, before he left... But doing that made everything more real, and what if he changed his mind when he saw me again?

He wouldn't be in a drug clouded haze anymore. He wouldn't need me anymore, not the way that I needed him.

And I wouldn't even get any alone time with him, not immediately. Rhys was throwing a little get together for him, he was so proud, they were all so proud of him.

I hated that I wasnt as proud as everyone else when I should be the most proud, I hated that I was afraid of the new Azriel. There would be nothing for me to fix anymore.

With every waking moment that passed my anxiety and insecurity grew. Getting ready for his 'sober party' seemed surreal to me, it only created more doubts in my mind. I mean, had Azriel, my Az, really agreed to that? Even as a sober version of himself— it seemed doubtful.

Sixty days.

Sixty days of detoxing his mind, body, and soul.

Sixty days of boring meals.

Sixty days of therapy multiple times a week.

Sixty days of sharing his darkest side with complete strangers.

Sixty days of uncomfortable beds and scratchy sheets.

Sixty days of living in sweat pants because it was all he had packed.

Sixty days of heart stopping guilt and revelations about himself and his behavior.

Sixty days of torturous inescapable demons that seemed to be at war in his mind.

Sixty days of not hearing her voice.

The moment she had told him she didn't want to talk to him while he was in rehab, he had wanted to stay. Give up the idea entirely and quit on his own accord. He didn't though, he went. And it wasn't only for her. No, it was for him too. And he thought maybe it was valid, maybe they did need space, time away to clear their minds and have a true fresh start. He could do things right this time.

And now, with his head clear, he was happy he had gone. He felt stronger, in his mind and body. It had been a lot, a lot of facing things that had happened in his childhood that he had never dared to face before. Things he didnt have to face when drugs and alcohol had been his safety net for so many years. He realized he didnt need substances to deal with those things, his traumas didnt make him weak or vulnerable, they made him stronger.

He did recognize his problem, and he couldn't say for sure that he would never touch the bottle or snort a line ever again because that was just unrealistic. He was only human and he would do his absolute best to be a good man, for himself.

For Bee too. If she still wanted anything to do with him, the silence between them was the loudest one he'd ever felt, even miles away.

Bee.

His lover. His everything.

There was nothing that could get in the way anymore, he hadn't realized until now how much his addictions had been separating him from her. And of course he had gotten off it before but never without alcohol to help him along. He had never been so fucking deep into his addictions, had never gone that crazy. What he had done was completely unacceptable and now he could only hope for the best when he saw her. A party thrown by Rhys and his girlfriend hadn't been his ideal meeting place... But it had been completely sprung on him. Him being in rehab wasnt a secret, but that didn't mean he wanted to advertise it. Rhys had promised it was a very small get together, just something to show their support. 'No pictures.' Azriel had been sure to clear that up with him. The party was supposed to be a surprise, luckily for Az, Rhys knew him better than that.

Rhys and his new girlfriend had out done themselves along with the help of Mor who had told me this morning when she arrived in town that she wouldn't have missed this for the world. 'I mean, Azriel sober? I have to see it for myself and support,' she had said over coffees earlier, I had gotten quiet, I knew I could have talked to her about how I was feeling. But it felt wrong, it was embarrassing to say the least. I didnt think she would understand, either.

Rhys' place was decked out, balloons everywhere, charcuterie and little desserts lined both of the large tables, there was a mocktail station and a coffee station where she had also decorated Rhys' coffee pot, another table had a 'fill your own cone' bud bar that included a big jar full of Azriels favorite cigarettes as well. Her theme was 'Sober & Slaying' and there were banners and balloons to match. My heart had swelled the moment I had entered the apartment and part of me felt a little guilty for not getting here earlier. I hadn't been doing much of anything though, I wasn't eating right, I wasn't sleeping right, my thoughts and fears and insecurities had been practically eating me alive. They hadn't even asked me to help with set up, simply to show up on time, I at least had arrived twenty minutes early.

"Oh good! You're here, will you help me with this last mocktail?" Feyre beams after she had pulled me into a quick hug. She was very sweet although a bit reserved at first she had warmed up to me quickly. She was setting up some last minute decorations, I was early, of course, my anxious gut hadn't allowed me to sit at home a moment longer.

Part of me was hoping this new relationship would entice Rhys to stay a little bit longer, but they were already talking about going long distance until Feyre was ready to take the leap and move to Vegas. Seemed awfully soon to even be talking about it to me, but I wasn't one to judge, they did seem madly in love nearly instantly, and Rhys was, different. Nicer even.

"Yeah of course," I flashed her a grin and tasted the mocktail she was working on before I added some more of the homemade blueberry simple syrup she had made. "So good," I hummed in approval once I had tasted it again.

"So like, will this be the first time you and Az speak?" Mor tries to make it sound as casual as possible, my eyes focus intently as I transferred the mocktail to the aesthetically pleasing drink dispensers Feyre had put out.

"Um yeah, I haven't seen him or spoke to him since the night before he left," I shrugged, my eyes not lifting once. It had been quite the emotional night, it felt like a lifetime ago.

"I visited him once, he looks really good," she responded and I couldn't stop the jealous pang that hit my gut. Space. We had decided space was the right thing for us, a reset to our relationship after everything we had been through. My dumb idea, but he had agreed. I only smiled in response, and was glad when Cassian arrived with a cake in hand, his loud greeting drew all the attention away from me. Bless him. I found a corner to sit in, a quiet corner with my phone and one of the mocktails Feyre had made. A few more arrived, Feyres sisters, which I had only met a handful of times. Why were they here? Az didn't know them, did he? The only way that was possible would be if Rhys had brought them for one of his visits— the mocktail felt sour in my stomach and I felt more than relieved when Kat finally arrived and joined me in my corner.

"Hi love, how you holding up?" Kat had been very supportive through this entire rehab thing, and was making my loneliness nearly bearable.

"I'm fine, really, just coping with all of— all of the emotions of all the sudden change I guess," I shrug easily, Kat was the only one I had really felt comfortable to tell my true feelings to. She was the only one I knew that wouldn't judge. She nodded in understanding, making herself comfortable in her seat.

"That's valid, it's a lot to take in girl," She begins and I'm relieved when she can't continue because Cassian is all but shouting a second later.

"He's coming up he texted me a few minutes ago," Cassians voice drowns out the chatter around the room and I feel my insides go to liquid, my throat feeling tight and constricted.

My heart stopped when I finally laid my eyes on him. Impossibly sexier. His face was more full, color in his cheeks, a sparkle in his eye I hadn't seen since we were kids, he stood straighter, making him look impossibly taller, shoulders spread, oozing with a confidence I hadn't seen in a long time. My gut twisted, my heart picking up, a steady hammer against my chest. I held my breath when our eyes met, his face fell as he scanned me from across the room and I wanted nothing more than to drop into the hole in the floor. It wasn't exactly the reaction I'd been hoping for. I knew I looked awful— but shit, we hadn't seen each other in two months.

"Azriel, it's nice to see you again," Elain is the first person in front of him she's loud enough to hear across the room, her sing song voice carrying, and I try to ignore it but my eyes are glued to his, and he has to tear his away from mine.

"So what, Rhys took Feyre and her random sisters to see Az in rehab?" I drop my voice, forcing myself to look away, to tune out their conversation to the best of my abilities. Kat bit her lip, a notable guilty blush creeping across her cheeks.

"I um.. I was there too," she admits, twirling her hair around her finger, I squint slightly. She could have at least told me that. "It was a last minute thing," she explained quickly, my expression probably throwing her off. I was jealous, I couldn't deny that— I had no one to blame but myself. If I'd never been so set on having space away from eachother... My blood heated, she was gorgeous, just the type that Azriel would go for to. "They just happened to be there and we made a group trip of it— and yeah, I didn't think you'd want to know, considering..." she trailed off and I shrugged my shoulders.

"Yeah, I don't mind at all," I would have rather jumped off of the balcony than have this conversation, I shouldn't have asked. The FOMO was certainly real and I wondered if that's why they were constantly all whispers when talking about Azriel, to spare me of that feeling.

"Youre not imagining her googly eyes though," she scoffs as she glances back over at them and then to me mocking a gag, I smirked a little bit glancing back at them once more and then to Kat again. She was for sure laying it on thick with the sweet tone and all of the unnecessary blinks. I didnt remember that about the first few times I met her.

"I mean I can't even blame her— he looks..." I trailed off searching for the right word, he looked amazing, delicious, sexier than he'd ever had before. He was practically glowing with whatever newfound confidence he'd gained from facing his many demons.

"I know that's your man but he looks hot," she finishes for me and we giggle together, I ignored the heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach that maybe he wasnt my man anymore.

"That he does," I sigh, twirling my straw around in my cup, suddenly I regretted not sneaking a few nips into my purse. I wouldn't get drunk at a sober party, I wouldn't, but something to take the edge off would be nice, and a joint didn't seem like the right option.

I effectively avoided Azriel for at least an hour, I hadn't been keeping track of time but it felt like it had been at least that long. I wasnt ready for a conversation, not when one look at him made my heart stop.

My stomach was growling, and I needed a snack. I was carefully piling charcuterie onto my plate when I jumped and nearly dropped the whole thing.

"Youre avoiding me, and youre doing a good job for how small the space is," his voice is the same one I remember, low and gravelly and sexy.

"Im not," I insist, just hoping he hadn't noticed the way I visibly jumped at the sound of his voice.

"I think I know when my girlfriend is avoiding me," he left a heavy emphasis on the word, looking at me expectantly as if he was daring me to challenge his claim on our relationship status. Relief washed over me, a tension that I hadn't been able to ease since the last time I saw him.

"Its just— Its been a lot I don't know, and having this conversation here... Seems like a lot too," I took a step back from the table but turned around to face him, I could feel more than one pair of eyes watching us, it only made me more uncomfortable.

"Are you eating?" its a direct question, soft but firm, his eyes scanning over every inch of me. My stomach flips, my cheeks reddening.

"Yes," I lift the small plate of cheese, crackers, and fruit as if that proved anything.

"Hm," he doesn't seem satisfied with my answer, his eyes not leaving me for a second.

"You look good Az, you look different," I chewed the inside of my lip, hoping my anxiousness didnt bleed into my words.

"Im still me baby im just better," that same confident smirk spreads across his lips, I knew it well but somehow- there was a different spark behind it. Something all those drugs had dimmed. A light I hadn't seen in a while. "For example, Im not gonna nod off on the couch anymore because Ive had a handle to myself for two days straight and Im hours off a two week coke bender," he said it so casually and leave it to Azriel to make a joke out of it. "From now on," his voice drops as if he knew they were all listening, I felt Elain's curious eyes on us and I knew she was trying to catch every word. Sorry, hes mine. "I won't fall asleep without making sure you are fed, fucked, and tucked into bed."

I blush, looking away from his stare, something in my gut eases but the anxiety is still settled there.

"And Im sorry, for each and every time I failed you. Im clear headed now and—" he cuts himself off, and maybe it was the look on my face that stopped him. "Would you feel better if we went outside?" he nods to the balcony, I quickly nod, desperate to be alone with him and not on display like some soap that they were all watching.

"Please, its. little stuffy in here," my words are a little rushed, and they were true, I felt like I could barely breathe anymore. And I was making a complete idiot out of myself when Azriel hadn't seen me in two months. I feel his hand on my back and he guides me out onto Rhys balcony, I don't look back again, I lean up against the balcony, resting my elbow on the railing and sucking in a deep breath of fresh air before popping one of the pieces of cheese into my mouth.

Azriel joins me after he had shut the door behind us, leaning up against the balcony next to me and he lit up a joint he had gotten off of the bud bar.

"Did you tell your psychiatrist you were going to smoke?" I ask casually, trying to change the subject into something else. Anything else but our relationship, I shouldn't be worried, he had already said I was still his girlfriend.

"Yes," he shrugged, taking another drag from it, I could feel his eyes on me as I set my plate down on the nearby table. I had barely touched it.

"And what did they say?" I ask, quirking a brow as I take it from him, it was annoying that I was more at ease now, normal territory, I didnt like the way sober Az could see right through me, I had thought he was able to before, and now?

He shrugged again, watching me. "Why are you trying to avoid talking about us?" he reaches out, tucking my hair behind my ear so I can't hide from him, my breath catches. He took the joint back, taking one more long drag before putting it out. I shook my head, I couldn't find the right words. He grabs my wrist gently and turns me around so my back is against the railing, his body so close, the scent of his cologne slamming into my senses. "Why?" he repeats, his eyes meeting mine in the dim light, his voice is soft and careful.

"I— I don't know Az," I breathe out, my heart felt like it would pound out of my chest. "It's just I—" I look away, unable to meet his gaze when I feel the word vomit coming. "Im afraid, Azriel. I am. And I know it's fucked up because I shouldn't be. I feel sick, sick with myself that I have been more worried about whether or not you would still want me when you got back than I have about you and your actual recovery. Ive been worried about you being different and not needing me and I know Im so fucked up for that there's something wrong with me and Im sorry—"

"Hey, hey, stop, breathe for a second," he interrupts me, a small sigh leaving his lips as he places both of his hands on my cheeks, lifting my face to look at him and he gently wipes away my shameful tears with his rough thumbs, the feeling makes my spine tingle. "Don't feel bad for anything that you feel or have felt in these past weeks," he assures me, one of his thumbs still gently rubbing against my cheek, his eyes burning into mine. "I— I created that for you, that whole thinking you need to be needed by me. I created this... Trauma bond, I know that now, I know that I made our relationship toxic. It's not your fault, I hadn't dealt with any of my shit and I basically put it on to you. Im sorry, Im sorry you felt like that at all and I wish..." he sighed softly, one of his hands fell to my waist. "I wish I had the courage to call you, because I wanted to so many times, but I didnt think you'd want to talk to me. You needed space and I had to respect that but seeing you now, seeing you haven't been taking care of yourself like you should have. I should have been there for you," he sighed, clearly frustrated with himself. "I know where I fucked up, I know what kind of damage Ive done, this only proves it," he brushed his finger over the dark circle underneath my eye. "I love you, I love you so much, maybe too much sometimes," he sighs again, I fight the urge to close my eyes and lean into his touch.

"Az I love you too," I breathe out because Im stunned into silence. Everything hes said, his accountability, his words, they felt like they were crashing into me.

"Im not going to leave you like that ever again," he promised, and took a step closer, pressing his body into mine. He felt stronger, more solid. It was almost like he had left a boy and returned a man. "You are going to be my wife some day, you are the fucking definition of ride or die Bee, I swear, for the last two months the more clear my head got I just realized one thing over and fucking over," he wasnt afraid, he had absolutely no hesitations, every single word felt like a promise, and I felt like my heart was palpitating. "I hit the fucking jack pot with you, and I fear the smartest thing that Ive ever done in my life was share my favorite candy with the girl across the street."

