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twstddream · 2 years

Note

If your request are still open can I ask for some hc of Savanaclaw trio, Octavinelle trio , and the diasomnia gang reacting to:

Twst boy: what you reading there?

Mc: *walking out of room* 101 ways to seduce a male _____" (ie. Hyena, fae or octopus) ~❤

I’m not gonna lie, I had no clue how to write this. But, I’m giving it a shot. The MC will be more flirty, but aloof at the same time. And just for y’all Che’nya lovers, I added him to the list :)

THIS WAS REQUESTEDLAST OCTOBER I’M SO SORRY

Story outline: The boys notice you reading a book. Now they’re subjected to your interesting reading material

GN!Reader by default. No personal pronouns used besides they/them.

Ambiguous relationship with the boys.

• Leona had few things he cared about at Night Raven College. Those being magical shift tournaments, napping under the shade of his favourite tree in the botanical garden, and you. He often found himself pouring all of his love and attention into you, and you didn’t mind reciprocating one bit.

So of course he’d notice once your attention starts to waver from him.

• You see, just a few days ago, Ruggie had approached you asking for help in returning and checking out some new books for classes. After messing around with Ruggie for a bit (and being told to quiet down more than a handful of times) you both had stumbled across a rather fascinating book. At the behest of the cheeky hyena boy, you had checked “How to Seduce Afterglow Savannah Beastmen” out of the library.

• Nothing much gets past Leona, even when’s asleep he’s somehow acutely aware of his surroundings. You knew it wouldn’t be long before he sat up and badgered you about whatever, but you wanted to control the topic today.

• Finally stirring from his catnap, he noticed that damned book in your hands. He only stared for a few moments, waiting for you to engage with him, but you hadn’t.

• “Oi, herbivore,” Leona finally spoke up “what’s that book you have there, hm? Is it really that much more important than me?” He teased.

• Ohoho, he fell right into your trap.

You held up the still-open book in your hands for him to read.

“Nothing much, Leona. I just picked up a book I thought looked interesting today...”

Now that he can read the chapter you were on his eyes widen in shock

“... How to Seduce a Male Lion Beastman”

• “Hah? What are you trying to start here, human?” he bore his fangs lightly

• This was the time to play dumb.

“I don’t know what you mean, I’m not trying to start anything, Leona. I’m just indulging in a good book.” You replied, all while batting your eyelashes sweetly at him.

• “You’re reading that in my bed, forgive me for making such accusations.” His sarcasm did not go unnoticed. But after that he flipped over and fell asleep.

-------

• After the initial incident, he expected you to drop it, but to his utter surprise (and slight embarrassment) you once again brought that damn book to his dorm room. What’s more, he’s seen that you’ve made significant progress in the book, 3/4 of the way finished judging by the bookmark you’ve left stuck between the pages.

• Leona lets out a heavy, laboured sigh. He knows you’re not gonna drop this until you get the reaction you want.

“I’ll indulge you just this once, herbivore,” Leona rolls over and faces towards you, laying on his side with his arms propping himself up, an expectant look on his face

“Hit me with your best shot. I wanna see you put that rotten book to use. If it turns out that you’ve been wasting your time, I’ll be looking forward to see how you make it up to me.”

• Okay, nothing to worry about, all you have to do is uhhh...

• Being put on the spot like this has made you forget everything you’ve (jokingly) read.

• In your panic you did the only thing your malfunctioning brain could think to do. You lean in and place a quick peck on his lips, quickly retreating to your side of the bed, placing your face in your hands and curl your body away from the lion beastman now sat at attention next to you.

• Leona let out a loud and boisterous laugh, something so rarely elicited from the normally lazy and jaded prince.

"Hahahah! You really though you had something there, didn’t you?” His laughter quickly but quietly died down, and he became serious. Taking advantage of the now slightly-tense atmosphere, he trailed on,

“Hah, in all honesty, I don’t think you need some book to ‘seduce’ me. You’ve got me wrapped around your finger..” his voice died off towards the end but you heard him perfectly fine.

• “Well, if we’re admitting truths here, I didn’t think I’d get this far.” You shyly confess.

• Staying silent, but nodding to acknowledge what you said, he shifted closer to you and leaned in, a soft plea on his lips

“Do it again...”

-------

“I’m waiting to see how you’ll make it up to me. And no more of these soft affections, I expect you to fully devote yourself to me from now on, and to honour me properly.”

• Ruggie has taught you many things. To enjoy the small pleasures that life brings, how to efficiently utilize everything you’re given, and his most important of imparted knowledge, how to have a good laugh.

• Ruggie isn’t one for practical jokes per se, but he’s always up for messing with and teasing others’ when the opportunity presents itself (and it’s safe to do so.) He’ll rope you into his badgering on occasion, and he’s sure to share the blame with you (even if you didn’t actually do anything.)

• With all of his past jests in mind, you decide to mess with him yourself. The poor boy is so easy to fluster with genuine affection, it’s easy to come up with the method of which you’re going to torment him.

• You pick up a book from a small library on Sage Island and quickly employ all that you’ve learned. All that you’ve learned was, essentially, to walk funny. Hilarious diagrams were shown, and you were convinced you had it down pat. Now all there was to do was to, ahem, present yourself to the hyena boy. Even if it was embarrassing you were sure he’d get a laugh out of it, even if your original intent was to set the boy’s heart aflutter (through unconventional means, that is.)

• But then you decided your pride and dignity are more important than doing a funny walk. So you opted to just present the book to him.

• It was easy to track down Ruggie down in the Savanaclaw dorm. He was always running around doing various chores and tasks, ever the dutiful golden goose- er, hyena.

He notices you approaching and quickly whistles in your direction while sending you a short wave of acknowledgement.

• Time to enact your master plan. Quickly jogging over to the young boy, you pull out your prized possession and call out,

“Oi, Ruggie! I wanted to ask you some questions!”

The second year’s tail started wagging wildly behind him.

• You want to ask him a question, meaning you want his help with something? Out of everyone you went to him. Oh, he was over the moon.

‘What’s that you’re holding? A book? So you want help with studying, huh? It’s gonna cost you though. Hmm, what should he charge you, a meal at the cafeteria? Or maybe some help with shopping? Oh wait you’re right in front of him now uh oh -were you saying something?’

• His agape mouth only opened even more when he spotted the title of the book you brought along with you.

“101 Ways to Seduce a Male Hyena”

• “He- hey! What are you doing with something like that, huh?! Are you trying to start something?!”

You responded with a simple nod and a loose smile. His cheeks were dusted with a dull pink, and his widened eyes were twitching ever so slightly. A beautiful sight, indeed. Unfortunately for you, he recovered quickly, his gaze shying away and holding his hand to his mouth to muffle his words and hide his face.

“You’re more trouble than you’re worth, you know that? As compensation, I expect you to help me with this laundry.”

• Okay, fair enough. You got what you wanted. You throw the book on top of the pile of already folded clothes and get to work, Ruggie still avoiding your curious gaze.

-------

“If you’re gonna do such a poor job then I might as well teach you myself. I’ll let you know though, I’m very much a hands-on kind of teacher, shishishi~! And it won’t be cheap either! But I guess since you’re so eager to learn, I might give you a discount. Only because we’re this close...”

• Jack liked his routine, it was familiar, and it helped improve what he considered essential in his life. He can appreciate that you join in on his daily training, or studying. Even if you’re not joining in, and all you’re doing is passing him his water or towel, or handing him a new pen when is runs out. You’re kind like that.

• With that being said Jack didn’t expect you to enter his dorm room holding a book with the title “How to attract a wolf beastman” because why would someone like you do that. You wouldn’t do that, right?

• He rubs his eyes and sees that he is, in fact, not having the strangest nightmare of his life. No, this is real alright.

“Jack! Just the man I wanted to see!” You greet, inviting yourself to sit on his bed, choosing not to make a comment on the flustered state of your best friend.

Jack is stuck in place, feeling like he just got pushed into a surprise ice bath.

• His reaction really isn’t anything other than switching between a mixture of shock, mortification, and the tiniest bit of envy.

• But why envy? Why I feel jealous over what is clearly a small prank. Is it that I feel insignificant enough for them to do this, but then again, in them going through with their prank does that make me special? But would they do this with just anyone? If it garnered the same result, would they try and fluster just about anyone? Agh, thinking about all of this is useless!

• Nothing prepared you for Jack crossing the room and ripping the book out of your hands faster than you could blink. He holds the book loosely in one hand, his other placed on his hips, and holding the book as far away from him as he can, all the while reprimanding you with his glare alone.

“You’re crazy, you know that? I don’t want to have to deal with the aftermath of your messes, especially when you pull stuff like this. What if it was anyone else but me? Someone less savoury and can’t take a joke or a no. I don’t want you getting hurt over such a small trick...”

“What do you mean ‘it’s only for me’!? That’s it! Out!”

• Jack couldn’t stay mad for too long and went to apologize to you for his outburst with an offer of lunch in the cafeteria. Which you found strange, he was the victim of the prank, not you? Why apologize for getting (appropriately) angry?

• He took your fucking lunch that’s why. He’s a damn scoundrel and a liar.

-------

“What do you think you’re doing?! ..Don’t misunderstand me, I’m not flustered at all! I’m concerned for your well-being is all; carrying something like that around in Savanaclaw is sure to bring about some unwanted attention. Of course, I’ll protect you from any rowdy students, don’t mistake me for some scoundrel... I know you were looking for my attention, and now that you’ve got it, I don’t want you seeking out another’s. Heh, you’re crazy for doing this, but don’t expend that effort for anyone else. Only me, got it?”

• Azul tries so hard to keep up his suave businessman persona, but he fails miserably. He’s slumping into himself, face red, with his mouth agape. He looked ridiculous.

• Genuinely has an anime glasses crack moment. He sits silent in his seat but quickly starts sputtering nonsense and averts his gaze, looking everywhere but you.

• It takes a monumental amount of effort to not start reading off a paragraph from the book. But you decide that Azul’s in enough agony as it is.

• “My dear, is there ah- any particular reason for your visit today?” The poor octomer looked about ready to burst, all while trying to compose himself.

“Not that I don’t enjoy your visits and our time together, no, no. Any time spent with you is time well spent! But I- you see- uhm...” He rambles on.

• Standing from your seat, you make your way over the dazed man, stopping mere inches from him, and lowering yourself to look him in the eyes (which was hard since he was doing the exact opposite of what you were doing)

When his eyes finally dart to yours, he gains a hopeful expression. It was a cute site. His faint blush, slightly ajar mouth, while he looks up at you beneath the rim of his hat with that timid expression, it truly was a marvelous site. Little did Azul know, these expressions are exactly what make you keep pulling stunts like this.

• You quickly flip his hat down onto his face, and let out the lightest of laughs, thought it was at his expense, Azul found your laugh to be simply angelic and (begrudgingly) worth the embarrassment.

• It was a quick and easy solution, his last resort to save face, Azul invites you to a free dinner at the Mostro Lounge, with him as your guest, of course. And with your eager acceptance, he begins to plan the perfect date.

-------

“What are you laughing at? My face? You’re laughing at my face?! ... Oh. You meant my expression... Well, yes, yes, it was a funny joke, you don’t need to keep laughing so hard, please exert some effort to keep your dignity in tact. Though I’m not sure you have much left, let alone care about regaining or sustaining it...”

• Desperate to seem actually interested in the subject of the book currently in your hands, you walked and read at the same time. Which isn’t always the best idea, as it’s left you open to stumbling into walls and fellow students alike. But then you accidentally got invested in the reading material, and you found yourself reading it for real, flipping the pages at a rapid yet steady pace.

This is how you found yourself floundering about the empty yet claustrophobic walkways of the Mostro Lounge to your assigned table. When it hit you, literally, that you were so focused on your book that you neglected everything (and everyone) that was around you. You ran into just the eel you wanted to see.

• “Do keep your attention and guard up around these parts, it’s quite rude to ignore those in your presence, not to mention easy to slips things by you. Not that I’m suggesting any harm shall befall upon you, but it is best to be careful. Now, may I recommend reading over our menu, seeing as you’re quite the voracious reader.” He lightly chuckles at his little comment at the end.

• You honestly did not know how you missed the presence of Jade, what with his tall stature and somewhat menacing aura, and also the fact that you were reading this damned book just for him, so he really should be the person you’re most alert to right now, but that seems to not be the case.

• The leering grin on his face clues you in on the fact that he has definitely seen your reading material, and definitely expects you to make your move. That sadist.

• He’s curious as to what you’ll do. Will you deploy any tactics? Or will you stumble over yourself in an attempt to save face? Is that even a concern of yours?

He finds your reaction and next actions endearing anyways. Whether this was all a joke to fluster him (which he’ll never admit it, but it worked) or an honest attempt to study the culture of his species, or something else, he’s enraptured by your boldness.

-------

“I thank you for choosing to dine with us today. And trust me when I say that I’m not just spouting rhetorics, I truly am grateful to have seen you today. You and your antics... Please continue to show me such interesting things. In that regard, I am in your care”

• Floyd didn’t like boring things. This was a fact everyone knew. So to really capture his attention and catch his interest, you decided to (perhaps) step out of character and do something spontaneous. Something that’ll hopefully catch him off-guard and get a laugh out of him.

You already held his attention and affection, of course. But what’s wrong with a bit of harmless whimsy?

• Turns out a lot, actually. All you wanted to do was show off your book to him and maybe get a chuckle out of it, but Floyd thought of this as a passion-filled chase and promptly rose from his seat and sprinted full-speed at you. Which led to you boarding yourself inside of Ramshackle with the crazed eel-man banging on your front door. Grim was wailing upstairs, telling you he knew it was a bad idea, the ghosts were arming themselves with brooms and mops. It as a disaster.

