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purrincess-chat · 4 years ago

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Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s Spite Playlist: Remix CH6

Here we are! Chapter 6 from last week. I will share 7 either tonight or tomorrow to space them out a little bit, but 7 will be coming soon to make up for not posting last week. Only a couple more chapters until the fun begins ;)

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Chapter 6: Call It Off

“Chloe?”

Adrien and Marinette stared at her with equally bewildered expressions. Chloe glared daggers at Marinette, frosty blue eyes piercing through her.

“What are you doing here? In my house? Who let you in?” Marinette bristled.

Chloe rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. “I came to your pathetic hovel to…ask for your help,” she said the last word with a hint of disgust.

“You want my help?” Marinette scoffed.

“Oh, don’t get all sappy on me, Dupain-Cheng. I still hate you, but I hate you less right now, so I’m calling a temporary truce,” she explained.

“And just why should I help you?” Marinette leaned back in her chair with a skeptical glare.

“Because I think it will be mutually beneficial to both of us,” Chloe replied. She glanced around the room with a wrinkled nose. “Ugh, how do you live like this? It’s so tiny.”

“What exactly do you want, Chloe?” Adrien asked.

“What are you doing here?” she asked as if noticing him for the first time. “It’s bad enough that I’m desperate enough to come to Dupain-Cheng for help. I don’t need you two canoodling to make my day worse.”

“Adrien and I are friends, Chloe. He can hang out with me if he wants.” Chloe held up a hand to silence her mid-sentence, but Marinette ignored her.

“No, I know you two are friends—it’s a fact that’s made me question Adrien’s sanity for a while now—but I thought you ditched everyone at Francoise-Dupont,” Chloe said. She shook her head. “We can discuss it later, right now I have bigger things to deal with. I know you hate Lila, and now I hate Lila because she’s getting in my way. You were the only real annoyance I had at school, so if anyone can help me destroy her it’s you, so I’ve been thinking-”

“Chloe, do you really think taking Lila down is the best way to go?” Adrien chided.

Chloe blinked at him before throwing her head back with a laugh. “Adrikins, how long have you known me?” She placed a hand on her hip. “Taking people down is what I do.”

“So then why do you need my help exactly?” Marinette asked.

“Because unlike the other losers at the school, Lila is crazy connected, and as much as I hate to admit it, you aren’t so bad-off either.” Chloe cringed. “After seeing your performance with Jagged Stone, I thought I might have an in.”

“Chloe, don’t you think it’s time you stopped trampling over people?” Adrien asked. He stood up and placed his hands on her shoulders with a pleading look. “Be nice for once. I know you know how.”

“Why? So I can be a pushover just like you? No thanks.” Chloe slapped his hands away.

“I’m not a pushover.” Adrien huffed.

“Please, Adrikins, I’ve been walking all over you for years. You’re as spineless as a snail. Marinette used to be which is why I loved picking on her, but even she finally grew a backbone. So annoying.” Chloe sighed, turning to Marinette. “So, are you going to help me take down Little Miss Exotic or not?”

“Adrien’s right, Chloe. Lila will just lie her way out of anything we throw at her. Besides, I’m over that whole mess. I don’t want to put up with her,” Marinette said.

Chloe held up a perfectly manicured hand, eyes narrowing. “You’ve always been on some trip about her being a liar, tell me more,” she said.

Marinette exchanged looks with Adrien.

“Chloe, I really don’t-”

“Wait.” Chloe cut her off, eyes widening. “She is a liar, isn’t she? And you two are the only ones who know, which is why you’re still in cahoots. I should have known. No one that famous would have such horrible split ends.” A grin stretched across her lips. “This is excellent news! So, what is our plan to destroy her?”

“There isn’t one,” Adrien said.

Chloe made herself comfortable in his chair, waving him away. “Adrien, be a dear and fetch me some tea. Marinette and I have big things to discuss, and we don’t need your moral compass getting in the way.”

“I don’t even live he-”

“Tea.” Chloe gave him a stern look. He chewed his cheek before storming downstairs to the kitchen, and Chloe turned back to Marinette. “Now then, we need a plan.”

“No, Chloe. I told you. I’m not getting into this,” Marinette said firmly. “I’m done.”

“Oh, are you?” Chloe arched a smug brow. “Lila has been tarnishing your good-girl reputation.”

“I don’t care.”

“She’s got everyone at school wrapped around her little finger, especially that brat with the blog you used to hang out with.”

“Not my problem anymore.”

“Today she made Rose pick out all of the tomatoes from her salad because she’s ‘allergic,’” Chloe said.

Marinette swiveled away, crossing her arms over her chest to hide how her fists shook, so Chloe continued. “In gym class, she convinced the teacher to let Kim carry her because she has asthma. She has Max doing her homework because she doesn’t want to fail after missing school to help so many poor people.” Chloe rolled closer, leaning into her ear. “She’s using all of the people you care about. Doesn’t that make your blood boil?”

Marinette fought back angry tears, her fingernails digging into her palms until they broke the skin. She took a deep breath, swallowing the lump in her throat before replying. “I’m not helping you. You know she’s a liar, so you figure something out,” she said with a finality that left no room for arguing. “You’re usually pretty good at getting what you want.”

“Not as good as I thought, obviously,” Chloe grumbled before stalking to the trap door. She paused, turning to look at Marinette over her shoulder. “Ya know, I came here to ask for your help because I thought that if anyone could set things right, it’d be you.”

“Why?” Marinette’s eyes narrowed.

“Because you love helping people and you always get things done.” Chloe averted her gaze stubbornly. “As much as I hate to admit it—and if you ever tell anyone that I said this, I will deny it and sue you for slander—but you’re a good leader, and I thought that maybe you’d care about your friends.”

Marinette pressed her lips into a firm line, fixing her gaze on the wall in front of her. “They’re not my friends.”

The floorboards creaked as Chloe shifted her weight. She stood there likely contemplating a way to get Marinette change her mind, but Marinette wasn’t going to budge. Chloe must have realized this because she crawled back through the trapdoor without another word. Her footsteps pounded down the stairs with the same ferocity they had coming up.

Marinette waited until the front door slammed before her stubborn countenance fell. She hunched forward to catch her face, hot tears streaming down her cheeks. Tikki flitted up to nuzzle her face, but when footsteps sounded up the stairs again, she darted for Marinette’s sewing drawer.

“You okay?” Adrien asked, setting a fresh teacup on the desk and wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

“No.” She shifted to bury her face in his chest. He smelled like expensive cologne. Marinette could have breathed him in all day, but now wasn’t the time for that.

“Chloe is a steam roller. She doesn’t stop until she gets her way,” Adrien said. He rubbed her back, leaning his cheek against her hair with a sigh. “You and I know that better than anyone.”

“It’s not that.” Marinette shook her head. “It’s just that she’s right. Lila using my friends makes me angry. I hate seeing them being manipulated. I want to help, but I don’t want to fight this anymore. I just-” Her voice cracked, and she nuzzled into his shoulder, squeezing her eyes shut.

Adrien held her tightly, but she was in too much pain to enjoy it. All that time she’d spent daydreaming about being enveloped in his strong arms but never once did she imagine it would feel like this. Empty, helpless, lonely. Adrien was the last buoy above water in the storm, and Marinette was clinging for dear life.

“You’re really brave for standing up to Chloe. I admire that about you,” he said when her sobs quieted. “Can I ask you something?”

Her heart skipped a beat. It wouldn��t be the question she wanted, and even if it was, she didn’t necessarily want Adrien to ask her to be his girlfriend while her snot was still drying on his shirt. Oh god, she got snot on his shirt.

“About what Chloe said… Do you think I’m spineless?”

It definitely wasn’t the question she hoped, but it left her dumbstruck, nonetheless. “I- no! You’re really nice. You just don’t like conflict that’s all,” Marinette said.

“Spineless.” He leaned back in his chair and nodded. “My mom taught me that pitching a fit causes more problems than it solves, and that I should never make a fuss. I guess I just have a hard time abandoning that mindset now that she’s gone.”

“People like Chloe walk over those they think are weak. You just need a little more confidence.” Marinette assured him.

“I don’t have the luxury of causing trouble with my father breathing down my neck. As if he needs another reason to keep me at home. If I step out of line, he could take everything away from me.” He shook his head. “Sometimes I wish I knew how to stand up for myself, like you do. I’m just so afraid of disappointing people and losing everything.”

“Sometimes it’s good to stand up for yourself, especially if something is making you unhappy or hurting someone you love. I had to learn that the hard way.” She took a thoughtful sip of tea. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot…if people have a problem with you doing what’s best for yourself, then are they really people you want in your life?”

“That’s why you broke things off with Alya.”

Marinette nodded, and Adrien tapped his fingers on his thigh as if choosing his next words carefully. “Will you teach me how to be more assertive?” he asked. “I would ask Chloe or Kagami, but I feel like they’re a bit…extreme. You’re always assertive in a good way.”

“I- uh, I could try.” She nodded, cheeks burning. “I’ll always help you.”

“I know I can always count on you. You’re awesome, Marinette.” He pulled her in for another hug before abruptly pushing away. “I- hopefully, I’m not asking too much. If I ever stress you out or if you don’t want to, I can leave you alone…”

Marinette giggled at that, bringing a flush to Adrien’s cheeks. “Assertive lesson number one: stop assuming that asking for someone’s help is a nuisance. You’re my friend, and I want to help you,” she advised. “I think it’s good that you’re aware of how other’s might be feeling, but you don’t have to apologize for everything.”

“Sorry!” His cheeks darkened as he caught himself. “I- sorry, what I meant was sorry for doing that, and I- see what you mean.”

“Have more confidence in yourself, and don’t be afraid to say no. I still struggle with that sometimes,” she said. “Just don’t let it go to your head. There’s a big difference between being assertive and being a jerk. N-Not that I think you’re a jerk, just there are times to be assertive and times to let it go, so just…balance.”

“How do I know when I should stand up for myself or not?” he asked.

Marinette weighed her answer and shrugged. “Well, with me it’s just…I get a feeling in my gut that it’s the right thing to do. I don’t know how to explain it.”

“You really are a natural leader, Marinette—a true Ladybug,” Adrien said.

Her stomach jumped up to her throat, heart pounding. “What? I’m not Ladybug! I mean- she and I are nothing alike. Totally different. We don’t even have the same hair- I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said with a nervous titter.

“I think you’d make a great Ladybug. Just as good as the real one.” He chuckled. “Don’t sell yourself short.”

“I- you really think so?”

“Of course.” Adrien nodded. “Anyone who doesn’t think so is blind. Jagged was right. You really are miraculous, Marinette.”

Her heart hammered, bringing a rush of warmth to her cheeks. So much praise made her dizzy, especially knowing he meant every word. She’d be up late for many nights replaying this exact moment—the moment where all of Adrien’s attention was on her.

Feeling brave, she met his gaze and bit her lip. “Adrien? I-”

“Marinette! You’ve got a letter from your nonna!” her dad called up the stairs, cutting her off.

“Okay!” Her heart sank to the floor, moxie fading.

“I should probably get going. I have to practice piano tonight.” Adrien stood up and stretched. “Thanks for having me over. I’ll come by again soon, okay?”

“Yeah, totally.” Marinette nodded, following him down the stairs.

He paused at the door, fingers tapping the handle before he turned back to her. “If you ever need anyone to talk to about everything… call me. I’ve got your back.” He flashed her a warm smile. “See you later.”

“Bye, Adrien.” She waved as he disappeared down the stairs, letting out a deep breath once he was gone.

She paced over to the table where a thick envelope rested and tore it open. Inside was a long, multi-page letter wrapped in a small bracelet. She smiled, trailing her fingers over the beads before flopping onto the couch to read about her grandma’s latest adventures. As her eyes scanned the page, her heartbeat accelerated before a shrill scream escaped her lips.

#mdcspr #mdcsp #my writing #marinette dupain-cheng's spite playlist #marinette dupain-cheng's spite playlist remix

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writingtoforgetreality · 4 years ago

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You´re Hurting Me (Lucifer Morningstar x Reader)

Request: Can I request a lucifer x reader one shot where Lucifer and reader get into a heated argument, and he hurts the reader but quickly regrets it and it ends good? ;0 (by @candle-anon), [Lucifer-Masterlist]

Summary: Crime solving was not always easy, sometimes danger was close. A protective boyfriend made the job even harder. You could not even be mad at him, he just wanted you to be safe. This time, though, he went a bit too far.

Words: 1,573

Warnings: mentions of rape, argument, angsty shit (uhhh, I love this), language (nothing new), fluff, (Y/A) = your age, (Y/H/C) = your hair color, (Y/E/C) = your eye color

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤

Another crime solved. Success. Well, partly. This time though, not everything went smoothly. You should have seen it coming, all of you.

You were looking for a man who strolled through the bars of LA and managed to wrap young girls around his finger. His preferred look was a pretty woman, around (Y/A) years old, (Y/H/C) hair and (Y/E/C) eyes. Usually, someone like him was easy to catch. This case, though, got on your nerves. At first, it was Lucifer´s and your case but you desperately needed help so you got Chloe and Dan on board. This far, he had killed four women. The autopsy revealed that every single one of the women had been raped before he had choked them to death.

After the L.A.P.D found the latest victim, you knew you had to act fast. The lives of other innocent women were at risk. Before you even processed what was happening, you found yourself at a shitty bar, ordering a strong drink, not really caring which one. Since your appearance was similar to the victims´, your team thought it was the only way to catch this sick fuck. Well, not everyone approved. Lucifer, your boyfriend, was against this idea, understandingly. Yet, he knew there was no other chance to bring the perpetrator to a halt. After a long heated discussion, he more or less agreed but only if he was close behind all the time.

You could not quite make out the conversations going on next to you. All you could hear was your loud and hammering heartbeat. Even after trying to focus on something else, you failed miserably. Not too long after, you could feel a presence to your left. “Nothing new.” you thought. It was not the first time this night someone had tried to hit on you. Each time, you gently rejected.

“You know, someone like you shouldn´t be alone here at this time.” a rough voice made you look to your side. There he was. You could immediately tell it was him because some security cameras had caught him before. Unfortunately, nobody could see his face clearly. But the way he dressed and how his body language spoke for itself, you knew you hit the jackpot. Hopefully, your team would come out of their hiding spots and save you soon. They were about to save you, right?

All of a sudden, you were unable to control your body anymore. The only thing you could show was your fear through your eyes. What was happening to you? Where was Lucifer? Before you could think about it too much, you felt a strong arm wander around your waist. A tight grip holding you to the smoke smelling leather jacket. Disgust crept over you but you could not move. What kind of drug was he using? Maybe this was a bad idea. Or not if your friends would come to your rescue!

The man dragged you out through the backdoor and shoved you into a dark alleyway where he knew nobody could see you two. Still completely frozen, you knew you had no control over what would happen next. The thought of your team saving you long forgotten. He started undressing you, slowly. His touch lingering on your exposed skin way too long. Tears sprung from your eyes, running down your cheeks. This was it. Out of instinct, and because you did not want to see what he was doing to you, your eyes closed, releasing even more tears. But before his hand could touch you again, you heard a loud thud. Opening your eyes for a short time, all you could see was darkness. You were not adjusted to the dark night. Your body started losing strength and shortly after, everything went black. This time because you lost consciousness.

Waking up, you were met with the sun shining in your face. It made you squint. Your body was covered in silk sheets that felt way too familiar to you. You were in Lucifer´s bed. How did you come here? Last time you checked, you were sitting at that bar, ready to catch this rapist. Was that a dream? No, that could not be.

Moving the soft covers off of your body, you noticed you were wearing one of Lucifer´s white button ups. Swinging your legs over the edge of the bed, you could feel a sting on your side. One of your hands moved the shirt up. A big purple bruise was covering your waist. Huh. You were clumsy but never had you had such a bad bruise before. Maybe Lucifer knew more.

“Luci?” your voice echoed through the huge apartment.

“(Y/N)? Darling.” he let out a long sigh and moved from the bar over to where you were standing. His arms opened and you let him hug you.

“You shouldn´t move around, get back to bed.” his voice sounded rather harsh.

“Oh? And why is that?” you teased, wanting to ease the tension that was building between you two.

“Funny, really. I´m not saying it again.” he started losing his temper and you could sense it. Yet you had no idea what was going on so you asked. Something you regretted mere seconds later.

“Could you not?” his scream made you take a step back. That was new. Lucifer never raised his voice towards you and if you were honest, it scared you. “STOP acting as if nothing happened yesterday! This doesn´t make it easier…” the last part was barely above a whisper.

“Luci…I have no idea what happened yesterday. All I remember is entering this bar. That´s it.” this made him look up at you.

“So you´re telling me you don´t remember being groped by this asshole? You don´t remember him undressing you? He was about to r-” it was hard for him to say it out loud. “He was about to rape you, (Y/N).” your breathed hitched and you took a second to let his words process. Slowly, bits of memory came back to you. Like how you could not move and were completely vulnerable against him.

“Did you catch him?” oh what a poor choice of words. You could see the anger rising in Lucifer. Whatever it was that triggered him, you just brought him over the edge.

“Did we- Did you hear what I just told you?” nodding at him, he did not even give you a chance to respond.

“I TOLD you it was a bad idea! I told all of them but of course they didn´t listen. And YOU agreed, too. Great, just great. Even bett-”

“It was the only way and you know that.” you interrupted him. He came closer and your back met the wall. His hands grabbed your shoulders. His grip was so hard that pain flooded through you. You did not want to tell him, though. A few seconds after, you could not bare it anymore.

“YOU´RE HURTING ME, LUCIFER! GET OFF!” you did not know how but you managed to push him off.

There was a moment of complete silence. Lucifer immediately regretted his words. Even more so, his actions. The last thing he wanted was hurting you and he just did that. He was disgusted by himself. You, on the other hand, focused your eyes on your feet, not wanting to look him in the eyes. Lucifer protected you all the time but right now, you were genuinely scared of him. What if he did it again, only, this time, harder?

“(Y/N)? I- I´m-” he took careful steps towards you only for you to move back against the wall again.

“Don´t.” your voice sounded so broken. Lucifer knew he messed up. But he tried again. This time, though, he kept his distance.

“I´m sorry. It´s just...when I saw you with that bastard, when I realized what he was about to do...I hated myself. Of course there would´ve been different ways, I should´ve sticked with my opinion. I didn´t mean to hurt you, I just want to protect you. Fuck, I´m so stupid.” he mumbled the last part more to himself but you heard him.

“Stop it, you´re not.” you looked up at him. “I agreed but trust me when I tell you how scared I was this entire time.” walking closer to him you took his hands in yours and focused on his eyes. “And then I had no control over my body and and and you weren´t there and I knew this was it. But I´m okay now, see?” tears started forming as you replayed the scene in your head again.

Lucifer hated seeing you cry so out of instinct, he wrapped his arms around you, enveloping you in warmth and safety. Something you were used to from him. He apologized over and over again. Telling you how he did not want to hurt you and you knew he meant it. So to silence him you pressed a soft kiss on his lips, taking him by surprise. It did not take him long to go with it and he melted into your touch.

The asshole was caught, you felt safe in Lucifer´s embrace and were just happy that nothing major happened to you. Lucifer was just as scared as you, probably even more. You appreciated having a protective boyfriend even if he tended to exaggerate every now and then. This made him only more lovable, though. If he was around, danger was not that big of a problem anymore.

Published (09/17/2020) by Cathy

Tags: @suckmytoesblog, @kittenlittle24, @iinvisiblewings, @magnet-girl, @lovelybutdeadlyyy, @fanfictionsilove, @coffee-wihtout-caffeine, @kashasenpai (thanks for your support <3)

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ruby-whistler · 4 years ago

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hi, here's a short (long) analysis of this song which you should at least give a watch in my opinion! you might not like it, but you also might, so i say give it a shot.

anyways, here's my personal interpretation of the lyrics i (co)wrote. ani might have a completely different one, but you know.

beforehand, i need to point out that the first half of this was written before c!wilbur's revival and the second one was written after.

so, starting with the title

my motivation for it was c!wilbur's general role in shaping the narrative of the server, as well as cc!wilbur often joking around about scripts and other plot elements.

another thing was a clip of him talking with philza about how he thought the server's storyline was becoming very scattered, and i got the idea that maybe when c!wilbur comes back, he might try to rewrite the plot to his benefit as he has done time and time again.

hence, the idea for the song was born in my mind as i was falling asleep one night, because that is the only time i get good ideas.

the first half

"history, history, s'told by the winners, made by the sinners"

this was a reference to wilbur quoting the famous line "history is told by the victors". the reason i chose to use this set of words is because although the winners (wilbur) are the ones telling the story, the people who actually make the impact are often flawed, and genuinely invested in the cause (rest of l'manberg).

while c!wilbur knew the cause of l'manberg was false, he let the "sinners", or people he considered lower than him, since he was the one "telling" the story, win the war for him and make history as he altered the finished "story" in his own favor.

"so lie that you'll free them, s'long as you lead 'em"

this one is pretty self-explanatory. wilbur promised the revolution freedom in return for total loyalty to him, his power, and his country.

i'd also like to point out the use of "you" in this song - this was written, once again, before the revival; it was however expected that dream was going to bring wilbur back at some point. and i'm pretty sure ani doesn't know this, but writing this, i intentionally made the "you" wilbur is singing to be dream.

in essence, wil's telling his newfound ally about how powerful he is due to his abilities to "rewrite the script" - picture this being your usual villain monologue song after a dramatic return, since wil's always had a knack for the theatrics. keep this in mind for the rest of the explanation of these lyrics.

"the ink doesn't dry 'till time blows by spin a silver web and they're comply"

i absolutely loved this lyric, i couldn't stop gushing about it. ani came up with this one completely, so i don't know whether or not it has any deeper meaning, but i wanted to point it out because it sounds hella cool. the second part is about c!wilbur spinning lies until people would listen to him and do what he wants.

