#literally drawing again and again knowing that everything is against me (lack of practice lack of reference lack of sleep lack of light) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

itsdanii · 4 years

Note

Because I’m an angst-addicted ball of misery, is it okay if I request drabbles of Fuckboy!Atsumu and Fuckboy!Oikawa being the crush of the reader but she knows of how they treat other girls and doesn’t want to end up heart broken and since she’s shy and introverted, the boys barely know her aside from her being a classmate?

She tries to keep a simple distance away from them until said boys randomly show an interest in her and they start showing her attention, love, and treating her better than the girls they messed with until after a few weeks she overhears from them or their teammates that it’s out of pity/they were bored because Y/N seemed easy to mess with.

Y/N doesn’t let them know she overheard them, instead a switch is flipped and she’s emotionless around them and avoids them. When they ask why she’s like that, she simply says “I won’t let you hurt me like the others.” She basically treats them like they don’t exist (she’s friendly to everyone but them) and said f!boys regret it and bust their asses to fix everything between them (I read how you felt about full angst, so the reader just blocked their number, social media’s, and treat them like the plague until they prove that they truly love her or regret messing with her :) )

Hey, bub. Sorry for the slight delay! I hope you don't mind me making slight adjustments about the plot for my comfort 🥺 And uh... this drabble turned out to be a oneshot because I got carried away. I only did Atsumu's part which went over 3k+ works 👁️👄👁️ Anyway, I hope that you still like it. Have a good day, stay safe and hydrated! ♥️

Karma's a b*tch

genre: angst to fluff

warning/s: rude behavior (resolved), cursing, self doubt and insecurity(?), do message me if I missed any

a/n: please do read the warnings before you proceed. warnings have been put there for a reason

ft. fboy!atsumu miya, f!reader

never play with a girl's feelings. wanna know why? just read the title.

You stared at the back of Atsumu's head dreamily, your elbows propped on your desk as you basically ignored the world around you.

Contrary to the belief that noisy students always sat on the back, Atsumu and his twin were actually seated in front. Despite being in the middle of a class discussion, the two kept on chattering as if the teacher didn't exist. The teacher basically gave up already trying to shut them up since they never listened anyway.

You knew that she could've just sent them to detention but of course, who would do that to the miya twins? People almost worshipped them and your teacher wasn't excluded. Everytime she entered the room, you noticed how she would always cast a glance at the Miya twins and smile "politely."

The two, of course, took advantage of it. If it meant being able to get away with their noise by just simply smirking at the teacher in front of them, they'd do it. They already did anyways. They never did anything more than that though, and for some reason you were thankful that they never crossed that line.

You jolted up slightly when the bell suddenly rang, a loud yelp slipping past your lips out of shock. With your eyes widening like saucers, you felt your cheeks heating up when majority of your classmates turned their head towards your direction, some having a grin on their faces while the others having a look of displease.

However, their stare didn't matter as much as a specific person's did. A pair of brownish eyes stared at you intensely, his gaze so intense it was enough to make you almost squirm in your seat.

Feeling your heart rate picking up along with the shiver running down your spine, you looked down at your lap, successfully cutting your eye contact with Miya Atsumu - the guy you secretly liked despite being hailed as your school's certified f!ckboy.

"Make sure to finish all your requirements this upcoming weekend. You're all seniors so I have high expectations on your outputs, understood?"

With a series of "Yes, ma'am," the class was dismissed.

The room was filled with different noises - subgroups gossiping with each other, the footsteps of students hurrying their way out, the rustling of papers, clanking of chairs and the voices of the class representatives reminding the assigned people to clean properly.

It was lively, for them at least.

As for you, you preferred being alone. No, you weren't some weird nerd kid who acted as if they hated the world. Instead, you preferred categorizing yourself as one of those people who were naturally shy and introverted.

You don't really like crowds nor socializing. You've always opted on sitting by the corner, just enjoying the calmness silence brings you.

Grabbing your books from your desk, you stood up and made your way to the door, head casted a little downwards to avoid making eye contact with people, knowing that doing so will result to interactions, and who has time for interactions anyway? Certainly not you.

With the lack of paying attention, you failed to notice someone who was rushing their way out. Like a cliche movie, your body collided with them, the impact causing you to stumble backwards, loosening your grip on your books as they fell on the floor.

Luckily, the person behind you managed to catch you on time, their hand gripping the small of your back to keep your bum from meeting the floor.

"Whoa, there. Ya alright, princess?" spoke the familiar voice just behind your ear, his breath against your skin giving you small goosebumps.

Instantly, you jerked away. Turning around to face him, you bowed down while muttering continuous apologies. "Miya! I didn't mean to bump into you, I.. I swear. I was just walking out and then somebody j-"

Chuckling, Atsumu placed a hand on top of your head, giving your hair a small ruffle which eventually made you look up at him. "Calm down, I ain't mad at ya. No need to be so flustered."

With a stiff nod, you mumbled a small "Okay," before bending down to pick your books off the floor. You didn't fail to notice how your hands were trembling and you silently prayed to whoever diety was watching over you that Atsumu won't notice it.

"Yer y/n, right?" Atsumu asked as he bent down as well, one hand clutching your book as he let his finger trace over the name written on it. "A pretty name fer a pretty face like yers."

You wouldn't be surprised if he'd ask if you were doing okay because by now, you were a hundred percent sure that your face must be looking like a red tomato. "Thanks I guess," you said, giving him a shy smile before taking the book from his hand.

The small encounter was cut off by someone calling for Atsumu's name. Turning your head to the direction of the noise, you noticed Osamu walking towards you with a small frown on his face, one hand gripping the strap of his bag as he went on how they're going to have to run extra laps again if they ever got late for practice.

Atsumu only chuckled at Osamu before turning his focus back on you. With a cheeky smile, he booped the tip of your noise fondly. "Guess I'll see ya around, pretty thing. Careful not to stumble again, alright? Don't want another man catchin' ya."

With that, Atsumu went on his merry way, turning around one more time to send you a wink, chuckling as you gave him a slow wave before his figure disappeared from your vision as a mere dot.

"See ya later..." you whispered on thin air, lips unconsciously curling up as you stared at the direction he went off to. Once you snapped out of your daze, you bit your lip to stop yourself from squealing like a school girl in love.

Well, technically, you were a school girl in love, right?

That night, as you laid on your bed staring at your ceiling full of glow in the dark stars, you thought that maybe it wasn't so bad making conversations with people every once in a while.

The days went by pretty quickly.

At first, you thought that everything will be back to normal. After all, you never tried associating yourself with people. Your high school life was basically nothing but waking up early for school then going back home after class and then repeat.

However, something was strange. In fact, it was very strange. Not only were people trying to befriend you but the one and only Atsumu Miya was actually making an effort to talk to you, and to say that you were confused would be an understatement.

He basically didn't pay attention nor spared you a glance before, until that day you bumped into him.

You knew that it wasn't a good practice to judge someone based on what other people say but he wouldn't be called as your school's f!ckboy for nothing. He'd change his girlfriend almost every week as if he's only changing clothes, cruelly dump those who did not meet his certain standards and doesn't care even if a girl cries infront of him. Those are exactly why you tried not associating yourself with him nor his twin.

But there was something about Atsumu Miya that kept on drawing you in. You didn't know if it was his annoying piss colored hair, intense gaze, or the aura surrounding him. You couldn't help but wonder how someone like him, the exact type of person you swore you hated, managed to keep you attracted like a moth on to a flame.

It was weird.

And yet you loved it.

"Ya know y/n, ya kinda wound me," Atsumu said, plopping himself down beside you on the cafeteria.

With your hand clutching the chopsticks mid-air, you surveyed your area, noting how some heads, specifically the Inrizaki VBC's, turned to your direction. "Sorry, what do you mean?" you muttered as soon as your eyes met Atsumu's.

"I literally thought we're already friends when I saved yer ass from falling backwards," Atsumu answered before stuffing his mouth with an Onigiri, no doubt made by Osamu.

Placing your chopsticks down, you wiped your lips with some napkin before speaking up. "I'm sorry for asking this but... what's with the sudden interest, Miya?"

You were aware of how snappy you sounded, but in reality, it was your own defense mechanism acting up. Just how were you supposed to ignore him when it's he himself who kept on clinging to you?

"Hm, what do ya mean? Is it so hard to believe that I'm trying to befriend ya?" Atsumu tilted his head a bit to the side, his lips curling up into a smirk. "Why not try givin' me a chance, princess? That isn't so much to ask for."

You organized your now empty bento, placing it on the side before focusing your whole attention to the man in front of you. "I've seen how you treated girls before," you said with a low voice, averting your gaze from him to avoid melting into a puddle.

Damn stupid feelings.

"I see..." Atsumu said with a slow nod. "Then I guess that makes it more of a challenge."

Your eyebrows immediately furrowed upon hearing that, your curiosity spiking up at what his words meant. "Challenge? What do you mean?"

Instead of answering you, Atsumu just stood up, his bento in hand with the side of his lips curled up. "I'll see ya around, princess."

With that, you were left alone in your table, eyes still trained on Atsumu as he made his way back to the Inarizaki VBC's table. You watched as most of his friends chuckled while patting his back, some even sending a glance towards your direction.

Deciding that pondering over it would only be a waste of time, you stood up and made your way back to your classroom, failing to notice a grey haired Miya watching you.

You let out a small squeak as someone behind you reached for the same book you've been trying to get for almost 5 minutes now. Tilting your head back a little, you were met with an upside down vision of Miya Atsumu's face.

With your arms still raised in the air, you spun around to face him, your back flush against the bookshelf keeping you basically trapped. "Miya," you mumbled while looking up at him, one hand fisting the side of your skirt to release some pressure.

"Here," he simply said while handing you the book, obviously holding back from laughing at your flustered expression. "Don't worry, I ain't gonna try anythin' that would make ya uncomfortable. I was just passin' by and saw you strugglin'."

"And he even tucked my hair behind my ear!"

"He did that?" your cousin spoke from beside you.

Both of you were seated on top of your bed, legs crissed crossed as you gossiped about your interactions with Miya Atsumu.

For the past few weeks, you've been having encounters with Atsumu - in the cafeteria, in the library and even outside of school where he claimed that he was out to buy some ingredients for Osamu and only managed to bump into you "coincidentally". Name it and he'll be there.

With these constant encounters stirring up your feelings, you had to resort on calling your cousin for some girl time in order to save your sanity. Luckily, your parents had no objection. They were even happy that you were actually trying to open up to other people. It was only your cousin but according to your parents, "A small step is still a step."

Plopping your back on your bed, you grunted as you placed both of your hands on your cheeks. "Mhm. I just don't get it you know? He's basically this popular guy that plays volleyball, has a group of girls swarming over him and has the face and body that looks like it's been sculpted by God himself, and yet he's wasting his time on me."

You looked at your cousin with a small pout, one hand reaching out to poke her thigh. "Am I just overthinking things?"

With a breathy chuckle, your cousin laid down beside you. "Maybe? I can't really say for sure since I don't know this Miya guy except your description of him, but what I think is that you should give him a chance."

Hearing that, you laid on your side to face her, elbows propped up against the mattress as you rested your cheek on your palm. "Aila, have you been listening to me? He is a f! ckboy. Dangerous, treats girls like shit, and undeniably sexy. What if his sudden interest is only a one time thing? What if he's just messing with me?"

"And what if he isn't?" Upon hearing no reply, your cousin took your silence as her cue to continue. "What if people just labeled him as this so called 'f!ckboy' because that's what they perceive him to be? What if inside him is just someone who's vulnerable, trying to protect themselves from getting hurt by people so they end up hurting others first to save themselves from the pain? What if he's just waiting for someone who wanted to really know him, the real him? Would you really deprive him of that opportunity just because of what you hear from other people?"

"I... I don't know.."

"Miya isn't here to defend himself and I'm not trying to defend him, but don't you think you should at least give him the benefit of the doubt?" Aila smiled as she settled herself on a comfortable position. "Give him a chance, y/n. Everyone deserves to get one. It's up to him to prove whether he's worth the chance he was given."

You sighed deeply, letting her words sink in as you also shifted yourself on a comfortable position, raising your comforter up until it reaches just below your chin. "Then what happens if he isn't worth the chance he's given?"

With a hum, your cousin just shrugged. "Then you either forgive him and let it go or... give him the finger and tell him 'f!ck you' for messing with your feelings," she said with a short giggle.

"It's something only you in the future can decide. Goodnight, y/n."

With a thankful smile, you turned the lamp off as you whispered, "Mh, goodnight, Aila."

"Let's be friends," you said as you slammed a box of onigiri in front of Atsumu, a smacking sound resonating in the air making the rest of the boys look at your direction.

Even the sound of balls whooshing in the air stopped, replaced by the sound of them dropping suddenly on the gym's floor.

With his lips parted, Atsumu shifted his gaze from the onigiri, Osamu, Suna and you. "Ah..." he muttered as if he was just as shocked as you for having the guts to come inside the gym in the middle of their training.

Feeling your cheeks heating up out of embarrassment due to his lack of response, you looked down and started to fiddle with you fingers. "You said you wanted to be my friend and I kept on keeping my distance from you so I thought you might appreciate those onigiri as my peace offering." You scratched the back of your head before giving him an awkward smile. "A-anyway, that's all! I'll see you around, Miya!"

Atsumi could only watch you as you dashed out of the gym. Snapping out of his daze, he looked down at the box of Onigiri, smiling unconsciously as he noticed the sticky note posted on top with "Good luck on your practice, Miya! :))" written on it.

"Interestin'," Atsumu whispered before standing up, Kita's voice filling the air as he called the team back for practice.

It's safe to say that after that embarrassing moment, you became friends with Atsumu. You even became close with his twin because they were always with each other. It wasn't long then when the usual duo became three - Atsumu, Osamu, and you.

It was hard to adjust at first. Your female classmates would always glare at you and spout out some nasty remarks but the twins were always there to defend you. In fact, you even met the whole team and hanged out with them when you didn't have some academic tasks to finish.

It was fun, and you were thankful for your cousin who gave you the advise of giving Atsumu a chance.

But there was a downside on the situation.

Your feelings which you kept hidden for a long time was only growing day by day, and you were afraid that it was slowly showing signs.

How?

Everytime Atsumu was near, your heart would beat so fast that you felt like you just finished a 4 kilometer run. Your hands would become clammy, breath would hitch, and face would heat up whenever he teases you, and don't even forget to add that one time you literally froze when you spun around, only to come face to face with him - nose almost touching, lips ghosting against each other with only an inch keeping you apart.

You were playing a dangerous game and yet you had no intention of stopping, not knowing that it wasn't only you who had a secret.

Because Atsumu Miya was also playing a game - something much more dangerous than yours.

"Where's 'Tsumu?" you asked as you peeked your head inside the gym.

Kita, who was about to walk out, gave you a smile before opening the door wider for you to come in. "Atsumu's in the storage room. The twins made a mess again so I told them to go clean up before we start practice."

"Typical," you said with a short giggle. "Anyway, I'm just going to drop off Atsumu's hoodie that I borrowed last week. I'll watch over them while you do your business."

"That would be great. Thank you so much, y/n-san. Call me if something happens," Kita said, giving you a small nod before leaving.

As you entered the empty gym, you grimaced upon seeing something that looks like spilled milk on the floor. With a shake of your head, you made your way near the storage room sneakily in attempts of scaring Atsumu.

However, as you got closer, you heard two familiar voices. It was Atsumu's and Osamu's voice, and basing from the way they were speaking, it seemed as if they were in the middle of an argument.

"The fuck did ya say?" It was Osamu.

"I said I was only playin' with her. I mean, she's so easy, don't ya think? It basically only took me a couple of weeks and she came runnin' to me with that box of Onigiri, claimin' she wanted to be friends," Atsumu said, followed by a chuckle. "As if I didn't notice the way she acted around me. I'm telling ya, that girl is in love with me."

"And so, what if she is? That's not an excuse for ya to play with her feelings, dipshit."

Hearing Atsumu huff, you slightly backed away from the door, only to freeze when you heard his next words.

"Y/n is nothin' but a toy to me, somethin' I can dispose of when I got bored."

Biting your lower lip, you clenched the handle of the paperbag you were holding before running out with tears streaming down your face.

You ran as fast as you could, ignoring the worried looks you're getting from the people you were passing by. Even Kita was shocked to see you yet he didn't bother calling out, thinking that you might be needing some alone time for yourself.

You skipped class.

Throughout your whole Highschool life, this was the first time you skipped your class and it was a bummer that the reason was Atsumu Miya.

Stirring your strawberry milkshake from a nearby cafe, you thought about Atsumu's words, another batch of tears streaming down your face as you realized how pathetic you were for believing that he isn't what others say.

Maybe your cousin was wrong.

Atsumu Miya wasn't worth the chance he was given, because he only proved that once a f!ckboy, always a f!ckboy.

You blocked Atsumu's social media accounts.

In fact, you even blocked and deleted his number to stop getting in contact with him.

Even in person, you didn't bother paying him any attention unlike before. You stopped coming to their practices, stopped giving him food and stopped talking to him.

You basically acted as if he didn't exist.

It was hard because you knew that your heart belonged to him, but you had to endure it. You didn't want to give him the satisfaction for playing with you. You know your worth and there's no way you're going to let some f*ckboy ruin you.

"Y/n, would ya stop?!" Atsumu said as he grabbed your wrist, effectively stopping you from walking away from him any further.

"Get your hands off me, Miya. I don't wanna talk to you." You struggled against his hold, trying to take your hand back, only to fail when he tightened his grip.

"The hell's yer problem? What's with the sudden attitude? Yer basically ignorin' me and I don't have any idea what I did. Just tell me what I did wrong instead of actin' like a little brat." Letting go of your wrist, Atsumu groaned as he ran his fingers through his hair out of frustration. "I.. I don't like this."

You laughed, eyes squinting as you let out a fit of giggles before pointing at him. "You don't like this? Why not, Miya? I'm just a toy for you, right? So, I don't really get why you don't like this. Is it because you're not bored of me yet so you're not willing to dispose of me?" Crossing your arms over your chest, you looked at him with a serious expression. "Well, I'm sorry to say this but I'm not going to let you hurt me like the others. I'm not a plaything nor am I desperate like those girls pining over you. Have fun looking for a new toy. You're not worth playing with anyway."

That being said, you turned your back on Atsumu, ignoring the whispers that suddenly filled the hallway as the students parted some space for you, leaving Atsumu with his lips parted and feet frozen on the ground.

Serves you right, Miya.

Atsumu felt hollow.

With every passing day that you're ignoring him, conversing with people whom you never bothered associating yourself with before, the more he regret taking advantage of your feelings.

It was only supposed to be a game, nothing but a pass time and yet why did it felt like something was missing?

"I wasn't supposed to care," Atsumu said desperately while clutching his head in his hands, elbows propped on the table as he opened up to his twin. "F!ck...I think I like her, 'Samu."

"No shit, idiot," Osamu answered without taking his eyes off the stove. "I told ya several times to stop messin' with people's feelings and did ya ever listen? No. That's what ya get for bein' stupid."

Groaning, Atsumu rested his cheek against the table, facing Osamu's back. "Help me."

Slowing down from stirring the pot, Osamu looked at Atsumu through his shoulder. "Why would I do that?"

"Well, I'm yer twin. Aren't ya supposed to help me? Plus... y/n acts fine around ya." Atsumu sighed before sitting up properly. "I won't bother ya fer a week if ya help me out. I already did everythin' I could. Flowers, chocolates, even payin' attention in class just to impress them! Nothin' worked."

Osamu chuckled at the desperation and frustration in Atsumu's voice. "Deal." He turned the stove off, covering the pot before making his way to Atsumu. Sitting down, he crossed his arms over his chest while staring at the brokenhearted Miya. "Y/n is actually kind. Well, not until that moment she found out about yer stupidity. Have ya tried showin' her that yer willin' to change?"

Atsumu nodded. "I did. I even gave her the usual things girls like."

"I asked if ya showed her that yer willin' to change, not tried winnin' over her through bribery." When Atsumu didn't respond, Osamu let out a 'tsk' before continuing, "Just stop botherin' her and prove that ya regret what ya did."

"Easier said than done," Atsumu grumbled which earned him a smack on the head.

"Will ya stop bein' a sad boy already? I have a plan."

Its been two weeks.

Two weeks of no Miya Atsumu trying to apologize. Two weeks of no Miya Atsumu following you like a lost puppy while holding either chocolates or flowers.

Instead, what you were getting were these random post it notes on your locker, your desk, everywhere. Wherever you go, there would be random post it notes with various messages. Some contained cheesy quotations, the others short apology letters.

And despite how mad you were at Atsumu, you wouldn't be able to deny how cute the act was. Not only did he gave you space but also exerted an effort of silently letting you know that he'd be willing to wait for you.

You noticed how he stopped acting like a boss in class, opting to jot down notes instead of chattering with Osamu like usual. You also noticed how he stopped having a random girl beside him during breaks. Everytime you would pass by, no longer would he try to block your way and flick your forehead, but instead give you a hopeful smile before proceeding on his way wordlessly.

But what made you realize that he indeed regret what he did was that one time.

You were walking back to your classroom after forgetting your umbrella. The sound of the heavy rain tapping on the ground resonated on the empty hallways, the cold wind making you shiver as it whooshed in the air.

Wrapping your arms tightly around you, you entered your classroom, eyes widening as you saw Atsumu trying to fit something on the space below your desk while mumbling something.

Clearing your throat, you noticed Atsumu jolting up slightly before turning around to face your direction.

He smiled sheepily before scratching his nape. "I know it's yer birthday tomorrow so I was tryin' to fit this here. I guess there's no point hidin' it already since ya caught me anyway." Sighing, Atsumu picked up the fox stuffie and handed it to you. "Happy Birthday, y/n. I know yer still mad at me and ya probably hate me but I still wanted to give ya a present."

You stared at the fox in your hand, your fingers poking the fluffiness of the material as you fought back the urge to smile. "Thanks," you answered with a dismissive tone.

For a split second, it was silent, and you were aware of the intensity of Atsumu's gaze burning on your forehead, yet you refused to look up, knowing that once you did, you won't be able to hold yourself back and might just forgive him there and then.

"I like ya, I really do. I know I messed up big time fer taking advantage of ya and I'm sorry fer that. It was stupid and childish of me to think that the people around me are nothing but mere toys fer me to play with. I regret hurtin' yer feelings and I'll be willin' to wait until ya forgive me. Just know that I won't stop until ya do."

Hearing something rustling, you looked up and noticed Atsumu taking off his jacket. Within a few steps, he was already infront of you, draping his jacket over your figure. "I'll see ya around, princess. Don't get sick, alright?" Smiling, Atsumu gave your cheek a small pinch before heading out.

You were left in the empty classroom with nothing but the fox stuffie serving as your company. Atsumu's scent was swirling around you from the jacket you were given and at that moment, you haven't notice the single tear sliding down your cheek.

Because of all people, you never expected for Atsumu Miya to be the first one to greet you without having to remind them.

He was the first person you knew outside of your household to ever remember your birthday.

You hugged the stuffie close to your chest, burrying your face on top of its head as you let the comfort it brings envelope you.

You stared at the empty space infront, your head swirling as you thought of the possible reasons why Atsumu haven't been in class for three days now.

It's currently your last subject and throughout the whole day, you've been doing nothing but wonder where he was. You haven't asked Osamu about it yet since he was excused from the class due to the preparations for the upcoming match.

And so, the moment your class was dismissed, you rushed your way out, making your trip to the gym. You were thankful that they were in the middle of a water break so you had the chance to call out Osamu's name without having to worry about Kita.

"Y/n?" Osamu's eyebrow shot up upon seeing you. Suddenly, a knowing smile made its way to his lips. Standing up, he walked over to you. "He's sick," he said without even waiting for you to say something.

"Oh.." you muttered, shifting from one foot to another nervously before tugging at the hem of Osamu's jersey. "Do you... uhm, do you think it would be alright if I visit him after your practice? I wanna see if he's doin' alright."

"Alright. I think 'Tsumu would appreciate that. Why don't ya sit on the bench and wait a little for us to finish practice then ya can visit our house after?"

Upon hearing that, your face instantly lit up. You smiled at Osamu as you nodded.

Osamu only chuckled at you and fondly ruffled your hair, a habit he and Atsumu shared.

You waited patiently, and it wasn't long then when their practice finally finished. After Osamu took a shower, you both went on your way to their residence.

As you entered their house, Atsumu's voice immediately met your ears.

"'Samu! Cook me somethin', I'm starvin!"

You looked at Osamu who only shrugged as if he was already used to it. You took your shoes off and wore the slippers you were given before placing your bag on the couch.

"Our room is on the right. Go ahead and talk to him." Osamu said as he pointed on the door at the end of the hallway.

With a nod, you slowly made your way to their room, knocking softly before sliding your way in.

The first thing that greeted you were the mess of opened junk foods on the floor. Roaming your eyes around, you grimaced at the sight of empty water bottles littered around along with the volleyball laying on the ground.

Averting your eyes away from the trash, you looked at Atsumu whose back was facing you, his shoulder raising up and down evenly, indicating that he must be asleep.

Carefully, you walked claser and sat on the edge of his bed, your hand immediately feeling his forehead. "You're burning up," you mumbled, brushing his hair away from his face.

Suddenly, Atsumu's hand gripped your wrist, his eyebrows furrowed as he squinted his eyes. "Am I dreamin' or are ya a ghost?" he asked with a raspy voice.

"I'm not a ghost, 'Tsumu. I'm really here."

You watched as Atsumu slowly nodded before letting go of your wrist. "What're ya doin' here? I thought ya were still mad at me." Sitting up, Atsumu held the comforter close to him as he shivered.

"I heard you were sick. I'm no longer mad at you. I guess I'm still upset but I just can't hold a grudge against you forever, can I? That's not something I can do," you said with a shake of your head. "I really like you, you know? Despite your title of being a f!ckboy, I still fell for you. You were the first person I tried opening up to aside from my cousin. It's just a bummer that you ended up taking advantage of that vulnerability."

