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xutokawa · 4 years ago

Text

s/o finding scratch marks on their back

pairings: atsumu x reader, oikawa x reader

genre(s): angst, fluff in beginning, cheating s/o

warnings: langauge, cheating, allusions to smut, mentions of alcohol

wc: 1.6k

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a/n: i feel like writing some angst and nothing says angst like an s/o finding out their partner is cheating :’) send requests for other haikyuu characters if you want some more! i already have a couple drafted up hehe

osamu and iwazumi ver.

kuroo and sakusa ver.

suna and bokuto ver.

akaashi and hinata ver.

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Atsumu

Curling yourself into a ball, you tightly clenched at the blanket, trying to imagine Atsumu’s warmth surrounding you. You dearly missed your husband, touch-starved from not seeing him for two days. A smile spread across your face knowing that he would be in your arms again in a couple hours.

You knew dating a pro-volleyball player would mean nights alone in your shared apartment. It was hard at first, but you slowly got used to it, knowing he would walk through the front door and come back home to you.

Later that day, you were quietly humming to yourself while cooking dinner for Atsumu and yourself when you heard the doorknob jiggling followed by the sound of keys. Excitement and anticipation coursed through your body as you quickly went to greet your husband at the door. As soon as the door opened to reveal the blond setter, you rushed into his arms.

“Y/n,” Atsumu breathed into your hair, holding you tight, “I missed you so much.”

Snuggling into his chest, you replied, “I missed you too.”

Pulling away, you looked up at him, “Dinner’s almost ready. Go wash up first.”

Atsumu placed a quick kiss on your forehead, muttering a quick I love you before picking up his bags and heading towards your bedroom.

Hearing the shower turn on, you returned to cooking. Hands dry from washing the dishes, you decided to go grab some lotion, heading into the bathroom. You stopped dead in your tracks, however, when you glanced at Atsumu.

Back turned towards you, the setter was unaware of your presence in the bathroom. Red, angry marks lined his broad shoulders as hickeys were dotted across his neck. You hadn’t even realized you were crying until your vision started blurring. Quickly slipping out of the bathroom, you went into your shared bedroom, packing a small bag with your belongings. Silent sobs racked your body as you imagined Atsumu’s breath on another’s neck, whispering sweet nothings into their ears as he gave himself away to them.

You couldn’t believe it. Your husband, your Atsumu. More than anything, you wanted to know why? What did you not give? Was your marriage worth nothing to him? Texting your best friend, you told them you’d be staying at their house for the night, not offering further explanation.

Did he mean it when he proclaimed his love earlier? You couldn’t help but wonder how many times he’s done this. How many times has he betrayed your trust, indulged in another person as you patiently waited for his return. Scoffing in anger, you hastily pulled your ring off your left hand, placing it on his bedside table along with a note. Anger surged through your body as you stared at the diamond gleaming at you, memories of the day Atsumu got down on one knee as he asked to spend the rest of his life with you flooding back. That day, you left, never turning back, putting the past five years with Atsumu behind you.

The apartment was noticeably colder when Atsumu finally stepped out of the shower. Quickly changing, he walked out to the kitchen, craving your embrace. He couldn’t wait to sit down and just talk, maybe cuddle and watch a movie until the both of you fell asleep in each other’s arms. The setter missed you dearly during his time away, and he wanted to make up for lost time. However, you were nowhere to be found. He searched through the entire apartment only to be met with silence.

Maybe she went out to buy something, Atsumu thought to himself. His thoughts were interrupted, however, when he noticed a note on his nightstand.

‘I’ll be gone for a couple of days. I’ll eventually come back for the rest of my stuff, but I just can’t bear to see you right now. I hope it was worth it. Glad to know our marriage was worth dog shit to you. Don’t come looking for me, the last thing I want to see is you right now.’

The note in the setter’s hands began to shake as he glanced at your wedding ring on the table. He thought he heard the door open in the shower earlier, but didn’t think much of it. It was only when his shampoo ran down his back that he realized he had marks on his back. Atsumu knew he messed up as soon as the deed was over. Your comforting smile continuously flashed through his mind as he pulled his shirt back over his head. He felt sick to his stomach opening his phone to find a text from you telling him to take care of himself when another person’s scent lingered on him.

He couldn’t lose you. He needed to find you, tell you it was all a drunken mistake. It was the alcohol, not him. The thought of you despising him made the setter choke out a sob, rushing out the door in hopes to catch up to you. It didn’t mean anything to him. It was getting too lonely without you, and he indulged in alcohol in hopes to fill the void. His eyes searched frantically, legs and lungs burning from running down countless flights of steps, hoping to catch a glance of you and bring you back him.

But it was too late. It was over. Atsumu already ruined everything.

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Oikawa

Frustration boiled through Oikawa as he rubbed his hands over his face. He didn’t mean to lash out at you, after all, you were just being a caring partner. Concerns for the setter’s health turned into a full-blown argument resulting with you in tears and Oikawa at a local bar, drowning his misery in liquor. His state of mind grew foggier with each shot he downed. So when the scent of perfume engulfed his senses as seductive whispers filled his ears, he gave in.

You were waken up by the sound of a clatter coming from the kitchen followed by a loud ‘fuck!’

Groggily, you glanced at the alarm clock on your nightstand.

12:47am

Heading towards the source of noise, you found your boyfriend curled in a ball on the ground. The stench of alcohol overwhelmed your nostrils as you attempted to get your boyfriend to stand.

You couldn’t help but smile at the ‘I’m so sorry, y/n’s and the ‘Please forgive me’s coming out of your boyfriend’s mouth, assuming he was referring to your earlier argument. Sighing, you laid him down on your mattress, walking towards his closet to grab his pajamas. With great struggle, you successfully peeled the shirt from Oikawa’s back before he flopped back down on the mattress. Preparing to shove his night shirt over his head, your movements froze as you took in the claw marks running down his back. Blood running cold, you glanced at the setter’s face, seemingly peaceful as he slept.

Anger coursed through your veins at the thought of him running into another person’s arms when your relationship got a little tough.

Pathetic.

You scoffed as you threw his shirt on the ground. Blinded by rage, your mind didn’t register your hand coming in contact with his cheek.

A loud smack sounded through the empty night as Oikawa’s eyes shot open.

“You piece of shit,” you venomously spit out.

Confusion visible clouded Oikawa’s eyes as he began adjusting to his surroundings, obviously sobering up.

“Y-y/n, what was that for?” Oikawa began sitting up, eyebrows furrowed together.

“So what, we have one argument and you decide to go fuck some random person?” You raised your voice at the man sitting in front of you.

“What are you talking about? I didn’t-”

“Cut the crap, Oikawa,” ignoring the pain flashing through Oikawa’s eyes at the use of his last name, “The hickey on your neck and scratch marks are more than enough proof that you cheated on me.”

Panic flashed in Oikawa’s eyes as he realized what was happening, the gravity of the situation registering in his mind. He cheated on you.

“I-” Oikawa stuttered, words getting stuck in his throat at the thought of losing you. He couldn’t even make excuses, knowing he had been caught red-handed in his infidelity.

“I’m staying in a hotel for the rest of the night. I’m coming back tomorrow afternoon, and your shit better be out of here by then,” your eyes hardened as you turned around, beginning to pack a small bag with essential belongings. Panic rose in Oikawa as he scrambled to stop you.

“Wait, y/n, let’s talk this out,” Oikawa pleaded, tears welling in his eyes, “We can fix this, right? You can’t leave me, I love you!”

The setter’s heart shattered as you flinched away from his touch, as if it physically hurt you to be near him.

“If you truly loved me, you wouldn’t have cheated on me,” you managed to choke out, zipping up your bag.

“I do love you, y/n! Please, believe me,” Oikawa desperately pleaded, sobs racking his body, “I didn’t mean to! It didn’t mean anything, y/n, I can fix this, I promise!”

“You seem to have a habit of breaking your promises, Oikawa,” your voice audibly weaker. You needed to get away from him, away from the source of your heartbreak.

“Y/n, wait! Please-” Oikawa’s voice was cut off by the slam of the front door.

It wasn’t until 47 missed calls, 118 messages, and 32 voicemails later, that Oikawa realized you were never coming back to him. You had walked out of his life forever, and it was all his fault.

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bokettochild · 3 years ago

Note

For the requests if you're game?

Four and Warriors dynamic since we don't see it much?

Also you're awesome and absolutely don't have to do this if you don't want haha

So, words aren't nice to me today, and your prompt really helped with that. I'm sorry I didn't get to it sooner! But I'm glad I did it today. The verb tenses are a bit off and all over, but I really like the pretense.

For context, this is something that used to happen with me and my dad when he was in pain. I have no clue why it works, but it does somehow? For him anyway. Anyway, as I am the shorty of my family, I figured Four could take my place here :)

“Four, how tall are you?”

Don’t kill him. Green whispered, whether to himself or to his brothers none of them knew.

Why would he even need to know that? The grouchier voice in his head huffed out as hazel eyes shot up to meet the captain’s blue.

Was that particularly necessary? Vio groaned, and if he’d had a physical form the color in question would likely have just flopped over tiredly.

“Four foot four.” They answered curtly, turning their gaze back down to the sword in their hand as they continued to work over its length.

Warriors chuffed out a strangled sort of noise across from them, whether it be from pain, surprise or laughter they didn’t know, and as long as the captain didn’t push, they’d give him a little grace. The poor man was in enough pain as it was, and it really would be a shame to have him writhing on the ground if they kicked him in some... painful places.

“Really?” The man wheezed. “Please tell me you’re joking?”

They rolled their eyes.

Permission to kick him in the nuts?

One minute, let me think about it.

Pities sakes you two, we are not kicking the captain! Vio scolded. We’ll dye his hair while he sleeps or sew a patch on his tunic while he walks or something, not...oy vey.

“I’m four-foot-five.” They corrected aloud. “Happy?”

Sharp eyes met the captain’s again, four voices fighting over whether to cause harm or not. “Huh.”

Guys, look at him! Red huffed. He’s not even able to sit up straight! Give him a break, this one time?

Agreement rang in their mind. Wars was in pretty awful shape. The man had pulled his back while trying to heft a wounded Twilight through the forest the other day, and while he’d insisted the entire time that he had it handled, he’d come to regret it the next day when he woke up nearly too sore to move. They all teased Time about being an Old Man, and it was well known that Legend’s arthritis gave him trouble on some days, but neither the vet not their leader had ever moved as slowly as the captain this morning when they’d been on the road, and Time had had to call an early halt simply because Wars was clearly in so much pain.

The man currently lay on his stomach on the ground at the edge of camp, trying to stretch out his strained back and staring as Four with an odd look in his eyes. “Could you do me a favor?”

Could you not mock our height?

I thought we liked our height?

We do, but we don’t need to be teased for it!!!

“What do you need?” They eventually settled on, setting their sword aside and giving the captain their full attention.

“Stand on my back.” Warriors answered.

They blinked, startled. Once, twice, thrice, four times at the man. “Pardon?”

“Stand on my back.” Warriors repeated himself, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“But-”

Is he bonkers? Captain, we are not cracking your spine to put you out of your misery? Blue frowned, confused.

We’d hurt him doing that, why would he even ask?

This is Warriors, he’s not known for having all the lights on a good day.

“Aren’t you in pain?” Red managed to take the forefront, worry spilling into his voice as he stared down at where the captain lay on the ground.

The man smiled, shaking his head slightly only to wince and instead offer one of his charming smiles. “It helps. Just trust me, ‘kay?”

And what were they supposed to do? Even Legend had stepped up to offer help with the pain this afternoon, not that it would do much good for Warriors’ specific problem, but it had earned the vet a warm chuckle and a head ruffle, resulting in much squawking and insults as the vet protested the action. Wild had searched his slate for supplies to make a cure, and Time had called a halt for the day’s travels entirely. Sky had even offered what little help he could provide, but while offers of aid had come from everywhere, there hadn’t been anything that had worked.

But Wars was claiming that actively stepping on the injury would help it, and as absurd as it sounded, the captain seemed utterly confident in it, eyes almost pleading as they shifted where they sat.

“It won’t, I don’t know, mess up your back at all? Are you sure-”

“Goddesses, Four! It’ll be fine.” The captain huffed desperately, just do it, please?”

Now they understood why Warriors could charm discounts and special deals out of merchants and inn-keepers, his royal blue eyes looked utterly pitiful and almost tearful as they stared up at them, pleading and wide. The effect was ruined though when Wars added a tiny little pout that sent Vio reeling with laughter as Blue and Green stifled their own, Red cooing softly in their head.

“Alright.” The laughter of three of the four colors spilled over in a light chuckle as the smithy pulled themselves to their feet, stepping over hesitantly and setting one foot on Warriors’ stretched out back.

“Go on.” Wars prompted, chuckling fondly. “It won’t hurt me, I’ll tell you if it does, okay?”

That didn’t help at all. They weren’t big, they knew that, but they weren’t as slight as they looked, they were smithies after all, and they were a solid little brick of muscle mass. Warriors may be certain it would be okay, but they sure weren’t.

“Four, I’m literally begging you. Step on me.”

The smithy’s nose wrinkled and they pulled back. “That is incredibly weird sounding.”

“Step.” Warriors ordered.

“This is so weird!” A nervous laugh fell from their lips. “How does this even help?”

“Just do it!” The captain groaned. “It helps, I promise. I can’t explain it, but it does.”

One tentative foot pressed against the captain’s back again, only for the smithy to back off, earning a huff in annoyance from the captain. “Four-”

“Let me take my boots off first.” They murmured, shivering off the awkward feeling that came from stepping on of their brothers. But they could only avoid Wars’ pleading gaze for so long and once their shoes are properly put to the side, they had no valid excuse to not ‘help’ the man.

How does this even help him?

Do we care? We have an excuse to step on him!

Vio, I think you spent too much time around Shadow. Stepping on people isn’t funny.

It’s funny if it’s Warriors. Vio sounded particularly satisfied with himself at the moment, and the others could only sigh at that, finally giving in to the captain's request as Vio pushed the body forwards until they are standing, fully, on Warriors’ back.

“Oh, yes, thank you.” The captain’s voice comes out in a relieved sigh. “A bit lower if you could- that's the- yes, right there. Oh gosh.” Blonde hair met the dirt as their resident “pretty boy” let his face fall to rest on the ground. A satisfied sigh escaping him, albeit muffled by the earth. “That is so much better. Thank you, Four.”

“How does this help?” They frowned, staring down at where the man spread out on the ground, utterly limp and incredibly boney under their feet.

“No clue.” Comes the muffled reply, no attempt made to explain as the captain continued to let himself melt into the earth. “But it always works like a charm, so I don’t question it.”

Always?

“Who do you usually have step on you?” They ask, standing awkwardly on a boney spine any trying their hardest to keep their balance so they don’t slip and tumble onto Warriors’ head and give him a concussion on top of everything.

“My kids.” Comes the easy reply, as if the words don’t send them reeling enough that they almost do fall. “Mask jumped on top of e once to try and wake me up. I wasn’t asleep, but it was a tough battle the day before. Come to find out having a smallish person stand on you does wonders! My younger siblings used to do it too, but then they all hit growth-spurts.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” They chuckled easily, finding a comfortable placement for their feet as Warriors’ back rises and falls with soft laughter.

“Believe it or not,” The captain rumbles, the vibrations trailing up their legs and making them stifle a giggle. “I’m the short one in the family. The eldest, but the Hylia forsaken shortest.” There’s very nearly a pout in the man's voice and they failed to hold back their laughter as they look down at him.

”You’re the shortest?”

“To my eternal torment.” Comes the groaned reply, and all the colors can do in reaction is laugh.

Later, when the others finally look over and see what’s happening, there are shouts and concerned looks from the heroes when they see their shortest standing on the previously sore and aching back of their tallest, but for now, Four gets to tease the captain for being short; something they never thought would ever happen.

Vio cackled madly in the background the whole time, leaving his brothers concerned after the first ten minutes when the color’s mirth failed to fade.

#sorry I took so long!!!#vio is a member of #the warriors bullying squad #red is a member of #the warriors protection squad #lined universe #linkeduniverse #lu warriors #lu four #lu vio #lu red #lu green #lu blue #fluffics #linked universe fic requests #claybrownie7566 my beloved

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egcdeath · 4 years ago

Text

first impressions

pairing: soft!ransom drysdale x reader

summary: [request] “hmm prompts... Ransom introducing you (a total opposite of him) to his family for the first time, or a Thrombey wedding! if you feel like it” i like where your brain is at anon! but why not a little bit of both? ;)

word count: 3.7k

warnings: pretty fluffy, some angst, toxic family dynamics

author’s note: this has been super lightly edited so pls forgive any mistakes <3 click here if you’d like to be added to my taglist & all reblogs are super appreciated!

You felt slightly out of place driving through the neighborhood of your youth in the passenger seat of Ransom’s beloved Beamer. Thinking of how your parents would react to your boyfriend, let alone his lifestyle of excess, made your heart rate increase, and you shuffled a bit in your seat unconsciously as a result of your nerves. As if he were reading your thoughts, Ransom set a steady hand on your knee and gave it a tiny reassuring squeeze before parking in front of the curb ahead of your home.

Nervously exiting the vehicle, you watched wordlessly as Ransom grabbed your overnight bags from the trunk, and hauled them over his shoulders. Still saying nothing, you reached out and grabbed Ransom’s hand, constricting his circulation as you strolled up to your door, and rang your own doorbell.

When your mother whipped open the door and offered you an excited grin, you finally were able to let out the breath that you weren’t even aware you were holding.

“Goose!” your mother cheered, squeezing the life out of you while you snuck a glance at Ransom who seemed rather amused by the childhood pet name. “And who’s this?” she asked, pulling away from you and looking him up and down.

“I’m Ransom, your daughter’s boyfriend,” he announced with confidence, offering your mom friendly smile, before glancing back over at you and raising his brows the slightest bit.

“Finally putting a face to the name, then. I’ve heard all about you from this one. Come on in,” she gestured for the two of you to enter. “Y/N can show you to her room, and dinner will be ready in about a half hour,” with that, your mother was off, and you were once again alone with Ransom.