• You half-expected your door to be bust down and for you to resign yourself to your fate of being squeezed to an inch of your life, until the deafening knocking on your door quieted down to nothing. But you knew he hadn’t left, and you knew it was a bit cruel to the boy to run away like you did. However, he truly seemed like a predator chasing his prey.

You took a deep breath in, and approached the door as you exhaled. Preparing for the violent hug of your closest friend. You closed your eyes as you turned the handle, and let out a gasp of air as you were tackled to the ground.

• “Shrimpy! You’re so mean, y’know that? Locking me out of your home when you started all of this!” The boy’s tackled hug had knocked the breath out of you, but he didn’t seem to mind your panting, as he rubs his cheek against yours and pets your head.

“You owe me something, don’t you think?” He turned serious all too suddenly, lifting his head to stare into your eyes with his mismatched own.

“How about a date!?” He cheerily proposes, his menacing air dissipating completely.

Why not, you decide. Spending time with Floyd was what you wanted all along.

“And, you can show me all the stuff you learned. Won’t that be fun? It better be good though, I don’t want anything lazy.” There’s the Floyd you know and love.

-------

“So about that date, I was thinking of taking you to the Coral Sea and dumping some swimming lessons on you! Doesn’t that sound fun? Hm, no? Well too bad, we’re doing it anyways! I won’t let you drown, don’t worry, but I can’t guarantee I won’t toy with you a bit. It’s only fair, you know? Accept your punishment~”

• The devotion you invest into your relationships is what made Malleus sure that you were the right one. The right one for what? Only time will tell, but he’s fine with anything. Your love, your disdain, your affection, he’ll gladly accept it all. So when you threw yourself into the study of his culture and home country, he felt honoured. And he knew that would understand how wonderful Briar Valley was. You just had to.

• So imagine his surprise when he catches you reading what he considers such a scandalous book. Were you, his child of man, truly interested in the courting methods of the fae?

• He’d spend many silent hours pondering on whether or not this interest was surface level, or if it delved deeper. Were you reading just to understand it from a clinical perspective? Or were you truly looking to take up a lover, and if so, who?

• Malleus hoped with all his heart that he was on your mind as you flipped through the pages, that it was his hands and fingers you envisioned when prompted with the thought of exchanging rings and vows, that it was his hair you would keep in a locket safe and secure around your neck. His body, mind, and soul belonged to you, and he knew it. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

-------

“Child of man, I see you are studying up on the courting methods between humans and faeries, are you not? I thought as much. Tell me, does your heart yearn for another when you read these passages? Does it ache with the passion of young love maturing? I wonder, do you feel what I feel?”

• Ohoho, has someone caught your eye, young prefect? For you to indulge yourself in reading something so improper, oh it must be someone special.

• Of course Lilia knows. He knows everything, apparently, and he knows you know that he knows. And he’s gonna give you the run-around.

It’s all “Oh, where did you pick up this book of yours?” this and Any particular reason that it caught your eye?” that. “Anyone on your mind lately, prefect? Don’t you worry, I won’t tell a soul, I promise.” He says as he throws in a wink at the end. You swear he’s not worth the trouble, but you know you’re lying to yourself in thinking that.

• Lilia now hovers around you more (literally), more than he ever has. He’ll pop in and strike up a conversation while you do the most mundane things. The old man can’t help but want to hog up all your free-time, and then some. How can he help himself? You’re just so cute in his eyes!

• I wouldn’t call him flustered per se, but he’s definitely moved by your gesture, now matter how comedic it started out as. The old bat often finds himself thinking of you, but now with the added details of a life spent together. Oh how he wishes to raise some children with you, he hopes you’ll accept that. He hopes that you’ll accept him, the real him, underneath his spontaneity and tailored youth.

-------

“Prefect! I see you still have your nose buried in that old book of yours. Say, how about instead of some light reading, we have some fun. just the two of us, some quality time for us both. We both know the importance of time and how we spend it, at least, I do, and if you accept my offer, I can teach you the importance of time as well. In fact! Why don’t I cook us both a traditional meal, hm? Surely that will bridge the gap between us!”

• “HUMAN! Just what do you think you’re reading?! Do you know the disrespect you are exhibiting towards the Young Master and fae kind right now by even holding that book?!” The usual volume of Sebek’s voice seemed like a whisper compared to the sheer screeching he was hurtling in your direction. The few students still lingering in the cafeteria turned towards the two of you, but quickly dismissed you both. You opted to put on a brave face, and turn your full attention towards the green-haired boy.

“Sebek! Just the man I wanted to see! Come, sit, sit!” You eagerly pat the empty seat next to you. Begrudgingly, Sebek takes a seat, posture stiff and rigid. But he seems to have a softer look to his countenance.

• “You know, Sebek, I may just be a lowly human compared to you, but I want to learn how to love you the way you want me to.” Your heartfelt confession surprised even you.

Sebek flinched at your words, though you didn’t mean them harshly, quite the opposite, actually. He cast his gaze downwards, folding his hands into his lap and thinking intently. Understanding that he needs to compose his thoughts to properly convey what he means to say, you let him take his time. Offering him a small smile.

• Suddenly, he shoots up from his seat at the table and extends his hand towards you, a determined look on his face.

“I see that I’ve been unnecessarily rude, and perhaps even offended you. Please let me rectify this oversight of mine!” The sparkle in his eyes is too endearing, you’d have accepted his apology regardless, but the genuine shine of regret and hope enchants you even more as you take his hand.

• It’s only when he starts to lead you out of the cafeteria do you snap out of it and wonder where you’re going. But you trust Sebek not to lead you astray.

-------

“Devote yourself fully to your studies, and it will bare fruit. Hmph! I see that this book is insufficient in teaching you all you wish to learn. Follow me! Where to you ask? To Diasomnia, of course! I’ll be teaching you myself all there is to know. Perhaps even Lilia can offer some assistance.. No! It must be me! Well, what are you waiting for? We start at once.”

• Che’nya was rarely ever on school campus grounds, except for Heartslabyul, and he never strayed too far from there when he did visit. The only hope you had of puling a trick on the cat boy was to attend every Unbirthday Party that you could. Even then, there wasn’t a guarantee he would show up. And if he did show up, there was no guarantee that he would show himself either. All in all, you were subject to embarrass yourself every Unbirthday Party until you got your desired results.

• Now, Che’nya isn’t as sadistic as Jade, or as playful as Lilia in the sense that he’s gonna drag this out for a long time. He’s gonna milk your reaction to his antics that are a response to your antics, but he’s happy to accept this small jest and he’ll take it in stride.

• Much like a cat he takes a seat in your lap, arms wrapped around your shoulders while he dangles his legs back and forth, flashing that cheshire grin of his at you.

“Nyeh, what’cha reading there? Is it something more important than me?” He makes a show of leaning into the open book in your hands, slowly moving his eyes along the pages while letting out a small hum. He finally snaps up straight and once again leans into the personal space of your face.

“Oh! It’s for me! Isn’t that precious!” He leers in a playful manner. Cuddling himself further into your half-hearted embrace. His tail knocks the book from your hands and onto the ground with a loud thud.

“Whoops! Nyahaha now you have to pay attention to me !” His tail flicks you on your nose and continues to hover there.

“Okay, Che’nya, you have my full attention.”

-------

“Don’t you think that book is a bit old-fashioned? I say just do what mew want, haha! There should be nothing to worry about if it’s true love. Nyah? That was out of character for me? You’ll see that I’m full of surprises~”

-------

I went ham on Leona’s part and then immediately fell short on everyone else.

3K notes · View notes

dulcesiabits · 8 months

Text

an artist's swan song.

summary: an injured wrist is the last thing you need before art school applications. no one understands your frustrations-- no one but the boy at the physical therapy office.

notes: 6.3k words, fic, author's notes, discussion of acl tears and carpal tunnel syndrome, they/them pronouns for reader but chigiri calls reader miss artist, takes place before blue lock

The doctor tells you that you’re lucky.

Lucky that you caught the injury so fast, lucky that you were diligent enough to go to the ER as soon as the numbness in your fingers started, lucky that the damage would be minimal, as long as you were careful.

You stare at your black splint the whole time he talks, tight and itchy against your wrist, an alien weight. So this is what luck looks like?

“You’ll need to do these stretches everyday for five minutes at home,” the doctor says, handing you a sheet of paper with exercises for wrist stretches. It trembles in the air in front of you, before your dad swoops in to take it.

“Thank you,” your dad says, clasping a hand on your shoulder. “I’ll make sure they stick to the regime.”

The doctor nods, smiles, and wishes you luck, before ushering the two of you out. His white coat blurs like a streak of paint as the door closes and he takes off his glasses to rub tiredly at his eyes. Your hand twitches for your oil paints to capture the scene, but they’re still lying at home, half-rolled tubs scattered in your room.

“Are you okay?” your dad asks quietly, once you’re out in the hallway.

You nod, rubbing at your splint.

“Don’t do that,” your dad says. “The doctor told you that you shouldn’t strain your wrist unnecessarily.”

“I’m not straining my wrist,” you murmur, and he rubs your back affectionately.

“Still, try not to poke at it, okay?” You round the sterile white hall, and your dad brightens. “Look, a vending machine. Why don’t you go buy something to drink?” He pulls out his wallet, shoving a few yen coins in your hand– your good hand– before you can protest. “I need to go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

Your hand hovers in front of the buttons as you amble over to the machine, eyes blurring over the rows of canned drinks and bright colors and happy mascots, before you decide on a single iced black tea. The machine whirs as you slip in your coin, the can slides out– and then it stills, stuck right against the front of the glass. Of course.

You smash your sneaker against the glass pane of the vending machine, your trapped can of iced black tea rattling. One kick. Then another, and the stupid can still won’t drop. You dig the heels of your palms into your eyes. You can’t even get a vending machine to work. Because here you are, in this stupid physical therapy office, when you should be at the art prep academy preparing your portfolio and practicing for your art college exam, but you can’t strain your stupid wrist to pick up your brush.

Something thunks against the vending machine. You slowly open your eyes, just in time to see a boy raise his crutches and slam them against the glass, and, miraculously, your drink drops into the open space below with a pleasant clink.

“I hate this machine. It always gets stuck,” he says.

Half-braided red hair, slender nose, soft mouth. If not for the crutches and the black brace running down the length of his right leg, you’d wonder if he was an angel, not another patient.

“I want you to model for me,” you murmur, entranced by the way his silky hair shifts on his shoulders.

“... What?”

You slap your hands over your mouth. “Sorry! I– You’re pretty, so I– I! I’m an artist. Was an artist? Am?” you ramble, cheeks heating as your words trip all over themselves and the furrow between the boy’s eyebrows grows deeper.

Unexpectedly, he laughs, then points at the vending machine. “Don’t forget your drink, Miss Artist.”

You scramble for the can, pulling it out and offering it to the boy. “You should have it.”

He shakes his head. “No, it’s yours.”

You turn, slipping another yen coin into the machine, and in a few seconds, you have another can of black tea. “This way we both have one. So it’s okay, right?”

He tilts his head. “I guess it is.” You consider him again; he really is pretty, pretty enough that your hands itch to sketch him, to capture the outline of his profile. You’re floating at the discovery of a once-in-a-lifetime beauty, a muse– but the brace on your hand slams you back down to earth.

“I think that guy is trying to get your attention,” the boy says, pointing behind you. It’s your dad: he’s watching the two of you with curiosity, but waves his hand once your eyes are on him.

“It’s time for us to go,” your dad says. “Ah, but do you need a minute? New friend?”

The boy gathers himself, forcibly crams the can of black tea you gave him into his pocket, where it bulges out, threatening to fall. “I have an appointment in a bit. So I should get going.”

Your feet won’t cooperate with you. “It was nice to meet you, um…”

“Chigiri Hyoma,” he says.

“Maybe I’ll see you around,” you say, then wince. To see him at the physical therapy wing again would mean his injury hadn’t healed. Were you trying to curse him with a slow recovery?

But Chigiri only smiles, a simple act that makes your heart do funny somersaults in your chest. He really is an angel. “Sure. See you around, Miss Artist. Thanks for the tea.”

“Who is that?” your dad whispers, once the two of you are farther down the hall.

“An angel,” you mumble, before flushing under your dad’s quizzical gaze. “I meant a friend! A friend. I think.”

“He seems like a nice boy. It’d be nice for the two of you to get along,” your dad says earnestly.

You glance at Chigiri one more time, the edge of his face lit in a soft glow from the sunshine, his back turned towards you. What is he thinking?

At home that night, his profile still lingers in your mind as you crouch amongst your haphazard piles of sketchbooks and discarded art supplies. It’ll be months before you can use them again, so you might as well take the time to clean, something you’ve neglected in the rush for the upcoming entrance exams for art college.

Oil paints. Pastels. Sticks of charcoal. You’ve dabbled in a lot of different mediums over the years, saving up all your change just to buy supplies from the art store a few subway rides away from your house. Cheap materials work just as well as expensive ones, and it doesn’t matter what you use as long as you have paper in front of you. Your first memories involve you crouching in the living room, a crayon fisted in your chubby hand as you scribble nonsensical shapes all over the white kitchen wall, something that caused your dad endless suffering when he found you.

Your dad did save up to buy you a nice set of watercolors for the art prep academy you’ve been attending, and though he only smiles and encourages you to keep painting, it’s a strain on your finances. Art isn’t cheap, and your only hope is to get into a public art school by passing the entrance exams. But now… it looks like you can’t even do that, thanks to your wrist.

Carpal tunnel syndrome.

That’s the diagnosis the doctor gave you, an illness more common in people three times your age, brought on by repetitive trauma on your wrist that led to a pinched nerve.

Unusual for someone as young as you, the doctor had said. But you’re lucky, because of the fact that you’re young and the injury is light, so you’ll heal in a few months with rest.