You felt Atsumu reaching out for you, his hand enveloping yours as he gave it a small squeeze. "I know, and I'm sorry. I really am."

"And if I give you another chance, will you prove me that you deserve it?" you asked as you looked at him, "I'm still hurt about what happened so I hope that if I give you this chance, you won't waste it."

"Yes. God, yes," Atsumu answered breathlessly, "I promise it won't happen again and I'll try to be better."

Suddenly, Atsumu wrapped his arms around your figure, pulling you on his lap as he settled his head on the side of your neck. "Thank you," he mumbled repeatedly against your skin, his arms tightening around you as if he was afraid of letting go.

And he never did.

Indeed, there was something about Miya Atsumu that kept drawing you in, and despite the bumps and dangers that came along your way, you didn't withraw.

Because as you closed the last page of your photo album eight years from then, you realized how right your cousin was alll along.

Atsumu Miya was worth the chance he was given, and he proved it to you every single day, sealing it with the diamond ring now resting on your left hand.

Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated ♥️

1K notes · View notes

stillness-in-green · 3 years

Text

No, Re-Destro Is Not Destro’s Literal Son

and

Yes, I Will Die On This Hill

I have a number of small, persistent quibbles with some of the widespread misapprehensions I see included in BNHA fanfic, quoted as fact in meta posts, even cited on the wiki. Quirk cancellation restraints, what the 20% quirklessness data point means in practice, when Kurogiri comes into existence relative to the time of the Shimura Family Massacre, things like that. My biggest one, though, is as the title suggests: the idea that Yotsubashi Rikiya is Yotsubashi Chikara’s son.

I don’t entirely know where this confusion comes from. As far as I can tell, the early scanlations didn’t get it wrong—one rendered the line in Chapter 218 about Destro having a child he didn’t know about as being children, plural, but otherwise, they were all accurate enough. It seems people just assumed that the child mentioned in 218 must be Re-Destro, who was, after all, right there on the panel. Even though the scanlations never said it, even though the official translation never said it, even though ample evidence in the manga disproves it, the idea still got around that Rikiya is Chikara’s son.

I have and will maintain that this is obviously wrong if you stop to think about it for even a moment, but unfortunately, most people don’t. The error can be found on less well-tended parts of the fandom wiki[1]; it’s in tumblr meta posts about the villains; it’s in fanfic.

And now, god help me, it is on the official anime website, too.

“Stillness-in-green, maybe you should consider that you might just be wro—”

I will face BONES and walk backwards into hell.

But if you want, you can come with me, and I’ll explain on the way. Hit the jump.

Dialogue + Narration

There are two places where the relationship between Chikara and Rikiya is explicitly addressed—the lead-in to the dinner scene in Chapter 218 and the fight between Clone!Shigaraki and RD in Chapter 232. If you include the Ultra Analysis databook, the number goes up to four: once each in Re-Destro and Destro Classic’s character blurbs.

Let’s take a look at each of those places, shall we?

The relevant Japanese text here is in the first narration box: 子ども, kodomo.

Kodomo is not gendered. It literally just means child. The key kanji is 子, ko. Like most kanji, it has a lot of potential readings, and you can add other kanji to it to modify it. Add 息 and you get musuko, son. Pronounce 子 as shi instead of ko, and you get a term that is frequently, though not exclusively, used to refer to boys. Add 女 to that reading and you get joshi, woman/girl. 子 is in a lot of words, many of them gendered! Used for kodomo as Hori does here, though, it does nothing to indicate a gender one way or the other.

Also too, it does nothing to indicate that Rikiya is the child in question; it simply states that there was such a child, somewhere in the world. Now, the natural assumption for anyone who knows how the graphic novel medium works and who understands basic literary analysis would be that the significant character we just met is, in fact, the child in question—except that everything else we learn about Destro and the original Meta Liberation Army here makes it entirely impossible.

I’ll do a full breakdown on why that is in the next section. In the meantime, here’s the next reference:

Here, we’re looking at the phrase the Viz translation renders as, “His blood runs through these veins.” The literal Japanese there is, Desutoro no matsuei chi o tsugu mono! In a literal translation, chi o tsugu mono means, “one who inherits the blood,” or, more loosely, “blood successor.” It’s matsuei—末裔—that’s the key word here.

Japanese has several words to express the concept of “descendant.” Matsuei is one word; the data book uses shison. So what’s the difference? Well, I’ll talk about shison in a moment, but I had an inkling of it just from looking at the kanji in matsuei—“end” and “descendant” respectively, leaving me with an impression of something like a final descendant or the terminus of the bloodline. Further research confirmed it: shison can refer to any lineal blood tie, but matsuei refers to a bloodline’s final inheritor, the person at the end of a long line of many, or even countless, generations. It’s the difference between being able to point to a grandparent and the kind of painstaking genealogical research that lets you[2] point to a famous royal from eight hundred years ago—matsuei is a word that very much assumes the existence of those countless generations.

So not only does Rikiya’s line there not imply that he’s Chikara’s son, but his specific word choice also tells us that he cannot be Chikara’s son. That’s, uh. Pretty conclusive, I would say.

Lastly, though, there’s also the data book. This is, perhaps, the actual closest you’re going to get to a manga equivalent of those character blurbs on the anime website, at least until such time as Hori deigns to give the MLA types character profile pages. (I live ever in hope.)

There are two relevant bits of text, one in Re-Destro’s entry, and the other in Destro Classic’s. The first describes how Re-Destro organizes the MLA as Desutoro no chi o tsugu mono: the same phrase he uses for himself in the manga, minus the matsuei. @codenamesazanka (the one who told me about the databook references among other citations, bless) rendered it as “Destro’s blood successor”; I have also seen it given as “the successor of Destro’s bloodline.” Note again, the lack of reference to a father/son bond.

Chikara’s entry uses that other descendant word I mentioned before, 子孫, shison. Notice that the term uses that ko kanji from kodomo before? As it does in joshi, 子 here reads shi. The other kanji, 孫, means grandchild. Thus, literally, grandchild-child—or, in the vernacular, simply descendant.

And then we have the anime website.

So, for comparison’s sake, the anime website uses 息子—the same combination of kanji that I said earlier gives you musuko, son. Heck, it even uses 父, chichi, for Destro—father. It’s as explicit as it’s possible to be, and I just don’t know why or how the anime website could fuck that up so bad when absolutely nothing in the manga describes the two Yotsubashis that way, and, indeed, one specific word choice actually rules out the possibility.

So, that’s all the manga says directly. It’s not the only evidence there is, though. In fact, the next piece makes it even more clear how colossally and impossibly wrong a father/son connection for Destro and his modern successor is.

Timeline

The long and short of this section is, “Since Harima Oji was Sako Atsuhiro’s great-great-grandfather, there is no possible way that Destro—who pre-dated Harima—can be Re-Destro’s father.” If you read that sentence and nodded your complete understanding and agreement, feel free to skip ahead to the last section. If you’d like the full explanation it takes to reach that sentence’s conclusion, though, read on.

So, aside from the word matsuei, the timeline is the most telling piece of evidence to my eye. I address it secondly rather than firstly because it’s less direct than the explicit narration; it relies on drawing conclusions based on things we’ve been told elsewhere rather than on the immediately relevant text. Oh, Mr. Compress’s relationship to Harima is explicit enough, but on what am I basing my claim that Destro predates him?

Regarding that, there’s no explicit year relative to My Hero Academia’s current events given for when Destro and the original Meta Liberation Army were active; the same is true for Harima Oji’s escapades. However, we are given some broad-strokes information, relative not to current events, but rather to the history of heroism as a legal institution in Japan.

We know that there was a widespread, lengthy period of chaos following the rise of quirks—called meta-abilities in those early years. At some point, however, people began to search for a way for meta-humans to live in peace with non-metas. The compromise that was reached was the foundation of professional heroism in Japan—while the use of meta-abilities would be legal in private settings, it was only by becoming licensed by the state as “heroes” that people could use their quirks in public.[3]

The legislation curtailing the use of meta-abilities—and the appropriation of a dead woman’s language to popularize a law establishing exactly the opposite of what she used that language to call for—is what catalyzed the rise of the original MLA. Thus, we can position Destro as being alive and active around the same time that heroism as a legal institution was being formed. Since we further know that he committed suicide in prison, we can assume that his child was conceived at some point prior to his capture. Ergo, Destro’s child, were they alive today, would be as old as Japanese professional heroism itself.

Next, consider Harima Oji, the Peerless Thief, a criminal who targeted the riches of “sham heroes.” We’re specifically told that he was active in the days in which the current system was settling into place—e.g. he only became active once the Hero System was established enough to have produced corrupt heroes. We’re told he preached reformation—he wasn’t just some pre-existing criminal who saw a shiny new target in heroes; he had specific grievances which he wanted addressed by the system, and which the system was not addressing.

The earliest Harima could possibly be active, then, is concurrent with Destro—Harima fighting against the corrupt people who had found their way into the new heroic institution, and Destro fighting against using the institution of heroism to oppress non-heroes. What I think is more likely, though, is that Harima came after Destro—Harima needed to have had time to realize what kinds of fakes had been drawn to this shiny new career path, maybe even to spend some time trying to change things the legal way.

I don’t suspect they were separated by very long—I would imagine Destro was easily within Harima’s living memory, and might well have influenced why he chose the path of protest that he did—but I do think they were separate.

Moving forward, then, Mr. Compress is four generations distant from his famous ancestor. Thus, even if you assume that Harima is of the same generation as Chikara, that’s what you’re looking at for Chikara’s child: someone who, were they alive today, would be old enough to be the great-grandparent of a thirty-two-year-old man.

Re-Destro’s probably a few years older than Mr. C, sure,[4] but that man doesn’t have Ujiko’s slow-aging quirk. Unless you want to start pulling theories about cryogenic stasis the story for some reason never saw fit to mention out of thin air, Re-Destro is in no way old enough to fit the bill.

This is backed up by one other piece of the timeline as well, and one more place we can look at language:

The small child at the center of the image is Rikiya, so young that he’s in schoolboy shorts for a meeting otherwise so formal that he’s been made to wear a tie. He’s, what, six to nine here, tops? And the adults speaking to him say that they’ve been in hiding for generations—代々, daidai, the kanji for generation followed by a kanji that just means, “See that kanji written right before me? Yeah, just read that one again.”

The original MLA was active for only a handful of years, and, per Chapter 218, they didn’t dissolve until Destro was captured. Thus, we can assume they have been in hiding since then, but not before then. With that in mind, this is another line that renders a father/son relationship impossible.

Remember, Chikara already had a child in the world circa his capture. If Rikiya were Chikara’s son, then Destro’s capture and his army’s subsequent dissolution could not have happened any farther back than nine months plus however old Rikiya was in this exact moment of his youth. Rikiya, who we see here as a child of less than ten.

Ten years in hiding doesn’t make one generation; it damn sure doesn’t make multiple ones.

Now, you could make theories about cryogenic statis that would explain this ludicrous discrepancy, sure. You could also theorize about e.g. artificial insemination,[5] or time stop quirks, or any number of other possibilities in the vast panoply the HeroAca world offers. The point is, though, that you don’t need to. There was, in the manga, no discrepancy that needed to be explained. It is only fanon misinterpretation and a glaring disinterest in the series’ villains from official sources that have presented this issue.

I’m praying that it’s all just a misunderstanding on the part of whoever maintains the website, and that the anime itself will render the relevant bits of dialogue correctly. Given the extreme cuts and alterations that My Villain Academia has been subjected to thus far, though, I’m sure you can appreciate my being concerned.

…So that’s the meat of it. The idea that Rikiya is Chikara’s son is wrong simply on the basis of what’s said in the text, and it’s doubly wrong on the basis of the timeline. There is, though, one other thing I think points towards Re-Destro being exactly the descendant he says he is, not a son playing down the connection out of humility or something. This one is a lot more headcanon-y, though, so I saved it for last.

MLA Social Dynamics

It’s quite simple. We have, in the MLA, a group of people that venerates Destro’s bloodline to an obviously unhealthy degree, putting up portraits of him wherever they can get away with it, tagging his successor with a “Re-” as if to invoke reincarnation or miraculous return, entirely willing to throw their lives away for what they think was his cause, and others’ lives if those others say anything too scathing about the words Destro wrote, quite as if they treat Destro’s memoir as some sort of holy writ.

They venerate Destro that much, and you’re trying to tell me that they wouldn’t just call a spade a spade and acknowledge RD as the son of their great leader? Come on.

Since long before I turned up the matsuei factoid in researching this piece, since long before Mr. Compress gave us such a helpful generational comparison, I’ve held the opinion that, given a group that holds their leaders in such high esteem, with such particular regard for bloodline, the only reason Rikiya does just call himself a descendant, rather than citing the specific term for what he is, is that the specific term is distant enough that it actually does sound more impressive to just say “descendant,” rather than something like, “great-great-great-grandson.” That kind of thing just begs the question, “What took you guys so long?” or, “You and how many other people, buddy?”

Mr. Compress may have the panache to carry off a line like that, but Rikiya’s a different story. If he had something so amazing up his sleeve as, “I am the son of the great Destro,” I have to think he’d just say it proudly, not fall back on the impressionistic vaguery of something like chi o tsugu mono. Even if I had no other evidence to work with, I’d think the same—all the evidence you need is right there in the character writing of who Rikiya and the MLA are and how they talk about the man whose dreams Re-Destro was raised to carry.

A closing note: I will allow that Rikiya is being overdramatic when he uses matsuei and its connotation of countless generations. There are a few other things we can use to trace the history of heroism—Ujiko’s age, and the 18-years-or-less periods that One For All was held by its pre-All Might bearers—and running those numbers leads me to believe that it is, in fact, entirely possible to count the number of generations between Rikiya and Chikara, and the number, while higher than one, is probably not all that high. Certainly matsuei is being more dramatic about it than is entirely warranted, hence the poetic flourish of the official translation’s, “His blood runs through these veins!” The theatricality only makes me fonder of him, however.

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

FOOTNOTES

[1] It was changed and reverted on Re-Destro’s page at least twice before it finally stuck in January of this year. Chikara’s page took until July to be corrected, and it’s still wrong on various other subpages.

[2] Or your kids, if you have those. Only the last generation in the bloodline is the matsuei, but that’s a moving goalpost as long as the bloodline is still propagating.

[3] This summary of events combines what we know from both My Hero Academia proper and the Vigilantes spin-off, which I recommend to anyone who’s at all interested in finer-grained worldbuilding on Hero Society Japan than the main series makes time for.

[4] I personally headcanon him as 42.

[5] To which point I would refer back to the word kodomo, and note that that word choice indicates that Destro had a child in the world. Not a sperm sample kept in a freezer somewhere, waiting for the right would-be mother: an actual child. Some quick research on my part says that the farthest that term stretches is in using it to refer to yet-unborn children, fetuses still in the womb. Seeing as Japan doesn’t even allow inmates conjugal visits in real life, much less in a setting where villains are so dehumanized that Tartarus is an acceptable punishment for them, the line about Destro “having a child out in the world” takes us right back to a date of conception no later than Destro’s final night of freedom.

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha #bnha meta #yotsubashi rikiya #yotsubashi chikara #re-destro #destro bnha #meta liberation army #my writing #i have thoughts on the anime's nonsense too but #hahawow #that's gonna take a little longer to get coherent #preview: it's not about capitalism #it's about fear

140 notes · View notes

joontier · 3 years

Text

Subliminal in Scrubs | V1; report x

pairings: dr. jeon jungkook x female reader

chapter rating: R-18 | genre: humor, romance, smut (voyeurism, masturbation), swearing

warnings: GET READY FOR SOME ACTIONNNNN

word count: 1.8k

g/n: Send me your thoughts?

[taglist]: @nottodayjjk @ditttiii @zeharilisharaban @btsbunny07 @turquoiseandplaidinautumn @aamxxrii @codeinebelle @btsmakesmehappy

Subliminal in Scrubs (the records) | navi. | m.list

Right after you put away your groceries, you take a quick shower and head to bed. Truly, there was nothing better than a refreshing shower after a long day - especially when you know you’re not going to be able to enjoy times like these anymore once you start working. Just then, you recall having to set your alarm early tomorrow because it was your first day, plus the other two wanted to meet up for breakfast before heading to work.

As you lie on your bed, scrolling through your barely active social media accounts, you hear a soft thud coming from Ayoung’s apartment. Huh, she must be moving stuff - seems strange though that she’s doing it with a potential tenant present. You don’t pay much attention to it though until it happens again and suddenly a faint moan reaches your ears. Your eyes widen, thoughts of all sorts running through your head. You must be mistaken. You should be mistaken.

You hear it again, and it gets repetitive until there’s a steady rhythm that has you certain about something that could be happening there. You’re really not one to meddle with people’s private businesses, especially ones of this particular kind. You push each incoming thought away, regardless if it is an innocent one or not. It proves otherwise though, with the sound coming in clear for a wall separating the two apartments.

At the same time, you also wish the best for Ayoung and if this man is a moving-away gift in disguise as this one, well you’re incredibly happy for her. Who were you to take that happiness away from her? But as the man’s grunts become more audible and prominent, your immediate reaction to it is beyond you, and you’re almost involuntarily rubbing your thighs together at the sound.

‘No’, you think to yourself, stopping your southward train of thoughts and its imminent course of action. Rubbing at your temple, you wonder how could you even allow such pompous thoughts cross your mind.

Groaning, you lie on your stomach and mush your face against your pillow as if to block those indecent images threatening to corrupt your mind. It isn’t right to get off someone else’s steamy evening, more particularly, that of your friend’s, so you close your eyes and focus on trying to get some sleep.

You can’t.

Not when this man’s heavy breathing sounds just as hot as Ayoung finds him to be.

Not when this man sounds just like a porn star.

And especially not when this man’s vocals are so stimulating to the point that it feels like an invitation for you to join the fun. Or at least, take an imaginary part in it.

Holy shit.

Tapping your fingers furiously on the bed covers, you ask yourself if you have really reached this level of desperation? That your lack of human touch is causing you to question the very principle of civility?

You shake your head as you reach for your earphones. Coincidentally, Spotify’s shuffle decides to land on a Jamie Foxx track.

What is with the universe constantly trying to fuck you up?

You tap on the next button quickly, turning the volume all the way up in the hopes of ridding yourself of unclean thoughts, that is, until you hear Satan himself let out a particularly loud grunt, one you can practically feel travel straight to your core. Jesus.

The voice of your evil miniature self on your left shoulder whispers in your ear, “It isn’t often for you to get ahold of an opportunity like this. Go get some,” she says, holding your angelic self on a chokehold with her own halo.

She had a point though, and you really could only imagine having more time for yourself starting tomorrow. Besides, it’s been a while since you truly ‘relaxed’. And to top all of that, with the apartment walls as thin as paper, you can literally feel your neighbor’s bed now moving in a steady rhythm. You’re even surprised you’ve managed to keep your self-control this long. Not long enough though, unfortunately.

Now that you’ve come to think of it, this man must be on a different level entirely if Ayoung could let herself get...dicked down during a simple visit (and for the first time too!). Just imagining what he probably looks like is sending a light tingle down your spine.

You sigh, ultimately giving into the temptation. There’s no turning back now.

Slowly, you slide your shorts down your legs, giving yourself time to still contemplate...but, hesitation was never really your strong point (a trait of yours that had truly blossomed since your friendship with Chohee). So off go your underwear too.

As quietly as possible, you scoot over to the wall, just enough to let your shoulder touch your old, boring, beige wallpaper. You feel your neighbor’s bed move with a little more intensity this time, and you trail your fingers downward to your cunt, which is surely wet by now with all your thinking.

The man’s grunts are louder than Ayoung’s thankfully, leaving everything to your imagination. You start at a steady pace, wanting to test the waters. With the couple just a mere distance away from you, save the wall separating your apartments, you try to match your pace with the pair.

Letting your digit circle your clit, you work yourself out to your orgasm - that is, until your climax won’t arrive and you figure just using your fingers won’t get the job done. Just as if you thought the sounds they were making weren’t enough to get you over the edge. It’s been a while since you had any ‘action’ and your rust ass won’t allow you to cum with just your fingers.

Hurriedly, you draw out a small box from beneath your bed. In haste, you throw the cover across the small room, fishing for what used to be a very good friend of yours before: Lovecorner’s limited edition of Real Feel 7. Never too late to catch up with good ol’ friends.

You turn on the device, hoping that there’s enough battery left to get you through the night. Closing your eyes, you circle the dildo around your nether lips, gathering all the slick there. A few more moments and you gradually insert the toy inside you, causing you to shiver in excitement. Gulping, you only push it halfway through at first, wanting to get used to the feeling again..

There’s a short pause from the other side of the wall, one you use to your advantage to keep up. When you feel them continue, you pick up your pace, both desperation and shame pumping you up so you could get this night over with as quickly as possible.

Just as you had expected, you feel their breathing get heavier by the second, and your bed is practically shaking with...what you presume to be yours and their movements combined.

For some reason beyond your understanding, you work yourself out on your trusty companion, taking in every whimper and grunt from the other side of the wall like it’s your own, like you’re the one fucking like there is no tomorrow.

You’re getting closer to your high - a feeling almost foreign to you at this point, and with the last string of sheer will, you push the toy further up to the hilt, stroking your g-spot so perfectly that your orgasm has got you quivering in bed for more than thirty seconds.

Breathless as ever, you lie in bed, staring straight into the ceiling.

What. Was. That. All. About.

You press your thighs together, an unexpected reaction from the reality of tonight’s events suddenly dawning in on you. You did not just get yourself off from your neighbor's live porn.

With no more movement coming from Ayoung’s apartment, you could only assume that their day has officially concluded as well. Sighing, you make your way to your bathroom, treading over your floor as lightly as you could with your sore legs.

Ten minutes and a refreshing half bath later, you head back to bed, exhaustion causing you to fall asleep in seconds.

The sound of your jarring iPhone alarm blares right in your ear, scaring the living hell out of you exactly 6:45 in the morning. You wake up in a fright, panting heavily as you scramble to turn off the horrible sound.

Quickly, you get off of your bed, proceeding with your daily morning routine. You tick off breakfast at home today, having scheduled your morning meal with Jimin and Soomin as your first official day as employees of Woocheon Medical City.

Making sure you’ve got everything in your duffel bag - extra clothes, toiletries, and the rest of your essentials, you lock the door to your apartment, sealing it off with a slight jiggle to the knob to assure yourself.

Ayoung’s door likewise creaks open, and you glance at it through your peripheral vision to see a man coming out. Your eyes widen - he stayed the night then. Hm. You’re unsure if you want to suspect him of something other than a one night stand, or it’s just this curious itch inside you that makes you want to check who’s responsible for last night’s...occurrences.

Mustering all that courageous chi Chohee has hopefully transferred onto you, you linger a little bit by your doorway before facing the man. Thankfully, the stranger doesn’t make your job difficult for you and looks your way as well.

No.

This can’t be.

Turns out, Mr. Stranger who was supposed to be your hot neighbor as Ayoung claims is no stranger at all.

It had to be.

You look away just as quickly as you looked at him. “________? Hey! I didn’t know you lived next door!” Your lips form a thin line. Why does he make it sound like you’re already neighbors?

“Jungkook,” you nod to answer his question. “Good morning to you too.”

Your cheeks heat up with the range of emotions you’re feeling: anger - from him not even remembering Ayoung’s name; shame - for your actions last night; disappointment - there’s a possibility of you two becoming neighbors and you’d inevitably have to face him more often than not.

“Where are you off to? Gym?”

Why does he think you’re going to gym in a collared shirt, jeans, and flats? And more importantly, why are you two even having this conversation?

The elevator doors open and your impromptu escape plan springs into action, and currently, just like your legs. “Work actually! And I’m going to be late, so bye for now!” You sprint towards the elevator, quickly pressing a button to close the doors.

You let out a sigh of relief as the doors close, leaving Jungkook with a confused look on his face.

#jungkook x reader #btswritingcafe #bangtanarmynet #btsghostie #ksmutclub #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook #bts aus #bts fic #jungkook au #jungkook imagine #bts series #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff

139 notes · View notes

thestarsoutofyourwindow · 4 years

Text

Forbidden Library - The Doctor x Reader

This was written with 11 in mind, but you can easily see it as 10, so it’s your preference! I wrote this as a description experiment, then tried to apply some story to it. I’ve been trying to master character/body language too, so this took a while to write because I just couldn’t settle on anything, so I just gave up. If this does well I may do a part two, and I’ll try to make it more romancy. Word Count: 2,161 Summary: You hear a book fall whilst in the library and go to investigate. You stumble upon a book that answers the questions you’ve been asking yourself for a long time, but you just can’t bring yourself to lie to the Doctor about it. Warnings: Time War heavily referenced, Comforting the Doctor, A lot of description, You find it hard to lie, Reassuring the Doctor.

All of time and space, he said. Wherever, whenever, and home in time for tea. The Doctor has always been a bit of an enigma to you. You knew practically nothing about him, yet if anyone had asked, you would consider him one of your closest friends. However, whether or not you're the sort to ask questions, you had a feeling he isn't as honest as you'd like to believe.

The first time you had asked him about his people and planet, he ignored you completely, babbling about the asteroid you were supposed to be visiting. The second time you had asked, he dodged around it, giving you a half-arsed response. All he told you is that his race died out a long, long time ago and that there was a war. After that, he excused himself, and you couldn't bring yourself to mention it to him again.

You had to admit, that puzzled you: you had believed it to be a sensitive subject, so of course, you left it there. No matter how curious you were, you're not going to force The Doctor into reliving anything he'd rather not. But sometimes it did keep you up at night. The Doctor had never seemed like the fighting sort, but something about his recount didn't settle right with you. You weren’t sure what. Usually, on those nights where you end up in an hours-worth of conversation with the TARDIS, you would truly realise how much you thought about it. As weird as it sounded, you felt she was listening as she would often click or whirr in response. You felt insane the first time you did it, but the longer you spoke to her, the more normal it felt. You hardly mentioned your conversations to the Doctor, but whenever you did, he only grinned to himself.