"smiles in the mirrors, reality's a game"

this line was meant to give an idea of just how screwed wilbur's perception of the world and people around him is, in that he treats everyone's lives as a narrative, as a symphony, as something that belongs to him and is free for him to play with.

smiles in the mirrors can be taken in a lot of ways, but one interpretation i like is that wilbur and dream as characters are parallels in their actions, but no one realizes it because the narrative paints them in different lights and the tragic hero and puppeteer respectively, when it's moreso the other way around.

"with help from the spinners we can shift all the blame"

spinners are the people wilbur uses to "spin" the tales for him. and, well, he's always been very good at shifting the blame and making himself out to be a victim.

seeing as he's talking to dream, in this line he is also reassuring him that he has people on the outside that can help them "rewrite" the current narrative and shift the blame away from dream and wilbur, in order to change the public's perception of them, which is at the time overwhelmingly negative.

"and if the world hunts you down out your mind and around we'll set their precious world adrift, adrift"

this is the most obvious pointer that wilbur is singing to dream. he is directly telling him that since the people of the smp have "hunted" him (or would, if he were to escape), and have hurt him mentally and physically in the prison, wilbur would work with him to destroy their lives and their world as they know it for their mutual gain.

it also brings forth his views of possession and power; in essence, he sees himself as in charge of the lives of everyone in his story, hence finding their realities fragile and fully his own to mess with. he finds it amusing that he has full control over something so "precious" to them, and mocks this sentiment in the last line.

"and if you don't like what's shown and you feel like no one's grown just, rewrite the script!"

this was the first lyrics for the song, which ani wrote, after i proposed the idea. this begins a trend in the song where wilbur will alternate between talking to dream and the viewers themselves.

here he is directly addressing those who don't like the way the smp has been since wilbur has stopped writing, and who call out the lack of character development in certain people's stories. he is reassuring them that now that he's back, he will rewrite it to be more entertaining - for him, that is.

the second half

alright, now we're going over what i myself wrote the day wilbur was revived after getting a surge of inspiration.

"screams, broken voices poor writing choices"

this starts off with revived wilbur's opinions on the new storyline he has come into. the first line refers to the torture dream is going through in prison, and the second is him simply commenting on how he finds the plotline inadequate after his return.

"dreams of redemption caught my attention"

the interesting thing about this is that wilbur, as has been shown before with eret, doesn't believe in people's redemption.

this line insinuates that even if there was any chance of the circumstances changing and dream getting better, now that wilbur was back, he wan't planning to let that happen, as he finds it one of the aforementioned "poor writing choices".

it caught his attention as something he finds interesting - since he's always had a twisted fascination with people's hopes and goals, finding ways to use them to his advantage - but in the end, naive, since his outlook on the world has always been quite cynical.

"train wheels screech on the rails in the end, my world prevails"

this was an attempt to shove a reference to the stream i had just watched into the song. the train stopped in limbo, and it came to get him back out to the world of the living.

the second line is him boasting that he knew all along that his efforts to gain people's loyalty would would pay off in the end, and hence his "word" prevailed even over death.

"i've got tales in store, of loss and of war it's a shattered world for me to restore"

see, this entire sequence is quite the oxymoron, and it's meant to be confusing, showcasing once again just how twisted wilbur's outlook on the world is.

he finds the story "shattered", which is a reference to cc!wilbur saying he prefers more centred stories than what the dsmp is right now. he is promising to fix this, finding it another game for him to play, another puzzle for him to solve, however, his definition of "restore" is proven by the previous line to be a contradiction at its core.

he has plans from his time in limbo, and just like all of his stories so far, they're tragic and traumatizing to the people playing in them. he plans to perpetuate war and conflict in order to make the story more lively and dynamic, while using loss as a tragic element to push the "characters" in their lives further towards development.

in the end, the way he's planning to "restore" the world is by rewriting the narrative in such a way that it wouldn't stagnate, or work itself out naturally, but continue endlessly for him to write and control.

"villains and heroes, traitors and moles when push comes to shove they'll burn the world for their goals"

the second part of the first line was meant to be "interchangeable roles" instead, but we switched it out so it would be easier to sing.

it's talking about how after all, it doesn't really matter to wilbur who the villain or hero is, as long as they are part of the narrative that he has power over.

"and if i harness the flame their hope will blaze all the same no time for interests to conflict"

this is confirmation of the previous point that he can use people's feelings against them and in order to perpetuate his own "interests". as long as he can make people think he's helping them, even if their goals are different, there won't be room for them to truly conflict.

the people on the dream smp all burn with hope and passion and human emotions he can exploit and use in favour of himself and his story, and even then they won't get any weaker. he sees them as an endless fuel source he can take from, essentially.

"so when you're blue and betrayed by all the choices you've made just, rewrite the script."

the last lines of the song, and here he is speaking specifically to the characters in the story. all of them have made mistakes and been "betrayed" by their choices to trust others, which left them or others grieving or hurt.

wilbur is in essence mocking this, by pointing out, once again, how simple it is for him to "just rewrite the script", and take all of their "blue" away - while also making it clear that he only plans to use this power to take further control by driving those he sees fit further down their path of revenge and villainy.

epilogue

thank you all for reading, whoever did! this song was truly a passion project for me to work on, and i loved coming up with deeper meanings to the lyrics, by using my own personal interpretation of the character. i get that this is not everyone's interpretation, but i like it. i also really can't wait for what wilbur's up to now that he's back. either way, have a nice day!

#dream smp #rewrite the script #fansong #fansong analysis #c!wilbur #long post

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luvknow · 5 years ago

Text

parasitic | bang chan

genre: bang chan x fem!reader | college au ; roommates au ; enemies-to-lovers ; alcohol mention summary: your roommate is going abroad for the semester and now you’re forced to share your apartment with bang chan, who you basically lived with for the past semester except he didn’t pay rent, he ate all of your food, and crashed on your couch after a long night out. you were going to do everything in your power to avoid him until your roommate comes back. that doesn’t work out so well. wc: 11.8k a/n: omg a month late, but merry christmas to @channiechanchan!! did you know it was me?? LMAO I’M SO SORRY LKJDSLKFJ IT’S ALSO NOT EVEN XMAS RELATED BUT....... I HOPE IT WAS WORTH THE WAIT, ILY SLKJDSL

The sun rays peeked through the gaps of the curtains letting you know that a beautiful Sunday was upon you. You would spend the morning making breakfast for you and your roommate, clean your room of all the bad vibes, knock out some homework, and light an overpriced candle to conclude a stress-free day.

A long morning stretch in bed was the start to your day, and you had the widest smile on your lips upon exiting your room as if there was nothing that could ruin your energy. That dropped quickly once you were greeted with a loud, snoring, almost-naked man face down and passed out on your couch.

“Sorry about him,” roomie Yeri said out of habit while practically crawling out of her room. “Again.”

She looked like a hot mess, with her hair frazzled in all directions and last night’s make-up still smeared around her eyes. Her timing was impeccable - it was like she could sense your annoyance through her walls.

“Why?” you whined childishly. This had to be the tenth weekend by now!

“You know why! Lucas had his birthday party last night, remember? Which you were invited to but totally flaked last minute.”

“I have an exam this week.”

“We have an exam this week and it’s not until Thursday!”

“So? I like to be prepared!”

“Can you two shut up?” the bane of your existence interrupted. The newly brunette (who had dyed his hair in your living room, thanks to Yeri) ran a hand through his wild hair, hoping it’d alleviate some of the pain from his hangover. “I have a pounding headache.”

“And whose fault is that?” you scolded bitterly before yanking your blanket off of him. The poor man below you shriveled up and buried his musty legs under your beautiful couch pillows for some sense of warmth. “Not like you pay rent here for you to have the right to complain, or anything.”

“Lighten up, buttercup. You’re so uptight.”

“Gotta do my job around here and exterminate the parasites.”

“Suck my dick.”

“Too many STDs.”

Yeri chucked a pillow each at the both of you so you’d shut up and avoid waking up any grumpy neighbors. “Please, for the love of God, can you guys chill out for once so we can have a relaxing Sunday together?”

“Together?” you and Chan groaned simultaneously.

Yeri was not having it and shot a glare like an angry mother, to which you and Chan mumbled some sort of noise of confirmation and went about your separate ways. You inhabited the kitchen and Chan dragged himself to wash away the sticky shame and Hennessey in the shower. Yeri hopped over to help you make pancakes as if her two best friends weren’t just itching to pull each other’s hair out. She liked to think of herself as the glue of the group, like the quirky friend in the middle who was delusion to the tension in between. Neither of you had the heart to ruin her sitcom fantasy.

“Morning ~” she sang cutely.

“I hate him.”

“He’s not that bad!”

“You’ve been saying that the entire fall semester, but almost every weekend of mine has been ruined by his presence!”

Yeri winced and took a step back as she watched you vigorously mix the pancake batter faster than an electronic stand mixer. Another step back was taken while you violently dumped in the blueberries. Cooking and baking was one of your favorite hobbies and she knew you could be quite passionate about it, but she never saw you angry-cook before. It was a scary site to see, as if you being angry wasn’t scary enough.

“He’s only the way he is because you never gave him a chance.”

“What does that even mean?”

“He’s the type of person who likes to be liked, you know?”

“So? Don’t we all?”

“Of course, but it’s different with people like him. When those types of people meet someone who doesn’t like them, they can get a little… How do I say this? Defense mechanism-y?”

“Wouldn’t you think that would motivate him to, I don’t know, be nice to me and not inhabit my space and eat my food every weekend? Perhaps he’d kiss my ass a little?”

“Like I said, defense mechanism-y…”

“More like melodramatic.”

No matter how Yeri tried to explain to you how Chan was ‘different’, you weren’t buying it nor did you care to argue any longer. Why should you have to like him just because he was your best friend’s other best friend? This wasn’t some algebra problem that could be easily solved by the transitive property - this was a matter of respecting each others’ personal spaces and each other in general, and Chan had been the one to cross both of those lines first, that dick. While Yeri lectured like your math professor, you mindlessly hummed here and there pretending to understand, just as you would in actual math class.

The bathroom door opening prompted you and Yeri to shut up immediately. Then, a moist Chan walked out of the steam with nothing but a familiar lavender towel wrapped around his disgustingly chiseled waist.

“Is that my towel!?” you shrieked in fear.

“Yeah. Hope that’s ok with you!” The fake honey sweetness in his tone made your skin crawl like there were bees under the dermis. “By the way, you’re out of shampoo. I love this scent! What is it, tea tree and mint?”

Yeri had to hold you back from hitting him with a hot spatula and Chan managed to escape back into the bathroom with a change of clothes that he kept here ‘for emergencies’, of course. They hung on the open clothes rack in the living room that was meant to show off yours and Yeri’s tasteful jackets, but the aesthetic was ruined early fall and even your jackets began to smell of Chan’s sophisticated cologne.

“I’m gonna kill him in his sleep,” you seethed.

Yeri patted your head like you were an angry kitten. “Killing the captain of the basketball team isn’t exactly kosher, love.”

“I’ll show you kosher.”

“Can’t keep on threatening me, babe,” Chan tisked while throwing on a t-shirt upon entering the A and B conversation.

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“I’m just trying to make our friendship better. You know, since we’ll be roommates soon.”

Excuse me, what? “What are you talking about…”

“Oh, you don’t know?” a sly Chan smirked.

When you turned to interrogate Yeri, she quickly stopped the sign language that clearly meant ‘shut your GODDAMN MOUTH, Christopher’ and gave you that sweet, innocent smile that let her get away with practically anything because who could say no to her rosy cheeks and rainbow-shaped eyes?

“Yeri, what is he talking about…?” you asked hesitantly.

“Yeah, about that… I got accepted into the study abroad program!”

“That’s amazing and I am very proud of you and I love you, but what does this cockroach mean when he says we’ll be roommates soon!?”

“Hey!” he pouted.

“Oh, shut it!”

“Ah, well, I figured to lessen the burden of paying double the rent, I thought it’d, you know, take it upon myself to save you the stress of finding a subletter and Chan was the only one available…”

“Really? Of the entire cheerleading team, the pottery club, the damn pilates and cycling club, hell even the other players on the basketball team, Chan was the only one free to sublet? The only one?”

“Um... yes?”

“You know, I don’t really consent to this -”

“Please, _____, it will only be for the semester, I promise! I leave next week and I can’t take much with me, and Chan is the only person I trust to stay in my room and not ruin anything and steal my underwear!”

“How can you say that when he’s probably going to bring girls home and do them on your bed!?”

“I would never do that!” Chan interjected.

“Yeah, ok.”

“No, really! Why would I ruin her bed when I can just ruin yours while you’re gone?”

“Don’t you fucking dare, Christopher -!”

“See!” Yeri brought the two of you into a esophagus-crushing headlock so you two would shut up. “You two are already getting along so well!!”

Chan managed to slip away and steal you from Yeri, giving you a rough knuckle sandwich. “We’ll get along swimmingly, Yer-bear, I promise. Isn’t that right, _____?”

Yeri couldn’t help but look at you both with sparkly eyes, thinking that yes, maybe there’s a chance that a beautiful friendship could blossom from this! Jabbing an elbow to his ribs with a fake smile of your own, you wordless agree with a nod.

As long as Chan stayed in his room and you stayed in yours, maybe there wouldn’t be much to worry about, right?

The first week with Chan was exactly how you expected it - seeing his bare ass because he never closed the bathroom door, stealing your snacks, taking up the living room space, and blasting his loud soundcloud music that you could hear through your paper-thin walls. Still, even through all the frustration and the annoyance, you thought it would be best if you two just lived your lives separately and didn’t bother making nice with each other. Rather than fighting and yelling, ignoring each other for the sake of everyone’s sanity was for the best.

What pushed you to the edge was when he took the last pack of fruit snacks you were really looking forward to after a long week of classes.

“Oh, come on!” you groaned into the cupboard. “Chan!”

“Yes, darling?” he called from his - Yeri’s - bedroom, to which you stomped over to confront him. Seeing a grown man on Yeri’s white desk on a pink gaming chair playing some PC game was truly a sight to see.

“Did you eat the last of my fruit snacks!?”

The sly boy swiveled the desk chair to face you. “Ooh, was that the last one? I swear there was one left…”

“Come on, dude!”

“I’m sorry, ok, it’s not a big deal.”

“It is a big deal! That’s not cool!”

“No, what’s not cool is that you’ve been avoiding me all week.”

You were taken aback by his bold, although correct, assumption. You really didn’t expect him to call you out on this so early. “I… have not…!”

“You’re such a liar!” He pointed accusingly. Although you seemed heated in the argument, Chan was grinning because of course he was right, that dick.

“You don’t think I have anything better to do, like do my homework or-or hang out with friends outside of this apartment?”

“That’s not what I mean. I mean every time you come home and see me in the living room, you go straight to your room.”

“That’s normal!”

“Ah yes, but then you wait until I go into my room -”

“Yeri’s room.”

“- to cook dinner or grab a snack.”

“That’s just a coincidence -”

“How about the opposite, when I come home and you’re chilling in the living room and then you go to your room and shut the door? No ‘hi, how was your day’, or anything.”

“Well -”

“Or how about the mornings, when you’re sitting at the kitchen table relaxing and drinking something warm and sweet-smelling with a tired smile on your face because this is the only time in your day where you get to truly relax, but the second I leave my room to go to the bathroom or grab some water, you chug whatever’s barely boiling in your cup, dump it in the sink, and head out.”

“... I’m that obvious, huh?”

“Wow, look at that smug look on your face,” he pointed again. You didn’t even feel that proud smile on your lips. But Chan didn’t think it was amusing. His lips formed a frown, like he was insulted or even hurt at how cold you could be towards him. “What have I done to make you hate me this much?”

Your eyes bulged incredulously. “Let’s go down memory lane, shall we? Almost every weekend of the fall semester you; crashed on our couch, ate all of our ramen and eggs and sriraicha the morning after to recover from your massive hangover, used our laundry detergent, and used our bath products just to name a few! All without a simple thank you or even asking beforehand!”

Chan couldn’t deny that yes, maybe he’d been a little, um, unceremonious with his intrusion on your life, but come on, everyone deserves a second chance! The very prideful man in front of you rolled Yeri’s pink chair to the threshold only to clasp your hands together in his and now you were sweating.

“Ok, I’ll admit that I was a terrible guest this past semester.” Does an apology count if the guilty party rolls his eyes? “So, out of the goodness of my heart, I am very, very sorry.”

“My ass.”

“What!? Does this not look sincere to you?” he asked, pointing to his fake pouty face.

“Ok, I’m leaving.”

“No no no, c’mon!” Chan whined as he chased you into the living room. He grabbed your trailing hand to stop you. “Look, I’m truly sorry that I sometimes use your things -”

“Always use my things.”

“Most of the time use your things. I am sorry, really. Please believe me, ok? Aren’t you tired of avoiding me all the time?”

A tired sigh escaped you because you were absolutely exhausted from it. “I accept your semi-sincere apology. But why, for the love of God, why don’t you ever use Yeri’s things!? Why mine? She’s the one that’s your friend!”

“Honestly? I wanted to get your attention.”

“Oh, my God, what are you, five?”

“Hey, you’re the one who ignored me like a rude hostess from the get-go! You never gave me a chance!”

“My first impression of you was all I needed to not give you one.”

“I couldn’t have been that bad.”

“You puked in my backpack with some of my textbooks in it and poor Yeri had to clean up your mess!”

“Oh yeah, I remember that… That was on Sunwoo’s birthday.” You tried walking away again, but Chan’s grip was too strong. “Ok, fine, I’ll admit my first impression was horrendous, but you never let me redeem myself after that, so I kept annoying you so you’d confront me about it! That’s not fair that you judged me so quickly!”

“Yeah, and look how annoying me turned out! It went from my first impression to my thousandth impression.”

“I mean, it eventually worked, right?”

Another tired sigh. “Chan, is there a purpose to this?”

“Yes. I want to start over.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Start over? Like, erase all the shit that happened between us?”

“Exactly. A clean slate. Clean plates, I’ll even do your dishes tonight.”

You did hate doing the dishes… And you were so tired of stressing out over avoiding him, even if it had only been a week. After a long, painful pause, you held out your hand for him to shake. “Fine, a clean slate it is.”

A prideful and grinning roommate gladly shook your hand. “I pledge to not be an asshole anymore.”

“And I promise not to have a stick up my ass.”

“Wow, look how far we’ve come, huh? Cheers to a new friendship?”

“After you do my dishes.”

“... Fair enough.”

To commemorate this new and fresh friendship, you joined Chan in the kitchen. You didn’t do anything as he hand-washed your handmade dishes made in pottery class, but in return for eating your last fruit snack pack, he offered you some cookies he’d been hiding to which you gladly obliged. It was a peaceful silence in the kitchen other than the clinking of dishes and running water that offered some white noise while you read one of your books (after Chan called you a nerd). This had to be the most stress-free thirty minutes of your life.

“So,” your new ‘friend’, if you’d generously call him, began after finishing the dishes. He took a seat next to you and grabbed a cookie of his own. “Now that we’re cool and all, I would like to formally invite you to our basketball game tomorrow.”

"First of all, we're not totally cool just yet. Think of this as like a trial. Gotta pay your premium subscription fees before getting the premium benefits.”

“Yeah, yeah, so do you wanna go or not?"

"Hm, a basketball game? Like you're playing in it?"

"As the captain, I sure hope so."

You thought about it for a second - what terrible things could possibly come about if you went to one of Chan's basketball games? Well, it's set in a crowded and sweaty arena, whose crowd and players are also sweaty, it was loud, the food and drinks were expensive, and you literally could not care less about basketball. But, out of the goodness of your heart, which was now willing to give people a second chance for some reason, maybe you could tolerate sitting through a quarter or two.

"Sure, I'll go."

"Really? I wasn't expecting that."

"Then why'd you bother asking?"

"I'm tryna be homies, and that's what homies do! Invite homies to their basketball games."

"Please don't call me homie."

"Ok, home skillet."

"I'm gonna be honest, I don't know anything about basketball."

"Like, at all?"

"I know the cool far shots are worth like three points, right?"

"Oh, darling, you have a lot to learn. Here, lemme do a spark notes run down."

Professor Chan, PhD in sports and partying, took however many hours to explain. You lost track after two. At the end of the night, all of the cookies and milk were gone and you both went to bed at two in the morning.

"You, at a basketball game!?" Yeri snorted from the other side of the world. "And you and Chan being civilized!? Lord, how long have I been gone?"

"I have many regrets…"

"Don't say that! I think it's cute that you guys are finally getting along. Who would've thought that locking you two in the same apartment for one week was all that it took?"

"It might have been sooner if he'd just apologized right away instead of stealing all of my stuff to get my attention."

"Yup, sounds like Christopher."

"So you're coming back soon, right…?"

"If soon means a couple of months, yes."

"Yeri ~!" you whined, hopelessly missing your Sunday night partner watching crime documentaries.

"Chill, you big baby, just hang out with Chan if you're so lonely."

"Ugh, gross." Ironically enough, you stepped on a freshly-spat wad of gum upon entering the half-filled gymnasium.

"But not too often cuz, you know, you might fall in love ~"

You hoped no one saw the way your face twisted in disgust. "Are you delusional!?"

"Or even worse, you two might get drunk and make out and then fu -"

"OH-KAY, bye, Yer-bear love you!" You hung up immediately, traumatized at the thought she planted in your head. You hated how your face heated up so brightly. Don’t sweat it, _____! There’s no way that something like that could blossom from something that was nothing!