You showed him up to your room, where he set down the bags and flopped down onto your bright pink duvet.

“Goose, huh?” he questioned, rolling on the hyperfeminine twin mattress.

“Shut up,” you mumbled, before sitting down next to the headboard of the bed.

“Do you think she liked me?” Ransom asked, seemingly out of nowhere. “Did you tell her good things about me?”

“Since when do you care about what other people think of you?” you giggled a bit, and planted your fingers in Ransom’s hair.

“I care because…” he thought for a moment, calculating just how honest he wanted to be. “I care because this is the longest relationship I’ve been in, and I want my future parents-in-law to like me.”

“We’ve been together for like, a year, Ran. But I applaud your commitment to me,” you massaged his scalp as you spoke, and ignored the butterflies floating throughout your torso at his mention of marriage.

“Well? Do you think she likes me?” he asked once again.

“Mmm, I like when you care about things,” you pressed a little peck to his forehead, and hovered a bit over his face. “She said like, 20 words to you, max. But after dinner I’m sure they’ll like you. At least I hope they will.”

Ransom playfully swatted at you. “How comforting. Wait, stay right there,” he reached up and held the hand that was massaging his scalp in place.

——

By the time dinner came around, you seemed to have switched emotions with your partner, as you were feeling much more relaxed, and Ransom on the other hand, was not.

He kept a hand on your knee under the table in what seemed like a grounding technique, squeezing every now and then while your father plated your meals.

“So, how did you two meet?” your father questioned, sitting down beside your mom.

“We met while we were volunteering at the Humane Society together,” you gushed, glancing over at your partner who was nervously sipping his water, then back at your parents. “He always seemed so pissed in the beginning. I mean, the amount of times I saw him growling obscenities while tugging on harnesses, or playing the most unenthusiastic games of fetch I’d ever seen in my life is astounding,” you laughed softly, and looked over at Ransom once again as if you were cueing him to speak.

“Yeah, I really didn’t like it there at first. Not really a dog guy, but my grandad said it was community service or no allowance, and I was not interested in the latter,” he chuckled awkwardly and received confused expressions from your parents, which granted you an SOS squeeze on the knee.

“Um, anyway, one day we were closing, and I went into the last cat suite, and there grumpy old Ransom was, cuddling with Garfield, you know, the old cat with the three legs, and it was literally the cutest thing I’d ever seen. Especially ‘cause Garfield is so hard to please,'' you paused to take a bite of the food in front of you. “We started talking more after that, then he asked me out, and of course I said yes. I guess the rest is history.”

“Aw, Goose, that’s so cute!” your mom cooed, but the moment didn’t last too long.

“What do you do for work, Ransom?” Your dad asked, tilting his beer at the man.

“I’m currently in between jobs. But, uh, I’ve been doing a lot of volunteer work.”

Your father nodded wordlessly and paused for a second. “Volunteering get you a Beamer?”

“Dad!” You interrupted in a yelp, “please.” You frowned as you looked between the men.

“Y/N, it’s fine. It’s a good question, but I got it as a gift a few years back. And, you know, my family’s comfortable.”

Before your father could respond, your mom popped in to save the conversation. “No money talk at the table, please. Tell me more about your relationship,” she gave both of you a sympathetic look.

——

After that, dinner went on without much of a hitch, and you agreed upon doing the dishes with your mother while your father and boyfriend prepared a little fire outside.

“He seems sweet,” she commented after a long period of silence.

“I’m glad you think so. He was really worried about you not liking him, and honestly, I was too,” you rinsed the last glass before setting it in your dishwasher.

“I just want you to be careful, okay? When you have that much money, people do strange things, or say things they don’t mean and expect you to just take it. He seems like a good boy, but just don’t let your guard completely down. The last breakup you went through-“

“Stop, I get it,” you sighed softly.

“This doesn’t mean I don’t like him. I just don’t want to see you that hurt again,” she gave your arm a soft squeeze. “Let’s go stop your dad from catching a murder charge,” she beckoned you to follow her out to the backyard, where your boyfriend and dad were… laughing together? If you weren’t so relieved, it’d almost be off-putting.

The rest of the night went alarmingly well, Ransom finding a way to bond with both of your parents after an awkward first half of the evening. As the two of you crawled into your tiny bed and spooned while drifting off to sleep, Ransom slurred a tired ‘I think they liked me,’ into your ear.

From that point on, Ransom’s position within your family only became better. For the first time, he was welcomed into a familial environment that wasn’t more toxic than a Chernobyl cooling tower, and Ransom was loving it. After suggesting to spend that year’s Thanksgiving at your parents’ home, spending the holidays with the L/N family became a frequent occurrence for the two of you.

Though you occasionally wondered why you were four years into a relationship with the man, and still hadn’t met his family, which to your understanding, was rather large, you had better things to concern yourself with. You understood and respected that Ransom’s relationship with his own family wasn't the best, from the little that he shared with you, but occasionally curiosity often got the best of you.

Yet, things seemed to shift after your engagement. In the midst of dress fittings and cake tastings, Ransom had decided that it was finally time for you to meet the rest of the Thrombey clan, and that there was no better time than Harlan’s book release party, which was being celebrated out in California, at the Thrombey Vineyard.

In your years of relationship, you’d become no stranger to luxury, and the finer things in life, but arriving at the Vineyard put you in awe at just how affluent these people were. Perhaps that’s what happens when you’re one of the great writers of your time, and your offspring go off to become equally “self-made” successes.

You were a bit tired from the three hour difference between Boston and Sonoma Valley, and as soon as you hopped out of the car at the vineyard, you could only think of getting to your room, out of your baggy travel clothes, and to sleep as soon as possible.

Trailing behind Ransom, you looked around at the vast expanse of crop-filled land around you in astonishment while you walked up the cement path to the mansion, not really noticing the petite woman with curled blonde hair, and an oversized straw hat approaching you.

“Oh gosh, you must be Y/N!” she said gleefully. “I’m Joni. I’ve seen you all over Ranny’s Insta,” she paused and looked you up and down. “Well, you do look a little different there,” she chuckled.

“That’s great, Joni. Maybe you can Tweet about how exhilarating and life changing this experience has been for you to all your little pyramid scheme friends.”

“You’re always so rude, Hugh,” she sneered.

“I forgot about your chronic victimhood. Goodbye, Joan,” he rolled his eyes, and practically tugged you inside the massive building in front of you, before dragging you up the stairs. You were honestly in a little bit of shock at seeing how nasty Ransom got from just a small interaction.

You set your Louis Vuitton Keepal, and aluminum suitcase down on the granite floor of the bedroom, before flopping down, and spreading your limbs out on the massive memory foam bed that sat in the center of the room, “What was that, Ran?” you questioned as he sprawled out next to you.

“The reason why I didn’t want you to meet them. They’re like sharks, looking for anything that even resembles blood in the water,” he threw an arm around you and yawned. “We can talk about this in the morning, though. Right now, I think that both of us need a shower.”

“Speak for yourself, you stink bug.”

“But what if I get lonely in there?”

“Fine,” you huffed, moving his arm off of you, and heading off to the en-suite.

That night, as you stared at the blank wall in a vain attempt to quiet your mind enough to fall asleep, you questioned if coming to meet Ransom’s family was more of a mistake than you initially anticipated.

The next morning felt a bit frantic. You and Ransom woke up a few hours before everyone else, as they’d been in California for a few days now and had adjusted to the time difference, while you two had not. An in-house chef made you two a gourmet buffet of a meal while housekeepers laid out your clothes back in your room, and you were feeling a bit overwhelmed by all of the sudden interferences in your life. Though it was nice to not have to do all of the work, you weren’t sure how you felt about other people doing it for you.

The majority of your day felt similar to that morning. You quickly realized that Ransom’s fortune was just a small portion of the Thrombey estate, and that his family were essentially a bunch of monsters with money. Throughout the day of horse riding, wine tasting, and wine painting workshops, you couldn’t help but notice how they turned their noses up at you, treating you, and the staff working at the vineyard, like some sort of outsider.

Your alienation only became more apparent during Harlan’s celebratory dinner, when insults and sneers were tossed at both you and Ransom for being together.

“Are you trying to get revenge on us, or something?” Richard asked at one point, gesturing to you, and catching you completely off guard,

“Why would you say something like that?” Ransom asked, trying not to let his offence show as his jaw clenched.

“It’s just not like you to want to settle down, especially with someone like… her,” he spoke about you like you weren’t sitting right there.

“No, I agree,” Walt added. “For once in our lives I agree with you,” he laughed aloud, and a few other folks at the table laughed with him. “Can you believe that after all these years, we’re bonding over Ransom’s little girlfriend?”

You weren’t even sure how to react, so you laughed awkwardly along with them, and stared blankly at the vast expanse of grape trees behind the row of Thrombey and their friends. What you would give to sprint out into that, and never come back.

Ransom looked to you in your obvious discomfort, and grabbed your knee, offering it a little reassuring squeeze before he interrupted them.

“You know what? All of you dickheads can eat shit. Y/N is really the only person who matters to me at this point, and you pricks need to respect that. Hell, you need to respect her.”

“Look at little Ranny, getting all soft,” Walt chided.

He ignored the comment and continued on, “And If I don’t start hearing apologies soon, every single one of your wedding invites have a one way ticket to the shredder.”

A silence fell over the table. You were a bit surprised too, since your invites had already gone out, and Harlan was the only Thrombey to receive one.

“...You’re getting married?” Meg asked, breaking the silence. “Why wouldn’t you tell us?”

“Why do you think?” you muttered, pushing around a few things on your plate before standing up, and pushing your chair away. “Excuse me.”

You knew that by leaving, you were only opening yourself up for more criticism, but you genuinely weren’t sure that you’d be able to take one more second of hostility. You pushed your chair back in, before heading off the patio, into the gigantic home, and up to the room that you’d claimed.

You rolled on top of the bed, and screamed into a feather filled pillow. It wasn’t too long after when tears stung your eyes as you came to the conclusion that these monsters were just a few months away from becoming your in-laws.

You thought you’d heard the most of it after the table, yet a prompt knocking at your door proved otherwise. Letting herself in, you turned to face Ransom’s mother herself, and you just knew that you were in for it.

“Listen, you whore,” Linda began in a sharp, yet quiet tone, “I don’t know what you’re trying to do with my son. Isolate him from us. Try to ‘change him’ like I know you think you’re doing. But just know that at the end of the day, he’ll always pick us. You’ll always be the second choice, especially when Ransom realizes that you barely have a dime to your name, and his bank account starts to runs dry,” she approached you, and pointed an accusatory finger towards you. “You’ll never be anything but a disgusting, sloppy little gold digger. You may be his toy of the week, but at the end of the day, you’re just an afterthought. I suggest that you get out of his life sooner than later. I’m sure Ransom wouldn’t mind, considering we already have your replacement with one foot in the door,” she gestured over to the window facing the back patio, where Ransom was chatting with a brunette woman that appeared to be quite a few years younger than himself.

“You’re cute, Y/N. Really! It’s cute that you’re thinking right now that he would never leave you, cheat on you with some new, younger, hotter piece of ass. Just know that you don’t know Ransom as well as you really think you do. I can promise you, it’ll be much easier to break off an engagement than it’ll be to get a divorce. Especially with that prenup he’s considering dropping on your desk any day.” she tutted as if she cared. “Well, sweetheart, it was great meeting you. I’m glad that these were our first and last words together,” she gave your back a pat before leaving the room, and you looked out the window in shock.

Shaking as you dig into the pocket of your sundress, you sent Ransom a simple ‘help’ message, before setting your phone aside and trying to pack your belongings in as quick of a manner as possible.

When Ransom opened the door, a steady stream of tears and mascara was staining your face, while you urgently threw things into your suitcase.

“Goose, what happened?” he gasped, hurrying over to your kneeling form, and setting a hand on your shoulder.

“Why,” you sniffled. “Why would you let her come up here and say all that shit to me!” you croaked, swatting his hand away from you.

“What?” he watched as you pressed down on the overfilled suitcase and frantically attempted to zip it, to no avail. “Linda said she was gonna come apologize?”

“Telling me that I’ll never be enough for you is just a perfect apology,” you muttered, “I need to go home.”

“God,” he grumbled to himself, “This is exactly why I waited so long for them to meet you. Okay, we can go home then. I’ll buy us tickets right now.”

“This is on you too, Ransom. You didn’t tell them about us, like, at all. You had so much time! You couldn’t give Linda a call and say ‘hey I’ve been seeing this girl’ or even tell Harlan to deliver the message for you?” you hiccuped, but continued. “All of this could’ve been avoided if they had four years to adjust to our relationship. Maybe then they wouldn’t call me a whore and a gold digger every other sentence.”

“I was just trying to protect you from them,” he frowned.

You finally managed to zip up the suitcase, and stood up along with it, “well, you clearly did a great job of that.”

You dusted off the skirt of your dress, and grabbed your phone. “I’ll let you know when our car gets here,” you huffed before walking into the en-suite and closing the door behind you, just to have a moment for yourself (and make yourself look a bit more put together before you leave.)

A tense car ride, and awkward flight later, you marched straight into the guest bedroom, and cocooned yourself under a copious amount of blankets. You felt like you stayed there for years, only getting out of bed to shower and use the restroom, and living off of the crustless sandwiches and jarred spaghetti your fiancé brought to your door.

You slept most of the time, and in the moments you weren’t sleeping, you were dwelling on every vicious word thrown at you at the vineyard. Every day, you listened to Ransom apologize through the door, yet every day, you questioned if going through with the wedding was truly the wisest idea.

A few days into your stay in the guest bedroom, you finally allowed Ransom to stay in the room for more than just dropping off food. He sat down next to you in bed, and cupped your cheek in his hand, rubbing his thumb softly back and forth against the skin.

“I don’t know how I can make things right for you,” he said softly. “I really did set you up, and I didn’t even mean to. I should’ve made better decisions, but I can’t change four years ago. But I can keep those heinous people away from you. They’ll never have the chance to do, or say anything like that to you again, okay?” his thumb caught on a tear, which he promptly wiped away. “Just… please don’t leave me. The bed feels too empty without you, and it’s just been a few days. I can’t imagine feeling that emptiness for the rest of my life.”

You whimpered and sat up, abruptly embracing the broad man. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let your idiot family make me question the validity of our relationship,” you muttered into his shirt.

“I promise you you’ll never have to worry about them again. They had their opportunity to make things right, and they missed it.”

-----

Things were more or less smooth sailing after that fiasco. You found your perfect venue, decided on your ideal Honeymoon spot, and finished your seating arrangements with time to spare, and the next thing you knew your wedding day was around the corner.

It all seemed to happen so fast, one second you were being walked down the aisle, the next, exchanging vows and rings as aisles of your friends and family members cheered for you, Y/N Drysdale.

Your reception also seemed to slip right through your fingers, your first dance, toasts and cake cutting finding itself over almost as soon as it started. You were grateful that you hired a wedding videographer, as the day was so overwhelming, you weren’t quite sure how much of it you’d remember.

As you drove off to the airport, Ransom set his hand upon your knee one more time. A warm, fuzzy feeling formed in your chest at the all too familiar gesture. You turned your head from the window to your husband, who was grinning back at you, and couldn’t help but to think of how perfect your wedding ended up, though it felt like it sped by quickly. More than anything, you were grateful that you didn’t give up on Ransom despite his interesting family.

#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom thrombey x reader #ransom drysdale #knives out fanfic #ransom drysdale x you #chris evans x reader

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deanwanddamons · 3 years ago

Note

Title - Larping? Really?

Word Count - 795

Warnings - None. This is just a simple little drabble.

A/N: Unbetad so all mistakes are my own.

Bingo Square filled: @girl-next-door-writes Make Me Feel Bingo - Head Canon

Feedback is golden ❤️

My Masterlist

Y/N and her boyfriend, Dean, had agreed, reluctantly on his part, to join their best friend Charlie and her larping friends at their most recent event. She had insisted that they both dressed the part, resulting in Y/N’s current attire.

Getting Dean to acquiesce to participating in the cosplay was a whole different matter. Eventually, through lots of pleading and bribery in the form of pie, watching any movie he wanted to and lots of sex, he had given in.

When they had arrived at the field for the medieval banquet and games, (including jousting, which Dean was actually excited to watch), the steward had marked their names off the guest list. The red head computer genius had instructed the man to give them the false names they had to use for the weekend, and he explained the rules in a monotone voice. He looked as happy to be there as the green eyed man by her side, who had complained and bitched the whole journey. She had to admit, she had started to get annoyed with him, and had snapped, telling him it was about time they did something she wanted to do for a change. This statement had shocked him into submission. He apologised for making her feel that way, and changed his tone somewhat, cheering up a little the closer they got to the grounds.

They had been shown to the tent they would be calling home for the next few days, by the same bored looking marshall and were pleasantly surprised at how comfortable and spacious it actually was. Granted, the bed was small, more of a futon really, but it would be fine for a couple of nights.

Unpacking the emerald green, velvet gown she had hired for this occasion, Y/N took off her jeans and tshirt, slipping the dress over her head. Smoothing down the soft material, she glanced down at herself. She had to admit that it made her waist look pretty shapley the way it was pinched in at the middle. Placing the cornet shaped headwear on her head, she adjusted it in the small mirror she had retrieved from her bag, bringing her long plait and the ribbon that cascaded from the hat, over her shoulder. Finally, she stepped into her lace up sandals, and began to tie them from the ankle up, criss crossing the straps over her shins.

“I feel like an idiot,” Dean grumbled as he fiddled with his knee length boots. Placing the mirror back in her bag, she stood from her sitting position on the floor having secured the last piece of leather around her leg, and turned to face the taller man, her hands reaching out to straighten his tunic.

“You look wonderful, Sir Giliade of Aragon,” she reassured him, chuckling as she kissed the tip of his nose.

“You can talk, Lady Vanessa of Hopkinstown,” he scowled at her, his nostrils flaring in annoyance.

“What happens now?” He questioned, clicking his tongue against his teeth as he flopped down onto the bed.

“Hey,” she chastised, grabbing his arms and pulling him up to stand at his full height, “you’ll crease your breeches.” Dean let out a sigh of frustration.