"Doctor?" You peeked into the library. It was, and always will be, the most impressive library you had ever seen. There were cherry-wood bookshelves, that stood towering over you, each shelf overfilled with beloved, worn books. The library was like a maze, asides from the sitting area where a few chairs huddled around a fake-fireplace, there was an indeterminable quantity of shelves. The rest of the library was lit up by fairy lights, which looked as if to be a new addition to the systematic chaos, making the already supernal library look even more mystical. According to the Doctor, the TARDIS has full management over the configuration and layout of the bookshelves, sort of like the Hogwarts stairs. There were step-ladders haphazardly scattered throughout the library. There was the occasional ivy plant that had grown and twisted down the bookshelves. One day you had been scrolling through Tumblr, and a post with ivy plants showed up on your feed. You talked about how cool that is to the TARDIS; within the next week ivy sprung up all over the place, including the kitchen. The Doctor made a passing remark about the ivy plants, and you confessed, alongside a frantic apology. He laughed, telling you it didn't bother him.

"Yeah, Y/n/n?" He mumbled, not so much as blinking away from his book. He hunched over it; his legs draped off the arm of the chair due to his inability to sit correctly. He nestled himself in a duvet, and which would be inconspicuous if not for his head poking out. "Have you seen... Woah. Fairy lights!" You smile, looking up at the tastefully draped lighting. "Is this your doing?" The Doctor asks ludicrously, turning to face towards you, gesturing over at the shelves, "I knew the TARDIS liked you, but this is getting ridiculous."

You chuckle for a moment before peering back at him, "I only came here to ask if you'd seen the book I left on the kitchen counter, but if you're going to criticise me so rudely, well I guess I'll go trip over something important." The Doctor grimaced at that, "That's really not necessary, I think... Yeah, I brought it in here with me earlier." He gestured the book out at you, over the back of the armchair. You stepped closer, about to take the book, when he pulled it away, his eyebrows furrowing. "Are you going to do some reading? If so, would you like to, um, maybe sit and join me?" "Yeah, why not?" You marvel, looking him dead in the eye. You walked around the chair and sat on the armchair next to his.

You cosied down and tried to focus on reading. However, your anxieties and considerations began cropping up again. You lost yourself in thought over what the Doctor keeps from you. Peeking up at the Doctor, you noticed his eyelids drooping. You watched attentively; you had never seen him asleep, oddly enough. His head, already tilted into his chest, slipped further. His tousled brown hair settled on his face, and his breathing eased. His grip on the book slackened. You remained there, admiring the sleepy face you had grown attached to over the months of touring time and space together.

Due to the endearing nature of his subtle breathing, you hardly realise the TARDIS clicking to get your attention. A distant thump draws you out of your hypnosis, the sound emanating from deep in the library. You stir noiselessly out of the armchair, as to not disturb your friend, and hesitantly edge towards the direction you assume it originated. You notice a small, cherry wood door in the wall between some bookshelves. Convinced you have never seen that door before, you approach the door. Stopping dead in your tracks for a moment, you take a moment to calm your nerves. The TARDIS would never let you get hurt, at least if she could help it. You reached your palm out towards the handle and, taking the TARDIS's silence for approval, enclose your hand around the metallic knob and twist.

Behind the door was what appeared to be the smaller section of the library, perhaps it's a study full of books the Doctor had just never taken back to the library? From what you could make out through the darkness, and the distinct smell of dust, the bookshelves were similarly themed to the ones outside. Although, these shelves are in a much smaller room, both vertically and horizontally. A desk was facing towards the door on your left, and a beanbag on the floor to your right.

You were about to close the door and leave, ready to call it his study and leave it at that. But as the door was half-closed, it dawned on you that the Doctor had never even mentioned this room, and the room appeared as though it had been undisturbed for a long time. This room would be pretty redundant, and the TARDIS surely would've reorganised the books onto the shelves, right? With that in mind, you re-entered the room, curiosity brimming in your eyes as you notice the book in the middle of the floor. It's TARDIS blue cover stood out like a sore thumb against the crimson carpet, regardless of how dark the room was. As you knelt to pick up the obscure book, the ceiling light flickered on.

"History of the Time Lords: All you need to know." You mumbled as you read. You habitually flip the book in your hands to read the blurb, the grey foiled text read, "From humble beginnings to the vicious politics of the time war, here is everything you need to know about the history of our civilisation." You checked to see if there is a contents page, of which there is. None of the chapters stood out, except for perhaps, Gallifrey Falls. It clicked in your mind that Gallifreyan must equate to Time Lord, at least to some extent. The Doctor had referred to himself as the last Time Lord.

You flip to the chapter and settle down on the floor, considering you may be there for some time.

And by god, you were. You read about everything from the potential causes, to the effects on the rest of the universe. What you paid the most attention to, however, was the Doctors' involvement. For the most part, he stayed out of the war, asides from helping the victims. But whoever had "restored" him, had pinned the continuing deaths on the Doctor and his lack of involvement, which had finally made him give in. The Doctor fought for literal decades on the front line.

No wonder he didn't want to talk about it.

You read on about the sacrifices he made and the Daleks. They always survived, no matter what he did. By the time you had wrapped up two or three chapters, you had worked yourself up. Even if you're not the emotional sort, just the thought of the Doctor having to go through all of that brought you to tears. You kept imagining the burden he must be carrying, keeping from you and Amy. The decisions he has made.

You stood up, the book still in your hands, and make your way back to where you had left the Doctor.

Upon re-entering that section of the library, it took you a moment to realise that your companion no longer huddled in the armchair. There was no trace of him. You hoped he had withdrawn to his room, and took a step towards his chair. "Y/n!" A hand landed on your shoulder. You recoiled, whirling around to face the weary-eyed Doctor, pulling the large book to your chest, "There-... what's up?" "Nothing, I-I just thought you had gone to your room, is all. You scared me." You exhale a sigh of relief, gently laughing as you spoke. "What have you got there?" He scrutinised inquisitively, eyes pinned on the book you were gripping so tightly. "Oh, It's a book," The Doctor raised a brow at you and rolled his eyes, a smile on his cheeks, and you thoughtlessly added an, "Well, of course, it is, uh, it fell off a shelf in a sort of study room- I heard it and went to see what it was." You handed the book over sheepishly. It wasn't your book to keep, after all. You didn't want to admit it, but a part of you didn't want to lie to the Doctor, either.

He shifted the book about until he could comfortably read it; the moment his eyes darted back up to you, eyebrows curved upwards, smile extinct, you could've sworn something shattered behind his eyes. Noticing this, you couldn't stop yourself from clarifying, "I, I did read a bit of it, quite a lot actually- out of curiosity. Look, I'm, I'm so sorry. I didn't realise when I kept asking you about Gallifrey, and the war- if I'd known the half of it-" You paused, taking a deep breath and looking into his eyes, "Look, If you want me to forget about this, that's cool- I, erm, can just pretend this never happened, and I'll make sure to keep Amy/Donna off your ass about it," "Humans, you're so," The Doctor mutters exasperatedly, gesturing outwards with his hands, before sighing, he puts his hands on your shoulders, squeezing gently, "You know, Y/n. You don't have to stay. I get it, I really do. I killed my entire species, nothing co-" "Doctor. You cannot honestly tell me that it is your fault. I won't sit here and listen to you take the blame for something you avidly tried to avoid. From what I read, you tried to help- you swore to help, to make up for something out of your control," You rest your hands on his upper arm, shaking him gently as you speak, "You did your best, you did what you thought was the right thing, and most importantly, you saved the whole of time and space, again, from the Daleks and the Time Lords." The Doctor hesitated, lips pursing as he looked away. You offer him a hug, and he quickly accepts, his arms wrapping around your waist. You try your very best to make it the best hug you've ever given. You hold him firmly and flatten the back of his hair soothingly as you speak, "Treat yourself the way you'd treat someone else, you know? I know it's been a long time, but I need you to know that I'm not leaving you for doing the right thing." The Doctor took a shaky breath, "Yeah. Thank you." He breathily laughed, "I wish I had met you sooner." You smiled, "Well the day you figure out how, I will have prepared some very, strong words for you." He hummed in affirmation into your shoulder, "I'll have to work on that." The two of you just stood there for a bit, hugging each other. You impulsively touch a kiss against the Doctors temple as the two of you separate.

#doctor who x reader #the doctor x reader #eleventh doctor x reader #11th doctor x reader #tenth doctor x reader #10th doctor x reader #fluff #angst #newwho #doctor who library #doctor who

339 notes · View notes

nagito-kissmaeda · 4 years

Text

Horny on Main Disease - Komaeda x Reader

Summary: Reader catches a strain of the despair disease that means she says everything she is thinking. Kind of awkward considering all she can think about is how much she wants to jump Komaeda's bones. This is intended to be sort of funny, but i still wrote it pretty seriously, just want to make it clear that i did not half ass the smut. i whole assed it.

Word count: 4444 Contains: fem reader, they/them pronouns, despair disease, explict sexual content, unsafe sex, voyeurism Read on AO3 ミ☆ Please send me a DM or an ask if you’d like me to write something for you!

It’s not even a particularly hot day, and yet you’re sweating bullets as you walk over to the dining hall like you do every morning. Your legs are wobbly and your head is aching something terrible, you assume that you’ve caught a cold or something , whatever the problem is, it’s going to be a question for Tsumiki when you meet up with her at breakfast.

Kuzuryu is standing out by the pool, pensively staring into the still water. He probably misses Pekoyama, but you’re smart enough to know not to-

“Hey, Kuzuryu! I bet you miss your dead girlfriend, huh?”

He just stares at you, and it takes a good few seconds for you to even realise what you just said out loud. You clap a hand over your mouth, horrified.

“I don’t know why I said that!” You squeak

Kuzuryu doesn’t look...angry? He shakes his head at you and sighs, “you’re acting weird today too, aren’t you?”

“What? Weird? Who’s weird?”

“Owari was here a few minutes ago, bawling her eyes out on the ground.” He crosses his arms and looks away from you, “I think the bear is planning something again.”

You nod sternly, “anyone with tits as big as Owari has nothing to cry about! Something is definitely suspicious.”

Oh god why did you say that??

“Oh god, why did I say that??”

You just keep saying everything you’re thinking!

“I just keep saying everything I’m-“

Kuzuryu grabs you by the wrist and starts tugging you towards the dining hall, “something is definitely fucked up.” He looks down at where his hand is gripping yours, “Jesus Christ, your skin is on fire!”

“Yeah, cause I’m hot !” That was already an embarrassing thing to say, you are horrified when your mouth drops open again to follow it up with, “bow-chicka-wow-wow!”

There is definitely something wrong with you. In general you are the sort of person who takes the time to carefully curate every word that leaves your mouth, the fact that you are just speaking without even thinking about it is bizarre and alarming. The ache in your head is also steadily growing stronger and you’re starting to feel dizzy, maybe you’re just delirious with flu? It doesn't make sense for you to catch the flu on an abandoned island, but weirder things have happened already.

It is at this moment that you realise you have been (only semi-coherently) mumbling your full internal tirade outloud to Kuzuryu, who is now helping you up the stairs to the dining hall. He has very diplomatically, been either ignoring, or at least pretending to ignore everything you have been saying.

“You’re nice. Probably the politest yakuza i’ve ever met.” you pause, “I’ve never met another yakuza, i'm not sure why i said it like that.”

Kuzuryu scoffs and tugs you up at the last step. Deigning to give your comment any sort of response.

As you step up onto the dining hall landing, you freeze. This is dangerous. Your nails are biting into the skin of your palms, and your already warm face feels even hotter. Don't look at him, don't think about him, don't look at him, don't think about him. Kuzuryu is giving you a look, you must be verbalising your own mental gymnastics, but that is less embarrassing than the alternative.

“Don't look at him, don't think about him, don't look at him, don't think-”

You look up, like an idiot . Komaeda is sitting by the window with his chin in his palm, just sort of staring off into the middle distance, not really looking at anything. The morning sun cascades through the window and catches in his hair. It shimmers. Your heart twists and turns in your chest, you have been trying to keep this little fascination of yours under wraps, but he slowly closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in through his nose and-

“He looks like an angel .” You say, and you say it loudly.

All eyes in the room turn to you. Hinata especially is looking at you with his particular brand of exhaustion, that says this is not the first weird thing he has heard today. You scramble, trying desperately to think about anything other than Komaeda, to stop yourself from saying anything stupid. In your desperation, what you say is: “Yes hello! I was talking about anyone in this room apart from Komaeda. Please do not be confused, it was not Komaeda. I want to make it crystal clear that i am NOT attracted to Nagito Komaeda. This is a very convincing lie and you all believe me!”

Mioda straightens her spine and salutes you, “Roger! You are not attracted to Komaeda, I believe you!”

Your sweating even more now, it’s getting hard to breathe, “Forget I said anything!”

Mioda salutes again, “Consider it forgotten!”

“What is happening?! ” Hinata exclaims, gesturing wildly to you, Mioda, and Owari who you suddenly notice is leaning against the far wall and sobbing, “This is not normal!”

Your eyes slip to Komaeda again. He is looking at you and he is blushing-

“He looks so...cute…” You whisper, and Hinata yelps.

“Why are you all being so weird???? ”

Monokuma takes that as his cue to finally show up. Waltzing on into the dining hall like he owns the place, clearly buzzing with excitement, “A good question!” He says, clamoring up onto a vacant chair and holding a paw in front of his face to hide his laughter, “ Oooh , this is my best motive yet! Looks like three members of the class have come down with a bad case of the despair disease!”

“D-Despair Disease?” Tsumiki contributes, nervously playing with her hands, “I’ve never heard of such a thing!”

“Yeah, well. It’s pretty self explanatory!” Monokuma says, “The main symptom is high fever, along with some other fun despair related effects! It’s a bit of a mixed bag though and no two cases are the same! For example, Moida is suffering from the Gullible Disease...Owari has the Cowards Disease.” Then, Monokuma points his stubby little paw in your direction, “And you have the No Filter Disease. You just say whatever you’re thinking! It’s been lots of fun so far, upupupupu~”

“Oh, does that mean all those things they were just saying about Komaeda were the truth?” Sonia says. Her brows draw together, and she taps her lips with a finger, “How interesting.”

“It’s not my fault he’s gorgeous!” the words escape you before you have a chance to stop them. You squeal and clap a hand over your mouth before you start talking again. Komaeda is now bright red to the tips of his ears.

“That was true? GROSS!” Saionji exclaims.

You glare at Monokuma, “If you wouldn't kill me for doing it, I'd rip out all your stuffing right now.”

Monokuma withers a little, “Aw~ Is that what you really feel? Here I was thinking we were great friends.”

“I’ll gut you like a fish.” you pause, “a bear-fish.” another pause, “a fish-bear.” You groan, “UGH, I can’t stop saying stupid things! I’m all sweaty! This sucks !”

Tsumiki steps over to you, her hand is shaking as she brings it up to your forehead.

“Oh…” you breathe, “your hand is cold.”

“S-Sorry! I’m just checking your temperature.”

“You smell like lavender.”

She recoils a little, “It’s j-just my shampoo!!'' Then she shakes her head and turns to the rest of the group, “Monokuma is telling the truth. They’ve got a fever.”

Hinata hurriedly presses his hand against the foreheads of both Owari and Moida, confirming that they’re also burning up, “What do we do, Tsumiki?”

Before she can answer, Monokuma pipes up again, “did I forget to mention? It’s contagious~~”

Saionji squeals and backpedals all the way to the stairs, “Contagious!?”

“Yeah and I'm a conta- genius . Get it?”

Souda gives you an uncomfortable look and scratches the back of his neck, “How much space in your brain is taken up by bad puns?”

You’re feeling really dizzy now, “A lot of it! But usually I don't say any of them!” your knees wobble and you almost fall over, luckily Tsumiki is still close enough to grab you before you topple to the ground, “I am going to kill that goddamn bear .”

“Could-could someone help me?” Tsumiki squeaks, “If i keep holding them up like this we-we’re just both going to fall over.”

You giggle a little, slipping into a semi-delirium as you cling to Tsumiki for dear life. Hinata and the others start working on a plan to keep everyone safe until the illness runs its course, “Hey Tsumiki…” you whisper, “Komaeda’s got real nice hands, huh?” she is too busy trying to keep you upright to answer, “I want him to carry me. Unless I'm too heavy, Tsumiki, am I too heavy?”

You’re all but draped over Tsumiki now, who is trying in vain to shuffle you over to a nearby wall, when you suddenly hear her sigh in relief, “Oh...Th-Thank you. I’m not very s-strong…”

You manage to flop your head around to face the other direction, lacking the strength to turn your neck properly. Komaeda is looking down at you, it might just be the fever, but you feel like you’re going to burst into flames.

“Aha, I’m sure i'm not much stronger than you, Tsumiki.” He says, gently wrapping his arm around your shoulders and tugging you over to him. You might have moaned, you can't be sure, “But I do have the height advantage.”

The utter tsunami that leaves your mouth is unavoidable. Literally medically unavoidable, but that doesn't stop it from being the most embarrassing moment of your life.

“He’s touching me. He’s touching me…” your head has come to rest on his chest and you are practically hyperventilating, “He smells like chamomile soap and clean laundry...His hands are cold, his shirt is soft...Oh god i'm so sweaty, he probably thinks i'm disgusting! Komaeda, i'm so sorry , this was meant to be a secret!!! I wasn't going to tell you, everyones gonna think I'm weird!” your thoughts are leaving your mouth faster than you can think of them, if Komaeda is reacting to anything you have to say, you don't notice because despite your mouth running a mile a minute you still have an ounce enough of shame and bury your face in his chest to hide from your own words.

The world is spinning, your head feels heavy, everything is so hot , “Your hair is nice, did you know your hair is nice? God, I've wanted to run my fingers through it since day one. This is so fucked up, you almost killed someone! I want to stop talking , i feel like i'm gonna pass out, i'm gonna pass out, i'm gonna pass out. Im gonna…”

***

“I think I passed out.” Is the first thing you say when you wake up. You’re still hot and the back of your neck is sweaty, but you can see that you are now in the hospital, and that you’re wearing a hospital gown.

“Who undressed me?!” You exclaim, disappointed to find that you still can’t help saying everything you think.

At the sound of your voice, the door to your room opens, and Komaeda steps in.

“No! Not you!”

He freezes, withering under your gaze, “Ah, I see. Being greeted by garbage like me in your current state, it must be insulting .”

You feel like an asshole .

“That’s not what I meant! Please don’t go, I never want you to go.”

Komaeda laughs a little, still lurking nervously in the doorway, “You’re confusing me.”

“I don’t want you to hear what I’m thinking. I want you to stay, but all I can think about is how much I want to suck on your collarbone.” You freeze the second you stop talking, a high pitched whine leaving your mouth as you hide your face in your hands, “I’m so sorry! I can’t stop it!”

Stepping further into the room, Komaeda quietly closes the door behind him. Your heart is pounding.

“I’m nervous.” You say.

He tilts his head, walking over to the side of your bed, “I can still leave if I’m making you uncomfortable.”

“No, I’m not uncomfortable.” You shrink under his gaze, “it just, the way you closed the door it makes me feel like you’re planning something, like maybe we’re going to have-“ you manage to cover your mouth before the rest of the sentence escapes. Keeping your hands tight over your lips as all you can think about is his long fingers, his soft hair, his half lidded eyes.

“Are you...still talking behind your hands?”

You nod.

A smile crawls up the side of his face, “are you saying something embarrassing?”

“I wanna stick my tongue in your mouth.” You say, loud enough that even the tight grip of your hands doesn’t muffle it.

Komaeda remains remarkably calm, “You keep saying those things. This disease...means you say whatever you’re thinking, doesn’t it?”

“Yes. It’s driving me crazy, I’m just being such an idiot and I’m probably freaking you out. I’m sorry.”

“No, that’s not it.” He sighs, moving slowly as he sits down on the side of your bed, “Honestly, why would you let such thoughts about scum like me take up so much real estate in your mind?”

“I can’t help it!” You exclaim, “I’ve been trying not to think about it, but I just can’t! I want you so badly. I…..I-“ you hold your breath, you can’t let that last part out, no matter what, you can’t say that last part. You’ll die of suffocation before you let him hear it.

“You...what?” He asks

Oh god. You can’t stop thinking about it. Your lungs are aching, screaming for you to just open your mouth.

“What are you hiding, hm?”

It’s too much. The nerves, your sick and weakened body, him right there . You can’t do it, you can’t stop it, the next time you see Monokuma, you are drop kicking him into the sun.

“I’ve touched myself while thinking about you!”

The words echo off the walls of the room like a gunshot.

For a moment Komaeda just stares at you, but then, his shaky hands reach out and wrap around both of your wrists. His throat bobs.

“Hng. I want to suck on the side of your neck, I want to see you covered in marks from my teeth-“ you try to cover your mouth with your hands again. Komaeda grips your wrists tighter.

“No.” He whispers, trembling, “keep going.”

“ God, your hands are so big. I want to know how deep your fingers would reach inside of me. I bet you’re good at it, I bet you’re really good at it.” He just keeps staring at you, ghostly green eyes blown wide, chest heaving , “Are you turned on? Is this turning you on? Just pin me down and fuck me, do it, do it, do it!”

“How...how often are you thinking about me like this?”

“Oh, all the time.” You freeze, mentally (and therefore also verbally) berating yourself, “Not all the time! Just like, a normal amount. However much that is.” He is still just looking at you, the pad of his thumb slowly brushes across the pulsepoint in your wrist and you shiver, “Yes, yes! I’ve wanted this intimacy with you for so long . I couldn't tell anyone, I couldn't tell you. During the first trial, when you went on your weirdo rant about hope and despair. I was scared, i was so scared, but oh god- ” you can't stop yourself. Every thought in your head is pouring out of your lips. Filling up the room, the mortification is drowning you . All you can do is squeeze your eyes shut to avoid looking at him, “I was wet , Komaeda. I went back to my cabin and came three times to the thought of you, I am reprehensible . What do you think the others would do if they found out, huh? That all i can think about is you fucking me over my trial podium. They’ll tie me up next-”

The bed squeaks, and Komaeda brings his knee up and over your hips.

“-Oh my god. You’re doing it aren't you?”

His other leg comes up on the bed, and he settles, hovering up above you. He shrugs, “I honestly don't understand why this is something you want,” he leans down over you, resting his palms on either side of your head, “but who am I to deny the wishes of an ultimate.”

If not for the warmth of his lips pressed against yours, you are sure that you wouldn't be able to shut up, based only on the number of thoughts tumbling through your head like they’re on a spin cycle. You are still sweaty with fever and probably look disgusting, but Komaeda shuffles down in between your legs and hikes your hospital gown up to your waist. So you are suitably distracted.

He laughs as he hooks his fingers around your panties and tugs them down your thighs, “I cant believe that you want scum like me to touch you like this. Usually I would assume that you are lying, or taking pity on me.” He grins, running a finger up the length of your sex, “But everything you say to me is your exact thoughts, isnt it?”

“Yes! Touch me, please! ” You’re quivering beneath him, barely able to breathe in between your frantic pleas, “You feel so good, you feel perfect . I want your fingers inside me so bad .”

He hisses as he slips his middle and ring finger inside of you, eyes glued to where your entrance is swallowing him up, “Ahaaa...you’re drenched . You really do want me don't you?” he pistons his fingers in and out slowly, slowly and deliberately, “Someone like you, desiring me so terribly. It’s such a waste , but i can't help it. I must be selfish and take this chance while i can.”

“Not a….waste....” You force out, helplessly grinding on his fingers, “Want you....want only you…”

“Oh- Ohhhh .” He moans, “I can feel you, squeezing around my fingers. You’re so wet...so warm…”

You hear a zipper coming undone, and your thoughts go into overdrive, “oh my god, oh my god. Komaeda’s going to jerk off in front of me, wanna watch, wanna watch! ”

His fingers still inside you for a moment as he tugs his boxers down far enough to slip out his cock. Your eyes follow the movement of his long fingers as he slowly curls them around the base, and tugs them up again, rolling the pad of his thumb over the head. His hips buck, and you moan.

“You...you’re tightening around my fingers…” he breathes, choking on a moan as he pumps his cock again, “you like watching me touch myself?” Your hips stutter, grinding your clit against the meat of his palm as he continues stroking himself. His eyes are wide as he watches you writhing beneath him.

“The face you make when you do that...it’s so cute.” You say, whining as his fingers start moving inside you again, “it’s even cuter than I imagined. Your cheeks are all red.” You swallow, “and your cock is so pretty...I want you to cum inside me, so bad .”

His breath hitches, “you want me to cum, inside you?” his cock is leaking with pre-cum now, painfully hard in his hand. His chest is heaving.

“Yes yes yes! ” You plead, “I want you, please! ”

“I don’t understand.” He breathes, and you whimper as his fingers slip out of you, “How could someone be so desperate for my pathetic seed?”

“Fill me up , Komaeda!” You exclaim, at this point you are long past embarrassed. The words leaving your mouth are the absolute truth and there is no way you can deny them.

He groans at that, an octave deeper than you are used to hearing and it seems he is having trouble denying you. His own desperation mingling with yours and overtaking his painful self-doubt, he wraps a hand around the base of his cock, and slowly edges the swollen head against your entrance, “f-fuck…” he mutters as he slips inside you, “you’re so warm .”

You can barely even register what you are saying anymore, it’s little more than a string of compliments about how good he feels inside you. About how handsome he is. Your tongue feels weird and loose in your mouth from overuse, but you still can’t stop talking.

He looms above you, halo of white hair bouncing as he thrusts in and out of you, the unmistakable jangle of the chain hanging from his jeans. All things that confirm it is Komaeda inside of you. Your heart races with the fact.

“Th-thank you, for permitting me to do this with you.” He stammers, sweat slowly dripping down his brow, “it’s...so good...it feels like I belong inside you. ”

A moan rips through you, and you hook your weak ankles around his waist, “you do belong inside me. You fit so perfectly , I was made for your cock. GOD I sound so filthy…..I- I can’t help it.”