"Hey, you actually made it -" Chan had burst into your bubble without a warning, causing you to jump and drop your phone. After wiping off another fresh glob of gum from your phone screen this time, you bucked up the courage to stand face-to-face with a confused Chan wearing his basketball uniform. "Jeez, you good? You're all blushy. Ah, you saw Jaehyun's nudes, didn't you?"

"No, idiot! You just startled me, although I should be used to you invading my space by now."

“Ha ha. Stop being weird and take a seat. We’re still warming up, but hopefully we’ll start soon.”

“Uh, is there like, designated seating, or?”

Chan’s dimply smile accompanied a rough hair ruffle. “How cute, you’ve never been to a game before, huh?”

“I would rather die than willingly pay to go here on my leisure.”

A strong, sweaty arm wrapped around your shoulders. “Sit right over there,” he said, pointing to a single spot in the middle of the one hundred level that allowed for the best view of the entire court. “You’ll see me in action the whole time.”

“Next to the dude eating a chili dog and the chick with a cut-out of Woojin’s face?”

“The superfan section truly is not of this world.”

“If I came all the way here just to watch you lose, I’m gonna be pissed.”

“Don’t worry, baby, we never lose!”

The coach called Chan back to warm up some more which left you no choice but to enter the germ-infested purgatory and sit in between the superfans. Glancing at the other team, it was clear that they had the intimidation factor of being the taller and bigger players, so you weren’t sure how this was going to turn out. But your team, although smaller, had an enormous amount of unwavering energy. Perhaps it was because they were playing at home and had the entire half of this court filled to the brim cheering their names.

Chan was busy next to the couch, watching the form of his teammates as they were shooting three pointers. There was no doubt to anyone, even if no one had ever seen him before, that he was the captain. Who knew the barf-filled, void for a stomach, almost always naked asshole had the mindset of a lion? Every now and again, he’d pull one of his teammates to the side, probably a newbie to the varsity team, and help him with his form or give pointers or remind him of what play they were going to execute once the buzzer rang.

At some point, you realized you were watching him for far too long because he caught you right where he placed you. By the smirk on his lips, you’ll never hear the end of it if you see each other back at the apartment, and you would have looked away almost immediately if he hadn’t grabbed a ball not a second later. What was he doing?

Chan dribbled the ball to the free throw line (at least you think that’s what it’s called). He looked at you again, but this time he was pointing, like he was challenging you. Every pair of eyes in the gymnasium managed to pinpoint his target to you and if he thought you were blushy before, he should really see you up close now. After the very dramatic scene, Chan focused on dribbling the ball a few times which brought everyone’s attention back to him, thankfully. He dribbled a bit more, stopped to set up his shot, followed through and swoosh, there it went, right into the basket like a mathematician's perfect parabola.

“That was for you,” he mouthed silently with a sense of tease dripping from every word.

Normally, you might have flicked him off, but who were you to ruin the vibe just before the game started? Out of the goodness of your heart, you lightly clapped at his performance like this was the opera.

And so the game began! Mingyu, since he was the tallest member, did that thing where they toss the ball up in the air and they try to get it on their side, and since he was like 6’5”, it was easy for Chan’s team to start with the ball. There was a lot of back and forth head movements and eye scanning and you felt like your brain was being shaken up. To be honest, before you stepped into the stadium, you thought that none of this was going to excite you in the least. The idea of sweaty boys running around with a ball was completely barbaric, didn’t you think? But when someone, especially Chan, shot the ball or blocked it or did some weird dancey footwork, you gasped and cheered with the rest of the gym, the spirit of the game blooming in your soul much to your resistance.

The game ended almost too quickly and thankfully your team won. All of the superfans and the cheerleaders ran towards the team, congratulating them with cheers and hugs and mounting their beloved captain on their shoulders. Chan had his bright and dimply smile you’ve been seeing too often this week. You considered waiting until the crowd died down so you could congratulate him right then, but being the captain meant he was the center of everyone’s attention, not just yours. You shrugged off the impatience and headed for home. You could always congratulate him tomorrow, so long as he hasn’t puked anywhere.

Just before exiting the gym, you heard your name being called.

“_____, wait!” Chan yelled, sprinting to you as soon as his people made a walkway.

“I guess a congratulations is in order,” you said. “Congrats on winning. You looked super cool out there.”

“Hold on, can you say that one more time?” he teased, whipping out his phone to record you.

“Congrats, asshole!” you greeted the camera with double birdies.

“Thank you, m’lady. Where are you going now -”

“Channie!” a cute voice cried. Channie?

“Miyeonie!” he parroted back at the pretty cheerleader.

“Are you coming with us to Mingyu’s or what?”

You almost forgot it was the weekend already. It was time for drunk Chan shenanigans to ensue and that meant locking yourself up in your room and hiding the newly-bought fruit snacks.

“Oh, uh…”

Chan looked back at you like he was about to ditch his little sibling who had asked to play with him. Before any embarrassing pity invites were thrown out, you quickly bid your farewell.

“I’ll see you later, Channie ~” you waved off playfully.

“_____, hold on,” he said in urgency. Oh no, please don’t do what you think he’s doing… “Uh, I think I’m going to skip out on tonight, Miyeon.”

Both of you looked at him like he had three heads and two tails. Miyeon’s the only one brave enough to speak up on it. “Party Boy Channie is ditching us tonight? Why?”

“I’m super tired.” You’re full of shit, Chan! Why are you ruining my quiet night in!? “I’ll catch you guys next week, though.”

“Fine. Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Ok ~” She then quickly kissed him on his lips and he welcomed it fully like they’ve been doing that for some time now. Could it be that Party Boy Channie has finally settled down, despite all of his sloppy stories he used to slur about every weekend? How was it that he, of all scumbags, was able to have a significant other and you couldn’t even get a tinder date! “I’ll see you later.”

“Don’t get too wild tonight.”

“No promises!”

Chan sighed helplessly and turned to face a disgusted? Shocked? No, a very uncomfortable you who had watched a corny teen drama movie unfold right in your face.

“Sorry about that,” he said sincerely for once.

“Oh please, I absolutely love watching true love express itself right in front of me, Channie.”

He rolled his eyes. “First of all, it’s not love.”

“Really? You’re telling me kissing pretty cheerleaders isn’t your love language?”

“Not when they cling to me like mothballs.”

“You’re so cruel, Channie.”

“Stop calling me that,” he warned. “Secondly, what are we doing tonight?”

“We? I don’t know who this we is, but I’m going home.”

“Aw, c’mon, really? I just ditched a Kim Mingyu party and perhaps some ass for some quality roommate bonding time!”

“I did not ask you to do that.”

“Don’t you wanna go out to eat or something? I’ll even pay for you.”

“No, because there’s food at home.”

“There isn’t food at home, you liar!”

“Well ok, not yet, I still have to go to the market first and then I’ll cook.”

“Oh?” You can cook? He certainly didn’t know that. “You’re cooking us dinner?”

“I’m cooking me dinner.” Chan folded his hands and gave you a poor excuse for puppy eyes. But he did just win the game, and you bet doing all that sporty stuff made him starving. “But I guess I can make you a plate... I guess you and I can… eat together…”

“Don’t sound too excited.”

“I’m clearly holding back my excitement.”

Usually in movies or tv, they have the head chefs of famous local restaurants come to the markets between four and five in the morning. The amateur chefs like yourself prefer to pick off what was left for much cheaper at night time. It’s not that the stuff left over was any bad, it was just the important people managed to pick out all the perfect prawns and symmetrical vegetables and what have you. It was much less stressful in the evenings anyways, when everyone was already home cooking and you were left to wander as you pleased before the vendors packed up for the day.

“Do you come here all the time to grocery shop?” a freshly-washed Chan asked beside you. When he went grocery shopping, as long as the produce didn’t have any bruises and the meat was red, that’s all he needed. He never inspected the peaches for its plumpness or asked what time the fish was caught today, unlike you, though now and again he’ll slap a watermelon to test its juiciness.

“Goodness, no, am I made of money?”

“How expensive can this place be, they’re not even in a store.”

“Oh, Chan the naivete. Think of the most expensive piece of produce you’ve ever bought. It’s probably organic, right? Free of pesticides and the like?”

“I think it was an avocado.”

“Right, completely ridiculous that you’re paying $2.50 per avocado. The avocadoes here? Double that.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“I really wish I was. Those are the morning price avocadoes though. Nighttime shoppers like us are lucky to snag them for $3.50.”

“Why bother paying so much when you can go to the local store across the street from your house?”

“Even though I can get much more for the price I’m paying here,” you paused and handed Chan the brightest and quite possibly the smallest strawberry he’d ever seen. “You can taste the difference.”

Snipping off the green stem and leaves, the clueless boy popped the berry in his mouth and you watch the flavor brighten his eyes.

“Quality over quantity,” you bragged.

The rest of your time there, you had to stop Chan from eating a single grape from every little basket at every single vendor.

“You are a child.”

“Baby me, baby.”

Coming back to the apartment with your’s and Chan’s arms full of groceries, anxiousness rushed in the second you stepped beyond the threshold. It occurred to you that you’ve never actually cooked for anyone before besides Yeri. This will be the second time you’ll see someone’s first reaction to your cooking, and it’ll be from your worst enemy.

“Need me to sous chef, head chef?” he asked while unpacking.

“Actually, that would help me a lot. Could you wash the vegetables?”

“Sure. While we’re at it, can I get your opinion on something?”

You raised your brow in confusion. “Do I have the knowledge for it?”

“You have ears, so yes.”

From that point moving forward, you decided not to question Chan because he was going to do whatever he wanted anyways. As you prepped the kitchen, you ignored the loud rustling in the living room with the occasional ‘ow, fuck’ following a stubbed toe. Out of curiosity and right before yelling at him to hurry up, Chan had finally pressed the play button and an unfamiliar song played through his massive speakers that he brought outside.

“Is this your new song?” you asked.

He did the ‘hand-sexily-but-also-shyly-running-through-my-hair’ thing before answering. “Yeah, and I’m not sure if I like it that much. The guys say it sounds good, but they’re my homies so they have to say that, y’know?”

“At least you know I won’t bullshit you.”

“Be gentle at least, please.”

“I will once you help me with dinner finally.”

“Right, right.”

Of course one song didn’t cover the entirety of the dinner preparation. After the one, which you honest to God liked a lot (“Stop lying.” “I’m not! You asked me to be honest, dick!”), Chan shyly but happily showed you more of his work. Some of it was already posted to his Soundcloud and some weren’t uploaded because he either hated them or he was stuck and left unfinished.

“Like, how is it possible that I can’t finish a project whose finished product is less than three minutes long!?” By now, Chan gave up trying to help after he cut his finger several times and sat at the table munching on his expensive basket of berries as he explained his creative block to you as if you were his therapist. “It makes me seem lazy, doesn’t it?”

“People hit creative walls all the time,” you reassured. “Don’t get yourself down about it.”

“Have you ever even hit a wall before?” he challenged.

“I do in the kitchen all the time, you ass.”

“How is that even possible? What walls can you even hit in the kitchen?”

“The difference between baking and cooking is that baking has less room for error, but tons of room for visual creativity, which is why I think baking is much harder. Cooking measurements for a meal, on the other hand, are meant to be adjusted with freedom which is nice, but how many times can someone change the presentation of a bowl of rice, meat, and vegetables?”

A bowl of said food was placed in front of a drooling Chan who had to sit through the tortuous cooking process smelling the aromatics and satiate his rumbling tummy with sour fruit. He hadn’t even taken a bite yet and his eyes were already sparkling with anticipation. It was reactions like his that made you the most embarrassed because what if he tasted it and hated it!?

“Whoa, this looks delicious!” he beamed.

“You didn’t think I could cook, did you.”

“No, I thought you were joking and when you weren’t I was like, ‘I HAVE to taste her cooking’. I'm a little disappointed that it doesn’t look inedible.”

“Ha ha, just eat your food, parasite.”

With anticipation, you watched Chan take a huge bite with all the fixins on the spoon. You could sense the awkwardness when he turned away.

“Stop staring at me,” he mumbled with cheeks full of rice.

“Not until you tell me what you think.”

“Well, of course it tastes good.”

“Really?”

“Yes, now stop looking at me, I’m not your zoo animal.”

A huge sigh of relief escaped you and a heavy weight off your chest was relieved. Something about cooking for new people always made you want to pass out, but if both your best friend and your best enemy admit to how good it is, maybe you’ll become more open to the idea of cooking for others more often. You DID like that huge sense of pride that rushed in.

Chan finished the bowl in two minutes. He held it up for you to take. “More, please.”

“Wow, ok.”

You were lucky enough to get a bowl yourself with Chan practically inhaling everything, and even then he still had room for dessert. It was atrocious how much a college man could eat.

“They say someone’s cooking says a lot about them,” Chan proposed while washing down his food with soda.

“They who?”

“I don’t know, the internet?” he shrugged.

“Oh, yeah? What does the internet say about a bowl of rice for dinner?”

“That you’re uptight and don’t like to have fun.”

“Hey!”

“And probably a virgin.”

Your cheeks burned an embarrassingly bright red at the proclamation. “Wh-What makes you say that!?”

“It’s a safe meal to make. You know, hard to mess up and a little simple so it’ll always taste good?”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Where’s the excitement, _____? The improvisation!?”

“There’s not much room to improv in cooking, Christopher.”

“Don’t you want to live a little? Have some spontaneity?”

“Are we still talking about my cooking or…?”

“No, dumbass, I mean your life, too!” Chan hopped up from his chair and took your hand to twirl you around the kitchen like the scene in Beauty and the Beast. Oh God, you hoped you didn’t accidentally poison him or that he was having a weird allergic reaction to sesame, or something. “Have some fun for once!”

You somehow broke away from the hypnotic dance and stood as far away from that crazy man as possible. “Don’t act like you know me all of a sudden because you read some corny Buzzfeed article about a fucking bowl of rice and meat, Bang Chan!”

“What do you mean, I’ve come to know you for a whole semester.”

“A whole semester of being blacked out.”

“Hey, that means nothing!”

“Ok. Tell me one thing you know about me from a whole semester of being unconscious on my couch.”

“You have an in-depth skin care routine.”

“Anyone can guess that.”

“From the books you have lying around and a few paintings on the wall, you dabble in that horoscope bull shit.”

“So do a lot of girls, next.”

“You like heart and star-shaped marshmallows in your hot cocoa.”

You’ll admit that one had you silent for a moment. Only Yeri knew about that, but that was because those were the only marshmallows you bought specifically for hot cocoa. They add a little pizazz to your drink, especially with the edible glitter. “That doesn’t count, there’s no other marshmallow in the apartment.”

“True,” he began, pointing an accusing finger at you. “But you like a whole handful of marshmallows in your mug.”

“... S-So -”

“Ah ha, got one!”

“So what, a ton of people like marshmallows!”

“Yeah, but not pink hearts and purple stars ones!”

“How do you even know that?”

“Hm. I think it was the night of Hongjoong’s birthday. Yeah, I passed out, woke up, whined to Yeri, and she made me hot cocoa and said, ‘Do you care if the marshmallows are shaped like hearts and stars?’ And I said, ‘I ONLY want hearts and stars’.”

A shy smile spread across your lips. It’s moments like these when you weren’t chewing his ear off that he finds you a little cute. Just a little.

“Is there a reason for those specific marshmallows?” he asked.

“They’re cute,” you pouted.

“Well, do I get a prize for knowing one thing about you?”

“Yeah, doing the dishes.”

“What!?”

“I cooked now you clean!” you said before running off to your room.

A tired, but willing Chan dragged his feet to the sink. He could just throw all of the dishes in the dishwasher, but somehow hand-washing while reminiscing about all the Fridays he’s crashed here with you barking like a chihuahua the next morning was much more fun.

His cheeks hurt from smiling too much by the end of that night.

A virgin… How the hell does cooking a bowl of rice for your roommate somehow make you a virgin!?

Ok, so maybe it wasn’t the most outstanding meal you’ve ever made or could have cooked for him, but that ungrateful man who couldn’t even fry an egg shouldn’t be so picky!

But why, of all the insults and swears he’s ever thrown at you, was virgin the one that hit you the most?

Who cares if you were or weren’t one! What difference did that make you as a person, right!? At first glance, of course no one would be able to tell whether you were or weren’t one, but what did that say about people who did know you, like Chan and Yeri? Was that the kind of vibe you gave off? Were you too goody-goody, too play-by-the-rules? Was Chan right when he said your life lacked that spark, that spontaneity he seemed to so-crave?

Now that you thought about it, you haven’t gone out on a date or even found someone remotely interesting in a very long time… Since your first year of college at the very least.

Maybe you should show him how spontaneous you could get.

“That’s another thing I noticed last semester,” Chan’s charming accent shook you from your thoughts. You looked to the boy intruding in your room who leaned against the door frame, once again in only his pajama pants and a wet towel slung over his neck to barely cover his torso. He was built like he was carved from the finest slab of marble - how was his skin so white and smooth? “You tend to space out a lot, especially when you’re working on something.”

“How can you tell?”

“You get that dumb look on your face.”

“You mean the same one you have on all the time?”

“Ha ha, very funny.”

“Thank you. What are you getting all dressed up for on a Tuesday night?”

“Miyeon said she was coming over like, ten minutes ago and I felt musty, so here I am, half naked in front of your door like this is the greatest dream you’ve ever had.”

“Is that the cheerleader from your game last weekend?” Chan hummed as a response, drying his hair with the towel around his neck and a toothbrush in his mouth. “Is she your girlfriend?”

You heard him choke on the toothpaste. “God, no, why do you think that?”

“I mean she kissed you… ?”

“Eh, it’s kind of an on-again-off-again thing, but nothing was ever official between us.” A sudden realization hit Chan and then that sly smirk that loved to tease you came back to haunt you. “Why? Are you jealous?”

“Jealous of some cheerleader who’s clearly in love with a man who has no interest in her while he lives with another woman?” you scoffed. “Green with envy.”

“At least I have someone in my life!” he called from the bathroom.

That, too, hit a little too close to your heart. He was right - at least he had someone who kept him company, who adored him, who he could go out on dates with… And what did you have? A lousy roommate who uses your body wash.

“What are you doing tonight?” he asked after coming back fully clothed. Your bed was much softer than Yeri’s, who had a rock hard firm mattress. Perhaps Chan should take his naps here instead.

“Nothing. What is there to do on a Tuesday night?”

“Lots of things! It’s Taco Tuesday at that food truck on campus, it’s Tteokbokki Tuesday at that Auntie’s restaurant by the bookstore, ooh and the record store down the street gives out free seltzer water for the hipsters.”

“Is that what you and Miyeon are doing tonight?”

“No, she just wanted to make-out I think.”

“How romantic…”

Chan laid on your bed and kept his thoughts to himself for a while. Somehow after only a few weeks of living together did you tolerate his presence enough to not nag him to get out of your room, let alone off your bed. While you studied the infinite pages of words in your textbook, Chan was able to steal a few glances. The way your brows furrowed in frustration, the messiness of your hair, the slight pout in your lips, it was all quite cute for someone as grouchy as yourself. Although he supposed he’d be an asshole, too, if he was studying seven days a week. You must be tired and frustrated.

Without you paying attention, he whipped out his phone and texted his date.

“Darn,” he sighed convincingly. “Miyeon just cancelled on me.”

“Good for her.”

“Well, now that I’m free, it looks like it’s just you and me tonight.”

“Sike, I have some homework to do.”

“Oh, yeah?” Chan hopped off the bed and peaked over your shoulder at your homework. He was so close that you could smell his woodsy cologne. You kind of liked it. Kind of. “Homework that’s due on Friday? God, _____, at least try to be cool, you nerd.”

“Hey!”

“Get dressed, those tacos and tteokbokki won’t be piping hot forever ~”

“I’m not going!” you tried to argue, but that annoying boy was already out of your room and putting his shoes on. Evil chuckling could be heard from the living room - what a weirdo. As your stomach violently growled, it was really hard to resist such a tempting offer of food, even if it meant going with Chan.

An impatient roommate danced his way to exit. “I’m walking out the door ~”

“Chill, will you?” you mumbled while throwing on your coat. “How are you going to invite me and then abandon me?”

“Then move faster.”

“You move faster…”

“Ah ~” Chan pinched your cheek lightly. “You’re kinda cute like this.”

“Shut up.”

“You know, with trying to kick up the spontaneity in your life and what-not.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

It’s a cold Tuesday night and you almost heavily regret wanting to be spontaneous and cute and uncaring, all because a soundcloud rapper called you a virgin. But the thought of a hot cup of spicy rice cakes was enough for you to travel through the polar vortex. It helped that you weren’t the only one suffering.

“All those nights I crashed on your couch, I’d always buy a cup of this gold before heading over,” Chan admitted. “It was a shame for the days I threw it up.”

“Ah, no wonder your puke is red! I thought you were always almost dying.”

“Sometimes I wished I was.”

Of course the auntie knew Chan by the amount of times he’s stumbled upon the place drunk off his ass (“Wow, you’re walking straight and talking in sentences today!” “Ha ha, auntie…”). The fiery cup of rice cake was the perfect hand-warmer.

“Do I not give off the virgin vibe yet?” you half-joked.

A charming burst of laughter came from your annoying roommate. How could he forget that he called you that! “You’re not hung up on that, are you?”

“I just… I mean, do you think that’s the reason why…” you struggled to speak your insecurities into existence because once you did, that meant they were real and totally holding you back.

“Why what?”

“Tell me something - am I really that uptight? Does it make me seem… I don’t know, unapproachable? Unlikable, even?”

“Please, you are totally uptight.” A loud, unladylike groan echoed throughout the crowded streets of campus. “Unapproachable, yes. Unlikable? I mean, not necessarily? Some guys think that’s hot.”

“So what you’re saying is I’ll be single forever or marry some pushover.”

“Hey, don’t put words into my mouth! Look, if you really want to change how your aura appears to people, you already have! You’re out on a Tuesday night eating rice cakes with the sexiest guy you know. That’s progress in my book, all thanks to me.”

