#next thing I knew I finished this pfffft | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shoichee · 4 years ago

Text

Star-crossed

[Midorima x Reader]

[Hanahaki!au]

Word Count: 8840

Warning: attempted angst, death

Note: This is my first time writing angst, oh dear. Even after years of bawling over other people’s works, I still have no solid idea on how to create heart-wrenching writing. Here goes though.

»»—————　☼　—————««

“I’m really excited!”

“Ne, ne, I honestly can’t wait to bloom…”

“What kind of flowers would my body grow do you think?...”

You only drone out the incessant bustlings of chattering from your classmates as special health education class ended as you sat there patiently waiting for the next teacher to walk into class to start the next period.

Next is… ah, math…

You sigh, heaving out the bulky textbook out of your bag and drop it on the desk with a thump, making a few students flinch at the near proximity. You lay your elbow on the hardcover, allowing your thoughts to drift away as your fingers gently thrum. This teacher, you knew, was the type to start class unceremoniously late.

It was boring. Everyone already knew about the stage of blooming. It had been incanted incessantly to you by adults around you ever since grade school. Yet, Shūtōku high was one of the many high schools that still insisted in “teaching” the basic knowledge of what’s to come soon.

Maybe these classes don’t teach, but rather, serve as a reminder of the inevitable that all growing teenagers will face sooner or later: blooming.

Some people have already experienced it as soon as they graduated out of middle school; they were called the “early bloomers.” That was one of your closer friends.

So what’s it like? you once asked, turning to your new friend at the time. You said you bloomed…

And you recall her nodding her head fervently.

Yeah! she eagerly replied. While it may be painful at first, it went away after a few weeks for me… it’s not so different like getting a period, you know?... I heard it’s different for everyone, but for me, my heart thumped super loudly! And I get these tingly sensations!...

… It’s just like a sign that you’ve become totally mature!

A frantic clang from the doorway interrupts your train of thought as you eye the expectant teacher, completely out of breath as he tries to arrive on time but completely failing miserably.

Unlike in special health ed, most of the students groan at the thought of continuing the onslaught of derivative lessons. You don’t really care either way and promptly open your textbook to the appropriate page.

As class slowly ticks by, your mind wanders off from the subject of class again, drifting to the constant destination of your recent curiosity of bloomings.

You are what everyone calls a “late bloomer.”

You aren’t the only late bloomer, obviously, but it does make you quite anxious at the fact of potentially being the “last one” in your class, or perhaps out of the entire school.

No one wants to really hang out with a late bloomer; they were often stereotyped as “immature” or “abnormal.” After all, this was a normal stage of life, a sign of growing up out of childhood. No one wants to hang around with someone seen as a “kid.”

A soft cough pulls you from your daydreaming as you subtly glance at the desk to your left. It was a classmate of yours, as well as an acquaintance.

“Hey,” you whisper, trying to not bring attention to yourself. “... Are you okay?”

She gives a quiet clearing of her throat before she nods, hand still pressed against her lips. She then shakes her head side to side, her long hair swaying slightly with the motion.

“Ah, don’t worry about me getting sick,” you quietly reassure. “But you should really go to the nurse’s after. Have you tried tying your hair up? I heard doing so can help cool off and keep a clearer head…”

She cautiously drops her hand back to her desk before giving you a small, reassuring smile.

“Thank you, (l/n-san). I’ll be fine.”

“(l/n).”

“Yes!” You stand up from your desk the moment the teacher calls on you, relieved at the fact that he didn’t seem to notice your hushed conversation.

“Could you please come up to the board to solve this problem…?”

---------

Lunch time is always the time you come out of class to search for Takao. As you walk briskly in the hallways, you try to avoid staring at everyone’s floral tattoos located at the side of their necks, imprinted underneath the canopies of their jaws. Each individual’s flower mark showcased what their bodies grew during their stages of blooming.

And each plant was unique to the individual. They could represent their personality, their prospective future, what their future soulmate would be like… anything goes, and every student constantly gossips about what the other’s marks would exactly mean.

You, markless, walk faster, hoping that no one would spot you and flit their eyes to your blank neck… although everyone at school already knows those who have still yet to bloom.

You envy them.

“(y/n)-chan!!” Takao waves you over when you enter the cafeteria. “Over here!”

You briefly scan the tables before you spot him, begrudgingly noticing his pink hyacinth at the crook of his neck, even though you’re happy for him that he passed that stage of his life.

Pink hyacinths… they symbolized playfulness.

You would know; not only did special health classes painstakingly educate students since young for the anticipation of blooming, you took the extra effort of researching many more flowers on your own time, patiently abiding your time to have a striking plant engraved onto you one day.

As you carry your tray and slide into your seat, you finally notice a grumbling greenhead besides Takao.

“Shin-chan! So you do care about having a flower mark after all, eh?”

That’s right, huh. Midorima, too, was markless.

Just like you.

“Your assumptions are getting ridiculous, Takao.”

“Seriously? You expect me to believe that when your eyes always land on people’s necks when you talk to them—pfffft—” He breaks out into guffaws as he clutches his stomach helplessly, which cued Midorima into reaching for the point-guard in an attempt to strangle him.

Pink hyacinths are perfect for someone like Takao. You couldn’t help but let a smile slip from your lips.

“Whoaa!!” Takao peers over to you, ignoring his predicament of being restrained to death by Midorima. “(y/n)-chan! You should smile more!—ow!”

“Worry about yourself first,” he scowls, before tentatively letting him go with a defeated sigh. He opts to hold his lucky charm for the day (a terracotta pot).

“Shintarou-san,” you call out to him, after several minutes of comfortable silence as all three of you ate your lunches. “What do you think your flower would be?”

“Man proposes, God disposes. As long as I always provide everything to maximize my opportunities and follow the order of fate, I do not need to worry about such baseless things.”

You mildly snicker at his typical response. “Is that so, horoscope man.”

“Why waste time worrying about something that’s not in your hands?” He pushes up his glasses with his taped hand. “You should be focusing on what you can do as of now, nanodayo.” When he finishes, he looks up from his lunch to glance at you, noticing your widened eyes.

“Ah…” you stare at him at a loss for words, caught off guard at the fact that he sounded… almost concerned for you. “I’ll keep it in mind, Shintarou.”

“There’s no way that’s our Shin-chan!” Takao rushes to try to feel Midorima’s forehead. “That’s way too good of an advice to be you—”

“Shut up—get off of me—!”

As the two basketball players struggle in each other’s vice grips, they fail to notice the ruddy color having its own moment of blooming onto your cheeks.

---------

“... and what this means, class, is that having your first love is a monumental sign of blooming. That being said, having to experience love for the first time does not automatically guarantee blooming. This natural phenomena is still being studied by scientists around the world. What’s also interesting is that we humans are the only ones with this unique…”

More basic information? You yawn, covering your mouth in hopes no one notices, but as you look around you, your classmates are too engrossed in the lecture to even pay attention to anything else.

Of course they’d pay attention. It’s a special event that will happen to everyone at some point; even though you were sure they all already knew the information to heart, you knew they would take any opportunity to learn more about themselves in any way. You don’t blame them, however. You’re curious about your own body’s idiosyncrasies of not blooming yet.

“... Lies.” You snap your head to the source of the quiet remark to see your classmate on your left, arms crossed on the desk with a minimal scowl on her face.

Noticing your piercing stare, she turns to you before widening her eyes at realizing that she was heard. She abruptly turns her face to the front of the class, trying to pass off the act of suddenly paying attention to the teacher.

You turn your head to face the front as well but you still glance to your left from time to time.

“Are you feeling better?...” you hesitantly whisper.

Not expecting you to show concern, she jumps in her seat before eyeing you warily. As soon as she decides that you were merely concerned, she gives a polite nod and a smile.

“It was just a little flu I caught… Thank you for worrying about me. I’m just a sickly person but I thankfully recover very quickly.”

And with that, she ends the conversation with you to finally genuinely pay attention for the rest of class.

You try to do the same, but you feel knots of lead settling in your stomach.

… Lies?

What was that about?

---------

“(y/n)-chan! Wanna come and watch our practices today?”

You were stopped in the hallways by a grinning Takao, with a trailing Midorima not too far behind with a bundle of faux peacock feathers.

You’re not too sure if you should be concerned with a clinging Takao on your arm and attempting to kidnap you or a stoic Midorima displaying around a ridiculous souvenir.

“Huh? W-why?”

“You’re obviously free right now, obviously.”

“That doesn’t make sense—wah!”

Before you can put any further word in, Takao is dragging you to the gym, with an exasperated Midorima being figuratively pulled along with you two as well.

“Here we are, (y/n)-chan!” Takao ushers you beyond the gym doors and indicates the bleachers for you to sit and watch.

“You really think I’m going along with all of this, Kazu?”

“I know you better than anyone.”

“No you don’t,” you frown, turning away from him with a huff.

“Takao.”

Takao immediately gulps at the call of his name from Midorima and both you and him turn around to see a particularly hostile green-haired person.

“Sorry, sorry! Please don’t hit me!” And Takao races to the lockers in an attempt to escape from his fury.

Midorima relaxes his stance after he leaves and turns to you.

“Thanks, Shintarou.”

“I wasn’t doing it for you,” he says, adjusting his glasses. “He was just being more troublesome than usual.” But the way he clumsily handled his frames told a different story to you.

You laugh at him. “If you insist, Shintarou-san.”

“R-right…”

“Hey! Shin-chan!” Takao yells from the opposite side of the gym. Get over here! Captain is coming!”

At the captain being mentioned, Midorima straightens up before jogging over to warm up.

You suppose you can watch their practice this evening.

---------

You’ve never seen anyone handle a basketball like that.

What the hell? His range was damn near impossible.

You were thankful that you allowed Takao to drag you over to the gym to watch. Otherwise, you would’ve never learned about this side of Midorima.

Wait… Midorima?

No, you shake your head. It’s only because it was a lot more interesting than all of your classes, that’s all.

You repeat it to yourself like a mantra, yet every time your eyes land on Midorima’s shooting form, your mind goes blank.

You were absolutely captivated… not that you would ever admit it though.

---------

“... scientists are still doing social experiments on the blooming stage of humans. You may be wondering, if it’s been a part of societies for thousands of years, why are we studying it? Well, during old times, they were often explained using myths and folk stories…”

It really sucked that special health ed class was a mandatory requirement for all first-years. All of this was old news to you still.

“... new recent findings came out that answered the everlong question of whether the bloomings can actually be dangerous for humans, and how dangerous.”

Oh? That was new. But you suppose there was no way they’d tell little kids about the possibilities and risks with bloomings.

“Obviously, we know it can be fatal, just like pregnancies going awry and such. While we don’t know the exact mortality rate, researchers are trying to develop new medicines to curb away the potential amount of deaths associated with bloomings. But other scholars suggest not to drain precious resources into medicine development when they can use it for more pressing medical issues, and I know many of you believe this as well. Their take on this issue is that ‘blooming is something that should not be tampered with and the success of bloomings rely solely on the individual’s abilities and willpower to come of age since it’s unique to every person’...”

Unique… He was right. Even the signs and symptoms of a blooming vary greatly for everyone. The only thing everyone had in common was that their bodies grew plants. Even the way plants grow vary from person to person. That’s what they taught since the very beginning.

“... since blooming is unique to every individual, creating a standard medicine and procedure for all would be impossible, or at the very least inaccessible due to high expenses in accommodating medicine for every patient.”

Most of the students in the room nod in fervent agreement, and pretty soon, the room was filled with chattering at the new information they took in.

You glance to your classmate on your left again but you were surprised to see that her seat was empty.

Was she not here from the start?

You sigh and chide yourself for not noticing at the beginning of homeroom, but quickly dismiss the casual thought for more immediate problems like your upcoming exam for chemistry in a few periods.

Ah, oh well.

---------

“If you’re looking for Takao, forget it. He’s in detention for causing a disruption for one of the teachers last period.”

“Sh-shintarou?!” You whirl around to find Midorima alone with his bear plush. “You’re not at practice?”

“We practice tomorrow.”

“I see,” you say, not knowing how to continue the conversation from here.

“I guess I’ll be going home early then. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

As you try to walk past Midorima, he sidesteps quickly to block your pathway, and you walk right into him before stepping back out of embarrassment.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry—!”

“(y/n).” He averts his eyes while sliding up his glasses. “You’re walking home alone?”

Still in a state of flusters, you promptly nod your head as you stare down at your shoes.

“Come. We better get going before it gets too late. Cancers will have unlucky encounters after dusk.” Midorima jerks his head to the direction of the exit, motioning for you to follow before he turns on his heel and walks away.

“Sh-shintarou?”

“I-it’ll only be… troublesome if something were to happen.” He stops walking and looks back at you. “What are you waiting for? Hurry up.”

“R-right. Coming!”

---------

It wasn’t completely unexpected that the walk home would have an awkward atmosphere between the two of you. Usually, Takao would be the social “buffer” and the proxy between you two, but now that he was out of the picture, neither of you knew how to strike up a casual conversation. That was more of Takao’s specialty.

“... I’ve thought about what you said.” At his voice, you turn to look up at his contemplative face. You give him an inquisitive look to encourage him to continue his thought. “... Although I’m not so certain what kind of plant I would grow. Not even the Oha Asa could predict it.”

“Ah, I see…” You turn your face to face the front as you gaze at the sunset ahead. “Are you afraid of the uncertainty?” At your question, he falls silent, giving you the confirmation that he was, indeed, scared.

“Shintarou,” you murmur. “You’re not alone in feeling the uneasiness of blooming.”

“Wha—I never said anything about blooming, nanodayo—”

“Sure,” you interject. “Well, for me, I really hope I’d get a gorgeous flower, a flower so breathtaking that would make everyone stop in their tracks to admire the mark. I want to change those stares of pity and disdain into those of admiration and envy…” You can tell he’s hanging onto your every word despite the fact that he wasn’t facing you, his steps slowing down ever so slightly to be as close to you to hear what you had to say without deeming it suspicious.

“I envy Takao… a lot,” you sigh, and Midorima turns his head slightly to you at the mention of Takao’s name. “He already has a flower mark and he’s so put-together despite his cheerfulness… He’s really reliable.”

“I see.”

“... and the truth is, I’m really scared. I feel like I’m going to be the last person to ever get a mark. I wonder if there’s something wrong with me, with my body—”

He stops in his tracks.

“That’s a foolish line of thought.”

You turn to face him, ready to glare at him, but you stop when you make eye contact, startled at the intensity of his gaze. You swear you can see your figure reflected in his viridian irises. A few seconds of suffocating silence crawl by, and you break away eye contact, intimidated by his gaze and the possible implication of his words.

“Sorry about that.”

He says nothing in return.

The rest of the walk home became even more uncomfortable, with Midorima walking slightly ahead and you making a wordless effort to constantly match his stride.

You don’t know why, but seeing his taut back to you squeezes your heart ever so slightly, the mute badumps ever feeling like a constant dull sore.

“Shintarou…” you softly call out after you arrive at your house. The sun had left the horizon shortly before you arrived at your destination. “Thank you for walking me home, and… sorry, it looks like it’s past dusk now, but will you be able to get home safely?”

“Fool,” he huffs. “I have my lucky charm to compensate for my misfortune today.”

You smile at him, relieved at the thought that maybe that moment before was all just your overthinking.

“Of course, Shintarou.”

---------

It was hard looking at Midorima without losing your cool from that point on. It wasn’t like the two of you did anything out of the ordinary yesterday, excluding the fact that he volunteered to walk you home. But you knew he just cared for you in his own way, as a friend.

As a friend.

“(y/n)-chan!” Takao tries to pounce on you, pulling your cheeks apart. “What’s with the nasty frown on your face? Didn’t I tell you that you should smile more?”

“Shtop—pawling—Takow—!”

As he laughs at your stretched face from his pulling, you manage to pry his hands off of your cheeks and take refuge behind the sour-faced shooting guard. “Shintarou! Save me from Takao!”

“Takao, come here.” He gave a harsher punch to his head than usual, and Takao did not fail to comment on it.

“Sheesh, that hurt even more, Shin-chan? What did I do?—oh, ohhhhhhh.” His grimace lit up to an expression of realization and mischievousness. “I see.”

“Your antics are getting more and more preposterous. If you have that much energy, you should expend it during practice, nanodayo.”

“Right, right, Shin-chan!” He waves Midorima off before slinging his arm around your shoulder. “But (y/n)-chan, don’t think you're off the hook just yet!”

You can only sigh as he dramatically waggles his finger at you while Midorima clicks his tongue, opting to walk to his classroom instead.

“H-hey! Don’t leave me behind!”

And with that, the duo disappeared right before the warning bell rang.

---------

You sense an uncharacteristic aura of hostility directed at you right when you entered class, but you shake your head before plopping at your designated seat. As much as you try to mind your own business, the hostility you felt peaked even more. You glance around before your eyes fall on your classmate to your usual left.

She was silently seething, but particularly at you.

“Is… something the matter?” You shot her a worried look. “You were gone yesterday, right? Did your flu kick up again?”

“What’s with you?”

“Pardon?”

“Why do you care so much for me? I never asked for it.”

“Wh-what? I’m just worried? Did I say something wrong?”

“You are—”

“I am?”

And the bell rang with such convenient timing to interrupt the two of you.

“It’s nothing. Forget it.”

And class started without a further word from her, and as lectures progress, you peek over to her desk to see her never looking your way. The least you do, you decide, is to try to apologize and talk to her afterschool.

“... a revolutionary finding was published all over the news yesterday regarding bloomings. He proposed the most controversial proposition yet: bloomings neither affect the human body’s growth and maturity physiologically nor psychologically and that these ‘effects’ from blooming are merely all placebo. His conclusions have caused an uproar in the world of scholarship, but what I want for you students to do is to write an in-class paper about your reaction to these potential revelations…”

You sit up straight, and for the first time, you listen to his lessons with utmost attention. Your mind racing, you rush to grab a suitable pencil before you start to write your thoughts for the assignment. You peer over to your classmate to see her already writing furiously. You do the same.

She was the first student to screech the chair as she stood up, daintily holding the paper to bring it to the front desk.

All you could discern from her paper, even despite the neat writing, was:

I am ultimately relieved.

---------

“W-wait! Please!” You dash out of the classroom, trailing after your classmate who hightailed it out as soon as possible.

“Leave me alone already!” she heaves over her shoulder, willing her legs to run even faster.

“Your… homework! I have to give… work that you… missed!” And you had relatively no problem speeding up to match her pace.

“Can you just stop following me?! I can just get it from my teachers! What’s your deal?!”

“I want to apologize—!” But before you can finish your sentence, your classmate drops onto her knees, clasping her mouth in complete desperation. “H-hey! What’s wrong?!”

She wheezed into her palms before she got up and ran again before you could completely catch up to her.

She busted open the main doors and ran into the secluded areas of the school courtyard, hoping to lose your trail of her, but as soon as she turned from looking behind her shoulder to the front again, you managed to cut her way off.

“Your… homework…” you gasp for air, shakily handing her the papers that were clenched in your hand.

The next thing you register are splatters of blood on the sheets. And your classmate desperately holding her coughs in.

“Hey!...” You hold her frame, slowly dropping the two of you onto the ground in kneeling positions to try to ease the burden on her body, soiled papers already discarded to the side.

Cough. “Don’t—” Cough. “Fucking—” Cough. “Touch me…”

As she spoke, her hands loosen up their grip against her mouth, but as soon as she did, petals and buds cascaded from her lips. Which were all soaked in blood.

“I…” You dumbly look at the pile of flowers in front of her. You couldn’t even tell what type of flowers they were from all the blood. “You’re blooming?” You always thought she already did.

She slaps your hand, which was on her shoulder the entire time, before tucking her strands behind her ear to prevent them from being further drenched in crimson.

Her neck, being exposed for the first time, was blank.

“C-congratulations!” You say, holding both her shoulders this time with excitement. “You’re—!”

Slap.

The sound resonated through the area, which luckily was mostly empty. Your face pulsates with a stinging heat.

“I’m fucking dying!” She stands up shakily from her kneeling position. “How could you say such an awful thing—I’m dying, I’m fucking dying…”

You can only stare at her in shock from her being so volatile for the first time since you met her, or the fact that she said such a morbid thing.

“I don’t… I don’t understand—?”

“I’m sick!” she seethes, her throat struggling to choke out words. Tears run silently down her agonized face, diluting the thick blood smeared across her face.

“I’m so sorry…! I didn’t know your flu was this ba—”

“You’re the reason why I’m dying,” she hoarsely spat.

The silence was so palpable that even the labored breathing from her was unnaturally loud.

“What? Why me?”

“I…” she hesitates, before dropping to her knees, sobbing uncontrollably. “I’m so sorry… I didn’t mean to—it’s not your fault, I…

… I’m so scared.” Hiccup. “There isn’t any medicine to help me…”

You hand her a tissue from your bag to try to clean up the bloody mess off of her, but before you can dab the tissue to her face, she gingerly grabs your wrist.