“ No.” He hisses, eyes meeting yours, “Keep talking.”

“You say that like I can stop.” You dip your head lower, and wrap your lips around his left collarbone, moaning as you suck hard enough to leave a bruise. He keens above you, hips snapping against yours even faster, “Your hip bones are digging into my thighs…”

He squeezes his eyes shut, “I-I’m sorry, do you want me to-“

“Don’t you dare stop, Komaeda. You’re mine , I want to feel every inch of you.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

You bring a shaky hand up to his cheek, he nuzzles into your palm, “You aren’t hurting me. It feels wonderful.”

He kisses you then, messy and wet, his lips taste like desperation. Even with his tongue tangled with yours, you are still trying to speak. Sweet nothings, forceful demands, anything and everything that comes to mind is trying to force its way out of your mouth. Something is in the pit of your stomach is twisting tight and you moan greedily into the cavern of his mouth as his hips meet yours again. You can feel that he’s losing his rhythm.

“S-sorry. I’m...im close…” A moan rips from his throat and he buries his face in your neck.

Your hips have started canting up to meet his, you want so badly to be close to him, to feel all of him, “M’close to. I love having you inside me, i want to do this again and again and-”

Komaeda freezes, eyes turning to the door on the other side of the room. Footstops.

“Who is it? Did they hear? Are there going to come in? What do you think they’re going to do if they see you inside of-”

Komaeda covers your mouth with his palm. You’re still talking, but at least it’s muffled now. Kuzuryu and Hinata are chatting in the hallway, the footsteps seem only to be growing closer. You can't stop thinking terrible, horrible things, and while Komaeda’s hand keeps you quiet enough that they can't seem to hear you from outside, Komaeda can definitely hear you.

“I wanna keep going.”

His eyes are blown wide, but you feel the tell-tale throb of his cock inside of you, “ What?! ” he hisses, “there’s no way you can keep quiet like this...they’ll definitely hear us.”

“I don’t care if they hear us, I want them to hear us. I want them to know what you’re doing to me.”

His hips twitch, and he bites his lip hard to keep in a moan, “You're not ashamed to be seen intimately with someone as despicable as me?”

You coo at him, running your index finger down the front of his throat and over the mark you left on his collarbone, he tentatively removes his hand from your mouth and pushes some sweaty hair away from your forehead, you smile, “I’m not ashamed of you. I’m in love with you.”

Komaeda sucks a breath in through his teeth, and it is only then that you realise what you have said.

“Oh GOD. I didn't - I'm so sorry.” your eyes are wide, you’re ready for him to jump up and bolt out of the room, “I just thought it and then i said it, and jesus christ im so sorry-”

You’re cut off by his lips. The kiss is gentler, less desperate, but filled with the depth of passion. He starts thrusting in and out of you again, and you gasp in surprise at the feeling. He pulls away from the kiss, and rests his forehead against yours, his breathing heavy as one of his hands slips down under your knee. He pushes your leg up higher and you choke on a moan at how much deeper this new angle feels.

A high-pitched whine leaves his throat as he continues moving inside of you, he swallows, “I...I love you too.”

“Aaah... ahhh .” You’re so close at this point, the coiling in your stomach is about ready to snap, “I love you so much, I want your cum, please! ”

“I’ll give it to you, I...hah...I’ll fill you up...is that what you want?”

His hand slips down to your clit and you shriek , clenching hard around his cock, “Yes, yes, yes! I’m close...i'm so close…”

“I’m gonna...I...I…”

A moan rips through you as your climax finally hits, for the first time this day your mind is void of thoughts. All you can do is feel . Your fingers dig into the bedsheet under you, and your legs tighten around Komaeda’s waist. He writhes and moans above you, he just keeps going, harder and harder and harder, and then, with a heavy groan you feel him release inside of you.

“Thank...you…” you mutter, “thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you…”

Before Komaeda has a chance to say anything in return, someone clears their throat on the other side of the door. The two of you freeze.

“Are you two done?” Hinata asks, he sounds exasperated.

Komaeda clears his throat, “Um...yeah...pretty much.”

“His dick is literally still inside of me! Maybe give us a few minutes!” You wince at the blunt sentence that just left your mouth, Komaeda is clearly trying not to laugh, you huff “Sorry Hinata! I can't help it!”

This disease was going to be the death of you.

#komaeda x reader #nagito x reader #komaeda nagito x reader #my writing #danganronpa x reader #danganronpa fanfiction

262 notes · View notes

supremeinlilac · 4 years

Text

I thought I’d killed you

Pairing: Apocalypse!Wilhemina x Fem!Reader

Word count: 2821

Warnings: Mentions of death, angst

A/N: Honestly I don’t know if I kept Mina in character or not in this, but I do think she needed a good cry. Also, I just really enjoyed writing this, i think its one of my favourite things I’ve written :)

“Please don’t cry.”

It was unnerving to see Wilhemina crying so openly in front of you. She was usually so against such displays of vivid emotion. Seeing her shoulders shaking as tears tracked down her cheeks shocked you into action, scrambling up from where you’d been on the floor, hands coming up to cup her face and thumbs brushing the tears that had gathered on her closed eyelashes.

You’d never seen your girlfriend cry once in your time at the outpost; not even when her back made it impossible for her to move, her eyes screwed shut in pain, and you had to do everything for her. It both shocked and worried you to see her in such a state. Her normally perfect hair was tousled as if she’d tugged at it in anguish, and she’d clearly been crying for a while before you’d woken, eyes puffy and red.

Your voice and touch made her head jerk up to meet yours, her eyes widened in shock. She looked terrified, as if she could barely believe you were there, stood in front of her. She reached out to touch your face, pausing slightly before she touched you, before tracing your features with shaking hands.

“You’re alive” she gasped out, tears still flowing freely of which she made no attempt to wipe away. “You’re alive” she repeated, as if confirming it to herself, nodding her head and then shaking it. A strangled sob left her lips as she broke down again, clutching at you as if you’d simply disappear between her fingers.

“Of course I’m alive baby. What happened? Where’s your cane?” You moved to support her weight to relieve the pressure on her back, not knowing where to find her cane for her. Her sob turned to a momentary peal of laughter, before she returned to crying again, face turning away. Confused and slightly scared at her erratic changing of moods, you forced her to face you; leaning your forehead against hers and staring into her eyes.

“What’s wrong?” you whispered, hands moving to smooth down her tussled hair. She let your comb your fingers though it, leaning her weight against you and letting her head rest in the crook of your neck. Her gasping sobs turned to frequent sniffles, which in time turned to slight hiccups and deep breaths. You’d lead her to the edge of the bed, keeping the embrace and your tight grip around her frame as you’d settled down.

“I thought you’d died.” She paused, drawing a shaky breath and still clutching the fabric of your skirt into her hands, “I thought I’d killed you” she breathed against your neck.

Wilhemina followed Mead out of the common room, nose scrunched in disgust at the putrid stench of vomit that lingered in the air. The apple clutched in her palm was discarded on a box at the end of the corridor, as she parted with Mead.

“You deal with Langdon. You know what to do”. Mead nodded, turning and leaving Mina alone in the corridor. Glancing back once more towards the common room with a smirk, she nodded to herself before starting towards your shared room, eager to remind you of the rule you’d ‘broken’ at the dinner table that morning. The rule broken in question was in fact made up, but Wilhemina knew that you loved being punished just as much as she enjoyed doing it. You were always happy enough to act like you’d disobeyed her when she prompted it.

She’d thrown the door open, expecting you to be sat atop the bed, awaiting her arrival like she’d taught you to do when your relationship had started. When you were not there, she called out for you, in case you’d hidden to frighten her. No, you wouldn’t have repeated those actions after the last time you’d pulled that trick with her. She shivered at the thought of you bound on the bed before her at her mercy.

Pushing the image out of her brain, worry suddenly spiked within her. What if you went to find her and saw the common room? She knew you had a soft spot for most of the people that now lay on the floor dead; knew that you never honestly disliked anyone in the outpost. Not enough to enjoy finding them sprawled out dead in their own sick.

“Y/n?” she called out softly, eyes searching for signs of you down the deserted corridor. Upon hearing the echoing silence as an answer, she hurried towards where she feared you’d be. Nearing the turn of the corridor a muffled thump caught her attention ahead of her, and she hurried towards it, unease prickling up the skin of her arms.

She stopped in her tracks as she came to see your crumpled form two thirds of the way down the staircase, a cry getting stuck in her throat at the sight of the apple which had rolled to the bottom of the stairs. She hiked the hem of her dress into her hand and descended upon you as fast as her cane would allow.

“No no no no, Y/n what have you done?” she gasped, hand coming to tilt your head towards her. The foam at your mouth was still frothing, face muscles still twitching in reaction to the fatal poison you’d consumed. ‘Oh god, what have I done?’ she thought, looking around at the blue lips and whitened skin of the other bodies in the room. She could not let that happen to you.

Wilhemina let her cane clatter to the ground roughly and wrapped her arms hastily around your body like a parent would for an infant. Although your frame was small, her back still screamed at her in protest when she made to stand up with you in her arms. She steadied herself with a hand on the beam, ignoring her back, jaw set but face stricken with worry at the way your head lolled with nothing to support it, arms flailed to the side dramatically.

Mina let a low continuous groan of pain as she ascended the stairs, teeth gritted, every movement feeling like bolts of electricity were being forced up her spine. She hadn’t realised she’d begun to cry until the droplets splashed off her cheeks and onto your frail body beneath. It was impossible to determine whether it was the pain that drew them or the deep gutting fear that you might die here, in her arms, and that it would be her fault.

“Y/n, Y/n baby. Stay with me okay, listen to my- argghh- voice” her breathing now laboured and knees threatening to buckle beneath her, she pushed on down the corridor to your room. “Please don’t- Oh God, please don’t die.”

Once in the room she unceremoniously dumped you onto the floor, not having the time for the luxury of the gentleness she’d shown you on the stairs. Rifling through her draw, showing no regard for messing up her usually impeccably organised belongings until she found the small vile and needle she was looking for. Practically falling to her knees by her side; back now throbbing to the heightened beating of her heart, she took the needle between her teeth and shakily drew the contents of the vile into the syringe. Attempting to calm her trembling hands, she lined the needle up to the bend of your elbow, sliding it into your delicate skin and guiding the liquid into your veins.

Breathing a sigh of relief, she removed the needle and discarded it to the side. She positioned herself so her back was against the bed, guiding your head to rest in her lap and allowing her better access to check your temperature with the back of her clammy hand. Her fingers stroked through your hair, nails lightly grazing over the skin of your scalp the way she knew you loved.

“I love you; you know. I know I never say it to you even when you say it to me, but I do.” Her hand stilled on your hair, voice wavering slightly as she confessed, staring at your closed eyes with tears in her own. “And I’m so sorry baby that I never told you. I’m so sorry that you may die never knowing how much you mean to me”. Leaning to press a kiss to your damp forehead, she rocked you, cradling you again as close to herself as she could.

“I don’t want to be alone again. Please don’t leave me!”

A strangled cry escaped her parted lips when she kissed you, realising she could no longer see the rise and fall of your chest on her lap. She’d killed you. Oh my god she’d killed you. Laced the apple with the poison that stilled the blood in your veins. Her tears dripped from her chin and splashed onto your face, which she hastily wiped away, not wanting to taint you any further than you already had been.

Adjusting your body so you now lay completely on the floor, hands together on your torso, she rose to her feet using the bed as an aid. Still crying, clutching the bed and then the wall for support, not giving a damn about the lack of her cane, barely able to breathe through her gasping sobs. Her cries were loud, no one left to hear her anguish.

Miriam however, heard her from down the corridor, the wails carrying all the way to where she and Michael Langdon were plotting together. “Will you go and shut her up? I can barely concentrate as it is and-what the fuck is she crying about” he stated, hand pressed exasperatedly into his temple as she started off without the weapon. “Take. The. Gun. For crying out loud” he paused. “Quite literally it appears” chuckling as Miriam sauntered away.

She knocked at the door, poking her head round when she received no answer. Upon seeing Wilhelmina at the wall, head against it with no cane, you on the floor, she pocketed the gun she’d held up. Seeing the woman in such pain, stopped her from being able to kill her. They had been allies once; and in Wilhemina’s current bereavement, she simply could not bring herself to complete the task.

Coughing, she brought her presence to the other woman’s attention, who violently swung her head round, eyes ablaze with anger. “Get out Mead” she spoke calmly, eyes black with hatred for the woman who’d aided in your death. When Miriam did not budge, Mina snapped, crying suddenly not enough for the rage that clouded her vision. “GET OUT OF MY SIGHT OR I’LL KILL YOU GODDAMMNIT” she reached for a vase that rested peacefully on the dresser beside her. Miriam saw her do this, ducking behind the door and snapping it closed as the vase shattered upon impact.

She’d returned to face the wall again, sobs becoming audible again as she pulled at the already loosened hair of her do. She was too distracted to notice you stir behind her, busy furiously wiping tears that were then immediately replaced when her hand was removed. Your eyes opened, squinting groggily around the room, focusing on Wilhemina leant against the wall, and becoming fully conscious at her distress.

You scrambled to get up, holding the bed frame for support, still slightly disorientated in your haste to comfort your girlfriend. Standing beside her; the older woman still unaware of your presence, you reach out to cup her face slowly, speaking as you did so.

“Please don’t cry.”

“You thought you’d – Baby why would you have killed me?” searching her eyes for answers you couldn’t find, you settled for simply holding her against your body again, rocking her and hushing her occasional gasps. She ignored the question, instead asking her own, voice lower and you could tell she was on the verge of crying again by the way it wavered.

“Why did you eat the apple?”

“I don’t know” you stammered, not quite remembering what had made you eat the apple you’d found in the corridor. “I wasn’t thinking and then I went into the common room and- Oh my god” you stopped, hand pressed to your open mouth as you recalled seeing everyone lying on the ground from your vantage point at the stair top before you yourself started coughing and choking.

“What happened to them? Are they okay? Are they all dead?” you choked out, breathing becoming ragged as you panicked for your fellow Outpost residents. You felt Mina nod against you; blinking your tears away harshly as you tried to piece things together in your still fragile mind.

“So the apples killed them?” you concluded, head turning to hers and finding blackened eyes staring back. She explained how she and Mead had laced the apples and given them under the pretence of them being a gift from the Cooperative, and how she needed a reason to present the apples to the residents.

“The party was the perfect distraction really” she mused, fingers tapping against your leg.

“That’s why you wanted me to stay in the room and not go to the party. You felt bad for having to kill them and you didn’t want me to see that” it all clicked in your head, hand coming to stop her incessant tapping by tangling her fidgeting fingers between your own.

“No. I didn’t feel bad. I just did not want you to see, and not want to come to the Sanctuary with me. I didn’t want you to hate me. I couldn’t lose you.” Her face was set and unwavering at the confession, showing no regret for her actions.

“They didn’t deserve to die Mina.” Your voice was low; warning, at her indifferent attitude towards her merciless killing of the people you’d come to think of as friends. She shook her head at your statement, fingers picking a stray thread at the hem of your sleeve.

“It wouldn’t have mattered anyway. The sanctuary could never take all of us.”

You both sat in silence, neither comfortable nor uncomfortable as you just embraced the fact you still had each other to hold. Once a sufficient amount of time had passed, and the silence became suffocating, Wilhemina spoke again. This time her voice was quiet, gentle and filled with something you couldn’t quite place as she explained how she returned to the room only to find it empty and had panicked.

You interrupted her at that, somehow feeling the need to explain why you hadn’t been in the room like she’d explicitly asked of you before departing. “I was in the dining room. You never said I couldn’t leave to get myself a drink.”

“It’s okay.”

“But then I found you on the stairs and your mouth was foaming and I thought you were going to die and I was so scared Y/N.” she rambled, stopping to breathe heavily, hands clasping yours in a vice like grip, releasing them when she realised. You let her continue, nodding to show her to go on and that you were right there.

“I’d hidden the antidote here in our room because I suspected that someone had been snooping around; so I carried you from the common room-”

“But Mina your back-” you interrupted, worried with how carrying you all that distance would have put immense strain on her fragile back. “You shouldn’t have done that” scolding her slightly, tears pooling in your own eyes at the thought of her suffering. Your hand danced up her back, watching for any signs of discomfort in her eyes, relaxing when she seemed to not be in too much pain. She shuffled up so you were facing each other again, and she grasped your hands in her own.

“Y/n don’t you understand? I’d break my back one hundred times if it meant saving you.”

Despite feeling betrayed at what your girlfriend had done to your fellow Outpost residents earlier that evening, you couldn’t help but warm up at her confession. You leaned in to kiss her, lips pressed together tightly as you felt her hands pull at your waist. Allowing the kiss to deepen you let yourself melt into her touch, cheeks still wet where tears had fallen, before she pulled away slowly, her face lingering close to yours.

“I was so scared that you were gone sweetheart.” Her voice broke, and you touched your nose to hers as encouragement for her to continue. “You’re the best of me – And I could never live with myself if I had been the cause for your death” you silenced her with another brief kiss.

“Shhh don’t talk like that. I’m here, okay. I’m alive, and I love you Wilhemina Venable. I love you!” she laughed, wiping her eyes and running her thumb over your cheek, cocking her head to look at her through softened eyes.

“I love you too Y/n. I love you too.”

#sarah paulson x reader #wilhemina venable x reader #sarah paulson #wilhemina venable #ahs #ahs apocalypse #sarah paulson imagine #ahs imagine

317 notes · View notes

magicman111 · 3 years

Text

A Moth to a Flame - Chapter Three

Plumes of thick smoke billowed above the guard tower, blotting out the dusk sky with an ugly, brown smog. Burning red embers danced and flickered in the air, a single stray spark singeing Sasha’s right cheek.

Two girls stood, a dirt clod’s throw apart from each other. They stared each other down. The squeaky toy and Grime were already engaging in a battle of their own, leaving the two former friends alone on that tower. It did little to make the tension any less palpable.

Anne held her sword firmly in both hands, and the rage-filled scowl etched on her face made it clear she was itching for an excuse to ream the blade through her ex bestie’s chest cavity. The sheer hatred boiling inside her veins could not be overstated. Sasha, however, was a different story. She remained cool and kept both open palms raised, a sign of her peaceful intentions. Already a hard sell considering less than an hour ago, she’d ordered her flunkies to lock her and her family up in the dungeon after using and backstabbing her for the fifteen thousandth time.

She knew perfectly well what was at stake here. She knew the consequences not for them, but for this entire world if she failed. Convincing Anne to believe her now was going to be an uphill battle and the rematch she’d spent months prior fantasising about now seemed inevitable.

The irony surrounding both those things was not lost on her.

“Anne, I need you to listen to me!” she shouted over the hot gusts of wind whipping her face. “There’s something wrong with this Andrias guy! We should—”

Anne was having absolutely none of it. “You expect me to believe you?!” she asked her incredulously. “After all the lying and manipulating you’ve done?!” Sliding the sword back into its sheath, she turned her back on her in disgust. “Sorry, Sasha, but you’re out of chances.”

Why didn’t she take a photo? This would’ve been so much easier if she’d just thought to take a stupid photo! Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Or maybe if she’d given Anne any reason to trust her.

The gates were now drawing close to slamming completely shut as Anne resumed pushing the lever. If Sasha squandered any more precious time, their fast-approaching army would be locked outside the city. She felt her twin swords weigh heavily on her hips; the tips of fingers twitched.

Whelp, in for a penny, in for a pound. She took a deep breath.

“I think Marcy’s in on it.”

“Yeah yeah!” scoffed Anne. “Blah blah bla—what?”

It was a hail mary that paid off. Anne froze in place and glared back at Sasha as if she’d caught her in the act of stomping on Domino’s tail.

“What... what did you say?” she asked, her voice fittingly ice-cold.

“Anne, look... I get it, okay?” Sasha gutsily stepped forward, closing the gap between them. They still had a glimmer of hope in ending this without a fight, so she knew she had to cobble her thoughts together and choose her next words carefully. “You don’t trust me a-and I don’t blame you, but I swear I’m telling you the truth. Grime and I found these—these weird pictures hidden in the throne room. They... one of them was showing the king with the music box. Th-then there was also something about Marcy’s family, I... I don’t know exactly what it all means...”

Amazing how they’d spent the past months going on wild adventures, escaping dozens of near-death experiences with the many monsters infesting the place, yet this was the one thing she struggled to make sound plausible. Of all the times for that natural charisma and confidence to falter. The way Anne was looking at her like she’d sprouted a third arm out her forehead told her it was going about as well as expected.

“All I know is we shouldn’t be giving either of them the Box. Not right now.” She finally lowered her hands back to her sides, adding, “Just come back to the throne room with me and I promise I’ll show you everything.”

A silence fell over the guard tower, punctuated only by the th-thunk of hundreds of armoured boots rising in the distance.

Now the ball was back in Anne’s court. She’d been rendered speechless by everything she’d been told. All she could do was stare the other girl square in the eyes. Dumbstruck.

Relief washed over Sasha as the tension appeared to simmer down, to the point she felt confident enough to move in closer, stopping when they were only feet apart. Tentatively, she reached out and brushed her fingers against her friend’s knuckles.

“Anne. Please.”

This snapped Anne out of her stupor. Reacting as if she’d been touched by something filthy, she broke her hand away from hers. Her expression turned on a dime from bewilderment to one of unadulterated hatred.

“... how dare you.”

Instead of withdrawing herself, Anne shoved Sasha away so violently it nearly sent her off her feet.

“I cannot believe I almost fell for that again! I mean, wow! Seriously, Sasha?! You’re gonna try and save your skin by throwing Marcy under the bus?! HOW DARE YOU!!”

Another jab to the breastplate silenced Sasha before she could respond. Anne was advancing on her dangerously, every step she took forcing her to back up. The only other instance she’d legit felt intimidated by her was back when she’d stood up to her at Toad Tower and even then, a secret part of Sasha was also impressed.

Now she’d touched upon what was already a frayed, raw nerve and it was scary.

“Let me tell ya something, Sash!” yelled Anne. A third strike nearly caught Sasha in the throat. “Marcy’s been more of a friend to me than you ever have! Marcy hasn’t lied to me! She hasn’t pushed me around! And she definitely hasn’t tried to kill my family! Unlike YOU!” She gripped the hilt of her sword, the menace in her eyes daring her to give her a reason. “She’s not only a real friend, she’s my best friend! And so help me, if you ever talk about her like that again, I will personally stick this thing right in your—”

The sounds of stomping boots and clattering armour had grown so loud they became impossible to ignore. Anne looked to her left to witness the sea of helmeted toads congregating outside the city walls.

How could she have let herself get distracted? They were coming. They were practically here.

“You were right; I am better off without you.” She hissed at her with so much venom it practically poured over her lips. “We both are.”

With that parting diss, Anne sprinted back to the lever. She had a job to do and she’d wasted way too much time and oxygen on this cretin already.

Sasha was left standing there stricken, feet glued to the floor. Anne might as well have slapped her across the face to achieve the same effect.

A determined scowl of her own soon spread across her features. You can’t say she hadn’t tried.

She drew the twin swords from her belt and assumed her dueling position.

“Anne, I can’t let you close that gate!”

“Oh yeah...?”

Anne roared, leaping through the air, sword unsheathed and aimed at Sasha’s head.

“JUST TRY TO STOP ME!”

Any swordsman worth their salt should know better than to leave themselves exposed like Anne just did. Sasha had a clear open to cut her in two instead of blocking her strike with both swords if she had so chosen.

To Anne’s credit, she wasn’t nearly as foolhardy as she had been when she first arrived in Amphibia. Right now, however, as they flew around the tower and did battle with the ferocity of dueling birds of prey, Sasha could plainly see it was Anne’s anger guiding her sword.

Anne was hostile, her moves unpredictable. Toad Tower didn’t have nothin’ on this. She wasn’t an exceptionally skilled fighter, neither of them realistically could be when you consider they’d both only first taken up the sword months ago. Still, there was underlying talent between them, and in Anne’s case, hers was currently being amplified by a seemingly bottomless well of passionate fury, which encouraged every last nerve to screw her courage to the sticking place.

She was actively going for the kill.

Narrowly dodging a plunge from her sword and, holding both her own in one hand, Sasha reached the other between Anne’s arms to grip her by the shoulder.

“Anne, stop this!” she begged through gritted teeth. “Marcy—”

“SHUT YOUR LYING MOUTH!!”

Anne freed herself by kicking Sasha in the chest with her socked foot. The collision of her unprotected sole against the metal breastplate hurt like all get out, but she wasn’t going to allow a trivial thing like pain stop her from taking a fatal swing at her opponent’s golden head.

Cat-like reflexes were what saved Sasha from getting scalped. If there was any hope in her mind that Anne couldn still be reasoned with, it was surely dashed now.

None of the paths leading out of this graceful dance of death were great. Simply keeping up her defenses and waging a war of attrition until Anne’s wild attacks inevitably tired her out wasn’t going to work. Whatever it was fueling Anne’s rampage, she didn’t look to be running out of it any time soon. Every parry, thrust and dodge drained a little bit more of Sasha’s stamina. She couldn’t keep this up for much longer.

Frog knows she couldn’t rely on those toads to drag their warty butts through the stinking gate already!

Unless she was able to disarm Anne and fast, the only other option was to meet her viciousness in kind with expectedly grime results. Her training with Grime had taught her that every sword fight was already a potential life or death situation, regardless if you lacked the intent to harm, but however much they’d literally been at each other’s throats, Sasha was not prepared to have Anne’s blood on her hands.

An idea hit just as she arched her back away from a swing that easily could’ve taken her head off. Muscle tissue developed over years of cheerleader practice kicked into gear and in those vital seconds, Sasha flawlessly pulled off a handstand and kicked the sword out of Anne’s hand. The blade plummeted to the city streets below.

That should have been the end of it. With her opponent disarmed, Sasha felt the adrenaline rush sustaining her crash. Her lungs were on fire. Pink and Green suddenly felt ten times heavier in her damp palms. She truly couldn’t have gone on a moment longer.