She couldn't help but smile at the petulant expression on the broad hunter's face, the material of the tan coloured tunic stretching across his wide shoulders. He had the air of a child who had just been told off.

“I have to say,” he said, leaning closer to her, his large hands coming to rest on her hips. “You do look delicious in that dress.”

“The emerald green matches your eyes,” she whispered, heat rising up her cheeks. Her boyfriend's mouth was so close to her, she could feel his breath on her skin. He smelled of spice and spearmint. She adored the scent of him.

He danced his fingers up her sides, his palm coming to rest on her cheek. Dean tilted his head and brought his lips to her in a deep kiss. It quickly became passionate, before she broke away, laughing at the mock pout he was now displaying.

“We haven’t got time for that,” she said, playfully swatting away his hand. “We need to go and find Charlie. She is meeting us next to the hog roast.”

“Ohh, I’ve been looking forward to this!” Dean grinned, rubbing his hands together in glee.

They left the tent, and began walking across the field to where they knew the red head would be waiting. As they moved, Dean hung back slightly, pulling out his cosplay sword and swishing it through the air, his bowlegs tensing as he leaned into the movement.

“You know, I could get used to this,” he said to no one inparticular, “This outfit is growing on me.”

He smirked to himself, replacing the item into its cover which was hanging from his hip. Catching up with his girlfriend who was a few steps in front of him, he rested his chin on her shoulder.

She stopped in her tracks, grinning broadly. Without turning around, she said, “Is that a sword in your pocket, or are you pleased to see me?”

“I’m always pleased to see you, sweetheart,” came his response.

Tagging some who may be interested: @winchest09 @cockslut-padalecki @chocolateheart @soaringeag1e @flashxspn @flamencodiva @watermelonlipstick @mvdeanw @wonder-cole @downanddirtydean @deangirl93 @jensengirl83 @princessmisery666 @gh0stgurl @janicho88 @deanwinchesterswitch @lovealways-j @smol-and-grumpy @katehuntington @sandlee44 @siospins @pisces-cutie @kickingitwithkirk @facadeformyrealblog @spnwoman @impalaspixie @ejlovespie @superfanficnatural @thinkinghardhardlythinking @calaofnoldor @peridottea91 @percywinchester27 @jarpad24 @mckenziebyrd67 @fandom-princess-forevermore @pixie88 @libre1rose8 @rslizj @waywardbaby @jc-winchester @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior (If you would like to be removed from tags on future gif drabbles, please let me know. Alternatively, if you are not tagged and would like to be, I’ll be happy to add you) ❤️

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester drabble #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x reader drabble #dean winchester fluff

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storytellerofuntoldlegends · 3 years ago

Text

an icarus and his sun: chapter 4

A/N: what's this? jimmy may be finally leaving denial station? and gray-aroace jimmy because i said so? hell yeah. also more seablings pog!! i do also have the next chapter written already bc it has one of the scenes that was basically the whole reason i wrote this fic, but i'm gonna wait until tomorrow to post it (mostly bc i wanna make sure i have the chapter after that one written bc of... reasons >:) the next chapter is a tad cliffhanger-y and i just don't want y'all to have to wait too long)

Warnings: teasing/banter, flirting, realization of feelings

AO3 Link - Tumblr Masterpost

The invitation for the House Blossom Ball arrived, with a separate handwritten note along with it from Katherine that very pointedly reminded Jimmy to dress up and maybe lose the cod head. Something about how it wasn’t “fancy enough” or whatever. Jimmy felt the cod head was acceptable for any occasion, not to mention he felt weird with his whole head being in view- but maybe he could compromise for Katherine. He’d have to figure out some sort of other headpiece… but the ball wasn’t for a few days anyway. Jimmy had plenty of time to figure out an outfit. In the meantime, he had some work to do on his slime farm. And of course, who else should be there but Scott when Jimmy came up from his farm. He was sitting on the roof of the slime farm entrance, legs swinging idly.

“What are you doing here,” Jimmy asked with a tired sigh, really hoping that he wouldn’t have to deal with another fight with Scott. Scott hopped down from the roof, gliding a bit before landing in front of Jimmy.

“Oh same as always, I was bored and you’re fun to bother,” Scott said with a shrug and a playful grin. Jimmy glowered at him, putting his hands on his hips.

“Oh no, not today! I’m not letting you get under my skin anymore!” Jimmy said, determination in his tone. Scott raised an eyebrow as his grin morphed into a smirk, and there was that squirming, fluttery feeling from their fight again.

“Are you sure about that?” Scott crooned, a clear challenge in his voice. Jimmy shut his eyes, taking a deep breath before shifting his expression into something more neutral.

“Absolutely,” he said firmly, walking past Scott towards his base. Scott seemed surprised for a moment, before getting his bearings and following after Jimmy.

"Not even over this?" Scott asked, walking beside Jimmy and tossing something green up in the air before catching it again. Jimmy stopped walking, brows furrowed in confusion. Scott stopped too, looking him in the eyes as he tossed the object again- a slimeball.

"How- where- when did you- where did you get that from?!" Jimmy demanded. The only way people got slime was from his empire.

“Got it from one of your chests- thought you wouldn’t mind,” Scott replied with a shrug, that smirk still irritatingly present on his face.

“I very much do mind! Give that back!” Jimmy demanded, lunging forward to try and grab the slimeball from his hand. Scott darted back, flapping his wings and sending a gush of wind to push Jimmy back.

“You’re gonna have to catch me, fish boy,” Scott teased, before taking off into the sky. Jimmy grit his teeth in frustration.

“I’m the Codfather!” he protested, equipping his elytra and taking off after Scott. Scott laughed, dipping and twirling in the sky while Jimmy struggled to keep up. Going after someone who had actual wings while Jimmy only had an elytra was a definite disadvantage, but Jimmy was a little too stubborn to care. Scott climbed higher into the sky with ease, Jimmy following close after- and then the sun hit Scott’s wings and Jimmy just about fell out of the sky. The sun’s rays caught the gold tips of his wings, making them shimmer. But it wasn’t just the sunshine reflecting off his wings- it was the way Scott’s whole face seemed to shine like the sun with his smile and how the wind ruffled his usually neat hair. It was how his laugh sounded as if the shimmering of gold made a sound. It was how those icy blue eyes sparkled with mirth as he held the slimeball victoriously above his head. It was how Scott’s expression suddenly melted from that of a mischievous trickster to something almost fond. All of those things caused that pleasant flip-flopping feeling in his stomach to return, and Jimmy suddenly pitched down because of it. He quickly righted himself, flushing in embarrassment and glaring at Scott’s resulting smirk.

“Guess you aren’t one of those flying fish, huh,” he teased.

“Just give me the slimeball back!” Jimmy demanded. Scott laughed, and it felt like flowers blooming in Jimmy’s chest.

“You get so fussed over the littlest of things,” he said, still laughing. Jimmy got the feeling that he should have been angry at Scott’s teasing, he was making fun of him, after all! But instead, Jimmy couldn’t help but smile back. To Jimmy’s surprise, Scott seemed startled by that, eyes going wide and a half gasp, half laugh escaping his lips.

“Sometimes you gotta appreciate the little things in life! You miss those things when you fly above everything and live up and away from the world in the mountains,” Jimmy pointed out with a laugh. Scott pondered this, slowly floating back to the ground as he did so. Jimmy tilted his head to the side in confusion, coming to a landing beside him. Scott was staring at the slimeball in his hands with a mix of wonder and bafflement. Shaking his head, Scott reached out for Jimmy’s hand and pressed the slimeball into it, both hands clasping over Jimmy’s hand for a moment. Jimmy’s hand felt fever-warm at Scott’s touch, and his heart hammered in his chest.

“You can have this back. Sorry,” Scott said, quickly withdrawing his hands. Jimmy felt horrible instantly, he clearly struck a nerve with what he said. Before Scott got a chance to leave, Jimmy quickly grabbed his hands, giving the slimeball back.

“Keep it, I’ve got plenty. You- you should enjoy the little things in life too,” Jimmy said softly. Scott’s face tinged pink, all the way up to the tips of his ears.

“I- whatever,” Scott scoffed, trying to bring it back to their teasing back and forth from before, but failing miserably. Before Jimmy had a chance to reply, Scott drew his hands back, holding the slimeball close to his chest and taking off into the sky. This time around, Jimmy didn’t bother chasing after him. He was a little too busy wondering what on earth had just happened. One moment Jimmy was irritated by Scott’s presence, and the next his heart felt all fluttery and he willingly gave him a commodity from his empire. What was happening to him?! Jimmy had a sneaking suspicion… but he had to talk to Lizzie or Joel first. He just had to be sure.

Jimmy flew to Lizzie’s empire, spotting her and Joel sitting together on one of her giant lilypads. They both looked at him with concern when he landed in front of them, out of breath. Lizzie was the first to jump to her feet, hands reaching out towards him and searching for any injuries. Joel followed after her and hovered at her side, looking unsure of what to do.

“What happened?! Are you hurt, were you attacked?!” Lizzie demanded, and Joel’s eyes shot to the skies as he put a hand on the hilt of his sword. Jimmy laughed, shaking his head.

“Guys, I’m fine! See, look! I’m all good. Just had to see you,” Jimmy said, holding his arms out to show that he was, in fact, uninjured. Lizzie and Joel breathed out a simultaneous sigh of relief.

“Oh thank goodness. Usually when you fly to one of us in a panic, you’re hurt or being chased, or something’s seriously wrong,” Joel said, the tension draining from his shoulders and hand dropping from the hilt of his sword. Jimmy’s smile turned sheepish.

“Well… something… might be wrong. But there’s something I’ve gotta ask you guys first,” Jimmy replied nervously. Lizzie and Joel exchanged confused glances. Lizzie stepped closer, putting a comforting hand on Jimmy’s shoulder.

“Of course, you can ask us anything,” she said softly. Jimmy took a deep breath, working up the nerve to say it.

“How did you know you were in love?” he asked timidly. Lizzie blinked in surprise, and Joel raised an eyebrow.

“Is this about Scott?” Joel asked. Jimmy’s face flushed in embarrassment.

“Please just answer the question,” he muttered. Thankfully, Joel didn’t seem to be in a teasing mood, and neither did Lizzie.

“For me it was her smile. Gave me butterflies the first time I saw it,” Joel said, unabashedly gazing at Lizzie. She giggled, and Joel’s fond expression increased tenfold.

“Butterflies?” Jimmy asked, a bit confused by the turn of phrase.

“You know, when your stomach gets all squirmy, but not in a bad way? Like a bunch of butterfly wings flapping inside you,” Joel explained, and Jimmy was hit with a sudden burst of clarity. Something in his expression must have shown it, because Lizzie gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze.

“You’re telling me that’s what love feels like? It’s that just… all the time?” Jimmy asked, his voice a little hollow with disbelief. At himself mostly, for not realizing it sooner. To be fair, he didn’t feel those sorts of feelings often. In fact, he felt it almost exclusively with Scott. So to realize this whole time what he had really been feeling wasn’t just hatred or irritation… he felt a little silly.

“Well, it’s not always like that, sometimes being around someone you love just makes you feel warm and cozy,” Lizzie added.

“Well… but I feel warm and cozy all the time with you guys!” Jimmy protested, still trying to deny that feeling just a little bit longer. Lizzie smiled, patient and understanding.

“Yes, but with this… hypothetical someone, it’s different, isn’t it,” she gently prodded. Jimmy finally gave in. It was different with Scott, and that honestly terrified him. He’d never felt this way about anyone, ever.

“Oh my god, I like him,” Jimmy breathed.

“About time you figured it out,” Joel muttered. Lizzie moved her hand from Jimmy’s shoulder to swat Joel’s arm. Jimmy was too busy having a bit of an existential crisis to really care.

“Oh my god I really like him. This whole time- but Scott hates me, what on earth am I supposed to- but he seemed kind of nice today…” Jimmy trailed off, beginning to pace back and forth. Lizzie gasped in excitement, rushing over to stand in front of Jimmy and grabbing his shoulders.

“You saw him today?! Tell. Me. Everything!” she demanded. Jimmy let out a sheepish laugh.

“Nothing really happened! He stole a slimeball from me, I chased him a bit in the sky- and oh god he was gorgeous in the sunlight- and then I said something to make him sad and let him keep the slimeball anyway. I- wow I really didn’t like seeing him sad,” Jimmy rambled, a disbelieving smile growing across his face. Joel made a mock-disgusted face.

“I think I liked it better when Jimmy was in denial, he’s getting all mushy now,” he teased. Lizzie rolled her eyes.

“Don’t listen to him, being mushy is a good look on you,” she insisted, getting a laugh out of Jimmy.

“I’m glad you think so, but maybe Joel is right. Cause now all I can think about is how Scott definitely doesn’t feel the same way,” Jimmy said with a sigh. A determined look came across Lizzie’s face, and distantly Jimmy was a little terrified.

“Oh no, you’ve activated her plotting look,” Joel said with the same distant terror that Jimmy was feeling.

“The ball is the perfect time to change Scott’s mind and show him that you are a catch, you’ve said so yourself,” Lizzie explained with a grin.

“Oh no, that is not happening, I just want the ball to be something fun, I don’t wanna make a scene,” Jimmy protested, but it came out a little weak.

“Us? Make a scene? Never. I was just thinking that we make sure to get you a snazzy outfit!” Lizzie said, and while Jimmy didn’t trust her for a second, he could concede that Lizzie had a better sense of style than he did.

“Oh, alright. As long as it’s just that,” Jimmy said firmly.

“Of course!” Lizzie said, far too innocently. Jimmy just chuckled and shook his head.

“And we should probably do something fancier than the cod head,” Joel added. Jimmy sighed, putting a hand over the cod head.

“Yeah, yeah, Katherine mentioned that too,” Jimmy said with a pout.

“Don’t worry, you’re in good hands!” Lizzie chirped, releasing Jimmy’s shoulders to instead grab his arm and pull him to where she and Joel had been sitting, rambling about outfit ideas all the while. Jimmy couldn’t help but smile and be a tiny bit hopeful. Maybe wearing something nice would catch Scott’s eye… but then what? Happily ever after? Was that how love even worked? Whatever the case, he was sure Lizzie would have a plan for that too. And maybe the ball could be the start of something beautiful.

Taglists below! Ask me to be added/removed!

MCYT General Fic Taglist: @corazon10000 @damiensaidno @franticfandomfanatic @gattonero17 @hetapeep41 @space-ace123

AIAHS Taglist: @anty-kreatywna @devilwoodkitty18 @riobug

#empires smp #jimmy solidarity #scott smajor #ldshadowlady #smallishbeans #flower husbands #seablings #empires smp fic #mcyt #aiahs #sage writes

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xmint-conditionx · 4 years ago

Text

《the emperor’s dagger》 ch1 | myg

❦ pairing: emperor!yoongi x concubine!reader ❦ w/c: 4.5k ❦ summary: you recall the first night that you began to love your emperor more than your job required. you find yourself in a dangerous situation that surely means death if mistakes are made. being careful is your first priority, but it’s easy to forget where and who you are when you lock eyes with him. ❦ tags/cw: 18+ please, smut, the tiniest bit of fluff you ever saw, brief blood/gore descriptions, derogatory names but not in the way you think, fingering, slight begging, slight nibbling, “be quiet or people could hear” trope, a little adorable aftercare yoongi is here uwu ❦ a/n: guys get fuckin PUMPED okay. i am so so so excited to bring you this crazy story. as far as i have planned, there are 15 chapters. this has (kind of obviously) been in the works since daechwita dropped, so i’m sure you won’t have any trouble picturing our lovely king. this is a complete fantasy setting, so please do know that i am not trying to emulate any particular culture or time period.

also, please note that this is a repost of my work from a previous blog, so if it looks familiar to you, that’s probably why lmao

anyway, thanks luv, enjoy!

- minty

Blood stains your blade, glistening bright crimson in the hot sun. You’re surrounded by anguish, pain, the sounds of final breaths and final cries. The dead soldier that lies on the dirty brick in front of you, who had been alive and trying to claim your life only moments before is staring lifelessly into the middle distance. You fight the urge to close his eyes; you two could have been friends, after all. You probably have even crossed paths before. A shudder runs through you at the thought. How many of these men that will meet their end at your sword will you have known? How many of your people will have to die? Are they still even your people? You don’t want to know the answer to these questions.

What had he called you? What had he said before his sword clashed with yours?

That’s right.

“Whore.”

You never anticipated being in this situation. You had never wanted to have to fight; you only had wanted to look as beautiful as he had wielding a sword. Fighting was always something that was necessary for your people, but it was never something you would have to be doing yourself. You’d heard palace guards talking about some distant battle and thought it might be a fun adventure-- going off to war. You were wrong. You were naive. About a lot of things, it turns out.

That was a different time, when your only adventure came in the form of a secret romance. When the riskiest thing you did was love an emperor. Your emperor. Your Yoongi.

Where is he?

You look back to where you had last seen him on the battlefield. His long blonde hair shines like gold in the midday sun, only rivaling the sheen of his trusted blade. He cuts down his opponent with a decisive swing, the sick squelching sound of innards falling onto the hot stone as the man cries out. You watch as he expertly scans his surroundings, looking for anyone else that would dare challenge his skill in the chaos. He’s missing an earring, you realize. Both of you are heaving under the stress of battle. This is more than you’d ever prepared for. You don’t know if you’ll make it.

Your hesitant eyes meet his assured ones, and for an instant, sword in hand, it’s like the first night you’d snuck up to meet him in his chambers.

The dark wooden floorboards of the upper palace creaks, and you scold yourself for not being more quiet. Being caught will at the least result in a very long and extensive round of questioning by the royal guard. Trouble is the last thing you want to stir up.

Emperor Min had specifically requested you come to his private room in secret tonight, and that is a little strange to you. He has the power to have any of his women whenever he wishes, and he has asked for you to come to him under the cloak of night. Why must this time be a secret? He has had you many times before, so why must this time be hidden?

In his handwritten note that he had slipped to you earlier in the day, he instructs for you to wait until all the other concubines are asleep before you leave your wing. If you are careful, you can take a shortcut through the North Wing Tearoom and pass the guards who only patrol the center hallway. So that’s what you do.