“I… love Takao.”

What? You held your breath, anticipating to hear what she’d say next.

“But he rejected me not too long ago. I thought I could get over him and be done with blooming relatively quickly but…” She pointedly looks at you. “Whenever he’s so close to you, especially as of late… my heart hurts. It hurts, it hurts so badly and I don’t know, and then I just start coughing more, and more, and more.”

“It’s just a stage of life,” you insist. “Maybe your case is the most extreme, but—”

“Oh, stop it already,” she snarls. “You still believe in whatever they feed you about this ‘blooming’? It’s a disease, for fuck’s sake.” She tries to get up again. “I thought… I could be friends with you because you were the only one who wasn’t being sucked into their rhetorics… guess I was wrong.”

You were still on your knees when you tried to stretch out your hand to her, but retracted it after seeing her stumble away from you. But as she did so, she hacked out a new bouquet of flowers, but this time, you could see tiny white flowers rimmed with pale blue.

Morning glories…

They meant unrequited love.

“(y/n)...?” she softly asked, for the first time using her usual mild-mannered tone of voice with you today. She disregarded the mess of petals she made around her, appearing to be accustomed to the unsettling sight.

“... yes?”

“Do you love Takao?”

“I would never see him that way.”

“That’s… good to hear…” She gives you a defeated close-eyed smile.

“Wait… you still need to get cleaned up.”

You got up on your feet to try to guide her face your way to wipe off, and as you try to scrub the dried clots of blood away, she manages to croak a laugh.

“I thought that you were trying to rub it in my face about Takao the entire time whenever you talked to me… I was so wary of you, I was so blinded…” You silently listen as you pour your water bottle over the next tissue.

“Do you know why teens in particular have to pay attention to when they’ll bloom?”

“No…” You furrow your brows, already reevaluating about everything you supposedly already knew about blooming. “I don’t.”

“Teens are more likely to have their first love than any other person. If they can overcome their first unrequited love… that would mean… they are ready to apparently to survive and carry on with their lives…

… tell me… am I not good enough to be alive? I can’t even get over—”

You only hush her as you scrub away the last remnants of blood from her skin. Her clothes were unfortunately already stained.

“That’s the best I could do,” you quietly say. “Please get home as soon as possible. And take care of yourself.”

“The paper we had today in class… When our teacher talked about the new findings of blooming research, I was so happy. But looking around class, no one seemed to share the same sentiments. Even still, I am glad about the possibility that one day, we’d stop emphasizing so much on these marks…

“Although I wish I made the attempt to become closer friends with you sooner, I have no regrets now… I’m so glad you’re here…

“I feel so relieved…”

---------

The next day of school, you had an ominous feeling settled within the pits of your stomach. You come to school early, deciding to sit at your desk the entire time and reading to pass the time. You did not feel like talking to your happy-go-lucky friend and his grumpy pet, as much as you usually enjoy their company.

Ever so often, you would glance at the clock and wish for it to come faster.

The bell eventually rings and most of the students crowd into the classroom into their seats. The homeroom teacher promptly follows after and puts her bag onto the front desk. But the seat to your left… was empty.

“Everyone… I have some unfortunate news to share,” she solemnly says. No, no, no… it can’t be.

Your mind goes blank as you stare at the teacher, vaguely reading her lips as one thing went in and out the other ear.

“... she unfortunately passed away. She wasn’t able to bloom.”

Your heart, already struggling to keep afloat on the last shreds of optimism, sank.

“Wha…? She’s gone?”

“That’s such a pity…”

“She was in our class? Since when?”

“Yikes, she wasn’t even able to bloom? That sucks for her, honestly.”

You stare blankly at your desk, not registering the fact that the special health ed class teacher took over the class after homeroom.

The whispers around the gossiping students only serve as a cruel reminder that late bloomers did not get any sympathy from others.

You needed to bloom, and fast.

---------

You only manage to exit out of class and find the cafeteria out of pure muscle memory, but your mind constantly goes back to yesterday evening with her. Were you the last person she got to speak with before she died? Was she scared? Did she truly die happy? You will never get to know.

You stop before the cafeteria doorway, inhaling and exhaling to bring your conscience back into the present day, and slowly stroll in. Takao and Midorima were already deep in conversation, so you stop, waiting for the perfect opportunity to join them.

“Shin-chan, have you heard?” Takao says, holding up his fork. “A student our year died from blooming.”

“It’s not in my matters to worry about, although I would like to give her family my condolences.” Midorima takes his time to cut his patty cleanly with a knife.

“It must suck though, to think this would happen… isn’t it a bit sad, Shin-chan?”

“It’s easily preventable, nanodayo.” He chews a small piece before continuing. “I would’ve never made the foolish mistake of falling in love. I’d rather be markless than fall in love.”

He would’ve never made the foolish mistake of falling in love…

He would’ve never made such a mistake…

He would’ve never fallen in love.

And certainly not with you.

Your heavy heart spikes in a pulse. Your heart was now racing for the wrong reasons. Those dull sores were now nothing compared to the incessant squeezing on your heart. And it won’t let up. You try to steady your breathing to calm yourself but your intake of air almost feels as if it’s being cut off.

You feel as if you can’t breathe.

You step back a couple steps before you dash to the nearest restroom, ignoring the stares of a few students around you.

“Speaking of the girl, wasn’t she in (y/n)-chan’s classroom? I actually haven’t seen her around today.”

“Takao, let me eat in peace.”

“Sheesh, you’re such a downer, Shin-chan.”

---------

You not being able to breathe was not just figuratively.

You ran to the restroom up on the 3rd floor, where you knew it was always mostly empty. You opened the door of the furthest stall and locked yourself in before you tried to heave whatever was blocking your airway.

1… 4… 7… 8 fern leaves—fronds—were choked out in a string of forced wheezes. They all floated seemingly innocently on the water of the toilet bowl.

Your body trembles, not able to take the sudden physical burden on it.

You should be happy, you really should. This was what you wished and prayed for all these years. But whatever you coughed out wasn’t even pretty-looking; hell, it wasn’t even a flower.

“I’d rather be markless…”

With Midorima’s words playing back to back in your head like a broken record, your lungs had the visceral reaction to gasp for more air before throwing up the rest of the leaves. It took the rest of lunch for you to stand up properly and collect yourself before you headed back to class.

You wished and you wished for your blooming to come, but now that your signs became apparent, you suddenly don’t want to bloom.

---------

Classes became harder to focus on, especially with the persistent dull stabs echoing in your heart. You feel that this pain was being constantly amplified and spread to the rest of your body.

You’re tired already, and it was only the initial stages.

School finished before you even knew it. Maybe it was because of the constant distraction your pain provided. A benefit from this new situation, if you were trying to be hopelessly optimistic, is that you wouldn’t be bored anymore at least.

You walk out of class in a slight daze, loosely scanning your surroundings until your eyes land on Takao and Midorima, although your gaze lingered on Midorima longer than you want to admit.

You hate this. The moment you figured that you fell in love with him was also the moment you learned that it was unrequited. If that wasn’t the unluckiest thing that ever happened to you, you don’t know what else is.

As you walk towards them, you toy with the idea of carrying around lucky items and taking Midorima’s advice in doing whatever you can to make your life easier (especially as of late), but you decide against it, trying not to dig your own grave by purposely doing things that reminded you of the green-haired boy even more.

“Kazu! Shintarou!” You casually wave over to them, masking the pain you felt at the sharp jabs you felt every so often in your chest.

“Oh? There you are,” Takao walks to your side to drop his arm on your shoulder. “Where you been, (y/n)-chan?”

“Been busy with… assignments and school.”

“Ah, well that can’t be helped. Speaking of busy, our captain is upping our practices, so we’re going to be gone a lot of the times.”

“No, no, don’t worry about me, just focus on basketball,” you say. “After all, that’s what you’re most passionate about. Don’t let me stop you.”

“You sure are understanding,” he laughs as he ruffles your hair. “But so—wah? Shin-chan, where are you going? Don’t leave me behind, damn it!”

Midorima won’t even speak with you…

“Seeyah! Nice seeing you!”

“Yeah… bye, Takao and… Shintarou…” By the time you spoke Midorima’s name, it barely came out as an audible whisper.

Somewhere within your heart, you hoped to be able to speak with Midorima but you wonder if he’s avoiding you on purpose.

As you walk home, alone, you think about the conversation you and Midorima had when he walked with you.

Had you misinterpreted Midorima in thinking that he wanted to bloom?

Was Midorima not the type to even want a mark?

In the end, were you just projecting your own desires and insecurities onto him?

The more you think, the more you realize how little you truly know about him. Right on cue, your windpipe constricts and spasms, signalling for you to find something to throw up in.

The nearest trash can was sufficient, and besides, no one was out in the streets to see a pitiful you hacking out with atrocious noises in an attempt to coax the leaves out. You pant in an attempt to calm your breathing, noticing the small spots of blood already staining dots on the vibrant fronds. Viscous blood mixed with your saliva hangs precariously from your lips, waiting to separate and fall into the bin with the leaves.

Your hands, grasping the trash can’s rims, shake in trying to hold your body up. And they tremble harder when you squint your eyes to start sobbing.

Your thick tears managed to fall into the bin before the ropy strands of blood dangling from your lips.

---------

You decide to spend most of your free time, at home and at school, researching about blooming beyond what your education system fed you. At school, you properly utilize the library, scouring every book on the subject you could find. But you weren’t surprised to see only books that talked about topics that were already covered in class.

Your fervid research took your mind off of Midorima, which subsequently stalled your stage of blooming.

You were going to start at the foundation of blooming: what exactly was it?

While the question is still being debated among the top scientists in the country, you took it upon yourself to try to come with an answer for yourself. For all you were concerned with, everything you thought you knew about blooming felt like an intricately-woven lie.

All the theorizing in your mind halted when you coincidentally found Midorima in one of the library sections.

“Sh-shintarou…?”

At your voice, he jumps out of his skin and then freezes. “What are you doing here?... Don’t you have practice?”

“Obviously I do, nanodayo…” he mutters, sliding his glasses up. You hate that you’ve noticed his habits even before you fell for him, but now that you did, you were even more hyper aware of everything he does. “But they insisted I rest for the actual games.”

“... while the others continue practice like normal?”

He ignores your question as he turns around to walk away. “If you don’t need me for anything else, I’ll be going.”

“W-wait!” You unconsciously grab the back of his uniform shirt. Shit.

He turns around, eyeing you and waiting what you had to say.

“Well, I… I have to go home—right now! And well, since Takao is at practice I was wondering if you—”

He frowns before calmly replying. “No.”

No?

He leaves.

You stand there completely devastated. You don’t know whether to be furious at him and hate him to get over your pain or to do nothing but collapse against the bookshelf and silently cry your heart out.

You did the latter.

---------

The more you think about your unrequited love, the faster you will bloom. The faster you overcome and mature, the faster your blooming will pass. That’s what the books say.

But if you think about them more, isn’t that just a first-row ticket to accelerating to your death? Perhaps your late classmate was right in which blooming wasn’t something to boast about.

Your eyes have been puffy for days, although you mask it quite well with skincare and a dab of concealer. Nonetheless, you still look unwell and unnaturally pale at other parts of your face.

Your other classmates don’t pay attention to you, and for once, you’re grateful that your markless status helped you in flying under everyone’s radar.

You think you’re getting delusional. To ease your own pain during class, you now make it a little hobby to come up with different scenarios in how you would be saved from this.

What if you stop coming to school for a few weeks to see if anyone notices that you went missing?

What if you collapse in the hallway while walking with your friends and then Midorima panics and confesses his undying love for you?

What if an earthquake hit the bustlings of Tokyo and you were one of the only students who couldn’t be rescued by professionals and you were trapped because of your blooming body—and then maybe perhaps Midorima—

“(y/n).”

“Y-y-yes?” You immediately stand up without missing a beat.

“Could you read the passage from lines 37 to 49?...”

“Yes!...”

This was stupid. What were you even thinking at this point?

Honestly, your best option was to do everything in your power to get over Midorima and get your long-deserved mark.

---------

It’s been a couple of days.

While you still fantasize a few “damsel in distress” scenarios sometimes, you feel numb in a good way; your body was accustomed to the dull thuds, so you don’t even feel them as much anymore, and your mind has been clearer ever since the passing of your acquaintance, but at this point, you’re more inclined to call her your friend. You still hacked up a few ferns, though.

You decide to visit her grave on the weekend, which was freshly dug and cemented; it’s been a few weeks since her passing after all. As stupid as it sounded, you got her morning glories. Her spirit might hate you for constantly reminding her the cause of her death, but it’s the only flower that truly reminds you of her, and the only flower that made such an impact on you.

You pay your respects and spend the afternoon with her, murmuring how she was right after all and now it was your turn to finally go what she went through. You also talk about how Takao was doing, and how Shūtōku was competing right now against the big schools. You affectionately rub her gravestone before you leave.

You happen to pass by the stadium of where the esteemed Winter Cup was being held. That was where your team was competing wasn’t it?

You stop, however, when you see a particular greenhead near, with an unfamiliar blonde… and a pink-haired girl, a gorgeous one at that.

Thump… thump… thump…

You were supposed to be over him. You weren’t supposed to care about his affairs. But you saw him being so casual with her while she was holding a baby husky, you suddenly felt as helpless as the you back in the cafeteria, at the doorway, when you heard what Midorima said.

You already told your late friend that you got over Midorima. The last thing you wanted to do now was to end up lying to her that you never did.

You tear your eyes away and bolt, tears blurring your vision as you run in the general direction to where you thought was your home. You hoped that your parents were still at work, because you did not have the courage to tell them that you were a disappointment because you couldn’t even do the bare minimum of blooming. And you certainly hoped her spirit wasn’t following you somehow, because you didn’t want to be the reason for her suffering again, as unreasonable as it sounded.

By the time you arrived at your gates, you couldn’t control the resurfacing of ferns from your lungs as you felt the blood spilling in bursts with the leaves, along with the loud hiccups and desperate wails that escaped from your body. You had left a visible trail of complementary colors of red and green. But you didn’t care. Guilt and rejection wracked your body to the point beyond properly functioning.

Despite the muddy colors that fill your vision, you manage to clumsily use the keys to enter into your house, but walking beyond those gates proved to be more troublesome as those muddy colors soon became even hazier and your legs wobbled weaker. You stumbled and tripped and slipped yet you made the effort to get back up again. You knew you were going to have to hide the dark bruises that formed from you constantly crashing… and probably come up with excuses if you couldn’t obscure all of them. You beg your body to make it to your room at the very least.

I’ll… just sleep it off… it’ll all be okay… I’ll wake up, and everything will just be a dream… a dream…

You collapse onto the floor of the living room, your house door still completely open from moments before.

It must be your room’s bed, right? How else would it explain why you felt so at ease right now?

You feebly choke, too lethargic to even hold up a hand to stop the contents of your blooming from spilling all over the floor.

Ah… won’t they be mad when they’d get back from home?... Maybe you should clean up your bed.

But a short nap sounds heavenly at the moment, and your body has the same idea, your heart relaxing and easing up on the painful thuds for the first time in a while.

You peacefully flutter your eyes, registering amongst the haze the brilliant shade of greens the fern exhibited, which truly reminded you of the person who ultimately could not return your love back… a true sight for sore eyes like yours.

“Sh… ta… rou…”

You vaguely felt your throat tickling from the inside before you lost complete consciousness.

The fern that represented eternal youth… new life… new beginnings… even until the end, you could not comprehend why your body decided to grow ferns.

The sight on the floor was eerily ethereal. Your face was completely serene as your lips were parted by long, elegant ferns emerging from your esophagus, watered by fresh crimson. Your body looked like it was made to be a delicate, asymmetrical vase for the newly-sprouted foliage. There was nothing but silence, save for the wall clock’s ticking that signaled your death.

---------

“Midorin? What’s wrong?” Momoi tilted her head up at Midorima, who started to palpitate. “Did the games pump you up?”

“Obviously not.” He glanced at her pointedly before he excused himself.

“H-uh? Hold up—Midorin!”

At her voice, he took longer strides to outpace, even lose, her, and he sharply made a turn to a deserted area behind the stadiums. Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe—

A cough. Two coughs. Then his floodgates bursted, with a yellow petal fluttering into his hand before he coughed up the rest of the hyacinth flower, its scent steeped in the headache-inducing odor of metal.

The yellow hyacinth… while the pink hyacinth tattooed on Takao meant playfulness, his own flower meant jealousy.

The first time he felt it was when Takao dragged you to the gym and proclaimed that he knew you better than anyone. His own heart thrashed in its place at the sight of Takao being so confident and easygoing around you. While beating Takao managed to subdue his inner pain, a seed of doubt was still inevitably planted within.

The second time he felt a stronger wave of envy was when he saw you patiently waiting for Takao to come out of his class.

The third time he felt his heart do an awful kick in his upper rib cage was when he heard you spoke so highly of Takao as he walked you home. No matter how much he tried to get close to you, he knew he could never outdo Takao socially. The fact that he could only get as close as he did to you was indirectly thanks to Takao. He was silent that evening, his mind swirling from the self-hatred and jealousy of his innate friendliness to everyone… especially you.

You both ironically envied Takao for different reasons.

As soon as he waited for you to safely enter your house, he widened his eyes as his throat started to twitch. Clasping his lucky item, he bolted to the nearest grass area outside a fence to barf up his umpteenth whole hyacinth flower, with crushed petals and stems.

That’s when he knew that not even the Oha Asa could not save him from this, not unless he took a different approach.

He hated it. He could not emphasize it any further than that. The way you allowed Takao to get so close to you, the way he saw how Takao knew what was going on inside his head. He hated yet envied his natural ability to read people.

So what did he do? He only did what he only knew how to do in social situations: walk away.

He’d never admit that he was in love. Certainly not to Takao. He’ll keep denying it to him to the bitter end. He told himself that he would show Takao someday, that he was, without a doubt, more suitable to be by your side.

He wanted to get over his love for you as soon as possible so he could adorn a flower tattoo…

If he did… would you notice him too?

Would he be a man worthy of your love?

Avoiding you broke him in many ways. Every time he did, he kept rethinking about his plan. Was this a good idea?

But being the stubborn person he was, he decided to not budge. He’d figure that the Oha Asa would give him the ultimate blessings for Cancer someday soon, and he could act accordingly then. For now, he figured he should lay low.

He’ll never breathe a word of his blooming to Takao. He didn’t want to be the next person making that same mistake as your classmate, yet here he was, a perfect example of falling for the exact same trap, despite knowing the consequences.

He couldn’t help it. Not if it was you.

Yet, Takao being the sharp point-guard that he was, noticed how Midorima had trouble keeping up during practices. Midorima didn’t know what Takao told the captain, but the next thing he knew, he wasn’t allowed to practice under the pretense of “saving his strength before the games.” As much as he wanted to argue, he couldn’t do much when the captain’s glare pierced through him, daring him to defy the captain’s order. He couldn’t even play basketball anymore in order to distract himself from thoughts of you.

As he continued to think back about all the failed interactions he tried to initiate with you, his lips leaked petal after soaked petal onto the concrete as he propped his forearms and head against the wall.

“Damn it… damn it… damn it…”

He slowly slid his down, his fisted arms and head still against the wall, until he dropped his knees onto the hard floor. He tried to regain his composure, but it was difficult with his knees mushing the bloodied flowers already on the concrete and the fresher flowers ever so continuing to fall on his lap.

He kept hacking up hyacinths blossoms, hoping he could clear his throat and stabilize his breathing again before he could go back into the stadium. Even after nonstop regurgitation, its glaring yellow color kept mocking at his macabre predicament, taunting him to try to stop the flow of its fatal petals.

He slammed his fist against the wall. He had to tough it out… how else could he ever face you?

But the strength of his wall pounding told a different story. It lacked physical strength even with his unwavering conviction. Midorima was dying. He was dying and he wasn’t even able to have a single thing in his favor.

For the first time, he cursed his fate, cursed the horoscopes, cursed astrology and all the unseen deities in the cosmos for concocting up such a horrible thing for only humans.

“... It’s really frustrating… being like this…”

Midorima gave a final, painful rasp before his body completely slumped, his raised arms going limp at his sides. His body eventually fell onto his side, unable to hold up its own weight without support.

His viscid blood slowly soaked his verdant hair, his orange jersey jacket and sweats, and his golden hyacinths. Warm colors ironically encompassed his ever-growing cold corpse, illustrating a striking yet haunting still-life painting, lying in wait for the next person to discover at the back of the stadium…

#midorima x reader #midorima shintaro #midorima shintarou #midorima shintarou x reader #midorima shintaro x reader #knb #knb x reader #knb scenarios #knb angst #kuroko no basket #takao kazunari

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broijuswannareadsmut · 3 years ago

Text

Hidan the Jashinist: A Fem!Reader x Hidan Story (3)

Summary:Hidan was out on a mission to kidnap the kage of your hidden village with his partner Deidara, you were assigned to capture him and Deidara. Unfortunately that's not how things turned out, During the battle between you and Hidan he starts to realize that he has a strong liking towards you...