But time isn’t a luxury you can afford. You were supposed to pass the exam. Get into an art school. Practice, graduate, become an artist. Your dream, once so solid, has burst like a bubble just as soon as you begin to reach towards its hazy outline. Every second you’re resting is a second wasted, a second that could have been spent practicing and improving.

“How did you get this injury?” the doctor had asked.

Because of art. Because you couldn’t stop drawing, because then it would feel like you were drowning in the water. Freelance commissions. Constant practice. Art club and art academy lessons. You’d forgotten to breathe these past few months, forgotten to eat or rest.

But all of that came back to bite you, in the end. No more art, the doctor had said. At least until you’re healed. And even after that, you wouldn’t be able to keep up the excruciating pace you once had.

You flop down on your futon. Your classmates must be in the middle of class by now, honing their skills. And what are you doing?

You’re floating in a small boat in the middle of the ocean, unmoored. No oars, no maps. Just the rocking of the waves, unsure of where you’re going to end up, your dream like a distant land. The shape of it, once rendered real with each stroke of your paintbrush, is undiscoverable now.

—

It’s only a month later that you visit the physical therapy office again for a follow-up appointment. The weather has turned chilly by then, a brisk bite of cold that heralds the coming winter. This time, you go alone, taking the subway until it screeches to a stop at your destination. In the hospital, it’s the same white walls and sterile air, a place unmoored from time.

“Keeping up with your stretches?” the doctor asks.

“Everyday.”

“Good! And how’s the sensation in your fingers?”

“Not as bad anymore. They don’t shake, and the numbness is mostly gone.”

The doctor nods. “Perfect! You’re on the path to recovery. Let’s keep the brace on for several more months. Keep up with the stretches, and don’t forget to lay off of drawing until you’ve recovered.”

Your appointment is over, but you’re not in the mood to go home yet. Instead, you wander down the halls aimlessly, nurses and patients bustling by with a purpose. You don’t even realize you’re looking for Chigiri until you spot him in the hospital cafeteria, crutches leaning against the table and poking at a plastic bear full of lychee jelly.

“Chigiri Hyoma,” you say on instinct, his name rolling smoothly on your tongue.

“Hm…?” He looks up. “Oh. It’s you, Miss Artist. Back again?” He unscrews the bear’s head, and hands you a small capsule of jelly. “Want one? My friends brought me this, but I can’t eat all of it.”

You rip the plastic lid off and squeeze the jelly into your mouth, the sweetness sliding down your throat. “It’s good.”

He shrugs his shoulders. “Glad you liked it.” The rest of the jelly, you notice, is untouched.

“Appointment go well?” you say instead.

“Yeah. It’s not like I can make my knee any worse. I’m doing stretches and exercises to strengthen it, but…”

The expression on his face makes you ache, if only because you’ve seen it so many times when you look in the mirror: your body, a sudden traitor, and the world you thought you knew crumbling beneath your feet.

The words are out of your mouth before you can process them. “Do you want to go somewhere else?”

There’s no hesitation as Chigiri looks you right in the eyes and says: “Yes.”

Shuffling out of the hospital into the cold air, jackets and scarves wrapped tight, you and Chigiri make your way aimlessly down the street. He had dumped his lychee jelly with the receptionist with a pretty smile and a “I can’t finish all of this. I hope you can enjoy it with your colleagues,” and then you were off down a block of glass storefronts in bright colors. Few other people were out on the street, so the two of you might have been the only people left in Japan.

You keep glancing at him now and again, his pensive face, the stillness of his expression like a pond glazed with frost.

“You said you wanted me to model for you last time. Is that why you can’t stop staring?” Chigiri says, without turning to face you.

You start. You thought you had been careful, but he’d caught you nonetheless. “Um! A little! You’re very… pretty.”

“I get that a lot. My teammates used to call me princess,” he says, snorting. “That, and Red Panther. Local newspaper made it catch on, and everyone gave me crap about how cheesy it was.”

“Teammates?”

“Football teammates. I was the fastest on my team. Not that I can play with my knee like this.” His crutch taps a sharp staccato beat on the ground. “ACL tear.”

You rub at your own splint. “It’s carpal tunnel syndrome for me. I would have wanted you to model for me if it was still… if I could… ah, well, I can’t draw for the next few months.”

Chigiri nods. “A football player who can’t run, and an artist who can’t draw. That’s kinda funny, isn’t it?” There’s a note of bitterness in his voice.

“It won’t be the same once we’re healed,” you say matter of factly, words blowing small clouds into the sky. “Everyone tells me it’s not the end, that I can do something else, but… I don’t know. I won’t be able to draw like I used to. I can heal, but… I’ll still remember what this felt like.”

His face twists into a small smile. “Yeah. You’re the only one who hasn’t tried to comfort me, or told me it’ll be okay. Because it won’t be. It won’t be the damn same.”

Because your body will remember. Even having this injury once opens the door for your wrist to tear again. And next time, it could be even worse. Unrecoverable, even, to the point where any hope of an art career will be shattered beyond repair. That must have been what it felt like for Chigiri, too, and football.

“Every second spent healing feels like I’m losing time,” you murmur.

He nods. “What were you going to do before the injury?”

You cup your hands around your mouth, blowing on them to keep warm. “Art college.”

“I was going to go to nationals,” he says. “You’re a third year?”

“Yeah. You, too?”

“Nah, second year. This was my chance to win.” Chigiri looks up at the sky, gray clouds reflecting in his eyes. “I was a genius. Everyone told me I was going to do something special. That I could go pro, and lead Japan to the World Cup.”

“But is genius even real?” you say.

“What do you mean?”

“Well… any skill can be honed with enough hard work,” you say simply. “That’s what I believe, anyways. Calling someone a ‘genius’ or ‘talented’ ignores all of the work someone put in to reach that point. People tell me I’m talented, but… I just really love art. I can’t imagine doing anything else.”

“I never thought of it like that.” Chigiri spares a glance at you. “You’re stronger than I am.”

“I don’t know if I’m any stronger than you. I still got hurt. Geniuses, hard workers… we’re all the same in the end,” you reply. He doesn’t respond to that.

The stretch of storefronts gives way to a grassy clearing, a small park consisting of a dirt path and a stretch of trees. “You want to stop by?” you say, pointing.

“Looks like it could be a football field,” Chigiri murmurs. There it is again. That sad, distant look in his eyes, like he doesn't know where he’s going. Lost, adrift.

“Teach me how to play,” you say impulsively.

“Football?”

“Tell me how to score a goal,” you say. “I want to know.”

Chigiri’s laugh is a short, sweet melody. “All right. Let’s go pick up a football ball, and I’ll teach you how to score. Looking for a career change already, Miss Artist?”

“I just thought… I wanted to learn more about it, that’s all,” you say softly. You want to learn more about him, but you bite the thought back.

“Then… teach me how to draw,” he says. “How about that?”

“Deal!”

After a quick stop to a nearby sports store, you’re on the grassy field, a football poised beneath your foot, while Chigiri calls instructions from a nearby bench. He can’t venture into the field, not with his crutches, but you’re close enough for him to watch.

“Use the top of your foot to kick! Not your toe!” he says, cupping one hand around his mouth.

“Like this?” You try to adjust your posture, but Chigiri shakes his head. You shift your foot under the ball again, but it wobbles away from you. You dash after it, trying to stop the movement with your foot, only to kick the ball farther away instead.

You turn to Chigiri with wide eyes, but he’s smiling at you, his eyes crinkling at the corner. “I don’t know if the football life is for you, Miss Artist,” he says.

“I’ve never played before,” you say defensively, retrieving the runaway ball. Once you’re back in position in front of Chigiri, you adjust your posture again.

“Don’t look afraid of it,” he calls. “You’re supposed to control the ball. It listens to you, not the other way around.”

You sigh, then give the ball a tentative kick, watching it sail across the air, curving to the left. “I don’t know how you shoot it straight,” you murmur.

“It depends on the angle of your kick,” Chigiri explains.

Once the ball is safely tucked under your arm, you make your way back to him, flopping down on the bench. The cold seeps through your clothes, and you shiver. Without a word, Chigiri scooches closer to you, until your shoulders are touching.

“Football is hard,” you groan. “The fact you were able to do it… I’m impressed, Chigiri.”

“They did call me a genius, you know? But… I did practice hard,” he acknowledges. “Sometimes, I wake up in the morning, thinking I need to hurry to practice because I’m late, before I remember… my knee. And it’s winter, so there’s no practice going on, anyways. But…”

“It’s important to you.”

“Yeah.” He nudges you with his elbow. “Hey, your turn. Teach me how to draw, Miss Artist.”

You pull out a mini notebook and a pen from your pocket. You always carry some form of paper and writing utensil with you, just in case, and it’s hard to shake off the habit, even with your hand the way it is.

You set the supplies on Chigiri’s lap, and he twirls the pen in his hand as he picks it up. “So,” you begin, “Um… Usually, you have to observe what you want to draw. With sketches, I usually try to measure the dimensions of the object with my pencil, but… you can just try to freeform it! Notice shapes. Everything is made up of shapes. You could try… drawing that streetlight–” you point– “or that tree. You should try watching how light falls on it, too. From what angle? Where do the shadows land?”

“Observation… Shapes… Light…” Chigiri mutters seriously, and, for some reason, he quickly looks at you before looking away.

He begins to draw, his pen whirring furiously across the page. Content, you stare into the gray sky, before turning to observe his progress. The drawing… well… you can’t make anything out, except for a few lines extending outwards of what appears to be… a circle?

“Chigiri…”

“Yeah?”

“Um… you should try turning the paper as you draw,” you offer. “Don’t just use the pen.”

He flicks his wrist and the notebook slides sideways, but his pen slips and the line curves away. He throws it down in exhaustion. “How do you do this all the time? This is hard.”

“Don’t say that! I think it looks good!” you offer. “It’s a nice… um… tree!”

“It’s not a tree.”

“... Horse?” You say, squinting at the page again.

Chigiri flips the notebook closed. “You don’t deserve to see my art. I’m not telling you what it is.”

“No, it’s okay! You tried your best. What did you draw?”

“I’m not sharing.”

“I played football for you,” you say plaintively.

“...Ugh. Don’t laugh,” he warns.

“I won’t,” you promise, and Chigiri sighs, flipping open to the page he had been doodling on.

“It’s you,” he says, with a long-suffering sigh, the tips of his ears reddening.

“It’s me? It’s cute! It’s really cute!” you say earnestly, taking the notebook from him. On closer inspection, you can make out what’s supposed to be a… neck? And your eyes. And this must be… your nose and mouth.

“You thought it was a horse,” he grumbles, but he brightens at your praise, regardless of his moody tone.

“It’s a very cute horse. I make a very cute horse? Ah, I didn’t mean to offend you— I really do think it’s—”

Chigiri bursts out laughing. “It’s fine. It can’t be helped if it looks like a horse.”

“Well.. now that I’m looking at it like this… it doesn’t look like a horse. Not at all.”

“You don’t have to make me feel better,” Chigiri says.

“I’m not! I really do like it!”

Something wet touches your cheek, and you look up. It’s snowing, soft flakes dancing through the sky.

Chigiri holds out a hand, catching snowflakes on his palm. “We should head back, just in case it gets worse.”

“Ah, okay.” You stand, and he grabs his crutches.

“Thanks, Miss Artist,” he says. “This was fun.”

“Let’s meet up again soon,” you say. “If you want.”

“I’d be mad at you if you just abandoned me now,” Chigiri teases. “Give me your phone number.”

After exchanging numbers with numb fingers, the warm glow of your time with Chigiri doesn’t fade, even on the ride home. It balloons in your chest, until you’re filled with light. In your room, you carefully rip out Chigiri’s sketch from your notebook and pin it over your desk wall. It’s not skilled at all, but it really is cute.

How long has it been since you enjoyed yourself like that? No, how long has it been since you enjoyed art?

You press two fingers against the mouth of the drawing, remembering Chigiri’s face scrunched up in concentration that afternoon, trying to capture your likeness.

—

A few weeks later, as you’re slipping on your boots, your dad stops you at the doorway. He tries to smile at you, buttoning his suit jacket for his office job, but it comes off as more of a grimace. You’ve been spending all your time with Chigiri lately, and you wonder if your dad is going to press you about him.

Instead, he asks, “Have you thought about what you’re going to do next year?”

“For what?” You tie the laces, pat down your coat, but something in your dad’s expression makes you pause with one hand on the door knob.

“For college,” he says. “Do you have any back-ups lined up? I know you’re still recovering, and you really wanted to go to art school, but I don’t want you to neglect all your options! Your grades are still good enough to land you somewhere in Tokyo.”

You bite your lip so hard you almost taste blood. “I was going to take a gap year.”

“Gap year…? That’s okay, as long as you’ve talked to your counselor, but…” His voice trails off in concern.

But art isn’t a viable career option. Don’t pin your hopes on one dream. You need to grow up, to be reasonable, to learn when to quit. Art can be a hobby. That’s what all the adults in your life have always told you, saying it was for your own good, but until now, your own dad hadn’t been one of them.

You scuff at the ground. “I am thinking seriously about my future, you know.”

Your dad sighs, a quiet, gentle sound. “I know. I know you love art, but I want you to have more than one option in your life. I want what’s best for you, because I can’t always be here to take care of you. Having a dream is nice, but you’re almost an adult. Do you understand?”

“I get it. But I’m going out with a friend today,” you say abruptly. “I’ll be home in the afternoon.”

You run out before your dad can respond, but your hands are shaking as you swipe your card and descend the subway steps, the warm underground hair heating up your face as the train rumbles by. Why is it that all the adults in your life only know how to tell you the same thing? Why is giving up on your dreams the only way to grow up? Because, deep down, you know they’re not wrong. The art world is unforgiving. There’s no guarantee of a good future or even a job. But… you thought your dad, at least, would understand you.