“Somehow you’ve turned my insecurities into praising yourself.” It was impressive, honestly. “You’re something else, Christopher.”

“Thank you!”

“What’s next on our impromptu tour of the town?”

“Ya like vinyl?”

“Huh?”

Chan said nothing else as he cut you off and walked right into the record shop and low and behold, potential buyers were holding skinny cans of flavored seltzer.

“C’mon, princess, there’s not enough seltzer for everyone!” Chan urged.

The vastness and number of collections of the record shop rivaled the local book shop down the street. Although much noisier and haphazard, the concept was still the same and the neon signs and signed posters gave the shop quite the personality. Actually, it was almost as if it was Chan personified.

In front of you was a basketball-loving ear-pierced punk-ass roommate who wore leather jackets in sub-freezing temperatures and didn’t know how to fold his laundry flipping through the Wu-Tang Clan basket. And there was you, the personified small local bookstore, watching him longingly and wishing you could be like him, who was cool enough to attract other cool people and be someone so approachable and likable. He was the complete opposite of you, and yet somehow you’re both here together, acting like you never had to kick his ass for using your toothbrush four too many times.

How was it possible to think that one day, someone could be in love with a plain and boring bookstore like yourself? Could someone like Chan love someone like you one day?

You hoped so.

Chan wondered where you were and found you looking at him with tired eyes. Of all the things to look at, you somehow could only look at him. With his dimply smile, he said, “Falling in love with me?”

Something made you want to say yes. “Did you find something you like?”

He silently gestured to you to come over with a lazy hand. As expected, he pulled out one of the Wu-Tang Clan records and played it on one of the modern record players that had one set of headphones at the station.

“Here, put these on,” he instructed while putting the over-ear headphones on. A smooth and unique rap style voiced over the equally-smooth instrumentals. It was unlike anything you’ve heard before. Perhaps Chan’s intellectual layers lied within his knowledge in music.

A slight pressure pressed against your right ear. You couldn’t see from your peripherals, but you could smell Chan’s rustic cologne again, and that itself already made you blush deeper shades of red than you could ever imagine. Since there was only one set of headphones, Chan obviously had no other choice but to listen to this track with you like this - invading your space bubble and making you weak in the knees.

“Do you like it?” you could barely hear.

“I do,” you replied. The song wouldn’t be over for another two minutes and Chan refused to move. “Is this what you like?”

“It’s inspirational to me.” The vibrations of his voice almost sent you into shock because wow, was he close to you or what.

He knew you were nervous. He could tell simply by how your shoulders squared the moment his ear pressed on the outside of the headphones. That’s yet another detail he’s come to notice while crashing on your couch and living with you. Whether you were nervous because he was shirtless after coming out of the shower or you were annoyed because he’d eaten all of the ice cream you were saving in the back corner of the freezer, you always straightened your posture upon seeing him because God forgive you ever show any emotion. Why were you like those stuck-up librarians at the hipster bookstores down the street who turned a blind eye to anyone who didn’t look like they read books?

Or maybe, just maybe, you were liking this. You liked being in close proximity to the sexiest guy you’ve ever laid eyes on. You liked the almost-but-not-really skinship you almost-but-not-really shared. You were nervous, not annoyed, weren’t you? Or were you annoyed that you’re nervous around your most hated enemy?

Either way, Chan wins, and that’s all that mattered to him.

You spent most of the spontaneous night in the record store listening to soul, trot, pop punk, underground hip-hop, and everything in between. Quite literally in-between, as Chan would not stop pressing his face to yours because he refused to find a second pair of headphones for him to borrow.

“Stop doing that!” you whined for the fifth time.

“I wanna listen, too ~”

“Then go steal another set of headphones!”

“But I like this. It’s way more fun. And your cheeks are so hot that the radiated heat is warming my face up.”

You’re silent at that point forward because your cheeks thought their purpose in life was to burn as hot as the sun and serve as a radiator to intrusive boys who wanted nothing more than to listen to good music with you.

Honestly, what’s there to complain about?

The record store didn’t close until midnight and you practically stayed until then. At that point, Chan with his black hole for a stomach was hungry again and led you to the taco truck he talked about earlier.

“Is it Taco Tuesday still if it’s past midnight?” you wondered.

“It’s still Tuesday until the sun comes up in my books.”

Tacos weren’t exactly an easy-to-eat street food, so you used the tin foiled rolls as hand warmers until you were back in the comfort of your kitchen where you could happily eat greasy tacos with your sworn enemy.

“What do midnight tacos say about me now?” you questioned the food and vibe expert across the table.

“They say you like cliches and you care a little too much about what people think of you.”

“How the hell did you come up with that?”

“Please, Taco Tuesday is so cliche! And you conformed to it because you want to seem more playful and less of a stick-up-your-ass, am I right?”

The pout on your lips was enough of an answer. “Now I feel like a virgin in sheep’s clothing.”

“Hey, we all have to start somewhere.”

“Do you think I’m more likable this way?”

Perhaps Chan was a little harsh with his words the one night you cooked for him. He thought he would be able to know you front and back after nearly a month of living together, but it seemed that he was farther away from that than he thought. After all this time, he thought you didn’t care one bit about how people perceived your feisty self. Maybe instead you cared too much and you had built a wall to prevent others like Chan from knowing.

“You were always likable,” he admitted honestly.

“Please stop lying,” you groaned.

“I mean it! Even when you were yelling at me or trying to kick me off the couch or stealing back the food I was trying to eat, I never hated you. It was so much fun messing with you because you were not afraid to cuss me out.”

“And that makes me likable how?”

Chan shrugged. “I have fun when I’m around you. Do you think I would have kept coming back to crash here if I hated you?”

“Yeah, to torture me.”

“Well, to clear things up, I don’t hate you. And I bet my bottom dollar that you don’t hate me, either.”

“Sike.”

“You’re telling me you still hate me after the fun we had tonight? Or the night you watched me play and cooked for me? Or even the one night after Lucas’s Halloween party when I passed out here even though your heater was broken and you wrapped me up in your fuzzy blanket?”

Another blush spread across your cheeks. “You remember that?”

“How could I forget the first night you showed me any compassion?”

“Fine, you’re right, I don’t hate you… You’re, in fact, quite tolerable.”

Who knew Chan’s eyes could light up so brightly at such a mediocre compliment, if you’d even call it one. “You like me ~”

“Stop.”

“You’re gonna fall in love with me ~”

“Chan -”

“I bet you already have ~”

“Ok, I’m going to bed.”

“No, you aren’t!”

You tried to run out of the kitchen and into your room to lock the door, but Chan got to you just as you reached the living room. He entrapped you with his big, strong arms and held you in a suffocating hug, drowning out his giggles with your screaming. Your resistance was strong, but you were smiling brighter than he’d ever seen before. Today was a long day for both of you and the moment Chan rested his chin on your shoulder was when you stopped struggling to break free. His tufts of chestnut hair and slow breathing tickled your cheeks.

“Oi, wake up,” you demanded, hitting his forearms.

That only made him hold you tighter. “No.”

You stopped fighting him and let the poor boy rest on your shoulder. “You don’t think this is weird?”

“No. We’re just two roommates fighting, right?” he teased, shaking you in his arms.

“Yeah, fighting.”

“Do you think it’s weird?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“Please.”

His giggle rang in your ear and made goosebumps travel throughout your skin. Then Chan did what spontaneous Chan does and surprised you by kissing your cheek with a loud, moist, audible smooch.

“A-Ah, Chan!!” you gasped.

“Goodnight, beautiful.”

Before you could scold him further, he had already let go and went to his room. How long was he holding you? Because now you’re left stunned in the living room feeling the cold from the draft of your windows. Your cheek felt like it had been branded by his soft rose petal lips. It burned so much that you ended your night lying in bed staring at the ceiling cupping the tainted cheek.

“I hate him,” you mumbled to no one. Your words hold zero weight the moment you screamed into your pillow.

The first couple of days after the incident were a little weird, to put it simply. You circled back to your old habits of avoiding him and keeping conversations short and that didn’t slip past Chan for even a couple of hours. At first, he thought he might have ruined whatever weird friendship you had together, but the way you avoided him was not how it used to be.

You were embarrassed - dare he say even shy. Your avoidance held no malice and didn’t feel icy as it did last semester. Rather, you fled because you felt vulnerable. Your words were no longer full of insults, but instead were soft and sprinkled with stutters. It was like a scene from a drama set in high school where the cute shy nerd has a massive crush on the super sexy jock and won’t admit her feelings because she doesn’t think she has a chance. And knowing you, you would never admit to having feelings, so how was Chan supposed to get a confession out of you?

Cornering you was the only option he thought could work, but sadly that didn’t.

“Chan, c’mon, I have to use the bathroom,” you whined on the other side of the door.

He didn’t say a word when the door opened and steam spilled out into the halls. Yet again was he dressed only in his pajama bottoms and a towel around his neck, hair still damp and hanging loosely over his eyes. He took a step forward and you’re given no choice but to back up.

“What are you -”

You cut yourself off when your back hit the wall and Chan had you in the palm of his hands. Proximity was close to nothing as your toes touched and you could smell your body wash from his freshly-washed chest. Seriously, he still used your body wash!?

“C-Can I use the bathroom or what…” you stuttered.

He stared right in your eyes, then admired your cute nose, and finally down to your lips. He was teasing you! Like, actually teasing! He’s making you think that he wanted to kiss you! All of the possibilities of him making a move on you were just as equal as him not going through with it and your mind was racing like crazy and it was really starting to stress you out! Why, why was it stressing you out!?

Then he took a huge step back to let you through.

“All yours,” he whispered.

Well, that sort of worked… You didn’t say a verbal confession, but your face sure showed it. But no, that wasn’t enough. He needed to hear you say it. He had to do more, and he knew exactly what to do to push your limits.

For the whole week, whenever you did something for him whether it was answering a simple question or giving him a plate of whatever you cooked for dinner, Chan would kiss your cheek. That’s right, those soft rose petal lips would every-so slightly graze your cheeks almost everyday and even when you tried to scold him or fight back, you didn’t, as if you were stunned frozen every single time. This of course scared Chan - no emotion meant uncertainty on his end. Well, did you like it, or not!?

At some point, after a whole week of cheek kisses, you kind of… got used to it. Got used to the damn kisses, his flirtatious winks, the invasion of your space bubble, eating all of your food, using all of your bath products, taking unsolicited naps on your bed while you studied, all of it! You’ve gotten used to being around the man that is Bang Chan and you would almost admit that you liked being around him… almost.

And neither of you spoke up about it.

So… what were you two…? That’s right, you’re asking yourself the infamous ‘so what are we’ question - it’s really reached that point. No longer were you enemies or just plain roommates living separate lives, and of course you two weren’t dating, either. So did you consider him a friend? Sure, I mean you wouldn’t cook dinner for just anyone, right? But everything Chan did was not what normal friends do. At least in your experience - who knows if he’s doing this type of stuff to his other ‘friends’, like Miyeon.

Speaking of which, you hadn’t heard about her in a while, and you were almost convinced whatever relationship they had was over when she called off their date that one Tuesday - until Friday night.

The night was still young when you arrived home to your roommate mixing and playing with some beats over those impossibly loud speakers. It’s been a long week dealing with school work on top of figuring out your conflicting feelings of the boy in the next room and a quiet night without any games from Chan would be ideal, but life never worked out for you in that way, did it?

“Welcome home, darling ~!” he greeted playfully over the blasting bass before turning it down. “Cookin’ anything for dinner?”

The tiredness in your sigh didn’t go unnoticed. “Nah, I don’t feel like cooking tonight. I might do delivery if you’re up for that?”

The charming man came out of the room all dressed up like he was planning on going out and not coming back for the night. “That’s ok, I actually have plans tonight.”

“Oh? Where are you going?”

“Miyeon’s taking me out to one of her friend’s birthday bash, or whatever rich girls like to do, before we all go out tonight.”

Miyeon, the gorgeous cheerleader. Somehow, you’ve completely forgotten her existence. Of course they were still talking, idiot! How could you even think that you could compete with someone like her?

“Are you her date?” you asked hesitantly, not wanting to know the answer.

“If that’s what she’s callin’ it, I guess so.” Chan adjusted his shirt collar and unbuttoned the top. “Do I look good?”

“Do you not consider her your date?”

“Not really. All I have to do is sit and look pretty.”

“You don’t think she’s asking you because she likes you?”

“Please, she probably only asked me because Mingyu said no.”

“Chan, you don’t know that for sure.”

You began to feel his frustration when he threw his hands in the air in disbelief. The truth hurts, doesn’t it? “Why are you so hung up about this? Why does it matter to you?”

“It doesn’t!” you said a little too defensively. “I just don’t think you’re being fair.”

“How?”

“What if she really likes you? What if she’s asking you out to this thing because she wants you to know that? If she does like you, can you even say that you like her back?”

“Tch, no.”

“Then why even bother going and leading her on!?”

“Who said I’m leading her on? I’m just keeping her company!”

“What, so you’re going to have your arm around her waist, look into each others’ eyes and kiss and it’s going to mean nothing!?” At this point, you were screaming before you knew it. “Because that’s what you two normally do, right? Kiss each other like it means nothing?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what it means, nothing! I -” Chan sighed heavily. “Ok, it does sound a little ridiculous when I say it out loud, but I promise it doesn’t mean anything! Wait a minute, why am I even explaining myself to you? Are you jealous, or something?”

No, you’re not jealous. You’re angry that Chan was that kind of guy who played with women like they were toys or little pawns on a cheap chess set. You’re angry that you were one of them.

“Have fun tonight,” you said flatly, retrieving to your room.

“_____, wait.” You didn’t wait and instead locked your bedroom door. “Fuck.”

Well, Chan’s End Game plan to get you to confess out of jealousy backfired badly. The party wasn’t even real! Dammit, now where was he supposed to go looking like this!?

A small lightbulb went off in his head. Off to the grocery store!

Maybe going to your room was a terrible idea because now you were left to reflect on how you poorly reacted. You had your strong points about how Chan didn’t know how Miyeon truly felt about him, but the flipside was that she could have felt the same - that she was just using Chan as some accessory and he was totally ok with that. Who were you to judge the weird mutualistic relationship that they had as head cheerleader and captain of the basketball team? The concept seemed corny and straight out of a teen movie, but perhaps those movies weren’t too far off base as you thought.

You’re also left to reflect on what he said before you stormed off into your room - were you jealous? At first, your anger could easily be mistaken for jealousy, but what was the truth? Of course you’re furious that Chan played these stupid fucking games with you! But you’d be less mad if you were the only one he cared to fool around with.

You finally left the room around an hour after your sulking to bump into Chan’s rock-hard chest.

“Jesus Christ!” you screamed. “Chan, what the hell!”

“Sorry, I was about to knock!”

“What are you doing right in front of my room, you werido!?”

The cheeky, dimply boy held up a paper bag. “Buzzfeed said people who like desserts are emotionally-driven and a little cold-hearted, but sweet as sugar once they get their fix.”

“Buzzfeed said that or YOU said that?”

“Both.”

You shook your head tiredly. “What are you doing here?”

“I… I lied. I don’t have some extravagant party to go to tonight. I haven’t texted Miyeon in weeks.”

“What? Then why did you…?”

“I had this dumb idea that you would confess your undying love for me if I somehow made you jealous. Clearly that didn’t work.”

“You’re right, you’re dumb ideas never work.”

“Hey, I didn’t say that! Fine, let me try Plan B. Let me know it it’s also dumb.”

“Gladly.”

“_____, I like you.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. “Y-You what?”

“I like you. A lot. Since you threw that blanket over me that one night last semester and I knew you didn’t truly hate my guts after all. And then I got to live with you - to witness your multi-faceted personality, to talk with you, and to get you to laugh at my dumb jokes and cheek kisses. Tell me, _____, am I dumb for falling for you like this?”

“Well… I’d say yes, but that would admit I’m stupid, too.”

“Oh?” He smirked playfully, taking a step forward. “And that’s because…?”

You mumbled something incoherent. Then, Chan dropped the bag of desserts and scooped you in his arms again, nuzzling his nose in all the ticklish places on your neck.

“Chan, stop!” you giggled.

“Hm? What was that?” he asked. “I can’t hear you ~”

“I like you!”

Finally, he stopped, lifting his head to look at you but keeping you safe in his arms. “Do you? I mean, really, do you?”

“I like you. Surprisingly a lot. And I hate it.”

“Music to my ears, baby,” he grinned. He buried his face once more to flower you with cheek kisses. “Say it again.”

“Don’t make me say it again.”

“Please ~” his kisses trickled down to your neck.

“It tickles!” you giggled some more. “If I say it, you gotta stop.”

“As much as that burdens me, fine.”

“I like you, Bang Chan.”

“See? Doesn’t that confession feel great? Like a huge weight lifted off your chest?” He pulled you in closer, to which you oblige and it only made his ego bigger and his heart beat faster. “I could get used to this.”

“Me too,” you sighed dreamily.

“Would you like dessert to commemorate this beautiful union, my love?”

“Sounds delightful.”

“Will you kiss me first?”

You pulled on his shirt collar to bring him down for a long, deep kiss that Chan thought he could only ever dream about. It left him dizzy and a little light headed and the way you break the kiss to let your sweet lips linger so closely was torturous and almost had him begging for more. Almost. Bang Chan did not beg.

“Whoa,” he sighed breathily.

“That’s what you get for the past couple of weeks.”

“Ah yeah, I suppose I deserve that…”

You left the stunned Chan to go ahead into the kitchen. “Let’s go, lover boy. I want some ice cream, please.”

“Anything for you, princess.”

EPILOGUE

“You two are what!?”

You and Chan looked at each other with fear written on both of your faces. Yeri was on the other end on speakerphone screaming curse words and ‘are you kidding me’s and ‘I fucking knew this would happen’s.

“Yeah, we’re uh, kind of dating now,” Chan repeated bravly.

“I cannot believe what I’m hearing! This is disgusting!! _____, what do you have to say for yourself, you hypocritical piece of poo!”

“I have nothing to say, I am just as ashamed as you are.”

Chan nudged you playfully. “Hey, we’re in this together, you know!”

“Ugh, I hate how I have to support this!” Yeri whined and cried and sobbed. “Just… Just don’t do it on my bed!”

“Don’t worry, apparently to Chan I’m a huge virgin because I know how to cook.”

“I was kidding!! And that’s gonna change now that I’m here -”

“Oh, gross! Stop! Please stop!” Yeri groaned. “I hate you both, I’m gonna kick your asses when I come back!”

“Love you too, Yer-bear,” you and Chan said in unison.

#bang chan #chan #skz #stray kids #skz chan #stray kids chan #college au #roommates au #chan scenarios #bang chan scenarios #chan imagines #bang chan imagines #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #omg no more chan for a very long time im tired of him LOL

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clean-bands-dirty-stories · 4 years ago

Text

The Best Things ~ J.V. (part 12)

A/n: I would like to apologize for not marking warnings on each part like I should have been. I get too excited to post and skip over them on accident. I’ll do my best to add them from here on! Also, I was adding the warnings as I wrote but then they didn’t save so I tried to remember them as best I could. If I forgot anything, I sincerely apologize.

Warnings: Recounting past trauma (physical abuse, homophobia), explicit talk of death, badly handling others’ trauma, light smut (foreplay: slapping, choking, degradation, daddy kink, handcuff restraining, brat/dom dynamic, punishing, teasing, masterbation)

Word Count: 5200+

MASTERLIST

The air was so thick with tension that a knife could have cut through it. No matter how much Harley was fighting his instincts to lounge and be himself - the self Jeremiah was used to, at the very least - he felt like he had to be the self he used to be. The one Bruce was expecting. Jeremiah knew Harley was trying too hard, and Jeremiah was far too easy to read - which meant that Bruce knew too. So Harley sat there trying to behave and Bruce sat there brimming with suspicion and pain and hesitation and Jeremiah sat between the two boys, wishing this had never happened and he could just escape the two brothers who seemed seconds from either running or fighting.

Echo, as if sent from God, walked into the room with a pitcher of water. They were at Jeremiah's instead of Wayne manor as Harley had absolutely no intention of being back there or anywhere near Alfred. The butler was far too good at accepting change, which meant that the man might pick up on the fact that Harley was no longer Y/n and the whole thing would fall apart. Honestly, it seemed like so much work. Harley wasn't sure why this plan was so important but Jerome was feeding off of it so Harley did it anyway because he'd said he would. If this is where Jerome lead, Harley would follow.

"So," Echo cut into the silence as she walked around pouring drinks. "How is everyone this evening?"

Harley smiled at her, amused. She was poorly hiding a sort of awkward expression that was dashed with a little humor. She was mocking them in her head; Harley could almost hear what she was thinking. A bunch of dumb boys sitting around a table unable to swallow their pride. Idiots. "Oh you know," Harley mumbled casually, shrugging. "Indulging." He motioned to his food but his words were obviously directed at the ambiance.

"Having a good time?" Echo asked.

"Not at all," Harley immediately answered with the same casual, chipper tone. Jeremiah choked on his drink as he laughed at the exchange. The humor delivered saltiness in Harley's voice and the passive aggressive mocking in Echo's had always been an exchange that could make Jeremiah chuckle at least a little. Echo and Harley were very good at banter and it lightened the mood significantly every time they went at it. After all, it was just in good fun. Bruce seemed to relax as a smile curled everyone else's lips. "So... Harley." His lips seemed to want to reject the name.

Harley's smile dropped. Hearing Bruce call him that made him uncomfortable. Not just because he was nervous about Bruce not calling him Y/n as he had all up until this point but because he had cut Bruce out of this new life very purposefully and now... he was in it anyway. "Yes?"