Series Masterlist

🚾 :1708

Hidan, Deidara, and Y/n after the 3 hour long journey. Pain was questioning the team on why the rest of the akatsuki was forced to wait for their return. Deidara had already told Pain that that was all for Hidan to explain, Deidara left to attend to some art business. Hidan never liked to talk to the higher-ups they were always nagging him and telling him about their plans for the world's future and whatever. Although he knew he had to talk to them to try his best to let them keep the baggy-clothed kunoichi, for as long as possible. "And so yeah, I think she'd be a really good pawn for our bigger plans. You know?" Hidan shyly explained as Y/n was in his muscular arms still unconscious. Pain wasn't convinced, and the rest of the akatsuki was looking at Hidan like a lost puppy, pitying him. Kisame kindly came to Hidan's aid, him and Hidan were on mutual terms so why not?

"Okay yeah. What Hidan says or at least is trying to say is true, she could be the next best thing to try to get what we need for our goals since Deidara and him failed to get the Yukikage." Kisame suggested confidently. Hidan gave Kisame a small smirk of gratitude. Pain didn't want to continue having this conversation, and he did see how this girl could be used to their advantage in the future, they would just have to plan it out better.

"Hidan." Pain barked.

"Yeah?" Hidan sighed, giving Pain a tired glance away from Kisame.

"I've decided that what you and Kisame have said is true. That girl over there will be a good asset moving forward, although since you were obviously the one with the idea to bring her here, she'll be under your care for as long as she's with the akatsuki. Got it?" Declared Pain.

"Pfffft, okay, sure, yeah, that's easy." Chimed Hidan with a look of ease on his chiseled face.

After that discussion with the higher-ups was finished Hidan said his thanks to Kisame, and then carried Y/n in his toned arms up to his room. He knew that he was basically her new "guardian" for the time being. Although they never told Hidan on how he had to treat the h/c haired woman. Obviously she had to be in good condition if they were going to use her as ransom in the future but who knows what Hidan would do to her in the time before that happened...

-Time skip three hours-

Hidan was asleep on a rickety old chair arms crossed, while Y/n was in Hidan's unmade bed laying face up. Y/n suddenly woke up after almost 24 hours of being unconscious. Where the hell am I? She thought in a panicky voice. Did I get captured? How long have I been out?! Screamed Y/n in her head almost as though she thought others would've been able to hear her thoughts. Y/n tried to get up but quickly found that she was handcuffed to the bed's headboard. The e/c eyed girl tried lifting up her head, she turned it to the right of her to realize that the purple eyed akatsuki member was practically right in front of her!

She analyzed him a little longer and she had to admit that he really was as handsome as she thought he was during their battle. His defined jawline turned to the side allowing Y/n to get a better view. It was almost so sharp it could cut her. Y/n's eyes wandered lower onto Hidan's body and recognized that he wasn't wearing the akatsuki cloak anymore. He was wearing some navy blue sweat pants and a v-neck white t-shirt. Y/n had to look away from the akatsuki member for a moment, her thoughts were racing. She shut her eyes for a moment and quickly regained her logical thinking. Y/n couldn't resist any longer though. Her e/c eyes stayed fixed on Hidan's crotch area, Y/n unfortunately couldn't get a better look because of the troublesome handcuffs and his pesky sweatpants.

"Like what you see?" Moaned Hidan as he playfully bit his lower lip, from his sudden burst of lust he got from Y/n's wandering eyes. He had been awake for about 5 minutes. Oh the things I wanna do to this woman. He thought.

"Where am I?" Shouted Y/n after being startled by Hidan's sudden woke state.

"You're in my room." Hidan commented.

"WHY?" Roared Y/n .

"Because my team and I think you'd be a good little thing to us in our bigger plans." Snickered Hidan.

"What bigger plans? What're you guys gonna do to me? How long am I gonna-" Fumed Y/n.

"One question at a time pretty little girl, that's how a conversation works." Interjected Hidan with a slightly annoyed look.

"Don't call me that bitch, I'm gonna get out of here!" Cursed Y/n.

"LISTEN HERE YOU CUNT, YOU'RE GONNA STAY HERE FOR AS LONG AS I SAY! DON'T YOU DARE DISRESPECT ME!" Snapped Hidan. Veins were visibly popping out of his neck. This made Y/n flinch from a mix of fear and disgust. She quickly worked out that he definitely had anger issues. Y/n scoffed at Hidan.

"Huh?! Why'd you do that? Do you think this is a joke? I'll sacrifice you to Jashin in an instant, I don't care about how pretty you are whore!" Cautioned Hidan, he was beginning to get angry more than annoyed, he had to try to keep his cool.

"You're a joke that's why, I'm tied down because you're scared that I'll beat you, I probably would've captured you if your blond little partner hadn't come to rescue you, like a damsel in distress." Criticized Y/n. Pretty? Whore? Y/n kinda liked how those words came out of the purple eyed shinobi's mouth to describe her.

"OY, OY, OY! You're a pathetic excuse for a shinobi! You couldn't even finish your stupid little water jutsu!" Chortled Hidan.

"YEAH I'M AWARE DIPSHIT! BECAUSE I GOT INTERRUPTED BY YOUR COMRADE!" Reminded Y/n in a tone that sounded frustrated and annoyed (same thing basically). At this point you could see all of Hidan's little eye veins practically popping out of his sockets. He gritted his teeth together and took 3 steps closer towards Y/n. She was startled by this and tried to move away but then quickly remembered that she was handcuffed tightly to the bed's headboard.

"You see these marks on my neck?" Hidan pointed to his neck, Y/n hadn't noticed the marks until he had mentioned it. It was a light green but telling from the amount of pressure Y/n remembered putting into that jutsu, that the marks would soon turn a mix of deep violets and dark blues in a matter of days.

Hidan continued,"Yeah you gave that to me from that idiotic jutsu of yours. Now I'm going to do the same thing to you, so you know how it feels."

Y/n wasn't believing his bluff, but on the other hand he was a rogue ninja in almost everyone's bingo book, so he's done and seen some stuff so who knows what he could do to her now. "Wow purple eyes, I didn't know you knew such a big word considering your obvious level of intelligence. Idiotic huh?" Observed Y/n in a mocking mode. She didn't know why she was testing the obviously already aggravated man even further but something about this situation gave her an adrenaline rush and she wanted to see where this was going, even if it meant her getting a few bruises in the process.

Hidan at this point broke all the cool he had left and grabbed Y/n roughly by the throat. Y/n's back was arched as much as it could. The cuffs were piercing into her wrists. She couldn't feel any of it except his slightly cold hand on her smooth neck. While his hand was still on your collar he got on top of you. His knees were right beside your outer thighs. His eyes looked mysterious and unpredictable. Hidan licked his lips seductively, leaving Y/n with a knot in her stomach. Y/n lowered her eyes towards his groin, although Hidan's sweatpants were as baggy as ever she could still see it bulging out... Hidan's grip became tighter.

This caused Y/n to take her eyes from Hidan's lower area and make direct eye contact with him, he had already been giving her an intense stare for some time now, she could tell. Hidan's violet eyes and Y/n's e/c eyes were interlocked together. Neither of them dared to blink or move an inch, in fear that the other would get released from this limbo like genjutsu. Hidan was tired of waiting, his lust and aggression were increasingly growing, he had to let it out somehow. Hidan's lips got closer to Y/n's chin, he wanted to tease her slightly to see how she would react, because up until now she probably had thought that he was going to kill her. Hidan lightly kissed her chin. Y/n parted her lips slightly, she coughed up a small gasp. Her actions made Hidan more aroused, he decided that that was an invitation to go on. Hidan took his hand off her neck and instead started slowly trailing it's way to her lower stomach. Y/n whimpered. Hidan went towards her neck and started licking it, and caressing it causing Y/n to arch her back and whine.

"S- stop I- I don't even know your fucking name." Rasped Y/n. Her feelings and emotions were all in shambles, her ninja way and morals were being tested. She wanted to continue with where this was going but she wasn't sure if this was right.

Hidan looks up at the e/c eyed girl and smirked. She was skeptical, she'd definitely ask more questions, so if her knowing his name would make that pretty little mouth of hers shut up or better yet fill up anytime soon then he'd let her ask all the questions she wanted, until he got impatient of course.

"Hidan." He said calmly. The two shinobi glared at each other. How would whatever this was turn out between them in the end? Y/n thought.

"What's yours?" He asked...

#hidan smut #hidan angst #hidan fluff #naruto smut #naruto shippuden smut #naruto shippuden #akatsuki smut #akatuski #naruto angst #naruto fluff #series

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tomdiddlyumptious · 4 years ago

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Can u do Tom Holland x black model reader where tuwaine brings his friends to readers photo shoots and she wearing revealing clothes and lingerie and Tom starts to like her and admires her modeling ending in fluff or smut doesn’t matter

ROBLOX IS MAKING ME HALF-ASS I LITTERLY DONT HAVE NOTIFICATIONS ON TUMBLR ANYMORE FOR SUM REASON BUT EXCUSE MY CHILDNESS- MY BEAUTIFUL FANS COME BEFORE CLUB IRIS!

Summary: oop-

Warnings: nipples, popping out and etc- NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW YÆS

this vine has been on my mind all day AGH

youtube

Tuwaine: hi

You: do you know how awkward your already making this?

Tuwaine: how?

You: who in the hell says hi anymore

Tuwaine: well then, hello

You: alright- stop speaking

Tuwaine: I’m not speaking-

You: STOP MOVING YOUR FINGERS

Next thing you knew he was calling you, you answered. “Heyyyy” “tuwaine” you sighed, “shut up” he laughed in return “but uh- I wanted to introduce you to a friend” “you know I have work to do-“ “EXACTLY! See I will show them the work you do!” “I’m grocery shopping”

“Even better!” You laughed at his comment while you looked at the shredded cheese section. “Fine- butttttttttttt” “what?” He asked, looking at the US football while he waited for Tom and Harry to come home. “I don’t know what I’m gonna wear, I don’t need-“ “nopenopenope no boners here y/n!” “You sureeeee?” You crossed a leg over the other as you looked up at the ceiling.

“Yes” he gave a stern answer now fidgeting with his keys, “alright I’ll see you lata” “iLl C U lAta” he mocked and hung up leaving you giggling and turning off your phone, “back to shopping” you sighed, taking the cheese and dropping it in your basket.

“Yeah sure, why not?” Tom smiled, sitting down next to tuwaine. “What does she look like?” Tuwaine handed Tom his phone, and instant blush found his cheeks while he sighed and slowly scrolled through “nice...” tuwaine cringed at him “okay, enough” “what- I only looked at one!” Tuwaine snatched the phone from him and Tom only rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, looking at the TV. “Looks like someone got a little crush” “shut up you div” Tom took the pillow nearest to him and threw it at Harrison while he laughed and grabbed it.

“Uhhh-“ you distanced off as the wardrobe designer raised the clothes “the faster we do this, the faster we get out of here, work with me here” she glared at you “it’s not that- I love these but I have people coming over!” You whisper yelled, her eyes widened “why!” She whispered. “Because tuwaine wants me to meet someone-“ “who?” “Tom holland I think?!” Her mouth dropped “as in- spiderman?” “He plays spiderman?” “YES!” “I feel bad now-“ “that’s besides the point, your basically gonna be naked infront of himmm”

She winked as you shook your head aggressively at her “that’s a no no!” “You mean a yes yes, gurrlllll” “shut the fuck up tiffany” “just know that he is good lookin” you stared blankly at her while she still tried to stir things up “just give me the clothes please” she smacked her lips as she handed you the lingerie.

You sat in the chair with rollers in your hair...well not your hair, but your hair. For the makeup it was more of a soft look, baby blue covered your eyelids with clouds and cheek bones were snatched, your lips covered in a shimmery gloss.

you were in baby blue, the silky blue thong hanging on your hips, the bra was very lacy with different with patterns, the fabric see through, on your feet there is platformer white heels and on your fingers long press on white nails with blue butterflies.

“I don’t understand how you play that game” your hair dresser sighed shaking her hair as she waited for the rollers to sit. “Roblox is a really good fucking game- your just mad you have no robux” you let out a hmph as she giggled at your childish manner. “Y/n!” You heard your name being called, you looked behind you and found-

“Tuwaine!” You smiled and waved your hand, you grabbed your robe and put it on while he and his guest walked over. Tom looked around and observed the place, it was an opened windowed house, white everywhere everything clean and stuff.

tuwaine slapped toms shoulder and pointed at you, when he looked over his eyes widened as his mouth dropped slightly, he watched as if it was a movie. all slowly motion when you walked, just beautiful all over your body.

“hi tuwaine” “hey y/n, this is tom” tom continued to stare at you, to caught up in his thoughts until you waved a hand infront of his face “oh- hi!” he let out nervously, you stepped up for a hug while he raised his hand to give a handshake “oh uhhh” “yeah we can-” “nonono i will just-” he wrapped his arms around your waist and you did yours around his neck “Your more pretty in real life” you giggled at his comment and let him go, looking at his face while he admired yours, you noticed something on his face so you wiped his cheek he closed his eyes allowing it while tuwaine cringed again “i dont think im suppose to be here”

you both turn your heads around at him and tom mouthed a shut up while you only shrugged. “Y/N!” your hair dresser shouted making you jump and turn to her, she let out an innocent smile and turned the seat to you. “alright see you in a minute” you turned back to then and they waved, you turned and went back to your seat.

you walked in the room, tuwaine said he had to go use the restroom leaving tom following behind you. the room cloud themed, a very light blue sky with wide big clouds, and a huge fluffy cloud on the white table that your supposed to sit on.

“theres a chair right there” you pointed at the chair and he smiled and nodded, walking over and grabbing the chair to bring it closer.

Slow but upbeat music playing in the background as you posed, sitting down, your left leg down while the other was up, sitting up and using your left hand for strength, lips slightly opened as you stared at the camera.

Tom watched you in admiration, you did it so easy. Your body moving so soothingly and your face written with beautiful all over it, your confidence reeked from your skin and he just wanted to touch it.

“You look a bit thirsty” tuwaine said but tom didnt even notice, to blind by your curse (ew).

By time it was finished everyone got something to eat, you went to one of the empty rooms to eat because you wanted to watch love island.

“Woah your a fan of love island?” Tom murmed and you screamed turning it off “what-no! You scared the living shit out of me!” You whipped your head at him while he only chuckled and walked over, the paper plate with steak tacos and two pepsis in his other hand.

He walked over on the floor next to you and offered you one which you took. “No need to be ashamed darling, im a fan too” “favorite season?” He let out a ‘pfffft’ “season one of course” you cheered it on and agreed leaving him lauging but stopping “your...ya know is poking out” blush crawled his cheeks as you checked yourself “oh sorry” “nonono its my fault-“ “no its my bad-“ “no its mine” “no its-“

He suprised you by putting his lips on yours to stop you from talking (TaLk AbOuT cOnSeNt HoLlAnD ✋🏽🤡) when he pulled away you let out an “uhhh” and he did the same before popping the question “wanna go on a date!” “You did the steps backwards” “i didnt even have sex with you yet-“ “YET?”

#tom holland x reader #tom holland #tom holland fanfic #tom holland x black!reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland au #tom holland blurb

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alley-catz-vs-daybreakers · 4 years ago

Text

Only Fools Rush In

AC & DB drama track

Happy Birthday Gentaro! 🎉

Leading up to April 1st, a pair of Division leaders find them in a rather humorous mishap. However, due to a certain someone’s desire for inspiration, all six members are brought into the chaos. Meanwhile, the amused author looks on.

Kosuke: Yumeno-sensei? This is Furuhata Kosuke, you wanted to meet with me about a book cover?

Gentaro: Apologies, you seem to have the wrong person you see, for I am merely a poorly paid cosplayer. Meant to promote the recent book of a different author, titled “Tales of Genji.”

Kosuke: Yumeno-sensei, that is a book most know already know by name. Regardless, do you have any ideas for how you’d like for your cover to look?

Gentaro: I have no preference, though I would prefer it to an extravagant and bright one to catch eyes on the selves as it is different from my usual stories. A stand out story must have a stand out cover after all.

Kosuke: R-right. So may I see the overview to get an idea?

Gentaro: I am not yet done with that actually. Though I may give it to you in a few days. The first of April perhaps?

Kosuke: Yes. That works.

Gentaro: Also, about that cover.

Kosuke: Yes?

Gentaro: That was a lie. A simple design will do.

Kosuke: A-Ah. I see. . .

Gentaro: I will be off then. do enjoy the cake.

Kosuke: Wait what?!

Sever: Here you go sir. This was paid in advance.

[Door closes]

Gentaro: Now then, to see what unfolds.

Gentaro’s story: A young lady is to meet with her friend at a cafe when a stranger takes a seat beside her. He pretends to be her boyfriend as he claims he is being followed by numerous admirers. Along the way, they bond and find they went to the same school. Her friends however do not like him and in the end they must separate. Along the way, there are hints as to something must be off. Turns out, the man was indeed a highschool classmate whom she had a rush with, but one who was ostracized by her friends and moved away. Her visit to the cafe is for the last place she saw him, where he rejected her before he left.

Gentaro: Such an tragic tale, to feel the stings of love is truly a misfortune thing—

Emiko: There you are! Yumeno-sama! ~ ♡

Gentaro: Speaking of.

Gentaro: I know not of this Yumeno you speak of young lady. I am merely a poor, homeless young man who has spent the very last sum of his money to buy these outdated clothes and some bitter coffee.

Gentaro: Do you really not have anything better to do than disturb the unfortunate?

Emiko: Huh? Homeless? But you’re said-ooooh! You’re lying right? Sorry Yumeno-sama but cha can’t fool me! ~ ☆

Emiko: So you found me ‘cause Ramuda needed a favor right? Where is he? Is he hiding?

Gentaro: About that, Ramuda’s not here, that was a lie. I just said that to get you here. For an informant you’re not very cautious are you?

Emiko: Hey! I can be cautious! You just don’t seem suspicious. But why do you need me Yumeno-sama? Doooo you want me to find someone?

Gentaro: You’re close but not quite. I actually need you to accompany someone for awhile. They’re waiting inside for you right now. Oh and take this with you, [hands slip of paper] the table number is on the back. But do not open it until you meet him.

Emiko: An escort job? I don’t think I’ve done that before, but it sounds like fun. Okay, you can leave it to me! Bye bye Yumeno-sama! ~ ♡

[walks inside the cafe as Gentaro leaves]

Emiko: Whooooa~ It feels really homey in here, so cute!

Emiko: Hmmmm, table #6. I wonder what this guy is li—

Kosuke: ? ? ?

Emiko: ? ? ?

Emiko: Kosuke! [glomps him] Hello! What’s up! What’cha eating? Is it yummy? Can I have some!

Kosuke: Ah! Emiko-san! Um, yes, this is very good, and you can certainly have some if you’d like. [slides over plate]

Emiko: Really? Thank you! ~ ♡

Kosuke: Why are you here by the way? Do you have business with Ramuda-san?

Emiko: Well I actually owe Ramuda a favor, but I guess Yumeno-sama’s the one giving me a job today. What about you?

Kosuke: Ah! I had a meeting with Yumeno-sensei about a book cover of his. It seems that Ramuda-san recommended me to him.

Emiko: Cool cool! ~ ☆ Then that makes this way easier, ‘cause you’re actually my assignment today. Yumeno-sama said I have to escort you somewhere.

Kosuke: Escort. . .me? To where?

----------

Natsuki: I don’t get why you had to drag me along with you.

Haruto: Because an unknown number told me about where Ko-chan was and he might have a stalker.

Natsuki: This makes us the stalkers you numbnut.

Haruto: Dude, looks like he’s on a date with that cutesy Harajuku leader girl. . .

Natsuki: What?!

----------

Seiichi: Look I’m sure she’s fine. Emiko’s a tough girl, she can handle herself.

Hiroshi: That much is clear. But she’s not one to run off with a client without blabbing about it first. Plus whoever called us here clearly has ulterior motive, it could be them.

Seiichi: They did sound pretty sketchy, but it’s nothing we haven’t dealt with befo—

Seiichi: Dude, look at that window. That cafe over there!

Hiroshi: Yes, it’s just a cafe. What’s so special about—Is that her? With, Akihabara’s leader??

Seiichi: Wait is she on a date?!

----------

[they opened up Gentaro’s paper in suprise]

Emiko: . . .

Kosuke: . . .

Kosuke: . . . “Have an enjoyable date?”. . . Oh. . . This was a setup. . . What do we do?! I mean- you’re getting paid for this and I don’t want to be the reason you don’t get money but- why?! You’re like a sister!