“Did you get any sleep last night?” It’s the first thing Chigiri asks you when you find him leaning against a bench, crutches by his side, waiting for you by the subway exit.

“Yeah, I did. I’m just a little cold,” you lie. Chigiri doesn’t push the issue any farther, but his eyes feel like they’re burning into you the longer you try to keep your expression neutral.

“Do you want to sit inside somewhere?” he asks finally. “If you’re cold, we don’t have to go too far.”

A swarm of people floods past the two of you, and you press closer to Chigiri, afraid of being pushed away in the rush. You can feel the ache of winter deep in your bones, seeping through the thread of your gloves and coat. The sky is a faded blue, the sun’s light watery.

“As long as I’m with you, I don’t mind going anywhere,” you tell him, and Chigiri tucks his face into the fold of his scarf, but not before you catch the bright rose of his cheeks.

“Let’s just walk around, then,” he says.

Most people don’t brave the winter cold unless they have a destination in mind, but you and Chigiri wander aimlessly. Just the two of you, chatting about this and that, pointing out funny displays in stores or commenting on the foods you’d like to try when you pass by restaurants with their menus pasted on the glass.

It’s comfortable with him. Warm. If you had to name the feeling in your chest, you could only compare it to the spring sun. You could go anywhere, do anything, under the light of his smile. There’s a genuine understanding with Chigiri, like a language without words.

When you lean closer to Chigiri, he doesn’t move away. He raises a hand from the top of his crutch, hovering in the space between the two of you, and when you catch his eyes, he pauses, before dropping his hand and tightening his grip on his crutches.

“Are you okay, Chigiri?”

“I’m fine,” he says moodily, but there’s no heat behind his words. “I just can’t wait until I get this brace off,” he adds, so quietly you almost don’t catch it.

You pass a trio of students flying down the street, canvas tucked under their arms and bookbags slung across their chests. One of them pauses when she sees you, stumbling to a halt, her mouth parted.

“No way! It’s— whoa, I haven’t seen you in weeks!” she says, and recognition jolts through you. It’s Mika from your art prep academy, and the fact she’s here— ah. Of course. Just because you stopped drawing, didn’t mean everyone else would have, too.

“Hi, Mika,” you say weakly.

“I thought you dropped out!” she says, and her friends crowd curiously around you and Chigiri.

“Things came up.”

“Skipping class to go hang out with your boyfriend? I get it, he’s a cutie,” she says teasingly, winking at Chigiri. “And here I thought art was the most important thing to you.”

“I didn’t— he’s not—” you begin, your thoughts tangling themselves into knots. You hadn’t explained anything to your classmates, or your teacher. You had quit when your hand started going numb and you couldn’t keep up with the pace, despite your teacher begging you to stay on. What could you say now?

Chigiri takes a step in front of you. “They didn’t drop out for something like that,” he says politely, but there’s an edge to his voice. He also didn’t refute their assumption that he was your boyfriend, you realize. “Don’t assume things about them.”

“Ah, of course! I didn’t mean to…” Mika’s voice trails off, embarrassed. Her eyes glaze over Chigiri’s crutches and leg brace, and you discreetly shift your sleeve further over your wrist splint. “Sorry. Are you going to go to classes again?”

“I don’t know yet,” you say haltingly. “I might… take a gap year.”

“Eh? But you were the best artist in our class! That doesn’t…” Mika shakes her head. “Sorry. There I go again, assuming things. Good luck with your gap year, okay?”

You wave her off, and she and her friends run down the street again, scarves flying behind them. Still, the wind carries their voices to you.

“That’s good for you, right, Mika? Less competition for college! I can’t believe that someone who quit so easily was the best person in your class,” one of her friends murmur.

“Cut it out, Aki! Don’t put it like that. But… I guess even talented people can only go so far,” Mika replies softly, their banter fading as they get farther away, specks of blurred paint in the distance.

You can’t be mad. You really can’t. You didn’t give anyone a reason for why you dropped out, and didn't want to explain the truth: that your body broke down. That you can’t keep up. Your classmates, with shining eyes, chase after the dreams that were once yours. Their judgment would have been embarrassing enough. Their pity— and calculated relief— would have been worse.

Chigiri grabs your shoulders, his face more serious than you’ve ever seen him.

“Are you okay?” Chigiri says urgently, and it’s only then you realize you’re crying.

“I want to draw,” you whisper, tears choking your voice.

Chigiri wipes away each beading tear with his thumb. He pauses at the weak sound of your voice, rubbing tenderly at the wet trails on your face, as he could wipe away your sadness, too. “Yeah. Yeah, I understand.”

“I want to draw, Chigiri. I don’t know… what I’m supposed to do now.”

“Do you like art?” he says.

“I do. But…” The shape of your dream is so fragile. You’ve only realized this now, how many people strive for the same thing you want. How easily you could be buried under the crush of artists, lost before you have a chance to make a name for yourself. One mistake. One stroke of bad luck. And it can all crumble apart in your hands. “But I’m so scared.”

“It’s your dream,” he says quietly. “It’s okay. Don’t–” his voice breaks. “Don’t give up now. Don’t give up. You can heal. Who gives a damn if you don’t get into art college this year? You have the next, and every year after that. It’s important to you, right? So don’t give up,” he says furiously, but you can’t tell if he’s talking to you or himself. “It doesn’t matter what anyone says. It only matters what you want.”

And what do you want? Fame? Recognition? Talent? No. No, none of those really matter in the end. What really matters to you…

“I… I want to draw,” you sob. “I want to be an artist. I want to make my dream come true. I don’t… I don’t want to forget what it’s like to love art.”

“Then don’t.” Chigiri crushes you to his chest, and you sob quietly into his coat as he clings to you. Are you holding him, or is he holding you? You can’t tell. You wrap your arms around him, and the two of you hold each other like it’s the end of the world. And maybe it is, an end to the world the two of you thought you knew, to the people you once were.

“You really are like an angel, Chigiri,” you say, voice muffled as you speak into his chest.

His laugh vibrates pleasantly through his chest and into your heart. “I’m not. I’m not that nice. I just don’t want you to be sad. You remind me of… myself, sometimes.”

You fist your hands in the fabric of his coat. “So what? You’re still nice to me.”

“Maybe I’m only nice to you,” he says.

“That’s okay.”

On that quiet afternoon, Chigiri holds you until your tears dry and you can face him again. You can’t be a good adult. You’ll cling to your dreams like a stubborn child and never let go, even if you have to rebuild yourself from the ground up, again and again. When you tell Chigiri this, he smiles at you, and it feels a bit like salvation.

—

A few weeks later, your wrist brace comes off, though you’re diligent to keep up with your stretches, anyways. Chigiri celebrates with you, taking your wrist in his hand like he’s holding a bird’s wing, the pads of his thumb brushing along your pounding pulse.

“Let me be the first person you draw now that you’ve recovered,” he teases. “Don’t I make for a good muse?” You can’t look him in the eyes, because your expression will betray you.

The weather warms before Chigiri can walk again without crutches and a leg brace. When he can, he shows up at the entrance of your school after class one day. Your classmates giggling and murmuring as they pass by him. He waves when he sees you, ignoring all the eyes on him. Maybe he’s used to it. You aren’t surprised, considering how pretty he is.

“Hyoma,” you greet him, clutching the straps of your bag. You’ve started to use your first names with each other, a simple intimacy that makes you tingle all over. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you,” he says. “I got invited to a special football training project.”

“That’s amazing!” You clap your hands together. “Are you going to go?”

“I don’t know yet,” he says haltingly, unconsciously tapping his hand on his right leg. “But when I got the letter, I just… wanted you to be the first to know.”

“If that’s the case, then…” You fumble in your bag and out a square of paper, offering it to Chigiri. “This is for you.”

Chigiri unfolds it slowly, revealing a pencil sketch of him, mid run, his form blurring as his legs stretch across the ground. You’d sketched it the day after he’d taken off his crutch, and he had invited you out. The two of you had spent all day together at a nearby park, and when you asked him to show you the football forms you hadn’t been able to grasp the past winter, he obliged.

But Chigiri stares at the paper for so long, you wonder if you had hurt him somehow.

“I’m sorry if it’s presumptuous of me to give you that,” you say shyly. “I just… wanted to give you something for good luck. Because I know you can do it, Hyoma. You can keep playing football. I think you look beautiful, sprinting across the field.”

“Then I want to give you a good luck charm, too,” he says slowly, tearing his eyes from the page, a strange note to his voice. “Is that okay?”

You nod. Chigiri cups his hands around your cheeks and kisses you on the forehead. His lips are softer than you expected, and it takes your breath away.

You pull away, flustered, and only now do you see how intense Chigiri looks, the way his eyes are concentrated solely on you. “Hyoma–!”

“If you say my name like that, I’ll kiss you again,” he says bluntly.

“Hyoma, that’s not–!” This time, he kisses you on the cheek.

“Sorry,” he says, not sounding particularly sorry at all. “I wanted to do that.”

“That’s… not fair,” you mumble.

“But I thought you knew I wasn’t fair,” he says. “You’ve spent this much time with me, after all. You should have realized by now that when I like something, I don’t hold back.”

“I never said… I didn’t like it,” you protest, and he grins.

“Then I can do it again?” he asks.

“Not in front of my school!” you squeak.

“Okay, then I’m going to kiss you as much as I want when we’re somewhere else,” he says, unrepentantly.

“Fine!” you say, and, in a surge of courage, lace your fingers with his. Chigiri jolts in surprise, and you smile at catching him unaware. “What was that good luck charm for, anyways?”

“For your dreams,” he says simply. “Because you’re not going to give up, are you, Miss Artist?”

You’re still afraid. Of your body giving away again. Of not being able to make it. Of being nothing without art. But you’re even more afraid of giving up, of becoming an adult who doesn’t believe in their dreams, of losing your passion forever. Carefully, this time. You’ll do daily stretches so you don’t strain your body. You’ll go back to the art academy. You’ll keep trying, and you’ll keep drawing, because that’s what you do as an artist.

“I won’t. So don’t give up either, Hyoma,” you say quietly. He squeezes your hand in response.

“You’re braver than me,” Chigiri says ruthfully.

“I’m only brave because you believe in me. So, let me believe in you,” you reply. This time, you’re the first to lean in to kiss Chigiri, to give him his own good luck. Because no matter what happens, the two of you will keep running.

#liya writes #blue lock #chigiri hyoma #chigiri hyoma x reader #chigiri x reader #hyoma chigiri #hyoma chigiri x reader #x reader #blue lock x reader #blue lock chigiri #chigiri hyouma x reader #ANYTHING FOR MY PRETTY BOY!!!

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carolperkinsexgirlfriend · 5 months

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Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 64

Part 1 Part 63

“If someone doesn’t tell me what the hell is going on, I’m going to slap you again,” Carol says. Eddie sees her raise her hand threateningly in his periphery. No one pays her any mind.

Eddie’s ass is going numb from where Steve’s still sitting on him, but he’d rather die than make him move. Steve’s hands still have a tremor running through them. He can feel them trembling against his back.

Will comes back over, dropping down beside him on his knees. He reaches out, hand hovering over Steve’s arm before dropping it without touching. Jonathan sits down beside him, furrowing his brow at the three of them.

“What did happen?” Jonathan asks, meeting Eddie’s eyes.

Eddie doesn’t respond, can’t when he doesn’t get it either. Will takes up the reins. “It was like we were back there again.” By the way Jonathan sucks in a ragged breath, no one needs to clarify where ‘there’ is.

Silence descends again, the sounds of bodies shuffling around behind Eddie the only thing to break it up.

“It happened when we all touched,” Will says. He meets Eddie’s eyes over Steve’s head, looking devastated. “Should we avoid each other?”

Something sharp and angry pulls at his sternum. He hugs Steve to himself tighter. Steve squeezes back once, hard and quick before pulling back, sliding awkwardly out of Eddie’s lap and sitting down close enough that their knees overlap.

His eyes are dry, face devoid of anything at all as he says, “it happens to me all the time.”

Eddie reaches out, clasping Steve’s hand, unwilling to break contact with him at all. Will hesitates, hand reaching out and hovering over Steve’s arm again. He breathes in sharply, just once before putting his hand on Steve’s wrist. When nothing happens, he lets out a sharp breath, shoulders slumping as he closes his eyes with relief.

“Steve was already wigging out when we got here,” Jonathan says. “Maybe he’s already got to be there for it to work?”

Steve shakes off both of their holds, shuffling back away from them. “Let’s not test that out.”

Eddie, unwilling to let this stand, reaches back and graspsgrasp Steve’s ankle. Skin against skin. Steve kicks out, gently tapping his toe against Eddie’s knee, but otherwise doesn’t try to pull away.

“You’re not supposed to keep secrets from the Party!” Mike shouts.

Eddie turns, startled, having forgotten the other kids’’s presences entirely. “Does this seem like the time, mini-Wheeler?” Eddie demands, making significant eyes toward where Perkins is still glowering.

“Like you’re one to talk,” he mutters, which, fair. They had all been blabbing right in front of her literally thirty seconds ago.

“Hello?” Carol demands. “What the fuck are you guys talking about?

Eddie groans, looking over at Perkins to see her standing, hands on hips, glaring down at them. Wheeler beats him to any retort.

“You’re not involved,” she says, over-enunciating the way only someone who is very drunk and pretending not to be does. Eddie’s extremely glad, suddenly, that he’d toked instead of imbibing. The smokes already trickled out of him almost entirely.

While Perkins scoffs, a small girl Eddie hadn’t noticed dawdling by the door speaks up, “involved in what?” she asks, glaring around the room before focusing her laser-sharp gaze on Eddie. “What the hell are you people on?”

Eddie thinks it’s pretty obvious that Wheeler’s on a liquid depressant, and the rest of them are unfortunately stone-cold sober, even as the smell of weed still clings to a few of their clothes.