My cheeks are burning, tears streaming, but they aren't sad, just emotional. I don't know what else to do, my words are caught in my throat so I kissed him. I pulled him down, my fingers tugging in the hairs at the nap of his neck, our tongues tangling perfectly like they always had. He was mine, still my Az, better, better like he had said. He was right. A soft groan escaped his lips, my stomach flipped at the sound, the thought of how he would have his way with me later after so many days apart. My body melted into his at the thought, our hungry kiss only escalating. Our desperate need for each other matching perfectly, our emotions pouring into the heated kiss. I tilted my head his lips traveling down my jaw and across my neck, settling behind my ear and gently sucking. I squeezed my eyes shut tighter, I moaned his name softly, my body feeling like a hot puddle.

"Hmm?" he hummed against my skin, his hand had slipped under my dress where he was rubbing soft circles on the least sensitive part of my thigh, somehow it was still driving me mad.

"We, we should go in now... They are going to be wondering whats taking us so long," I breathed out, I couldn't even see past Azriel into the house, I was sure they could see us though, or at least see Azriel pinning me against the railing.

"They should have known better than to throw me a party when I haven't seen my baby in sixty whole days, and they definitely should have known better than to let you wear this dress," he tugs lightly at the fabric. "They should have known Id need alone time with you," his eyes glimmered with mischief. "I have a lot of making up to do," he added, tracing his scarred finger over my jawline.

"I hated this idea more than you Im sure," I admitted guiltily, biting down on my lip. "But they worked really hard Az," I tried to peek around him to see inside again, he only shifted to block my view.

"Fine, but five more minutes," he smirked, tilting my chin up again.

"Five more minutes," I whispered breathlessly before he crashed his lips onto mine again, and I felt all of my anxiety melt away, as if he was pulling it from me.

And I felt safe.

Home.

Safe.

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moonchild701 · 1 day

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⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑

Finders Keepers

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[NSFW] ‼ 18+ >MDNI<

Summary: Dabi finds you knocked out in an alley at the end of your patrol. You're pretty, so he decides to keep you.

Pairing: Dabi/Hero Fem Reader

Content Warning: Noncon/Dubcon, Kidnapping, Nonconsensual Bondage. Spanking, Cunnilingus, Choking, Self Deprecation, Victim Blaming, Degradation, Mind Break, No use of Y/N

Word Count: 4.8k

Disclaimer: Character belongs to Kohei Horikoshi

A/N: We're switching it now! :D

My Masterlist

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You groan when you come to, head pounding as a dull ache pulses across your body. You attempt to move your arm to your head, to at least try to ease the pain there.

Except, you can't move your arm.

What the fuck?

Tugging harder, your eyes snap open to find that your arms are restrained above your head in tight ropes. They dig into the soft skin of your arms, creating harsh red lines as you thrash in your restraints.

Your eyes quickly scan around the room, finding it unfamiliar. Though the room is dark, you can vaguely make out a bed in the corner of the room, with plain sheets covering it, and a small wooden dresser next to it. Other than that, the room is bare.

You try to stand properly, to plant your feet firmly, but the position of your arms doesn't allow for more than the tips of your toes to touch the floor. You shiver as the cool air causes goosebumps to rise across your skin. At some point, your clothes had been removed, leaving you in only your underwear.

You try to remember what the hell happened and how you ended up here... you remember being on patrol, and stopping a mugging, the victim running for safety. Then a thud and pain as your vision blurred while the mugger lifted your head, makimg you look into piercing, golden eyes and everything goes foggy after that. You believe he made his escape after that, and you think you vaguely remember another pair of piercing eyes on you; a pretty blue.

But then you let out a soft curse as you remember that it was at the end of your patrol, and no one would really know something is wrong until the next day, because you already signed out on your comms; the mugging just happened to occur right after that, on your way home, and it's not like you could just let it happen.

Fuck.

You grunt in annoyance, panic beginning to bubble up in your chest. Who the hell kidnapped you and what did they want? The numerous senarios flashes through your mind, none of them pleasant as you're both a Hero and woman.

Neither of those things were a good thing to be when kidnapped, but together is worse, especially when you can't use your quirk for whatever reason.

They probably injected you with supressants......

Just as you were about to try to pull on the rope again, the door to the room slammed open, smacking harshly against the wall. You flinch at the sudden sound, and the fluorescent light that floods the room after a sharp click, sensitive eyes shutting at the brightness.

And as much as you tried not to, you felt a trickle of fear go down your spine as you shook.

Get it together!, you mentaly reprimand yourself.

You try to activate your quirk again, in vain, you know, and as expected, nothing happened. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Finally awake, I see. You tryna use your quirk, Sweetheart? Cute~." a husky voice coos mockingly; menacingly. You squint your eyes open, narrowing them at the figure as they shut the door behind them, before strolling further into the room.

"Don't bother tryin', Dolly. I injected you with enough quirk cancellin' serum to last....a while." His grin is sharp and dangerous, and you supress a whimper at now knowing just who has you captive.

Tall, healthy skin contrasting against the dark burn scars, secured by silver staples, and tousled midnight hair falling over pretty cerulean eyes...

The villain Dabi.

You've been captured by the League of Villains, and no one has any way of knowing, especially not for a while.

Fuck.

As much as you fear your situation and fate, you refuse to show it, glaring at the villain, waiting for his next move, which just makes him smile wider staples tugging at the edges. You need to be ready for anything... there's obviously a reason they brought you here, right? But you had not an inkling of what it could be, because you've never actually interacted with any of them, only knowing who Dabi is because of his prolific rapsheet and defining looks.

It's hard to miss the scars, obviously.

You silently debate with yourself on whether or not to just ask, before deciding why not. It's not like it would actually change your situation.

"Why did the League take me? I've never had anything to do with you..." you ask warily, eyes trained on the villain as he stalks closer.

Now standing directly in front of your bound figure, his smirk softens. He grabs your face, fingers pressed into your cheeks teasingly, turning your head side to side, inspecting, making you freeze, your eyes wide on him.

"I did."

You almost didn't catch his murmured words, but when they process, it just confuses you even more.

"What?"

Piercing, azure eyes meet yours, hot and calculating.

You stare back helplessly into the villains eyes, as he says, "I took you. The League has nothin' to do with this." His voice low, thumb rubbing at your cheek, as he tilts his head. "They don't even know you're here."

Your heart rate quickens, because you don't know if that's better or worse.

"T-Then why—" You silently curse yourself for letting the nervous stutter slip, but you're quickly distracted.

You get your answer.

He releases his hold on your face to slide the hand down to tilt your chin up gently, his middle finger stroking over a pulse point, thumb rubbing at your botton lip, as the other hand brushes up your side, ghosting over the skin there, and he breathes, gaze locked on yours, "You're fuckin' gorgeous, Sweetheart. I just had to have you." Your lips part in shock as your breath hitches.

Ah. He's crazy.

You don't want to be here, you want to be home, curled up warm and happy in the softness of your bed.

Fear washes over you, cold and consuming, and you have to blink away the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes

Because Dabi's lips curl into a smirk as he his eyes drag over your shivering frame, squirming in the ropes that still hold you suspended from the ceiling.

The hand on your chin releases to slide down, over your throat to your chest as he cups your breast through your bra, the other hand sliding down your side, toying with the waistband of your panties.

You gasp at the touch, desperately trying to move away from the hot hands violating your skin.

"N-no, no, get a-away from me." you say shakily. You're confused, frightened, and worried about what's going to happen to you.

This can't be happening.

Dabi laughs, soot tinted and condescending, quirking an eyebrow at you. His lips curl into a playful smirk as he gropes at your breast before grabbing your hips in both hands, pulling your suspended body flush against his, burying his face in your neck, rough scars and staples grazinging your skin.

And oh, you could feel the thick, hard bulge on your leg as he presses his thigh up against your core. You immediately start struggling against your restraints.

"No, no no no—"

Dabi sighs against your pulse, mismatched lips grazing the skin there

"Shut the fuck up, little hero." he murmurs, his hips moving against you as he slides you to do the same, grinding you on his thigh. You whimper at the friction, squeezing your eyes shut.

"Hah" his hot breath on your skin raises goosebumps where it hits,

Why, why, why—

Without warning, you drop; the scent of something burning wafts through the air and you realize it's the rope.

Before you have a chance to recover, Dabi drags you over to the bed by the short piece of rope like a leash, forcing you to stumble your way after him. He throws you roughly down onto the hard mattress, securing your hands to the head board with thick handcuffs after burning away the rest of the rope.

You choke on a sob as you struggle to get away from him. Looming over you, he burns away the straps of your bra, sliding it off and throwing it to the side, before heated hands are roaming and groping your flesh reverantly, familiarizing himself with your skin as he leans in to capture your lips in a bruising kiss.

You clamp your lips shut, but he just squeezes your cheeks to pry it open, tongue slipping in, licking into your mouth.

In a last ditch show of defiance, you bite down on the muscle, hard, the coppery taste of blood painting your tongue.

He pulls away with a curse, glaring up at you with a sharp coldness as he chuckles darkly, and with the blood trickling down the side of his mouth, he looks like the deranged villain you know him to be.

Wiping up the trail of blood with his thumb, he looks at the crimson staining his skin with amusement, before popping it into his mouth, sucking it off, and pulling it out with a wet pop. "Looks like you need some discipline, hm?" He hums, pulling away.

Before you can fully process what he means, he flips you onto your stomach, forcing your arms to cross awkwardly and uncomfortably, before gripping the waistband of your panties on both sides and tugging; his blunt nails dragging lightly over your skin as he pulls it over the swell of your ass, and down and off your legs.

And you shake, as your last piece of flimsy modesty is stripped from you and thrown carelessly to the side somewhere.

Where is everyone? Why hadn't they come to save you yet? How long had you even actually been missing for?

The thought is immediately cut off as Dabi lands a sharp smack to the exposed flesh of your ass cheeks.

Shocked, you gasp at the sting, pleading, "No, please, d-don't—!" Helpless against the villain, you whimper as he kneads and squeezes your ass, soothing the sting, decietfully gentle and placating, before your vision blurs as he lands another harsh smack against the soft flesh, followed quickly by another. Then another. Then another.

You sob pitifully, body convulsing in an attempt to escape Dabi's stinging touch; the sensitive skin turning such a lovely red.

Your breath hitches as you're suddenly flipped back over onto your back, and then Dabi is on you; looming over and surrounding you, face close enough to yours to feel his breath fanning against your lips, and you're not sure when he got rid of his shirt, but the heat wafting off of him is almost suffocating.

"Learned your lesson?" He smiles expectantly, sarcastically, and you just continue you sob.

"If you don't shut up, I'll have to fuckin' gag you." Dabi's voice is a harsh whisper, and you're viciously reminded that this man could turn the whole room into an inferno within seconds, turn you to ash in less. Though, he doesn't need to because his eyes are the same color as his flames and you already feel like you're being burned alive with them trained on you.

He grabs your face and growls, commanding, "Behave.", and swipes his tongue over your bottom lip before slipping in, and this time you let him, but you don't kiss back, though he doesn't seem to care.

You whimper when his hands wrap around your thighs, hot and firm as he forces them open, slotting himself between your legs, and he licks the sound out of your mouth.

He explores you warm mouth like he's trying to memorize it, kissing you stupid, and you're breathless by the time he's done. He eases down your chest, mouthing and licking and sucking at your bare tits, hot tongue playing with your nipples; the metal of his piercing was an overwhelming surprise to the sensitive buds, before moving back up the column of your throat. And you can't help but whine as scarred hands roam your thighs and up your sides, salty tears rolling pitifully down your cheeks, as you try and fail to calm your sniffling.

Though, when he speaks again, you shiver in more than just fear.

"Mm, you'd like that, wouldn't you?" He whispers against the shell of your ear, voice velvet, breath hot. "You'd love to be gagged and choked, like the sweet little whore I know you are, hm?"

Something between a mix of shock and shame wracks through you, as arousal pools in your stomach at his words.

No.

No, you can not be turned on right now. Fucking hell, Dabi is a man, a villain, who kidnapped you, for fucks sake, and now he's using your body as he sees fit. Nothing about this is okay.

And yet.

And yet, warmth creeps up your neck and cheeks as your pussy weeps, clenching around nothing.

In your dazed, shocked arousal, you don't notice what was coming until it's too late, as Dabi grabs a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back, before crashing your lips together in a searing kiss, forcing his tongue into your mouth yet again. He sucks on your bottom lip, biting into the plush flesh as a sharp smack against your inner thigh makes you jolt in surprise.

"I asked you a fuckin' question, slut. You'd love that, wouldn't you?" Dabi's eyes are sadistic, wolfish smirk on his lips.

You tremble, your body warm all over as shame washes over you. You could still feel the sting of his slap to your thigh, could see the skin reddening and the bruises already forming along your chest.

A sharp squeeze to your thigh, much too close to your heat makes you squeak.

"N-no, no, I—"

His thumb brushes through the folds of your pussy, to your clit, as he bites down on the junction of your neck, forcing a moaning squeal out of you.

"No? Why're you so fuckin' wet then, hm slut?" He growls into your throat as he licks and sucks and bites at the sensitive skin there, rubbing his thumb against your nub, making you leak.

Your breathing picks up as you tug on your bindings in an attempt to distract yourself as you try oh so desperately to contain your noises, to not react.

And then you feel his thumb petting over your entrance, making you gasp and shake your head pleadingly as the thick digit slips in. You thrash and pull at the cuffs locking you in place, as the reality of your situation truly sets in.

"No, no. please, don't- I don't want—mmf!" You plead, getting cut off by a large hand cupping over your mouth. You try to scream and thrash against it, but he's too strong. As you feel the thick thumb pumping in and out of you, easily because of your slick, you sob, beginning to accept what's going to happen.

Your body would react to his touches, to the stimulation, it's only natural...but this is wrong.

So, so wrong.

But it feels so, so good.

You wail at the thought, feeling dirty and ashamed of yourself; too distracted to notice when Dabi pulls the thumb out, popping it into his mouth, groaning at your taste, before reaching to the side, and the dresser. You don't notice anything, until Dabi squeezes your cheeks, holding you still and forcing your mouth open. You make a pitiful, confused sound and he makes a show of making sure you see your panties in his hand, before he stuffs it into your mouth. You scream into the cloth, thrashing, trying to wiggle your way out of his grasp. Dabi just presses his fingers tighter into your cheeks, slamming your head back against the bed roughly. It of course doesn't hurt, but it does distract you long enough for him to cover your stuffed mouth with a thick strip of tape.

You scream against the gag, shaking your head, eyes wide; begging.

"I fuckin' warned you to shut up. No use in your pathetic beggin', baby, you belong to me, now." Dabi cooed, mocking; tapping your cheek condescendingly, before scarred hands are fondling and groping, pinching and squeezing, wherever they wander on your writhing body.

You sob as he roughly palms your tits, sucking bruises into your flesh, your tears flowing freely, eyes glassy and clear. Gorgeous. Licking up the salty tear track on your cheek, he breathes, "So fuckin' pretty when you cry, Sweetheart. Be a good girl, and let me make you feel good, yeah?", pressing a kiss to the corner of your eye.

And he will. He knows you want this, you just don't know it yet. Don't worry, he'll make sure to show you.