Emiko: Eeeeeh?! A date! Like a date date! But you’re like my big brother! I don’t want you to have to pay for this. 💦 Plus I’ve never been on a date before! Ramuda are you in on this too?!

Kosuke: Ahhhhhhh. . . this is really bad! What do we do?! Does just hanging out here count?!

Emiko: I-I don’t know! Maybe! *turns beet red* U-umm. . . . . . . . . *goes quiet & looks down*

Kosuke: I’m not really the type to use swear words, but. . .

----------

Haruto: Hey, Natsu. I think Kosuke’s actually flirting with her. She’s blushing like crazy. (whistles) who knew Ko-chan could do such a thing.

Natsuki: You must be seeing things, besides, finish your food. We need to go, I don’t have all day.

——

Seiichi: Are they actually flirting?? I don’t think I’ve ever seen her that embarrassed.

Hiroshi: Hmph, together or not that fiend better not try anything.

Seiichi: Well, if this is really the client then maybe we should stay out of it.

Hiroshi: *sighs* I suppose you’re right, but I still want to know about that number—. . . Don’t look now, but do try to hold your temper.

Seiichi: Oi what temper! What are you looking at anyways? Huh? . . . It’s the other guys from Akihabara!

Hiroshi: I thought I told you to hold your temper. 💦 Now you’ve given us away.

Natsuki: Oh look, we’re just a squad of stalkers.

Haruto: Natsu! Don’t call us that!

Seiichi: He he he, stalker squad. Not bad coming from you losers!

Hiroshi: Well that’s one way to start things off. If I may add, what exactly are you two doing here.

Natsuki: My little brother got a text telling him where Kosuke was with a photo. He got scared and came over. Judging from things though, we were all just chess pieces for someone’s amusement.

Haruto: Yeah! It was a creepy message tho!

Natsuki: And I was dragged along, though I believe that if a certain someone thought things through, he could have reasoned that Kosuke is more than capable of defending himself.

Hiroshi: Hmm. Unfortunately, I’ll have to agree with you. We got a call not too long ago from an unknown saying Emiko was helping a friend. They too sent us a picture of where she was, at this very location.

Seiichi: So does that mean someone’s stalking them both? More importantly, are they really dating?!

Hiroshi: I can hardly see that as more important, but it seems we have two mysteries to solve.

Natsuki: That implies us four working together.

Haruto: Awww! Give em a little chance!

Natsuki: Don’t you dare go a tirade about going with the flow and disregarding everything else.

Haruto: I don’t do that! Much. . .

Seiichi: *whispers* Oh great, this must be my lucky day.

Hiroshi: Enough Seiichi, it appears we have no choice. However, do try to keep your brother on a short leash, boy.

Natsuki: Same goes for you old man, except this time it’s your ward.

Haruto: Geeze Natsu, you’re real riled up.

Natsuki: Oh. I’m sorry, not my fault the geezer’s insufferable.

Hiroshi: Right back at you.

Seiichi: Tch. You guys are one to talk! Especially that barking dog of yours!

Natsuki: If you want to lump us together then either stop calling me a child, or call yourself one.

Haruto: Rude! I ain’t a dog! Though they are really nice and fun to play with. . . so. . .

Hiroshi: So the little mocking bird finally speaks. Truly an incredible sight.

Seiichi: Pfffft ha ha ha! Are you really that dumb! You know I’m trashing ya right!

Natsuki: Last time I checked, it’s not me who’s constantly stuck in rut. And also, next time, try to choose a bird species that wasn’t helpful in Darwin’s theory of evolution hm?

Haruto: Hey! Aren’t you a bit too young to go trash talking everyone? Like I dunno, wait for like a competition of somethin’ I guess. Throwing hands isn’t the only way to solve your problems kid.

[cafe doors burst open]

Emiko: Wait wait please don’t fight! What’s going on out here!

Kosuke: This is in public! Please be careful!

Alley Catz: ! ! !

DayBreakers: ! ! !

Emiko: *tearing up* Why are you guys fighting about noooooow! This is embarrassing! ~

Seiichi: Not this again! 😰 P-Please don’t cry.

Hiroshi: Y-Yes, forgive the intrusion m’lady.

Kosuke: I certainly look forward to your excuse as to why you’re practically fighting on the streets.

Natsuki: . . . Haruto

Haruto: u-um... I uhh, was scared?

Emiko: What have I told you guys about starting fights? I can tell you started it too, bullies. Bleeeeeh! *sticks out tongue*

Kosuke: How does one. . .nevermind. Scared for what.

Haruto: Your safety duh! Some creep sent a pic of you and your location. And now we come to see you on a date!

Hiroshi: Right, we’re here for that very same reason. Someone called us claiming they knew where you were and we thought you might be in danger.

Seiichi: I knew you were fine but we didn’t know you were on a date with the beanpole!

Kosuke: Wait! No! It’s not a date! I was here on business!

Natsuki: Stop letting him call you a beanpole first.

Emiko: It is not a date! At least not a real one . . . *blushes* Look I’ll explain later ok! Plus, Kosuke’s not a beanpole, he’s cute just the way he is Seiichi!

Seiichi: That’s not what I meant. 💦

Kosuke: Oh! I don’t find anything offensive in that! It’s just a nickname!

Natsuki: Where’s your pride and self presevation?

Haruto: I think we all know where that is Natsu.

Natsuki + Haruto: Nonexistent.

Kosue: *blushes* (mumbles) I’m not that bad about it. . .

Emiko: *blushes* A-anyways, go home you two! Or else. . o-or else. . . Just go! And no more stalking!

-----------

Kosuke: hm? A package? Oh! The summary!

Kosuke: “Ruby Chocolate. Brought to a cafe, Aiko meets her first love on a whim, only to find their lives have been intertwined for years. However, her friends dissaproval will test their relationship.”

Kosuke: . . . Well, it is my job.

-----------

Emiko: Yay! Package for me! Wait, I didn’t order a book. Did I?

Emiko: “Ruby Chocolate” “Brought to a cafe, Aiko meets her first love on a whim, only to find their lives have been intertwined for years. However, her friends dissaproval will test their relationship.”

Emiko: Aww how cute. This is from. . . Yumeno-sama! *blushes* Wait a second he really did set us up!

-----------

Gentaro: *sipping tea* What a wonderful birthday present I have given myself.

#hypnosis mic #hypnosis mic imagines #gentaro yumeno #hypnosis mic oc #daybreakers #alley catz #kosuke furuhata #natsuki morikawa #haruto morikawa #emiko akaibara #hiroshi sakura #seiichi asagao

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leemaht · 4 years ago

Note

Hi, I'm kind of new to your blog, but I really love your writing style! If you have the time/want to, can you write hcs on how Kuroo or Nishinoya would react to their s/o coming out to them as genderfluid? Totally understand if you don't feel comfortable writing it! ❤

yes yes yes yes yes! i'm totally on it! also i'm not really an expert when it comes to gender fluid people, so i let a genderfluid friend of mine read through that and they approved. they also made some modifications. if i offended genderfluidness (?) in a way please punch me.💫

update: i went through 1,5 hours of tiktok and youtube material and asked a few friends what they think.

also thank you for joining this chaos called my blog!❤

*********************************

how they react to their s/o coming out to them as gender fluid

kuroo tetsurou, nishinoya yuu

*********************************

warnings: none

pairings: kuroo x genderfluid!reader, noya x genderfluid!reader

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

kuroo

first of all, i think this guy screams either bisexuality or pansexuality so i don't think he would care much about you gender in the first place

still you didn't tell him from the beginning because... there was no reason really. you failed to tell him in the beginning of your relationship and the longer you were together the harder it was to jump over your own shadow.

you didn't think he would care much but you were afraid he would be mad at you for not telling him in the first place.

kuroo himself suspected that something was bothering you or made you suffer but couldn't quite put his finger on it. he noticed your mood swings and that your behaviour changed sometimes from one day to the other.

your moodiness got worse with the time. some days you would be perfectly fine, happy and feel good in your skin. on other days to the contrary everybody with eyes could tell that you weren't feeling on top of yourself.

different aesthetics would clash, one day you would dress super soft, the next day tomboyish.

kuroo had asked you several times what was wrong with you and assured you that you could tell him anything, but you never felt that it was the right time

one day though

you woke up and immediately knew it was one of those days. the morning was quiet as you walked in your apartment doing different chores but still not feeling like doing anything. you ate and sat down on your sofa, hiding in the chuncky oversized hoodie you were wearing. it covered nearly your whole body. that's how you felt right now. like covering yourself.

that was when kuroo texted you, reminding you of the date you would have this afternoon. you would always be happy to see kuroo but not on days like this. today was especially bad.

so you texted kuroo, excusing yourself by saying you didn't feel well and relaxed a bit knowing that you wouldn't have to go outside today.

but

about half an hour later the door bell rang and kuroo stood in front of you with a whole bag of instant soups, one of his hoodies and wool socks he couldn't resist buying in the convenience store

'y/n, i brought everything! so you lay down and i'll just make you some soup! here take that-' he gave you the socks for you to put on.

that's when he directly looked you in the eyes

'y/n, you don't look sick? you look tired. are you sure everything is alright?' he asked, worry evident in his voice

'yeah, sure. sorry i just don't feel very well today.'

'is something bothering you?' bullseye. he knew something was the matter and it wasn't just a flew. it was something way heavier.

'you know you can tell me, right?' you turned to face him again, testing how much he meant his words by looking him deep in the eyes. you really wanted to tell him. before you could even begin, he took you by the hand and went to the sofa with you, where he sat you both down, holding both of your hands in his

'i'm here for you, y/n' that's when you walls finally broke down as you began to sob

'tetsu...' you began to whisper. 'i'm so sorry but i don't want to lose you'

he placed his hand on your shoulder 'y/n there is nothing you could do to lose me. i just want to know you are happy. that's all!' he said reassuringly

'tetsu' you breathed in heavily, closed you eyes for a second before looking at him directly through your teary eyes. 'i'm ... genderfluid.'

you waited for his reaction. anger, maybe even disgust but what came was ...

he put one hand on his belly to support his laughter 'pfffft, so what? that's what was bothering you the whole time??'

you didn't know what to say so you just looked at him in shock and confusion

it took him some time to calm down but when he did he had the most loving expression on his face

he stroked your arm with his warm hand. 'y/n, i love you for you. i don't care if you feel like a woman or a man, i wouldn't even care if you felt like a fish or something. you still are you and that's all that matters to me.'

you cried again but this time out of relief

he hugged you tightly and spoke up again. 'since when did you know?'

'a very long time now.' you managed to say between sobs

'and you thought i would leave you for this? you should know me better by now, love.'

'sorry. i just... '

'just what?'

'i didn't want to embarrass you. you know people would look at you if you walked around with a (your gender) in (opposite gender)s clothes. if you even would go out with me anymore.'

'you are an idiot to think i would care about that. i would buy you tons of different coloured dresses and suits myself. in fakt... let's do that! we could get matching outfits!!!' he said enthusiasticly making you giggle

nishinoya

i think he would care but not in a bad way. like he would be overprotective of you and always be one step ahead of you

sometimes he would go a bit far though. like his daily good morning messages

'y/n, is today a tiddie day or a non tiddie day?:3'

'NOYA!'

i feel like you would tell him either before your relationship even started or at the very beginning. he doesn't give off very judging or intermediating vibes, so it would be a bit easier to open up to him

you confessed to him on a date

the two of you went shopping together one day. not because you needed something but just for fun. you went into nearly every store in the mall, even those you had no affiliation with. you went to a sports store and tried on at least 20 different fisher hats

after you had lunch you went into different clothing stores trying to get funny matching shirts or something

but noya noticed something

you mainly wandered off to the sections of the store, not typical for your gender

he didn't think of it as much first

maybe you were looking at cozy clothes or something

but no

you went into the changing room with different styles of clothes for different genders.

all, dresses, skirts, blazers, flannels. even a suit

noya didn't know what to say or how to address this topic, so he waited

after you left the clothing store you went to a nearby cafe and had coffee. that's when he decided to ask

'so, um... what did you get?'

you listed the things you bought in pure excitement

'... and this really pretty skirt and you know what? i found this really cool suit jacket too!' you finished leaving noya speechless

you didn't even seem embarrassed about this at all, and why would you be? he thought

'noya?' you pulled him out of his daydreaming

'yeas??? yeah I'm definitely listening?'

'you seem like something is bothering you. is something the matter?' you asked rather concerned

'so ah... i noticed you in the (opposite gender) section earlier and...'

'you wanted to know what this was about.' you finished for him, smiling a little bit as he nodded vehemently

'so this is kinda a hard topic' you began. 'i'm actually genderfluid'

'oh ok!' he said a little to fast and enthusiastically

'you... don't know what that means don't you?' you giggled

'i have not the tiniest bit of a clue!' he said with the same kind of enthusiasm

so you explained and the more you talked the more he understood but at the same time got more confused asking even more questions. not to be nosy though but because he was genuinely interested.

the way you talked made him kinda happy as he had the feeling he now truly understood you for the first time.

he would praise you so much for being so brave to tell him and to live like this. he is very proud of you.

this date would continue for hours as he really liked to talk about this. there would always pop up more questions he needed answers to. but that was ok as he didn't seem any kind of uncomfortable around you but so very open minded and supportive.

so. very. supportive.

from that point on he would ask you to dress however you felt like and

i can totally imagine him researching on the internet himself and buy you lots of pride stuff online.

also i can see you two using each others closets and wearjng each others stuff regularly. i mean so regularly that you didn't even bother bringing your own change of clothes to sleepovers

#haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu!! fanfiction #haikyuu!! headcanons #haikyuu!!#haikyū!!#kuroo tetsuro x reader #haikyuu kuroo #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsurou #nishinoya yū #nishinoya x reader #hq nishinoya #noya

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sohin-ace · 5 years ago

Text

Jotaro - Lonely

This is cross-posted from Wattpad and available on AO3. This is an old work, the writing has improved ever since.

Enjoy~

The bell rang, signaling the end of morning classes. You gathered your things, and took your bento with you as you were heading out of the classroom. Some of your female classmates called out to you.

"Hey Y/N! You come eat with us?"

"Ah, not today, sorry! I'm eating with someone else." you said to your friends sheepishly.

They came closer to you to not raise their voice and attract attention to their next words, as they may provoke some crazy fangirls.

"Are you eating with Jojo again?" the first one dead panned.

"Jeez, I really don't get what you see in him. I mean he's hot, but that's it." the other added.

"Yeah, he's an asshole, and violent too, and knowing you, you wouldn't even hang with a guy like that even if he was Mr. Worldwide Handsome."

You frowned at their words. You liked these girls a lot and they usually were sweethearts, but you hated when they acted like that. Disrespectful and judgmental.

"Hey, if you hate him that's on you, but please don't disrespect him to my face..." you said softly but sternly. Seeing the upset look on your face, they felt bad.

"I'm sorry Y/N, but really, we don't understand what you like about that guy."

"We're worried about you, you know? What if he does something to you, or gets you in trouble? Did you know he sent Kowasaki-kun to the hospital?"

"And you remember how he told Sayaka-chan off when she confessed to him? She cried for weeks! No respect for women, that guy!"

You understood their concerns, but you started to get tired of all this. You turned to face them properly and snapped.

"How dare you, you don't even know him to judge, maybe if you gave him a chance and tried to actually talk to him face to face, maybe you'll know what's so good about him. He may look intimidating, but he's the nicest guy I've ever met with the purest heart, and he doesn't talk shit about people..."

The girls fell silent, guilt obvious on their faces. You continued on your rant as other students that walked by or entered the classroom, stopped to listen to the whole drama happening.

"Put yourself in his shoes for one sec. If people kept staring at me, followed me all the damn time, spread rumors about me, and started fights with me, I'd want to skip school too and not talk to anyone either. Learn to know people before you make assumptions. And stop cutting him in front of my own two eyes. You damn know he's my friend." you finished with venom in your voice.

You didn't know but this whole time, a very tall edgy boy was waiting outside the classroom, listening to the whole conversation. He had a tiny smile on his lips. He was gone before you could get out of the classroom and notice him.

As you walked away, the people who witnessed the whole scene were astonished by your rant. Some of them also felt guilty, along with your two friends. After all you were right. People kept judging Kujo Jotaro, but who could actually say they knew him? He had a reputation, yes, that's for sure, but nobody actually tried to approach him and check for themselves.

The only ones who tried were thirsty fangirls who only cared for his looks and body, and either ended up hating his harsh personnality, or just got even more turned on by getting insulted by him.

You walked up the stairs, on your way to the rooftop where your tall friend was probably waiting for you. You took a deep breath to calm down your nerves, but you couldn't help the pang of sadness in your heart.

Why were people so mean? To insult Jotaro so freely, only judging the book by its cover, and trying to get you away from him like he was the black plague or something.

As you got there and opened the heavy metal doors, you were greeted by the stone look of your lunch buddy.

"Hi Jojo!" you put on a fake smile, trying to forget the ordeal "Did you wait long? Sorry!" you stepped towards him.

He didn't say anything, just scooted a little further from where he was sitting, a silent invitation for you to sit beside him which you did.

You both opened your lunchboxes and he noticed how little you actually packed. Only some veggies and a salad.

"Vegan?" he asked with his deep voice. Startling you a bit.

"What? Ah no, I uh.. I'm trying to lose some weight haha..." you admitted blushing a little, scratching the back of your neck "It's embarassing."

"Bullshit." he commented while taking some meat from his own cutely prepared bento -bless you Holly- and giving it to you, putting it in your own box.

"Eat. I'm not dealing with your anemic ass again".

You blushed at the nice gesture as you muttered a little 'Thank you'. He actually remembered your little health condition. You only mentioned it once when you felt particularly dizzy, but he actually paid attention and cared.

That's exactly what you were talking about. If people saw this side of him, they would never even glare at him. They would know how sweet and caring he was.

You fixed your skirt after you finished eating, and stared mindlessly at his wandering blue gaze. He always seemed like he couldn't care less what other people thought of him, but you wondered how he felt deep down.

It must be so lonely, being rejected by everyone.

He noticed your staring, and looked back into your sad eyes. Before you could break contact he asked.

"What's wrong?"

You didn't want to talk about negative stuff and spoil the calm mood, so you just shrugged it off and told him it was nothing important, but he pressed further.

"Tell me what's going on." In fact, he knew exactly what happened, but he wanted you to actually tell him. See how you were going to word it.

You knew you couldn't win against him when he was like this. You let out a tiny chuckle as you gave up.

"Jojo... Don't you feel lonely sometimes?" you paused a bit to let you both think. "Even if you pull out that strong exterior, I can imagine how it must feel. People talking dirty all the time, being the center of the attention, having a bad reputation, being assaulte-"

"I'm not lonely." He cut you off as he heard enough.

"Huh?" your eyes widened in disbelief.

"I don't need anyone's validation anyway."

You still wore a painful expression on your face. It was like you were carrying all his pain for him. To be honest, you'd rather wear that burden on your shoulders than him.

"But Jojo..." your voice cracked and you stopped talking. Not trusting your voice anymore as tears welled up in your eyes.

"Yare yare daze.. Why are you the one crying?" he then wrapped his strong arm around your shoulders and pulled you against him so you could cry freely on his chest.

"Because... Because you never cry Jotaro! Are you okay?" you managed to say between sobs.

It amused him how you were the one to ask if he was okay when you were the one sobbing. He'll never admit, but he was actually grateful to have such a caring friend, that will cry in his stead and stand up for him, even if he didn't need any of that.

Also, he thought it was cute how emotional you could be just for him. Sometimes he wondered if he even deserved you.

"Stop worrying so much about me. Worry more about yourself. Good grief your empathy will kill you one day." He took out a handkerchief and proceeded to wipe your face roughly making even more of a mess, like an inexperienced dad.

"Pffft Jotarbbrrbrprpr Staapppbbrbrpbrrb pfffft" you desperatly asked him to stop since he was harshly scrubbing your face and spreading your snot and tears all over your skin.

You just grabbed his wrist and cleaned yourself properly this time, your composure returning.

"...I heard everything back there." he suddenly started after you calmed down in his arms.

"Heard what?"

"What you said about me to those girls in the classroom."

You got up from you leaning position against him and looked at his face with wide eyes. "You were there?"

He nodded, his deep blue eyes soft on your own. He was so beautiful. The more you looked at him, the more handsome he seemed. You could only reciprocate his look as you apologized.

"I'm sorry you had to hear those horrible things they said about you... They're not bad people, they just... misunderstand you."

You tried to justify your friends' behavior to reassure him, but the male didn't give two shits if your friends meant what they said or not, all he saw right now, is how pure of heart you were.

To try and make your classmates look good even when they were openly rude. The way you defended him back then, and how you defended the girls now. How you didn't see the bad in people and only highlit their qualities.

He didn't even notice that he was running his hand to the side of your head and brushing your beautiful hair. God he was so enamored with you.