Echo sighed and left the room as she sensed Harley jerk back, even with her attempt to loosen everyone up. Jeremiah focused on his food. Bruce looked at Harley but Harley did not look back, instead choosing to stare at the door Echo had gone through. "Why Harley?"

That was an easy question. "When I was in Arkham, a few of the guards used to beat the shit out of me every single day to try and convince me to be straight." Harley looked Bruce in the eye when he said this, completely calm. He had long since gotten over it. "They even put me in isolation to keep me away from people who might protect me or care about me."

"Jerome." Bruce didn't form it like a question.

Harley answered anyway. "Yes. But see this is a smaller world than everyone thought and my therapist, Harleen Quinzel, became my friend instead. She's like me, but for girls." Bruce nodded, accepting that. "They couldn't kill me without having to mark me as a loss. That and they'd have lost their punching bag. To teach me a lesson, they killed her. And then made sure the TV that was never supposed to be on the news would be on the news, on just the channel and at just the time that would allow me to see her bloody, bruised, cold, dead body strewn out for the public to see. And no one gave a single shit because no crimes in Gotham get solved unless someone important is involved. And even then- well, you know first hand."

Bruce's expression grew very dark. "I didn't know."

"Of course you didn't," Harley purred, still eating as if he was talking about the weather.

Jeremiah has stopped eating. "People are really like that?" His voice was small and his eyes moved to Bruce, his hands tightening around his silverware as if picturing Bruce's face cold and dead and staring at him through a TV. Bruce felt his eyes and looked back to Jeremiah, but the red head averted his gaze to Harley instead. "I mean, people really act like that just because of... how someone loves?"

Harley nodded, swallowing the food in his mouth. It tasted like sand but he kept eating it. It made him feel powerful to while the others in the room had forgotten their food altogether. Although... Perhaps he hadn't chewed it as well as he thought because it felt as if it had gotten stuck somewhere along the way. A thick lump had lodged for a second and a sick feeling had settled in the bottom of his stomach. He hadn't thought about that image in so long... the daily bearings and the isolation and the one ray of light he'd gotten being extinguished and displayed because he had dared to be himself and therefore allowed her to do the same. Because they were different than how most people were.

"Do you know who did it?" Bruce asked.

"Yeah." That didn't seem to be the answer Bruce was expecting. "This isn't great table conversation," Harley eased, changing the subject. "But that is why I go by Harley. Do you like it?"

Bruce shrugged. "Do you still go by Wayne?"

Internally, Harley sighed. "Harley Quinn."

At that Bruce nodded. "You're not coming back are you?"

Harley laughed dryly. "You're not very good at casual, light conversation are you Brucey?"

"Don't call me that," Bruce snapped, body going stiff.

Rolling his eyes, Harley sat back in his seat. "Why not?" It came out harsher than Harley had meant it.

Meeting hostility with hostility, Bruce got angry as well. "Because that's what Jerome called me, and after how many times he tried to kill me it's not a name I like."

"Get over it," Harley sneered. "It's just a name and we're in Gotham. Trauma is kind of a part of life here. Adapt or get trampled."

Bruce jerked back. "Get over it? Since when are you...?" He trailed off, as if hesitating, before his face set and he finished his sentence with a much harder tone. "Like Jerome."

Harley felt his knuckles turn white. "Stop saying that like it's a bad thing." "It is!" Bruce hissed.

Harley shot to his feet, dropping his silverware on the table. Jeremiah flinched but Harley didn't notice. Bruce did. "Look, Jerome is fucked up and dark and broken. He doesn't have a grip on reality or know how to human because he wasn't fucking treated like one. He killed people. He was crazy and insane and unhinged and dangerous. Yeah! You know what else he was? He was understanding and accepting. He got why people lived their lives differently than he did and didn't really judge anyone, ever. He thought they were boring and chose to live differently, sure, but he lived to make people laugh and have fun. Maybe his sense of fun was fucked up, but he genuinely just wanted people to laugh along with him for once. He didn't hide who he really was. He wasn't ashamed. He didn't shun me and shove me in a corner and try to change me. He accepted who I was. He CELEBRATED me. I'd rather be with him than at this stupid fucking dinner or anywhere near you because I'm not some poor gay boy who needs saving. I'm strong and I matter and I FINALLY love myself, and you won't ever take that away from me because you see self respect and see Jerome because no one taught you that you are more important than everyone else. I refuse to sit here and let you try and turn me into some pathetic whiny brooding mess who's never happy because my priorities are fucked up. I won't be you. That isn't my goal anymore."

The room was dead quiet. For a long time, no one said anything. The brothers just stared each other down until Bruce shook his head. "Perhaps this was a bad idea."

Jeremiah pinched the bridge of his nose. "You guys are idiots." The other two in the room looked at the red head with shock. "My brother is dead, and honest to god it's a relief that he is. He's out of my life and I'm safe from him. I never had the chance to have a real relationship with him. I used to read the newspaper about your family and think that you guys were some kind of dream. Two brothers that loved each other despite everything and parents that were like... actually good people on any level." He sighed. "Obviously I was wrong. You're too busy trying to make him how he used to be." This he directed at Bruce. "And you're too busy hurting and bottling up your emotions and pushing everyone away to let anyone care about you or see the real you." This was for Harley. Jeremiah didn't stop when both other boys went to speak though. "Just shut up and make this work because you guys are the only true family you each have left. Harley, you grew up and I have to say you wear your changes very well. You're happier and sturdier and if someone isn't happy about that then they're insane. Right, Bruce?"

The Wayne boy hesitated before giving in. "Yeah. I am happy for you. I should have started with that. I just... I'm scared for you."

"Why?" Harley demanded, exasperated.

"Because I don't want you to become Jerome. I don't want you to end up like that. I don't want you to be some criminal, when you used to be the best person I knew. You said your life goal used to be being like me? No. I wanted so much to be like you. You couldn't speak about a huge part of you, but you accepted it with the knowledge no one else ever would. I refused to even look at the fact that I'm attracted to guys until you and Jerome got together and then..." his eyes shot to Jeremiah and then back. "Things happened and- and you were always so bright and happy and free. Like a bird in flight or- something." He shook his head. "You were inspiring, Y/n. Seeing you like this... it looks like you've been broken. And I just want to bring back that light you had before. When you seemed so much happier."

"I'm not broken." Harley looked at the boy who was supposed to be his brother. The boy who used to be his best friend before one lie after another had pulled them further and further apart until they were on completely opposite sides. Secrets had torn their relationship up into so many little bits it could never be repaired. They were just too different now. "I'm not lost or struggling. I'm just not... sitting there and pretending all the bad things aren't happening. The friends I have now actually like and respect me as a person, not just because I'm Y/n Wayne. I'm myself, proudly, and I wear my experiences as a reminder of what I can endure. Things hurt less. What you see isn't some poor boy waiting to be saved. It's darkness. And maybe that scares you, because you're used to hiding your darkness. But darkness, Bruce, isn't a bad thing. Darkness is what makes us who we are. Like everything it can be used as a weapon, but Darkness itself isn't dangerous. What you do with it is."

Bruce considered that for a long time. "That... is a good point."

Jeremiah released a breath. "So... truce?" The boys looked at each other before shrugging. Harley sat back down. Jeremiah seemed pleased. "Okay, now lets talk about something a little more pleasant."

"So you mean literally anything other than what any of us have been up to recently?" Harley sassed. Jeremiah shot him a look. "Okay fine whatever." He searched for some light conversation. "So you guys are like boyfriends now or what?"

That seemed to make Bruce and Jeremiah both blush and the air in the room cleared significantly. Harley pulled off being cheery and invested as he teased and prodded and asked questions and engaged. Things almost seemed like they used to be when Bruce and Y/n would sit with their parents and Bruce mentioned a girl and Y/n would go off about how he was going to be the best man or the world would surely end... but Harley wasn't Y/n and Jeremiah wasn't their parents. This wasn't Wayne Manor and as good of a server as Echo was, she wasn't a butler. She wasn't Alfred.

Under the light tone, Harley formed a plan. A plan he carried out as he and Bruce began to hang out more and more as time passed that night and stretched for a while. Jerome became nocturnal in favor of being awake when Harley finally returned at home. The boys would spend some time together and then sleep and then Harley would wake up and go out and spend time with Bruce and Jeremiah again. Slowly the time with the other boys began to cut into Harley's time with Jerome and both he and Harley were getting restless. They'd begun arguing about it.

"Stay in tonight," Jerome whined.

"Bruce wants me to come back to Wayne manor tonight." Harley sighed, an odd expression on his face. "I've finally earned his trust and am getting along with him - as much as it pains me. I think Jeremiah is talking to him when I'm not around, convincing him to behave and respect my boundaries. He calls me Harley and has stopped expecting me to be the person I used to be. I don't know, I think he'll be enough to convince Alfred though I might have to try a tad harder." He rubbed his forehead. "Soon I'm sure I'll be chummy with them again and that'll definitely lead to interacting with all of Bruce's friends - which will be a whole other adventure of its own."

Jerome huffed. "If you're going back to Wayne manor, won't Bruce want you to move back in?"

The thought had occurred to Harley if he was being honest. Where did he draw the line in being buddy buddy with his brother again? Where did he stop things? How far did Jerome want him to go? "Probably," Harley voiced, shrugging. There was a long pause. Jerome was more guarded than he usually was and it set Harley on edge. When the red head did speak, it was in a dangerously quiet tone. "Would you go?"

"W- would you want me to?" Harley was distracted by the way Jerome's Adam's Apple moved when he swallowed.

Jerome hummed. "So this is still about what I want?"

That made Harley defensive. "You think I'm dealing with my arrogant brother because I want to?" It had a biting edge to it.

"And what about my brother?" Jerome pushed.

Now Harley was confused. "Jerome I did all of this for you. To convince them you were dead so you'd be free to have some free time and then make your grand entrance whenever you wanted to. I did this because you asked me to." Jerome rolled his eyes. "You've been gone a lot. You come home... lighter. You enjoy your time with them."

"I'm sorry, you WANT me to come home miserable?" Harley sneered, his hands coiling into fists.

Jerome's eyes darkened. Harley realized what was happening. Before he could react, Jerome's hand shot out, fingers curling around Harley's throat. Jerome pressed his boyfriend against the closest wall, his face close and words sharp like knives. "You're getting angry again. Talking to me like that, as if I'm one of our dumb brothers or that blonde idiot Jeremiah carries around. You might have been gone for a while now, but SURELY not long enough to have forgotten to respect me."

Harley gasped, eyes fluttering closed. Jerome's grip wasn't dangerous but it could go that way if Harley wasn't careful. Jerome only ever got like this when he was frustrated. Usually when he was bored and wanted to do something other than sit around. To be fair, he was cooped up which was something he HATED to be. He hated feeling trapped. And on top of that Harley had been spending less and less time around the place. It was a miracle the redhead had behaved so long. Harley had spent more nights with Jeremiah, talking to Bruce so late into the night and fake catching up and playing nice that it was just easier for them both stay at Jeremiah's. Alfred had even gotten used to a simple text from Bruce letting the older man know where he was and that he was safe. If Bruce wasn't home by 10pm Alfred had come to expect that he wouldn't be back at all. It had become a sort of habit.

Perhaps Harley had been a tad neglectful.

He sighed, letting his guard down and releasing all the tension he'd gained from being around Bruce. Jerome didn't deserve this. "I'm sorry, you're right." Jerome didn't let up. "Oh so you shoot me puppy dog eyes and say sorry and that's supposed to be it?" Harley could feel his insides warming as Jerome grew closer, the air in the room slowly becoming infected with sexual tension. The sudden mood change was hard for Y/n to switch gears to, even though he was immediately eager. "You've forgotten who you belong to."

"I-"

Jerome's hand tightened on Harley's throat, cutting off any attempt to speak. "What was that?" Harley coughed a little as the initial shock took him off guard. His eyes fluttered but he could still breathe which is what mattered. "Come on, Harley. Come on, Y/n." Harley jerked at the name. "Is that what you want me to call you? Is that who you want to be?"

Harley wasn't dealing with that shit. His body jerked, arms wrapping around Jerome. He pulled hard, twisting to turn Jerome around so he'd have to let Harley go, or risk hurting his arm. As predicted, Jerome let go. Harley twisted their bodies with extreme force, pushing Jerome's face into the wall aggressively. "What the fuck did you call me?" He growled. The words were raw from his throat being a little sore. It made Jerome smile. "Answer me. Now." Harley let his free hand thread into Jerome's hair. He pulled, the red head squirming underneath him as it began to hurt. "I said, now."

"I called you Y/n," Jerome answered softly. His tone was half reluctance and half defiance. He didn't want to answer Harley like he'd been told to, but saying the name again did give him power.

Harley leaned back, pulling Jerome away from the wall just by his hair. He dragged him over to the bed. "Kneel. Now." Jerome was giggling as Y/n hurt him, getting off on the pain. "NOW, Valeska!" Jerome smirked, taking his precious time with following the order. When he was down, Y/n maneuvered his face into the bed. "Stay there. If you move, I will know and you will be punished. I will be back in a moment." He left Jerome there, ducking out of the bedroom to the trunk in the bathroom, shoved in the closet. He opened it, pushing around some things they'd collected in their time together. This was the stuff they used when things got more kinky. Handcuffs Jerome had gotten from cops even before he and Y/n were together. Rope from a construction sight. Some things were specifically from sex stores - stolen of course.

Ignoring most of it, Harley grabbed the handcuffs and went back into the room. He returned to see Jerome had indeed moved. In fact he was sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning back on his hands. He was smirking at Harley, a dare in his eyes. The red head seemed to be expecting Harley to lose his shit, but Harley didn't. Instead, he got very still, thinking. That seemed to actually make Jerome nervous.

Slipping the handcuffs into his back pocket, Harley slowly approached Jerome. His eyes cut into Jerome's soul, his jaw so tightly shut that Jerome shivered. "What, you think you're going to look at me and-?"

Jerome didn't get to finish his sentence. Out of nowhere, unexpectedly, Harley backhanded Jerome, causing the sitting boy's head to snap to the side. The red head was shocked, but found his stomach twisting with the familiar sensation of arousal. This wasn't like when he was a kid. Harley was calm and controlled - even his hit was direct. There was a safety in the way that Harley controlled himself. Jerome didn't fear him. It left room to enjoy what was happening. Harley gripped Jerome's jaw, bringing the red head's brown eyes around to meet his. "What did I say when I left the room, Jerome?" Harley not using a pet name in a sexual situation made Jerome shift nervously. Was Harley actually mad? "You told me not to move."

Harley released a breath, smirking as he got turned on just by getting Jerome to answer his question without being pushed. When Jerome was being bratty, he refused Harley any amount of control. So when he let up even the smallest amount, it never failed to excite Harley. "And what did you do?" Unwilling to let Harley win twice in a row, Jerome shrugged. Harley slapped him again. The red head blinked, breathing sharply outward as he felt the stinging on his face. "I moved."

A hum came from Harley as he stood, crossing his arms. "You know I had to punish you for using the wrong name, but it was going to be pretty light. Now..." Jerome shivered under that look - like Harley was trying to figure just how to kill him. "I'm going to take your clothes off Jerome. If you fight me, you'll get immediate punishment do you understand?" Jerome nodded. Harley rose an eyebrow.

"Yes, Daddy."

That seemed to please Harley. He stopped glaring at least. First Harley removed Jerome's shirt. Then he gently nudged Jerome, and the redhead followed the flow and laid back on the bed. Harley then removed his pants, and his socks one at a time. Slowly. Jerome felt himself get antsy. "Do you want something, baby?" Harley asked evenly.

"I'm fine," Jerome responded.

Unfortunately for him, his erection gave him away. "You don't want me to do... anything?" Harley asked again, pausing to look at Jerome very carefully.

The redhead looked back for a long time, a battle happening between the two men. Jerome lost. "Jesus Christ Harley, touch me."

That got Harley to smile. "Ask nicely J, or I'm going to have to punish you." Jerome went to glare but Harley reached up, threading his fingers through Jerome's hair and pulling roughly. "Listen here bitch, I'm not here to mess around. You're going to listen to me or you're going to regret it, understand?" They had come a long way since having sex in a cell and trying to keep quiet. Back then, Harley had fumbled and blushed a lot and been overwhelmed very easily. Back then, Jerome would stretch out, getting comfortable as he bossed Harley around - a true power bottom. Or, he would top, and then he'd get very soft and quiet and affectionate... Well, compared to how he usually was when he was impossible to please and degrading to an extent that had driven Harley insane.

Now adays, things were different. There was a huge power play between the two men constantly, and endlessly pushing buttons. What would often happen was that Harley would be a bit of a brat but otherwise let Jerome blow off steam, unless it was a day that Jerome desperately wanted Harley to "take hold and ruin" him. A direct quote from the ginger. On those days, Jerome did what he did best: he kept talking. He said all the things he knew would piss off Harley the most, like calling him by his old name. He would make Harley snap and then Harley would retaliate exactly how he wanted.

Not today.

"Fuck, you're such a baby," Jerome grumbled, rolling his eyes. "I'm bored with you playing daddy, I already know all your moves and we both know that you're just going to give me what I want anyways. You're a soft top, Sweetheart." He was smirking, proudly flaunting the power he usually had over Harley.

Today though, Jerome had pushed him too much. After all the shit he'd gone through with Jeremiah and Bruce, hearing Jerome call him Y/n had pushed him in a way that had sent him over the edge. And if he was being honest, he had his own frustrations. He wanted to run free as much as Jerome did and break things and scream as loudly as he wanted and sock his stupid brother in his face any time he dare even mention Jerome's name in Harley's presence. He was tired of behaving. He was tired of feeling like some toy. He was tired of being used. He was really, REALLY fucking tired of being ignored, too.

Harley's smile was dangerous. Jerome looked at him, unsure of what was going through the other boy's head. "You know, you have a little too much attitude for someone who's currently desperate for me to touch him. You want something from me? You need to learn some respect." Harley reached over, grabbing Jerome's wrist and forcing it toward the top of the bed. It happened so fast that only when Harley had used one cuff to get Jerome's right hand, and then had threaded the second cuff through the bars at the head of the bed, did Jerome react.

"HEY!"

At the outburst, Harley didn't hesitate to slap Jerome again. The redhead gasped, body shivering. He would absolutely never admit it, but this kind of aggression had always turned him on, when he was comfortable with the person. He'd wanted someone to be like this with him for ages, but not many people were willing to go far enough to please Jerome Valeska. By the way Harley was looking at him right now, this time might be different.

"I didn't give you permission to speak. Granted, I didn't tell you to shut up either so I'll be forgiving, but if you shout at me one more time you will regret it." He gripped Jerome's other wrist, cuffing that as well. Now Jerome's hands were over his head, trapped by the cuffs and the bar. "If you want to say something, I want you to address me first. I will allow you to continue then. Or I will not." Jerome hesitated, then nodded, intrigued by this side of Harley even he had not the pleasure of exploring before.

What came next surprised Jerome. Harley didn't take him right there, rough and hot. He didn't move slowly around and tease until Jerome wa a desperate mess of begs and whimpers. Harley didn't touch him at all. In fact, he moved off of the bed completely. He left the room even, returning a moment with a chair. Only then did he undo his own clothes, only lowering his pants enough to allow himself access his erection. He didn't even pull his pants off all the way! Jerome felt completely exposed, tied up and naked for viewing pleasure, when Harley was so far away and completely dressed.

To Jerome's intense frustration, Harley sat down on the chair and began stroking himself, eyes on Jerome. Harley's eyes were wide and lust blown, his tongue flicking out every once in a while to wet his lips. After a while, his eyes fluttered shut and his head tilted back just a little as a small moan came from him.

Jerome shifted. He was getting uncomfortable with how long he'd been hard without being touched, and watching Harley be like this was not helping. Jerome really liked to be involved in sexual acts. He had gotten rather pouty anytime Harley was caught masterbating, and there had been an unspoken rule that Harley didn't really restrain Jerome for stuff like this. If Harley wanted to be touched, Jerome would touch him. They both preferred it that way. This was ridiculous, and frankly rude. Jerome wasn't going to give Harley the upper hand. This was a low blow and he wasn't going to let Harley get away with it.

As Harley continued though, getting more into it and completely ignoring Jerome, it was becoming increasingly hard to keep his mouth shut. Trying to play it off like he didn't care as much as he did, Jerome finally spoke up. It had seemed an eternity for him, but it had actually only been a few seconds and Harley had to swallow his smile to not give himself away. "Okay Harley, very funny. Let me touch you. I'm sorry I called you the other name. You know I can do this better than you can. Let me out." When Harley continued to ignore Jerome, the cuffed ginger raised his voice. "LET ME OUT!"

"Why?" Harley growled, eyes finally on Jerome again. "Because you told me to? Because you asked me to?" He stood, pulling his pants up again. "I'm not your little bitch Jerome, you're mine. You want to kill someone? Fine. You want to steal or break something? Fine! But you don't call me by that name. You don't mess with me, because I'm all you got. If you want me to leave, you ask like a big kid."

Jerome's lips twitched, slowly rising into a smile. "Are you actually mad at me?"

Harley grinned. "No, not really." They both cracked up, losing it for a few extended seconds. Then Harley cut off and Jerome faded into quiet, soft chuckles as Harley began to speak. "I respect you, J. My little joker." He moved towards the bed, caressing Jerome's cheek. The ginger leaned into the touch, his eyes closing. He fed off of the contact, as if it was a drug or he was starving and the gesture fed him. Harley smiled softly. "You gotta respect me too. You don't have to piss me off to get me to break you, joker. All you have to do is ask me nicely, like a good boy. Do all the bad things you want. But not to me."

A sigh escaped Jerome, and then he finally gave in. "If I behave will you let me out? I want you to touch me. Please."