Swiping his pointer and middle finger across your other wet cheek, gathering your tears, he strokes your wet cunt with them, before slipping the two long fingers into you in one slow push. You scream, and you don't know whether it's out of despair or desire, but you couldn't deny that as fucked up as it is, Dabi fucking your literal tears into you was one of the hottest things ever, your cunt pulsing at just the thought of it.

Dabi groans as you cry on his fingers, barely giving you a second to breathe as they're dragging along your walls and crooking deep, before he's sliding it back out, and pumping into the tight warmth again and again.

Leaning forward, he places a kiss against your gag, before trailing kisses and nips down your throat, chest and stomach as he bullies a third finger in. You reflexively clench around him when he kisses your mound, the stretch making you breathe sharply, before he throws your leg over his shoulder; pressing the tip of his scalding tongue against your clit, rubbing in circles, then slipping in, beside his fingers.

And your brain blanks.

You give in. It's not like anything is gonna change anytime soon, so, well. Why not enjoy it.

Besides, if you say you've never at least thought the villain was hot, no pun intended, you're lying to yourself.

So, you let go.

Even with the acceptance, you feel embarrassment and self loathing flood through you, as you keen, high and needy, as you grind down on him, shoving your pussy further into his face, fucking yourself on his fingers and tongue, which....was a very pleasant surprise for Dabi. After all, he's the oh so, big, bad, scary villain that kidnapped you; that's violating you.

Yet here you are, grinding and moaning against him, like a needy little slut.

Pumping his fingers roughly, his other hand digging harshly into the flesh of your thigh, he groans against you,"Fuck, not complainin' so much now, hm?", dragging blunt nails along your sensitive skin and his hot tongue up your clit. "Don't worry, sweetheart, I'll fuck the thoughts right outta that pretty little head."

You moan lowly as your pussy pulses around his fingers, helplessly leaking at his words.

"Shit, Sweetheart. You're swallowin' my fingers so fuckin' good. Can't wait to feel you 'round my cock.", he breathes, hot breath hitting your swollen clit, pressing one last kiss to it before pulling away; your hips involuntarily jumping to chase his hot mouth, the cuffs rattling against the headboard.

Dabi smirks, his eyes wide, huffing out a laugh of disbelief, as you whine at the loss of contact, before pressing hot kisses along your hip bone, muttering into the skin there. "You're really just a little whore, aren't you? Actin' all innocent earlier like you didn't want it," he says mockingly, but you can hear the underlying awe in his voice, before he curls his fingers, twisting them, as he makes his way up your abdomen and chest; and he continues, "but really, you're just a little cockslut, huh?"

You moan loudly into the gag at that, but shake your head rapidly, denying it even as you know deep down that it's true; as you both know it to be true.

It becomes even more clear when he drills you with his fingers, thumb rubbing your clit, and you're a mess beneath him; writhing and moaning, and crying and grinding as he brutally nudges against that sweet spot inside of you; all while he peppers open mouthed kisses along your chest, taking his time, tasting your skin, sucking and nipping at your pearled nipples, his tongue hot and slick on you.

You moan and whimper into your gag, head lolling back to hide behind your raised arm at the continued the abuse to your sensitive buds and cunt.

And then they're suddenly taken away, as he releases your tit with a wet pop and withdraws his fingers with a squelch.

Your hips twitch and lift from the bed, chasing him in a silent, desperate plea for more. Dabi could see your stretched hole, clenching on nothing as it just wants to be filled.

He's more than happy to oblige.

"Aww you want me to fuck you, baby? Shit, look at you. Fuckin' needy, mm? Done pretendin' you weren't desperate for me to stuff you?", he teases, hungry eyes betraying his calm demeanor. You tremble, feeling so empty, as tears streamed down your cheeks.

"Fuck, you're already so cute, I don't know if I'll be able to control myself when I have you cryin' on my cock, Dolly." He groans, palming himself through his pants, as you wiggle your hips enticingly, legs spread and your puffy pussy on show for him.

And Dabi laughs, breathy and fond, "Slut. Fuck, c'mere." He says, the sound of his belt unbuckling and hitting the floor with a clang just makes you somehow gush more.

You look down in anticipation as scarred hands grip your thighs, holding them spread. Your cunt throbs at the sight of his cock, thick and veiny, long and so fucking hard; precum beading at the tip.

He grips his length, tapping his sticky cock head against your clit, dragging through your folds, coating it in your juices.

"Relax for me, sweetheart, don't wanna break you, hm?" He purrs, before pushing the thick mushroom head inside lightly, making you whimper.

Dabi's grin is predatory as he slides in all at once, in one slow drag, impaling you on his fat cock. He groans at the feeling of your tight heat wrapping around him so obediently, "Fuck, you feel so fucking good. Like you were made for me, sweetheart."

Your eyes wide and glossy, you couldn't help but moan at his words, at the delicious stretch, at the hunger in his eyes.

His thickness stretches you so good, almost painfully, but you could take it.

You were his good girl now, he would make you take it.

But you don't really have much of a choice now, do you?

You choke on a sob, body shaking and hands clenched into tight fists where they rest in the cuffs. Because the thought should bring nothing but disgust and fear, yet all you feel now is shameful want, as your pussy tightens around him, gushing.

"Haah, you take me so good. Mm, such a good girl, c'mon..." He mumbles, grinding deeper and deeper into you, his hips flush against you.

Your whimper is sweet even muffled by the gag, and Dabi's composure slips.

He pulls back before shoving back into you roughly, making you sharply breathe. Not giving you any time to catch your breath, he thrusts deep into your tight hole, snapping his hips mercilessly. A scarred hand grips at your tit, the other bouncing and swaying lewdly with every brutal thrust. The gag muffles your cries and whimpers, but the scream you let out when he hits your sweet spot is still loud.

You grind down to meet his thrusts, pleasure completely taking over as all rational thoughts are fucked out of you; unable to think of anything but the way his cock feels, stirring up your insides, reaching so deep you swear you could feel it in your stomach, and the single-minded need for more.

Dabi moans, slowing his thrusts, admiring the way your hips roll sinfully, bouncing yourself on the villain's cock. "Fuck, pretty little slut...", he breathes, "So fuckin' pretty when you're bein' honest, hm?" His hand gropes and pinches your breast, as he licks his lips, eyes trained on you.

When he took you, he certainly hadn't expected that you'd be such an eager slut, but he's definitely not complaining.

You whine, the shallow, uneven thrusts, making you needy for more, faster, deeper, as you rhythymically clench around him.

Releasing your breast, he wraps the heated hand around the expanse of your throat, squeezing lightly, feeling your quick pulse beneath his fingers as he rolls his hips to meet yours, slow and deep.

You moan and choke behind your gag, eyes rolling back in pure ecstasy. Dabi smirks cruelly, finally speeding up his delicious thrusts; your body forced to move further up the bed with the speed and strength, and he just drags you back down to take it, your little display of hedonistic pleasure inciting him.

A whimper escapes you as you feel the warm coil of pleasure spread through you, you're so close. Your thighs shake, your moans spilling in a sweet mixture of pleasure and pleading.

"Fuck, look at you. Gettin' fucked by a big, bad villain and you fuckin' like it. Your little Hero friends know you're such a goddamn whore?" Dabi grunts out, cock hitting your sweet spot so, so good, fucking you so, so deep, as he pummels your insides, giving your throat another squeeze.

You let out a choked, sobbing moan, back arching from the bed as you feel yourself just on the edge of your release. You look up at Dabi pleadingly, eyes pretty and glossy, wide and blown out, almost completely black with lust; your chest heaving as your cunt pulses around him.

"You wanna cum, little hero? Squeezing me like you wanna milk me." Dabi groans, hips beginning to stutter.

You nod frantically, eyes wide and begging, tears streaming down your cheeks, moaning desperately against your gag; the panties soaked with your spit and drool.

"Yeah? Fuck, you want my cum, baby? Shit, do it. Cum for me, slut." Dabi moans, pistoning into you, muttering, "Wanna see it, wanna see you fall apart on my cock"

The pleasure burns.

Back arching off the bed, toes curling, you cum with a scream; clamping down on his cock as you gush and squirt around him, your eyes rolling back; vision going white.

Dabi fucks you through your orgasm as he chases his own, growling, "That's it baby, fuck. I'll fill you up real good, and if it spills, I'll just fuck it back in. Doesn't that sound nice?"

Your pussy squelches loudly, his thighs smacking wetly against yours as Dabi continues fucking you, frantic in his desperation to paint your insides with his cum.

The feeling of your tight cunt squeezing him so good and the sight of you cumming from just his cock was enough to push him completely over the edge with a moaning curse. Buried as deeply as he could be inside of you, hips flushed and grinding against yours, his thick, hot cum pumps into you, marking you from the inside as his; branding you and filling you up.

He collapses on top of you, holding himself up on his elbows, not pulling out just yet; keeping you full and plugged. Chests rising and falling in heavy pants, you bask in the afterglow of what was probably the best orgasm you've ever had.

He gently removes your gag and unlocks the cuffs, freeing your hands, rubbing soothingly at the irritated skin of your wrists, pressing light kisses to the sensitive skin, before trailing his lips up your arm, over your shoulder and throat, to your own.

The kiss is slow, languid and savouring, and you moan softly into his mouth as he licks into yours.

He groans softly, before kissing down your throat, breathing out a short, hot laugh against the myriad of bruises littering your neck and mumbling against your skin, "Fuck, I can't let you go after that. I'm keepin' you, gonna take care of you, and if you don't love me now, I'll just have to teach you, I promise, Sweetheart. You'll be my perfect little cock sleeve.", nuzzling into you.

The words don't match his saccharine tone as they send a trickle of fear down your spine at the dark promise, but the fog of arousal clouds your mind, and you slump back against the sheets as he looms over you, eyes piercing through you.

You feel his hips begin to roll against you again as he grinds into your abused cunt, making you gasp.

He grins. He'll fuck you until you're gaping and dripping with his cum, cock branding his name into your sweet spot and he'll make sure you never forget who you belong to.

⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑

#moonchild701 #mha #bnha #dabi #touya todoroki #dabi x reader #dabi x you #dabi smut #my fics #mdni #mha smut #bnha smut

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ppnuggiex · 21 hours

Note

Hello can I request a unserious s/o who is rarely mad(gn reader if possible) with the octavinelle trio and riddle, and one day they js see their s/o pissed af and being a badass

So sorry if this made no sense😭if it doesn't make any sense js reply to this I'll try my best to put it into understandable words(??) Pls ignore if u can't do this request or anything! :)

　　　　　　TWST x gn reader

　　　　『　riddle ,, azul ,, jade ,, floyd ,, gender neutral reader 』

　　— fluff ,, sfw ,, tw for side characters being jerks

　　— sorry for how late this is 😭🙏 but ive finally gotten to it !! hope you enjoy :))

| • hes more used to seeing you playing around with ace and deuce ,, used to you making a joke about anything at any moment possible

| • seeing you get serious and mad with a student ,, more specifically one from his dorm ,, is enough to let him know something was wrong

| • he's quick to figure out the situation ,, the student being apart of a project for one of crewel's assignments and shirking their responsibilities onto you ,, it was understandable to be upset about

| • riddle will reprimand the student ,, disappointed they would do this to you ,, let do it in the first place . he prides himself on keeping his students well educated and up-to date with their assignments . if they need help ,, then they would get it if they'd ask

| • hes not too sure how exactly to deal with you being angry ,, as hes more used to your more softer and joking side

| • least to say ,, riddle will be on your side depending on the situation when you get angry

| • he's the same with riddle ,, also not used to seeing you mad ,, even during his overblot you didnt express any anger as you did now

| • a pomefiore second year ,, one that was in his history class ,, was pestering you about notes regarding the assignment azul and the rest of his class had gotten

| • the student was probably aware of what azul used to do ,, or maybe theyre aware of his new plan of purchasing so much from monstro lounge and getting hole punches to meet with him

| • either way ,, they werent letting up about notes for the assignment ,, nor leave you alone about it

| • and thus it led to your yelling ,, catching him by surprise to even hear you yell

| • even when floyd pestered you ,, and when jade would jokingly (possibly) say he put poison in the food you offered to taste test ,, you never truly got as angry as you were with this persistent student

| • benevolent as azul was ,, he was quick to come to your aid and help with the problem . escorting the pomefiore student away ,, letting you cool off for a moment ,, and deal with this troublesome being .

| • needless to say ,, he definitely didnt want to be on the receiving end for your anger

| • jade had tried in the past to see what makes you tick ,, what could possibly get on your nerves but to his disappointment he wasnt able to figure it out

| • he would joke that he slipped a intoxicating mushroom in your soup ,, or say he couldnt remember where he placed your gift during a holiday

| • yet nothing he did would ever give him the reaction he's witnessing in front of him now

| • it was meant to be a relaxing trip to beach ,, but instead he was on the sidelines watching a showdown

| • it happened when you offered to get something from the snack bar provided ,, you got a little peckish swimming out there and jade wasn't hungry at all ,, used to having to swim

| • one of the customers behind you had cut ,, and at first you werent going to make such a deal out of it ,, until he had purposely got out of line and then got back in ,, except right in front of you

| • with that ,, you had pointed it out that he had cut the slowly growing line not once but twice ,, to his reply was something regarding your attitude and to "what who you're talking to like that"

| • and then it spiralled down hill from there . jade heard the commotion from your guys' spot on the beach ,, not too far from the ocean but far enough to not get splashed by the waves

| • jade was surprised to witness your anger ,, and watched for a moment before stepping in to help

| • thankfully others were eye witnesses to the situation ,, and the others were there to back you up and testify for you

| • not that jade wouldnt believe you ,, but it also helped difuse the situation and the guy soon left ,, and jade had finally witnessed what your anger would be like

| • if he had to compare your anger to someone ,, it would be that of jade's . its not often you get angry ,, and jade does but he never truly shows it flat out ,, rather hidden under his mask of deception

| • though its high time you stood up for yourself ! floyd knows how much people can push you over and you'd just laugh it off and reference something from your world

| • though after a customer had gotten too close to you and tried to put the blame on you ,, it was evident you were angry . floyd wasnt present at the scene ,, but another staff member had witnessed what happened and informed floyd ,, hoping he could get rid of the guy at least instead of adding fuel to the flames .

| • and that's what he did ,, not without leaving a small threat to the guy that if he were to cause such a ruckus again he would be given more than just a warning

| • floyd ,, having witness your anger ,, knows that he would rather you joke around and be playful than witness that again ,, having to calm you down was not something he'd want to experience again

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #♥️.heartslabyul #riddle x reader #riddle rosehearts #♥️.riddle #🌊.jade #🌊.floyd #🌊.azul #🌊.octavinelle #azul x reader #azul ashengrotto #jade x reader #jade leech #floyd x reader #floyd leech

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aayakashii · 2 days

Text

indirect kiss

loosely related to this, but not necessarily a continuation

Warnings: angst with a bit of fluff, pining, pining, pining, PINING, did I say pining? I'm sorry I make you suffer so much in my fics, Rui...... oh, and some suggestive themes, but nothing explicit!