Lonely? Him? How could he ever feel lonely with someone as magnificent as yourself by his side?

You grabbed his hand gently in your own small one with a soft pink hue tinting your cheeks. Words were needless. These small ministrations of love said everything for you both. Slowly you approached the hand that you were grabbing and gently placed your lips on his wrist in a angelic, feathery kiss.

He shuddered as his cheeks lit up at the pleasurable feeling. You were so cute, he couldn't help but respond by cupping your cheeks and kissing your lips in a silent confession.

If only people knew this side of him.

This was inspired by and old friend of mine. He had the reputation of a violent delinquent, and people didn't like me being around him. Even the teachers called my parents to tell me to stop hanging out with him. I tried my hardest to convince everyone that he was very kind and polite and with the nicest heart. Nobody believed me obviously. Funny thing though, my parents loved him!

#jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo #jjba #stardust crusaders #jotaro kujo #jotaro #writing #x reader #reader insert #jojo no kimyou na bouken #jojo part 3 #part 3 #jotaro x reader #jotaro kujo x reader

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songfell-ut · 5 years ago

Text

Chapter 12 does stuff

Still not to the Underground because Frisk is that lady at the office who gets everything done for everyone and then if she ever gets sick of takes a vacation everyone is like “OMFG WHERE IS SHE” amirite @lostmypotatoes

Chapter can be found here.

She had never been so tall before! She could see the top of everyone’s heads! “Look at me!” she crowed as the others came in the door.

“Hello, dear,” King Asgore said sheepishly as Toriel froze on the threshold, arms full of groceries. “Er…do you need any help?”

Frisk was standing on the King’s shoulders, clinging to his horns. “Asgoooooore,” his wife intoned, starting low and sliding up to a very warning note.

“Yes, dearest?” He beamed at her. “Do you like my new hat?”

Asriel laughed, taking the sacks from his mother’s arms to set them on the table. “I remember doing that when we were little,” he remarked.

“And I remember how your father turned his head too fast and nearly took your eye out,” retorted the Queen.

Frisk gripped the horns a little tighter, hoping Toriel wasn’t going to make her get down. “Oh, it’s fine, pumpkin,” Asgore said. Nevertheless, he tapped the human’s shoe. “Perhaps you could sit down, child. It may be—”

The moment Frisk moved her foot, it slipped. Down she went—

—into the King’s arms as he caught her, swung her around in a wide arc, and hitched her up to sit on his shoulder. “Ta-daaa!” he boomed over the child’s shrieking laughter. “You see, Tori? No problem whatsoever!”

Toriel’s face was such a picture that Asriel gave a quiet “Pfffft” and had to hurry out of the room under her glare. “Of course not,” she said tartly. “You do realize we have to give him back in one piece, don’t you, sweetie pie?” Ignoring their complaints, the Queen reached up to set Frisk on the floor. “Now, Gorey, you put these things away, and I will put Kris to bed. Say good night, my child.”

“G’night, Your Majesty,” the human said forlornly.

“Good night, little one.” Asgore’s eyes crinkled as he smiled at her. “Sleep well.”

Frisk trotted to the bedroom ahead of Toriel, bouncing a little. Even if it was bedtime, this was the best thing that had ever happened: not only did she get to spend the night here, the other humans wanted the monsters to keep thinking she was a boy, so they’d asked Toriel not to give her a bath. It was just pie, playtime, and a bed all to herself! Why couldn’t Asgore and Toriel be her real parents? Why couldn’t—

The bedroom door opened, and the dream suddenly changed. This was the right room, but it was cold and smelled dusty, as if it’d been abandoned for a long time. Asgore was standing in the middle of it, huge and silent, shoulders bowed; the King seemed older, angrier, his features drawn tight with grief. He looked up at her as if she was a stranger. His eyes shifted downward, and narrowed.

The priestess raised her hands as he gripped his trident. “Your Majesty, wait,” she tried to say, but he was slashing at her and—

Frisk woke up in her own bedroom. Muzzy with sleep, she had no idea why her blanket was so huge, or heavy, or why it smelled like leather. No matter: it felt so safe that the fear ebbed away as she lay buried in its folds, and so comfortable that she turned over and nearly went back to sleep.

The door was ajar. Smells crept in, and voices, but mostly smells. Her stomach growled, and Frisk reluctantly had to struggle her way out of the—coat? It was Sans’ new overcoat, wrapped around her several times, more like a tarp than a blanket. Her head was almost a foot away from the nearest opening, and she didn’t even know where the foot of it was. She slithered up through the neck, played with the fur around the collar for a moment, then adjusted her robe and climbed out of bed.

The voices turned out to be Sans, who was drying his face with a napkin, and Dr. Gaster, who was seated at the table in his own form, almost as eerie by daylight as he had been in her barrier’s glow. “Good morning, Your Eminence,” he said serenely.

“Good morning, Doctor,” she responded in kind. “If you’ll excuse me a moment…”

“Of course.” The monster sipped his coffee as she went to her dressing room and mostly shut the door.

Sans was tapping his phalanges on the tabletop. “So, it looks like we’re—” He broke off, looking from the undisguised skeleton to the dressing room. “Wait. What the crap?”

“The lady and I became more intimately acquainted in your absence,” said Gaster.

“Doctor,” Frisk called warningly.

Gaster chuckled. “Forgive me, my lady. I couldn’t resist. What I mean,” he said to Sans, who was fully bristling, “is that she caught me trying to steal her box the first night you were away. She trapped me until I explained myself, and I learned that when an angry High Priestess puts you inside a barrier, none of your magic is effective, especially not a human disguise.”

“You did what?!” Sans’ fist came within millimeters of the tabletop, but the dressing-room door opened, and he stopped exactly in time. He gave the table a little pat instead, dropping his hand into his lap as Frisk came to sit next to him. “Ya broke in here while I was gone?” he demanded.

“He did indeed.” Frisk glared at the doctor for a moment, then turned her attention to breakfast. “What has Sans told you, Dr. Gaster?”

“I explained our deal to him, and he has related a remarkable story about your trip to the Underground as a child.” Gaster drained his coffee and set it on a tray. “Please forgive me, but I must know: do you recall anything about the day of the accident?”

Sans sat up straighter. It obviously hadn’t occurred to him to ask her that yet; she didn’t blame him, after all the emotional turmoil of the previous night, and she couldn’t blame him for waiting so intently for her answer.

But she was finding it a little difficult to focus. It was finally sinking in that she had told Sans everything, that he knew she was Kris and had agreed to take her to the Underground. She’d really get to see everyone again, and she could talk to Asgore as an old friend; maybe the jolly King she’d known as a little girl was still in there somewhere, ready to be brought back…

Frisk finished chewing and swallowed as both skeletons waited for her response. She had to remind herself that Gaster had only agreed to help her mislead everyone – including Sans – in exchange for information, and that it was a very valid question. “I don’t know what happened, no,” she said slowly, to their disappointment. “I remember getting permission to go to Chara’s performance with Sans and Papyrus, and I know I was supposed to do something, but that was it. The next thing I knew, I was in a stagecoach, and Rosa was telling me I’d be going to school.”

Sans’ brows rose a little, and Gaster said, “A pity, but understandable. Many people who survived the event have little to no memory of it, given the amount and violence of the magic involved. Sans tells me you were brought along in the first place as a sort of test?”

Frisk made a face. “I was told that monsters were unpredictable and we needed to know how they’d behave under different circumstances, including whether they’d treat a child as well as a human would. They made me pretend to be a boy ‘for safety.’”

“Yeah, like humans treated you that fuckin’ well,” Sans muttered, ignoring Gaster’s not-very-hard smack on the head.

The High Priestess took as dignified a bite of sausage as she could. “I always had a feeling that my missing memories were linked to the Underground,” she said around it, “and now I know it for a fact. I have a more solid connection with monsters than any other human alive. If I were to go with Sans to reestablish diplomatic relations, Asgore might just hear me out. When I was there as Kris…” She swallowed around a lump in her throat. “He and Asriel played with me for hours.” Thinking of Asriel hurt too much. Frisk said, just to be saying something else, “I know he’s changed, and so have I, but...”

“Nah, ya haven’t,” Sans mumbled, making her go bright red.

Gaster glanced back and forth between them, but merely said, “Persuading King Stephin to allow it may be difficult. The last time he and King Asgore spoke, it was not on the most amiable terms.”

“So I hear.” Frisk pressed her lips together. “We need to convince him, and everyone else, that it’s necessary. Based on Sans’ knowledge of solar arrays and your own work, Doctor, how soon could you make a prototype to demonstrate to the public?”

“It depends how large and how strong a model you’d require,” admitted the doctor. “Is speed more important, or impressiveness?”

“I’d like something before we leave, please, even if it’s only large enough to power a witchlight. Now that Sans has been here for two weeks without incident, people are starting to get curious, and let’s be honest: if we can get people used to you, Sans, they can get used to any monster.” Frisk poured herself more milk. “We need to pair that with the idea that we don’t have to steal magic anymore, and it will help immensely if everyone is talking about solar power while we’re gone.”

The boss monster shrugged agreement. The priestess toyed with a fork, steeling herself. “Another thing. This sounds exploitative, but I’ve had copies made of the reports on each monster confiscated the other night. I sent them to as many different administrative offices as I could think of. Each report had my confidential seal on it, so I’m sure people have read them. I want to see if anyone is talking about it.”

The men were quiet. Sans was clearly displeased, but he was listening. “Believe me, I hate to use their suffering as a political prop. I really do,” she said, half stern and half apologetic. “But as things stand, monsters being enslaved is a fact of life to the average human. We can’t let it be an abstract concept anymore. Most people don’t know the kind of conditions monsters are kept in, and the time is right to make them care about it.”

Gaster inclined his head, and they both looked at Sans. He took such a long, deep breath that Frisk wondered how there was any air left in the room afterward. “Ya really think so?” He glanced at the royal sorcerer. “You know humans pretty well. There’s no other way ta do this?”

“Nothing as effective, long-lasting, or nonviolent, no.” Gaster leaned his head on his hand, and the extras with the pen and notepad materialized, scribbling away. Frisk wished he wouldn’t do that. “Humans do not like change, or being inconvenienced, and they cannot stand to be told they are wrong,” explained the doctor, “especially when presented with clear evidence that they have been wrong for a very long time. Letting them pretend that this is a new issue they can feel strongly about without having to do much of anything themselves…I’m afraid it is the ideal path to social change.”

“Wow. Humans suck,” Sans observed. He glanced at Frisk, who couldn’t hide her apprehension. “Don’t gimme that look, kiddo. If you ‘n the doc say it’s the best way to get monsters free, I’m not gonna fight ya.”

“Thank you,” she said simply, and his answering grumble was much quieter than usual.

“The second fortune,” Gaster mused, and they both looked askance at him. He gave her a rare smile. “You’ve chosen to set monsters free. You will have to work very hard, my dear lady, but your life will be quite interesting. May I ask how you are feeling?”

Frisk thought of Asriel again, of being taken from the Underground. She rubbed her forehead as Sans glared at the other skeleton. “It hurts very much, Doctor,” she said quietly. “I’m not going to lie. But…” She gave him a watery smile. “Once I get through this, I’ll have the other things, too, the joy and love.” Something occurred to her, and she smiled wider this time. “And my ‘innumerable’ family. I hope the monsters will fit that description.”

“Damn straight,” commented Sans, which made her flush again.

Gaster nodded, and she was almost certain that he waited for her to take a sip of milk before he asked, “Have you selected a father for your child?”

The priestess choked mid-swallow and had to push away from the table to double over, coughing, while Sans checked her for immediate danger and then snarled at Gaster, “What the hell kinda thing is that ta ask a lady, y’old perv?!”

“What indeed.” The royal sorcerer folded all of his hands, looking back and forth between the red-faced sorceress and the redder-faced skeleton. “Forgive my impertinence. I’m sure it will happen quite naturally. For now, Your Eminence, you need only concern yourself with your apprenticeship, and with furthering the cause of monster freedom.”

Frisk climbed to her feet, waving away Sans’ offer of assistance. “One moment,” she croaked. She would have loved to know what exactly he was saying to Gaster as the bathroom door closed behind her, but it was all she could do to breathe normally. What did the doctor think he was doing, besides embarrassing her and Sans most of the way to death?

“Whaddya think yer doin’?!” Sans leaned forward, but had to sit back as Gaster’s extra hands reappeared, wagging their fingers in sync. “What happened to not interferin’? It’s none’a yer damn business what she does!”

“I am acting purely to further Her Eminence’s goal of peace between the human and monster races,” Gaster lied with his stupid lying face. At least, that was what it looked like to Sans. “However strict a schedule she may be on to fulfill her maternal destiny, it would not behoove her to be encumbered too soon. You have thirteen days left of your tenure here, during which she will want to accomplish as much as possible, and after which you will hopefully be able to escort her to the Underground for a successful diplomatic mission.”

“I know that.” Sans rubbed the back of his skull. The workroom floor hadn’t been that comfortable, but it hadn’t exactly been a comfortable night, so whatever. “That doesn’t give you any right to bug her about somethin’ so personal,” he snapped.

Gaster sighed, laced his all fingers together, and pushed them outward to crack every joint at once, making the boss monster twitch. “Enough beating around the bush, Sans. Frisk is not the sort of woman who forms intimate attachments quickly or easily, and out of the very many men who would be glad to have her, she has not found one who suits her. Even without the timeline imposed by her fortune, based on what I have seen and heard, you are by far the likeliest—”

Wham.

Sans did not dent the table this time. He nearly broke it in half.

Gaster blinked at the crater in the wood surface as its dust settled. “I thought you would be at least somewhat ambivalent by this point,” the doctor remarked, and raised his voice as the bathroom door creaked: “Please give us another moment, my lady.”

The door closed. Sans flexed his hand, ignoring the splinters and bits of shattered china lodged in his metacarpals. “I was up all night thinkin’ about it,” he growled. “Doesn’t really matter how I feel, does it? Facts are facts. ’m three or four times bigger’n her, I’m a boss monster, an’ even if I never touched her, I’d ruin ‘er whole life. What would the other humans say? Ya think they’d ever listen to her again if they thought she was screwin’ around with a magic skeleton?” Snort. “Even if we could do it, ’m still basically poison. Ya know exactly what I mean.” He peeled a long curl of wood from the table’s surface. “This is all assumin’ she’d be okay with me in the first place. I mean…look at me.”

Gaster peered at Sans’ SOUL, and his expression said it all. “The darkness intertwined with your magic could potentially be damaging,” he conceded. “As we discussed, you need to decide whether it’s worth holding on to the anger dragging you down, for your sake and hers.”

“Who says I’m holdin’ on to anythin’? ‘s more like bein’ stuck in a tar pit. She’s helped me get my head out, ‘n that’s about it.” Sans jerked his thumb at the table. “Be honest. Would you wanna have a kid with someone who does stuff like this?”

The older skeleton was silent. Sans waited, half hoping he would say something witty or insightful that would solve everything, but Gaster just shook his head. “That’s what I thought. Time fer you to go,” said the boss monster.

The royal sorcerer grimaced. “Sans, please. Are you even going to try?”

The table itself started shaking, a film of red creeping over the books and dishes. Dr. Gaster stood and tugged on the chain to become human, then strode out of the room and slammed the doors behind him without another word.

Sans glared at the table. It was pretty damn broken, all right. Good job, asshole, he congratulated himself. How was Frisk going to get anything done now?

…Welp. He’d repaired the table before, hadn’t he? Why not try it again? Might as well prove to himself that he could do better for her sake, or prove to the doctor that he couldn’t—either way, he had to give it a shot.

The boss monster took a deep breath, imagined the broken wood and china all coming back together as they’d been, and flicked his left hand. His magic slowly lifted the table, pushing from beneath till its overall surface was mostly sort of level again, then straightened out the legs and settled it back to the floor.

So far, so good. Next, he smoothed the jagged, splintered ends jutting out of the crater into a nearly unbroken surface, separating the smaller pieces of wood from the broken china. With a supreme effort, he directed the wood to fill in the remaining gaps, and imagined the china re-forming into plates and cups.

To his elation, there was a flurry of movement, leaving the wooden surface scarred but whole and the dishes looking like dishes again…which, as he released the spell, tumbled apart into broken heaps, the wood poofing back out where it’d started.

He scowled and gestured again, but the same thing happened again, and again: the stuff mashed together well enough, but wouldn’t stay that way. God damn it, why wasn’t it working? Was he trying to do too much at once? No, that wasn’t the problem; he had more than enough power, and he was focusing properly. He was using the exact same magic as before, and he sure as hell intended it to work, so…did he need to get madder at himself for ruining her workspace? Or…

Sans thought it over, then got off his stool and went to rap on the bathroom door. “C’mon out, kitten,” he said. “I need a favor.”

Frisk emerged as he backed up and sat down facing the broken table. She looked at the wreckage, then at him. “Are you all right?” she asked.

“I will be in a sec. C’mere.” He extended an arm.

She was a little doubtful, but came to him readily and let him tuck her against his ribcage. “Um,” she said into his wrinkled shirt.

He stroked her hair with one phalange, focusing on her warmth, and her smell – which now included a hint of leather from his coat – and how big a pain in the ass it’d be if she had to replace the table. She was busy enough, she didn’t need this crap! Besides, what would his past self say if he knew he’d screwed things up for Kris?

Frisk turned to see what he was doing, absently twining her fingers around one of

his, and Sans suddenly knew exactly what to do. There was a boom and a crackling like wood being broken, but in reverse: her mouth hung open as the cloud of red magic dispersed, leaving the table in nearly the same shape as before, perhaps a little bent in the middle. The breakfast dishes were intact, though they looked as if someone had glued them back together in a hurry. “Ha! There we go,” Sans said triumphantly. “Good as…used. Not bad, eh?”

The priestess leaned back against his clavicle. “I suppose it’s the next best thing to not breaking it in the first place,” she murmured.

Ouch. And speaking of which… He grimaced. “Hey. Frisk?”

“Hm?” She was still holding the lowest phalange of his right forefinger, examining the relatively-smaller bones of his hand.

As always, Sans scanned her face for signs of distaste or nervousness. He never could find any, or understand why not. “Uh. I’m…’m sorry I didn’t believe you. Ya shouldn’a had to show me all that.” The boss monster played with one of her wavier locks of hair. He liked it better when she didn’t put any stuff on to straighten it. “’m sorry you spent all that time scared ta talk about it.” He exhaled, ruffling her hair. “’m sorry you were right t’be scared.”

Frisk let go of his hand. She didn’t say anything, just laid her head on his clavicle, face turned from his.

Sans sighed, and dropped his arm. “Yeah. So,” he mumbled.

She shrugged, so slight a motion that he could barely feel it. He was about to reach for her again when she stepped away. “It’s all right.” Frisk went to the repaired table and stacked up the partly-broken dishes. “I don’t know if I would believe me, either,” she said over her shoulder.

He couldn’t think of anything else to say. The silence felt…complicated. “So,” he said. “What’re we doin’ today? Ya want people ta not be scared of me. Should we go rescue kittens outta trees, maybe bring some orphans candy or somethin’?”

Frisk paused, as if shaking herself, and suddenly smiled, in a way that made him nervous. “Now that you mention it—”

It was thus his own fault that, within ten minutes, Sans found himself accompanying her back into the castle town. On their recent excursions, Sans had been using his disguise, and Frisk dressed as plainly as possible, keeping her hood up; this time, not only was she in her High Priestess gown – though she’d omitted the headdress in favor of her red-lined cloak – Sans stayed beside her as his own giant self. As far as he was concerned, the only problem was that she insisted on walking the whole way in order to be visible and gauge people’s reactions. Oh, well. At least they matched again.

Their destination today was the group home where Frisk had stayed as a very small girl. It was a long walk to the poorer part of town, but the visit itself was brief enough; they were admitted in the middle of the children’s morning break, so they had a head start to the long dining-room table before someone spotted the bakery boxes they’d picked up on their way over. Sans ended up having to lift Frisk the rest of the way before she was lost under a surging tide of greedy little hands.

Of course, the magic demonstration turned out to be the ideal icebreaker. To his disgruntlement, Sans was conscripted to make toys fly around – though he drew the line at the actual children begging to be flung across the room – while Frisk distributed the pastries they’d brought and the boss monster contemplated his life choices. He’d enjoyed playing with Kris back in the day, but he never signed up to perform for a bunch of literally snot-nosed brats!

But he had to admit that it was working: after a few minutes, only the most timid children were still hanging back, and by the time the priestess was done telling them about the different kinds of monsters she knew, almost all of the kids had crept up for a closer look. He contented himself with the fact that Frisk seemed pretty happy, though he wasn’t a big fan of how many kids were coughing on her.

In fact, some of them got a little too comfortable with him, and Frisk had to cut the visit short when they started crawling into his huge slippers and lifting his shirt to poke between his ribs. The priestess and boss monster waded out amid cries of disappointment, closing the door with some difficulty.