Unfortunately, Anne was nowhere near spent. In an act of near superman-levels of varsity athleticism, slid behind Sasha, grabbed the hem of her cape and jumped over her head.

Before Sasha was able to register what in the ever-lovin’ Frog just happened, Anne had already tied the cape over her eyes. She barely even had a chance to flail like a dizzy ballerina when Anne’s fist smashed her in the face!

It was a blow powerful enough to send her spinning across the tower. She landed flat on her face, not an ounce of strength left in her muscles to pick herself back up. It was miraculous she didn’t black out then and there.

All that happened around her next was a mad din of noise. She made out the slam of what must have been Anne finally closing the gate. Then someone somewhere sounded a horn, followed by a voice she dreaded to hear more than anything else.

“Royal Newt Guard! Assemble!”

Oh Frog! They’d already freed the king! Anne must’ve sent the rest of her frog family or worse, Marcy to free him from his cell. She’d been so focused on stopping Anne, she didn’t even factor in what the others were doing.

Anne’s smug tone reached her ears, “End of the line, Sash.”

Sasha crawled up to the ledge on her belly. She tore the cape off her head, scattering it to the wind.

What she saw only confirmed her worst fears. Sprig standing atop a knocked out Grime on the roof below. Newt guards were rounding up her soldiers left and right; the tadpole’s giant robot was holding a bunch of them in its mechanical arms.

Then she saw her, a perky smile plastered on her face, shooting a ‘mission accomplished’ thumbs up at Anne.

“Oh no.”

51 notes · View notes

teddy06writes · 3 years

Text

The Phantom Of The Opera AU

requested by this anon: “Okay so I know you’re a musical kid so you have probably listened to/heard of Phantom of the Opera. Picture this: Dream as the Phamtom x Fem!reader as Christine x Sapnap as Raul”

Dream x Fem!reader and Sapnap x fem!reader (with dream as the phantom and sapnap as Raul)

trigger warnings: death, dream being a low key creeper, maybe some swears, my general lack of knowledge of this musical

premise: Phantom AU, not neccicarily the full story, its mainly what I’ve seen/read/listened to that I think is important, and like eight of the songs. Ummm, I feel like the summary above is enough for you to get the general idea.

(y/l/n)- your last name

“blep” regular talking

“Belp” singing

When things are in counterpoint, regular text will be (y/n), (text in parenthesis is sapnap), and {bracketed text is Dream}

if you, like me are unfamilliar with the story, this is the summary that arrived in my inbox last night (thank you so much to the person who sent that by the way, it really helped)

“So basically phantom of the opera is a love triangle between 3 people, the Phantom (P) x Christine (C) x Raul (R). C and R were childhood friends until R had to move away. C grew up in the Opera house with her dad (deceased) as a music writer. C grows up getting “private” singing lessons from P ( he is literally talking to her through a vent ((Among Us omg)) or something idk). Fast forward into the future to present day. C is a ballerina at the opera and one day, the phantom makes the set malfunction so that the lead female opera singer (she’s a jerk. Forgot her name) can’t preform and C has to preform as the lead instead. Coincidentally, the night Christine sings as the lead is the day R comes to see her show and R is like “ooWooga she be fine now ig”. R and C catch up after the show and R goes away for a minute and then P is like “aight C imma kidnap you for a sec with no purpose whatsoever to the plot except for a cool song” and then C returns to her normal life ig. P them sends stuff to the people in charge of the Opera saying “ayo C be pretty fine, let her be the lead again” the people in charge of the opera were like “nah fam, let’s have the person who was supposed to be the lead be the lead”. Upset by this, during the show, P broke the chandelier and it fell into the audience. C is like “I love you uwu” R is like”let’s get engaged” C is like “let’s keep it a secret so the crazy P guy doesn’t find out” and little did they know during that conversation P was hiding and overheard everything and is now sad boi hours. A masquerade happens and P shows up like “ayo I heard you trynna steal my boo” and R is like “nah she my boo” and they duel or whatever. Idk how it transitions to this but the Opera runs another show and they make C the lead to not upset P. However, during a love song (Past the point of no return, it literally slaps), C realizes that the person singing isn’t the original actor, it is P! And then P straight up kidnaps C after the song, takes her to his lair and is like “boo you gotta marry me or I destroy the opera house with everyone inside it” C is like “fine ig” P takes off his mask and reveals he is hiding burn marks and he kisses C and C kisses back. P is like” my mom never even kissed me” and P let’s C go, telling her to go marry R... or you can just watch this video lmao https://youtu.be/4a5nahw3zi8″

On that note, here we go:

{that only goes for the final scene where its all three, it varies otherwise}

{Things I have learned while preparing this story, 1. the actual phantoms name is Erik, like what a nerd, 2. he’s also not actually a ghost??? He’s literally just some creeper who lives in an opera house screwing with people; also yes Eret is the strict lady who yells at everyone and talks to the phantom, deal with it}

{pls send me more musical au asks I really liked doing this, even if it took me a while}

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

The ravenous applause of the audience seemed to echo in your ears, even after you had left the stage.

You’re debut as the female lead in Hannibal had been a smashing success, and as the rest of the chorus girls backstage were saying, it was all thanks to the Phantom scaring Hannah off.

Niki practically ran up to you from the rehearsal room, “(y/n) that was incredible!”

You grinned, “Oh I feel like I’m floating Niki! Thank you for volunteering me for the role.”

“Don’t thank me, Thank whoever's giving you those lessons,” She bumped her hip against yours, grinning cheekily, “And if what the girls are saying is true you’ll have to thank him for getting Hannah out of here.”

You chuckled, but before you could say anything else Madame Eret was approaching, knocking the end of their cane of the ground, “Miss Nihachu, you are a dancer are you not?”

Niki nodded.

“Then get back to rehearsal,” he waited until Niki hurried off to turn to you, “He is most pleased with your performance, here.”

You took the note from him, reading over it quietly, “Red scarf..... the attic.... little lotte?”

She simply shrugged, leaving you to turn and head up your dressing room.

As you changed out of your costume from the show you couldn’t help but hum the song that had earned the most applause, “Think of me, think of me of me fondly, when we’ve said goodbye.”

Reaching around you found your dressing gown, pulling it on and tying up the front, “Remember me, once and a while. Please, promise you’ll try...”

Your words faded off as your sat down at your vanity, beginning to brush out your hair.

“Where is your red scarf Miss (y/l/n)? I hope you haven’t lost it. Not after all the trouble I went through to retrieve it for you.”

You turned to see a tall dark hair man standing in the doorway, a grin spreading across your face as he continued, “I was only 14 and soaked to the bone...”

“Because you ran into the sea to fetch my red scarf!” You exclaimed, jumping up and flinging your arms around him excietedly, “Sapnap! How I’ve missed you!”

He chuckled, pulling away, and offering you a single red rose, “(y/n)... Little Lotte let her mind wander...”

“You remember that too?” You asked with a giggle.

Sapnap smiled and kept singing, “Little Lotte thought: am I fonder of dolls,”

“Or of goblins or shoes?” You joined in, “Or of riddles of frocks, or chocolates.”

“Those picnics n the attic...” He reminisced.

You closed your eyes, remembering those long ago days, “Father playing the violin.”

“As we read each other those dark stories of the north.”

“No what I like best, little Lotte said, is when I’m asleep in my bed,” You sang, “And the angel of music sings songs in my head!”

“The angel of music sings songs in my head.” He repeated softly.

You smiled at him, an excited fond feeling forming in your stomach as you sank back into your chair, “Father said, when I am in heaven child I will send the angel of music to you. Well now father is dead, Sapnap. And I have been visited by the angel of music.”

“Well that is very evident,” He chuckled, taking your hands, “Your performance was wonderful. And now, we shall go to supper.”

“Oh- sapnap I can’t, the angle of music is very strict.”

He didn’t seem to understand the urgency in your voice as he laughed again, “Well I shant keep you up late.”

“No- Sapnap, things have changed-”

“You have to change,” He interrupted, “And I have to grab my hat. Two minutes little lotte.”

As he went out the door you cried after him, “Sapnap! Thing have changed Sapnap!”

But he was out of earshot, and the voice that had become so familiar to you was booming, “Insolate boy! This Slave of fashion basking in your glory! Ignorant fool! This brave young suitor, sharing my triumph!”

“Angel I hear you! Speak, I listen! Stay by my side and gude me!” You begged up to the ceiling, “Angel my soul was weak! Forgive me! Enter at last master!”

“Flattering child, you shall know me, see why in the shadow I hide, look at your face in the mirror, I am their inside!”

The voice sounded closer now, and you couldn’t help but look around, “Angel of music! Hide no longer!”

You turned again, finding yourself face to face with what seemed like a mask, floating in your mirror, “Come to me, strange angel!”

“I am your angel! Come to me angel of music!”

A shadowy figure seemed to appear behind the smiling mask, a hand outstretched to you. In a daze you stood, grabbing his hand and allowing him to lead you away down a dark pathway.

“Who’s voice is that?” Sapnap asked, knocking on the now closed door, “(y/n) who’s in there?”

“Come with me angel of music!” Dream, the Phantoms voice echoed again.

“(y/n)!”

“In sleep he came to me, the voice which calls to me and speaks my name!” You moved quietly through the passages, following Dream, “And Do I dream again? for now I find, the phantom of the opera is there, inside my mind!”

“Sing once again with me our strange duet! My power over you grows stronger yet! And though you turn from me to look behind, the phantom of the opera is there! Inside your mind!” He sang, turning back to make sure you were following once more.

The walls of the tunnel seemed to widen, and you could almost make out an empty candle lit space.

You reached out, fingers almost brushing the edge of his cloak, “Those who have seen your face draw back in fear! I am the mask you wear..”

“It’s me they hear...”

As you emerged into a cross roads of the tunnels, you sang in tandem, “Your (my) spirit and your (my) voice in one combined, the phantom of the opera is there, inside your (my) mind!”

He helped you into the boat that waited in one tunnel, before casting off, propelling the boat down the slow moving current, “In all your fantasies, you always knew the man and mystery...”

“Were both in you....” You sang softly as the boat came to dock in a wide chamber.

Slowly you climbed out of the boat after him, looking around the dank space, and at the organ in the corner.

Dream pulled off his cloak, “And in this labyrinth where the night is blind..”

“The Phantom of the opera is there! Inside my mind......”

As the people downstairs argued, you tried to think over what had happened. Was it a dream? It didn’t seem like it, but still, a man appearing in her looking glass? Taking her away and singing words of praise, words of love, words that made nearly no sense now that it was day, and a haze covered your memory.

The one thing that remained clear was the monster she had found beyond the mask.

All too soon it seemed you were being rushed into rehearsals, being told you no longer had a speaking role, as Hannah had returned, and was back to her diva ways.

Rehearsals that would normally drag on seemed to go quicker now, and soon you and the rest of the girls were getting ready for the performance.

“This is ridiculous,” Niki muttered as she adjusted her costume, “You should be playing the duchess, not Hannab.”

“Hannah is the featured soprano. She’s always the lead.” You retorted.

“But how will Sapnap know to look for you in the chorus?” Niki teased.

You elbowed her, laughing lightly, “Shut up. Besides I doubt the phantom would let him see me again.”

The show had gone well, at least until the fifth scene.

All the music stopped abruptly as a voice boomed, “Did I not instruct that box five was to be left empty?”

“He’s here: The Phantom Of The Opera!” Niki cried from offstage.

Your head jerked up to turn and look at the audience, “It’s Dream!”

“Your part is silent, you toad!” Hannah snapped.

From somewhere up in the audience Dream frowned, “A toad Madame? Perhaps it is you who is the toad...”

Hanna opened her mouth to continue on her script, but no sound seemed to come out, save for what was close the a croak.

The men who had bought the opera house, Wilbur and Tommy were coming rushing down from their box, “Ladies and gentlemen we apologize! The performance will continue in ten minutes time, with Miss (y/l/n) as the duchess!”

Tommy nodded as Wilbur finished, “And for now, we will give you the ballet, from act three of tonight's show!”

The ballet didn’t last long, as when you returned to the wings dressed for the new role you had been given, someone let out a horrified scream.

“What the-”

You were cut off as you looked up to see Shlatt, the stagehand in charged of the curtains, hanging from the rigging, a noose fully tightened around his neck.

“Ladies and gentlemen remain calm! It was just an accident- remain calm!” Someone shouted.

Through the darkness you could make out Dream’s menacing figure, the smiling mask watching you threateningly as you clamped your hand over your mouth to stop the scream that had ripped at your throat.

“(y/n)? (y/n) are you alright?” Sapnap had run down onto the stage in all the chaos.

“We- we have to get out of here,” You choked, grabbing his hand, “We aren’t safe here.”

He didn’t seem to understand the reason behind your panic, but even so he offer you his arm, “Lets leave then.”

Twenty minutes later you ended up in an empty park, the panic that filled your chest not yet fading as Sapnap asked, “Why have you brought me here?”

“We can’t go back there!” You exclaimed.

“But we must return.” He gripped your hands, “Darling their bound to be missing you.”

You shook your head, “Sapnap- He’ll kill you! His eyes will find us there!”

“(y/n), don’t say that! It’s okay (y/n), it’s okay!”

You looked up into the darkened sky, “No it’s not- no it’s not- Those eyes that burn!”

“Don’t even think it!” He cried desperately.

You couldn’t tell whether you were trembling from fear, or from the cold, as you sang, “And if he has to kill a thousand men....”

“Forget this waking nightmare!” Sapnap insisted.

“....The phantom of the opera will kill.” You sang distractedly.

He gripped your shoulders, “This phantom is a fable, (y/n), believe me!”

“And kill again....” You shuddered at the idea of Dream doing anything to Sapnap.

Both of you sang, “God who is this man, who hunts to kill? (this mask of death?)

“I can’t escape him!” You cried.

He shook his head, “Whose voice is it you hear...”

“...I never will!”

“With every breath?”

His grip on your shoulders tightened, pulling you closer to him as you both sang, “And in this labyrinth where light is blind, the phantom of the opera is there, inside my (your) mind!”

“There is no Phantom of the Opera!”

“Sapnap- I’ve been there, inside his world of never ending light! To a world where daylight dissolves into darkness, darkness! Sapnap I’ve seen him!” You cried. “Can I ever forget that sight? Can I ever escape that face? So distorted, disformed it was hardly a face! in the darkness, darkness. But his voice filled my spirit with a strange, sweet sound in that night there was music in my mind And through music my soul began to soar! And I heard as I'd never heard before!”

“What you had was a dream and nothing more!”

You could hardly look up at him, “yet in his eyes was all the sadness in the world! Those pleading eyes that both threaten and adore!”

“(y/n), (y/n)!” Sapnap exclaimed.

“.....(y/n)......” A different voice seemed to cry into the night.

You gasped, pressing yourself against Sapnap, “What was that?”

He hugged you tightly, before pulling back and singing gently, “No more talk of darkness, forget these wide eyed fears. I’m here, and nothing can harm you, my words will warm and calm you.”

You relaxed into his grip, listening to his quiet voice, “Let me be your freedom, let daylight dry your tears, I’m here, with you, beside you, to guard you and to guide you.”

“Say you love me, every waking moment. Turn my head and talk of summer time,” You looked up at him, biting your lip, “Say you need me now and always, promise me that all you say is true, that's all I ask of you.”

“Let me be your shelter, let me be your light, you are safe, no one will find you. Your fears are far behind you.” He assured you, smiling softly.

“All I want is freedom, a world with no more night. And you to always be beside me, to hold me and to hide me.” You admitted.

Sapnap’s smile grew wider, “Then say you’ll share with me, one love, one life time. Let me lead you from your solitude. Say you need me here, beside you. Anywhere you go let me go too, (y/n), that's all I ask of you.”

“Say you’ll share with me, one love, one life time,” You repeated, “Say the word, and I’ll follow you.”

“Share each day with me, each night, each morning.” You sang together as he leaned down to rest his forehead on yours.

“Say you love me?”

He smiled, whispering, “You know I do.”

“Love me- that's all I ask of you.” You both sang, before he leaned in to gently press a kiss to your lips, “Any where you go, let me go too. Love me- thats all I ask of you.”

Sapnap kissed you again, before pulling away, “We could go anywhere- we could be married! You would marry me, yes?”

“Oh, yes, Sapnap, yes I would. If you’d have me.” You nodded, eagerly.

He grinned, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You couldn’t help but giggle, before turning back toward the direction of the opera house, “I must go back, they’ll wonder where I am. Wait for me Sapnap!”

“(y/n), I love you!” He exclaimed.

“Wait for me, Sapnap. Order your finest horses and being waiting by the door.” You could go back, and continue working at the opera house, there was nothing left for you to fear while Sapnap was there.

“And soon you’ll be beside me!” He chuckled.

You grinned, “To guard me and too guide me!”

Sapnap offered you his arm again, and you headed off out of the park, toward the opera house.

Slowly, Dream slinked from the shadows where he had watched the proposal, “I gave you my music, made your song take wing. And now your repaid me, denied and betrayed me.”

He groaned running a hand through his hair, “He was bound to love you, when he heard you sing. (y/n)- oh (y/n)-”

He was cut off by the sounds of your voices drifting down the street, Say you’ll share with me, one love, one life time, Say the word, and I’ll follow you. Share each day with me, each night, each morning.”

Dream’s hands flew to his ears, desperate to block out the sounds- he had been so sure that you could’ve loved him, but now Sapnap was stealing you away.

“You will curse the day you did not do, all that the phantom asked of you!” He bellowed.

The following weeks at the opera house were a blur of panic masked by busyness, Wilbur and Tommy refusing to let the disaster of the chandelier falling from keeping the company from working on their next performance.

You kept on working, the ring on the chain Sapnap had given you around your neck helping you to feel safe, even as the chorus girls cited the Phantom for the cause of all the distress.

Now you were back in your dressing room, getting ready for dinner with Sapnap.

“Wander child, so lost, so helpless,” A soft voice seemed to drift down from no where, “Yearning for my guidance.”

You looked up at the ceiling, “angel or father? Friend or phantom? Who is it their staring?”

“Have you forgotten your angel?” The voice murmured, Dream appearing once again in your mirror.

You turned to him, almost in a trance, “angel, oh, speak, what endless longings, echo in this whisper.”

Sapnap, having arrived to the opera house appeared in the door, watched as you moved toward the phantom.

“Too long you’ve wandered the winter...” Dream continued to sing, hand outstretched to you.

“Once again she is his.” Sapnap sang, as you started to cross the room toward the mirror where the phantom stood.

“...far from my far reaching eyes.”

“Wildly my mind beats against you....” You sang, transfixed.

Behind the mask Dream grinned, “You resist. Yet your soul obeys.”

“Once again she returns, to the arms of her angel. Angel or demon? Still he calls her, luring her back from the grave. Angel or dark seducer? Who are you strange angel?” Sapnap sang, again, more to himself than you or Dream.

Dream beckoned you forward again, “I am your angel of music, come to me angel of music!”

“Angel of darkness, cease this torment!” Sapnap exclaimed, moving into the room properly and drawing attention to himself.

Dream unbothered, continued to sing, “I am your angle of music! Come to me angel of music!”

“(y/n), (y/n) listen to me! Whatever you may believe- this thing, this man is not your father!” Sapnap yelled, “(y/n)! Let her go! For gods sake let her go!”

Jarred by his sudden yell, you turned, the trance broken, “Sapnap...”

Dream, unimpressed, began to clap, deadpanning, “Bravo monsieur. Such spirited words.”

“No more tricks monsieur!” Sapnap yelled, stepping forward to put himself between you and Dream.

“Oh, but that's not any fun. Why don’t you come closer, sir? Keep coming this way.”

Sapnap, not liking to be challenged, stepped forward, “You cannot win her love by holding her prisoner!”

“No- Sapnap don’t!” You grabbed his hand, pulling him back.

He nodded resolutely, gripping your hand as you both moved toward the door, “Lets go then, no more time will be spent with this monster.”

“Don’t go!” Dream wailed as you hurried away down the hall, “Now let it be war upon you both!”

Something was going wrong, of course it was, because when was it not?

Your entrance in Don Juan Triumphant had gone according to plan, but the man who had stepped out as Don Juan was not George, as it should have been.

You steeled yourself, trying to come up with a logical reason.

George must have gotten sick, and a stand in had taken his place, yes that must be it.

“Past the point of no return, no backward glances, the games we played till now, are at an end.” The man sang, “Past all thought of ‘if’ or ‘when’, no use resisting, abandon that thought and let the dream descend.”

Your panic seemed to rise, the double meaning in his words filling you with dread.

“What raging fire shall flood the soul? What rich desire locks the door? What sweet seduction lies before is? Past the point of no return, the final thread hold. What unspoken secrets will we learn? Beyond the point of no return.”

You moved carefully to your next mark, trying to work out who it was in George’s place, “You have brought me, to the moment when words run dry, to the moment when speech disappears into silence, silence.

I have come here, hardly knowing the reason why, in my mind I already imagined, our bodies entwined. Defenseless and silent, now I am here with you, no second thoughts, I’ve decided, decided.”

You just barley stopped from trembling as you realized, it was Dream, “Past the point of no return, no going back now. Our passion play has now, at last, begun. Past all thought of right and wrong. One final question: how long should we two wait, before we’re one?”

“When will the blood being to race? When will the sleeping bud burst into bloom? When will the flames at last consume us?” You finished, taking an only slightly shaky breath.

The phantom grabbed your hand as you both sang, “Past the point of no return, the final threshold. The bridge is crossed so stand and watch it burn, we’ve past the point of no return!”

Everyone in the audience seemed to hold their breath, they too knew that this was not George. The cloak that had hidden Dreams mask fell, and they gasped upon seeing the plaster smiling face.

He grinned behind the mask, and punctuated, “Say you’ll share with me, one love, one lifetimes lead me, save me from my solitude.”

The words stung even before he pulled out a ring, holding it out to you, “come with me, or this whole place will come down upon us.”

Slowly you looked to the audience, Sapnap was standing in the isle, looking worried.

You couldn’t let him get hurt.

You nodded reluctantly, as he continued, “say you want me by your side anywhere you go let me go too, (y/n) that’s all I ask of-“

Slowly, you reached up, pulling the mask off his face, revealing the terribly scared face to the world.

The gasps turned into horrible screams as a curtain was raised, and Georges body tumbled onto the stage.

Almost immediately Dream flung his cloak around you, disappearing.

Sapnap ran up onto the stage, along with the crew, police officers and other patrons.

“Sapnap! Sapnap you’ve got to come with me!” Eret cried, rushing out onto the stage.

“What the hell is going on?”

“Sapnap!” They yelled again, “I know where they are!”

“But can I trust you?” He demanded.

She nodded, “yes, and remember, keep your hand up at eye level.”

“Why?”

“Punjab lasso.” Was all he offered in explication as he led Sapnap away.

Soon enough Sapnap was creeping through the shadows of the phantoms layer, watching as he tried to place a wedding veil on your head, “Too bad pity comes to late, turn around and face your fate, an entirety of this before your eyes!”

You turn to face him, looking up at the mess of scares that cover his face, “this haunted face holds no horror for me now, it is in your soul that the true distortion lies.”

The phantom turned suddenly, to Sapnaps hiding place, “Wait! I think, my dear, we have a guest! Sir, this is indeed an unparalleled delight! I had rather hoped that you would come And now my wish comes true— you have truly made my night!”

“Free her!” Sapnap yelled, stepping into the light, “do what you want to me but let her go!”

“Your lover makes a passionate plea.” Dream laughed at you.

“Sapnap it’s useless!” You cried.

Sapnap shook his head, “I love her! Does that mean anything To you? I love her! Show some compassion!”

“The world showed no compassion to me!” Dream retorted.

He reached out toward you, “(y/n), (y/n), please let me see her!”

Dream grinned maliciously, “be my guest.”

Sapnap rushed forwards, as Dream contiued to taunt, “Monsuier, i bid you welcome, did you think that I would hurt her? Why should I make her pay, for the sins which are yours?”

As he finished the last words the Punjab lasso came sailing out, and Sapnap barley had time to fling his arm back up as he was dragged back, the only thing keeping him from hanging being the fingers he’d wrangled between the rope and his neck.

“No!” You cried, struggling to your feet.

“Order your fine horses now!” Dream yelled, “Nothing now can save you, except maybe... (y/n).”

You stood, shaking as he turned to you, “Start a new life with me- buy his freedom with your love! Refuse me now and send your lover to his death! This is the choice, this is the point of no return!”

“(y/n), forgive me, please forgive me, I did it all for you, and all for nothing.” Sapnap sang, looking at you desperately.

At the same time you turned toward Dream, “Farewell my fallen idol, and my false friend, one by one my delusions shattered.”

“Too late for turning back, too late for prayers and useless pity!” Dream sang.

“{all hope of cries for help, no point in fighting!} (say you love and my life is over, either way you choose, he has to win!) {for ether way you choose, you cannot win! So do you end your days with me or do you send him to his grave?}”

“Why make her lie to you, to save me?” Sapnap yelled.

You looked between them desperately, “Angel of music..... {past the point of no return!} (For pity’s sake (y/n) say no! Don’t throw your life away for my sake!) Who deserves this? When will you see reason? {The Final threshold! His life is now the prize you must earn! You’ve passed the point of no return....}”

You looked at Dream, no longer trying to hide the fear that coursed through your veins, “Angel of music, you have deceived me, I gave myself blindly to you.”

“You try my patience! Make your choice!” Dream yelled.

Looking back at sapnap for a moment you stepped forward, whatever it would take, you would keep him safe, “Pitiful creature of darkness, what kind of life have you known? God give me courage to show you, you are not alone.”

Reaching out, you took the mask from his hand, tossing it to the side as he moved closer to you as well.

Before you could hardly blink he was kissing you, and with little more than a second thought you kissed back.

Sapnap watched, in partials horror, until the phantom drew back, shaking as he whispered, “No one has ever kissed me- not even my own mother.”