Lucas slings an arm around her laughing awkwardly. She shrugs him off immediately, crossing her arms to scowl over at him instead. Eddie lets his breath out. God, that girl’s scary. Eddie’s just waiting for her to bite Lucas’s arm off, like a wolf stuck in a trap.

“It’s like I said!” Lucas says, smiling with all of his teeth. It looks awkward as hell. “They’re just bonded over being, uh, lost in the woods together?”

Somehow, the girl’s scowl gets even deeper. “And that’s why they’re all acting like when they touched they went somewhere else?” she asks incredulously, before pointing at Steve’s face. “And why that one was, like, catatonic?”

“It’s a metaphor?” Lucas tries, still smiling even as the edges strain. “For trauma?”

“Who’s the random girl?” Steve asks, squinting at her like he’s trying to remember something Eddie’s pretty sure none of them knew in the first place.

As the girl flips him off, Dustin says, “this is Max!” smiling dopily over at him. Well, shit – baby’s first crush, and all that.

“We need to call Mom,” Jonathan says, standing and pushing his way past dawdling bodies to leave the bedroom.

“But, I thought the lab–” Will starts.

“It doesn’t matter,” Jonathan says, not turning around. He walks through the open door and out into the dark hallway, calling out. “This is too big”

Eddie looks over to Steve, sees him already looking back. “Uncle Wayne’s going to freak out,” Eddie says, smiling sadly and squeezing his ankle. “Because this really doesn’t seem like shellshock to me.”

Steve rolls his eyes, looking wan and tired in the fluorescence of his bedroom light. “Fucking Upside-Down.” He doesn’t say it like it’s news because, yeah, they’ve suspected the whole time. But the confirmation still stings. “We should call him, too.”

Eddie sighs, squeezes ankle once before letting go and standing. The momentary separation stings. He reaches out his hand, waiting for Steve to clasp it before pulling him upright and refusing to let go.

The next few minutes pass in a buzz of phone calls and arguing. Once Jonathan’s done with the Harrington phone, Eddie takes his turn calling Wayne at the plant, tiptoeing around any explanations. Who knows who’s tapped into the phone lines? Guilt curdles at the lost money when Wayne says he’ll be by soon. Steve sits in the middle of the raised voices, staring at Eddie like if he takes his eyes off him, he’ll disappear into nothing. Eddie gets the sentiment.

He settles beside Steve on the couch, linking their pinkies atop Steve’s jiggling knee. Jonathan hands over a couple glasses of water without a word before joining the shouting match at Wheeler’s side. For a girl that had gone three sheets to the wind hours ago, she’s pretty articulate, even if Barb’s hold on her elbow might be the only thing holding her up.

Carol, on the other hand, is just mean. Slinging names around like she never got out of that phase in kindergarten. Before it can get anywhere real, the door bursts open without even a knock. It’s not Mama Byers or Uncle Wayne who come through first, though. It’s Hopper.

He looks ready to fight, gun palmed in his hand, finger on the trigger. Mama Byers shuffles in behind him, peeking over his shoulder. It makes Eddie wonder what Jonathan said in his own phone call.

Hopper looks around, his usual resting cop face on full display as he glares from face to face to face before holstering his gun with a sigh. “Someone want to tell me what the hell’s going on?”

When Steve makes to get up, Eddie pulls him back down, but the damage is already done. Hopper’s glare turns toward the movement, settling on Steve’s fidgeting form.

“Harrington?” Hopper demands.

In Steve’s defense, he holds up admirably under the pressure of a stand-off epic enough to belong in one of Wayne’s favorite Westerns. But, Eddie knows it’s over when his eyes start darting around, looking for an escape.

“It’s uh, you-know-what related, Chief,” Eddie says, drawing away from Steve, who immediately slumps into the couch, like he’s trying to disappear between the cushions.

“So?” Hopper demands, crossing his arms menacingly. Fucking cops, man.

“Read the room, dude,” Eddie says, gesturing around all the warm bodies enjoying the show. “Not everyone here’s been read in.”

Hopper looks around, frown deepening. Not that Eddie gives a shit now that it’s not directed at himself. “You,” he says, pointing at Perkins, “And you,” this time singling out that Max girl, before pointing at the door. “Get out.”

Perkins scoffs, crossing her arms petulantly. “How about no, and someone tells me what the fuck is going on?”

Never one to back down, Hopper replies, “either you get out or I bring you down to the station and charge you with obstruction of justice” When she doesn’t immediately back down, he continues, “how would your mother feel about that, kid?”

Max scoffs, storming past all of them with hunched shoulders. “Whatever,” she says, “my stepbrother will kill me if I’m not home soon, anyway.” She storms out the door, slamming it behind her.

Perkins lasts a few seconds more before shrieking in wordless rage, walking over to Barb and digging her hand in the pocket of the other girl’s jeans. Barb cries, “hey!” clearly startled, but before she can do anything, Perkins fishes out Eddie’s keys and storms out the door behind Max, calling, “wait up! I’ll give you a ride.”

Eddie stares at the open doorway for a minute, shocked. “Did she just steal my van?”

In the usual perfect timing of Munson men everywhere, Uncle Wayne choses that moment to walk through the open front door, asking, “is that Perkins girl stealing your van, Eddie?” just as the sound of his engine rattling to life and screeching out of the driveway fills the room.

Eddie stands, outraged, pointing at the still-open front door, glaring at Hopper. “What are you waiting for, Chief?” he asks, still pointing emphatically as Steve snickers behind him. “Do your job. Arrest her!”

Hopper rolls his eyes. Wayne shuts the front door on that opportunity, cutting off the sound of tires screeching down the street. Damn. Rich people insulation rocks.

“Shut up, Munson.”

“How about someone tell us what’s going on?” Mama Byers demands, crossing her arms and looking around the room like she’s taking a head count.

It comes spilling out between them. First, the events of the night; the ways Steve slipped into that place, and the way when they all touched skin-to-skin, they’d all been back there. Mama Byers grabs Will’s shoulders, taking two big steps back from the couch where Steve and Eddie sit. Eddie can’t blame her.

Then, further back: the way Steve’s been slipping back there on his own more and more. Uncle Wayne looks especially grim at that, probably thinking back to that first time they’d seen it. The way he’d called it shellshock and moved along.

Then, further back still to the fishhook connecting them all together. The children as a unit look especially irked by this. Mike even stamps his foot with his ire, reiterating over and over that, “the Party doesn’t keep secrets from each other,” while Will looks more and more cowed.

That’s when Jonathan’s involvement gets dragged into the light of day. It goes over like a lead balloon for the uninformed of the Byers faction.

“How could you not tell me, Jonathan?” Mama Byers demands, hands on her hips. Jonathan shrinks into himself, turtling his neck like that’ll save her from the ruthless berating of a Mom scorned. “I thought we went over this last time!” She smacks him once on the arm with the back of her hand. Not hard, just to emphasize her point. Jonathan still jerks.

Mama Byers sighs, bringing her arms around Jonathan, suddenly looking small with her arms around her son’s shoulders. “We’re in this together,” she says, squeezing him around the waist before pulling back to look back up at him. “Okay?”

Jonathan nods, jaw clenched.

“What do we do now?” Will asks, looking up at her like she has all the answers in the universe.

She swipes the fringe out of his eyes, lips pursed. It’s not her that answers.

“Sleep on it,” Uncle Wayne says, sitting down beside Steve close enough that their shoulder’s brush.

“I’m not leaving,” Will says, taking a few steps away from his Mom toward the couch before she snags him and pulls him back. He sighs. “Mom.”

Jonathan grabs her hand, peeling it gently off Will. “They already touched again and nothing happened, Mom.” She clutches him tighter, before finally loosening her hold.

Will squeezes between him and Steve on the couch like he’s proving a point. In solidarity, Eddie wraps his arm around his shoulders, settling his hand along Steve’s neck and squeezing the tight muscles he finds there.

Mama Byers sighs.

“If he’s staying, so am I,” Dustin demands, already marching out of the room and into the kitchen without asking anyone else’s opinion. Mike and Lucas follow.

Hopper squeezes his nose like he’s staving off a headache as they all listen to the procession of children call their parents about a sleepover that’s only partially fabricated. He looks up, meeting Mama Byers’ eyes. “I’ve got to get home,” he says, quietly, not looking at anyone else in the room. “Call me in the morning?”

Eddie looks away. It feels intimate, the way they look at each other; the way their words seem like they’re only for each other. Mama Byers walks him to the door, murmuring too quietly to be audible before shutting it and locking it for good measure. As if all the monsters aren’t locked in here with them.

The older teens lead the procession up to Steve’s abandoned room, loudly digging through his closet for enough pajamas for everyone to sleep comfortably. Eddie looks over to where Steve still sits by his side to see his opinion on this breach of privacy to find Steve smiling fondly up the stairs like the freak he is.

They don’t get up until everyone comes tromping down the stairs, all the kids and Nancy dwarfed in Steve’s old gym wear. Barb, wearing a much more traditional looking pair of plaid pajama pants that seem disturbingly similar to Steve’s bedroom wallpaper, tosses more clothes at Steve and Eddie before conscientiously dropping more piles into Wayne and Mama Byers laps as well.

“Come on, big boy,” he says, patting Steve’s thigh before standing. “Let’s go change.”

They move around each other familiarly – too used to each other’s bodies with a year in close proximity to care much about changing in the close quarters of the downstairs bathroom.

When they return, Wayne’s lounging back in the fancy Lay-Z Boy in the Harriirngton’s living room, clearly deciding his own jeans and work shirt will work perfectly fine for the night. Similarly, Mama Byers is seated on the couch in her street clothes, watching the kids fight about blanket and pillow placements in the veritable nest they’re creating on the living room floor. There’s a spot at the center, carved out by Will’s side.

Eddie pulls Steve by the wrist, pushing him down into the very middle of the musty blanket pile before climbing in beside him as the rest of them climb in around them, grumbling at accidental elbows and stolen blankets.

Steve’s sitting up and smiling around, eyes glistening just a little in the low light of the only lamp Mama Byers hasn’t clicked off.

Had this house ever been filled with people Steve actually loved? Eddie pushes Steve down to lie flat, curling around him to keep him in place. It doesn’t matter, there’s almost a dozen warm bodies swadling him now. Eddie only hopes it’ll be enough to keep the monsters out.

Eddie squeezes tight, hoping against hope that it’ll be enough to keep Steve tethered to the right world. Here, in Eddie’s arms. Where he belongs.

Part 65

Taglist: @deany-baby @estrellami-1 @altocumulustranslucidus @evillittleguy @carlprocastinator1000 @1-8oo-wtfbro @hallucinatedjosten @goodolefashionedloverboi @newtstabber @lunabyrd @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @manda-panda-monium @disrespectedgoatman @finntheehumaneater @ive-been-bamboozled @harringrieve @grimmfitzz @is-emily-real @dontstealmycake @angeldreamsoffanfic @a-couchpotato @5ammi90 @mac-attack19 @genderless-spoon @kas-eddie-munson @louismeds @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @pansexuality-activated @ellietheasexylibrarian @nebulainajar @mightbeasleep @neonfruitbowl @beth--b @silenzioperso @best-selling-show @v3lv3tf0x @bookworm0690 @paintsplatteredandimperfect

#steve harrington #steddie #eddie munson #my fic #steddie upsidedown au

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lili-of-the-wildfire · 5 months

Text

okay fine, u all forced my hand in this one. these are MY azzie headcanons, mostly based on what’s canon in the books but i’m nothing if not a woman who would have been forcefully lobotomized so there’s also some delusion sprinkled in. enjoy 😙 (not proof read or correctly punctuated or even coherently arranged, we die like men on this blog)

* he may be a bit quiet in some situations, especially when meeting people who’s intentions he hasn’t quite figured out yet, but if he does nothing else, he’ll offer up a small smile in greeting. he’s not just going to sit there aloof in a corner, sans introduction.

* he’s a total vibe reader tho, his line of work has made sure of that. like he just knows when something is off about someone even if there is evidence saying otherwise. and he’s right every time, damn him.

* he tucks his hands behind his back out of habit, not necessarily shame. he used to be far more insecure, but as the centuries dragged on, he’s become less and less ashamed of what was done to him as a defenseless child.

* that’s not to say he’s fully healed and moved forward, just that time has given him some perspective and wisdom.

* (btw he loves hand massages with your lavender and lemon verbena lotion and he is not afraid to admit it)

* when he gets himself into trouble he tries to slink off into the shadows slowly, instead of disappearing all at once. nobody has a problem calling him out on it, but sometimes he honestly does get away with it.

* he has TASTE! he took one look at cassian and feyre’s gods awful decorating and didn’t even remove his outside clothes before he was fixing it.

* he and his mate’s house would look like something out of a Williams Sonoma holiday catalog.

* the two of you would put up lebron numbers on a joint pinterest account in a modern au.

* he’s quick as a whip with his dry humor and comebacks, and while cassian may be his main target, the two of them combined?? Mr. your mother and Mr. two hundred years at least TOGETHER? jesus it’s a wonder rhys came out of Illyria with the ego that he did.

* he differs from his brothers in that PDA is not his jam. he’s not getting blowjobs at the dining room table or fucking in tents while people die outside. he’s definitely not fingering you for the first time in a shabby inn, either. he’s more publicly reserved than that because he favors romance more.

* you know how rhys/feyre and cassian/nesta fucked before they were in any sort of relationship? azzie’s not doing that with someone he genuinely wants to pursue a relationship with.

* consider the following: does a man who’s spent centuries pining after the same woman come off as anything other than a romantic? no, lovely reader, not in the slightest.

* he’s got the softest heart, i just know it. while he’s kind, he has his reserved exterior, but i think once you get past that as a relationship develops, he’s so tender and thoughtful.