Rui was never one to walk around with his hands stuffed inside his pockets. No, he was always too confident for that, too self-assured. He was as poised as a lion – head held high, unafraid of occupying space.

He couldn't touch anyone anyway, so why should he refrain himself from being as loud with his personality as possible? He was just all bark, no bite after all.

Yet with you, he quickly figured out he had to shove his hands deep, deep inside his pants’ pockets, all to quell the urge of reaching out to you. He figured his brain would shut off at any time and only his instincts would prevail – the burning desire to touch you being the only thing left on his blank mind.

So he bound himself, or at least as much as he could in a way that wouldn't appear insane.

Still, as you walked beside him, his eyes flitted from your lips to your eyes and to your hands that swung back and forth, back and forth – he couldn't do anything but be painfully aware of your presence, right there beside him; just a few centimeters away, yet still untouchable.

You had given him the grace of your presence during a short, simple mission outside, and now he cursed himself for inviting you for a short walk before going back into the campus.

He had no idea it'd be so hard to walk with you without intertwining his fingers in yours.

Rui felt the hair at the back of his neck stand up as he suppressed a shiver. How long has it been since the last time he has touched someone with intent? How long has it been since he had been touched? His touch starvation was barely acknowledged at this point, because it had become who he was. He didn't exist without it. Just like breathing, it was his nature. It clogged his pores, ran in his veins and invaded his lungs. Much like a chronic disease one has to learn to live with, despite how agonizing it is.

His medicine was to be distant. To keep everyone at arm's length, so he'd never be affected by the torture of longing.

He kept Haru and Romeo at arm's length, restricting his role to just being their bartender.

He kept Lyca at arm's length, just caring for him like a dutiful but distant parent.

He kept Ed at arm's length, but it didn't matter – he kept himself isolated anyway.

He even kept his old best friend at arm's length – Haku, whom Rui avoided like the plague. He thanked what little mercy the Heavens had for him, for Haku knew when to mind his business. He knew not to pry.

And despite all his efforts, you appeared. Burrowing your way through his walls until you had found your place in his mind.

However, his name on your lips didn't sound damned and, for the first time in so long, he found himself wishing for a cure for his plight. Wishing he could find that wretched anomaly and then finally drop his peaceful act – he'd rip its head off and drink its blood if it meant he could touch you.

Rui laughed darkly to himself. What would even happen if he actually touched you? He would probably be so pathetically excited that he could feel your seemingly soft skin under his hands that he'd end up cumm–

“Rui!” you barked, snapping your fingers in front of his face. He interrupted that forbidden thought immediately.

“Yes, sweetie?”

You huffed, brows creasing on your forehead.

“Did you hear anything I said?”

Rui laughed awkwardly, running a hand through his luscious hair.

“Sorry cutie, I was a bit lost in my thoughts there. What did you say?”

“I said I wanna go to an arcade. I want to have a go at the claw machines.”

Rui frowned.

“Claw machines? You know those things are, like, scams right? They're rigged!”

“Oh my god, Rui” you snorted, and Rui swore he could drown at any given moment due to his suffocating affection for you. “You sound like a worried dad! And don't worry, I know all about claw machines and how to win.”

You smiled devilishly, rubbing your hands together like a little imp ready to cause problems.

“Um…” Rui grimaced, delighting himself with all your expressions, but mildly worried. “You're not gonna, like… Try to kick them or steal something, are you? I know I am your ride or die, darling, but we'd be in big trouble if we ACTUALLY broke the law, you know…”

You raised an eyebrow.

“What are you even talking about, Rui? I just meant I know the strategies to win.”

His lips formed an 'o'.

“Ohhh, I see! I thought for a second that you were up to no good!”

“Me?” you scoffed. “Never. I'm an angel.”

You said it sarcastically, but, to Rui, that's what you were. An angel, a saint, a deity. He was ready to kneel on nails if it meant he could worship you.

Rui watched you make your merry way towards a shiny and loud arcade, with rows upon rows of claw machines right next to the entrance.

It felt good to turn off his racing thoughts by thinking of harmless little fun things with you.

Even if you were the main reason for said racing thoughts.

If you wanted to play with claw machines, by all means, he would play them all until you got sick of it. Although he still thought they were rigged.

Rui leisurely walked behind you, watching while you scanned every machine for something of interest.

His heart warmed at the sight of you pressing your nose to the glass, tip-toeing to see the mess of plushies a bit better. You'd also click your tongue and pout, walking towards the next machine, disappointed with the selection of dolls.

You were just too cute. How would he ever survive you?

“Oh! Look at that! Rui, look!” You said, after perusing through that endless corridor a bit more. Apparently something pretty had finally caught your eye and Rui made his way towards you to take a peek as well.

“Did you find something cute?”

“Yeah, look at that!”

He followed your gaze, and was met with a black bunny plushie – its eyes were made of black buttons held tightly by white threads, with a long white ribbon wrapped around its neck. It wasn't anything too impressive (there were many other plushies in there that definitely looked a lot more striking), but he wouldn't say it wasn't cute.

“Are you going to try to get that little guy? Isn't he a lucky one, being chosen by you.” Rui winked, relishing in the way you rolled your eyes, already immune to his flirting.

“Yup. Gonna get that one.” you said, decisively, picking a few stray coins from your pocket.

“Allow me to help then.” Rui picked up his own wallet and you shook your head.

“You don't have to.”

“I want to. It will kinda officially turn this into a date AND I can call the plushie our son if I help you get it.” he smirked, fishing out a few coins and then placing them right next to the machine's slot.

You side-eyed Rui, before you allowed a smile to spread across your face.

“You're impossible.” you said, shaking your head while you placed the first coin into the slot and began playing, laughter warming your voice like tea with honey.

He'd love to drink only that for the rest of his life.

“Is that a ‘yes, Rui, this is now a date and I accept you as the father of my child’?” He gasped dramatically, placing his hand over his heart.

You hummed, as if you were in deep thought.

“Maybe.”

The first attempt at the claw machine failed, but you were quick to insert another coin.

“I promise to take good care of our kid.”

“I will ask for child support if you don't.”

Nice. He had successfully strung you along that little joke. He was going to unabashedly use that plushie as an excuse to see you far more frequently. Bonding time between parents and son, right?

You clicked your tongue. Second attempt failed as well.

It's okay, Rui thought. He had plenty more coins in his wallet to keep you trying. Now getting that rabbit was a matter of life or death to him.

The third time's the charm.

Rui watched the bunny precariously dangle from the weak claws of the machine, holding his breath as you slowly moved the claw towards the opening, where you finally dropped the plushie. It fell easily, barely making a sound.

You jumped and pumped a fist into the air, celebrating your victory. You quickly turned to Rui and he saw the way your arm went back, as if you were preparing to high five him – before you awkwardly dropped it, when you remembered that you simply couldn't.

Did he truly need so many reminders of how he couldn't touch your fucking hand?

Rui shifted on his feet, smiling awkwardly, and motioned for you to grab your prize. Despite the bitterness in his chest, he wasn't going to let his godforsaken curse ruin his date. Nor any single moment with you. Not if he could help it.

He wasn't sure if he could actually help it, though. Not when he observed the way your fingers touched the plushie, gently feeling the softness of its black, velvety coat.

He gulped, eyebrows scrunching upwards.

It was painful, to have this much longing for you lodged deep inside his guts. It clawed and ate everything around it, until there was nothing else left and all Rui could feel was pure desperation.

He wanted you. So fucking bad. Some nights – when he couldn’t sleep, and all chores had been done, and his own touch was more of a humiliation than a quick, unsatisfying reprieve – it felt like dying might be more of a mercy than having to live with you by his side everyday and not having you to himself.

He wouldn't die at all, though. And in the morning, he would still choose to have you close every single time.

Despite coming to terms with his own feelings, Rui suddenly felt a wave of disgusting jealousy wash over him when you brought the plushie's shiny nose to your lips.

Those lips he admired so obviously whenever you drank a pretty little concoction of his own in his bar's glasses.

His mind ran miles per hour, sharp tongue ready to spit some bitter quip about your kiss, even if he knew that being jealous of an inanimate object was absurd, when he was inmediately shut by your actions.

You had pushed the bunny's nose into his own lips.

Rui's eyes widened, and he stared down at you as you slowly retracted the plushie and cradled it into your arms. He blinked, stupidly, rendered speechless. All his mind could focus on was the indirect kiss you two had just shared.

Meanwhile, you seemed to find hilarious how dumbstruck he was by your actions.

“What? We do have to kiss our son's little nose, don't we? He needs to know he's loved by his parents.” You teased, a smug smile plastered onto your face as you brought back the little joke he had created.

The spell had turned against the sorcerer who cast it.

A beat passed, while you watched him blink and gather himself.

“Huh…” Rui managed to blurt out and you laughed.

While you grabbed one of the rabbit's paws, you held out the doll towards him, offering the other paw.

You nodded your head towards the plushie when Rui didn't move.

“Come on. It's only natural for parents to hold their kid's hands while they walk back home, isn't it?” you explained, still finding his reaction extremely amusing.

After a few long seconds, Rui rubbed his face with his hands, barking out a laugh into them. He slowly dragged his fingers down his face, pulling it into a scowl, until he let his arms fall to the side and shook his head, still chuckling.

“You're the one who's impossible.” Rui murmured, half amused and half pained, as he grabbed the plushie's other paw.

You shrugged, grinning, as you slowly began to make your way out of the arcade and back to Darkwick – the plushie between the two of you throughout the entire way.

A buffer between your hands.

In a different world, Rui thought bitterly while you two walked quietly, there would be no need for a silly little doll between you.

In a different world, he'd latch himself onto you in his every waking moment. Even if he had the most boring days, the most mundane chores to fulfill – he would bring you with him, chasing your presence constantly. A sunflower chasing the sun's rays.

In a different world, he would make sure he would never have to fold his laundry alone ever again.

And he would memorize the texture of your favorite shirt and the scent of the one fabric softener that made you linger a little bit longer in his hugs, only to breathe him in deeply.

And he would wash the dishes and give them to you, so you'd carefully place them in the cupboard. All while talking about whether you'd like to adopt one cat and one dog, or two cats and two dogs – and you'd probably think the more the merrier. Rui knew he'd end up cleaning most of their mess, but your happiness would be worth it.

And you'd make bitter coffee on rainy days, and he'd love to do nothing else but place his chin on your shoulder while you two watched the downpour; swaying gently to the sound of a silent music only you two knew of.

And he would love to travel with you to small villages and big cities, but his biggest happiness would be to lay his head down on his trusty pillow and look at you right beside him, snoozing softly in your shared old bed. His back would hurt, the mattress had to be changed, but he'd hide the pain because the memories of nights spent awake talking and kissing and touching your body were too precious.

And, oh, how would he touch your body, especially in those moments in which you were on your knees between his legs, like an angel, and sucking him dry, like a sinner.

Rui shook his head. He could not let his thoughts wander that path. Not if he wanted to keep walking with you and listening to you point out all the cafes you'd like to visit some other time.

Nothing like a raging hard on to ruin the walk back to Darkwick, he thought, chuckling darkly to himself.

Rui went to look at the small plushie that connected you two, only to be met with your eyes staring at him, his heart skipping a beat like all the times in which he looked at you before.

In that moment, he allowed himself to wonder if you dreamed of a mundane life with him as well. If you wanted him on his knees, shackled in devotion to you for the rest of your lives.

And in your smile and the endless pool of your eyes, he swore he could see a longing that mirrored his.

#tokyo debunker #rui mizuki #tokyo debunker rui mizuki #tokyo debunker x reader

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ohnoitstbskyen · 3 hours

Note

Since I asked you about Sephiroth, I also wanted to ask about what you think of Aerith’s character and her characterization throughout the franchise.

Hhh oh god. Yeah.

So, again, Aerith begins in Final Fantasy VII as a seemingly intentional semi-subversion of the Princess Holy Maiden White Mage JRPG trope.

Mechanically she is absolutely a classic white mage, but she's also a street kid with way more life experience than Cloud, who both connects instantly with him due to his similarities with Zack, her dead ex (because, of course, Cloud is directly copying Zack's entire personality), but she also notably pushes back against him, and repeatedly refuses to let him treat her like a damsel in distress, and takes direct agency over where the story is going and what's going to happen.

As she becomes more and more conscious of her Magic Special Lineage, she changes, of course, and... arguably falls a bit more into a straight rendition of the Holy Maiden trope. Albeit I have always quite loved the reveal that Aerith isn't killed by Sephiroth just as a big tragic fridging to advance the story through Cloud's pain, but as an intentional gambit on her part to ultimately defeat the villain. The translation of the game is famously a bit wonky, but my reading of the story is that she

realizes that Sephiroth is manipulating Cloud as his primary agent in the world and that she needs to get away from him

realizes that in order to cast Holy and defeat Meteor she needs to enter the Lifestream, so

she manipulates Jenova/Sephiroth into killing her in the one place on the Planet that has the strongest connection with the Ancients so she can take advantage of their knowledge to figure out how to make Holy work.

It also kinda seems to me like she realizes that Cloud is the best chance the planet has of a champion who can defeat Sephiroth and unblock the Lifestream for the Holy spell, and maybe she sacrifices herself in part in the hopes of breaking Cloud out of Sephiroth's influence. which, yeah, that is definitely some fridging-trope nonsense.

The original game absolutely isn't perfect on how it handles it, but Aerith is (especially for the late 90s) a remarkably active player in the story, with a lot of agency entirely separate from the male protagonist, who comes into a role that requires her to separate herself from the main party and go off to set her own plans into motion.

I am overall less fond of how she got portrayed in media after the original FF7, where she really did seem to get boxed into an entirely unironic Holy Maiden trope - especially by Advent Children which casts her as a literal lover/mother to Cloud, whose especially pure and holy influence heals the blight of Geostigma once her darling Cloud overcomes his personal conflict. And certainly, a lot of portrayals of Aerith I've seen tend to focus way more on her mystical, divine Cetra Chosen One-ness than on her actual upbringing as a scrappy sassy street kid.

The Remake games... have generally walked the line okay, I think? Aerith with the steel chair might genuinely be my favourite gif from any videogame ever,

(she's just so happy to be beating the shit out of this man)

although I do feel like her portrayal in those games make her a bit too much of a Love Interest To The Protagonist character. I feel the balance in the original focused a lot more on her coming into an understanding of her role in the story separate from her attachment to Cloud, but I also have massive nostalgia glasses on my face about Final Fantasy VII, so I recognize that I am biased here.

I'm curious how the Remake trilogy, which is a wild metacommentary on the legacy of its own original, will ultimately handle her, and I really do hope it doesn't confuse the idea of a "good ending" for Aerith with the idea of being romantically paired up to a male character, or with the idea of literal or metaphorical motherhood or some other bioessentialist nonsense.

#tb answers #gehudshniea #final fantasy #ff7 #final fantasy vii #aerith #aerith gainsborough

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strrykais · 18 hours

Text

control alt + love [k. seungmin]

16. lets go home

seungmin huffs watching you laughing it up while dancing on the table. you look down at jeongin, as he is ushering you to come down. you pretend to either not hear or see him continuing to dance. sighing, seungmin walks further into the club, sneaking up on an exhausted jeongin.