That pleased Harley. "That's what I wanted to hear." He leaned back a little, eyes scanning Jerome's exposed body. "I will let you out. And then it's time to play for real." His eyes glinted with a darkness that made Jerome jerk in expectation. Needless to say, Harley didn't disappoint.

Story Tags: @wanna-plan-world-domination

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bibislut · 4 years ago

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First Dance

Draco Malfoy is prepared for a night of polite conversation and catty gossip, all dressed up in designer clothes and glitzy jewelry. After all, that's what you get at a gala. What he is not prepared for, however, is Harry Potter saving him from his ex.

Words: 2148

Warnings: Strong Language

Read on Ao3 here

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Draco’s eyes widened, the minute movement the only break in his perfectly schooled stance. He watched Potter walk into the ballroom, as did everyone else, the whole room pausing for a moment to take in the Auror’s entrance. He was dressed well, the deep blue velvet blazer fitted perfectly to his torso, accompanied by matching black shirt and trousers. He looked incredible, as he always did in Draco’s opinion, a little nervous too, but his Gryffindor confidence shone through. Potter smiled politely at the waiter and took a flute of champagne off of the offered tray.

Pansy slinked in beside Draco, looping her arm through his. “The saviour returns.”

The blond had to stop himself from rolling his eyes at her dramatic words. “Indeed.” They had both bumped into Potter at work before, so it wasn’t as if he’d ever disappeared. The Gryffindor was simply more out of the spotlight these days. Draco flicked his eyes back to him. He had already been swarmed by nosy housewives and their adoring daughters. Poor bastard.

The slytherin took another sip of his scotch as he let his gaze drift around the room. The annual gala was held to raise money for orphaned wizard children, but many just used it as a way to show off their wealth by out-donating each other. At least the children would get something nice out of it, Draco thought. He stole another canapé from a waiter.

Pansy made a choking sound beside him, and he turned to see her staring down someone across the room. He followed her gaze, nearly choking himself.

Balveer was the latest of Draco’s romantic escapades, and held a striking resemblance to a certain navy-clad wizard across the room. He was sinfully gorgeous and sweet and kind - and did absolutely nothing to Draco’s heart. They had broken up a few weeks prior, and despite their relationship only lasting a few months it had been more than messy. It was safe to say that the man did not return Draco’s feelings of ‘only friends’.

“Shit.”

“Uh-huh. That’s what I thought.”

“I need another drink.” Draco groaned. He left Pansy’s side and began making his way through the crowd, worried Balveer would sense his gaze on him. A few feet away from the bar, someone backed into his path, and he nearly tripped. Draco grabbed onto the body for balance, looking up into the eyes of Harry Potter.

“Shit. Sorry, Malfoy.”

Draco released his grip like his hands had been scorched and ran them through his hair. “Potter.” He cleared his throat. “Please accept my apologies. I should have been watching where I was going.”

Harry tilted his head. “It’s fine, it was my fault anyway.” He looked down at Draco’s empty glass. “Let me get you a drink to say sorry.”

Draco offered him a polite smile. “It’s quite alright.”

“I insist.” Potter looked over his shoulder. “The bar’s just there, right?” He said, taking off with a wave of his hand.

Draco followed, his tall stance and cool looks hiding the knotted ball in his stomach. Was Harry Potter really about to buy him a drink? He wondered if Pansy could see him, pictured the shocked smirk on her face. She’d no doubt pester him for every single detail later, and there was no doubt he’d spill them all. If there was any of course; maybe Potter would just pass him his drink and leave.

“What do you want?” Potter sniffed the glass. “Scotch?”

Draco stood beside him, leaning casually on the bar. “You really don’t have to.”

“I want to.” The darker man shrugged, as if his words hadn’t just sent a jolt of lightning through the blond’s body. He wanted to?

Potter signaled to the waiter and ordered the same for himself. “You seemed in quite a rush.” He said nonchalantly.

“No, I did not.” There was no way he did, Draco thought, he was always in control.

“No you didn’t. But you almost barrelled me over, so you must have been quite determined to get here.”

“Since when were you so astute?”

“I’ve been working on it.” Potter had the audacity to smirk, and Malfoy’s heart nearly exploded. Merlin, he had a good mind to wipe that look off of his face.

He shook himself out of it as the server pushed their drinks towards them, he was going to end up making a complete fool out of himself, he could feel it. “It doesn’t matter.” Draco murmured, taking a sip of his drink. The familiar burn warmed his throat and eased his nerves.

“Well, whatever it was. I hope the scotch helps.” Potter chuckled and Draco found himself giving in to a small smile.

“It certainly will, as will the next one.” He drawled. How long could he put off talking to Balveer? Unless he found somewhere to hide, the answer was ‘not as long as he’d like’ - and Malfoys didn’t hide.

“I’ll let you into a secret.” Potter said quietly as he raised his glass to his lips. Draco watched him swallow and gulped. “The longer we talk, the longer I’m saved from talking to other people.” He whispered the words, his green eyes dancing with humour. “So please do me a favour and get it off your chest.”

Draco couldn’t help it; he let out a chuckle. “Since when am I your preferred match for conversation?”

“I don’t know. But you certainly make a change from these other posh gits - I can at least remember your name.”

Draco chuckled again. Who knew it would be so easy to talk to his ex-enemy? Sure, they hadn’t been at each other’s necks in a long time now, but still, banter? It was enough to make one’s head reel. “Let’s just say that there’s someone here tonight that I’d like to avoid.”

“Messy ex?”

Draco almost choked. “How did you know?”

“Really?” Potter asked. “Just a lucky guess.”

Draco grimaced internally. What was he doing? He shouldn’t be so obvious about his emo-

“Draco?”

The blond’s heart sunk, and he slowly turned his head, offering a politely surprised smile. “Balveer! What brings you here?”

“Mother insisted.” The man rolled his eyes playfully, before his face grew more serious. “I was wanting to talk to you.”

“Oh! I’m so sorry!” Draco ignored him, turning to Potter. “Harry this is Balveer, Balveer, this is Harry Potter.”

“Ah, excuse my rudeness, Mr Potter.” Balveer extended his hand.

“Not at all.” Potter smiled, shaking his hand. He pulled away and looped his arm through Draco’s.

Draco and Balveer both stared down at their linked arms, both as equally shocked. What on earth was Potter doing? The heat radiating from his was delicious and zapped any sense Draco had to pull away. In fact, he practically leaned into it.

“I really don’t mean to be rude, but Draco’s been promising me a dance and Merlin knows he’ll wiggle his way out of it if he can.” Harry chuckled, giving the Slytherin a playful smack on the arm.

Was he…flirting? No, he couldn’t be, surely? Draco flicked his gaze up to Harry’s eyes and found them eerily cool. The ball was in his court.

“Yes.” Draco turned to smile at Balveer. “I’m afraid I did promise.” He said apologetically.

“Lovely to meet you.” Potter nodded, half dragging Draco towards the dance floor. They left the poor man in shocked silence.

“What are you doing?” Draco hissed.

“Saving you.” Potter whispered back. “That was him, right? Your ex?”

“Yes, but-”

“So now he thinks you’re with me. Problem solved.”

“Problem solved? This creates a million more problems!”

“Not least, the fact that I can’t dance.”

“You can't..?” Draco pulled him to a stop. “You’re telling me that you just insinuated a made up relationship to my ex, practically promised him a show on the dance floor, whilst also telling the whole bloody world that you like men - which will be in the papers all year by the way; not least because you’re with me, just to save my embarrassment? And you can’t bloody dance?!”

“Well when you say it like that, it sounds badly-thought-out.”

“That’s because it is!”

“You’re going to cause a scene, Draco.” Harry hissed, stepping closer as the witches and wizards around them stopped to watch.

“It’s gonna be a bloody scene in a minute when the two of us show up, uncoordinated and gay!” He hissed back.

“Well, we can’t back out now! Let’s just get it over with.” Potter took his hand, and Draco lost all sense. His whole body felt like it was on fire. Ignoring the fact that his insanely hot crush was now holding his hand, he was about to go dance with him!

He must be dreaming, hallucinating, passed out drunk at home, because this could not be happening!

He followed Potter to the dance floor just as the faster waltz turned into a slow dance. At least they couldn't mess this up?

Draco leaned in close, taking Potter's hand and giving into the absurdity of the situation and the butterflies in his stomach. "Let me lead." He said lowly in his ear. The brunette nodded with a shiver, and Draco placed his hand on his hip.

He led them slowly in time to the music, the two not doing much more than swaying. He'd been dancing at events like these since he was young, and was moderately skilled. Potter on the other hand, kept narrowly avoiding stepping on his feet. Their bodies were pressed tightly together and the heat gave Draco tingles all over, the warmth spreading all over his body and leaking slowly downwards towards his groin.

He ignored the feeling, not wanting to embarrass himself further by revealing his feelings to the other man.

"I'm going to spin you now." He murmured.

"You're going to what?"

Draco didn't respond, stepping back and lifting his arm as Potter spun around. The other man let out a surprised chuckle and Draco found himself smiling. He brought them back together, pressing their bodies against each other once again. Potter smelt incredible, earthy and spicy, and Draco wondered if he could get drunk on his scent alone.

"I shouldn't be enjoying myself as much as I am." Potter conceded with a coy smile and Draco blushed deeper. What had the world come to? Was this really happening?

"Me neither." He whispered.

They moved together for another few moments, their breaths falling in sync, their faces close together as they watched each other, silver orbs staring into emerald ones. The two men lost themselves to the music, to the feel of each other. Draco felt like he was floating, like there was nothing in the world except for this completely insane, yet perfectly sweet, moment. Finally, the music came to a close. They broke apart, joining in the applause for the musicians.

In the heat of the moment, neither had bothered to look at anyone else; too absorbed in each other. Prying eyes and low whispers followed them as they moved to the edge of the dance floor, and Harry worried at his lip.

"Don't tell me you're regretting your decision."

"Not as much as I should be." The darker man leaned in close and Draco got another whiff of his intoxicating scent. "I had too much fun."

Draco gave him a shy smile. "Let's get a drink."

They moved through the crowd, followed by those endless whispers, and Draco spotted Pansy waiting at the bar with a smirk. "Good evening, gentlemen." She nudged their two abandoned drinks towards them, having obviously been watching their interaction with Balveer. "Quite a show you put on."

"He's always known how to do that." Replied Potter.

"Says you, saviour boy."

"My, my. Such amorous flirtation. One would think you'd been doing this for say, a few weeks now." Pansy smiled devilishly. "Or at least that's what I told Balveer when he asked."

"You didn't." Draco stuttered. Why did he have such meddlesome friends?

"What was I supposed to say?"

"She’s got a point." Potter raised his glass towards her.

"Thank you."

"Merlin, I cannot be dealing with you two teaming up against me." Draco groaned.

Pansy smirked at him, picking up her wine glass. "I shall leave you two to it then."

The two men watched her walk away before Draco turned back to Harry, suddenly anxious. What would happen now?

"Want to get out of here?"

Draco actually choked on his drink this time. Potter patted his back with a laugh.

"Sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I meant we should get away from all these eyes and go do something less… on show. More relaxed. We could go for a pint? Or a coffee?"

Draco shook his head with disbelief. “This is not how I thought things would go tonight.”

“Is that a yes?”

“That’s a yes.”

#draco malfoy #harry potter #draco malfoy x harry potter #draco x harry #drarry #fic #oneshot #fake relationship #dancing #slow dance

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sword-brainrot · 4 years ago

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hewwo!! may I rq shokusani (gn) with him asking to go on his kiwame journey? tysm for your work ❤️❤️

Hello! I am so sorry that this took so long because I really wanted to make it perfect. I really loved this prompt because I adore looking into the emotions swords tend to hide and kiwame is my favorite part of the game to see them change! I hope you enjoy it! I might make a part two of him coming back from his journey. Also, this whole time writing this, I was listening to "i hope ur ok" by nøll. I'm not too sure why it really inspired me for Mitsutada.

Slow Steps, Deep Breaths (Shokudaikiri Mitsutada x GN!Reader)

The day had gone like any other. Swords were busy doing their activities throughout the day and finally were able to relax after the dinner that Mitsutada had prepared for them. Everyone began to unwind as the sky started to shift into amber. The edge only had barely noticeable darkness following close behind. It was at this moment, Y/N was in their office to finish the last of their paperwork for the day before they could also follow the swords' example and relax. Everything was normal and going as plan.

Until a knock came from their office door.

"Come in." Y/N ordered as they put their ink brush down, giving their full attention to the door that was pulled open with a faint 'excuse me'.

Who came through the door was not unexpected. Mitsutada often visited Y/N throughout the day to give them tea and snacks to keep up their strength throughout the day with the tower of paperwork that could fall on the poor master if they were not careful. The cheerful man that made sure to always leave them with a kiss before he left. The man that Y/N began to fall for as they became the sage of this citadel. The sword that Y/N could proudly call their lover.

Y/N found themselves smiling at the man right away, expecting him to come in to ask them if they wanted something to drink and receiving a kiss for all their hard work today. That was until their eyes looked at the rest of his body.

Mitsutada was in his uniform that he always wore when he had to go to the front lines or sparring. Not an outfit for the time of day now and certainly not an outfit Mitsutada often wore when he was alone with Y/N. The outfit that was put together perfectly, not a spot out of place. He even straightened out his jacket before kneeling before Y/N on the other side of the table. His lips in a fine line and his golden eye downcast to the ground as he was trying to get his thoughts together. A look very unlike their lover. His sword was placed to the right of him on the ground as his gloved hands gripped his knees.

"I have something to discuss..." Mitsutada struggled out of voice box.

Y/N smile faded as an eyebrow rose to the sword now seated in front of them. Their hands clasped together on the wooden furniture in front of them.

"Go on. I am listening." They insisted with the most soothing voice they would manage.

Mitsutada was always so well put together. His back was always straight, a smile present on his face, and his outfit never had a speck of dust on it. He was the definition term of a person man, especially to Y/N. Seeing him so anxious in front of them was unnerving, to say the least. How did he change so much in a span of a few hours? Was he dealing with things and Y/N just didn't notice?

Y/N couldn't help but anxiously bite the inside of their lip as they waited for their lover to speak. Were they really so blind to not notice the man they loved so much was struggling with something?

After one ragged breath, Mitsutada began to speak.

"Master, I don't come here today as your lover. I come here today as the sword of the late Date Masamune and of you." His face finally pulling up to give them a stressed smile. A worrisome smile that could instantly break Y/N's heart but they looked at Mitsutada nonetheless. Mitsutada was being brave enough to face his darker emotions with their lover and they were going to face it with him. They weren't going to look away just because it hurts them.

"Master, when you look at me... What do you see?"

The question caught the poor sage off guard. There was so much they saw in their lover. In your sword warrior. They couldn't just condense it in one conversation! Surely they will forget something and regret it later for not telling Mitsutada right away. They thought about their words carefully as they begane to answer.

"I see a strong sword warrior that always tries his best to look cool for everyone. Not just in style but in kindness as well."

Mitsutada head slowly nodded with the stressed smile still on his face as his head dropped down.

"I figured. Master, I don't see that." His voice was now broken as he tried to fight back the sobs in his throat. He wanted to continue to tell his story. No. He needed to. "Master... I am broken. Not just as a sword whose blade was burned to pieces, but as a man as well. I have to look cool. I have to make up for the fact that I'm fragile and can never be that strong sword anymore. I was given this body-"

His gloved hand was placed over his heart and he gripped the clothing aggressively, no longer caring how he messes up his outfit.

"I was given this body and I thought I finally had my second chance of being a sword that I am proud of. But..." Soft hiccups broke his speech as his back hunched over and he cowered into himself. "But I am not. I am still that pathetic sword that was burned and could no longer be used! Hell, I could barely be touched without other worrying that they would break me. I can't run from him! I look into the mirror and I see that burnt man that mocks me and tells me everyday that I can look perfect all I want but he knows what is truly inside."

Sobs echoed throughout the office as Y/N's mouth hung over. Their heart ached and all they wish to do was wrap Mitsutada in their arms and take away his pain. How could they be so blind? How could they have not known he was dealing with this? They knew that Mitsutada suffered by nightmares but he always seemed fine by the morning. Should they have pressed further? Should they demanded for him to talk about it right away? ... Would it even make a difference?

It wasn't like they could just change how he feels with a few simple words...

Soft sniffles were left as the man slowly calmed down. His posture, once again, perfect and his face looking at the sage. Red all around his one eye left.

"Master, I want to get stronger. I have let these thoughts control me for far too long. I wish to finally be proud of myself and become a man that will make you proud until the end of time. So, please-" His body once again lowered to the ground. His head almost on the ground, "I beg of you to let me leave and go train."

It wasn't a new topic to be brought up. Y/N had been the master of this citadel for a long while now and they have seen countless swords go on their journeys to become stronger. Their kiwame.

They finally let go of the breath they weren't aware they were holding. Their legs slowly finding their way next to their lover and sitting down.

"Raise your head, Mitsutada." They ordered and the raven haired man took no time to follow. His head rose and looked at Y/N. Y/N's hand gently caressed his cheek and thumbed away the wet blemishes that was found under his eye. A smile once again present on their lips, "You silly man... I have always been proud of you."

Mitsutada couldn't help but give a soft chuckle as he leans into their touch. A smile now finding a place on his lips too as he holds their hand there.

"I will let you leave for your training but in the future, it's okay to tell me how you actually feel. I know I won't be able to solve it but you don't have to face it alone. You're still just as cool as when I first met you."

His forehead slowly leaned forward as he rested on theirs's. "Yes. I'm sorry for making you worry, my beloved. When I return, I will make sure to make you your favorite dish as an apology."

It was Y/N turn to laugh at his suggestion, playfully squishing his cheeks. "You better! And you better send plenty of letters! I will die without knowing how the man I love is doing!"

A soft kiss found it's way upon their lips as they both smiled in each other's arms.

"And I will miss you every day I am gone. Take off the rest of the night so I can spend as much time with you as possible?"

"You didn't even have to ask, Mitsutada."

#Touken Ranbu #Touken Danshi #Tourabu #Touken Ranbu Headcanons #Touken Ranbu Imagines #Touken Ranbu x Reader #TKRB #TKRB Headcanons #TKRB Imagines #TKRB x Reader #Shokudaikiri Mitsutada #Shokudaikiri Mitsutada x Reader #Kiwame #Oneshot

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homestuckexamination · 4 years ago

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Selfish Vs Unselfish

Jesus. Yeah I have nothing to comment here, I’m going to read this later when I haven’t just woken up.

You know the drill. Put it under ‘Read More’. A matter of perspective it can be, but there can be an objective truth to sort that out. Let me e x p a n d on this matter using Homestuck and some philosophy. And for those who missed the last ask on Active/Passive divide, please do remember that these labels are on a continuum, not strictly boxed categories. “UNSELFISH” or UNSELFISH - The passive classes lean more to this. How? By being group-oriented. Like support classes in RPGs, their asset comes mainly from a drive to benefit others. Roxy is one of the best examples of this. While she was passive-aggressive in her pursuit of romance, she is ultimately willing to put her self aside and bettering herself if that meant making sure the group stays together. She does this by, to quote Dirk, never turning the tables to make a talk about her when she knows her friend needs something.

TG: i was gonna say why i finally quit drinkin TG: i mean if you want to know GG: Yes. GG: Actually, once you did stop, it made me finally realize it was a problem for you for a long time. GG: And I didn’t say anything at the time, but it made me wonder if I wasn’t doing the right thing before. GG: By failing to point out you might have a problem? Or just going along with it and participating in lively banter any time you clearly had too much to drink? GG: Was I just being a bad friend? TG: nah it wasnt your responsibility to fix my shit TG: and anyway i think i made it hard for anyone to come at me like it was a real problem TG: i was always joking around so much and havin a good time like kind of overzealously so TG: that i probably just made people feel like a shitty wet blanket for even mentioning it

She wants to be of use to her group. However, the downside to this is that, as passively Roxy can be, she often needs them as well.

TG: and now dirk knows that too and for some reason letting him down feels like the worst part?? TG: which is equally lame and weak cuz i should care for my own sake not for how it makes a dude see me but it still just really bothers me ???

TG: i didnt want her to meet a sloppy embarrassing mess of a daughter

TG: even if she did like to drink at some point it was kind of a childish idea that doing so myself would make me closer to her or help us bond or whatever TG: anyway i think i might of overestimated her drinkin habits

How would you know if a class is truly passive when a character just been a really selfish a-hole through the story? It’s how they mainly rely on others as well. Let’s use Aranea as the main example of a selfish passive Sylph of Light that tries to emulate a Thief. Aranea says that Sylph is a healer type of class that involves boosting others, even excessively. However, while she claims that she merely wants to help and shepard the Alpha timeline by taking control of it, Meenah says otherwise. What Aranea has been doing is a self-aggrandizing act to get into the spotlight and not sit on the sidelines anymore, much like her fellow Serket. Like Kanaya, she is meddlesome. She asserts that what she does is for the good of all, even if that means doing something others would object to. They don’t want that. But, she does it anyway.

At first, she complies when the recipient refuses, but when it eventually comes to her ultimate takeover plan, everyone else comes second. She may believe that she’s just granting their wishes, but her underlying motive is ultimately selfish- albeit by excessively “helping” others for her own cause. Aranea failed to learn what Mindfang did:

“8ut as I sit here deciding what to do with the damna8le little sphere, I understand my error. It was not in failing to chart a course through future events to turn my fortune’s tide, even so many sweeps from now. It was in 8elieving the future was mind to know, and fortune mine to control.”

Now let’s use Rufioh and compare him to Roxy. Both of them are Rogues. Both of them are group-oriented characters that act selfishly from time-to-time. The difference is that Rufioh is more selfish. He’s extremely affable to the point of being a doormat to please others all while trying to be polite about romantic advances despite being a flirt himself. He’s reluctant to voice his own reason that he wants to leave his matespritship with Horuss. Sounds familiar? He’s the Jake of the love triangle. Rufioh cheated on Damara and never takes responsibility from it, focusing on Damara being a crazed scorned girl.