You nodded, and then suddenly Dream began to move across the room, grabbing a knife from somewhere as he stalked up to Sapnap.

He paused for a beat, and you could feel the terror in the room- until he slashed at the rope, and Sapnap fell the ground.

You rushed over to him, kneeling beside him, “Sapnap! oh Sapnap!”

“Take her,” dream wailed, “Take her and forget me, forget all of this! Leave me alone- forget all you’ve seen....”

Sapnap struggled to his feet, holding you close to him as he backed towards the channel.

“Take the boat, leave me here, go now, please!”

The sounds of the mob looking for Georges murderer seemed to grow louder as they grew closer.

“Hurry! Now before its too late!” Dream yelled.

Sapnap hurriedly started to help you into the boat, but you pulled away, moving back to the Phantom, long enough to hand him the ring.

Then you were off, turning to Sapnap as the current carried the boat away, “I’m sorry Sapnap- I couldn’t let him hurt you- I couldn’t!”

“Shhh. It’s alright (y/n), it’s alright. He can’t hurt you anymore.” He murmured, pulling you into his arms.

“Say you’ll share with me, one love one lifetime.” You sang shakily.

Sapnap nodded, “Say the word and I’ll follow you.”

“Share each day with me, each night, each morning...” The sounds of your voices traveled back up the tunnel for Dream to hear.

He sighed, looking resolutly into the distance, “You alone can make my song take flight- It’s over now, the music of the night!”

#mcyt x reader #mcyt imagines #dreamwastaken x reader #sapnap x reader #phantom of the opera #teddy06 writes

87 notes · View notes

slythergirlimagines · 4 years

Text

I Suppose That Would Be Alright- Draco x Reader

Request: Hello!! May I request prompt 4 with Draco Malfoy where the reader saw Draco cheating on her and they broke up? & He tries everything he could to get her back but she doesn’t give in easily. This could be a little angsty. xD

Summary: Reader catches Draco cheating and breaks up with him. He desperately wants her back. Angsty with a little fluff at the end! (gif not mine!) masterlist

Words: 3,681 Requested: Yes

******PLEASE GO TO THIS POST AFTER YOU READ THIS STORY, I REALLY WANT YOUR FEEDBACK ON A CONCEPT I HAVE*********

For reference, L/n refers to “your last name”

I Suppose That Would Be Alright

Draco meant everything to you. You had been dating for almost two years now, and you were happier than you had ever been.

There was a different side to Draco that you got to see. To the world he may be tough and snarky, but to you he was sweet and caring. He was also overly indulgent, and you knew he would do literally anything for you. He always told you how much you meant to him, and you had always believed him. Until this very second.

Draco stands in front of you in the corridor, being snogged within an inch of his life by Pansy Parkinson. You stand there, frozen in shock as time grinds to a halt. The other students in the hallway dart their eyes between you and Draco, and start whispering. You whirl around as quickly as you can, unable to take anymore of their pitying looks or Draco’s snogging session.

As you run, you hear Draco calling your name, but continue to push through the throng of students. You tell yourself that you just have to get away. As you run, memories swirl through your mind.

The words swim in front of your eyes, blurring into nonsense. How were you ever going to succeed in potions, when absolutely nothing made sense? Tears gather on your lashes, further obscuring what little you could make out. With a sigh, you let your head slam onto the heavy potions book.

“L/N? What are you on about?” A snide voice rings out in the quiet of the library.

You whip your head up, and blink back the moisture in your eyes. In front of you stands a scowling Draco Malfoy. His silver eyes penetrate yours, and it makes you uncomfortable. You know what he’s like, and he so obviously is going to use this against you somehow.

“Shove off Malfoy.” You mutter angrily, swiping at your eyes with vigor.

Draco eyes you for a second, then takes the seat opposite of you. He reaches out a pale hand and slides the book out from under you, turning it to examine its contents.

“Potions, huh?” He says. He looks back at you, and some how his face is a little softer than before.

“I’m pretty good at potions, if I do say so myself.” He brags. “I bet I could whip you into shape L/N.”

“Why would you help me?” You question. His actions go against everything you’ve ever heard about him, and everything you’ve ever seen him do.

Draco shrugs, and juts his pointy chin.

“Beats having to help Crabbe and Goyle. At least you can read.” He says.

You catch yourself laughing, and it surprises you. Draco Malfoy is funny?

“Y/N.” You say, extending your hand across the table. Draco considers it for a moment, and then takes your hand in his cool one.

“Draco.”

The tears stream down your face, as the memories keep hitting you full force.

“Y/n?” Draco asks, sprawled out in the grass. “Would you call us friends?”

You look up from the book you’re reading and mark the page. You’ve been Draco’s friend for several years now, and you know his moods like the back of your hand. If you don’t give him your undivided attention he’ll pout for the next week.

“I certainly hope so. I don’t spend this much time with just anyone you know.” You say gently.

You always try to be gentle around Draco. He’s been horribly belittled and mistreated by his father, and though he will never willingly admit it, he craves the support he didn’t have growing up. You never want to treat him the way his father does.

Draco sighs, and then locks his eyes on yours. He scoots his head into your lap, and then sets his gaze on the tepid lake. It’s a cozy afternoon, and the soft light makes Draco’s blonde hair look even lighter.

“But friends can take each other to dances and things right?” He says. His voice is uncharacteristically timid, and it makes you smile. Draco is always softer around you than he is with others, but he is still usually cocky and confident. Now he is nervous, and it makes your stomach flutter.

“What do you mean?” You ask, smirking. Of course you understand what he’s getting at, but you’ll take any opportunity to mess with him.

He looks up at you then, grey eyes narrowing when he catches the expression on your face. Draco sits himself up and turns to face you. He’s much closer than you anticipated, and you feel a blush rising to your cheeks.

“You’re messing with me.” He says, voice low.

“Maybe.” You agree. You aren’t quite successful at keeping the breathiness out of your voice.

“Go to the ball with me?” He asks. You pretend to think about it for a minute.

“I suppose that would be alright.” You grin. “Poor Goyle, though. I think he already had his dress picked out.”

Draco rolls his eyes, but smiles back at you anyways. You can’t keep the blush off of your face the rest of the day.

The most important memory hits you last.

“That was so much fun, Draco.” You say as he walks you through the abandoned corridors to your dormitory. If you listen closely enough, you can still hear the faint sounds of the music. The night has a dreamy haze to it, and you practically feel like you’re floating.

“It was, wasn’t it? Doesn’t help that you had the greatest date.” He adds.

You laugh, happy and carefree.

“Y/n.” Draco says, catching your hand and stopping you.

“Yes, Draco?” You ask, blinking at him. The moonlight filters in through the hallway, and Draco’s hair and eyes are gleaming. He’s never looked more beautiful to you.

“I don’t want to be friends anymore.” He says.

Your face falls as you take in his words, and then he’s kissing you in the moonlight.

“I love you.” He says when he pulls away. It’s all too easy for you to stand on your tip toes, and press another hungry kiss to his mouth.

“I love you too.”

How could he do this to you? You loved him, and until now you had never doubted that he’d loved you just as much. You had been so blind.

Draco catches you before you can get away from him.

“Y/n, wait!” He says, griping your elbow to pull you back to him.

“Don’t touch me!” You shout, venom dripping from every word.

“It’s not what you think!” He starts.

“Not what I think? What I think is that you and Parkinson were just having a nice song. Don’t let me interrupt!” You snarl. You itch to whip out your wand and curse him.

“Y/n...” he says, giving you the wounded puppy eyes. They usually work, but not this time.

“I’m done!” You snap. “There are a lot of people in your life that let you toy with them, Draco. They let you move them around like chess pieces, but guess what? I’m not one of those people.”

“I know you aren’t!” Draco defends.

“I won’t let you treat me like one any longer. I loved you!” You say, tears streaming freely down your face. “I loved you for years and you were just using me.”

“No I wasn’t! That’s not true.” Draco pleads. “Y/n, I’m telling you nothing happened!”

“If that’s nothing then I’d hate to see your definition of something!” You wrench your arm out of his grasp and move away.

“Y/n, please...”

“I’m done, Draco. I’m done.” You say, and walk away. Even though you want to, you don’t turn around once. You know your worth, and you deserve more than to be treated like rubbish.

The next few days are incredibly hard. The entire school learns about your breakup, and there’s a flood of sympathetic faces wherever you go. People whisper when you walk into a room, and grow quiet when you come near. It’s humiliating and annoying, and all you want is some damn privacy to mourn.

It doesn’t help that Draco refuses to take the hint and leave you alone. He’s already tried to approach you a few times, and it’s getting harder and harder to avoid him.

Today you all share a class, ironically potions, and you usually share a table. You know that it will be impossible to get any learning done with him next to you. Maybe you could find someone to switch with you. Draco was still astoundingly good at potions, and there had to be someone who would want to reap the benefits of being his partner.

Finding that someone, however, was proving to be impossible. You weren’t really that close with anyone in your class, and after the second no, you were starting to get the feeling that everyone wanted to see the drama play out. You decide that if you had to sit next to Draco, then the best thing to do would be to get there last and leave first.

You walk into potions with your head held high, seconds before class begins. Professor Snape narrows his dark eyes as you walk in, but doesn’t say anything to you about it. Draco is in his usual seat, sitting stiff as a board.

He is paler than usual, you note as you take your seat. Dark purple rings his eyes, and betrays his lack of sleep. Your heart stutters being this close to him, but you are strong and you will ignore all of this.

Snape begins his lecture, and you hang onto every word. You’ve never been so focused on a lecture in your life. You’re busy noting every word that Snape says, when a note pops up on your parchment.

“I really need to talk to you.” It reads. It’s in Draco’s neat and proper handwriting, and you have the violent urge to destroy the loops with your quill.

You lock your jaw, and then continue taking notes as if you’ve never seen Draco’s message.

“Y/n, please. I’d just like to explain.” Another note says.

Again you ignore it, and you can feel the tension in Draco increase as he scribbles another hasty note.

“Y/n, please..” the words start.

“Enough!” You snap at Draco, loud enough to draw the attention of the rest of the class.

“L/n, I didn’t know that you were so educated about Acromantula Venom that you didn’t need my lecture.” Snape says in his slow drawl. “Please enlighten the rest of the class with your expansive knowledge.”

“I-I’m sorry professor, it won’t happen again.” You say. Snape looks more sour than ever as he turns his attention back to the lecture.

You feel the familiar pressure of tears behind your eyes. This time, they are angry tears. Draco couldn’t settle for humiliating you in front of everyone in the corridor, he had to also humiliate you in class too.

The second Snape dismisses you, you are running from the class. You give Draco no time to catch up with you, as you hastily make your way back to your dormitory. Maybe you’ll just have to hide out here forever.

Draco tries again during dinner. You knew you should have just had one of your housemates bring you a plate, but you hate feeling like a coward. You’re not going to starve to death because Draco couldn’t keep his tongue in his mouth. You refuse to let him have that much power over you.

You’re in the middle of forced conversation with your housemates when Draco makes his way over and sits down. Instantly, you feel a multitude of prying eyes on you, and you again have the urge to run.

“Y/n.” Draco says firmly. “I need to talk to you.”

“Leave me alone, Malfoy.” You say coldly. Draco flinches at your use of his last name. You’ve never called him Malfoy, not since the day you became friends.

“Y/n, nothing happened with Pansy. I love you!” He says as quietly as he can. It irks you that he’s being so quiet about it. If he really loved you, why was he acting like it was such a shameful secret.

“Right.” You say. “I’ll believe that when I see it Draco.”

You didn’t mean it as a challenge. Draco’s actions had already proven to you what he felt. However, his face brightens at your words and warmth blooms in your chest. You quickly stamp it out, and ignore the feelings. You’ll get over that soon enough.

“I’ll prove it to you! I swear I will.” He says, and then he swings his legs over the bench and walks out of the Great Hall. You have the sinking feeling that disaster is looming.

Draco’s first attempt to win you back involves flowers. Somehow, he manages to jinx a vase in your room to procure a new flower for you every morning. Of course, they are your favorite kind of flower, and the vase magically expands to include them all.

The flowers anger you because they are a sweet gesture and an impressive bit of magic. Why couldn’t his attempts be weak and pathetic so you didn’t consider taking him back? Draco was too good at wooing and schmoozing. You have to remind yourself multiple times a day that you caught him kissing Pansy.

To his credit, Draco leaves you alone for a while. He doesn’t try to contact you or force you to talk to him. That doesn’t mean you can’t feel his eyes on you all the time, and that potions isn’t the most intense class you have. But at least it’s something.

You have five flowers when Draco makes another attempt. Your favorite candy from Honeydukes now appears underneath the flowers. You carefully unwrap the package, and put the delicacy in your mouth. It’s delicious, as always, but it makes you sad too. You miss Draco more than anything, but your trust has been broken. Some chocolate and flowers won’t fix that by themselves.

You miss him, and you really should stop hiding from him and just talk. He was trying, and that’s at least enough reason to let him speak. You didn’t have to forgive him.

You go down to the Great Hall with determination. You’re going to get this resolved today, regardless of the outcome.

You walk into the hall, eyes searching for blonde hair and silver eyes. You find Draco at his normal table, and then your heart sinks. Next to him sits Pansy, who is staring at him with obvious heart eyes. Your anger reaches its boiling point as you stomp over.

“Draco.” You say, tone stormy. “We need to talk.”

Draco looks eager as he jumps from the table and follows you outside.

“What are you doing?” You hiss. “You can’t send me flowers and candy every morning and then still be hanging around Pansy whenever I see you! It doesn’t work that way.”

“Oh I’m sorry.” He says, voice haughty. He sounds like the Draco everyone else knows. “I’m just a little confused because I try everything to reach out to you, and you ignore me and all my effort and then get mad when someone else acts interested in me!”

“I’m not allowed to be mad that you’re with the person you cheated on me with?!” You snap.

Draco’s grey eyes narrow dangerously, and his body shakes with anger.

“You never listen to what I say.” He snaps.

“You know what? I was coming down here this morning to talk to you. I was hoping we could talk about everything, get it resolved, but I can see that I have my answer!” You cross your arms, and lock your jaw. You desperately try to stop your tears, but they spill over your lashes anyways. You collect yourself for a minute.

“If you’re going to be with Pansy, Draco, just let me move on.” You say quietly, voice watery.

Draco doesn’t say anything to you as you leave. As soon as you make it to your dorm, you smash the vase of flowers to pieces.

Weeks go by, and you are more miserable then you have ever been. You spend all your free time in the library, avoiding crowds and Draco. You don’t want to see him any more than you can help. Every time you have to sit next to him in potions it hurts. You don’t even go to Quidditch matches anymore to avoid seeing him. If he’s with Pansy then you’d rather not know.

One particularly rainy afternoon finds you in the library, potions book on your lap. You aren’t doing much studying, instead your eyes trace raindrops as they roll down the window. Your melancholy is broken by someone stomping up to you.

“I’m not with Draco.” A nasally voice says. Pansy stands in front of you, one hand on her hip.

“Ok.” Is all you say. You don’t want to so much as look at Pansy. All you see is Draco’s lips on hers when you do.

“Ok, so stop moping and just make up!” She says annoyingly. Even this doesn’t spark your anger like it should. You just feel numb and empty.

You don’t give her a response. Instead, you shift your potions book from your lap, and tuck your knees under your chin. Once settled, you turn your attention back to the rainy window, and ignore Pansy.

“Fine.” She says, storming off. “Keep being miserable.”

It’s only when she’s gone that you let yourself become a reflection of the window.

Draco tries again for a final time when he catches you in the library. Today, you are actually trying to study. Ever since you and Draco broke up, you had lost not only a boyfriend but your potions tutor. Now you were desperately trying to teach yourself, and it just wasn’t working out.

Draco finds you in much the same position that you were when you first became friends. You’re all but banging your head against the table when he speaks.

“Y/n.” You look up and find he looks as miserable as you do.

“Draco.” You say. Your heart still thunders when he’s near. You hate that he still has any effect on you.

“Listen. Just let me say this once and I’ll never bother you again.” He says, his grey eyes imploring you to hear him out.

You sit silently, waiting for him to proceed.

“I never kissed Pansy. She kissed me. I admit, I let it go on for too long. I should’ve pushed her off the moment she touched me, but I was so shocked and I froze. Then when I finally realized I pushed her away and you were already leaving. I never had feelings for her, nor did I ever want to cheat on you. You’re the only one I want.” He says.

“I know I hurt you, and that I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I would never hurt you like that. I love you and it’s killing me to be apart from you like this, to think that you hate me. You’re the best part of my life, y/n, the only good part.” Draco takes a deep breath and continues.

“After this, if you still don’t want to be with me, then I’ll back off. I just wanted you to know the truth. I love you, and it’s only ever been you for me, never anyone else.”

You are in shock as he finishes his speech. Draco watches you process his confession with patience, and it takes you a few minutes to really understand what he’s saying.

You feel stupid when tears well up in your eyes again. You’re so sick of crying and feeling pathetic.

“It really didn’t mean anything?” You find yourself asking. “She kissed you?”

“Yes!” He exclaims. “It was 100% one-sided on her part.”

You sniff, thinking about it for a minute.

“Ok.” You finally say. “I believe you.”

Draco eases his tense posture and death grip on the chair he’s leaning on. He looks at you warily, trying to decipher where he stands with you now.

You look down at the table and your useless potions book. How funny that your relationship would come full circle. You know how you feel about him, how you‘be always felt. Even when you were broken up you still loved him.

“I’m sorry.” You say. “You tried to tell me and I didn’t listen.”

“Its not your fault!” Draco assures you. “It was me, I was being a right git.”

You shake your head, but for the first time in weeks you smile. When you look back up, Draco is smiling too.

“So, could I have a second chance?” He pleads.

You pretend to think about it for a minute.

“I suppose that would be alright.” You grin. Draco gives you a glowing look and matches your grin.

“On one condition.” You tell him, suddenly serious.

“Anything.” He tells you with sincerity. He walks over to your side of the table, and crouches down in front of you.

“I really need help with Potions.” Draco laughs and pulls you in for a bruising kiss.

It’s needy and passionate, and you let your mouth express to him everything you can’t yet put into words.

When he pulls away, Draco lets his forehead rest against yours. You relish this closeness with him in a way you never have before.

“I suppose that would be alright.” He whispers with a smirk.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed:) I am currently working on part 2 of “Don’t Call Me Princess” and that will hopefully be up in the next few days! Please don’t hesitate to request something, I write for several fandoms. I’m lowkey desperate for someone to request something Marvel.

#slythergirlimagines #draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #draco malfoy x you #draco x you #draco x y/n #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #Draco Malfoy

413 notes · View notes

square-blunt · 3 years

Text

You're in my heart, in my heart, in my head.

The normal empires fic in which shit goes from 0 to -100 to 100 and back to -100 in like, 2000 words. Scott ruins shit bc he's a dumbass in love. Jimmy watches him die. Y'know, the normal fic you'd see on the empires tag. This is a Minecraft Roleplay.

TW- MCD (major character death), Gore, (blood. and like, big knife mention). Angst. there is so much angst- emotional mental physical, it's all that shit. Sacrifice, screaming, crying, and they kiss so that's fun but y'know.

WC: 2009

Ao3: :) Second Chapter: :)

Scott knows something is wrong. He feels that pit in his stomach- familiar emptiness that clouds his vision and his mind. His feet start to move forward. He knows- he knows something's happening.

He knows Jimmy is in trouble.

He hasn't been in Mythland much- but somehow he cuts through trees and knocks over stands almost like he knows exactly where he's going and nothing was gonna stop him from getting there. It's getting dark- that's weird it was just noon-

Scott looks up to see where the sun is. 'This can't get any worse,' he thinks. You're never supposed to fight a demon when there's a solar eclipse, everyone knows that-

Scott hears a scream. It sends his heart up into his throat- that's Jimmy. Scott sprints forward and bursts through the treeline and he's at Sausage's summoning circle- no- no no no-

The sight is terrible. Sausage- his body is practically decaying under the weight of corruption- of possession. Xornoth's possessed the man he once saw as a friend. And Joey's by his side, a book in hand, chanting in elvish. They've crafted an obsidian altar- and writhing in chains, desperately trying to free himself is Jimmy. Tears are streaking down his face, his terror radiating off of him in waves.

Xornoth raises something above their head as the moon fully covers the sun- its last light gleaming off the object- it's a ritual knife.

They're going to sacrifice you- I don't want to lose you. He can hear Jimmy’s voice as clear as day.

Scott screams out a time-shattering “Stop” before he can get a hold of himself.

Everything does stop. Time, space, reality- it feels like Scott’s heart has stopped, too. Sausage looks at him with eyes that aren’t his own; Joey looks at him as well, but his eyes hold no rage or fear, only smugness. His eyes are drawn away as he catches Jimmy’s face. It goes from happiness to confusion, to heartbreak, back to confusion, and then to pure fear.

“Stop,” Scott says it a little quieter this time. His voice rings out against the stilled breeze. There are no birds, no nature, everything around them is either dead or too terrified to make a sound. Xornoth tilts his head, slowly and concerningly calmly. “Step away from him.” Scott’s hand finds itself on the hilt of his sword. Not like there’s much that could do, but he has to do something.

Xornoth laughs. It sounds like Sausage.

“Scott-” Jimmy says, and immediately cries out in pain. Scott looks up- Joey was the one to twist his arm. Under any other circumstances, Scott would have lunged forward and sunk his sword into Joey’s skull, but since Xornoth is still holding a very painful-looking ritual knife, Scott stays put.

“Jimmy, don’t say anything-” Scott begins, his voice tight with panic. Xornoth speaks up before he can continue, Scott’s heart dropping in his chest. His voice sounds like Sausage, too.

“Brother, have you come to replace your lover from another life?” Xornoth’s voice is suffocatingly rich with sarcasm and fake pity.

Scott can’t answer. He opens his mouth but no sound comes out. He doesn’t- he can’t look at Jimmy.

“I know you remember, great champion of Aeor, I know you do.” Xornoth grins, their face contorting.

“I do, and I have,” Scott says, finally getting over the lump in his throat. The lump comes back tenfold as Xornoth’s grin grows impossibly wider.

“Scott- no- what-” Jimmy begins to say, but Joey quiets him with another yank on his restraints. Xornoth puts a hand out, and Joey drops the ropes.

“You know what I need, brother,” Xornoth says, their voice eerily emotionless.

“Scott- don’t do this-”

“Jimmy, please,” Scott says, closing his eyes to keep the tears at bay, he can’t give Xornoth his own humanity.

“Scott-” Scott winces as Jimmy’s voice breaks. Jimmy doesn’t know, he can’t remember-

Scott takes a deep breath, and once again, speaks before he can tell himself to stop.

“I, Ellinair, take the place of this man so that he might live free of pain or suffering for the rest of his life.” Scott needs to make sure that Jimmy gets off free, with no strings attached. So Xornoth can’t hurt him after he’s gone.

“No- Scott, what have you done- why-” Jimmy sits up, some of the ropes have disappeared but he still can’t leave the altar.

Xornoth laughs- it doesn’t sound like Sausage anymore.

“A great elf with a great future who was stolen in the night and thrown into an arena for the devil’s delight. And you fell in love. How cute!” they snarl, “Unfortunately, as you died, you were whisked away from our grasp. I had to find you again, and wasn’t I lucky that I found your husband instead? And, better yet, without your protection! It was so easy, brother, to just come in and take him. To use him. Sweet, dopey, stupid Jimmy. Why would he be the one tied to that dragon? I kill him, and nothing will happen other than a shortage of slimeballs and a few tears. The only use for him was that he was close to you. He’s nothing but a pawn to get to you. And you, in your blind devotion, played right into my hand. I was never going to kill him, it would honestly be too much effort to do so. I was never going to kill him. I was only threatening to kill him so you would change places with him, so Exor could finally triumph over his brother. You are weak, Ellinair, in your love, in your loyalty- or lack thereof. You always were weak. And now I’ve won. Exor has won because you fell for a mortal. Because of a flower. It’s sickeningly amusing, I must say. But unfortunately, it seems that your time is drawing to a close. Lesser, you may release the ‘bait’.” Xornoth ends their monologue with a direction Scott takes a moment to realize is for Joey, who follows it immediately. Jimmy, now free, lurches off the altar like it was burning him alive. He rushes over to Scott, questions bubbling up and out of him. His hands move to hold Scott’s, but Scott isn’t exactly... present. But he can still hear Jimmy. How he wishes he couldn’t.

“Scott- Scott what’s going on- I thought you- what’s going on? Why did you- Scott- why did you take- what-” Jimmy asks, clutching at Scott’s hands. Scott hangs his head, Jimmy immediately stops and lets him talk.

“Jimmy... you don’t know what you mean to me,” Scott says, tears threatening to fall, he can’t make eye contact with Jimmy.

“I think I can guess, at least,” Jimmy says, voice tight, cupping Scott’s face. Scott still can’t look at him.

“They’re right-” Scott begins to say- before Jimmy tilts Scott’s head to face him and kisses him. It takes Scott a second for his heart and his head to catch up to it- but Jimmy’s kissing him. Finally, after what feels like eons apart, he’s kissing him again. Scott kisses him back like he’s the air he’s gone without breathing for so long- Scott’s been without him for so long- and just when he’s got him back... he quite literally sold his soul for this. Time stops again- this has happened way too many times for it to be normal but Scott wishes it would stop forever. Seconds turn into minutes and it’s like the gods have finally taken pity on him and given him time to give everything he can. He’s sold his soul for Jimmy, and he’s never gonna get to see him again. The tears become too much, and they fall- but Scott would rather die now than break the kiss, so Scott’s tears stain both their cheeks. The kiss tastes the same it always did, like Jimmy, and it was heart-achingly familiar.

Scott can’t live without it.

Funny.

He won’t live much longer anyway.

He is hyper-aware of Jimmy’s grip on him, on his face, in his hair, holding him close like they would melt together if they could.

Maybe Jimmy needs him as much as Scott.

And fuck, he needed Jimmy.

He needs to feel as much of Jimmy as he can before all he feels is a knife through his chest.