* his gift to nesta was so personal and thoughtful despite their superficial relationship, and he expected nothing in return. imagine what he could come up with for someone he knew on a more personal and intimate level!!

* his gifts may not be as over-the-top extravagant as Rhys would prefer, but they’re so well-planned and personal because he actually listens to you! and he watches you! and he takes the time to actually think about what would be useful and meaningful for you (Mor could NEVER, luv u tho baby)

* while he’s not overtly sexual, Azriel is a FLIRT! a shameless flirt! he doesn’t need to resort to poetry because when you exasperatedly tell him “stop trying to distract me, I’m busy!” he just arches a thick brow, looks you up and down and says “make me.”

* BROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

* And your cheeks heat a bit because he’s looking at you like he knows exactly what you’d taste like and he’s starving for it and then he just laughs and you realize you’re a fly that got stuck in those honey-trap eyes again

* So you huff and roll your eyes, turning to leave the room but a hand on your wrist tugs your momentum backwards and suddenly there’s another hand cupping your cheek, thumb stroking along your jawline.

* A deep hum rumbles from the back of his throat, his gaze dragging from your mouth up to your eyes, “Do that again, I like watching your eyes roll back for me.”

* ladies/theydies i am PROFUSELY sweating !!!!!!!!!

#azriel x reader #azriel #azriel fanfic #acotar

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lillsisamarshmallow · 6 months

Text

The plan (11)

Summary: The stakeout ensues as Y/n and her friends try and catch the perp, but they underestimate the power of marshmallows and boy talk, Y/n and her boys have a run in with a rude customer and Y/n, has some explaining to do.

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: Verbal Abuse, Name calling, Threatening, Fluff, Angst, Let me know if I missed any!!

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It had been a few days since the boys started helping out at the café and thankfully everything had been going well, I was currently waiting for Seoyeon to arrive since she had wanted to come over to ‘set a trap’ for whoever has been leaving these notes, I told her it was stupid and it didn’t matter, but she didn’t really care.

The knock at the door tore me away from my thoughts and I made my way over from the couch, the boys knew that she was coming over and they were just doing their own things, mostly playing games on the tv so I doubt they would notice us, they can get really competitive, Namjoon and Seokjin had to tear apart Jungkook and Taehyung the other night because Taehyung had won the Mario cart round between the two.

I pulled open the door to see Seoyeon and standing next to her was Jiyoon, who I was not expecting.

“Oh. Hey guys, I didn’t know you were coming by too Jiyoon.” I said while inviting them inside.

“I found her sitting in the lobby at one of the tables and figured she could be a helpful asset, she can be very loud, so while I’m chasing them with this bat,” Seoyeon said as she whipped a large baseball bat out from behind her which made me and Jiyoon step back from her to avoid being hit by the crazy lady. “She can yell and scream at them so other people come out and they can chase them too.” Seoyeon exclaimed excitedly and with a small glint in her eyes.

“A-Ah, well, why don’t we just put that down and, uh-”

“Where on earth did you pull that from?” Jiyoon’s exclaimed with a look of concern.

“It’s a secret.”

Seoyeon moved her index finger up to her lips before slowly lowering it down and turning back to me with a large smile on her face, I could see Jiyoon looking around her back obviously trying to see where it had come from.

“Right, well, I really don’t think it’s such a big deal.” I said while walking them into the kitchen, Seoyeon slung the bag off her back, and it smacked onto the table, and it made a loud thud.

What did she put in that?

“Y/n, someone is threating you, what happens if they come into the apartment or what if it gets worse and they’re a stalker or something.” She kept rambling on.

“You watch too many of those damn crime documentaries, I told you to stop that.” I said while rolling my eyes at her. She turned to fully face me, and she stuck her arms out and put her hands on my shoulders, holding me firmly while looking into my eyes with a serious stare.

“I just don’t want anything bad to happen to you.” She spoke, I stared into her eyes before breaking and letting out a sigh.

“Fine, I guess it wouldn’t be great if they did manage to get into the apartment.” I glanced over to the spare room were you could her the boys yelling, something about zombies and a death pit. “I don’t want anything bad to happen to them.”

The girls both glanced over to the room before looking back at me, but Jiyoon kept her eyes on the door.

“Yeah, them too I guess. But mainly you.”

I gasped before whacking her on the arm.

“Seoyeon!”

“What? I’m not exactly ‘fond’ of them.” She murmured while rolling her eyes and bringing one hand up to rub her arm. “One of them hit you, and that Hoseok wasn’t too friendly to me, who does he think he is? asking me who I am? Jimin and Jungkook are okay though.” She scoffed when talking about the older boys.

“He was just protecting me, he didn’t know who you were, you even tried to do the same thing, and can we please drop the whole getting hit thing, I wasn’t seriously hurt, and we’ve resolved it anyways.”

“Oh, you may have resolved, but I’ve still got some words to have with whoever it was that thought it was okay to-”

“Seoyeon, just drop it, it’s okay, really. What’s your plan anyways, stand out front the door and chase down anyone who walks by with your giant… bat? What game do you even play with that?” I asked her, suddenly interested in what game could possibly need a bat that large.

“Hide n seek.”

“Huh?”

“The bat’s for hide n seek, and no, that’s not my plan, The plan, is that we are going to wait on the inside of the door and when they slide the note under it we then open the door, and we surprise attack them.” She explained like it was that simple.

Hide n seek?

“Wah-a, um, sure-yeah, that sounds like a plan.” I stumbled over my words.

“Let’s set this trap.”

We were all sitting around in our pyjamas on some spare blankets in front of the door, waiting to hopefully catch the culprit, I had pulled out some crackers and cheese, and Seoyeon came prepared with some marshmallows and chocolate biscuits, the warm glow from the lamps in the kitchen and lounge room illuminated the area, I could still hear the boys from the other room, but they seemed to have quieted down.

“How could you choose him over Guwon?”

“I’m sorry, have you seen him?” I quickly fired back at Seoyeon’s outrageous comment. “The whole show he is looking after Ari and taking care of her, making sure she isn’t getting into trouble and helping her. Guwon on the other hand spends most of the show bothering Sarang!”

“Yeah, but he means well!”

“Sure, he means well, but he doesn’t do well.”

“You guys do realise that you’re arguing over fictional men, right?”

“Shhhh!” We both hushed Jiyoon at her interruption to our very important debate. Somehow we had come to the topic of best CEO men from the shows we watched, Seoyeon thought Guwon from her hotel show was better than Junkyung from my celebrity show, which was wrong.

“Have you even seen ‘celebrity’?” I sassed her, already knowing the answer.

“No- “

Before she could finish I cut her off.

“Exactly! Watch it, then come and tell me who you think the better ‘troubled, rich boy, CEO’ is.” I huffed at her playfully while doing quotation marks before facing away and sticking up my nose. I heard her sigh before the small hallway fell into a silence, which was promptly broken by our fatal attempts at keeping our laughter in.

We had been having so much fun that we had pretty much forgotten about the plan, the blanket was covered with various pillows and things, topped with platters of different food and drinks, Seoyeon’s bat was now replaced with a half empty jumbo pack of Tim tams and a half drunken bottle of creaming Soda.

It had been so long since we had spent time together, the three of us, maybe we should plan a trip or something.

It didn’t take long for us to lose the energy and become tired, we did our best to stay awake, but after a long night, our attempts were futile, I didn’t wake up until I felt someone moving my body before shuffling arms under me and lifting me up, I sleepily moved my hand my rub my eyes so I could try and get a better view of what was happening around me.

I felt my body resting against someone’s chest before I looked up and saw Hoseok, he was whispering to someone else, they moved around a bit before they stopped talking, we didn’t move for a while until I heard someone groaning, I turned to my side to see Jiyoon sitting down, half-awake on the floor, she hurled herself up before hastily trying wake the other sleeping girl, I turned back around and closed my eyes for just a second.

The quick light that entered the room before the sound of shuffling entered my ears made me stir slightly, I looked up again at Hoseok who was still holding me, but this time he looked down, I couldn’t see much of his face, but I heard him say something that I couldn’t understand before we started moving.

My body came in contact with the bed, and I immediately started to wriggle myself under the blankets before turning and latching on to the closest thing for warmth.

“Jiyoon’s apartment was so boring.” Seoyeon whined, extending the ‘o’ “There was nothing to do, she didn’t even have any magazines to read!”

I had acknowledged at her whining as I continued stirring the batter. I turned to look at her before speaking. “You were only there for an hour or so this morning, I doubt you were up for long after you got there.”

Seoyeon gave me a quick glare before continuing on her rant about how ‘self-centred’ this guy was for making her ‘lose her beauty sleep’, I started folding in the blueberries to the muffin batter before glancing and double checking the baking tray was ready, Jin was at the other side of the kitchen making a batch of cookies, I could smell the scent of the first batch looming in the air, the quiet hum of the oven as a back tone to the melody that Jungkook was humming to on the other side of the door, Seoyeon kept talking as I tried to drown her out, the sounds around me changed slightly before I picked up the bowl to start pouring the batter into the moulds.

I counted as I made my way across the pan before abruptly stopping.

“Jungkook. Stop it.”

I felt the room still slightly as I spun on my heels to face the culprit, Jungkook stood next to the fridge, one hand holding open the door and the other one holding another banana milk, his fifth one today. His faced warped from surprised to guilty to a cheeky bunny smile, I did my best to not give in, but alas, his cute face was too much for me, I smiled back at him as I watched him slowly place the banana milk back into the fridge.

“If you help out in the kitchen, then maybe you’ll forget about the banana milk.” I said while turning back to what I was doing, I heard him let out a faux gasp, probably dramatically smacking his hand to his chest.

“I could never forget about my 2nd one true love.” He spoke.

I snorted at his weird choice of words before suggesting that he help Jin out with the biscuits, I could feel eyes digging into the back of my head as I heard Kookie make his way over to Jin.

We all went back to work and Seoyeon began helping me with the next muffin mixture, strawberries this time.

“Yah! Stop eating all the mixture!” I suddenly heard someone yell, I turned around to see Jin pushing his hand into Kook’s face as he tried to reach for the batter, which Jin was holding away from him, making Jungkook face get squished, it made a really funny scene to see, and I giggled at the sight.

“But it tastes so good.” He whined.

“Yeah, well, it’ll get better when it’s cooked” Jin said matter of fact.

As Jin moved his hand and went to place the bowl back down, Jungkook launched towards the bowl, Jin tried to move it, but he was too slow, Jungkook retracted his hand and ran behind Jin and to the other side of the room.

“Too slow, it’s the old bones, they’re making you slow now, grandpa!” Jungkook joked and laughed while bouncing on the balls of his feet in a teasing manner, Jin seemed offended before he shot back at Jungkook.

“Grandpa? I’ll show you grandpa when I chase you down with my spoon!” He threatened, Jungkook’s face dropped as he turned and scrambled his way out the door, Jin turned around before muttering under his breath, but I was just able to hear it. “I hope he gets salmonella.”

Yelling filled my ears and drew me away from the task at hand, I turn around to see that Jin was also looking for whoever it was, more shouting came, and it was clear where it was coming from, I put down what I was doing and wiped my hands before making my way over to the door, as I got there it open and Jimin was standing there.

“Y/n.”

“What’s going on?” I asked him, he gave me a look that I couldn’t quite understand before speaking.

“Um, there’s this lady, we were just trying to serve her, but she’s being really loud and..” He trailed off after getting the point across. I gave him a smiled letting him know that I’ll handle it before I passed beside him and out the door. I could see that Namjoon was tending to the coffee machine and Hoseok was walking around the tables, Taehyung and Jungkook were both standing at the counter in front of the older lady, clearly trying to diffuse the situation and just serve her, they both seemed to be nervous and abut anxious, but kept a bit of a smile on their face.

“Can I help you?” I ask the lady kindy and make my way over to her, I gave the boys a look letting them know that it was okay.

“Well, I hope so, finally a decent employee here.” She scoffed, her attitude put me slightly on edge. “I was trying to order coffee, but these mongrels are here.” She gestured with her finger to the boys and a disgusted manner.

What?

I could sense the boys beside me stiffen slightly at her words.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I was trying to order something when these dirty things tried to serve me, they shouldn’t be here, filthy-”

“Hey! Ma’am? Can you read?” I asked her, appalled by her attitude towards the boys.

“What? Yes, of course I can, now I want-”

“Great, can you tell me what those boards behind me say?” I blinked with false kindness, I had to hold back the want to hit her in the face.

“What are you on about? Just get me my damn-” She began to speak, getting impatient before I cut her off again.

“Just tell me what’s in those boards.” N

She rolled her eyes before responding. “It’s your menu, all your items. ow can you get me my-”

“Yes, exactly. So does it say anywhere on there that I asked for your option on my staff?” I said bitterly, letting her understand my intentions. She seemed slightly taken aback by my quick change in demeanour, she stayed silent and just kind of stared back at me before glancing at the board again, seeing as she wasn’t going to say anything, I began talking again.

“No, it doesn’t. No one asked for your opinion, and no one wants it. So shut up and enjoy your basic ass flat white and respect my staff or get. Out. Of. My. Cafe.” I almost shouted at her threateningly, I could feel the hot air from my nose colliding with my chest as I breathed faster, I was glaring at her now as she just stood there very shocked by my outburst, she stumbled back slightly before scoffing and turning, making her way out the door, she must have been in such a hurry that she didn’t look around her as she crossed the road, within the blink of an eye she was gone, well, she was on the road, she walked in front of a cyclist and they collided into each other.

Serves her right, that old hag.

I shrugged and let out a huff at her at her misfortune before turning around to face the boys, Kookie and Taehyung were both standing behind me, they both seemed to be surprised at my outburst, I gave them a smile.