“it’s fun being the older one huh?” seungmin says face brightening when he sees jeongin’s face.

“you are barely one year older than me and no it's not. let's kick her out so i can be the baby again.” jeongin says falling back onto the couch.

you finally brought your attention to the looming figure behind you. smiling at him with a big grin, “captiann!” your drunken voice rings out. seungmin gives you a small smile before motioning you to get down. you shake your head, going back to your previous activity.

you hear him call out your name, turning your body to face him. seungmin grabs your hand, yanking you down, throws you over his shoulder.. your face heats up when you feel his hands on the back of thighs, hitting his back thrashing around trying to escape his hold.

“quit moving your gonna flash the world. and i'll let it happen." seungmin says whipping you around so he can look at jeongin.

“i'm taking her home, can you make sure her friend is okay and then get the others home please.” seungmin doesn’t even give jeongin a chance to reply as he is whipping you around again. pushing yourself up, you see jeongin with a knowing smirk while giving you a thumbs up. removing your hand from seungmins back, you lifted it up, flicking him off.

seungmin walks you both out of the club, his hand reaching up holding down your dress, as you continue to fight him to put you down.

“you aren't going to keep me like this the whole way home? i think being upside down is making me more drunk.” you giggle out, seungmin huffs out. stopping he gently puts you, turning and kneeling down pointing to his back.

“get on my back, you can barely stand.” he says. “let's go home, yeah?” you nod, reaching over to place yourself on his back.

the walk home was quiet, seungmin could hear your shallow breaths. he would occasionally look over to see your eyes closed and head swaying. you stirred digging your face right up into his neck. seungmin stilled, he could feel your lips right on him. he felt his ears getting hot. trying not to pay any mind he rushed up the path, wanting to get you off of him as quickly as possible.

chan was in the shared space when seungmin walked in through the front door.

“oh hey, i see you got her home. where are the rest of them?” chan smiles at seungmin with a twinkle in his eye.

“don’t know they were right behind me. should be here soon. i'm gonna take her to her room.” seungmin says turning to head up the stairs when he hears chans call out.

“why are your ears so red?” chan questions getting up to get a closer look before he could seungmin scoffed, and quickly ran up the stairs not caring that his haste was bobbing you around, waking you up.

“i can walk from here, min.” your voice scared him, he nodded crouching down to softly put your bare feet on the cold tile. getting up he hands you your heels, turning to walk away. you reach out grabbing his wrist to stop him.

“thanks for carrying me, and holding my shoes.” you give him a smile, leaning up to plant a small quick kiss on his cheek, rushing to your room and closing the door.

seungmin was stuck in that spot for a longtime, slowly placing his hand on his cheek. he couldn’t exactly place how he was feeling in that moment.

“bro what are you doing standing here?” minho voices makes seungmin jump up glancing to see his hair a mess and his shirt buttoned wrong.

“fun night.”

“oh you have no idea.”

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tags: @onlyhyunjin @15092000volcano @chenlesfavorite @hippopotamusdreamer @vegetablesarefuntables @soondoongdoriii @jeonginplsholdmyhand @nappynapnaps @sincerely-sun @staytinyluv @kimseungminpabo @seungzsmin @sweetasmarie @hinanitiram @tricky-ritz @ayyonoona @hanniemylovelyquokka @toplinehyunjin @missystay @binniesbabe @tirena1 @jihoons-kitten @skz-ot8-stay @darlingz99 @khandzilla @icouldntcareless22 @rihaee @kikieatsfood23 @hvnverse @sillyhal @livixcore @dazzlingjade @h0rnyp0t @drewsandsebastianswife @jabmastersupriseee

#strrykais #kim seungmin x reader #stray kids seungmin #control alt love #stray kids x reader #seungmin stray kids #seungmin x reader #seungmin fanfic #seungmin fluff #seungmin fake texts #kim seungmin fanfic #seungmin texts #stray kids kim seungmin #seungmin #stray kids #stray kids texts

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warping-realities · 3 days

Text

A Better Brighter Future

A brief explanation, this story is a spinoff of Dalton Academy, you don't need to have read that series to understand this story, but you will miss some references. The themes here are also controversial and I need to remind everyone that just because I wrote it doesn't mean I agree with what's happening! Otherwise, a great read for anyone interested!

Director Horace Johnson wasn’t having a good week; in fact, the week he was having was bloody dreadful. The blonde, skinny bloke, fifty years old, had dedicated a good chunk of his adult life to educating young people, finding that calling shortly after leaving university. A staunch defender of human rights and a proponent of positive education, he faced all sorts of problems with reactionary teachers throughout his career, none worse than Ethan Wood, the former PE teacher at King Richard All Boys Institute, affectionately referred to by everyone in the tiny village of Daffodil-Meadow-Over-The-Hill as Lionheart School. However, after numerous run-ins over the three years he’d been the head of that institution, he finally got fed up with the other bloke's speeches, attitudes, and teaching style, and thanks to an anonymous tip about some dodgy behaviour that led to his dismissal, nearly all the students and many of the teachers breathed a sigh of relief; that sort of hardline, oppressive treatment had no place in today’s world. The one thing Horace couldn’t imagine was the struggle to find a replacement who shared his progressive ideals, not to mention the fact that he had to deal with the backlash from some conservative parents, teachers, and board members. Just another battle they were fighting; he should have known, it was like that when he banned the posh uniforms or tried to authorise the use of gender-neutral pronouns – one battle won, another lost. But he was determined to come out on top again; he refused to put another outdated troglodyte in that position. A better, brighter future was the motto of that school, and he was going to make it happen.

While he was mulling over these issues, sitting in his office with a good cup of tea, his privacy was invaded. With a loud BAM, the door to his office was flung open, causing him to quickly raise his eyes from the document he was reading, only to see the monstrous figure striding towards him. A black man in his thirties, dressed in a polo shirt, tracky bottoms, and trainers, exuding the brash vibe of a sports coach, swaggered confidently in his direction. He couldn’t remember scheduling any interview, and certainly not with someone so rude, who gave off exactly the impression of the type of professional he refused to hire.

“Sir, I’m sorry, but you’re gonna have to leave this room; I’m busy and we haven’t got a time booked!” he said, standing up and positioning himself beside his desk, noting the absurd difference in build and muscle between the two.

“And since when do old mates need permission to see you, Henry?”

“That’s not my name!”

“I know that, Henderson, you tosser, but if you reckon I’m not gonna use your nickname just because you’re the head honcho of a fancy school now, you’re sorely mistaken. Just wait until the lads on the rugby team find out the Steamroller Henry is all posh now; they’ll be laughing their heads off!”

“Sir, I… I don’t know what you’re on about… I insist you leave!”

“Now that’s the Henry I know, always ready to pull a fast one on his mates.” The man said, slumping down in the armchair opposite his desk. “But enough of the banter, mate. After you got in touch, I did a bit of digging into what’s going on around here, and you’ve got some serious problems. Losing a bloke like Ethan Wood must have been a right kick in the teeth, especially after scrapping the uniforms; they might have been a bit too posh, but they helped maintain a sense of unity and shared identity. Good on you for getting rid of that daft idea of using gender-neutral pronouns. Still, mate, I can see why you need me here. Transforming these crybabies into real men can’t be easy, but don’t you worry; you called the right person!”

“I… what…? I don’t get it…”

“What’s hard to understand, Henry? You need help to rein in this progressive agenda that’s trying to take root here, so you called your old uni mate Blake Ian Garret, The BIG and said, ‘Mate, I need your help with these wankers trying to sabotage me; old Wood is out, I need you for the job!’”

“I… Blake… BI… BIG, then… do you accept?”

“Of course I do, you muppet; it’s exactly what I’ve been banging on about! That whisky you’re drinking is probably messing with your already dodgy brain. I wonder how they let you become a director, Henry; not that I’m complaining, we need more blokes like us in charge.”

“I also wonder how I ended up here; I only became a teacher because that dodgy Wood promised to pass on his job to me when he retired, and next thing I know, I’m stuck in this boring role and now I have to give the job I wanted to an arse.” He said with fake exasperation.

“Shut it, mate; I know you missed having another real man around here, and while I explain how things work in the place I was working, why don’t you pour me a bit of that drink? I think you’ll love hearing about Dalton Academy.” The man commented, noticing the change happening in Horace Johnson. In a blur of movement, the skinny man’s body expanded in muscle and height, while the wrinkles vanished from his face and his blonde hair started to grow back where it had receded. In less than a second, Henderson “Henry” Johnson found himself grinning, offering a glass of whisky that hadn’t been there before to his old university friend and now professor Blake Garret, The BIG in his realm.

“A toast to the best hire I could have made,” he said, raising the glass to his old friend, who broke into a wide smile.

“To a better and brighter future, indeed!”

…..

The students and teachers didn’t know why they were gathered in the school gym. The summons came from Director Johnson himself, and they knew they had to comply quickly, as the man had a military rigidity about that sort of thing, not tolerating any behaviour he deemed lazy. So, what a surprise it was for everyone to see that it wasn’t Henry Johnson heading to the packed gym.

“Good morning, gentlemen! My name’s Blake Garret and I’m the new PE teacher here at Lionheart. The director Johnson and I have known each other for a long time; we were university mates and teammates, and he’s shared with me his concerns about the behaviour and ideals presented here. This nation is infected, gentlemen. Infected by a parasite called progressivism. Progress should be encouraged, yes, but with proper control, guided by the ideas of our parents and ancestors. Progress for the sake of progress should be discouraged!” He said, striding across the gym floor like a caged beast ready to break free, pausing only to observe the indignant faces of some teachers and a few students who bothered to pay attention to what he was saying. But that was about to change, and it was going to be now. “When Henry told me that the infection was spreading here too, I couldn’t believe it. I said to him, ‘Surely not, Henry, my dear. Lionheart is a beacon of clarity amidst a stormy sea of harmful ideas; the teachers are exemplars of masculinity and manliness, and the students are the pinnacle to which every young man in this nation should aspire; surely there’s no such behaviour here.’ But… but now that I’m here, I see! Gentlemen, my eyes fill with tears at what Lionheart is.” He said, taking another pause to take in the disgusted expressions before finally finishing what he had come to do there. “Tears, yes, tears of pride! For you are much more than I imagined, gentlemen. You are paragons of masculinity, the example of what every man should aspire to be; you haven’t allowed yourselves to be contaminated by the corruption attacking our country from within; you are what gives me hope for the future of our great nation.” He said, resuming his frenetic pacing, and with every step he took, the audience transformed; teachers, students, staff, all expanding in size while ideas and thoughts shrank, casual clothes being replaced by training gear that showcased their muscular and defined bodies, while a powerful funk that only dozens of sweaty gathered men could produce dominated the atmosphere, not that anyone there cared about it.

“That was a brilliant welcome drill, lads; now off to the showers and back to your uniforms for your lessons. Teachers, I ask you to stay a bit longer; I need to know about any absent students today.”

….

Franklin was in deep trouble; he missed the bus to school and had to walk all the way from the village of Grimchurch to Daffodil Meadow, which wasn’t pleasant for a skinny, asthmatic kid. The worst part was that he ended up terribly late for school, and knowing the kind of reception he would get, he thought about just not going, but that would bring even bigger complications, so he decided to face his fate with resignation. He was greeted by the guard, who merely directed him to one of the classrooms where a teacher would speak to the late students and administer the necessary punishment. Sighing with resignation, he headed to the indicated location, but upon arriving, something stopped him from entering the room; some sort of primitive alert resonating within his mind. Peeking through the corner of the window, he saw a teacher he didn’t recognise, a tall and very strong man with skin as dark as his own, talking to Bernard, Vincent, and Timothy, three of the biggest truants at Lionheart, who were looking at him with bored expressions. But then, in the blink of an eye, the unthinkable happened; the boys he had known all his life were replaced by larger, stronger, muscular versions, wearing uniforms and smiling as if they were getting drunk on every word the teacher was saying, words which Franklin couldn’t hear. But then the teacher approached the door, and he could hear the end of the speech.

“… rowing at the end of the day; you lot are to be congratulated, I wouldn’t be surprised if any of you ended up representing England at the Olympics. Oh, before you go, Bert and Victor, you’re in the same class as Franklin Burke, right? If you see him, let me know; I need to have a word with the lad, the same goes for you, Tom.”

Hearing that, Franklin took off running, desperate, not fully understanding what he had witnessed but knowing the risk he was in; he urgently needed to get out of there. In his despair, he didn’t notice that the man had left the room and smiled when he saw a skinny kid running toward the changing rooms.

Franklin thought the safest way to escape the trap he had fallen into would be through the school gym, which should be empty at that hour. Sneaking in as quietly as possible, he finally reached the changing area; he just needed to cross it and head to the football pitch, which would be free from whatever was happening there. But there was a hitch: someone was using the changing room. Quickly hiding behind the door, he saw the stranger swaggering arrogantly through the space. Recently out of the shower and wearing only a jock strap, the muscular Chinese lad strutted as if he owned the place. Stopping in front of the mirror, he admired himself. Who could he have been before? No… no… Lionheart only had one Chinese student. That must be… Anshen? Franklin’s best mate… no… this was a nightmare.

“I can see you there, mate!” said the muscular lad, crossing his arms. “Coach BIG is looking for you. I wouldn’t irritate the bloke if I were you.” He added with a cheeky grin. Having been discovered, Franklin stepped out of hiding.

“Anshen… is that you?”

“The name’s Ashton, Franklin. Honestly, how could you forget the name of the captain of the school swimming team?” he said, acting as if that made him the most important person in the room. Without even glancing to the side, he brushed past that aberration towards the corridor leading to the football pitch.

“Hey, mate, the coach’s office is the other way!” shouted the other lad, but Franklin didn’t pay him any mind. He was running anxiously toward the door that was his salvation. Only to see it swing open and the monstrous giant that was walking toward him with a grin. Between the two giants, he chose to face the smaller of the two and took off running in the direction he had come from, without seeing the smile fade from the man's face or hearing him grumble.

“Don’t know why they run…”

Upon reaching the door of the changing room he had just passed through a few seconds ago, he found it locked. How? Ashton must have locked it. Franklin grunted as he cursed the other lad with every ounce of strength not being used to try to open the door.

“It’s useless, lad. Your fate was sealed the moment you set foot in this school. But you know what? I like you; you’ve got fire in you. Turn around.” The man said with authority, and Franklin felt his body obey against his will. Gathering courage, he faced the man.

“Who are you? What are you?”

“What I am is something to be answered another time. Now, who am I? Frankly, Farrel, that’s no way to speak to your godfather.” Coach BIG replied, seemingly hurt, although a slight tremor at the corner of his lips indicated he was actually enjoying himself.

“What? Godfather? I don’t have a godfather and I don’t even know who you are! And who the hell is Farrel?”