But right now all he cares about are the hands on his chest where the knife will go- the hands that are gonna be gone soon- Scott hasn’t been counting the seconds how long has it been- how long has Jimmy been kissing him- how long has he been kissing back- how long do they have left? Scott wraps his arms around Jimmy, trying to become inseparable- and Jimmy just holds onto him tighter. One of them sobs into the other- and all Scott can think is I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you- and he hopes Jimmy can hear him.

They both can hear a sickening crunch, instead.

As time crashes back into Scott's reality like a freight train, a number of things happen in rapid succession.

Jimmy is torn away, crying out in pain. It's familiar. Scott's tears break their dam and his vision is blurred- but he can still see Jimmy, sweet, dopey, beautiful Jimmy.

As Jimmy gets jerked backward, his and Scott's grip tightens on each other, and Jimmy's screams of agony make Scott want to throw up.

It takes everything Scott has to stay in place and keep Jimmy with him.

"'Scott something's on my back- something's hooked into me-"

"Jimmy- don't let go- please, please don't let go- I love you, please-"

"I won't- Scott- don't- I love you, too, I love you, too-"

Something cold sinks into Scott's shoulder, sending searing hot pain across his body- and making his arm go limp.

Scott and Jimmy are ripped apart from each other.

Scott screams for Jimmy and thrashes around, trying desperately to free himself, sobs ringing in his skull and fear and pain and regret raking through his body- but he refuses to stop looking at Jimmy, and Jimmy still looks at him. He catches a glimpse of what’s hooked onto Jimmy's back- it’s a massive tendril of corruption, and now it's holding Jimmy suspended in the middle of the air- it looks like it hurts him to breathe, much less call out Scott's name, but it's all in vain.

Scott knows he's going to die.

He gave his word.

But that doesn't mean he's not going to try and get away.

He needs to get away.

He needs to scream and cry and writhe and brace himself against the altar that whatever's hooked into his shoulder is trying to drag him onto.

He needs Jimmy to know how sorry he was because he’s gone and fucked it all up now. He thought he’d be able to play it off to Jimmy as ‘you don't deserve to die in my place' but when Jimmy looked at him with pure heartbreak and fear in his eyes he knew that he was doing it to save him.

Not the world.

Jimmy was his world.

Scott loses the fight and is dragged up onto the altar, where tendrils of dark crimson threaten to bury him alive, and one-handed he tries to swat them off. He can feel his power draining, he knows Joey's probably chanting again, but all he hears is Jimmy. He looks back, and Jimmy is still struggling and sobbing and Scott has to keep fighting to stay alive as long as possible just to be able to see Jimmy for as long as possible.

But the tendrils are growing in number, and Scott can’t keep all of them at bay and slowly he’s overtaken and restrained. The metal hook still sits painfully in his shoulder as his energy drains with his blood, he’s lost the power to scream.

Jimmy hasn’t.

Scott hangs onto that.

Scott hangs onto Jimmy’s screams, his sobs, his ‘Please stop’s, his ‘why him’s, Scott hangs onto the feeling of rage- at his brother and their tool hurting Jimmy like this- but the rage stays heavy on his chest. Rage and fear and pain swirl in his mind and every other emotion drains out of him.

All he knows is terror.

All he knows is Jimmy’s sobs.

He knows that he has seconds left- Xornoth’s probably already gotten the knife back up above his head.

All Scott can offer to Jimmy, all that he has left, is a weak smile of comfort before every sense he has cuts out.

Scott can’t see Jimmy.

He can’t hear Jimmy.

He’s failed everyone he’s ever known.

24 notes · View notes

loudsuitlover · 4 years

Text

A friends to lovers little thing

If today Y/N were to talk about her friendship with Harry, she’d probably not even mention Mitch, even if she did know him through him. But that has been years ago and even though Mitch was as close to Harry as he was to her, Harry and herself had develop their own friendship, where Mitch was always welcome but not always needed and she didn’t feel Mitch’s absence like a tragedy when she hang out alone with Harry. Which happened quite a lot.

Like right now, when they are both sitting on Harry’s backyard in LA, and her feet are up on his lap as she takes the sun in behind her sunglasses and he absent-mindlesly draws figures on her jeans-covered calves while he scrolls through his emails.

“H” she knows he’s listening even if he’s not looking at her “do you think things are going to go back to fully normal after this whole coronavirus pandemic is over?”

Then he looks up at her.

“How do you mean?”

“I mean” she shrugs “you know, I can see that people are a lot more wary now... Me myself I’m a lot more wary... I mean Europeans are starting to act a lot like countries which do not have a public health care system like... We’re afraid of getting sick, you know? And that means we pull away from the sick and that’s just wrong, isn’t it? I don’t know.” She shrugs.

“I mean it’s hard but... wrong? I don’t think it’s wrong. I think it’s what we need to do.”

“I know, yeah, but it’s like people are afraid of getting sick not only for being sick themselves but for what being sick means, you know? Like at work there was this girl who tested positive, she was asymptomatic, and everyone was like talking shit about her, you know? Like calling her irresponsable and I was horrified by that. I mean she was sick, when did we start blaming the sick for their sickness?”

“Yeah, I see what you mean. But people are afraid, you shouldn’t take it to heart, love.” He smirks.

She smiles and snorts a chuckle at the way he is always so chilled in LA.

“I hope you know, if you get sick, I’ll get sick too.”

He rolls his eyes but chuckles.

“That’s just plain silly, Y/N. I wouldn’t let you.”

“You would kick me out of your house?” Her mouth opens in the shape of an o and he raises his eyebrows while he nods. “That’s so rude!”

“I’d do it out of love!” He explains. “These days the way to say I love you is staying the fuck away.”

“And wearing a mask.”

“And wearing a mask.” He agrees.

“I think masks did a lot of good to ugly people.”

And like that she changes the topic and makes Harry laugh and they both talk about how useful masks can be. When he doesn’t feel like shaving he doesn’t have to, when she has a zit on her chin for her period there’s no worry and he laughs along because he thinks it’s ridiculous that she’s ever worried about the way she looks.

He met her four years ago in his own house. Mitch was over and they were going to order pizza for dinner but he said he had plans with a good friend and Harry said he could invite them if he wanted to so he did and there you were.

You arrived twenty minutes after the invitation and the first thing you said he remembers was this apartment is fucking massive and then your eyes had met his and yours had gone wide and embarrassed while he had just laughed at your honesty.

You had known who he was beforehand and you hadn’t pretended you didn’t but you had admitted you were not really a fan of One Direction just because you were not really a fan of anything- you didn’t believe in the fandom thing- or so you thought before he proved to you that you were a fan of a lot of things on just that first night. You would talk and then he would say so then one could say you’re a fan of chocolate and you would laugh and find him funny.

And then when the pizza was over and Mitch was mindlessly playing some chords on his guitar, you were both sitting on the same couch and your bodies were turned to the side so you were facing one another and it had been like such a magnetic connection in just about three hours he had fancied you and you were sipping from your beer bottle and the way you brought it to your mouth and rested your lips against the glass circle had him mesmerised and he thought you were really such a pretty girl and that you were funny and confident and you looked kind to him, even though he didn’t really know you, but he found himself wanting to know more and he wondered whether you would yes to dinner with him. He scratched the back of his neck then as if that was going to settle down the blush creeping up when Mitch talked.

“Hey, Y/N, we never got to talk about just how mad you were with “men as a gender” last week.” He reminded. “D’you still wanna talk about it?”

She sighed and had a sip of her beer.

“Well that depends on how you two are going to take it. If you’re going to be the kind of guy who feels attacked and tries to sell me that bullshit not all mean are the same then I’d rather not. I don’t feel like arguing tonight.”

And Harry liked that too. That you were fiery and had a mind of your own and had no fear to talk about it. Not because you were a woman, because he thought some men were lacking that too, but because you clearly had some ideas and he had always liked that about people.

“So we’re just supposed to agree with you on everything?” Mitch smirked.

“Not at all. You don’t have to agree. You just have to shut the fuck up if you don’t.”

They both threw their head backs and laugh and Y/N herself chuckled too. She didn’t mean that and Mitch knew that, he could always speak up his mind and disagree with her and she would take it but she had had enough and she was tired of men as a gender, of genders entirely, and Mitch had always been the ear who would listen to every little complaint she had so she another sip of beer and then she started talking.

“You know how you told me everything with Brandon was going to end up badly.” She pointed at him and he nodded. “Well, you were right.”

Then she tilted her neck so her eyes met Harry’s and she explained.

“Brandon is a mutual friend of Mitch and mine.”

“More hers than mine.” Mitch clarified but she just rolled her eyes so Harry smirked.

“They have this weird competition going on, I think it’s the testosterone again.”

“Not at all. I am like the least toxic masculine guy in England and you know that. It’s him who seems to have a problem with me.” He shrugged. “We know each other from high school and, don’t take me wrong, I love the guy because he’s like family at this point, but it’s true that he always seems to measure himself with me, you know? And then Y/N had the great idea to sleep with him and that only made it worse because, you know, Y/N’s my best friend and I’m her best friend so in his mind, I was a thread.” He chuckled. “Me, being a thread, as if I would ever date her.” He joked.

Y/N threw a pillow at him that he dogded thanks to years of practice and then she got back to her explanation to Harry.

“The thing is, I did meet Brandon through Mitch and I liked him” she looked at Mitch “that’s the truth and we were friends for a long time because he had a weird thing with a girl, I didn’t want to be a part of it and all that but then last summer something changed, you know? Like I actually thought he might be interested in me so I flirted with him, despite Mitch’s relentless advice not to-”

“But she’s never been known for listening to me.” He intervened, making her roll her eyes again.

“And so we became... You know... Special friends.”

“Friends with benefits, she means.” Mitch explained making Harry smirk.

“I think he figured that out.” She scolded him. “Well, two weeks ago, we went out and we were drunk, at least I know I was drunk off my ass, and he like literally stopped me at the washroom door and told me that he didn’t want to keep shagging with me because he liked a girl.”

“Shit.” Harry said.

“No, that’s not all.” Her eyes widened. “He said he wanted to let me know because I needed to change my behaviour because he knew I still wanted to sleep with him.”

Harry’s eyes widen and settled on Mitch’s and Mitch just nodded as if saying yeah, I know he’s a dick but he’s our dick, I guess.

“And the thing is what bothered me is realizing what he thinks of me, you know? He doesn’t see me as a friend and I wonder if he ever has or if he did and then it changed the minute he saw me naked- like what the fuck? So that’s where my problem with men as a gender began because then a few days later, I’m talking about this to another friend from work and you know what his reaction was?” She gave them a few seconds to answer but they both remained silent. “He asked me out! Like- what? I thought we were friends! But we’re not! He was just waiting to ask me out. So then I was like do I really have any male friends who do not want to see me naked? Other than Mitch?”

“Ryan.” Mitch offered then.

“Ryan is gay.”

“Still a male.”

She clicked her tongue but smiled. That had Harry thinking, he even felt bad for thinking of her like he had done before she told them all of that. He was considering asking her out himself then but after all that, he figured that’s not what she would want so he didn’t and for days after that he still thought about it.

It happened to him sometimes too and he knew some people would never get it, those who would say wait, so you’re complaining about being pretty? And then he remembered that Mika song are you wishing to be ugly like me? But no, it was not about being pretty or being ugly, it was about being objectified and he knew that was how Y/N had felt because he had felt that way sometimes too, so he didn’t ask her out. Instead he buried his feelings and he pretended he didn’t like her but damn right he did...

He liked the way she would bring up weird deep conversations any minute, he liked that thin black line she would get on her lips whenever she drank red wine because her lips were always so dry but she was too forgetful to have care with something as simple as lipbalm, he liked the clothes she wore and her scent and pretty much everything that had to do with her. And he’s liked that for four years but he’s always been afraid of saying something about it because he didn’t want to add to her feeling of being objectified.

But then four years later she was coming home from a date with Nate, a friend of a friend, and the guy had been nice and sweet but he hadn’t been as funny as Harry or smelled as good as Harry or moved as lanky and clumsy as Harry and he definitely didn’t have Harry’s sex appeal and she just didn’t like him like he liked Harry.

She rests her head on the door and sighs like a teenager because it’s been four fucking years of him being nothing but the sweetest, kindest friend; but she still can’t take him out of her mind. And this is the same old story, the girl falling in love with someone so clearly out of her league because Harry would never be interested in her like that- that’s just plain silly- but he loved her and he was so good at loving...

Sarah: How was the date? x

Y/N: Like every other...

Sarah: Pal, you’re the Grinch...

Y/N laughed at that. So what if she was? She rather liked the Grinch. She looked at the clock on her kitchen, it was too late to call Harry so she went to bed because the sooner she fell asleep, the sooner she would stop thinking about him. Even if it was just to dream with him...

He called her tonight too. He has lost the count of who called who or rather he had never counted. He figures those things some people did in relationships had more to do with pride than with actual healthy patterns and he called Y/N because he wanted to spend time with her, quite simply, and now they are both sprawled out like cats on the couches on his living room after watching Now You See Me and he is still sipping from his glass of wine when she asks him.

“Harry”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think I’m pretty?”

He swallows the sip of wine he’s taken as his eyes set on her. She’s changed her position on the couch so she’s facing him but she’s still somewhat lying down so her eyelashes almost hit her cheeks because she has to look at him from an angle. He takes a deep breath, he studies her, he doesn’t know what she wants him to say.

“‘F course.” So he goes with the truth. “I think you’re beautiful.”

“Really?”

He frowns then. Is she being insecure now? She’s going to drive him crazy. He rests his now empty glass on the table and leans on his elbows on his knees before he breathes in.

“What’s this about?”

She purses her lips and looks away from him shaking her head. The wine had given her some courage, the wine and all the thinking she did the night before- maybe she should say something because if it has been four years it’s because even though the rational part of her knew it was impossible for him to feel the same, there was a little of irrational hope that he did; but if he said it- if he said no, Y/N, I just love you as a friend then she would have no reason not to move on and she would probably ask him for some time and space until she could mend her heart and then they could be friends without their friendship interfering on her love life.

“Can you please not do that?” He begs.

“What?” She tilts her neck and looks at him.

“Avoiding confrontation.”

She frowns.

“I’m not avoiding confrontation! Confrontation of what? We’re not arguing.”

“No, we’re not. But you asked me whether I thought you were pretty and I answered and asked you why you’re asking me that and now you’re not answering me.”

“It’s silly, H...” She shakes her head.

“Well, I want to know.” He presses.

She sighs. She’s going to say it.

“It’s just... We’re such good friends. I thought you would be honest with me about that.”

Except she doesn’t.

He nods.

“Why would you need me to tell you you’re beautiful? Do you not have mirrors?”

She smiles.

“I just wanted to know if you thought I was pretty.” She smiles. “That’s all.”

She leans over to the table to rest her empty glass of wine as well and Harry lets his eyes set on every inch of her body. The way that soft green cardigan has almost fallen from her shoulder, her strapped crop top and the way her cheeks has turned pink. And she hasn’t said anything, but that’s the first time he thinks she might fancy him too so he sighs. He has no problem in taking this slow. After four years, what difference does a day make?

“Well, I do.” He smirks. “I think you’re gorgeous.”

And that’s how their thoughts about what the other might feel started to change but their relationship didn’t yet change much. If anything, they didn’t look away anymore when the other catch them staring and the sheepish smirks came more often but they didn’t say anything still and it was nice and comfortable and nothing needed to be said.

And then this morning Harry just appeared on Y/N’s apartment very early when she was still on her PJs and he dragged her inside her bedroom when she claimed she had to study because he had found this very nice small village that he wanted to check out and he had heard they served good food on the town too so you got changed as he waited downstairs.

“Can I at least have breakfast?”

“Sure.” He smiles.

She rolls her eyes like she always did and swats his chest to push him away but that time he holds her wrist and pulls from her until she has to press her free hand against his chest to stop herself from colliding against him and he just smiles.

“Don’t you roll your eyes at me, love.”

“Or what?” She challenges.

His green eyes fall to her lips for a second and she feels her heartbeat accelerating. Please, God, have him kissing me. But his eyes flicker back to hers and he lets her wrist go with a teasing smirk. When she turns around, she rolls her eyes again.

After breakfast, she’s sitting on the passenger seat of his convertible and he’s driving one hour and a half away until they get to this very lovely clear sand, clear water beach and they step out of the car as he smiles like a kid.

“Are we in Santa Barbara?”

“Almost.” He smiles.

He doesn’t tell her the name of the town and she doesn’t really need to know, all she cares about is out of all the people in the world, he chose her to spend the day with at this town and she quite likes that.

As they walk up a cement hill towards the town, Harry’s arm wraps around her shoulders and he pulls her to him, pressing a kiss on her hairline and she feels her heart fluttering but not in a painful way, like it sometimes had in the last four years, but in a good one, in a new one, in a way that doesn’t feel inappropriate.

They walk around the town like that and she likes the way old ladies look at them, probably think he looks like James Dean, but somehow she feels like they think they make a good couple and that thought had never crossed her mind in four years.

“I like this town.” She says.

“You do? Me too. I was thinking about filming the Golden music video here.”

“Love that song too.”

She stops so she can look into his eyes and he holds her hazel gaze and he wishes he could tell her she is golden but instead he licks his lips inside his mouth so his smirk doesn’t give him away.

“Thank you, love.”

It’s true she loves that song. She loves everything she writes or performs, but that song especially, it just feels like he’s writing her own feelings towards him and she felt so exposed when she listened to it the first time because she was so sure he knew it all then but his jade eyes didn’t leave hers for as long as the song was coming out of their headphones and he was sitting in front of her and she almost cried right there but somehow she managed not to.

And then they keep walking, and they even stop at some souvenir shops and joke around with ugly hats and sunglasses and then they enter a cheese shop and buy two different cheeses and they talk about it like a married couple would and the old man from the shop really did think they were together because Harry held the door for her twice and because of the way they stared at each other when the other wasn’t looking.

She hasn’t stopped thinking about the Golden song ever since he had mentioned it and his arm had kept wrapping around her shoulders and his hand resting on her waist when they had to pull to the side because a car was passing on a narrow street or when the carriages of the market had passed them by and he had pulled her to him so they wouldn’t accidentally hit her.

“Are you hungry?” He asks.

“I could eat.”

He smirks. He could eat too...

“Jeff told me about this place... He was there with Glenne, it’s a good one, right by the beach like you like.”

She smiles and wants to kiss him as he looks down at his phone with a frown checking for the name of the place.

“H, why are you not seeing anyone?” She smirks.

His phone is still on his hand when he looks up at her and her smirk seems to be contagious. He shrugs but his eyes look into hers and it gives him away.

“What’s with the smile?” He asks.

This time it’s her who shrugs.

“I’m just happy you chose to bring me here.”

“Are you surprised?”

She shrugs again.

“I mean... This looks like the perfect plan for a date. You know, the beach, the nice restaurant, the lovely town...”

“It could be a date” he smirks “if you want.”

They both stare into each other’s eyes and people keep walking past them and cars keep driving down the road behind them but for all they care the world has stopped for these few seconds. They are both smirking and their hearts are beating fast like teenager’s before they kiss.

“Are you being serious?”

“Yeah.” He confesses. “You’re beautiful, you like my music... I don’t see why I wouldn’t take you out.”

She rolls her eyes again and he realizes he just made it sound like a joke but she’s been playing with his mind for years, she can take some mind game for a while too. Let’s see how she reacts too... She could turn it back into a real proposition, which is what she does.

“Then, yes, I do want it to be a date.”

He snorts a chuckle and she grins at him.

“Then a date it is.”

And for the first time in four years of friendship, he holds her hand as they walk towards the restaurant by the beach and it feels so right and so comfortable, she even caresses the back of his hand with her thumb.

But they didn’t kiss that day either because none of them was brave enough so despite all the times they had stood in front of one another and their heart had beaten hard and fast against their throats, they hadn’t dared so that night again she went to bed thinking it was all in her mind.

And then four days later he was having lunch with Mitch on Café Habana and he was munching on his salad when his friend cleared his throat.

“So what the fuck are you doing with Y/N?”

“Pardon?”

“I know you like her. I’m not an idiot but,dude, she’s like... Bad.”

“What do you mean she’s bad?”

“She thinks you don’t!” He shrugged.

“How would she think I don’t?” He frowned. “I’m so obvious!”

“She’s a jerk.” Mitch shook his head and Harry almost chuckled. “But if you hurt her, I’m going to have to kill you.”

“I won’t.”

“Then talk to her, mate. She’s driving herself crazy.”

“She’s been driving me crazy for four years, mate.”

“You’ve liked her for four years?” Mitch frowned. “But, wait, when did you guys even meet?”

“Four years ago.” Harry nodded.

“Wait, what?” Mitch chuckled because “So you’ve liked her since you met her.”

“Yeah...” He blushed then and Mitch started laughing. “What’s so funny?”

“The day after the pizzas at your house, she asked me if you were single, if you had ever dated someone non model, non famous, if she was anything like your type...”

“Really?”

Mitch nodded.

“Why didn’t you say anything to me?”

“Mate, you know. I don’t do that.”

“You’re telling me I could have been with her these last four years and I didn’t because you don’t do that?”

So that night after talking to Jeff about the Golden music video, he picked her favourite sushi and knocked on her door around dinner time. She was on her housewear, like she liked to call it, so an old t-shirt of his and cottom shorts- very short- and his eyes inevitably roam her body before he even said hello.

“What’s this?” She asks.

“Sushi number 25 from Quimos.”

“Oh, God, I love you. Come in.”

He smiles differently that time, despite all the times he had heard she loved him, because that time he thought she might mean it in a different way.

She takes the bag from him and walks towards the kitchen, him following her suit and only when they’re in the kitchen he sees the mess she’s made with flour and cinammon and oranges all over.

“What were you doing, love?”

“Doughnuts.” She giggles. “Do you wanna help or should we let it be until after dinner?”

“Can you even let it be?”

“I probably shouldn’t.” She giggles.

He laughs too and places his jacket on one of the kitchen stools before he turns to her and presses a kiss on her cheek, his hand gripping her waist through his own t-shirt.

“You look beautiful, Y/N.”

Her hazel, to him golden eyes, look into his own and as stupid as it might sound, it’s like he can hear his own song in his mind, the instrumental part, and he knows she’s scared but he’s going to kiss her now.

So with a determination he’s been lacking for four years, he leans in and captures his lips with hers and he feels her breath getting caught on her throat as her lips welcome his. It takes a few seconds to react but when she does, it’s like they’ve been kissing one another for years. Their lips adjust to one another like a ring fits a finger and their hands know where to stand even if now they can probably touch places they never have before but for now they don’t. For now his hands linger on her waist for longer than he’s ever dared and hers tangle on his hair and caress the back of his neck and that freckle he has on the line where his neck meets his shoulder and her tongue timidly comes out at last making him moan and press his hips against hers mindlessly.

“I should have done that last saturday.” He explains when he pulls back.

She’s still fighting for breath and her smile almost doesn’t let her peck his lips as many times as she wants but he holds her waist and chuckles as she covers his face with kisses.

#harry styles blurb #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles and reader #harry styles love #harry styles #harry styles new #harry styles fic #harry styles friends to lovers #friends to lovers

171 notes · View notes

just-call-me-the-intrusive-thot · 4 years

Text

Che Bellissima Neve

Pairings: Romantic Prinxiety

TWs: agoraphobia mention, just a lot of long distance pining

Summary: With his lover constantly travelling the world, acting on stages all over Europe and beyond, Virgil wonders if it’ll be snowing in Venice by the time he sees Roman again...

(Recommended music: Snow In Venice by Elizaveta)

Virgil Giordano was never normally one for things like promises and long goodbyes.

Coffee in hand, he warmed his cold fingers against the mug. His phone was right there by his side, but his right index finger instead busied itself - not with numbers - but with cursive.

Looping letters.

Spelling out where his heart lay.

The winter had seen fit to bless Venice with a soft kiss of frost. Gathering in the corners of the windows, haphazardly along the walkways, tickling the noses and lips of passers by. All the while Virgil couldn’t fight off the disappointment as the sky remained clear. The stars were beautiful, but his wasn’t among them. No, his star was miles away from where he should be; back home, in Virgil’s arms.

Stealing his body warmth while they cuddled together. Complaining at the lack of room for the both of them on the one chair, but still refusing to move. Running his hands through the freshly plum pigmented plume of hair atop Virgil’s head.

A soft sigh left Virgil as the homebound poet quietly pined for his lover.

Roman D’Angelo had only dreamt of this level of stardom in far fetched dreams and scrawled in journals during drama lessons.

Even as he walked out of Berlin’s Theatre Des Westens still wearing his getup as Leopold Bloom, Roman could hardly believe he was one of the most sought after up-and-coming musical actors in Europe. Stopping for autographs was brief; Roman adored his fans of course, but the face he always longed to see among them was never there. Not for a lack of wanting, but because his beloved was confined to his home - no, their home, it was always home for the both of them no matter how far Roman travelled - by his agoraphobia. Roman never held it against him, he only wished he could call home more often.

As his taxi passed a phonebox, Roman politely asked the driver to stop. His wallet held rarely any change these days, but he had what he hoped would be enough.

The cold night air caressed his fingers unpleasantly. Curse his lack of patience, but spontaneity was always Roman’s forte when it came to acts of the heart. Screw his phone that needed charging back in his hotel room, he needed to hear his beloved’s voice that second. Each number dialled brought a new rush of excitement and nerves until the phone began to ring.

He just hoped Virgil hadn’t decided to have an early night..

Luckily for Roman, Virgil was as much an insomniac as he was an agoraphobe.

Of course, he didn’t recognise the number, perhaps it was a spam caller? Probably. He rolled his eyes and went back to sipping his cooling coffee, content to let the answering system take a message. Instead of some hack trying to sell him car insurance or some scam worthy payment plan, the voice on the other end had Virgil scrambling to answer the call so quickly he nearly doused himself in lukewarm bean water.