“Damn, that was intense,” said Sans on their walk back to the castle. “So, ya lived there till you were…?”

“Eight. Then Rosa found a job for me in the castle kitchens scrubbing pots. I’ve had better experiences.”

He thought again of Kris’ scars and protruding ribs. “Permission to go up there ‘n bust some heads?”

“Denied,” she said. “I started collecting affidavits about the old cook the moment I came back here as High Priestess, and she’s been in jail for over two years now. She won’t get out for a good while.”

Sans still would’ve liked to find the bitch and see how she liked someone bigger hurting her, but it probably wasn’t something Frisk would want to hear. Instead, he asked, “D’you always call yer mom by ‘er first name?”

Frisk returned a passerby’s smile and nod, and said, “I often have because I wasn’t very attached to her, and it turns out I was right. Rosa isn’t my mother.”

The boss monster nearly stopped in the middle of the busy street. “Say what?”

“I found out around the time I went to the Underground, so I forgot it along with everything else. It’s a long story, but the short version is that I was put in Rosa’s care when I was a baby, and she pawned me off wherever she could until my father stepped in.” Frisk smoothed her hair behind her ears as the wind whistled around them. “Rosa did check in on me periodically to be sure I was alive, which is more than I could say for anyone else before I met you all.”

Sans had to jam his hands in his pockets to keep from hugging her right there. “So…”

“My real mother is dead. I’ll tell you more later.” To his surprise, Frisk fell in step beside him and reached up, and he obligingly leaned down for her to take his elbow. He thought of Kris again as she smiled up at him. “Let’s go back now. We have a lot of work to do.”

Sans did not forget about that conversation, but he never quite managed to bring it up again: they were so busy preparing for the trip Underground that, before he knew it, only ten days remained of his visit.

For one thing, three of the mixtures he had formulated were not working much better than the control she’d set up, but one was doing well, and another was so promising that Frisk ordered more of its components and some additional seedlings. He had finalized his list of food items to bring back with them and eventually persuaded the priestess to stop buying more gifts, after the final two novels in a series Alphys had been reading and a set of children’s puzzles for Papyrus.

They didn’t really discuss what had happened the other night, but they were comfortable around each other again. At her request, they had resumed their “slumber parties,” trading jokes later into the night than they probably should have and falling asleep on opposite sides of the huge bed. Sans found he could now keep himself in check by thinking of Kris: though most of his feelings were as strong as ever, or stronger, it felt a little creepy to lust after her, which was…better, he guessed.

It also helped, in a weird way, that she tended to be upset after whatever dreams she’d been having of the Underground. Two of the past three mornings, he’d woken up with her curled up in her blanket against his side, and his SOUL had damn near melted.

Her sudden proximity could have been a problem, but on close self-examination, Sans found he’d rather punch himself in the spectral junk than take advantage of her emotional vulnerability. That was a huge relief; it meant he could turn and drape his arm over her or pet her hair in fairly good conscience. A little part of him knew that this probably wouldn’t last forever, and he’d be back in trouble once Frisk finished working through everything, but, eh. That was a later problem. Right now, things were almost perfect, and he wasn’t going to ruin it.

…Was it his imagination being mushy, or did his SOUL feel a little lighter? He never could remember to have Gaster check for him when the doctor was there.

That morning, on his tenth-to-last day in the castle, Sans didn’t wear his device when he accompanied her to matins. He’d stopped using it entirely on their trips into town or walks around the castle. Frisk used the cold as an excuse to wear her cloak outside instead of the circlet or veil; as she’d predicted, people were now curious enough to stop to speak with her and gawk at the ten-foot skeleton. Though they got their fair share of fearful whispers and angry looks, no one had the courage to say anything with Sans right there, which was good enough for Frisk.

The boss monster understood what she was doing, and tried to behave himself on these social forays, but he hated every second of it. Frisk had a knack for keeping an eye on him and walking away when he started getting agitated by too many stares or stupid questions, but he hated that she had to worry about him hating it. More than ever, he wished she’d found a smaller, cuter monster to show off.

It was also strange that, in spite of her increased accessibility, there had been no signs of anyone else plotting anything, much less attacking her. Frisk checked in regularly with the palace guards, who still hadn’t found whoever generated that huge burst of magic at the All Souls service; anyone clever enough to have planned the operation had obviously been capable of covering their tracks, a prospect that didn’t sit well with either of them.

There was, however, a single incident that nearly made it all worthwhile: one day, an elderly woman came up to tug on Sans’ trousers as they stood outside a bookstore. When he glanced down, the lady demanded up at him, “What time is it?”

Sans looked at Frisk, and at the equally nonplussed bystanders. Luckily, far over the humans’ heads, he could see a clock in the distance. “Uh…couple minutes after noon.”

The old lady frowned and nodded, as though a great truth had been revealed unto her. “I see. Yes, thank you.” She hobbled back the way she’d came, and they heard her say to no one in particular, “What a nice skeleton.”

For some reason, the way she said it was so funny that he instinctively caught Frisk’s eye and found she was trying to suppress a grin. When she motioned for him to follow her, they made it as far as a little side street before she started giggling, flapping her hand for him to take them back. It was time for lunch, but more importantly, it was time to sit down in the stairwell outside her rooms and howl with laughter for no reason that either could have explained to anyone else, except perhaps that each of them had been tense and ready to laugh at almost anything, and was glad that the other was laughing too.

As usual, every time he started to recover, she snrrked and got him going again. When the priestess had almost caught her breath, Sans retaliated with “What a nice skeleton” in his best old-lady voice and nearly killed her.

Unfortunately, it was the only bright spot in several days of not much fun. At least they were productive, especially her tactic of “accidentally” leaking the confiscation reports; on their afternoon walks, several of the people stopping them to chat specifically wanted to know if the terrible things they had heard were true, and what would happen to the monsters in question.

Frisk hid her elation that people did care enough to ask her about it, and developed a rote response that it was true, and terrible, and she would push for harsher punishments of mistreated monsters. That was when she also mentioned that the illustrious Dr. Serif was working on an alternative source of magic, and when it was perfected, monsters could be freed entirely.

That statement always got a reaction, and she was almost relieved when one person finally came right out and said, “How on earth are we supposed to get that much magic without them?” It gave her the chance to explain how the Underground used the sun’s light to generate power, and when the man smirked at such a ridiculous lie, the High Priestess had to step on Sans’ foot to keep him in check; Frisk was irritated enough herself to tell the man and the rest of their impromptu audience that Dr. Serif had been working with her emissary to prepare a public demonstration next week.

“That sounds neat. You should probably tell the doc about it,” Sans grumbled as the little crowd dispersed to spread the news.

Frisk did indeed have some explaining to do. The upper classes of the court and Church were not supposed to care about idle gossip, but by the afternoon of the following day, after their studies were done, she found she was not only obligated to lend Sans to Dr. Serif and the other sorcerers to go over their plans, but “invited” to chat with the King before dinner.

By that point, Frisk was not in the mood to dress things up. “I’m going to free the monsters we took from their owners,” she told King Stephin behind a soundproof barrier. “I will hire guards if I have to, and send Sans along regardless, but as soon as they’ve recovered enough to travel, they are going back to the Underground to stay. His Holiness can double the deposits, or jail me, for all I care. Those monsters have suffered enough.”

“My dear, that is not going to work,” the King said, just as bluntly. “Every owner in this kingdom will fear that you are plotting to take their property from them, and like it or not, monsters are still classified as such.”

“I am ‘plotting’ exactly that, Your Majesty. I’ll do it safely, peacefully, and legally, but I will do it.” When the old man looked ready to argue, she added, “I’ve learned a great deal recently about a boy named Kris who became attached to several monsters on the last visit to the Underground. A very great deal, and it’s had quite an impact on me. Do you understand, Majesty?”

The King of the human realm regarded her for almost ten full seconds. Frisk would sooner have carved her eyes out than look away first, and he eventually sighed a long, long sigh. “You wish to return, then?”

“I am going to the Underground with Sans in nine days, Your Majesty,” she informed him, “and I would much rather have your permission than not. If all goes well, I intend to stay for five to ten days before I return here.”

He gave her a sharp appraisal that she didn’t understand till he said, “Will that be enough time to prepare your apprentice to serve the Underground single-handed?”

Frisk had long since made up her mind how to “prepare” her apprentice, but she had no intention to discuss it with the King yet. “I believe so,” she replied.

He closed his eyes. “Have you heard recently from Lord Owen and his lady sister?” he asked, much too casually.

“Yes, sire,” she said calmly. “They will both be here for a visit in roughly three weeks.”

“Wonderful.” He opened his eyes and smiled at her. “I am glad you’ve made up your mind regarding these matters. May I ask—”

The High Priestess had been resisting the urge to cough for over an hour, and so it wasn’t really dishonest to interrupt him that way. The problem was that once she started, she couldn’t stop, and had to accept his injunction to go back to her rooms.

“I knew it” was the first thing out of Sans’ mouth when he got back. She was in bed, in her nightgown and robe, huddled under the covers with the fireplace lit. “Told ya those little pukes were gonna get ya sick.”

Frisk gave him the stink-eye, coughing for emphasis. His expression softened at the sound. “Okay, okay. Can I getcha anythin’?”

“Sleep,” she croaked.

Sans couldn’t do that, but he could and did tell the guards that Her Eminence needed to be left alone because she’d caught some kind of crud. When he went back into the bedroom, she was already dozing. Good—maybe she’d be having better dreams soon.

One week left.

Frisk had slept through the previous day – guarded from interruption by her massive apprentice – and part of this one, waking up to eat dinner in bed. Afterward, she was busy catching up on mail, including a reply from the Owens’ land broker.

As High Priestess, her wealth was such that the broker was happy to offer her only ten percent down, with interest much higher than Frisk intended to pay. The priestess had to write three replies for that one: an answer referring the broker to the real estate agent who would negotiate the rest of the transaction on her behalf, a letter informing her agent that he was about to get a very large commission, and a note to Lord Owen updating him on the whole business and greeting his family. She might be planning to reject him in the most overt way possible and embarrass him in front of the entire kingdom, but that was no reason to be impolite, was it?

Sans was stretched out on the other side of the bed, eyes closed. It was easier to let him stay there than trying to make him work and having him stick his head in the door every ten minutes to fret about whether she was still alive. “Tell me again why ya won’t get a secretary,” he said as she massaged her hand.

“I told you, I don’t trust anyone with all this.” Frisk patted the mattress between them, which was his cue to wriggle a finger and waft her cup of tea over from the side table. She took a sip, murmured her thanks, and let him put it back without opening his eyes. “I wish I could do that,” she remarked, putting the three envelopes aside. “There we are. I’m feeling much better, Sans. Will you please let me get up now?”

Several minutes of negotiation later, with the massive skeleton hovering as though she was seventy years old, Frisk was out in the workroom to check the seedlings’ progress. “This is amazing,” she said, looking over the three tiny plants growing from his latest mixture. “If you keep this up, we could think about converting some of your existing cropland to pasture and eventually getting some sheep. You could probably also use some chickens, couldn’t you?”

“Yeah, we ate all ours a few years back. Tori would love to have some more,” Sans remarked. “Meat, eggs, and somethin’ ta fuss over.”

Frisk smiled a little. She’d avoided asking too many questions about her old friends, as it was clear the news was largely not good. She glanced around, and Sans proffered her tea, unasked. “You know…” This took some courage, but it was such an obvious thing, and they hadn’t discussed it: “We don’t have to leave in exactly seven more days.” She checked her calendar. “It’ll be four more days till they demonstrate your prototype. I’d like to be there for that, and I haven’t had a chance to talk with His Majesty again, and I’d like to have a letter from him or something official to give to Asgore so he doesn’t have to take my word for—”

Sans chuckled. That rumbling sound had always raised the hairs on the back of her neck, but lately, it did it in a good way. “Stop babblin’, kitten. D’ya want me ta stay longer?”

Her hands trembled as she set the cup down. “If…” The priestess swallowed. “If we leave a couple of days sooner, I could stay in the Underground longer, assuming everyone would be all right with it.”

The skeleton scowled at her. “Why the crap wouldn’t they be? Are ya scared they’ll be like, ‘Yeah, we loved you as a kid, now go to hell?’”

Frisk’s fidgety silence said it all. Sans drew a deep breath, but saw her flinch, and released it slowly. “Okay,” he said, as calmly as he could. “I know ya haven’t had a lotta luck with people, but this’s different. I’m not sayin’ there won’t be any problems with anyone, ‘specially the ones who didn’t know ya that well. Some of us might be dicks about it an’ not believe ya right at first. But…” He also fidgeted, various colors sweeping over his skull. “Ya look different, ‘n that’s it. We all liked ya ‘cause you’re…you. Hasn’t changed.” Fidget. Scowl. “If anyone tells ya to get lost, I’ll—” He caught her expression and said with fake cheer, “—give them a biiiig hug and tell ‘em ta be nice.”

“Excellent. Thank you.” Frisk took his hand, or at least a couple of his fingers. “Really, thank you,” she said, softer. “I hope you’re right.”

His fingers closed around hers. The bones were always warmer than she expected, no matter how many times she touched them. “Let’s try this,” he said quietly. “Take off the barrier when we go t’sleep and lemme see if I can reach Papyrus. It might work better to have him spread the word first that Kris is comin’ back with Sans in a few days, as opposed t’just showin’ up as a total surprise.”

The priestess couldn’t help smiling self-consciously. “I’d like to surprise everyone,” she confessed, and he chuckled again. “But I know it might not be the best option. Honestly, it depends how everyone there is feeling about humans after Snowdrake returned safely.”

“Yeah…traumatized an’ thinkin’ someone workin’ for ya was strong enough ta steal my magic,” said the skeleton. He squeezed her hand very gently and let go. “But he might also have spread the word that yer the one who set ‘im loose. We’ve gotta talk to Pap ‘n find out.”

Frisk thought about it, and the prospect of removing the barrier did not appeal to her whatsoever. The demon-child hadn’t showed up again for either of them, even when she’d left the barrier down and Sans had spent two nights outside it; she knew better than to assume it had gone away entirely, so where was it?

…But it did make sense to try to contact Papyrus, and she didn’t have any better ideas. “All right,” she said, and coughed into the bend of her elbow. “I’m going to take it down now and get back to sleep. Will you be in soon?”

“Sure.” Sans gave her a little salute. “Night, kitten. Get better so I don’t hafta listen to er hackin’ anymore.”

That nickname should’ve annoyed her, but Frisk liked it better each time. The inner glow lasted until she was in bed and had to remove the barrier, which she found she did not want to do. Maybe it would be all right; maybe the child was busy wreaking havoc somewhere else tonight and wouldn’t check her room? It…could be all right. There was only one way to find out, she told herself, not believing a word of it.

It was the same dream as before, but more intense: her husband crept into bed and tricked her into turning over so that he could roll her onto her back and slip his hands under her nightshirt. When she tried to mumble in self-defense, his mouth was suddenly against her lips; he tangled his fingers through hers, his slight weight pressing her into the mattress as he pulled the nightshirt up over her ribs.

A tiny pause, waiting to see if she’d stop him. She sighed, then relaxed as his head dipped to lick her neck, fingers winding in her hair to pull her chin up and nip at her throat. His other hand trailed down her side to her hip; he made an approving noise as he encountered bare skin.

Her underwear was missing solely because she’d forgotten to put a second load in the dryer that afternoon, but she wasn’t going to tell him that, especially now that his mouth had moved up to her cheek, then back to her lips. Her arms circled his shoulders as he began to kiss her in earnest, their teeth clicking gently, though he always led with his tongue to avoid biting her.

She’d long since stopped thinking about how weird it was to make out with a skeleton, and she never got tired of his bones’ smooth texture against her skin, or of feeling him shudder as she ran her hands over his skull. He pulled his head away, panting, and sat up to move his shorts aside—she’d told him several times to just leave them off in bed, but he was still curiously shy about letting her see him without clothes, especially when he had what they called his “extras” out.

Usually, by this point, he would have attended to her for a few minutes – or more! – to be sure she was ready, but this time, he clearly couldn’t wait. Well, that was fine. She was more than happy to let him hook his forearms under her knees and lean forward; he wasn’t that much shorter than she was, but it was the best way to—

Something was wrong, something much worse than sexual frustration or an intruder in her office.

She was still dreaming, but in a too-real way that she instantly recognized. Frisk was back in the castle, standing beside the huge bed, with her own Sans sitting squarely in the middle of the mattress; his head was in his hands, his whole body hunched up and shaking. Frisk tried to ask him what was wrong, but the words died as she spotted the thing standing over him—it was the child, the demon from the other world.

The child didn’t have its knife out, but it didn’t need to. It was smiling in vile satisfaction as Sans’ shoulders shook. Her stomach clenched as she saw red droplets trickling over the bones of his hands and wrists. “What did you do to him?” Frisk snarled. The air surged as she raised a hand, golden sparks flying. “Get out of here before I put a barrier around this whole damned kingdom! You know I could!”

The child stopped smiling and looked at her. For the first time, it spoke: “Ask him what he could do to you.”

Its voice felt like a nail being dragged down her eardrum. Sans must have heard it, too, because he curled in on himself harder, and Frisk’s heart broke into a few more pieces. That little—why wouldn’t it leave him alone?!

Frisk gathered all of her willpower and gave a sharp, high whistle, snapping the barrier back into place and jerking herself and Sans awake. She sat bolt upright and glanced around in the dimness, throat itching and adrenaline pumping, only to see that it was early morning and the child was gone.

The priestess coughed. With a sigh of relief, she climbed over the foot of the bed to tap the witchlight on, then turned to say, “Are you all right, S—”

Dear Lord. Frisk had assumed the blood was part of Sans’ nightmare, but to her horror, he was sitting up again and staring down at his hands, which were absolutely coated in dark, slick red. Fresh crimson drops were still sliding down his face, splashing onto his metacarpals and dripping through the gaps to soak into the mattress. “Sans!” she cried. The priestess gathered up her robe and leapt onto the bed, kneeling beside him. “What in God’s name happened? Where are you hurt?”

To her bewilderment, the enormous skeleton shook his head and waved her off. “Go ‘way,” he moaned.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she snapped. “Whatever happened, whatever it told you, it wasn’t real!” The young woman tried to peer into his face, but he turned away. “Sans, look at me!”

He shook his head harder and tried to shuffle away from her, his arm coming up to scrub his sockets with his sleeve and smear more red across his brow. It finally hit her that he wasn’t injured, he was crying—

It was all Frisk could do not to break down, too. Why had she ever agreed to take down the barrier? But much more importantly, why wouldn’t the child leave him alone? Why did Sans have to be so miserable? She could remember standing by his house in Snowdin as a child, holding his hand and smiling up at him, sensing how unhappy he was behind his lackadaisical exterior and how hard he was working to hide it. He hadn’t deserved to feel that way back then, and he didn’t need a demon to help him torment himself now!

Where had that misery even come from? Was it from witnessing the child’s genocide in his own world? From what Gaster had said, that sense of powerlessness and futility was still echoing somewhere in the back of his mind, waiting to resurface in his nightmares. And what about becoming a boss monster, knowing he no longer fit in with the other monsters – literally – and would live forever as a complete anomaly? Or his efforts to keep his brother happy by absorbing the Underground’s distilled misery, working it out the only way he knew how, till he believed that darkness and violence were naturals part of himself—when was it all going to stop?

Sans jumped as the priestess stood up and grabbed the back of his head, tipping him forward till his forehead was resting on her sternum. “Stop,” he muttered into the thick folds of her robe, trying to pull away.

Frisk’s arms shifted. They could barely fit around his skull, but she had a strong enough hold that he’d have to hurt her to get free. Sans shook his head, carrying her back and forth. “Would ya fuckin’ stop already?” he demanded, more desperate than angry.

“Why,” she said, more of a statement than a question.

No answer. Frisk drew breath to hum at him, but he shook his head again so violently that she almost fell over. “Don’t pull that crap on me now! Quit wastin’ yer damn magic and go away!”

What in the world? “All right, and no,” she retorted.

He growled, but for all his vehemence, he hadn’t so much as raised his arms. His next attempt to dislodge her was so half-hearted that Frisk barely moved. She didn’t need to make any sounds beside the steady, thrumming rhythm of her heartbeat; as she held on, his breathing started to slow down, and he was soon resting so heavily against her that she had to brace herself to hold him up. “We’re both fine,” the priestess said over his head. “All right?”

Sans nodded faintly. One arm looped around her, and most of his palm rested on her back. She felt more red soaking into her robe as she let him nuzzle the downy material over her heart, or SOUL, as he’d call it. It was more than a bit embarrassing to have his face right there, but he’d been through so much that this seemed like the very least she could do.

Besides, said a wry, far-off corner of her mind, if I’m going to conceive in the next month or two at the latest, this will be the least of my worries.