Passive players that fail to balance supporting others and fulfilling their own desires often end up being thrown in a loop. Forcing your solution solution on others for 'their own good’ is selfish. Your concern on how others perceive you may be sprouted from your own insecurity. Whenever you make a donation to the less fortunate, how can you be certain it’s not without the purpose of staving off guilt, doing it because it simply aligns with your moral code, or because it feels good?

AG: I decided not to, 8ecause I didn’t want to 8e the one to make you sad about it.

AG: Was that selfish of me? I dunno.

It’s a gem to see volunteers whose instincts are to help people to make life more bearable, mind you. But they’re also doing that because they want to see them better and it’s often their own desire to do so and fulfill that dream.

ENLIGHTENED VS UNENLIGHTENED SELFISHNESS

-I’ve rambled on this a bit. Here’s a recap:

*Unenlightened Selfishness is… pretty much the archetypal self-centeredness that makes people jerks. It’s whenever you do something for yourself with little to no regard to other people’s desires. It’s the greedy shark hoarding all the treasure. It’s when you try to justify your actions with a perspective of “everyone else is selfish, so I’m entitled to be an asshole to everyone too”.

*Enlightened Selfishness or Enlightened Self-Interest is the opposite. It’s when you respect that everyone has their own wants and needs by compromising and coinciding them with your own. It’s like a deal. It’s the Golden Rule. You scratch my back, I scratch yours. It’s when you do things for other people for the good you’ll get from it, even when the payment is simple politeness and being generally nice. Society expects each individual to benefit the community in turn by working. We work with the expectation that others work for us. Unlike the first, this form of self-interest benefits both parties. Another term is Selfish Altruism.

We see an exercise of selfishness burning brightly through Vriska’s arc.

(VRISKA): I’m not a loser though! (VRISKA): I LIKE who I’ve 8ecome. (VRISKA): I actually feel happy and good a8out my life for the first time in… may8e forever?? (VRISKA): Like, ACTUALLY good a8out my life in a way that feels real, instead of forced. Don’t you realize that’s what it was like for us? VRISKA: You don’t have a life! VRISKA: You’re DEAD, remem8er? VRISKA: I’m the one with the life! VRISKA: And I fully intend to use it in a relevant and constructive way to help 8ring an end to all the horri8le shit that’s 8een going on for way too long. VRISKA: Remem8er when you used to care a8out that sort of thing? VRISKA: No, o8viously not. VRISKA: All you care a8out now is 8ullshit hipstery fashion trends, feeling “happy”, and… whatever the fuck it is you’re doing here? VRISKA: Frolicking with some horses in an ugly field or some shit. VRISKA: Just a8solutely disgraceful. VRISKA: How could I have 8ecome so selfish??

Vriska is accusing (Vriska) for being selfish despite being selfish herself. Remember her popular hero quote?

VRISKA: I only ever wanted to do the right thing no matter how it made people judge me, and I don’t need a magic ring to do that. VRISKA: You don’t have to 8e alive to make yourself relevant. VRISKA: And you don’t have to 8e a good person to 8e a hero. VRISKA: You just have to know who you are and stay true to that. VRISKA: So I’m going to keep fighting for people the only way I ever knew how.

VRISKA: 8y 8eing me.

And a few panels after that, she does this.

VRISKA: OHHHHHHHH NOOOOOOO!!!!!!!! VRISKA: OH FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! VRISKA: WE’RE G8ING TO LOOK AT WH8T’S IN THIS CH8ST RIGHT N8W!!!!!!!! VRISKA: DO YOU HE8R ME Y8U F8CK? VRISKA: I D8DN’T SCRAPE AND CLAW MY W8Y 8ACK TO RELEV8NCE F8R THIS SHIT! VRISKA: I’M DOING S8METHING F8CKING IMPORTANT! AND WHEN I DO SOMETH8NG FUCKING IMPORT8NT, EVERY88DY 8ETTER D8MN WELL PAY ATT8NTION TO ME!!!!!!!!

Sure, her resurrection got everyone’s attention, but also annoyance. A lot of their personal problems aren’t truly solved, just put on a temporary chokehold by someone with a stubborn, assertive personality. She’s taking charge so that her team won’t be in poor condition for the big fight, but also to, well, be in the spotlight. She doesn’t care how others think of her, she just wants to help… but also because it makes her important, even if that means overpowering her friends, including her moirail Terezi. Vriska’s the active counterpart to Roxy in both class and aspect. A positive part of this is that it’s easier for Vriska and other folks like her to be self-driven.

…

What am I getting at? It’s a matter of intention. Are they doing it to mainly benefit others? Or are they acting to benefit themselves? Even if it’s grey, there’s often a tint or shade that’s lighter or darker that makes someone lean somewhere. It doesn’t matter how they see themselves and how they perceive their own actions, it’s their motivation that defines the line. Accidents don’t count. It’s the will. Looking at one’s intention is a way to objectively sift through the blurriness of it their actions, even when said intention is subconscious. You can also simply take the Active/Passive divide on strictly class roles in terms of RPG abilities alone if you’re not keen on the personalities of the bunch.

#Class #Fanon #HSE #Long Post #Longpost #Submission #submission

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vemuabhi · 4 years ago

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A Ginger Bread Date

Nice! Prompt : Person A and Person B are decorating Gingerbread Houses, Person A’s house looks perfect—Person’s B is a total disaster.

Thankyou so much @quirkyseastone for letting me participate in your #seastones naughty and nice event. I hope for the event becomes a huge success. Please forgive me for any mistakes. i hope you enjoy it! Its just my second time writing a fanfic. So, I will try to do better in future.

Happy ending for sure!

Word count : 1.5K

Pairing : Eustass Kidd X Fem! Reader

XOXOXOXOXOXO

Y/N POV

“Kidd! Kidd!”, I was calling Kidd while I was searching for him on the ship. It’s been days since I last talked to him and I really miss him. so I want to use the holiday as a way to talk to him.

“Hey Y/N!”, called Heat as he came towards me, “Captain should be in the office right now.”

“Oh! Thanks Heat.”, I thanked him and started to head towards the office.

I knocked the door and said, “Hey Kidd! I want to talk to you. Can I come in?”, I asked for his permission because I don’t want to invade his privacy.

“Come in!”, said Kidd from the other side of the room.

I slowly opened the door and saw the captain on his desk with lots of papers on his desk.

“What did you want to talk about? Be quick”, he said not even giving me a glance.

This was the Grumpy number 37 Kidd. Yes.. I, killer and Heat made a list of all the types of Angry versions Kidd had and we are not guilty about it. He looked like he had lot of work pending, but I really want him to spend time with me. So I took deep breath and asked him, “Kidd, as we are so close to the holiday, I want to make a ginger bread house…together.. With.. You”, I mumbled the last words barely audible which made Kidd even grumpier and he looked (glared) at me with his papers still in his hands.

“HA? WHAT DID YOU SAY? If you want to make a FREAKING bread house, then FREAKING MAKE IT! Why do you need my permission for that? Don’t waste my time any more, go now!”, he freaking shouted at me.

“But I want to make it with you. If I wanted to do it by myself why would I come and disturb you?”, I sternly said to him.

“Look woman! I have work and if I don’t do this who would do it?”, he rejected. I may not be as grumpy as Kidd but... This moment I really lost my patience.

“Do you even remember that I’m your girlfriend? Do you even know how many days it’s been since I last talked to you? I wanted to make use of the time when you are at least not in some meeting or a battle. So all I wanted was for us to spend some time together. But clearly you are fed up. So I’m not gonna ask you this ever again”, I made my feelings clear and stormed out of the room leaving the confused wide eyed Kidd in his place.

3rd person POV

Kidd watched as Y/N left the place angrily. He let out an exasperated sigh and started to complain with frustration, “What did I even do wrong? I was trying to complete this work to spend time with her and she shouted and left. No one ever dares to even talk to me and she… look at her!”.

Killer who was in the same room the whole time, Y/N didn’t even notice his presence clearly heard everything and knew both sides of the story needed to do something so that the angry love birds could solve their problem.

“You didn’t tell her that you wanted to finish work so you could spend time with her, if you don’t tell her what you are doing or how you feel, she is going to think you don’t even care about her.”, Killer said softly to the grumpy red head.

“SO YOU THINK IT’S MY FAULT?! HOW CAN IT BE MY FAULT?”, Kidd now wanted to know the obvious answer.

Killer sighed as if he had already expected this outbreak of his. “Kidd… it’s not about who is wrong or right. She told how she felt just now. Did you tell her how you feel? No. so I guess for now she is waiting to get your attention. Just like how you are waiting for her. So I see what is wrong to just compile to her wishes. Just go to her and tell her what you are thinking. I’m here to help you anyway. I’ll do the work until you come back”, killer explained to Kidd as the red head understood what was wrong.

“Well, if you say like that..”, Kidd said getting up from his chair and continued, “..I guess.. I’ll go and talk to her.” After saying his sentence he left Killer in the office who was satisfied with how things were about to turn out.”

Kidd made his way to the kitchen where Y/N earlier said that she would make ginger bread house. And yes she was there, angrily making everything. Kidd took small steps while he started to approach his angry girlfriend. Surprisingly the always grumpy, scary, Furious captain Eustass Kidd was a nervous while he approached his lover. She noticed him coming into the kitchen but didn’t even spare him a glance, making Kidd grunt his teeth in frustration. ‘Damn… this woman… not even looking at my direction. A person shouldn’t be this angry’, he thought to himself.

Y/N POV

“Look at me”,Kidd scoffed making me even more irritated which resulted me in ignoring him. He scoffed and cursed under his breath. “I… I’m…sorry.”, he mumbled. I heard it. I know hard it was for him so I turned to look at him and saw him nervously tapping his foot anticipating what id say to him now. I sighed and said, “its ok. If you really wanna do your work, go and do it. I wont mind. Im… im sorry too… I guess I was also a little harsh on you. It was because I really missed you.”, I said making Kidd eyes to widen by my words.

“oh… I get it.”, he said as he stood beside me.

“How are you making that? Tell me”, he said

“You don’t have to stay here for me. I can do it. Go do your work”, I smiled and patted his shoulder.

“Just tell me how to make it… I also…. want to…. be with… you”, he said those words very softly so only I could hear them. “I.. I also missed you. That’s why I wanted to complete the work as soon as possible to make time for us” These actions of Kidd really made me Blush. ‘WAS THIS EVEN KIDD?? WHAT HAPPENED TO HIM? WHO MANAGED TO INSERT SOME SENSE INTO HIS BRAIN?’

“…oh… is that so…thanks for telling me.”, my heart was pounding hard while I was talking to him now. He wanted to make time for us.. oh lord.. he is so sweet.

“So just follow how I do. You’ll be able to do it.”, I told him and he nodded like a puppy.

The time I spent with him next was so fun and was filled with him grunting, complaining, muttering while I laughed, giggled and explained him how to do it properly. Most of the time he crushed and smashed what ever he made by accident so it took a lot of time for him to gently do it. By the end of the process, my ginger bread house turned to be pretty good. Especially when mine was placed beside his, it looked even more amazing. Poor Kidd, he really tried hard but it still looked like a… tunnel more than a house. I am his lover so.. I don’t wanna call it a disaster or a mess. But the effort he put in it was perfect for me.

Kidd cursed under his breath and I chuckled. He looked so adorable when he was embarrassed. I held his chin and pulled him down to kiss him. it took him by surprise. I pulled away from him and said, “ For me, your Ginger bread house looks absolutely perfect.” I smiled as I said that. His cheeks were turning to the colour of his hair. He averted his eyes from mine. He was so cute.

I took this chance and kissed his cheeks. Then his forehead. Then his nose. Making him turn into an outright blushing mess. I smirked looking at the view before me. But now he noticed that I was teasing him and his brows furrowed. He placed his right hand on my back of my head and his other arm on my waist and pulled me to kiss. We pulled away from each other and after so many days Kidd and I chuckled as we pressed our foreheads together.

“Thankyou, thankyou for thinking about me. I love you my captain”, I smiled as I placed my arms around his neck.

He smiled and looked into my eyes and replied, “Thankyou for always telling me how you feel and sorry for making you wait. I love you too Y/N, The only woman who can shout at Eustass Kidd”.

We both chuckled as we kissed again.

XOXOXOXOXOXO

“ When will he come back? Im doing all his work for a while now…. Don’t tell me he forgot about me….. Damn it”, grunted Killer as he was still doing his captains work.

THE END

Story by vemuabhi

AN: Hello everyone! I hope you enjoyed this story. I really tried my best. I’ll try to improve more please give me your suggestions. Like, reblog and comment!. Thankyou quirkyseastone for giving me a chance to write this. If you wanna add this to your list. Please feel free to do it!

#eustass kid #killer #seastones naughty and nice #eustass kid x reader #kid x reader #kid pirates #one piece kid #eustass captain kid

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drxwsyni · 5 years ago

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Healing (pt.1/3)

Yandere Chisaki Kai/Overhaul x quirkless!f!Reader

Part 2︱Part 3

a/n: please do not read this piece if themes of poor mental health are upsetting to you. i am in no way attempting to romanticize these issues, having dealt with them in the past and knowing all too well how serious it is. i have never endorsed the harmful actions of people in my work and never will. please take care of yourselves and read at your own discretion. also this is a repost because it disappeared from the tags for some reason?

warnings: mental health problems, injury

4.2k words

_____

This is for your own good, he said.

The world is a disease ridden place, and remaining in it has left you broken.

You weren’t broken, you were fine. Sure, handling the pressures of simply existing as a result of being born without a quirk were tasking. People had not exactly been kind to you growing up, and that may have affected your health significantly. But you were handling it just fine.

While you couldn’t disagree with the fact that people did seem to enjoy using you, whatever had developed as a result of him discovering this reality wasn’t better in the slightest.

He said you needed time to heal, both physically and mentally. You could trust him, he was the only person who saw how faultless your existence was.

At some point you felt like you deserved to be mistreated by everyone around you, given how common of an occurrence it was. So when the yakuza leader came to you himself, going on about how unfairly you’d been handled all your life, it was hard not to trust him.

Now, you realize just how big of a mistake doing so was.

To be fair, he did live up to his promises. Kai said he wanted to help you heal, and what better way to do that than to move in with him. He had all the necessary equipment, and more than enough money to provide for you during your rehabilitation process.

However, he failed to mention the lengths he was willing to go to ensure your ‘good health’. Thinking you would stay with him until you got better, and then go back to living on your own once any pre existing issues had been taken care of slowly started to become an unattainable dream.

Upon arrival at the yakuza’s base, Kai instructed that it’d be in your best interest to not leave the premises. There was plenty of courtyard space for fresh air, and anything you needed would be picked up for you. Your room had been spacious enough, luxurious almost. Aside from the underground network of facilities, you were permitted to have free range of the base. The only condition was that you kept an escort with you at all times. Generally, these terms didn’t seem too bad.

It wasn’t until you sat down in his office to go through the rest of your new living plan that you realized just how committed he was to seeing your health improve.

Everything was planned to a T. When you’d wake up, take medication, bathe, eat, go to bed. He had taken into account any intolerances or allergies and developed a comprehensive meal program that catered to them. The most important element was the checkups scheduled twice a week to monitor your physical health.

While you didn’t enjoy the idea of being examined so regularly, you couldn’t argue that you’d neglected many problems over your lifetime. Sure, blood tests and vaccine administered supplements weren’t fun. But for the sake of rehabilitation you supposed that it was just another necessary evil.

What was concerning was his policy on electronic devices, specifically for recreational use. According to him, having a phone would only hinder the process, and therefore it wasn’t something you needed.

“Should you require anything you need only to ask either myself or a subordinate. Seeming as you should always have an escort there will be no issue with the matter of not being able to contact anyone.”

Kai truly had everything covered, and with how reassuring he was it became hard to see any flaws in the plan.

And so you took up residence in the leader’s base, grateful for the opportunity to live without being weighed down by society's corrupt expectations.

_____

The first few weeks went fairly smoothly, using the time to learn the layout of the establishment. Not that you could ever get lost, with one of his subordinates trailing you in case you required assistance. You quite enjoyed the company of Chisaki’s underlings, along with that of the man himself.

Every day you’d spend time in the courtyard, or go for a walk along the path against the inside edges of the base. Oftentimes Kurono would accompany you, and the two of you would make small talk over menial subjects. Later on you’d return to Kai’s office where you’d sit on the sofa positioned to the side of the room, reading a novel he’d selected while he worked at his desk.

Generally, your experience went fairly smoothly. The distance you’d put between yourself and the reality outside those tall concrete walls had done a lot of good. However, not everything can be solved with simply removing yourself entirely from a bad situation.

Although your living quarters were comfortable and welcoming, there was something unfamiliar about it that was off putting. To combat this, you decided a quick trip home to pick up a few belongings couldn’t hurt.

It’d only taken you roughly twenty-five minutes to travel back on foot to your small, cheap little single floor house on the edge of town. Another ten to gather some items, and then you walked back to the base. However, upon returning you’d come to understand how badly you’d messed up.

It was early in the morning before you’d left, and there were no examinations scheduled either. Not wanting to bother anyone with your needs, you had left the base alone without notifying Chisaki.

That was your first mistake.

He was waiting for you at the front entrance, arms crossed with an aggravated look on his face, although it was hard to read given the mask hiding a good half of his facial features. But if that didn’t give away his anger, then the death grip he placed on your forearm as he dragged you to your designated bedroom did.

He practically threw you inside the room, slamming the doors behind him. He only took a second to compose himself before speaking. “I thought I made it very clear that you were not to leave the premises, let alone by yourself.”

You knew Chisaki was quite the stern man, seeing first hand once or twice with how he treated his subordinates. But this was new, he’d never gotten mad at you, let alone get physically aggressive.

“I didn’t think it’d be a big deal, I was just grabbing some things to make my room a little more comfortable.”

“Did I not tell you that whatever you needed would be picked up for you?”

His demeanour suggested that the question was not rhetorical. “You did, I know. I just didn’t want to bother Kurono or anyone else to go with me so early.”

Something about your open concern for others seemed to pacify his rage, letting out a sigh before moving to sit on the short couch next to him. Leaning forward, elbows propped on his knees, Kai responded. “Staying inside the base is a crucial part to your healing, I can’t let you leave knowing the danger you’d be putting yourself in without protection. You should refrain from doing something so reckless moving forward.”

You moved from your standing position to sit down next to him, of course keeping a respectable distance knowing his abhorrence to bacteria, and generally people as well. “I’m sorry for making you worry, I was just a bit homesick is all.”

The yakuza turned his head to look at you, brows furrowed in a somewhat inquisitive manner. His amber eyes pierced through yours, seemingly searching for answers to questions that couldn’t be asked. “I hope you’re aware of how important someone like yourself is to my cause. Those without quirks are growing increasingly rare, and it’s causing more issues than the world can keep up with.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “I believe it goes without saying that I’d be deeply upset if anything were to happen to you. Normally I couldn’t be bothered with such a thing… but you’re the exception.”

Chisaki stood up and walked toward the bedroom door before facing you again. “Take a bath and then return to my office with your book. Kurono will be waiting outside your door to escort you.”

You watched him leave the room, waiting for the door to completely shut before letting out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding all this time.

Whatever that was, you never wanted to encounter it again. Maybe, you thought, I’d be better off getting out of here sooner rather than later.

_____

After the first incident occurred you presumed things would return to normal, but of course that would be too convenient. It seemed that there was now a slight increase in security around the base. The development was immediate, making it hard to miss. Any exits leading outside―those literally outside, say to the courtyard―and gates to exit the compound were guarded by one of Chisaki’s underlings.

On top of that, he had one of his men stationed outside your bedroom 24/7, whether you needed an escort or not. He never bothered to notify you of this change in particular. It only came to your attention after hearing the verbal exchange of two men outside your door, doing what you assumed was rotating shifts.

It was unnerving, to say the least. The incident had been minor as far as you perceived it, but the unspoken changes around you demonstrated otherwise.

Aside from that, you thankfully regarded the steady improvement to your health. Your energy had returned significantly, likely thanks to the mandatory eight hours of sleep. The daily walks had eliminated the general weakness and lack of stamina you experienced. Even your face took on a warm glow, eye-bags almost non existent and blemishes quickly fading.

It would seem that your departure from this temporary rehabilitation would come sooner than you expected.

Yet the more your condition improved, the stricter Kai became with your routine. Not only that, but he also seemed to be growing more comfortable having you near him.

Now, with any normal person this familiarness would only be expected. But you knew better, and a voice deep in the back of your mind was telling you that this new predicament wouldn’t end well.

_____

The next incident seemed to be the thing that set him off, solidifying your future.

It had been roughly a month and a half since you accepted being cared for at the yakuza’s compound. By now the problems which put you in this situation were almost entirely taken care of, but that didn’t stop Kai from enforcing his rules more than ever.

Frankly, the repetitive, unwavering routine you’d been following was starting to create its own problems within your health―you were going a bit stir crazy.

After the last warning, you’d be lying if you said the main thing keeping you from leaving was fear for how Chisaki would react. Now however, it’d been too long since you experienced the real world, and even if it was only for an hour, you desperately needed to go outside the walls of the compound.

You took the issue to Kai during the time you spent reading in his office. He was going to have to let you do this, staying cooped up any longer wouldn’t be good for you and even he couldn’t ignore that reality.

After what felt like an endless back and forth discussion, seemingly getting nowhere on either side, you started to believe that he really didn’t think the situation was an actual problem.

But you knew he had a soft spot for you, and eventually the man did cave to your request.