“Farrel is my godson; a lad, strong and sure of what he wants. A man who knows a man’s rightful place in society. He’s a bit of a rogue, the type who’s too smart for his own good, always finding a way to dodge consequences. Except when he’s on the pitch; he’s the captain of the rugby team and takes that role seriously, even knowing his future lies in politics, thanks to the silver tongue he possesses. In short, Farrel is you, you great numpty. Now that it’s just the two of us in my office, come give your godfather a hug.”

“I… what? No…!” Franklin stammered as he felt his legs move on their own and a dreamy smile form on his lips, even as he internally screamed in anxiety.

Anxiety? He never got anxious! At least not off the pitch. There he was a monster, a bull. But off it? Off it, he was the face of relaxation. Chill out and have a laugh was Farrel Burke’s motto! Thought the muscular black giant that few would believe was only eighteen years old. While he put on the school uniform in his godfather’s office, admiring his beautiful body and smiling.

“Farrel? Farrel! Bloody hell, lad, can’t you pay attention for a minute?”

“Sorry, Uncle BIG… I mean… Coach BIG… oops… Professor Garret.”

“If you weren’t my godson, I’d give you a right telling off, lad, and just because I’m your godfather doesn’t mean you can use my office as if it were your personal changing room.”

“If you hadn’t dragged me from the changing room, I wouldn’t need to finish getting dressed here!”

“Is that a dig at my behaviour, lad?” BIG asked seriously, his eyes glinting dangerously.

“No, sir, professor. I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.” The lad replied, sensing the danger.

“Great. As I was saying, I want to implement some of the ideas I brought from Dalton; while you finish getting ready, let me talk to you about the clubs…”

…..

By the end of that week, BIG’s initial work was complete; there were no more students or teachers left to be improved. The uniforms had returned to being the norm, and all the lads were required to be part of at least one of the school’s sports teams. Moreover, the social clubs had been formed, ensuring that the lads, even after school ended, would have a reason to return to Lionheart and not forget what they had learned there. BIG was proud of what he had accomplished, and those above him were too. Now it was time for the expansion phase, to take what was taught at Lionheart outside the school’s walls and fields. BIG’s approach was different from that taken at Dalton; times were different, and in the war they were waging against those who wanted to remove men from their rightful place, there was no room for the discretion adopted by the sister school. Europe was falling too quickly; it was necessary to be more incisive. That’s why Lionheart would focus not only on creating the leaders of tomorrow but a whole generation of influencers, and sport would be their flagship. And there was no sport more popular worldwide than football. Knowing this, the Lionheart team became a priority for BIG, and he created a particularly talented and charismatic group, but they still lacked a coach of the right calibre. But that would soon be resolved, and quickly too; normally, BIG liked to savour the moment he transformed a pathetic figure into a real man. However, as the mass transformation of the first day showed, when the need was pressing, he acted fast. And that Sunday morning, it was needed again. While the lads prepared for training, the stands of the school filled with students from other teams, but also with parents and locals from the surrounding towns. This would be exhausting. And the cherry on top was the old man walking across the field with an angry look directed at BIG, who returned the scorn before breaking into a smile.

Zachariah Hastings, a member of the school board and a staunch conservative, which in theory should please BIG, but the problem was that the old codger was too conservative. Homophobic and racist, he seemed to boil inside the outdated suit he was wearing at that moment. He indeed represented that mythical figure of patriarchy that the snowflakes loved to point out as the cause of all ills: the white, heterosexual, cisgender man. BIG had nothing against a man who was all those things; on the contrary. The problem was that this figure represented everything that the enemies of the brotherhood of men took pleasure in using to attack. BIG’s group merely wanted to return men to their rightful place in society; they didn’t care about race, religion, whether you were an immigrant or who you slept with. Implicating with those things only created divisions, pushing men away from the real goal. And it was precisely for that reason that Zachariah had to go. Without any fanfare or manipulation, in one moment, the old codger was there with a bewildered expression, as if he knew what awaited him, and in the next moment, a fine specimen of a black man, very much like BIG himself, stood in his place, while every man in that audience became an upgraded ally, and BIG enthusiastically announced to everyone the arrival of the legendary Zeke Hastings, newly retired player from Manchester City and multiple-time champion of the Premier League, Champions League, and Euro Cup, to take the position of coach for the school’s football team, sending all the men in that place into a frenzy of delight, while BIG himself smiled, satisfied that the first part of his duty was finally fulfilled.

**Two months earlier**

Barret couldn’t stop tapping his foot while waiting in the posh waiting room of Dalton Academy; after all, this was his big chance, even if he didn’t understand why an American school would be interested in an English literature teacher. Although the whole place reeked of Old Money, perhaps that justified the interest in him.

“You can come in, Mr. Garret.” A metallic voice startled Barret, who looked around for the source, but found none. Collecting himself, he stood up, straightened his suit, and opened the massive door to the office. What he saw there gave him a sense of strangeness. Smiling and walking towards him in a space much larger than would be possible, was a handsome lad, no more than eighteen years old. Was this some sort of prank by the posh students?

“Come in, Mr. Garrett. Barret Garret; your parents had an interesting sense of humour; I would have certainly liked them…” commented the smiling young man before frowning. “Why the scared face? Ahhh, I always forget these modern conventions; in my day, this would already be the appearance of an adult man.” The young man said, his face concentrating, and then, as if by magic, he began to walk towards an office desk that Barret could have sworn hadn’t been there seconds before. When he reached the desk a blonde, older, and muscular man wearing a slightly less formal outfit smiled at Barret.

“I think you’ll prefer this appearance, my dear. You can call me Mr. Edgar. And even though I’ve used a bit of trickery to bring you here, since unfortunately there’s no place for you on Dalton’s faculty, by the time we finish our conversation, it’ll be as if you know the place better than you do yourself, and I guarantee the goal I have in mind for you will leave you quite satisfied. Put a smile on that face and step in.” Even against his will, in that incomprehensible situation, Barret found himself smiling and stepped into the creature’s lair.

If anyone who wasn’t an active member of Dalton was watching what was going on, they would have been shocked. But within those walls, it was almost routine. A young, well-dressed black man hesitating in front of a portal, only to, upon crossing it, see his body modify and expand, while he aged a few years, though that only made him even more charming; his slow steps transforming into the confident stride of a man who knew exactly what he wanted. And anyone who knew Blake Ian Garret, coach BIG, could tell that that impression would be correct, though incomplete. BIG not only knew what he wanted but would also do everything in his power to achieve his goals. And those goals at the moment consisted of returning to England to find a way to occupy a position at Lionheart School, which conveniently was established on top of one of the largest dormant power points of the old country, but which only needed a spark to awaken. A spark that Mr. Edgar handed to him, only demanding in return that he use that power to ensure that the occupants of the place, both the established ones and those who would come, and even the unsuspecting traveler passing through, became the right kind of men. The exact type that BIG himself represented.

….

**6 months later**

“Son, I’m sure it won’t be as bad as you think. I survived high school; you will too.”

“Yes, but you didn’t have to be transferred in the middle of the second year to a school with the highest concentration of wanker athletes that would have certainly made your life a nightmare.”

“Duncan, I understand; I was transferred as well, remember? I need to make friends at work too.”

“Dad, that’s completely different; none of your colleagues are going to shove your head in a toilet or anything like that.”

“I’m sure that only happens in films, Duncan.”

The pair of overweight blonde father and son walked through the corridors of the Lionheart Institute towards Director Johnson. The truth is that even Alex, the father, was not comfortable with that arrangement, but there was nothing to be done; Lionheart was the best school in the area, and he refused to send his son away from him. Duncan was a shy and reserved kid, just like he had been at that age. That school would be a challenge, but any other would be too, and there he would be close by if something happened.

“Dad, didn’t you read the articles I sent you? This journalist, Aaryan Patel, wrote a series of them talking about what goes on here; all the students here, regardless of where they came from, are some kind of athletes; some have even competed in the Olympics. And there’s more; all of them have behaviour described as toxic; some have been banned from giving interviews; some bloke named Ashton Zhang won a bronze medal in Paris but said so much rubbish about the opening ceremony that he almost got banned from competing.”

“Well, then they’ll know what it’s like to have a mathlete among them now! And who knows, you might become a good influence on them or even get motivated to take up some sport; exercise does wonders for a young lad.”

“Says the man who’s never set foot on a court in his life…”

“Duncan, enough! You’re coming to study here, and that’s final.” The father snapped, as he noticed a giant figure approaching confidently down the corridor.

“But Dad, I think Aaryan Patel has a point…”

“Duncan! I don’t want to hear you talking about Aaryan Patel anymore!”

“You do quite well.” Commented the giant black man approaching them, his smile vanishing upon hearing that name. “Mr. Patel has only been defaming the good name of this school with lies and distortions, when what he should be doing is praising the performance of our students in all areas of life. I’m Professor Garret and I believe you are Archibald and Duncan, am I right?”

“In fact, my name is Alexander…”

“Ah, some misunderstanding then.” Commented the professor with a cheeky smile before continuing. “Director Johnson should have welcomed you, but he had a slight hiccup and asked me to do it for him. I thought I’d chat with you, Archibald, while one of the lads shows Duncan around the school. Where is that rascal? Ah, here he comes.” Professor Garret finished speaking without giving Alexander a chance to correct him about the name error, although he himself had forgotten it when he saw the lad strutting down the corridor, almost like a mini version of the professor. Although saying that anything about that lad was mini would be an affront. Broad shoulders and strong limbs pushing the limits of the school’s smart black uniform, made up of a full suit, tie, and dress shoes that must have been tailor-made to fit the boats that were his feet, the overall effect was one of sophistication but also of dominance and confidence that left Alexander gaping and Duncan, who was already fearful, completely terrified.

“Good day, Coach BIG… hum… Professor Barret; good day, sir.” The lad said politely, although a mischievous sparkle danced in his eyes.

“Farrell, my boy. Would you be so kind as to show the school’s facilities to Duncan here while Archie and I have a chat?”

“With pleasure, Professor Garret. Would you be so kind as to accompany me, Duncan?” He said, positioning himself next to the other lad who, although overweight, was shorter and lighter than him, before turning to Alexander with a cheeky grin. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Archie.”

“The pleasure was mine, lad.” replied Alex, again forgetting to correct the name error. “We’ll see you in a bit, Duke.” He ended up saying to his son, who looked at him first with wide eyes of pleading and then in surprise at how his father had called him. But there was nothing to be done, for at that moment the muscular giant lad took him by the arm and carried him down the corridor, while his father walked away in the opposite direction, chatting amiably with the behemoth that was Professor Garret.

BIG entered his office and sat down at the desk, although he hadn’t asked Archibald to enter, apparently lost in his own thoughts.

“So, Archibald Dunhan, that name doesn’t sound unfamiliar to me.” Commented the professor.

“Well, it’s not exactly a common name these days.” Archibald replied, accepting the name as if he had always used it.

“No, it’s not… Archibald, Archibald Dunhan, Archie, Archie Dunhan! But of course! Wall Archie! You could have been a legend at Arsenal, material for the England team, if it weren’t for that nasty injury in that game against Manchester City; but from what I know, your career as a player agent isn’t going too badly.”

“I… I think you’re confusing me with someone.” Archibald timidly replied, still standing at the door. Just the idea of thinking of himself as a former footballer was hilarious. Although he was indeed a die-hard Arsenal fan and risked a few matches with his mates on weekends. No, not that…

“No, I’m not mistaken; you were a leak-proof goalkeeper, you were a wall indeed, Archie; don’t let something that wasn’t your fault bring you down.”

“That accident ruined me, mate…” Archie found himself responding automatically. What the hell was he talking about?

“I know, but managing guys like Haaland and De Bruyne is also a success story. You should be proud of yourself.”

“Believe me, no one has ever accused me of being too humble!” Why would he say something like that???

“Then we’ve got the same problem!” replied Garret, bursting into laughter, and Archie joined in, unable to contain himself, stopping with a startled look only when the other man spoke to him again.

“What are you doing standing there, Archie? Come in, come in; we’ve got Duke’s future to discuss.”

Hearing that name stirred something in Archie; there was something very wrong with all of this, but then he took a step into the room, and everything changed. In a blur of movement and colour, his muscles expanded, height increased impressively, and fat seemed to evaporate from his body. When he stopped smiling in front of the other man, any trace of humility or shame had left his body. He was one of the most successful sports agents in the country; there was no reason to worry about that sort of thing.

“BIG, you’ve got 5 minutes to convince me to bring my son to this school, mate.”

“Archie, you know me you wanker; I can do it in three.”

….

“Take a seat, chubby; I’m not going to give you a hard time.” Said the muscular black lad to Duncan, although he clearly was already doing that. The moment Duncan’s dad and the teacher left their line of sight, Farrel dropped the politeness, throwing aside all false pleasantries, revealing himself to be exactly the type of person Duncan believed and feared he would be. He didn’t show anything Duncan might find relevant about the school’s facilities, leading the lad through some of the many sports facilities on site. They had courts for all sorts of sports imaginable, gym equipment, swimming pools, running tracks, and even a complete weightlifting gym. After the exhausting tour of Jockland, they finally arrived at the spacious and luxuriously furnished room where they were.

“I’d rather stand, thanks.” Duncan said, approaching the window of the room, which overlooked the well-kept football pitch of the institution.

“You know best, but carrying all that weight can’t be good for your knees.” Farrel commented venomously, as he took off the top part of the school uniform with no ceremony and flopped down on the sofa in the room. “But that won’t last long; BIG will have you sweating off all that flab in no time.”

“I wish you’d stop making comments about my body.”

“When you’ve got the physique of a real man, I’ll stop, chubby. And trust me, you will; in no time, no one will recognise you, not even you.”

“I’m fine as I am; I don’t intend to change anything.”

“As if anyone here gives a toss about what you think, lad. I repeat, soon you’ll be one of the lads at Lionheart and won’t even remember the wimp you are now. And even if you did, you’d be ashamed of what you let this society do to you.”

“I won’t let myself change; you can do what you want with me, humiliate me, torture me; I won’t change.” Duncan replied, feeling an uncharacteristic rage and turning from the window, seeing for the first time Farrel’s bare chest, which made him blush deeply, while the other lad shot him an intrigued look.

“Seeing something you like, chubby? You a queer or something? Not that I have a problem with it; It’s an all boys school after all, and the lads have their needs. Besides I know what my body does to others." He said, flexing his powerful muscles as if he was at some kind of obscene show, which made Duncan look back at the window, only turning around when the other spoke again, hitting the target this time."No, no… it’s a different kind of desire, isn’t it? Ever thought about having a body like this? Ever wished for muscles like these?” He conclude, looking distracted for a moment, as if he were reliving an old memory.

“I don’t need that; I’ve got my mind, and it’s more powerful than any bulging muscle.”

“Loooser! I wish I could record this and show it to my new bro when he comes out of you; it’ll surely make him die of embarrassment.”

“I… what?”