You see that they’re far enough down the corridor that they won’t be able to detect your movements, and so you silently slip through the large ornate wooden doors. You’ve been in this room many times before, but it feels like your first time here. Everything looks so different without the familiar warm glow of lantern light. The moon’s shadows are cold and sharply cast, and a chill runs up your spine. You don’t have to even look to feel his presence. To feel his eyes on you.

He’s waiting for you, sitting at the bottom edge of his large, low bed, chin perched delicately on his folded hands. The cool metal of his many rings shine in the moonlight, and past those adorned hands, he is staring right at you. His stare is one that is unreadable to most. Nobody is ever really able to know what is going on in his head. Nobody could ever know what emotion lies behind the stare. You wonder how much time he spends in thought.

“Come,” he says, motioning in his direction.

You obey your king, stepping forward a few paces. Something on his bed catches and glints in the moonlight. A sword? You stop, only halfway to him. You could already be in trouble. If he had heard your conversation with another concubine a few days ago, heavy questioning by the easily fooled palace guards will be the least of your worries. They won’t ask questions before they kill you.

“Your Majesty,” you say to the ground, too demure to look him in the eye as you speak, fearing what he might say and do, “why have you invited me here like this?”

Emperor Min stands and almost silently completes the distance over to where you stand. His calloused palm gently grazes your jaw, thumb on your cheekbone as his fingers wind through your hair. His touch calms your racing heart, and fills your belly with strength and boldness. You finally find the courage to look up.

“I have a surprise for you, my dove,” the emperor says, and you think you see a hint of excitement in his dark brown eyes.

He quickly spins around and guides you over to where he had been sitting moments before. He picks up the hilt of the sword that was laying next to him and places it delicately into your palm, enclosing his hand around yours. You had expected him to pick up the sword, but to put it in your hands? Impossible.

“I heard you say you wanted to learn to sword fight,” he says, smiling gently down at you.

Your mouth drops; your worst fear has been realized. He had heard your hushed conversation. Surely, you were about to die. Maybe if you groveled and flattered him enough, he would spare you.

“Your Grace, it was only a passing comment. I was only in awe of how skillfully you were practicing out in the gardens. I did not mean for anyone to hear; I was simply awe-struck by your deftness. I do not truly wish to learn. It was a foolish slip of the tongue. Please, forgive me.”

Please, don’t kill me.

“My dear, are you worried about your life?” he asks.

“Yes, Your Majesty. I am,” you say, looking to the floor again. Hoping to pull out any sympathy he may have.

“I do not want you to lose your life. I want you to learn how to properly wield a sword,” he says so quietly it’s almost silent-- as if he’s afraid to even say it himself, “if that is what you want. And I would like to be the one to teach you.”

Women aren’t supposed to learn anything related to warfare, especially not something as dangerous as sword fighting. A single mistake could mean the loss of a limb, but being discovered in practice could mean the loss of a life. Even teaching was punishable by death, although you’re sure the Emperor himself would be able to keep his life intact if discovered. If anyone else had heard your words to another concubine, even if you were able to convince them it was an innocent mistake, you would likely be thrown out of the palace immediately.

Concubines don’t snitch on the little things, but if any of them had reported you sneaking out tonight, your head would surely be on the chopping block first thing in the morning. You’re all allowed so much. You live in luxury, you’re able to roam most of the palace grounds as you please, you’re dressed in some of the finest fabrics, given plenty to eat, gifted spending money, and on top of it all, you get to lay with the king. Anyone fortunate enough to be chosen for this position doesn’t do anything to risk it.

The emperor must sense your unease, because he puts his hand on your shoulder and gives it a light squeeze.

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” he says quietly.

What has to be hours later, you flop down on his bed; your labored breaths are the only thing that can be heard in the broad expanse of his room. You haven’t even crossed blades with him, and you’re exhausted. He only taught you how to hold it properly, how to angle a strike, and how to move, but your body pounds with soreness. Your arms and your legs are heavy with fatigue, and the cool plush comforter is a welcome sensation to your aching body. As you lay, you look up to the ornate ceiling trimmed with gold and you begin to settle your breathing. You lay the sword down between you and the side of the bed; at the beginning of your lesson it felt light as a feather, but as you were instructed to keep it up, it now feels as if it were made of lead.

He delicately sits down by your side, barely disturbing the fabric; you lock eyes with him and have to hold back a laugh. For some reason, you feel silly. You have never truly imagined that you would be in this place or situation. A woman? Sword fighting? Not just a woman, but a concubine? And with the king himself? If you had been told as a young girl that this would happen, you’d laugh so hard that you’d wet yourself. It was simply impossible! Or so you had thought.

You and many other concubines had watched Emperor Min practice his sword fighting out in the royal gardens countless times, and all of you were consumed with the grace and proficiency he could demonstrate. You were the only one, however, who ever wanted to be down there with him, taking part in the mysterious dance he was so fond of. You were the only one who had dared to speak your hidden desires, and it seems that you lucked out. You certainly served a gracious emperor.

His eyes turn into crescent moons as he beams down at you, showing off his gummy smile. You wonder why he rarely displays it; he’s always so serious when he’s in the public eye. The only other time you’ve seen as much as a smirk is when he bests his opponents in practice, his pretty lips curling into a snarl as he holds them at the point of his blade. You’ve only seen him smile when doing what he loves.

The way you look lying on his sheets, your heaving chest covered in little more than your underclothing and moonlight. Your hair spilling out in shining pools around your delicate face, which is flushed from exertion. The way you look up at him with pure bliss in your eyes. Perhaps he smiles because he likes what he sees, He licks his lips as he lets his hand wander across your decollete, which has collected a thin layer of sweat.

“I hope you haven’t tired yourself out completely,” he says, leaning in closer to you, so close that you can smell his naturally musky scent, “You’re a quick learner. You are quite good with your hands, my dear.” You flush further at his words, deep with insinuation. You would be lying if you weren’t thinking of other activities you could be doing with him, too.

“I am good at a lot of things, My King,” you return, tone laced with venom as you look up at him through heavy lashes. The chemistry between you both had always been electric. What one would put down, the other would pick up. Flirty banter was as easy for you two as breathing. Innate. Inherent. Natural. As if you were born to do it.

His hand travels down your chest and curls around your waist, giving your lax form a gentle tug upwards, so that your lips can meet his. He had only begun to kiss you recently, and as far as you can tell from the stories from the other concubines, you were the only one. You aren’t sure exactly what that means, but you also aren’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Or question why you’re the only one who gets to kiss the Emperor. The way he kisses you is nearly indescribable. He always starts off delicately, as if to test the waters, or as if to tease you. You haven’t decided which one it is yet, so you relish in how his lips play with yours. But you want more.

You push yourself upwards and deepen the kiss, and he responds in kind, sucking in your bottom lip to coax you into opening up for him. He has never been pushy; he has never pressured you - or any other that you knew of - into doing something you didn’t want. He has always been respectful of you and the others, which is the last thing you had expected. After all, you are just a glorified whore. And he is a king.

You part your lips and allow his tongue to dance with yours, each silently fighting for dominance. You let him win, and he takes the opportunity to climb over your frame. Noticing the sword by your side, he tosses it onto the floor. It hits the rug with a soft thud, as it has done many times that night when you had dropped it. He continues to deepen the kiss, and you can feel yourself beginning to get damp. Feeling that familiar tingling sensation run up your spine, you feel the need to reach under his silk robe and run your hands up his chest, which sends him moaning into you. He involuntarily pushes his hips against you, and you can feel how hard he is behind his night robe. It’s not like him to take his time, like this. Usually, he would have already put you in his desired position and… well, gotten on with it already. He might need some inspiration. You break the kiss by tilting your head up, and he begins kissing down your exposed neck, and fuck does that feel good.

“Your Majesty,” you whine, fist full of his soft blonde hair, “How would you like me tonight?”

He speaks in between kisses.

“What… ever could you… mean?” he says warmly against your neck.

“Would you like me on my stomach tonight? I know you’re fond of the view,” you say, playfully wiggling your hips. He pauses for a beat, and pulls back to look at you. He chuckles a little.

“I’m quite fond of this view, too,” he says, showing off his gummy smile again and leaning in to cup your breasts as he trails kisses down into your cleavage. He begins to nibble softly at your flesh as he pulls the fabric down, exposing your nipples to the night. He pinches one roughly, making you pull on his hair a little harder, both of you having to stifle a moan. How dangerous to be doing this at the risk of guards hearing! His hand wanders down your frame and then up into your underskirts, cupping your heat gently as you open your legs for him.

His fingers graze against your clit, and you feel the cool metal of his rings slide against your damp folds as he teases your entrance. You bite your lip and hold back a moan. You wish you could just tell him to hurry.

As if answering a prayer, he slides his finger into your waiting slit, coaxing more of your wetness out of you. He adds another finger, curling them up gently and pushing up against that spongy spot that drives you wild. You buck up your hips in response, and you feel him smirk into your chest. He continues to gently bite around your areolas, never quite reaching your peaks as he sets an agonizingly slow pace with his fingers. The sensations that spark through your body at his ministrations are dizzying, but they’re also incredibly frustrating. He’s keeping you just on the edge of satisfaction. What does he want you to do? Beg? You’ve never felt like you could do such a thing, but this evening has made you bold. And his touch has turned you needy.

“Your Grace, pl-please,” you plead quietly into the night.

He looks up to your face scrunched in desperation. “Oh, are you suggesting your king hurry?” he asks with a smirk, “What if he wishes to take his time?”

“Hi-His Highness may have me any way he wishes, of course,” you reply, biting the inside of your cheek to distract you from the torture, “But are the tales of your generosity false? Are you a merciless ruler, set to torture those who would only want to bring you pleasure?”

His eyes on you darken, and he pokes his tongue in the side of his cheek.

“Hm,” he considers, “I suppose I can afford to be kind tonight. After all, you’ve worked so hard already, haven’t you?”

He wastes no time in pulling his fingers out, and you clench at the loss, another groan almost leaving your lips before you’re able to swallow it. He lines his head up with your aching slit, using your wetness to coat his cock. The delicious friction against your clit makes you whine ever so gently into the space between you both, another small beg for him to fill you. He presses into you, the familiar stretch making you dizzy with lust, and buries himself in your neck once more. He quickly sets a brisk pace knowing that you both are eager, and it’s not long until you can hear how wet he makes you. The obscene wet slaps sound like bombs going off in the quiet, and your cunt drips with your slick. You briefly wonder who is the unfortunate servant who will have to clean these bed linens, because you always leave them completely ruined. The way he fucks into you makes you fall apart every time, fitting together like a lock and key.

The king’s lips find yours again, his kisses hungry and wild. You remove your hands from his hair that’s now cascading around you, falling in golden waves onto your shoulders. He’s more ferocious now, biting your bottom lip and then nibbling up your jaw where he sucks your bejeweled lobe between his lips. His hands grasp tightly around your jaw as you take him, every thrust making you more putty in his hands. His free hand curves around and cups your ass, hoisting you up and changing the angle of your hips. With every thrust, his tip grazes against your sweet spot, causing a loud moan to escape your lips, echoing in the large space. Your moan dies as soon as you register it; you shamefully tighten your mouth so that no more noise may escape, but it’s too late. You’ve already been too loud. He looks back towards his bedroom doors, and then back to you.

Something in his expression changes, and his eyes are churning with something devilish. He swiftly covers your mouth with his palm, making sure it’s firmly fastened there before speaking.

“Scream for me, little dove.”

You try to hold back as best as you can, but a particularly hard thrust breaks your resolve. Once you let out that little yelp, it opens the floodgates. Your voice is muffled by his hand as he fucks into you harder and harder, almost painfully. His tip is pounding against your cervix, and dark spots flash in your vision. You continue to lose yourself in him, eagerly meeting his thrusts with ones of your own. His other hand that was once cupping your ass, now finds your wrist and hoists it above your head, as he continues his unrelenting pace. You scream into his hand, and clench around him to bring you right up to the edge.

He leans down to your freshly-nibbled ear, and in a gravelly voice says, “Come. Come around my cock.”

As soon as his hand lets go of your wrist and makes contact with your sensitive clit, you come undone. You scream completely unhinged into his palm which is placed firmly over your mouth, and he too groans as he finishes inside of you, riding through both orgasms until you’re both exhausted. And you thought you were tired before. His heavy breaths meet yours, and you float back down from your high to find yourself resting on his comforter. He gives your jaw a final nibble, and hoists himself off of you.

You hear his soft footsteps padding on the floor as you look up at the ceiling again. The beautiful gold trim you had noted before is a large dragon, spiraled around an inset in the ceiling. He brings back a damp cloth for you to clean yourself with, and he gathers your night clothes from the floor where you had discarded them some time ago. Sword fighting in a dress is not easy, and besides, you look much better in your undergarments. He starts putting your sleepwear back on you, gingerly helping your arms through the holes. He doesn’t have to be doing this. He has never helped you get dressed before; that was a task left to each woman on their own. They had a separate and luxurious bath suite dedicated to their self-care, so why would he bother?. Sometimes the concubine mother would help if things got… interesting, but you scarcely needed help with this. Tonight was surely a night of firsts.

“Uh, thank you, Your Majesty. You didn’t have to help me dress after you finish,” you say, a little flushed from how delicately he treats you after how thoroughly he had just fucked you.

“Yes, I’m aware,” he says, hoisting you up off the bed and leading you towards his doors, “We can’t have you cleaning yourself in your wing’s washroom. You’d probably be dripping all the way back. We can’t have that now, can we?” he asks as he runs his hand down your arm, smirking lightly and raising his eyebrows, “Especially if you’d like to have another lesson.”

You gasp.

“Another? Your Highness, are you certain? Why do you risk getting caught doing this for me?” you ask, not concerned with your own safety, but of his. Even if his life isn’t at risk, the public humiliation that would surround him would be too great. Especially not now. Not in the middle of a war. The subjects of the kingdom are already on edge as it is. The trust in their Emperor cannot falter. Not now.

“Ah, come now. Don’t worry. As long as you stay light on your feet and I ensure that the worst guards in the command are at my post, we are as safe as my blade is sharp. Plus,” he adds, kissing gently against your fingers, “getting to see your beautiful skin glisten with sweat, and then getting to have you all to myself is reward enough for me. It’s definitely worth the risk.”

“My King, you can always have me all to yourself in whatever way you desire,” you say, “There’s no limit to what I can do for you. You know that.”

“Yes, dove,” he says, “I do know that, but there is one thing your king is not allowed. Something that nobody may know of. Your king is not allowed a favorite.”

You know this already. It is why the concubines exist, why you’re able to be here with him at all. You know that it is dangerous to have a favorite. Emperors in your kingdom are unable to wed, and it has always been that way. Spouses are a vulnerability, something an enemy can easily exploit. The concubines exist, like the guard, to protect the emperor in their own way. By allowing him freedom of sexual expression, he is less likely to feel the need to have a romantic partner. Having a person be treasured by the emperor only makes them a weakness. Especially now.

“Nobody can know that you are important to me. Nobody can know that it is you who holds the king’s favor; that is why we must meet mostly in secret going in forward. You’ll be removed from the palace if the officials get a notion of my fondness for you,” he says, holding both of your hands in his, “and I never want you to be missing from me, my dove.”

You understand. You have to. It’s part of the job. You knew all of this going in and you were okay knowing that you would be one of many. You didn’t come to the palace with only the clothes on your back to find a chance at love. You’re smarter than that. You’d be lying if you said being treasured by the king didn’t light a small fire inside of you, though.

You nod and give his beautiful, calloused hands a squeeze.

“I cannot keep you any longer,” he whispers, “you deserve your beauty sleep, especially after all the… exertion you’ve just done. You think you can keep quiet on your way back?”

“I think I can manage, but,” you say, “if I may be so bold, next time, I don’t want to be able to sneak back to my room. I don’t want to be able to even walk after the next time you’re done with me.”

“You’re going to be the death of me, woman,” he says, hiding a soft smile, “but even then, I would welcome it if it came from you.”

You think of the risk you’re both taking, and the consequences of being found out.

“Let's hope it doesn’t come to that, yeah?” you delicately ask, eyes asking a question you’re afraid to give voice to.

“My dove,” he says, “as long as I can help it, no harm will ever come to you. Now, get on to bed.”

You didn’t want to leave, but you know you needed to. The emperor opens the door a crack and nods at you, a silent confirmation that the guards were at the other end of the hall. A silent nod that said it was time.

You ease yourself through the small crack in the door and slowly pad toward your Northern Tearoom shortcut. You look back once more, and you see him mouth “goodnight” with a smirk before shutting the door.

Your return trip to your wing of the palace is much quieter than your first trip, and for that you are thankful. You sneak back into your room where the rest of the concubines lie fast asleep in their own beds, some of them quietly snoring. As you curl up into your bedsheets, you drift asleep thinking about how sweet his smile is. He never shows it to anyone, so why are you the one who gets to see it? After all, you’re just a whore. The emperor’s favorite whore.

#yoongi smut #bts imagines #yoongi x reader #bts fanfiction #yoongi x you #min yoongi #emperor!yoongi #concubine!reader #bts smut #xmint-conditionx #yoongi fluff #yoongi angst #yoongi series #series #repost from my old blog

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sondepoch · 5 years ago

Text

A Sleepover of the Ages (Simeon x Reader x Asmodeus)

When Diavolo's retreat gets extended, you want to relive your favorite human tradition: a sleepover! But you quickly learn that there's a difference between a human sleepover and one with an angel and a demon. Still, that won't stop you from enjoying the night with these two precious boys.

~Oneshot

MASTERLIST

Three days and two nights.

That's how long this retreat was supposed to be.

And you've (miraculously) managed to survive three days and two nights. So why is it that you're still in Diavolo's castle?!

"I can't believe the retreat got extended," Asmodeus murmurs, groaning. "I would have brought even more luggage if I'd known this would happen!"

"Don't worry too much," Simeon responds with a light smile as he opens the door to your room. He pulls it open and sighs at the bareness of it. Each of you have already packed up and prepared to leave, but it seems that you'll all be needing to unload your things once more. "At least, Lucifer will be making sure that there won't be any other pillow fights."