“Don’t believe what she says. Ignore her, she’s old and lonely and clearly insecure.” I said to them both while looking at them with a smile on my face. “If it happens again, you can kick them out, or kick their ass.” I mumbled that last part, but I’m sure they heard me as I saw a slight pull-on Kook’s mouth, they both smiled at me before I made my way back in to the kitchen.

“What was that?”

I looked up to see Seoyeon, Jin and Jimin all looking at me, I sighed before walking fullyinto the room and answering them. “Just some old hag came to cause trouble, she’s gone now.”

I smiled at Jimin, and he walked past me and gave me a quick hug before joining the others outside.

“She was being rude to the boys, so I told her to get out.”

“What?” Seoyeon said surprised. “How dare she do that in our cafe. I’ll go sort her out, that lazy old bitty, I’ll-” Seoyeon began ranting before attempting to pull her apron off which had gotten stuck, and the ties were wrapped around her hair, I stilled my laughter at her situation.

“I thought you said you didn’t really care?”

“Yeah, well that was before.” She finally got the apron off after struggling, and threw it on the floor. “Now where is she, I’ll show her.”

“She got run over.”

The room fell silent as both stared at me with shocked expressions before I realised the implication of what I said.

“By a cyclist, she’ll be fine.”

“Too bad.”

Seoyeon huffed and snatched the discarded item from the floor.

“We should do something about that, so it doesn’t happen again.”

“I’ll make a poster out front, that way they know not to come in here if they are such inconsiderate imbeciles.” I laughed before noting it down in my mental list.

“I like that idea, otherwise I can just bring my bat to work.” Seoyeon said, only half joking.

“When did you become to caring.” I asked her sarcastically as we all went back to what we were doing, the room fell silent after I spoke. What did they do? I walked over to the oven and grabbed out the tray that had been baking the biscuits, I put it down on the bench only to realise, a substantially large section was empty.

“Seriously?”

I exited out from Jiyoon apartment after borrowing some paints and a canvas for the poster, she must have been busy at school since she seemed pretty stressed.

I made my way down my hallway after exiting the elevator, I got to my room and unlocked the door, bringing the supplies inside with me, I walked through the hallway which we had since cleaned up and went into the kitchen where I placed the stuff on the counter, Yoongi was in the kitchen making a drink and I passed by him on my way to the room.

I opened the door and walked in before looking up, I wasn’t expecting was Jimin, standing by my bed side table, the first drawer was opened up all the way, he turned to face me as he must have heard me enter the room, his face held confusion, concern and worry, I gave him a confused and questioning look back with a smile on my face as I went to step closer before my eyes caught what he was holding, the blood drained from my face as I had spotted some papers in his hand.

No…

“Y/n, what are these?”

A/n: Another Chapter has arrived! I tried to keep it short and I think I did well, I hope you all like it, I really want to introduce more of the boys backgrounds and how they all ended up in that alleyway, but I’m not sure how to included it without it seeming like it’s coming out of nowhere, I’m hoping I can get some more chapters written so I’m ahead in them too, I also really want to get more started on this other project that I’m working on (I just need one more plot idea! If you got an idea pls lmk), as well as this Jimin oneshot that I’ve been writing. Thanks for 316 Followers, I can’t believe it! Before the next chapter is out, tell me who you think is sending the notes, you can reply, reblog or send me an ask about it too! Thankyou all for reading and I hope you enjoyed!

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takenbypeter · 2 months

Note

hiii! can i request a chalamet!wonka x fem!reader where they’re childhood best friends and have grown up on the ship together and get stuck at scrubbit’s together?? and willy is super upset he got them into this mess and they’re stuck in own room (with one bed 🤭🤟) and fluff and confessions happen

Share This Moment With Me

Willy Wonka x reader

Words: 1728

You couldn’t believe this.

5 years together on the ocean and even then you had your own cabin, but of course, at this small inn where you’ve been trapped the only room they claimed available was a single.

Now you didn’t blame the boy for spending all the sovereigns, you didn’t blame the boy for even finding this place, and to be fair you signed the contract without reading correctly either, so partially it was your fault as well, but what’s done was done and it couldn’t be changed. You were gradually coming to terms with that.

Willy not so much.

There he was pacing back and forth as you sat in the chair, your chin in your hand watching the man practically unravel in front of you.

“Sit down,” you breathed slightly annoyed at his trance, but he ignored and kept his pace. He walked back and forth muttering to himself with his hand raised and a fingernail between his teeth.

You had to do something, you couldn’t let him drive himself insane, or rather you insane. Blurting a “Willy!” You advance to the poor boy and placing your hands on both sides of his shoulders you push down, seating him on the mattress behind that barely looked clean. “Sit down, take a breather. What’s done is done,” you instruct calmly.

He peers up at you, his big brown eyes wide, “how are you so calm right now?”

You remove your hands from him, a tranquil tone present in your voice, “I’m not, but one of us has to keep it together.”

He threw his head in his hands, shaking it disappointedly, “I can’t believe I got us into this mess.”

“Hey, hey, you’re not the only one I could’ve taken a closer look at the contract.”

“I promised you a better life and look where it’s got us stuck.”

You pressed your lips thin at his pessimistic words. Giving up? This was unlike him, you didn’t like it. “It’s alright. Everything will be fine,” you said and he just sat there unmovable. “This isn’t like you,” you said, shocked at how dull your friend appeared.

“What happened to your positivity?”

Without answering your query he stands abruptly and heads for the door, “I’m going to ask again if they have two rooms.”

“Willy, even if they had one they’re not going to give it to us, that’s clear.”

He stopped hand frozen on the door handle because honestly you were right, just from that one experience with Mrs.Scrubbit and Mr. Bleacher, it was obvious they cared not a lick about comfortability that’s for sure.

“Come on, it’s late, let’s just get some rest. We’ll figure it out in the morning.”

At your mention of rest you noticed his expression contort a little, it was quick but it was an expression you couldn’t quite name.

“You take the bed, I’ll find comfort on the floor,” you offer but he quickly denied it. “Are you kidding? You take the bed, I'll take the floor.”

“If you take the floor I’ll just join you on the floor.”

“Fine, then let’s both just take the bed.”

“Fine.”

Willy pulls up the blankets that cover the bed, first the heavy one then the light one. You grab the light one while he climbs in and you push the heavy one more to his side.

Shutting off the light you climb in next and throw the light blanket over your body. Laying with your back to the boy and his to yours, you realize just how small the bed actually is.

Trying to ignore the knowledge of his body practically touching yours you pull your blanket tighter, instead focusing on how cold the night was.

That obviously was no help because now your body was just cold, you tried your best to conceal the feeling but no matter how hard you thought you couldn’t stop your body from shivering.

No doubt noticing your shivers, you feel a weight land over you, and you pull the heavy quilt over you and up to your chin.

Five minutes go by.

Fifteen minutes go by.

Twenty minutes go by and you’re still awake and alert.

You knew it wasn’t the cold keeping you up, in fact you were warm now, very warm. Now of course the quilt was keeping you warm but that didn’t explain the warmth you were beginning to feel in your cheeks, no that was caused but the knowledge of Willy Wonka’s body mere centimeters from yours.

You’ve known the boy since you were practically a child, it’s safe to say you’ve had your fair share of a crush on the boy. However, it was always one that would come and go and you’d like to think you had control over your feelings. However it was hard, when you were in such a situation like this.

You wait a few more minutes, but then you feel his body move no doubt turning around as you hear and feel the creak of the bed frame. “Can’t sleep?” You ask.

“No, can you?” You hear from behind and you turn, making your own creaking noises as you shift to face him. “No.”

You lay across from each other, face to face, staring as the light from the moon peeks through the window illuminating his facial features just enough for you to see.

You’re looking into his brown eyes while he does the same to you. You gaze over his features, his curls, his eyes, his nose, his lips, back to his eyes.

“Are you thinking about this whole mess again?” You finally ask.

“No.”

“Then what are you thinking about?”

He was silent, his eyes remaining on you.

“Willy, you’ve gotten into plenty of trouble before, what’s going on?” You ask, genuinely concerned for the boy and his thoughts. It was not healthy to be thinking so negatively.

“Yeah, but It’s easy to be optimistic and positive when it’s just me I have to take care of, but now I’ve roped you into this mess and who knows what will happen?” You lay in silence because he was right, who knows what will happen? “I asked you to come with me, I’m supposed to keep you safe. I just don’t want to be the reason someone I care so deeply about gets hurt.”

That was a lot to take in, he wants to keep you safe? He cares about you deeply?

“How am I supposed to imagine the future if I can’t even keep you safe in the present? “

“The future?”

He must’ve revealed something carelessly because in the next moment you could make out how his eyebrows knitted together and he sat up, “I have to get up,” he says and you sit up as well allowing him to scooch out from the bed and walk around, pacing as he did before.

“You picture us in the future together?”

“Well yeah, of course, I can’t imagine my future without you.”

The warmth that was only in your cheeks, spread, now affecting your whole face.

“Good, cause I can’t imagine a future without you,” you repeat, causing his nervous paces to slow.

“You do?” He asks, appearing to be in disbelief.

“Yes.”

“What do you picture our future like?”

You shrug suddenly growing shy, “what do you picture our future like?”

It seemed like this back and forth would never end.

“Okay, I can’t do this anymore,” he waves his arms around like a lunatic, “I have something to say,” he announces as if you hadn’t been listening. But just to show how in tune you were, you pushed against the bed positioning yourself closer to the edge to show you were paying close attention.

He froze, looking at you for a moment before beginning to pace again. “Just say it!” You urged tired of waiting for an answer.

He interlocks his hands together, tapping his pointer finger against his knuckles, “alright, I’m going to say something, and I don’t want this to ruin anything, because I value our friendship so much.”

You could practically see where this was going, he was just taking too long to get there.

“I mean we’ve been friends for so long, I wouldn’t want to do anything to cause damage to that,” unable to take the suspense any longer you do you both a favor and utter, “I like you.”

His mouth closes, quiet, while you contort your face into an embarrassed expression. It was hard to make Willy speechless but it seemed like you’ve just about done it. “I don’t just like you, I have feelings for you…” still, silence. “…romantic ones,” you add hoping that would knock him out of his apparent coma.

But it didn’t.

“Ahem,” you cough out, eyes now averted from his as you wonder if you’ve misread the whole situation. It can’t be, right?

You don't have too much time to think of it, because luckily he finds his words, “I like you too.” You finally peer back at him and he sits beside you on the bed. “I mean I have romantic feelings for you.”

A smile sneaked onto your face, but his still remains upset, “but now you’re stuck here with me, and it’s my fault.” Reaching over, you take his hand, “Willy, I’ve told you over and over again, it’s alright. Plus there’s no one I’d rather get stuck with than you.”

He let out a single laugh, “that sounds ridiculous.”

“Yeah well I happen to know of a chocolatier who loves ridiculous things, oh wait that’s you…” you say laughing at your own words, and of course your laugh causes him to laugh.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“So I guess you love me,” you meant it to be jokingly and lighthearted but you said it without thinking. You expected him to brush it off but apparently he was giving it much thought as he looked at you earnestly.

“I guess I do.”

This time, Willy didn’t hesitate. He tilted forward until his mouth met yours. It was a long awaited and lingering kiss between you two. One that left butterflies in your stomach as he smiled against your lips keeping his forehead pressed against yours.

“Oh I’m definitely going to have a hard time going to sleep now,” you joked while he laughed again, reattaching his lips to yours.

#wonka imagine #willy wonka imagine #willy wonka fanfiction #wonka fanfiction #willy wonka fanfic #willy wonka x reader #wonka x reader #wonka fanfic

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msmoony7 · 5 months

Text

Snowed in with James Potter)

Summary: you and James wake up to snow covering your door leaving you trapped in your house, in desperate need to find ways to pass the time (nsfw)

Word count: 1.1K

12 days of fics

masterlist

“Babe, turn the lights off, it’s so bright in here,” you mutter to your boyfriend as you stir awake.

“Haven’t even gotten out of bed yet, the lights aren’t on. Come, go back to sleep,” he says back to you while pulling you back in closer to his chest, all without opening his eyes.

“I won’t be able to sleep, it’s too bright in here.”

You begin to get up from your shared bed and are met with James’s strong arms pulling you back onto the bed.

“Noooo,” he wines.

“James,” you respond sternly.

He lets go of your body with an over dramatic frown on his face with big puppy eyes.

“I’ll be right back,” you say, kissing him on the cheek, which makes his frown go away.

As you get up, you realize that the lights are, in fact, not on. You walk over to the source of the brightness in the room, the window, and gasp at what your eyes are met with. The snow is nearly up to the window, and it is certainly going to be covering your front door.

“We’re snowed in!” you yell.

“What?” James says to you as he gets up from the bed and walks over to where you’re standing. “Oh shit, we’re snowed in.”

“I knew it was supposed to snow. I didn’t think it’d be that bad,” you say. “What’re we supposed to do about tonight?”

“I’m sure Remus and Sirius are snowed in as well. I’ll give them a call.” James gives you a kiss and walks away towards the living room phone to call your friends. The pair of you were supposed to go to their house tonight for your annual Christmas dinner. That is, before you were snowed in.

James comes back into the room after a few minutes.

“They’re snowed in as well, said we can come over another night.”

“Well, that’s good.”

The two of you stare out the window, still in shock of the amount of snow that lays on the ground.

“Ugh, what’re we supposed to do now? I can’t believe I’m stuck inside with you all day,” you say jokingly.

“Hey!” James shouts in response.

“Only teasing, lovey,” you reply, leaning back onto his chest as he wraps his arms around you.

“I can think of a few things we can do to pass the time,” James whispers in your ear. The air in the room is cold, but the warmth of his breath spreads throughout your entire body.

“Oh, yeah? And what’s that,” you say back as he begins trailing kisses down your neck, inadvertently moving your neck to give him more area to kiss.

“Let me show you.”