Dirt. Now it was impossible not to think of her twice-interrupted dream with a Sans much closer to her size, and impossible to ignore the question of whether her larger, angrier skeleton had enough magic – and creativity – to love a human without hurting her, physically speaking. Being determined to find out didn’t make her any less apprehensive about it.

Then there was the question she was afraid to even look at too closely: if a boss monster was able to give her his magic the way a regular skeleton apparently could, did she have enough magic – and determination – to give him a child and some semblance of a happy or normal life?

“’m fine now,” Sans eventually mumbled. “Leggo.”

Frisk made a disbelieving noise. “’m fine,” the skeleton said stubbornly.

“Mm-hmm.” Frisk let go and reached behind her to take his stained hand. “Come here.”

Sans obediently got up and followed her into the bathroom, wiping his eyes again as he sat down where she pointed. She washed her hands, then moved aside for him to wash his; as always, it took forever because his hands were too big for the sink, forcing him to work in sections. Once he’d gotten the majority of the red off, Frisk grabbed a black washcloth and some soap to help work the last bits out of the gaps in his metacarpals. Strange: they’d spent enough time together to be used to platonic physical contact, but it felt so intimate for him to let her touch him between the bones of his hands that she didn’t know what to do with herself.

When those were done, Frisk rinsed the washcloth out, patted her face to cool it, and had him sit down again. He held still as she started cleaning off the blood – or tears, or whatever it was, exactly – but he wouldn’t look her in the eye. A little more red oozed from the corner of one socket as she worked, and without thinking, Frisk placed her palm high on his cheekbone to wipe it off with her thumb. “What happened?” she asked softly.

Sans looked at the floor, then at her, reaching up. For a second, she thought he was going to push her hand away; instead, he curled his forefinger around her wrist and turned her palm over, looking at it as though he’d never seen a human this close before. “I couldn’t find Pap,” he mumbled. “Had a dream where…” His entire skull turned a spectrum of colors again, and he released her, closing his eyes as she eased the cloth around the edges of his sockets. “…stuff happened, then I thought I was awake, and…” He shivered, hunching his shoulders again. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“That’s fine,” she assured him, turning to wring out the washcloth and dab more soap on it, wondering what exactly he’d seen. Her heart was starting to feel quivery again. “Look up, please,” she said, trying to feel maternal.

The skeleton remained docile through several more scrubbings and a final once-over. He had recovered enough by now to towel himself dry, but as he handed it back, he absently wiped his face one more time on his sleeve. “Sans,” she scolded him, pointing in the mirror to yet another red streak on his jaw, this one transferred from his shirt. Frisk picked up the washcloth with a sigh. “We’re going to have to send that to the laundry.” She swiped the last bit off. “I won’t blame you for getting upset after whatever that thing did to you, but…”

“I wasn’t—” There was a slightly stupid pause as he tried to formulate a denial of having been upset. She just looked at him, and he switched tactics, protesting, “Hey, you got messy, too. ’s yer own fault. Next time, don’ grab me like that.”

Frisk wouldn’t dignify that with a response, though he was correct that her robe had dark splotches on the front and back. As Sans poked at his sleeves to check if they really had to be washed, the priestess leaned toward the mirror and opened her robe, seeing where his tears had soaked through and left rusty spots on her cleavage. “Dirt. You’re right, I need a bath.” The young woman sighed and rubbed her eyes, unaware that Sans had looked up, or that his entire world had instantly become fixated on the front of her robe. “Maybe after breakfast.”

Sans didn’t answer, but the silence felt different this time. Frisk stopped as she heard how heavily he was breathing. Funny, she remembered that sound from…from her dream. She swallowed hard, and without thinking, she turned to face him.

Sans moved very deliberately, kneeling in front of the priestess with his arms outstretched on either side of the sink and his face looming above hers. His mouth hung slightly open, eyes burning, breath hitting her like steam. When she tried to speak, he leaned closer. “Don’t move,” he rasped in her ear.

“Okay,” said Frisk, sounding much calmer than she felt. Despite his injunction, she glanced down and realized she’d forgotten to cover herself.

Damn, damn, damn! She’d never heard him like this before! What was wrong with—

Frisk stopped and gave herself a mental smack in the face, because she knew exactly what was wrong with him. “Sans, please,” she said, hoping he couldn’t hear her heart pounding.

A soft growl. “Seriously, Frisk. ‘m tryin’ not ta lose it here. Just…just gimme a minute.”

The young woman nodded. Should she try to calm him down, or put him to sleep? Whistling usually worked fast. She swallowed again, and licked her lips.

Wrong move: Sans leaned down and nudged her hard with his cheek. “Hey.” His voice gave her chills, mostly not good ones. “Ya do that again, and…” He inhaled so hard that she felt a rush of cold against her scalp. She tried not to wince or make a sound as he exhaled. “I already said no more noises. ‘Kay? They’re not gonna work on me right now,” he warned.

Think. Think, think. He was playing with her hair, one phalange trailing down her neck to her collarbone and her partly open robe. And a small part of her, an urge that steadily grew as his breath washed over her and his fingers brushed her cheek, actually wondered what would happen if she didn’t stop him. Hadn’t she wanted this for a long time, no matter how much she enjoyed his friendship?

No. Not like this, pinned against the bathroom sink, with him so worked up that one slip of his hand or teeth could do irreparable damage. “Sans,” Frisk said, loud enough to divert his attention. “I have two things to say. Can you listen to me for fifteen seconds?”

“…Good question.”

At least his hand had stopped moving. Before it could start again, Frisk said, “The first thing is that you have to stop. I am not ready for this, Sans, and neither are you. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

He was shaking again, the bones of his wrist rattling against the sink. She didn’t know whether to let him speak or keep him distracted, and quickly chose the latter: “The second thing is…why did the monster eat the tightrope walker?”

The trembling stopped. “Hm?” Sans paused, and she prayed that it’d be enough to shift his mental gears. “I…I dunno. Why?”

“Because,” Frisk said, “he wanted to have a balanced meal.”

Pause. “Heh,” Sans mumbled. “I thought it was ‘cause he wanted ta learn the ropes.”

He wasn’t moving. It hadn’t worked. Think think— “Come on,” she said, trying to sound old. “Be a nice skeleton.”

“…That.” Sans made a slight sound, and she almost wept with relief as his shoulders twitched. “That…” He started snickering, and put a hand to his forehead, allowing her to scramble away, yanking her robe shut. “Oh, man!” The skeleton leaned against the wall. “Why the hell—”

Frisk managed a smile. He glanced at her in the mirror, sobering. “Goddammit. …Sorry. I mean, dirt.” Sans got up and moved back against the wall. “Want me ta go away forever?” he asked, not very jokingly.

She shook her head. “No, but I think we’re long overdue for a talk about this.”

He flinched as though she’d poked him in the eye socket. Frisk waited for him to say something, anything, only to be interrupted by a knock on the outside doors.

Goddammit, indeed. The priestess allowed him to go welcome the distraction while she retrieved the washcloth to scrub the nearly-dry gunk off her breasts, thence to her dressing room to change into the most boring dress she owned and think things over.

On sober reflection, she mostly couldn’t believe that she’d been so determined to stay so stupid. Gaster had said to her face, under a truth spell, that Sans was “deeply in love” with her, direct quote. And what did she do? She’d actually checked a magic textbook to see if he could’ve possibly meant something else! How idiotic was she? Lust and love were not the same thing, but she knew Sans, and he wouldn’t be feeling one without the other. If both were in play now thanks to heightened emotions from those dreams, and then seeing her robe open…

Damnation. Now all she could think about was how she’d shown her scars the other night and let him touch her, and—oh, God, what about the time she lured him into the bathroom? The sleepovers? Dragging him along to tea and making him watch Luke flirt with her? The full-body hugs? If he’d actually felt this way the whole time, or even just part of it, what had she been doing to him?

Even worse was the realization that she hadn’t really believed it, and yet was operating on the half-conscious assumption that he was hers if she wanted him—stupid and presumptuous, not a good combination.

Well, no more. It was time to stop pretending her hopes for him were just going to work themselves out at some point, and to stop wasting her energy on endless what-ifs about physical or magical possibilities. None of it meant anything until she actually talked to him.

…At least she understood another aspect of her fortune now. She doubted if Sans knew that it was a crime for a human to have physical relations of any kind with a monster—Gaster might not even know. It very rarely came up, as monsters were primarily viewed as utilities, but miscegenation was a serious offense. It had been easy to avoid thinking about it or dismiss it as something she could get around via political influence, but going forward, she had to be realistic.

So. Realistically speaking, her good reputation – and Sans being a skeleton – had protected her from any real suspicion, but if he did somehow become her child’s father, she had no intention of trying to hide their relationship. Not only would she be unable to legally marry him, she’d have to call in some very sizable favors to avoid prison time or worse. Who knew? Maybe that was how she could get out of being High Priestess…

She was still deep in thought when she left the safety of her dressing room, not looking at Sans, who was devouring his breakfast as fast as he could. She decided to let him finish while she went through her morning mail, a task so boring that it was guaranteed to calm her down.

The skeleton gulped down the rest of his food in record time, but couldn’t help peeking at her as he got up, trying to gauge her mood. Nope, she didn’t look mad, so—

He stopped, looked again, and frowned. Her expression was utterly blank, her hands gripping the paper so hard that the edges were digging into her skin. “Hey, hey,” Sans chided her, taking the note and setting it down on the table. “What’s wrong?”

He could barely hear her response: “We’re leaving.”

Blink. “Wha?”

Frisk didn’t move, except to stab a finger at the note. Sans picked it back up and felt his brows rise as he read aloud, “‘Greetings. His Grace the blah blah Duke Archibald blah blah Duke Archiblah requests the assistance of the exalted Thea in arbitrating the matter of eight monsters to be placed with new owners in—’ What the fuck does he mean, ‘new owners’?! I thought you—”

“I did!” Frisk’s face was white. “I can’t believe it. He’s doing this on purpose! He…”

Sans stared at the Duke’s crest on the little square of paper. “Yer dad?” he muttered.

“He knows, and I know that I did everything exactly right, and he still—” The High Priestess didn’t brush a tear away so much as slap it off her face. Sans watched helplessly as she closed her eyes and got her breathing under control. “Start packing, Sans. We’re leaving tomorrow morning,” she said, very cold and precise. “We’re going to bring those monsters back to the Underground ourselves, and I will stay for ten days as their first official human visitor in thirteen years, and if my father doesn’t like it, I will cordially invite him to go fuck himself. He’s certainly had enough practice.”

The boss monster’s jaw hung open. “I—”

“We’ll pack up everything today and commandeer two wagons tomorrow morning. I’ll take the monsters and say they’re going to my house in Riverside. We can stop there overnight.” She took the note back and began crumpling it into a tiny ball. “We are not going to tell anyone anything before we leave, including Dr. Gaster. If anyone else tries to tell me what I can’t do…” The High Priestess unfolded the ball and ripped it into halves, quarters, and tiny shreds before scattering the pieces.

Thus began one of the most hectic, stressful, yet anticlimatic days he’d ever had. Plans were discussed, or dictated to him; many many items were put into boxes or bags; and the little mental counter he’d had going of his days remaining in the castle was tossed out the mental window. He should’ve been glad that he was going to get her to the Underground so much sooner than expected, or at least somewhat grateful that the note had completely overshadowed the morning’s events, but frankly, he didn’t have the time.

…Until now, right after dinner, when they finished wrapping the last of the empty glass vials in some of the furs for Mettaton and stuffed it into the last empty satchel. Frisk glanced at him and bit her lip, and before she even spoke, Sans hopped up and retreated to the bedroom.

Sure as Fate, Frisk got up, too, and she followed him in before he could shut the door. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, staring at the rust-brown spots on the white sheets. “I hope they can get those out,” he mumbled.

“Sit down,” she said.

Sans turned to stare at her. “What—”

“Sit down, Sans.”

Something in her tone sent prickles up his spine and down his limbs. He shifted his weight, avoiding her gaze. “I think I’ll sleep out there. We’ve got a hell of a lot of—”

“Sit down on the floor right now.”

Her voice was low and perfectly gentle, but it made him fold his legs and settle his coccyx on the floor, and all he wanted was to leave the room. “Frisk,” he pleaded.

“Keep your hands where they are.” The boss monster shut his eyes as she came close enough for him to feel her body heat and smell the wine she’d had after dinner. It hadn’t been that much, had it?

Now her arms were around his shoulders, hanging most of her weight and all of her softness against him like a necklace. Sans went rigid, his breath coming quick and harsh. Not again!

Frisk rested her head on his jawbone. “What did you dream about, Sans?”

Whatever she was doing, he couldn’t move, and he couldn’t lie to her. “I…was the way I used ta be, my old size. I was gettin’ in bed with you, and ya let me…” What the hell was she doing to him? “…ya let me do everythin’ I wanted. Then I woke up, ‘n you were dead. I bit yer neck clean through, you were all twisted up, blood everywhere—”

“It was a lie, Sans. You didn’t kill me.”

“‘Course it was a lie! It was a fuckin’ dream!” He laughed shakily. “Pun intended, I guess. Point is—”

“The second part was a lie. The first part really happened, just not here or now.”

Sans snorted. “I don’ even know what that means. It was just a dream, Frisk. Hate ta break it to you, but they’ve got lotsa stuff in ‘em that doesn’t actually happen.”

“Really. Like this?” She ran her hands over her skull, and Sans’ whole body shuddered. Her voice dropped. “Should I demonstrate anything else we did?”

He was panting again, jaws hanging slightly open. If she wanted to talk about this— “D’you know what’d happen if I fucked you for real?” he snarled, and it was her turn to flinch. “Even if I squashed myself down to my human size, an’ I made sure everything else fit,” he said scathingly, “’m not a human, an’ I’d still be pumpin’ ya full of magic. And guess what? I’ve been stewin’ in all this hate and the shit I absorbed from the Underground over…what, ten, twelve years?” He snorted. “Ya still won’t let me infuse anything ‘cause my magic sucks. Givin’ it to you would be the same thing, but a million times worse.” His hands flexed inside his pockets. It was almost a relief to be getting all of this out…almost. “Yer magic’s pretty damn strong, ‘specially for a human, an’ you could maybe handle a little of mine, but I’m a boss monster, remember? I dunno exactly how high my power’s scaled up compared to a regular monster, but it’s way the hell too much. I’d kill ya one way or another.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” the priestess said. “I’m going to have a child by next All Souls Day and bring it to the festival, remember? I can’t do that if I’m dead.” Something very soft brushed the side of his head. “I understand what you’re saying, and I know you’re worried about me. But it’s not impossible. Gaster said you’ve been sloughing off whatever’s built up around your SOUL. You can do it, Sans.” The soft touch was her hand; she was petting him like…not like a dog, more like a mother with an upset child.

…Right. That was how she’d pacified him the very first time they met, when he was going to obliterate her and steal her SOUL. She’d petted his blaster until he just stopped being angry. Fucking hell, what if he’d really done it?

Just like before, he couldn’t dwell on it, couldn’t stay mad. He hadn’t blasted her. She was fine. Sans breathed in, and out. He felt her shifting along his ribs, and his mind jumped back to what he’d seen in the mirror when she forgot to close the robe. She could’ve obliterated him with a barrier at that range, but she never did what any sane woman would do. Telling him that joke about the tightrope walker, saying they weren’t ready yet—

Click, click, click. Sans could actually feel things settling into place, realization crashing through the wall of anger and self-pity. “We’re not ready yet? Meaning…”

If that seemed to come out of nowhere, Frisk didn’t show it. “No, we’re not. At the very least, I want to be back safe in the Underground and have things straightened out with Asgore before I think about that,” she said. “And you need to practice…sizing.” Squirm. “But mostly, stop hating yourself so much. Please.”

A long pause, and one bewildered, honest question: “Why?”

Frisk sighed in patient exasperation. “Think about it,” she said into what would’ve been a human ear. “Meanwhile, you’re right. We need to get some sleep.”

“Seriously?!” Sans struggled to get his hands out of his pockets as she stepped away. “Ya can’t say all that an’ expect me to just—”

Frisk was back in front of him, and before he could blink, her hand went to the side of his face, resting on his cheekbone. “I know that was a lot to take in, but the point is that I want to help you, Sans,” she said. “Right now, that means sleep. Can I sing something for you?”

The last of Sans’ resistance crumbled as he placed his massive hand on hers, trapping it against his cheek. She’d won. If she wanted him to think he was great and not a giant, psychotic, poisonous piece of shit, he’d do it. If she wanted to wait till they were Underground and then let him have her, he wasn’t going to argue anymore. If she wanted him to tear his own head off and eat it…

Frisk indicated the bed with a motion of her head. As he stretched out and closed his eyes, still disbelieving, she cleared her throat. Out came that glorious sound he remembered, the same song: “May all your dreams be sweet tonight, safe upon your bed of moonlight. And know not of sadness, pain, or care…”

He didn’t care anymore about dreams, or his crappy magic, or what a pain tomorrow was going to be. I’m goin’ home, he thought. Goin’ home with her. For now, that was good enough.

#songfell #guess i'll put the announcement/request separately

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selenecrown · 4 years ago

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Extreme Bias Game Writing - Leona Kingscholar

I’ve seen a bunch of people do this type of thing where they do stuff with their OCs during EBG games, and thought I’d do so as well to pass to time! So, here! Have my TWST OC Quentin interacting with Leona. I was also going to do it with Adahy, but then I ran out of ideas. Was gonna post sooner, but I got busy. Sorry about that.

Quentin Nighty-Sallow wasn’t exactly one for sports.

Not that she couldn’t do it, unlike other certain Dorm Leaders she often worked with, but she didn’t specialize in it compared to other people she knew at Night Raven College. Sure, one of her husbands did has an interest in a certain sport that she got involved with due to her desire to support him in whatever way she could, but other than that, she had decent grades in Andalasia within the Physical Education classes.

But. . . Because of her homeland’s classes, she has capabilities that apparently above average in other countries.

And that means unwanted attention for Quentin. Most notably in the sports department, from Savanaclaw students because of that one time she passed Leona Kingscholar during their first year.

It wasn’t a hot or cold day, honestly it was more. . . slightly brisk. It was cloudy outside, but it wasn’t going to rain but it did give some nice shade outside. There also was a light breeze, which added to the brisk temperature.

For Quentin, on top of the weather, it was the perfect day to run since she was bored from her classes being completely introductory today and her needing to get the annoyance off her chest.

Wow. I wasn’t expecting them using the whole class time for introductions. The only Andalasian in the school grounds thought to herself, as she sighed in the stands of Night Raven College’s Coliseum. Well, it makes sense that we need it since we’re first years, but Magic, that was so long and boring. I’d rather sit through the entire lecture about the linage of the nobleman from Lady Ratched for a day.

“Sallow! You’re up!” The brunette gym teacher bellowed from his place in the stands, with other first years around her seeming relived it wasn’t them who was called.

“Yes Vargas sir!” She called back, and stood up from her spot in the stands within her classmates in 1-D, which was the class almost straight across from her teacher Aston Vargas.

And then, the whispers came back.

‘Ah! The Andalasian is gonna try to run the track!’

‘Really? Pfffft. He won’t make it that far. Look at him. He’s got nothing on him!’

‘You think he’ll make it without passing out?’

‘I bet 50 Madol not!’

‘He speaks so weird too. You think that’s his accent?’

‘No way. I bet he’s learning Common from hearing us. His accent must add to it.’

‘I’m actually kind of excited for this. He’s in my other classes and he looked so bored in the others classes and the teachers didn’t bat an eye at it. What a prick! This’ll teach him a lesson!’

Quentin simply walked up to the track and stood next to an Savanaclaw student. A lion beastman with dark brown hair and green eyes from what he looked like at Quentin’s quickly glance of him.

“So you’re the Andalasian?” The lion beastman simply chuckled as he scanned Quentin’s transformed body that she’d recently drank a potion to change to be more male looking. “You’re more pathetic-looking than I’d thought you’d be.”

“What of it?” Quentin simply answered, not even looking at the beastman and getting into her normal running position, which was her just pushing one of her feet back and arching her other leg forward and then tapping both of her feet on the track. Though, tapping her feet on the pavement on the track was more out of habit then anything else.

“I picture you much differently.” The Savanaclaw student smirked confidently as he crouched down to the ground in his running position without breaking eye contact with her, “I thought you’d have some meat on you. You’re so fucking skinny, it’s sad. Shit, you have an eating disorder?”

Ah. He’s one of those types of people-

Quentin was about to respond before she saw the instructor’s starter pistol being raised in the air, and after a few seconds of Quentin not answering him, the beastman seemed confused at first as to why he was being ignored until he saw the starter pistol about to be set off, and then he confidently smirked and looked ahead of him.

“Are you ready, skinny freshman?!” Vargas yelled as the starter pistol’s sound rang out into the air.

As soon as the puff of air sounded in the air, two freshman dashed in front of the frazzled other freshman that once stood at the same starting line as the two that took off.