You let out a light laugh at that, remembering the Avatar of Pride's hour-long assault from the night before. It had resulted in everyone collapsing on the floor somewhere or the other, knocked out by one of his many pillow throws of death. Even Solomon's protective spells ended up useless, the white-haired mage just another body on the floor after Lucifer's anger was unleashed. (Though you suspect that the elder demon was also doing it to have fun.)

But this retreat hasn't been all that bad.

You've managed to secure another pact altogether, with Asmodeus—but now that you'll be spending an entire night in the same room as him, you can't help but think that it might end up being a curse in disguise.

"Hey, MC~" He coos, using his demonlike strength to pull you into his bed. "Now that Mammon isn't here to disturb us, how would you like to sleep with me?" You feel your face heat up at the words. The demon made it sound innocent enough, as if all you'd be doing was sharing a bed, but you can already tell that his intentions are far from pure.

"Asmodeus, don't disturb MC." Simeon's disapproving gaze flits over the demon as he pulls you from his grasp, and you're forced to remember that while demons are of unimaginable strength, angels seem to also share in those superhuman qualities. You have to avert your eyes from Simeon's toned muscles when he unclasps the white cloak around his shoulders.

"Oh my~" Asmodeus teases, at Simeon's side in an instant. "Is this what you've been hiding from us these past three days?"

Asmodeus wraps Simeon in a strange embrace from behind, not hugging the angel as much as he's feeling up his muscles. "Don't worry, I could treat you instead."

"Asmo, stop flirting with him," You murmur, flopping onto your bed. You toss a glance toward your luggage which Barbatos had magicked back up here before turning your gaze away. Nope. You're not going through the hassle of unpacking all over again.

"Thank you, MC," Simeon murmurs with a sigh, his usual smile back on his face. He flashes you a look-what-we-have-to-deal-with look, and you can't help but wonder how he manages to stay in such good nature all the time, especially when he's constantly in the presence of his natural enemies. "Anyway, I was planning on sleeping now. This whole retreat has been rather exhausting, wouldn't you agree?"

"Wait!" You murmur, startling the two men. You let an eager smile spread across your face, silently praying that your human charms will be able to convince them of what you're about to suggest. "Why don't we all stay up?"

"Oh~?" Asmodeus coos, clapping his hands together. "A three-way! I didn't know you were confident enough to take us both at once, but if you're up to it then—"

"I don't think that's what MC was trying to imply." Simeon shakes his head and you can't help but think that he's like a chaperone for Asmodeus. He turns to you. "We should stay up doing what?"

"Just stay up! We do it all the time in the human world!" You let your smile widen, memories of your time with friends in the human world flashing through your mind. "It's called a sleepover! If you have a few friends gathered together and you're all supposed to be sleeping in the same room, you just stay up the whole night and watch movies or talk and have fun and stuff. They're awesome!"

Simeon brings a gloved hand up to his face, considering the idea. "I suppose Diavolo's objective with this retreat was to bring the three realms closer together. Trying this human tradition may not be such a bad idea."

Next to him, though, Asmodeus pouts. "Ehh? But if I don't sleep my face will be all puffy in the morning!" He brings two hands to his cheeks, feeling his soft skin. "And my skin is already suffering from Lucifer's pillow attack last night..."

"Nope!" You jump off the bed, suddenly refreshed. When you proposed the idea of a sleepover, you were really only trying to get Simeon to agree. With his consent, you have no hesitations about forcing Asmodeus to play along irrespective of how the demon feels about it. "You're staying up! It's decided! We're having a sleepover!"

You clap your hands eagerly, and the two men in front of you seem to let go of their final doubts after seeing how happy it makes you.

"So how does this 'sleepover' begin? A traditional ritual? A prayer for a fulfilling night? A sacred chant?" Simeon's gaze is serious, and you have to stifle your laughter.

"Um, most of the sleepovers I've been to have started off as a pool party. But that doesn't matter!" You pinch the fabric of the bed you've spent the past two nights sleeping on. It's a bit on the thicker side, but it should work. "Let's start by building a fort!"

You started off eager, beyond optimistic about the idea of having a sleepover when you haven't had one since leaving the human world...but you quickly find that there are some differences between your normal human friends, and the demon and angel sitting in front of you.

"A fort? You want us to cast a fortification?" Simeon asks with concerned eyes, uncertainty creeping in. He glances around the bedroom, wondering how you plan to turn it into a protected stronghold.

It takes all your power not to facepalm then and there.

At Asmodeus's next words, you can only stare in disbelief. "No! MC means a military fort! It'll be tough, but we should be able to transform these walls with some high-level sorcery."

After you manage to explain that what you meant was a blanket fort, though, both Simeon and Asmodeus end up being shockingly helpful. Apparently, living for thousands of years gives you a pretty deep understanding of how to manipulate fabrics, and within minutes the two of them have suspended your bed-sheet in the air, somehow managing to tie the four corners to the three bedposts that are closest to the center of the room.

From there on, you all work together to double up two quilts on the ground as a makeshift carpet, and after the skeleton of the blanket fort is completed, everything becomes about the aesthetic.

You and Simeon creep around on your knees inside the fort, straightening out corners and tightening knots that need to be tightened. Outside, Asmodeus dances around, tossing additional blankets on top of the fort to create velvety walls to the structure. He spends nearly five whole minutes fiddling with the two blankets closest to the door, attempting to get them to match the shape of an opening curtain before you finally pull him inside.

"This is perfect!" You exclaim as you gaze around the fort. The bedposts that support the blanketed ceiling are fairly high up, so you're able to lean your back against the bedframe and sit upright with no problems. Simeon, on the other hand, is struggling.

"It's...low," He murmurs, craning his neck down. He keeps a hand on top of his head, earnestly trying his best not to disturb the ceiling of this fort, but you can tell that it's a struggle.

"No problem!" Asmodeus exclaims, extending a hand outward. He's more energetic than usual, which is surprising, given how mopey he originally was about the idea of staying up the whole night. He closes his hand into a fist and instantly, the entire fort begins to glow a faint purple, a mirror of the magenta hue radiating off Asmodeus's body.

You glance at Simeon, wondering whether the angel is as concerned over Asmodeus's actions as you are, but he seems nonchalant as the demon continues casting his magic.

And after the spell is complete, you understand why.

"Woah!" You exclaim, glancing around wildly. "I had no clue you could do that! Why didn't you tell me? This blanket fort looks amazing now!"

You glance upward, unable to even close your mouth in awe of how brilliant the fort looks. In truth, the fact that the three of you had managed to erect a ceiling for the fort already put it above all the blanket forts you'd built with your human friends, but this? Asmodeus's spell completely reworked all the blankets in the fortress: the fabrics move on their own, straightening and reknotting themselves until the structure has completely shifted. For starters, the ceiling is now a dome, the topmost part of the blanket knotted around the chandelier in your quarters. And the way the rest of the quilts draped down from the top truly makes your fort look like a princess's room, the most brilliant fort you've ever seen.

"A job well done, Asmodeus," Simeon compliments, now able to sit upright.

"Call me Asmo," The demon says with a wink. Asmodeus—or Asmo, rather—then turns his gaze to you, where you still have your mouth dropped open in awe of how beautiful this whole setup is. "Oh my, MC~ You certainly seem impressed. If you want, I have something even more remarkable in my pants that I could show you. I'm sure you'd love it~"

Yep.

Moment ruined.

Congrats, Asmo.

You flash the demon a dirty look, but even you can't hold up the facade for long before your frown turns into a laugh. You flop down on the soft floor, spreading your limbs out like a starfish while Simeon stretches next to you. "This is the best fort I've ever seen."

"I'm glad. This was...surprisingly fun, given that all we did was rearrange blankets." Simeon ruffles your hair, his smile bright as he gazes down at you. "What's next on the sleepover agenda?"

"Ehhhh?" You let your mouth drop in mock disbelief, ignoring how much your whine sounds like Asmo's. "You don't want to savor how awesome this is? Lie down on your back! It feels so good to appreciate all our hard work!" You pat the empty spaces next to you, inviting both Simeon and Asmo to lean back with you.

You know that they're only doing it to humor you, but they finally lean back by your side. "Oh," Simeon murmurs softly when his back presses into the ground. Asmo makes a similar sound, and you can't help but smile.

It's something you've done in every sleepover.

People always live such rushed lives. Even in their relaxation, it's hard to fully lie back and just chill, which is why you always make your friends do this. It doesn't even matter if the blanket fort attempted was successful or not—there's something about just leaning back and looking up, letting every muscle in your body loose and simply bathing in repose, that nothing else can replicate.

And while your human friends didn't always appreciate it, the sounds of contentment coming from Asmo and Simeon are more than enough to tell you that they understand you.

They get it.

"I could stay like this for the rest of the night," Asmo murmurs with a content sigh.

"Do that and you'll fall asleep," You respond. "And that breaks rule number three of all sleepovers!"

"Rule number three?" Simeon asks. "There are rules to sleepovers?"

"Of course," You stretch your hand up above your hand, shifting it with one eye closed until your palm is centered in the blanket fort's dome. You extend one finger up. "Rule number one: What happens in a sleepover stays in a sleepover."

Next to you, you hear Asmo smirk at that rule. You can already hear the flirtatious comment on his tongue before you raise a second finger and continue, not even giving the demon a chance. "Rule number two: No secrets! Whether you're playing truth-or-dare or FMK, you have to be completely honest! And you don't need to worry about any secrets getting out, because rule number one prevents that!"

"What's truth-or-dare?"

"And what's FMK?"

"Um...on second thought, it's best not to play either of those games when Asmo is here." You chuckle lightly, holding back a shudder at all the lewd innuendos that he would throw your way if you were to introduce either game to him. "And the third rule, the last rule, is to stay up as late as possible! That means no sleep!"

"Eh?" Asmo whines. "But it's called a sleep-over!"

You let your hand drop to the blanket you're on top of.

"Hm," Simeon says, thinking out loud. "So how do we bind ourselves to these rules? Do you swear on your lives? Or perform rituals? Or is it just that you're subject to God's wrath if you fail to properly adhere to them?"

You twist your head to the left, staring straight into Simeon's emerald eyes at his question. He's not serious, is he?

And as usual, Asmo somehow manages to top his comment, suggesting something even more outrageous.

"Oh, you angels are so uncreative. Humans obviously make blood pacts."

You sigh helplessly, unable to do anything but shake your head at the ridiculous propositions tossed forth by Simeon and Asmo as they continue to debate how humans ensure that these rules are followed through with, each idea worse and more unrealistic than the last.

"It's an honor system," You finally say, when their debate comes to a standstill. "A sleepover is all about trust. Trusting the people you're spending the night with, and letting them see a new side to you, no matter how vulnerable. You just have to trust that everyone will stay true to the rules."

"I had no clue you trusted us so much~" Asmo teases, rolling over so that he's on his side and staring straight at you. He tilts your chin up toward him and leans in dangerously close. "Is it truly wise to trust a demon?"

You stiffen.

Asmodeus's eyes are bright with the fire of his namesake. Lust, his eyes spell out as he looks at you, gaze unwavering with that devilish smirk on his face.

You're frozen. And as Asmo's lips draw closer, you feel a smidgen of fear seep in.

Simeon is the one to snap you both out of it, placing a tender hand on your shoulder and a more admonishing squeeze on Asmo's. It's subtle, but the protective gesture means more than words can say.

Next to you, Asmo laughs, sitting up to face Simeon. "You two are no fun~" He teases, the normal flirtatious grin back on his face.

Simeon sighs for the umpteenth time. It suddenly dawns on you that it was no coincidence that Diavolo placed you in the same room as a demon and an angel. There's no doubt that Solomon can hold his own against his roommates, but Simeon's purpose here isn't just to rest in the same room. He's here to protect you, the only other human in the entire Devildom. So that his angelic qualities can negate whatever demonic attributes Asmodeus may have brought with him into the room.

But still, your words from barely thirty seconds ago flash through your mind.

A sleepover is all about trust. Trusting the people you're spending the night with.

You drag your hand forward, hesitating for a moment before you place it on top of Asmo's. His hand is larger than yours, but you give it a squeeze. "I do trust you, Asmo." You flash him a smile and turn toward Simeon, lacing your fingers with his when his palm is under yours. "And I trust you, too."

Your smile is dazzling as you grin at them, all fears of angel and demon alike vanishing. That alone is enough to melt all the tension in the room, and within seconds both of the men and your sides are relaxed once more.

"What's next, hm?" Simeon asks. He'd started out hesitant about this whole idea, but he now seems eager to see what plans you have in store for them.

"We should tell scary stories to each other and cuddle up when one of us gets scared~" Asmo exclaims with a chuckle. He says it as a joke, but his guess is spot-on.

"Actually, Asmo's right."

"Whoa! Does that mean you'll reward me, MC~"

"No, Asmo." You smack Asmo's arm before he can protest, giving it a gentle whack to tell him to tone it down. Given that he's one of the strongest demons in the entire Devildom, you probably had no reason to hold back on him, but your more docile instincts from being surrounded by non-indestructible humans always prevail. "But you can start us off!"

You flash the demon an expectant grin, pulling yourself into a seated position. In truth, you have high hopes for this story. Back in your days in the human world, the scary stories used to be your favorite part of every sleepover—but none of the tales ever really measured up. (Except for that one time your best friend read off a horror story about clowns and your other friend then barged into the room in full horror-clown makeup, laughing like a maniac. Yeah, that was terrifying. Short-lived, but utterly terrifying.)

"Get ready to be scared," Asmo warns as he lets his body glow purple again while he casts another spell, and when the purple light has faded it's so dark that you can't even see Simeon's face. You wrap your hand around his, the eagerness you were feeling one second ago now turned into a queer mix of both dread and excitement.

A horror story from a real demon. That's the dream, isn't it?

And so Asmo begins.

And so Asmo also fails.

By the time he's complete, you're left more confused than anything else.

"Asmo...what was the scary part?" Simeon asks, voicing your every thought. You think back to the plot of the story Asmo just shared, from the beginning where there was only the princess in the castle guarded by the dragon to the end, where she and the prince who saved her lived happily ever after, and the middle which was mostly about her falling in love.

"Yeah," You agree with Simeon after another moment's deliberation. "Was the fight scene between the dragon and the prince supposed to be the 'horror' part?"

"Eh?" Asmo exclaims, using his magic to turn all the lights back on. He turns to you with his mouth wide open. "The entire story was terrifying! The dragon was the most handsome in the entire kingdom of dragons—he was protecting the princess! But then the prince came and saved her, and he wasn't even super attractive. And the princess chose the average prince over the beautiful dragon just because she was raised to believe that the dragon was a monster! How terrifying is that?"

You stare at Asmo in disbelief. A part of you should have expected this from the demon; it might have been scarier if he'd actually come out with a true horror story.

"Oh, Asmo. Did you find this story scary because you're afraid that you'll be the dragon and that some prince will steal the princess MC away?" Simeon murmurs with a twinkle in his eye, a slight smirk on his face. "Oh my, does that make me the prince?"

For the first time, you see Simeon teasing and Asmo sulking as the latter pouts and crosses his arms. "Dragons are cooler! Right, MC? Aren't demons better than angels?"

You smile, pressing a quick kiss to the cheeks of both Asmo and Simeon. You had hesitated before doing it, but the look of surprise and wild blush on their faces makes it worth it.

"They're equally cool. Now, Simeon! Your turn!"

You and Asmo give the angel a moment to collect his thoughts before he takes his turn to regale you with a brilliant story. To his credit, he really tries to include horror. You can tell by his use of the "evil clown" and "omniscient witch" that he's trying his best. Unfortunately, his angelic spin on the entire plot makes the story sound like a kid's movie.

Impressive, but not quite what you're looking for.

"That...wasn't scary, was it?" Simeon drops his head when he's done. You pat him on the shoulder, comforting him by saying 'at least it wasn't like Asmo's' and then it's your turn.

And if there's one thing you're good at, it's telling horror stories.

It takes you a moment to pick one, but you finally settle on the tale of Bloody Mary.

By the time you finish, ending with an ominous warning about mirrors (more directed to Asmo then anything else) you're satisfied, and you can feel how stiff Simeon is. The uncomfortable look on his face lets you know that you did a good job with your telling, but you can't help but feel a pang in your heart when he quietly asks why you had to make it so scary.

But if your horror story was bad, Asmo makes it even worse.

"Hey, guys..." He trails off, and for the first time, you hear what must be Asmo's completely serious voice. You and Simeon look at each other worriedly, probably wondering the same thing. Did we break Asmo? But the demon's next words are truly chilling. "The human tale of Bloody Mary is true. She's a demon. I met her four thousand years ago. And...I think we should summon her."

Asmo pulls out a mirror—you momentarily wonder how he managed to pull one out so quickly before realizing that this is the narcissistic Asmo himself—and he begins to recite a demonic chant.

In seconds, you and Simeon are wrapped in each other's arms in a meek sort of protection, screaming together and at Asmo to stop and not summon the terrifying woman you just spent the past half hour depicting as the scariest entity in the world, before Asmo finally drops the mirror.

The pin-drop silence that follows is deafening, and you cling to Simeon tighter, quietly thinking that if Bloody Mary really does appear, then you'll sacrifice both men in the room and make a run for Lucifer's quarters before anything can happen to you.

But Asmo is the one to break the silence.

"Just kidding~"

Cue the next round of screaming.

You and Simeon team up to throw every pillow in sight at the demon, snatching them back as soon as they hit him to leave him with nothing to defend himself. "Ah!" Asmo exclaims, covering his face. "Not my face!" You suddenly wish for Lucifer, furious at Asmo for being such a little devil. You were actually scared for a moment there.

"Enough, enough!" Asmo groans out after what feels like an eternity of whacking him with feather-stuffed pillows. He breathlessly crawls next to Simeon and leans his back on one of the only spots in the entire blanket fort with a bed. "If I'd known you two were such scaredy-cats, I would have been a little less convincing," He murmurs with a wink, snuggling up against Simeon. "But this angel here looks so cute when he's scared~"

Simeon makes no motion to shake Asmo off, only leaning back on the bedpost.

"What time is it?" He asks with a yawn, and you can tell that the sudden exercise of assaulting Asmo via pillows tired him out.