“You know where we are, Duke? At the headquarters of one of the Lionheart clubs, my club; not just anyone gets in here, but I decided you’d be one of the lucky ones. I’m the captain of the rugby team and would love to have you with us, but the boss has other plans. Speaking of which, you know what’s even more curious? The club is located exactly one floor above Coach BIG’s office. An office that has a direct exit to the football pitch. That exit, I believe, must have been used quite recently, so while you’re at the window, tell me what you see.” Farrel asked, his eyes sparkling and his voice filled with an uncontrollable mix of eagerness and excitement.

Without really knowing why he was obeying the other lad, Duncan looked outside, initially seeing nothing of note, but then his gaze landed on the pitch, and what he saw shocked him. Professor Garrett, who at that moment should have been with Duncan’s father, was walking across the pitch, bare-chested and laughing animatedly with a blonde man who was just as monstrous and muscular as he was. But if Garret was there, where was Alexand… Archibald?

“I don’t get it? Where’s my dad?”

“With all that talk about intellect, I thought you’d be smarter, Duke.”

“My name isn’t…”

“Duke!” Duncan read the lips of the gigantic blond man more than he heard him speak as he waved vigorously, beckoning him to join him and Garret on the pitch. Why would a complete stranger act that way? Unless… unless he wasn’t a complete stranger.

“No… it’s impossible…”

“Finally, you got it, chubby, although I think this will be the last time I can call you that.”

“No… dad?” Duncan asked, although the man who continued to wave excitedly couldn’t hear him. “What did they do to you?”

“Oh, old BIG has a thing for The gentlemen’s sport; even though he’s never been a pro himself. I’d say we’d put you on my team, and that would be that. But for a former pro rugby player, he doesn’t value us much. He says nothing gets as much visibility as football, and our team is about to lose the captain to a contract, and we still don’t have a worthy replacement. Plus, the old rogue managed to create a connection with someone who can get him the best seats at the games.”

“I don’t understand…”

“You don’t need to understand, Duke; you just need to accept.”

“I can’t accept this… I won’t accept this…”

“Duke?”

“What!?! He screamed back, enraged in response.

“Come over here, mate.”

“I’m not your mate, mate!”

“Of course you are; you’re my little bro; me and Ash were looking forward to finally having our little brother with us! Farrel, Duke, and Ashton, best mates. FDA, like the American agency, and like them, we run the bloody show! F for a lot of food, D for drugs to grow and an A for, shit what is the A again? Let it be A for awesome because that's what we are, mate!"

“I…”

“Think about it, Duke; you want to make your dad proud.”

“Yes…” he replied, shivering at hearing that.

“Then get your arse off that window and come with me to meet him; for you, I’d even play a match of football just to see the old geezers eat dust.”

“Haha, I want to see you try to score on my dad, F! The bloke’s a wall; not that he can stop his son from scoring.”

“That’s what I want to see; let’s go, then.” Farrel insisted, and Duke finally took a step back and went to meet his fate. In an instant, the fat seemed to be sucked from his body as his muscles expanded into a strong and toned physique, far from the giant muscle mass of Farrel or his father after the forced retirement and years dedicated to bodybuilding. A slim and strong body, except for the long, powerful legs with thighs capable of exploding a watermelon if it were squeezed between them. His unkempt hair giving way to a well-groomed cut, the sad, chubby face transforming into a beautiful, almost angelic face, but still unable to completely hide the mischief within him, easily identified by the cheeky smile playing on his lips at that moment.

“Don’t know why you’re so excited, bro; with that size, dribbling you will be the easiest thing in the world.”

“Watch what you say, scrawny boy.”

“This is definition, something a ogre like you will never know what it is.”

“Come talk about agility when you compete with me in rugby.”

“And why would I stuff myself into a game with a bunch of lard arses?”

“Who are you calling fat, punk?”

“Not me, your body mass index.”

“You’re getting quite cheeky there, lad. I want to see you crack jokes on the pitch.” Farrel replied with false irritation.

“When I get past you, you won’t even notice, chubby!”

….

Aaryan Patel was absolutely fuming; he had no idea why his boss at the Independent Herald had sent him from London to that conservative hellhole that Daffodil Meadow had become. And to top it all off, he was heading straight to the epicentre of that rubbish, the King Richard Institute for Boys, aka Lionheart School. A place he had written a series of scathing articles about in recent months, which didn’t mean he wanted to walk into the lion’s den, especially when it was the lion himself who had sent the invitation. But his editor insisted it was too good an opportunity to pass up, and now here he was, walking purposefully along the edge of the grass on the school’s grand football pitch towards Director Johnson, who was at that moment in one of the few empty stands. Apparently, it was a tradition for the school and the surrounding villages to gather every evening to watch some sort of competition from the different teams, and today it was a football match. What didn’t make sense was the question Aaryan kept asking himself: why the hell did Henderson Johnson make him walk across the pitch where the students were parading around with their muscular bodies on display while the school staff prepared everything for the match?

As Aaryan made his way to his destination, he passed two muscular black blokes wearing the infamous light blue polo shirt of the sports team, one of whom was much bigger than the other. The one he wanted to take down the most. However, when the larger man glanced at Aaryan as he walked towards the nearest entrance to the stands, the lad who considered himself a brave man felt his knees go weak. Feeling angry with himself as he watched the two lugs burst into laughter, Aaryan quickened his pace and climbed the stands to meet Director Johnson.

“Mr. Patel, it’s a pleasure to meet you in person after reading the rather vehement words you used to describe me, my school, and my students.” The man said with a threatening smile. But Aaryan wasn’t going to let himself be intimidated; he was indeed brave, and although he was much leaner than the brute, he wasn’t a total wimp; he could handle whatever the other bloke had to throw at him. And any words spoken would receive an appropriate response from his sharp mind.

“Vehement is an appropriate but incomplete description of what I have to say about this place, Director Johnson. And that description could also be applied to the behaviour of the people here, although belligerent might be a more fitting term.”

“And you know a thing or two about belligerence, don’t you? Big guy like you? Bet you’ve had your fair share of scraps, haven’t you, Aaron?”

“The name’s Aaryan! And I prefer to fight with words.”

“Ha, I knew there was a fighter in you; I never miss.” The man commented as if Aaryan's response had been completely different, leaving the journalist confused for a moment. Quickly shaking off that momentary confusion, he turned back to the giant blonde.

“So, Director Johnson, what’s the purpose of summoning me here? And summon is the right word; my editor informed me that you pressured him quite insistently and intimidatingly, I should add.”

“Right, lad, I just wanted you to see for yourself what it’s really like here, what you’ve been so harsh about. You might not realise it, but what you write affects people’s lives, people I care about; my staff and my students.”

“Forgive me, Director Johnson, but the actions of those people you care about affect many others’ lives.”

“You paint us as monsters, Aaron, but do what I asked you: roam about, chat with my students and teachers; there’s one teacher in particular who’s quite eager to have a word with you.” The director said, smiling and nodding towards the pitch where Blake Garrett was watching closely as Zeke Hastings paced back and forth, correcting both teams’ players’ positions.

A chill ran down his spine at the thought of talking to that man. Forgetting to correct the misuse of his name, he responded to the director.

“Alright, I’ll do that, but I don’t think anything will change my mind. I’m sure the teachers are lost causes by now and the students are probably already conditioned to the behaviours taught here.”

“We’re not a cult, Aaron, but if you want a fresh opinion, why not have a chat with the centre-forward for the black team? The blonde lad in number 9. Duke has been at the school for less than a week; see what he has to say after the game.”

“I know how to identify a centre-forward, thanks! And I think I’ll do just that; cheers!” replied the journalist, who until a few minutes ago certainly couldn’t identify any positions.

After chatting with some students and teachers who repeated the same toxic spiel about masculine values, manliness, and the rightful place a man should occupy in society, Aaryan felt drained. Coming here had certainly been a bad idea. He thought about leaving and writing another scathing article about the evils of that place. However, he realised that the game had finally come to an end when he saw the blonde centre-forward walking to the edge of the pitch, opening a bottle of water and taking a long swig that practically emptied the bottle in one gulp. As Aaryan approached him, the lad poured the remaining water over his sweaty hair, then shook it off vigorously just as Aaryan reached him.

“Good afternoon, lad; my name’s Aaryan Patel, Director Johnson told me I could have a word with you.” He said, moving closer to the lad and using an authoritative figure as a reference to ensure the lad paid attention; he had dealt with many of those arrogant lads in the past couple of hours to give the kid a chance to mock him or simply ignore him.

“Eh?” The lad huffed, flexing his muscles and shaking the soaked t-shirt. This was pretty much the expected behaviour from any football player giving an interview after an hour and a half of strenuous exercise. What Aaryan, as any good fan of the game, should have remembered. So he repeated the information to the lad.

“My name’s Aaryan and you’re Duke, right? I want to ask you a few things about the school.”

“Sure, mate.” The lad replied, looking more awake after taking off his shirt and showing off his powerful physique, even though it was clear that not much was going on upstairs. This diminished Aaryan’s hopes of getting any productive conversation, as it was obvious the lad belonged there. Still, he decided to press on; when in Rome…

“So, what do you think of the school? Settling in well?”

“Aaron, mate, this place is brilliant! I begged for nearly two years to come here, but my dad thought I’d have better chances of getting signed if I kept training in a bigger city. It was only when Coach BIG took over the sports department that he was convinced.”

“Um… just out of curiosity, who’s your dad?”

“Haha, as if you don’t know who he is, Aaron, mate! I’m not some little kid to fall for your tricks.” The lad replied, giving a thumbs up.

“What are you on about?” Aary… Aaron asked, confused. But then something worse happened; the lad turned to the middle of the pitch where his teammates were milling about, shirtless, chatting and joking under the watchful eye of the coach, who was in turn under the direct supervision of the head of the sports department, the infamous BIG, who was precisely the person the lad was addressing.

“Oi, Coach BIG! Come meet my mate, Aaron.” And to Aaron’s horror, the man who instilled all his primal fears turned to him, serious for being interrupted, but soon a mischievous grin spread across his face.

Strutting towards the two with all the arrogance in the world, looking at Aaron with the same gaze a lion gives to a gazelle before it attacks, making Aaron’s knees tremble… but why? He should respect the bloke, of course… but no matter how big he was, Aaron could handle him… how? Certainly not with words… hey… what was he thinking here? What intrusive thoughts were those? However, he had no time to fight against those ideas so contrary to his essence because at that moment, the coach was standing before him, eclipsing everything else with his immense physical presence.

“Aaryan Patel, the man of the moment! You have no idea how much I wanted to meet you!”

“It’s Aaron… sir.” He added. The respect for the figure of coaches ingrained in him wouldn’t allow him to respond any other way. But why so much respect?

“When young Duke told me he knew you, I couldn’t resist the idea of bringing him here. But where exactly do you two know each other from?”

“Eh… what?” He had just met the lad, right? But then where did the memories of him teaching the kid fighting positions come from? Fighting? What fighting? In the midst of his confusion, it was Duke who answered.

“It’s my dad’s agency that looks after Aaron’s career, coach. In fact, he’s been following Aaron from the beginning; he’s spent more time at our house than at his own over the last few years.”

“Oh, of course. A cunning man like Archie wouldn’t let a talent like that slip through his fingers.” Agency, what agency? Big-name journalists needed agents, but a rookie like Aaron… mate, in his world, even rookies needed a decent agent; it was the difference between a million-dollar career and retirement in the gutter, and Wall Archie was the best; after all, he had experienced firsthand how cruel that world could be. Yeah, the world was a cruel place, and it was his duty to expose those ills… No, not that, what he needed to do was fight… yes, fight for improvements in society… mate, society was what it was and that was that… in this life, you either lose or win, and Aaron Blink Patel, rising star of the heavyweight MMA scene, was born to win. He earned the nickname for the short time he needed to take down opponents. Which was almost the same amount of time he dedicated to interviews with journalists. He didn’t need many words in his life, being known for keeping his opinion to himself, aware of what the media vultures could do to his career. The only time he expressed his opinions was when he was with his friends, when he let out all the intensity inside him, in conversations filled with cheeky banter and heated praises of masculinity in today’s world. And if there was someone who was the ultimate representation of masculinity, it was Aaron Fucking Blink Patel!

“No… no…”

“Aaron, mate, it’s all good?”

“Of course it is, Duke; it’s just the fighter inside him manifesting, but now it’s just a matter of a blink and it’ll all be sorted.” Coach BIG commented.

“Just a blink…” Aaron grumbled, and then… blink… and… his toned, lean torso expanded like a flower blooming, if flowers were made of huge, protruding muscles and their scent was an animalistic musk, with a touch of spices that didn’t go unnoticed even in that place full of sweaty young men… blink … and his legs exploded in size and power needed to crush opponents… blink… and the years dedicated to reading and research evaporated, replaced by training in jiu-jitsu, boxing, and Muay Thai… blink… and all the pent-up rage inside him flowed out in flowery words in sharp texts, concentrating in the massive paws that were his fists and feet… wink… and Aaron Blink Patel found himself smiling at the man and the lad before him, an image seen only by those the fighter deemed worthy. But he’d known Duke since he was younger than the kid, and after hearing the glowing praise he gave about his new coach, the man earned Aaron’s respect without needing to lift a finger.

“Sorry, what were you saying, sir?”

“You can call me Coach BIG; Aaron is what everyone calls me.”

“Yes, sir.” He replied, causing Duke to burst into laughter.

“You’re a lost cause, mate.”

“Actually, I think Aaron is a great example to follow; I wish my rowdy students had his level of respect.” Coach BIG commented, his voice cutting, making the lad’s smile fade instantly. “By the way, after I speak to the team, I’d love for you to have a word with those rascals, Aaron. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a motivational speech to give. Duke, keep him company while I’m at it.”

“Yes, coach, sir.”

“See? Just your presence has instilled some respect in this cheeky little sod.” The coach commented before returning to the pitch to address the teams.

“Could you not be such a teacher’s pet, mate?”

“I only got where I am because I respected my coaches and your dad; authority figures are there to be respected. Don’t you want to be captain of the team? Don’t you want to be a pro one day? You could already be playing for a real team if you had a bit more discipline since talent isn’t lacking. Take advantage of that man.” He said, pointing to the coach who was animatedly giving a speech. “BIG is a legend, a legend capable of making other legends; it was a scandal to find out a man like him had moved to the States, but the results he achieved with Dalton’s teams speak for themselves. And he brought in fucking Zeke Hastings to train you lot, and your dad to manage those of you who are truly capable of going pro. So yes, listen to what your coaches have to say; you may think it’s just theatre, but it’s the attitude that separates the men from the boys.” Aaron finished, flexing his powerful muscles to the point where the polo shirt he was wearing ripped under his arms.

“Wow, mate! That’s wicked! You’re a beast!” Duke said with such genuine admiration that Aaron couldn’t help but smile and repeat the feat, tearing his shirt even more before returning to a serious demeanor and looking at the younger lad.

“And you know how I became who I am today, little brother? By listening to all the shite my coaches had to say to me!” He said, pointing in the direction of Coach BIG, who was just finishing his speech, raising his voice so that everyone on the pitch and in the stands could hear him easily.