One freshman was a Savanaclaw student that rushed ahead with the power of a panther and seemed to intimate the other students at the starting line with just his smug and confidant smirk, like he knew he’s going to wipe the floor with the other students despite the other student rushing past him as if he were walking.

While the other student of Ramshackle dorm at seemed purely focused on the task at hand, which gave her a look of pure confidence and slightly prideful look on her face like she was looking down on everyone else, when in reality she was trying to work through her anger from her classes in her head while running.

The Andalasian moved almost inhumanly to the others on the coliseum, even seeming to stun the instructor and the lion beastman for a few minutes, like she had managed to push the boundaries of the human body’s capabilities, as the the others in the area, she seemed to be moving just as fast as a beastman would be able to. She was leaving everyone else in the dust with her running, and was not slowing down any time soon.

The dark brown haired beastman seemed pretty amused by at the Ramshackle student’s running ability as he let out a loud laugh that seemed to scare some students as he seemed to be getting ready to sprint.

“Haha! Now, that!” the beastman once more confidently smirked. “Is what I’m talkin’ about.”

The sprint the beastman gave had a gust of air that caused some students to slow down their running to a jog, but it seemed to get him close enough to Quentin to talk.

“Well, count me impressed. I didn’t expect you to be a cheetah in a mouse’s clothing.” He laughed once more as the girl seemed to take notice of him.

“Ah, really?” She answered innocently, looking towards the lion beastman that now ran next to her left side.

“Certainly better than the herbivores over there.” the boy laughed as he ran. “They’re still behind us.”

The lion beastman motioned behind him, where there indeed was the other group of students a decent miles away. They didn’t even seem to be half of the way done while Quentin and the beastman certainly was almost to the three-fourths mark.

“Indeed.” Quentin said, as she looked behind her within even slowing down. “They’re much slower than I expected. I thought since Andalasia was old-fashioned compared to other countries I’d be the last one. It seems I overestimated some here.”

The Beastman snorted at that comment. “Cocky. I like you already. But you can’t beat me.”

“Oh, really now?” Quentin smirked as the two came closer to the finishing line, gaining some amusement from the beastman’s cockiness.

“I’ll race ya.”

“For what? You do not exact seem like one to do something without a reward.”

“Preceptive, aren’t you? The winner gets the other’s good stuff from their lunch.”

Quentin seemed to think on it a few seconds, and then simply sighed like she knew she wouldn’t win this argument. “Then, I accept.”

The beastman smirked at her accepting her challenge, and then sprinted ahead, then a few seconds followed by Quentin doing the same. The two freshman kept sprinting and sprinting until one of them crossed the finish line.

And the winner crossed the line with a surprised look on their face, as if they weren’t expecting this to happen.

Even to this day, three years later, Quentin Nighty-Sallow gets challenges from an assortment of people who thought they’d be the strongest in the school in the beat her. Though, it’s mostly Savanaclaw students who want to place Leona’s place, mostly under the guise of not wanting the rumor of somebody being above their dorm leader. It’s been a while since she got any other dorm on the account of beating Leona. Last time she got a student from another dorm. . . Wasn’t it from Octavinelle? Oh well. it was so long ago Quentin could barely remember.

Like challenging a person for a challenge three effing years ago will prove anything to anybody.

But, if it made them happy, Quentin guessed.

“Hey!” Someone called. “Ramshackle brat!”

Oh Mana. Not now with the Savanaclaw idiots. Please, for Magic’s sake, I’ve got a meeting with Crewel in ten minutes. Quentin thought angrily to herself, as she gripped at stack of papers she was holding to express her anger. He’ll give me more lab work if I’m late!

“Yes?” Quentin simply asked in her kind voice as she smiled, stopped and turned to the students who called her.

Huh. Only two this time.

“I heard recently you beat my dorm leader in a race.” One of the Savanaclaw students growled at her, Well, he did actually growl at her after he spoke. Not that good of a growl, but still good enough to get a message across. He was a dog beastman, from his physical features.

“Oh really?” Quentin asked, in her innocent tone. “You heard that old rumor?”

“Rumor?!” the other half-Beastman Savanaclaw student simply yelled. A half-horse beastman, from his looks. “We heard it from from forth year buddy! They saw the whole thing!”

“Really?” Quentin simply said, putting an arm on her hip. “Can you tell me who is the forth year who told you?”

The dog beastman made a ‘tch’ noise. “You sayin’ we’re lying?”

“No. I asked who told you the rumor. I want to know where they got the information from.” Quentin said simply.

“You’re really asking for a lesson, huh you stuck up brat?”

“Yeah, might as well teach them whose boss around here.” The other student finally spoke up as the two got closer to Quentin in an attempt to intimate her, which didn’t work that well since she stood where she was without fear. “Nobody messes with us.”

Great. They won’t listen to reason. Well, at least I’m outside the Greenhouse, or Crewel would’ve killed me for fighting in there.

“Oi. Whose being so noisy?” A voice from behind Quentin said that she recognized, and he did not seem particularly happy at the moment. “I just got up from a quick nap. What’re you all doing makin’ so much noise?”

“Dorm leader!” The Savanaclaw student’s face changed from anger to surprise when they saw Leona walk into the area. “But, Bucchi said-”

“Crewel got me up to go find Nighty-Sallow.” Leona simply said, as he walked up to Quentin and pat her on the shoulder. “He said something about teacher meeting he forgot about.”

Quentin then looked over to her fellow dorm leader with a look of shock, and then of understanding. “I see. Thank you for going through the trouble, Leona.” Quentin simply thanked the lion beastman, who smiled a smug smile in recognition.

Leona then turned to his fellow Savanaclaw students. “Move it you two. I gotta have a word with him about somethin’.”

“Yes Dorm Leader!” the two Savanaclaw student said, and quickly ran away, leaving the two dorm leader by themselves outside the large greenhouse.

After a few minutes of silence between the two as the watched the other two students leave, Quentin spoke up.

“So, do I owe you one for Crewel waking you up?” Quentin simply asked, turning her body fully towards Leona and holding the papers she had in both of her arms.

Leona closed his eyes for a few seconds, as if thinking. Then he showed a face of annoyance. “Yeah. He chewed me out really hard today on top of everything else.”

“Sorry about you dealing with that on my account. Anything in particular you want?” The Ramshackle dorm leader asked casually, as the sun started to go down.

“You to cook some meat for me.” The Savanaclaw dorm leader said, “Adahy’s cooking gets tiring after a while.”

“Ah, really? I thought you liked his cooking.” She teased.

“It gets tiring to eat after a while. Ruggie hasn’t wanted to cook much lately, either.” He sighed and rubbed his head out of habit.

“Any day in particular you want?”

“Today.”

“What?! So suddenly?!” The girl’s face seemed like she was pouting for a few seconds, and then she simply sighed. “Alright, fine. I do owe you one. But my juniors will come over too. I promised I’d teach Grim how to cook some tuna today.”

“Sure, sure. Just don’t blow up my dorm or you’re paying for it.”

“Yessir.”

#twst ebg #ebg #twisted wonderland oc #twst oc

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supportanimy · 4 years ago

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All Stars Verse - Hologram Boy

Synopsis : The coaches of #thatPOWER are angry at Panda for turning P2 into a hologram

Word count : 2803

Notes : Can y'all guess what the title is referencing? Please guess what the title is referencing

"We did it, we did it! We did it, yay!" The coaches sing and dance together in the new galaxy, after Panda traveled to all the planets and achieved the All Stars.

But just as they started to party, a spaceship arrived and out came three people, all with grey skin and white hair, wearing different outfits consisting of only red and black.

"YOU!" The shortest one pointed angrily at Panda. "You killed our friend!"

"He's not dead, but he is hurt. And trapped," the muscly guy said.

"Hey, I know these guys!" Starships mentions excitedly. "That Power, right? Or #thatPOWER, I guess. But don't you guys have four? Where's P2?"

"Here," the P3 drops a tiny machine, and a hologram of P2 appears.

"Oh. Your hair has gotten...longer. And darker."

"Yeah, well as I was saying, PANDA MURDERED HIM!" P1 yells angrily and attempts to tackle Panda, but Reindeer shields them.

"No, Panda would never do such a thing! They're too sweet and kind to! You must be confusing them with some other panda!"

P4 walks forward and pushes her friend back, but turns around to glare at them. "Impossible, there are no other pandas here," she explains. "Number 2 is not dead," Someone laughs, "he cannot die. However, he is permanently trapped as a hologram because of Panda's actions, and according to him, Panda was constantly taunting and harassing him just before that. Isn't that right?" P2 nods.

"Quiet as ever, huh?" Starships tries to lean on him, but passes through and falls.

"Then it must have been an accident!" Reindeer continues to defend their friend. The two had been close since childhood. One would know that if one played Kids Mode.

SS1, interested in whatever argument is happening, eats popcorn and shares it with the other coaches. "You know, *munch* Panda harassing some rando *munch* is honestly not that *munch* out of character for him." SS2 grabs a handful. "Agreed."

ME4 fixes his glasses, "Wait, I think I know what's happening here. Battle Mode, I'm guessing. Never got a chance on one of those."

"What's Battle Mode?" Rasputin's coach scratches his beard.

Out of nowhere, Starships slides in to chime in the conversation. "A mode where coaches from two different songs go head to head in a dance battle! Only appeared in two games though, and I never got to join one," she pouts.

Back to the argument, Reindeer gives up trying to defend Panda and is instead resorting to insulting P2. "He's just a robot! Can't he be replaced?!" the power coaches and BFT gasp.

P1 is now being restrained by P3 and P4 as she tries to attack Reindeer now. "I'm going to kill both of you!"

"No need to waste your energy on those lowlives, Number 1. We just need to get money from them so we can make a time machine and change the events of the battle, making it so that Number 2 wins instead."

Hearing that, HH2 gets a bright idea.

"We don't need to go that far, P4. We just want them to apologize-What do you mean no, Two?! Don't tell me you want revenge too?!

"Psst, P1," HH2 whispers to her friend. "Don't we have a friend with a time machine?"

"You mean Goddess? Does she count as our friend?" he replies before getting elbowed by HH4, who enters their talk uninvited. "I think she means the Backstreet Wannabes." "I mean, Goddess could probably time travel-" "No one asked, P3!"

"BE QUIET!" HH2 shouted loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Ooh," SS1 directs his attention to her.

"So, #thatPower...I think I may know the ones to help you. Though, we have to fly there since...they're on the other galaxy."

"Sure! We appreciate any help! Even though I'm not sure what kind of help these people you're saying will offer," P3 agrees immediately.

P4 is a bit more skeptical. "How do we know you aren't lying to us? We aren't even sure what help we're getting."

"Some people with a time machine," HH1 tells them. "Like what you said earlier. I'm not sure who P2 is talking about though."

P1 finally stopped being filled with rage, and it was replaced with joy. "You actually have a time machine?! Oh, how I long to return to my time!"

The other coaches are understandably confused over her statement. P3 tells them to shrug it off, "Don't mind her, she gets like that. We're not sure why."

"So what about it, Two? Wanna time travel so you don't get stuck as a hologram anymore?" The hologram nods, grinning from ear to ear. "Great!" P3 turns the projector off and keeps it in his pocket.

"P3, I will murder you, and then dismember you, and feed you to tigers." "We-we don't have tigers. Also your arms are twigs." "Don't you act smart with me!"

"Chill 4, it's just a tiny mistake, NBD," the blonde woman remarks without looking away from her phone. "P1 hit my hand too, but you don't see me threatening him."

"Who the fuck actually says NBD-Oh uh, sorry for that."

"Yeah, but he didn't hit it hard enough that you punch yourself in the face enough to hurt!"

"How did that even happen? Like I said, your arms are twigs-" "Do NOT!"

Just as the two were about to attack each other, they heard the faint sound of an aircraft.

"Hey, I'm trying to strangle someone! Can you not-" she stops her sentence when she sees a spaceship getting closer to the four.

"Get cover!" "Calm down First, it's probably just going to pass by us like airplanes." "No, P2, it's actually gonna fall on us!" he points at the ship landing fast. "Oh," she's pulled to safety by him, where their colour scheme changes.

It stayed at a steady pace going down, but stopped just 100 meters off the ground and slowly went straight down.

"Seriously? After all that drama?" "Hey, be grateful we're safe!"

When it finally finished landing, four familiar faces and four unfamiliar faces walked out.

"Hey look, it's High Hopes! And some Homestuck cosplayers!" the woman jumps back out from their hiding spot, which made her hair turn back to blonde. "That's not-whatever, I'm tired of your dumb ass."

"Dirty Bit Gang!" HH4 runs to hug DB2.

"Wait, they have a time machine?!" HH3 never knew that fact. If he did, he would've begged to use it to appear earlier in more songs.

"Well duh, their song is called The Time, and one of us should definitely have a time machine."

"So I see you guys have a spaceship. I assume you guys are here to use our time machine, but who are they?" DB1 asks.

"Hi, I'm the Starships coach! Love your outfits, but feel like the colours could be better. These are coaches from #thatPOWER, but one member is kinda stuck right now-"

"I hope you don't mind if we borrow it for a while," P3 drops the projector and P2 sighs quietly in relief.

DB4 stops her punch to DB3 midway to look at P2. "Uh, is he okay?"

"That's the reason we're here. Number 2-" "PFFFFT!" "Number 2, is stuck as a hologram and we have no way of transferring his AI to a body so we were hoping that we can travel to the past to change the course of the battle that made him this way in the first place."

"Cool," DB1 responds, not catching any of that. "Say, why do you need eight people plus a hologram to do that?"

HH2 raised a finger as if to answer him, but put it on her chin instead. "I'm-I'm not sure."

"C'mon, it's easy!" HH1 tries his best to explain. "There's That Power, the ones who want to go to the past, Starships, the representative of 2014, We're here to-wait, P2 was their guide, I'm not sure why the rest of us are here."

"Okayyy, sure, we'll do that, but do you have a plan?"

Silence. "Yeah, we didn't think of that."

"Of course you didn't," frustration was evident in his voice. "Fine, follow me."

DB3 and DB4 continued to fight, while the eight were led to a dark room with a massive TV screen, and a few couches. There was a table with a flower pot on it, with some cookies and candy beside it.

"So, it would be dangerous to just alter the past with no plans and no actual clue on what happened. That's why, we're going to watch it, then decide what to do," the bearded man takes the remote next to the screen and switches to different channels. "2014, it's a battle, correct?"

The screen switched to a scene on a stage with multiple monitors and the letters VS in the middle, displaying a dance floor with some other items beside it such as a chair. Panda rushed in and stood there while P2 slowly approached them, C'mon by Kesha playing in the background. When P2 was close enough, Panda started circling around him, then went back to their position, but not before blowing a kiss at the robot, which he moved his head to avoid.

"Oh, Panda blew a kiss at you? That should be a reminder," HH4 notes.

"What a shame," HH3 comments.

They began dancing, with Panda moving their arms towards their chest and P2 doing robotic movements. That was until just before the first pre-chorus started where P2's movements look like he was being controlled by a puppeteer, then they became more "free".

"Haha!" Starships laugh. "Seeing such a serious face on a cute dance move is so-" As past Panda and P2 turned to each other, the lyrics sang at the part made her stop. "Oh no. Oh no no no no. Oh god no."

"Is she okay?" DB2's question had a worried tone. "She's fine. Probably," HH2 assures.

"There are 2 images burned into my mind, and I don't like either of them!"

The rest ignore her dramatics and continue watching the battle. The chorus played, with the two performing an all too common move, putting your elbow on your raised leg, but coupled with some pushing each other to the side in between. When the singer sang the song's title repeatedly, Panda is seen establishing dominance over P2.

"Uhh," P3's braincells, or whatever robots have, seemed to have been fried from just watching the battle. "How are you losing to a panda?!" P2 shrugs.

The beginning of the final round consisted of Panda taunting P2, and P2 attempting to damage Panda but to no avail. P2 looked like he was about to faint right before the chorus started again, with them repeating the same moves earlier. The battle finally ended, in which Panda brings out a button and presses it, turning P2 into a hologram while they laugh.

"Okay, that was way too far now that I've seen it! I'm going to join the others in killing them-"

"Yo, calm down. We watched this to help you think of a plan, remember? While it was very weird to watch, we can decide what to do now, or in the past," DB1 brought out a piece of paper and puts it on the table. "Write your plan of action there, then I'll check over it to make sure it's nothing drastic."

P4 grabs the paper and begins writing on it with her built-in pen. "What we want to do is to make it so that P2 wins this fight. I think that can be easily done if we change the music."

"But won't Panda just press the button either way?" HH1 has a solid question.

"Hmm, then I guess we'll just destroy it."

"Wait, if we're going to destroy it anyways, what's the point in changing the song?" HH3 is surprisingly thinking a bit smarter now.

"Oh, that one is to save his honor. And to destroy Panda's-!" P1 clenches her fist tight.

"Riiight. Right. Right."

"Yes, but how are we doing that? Won't doing that alter a whole lot of events now since he's the mascot?" P3 tries to think deeply.

"Not really," DB1 answers, having a braincell for once. "Since you're from the same game, and you don't have any future appearances besides that one mashup, I think you guys would be fine."

"That's it, yes? Number 2's battle wasn't quite complicated, so maybe that's enough. Sir?"

DB1 takes the paper from P4, and looks it over. "Goddammit why am I reading with shades-yeah, that's okay I guess."

"Great, now we can go!" P1 is ecstatic to finally be able to return her friend back to his original state. So is the rest, even if P4 doesn't show it.

"Well, I guess that's our queue to leave. Goodbye and your welcome!" HH2 grabs her friends to drag them home.

"Wait, but didn't you go by spaceship?" P3 doesn't know how they would even return.

"Now worries, this is our planet, we'll teleport home!" "We can teleport?!" "HAVE YOU NOT NOTICED THIS WHOLE TIME-"

"What about...her?" P4 looks down on Starships, who was still freaking out.

"Well, since she's the 2014 rep, we have to get her gloves if you want to travel there and back-" "I CAN'T TRAVEL TO MY TIME???" "-Would you mind…?"

Starships takes it off and throws it at the pink-haired woman. "Just, just take it. Heck, keep it."

"Kay."

"Alright, follow me again," he gestures.

This time, a room that looks like it came from a certain sci-fi franchise involving space travel, but not time travel for some reason.

"Ight, just stand there," DB1 points at a platform," and you'll be fine. Also, here are the gloves, just wear it when you're done."

"Thanks a lot for helping us," P3 did a polite bow, "we're very grateful." He elbows the others to follow.

"No probs, we do this all the time, just be mindful that there are some side effects of time travel-" "Excuse me-?!" "But they're harmless! Have fun!" And the three robots plus hologram go back in time.

They arrived at a weird green space. There was a door quite far away, and would take a while to walk to. They felt something weird, and looked at their hands and each other to realize that they became green too. Except for P2.

"Changing colours is not what I expected but…" P4 spins her hand around.

"Maybe this could be useful, since we blend in with everything else," P3 compares his shade to the space.

They see Panda coming out of nowhere, heading to the door. Without speaking, they all immediately followed them. "Number 1, go grab the button. Number 3, get there and change the music." "Aye aye, 4."

P1 gets on the floor and crawls to the panda, P3 rushes to the door, and P4 carries P2's projector, following them from a distance.

The short woman finds a pocket on Panda's body and tries to find the button. Instead, there was a tophat, a tennis racket, a trumpet and a whole lot of other things that should not be able to fit there. Somehow, Panda didn't notice any of that. She finally got her hands on the button, and immediately destroyed it.

The sound alerts Panda, causing them to look around, but not finding anyone since they all blend in and P4 had turned off the projector, and shrugs it off. P3 uses that minor distraction to enter through the door.

Immediately after passing through, his skin changed again, now blending into the room which was where the battle took place. Past P2, stood there, already arrived, but didn't take notice of P3, who climbed the ceiling and found the sound system. He used it and changed the settings so #thatPOWER was gonna play instead of C'mon.

When Panda comes in to start the fight, with the remaining two sneaking in, the course of it had already been decided. Past P2 had started attacking them and charging himself up. The fight continued on with P2 having an advantage, and at the end when P2 won, Panda jumped off, leaving the room while P2 laughs then leaves from the other exit. In that moment, the room turned to a black space, everyone turning back to normal, P2's projector disappeared, and a blended in silhouette of him was there.

"P2, you're back!" P1 goes to hug him. P2 clearly had been confused by what she said, but accepted it anyways. P3 and even P4, who isn't very physically affectionate, joins in the hug. "We missed being able to actually touch you, buddy. Now I don't have to kneel down just to fistbump someone." "HEY!"

"I guess we can go home now," P4 puts on the glove and they teleported back to their starting point.

So as you can read, there's like zero logic here, but I'm proud of.it cause it's my longest one-shot!

#just dance #just dance fanfiction

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