You check your D.D.D. and are surprised to find that it's already well past four in the morning, telling him as much.

"But we can sleep now if you like," You murmur when a wave of drowsiness hits you. Like it's contagious, you can tell that even Asmo seems tired.

"B-but rule three!" Simeon exclaims, surprised.

"Rules are meant to be broken," You smirk, stretching yourself out across Asmo and Simeon. All the pillows in the room have been tossed to the corners of the room courtesy of Asmo, so these two boys' laps would have to suffice for your slumber. "That's why we don't have any stupid blood oaths to bind ourselves to them. Humans need sleep, hm?" Your words tumble out in more of a mumble than anything else, and you can feel the smile on Simeon's and Asmo's faces as they watch you drift off in their laps.

Vaguely, you hear them continue to talk. For how long? You can't be sure. But by the end of the hour, the room is dark and silent once more, the three of you separated only by the thin veil of dreams.

***

"I'm sorry, Diavolo," Lucifer mumbles in a huff, crossing his arms. The demon is worked up, Diavolo can tell, but he's unsure of how to comfort his friend so he simply lets Lucifer continue to rant. "All three of them were down on time these past three days, so I just assumed that they'd wake up on their own today as well."

"Do not fret, Lucifer!" Diavolo exclaims with a pleasant grin. His walk is brisk as he makes his way to the room where he knows you, Asmo, and Simeon are to be staying in, and he's almost excited to hear what excuse the three of you will throw his way.

In fact, that's the one thing he loves about the members of the House of Lamentations.

The seven brothers are each exotic in their own way, only Lucifer being responsible enough to give him full honesty and transparency. The other six are reliable, no doubt, but their methods are always entertaining.

Diavolo opens the door with a master key, entering the room with Lucifer hot on his heels. But the sight that greets him is beyond strange.

"What did they do?" Lucifer asks. Diavolo can sense his anger, and a small part of it finds it amusing. Truly. Lucifer's anger exists for my lack thereof.

He glances around the room, wondering how much time it took to do all this tampering. Every single blanket in the room has been stripped off the bed, likely stuffed inside the large dome-like structure (which, in turn, is also made of blankets) in the center of the room.

"Why, they've created their own castle in my castle," Diavolo jokes, pulling back the makeshift curtain that forms the entrance. He's about to enter when his eyes catch sight of the three people he's been looking for.

Next to him, Lucifer's breath catches in his throat.

For the first time in four hundred years, both men are stunned into silence.

All three of you are sleeping on top of one another, the first union Diavolo has ever seen of the human world, Celestial Realm, and Devildom.

"What are they..." Lucifer mumbles, but Diavolo places a quick finger to his lips. He doesn't want to disturb this.

His eyes skit over the three of you, taking in the image so that he can perhaps describe it to a demon painter. It's...truly inspiring.

For the first time, demon and angel are slumbering together in peace, with both Simeon and Asmodeus sleeping in upright seating positions. Their backs are pressed against the bed, and while Simeon rests his head against the pillar in what seems like a somewhat uncomfortable position, Asmo has made himself cozy, resting his head delicately on Simeon's shoulder with a hand wrapped around the angel's muscular arm.

You, on the other hand, must have been reluctant to sleep sitting up. You lie on the floor, lower body stretched out with Simeon's white cloak draped across your legs, upper body thrown across Asmo's lap. Your head rests on Simeon's upper thigh, arms wrapped around his waist while you bury your head in his stomach in what looks like an awfully human, childlike pose.

And the two men both have their arms resting on your body, one of Simeon's gloved hands nestled in your (h/c) locks with Asmo's free arm tossed over your body in a quiet pull to get you closer to him.

It's a sleepover of the ages: the first of its kind in thousands of years.

All of you rest with smiles on your faces, and the way Diavolo's face brightens up at the sight of you is enough for anyone to know that this is what he's been seeking in his journey to unite the three realms.

The future ruler of the Devildom pulls Lucifer out of the room, giving the younger demon no chance to disturb the three of you in what Diavolo hopes is the first of many more nights of happiness and union.

I'll extend the retreat even longer! He thinks joyously, a grin spreading across his features as he recalls the sight of the three of you once more.

It's the first time that a demon, an angel, and a human have all been so content with one another. The first time that a demon, an angel, and a human have been comfortable with each other enough to sleep without any protections. The first time that a demon, an angel, and a human have placed enough trust in each other to slumber so vulnerably.

Diavolo grins.

His plan to unite the three great realms of the world has finally begun to piece together.

The content, trusting smiles on your faces as you, Simeon, and Asmodeus slumber are Diavolo's testimony to that fact.

MASTERLIST

Word count: 5.1k

Notes: If you guys are interested, I might consider adding a second chapter that's a bit more adult, but for now ill leave this as just some wholesome fluff~ aghhh Simeon is too precious x3 ALSO YEY IVE FINALLY ENTERED THE OBEY ME FANDOM

Comment & Like

I do not own the rights to Obey Me! or any of the characters within it.

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flannels-and-fannypacks · 4 years ago

Text

Will They Won’t They | Part 3/4 [Reggie Peters]

Pairing: Reggie Peters x fem!reader

Words: 5.7k

Summary: Reggie and reader were the best of friends up until middle school where they drifted apart and decided never to speak to each other again. What happens when a shared algebra class and a resulting detention force them to spend and increasing amount of time together. Will it be enough to overcome the mutual hate? Or was the relationship doomed from the start.

WARNINGS: swears, spicy dancing, ANGST

A/N: hey it’s drea in charge of posting again :) hope you all are doing well! if you enjoy this, please like, comment, and reblog! if you want to stay updated, dm us to be added to our taglist! sending my love <3 - drea :)

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The next morning, all the boys were refreshed and ready to start their practice. You, however, were upstairs in Rose’s room as she insisted on “dolling you up.”

“So,” Rose began as she brushed your hair out.

You rolled your eyes as you looked at your reflection in the mirror. You could almost see a difference in your appearance, and that had nothing to do with Rose’s magical abilities to style hair. You seemed happier, and your smile was...brighter. You haven’t seen that side of you since before middle school.

“I know it’s not just me who noticed it, but what happened there with you and country boy,” she gave you a light chuckle.

“What do you mean?” you asked innocently.

“What do you mean what do I mean?” Rose asked back confusingly. “You guys were just all close and not hating each other all of a sudden. What happened?”

“I don’t know,” you lied. “O-Our relationship is complicated, you know that. Somethings that happen now have been happening for a long time, if you know what I mean, and the only other person that knows about it is one of us,”

“So he just needed a friend?”

“Pretty much,” you nodded. “And I think he knew I needed one too, so for now we’re on civil terms,”

“It seems a bit more than civil to me,” Rose shrugged, turning you around so she could put on some eye shadow.

“Do we really have to do this?” you pointed to the makeup. “And yeah, it’s just civil,”

“It’s fun, come on!” she chuckled. “But you’re telling me you didn’t feel anything when he kissed you? Or when we found out that somehow you’d gotten paired with him in MASH?”

“Nothing,” you shook your head, unsure if you were lying to your friend or not, it didn’t even seem to be clear for you at the moment. “It was just a kiss on the forehead. Nothing else to it.”

“Alright, if you say so,” she shrugged right as the door swung open, revealing Luke entering the room and flopping down on the bed.

“Lady Bunny, what’s up? I miss you,” he smiled and you chuckled, rolling your eyes yet again, but this time in a more affectionate manner.

“Shouldn’t you be practicing? You guys have a gig coming up soon don’t you?”

“We’re on break, so I thought I’d come visit my daughter,”

“Well your daughter is fine so you can leave,” you said begrudgingly.

“Nope, not gonna happen lady bunny,” he shook his head as Rose finished your eyeshadow and grabbed your arm, throwing you over his shoulder like the first time you met him and headed downstairs and to the studio.

By this point you had learned not to fight it when Luke carried you, otherwise not only would he get hurt, but you had put yourself in grave danger more times than you would like to admit.

When you reached the studio Luke placed you down gently on the couch before grabbing his guitar and motioning or the boys to get ready.

“We’d like to dedicate this song to a special someone in the audience,” Alex started, talking into his mic.

“Someone whose face looks like that of a bunny,” Luke added.

“And has a mean sucker punch,” Bobby contributed.

“And is just overall a pretty terrible person,” Reggie finished and you couldn’t help but laugh along with Rose on the sidelines.

“So Lady Bunny, this one’s for you,” Luke said, pointing at you before looking back down at his guitar.

The rock beat started slowly, with a familiar choppy guitar beginning that sounded like maybe it should have been a bit softer, but even though they had barely started you already knew what they were playing.

Reggie came in shortly after on bass along with Alex on drums and Luke on lead guitar.

You tapped your foot along to the beat while Luke gave you a knowing look and started singing,

“When it began, I can’t begin to knowing, but then I know it’s growing strong,”

Reggie hopped in, taking over for the next part of the verse, “Was in the spring, then spring became the summer. Who’s have believed you’d come along,”

Now all the boys were joining in together for the pre chorus,

“Hand, touching hand. Reaching out. Touching me. Touching you! My sweet sunshine,”

“Ba! Ba! Ba!” you and Rose came in right on beat.

“Good times never seemed so good,” Luke sang effortlessly.

“I’ve been inclined,” Reggie started, leaving room for you and Rose to come in once more. “To believe they never would, but now I,”

As the boys continued to sing, Rose stood up and pulled you to your feet. Giggling, the girl danced energetically in the middle of the studio, gesturing for you to join.

“Dance, (N/N)!” she exclaimed, her voice slightly drowned out from the music. You blushed, slightly swaying to the music until Rose grabbed your hands and waved them around, making you laugh at how ridiculous you both probably looked. “You look like a robot,” she scolded. “Let loose! Feel the music run through you!”

Rolling your eyes, you decided to take your friend’s advice and loosen up a bit. The two of you swayed your hips, occasionally twirling each other or jumping up and down while screaming the lyrics.

The chorus was coming up once more only this time Luke took the lead from the boys, changing Caroline yet again only this time singing something along the lines of,

“Sweet child of mine!”

Causing you to exaggeratedly roll your eyes at him and not noticing the cord that was pulled taught and level with the ground. You shuffled into it, tripping and falling straight in the direction of Reggie and his ‘rock out zone’. Letting out a shriek, you staggered back and closed your eyes, prepared to feel the roughness of the ground, only to be met with a strong pair of arms.

Your eyes fluttered open to see a pair of blue-green eyes stare down at you, sheepishly smiling. The boys had stopped playing once they realized you fell, all of them watching you in his arms.

“Still the clumsiest dork I know, Cookie?” he asked in a teasing voice.

You flashed him a smile. “Always, Flicka,” you replied.

Reggie helped you up but his arms didn’t leave their hold around you. He was so close you could feel his warm breath on your nose and his blue green eyes staring deeply into your soul. His closeness melted away everything around you, it all became fuzz until Alex spoke up and said,

“...Guys?”

You blinked a few times and stepped away from Reggie smoothing out your clothes. Your mind was racing. Did that just happen? Why was your heart beating so rapidly? And dammit, why was Reggie looking at you with that smile of his?

“I-I’m just going to go out for a second, you guys keep going,” you insisted and quickly walked out of the studio. Reggie called out your name, but you brushed him off as you sped down the sidewalk.

You didn’t even know where you were going. You felt like you couldn’t breathe in that studio, and honestly all you wanted was to get out, to leave, to think about what just happened.

Back at Rose’s house Reggie was frozen in place. Had he done something wrong? He had just gotten you back, was it really going to be that easy to lose you again.

“Reggie are you okay?” Bobby asked and Reggie frowned, but more a frown of confusion.

“Can we maybe take five?” Reggie said quietly, looking over at Rose, if anyone knew what the hell just happened it would be her.

Rose, who seemed to understand the look on Reggie’s face, subtly pointed at the door to the house. The two went into the kitchen, where Reggie began to pace back and forth.

“What did I just do?” he questioned aloud. “What did I just say? What did I just think?”

Rose’s eyes followed the boy, only to sigh in discomfort. “You mind taking a seat before we talk?” she suggested. “Sorry, you’re making me dizzy.”

Reggie paused before taking a seat at the table, his knees bouncing up and down as continued to ramble. “Was it something I did wrong?” he asked Rose. “I-I mean I always joke with her. She’s always clumsy a-and we’ve danced before so it’s not like the close proximity could have scared her off, right? Right? Rose, please say something before I do something stupid.”

Rose winced. “How stupid?” she risked asking.

“Like climb your roof and look for her stupid.”

Rose took the seat across from Reggie, the boy calming down slightly. “Reggie honey, tomar un respiro,” she instructed in Spanish only to be met with more anxiety and confusion.

“Please tell me that wasn’t English and I’m not hallucinating,” he begged, looking as though he was on the verge of passing out of bursting into tears. Or both.

“It’s Spanish Reg, and it means take a breath,” she said softly. “Now tell me slowly what’s going on in your heart,” she emphasized.

“I-I… (Y/N),” he said quietly, bringing a hand to his mouth, chewing on his nail. “Fuck me,” he groaned and fell back in his chair.

“What about (Y/N)?” Rose asked.

“Everything,” Reggie shook his head. “It’s always been everything. She’s always been my everything.”

Rose took his hand from his mouth and brought it down. “You’re going to have to be a little more specific than that, Reg.”

Reggie closed his eyes, pondering for a moment. “Ever since we were little, it was always me and her. Cookie and Flicka. We were partners in crime. Bonnie and Clyde, like she’d always say. And then I was stupid enough to let her go in middle school. But even after we stopped talking, I never stopped thinking about her. She was on my mind 24/7. Playing music with the guys, I always wondered what she would think about our music. When I was having a rough day, I would think about what she would say to cheer me up. E-even at night I’d stay up, wondering what she’d be doing if she were awake at this hour.” Reggie chucked to himself. “My answer would always be studying or making a midnight snack. A jelly sandwich and gummy worms. I thought it was disgusting but the look on her face when she’d make them growing up, all the thoughts left my mind. Because at the end of the day, she was with me. I always had my Cookie.”

Rose smiled as the boy recalled his memories, sharing them in great detail. It made her realize how alike Reggie and her friend were. They never stopped loving each other, no matter how stubborn they were about it.

“But when we were singing today,” Reggie continued, wiping his hands against his jeans. “I was watching her dance with you. It was the first time I had seen her so care-free, like there wasn’t a single thought in her mind that stressed her with worry and doubt. Something bubbled in my chest, I-I can’t explain it. But damn, her smile and laugh-” Reggie opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling. “I felt like if I died today, I’d be glad I saw her at her happiest one last time.”

“Reggie, hon, have you considered you might… maybe you’re in love with her?” Rose asked quietly and Reggie’s eyes widened.

“L-Love, you mean like a friend right?”

“No Reggie,” Rose gave him a kind smile, placing a hand on his that was resting in his lap. “I mean I think you actually love her. The way you talk about her, I-I hope someone talks about me like that one day.”

Reggie’s mouth went dry as he looked over at Rose.

“Rose I-,” he paused. “I can’t tell her,”

“Reggie what do you mean?” Rose exclaimed, her voice becoming slightly louder.

“I can’t do that to her,” he shook his head. “You can’t say anything to her,”

“Why not?” Rose asked, clearly not impressed with him.

“Because she doesn’t want this, clearly. She wants a friend so that’s what I’m going to be, even if it tears me to pieces. I don’t care,” he shook his head. “I’d do anything for her. No matter what the consequences.”

—

For the first time in your weeks of detention, you were the one who arrived late. Reggie had been waiting in the dance studio with Mrs. Leona, quite anxious to say the least. You were queasy as you approached the two, silently waving.

“There you are!” Mrs. Leona grinned, standing up from stretching. “I was starting to think you wouldn’t show up.”

“Sorry,” you apologized quietly, putting your bag on the floor and joining in on the stretches. “Car trouble,” you lied, hoping Reggie wouldn’t be able to notice.

“You okay?” Reggie whispered as you stretched your arms above your head.

You quickly whipped your head to face him. “Of course!” you squeaked. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You just look a little nauseous,” Reggie noted, “Are you sure you should be here?”

“I’m fine,” you insisted. “Mrs. Leona, what’s the plan?” you asked, diverting your attention to the dance instructor.

Mrs. Leona reached for her notepad, skimming through her notes. “Well since you two did brilliantly for that last dance, I thought it would be good to request for you guys to work with me again.” She stepped in front of the mirror, clasping her hands together. “This lesson, I’m continuing partner work because unlike you guys, my students lacked the trust, the chemistry.” You squeaked in response, but Mrs. Leona didn’t seem to notice. “So I’m giving them this song to dance to. Lucky for them, it’s just focusing on footwork and lifting. But, since it’s a romantic song, they’re going to need to practice putting their emotions into their dance.” she smiled at the two of you. “But I know the chemistry part won’t be an issue for you both. Let’s get to work, shall we?”

You seemed hesitant to start. “Mrs. Leona maybe we can do something else, like something that doesn’t require close contact or lifting?”

Reggie gave you a look. “Scared I might drop you, Cookie?” he teased before turning back to Mrs. Leona. “It’s fine, we can do this.”

Mrs. Leona went through explaining the beginning portion of the routine, demonstrating the required movements and techniques to accomplish such things. At first you did each part broken up and without music and once you nailed everything at least once she decided you were ready to try and put it all together along with Peter Gabriel’s In Your Eyes.

You started to get into your position, holding Reggie’s hands in yours. Your heart was beating loudly in your ears, that the music was almost fuzzy at that point. Mrs. Leona’s counting of the beats made you snap out of your thoughts as you pulled closer to Reggie.

Love, I get so lost sometimes

Reggie’s hand trailed up to the side of your face as he cupped it gently, pressing his forehead against yours.

Days pass, and this emptiness fills my heart

As quick as he touched your face, he dropped his hand back down to your waist, dipping you down as he turned you.

When I want to run away, I drive off in my car

You managed to keep eye contact with Reggie the entire time, his blue-green eyes slightly darkening in admiration as you rose back up.

But whichever way I go, I come back to the place you are

His lips quirked up into a smile while he slid down onto his knees to the rhythm of the music.