Accompanied by one of his more trusted subordinates, you were allowed to leave the base for two hours. You took this much appreciated freedom to do some window shopping here and there, at one point stopping to buy latte―of course not before fighting with your escort over how Kai would disapprove of you doing so, the caffeine apparently being bad for you.

You were nearing the end of your time limit, and still you remained unsatisfied with what felt like an all too brief reintroduction to society.

Pushing your luck, you headed to the center of the downtown area, hoping the bustling life and bright colours would be enough to satiate your need for external stimulation.

Before you had left the compound that day, Kai had stopped you for a moment at the front entrance. The statement was quick―he advised you to stay out of any heavy populated areas. According to him it posed too high of a risk to your safety, and you should heed his words if you knew what was good for you.

However, now that you were out and getting a taste of everything you didn’t even realize you were missing, those warnings were the last thing to concern you. Oh, how foolish you were to even believe there was nothing wrong with going against him for a second.

You heard the destruction before you felt it. The cause of it was unidentifiable, as before you could steal a glance from the source of exploding brick and concrete next to you, an unseen force sent you flying across the pavement and out onto the road. Thankfully traffic immediately came to a halt once onlookers realized the situation, effectively preventing you from being run over. But that did little to console you as painfully, you comprehended your now significantly injured state.

Giving your body a once over, it was clear that the force that threw you away from the building was from the blast of air pressure likely due to an explosion. The damages weren’t too severe, but you were still now sporting a throbbing headache, and what appeared to be a sprained ankle. Aside from that, only developing bruises remained as evidence of the violent event as far as you could tell in your shock induced state.

Understanding you had to get yourself away from the violent, still ongoing conflict, you feebly attempted to stand up. It was a good effort, and if it weren’t for the head injury that was proving to be much more serious, you most likely would’ve been able to get away.

But luck was never on your side to begin with, and only a few seconds went by before black spots appeared in front of your vision. A moment later and you were out cold.

_____

A hospital room was what you expected, what anyone would expect after being nearly blown to pieces.

Pulling yourself out of unconsciousness to assess exactly where you were was a trying task, but the fear growing in the pit of your stomach served as more than enough motivation.

You remembered being downtown. An explosion. Pain. Then darkness. Taking in your surroundings, you identified the room to be that which you sat through examination after examination in the yakuza’s base.

But Kai was nowhere to be seen, and that only made the feeling of distress worse.

You had no idea how you got there, figuring the likely outcome would be you in the care of an actual doctor. Except that wasn’t the case, and instead you were laying on a bed, wearing clothing that you did not have on before blacking out.

It appeared to be a fairly loose but comfortable sleeveless knee length dress, with a long sleeve sweater overtop of it, both shaded with a pale light blue. In the midst of examining your new outfit, your eyes laid upon a heart monitoring device lightly clipped to your index finger.

Amidst the sudden realization of your current predicament, you failed to notice the steady increase in your heartbeat. But Kai hadn’t.

At that moment one of the two doors of the room, the other attached to a bathroom, swiftly opened. Chisaki stood in the doorway for a moment, seemingly evaluating your now awakened form for a moment before entering, closing the door behind him.

You questioned him before he even had the chance to come near you. “What the hell am I doing here? Why aren’t I in a hospital?” He approached you as you spoke, taking a seat on a wheeled stool next to your bed.

Unfortunately you couldn’t control the shaking in your voice, and it served as a clear indication to the man at just how uneasy you’d grown with the situation.

“My subordinate alerted me of the attack after he found you unconscious. You were brought back here amidst the fighting so I could tend to your injuries, which fortunately are not life threatening.” He spoke in a calm and consistent tone, pausing momentarily before continuing. “There was no need to bring you to a hospital when I’m more than capable of taking care of you.”

Not life threatening? You looked over your body, assessing the damage for yourself. It appeared that you had injured your ankle, as it was now wrapped in some form of brace. Along with that were bandages woven around your knees, and more that you could feel constricting your upper arms where you landed on. Lastly was the dull pain in the back of your head, bringing you back to the moments before blacking out when you experienced a similar sensation.

“I think I should still go see a professional, no offense of course. It’s just I’d feel more comfortable with an expert opinion on the whole thing.” You truly didn’t want to set him off, not after what happened the last time you went against his advice. However, this was not something you could just take lying down, despite the fact that you were literally lying down in bed at the moment.

“I’m going to have to insist that you remain here, it’s the best option for your recovery which may I remind you has not been completed as of yet, and will only be delayed due to this. Not to mention that in your state excessive movement to bring you to a hospital would not only be quite difficult to manage but further damaging to your body as well.”

If it weren’t for the unsettling, stone cold stare he was giving you as he spoke, you would’ve likely retorted with a defense. Yet under that gaze you felt it was impossible to remain strong willed. You’d let him have his way for now, there being only so much time remaining in which his care was necessary.

With that you agreed to his concerns, and perhaps if he wasn’t wearing that obnoxiously large mask you would’ve seen the smirk of satisfaction appear across his face.

_____

Later that day Kai returned with your dinner, a task he normally left for his subordinates to complete. He set down the tray atop the sliding overbed table, a clipboard in his other hand. Sitting down on the rolling stool next to your bed, he began talking, you listening in silence as you ate.

“I hope you don’t mind but I took a blood sample while you were asleep in case your injuries were more severe than outwardly observable.” He flipped through a few pages on the clipboard before continuing. “It would seem that the supplements are steadily improving your overall condition. It’ll still take some time for certain levels to reach a normal amount for someone of your physique, but this is still good news nonetheless.”

You hummed in response, not wanting to be rude by talking with your mouth full. Chisaki moved to place the clipboard on the counter to your left before facing you again.

“I’m sure by now you’ve taken note of the change in your attire from that prior to being injured.”

You stopped chewing, looking worriedly in his direction. You hadn’t forgotten about this reality, it was more like you chose to ignore it for the time being, hoping nothing would come of it between the two of you.

“You should know that I had one of my female underlings do this for me, the fact of the matter being your clothing was partially destroyed from the explosion and was therefore prohibiting necessary medical attention.”

The pulsing of your heartbeat quickened, having an idea of where this conversation was headed, much to your apprehension. You stared down at the meal in front of you to avoid eye contact at all costs.

“I was able to properly tend to your wounds, but I’m sure you understand when I say that I couldn’t help but notice certain… remnants. Those of past trauma, along with others I didn’t directly observe, those that my subordinate notified me of.”

It was obvious that to access the bruises and cuts sustained from being thrown across the pavement, Chisaki would inevitably see parts of your body that you were all too familiar with just a few years ago.

Things had gotten better since then, they really had. You would never even think about using those same coping methods anymore. But that didn’t change the fact that those memories weren’t something that could just fade overnight, nor would the physical damage they left behind.

It was the last thing you wanted to discuss with Kai right now. He already knew, albeit vaguely, that you used to struggle with your mental health. Not that you weren’t still struggling, it was just now you had healthier ways of handling it. The only thing you could do now was deter him from pressing you further on the matter.

“Listen Kai, I know what you’re referring to, and I understand why you’d be concerned. It’s just… you don’t need to bother with it. I’m better now, at least in that regard. I get that you want to help me, and you have, but this isn’t something you need to worry about. I’ve already taken care of it, I promise.”

Glancing up at him after finishing, you saw more emotion than you’d ever thought someone like himself would be capable of. Although to most it would be insignificant, his intense stare coupled with the furrowed eyebrows, looking as if he truly wanted to comfort you in that moment was reassuring.

He exhaled loudly before responding. “That’s fine, (y/n).” You watched as he removed those white gloves that he seemed to wear like a second skin, placing them on the counter. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry I wasn’t able to help you during that time. Someone like you should have never been subjected to such treatment, and if I had known you back then I would’ve made sure such an occurrence never took place to begin with.”

Now this was… jarringly out of character.

If there was ever a red flag that you missed before, the ensuing events would surely be enough to make it blatantly obvious what exactly was going on.

Wide-eyed and dinner long forgotten, you followed the movement of his hands as they went to gently hold that of your left.

The yakuza waited for what felt like an eternity before carrying on, doing what you could only assume was anticipating the disgust of coming into contact in such a way with you, absent of his constant protective articles.

But the aversion never came.

“All I can do now is ensure you’re never dealt the same treatment again.”

Another moment of silence, stillness.

He gave your hand a small squeeze before releasing his hold, standing up and retrieving his gloves. You were too dumbfounded by the events that just unfolded to respond, so you continued to sit in silence while Kai gathered his belongings.

“Finish your dinner, Kurono will come later and turn off the heart monitor for you to get ready for bed.” He finished pulling on the gloves, picking up the clipboard once he was done and headed towards the only exit of the room.

“You’ll be remaining in this room while your injuries heal. I’ll keep one of my men posted outside if you need anything.” Kai placed a hand on the doorknob, pausing before looking back in your direction.

“Also, you should know that an alarm will go off if you remove the heart monitoring clip on your finger. There’s a button on the side of the bed you can press if you need assistance turning the machine off, say if you need to get up. Otherwise please leave it as it is.”

At that moment he left the examination room, the door closing with a heavy metallic thud that reverberated off the walls.

The feeling in the pit of your stomach was subtle, almost overshadowed by the persisting hunger from abandoning your dinner. But you knew it well to be fear.

A fear that you only suspected would grow the longer you remained in the confines of Chisaki’s compound, the confines of his so-called ‘care.’

(End of Part 1)

#yandere mha #yandere bnha #yandere overhaul #yandere bnha x reader #yandere overhaul x reader #yandere mha x reader #yandere chisaki kai #yandere chisaki kai x reader #tw self harm

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the-jade-cross · 4 years ago

Text

No Matter What - Chapter 3

Chapter 3

When the girl woke, she heard a dozen voices whispering nearby. Slowly sitting up, making sure to not upset her hammock, she felt a couple of eyes peering at her from around the corner and when she turned to them, they bolted off, causing her to smile. She got to her feet and grabbed her shoes which she had left on the grass below the hammock, only to find a small white daisy resting in one of the shoes. Feeling her heart pounding, she pressed the flower close to her nose and besides the fresh scent coming from the flower, she picked up a scent of soil, cotton, and something almost citrus like… sort of like an orange. She wondered who left it there.

After pulling her shoes on and placing the daisy carefully in the front pocket of her jeans, she headed towards the delicious smell that was coming from one of the huts. As she approached, she found several wooden tables set in a circle fashion, all the boys lined up getting their meal servings.

“Say Frypan,” Gally called as he sat down with his food at the head of one of the tables. “You never make bacon for breakfast. What’s the occasion?”

Before Frypan even needed to answer, he caught sight of the girl approaching and grinning broadly, pointed his frying pan in her direction.

“It’s Girl!” Winston shouted, causing every eye to land on the girl as her face heated up when she found herself at the center of attention.

Zart elbowed him harshly, “That’s not her name!”

The girl was about to begin to dream of a life where the earth swallowedhere in this instant when a hand rested on her shoulder, making her jump and there stood Alby with a comforting smile on his face.

“Come on tough one, time to eat.” He said, draping his arm over her shoulders and bringing her toward the line.

When Frypan handed the girl her plate, Alby led her over to the table where Gally, Winston, Zart and Newt sat. She found myself squashed between Winston while Alby sat beside her to keep her from having to sit next to Gally, meaning that she was across the table from Newt.

“So?” Winston chirped before she could even take a bite. “Figured out your name yet?”

She shook my head, “No… nothing… all I can remember is WR.”

“WR?” Gally inquired. “Couldn’t that be your initials or something? Though that would be strange since all of us only has one name.”

She shook her head again as she took a bite of bacon, “No… I know for a fact it is not my name… I feel like I would know that it has something to do with my name or not… it is almost like… like the Glade. The Glade is where you guys, and now me live, eat and sleep. It is a part of your identity. I feel like WR is a part of my identity… just not my name.”

Soon, all eyes were on her and everyone, but Alby and Newt were staring at her with slack jaws and wide eyes. Alby was smiling thoughtfully at her while Newt was smiling with a look in his eyes that she did not know but it made the feeling of his gaze made her blush crimson.

“Is there a job in the glade for really smart people?” Winston inquired. “Because I think Slicers is way underrated for her.”

She smiled but shook my head, “Honestly it’s fine. I want to help there. I’m not that smart anyway.”

“Well, we cannot keep calling her Girl,” Gally observed. “We can always resort to…”

“Do not finish that sentence,” She warned through my teeth.

Gally lifted his hands in surrender, a smirk on his face. “It has never taken this long for someone to remember and we gotta know what to call you.”

the girl shrugged when suddenly something brushed her foot and she realized that Newt’s foot had been resting next to hers on the ground below the table and when he sat up straight, his foot shifted.

“I’ve got an idea!” he said, leaving his plate and catapulting off the seat and back towards the Homestead.

“What was that all about?” she inquired, only for Gally to smirk like a mischievous cat.

Everyone shrugged but then the girl heard Gally mutter something.

“Poor guy’s got it bad!”

She turned to him, thinking that perhaps he was talking about someone else but then she realized that his piercing black eyes were smirking at her.

“What do you mean?” she asked, tilting her head in the hopes of getting a clearer answer from Gally.

The boy shrugged as he stuffed a bite of pancakes into his mouth, speaking around the bite. “Just saying that Newt has got it bad for you.”

She frowned, “Like he hates me?”

Her heart dropped to the soles of her feet at the thought of Newt hating her. Sure, she had only known him for about a day, but he was so nice, thoughtful and sweet that it felt strange to think of him hating me… but then again, perhaps she had just misread his kindness… maybe he was just putting the niceness on as a front to hide his distaste for her. After all, she was the one and only girl in the glade. Maybe the reason no other girl has ended up here is because whoever put them here knew that Newt hated girls… maybe all of the guys hated girls…

Alby seemed to sense her worry and quickly patted her shoulder, “Of course not Greenie. Gally didn’t mean it like that.”

She moved her head toward Gally, hoping that Gally would back Alby up and thankfully he did, his eyes widening in shock when he realized how the girl had interpreted his words.

“No, no, no! I didn’t mean it like that! Trust me, if there is one person Newt hates, it’s me and I know for a fact that he doesn’t hate you. I mean he has it bad for you because… you see… erm….”

She realized that Gally couldn’t seem to get the words out, fearing that what he would say would make he worried again so Winston finished it for him.

“He means that Newt has a crush on you.”

The girl almost choked on her bite of bacon and gawked at the boys at the table who were all giving her earnest looks, meaning that they all thought the same, “Me!? But… I… I’ve only been here for a day and… Maybe you just think that cause I am the only girl…”

Zart shook his head, “Newt has a different personality around everyone. For Alby he is like a comrade and a follower. Around Gally, he’s the leader. For Winston and the younger guys, he’s almost like a father or big brother… trust me girl, he has a big bad crush.”

She was about to argue further when Newt came barreling back to the table and sat down in his seat, pushing his plate aside and set something in front of the girl. She looked down at it before taking it into her hands. It was a deep green jar with a little cloth top, tied down with a cord and a small slit in the cloth.

“I cleaned it out from the storage house,” Newt explained. “Over the next few days, if you do not remember your name, all of us will put some name suggestions in the jar and maybe if you read them, you can remember!”

The girl's eyes widened, both in surprise at Newt’s quick thinking and solving of her problem and her heart also skipped at the thoughtfulness of the gesture. She touched the jar, and it was cold and still damp from Newt scrubbing it clean of any dirt. The cloth was clean and newly cut as if he had done it just a moment ago and the cord wasn’t tied in a knot but in a simple shoelace bow, the two rabbit ears carefully pulled to be exactly the same size. Through the slit that there were about five little pieces of paper already in there from some of the guys who had already entered a name.

She lifted her eyes and smiled at Newt, “Thank you so much! I love it!”

Newt beamed and went back to his meal, not even realizing that Gally had swiped all his bacon and his pancakes were cold and dry, his smile still on his face. All the other guys were smirking at them and the girl could just tell that the smug look on Zart’s face was: ‘Told you: a crush.’

******

Winston had begun to show the girl the ropes over the course of the first two days. He showed her where the feed for the animals was stored in the loft in the rafters to keep it dry. He told her that the Trackhoes brought in the feed such as dried grass, corn, and all the scraps (for the pigs) which they stored inside for the days when they could not let the animals out like when it is rainy. There is a simple picket fence that surrounds the Bloodhouse made of a few poles and wire.

According to Winston it is not incredibly sturdy, but it helps keep the animals close to the Bloodhouse and away from the crops and other Glade members, so they don’t get underfoot. When Winston asked which part of Slicers she wanted to help with, she turned down the idea of helping slaughter the animals, so she was paired up with another Glader: Bailey, in feeding the animals and cleaning the Bloodhouse if they ever made a “mess”.

Every morning at breakfast she checked the name jar and sure enough, there were a handful of new papers inside the jar. She chose to not open it until it was full because she wanted to get everyone’s opinion even though the majority of them put in three or four suggestions each. She was beginning to get tired of being called Girly, Greenie, or Spitfire (something Gally had come up when she rejected his past nickname, him claiming that it “spoke volumes about her red hair”. She had taken to tying her hair back in a braid every day, not wanting to bother with the headful of wild curls but to give her head a break, she would take the braid out and let her hair run wild while she slept. She was not sure what the guys would say about it since they had only seen her in a braid, so she always waited to take her hair out when they were all asleep or when it was dark.

Finally, on the fourth day, at lunch she pulled out the name jar from where she had left it by Frypan’s stove (So at meals the guys could toss a name in) and untied the top carefully so as to not completely destroy Newt’s hard work. When the boys saw her opening the jar, they all began to pile over and sit as close to her as possible. She became squashed between Gally and Winston with Alby, Newt and Minho across from her with all the other guys sitting nearby or at the closest tables so they could hear.

"Minho, could you read them allowed?" she asked sheepishly, earning a wide grin and a nod from the boy,

One by one Minho drew out a name and read it aloud before setting it down next to the jar. The girl didn’t make any “eh no” or “I really like that!” to any of the names because she didn’t want the guys to feel bad but about a fifth through the names, Alby caught on.

“You can speak your mind Spitfire,” he assured her. “It is gonna be your name anyhow. If you don’t like some names, it won’t hurt our feelings. To be honest, if you do not choose Boyd then I am sure Gally will understand.”

She froze and turned to the guy on her right, “You wrote Boyd? You do realize that’s a guy name, right?”

Gally smirked and ruffled the top of her head, “I just wanted to see what you would think.”

She smiled and began to separate the names into two piles as Minho read them: No and “Maybe”. She didn’t want to say yes to any of them until she had read through them all.

As Minho and her continued to go through the names, Newt left the table and soon returned with two more jars: one clear and the other blue. He helped her put the “no” names in the blue jar and the “maybe” in the white. When the green name jar was empty, she grabbed the white jar and began to slowly go through the names, Minho calling them aloud again.

“Fiona….”

“’s pretty,” Zart observed. “Sounds really ladylike.”

The girl pursed her lips in thought before placing that name in the Blue jar.

“Poppy,” she read, and she heard Winston chuckle, indicating that he had thought of that one. “I might as well just stick with Spitfire.”

The table laughed and Gally leant over to whisper to her, “Don’t worry, none of the other names have to do with your hair Greenie.”

“Kendal…”

“Trixie…”

“Willow…”

“Elizabeth…”

“Grace…”

It felt like almost an hour passed and the girl was beginning to feel bad because the guys had finished their lunch and she knew she was holding them up from doing their chores. Finally, she took the white jar in her hands and turned to the others.

“Do ya’ll mind if I look over these later tonight before bed… let me think about it?”

Alby and Newt smiled at her from across the table, sensing her ulterior motive to not hold the Gladers up.

“Sure thing!” the guys all told her, some of them patting her on the back and whispering a name suggestion before they headed off to their jobs.

That was the end of the name jar for the morning, but she took the jar with her to the Bloodhouse. She set it on the table by the door and every time someone passed it, they took out a new name and called it out as a suggestion. By the end of the day, there were about ten names left but she didn’t bring them up at the dinner table so she settled into her hammock while the guys were asleep, pulled her hair loose and began to silently contemplate the remaining names to herself:

Julia

Vera

Catherine

Zinnia

Olivia

Hannah

Mary

Iris

Brianna

And…

Fawn

There was something about the last name that had been drawn from the jar: Fawn, that had stuck to her. It didn’t click a memory or anything like the guys said her name would but… something about it made her refuse to throw it with the other names in the blue jar.

“Any ideas?” a voice asked to her left and she almost jumped.

She turned and there sat Minho, awake and smirking at her from his hammock.

“I didn’t know anyone was awake,” she admitted.

Minho smiled. “I saw you get in and start to think. I wanted to be the first person to find out your name. So… any thoughts?”

SHe sighed, “This one… Fawn. I cannot stop thinking about it. The others in the jar I like but this one sticks.”

“Well then maybe that is your ‘sign’. I totally get the logic though.” Minho observed.

She turned and stared at him puzzled, earning a soft chuckle from the boy. “Your eyes. They may be green, but they are big and round like a cute animal’s and your freckles and just the innocence in your face is just like a little deer.”

“I was considering just keeping Spitfire,” she confessed, shaking her head to make her curls bounce.

Minho smirked. “Your hair might be crazy and red, but it’s cute too.”

SHe shrugged, “Listen… Minho… I don’t mind you being the first to find out my choice of name but… don’t tell anyone about my hair okay?”

The boy frowned, “Why is that?”

“I just… I’m… a little insecure… I mean… I’m the only girl and I would hate for the guys to look at me weird…” she confessed.

Minho smiled. “For the record, the guys wouldn’t care if your hair was a mop or a crow’s nest. But I will keep it a secret… Fawn.”

Fawn smiled at the use of her new name and soon the two of them drifted off to sleep.

#maze #maze runner #newt x y/n #newt x you #newt x oc #newt x reader #newt

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