“Virgil? It’s me, though I take it you must be asle-”

“Roman!”, Virgil cursed the crack in his voice as he answered, “I’m here, Princey. It’s been a while, where are you calling from this time, mister world-famous-actor?”

Roman’s hearty laughter had Virgil’s own heart beating so loudly he wondered if he should schedule a doctor’s visit. “I’m not quite there yet, cuore mio. But I’m in Berlin, Charlottenburg to be exact. And it’s still snowing, in fact it’s snowed every night since opening night. Can you believe that?”

“Really?”, Virgil sighed, unable to stop the fond smile making itself at home on his lips, “Sounds lovely.”

“It is…. But it does have its drawbacks.”, the actor mused, drinking in the adorable noise of intrigue his lover made over the phone.

“And what would they be?”

“... It’s not home.”, Roman began, his eyes following the tufts of snow that danced through the skies outside the phone box. “And you’re not here.”

For a moment, Roman wondered if he’d overstepped. If he’d made Virgil feel bad for not being able to be beside him, but his fears were replaced by a longing he wasn’t aware he was capable of as Virgil’s voice - almost strange in it’s softness - caressed his ears,

“Funny, I was just thinking that myself.”

It was hard for Roman to find the words, but he mustered the courage to ask, “Are you doing alright, Virge?”. The silence gave Roman his answer, he knew Virgil would never admit to him outright just how much he missed him, how lonely he was at night without Roman by his side. Well, not directly.

“... When will you be home again, vita mia?”

Virgil knew Roman would be home in an instant if he could manage it. If he wasn’t bound by the dream he’d had since their adolescent years, Virgil knew his beloved would be in his arms right that second. But the poet knew what he signed up for when he fell in love with Roman D’Angelo; he was prepared to let his beloved chase his dreams while he could never follow alongside him. That didn’t mean it hurt any less to be without him.

“...Virgil? Are you still there?”

“Oh, um, yeah. Sorry, I-“

“Got caught up in your thoughts again, cuore mio?”

Virgil nodded bashfully before realising Roman couldn’t see him, “Yeah. I just…. I miss you so much, Roman..”

“... I know you do. And I miss you too.”

He hadn’t meant for Roman to hear the soft, dejected huff he let out, but as he practically heard Roman frown over the phone, Virgil sighed, “It’s been almost a year, Roman, almost a year of telling myself not to be selfish, just wishing you were here with me instead. I just… I want you to be happy, but I don’t know how much longer I can go on without you.”

The anxiety he felt pooling in his stomach threatened to draw out his tears when Roman softly spoke again over the line. Lord knows, Virgil adored the tenderness in his tone and the love dripping from each syllable,

“Vita mia, anima mia, bisogna resistere...”, Virgil’s breath hitched and he was unsure if it was because he was close to an anxiety attack or because he could feel the hope building itself a home in his chest, “I’ll be home soon, vita mia, I promise.”

He wanted to believe it, but he’d heard those words before and Virgil couldn’t help the doubt his hope was wrestling with, “Before or after it starts snowing in Venice?”, he joked.

Roman chuckled, they were both grateful for the moment of levity, “Never doubt the power of my undying love for you, Giordano.”

Virgil chuckled, affectionately snarking something akin to ‘sbruffone’ as he hung up and got cosy in his armchair. It had just passed midnight, he might as well get comfy considering he wouldn’t be able to sleep now. Not with Roman invading his every thought…

Once Roman had returned to the taxi, he was filled with an unwavering resolve. He all but raced to his hotel room; his hands blurred in his vision as he began to pack the few things he had brought with him into his suitcase with one hand while the other held his phone.

After the couple of times he’d pulled out the charger on accident, Roman was finally able to call his manager. Despite her protests, Roman knew they could let his understudy handle being Leo Bloom for the last couple of shows. Even if it meant it might cost him some valuable work and publicity.

Sure, being on stage was his dream, but Virgil was his life.

“I’m coming home, vita mia...”

The armchair was so comfy. Virgil hoped whoever was knocking at his door was prepared for the consequences of waking him up.

In fairness, he should have gone to bed instead of snuggling even warmer into the chair, but also in fairness there was no reason for anyone to be knocking on his door at half four in the morning. Seriously, who just does that? Virgil hoped it wasn’t some stranger in need of help; he didn’t fancy having to stomach explaining he was literally terrified of leaving his house. Perhaps it would just be Valerie next door, checking in on him, that’d be nice. That he could deal with. As long as it wasn’t the mailman. Or Mormans.

If his fear of going outside could be rivalled by anything, it was with his hatred of people trying to intrude on his home.

Virgil’s mental ramblings stopped as his mismatched eyes caught a glimpse of a figure through the frosted glass of the door. It was hard to be certain, but the silhouette, the colours, even when distorted…

Never had the door known such force as Virgil tore open the door and came face to face with the love of his life.

“Roman…!!”

The taller man smiled like the angels Virgil was sure had carved him; his cheeks and nose were flushed rosy red, his dark hair was tousled and stuffed underneath the winter beanie atop his head. By the way he was breathing, Virgil guessed that Roman had run at least the length of the street to get here.

Despite knowing he’d regret it once the intrusive thoughts came for him, Virgil braved the two steps outside his doorway to wrap his arms around Roman, a gesture his beloved returned. Warm hands resting on Virgil’s lower back assured him that everything that was happening was real; that the Roman in his arms was real. He didn’t give a second thought to kissing his darling actor, he just did.

When they finally broke for air, Roman chuckled, sweet as honey, bathing Virgil’s face in warm breath, “Vita mia, Virgil, I’m loath to suggest we stop, but I fear you may freeze if we continue. I love you but I’d rather the love of my life not be turned into a popsicle.”

It took Virgil a second to realise what Roman meant. Not only had he rushed out in his pjs, but his clothes and skin were littered with tiny plumes of snow.

Snow. In Venice.

When Roman pulled off a surprise, he sure did it in style.

As much as the poet could feel his anxiety over being outside - even momentarily - begin to build, he couldn’t help but let out a chuckle,

“Come on then, Roman,”, Virgil huffed softly, his smile so beaming with love, Roman wondered if it was possible to be burned alive by it, “You have stories to tell me from your travels, and I have a warm armchair and some coffee to for us to share...”

----

Fluff? Straight up fluff? No angst!? It’s likelier than you think!

Seeing out the year with a happy little fic based on smth I talked about with a friend after the Christmas Concert Livestream!

All the Italian used is stuff I tried to cross reference so if anything is wrong or could be improved, please let me know!

(they’re supposed to be talking in Italian the entire fic I just wanted to add in some actual Italian like in the song)

Taglist:

@patton-cake @does-this-look-logicality-to-you @justalittlecorrupted @irritating-lady-knight @katlikethesword @gattonero17 @shadowylemon

#roman sanders #virgil sanders #prinxiety #prinxiety fanfiction #sanders sides fanfiction #roman #virgil #snow in venice #this is just straight up fluff honestly #my fics

102 notes · View notes

viastro · 4 years

Text

tastes like cola | lee jihoon

ミ★ synopsis: in which you force jihoon to be your fake boyfriend in order to finally beat your cousin at something.

ミ★ genre: fake dating!au, humor, fluff

ミ★ warnings: none!

ミ★ word count: 2,250

ミ★ pairings: jihoon x female reader

ミ★ notes: this one is dedicated to my luvie @urlocalcaratclown !! don’t think i forgot you mentioning this is one of your favorite prompts >:D i hope you like this one lucy <3

“Absolutely not.”

“But Jihoon!” He lets out an exasperated sigh, stepping out of the kitchen to go into his studio. You trail after him like a lost puppy, planning not to leave him alone until he says yes.

“Yn I said no. I’m not going to pretend to be your boyfriend just to prove to your cousin that you can, in fact, find someone who’d want to date you!” You press a hand to your heart, ego slightly deflating at the comment, but you choose to ignore it. “Pleaseeee?”

“No.” You run up so that you’re in front of him, stopping him from walking. He glares at you, and you give him the best puppy eyes you can muster.

“I will literally buy you cola whenever you want for the rest of the year if you do this for me.” He raises an eyebrow at the offer, and you internally smirk.

“... I’m listening.”

“I just need you to go on one double date with her and her boyfriend. She’s been making fun of me for so long, we have this eternal competition that we’ve never actually vocalized, but I swear it’s a thing.” Jihoon blinks at you, and you give him a big smile.

“So will you do it?” He stares at you for a moment, watching the way your nose scrunches up as you await his answer.

Cute.

“Make it cola and kbbq and you got yourself a deal.” You scowl at the addition to the original offer, but still outstretch your hand towards Jihoon.

“Alright, deal.” Jihoon grins, softly shaking your hand.

“Now can you come sing background vocals for the song I’m making for my class?” Rolling your eyes, you nod, stepping out of the way so that the two of you can walk to his studio room.

“Should we run through it again?” Jihoon nudges you, giving you a smile in an attempt to offer some reassurance. “We absolutely do not need to run through it again. I’m very sure that we have our first date story memorized yn.”

You nervously bite your lip as the sight of the arcade draws nearer with each step you and Jihoon take. Your cousin has practically made everything between the two of you a competition since you were kids. If you got a dollhouse? She’d beg her parents to get a mansion for her dolls. You decided to grow out your hair? She grew hers longer. You were a cheerleader? She became the cheerleading captain. You lift a hand up to your mouth, about to nibble on your nails when Jihoon reaches up and takes it. He lets your hand fall, and intertwines your fingers with his.

Your eyes widen, and you turn to look at your pretend boyfriend, who is looking at anything but you. “J-Ji?”

“You gotta break that nail biting habit of yours when you're nervous. It’ll all work out yn, and besides, the arcade is like two steps away and it’d be weird if we walked in without holding hands.” You stare at him for a moment, before letting out a breath and looking forward again.

stop falling for him you absolute buffoon, you think to yourself as your face gets warmer. Jihoon is biting back the smile from breaking out onto his face, trying not to focus on how your hand seems to just… fit.

He opens the door for the two of you once you reach the arcade, and you step in. Immediately the feeling of dread hits you when your cousin turns around and smiles at you. “Yn!”

“Hi Mina.” You greet, lack of enthusiasm really showing that even Jihoon picks up on it. You let go of his hand to return the hug she gives you. He muffles down a chuckle when Mina turns to him, an indecipherable look appearing before she changes it back to a happy expression. “Yn, is this your friend?”

“He’s actually my-”

“I’m her boyfriend, Jihoon. It’s nice to meet you.” Jihoon interrupts, stepping over and holding your hand once again. Mina’s eyes practically bulge out of her head as she glances between the two of you.

“N-no way..” She mumbles as she takes the chance to quickly do a onceover of Jihoon. His blonde hair is parted to the side, showing off his forehead and strong eyebrows. He’s wearing a simple white shirt and black jeans, slightly revealing his muscles.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” You ask, snapping your cousin out of her drool fest. She lets out a grin, turning around right as a tall guy walks over. He wraps his arm around her, giving you a kind smile.

“Bong-pal, this is my cousin yn and her boyfriend Jihoon.” He extends his hand out to shake, and you outstretch yours, eyes widening at the firm grip he’s got. “Nice to meet you guys.”

“Should we go play some games?” He asks, and the three of you nod.

“Well it’d be strange if we came to an arcade just to stand in the lobby.” You joke, to which Bong-pal laughs. Mina’s eye twitches, and she turns to you. “Wanna play basketball?”

Your competitive fire ignites in your chest when you see the glint in your cousin’s eye, so you let out a small smile.

“Sure.”

oh god here we go… Jihoon thinks to himself once you turn away from Mina, catching sight of the furrow to your brows.

“Fuck yeah!” Mina shouts once she gets another point in air hockey, and you clutch the striker tightly in your hand. The two of you have been competing in multiple different arcade games for the past two hours. You’ve won three out of the five games, while Mina has won two. Her poor boyfriend just walked off to play other games by himself because it was clear Mina had one goal and one goal only.

Jihoon reaches out and rests his hand on top of yours, causing you to turn to look at him, snapping out of your thoughts. Your features immediately soften when he gives you a reassuring grin.

“Try and relax yn, you’re literally clutching the paddle so hard your knuckles were white.” You let out a sigh, and he pats your head with a grin. Mina raises an eyebrow at the gesture, turning to find Bong-pal sitting at one of the racing games. She glares, looking back towards you and Jihoon.

they seem more on the friendly side than the romantic side, Mina thinks to herself as she stares at the two of you. It’s like a lightbulb goes off in her head when she comes up with the idea that the two of you might not actually be dating.

“Ji, what do you like about my dear cousin?” Mina suddenly asks, and Jihoon freezes. You curse to yourself when you remember that you and Jihoon didn’t practice any answers for that type of question.

“Where did we meet?” You ask a tired Jihoon. He lets out a yawn, leaning farther back into the couch. He closes his eyes, releasing a sigh.

“At uni.”

“Who asked who out?”

“I asked you out because you were too scared to make a move.”

“How long have we been dating?” Jihoon opens one eye to glance at you, seeing the determined look on your face. He smiles at the sight, finding it ridiculous how passionate you are about a fake relationship.

“Two months now.”

“When did you ask me out?”

“May 27.”

“Perfect.”

“I, uh. I-” Mina smirks, and you feel your heart drop into your asshole when you realize she might be onto your guys’ act. You let out a breath, about to open your mouth to try and change the subject.

“I like how determined she is. When she has her mind set on something, she does whatever it takes to achieve that goal. Even if there’s a lot of bumps along the way, she still perseveres.” Your mouth drops open at the honesty in Jihoon’s voice, warmth rising to your cheeks as he stares at the puck.

“She’s really funny, sweet, and most of all, she’s kind. When we first met,” Jihoon lets out a small chuckle at the memory. “I was really tired that day because I stayed up writing a song the night before. I wasn’t looking where I was going, and I ended up bumping into her, spilling my coffee onto her white shirt. Yet she was the one who kept profusely apologizing to me, offering to get me a new cup of coffee and explaining how clumsy she is.”

Jihoon turns to look at you, letting out a small smile when his eyes lock with yours. “I’d do anything for her, even go on a double date with people I don’t know.” You cough into your elbow, trying to will away the warmth in your cheeks. Mina blinks once Jihoon finishes, looking down at her hands clutching the striker.

“Sounds like you really like yn, huh?” She asks, and he nods.

“Yeah, guess I do.” Jihoon mumbles, quiet enough that you almost don’t catch it, but you do. Your heartbeat is fast and loud against your ears, smile breaking out onto your face.

Mina coughs, taking a sip of water. “Let’s start playing again, shall we?”

“Well, it was nice meeting you Jihoon. Great seeing you too cuz.” Mina says, forcing out a laugh as she gives you a hug. You give her a genuine smile, and Jihoon chuckles about it, knowing that you’re only happy because you beat Mina at air hockey.

“It was great meeting you Bong-pal. I’ll see you at the next family dinner Mina!” You and Jihoon wave at the two, turning around to leave when your cousin stops you.

“Wait! Let me take a picture of you guys.” You and Jihoon pause, slowly turning around to see Mina already holding up her phone towards the two of you. You let out an awkward chuckle, getting ready to pose with Jihoon so that the two of you can fucking leave.

“No be cuter!” Mina whines, and your eye twitches. There’s slight tension between you and Jihoon after he literally poured his heart out about what he loves about you, so now you just want to go home so the two of you can talk it out.

“Is this not cute?” Jihoon asks, arm wrapped around your waist. Mnia shakes her head, giving the two of you a devilish smile.

“Kiss!” You choke on your saliva while Jihoon turns into literal stone right beside you. Your cousin tilts her head to the side at your reactions, feeling satisfied that she’s almost caught you in your lie. She smirks, “Why? Is something the matter? I thought you guys were dating.”

“Nothing wrong! I’ll kiss my boyfriend.” You state, and Jihoon looks at you with wide eyes as you turn to face him. He mouths the words, are you sure? when he tentatively places his hands on your waist. In return, you give him a nervous smile, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck. The two of you stare at each other for a moment, before you close your eyes and press your lips to his.

Jihoon squeezes your waist, feeling his heart practically burst into butterflies at the feeling of you kissing him. He pulls you a bit closer, and you’re so caught up in the fact that his lips are soft and taste like cola due to his obsession, that you’re unable to hear Mina saying she took the picture.

“Uh, yn.”

“Yn.”

“YN!” You and Jihoon jump away from each other, turning towards your annoyed cousin and her amused boyfriend. Mina taps her phone, telling you to turn on your airdrop. Once you do, she airdrops the photos, before bidding goodbye again. Once her and Bong-pal walk out of the arcade, you and Jihoon slowly turn towards each other.

His eyes trail down to your mouth, taking note of your lips being more swollen than before. While you also stare at his, noticing of his lips being a bit pinker than before.

“Let’s get out of here.” You mumble, turning around and walking out before Jihoon can get a word in. He grins, following after you.

“Hey!” You continue to walk, pretending to not hear him calling you.

“Yn!”

“Yn~” Jihoon rolls his eyes, walking a bit faster so that he’s now standing in front of you. “Oh Ji, I didn’t hear you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You open your mouth to protest but he shoots you a look, immediately making you back down.

“You promised to buy me kbbq whenever I asked.” Jihoon says, smirking at you when your timid expression turns into a glare. You let out a sigh, “Fine, fine. I’ll buy you kbbq.”

The two of you begin walking in the opposite direction in a tense silence. Well, the tension mainly comes from you as you are unsure of what to say now that you and Jihoon have kissed and you really wanna do it again. You’re snapped out of your thoughts when Jihoon slips your hand into his, letting out a content smile when he’s reminded of how well they fit.

“We can talk about it when we eat.” He says softly, giving your hand a squeeze. A small smile escapes you, realizing that today was quite a success.

i guess my fake relationship will turn into something real.

#seventeen #woozi x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #seventeen scenarios #seventeen woozi #seventeen jihoon #seventeen oneshot #seventeen oneshots #seventeen x reader #woozi scenarios #woozi fluff #woozi seventeen #woozi oneshots #jihoon scenarios #jihoon x reader #jihoon fluff #jihoon au

531 notes · View notes

phoenixyfriend · 4 years

Text

Madara and Obito... In SPACE

So the preface to this mess: I don’t know jackshit about Star Wars, so a lot of this went through friends who do know Star Wars (the primary of which does not have a tumblr).

(I have watched Episodes 7&8, and Rogue One. Of the first six movies, I remember watching maybe an hour total. I have not seen more than snatches of Clone Wars. Beyond that, nothing but fic.)

Anyway! Let’s go:

As y’all probably know by now, my favorite form of crossover is what I call “intrusive,” so... I'm enjoying the mental concept of "dump Madara on Coruscant and watch him go." (Prequels, probably.)

Does Madara know what's going on? No. Can he understand a word that's being said? No! Is he going to fight the first person to aim a weapon at him, and every person after that? Yes.

Is Madara fighting fit?

Nnnnnnnnnnnnnno, not really, he’s old as balls. This is "I was on cave life support but I'm getting back up to kick ass out of pure spite" Madara.

[Image description: A screenshot of a panel of the Naruto Manga. Uchiha Madara is old and visibly ‘decrepit,’ with spiky white hair and an amorphous black robe. He is sitting on a pale throne, and there is a scythe visible to the side. He has a speech bubble saying “I am... a ghost of the Uchiha.” End Description]

Two wrinkly old guys, staring each other down: There ain't enough room in this universe for the two of us. [Palpatine and Madara start fighting to the death]

Congrats, Palpatine! Your ass is getting kicked by a geriatric malcontent who doesn't speak any language you've ever heard or feel like literally anything in the Force. You may have Sith lightning, but do you have decades of frontline experiences and over half a century of cave-dwelling bitterness?

Both of them, simultaneously, in completely different languages: Get off my lawn, whipper-snapper.

Palpatine: Behold my mastery of the Dark Side, Foolish old man! Palpatine: [shoots lightning] Madara: Oh hey, you're like the seventeenth most dangerous person who can shoot lightning I've fought. Telekinesis? Fought that. Combat precognition? Fought that, have that, and let me tell you hwat, it doesn't help if you're opponent is just that much faster than you.

Now, I’ll take a step back and acknowledge that several people advised me that Palpatine would stand a chance against Madara, likely even win, if Madara just got hacked off of his life support and is down to one eye.

But. I want a shitpost, and also to clown on Palpatine, so Madara wins easily.

Madara also deserves to be clowned on, but the entire situation is clowning on him because he’s not in his cave anymore, and he really wants to go back to his Gedou Mazou statue.

Maybe Madara and Palpatine go Old Man Fight and then Obito just pulls a Ninja Move and kills Palpatine that way. Madara was ranting and Obito just. Ninjas behind Palpatine and slits his throat like “okay, you’re obviously evil so like... bye.”

(I just love causing "Wait what" reactions in characters that are used to having total control. Like. Have you read "Unexpected Guests"? The Bleach fic? Everything that happens in Hueco Mundo and after. That energy. I want that energy.)

Madara waves his scythe around like a cane. Obito just trails after like “Gramps, no” because it’s still pre-Sanbi, so he’s Mostly Innocent (you know, on the scale of how fucked up Obito is as a person), and just wants Madara to like. Stop.

Palpatine dies but nobody's sure what to charge Madara with since he did kind of expose a Sith? And Palpatine attacked first for [handwave] reasons?

Jedi: Well sir, in lieu of charging you with assassination of the emperor, we have decided to ask you politely to return to the elderly person's retirement home from whence you came. Please leave immediately. You are frightening the senate. Madara: [incomprehensible raving] Jedi: Yes yes, very interesting. Jedi, whispering: Does anyone know his caretaker???

Obito looks increasingly put-upon as events progress. You need Obito there to... well, not translate. Nobody can translate. But to at least poke Madara into being Slightly Less Homicidal.

Anakin seems sad about his friend dying and being evil so Obito challenges him to a spar. Madara and Obito get pulled into the Jedi Temple to help train Padawans? My first thought was "they wouldn't trust someone so obviously Weird, Crazy, and Incomprehensible around the younglings" and my second thought was "well they let Yoda do it and he's all those things so I mean? YEAH."

What if they put Madara in the bacta tank and he just freshened up like a daisy because of hand-wave Hashirama cell reasons (Blame Sir Tiddyface).

From “Decrepit and Reliant on Cave Tube Life Support” to “Will Call Down Meteors With Ease”

How many eyes does he have? Whatever’s funniest. Let’s say one Eternal Mangekyo Sharingan and one Rinnegan, for maximum chaos.

Would "half my body is missing" Obito freak out if Bacta regrew his eye? Can bacta regrow something like that? When characters lose limbs they usually just get cybernetic replacements, but the person I spoke with said that apparently they saw somewhere that that kind of thing can grow back it just takes a really long time.

I want to imagine bacta would help Obito with the Zetsu integration.

Anyway! Yes. Have Madara help train people despite being... Madara about it. You know... kind of a dick.

(I’d put example gifs but I don’t feel up to it. Y’all know what Madara’s “weakness disgusts me” ass is like.)

Obito had to get his "these fools could never make me sweat" sass from somewhere, after all.

Do you think Obito could fight the baby Jedi that are around his age while recovering? I have no idea what their skill level is at fourteen, but I want to imagine Obito sparring the Padawans.

Obito + Zetsu + Bacta = he still needs physical therapy but he can spar again!

Madara is delighted to have a baby ninja to bully. He's too old to not bully baby ninjas, and Obito is the only baby ninja. TBH Madara just makes Obito his assistant teacher.

Obito: What are we even doing here and how do we get home? Madara: I'm still working on that. Obito: But I want to go home and see Rin and Kakashi! Madara, who was like two days away from triggering the Sanbi plan: I'm working on it.

Something sticking in my mind rn is Ahsoka&Obito, since Obito is still Baby.

I think Obito would be excited to have someone his age that thought he was Cool and Talented for being able to do Chakra Things instead of writing him off as "the dead-last." Like, Rin is friends with him, but she doesn't look up to him as someone more/differently talented. He'd be excited to get to be "The Mysterious Cool Big Bro" for once.

I feel I also just like the idea of Anakin not knowing what to do with someone Several Years Younger that is also. Ninja Skill.

Miscellaneous thoughts:

Madara is a grouchy old man even AFTER he gets effectively de-aged via bacta dunk, for the record. He's back in his prime and the Jedi have no idea how. They're all concerned about tiddyface*. (When are people not concerned about Sir Tiddyface, really.) The mokuton is a problem.

*Sir Tiddyface is that random Hashirama face that Madara had growing out of his pecs for like... convoluted bullshit reasons.

(Madara doesn't have mokuton, but he has enough Hashirama cells that it interacted very, VERY weirdly with the bacta.)

Obito spends the intervening weeks trying to learn the local language. He's very eager. Not particularly fast. Still doing it though!

I want Obito juggling kunai as physical therapy while he's waiting for Mads to get out of the bacta tank and just gains himself the adoration of a gaggle of small baby Jedi children.

Madara comes out of the bacta tank looking like he did in his prime (which I mentioned earlier but whatever), and it absolutely incites a yelling match of an argument that draws way too much attention.

Someone tries to teach Obito how to access the Force, just to see what happens. He almost turns into a statue because the philosophy behind Force meditation is only a few steps away from Sage Mode Meditation.

Anyway, Madara smacks him with a stick like Fukasaku to make sure Obito doesn't turn into stone.

Madara grumps about the lack of paper and brushes and ink. Bitches about it until someone hits up an antique store or something to get them for him. The day before he and Obito are dispatched on a mission with someone, probably Anakin for plot reasons, Madara very publicly seals things into a scroll and then tells them that no, they can't learn it, because the Force isn't chakra so fuuinjutsu won't work for them, so There.

Obito practices some Teen Rebellion (tm) and like, tries to teach the Padawan friends he's made how to do Chakra Things... but he's so bad at explaining things that nobody can get it to work even if it were possible.

In Obito's defense, language barriers. Not in Obito's defense, he's just really bad at words sometimes.

#Star Wars #Star Wars Prequels #Naruto #Uchiha Madara #Uchiha Obito #crossovers #Phoenix Posts #body horror mention

79 notes · View notes