All my instincts, they return

Following along, you almost draped yourself over Reggie as he leaned back, your hands coming to the sides of his arms, trailing down until you took his hands in yours before pulling him back up carefully.

The grand facade, so soon will burn

You placed his hands delicately on your waist tightly as you fell down into a lunge, his strong arms supporting you.

Without a voice, without my pride, I reach out from the inside.

Your breath hitched as his hands reached slightly under your shirt, just from the movement, but he didn’t seem deterred, moving you away and allowing you to run into the lift where he held your legs until you slid down against him slowly.

In your eyes, the light the heat

His hand came to hold you again just as you spun out and twirled back in, with a little more force than expected, bumping into Reggie’s chest, your lips gently brushing against his own causing every nerve in your body to burn and every muscle to lose its function.

I am complete-

You let out an audible gasp, covering your mouth with your hand. Reggie seemed equally flustered, but managed to hide it well, aside from his reddened cheeks. Mrs. Leona immediately stopped the music, jogging over to the two of you.

“What happened?” she asked, clearly confused. “The two of you were dancing so well?”

You stumbled over your words. “I, erm-” you stammered. “I think I might have landed on my foot wrong after the lift.” It wasn’t your best lie, but at this point you were desperate.

Mrs. Leona’s eyes widened. “Oh no, an injury?” she exclaimed. “Sit down, honey, I’ll get some ice from the nurse’s office.” Before you could refuse, the dance teacher was already long gone.

Reggie turned to you. “Let’s sit you down,” he suggested, pulling you down with him. “Mind if I check if it’s more than a rolled ankle?”

You shook your head repeatedly. “No no, it’s fine,” you quickly told him.

Reggie took your leg and placed it gently on top of his. “Let me,” he insisted. “If it’s really bad, we might need to ask Mrs. Leona to wrap it.” Reggie began to untie your shoelace when you jerked it back abruptly, standing up in the process.

The dark haired boy looked at you suspiciously as you rocked back and forth. “So I’m assuming you’re fine if you’re standing on it normally now,” he deadpanned. You looked down at your two feet, sheepishly kicking your left leg back.

“Ah, a miracle!” you exclaimed awkwardly. “It must have been a flash of pain or something, but it’s better now…”

Reggie frowned, standing up. “Cookie, if you want to lie to Mrs. Leona, fine by me. But you know you can’t lie to me.”

“Who says I’m lying?” you countered and Reggie rolled his eyes.

“Come on (Y/N), seriously?” Reggie looked disappointed. “First you run out of the studio and don’t come back, we had to send Alex and Bobby out to make sure you were okay and now you’re lying? What’s going on? What happened?” he pressed.

“What happened?” you said with disbelief. “Were you not just dancing with me?”

“What do you mean?”

“You… I…” you tried to get out the words, but you shook your head. “I can’t do this Reggie. I can’t do it.”

“Cookie, it’s just me,” he insisted, coming closer to you, holding your arms against your side. “I’m your friend, right? Or at least I thought I was.”

“You are!” you insisted. “I promise. It’s just there’s a lot going on and I need a second to process it,”

You were seriously starting to think he hadn’t noticed what had just happened. Maybe you were reading into it too much, maybe he was just playing it off cool to make sure you were okay. Whatever it was, you didn’t know what to think of it. All you wanted to do was go home and curl up in a tiny ball and drown out the sound of your thoughts with Tracy Chapman’s voice.

Reggie stepped away and scratched the back of his neck.

“I’ll give you some time,” he nodded and walked out to the hallway.

It seemed as though your hearts were two positive charges just constantly pushing each other, further and further away.

—

“In my opinion, I think you should just stop being so conflicted and tell him how you feel about him,” Rose suggested as she brushed her hair in front of her vanity.

You were at Rose’s house for an “emergency sleepover,” as she liked to put it. You were incredibly confused with everything going on that you needed a friend, specifically one who was reasonable, to talk to.

Sighing, you flopped backwards on Rose’s bed. “But I don’t know what I’m feeling,” you groaned tiredly. “Sometimes I want to punch him in the face, but lately, I haven’t felt that.”

“And what have you been feeling?” Rose pressed, setting her brush down and walking over to you.

You bit the inside of your cheek as you thought. “I don’t know,” you replied. “Fuzzy? Like the inside of my stomach are angry wasps buzzing crazily.” You sat up, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. “But when he smiles...they turn into butterflies.”

“Butterflies?” Rose repeated.

You nodded, dramatically groaning as you leaned your head on her shoulders. “The happiest of butterflies. Like- when he looks at me with those stupidly pretty eyes.”

“Stupidly pretty eyes?” Rose said.

“Yes!” you fumed. “Everything about him is pretty. His eyes and his smile. Even his flannels and shoulders!”

“Shoulders?”

You looked up at Rose. “Will you stop repeating everything I’m saying?” you whined. “Say something! Give me advice! You’re the only one besides Alex that is reasonable! Because I think I’m going to do something stupid.”

Rose bit her lip to hold back a laugh. Reggie said the exact same thing to her earlier. “How stupid?”

“...Stealing Alex’s van to drive to his house, stupid.”

Rose hummed in response. “Well, that is pretty high up there on the list of things that are stupid,” she commented with a smile. “Why do you want to do something stupid? What about Reggie is making you feel this way?”

You stood up, wrapping your arms protectively around yourself. “He’s so different from when we were friends as kids,” you sighed. “But at the same time, it’s like he hasn’t changed a bit. All these mixed feelings of hating him but also missing him is stressing me out!” You turned to Rose, dropping your arms. “It’s so confusing. I feel like I don’t know if I know myself because I don’t know him. Does that… does that make sense?” you whispered.

“A little,” Rose nodded, admitting to her confusion.

“Have you known someone so long that over time you-you almost feel like you have such a part of them inside you?” you asked and didn’t really wait for an answer. “It’s been so long since I’ve really known Reggie… now it just feels like that part of me is missing because of that,” You held your hand on your chest, feeling your heart beat rapidly as you rambled. “But when Reggie’s just...the Reggie I knew, no toughness, no band, no anything...I feel like I’m whole again. T-that, I can lean on his shoulder and trust him when he says everything will be alright. And I’ll believe him. No matter all the promises he’s broken in the past, I’ll still find myself trusting him completely.”

“Why?” Rose asked in a quiet voice.

You smiled softly. “That really is the question, isn’t it?” you laughed. “Why do I continue to trust him, even though every part of my body is telling me no? Well, because I love him. He’s my best friend, no matter what. Even after our falling out, I still thought about him, still cared about him. And it’s so stupid of me, and I know I should stop...but I can’t. I just can’t.”

“Then go to him,” Rose insisted. “Please (Y/N), for the love of God,”

“I can’t!”

“Why not?” Rose pressed. “Why can’t you?”

“Because!” you only said.

Rose threw her head back, laying on her bed. “Oh my gosh, (N/N), you and Reggie are going to drive me crazy with your stubborn bullshit! I don’t understand why you can’t say anything to him? You’re his best friend! Why is it so difficult?”

“Exactly!” you exclaimed, exhausted by the yelling and frustration. “He’s my best friend! I just got my best friend back. I don’t want to risk it all because of this-this feeling! Who knows! Maybe I’m going crazy. Maybe, I’m going crazy because my friends see something that will obviously never happen between me and Reggie!”

Rose stood up. “Do not blame this on me, Luke, and Alex,” she told you, starting to lose patience. “If anything, blame it on yourself! Blame it on Reggie, and his hard head! But do not blame it on your friends who just want to help you.” Rose took a deep breath, recomposing herself. “What is the worst thing that can happen?”

Tears welled in your eyes as Rose pulled you back down to her bed, wrapping her arms around you. “Having him walk out of my life again?” you said, your voice cracking. “Hurting myself even more than I already am? Losing you, and Luke, and Bobby and Alex...Being alone all over again?” You looked up at Rose, tears freely cascading down your cheeks. “Rose, I don’t want to be alone again, please…”

“Cariña we’re not going to leave you,” Rose whispered, holding her head against yours. “But if you trust me you’ll understand why I’m telling you that it's not a bad idea to maybe talk to him and figure things out.”

“I wish I thought the same,” you sighed, savouring the feeling of Rose holding you near.

Rose pressed her lips together, deciding that the two of you were far too tired to argue any further. “Let’s sleep now, get some rest and think it over, then we’ll talk more in the morning, okay?” she suggested, taking a throw blanket and placing it over your legs.

You nodded shakily. “I think that would be best,” you agreed, tucking yourself underneath the covers.

Rose turned off the lights, finding her spot beside you.

You stared at the ceiling for a moment. “Rose?”

“Yes?”

You turned your head to face her. “You know I love you, right?”

The girl wrapped one arm around your waist. “I love you, too, (N/N).”

—

“I love you Flicka,” the words seemed to roll out of your mouth before you could stop them, but that’s how you knew they were true. your head pressed gently against his, almost refusing to look into those blue-green eyes.

Reggie's hands drifted away from the sides of your face as he stepped back and looked at you. The same cold and fearful look he carried in his eyes after you weren’t on speaking terms.

“No you don’t,” he hissed. “Stop playing these mind games. It’s only a matter of time until you fuck up and ruin everything for yourself and for everyone again.”

And without another word he turned and walked away.

Even though it was all in your head you couldn’t risk it. You wouldn’t let the world pull you apart again. you wouldn’t give him another chance to break that promise.

You woke up in a cold sweat, your stomach churning with nerves. Rose was still fast asleep and you looked over at the digital clock on her nightstand that read 2:32 A.M.

You pushed yourself up carefully, sitting on the edge of the bed and taking a breath, but as it became painfully clear you felt suffocated and needed to go out and get some air.

Reaching for your sweatshirt on the floor, you slipped it over your head before quietly standing up and leaving Rose’s door, gently shutting the door behind you as you did so.

Your first stop was the kitchen to get a glass of water, maybe the cool drink would clear your system of any unwanted feelings but you highly doubted an excess of dihydrogen monoxide would cure your of falling in love with your best friend. Sighing, you took your untouched glass of water with you to the studio, thinking that maybe you could find any solution to your problems there.

You made your way to the studio, suspicious as to why the lights were already on, but didn’t comment on it. You sat down, staring at your full glass of water.

“No jelly gummy worm sandwich tonight, Cookie?” a voice piped up from behind you.

“Holy fucking shit!” you shrieked, throwing your glass at the source of the noise.

Once the initial fear dialed down, you rubbed your eyes to see none other than a dark haired boy with a red flannel tied around his waist.

“Reggie?” you squeaked. “What are you doing here so late at night?”

He wiped the water from his face, his hair flopping back as he shot you an annoyed -but confused- glare. “The hell was that about?”

“You came here unannounced,” you shot back. “I thought I was about to be murdered, and considering what you said last sleepover, I should still be on edge.”

Reggie rolled his eyes. “Understandable.” He stepped forward with his hand outreached, only for you to fearfully stagger back. “Relax, I just forgot my songbook here.” Reggie reached for the notebook stuck between the cushions, waving it in front of your face for proof. It was red and slightly battered, and filled with loose sheets of papers sticking out.

You released your breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “I’m sorry,” you said sheepishly. You gestured to the couch. “Sit with me?”

You and Reggie sat down on the couch, silence filling the room. Your knees slightly brushed against his on the small couch, but you quickly scooted away.

Reggie glanced over at you, noticing how uneasy you looked. “What’s on your mind?” he asked. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

You shook your head. “It’s nothing,” you said. “A nightmare, that’s all.”

The boy raised an eyebrow, immediately detecting your lie. “Just a nightmare?” he asked. “I’ve never seen you so pale and jumpy, Cookie. You sure it was just a nightmare?”

You nodded before ultimately shaking your head with a sigh. “Do you ever wonder if...if the people you care about just up and leave? And you can’t do anything because it’s your fault?” Reggie remained silent, gesturing for you to continue. “I’m scared that those close to me will leave me.”

“Why would they leave you?” he questioned curiously.

You scoffed, drumming your fingers against your legs. “Why wouldn’t they leave me?” you asked in return. “I’m too scared to face my fears. I keep my mouth shut and bottle shit up until it explodes and affects everyone around me.”

“Cookie,” Reggie hushed, reaching out to stop our fidgeting hand by placing his on your knee. “I…” he shook his head. “I don’t think you’re the only person that it happens to,”

“Flicka,” his nickname got caught in your throat.

All you wanted was to pull him close, have him kiss your forehead and tell you those sweet beautiful lies. That everything’s going to be okay, and that he’d be by your side forever.

That he loved you.

It felt like you were having a bad allergic reaction, your throat closing up, as you wished the words to come out, but they just got bottled up and whisked away in the sea of your heart like everything else.

You couldn’t see it, but if you could take a moment, get out of your own heads you’d see his blue green eyes looking back at you with that soft mischievous sparkle they always held, only this time you would have seen all the love and admiration hidden behind them. You would have seen how much he wished he could make your pain vanish. You would have seen his heart on his sleeve. You would have seen your Reggie.

“Cookie, I’m here,” he whispered. “I’ll always be here.”

Reggie allowed you to lean your head against his shoulder, not caring at all about the tears soaking up his t-shirt. He raised his hand to your face, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear, then trailing his hand down along your jawline. He tilted your head up to face his, your lips mere centimeters apart.

“Flicka,” you breathed, his eyes staring down at yours with so much more than you could ever possibly wish to describe. As he pulled closer, you felt his lips against yours. They felt like a smooth bass line in a classic jazz song, kissing him tasted like eating the best jelly and gummy worm sandwich in the world. It was by no means a perfect kiss, those were near impossible to achieve. But his slightly chapped lips molded with yours in a way that you have never felt with anyone else. The way he tilted his head, the way his lips were slightly curled upward in a smile and the way he thought you didn’t notice when he murmured I love you against your lips.

Then doubts began to flood your mind.

He doesn’t love you. It’s all a lie. He’ll leave you. Just like everyone else is your life. Then you’ll be left with no one.

Just like it’s always been.

You jerked back, gasping for air as though the wind had been knocked out of you.

“I need to go,” you whispered hurriedly.

“Cookie, wait-” Reggie lunged forward, grabbing your hands. His cheeks were flushed red as he tried to form the words in his head. “Can we talk about this-”

“(Y/N)?” you heard Rose’s voice call out. “Are you in the studio?”

You glanced back at Reggie, his face filled with desperation to talk to you. “Please,” he begged softly.

Only, you shook your head. “She can’t know you were here,” you whispered.

Reggie stiffened, hesitantly letting your hand go, but not before squeezing it. “Goodnight, Cookie.”

You winced at his saddened expression.“Night, Flicka.”

“(Y/N)?” Rose called again and you turned around to where her voice was coming from, hoping to maybe see Reggie one last time before he left, but when you turned back around once more all that was left of him there was a tattered red song book and a red flannel.

taglist: @katrina765 @glowstick-lesbian @well-hes-just-too-cute @slytherhoes @notasofti @sunsetcurving @kmsmedine @dxrling-neptune @lil-lex1 @cookiecakeslive

#jatp #reggie peters #julie and the phantoms #julie and the phantoms x reader #julie and the phantoms fanfiction #julie molina #luke patterson #luke patterson x platonic!reader #alex mercer #alex mercer x platonic!reader #willex #reggie peters fanfiction #reggie peters fic #reggie peters fanfic #reggie peters x fem!reader #reggie peters x reader

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theonlygamergost · 4 years ago

Text

Gestures are louder than words - Fd!au

This fanfiction is based on the Family Dynamic au made by @antarctic-bay if you would like to know more, go check them out!!!

Also please bear in mind that the things written in this might not be canon!

Of course, this fic was grammatically corrected by the amazing @im-default

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

To get a better context, read this first, if you don't want to, have a quick summary :)

Tommy comes back home in a very bad mood, Wilbur and Phil are concerned but end up making the situation worse, but Techno knows how to make Tommy talk : ASL (American sign language.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Warnings! Bullying, repressed anger, yelling, angst, hoo boy angst, crying, angst with a good ending, fluff and brother bonding moment :)

(The cursive and bold words are meant to be when they speak in gestures)

Enjoy~

“Ah, welcome back Tommy!” The inviting smell coming from whatever Phil was cooking welcomed him in just like his brother, both of which reminded him of his oopsie: He arrived home late.

Well… Phil did end his shift early, but arriving home after him for all of the brothers meant “they stayed out too late” since he always arrived home deep into the night.

“T-thanks...” Tommy sighed, Wilbur was on the counter, too absorbed into his algebra problems to notice him. Techno was nowhere to be seen but he wasn’t surprised, his door was closed so…you could imagine where he was, hint: when he wasn’t home his room’s door was open.

Closing himself in his room, he allowed his back to slide down the door until he sat on the floor, bringing his knees to his chest and squeezing them tight.

He wasn’t sad, he wasn’t crying, he was simply angry, hoo boy he was angry.

Taking a deep breath, he got up and sat at his desk, grabbing a notebook out of his backpack.

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

“You go around with a plushie? Pff, what a child…” Tubbo reached out for his bee plushie “Give me Spins back!”, needlessly since another bully pushed him on the ground.

“Aw~ the doggy wants his toy?”

“Give. It. Back.” Tommy appeared behind the bullies, shoving one of them onto the ground.

“Oh my… the Ally of Justice, The Protector of the Weak!” one mocked him.

As a punch was about to hit the bully’s face, a teacher arrived and stopped both of them, blaming it more on Tommy than the real bully, sending them both home.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The music from his headphones brought him back to reality, scribbling down words for his English homework, god he was pissed.

How dare they bully Tubbo! And for his plushie Spins! Of course, he had already made a plan on how to get back at them, no one messes with his best friend without paying for it, yet he still couldn’t see that situation as a win for the bullies.

The teacher always saw him as the one at fault, he was the “Black Sheep” of the Pandel brothers, the disgrace of the fami-

A knock interrupted his train of thoughts, “Dinner is ready! Come wash your hands, you gremlin” came from behind the door, a distant “That’s kinda mean Will” accompanied it.

He sat at the table, one of the chairs was empty: Techno was missing, but what’s new? It was his habit to skip dinner, Tommy wondered if he would have skipped tonight’s one too.

“Techno! Food’s ready, come eat!” Phil half-shouted while serving the food, all of them stood quietly waiting for the response.