“… because this society wants to diminish you, weaken you. They want you to believe that being a man is wrong, that being what we were born to be is a shame. But they don’t know the power you carry with you, the influence you possess; many of you will be professional athletes, some already are. You’ll be seen around the world, admired, able to inspire, capable of making our brothers, hounded by our enemies, react, and more than that, you can make some of those enemies see the mistakes they’ve made and bring them back to the right path, and for those who insist on their mistakes, you’ll be able to hit them where it hurts most, where they’ve been hitting us for years, and I’m talking about their children; You will shape and save them because you have the power to correct what’s wrong in this generation, then in they do same with the next. The truth is men, and never forget it, you have power! And we’ll use it to secure a better, brighter future!

#male tf #jockification #mental transformation #corruption #race change #reality change #mind change #musclegrowth

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aithusarosekiller · 1 day

Text

I know the prank is overdone atp but I'd like to offer a different take on it :) including the Remus, Lily, Regulus friendship trio ofc bc I love them!

Contrary to popular hc (which I also like! Not criticising it at all), I'm going to lean into the way they all seem to get over it pretty quickly. Sirius brings it up like a silly joke and Remus doesn't act too bothered by it.

Say that they all joke about it from the day after it happens. It starts with James saying 'close one, huh?' To diffuse any tension, and Peter laughs. Sirius isn't acting like his actions were that big of a deal between all the meetings that day so Remus goes along with it and pretends he doesn't care. Because that's how they are, isn't it? They torment people, sometimes each other, then they laugh about it. So he puts on a smile and acts like it was all a big funny joke. He doesn't want to show bitterness or hurt and make it into something bigger. He can't be bothered to fight over it. So he pretends it's fine.

Until his two other friends notice something is off. He's quieter, more reserved, less happy to discuss what he's reading with them and preferring to sit in silence. Lily notices it first, of course she does, it's Lily. She tries to ask him about it but doesn't get anything from him except a faux-dumb 'wrong? Nothings wrong, what do you mean?' She tries to ask the boys about it but none of them know what she means. She hasn't spoken to Severus in a while by now and chooses to ignore him whenever she can, so she doesn't notice anything off with him either. She keeps an eye out for any hints for a few days, then Regulus finally notices too.

He comes right to her, pulling her aside to ask what happened. She admits she doesn't know and shares that she's been trying to figure it out without being abrasive and scaring anyone off. Regulus, never too scared of being abrasive, and in a very rare fit of moral righteousness, chooses to go and figure it out himself, despite her warning not to make it worse. He finds Sirius, which he never usually does, and asks him what he did. Lily follows him and watches from afar. Sirius doesn't know that they're friends; meaning it takes a moment and a bit of explanation for him to understand what he means but then he figures it out and starts laughing, explaining that it's a joke and Remus didn't really care. 'If he did, he'd have said something, stupid.'

They argue for a bit before Regulus storms off in a childish rage, followed by a slightly irritated Lily, who had tried to warn him it would likely worsen things. They confront Remus about it and he tells them he doesn't mind that much, he'll get over it soon enough. James asks him later if he cares, he says he doesn't and forces himself to laugh along with them all.

Eventually he managed to push himself to get over it and laugh, but the crack never truly healed over.

#regulus black #lily evans #remus lupin #marauders era

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samandcolbyownme · 1 day

Note

FIC MOMMA I NEEEEED MATT STURNIOLO IDC EHAT I MEED HIM

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, toxic relationship, arguing/fighting, name calling, kissing, rough unprotected sex, choking, hair pulling, biting, scratching, creampie filth

Word Count: 2.5k | unedited

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

You couldn’t deny that the chaos in your relationship with Matt drove you insane. But the sick and twisted park inside of you loved it.

It loved the toxic chaos, the wreckage and it especially loved the make up sex that followed and falling in love with him all over again.

It was a cycle.

A dark and twisted cycle, but you couldn’t let him go.

“What the fuck, Matt?” You huffed, “You’re drunk, again?” You paused your tv show and sat up from the couch as he spoke, “Even when I’m drunk, you’re my my only type.”

“What does that even mean?” You ask, tilting your head as you hear familiar chatter in the background, “Are you at that fucking club again?”

“Nothing is happening, y/n. I just..” he groans, the sound getting quieter, “my friends hate seeing me so down.”

“Maybe if you wouldn’t be such a fucking asshole, you wouldn’t have to be so down.” You roll your eyes, “I said I was done and I meant it that time.”

“Come on, baby. You and I are like Bonnie and Clyde. If you’re done, I can have two grave sites dug later tonight because I’m not letting you go.”

“You literally called me a fucking crazy bitch for getting pissed that you flirted with the waitress right in front of me.”

“I wasn’t flirting, see.” He laughs, “I was being fucking nice, what do you want me to just be a fucking dickhead to everyone I come across?”

“You’re a dickhead to me so what the fuck does it matter?” You scoff, “I can’t.. I can’t do this.”

“Not fight any more?” He laughs slightly, “Yeah, same. So what do you say to a little.. make up sex? Hmm. I can come over right now.”

“No.” You say quickly, “I told you, I’m done.”

“Oh my god, y/n. You hate my guts, but then five minutes from now, you’re going to say you love me, fuck, I’m not-“ he sighs, “You can’t tell me you don’t love me. You posted those pictures of us, but you just cropped me out.”

“Yeah, because I looked good.” You roll your eyes, “I’m hanging up now. Have fun with your little one night stands and whatever the fuck it is you’re drinking.”

As you pull the phone away from your ear, Matt’s voice gets louder, “I love you, I love you, please.”

You shake your head, hitting the red circle.

You throw your phone down and take a deep breath as your phone chimes on the cushion next to you. You close your eyes, kicking your own ass for even looking at his texts.

I’m missing you baby

Is it someone new?

Y/n, please just tell me did you move the fuck on already? I mean, I guess you know what they say, can’t stop a running from running so go do what you need to do and I’ll be here when you come running back okay

You scoff, your thumbs moving at the speed of light as you text him back,

There’s no one fucking else Matt you fucking control my life, my everything. I’m trying to move on because your love is not fucking love and it’s all just a big fucking mess.

I said I’m done, and I mean it. Leave me the fuck alone or I swear to god I’ll slash your fucking tires

You grip your phone, your hands shaking with both rage and regret. You see his chat bubbles pop up and laugh at his response,

God

You’re actually crazy

I love it

You shake your head, closing your eyes as you try and figure out what to say back, “Fuck, Matt.” You sigh, shaking your head again before typing

I love you, Matt… but please, just let me the hell go we’re only hurting each other, and that’s not helping anyone in any way that is good

You set your phone down, hands moving to cover your face, “What the fuck. What the fuck.”

Your phone chimes again but you ignore it.

It chimes again, you ignore it.

It chimes again, and finally you huff, snatching your phone off the couch and standing up as you walk to your bedroom. You glance down at your screen, quickly skimming over his messages,

We can make it work, I can change we can do this

please don’t say that please

Let me come over let me see you please baby

As you’re typing, another message comes through and you can’t help but let out a laugh to hide the fact that it’s like a knife through your chest,

Fine I’m done with you

Bye

You throw your phone on your bed and close your door, turning to walk back out to the couch and click play on your paused show.

Two hours later, you decide to grab your phone. To your, not so much surprise, you see a text from Matt,

Hey

You roll your eyes, sitting down on your bed. You stare at the text, taking a deep breath before you start to type.

A knock on the door causes you to stop and you let out a sigh as you stand up, “I swear to god.” You walk out to the door, “Matt. If it’s you I’m-“ you open the door and there he stands, a smug smirk resting on his lips, “You’re gonna what?”

You roll your eyes, “close the door.” You go to close it and he stops it, holding it open enough to slip in before closing it, “No you’re not.”

“Leave.” You cross your arms, “I mean it, Matt. We can’t-“

“What? Can’t what? Be in love with each other? Because I hate to break it to you sweetheart, we are.”

“Matthew.”

“Y/n.”

You tilt your head back, eyes closing as you gather up all the patience you have, “Why are you here?”

“I said I missed you. So I did something about it.”

“We broke up.” You look at him, “And I meant it this time.”

He squints, leaning against the counter, “So then, what was.. mm, two nights ago?”

“Break up sex.” You shrug, “I don’t know.”

“The night before that?” He tilts his head a smirk on his lips and you shrug, “I don’t kn- I don’t know!”

“Mm. Okay.”

“I believe, I told you that I was leaving right after and you fought me on it.” You roll your eyes, “And guess what, I was gone when you woke up, both times.”

“That doesn’t mean shit, you still talked to me, called me-“

“Correction. I answered your calls.” You point at him and he chuckles, giving you a shrug, “Same difference.”

You shake your head, “Not really, no.”

He laughs, walking over to you. His hands slide over your hips and pull you in, “Come on, ma. I know you missed me, too. Can’t do a day without anything.”

“I can, you just never give it any time to see for yourself.”

He tilts his head, “Tell me you don’t think about it.”

“Think about what?” You look up at him, “If you’re referring to-“

“You.. face down, ass shaking, as you beg for me to fuck you. Telling me how sorry you are. How much you miss me, how much you miss how good I make you feel.”

“Shut up.” You look down and he tilts your chin up, “Eyes don’t lie, baby. I can tell you miss me just as much as I miss you.”

“Must not be a lot then.” A smirk toys with your lips and he smiles, “Mm. Keep telling yourself that.” He dips his head down, his lips connecting with yours for a split second before you push him away, “No. no. We’re not..” you sigh, “Not doing that.”

“We can be better, for each other, ma. Come on.” He walks over to you, “I promise, I’ll try harder.”

“You said that the last few times and look at where it’s gotten us.”

He scoffs, “I’m sorry, what more do you want from me?”

“I want to actually be treated like a girlfriend. Not an option, or a.. a place holder while you look for something.. someone else.” You shake your head, “You know what, I’m not explaining it anymore.”

“I know, you’re done. But let me prove to you how sorry I am, ma. Please. I’ve been needing you, non stop thinking about you.”

You chew on your lip, staring down at the floor, “It just.. feels like we breakup just to make up, you know?” You look up at him, “And that’s just.. I don’t know, lately I’m exhausted.”

“So let me take care of you.” Matt offers, “Please. I really..” he tilts your chin up, “we’re like.. Bonnie and Clyde, baby. I’m willing to die for you.”

“Sure as fuck doesn’t seem it. You’d probably be too busy looking at another girl to even see the bullet coming at me.” You push his hands off of you and go to walk away.

He grabs your arm, pinning you up against the wall.

You wanted to fight him, push him out of the door, but you just couldn’t, “Matt.”

“You’re who I want, I was dumb, stupid.” His lips trail up your neck and you let out a small sigh as he continues, “I’m trying, y/n.” He kisses up to your lips, “This is me trying.”

You reach up, laying a hand on his cheek, “I don’t know if I want to slap you, or choke you out.”

“I’ll let you do both if you’re on top of me naked.”

You look up at him, your hands pulling him in by the neck, “We scream when we fuck, we scream when we fight..” you shrug, “So why the fuck not.”

His lips are on yours. His hands travel down your body as he slides them down to lift you up.

Your left wrap tight around his waist, his hand tangling in the hair at the base of his skull as his lips move with yours.

He walks you over to the couch, laying you on your back as his body stays hovered over yours. He wastes no time slipping his hand into your sweats, his fingers circling your clit.

You moan, body arching off the couch.

He groans against your neck, “No one can replace you, just like no one can replace me.”

He sucks a hickey into your skin, earning an even louder moan from you, but they continue flying from your lips as his fingers slip into your achy cunt, “Fuck, oh my god, Matt.”

Your nails dig into his shoulders, eyes rolling back as his fingers curl, “Fuck, yes, yes.” You whine, walls squeezing his fingers, “Oh fuck, fuck.”

Matt kisses up your neck, “Keep them comin’ ma. Wanna hear all you got for me.”

You moan louder at his words, your nails dragging down his skin as your body tenses up and jerks beneath him, “I-I’m co- fuck, I’m there, I’m there!”

Matt’s fingers work you through your high, listening to your loud moans and whines as you come down, “Fuck, fuck, yes, yes!”

He pulls his fingers out, moving his hands to take off his white tank and you push your sweats down, kicking them off before you remove your shirt.

Matt stands up to kick off his clothes and he sits down, reaching over to pull you into his lap.

You immediately sink down onto him, head tilting back as you feel him enter you fully, “Oh shit.” You slide your hands up his shoulders, leaning forward as you look down at him.

His hands grip your hips, urging you to move, “F-fuck.” He groans, “Move, fuck, move.”

You move your hips, moaning louder and louder the faster your pace builds up. His hand slides up, taking your hand to move it to his neck, “Do it. Use me to get it all out, ma.”

You smirk, your lip pulling between your teeth as your hand tightens around his neck. He tilts his head back, moaning out as his hand returns to your hip.

Your mouth falls open, moans repeatedly flying out as you stare down at him, “You’re so fucking hot.” You tighten your grip and he moans louder.

Your eyes stay locked on his, your head tilting back as you slam your hips down, “Fuck, Matt! Fuck, fuck!”

His hands guide you up and down, his grip just as tight as your hand on him. You lean down, your lips connecting with his as your hands slide around his neck.

You grip the back of the couch, moaning loudly into Matt’s ear as you cum, “Fuck, fuck, feels so good, so fucking good.” A string of moans and whine follow, and suddenly you’re on your back.

“So fucking good.” Matt moans, his thrusts fast and intense as he guides you through, “Fuck, I love you.”

You arch your back, your nails creating welted lines as you drag your nails glide over his skin, “I-i love you, I love you, oh fuck, d-don’t stop, please don’t fucking stop.”

His lips land on yours, your moans mixing together which cut the kissing short. Your eyes roll back and close as your legs hold him tight around the waist, “Oh my god. Matt, Matt, fuck!”

“Feels so good.” He moans out loudly, “Fuck, ma. M’gonna cum.”

You open your eyes, staring up at him, “There’s no one else but you.” You pull him down, lips planting onto his, “I can’t let you go, either.”

He nods, groaning as his thrusts quickly turn sloppy. You tighten your legs and moan as you feel his cock twitching inside of you, coating your walls with his cum.

“Fuck. Fuck.” He moans, head tilting to the side as he slowly pushes in deeper, “Fuck, ma.” He looks down at you, giving you a slight smirk as his chest rises and falls quickly.

You undo your legs and lift your head, “Oops.” You smile and bite your lip as he pulls out, “Just couldn’t help myself.”

He shakes his head, “You know what this means right?”

You roll your eyes as he sits up, “I’m yours.”

“Mm, what else?” He bites his lip, smirking as you laugh slightly, “This pussy is also yours.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” He leans in, pecking your lips, “So.”

“So.. what?” You stand up, your legs shaking slightly and Matt smiles as he notices, “Well first off, I think I did a good job, yeah?”

You slip on your panties and put your shirt back on, “Yeah, like always.” You laugh and sit back down next to him, “So..”

“Oh yeah.” He looks over at you, his head resting back on the couch, “You going to be here when I wake up?”

You take a deep breath, nodding your head with a smirk, “Maybe.”

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

Thanks for reading! I love you all so much. I’ll catch you in the next one! 🖤

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