…

“Techno?” Phil took off the potholders and peeked into his room, a muffled “Kinda busy right now, I’ll come at the table in a minute” came his response.

Phil’s cuisine had always been better than restaurant’s in Tommy’s eyes, and the omelette with bacon and cheese he had prepared today was just like everything else he cooked: amazing.

Tommy once asked Phil where he had learned how to cook so well, his response was a simple “Mom and dad were both very good at cooking, you’d also be surprised how much you can learn from watching videos” kinda cliche, but fair enough.

“How was your day at school boys?” Phil asked after swallowing down a bite, Tommy gestured at Will to go first.

“All and all, my day went pretty well. Had a test but it was quite easy, Nikki and I also went to a bar and chatted ‘till it was time to go back, pretty chill day.” Wilbur nodded at his own thoughts and drank some water, then both of them looked at Tommy.

“What” He stared back, eyes flickering between the two brothers.

“So? How was your day?” Will encouraged him to talk, Tommy rolled his eyes. “Nothin’ special” he started, ”The history teacher scolded me for chewing a gum in class and…” after a deep breath and a couple of thoughts processed, “N-nothing else happened.” he decided to stay quiet. He couldn’t be bothered to explain the whole thing to them, especially since Phil could scold him for punching that dick-bag in the face, that would just put him in an even worse mood.

But of course, his brothers wouldn’t let that slide.

“Are you sure that’s all it happened? You don’t look like someone who had a “Nothing special” kinda day.” Will had always been curious, maybe too curious at times, Phil also nodded: They weren’t blind, they could see that Tommy wasn’t in a good mood.

“Oh come on Will, I was the one who lived my day, I’m telling you, nothing special happened!” Techno emerged from his room and grabbed a plate, no one really noticed him though. Tommy shoved a bite in his mouth to avoid saying more than he should.

“I know we are being kinda pushy Tommy but-” “Yes!!! You are being very pushy Phil!!!” At this point, he couldn’t hold it in, he wasn’t mad at them… but the rage he had suppressed before to avoid making a scene at school had to get out somehow.

“We are just worried about you Tommy! Show some appreciation!” Will stood up for Phil: the brothers didn’t like it when someone yelled at or didn’t treat their older brother well, many times Tommy had done what Wilbur was doing, but his mind wasn’t calm enough to think right now.

“Oh?! Worried?! For me?! If you would really be worried you would just LEAVE ME BE!!!” He turned around and slammed as hard as he could the door shut, the noise echoed through the Pandel house, then silence.

Tommy took his pillow and started punching it, letting the anger and tension out, after a couple of swings, he threw it to the other side of the room.

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

The rest of the Pandel brothers ate in silence, each of them absorbed into their own thoughts about the same topic: Tommy.

“So…Who is gonna go talk to him?” Wilbur broke the silence. “It’s better if no one goes talk to him right now, you heard him, he wants to be left alone.” Will looked at Phil “But we can’t leave him in that state! We have to-!” the older one finished his sentence “Help him, I know, but talking to him now will only make things worse, so let’s wait until he comes out” He stood up and grabbed Tommy’s plate, Phil moved what he left into a small container. “And if someone should talk to him” He opened the fridge, “It should be Techno, he has more chances of talking to him without an immediate rejection” Wilbur stared at the food in his plate in defeat, Techno simply nodded and ate the last bite of omelette: He even might have an idea on how to approach him.

~~~~~~~~~

Tommy left his room as Techno entered his, to put up his plan he had to stay in the living room, so that’s what he was going to do.

He grabbed what he needed to study and sat at the very end of the counter, immediately focusing on the textbook in front of him.

After Tommy looked at Techno weird since he rarely studied in the living room, he opened the fridge and grabbed a glass, filled it with milk, and went back to the sofa where he had dropped off his switch, sitting down and plugging in the earphones, he started playing “Breath of the Wild”. Tubbo had already finished it and Tommy wanted to try it out, being too broke to buy it, Tubbo lent his out of pity.

“Techno can you help me with this?” Will approached the counter with his textbook in hand, the pen in the other hand was busy scratching his head “I keep getting the wrong result and I don’t know-”

“No” He replied without taking his eyes off of his textbook, “Awww come on! I need to do this for tomorrow!” Techno sighed and patted the seat next to his, closing his homework to make room for Wilbur’s.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Almost an hour had passed and Techno had both helped Wilbur, who was now doing other work next to him and had finished his own stuff, he stretched his arms and back gaining a smile from Phil who was also working on his old pc.

After pouring a glass of milk for the rest of the brothers, including himself, he drank it all down and flopped on the sofa right in front of Tommy, who looked up to see why the seat had moved and then went back to his game.

Techno sat in a more comfortable position and started to tap on Tommy’s leg with his foot to grab his attention.

At first, all he got was some annoyed sounds, then his legs were pushing him away, and finally, he got his attention.

“What?!” He barked, eyes fixed on his smirking face. For any other person, Techno simply started waving his hands around while mouthing words, but for Tommy that was way more, that was Sign language.

What are you doing? Tommy rolled his eyes and placed his Switch on his lap, I don’t want to talk right now, Techno snickered, As if you have a choice. The younger one sighed.

At the start of the year, Tommy wasn’t doing so good with grades, his problem was that he couldn’t remember anything no matter how hard he tried. Yet Techno had noticed how he could remember fighting moves (taught to him by Deo) and other stuff pretty easily, his solution? Sign language.

The sentences were very short to gesture and way easier to remember, like that, Tommy’s grades went up in no time.

As a consequence, Techno and Tommy were the only one in the house that knew how to talk in ASl (American Sign Language), so of course, they used it to share secrets or just to annoy Wilbur since he couldn’t understand.

They also used it to talk in the cafeteria to either insult each other without getting scolded or to have a normal conversation. It was their own special way of communicating and bonding over stuff.

I know that Will and Phil bothered you about your mood, but you seriously need to let it out, his body got stiff as a self-defence mechanism, Unless you want to become a ticking time-bomb and explode near someone you care about... again.

Tommy’s eyes widened at the flashback of him shouting at Deo for something he hadn’t done came back, he was so mad he insulted his dear friend heavily, it took him an entire week to make the guilt go away and another two weeks to muster up the courage he needed to talk to him again. Deo forgave him but… to this day, Tommy still hadn’t forgiven himself.

After a minute of zoning out, he started gesturing and mouthing again:

Two students started making fun of Tubbo and I intervened, I punched one of them but… Techno’s arms were crossed as he was reading what Tommy was saying, Let me guess Wilbur looked up from his textbook and saw Techno gesturing, he wanted to yell at them to use their voices so bad… but he had to endure it this time… for Tommy’s sake.

A teacher walked in just as you punched him, blamed it on you, and sent you both home? Tommy looked at the console in his lap and slowly nodded, Techno sighed and patted the empty space next to him, smiling at the blonde boy.

Tommy crawled to the spot and hugged Techno, who just embraced him tightly while caressing his back in comfort, and the bomb, slowly defused itself: Tommy started sobbing, letting his emotions out.

“I’ll help you avenge him tomorrow” Techno whispered just before grabbing a blanket and wrapping it around the both of them, “We’ll make them pay, I promise Tommy” Tommy nodded and got even closer to Techno.

A shaky “T-thank you…” was all that came out of Tommy’s mouth before more sobs took over.

Will, who saw the whole scene, shook Phils arm lightly, pointing at the younger brothers.

He smiled at them and looked back at Wilbur, who leaned to whisper in his ear “Let them be” to then pat his shoulder.

Wilbur looked back at Techno and Tommy and smiled too.

#ph1lza #wilbur soot #tommyinnit #technoblade #nikki #nihachu #tubbo #fd! au #fd!au #fanfiction #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt #my fanfiction #writing #my writing

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smiting-finger · 5 years ago

Text

I tripped and I fell and this HP AU came out

So I was chatting to @silverink58 about the beautiful original picture of Professor LWJ, and they were saying that when they picked up the prompt for the inktober exchange, they were hoping to read Hogwarts student!LWJ,

And I thought “oh how delightful, maybe I’ll think about that idea later”, and then that “later” became “now” and what I’m saying is they shouldn’t have let me download the google docs app onto my phone, because I clearly cannot be trusted.

@silverink58 this is for you, lol. Thanks for naming “Little Apple” :’D.

He almost doesn’t see it: a flutter of black fabric, the edge of a student robe before it slips away out of sight. But he catches the movement from the corner of his eye, and pure reflex has Lan Zhan drawing his wand to fire off a quick body-bind curse.

There's a muffled noise of surprise, abruptly cut off, and then the thump of a body hitting the floor.

When Lan Zhan turns the corner, it’s to the sight of Wei Wuxian, lying face-down on the ground.

“It’s after curfew,” Lan Zhan says, turning him over with a quick Levitation spell. “You should be inside your dormitory.”

Dark eyes glare indignantly up at him. Calmly holding Wei Wuxian’s gaze, Lan Zhan lifts the curse.

“Report for detention tomorrow,” he says, as Wei Wuxian sits up and pointedly rubs the small pink spot on his forehead.

“Lan Zhaaaan,” Wei Wuxian complains, giving the edge of Lan Zhan’s robe a beseeching tug. Lan Zhan feels his own lips thin at the over-familiarity of both the form of address and the physical contact.

“Don’t be like that! Let me off just this once? Think of the five wonderful years we’ve spent together as potions partners!”

“Just last week, you exploded our cauldron,” Lan Zhan reminds him flatly, and Wei Wuxian grins.

“Oh come on! Let’s not harp on about petty things like that,” he says, pushing himself up onto his feet. He shakes out his robes. “You wanted to know what would happen if we added the xiezhi horn, too, just admit it.”

Lan Zhan doesn’t dignify this with a response, and simply meets Wei Wuxian’s gaze and holds it.

He is a Lan of Gusu.

He would never admit to such a thing.

Wei Wuxian pouts, reaches out a hand and uses two fingers to give Lan Zhan’s sleeve a pleading tug.

Lan Zhan sighs.

After five years of being a detention hall regular, if Wei Wuxian was going to learn anything from writing lines, he would've done it already.

“Return to your dormitory,” he says, and Wei Wuxian smiles brightly.

“Yup, sure thing, absolutely,” he chirps, nodding in enthusiastic agreement.

He doesn’t move.

Lan Zhan looks at him expectantly.

Wei Wuxian blinks back at him with wide eyes.

Lan Zhan continues to wait.

It’s Wei Wuxian’s turn to sigh.

“Okay, fine,” he says, shoulders slumping in defeat as he turns back to his original direction and beckons for Lan Zhan to follow.

“There’s just something I have to do first - I swear it’s important. You can come with me to see, if you want.”

It’s a … bird.

A hatchling, almost completely featherless, that Wei Wuxian has hidden in a corner of one of the lesser-used greenhouses, and has been coming to feed every four hours.

It’s also, Lan Zhan thinks, staring blankly at its oversized head, squat little body, gangly legs and stumpy wings, really-

“Don’t stare at it like that just because it’s ugly!” Wei Wuxian hisses, turning from pouring whatever paste he’s made down the bird’s throat to swat Lan Zhan admonishingly on the arm. “You’ll hurt its feelings!”

“You just called it ugly,” Lan Zhan feels the need to point out. “But I’m the one who’s hurting its feelings?”

“Well, it’s just a baby,” Wei Wuxian replies reasonably. “It doesn’t understand anything that’s not bird-language yet.”

“It doesn’t understand anything but bird-language,” Lan Zhan repeats disbelievingly, “but it’s offended by stares?”

Wei Wuxian nods gravely.

“Everyone knows that body language is universal,” he claims loftily and Lan Zhan suppresses the desire to roll his eyes.

“You can’t keep coming every four hours,” Lan Zhan says, after the bird curls up and goes to sleep underneath a heating charm and Wei Wuxian’s threadbare toy demiguise (“What? I didn’t know if Jiang Cheng and I were going to be in the same dorm, and I was scared of getting lonely at night! I was eleven!”).

“Well, I’m going to have to,” Wei Wuxian replies carelessly, and shrugs. “Or it’ll die.”

“Its parents?” Lan Zhan asks and Wei Wuxian shrugs again.

“Didn’t seem to have any,” he says, quietly getting up and beckoning wordlessly for Lan Zhan to follow. “I waited an hour to see if one of them would come back, but nothing did, and it was crying, so.”

The moon is full and bright, providing ample light to guide their way back to the dormitories even now that all the lights have been put out.

“I did some reading in the library,” Wei Wuxian says around a yawn. “As it gets bigger, feedings will get less frequent. I don’t know what kind of bird it is, but it should only be like this for a couple of weeks, at most.”

Even for a couple of weeks, it’s not sustainable, Lan Zhan thinks when Wei Wuxian begins to list into his shoulder as they walk. He’ll have to leave halfway through every meal and risk getting caught by the other Prefects at night. He won’t be able to get enough sleep, which will affect his classwork, and, in turn, his learning, his grades, his disciplinary record-

“You can’t keep this up for that long,” Lan Zhan states firmly.

Wuxian groans. “I told you, Lan Zhan, I can’t just let it-”

“I’ll help you,” he says.

“You’ll - wait, really?”

They name it Little Apple because Wuxian says he's no fun.

("We should call it Little Ginseng, because that's what it looks like - bald and lumpy."

"...No.")

When it gets big enough to have a personality beyond eating and sleeping, Little Apple is surprisingly sweet. It loves: cuddles, being hand-fed and chasing after a love-knot tassel that Wuxian charmed to dance around in front of it.

It hates: eating by itself, being left alone for too long, cats (after Headboy Jin Guangyao's familiar somehow gets into the greenhouse and they have a very near miss), and Lan Zhan and Wuxian arguing.

It absolutely refuses to go to bed without being personally tucked in.

Soon, it starts to grow feathers; brown and grey patches of down sprouting all over its body, enough that they can stop renewing the heating charm.

It doesn't get less ugly.

("As its mother, even I think it's hideous. We should've called it Little Dustball, but it's too late now ")

They do, however, become very fond of it nonetheless.

("Hey, Lan Zhan, look, we learned manners today!"

Wuxian bows to Little Apple, who bobs its head unsteadily in return.

"-Lan Zhan, what's happening to your face? Lan Zhan? Lan Zhan, is that a smile?!")

They get caught.

"Wei Wuxian I expected no better of," his uncle growls after the greenhouse doors fly open to reveal his thunderous expression. "But Wangji, you are a prefect. I am deeply disappointed in you, sneaking off to the greenhouses at night to-"

Little Apple squawks.

(Although its adult plumage has started to come in, there is no colour pattern that Lan Zhan can see; it has three red feathers on this wing, two on that one, small tufts of white in a patch on its belly and a scattering of green along its back.

“It’s … really not going to get better, is it?” Wuxian asks, sounding like he doesn’t know if he should laugh or cry.)

Lan Qiren stares.

"It's so…" his uncle says, still staring down at Little Apple, who squawks again and stares right back. "Ug-"

“Don’t listen to him, Little Apple!” Wuxian cries, hastily covering Little Apple’s ears with his hands. “It’s what’s on the inside that counts!”

And then one day Lan Zhan walks into the greenhouse and realises that Little Apple is ugly no longer.

Its wings are in fact red and black; red coverts edged with a line of striking black primaries and secondaries. A small plume of blue curls back off its forehead in a proud crest. The feathers on its back and shoulders are a shimmering emerald green, in some areas even tipped with gold, its belly is a soft pearlescent white, and its tail feathers are starting to lengthen into an impressive train.

Beside him, Wei Ying gasps and places a hand against his mouth, evidently coming to the same realisation.

“Lan Zhan,” he says, deeply moved. “Our son is beautiful.”

It still can’t fly, though.

“I wonder if I should get my sword,” Wei Ying says, after an afternoon of running around flapping his arms has yielded no results beyond Little Apple having the time of its life chasing a new, human-sized tassel around the grounds like a particularly speedy chicken.

He flops backwards onto the grass. Little Apple promptly jumps on top of his chest and starts to preen his hair.

"Or what if I flapped my arms and you Levitated me," Wei Ying wonders, squinting thoughtfully. With a lazy wave of his wand, he Levitates Little Apple, who squawks angrily in protest until it's brought back within range of his ponytail.

Lan Zhan takes the opportunity to re-tie the bandage on his wrist, and can’t help but hiss slightly when he has to unstick it from his burnt skin. It’s not a serious injury - a small graze from a ricocheted spell he’d been hit with between classes, while stopping an altercation in the hallway - but he hasn’t had the time to visit the infirmary to have it healed yet.

When he looks up, Little Apple is right in front of him, staring up with glistening eyes.

“Aw,” Wei Ying says, propping himself up on one elbow and looking enchanted. “Look, Lan Zhan, he’s sad that his daddy’s hurt!”

Little Apple rests his face on Lan Zhan’s wrist for a moment, then sits back up and gives a self-satisfied squawk.

Lan Zhan looks down and finds that his wrist is fully healed.

“Huh,” Wei Ying says.

It turns out that they don’t need to worry about the flying, because the following week, Little Apple, eye caught by a firefly, simply spreads its wings, pushes off Wei Ying’s arm and takes off after it.

“Well,” Wei Ying begins after a moment of stunned silence. “I-”

Then Little Apple’s tail promptly bursts into flames and blazes a bright trail across the night sky.

“LAN ZHAN,” Wei Ying screeches, grabbing hold of Lan Zhan’s arm and shaking it.

“LAN ZHAN, OUR SON IS A PHOENIX!”

There’s no keeping Little Apple in the greenhouse after that. It comes and goes as it pleases with the blessing of even Lan Zhan’s uncle, who is kept mollified by the fact that Little Apple is a phoenix, as well as the steady supply of tears and feathers for the school.

Both Lan Zhan and Wei Ying take to leaving their bedroom windows ajar so that Little Apple can come in to roost at night when it returns, which it always does.

Until, one day, it doesn’t.

The next month, the Ministry announces that the Wizarding world is at war.

(And then, on a random morning after WWX comes back, there’s a tapping at the window of their shared bedroom, Lan Zhan gets up to investigate, and----!)

#The Untamed #wangxian #HP AU #fml #fic #mo dao zu shi

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