You turn around and are immediately met with his lips on yours. You can feel in his movements how desperate he is, and you’re just the same. His hands are roaming all over your body as if his life depends on it.

His hands are on your waist and yours are in his hair. He pulls you by your pajama pants as he sits with his back against the headboard. You get on top, straddling him, and begin slowly grinding against him as one of his hands lies on your back to support and encourage you to keep going. He slips his other hand up your t-shirt and takes one of your breasts in his hand. You and him have been together a long time, and know exactly how to pleasure the other.

You tug on the bottom of his t-shirt and take it off while he takes off yours, leaving you both topless. You go back to kissing and eventually, you begin making your way down his neck, then his chest, then finally, down to his stomach right above his boxers. You look up to meet his eyes and give him one final kiss on his lower stomach before you pull down his boxers and reveal his hard dick.

You give him a quick stroke with your hand before putting your lips around the head of his penis. You bob your head up and down quickly and use one of your hands to pump the rest of his length. He groans in pleasure and throws his head back as he gathers your hair in his hand to help guide your head. After a few minutes of this, you can tell he’s close. Before he can finish, he pulls you off of him and up to meet his lips once more.

He flips you two around so that now he’s on top of you, and he kisses down your neck and makes his way to your breasts. He grips one in his hand and his lips are attacking the other. After a while of this, he continues down your body, eventually making his way towards the place you need him most. He pulls down your pants and throws them to the floor. He begins sucking on your clit and you instinctively grip his curls. His arms are wrapped around your thighs, holding them open as wide as possible.

“Fuck, Jamie, that feels so good,” you babble consumed by pleasure, you struggle to speak without a waver in your voice.

You look down at James and see him looking back at you with pure lust in his eyes. If he could, he would die happily between your thighs. He begins fingering you and you try to close your legs from the overstimulation, but his strong arms are holding you open.

“James, I’m so close,” you wine.

“C’mon, baby. Be a good girl and cum for me,” he instructs.

You quickly come to your high as James continues to work his magic. You pull his hair till he comes back face to face with you and you kiss him once more, tasting yourself on his lips. You flip over once more so that you’re on top once again. You take his hard dick and pump it a few times before slipping onto him.

“Oh fuck, James, you feel so fucking good,” you say as you begin riding him.

“Mhm, yeah, just like that, sweetheart. Keep going.”

Before long, James flips you onto your back and he begins thrusting into you.

“Jamie, I’m so close, don’t stop,” you plead.

He begins rubbing circles around your clit and you feel yourself on the brink of your climax.

“Cum for me, baby,” James says as he reaches his own climax, cumming inside you. He lays down next to you, both of you breathing heavily as you come down from your high.

After a little while of just laying there, not speaking, he gets up and gets a rag to clean you off. Once he’s done with this, he gets back into bed with you, pulling you into his arms.

“Fuck, that was so good. We should do that more often,” he says to you, giving you a long, passionate kiss.

“Mhm, so good,” you mutter into his chest as the two of you fall back to sleep.

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roadkill-writes · 9 months

Text

Bowers gang (Remember when) Part 4

This is part 4 of the continuation of the bowers gang series I started a long long while ago.

Pairings: bowers gang X fem!reader

Word count: Five pages , 1.7k words

Warnings: swearing, Harsh language, reader being naked and trapped in a bathroom

Hand still clutching the door handle of the bathroom as you heart pounded in your chest. The sound of their laughter still echoing around the room and your brain. You couldn’t help but ponder on how you got yourself into this mess of standing naked and afraid while four boys stood in your homes hallway laughing about you and this situation. Oh yes right, thank you Mrs.Peterson. You thought sarcastically that she was in fact the entire reason you were stuck stranded in your own bathroom.

You could just about hear the smirk plastered on Patrick’s face as he spoke from behind the door, “Come on princess we only wanna peak.” He pounded his fist against the door in a slow menacing way as if he knew were trying to strick free into your chest. Which he was successful at.

Your heart began to hammer away in your chest as if you were a lamb being led to slaughter. The little pig standing inside while the wolf huffs and puffs the house down. The helpless little fawn looking for it’s mother after it’s been shot but a hunter. The helpless little girl standing naked in her bathroom while the monsters stand on the other side laughing maniacally.

“I’m being serious this time go away!” Shouting at them like one would at a wild raccoon eating out of the garbage trying to ward it off. “This isn’t funny!”

“Okay hear me out!” Victor tried to reason with you from behind the door. He always behaved like the saving grace most of the time even though he’s just as stuck up as the rest of them. “We take a few steps back and you can grab your towel off the floor?” He spoke as it was almost supposed to be a question.

“And just how am I supposed to believe you’d all do that, especially Patrick?”

“I pinky promise sweetheart.” Victor gave his signature three gentle taps on the door. Opening the door just a enough to stick your hand through you stuck up your pinky finger in solidarity, feeling his pinky finger wrap around yours in a lock of faith you quickly let go and knelt down to grab your towel in a hurry pulling it through the crack in the door fast enough as you quickly slammed the door closed accidentally closing the corner of the towel in the crack having to open it back up and pulling it through.

Slamming the door back in place you tightly wrapped the towel around your body your hair still partially dripping wet reminding you of the peaceful shower that you do sadly had to get out of.

Reaching for the doorknob it was cold to the touch, the hinges making an eerie creaking sound as it was pulled open to reveal an empty hallway. As if the the boys were never standing there to begin with.

Gently on your top toes you began slowly making your way down the hall to your bedroom some of the floor boards groaned as you stepped on them. Even after all the times of sneaking out of the house you had failed to remember which parts of the floor to avoid, but this was an old house it wasn’t abnormal for the house to make unsettling noises every now and then so your parents never thought anything of it.

Tip toeing into the room you tried extremely hard to close the door without a creak or groan but it was to no avail. The door let out a wail and you recoiled into yourself at the sound. If the boys were still here you didn’t want them knowing you left the bathroom without being able to at least get dressed first. Twisting the lock and letting out a breathe of relief while closing your eyes, leaning your back up against the door for a moment of silence for the most part as you could hear those four boys downstairs making enough rowdy noise it sounds like they’re destroying the house.

Your dresser stood off to the side of the room up against the wall next to your closet, the clear coat over the stain has seen its better days. Your closet was small the trifold door was an off white color wishing to see a new coat of white paint. But none the less you dug around in both looking for something suitable to wear while still being comfortable, just as you were about to pull your shirt over your head to complete the new outfit a loud banging came from behind your closet door. Pausing with your shirt around your neck as if to see if you were hearing things.

Another loud bang came from the closet this time you hurried to put your shirt on the rest of the way and find something to use as a weapon, thankfully Vic had gifted you a bat not to long ago after smashing mailboxes one night. Sweaty hands gripped the bat as you hesitated to move any closer towards the closet.

This doesn’t make any sense as you were just in your closet looking for clothes, you continued trying to justify that you’re going crazy.

At this point the banging was getting louder your closet door shaking at the sheer force of it. Taking slow wide steps towards the door using one hand to grip the bat and another to reach for the small knob of the door. Swinging the door open you were greeted with the darkness of the small entry way lined with clothes. Again another sigh of relief slouching over slightly as you lowered the bat and turned to walk away.

tap

Your body burst out in goose bumps as you froze in place. There was nothing there remember just your clothes there isn’t anything to be freaking out about. It’s just the boys downstairs trying to freak you out again. You gained your confidence and turned back around to prove to yourself that there was in fact nothing there that your brain was scaring itself.

Your blood ran cold and the color drained from your face when your eyes landed on the object in question. Another RED balloon. You were absolutely frozen in fear, stomach has since dropped. Maybe you were dreaming no not dreaming having a nightmare. Maybe you had fallen asleep after your shower.

Your suspicion was quickly thrown out the window when a gloved hand had reached out of the depths of the closet to grab ahold of the door frame, then came the second hand coming out of the shadows to grab the door frame on the other side. You wanted to run but you couldn’t move frozen in shock and fear.

What ever was attached to those hands slowly acceded out of the darkness stepping into the full light of your bedroom it’s body was tall and frail the fiery red hair stood tall on top of its head, it’s mouth was in the form of an opened mouth smile barely fitting the rows and rows of teeth contained in its large mouth. The tattered and dirty costume that was adorned on its body the sight of your worst nightmares. This was a fucking clown. You fucking hated clowns.

Their shoes always so big, their cars always so small. No one’s nose should be able to honk, and the painted on faces were a sight for sore eyes. You could go on for hours on your thoughts and opinions on why you hated clowns but you had bigger things to be worrying about, literally.

The clown towered over you its mouth dripping with slobber as it salivated at the sight of you.

“I know what you did.” It spoke in a slow aggressive tone. Shaking your head no in fear, “ I-I d-don’t know what you’re talking about.” Your voice came out in a stutter, you had began to sound like Bill Denbrough the boy who’s little brother disappeared.

The clowns grin began to widen, “Oh yes, you do I know what you’ve done.” You couldn’t even begin to actually rack your brain on what it could be talking about but surely by now you’ve gone insane. You continued to shake your head no in fear trying to make it believe that maybe it had gotten the wrong person. But who were you kidding it’s just your luck you’ve got a crazy clown standing in front of you in your bedroom.

You sincerely had no idea what the clown was trying to get at but all you knew is you needed to run away now. Turning on your heels your sprinted to the door grabbing onto the handle and throwing the door open so hard it it the wall behind it.

Taking off in a sprint down the hallway towards the stairs, you could hear the clown laughing hysterically from behind you as you heard his loud shoes making contact with the wooden floor. Racing down the wooden steps you called out to the boys.

”Henry! Vic! Reggie! Patrick! Help me please!” You screams bounced off every wall in the house but you were alone again. You leapt off last three steps feet landing hard quickly turning to run towards the living room in search of your saviors. They were no where to be found. The clown was hot on your heels as you sprinted towards the back door struggling with the lock as you tried twisting the handle to freedom looking over your shoulder constantly, swinging the door open and pushing through the storm door you continued into a sprint right off the back porch. Feet padded around in the soft dewy grass as you heaved for a breath as your lungs burned for air.

You let out another cry for help as you reached the tree line for the forest. “Henry please help! Please I’m begging!” Taking another look over your shoulder you realized nothing was following you anymore, and that you didn’t have shoes on.

You made the conscious decision that it probably wouldn’t be the safest to go back home so you went in the direction you knew like the back of your hand.

The Bowers property.

Tag list: @lucky-lem0ns @scarlets-phases @talitasls-blog @fuckshitslover @blossom221 @disneylover1998 @kyuupidwrites @jiroumyluv

#bowers gang #bowers gang x reader #henry bowers x reader #victor criss #victor criss x reader #patrick hockstetter #patrick hocksetter x reader #belch huggins #belch huggins x reader #it 2017 #pennywise #it x reader #henry bowers #fanfiction #fanfic

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ravenssilver · 8 months

Note

I would adore if you could make an Aeon angst where he feels abandoned or like he’s not worth being in the ministry, and one of the ghouls (any of your choice) finds him and comforts him? You don’t have to if you don’t want too I’m just in love with your writing!!

ahh anon !! i will happily throw out some aeon/swiss hurt/comfort. you feed into my muse🫶🫶

here is me indulging in my favorite thing—aka 2.2k words of aeon feeling abandoned and swiss loving on him anyway🤍

cw: aeon being anxious, aeon has minor abandonment issues, minor panic attack

under the cut, if you please<3

Aeon was giddy after a particularly good ritual. He and Swiss seemed to have developed a pre-show ritual of practically being attached to each other’s hips and walking on stage together. He had hit every note perfectly and gotten to every cue, bouncing happily to the beat of the songs all the while. The audience had been fantastic and he had gotten at least five bat plushes thrown at him before bows, and he was sure some of the crew had picked up the rest.

Though, as Aeon took a quick shower to get all his sweat off, he thought about the other ghouls during the ritual.

Cirrus and Cumulus didn’t pay him any mind whenever he went over to them, Dewdrop seemed annoyed when Aeon was all over him during Absolution, Rain didn’t seem all that amused by the slides in Watcher, and Papa seemed actually upset when he had cut in front of him for his part in Year Zero.

Aeon frowned when he remembered how he had subconsciously given up on interacting with the band after Mary On a Cross when Papa didn’t even look at him when the song quieted down for a few measures.

And during Square Hammer, his final chance to maybe get an interaction, Aurora was play flirting with Swiss from across the stage when Aeon was meant to be on her platform.

Aeon hissed when he accidentally got soap in his eye, a frown etched on his face as he felt his heart aching with doubt in himself.

Did his packmates think he was annoying? Did Papa think he was annoying?

Maybe they’re just tired… Yeah, that had to be it. He didn’t remember doing anything wrong, much less annoying.

Aeon quickly finished up with his shower and changed into some clothes he had stolen from Swiss, grinning when he saw the slight bagginess of his pack mate’s clothes on him.

With a pep in his step due to his shower and how he now felt clean, Aeon happily left the dressing room and went to the parking lot where the buses were.

Though, as soon as he got outside he froze in his tracks.

The buses were gone.

A distressed sound left Aeon and be spun around in a circle as if the building behind him would’ve somehow turned into the tour buses. Aeon chuffed worriedly when he just saw the door he had come out of and went back inside, some of his glamor starting to slip as his thoughts spiraled.

They left him. They got on the busses and left him alone. He was stuck—trapped.

Abandoned.

A distressed whine left Aeon and he picked up the pace of his footsteps, desperate to find his pack or his Papa. Aeon felt like his throat was closing up, his ears pinned and twitching at every single noise he heard as his hands started to shake.

Much to his dismay, instead of someone he knew, Aeon ran into a member of the venue staff and he had hurt himself by quickly throwing up his glamor.

Aeon’s head pulsed with an intense ache as his eyes darted around, his glamoured nails clicking as he picked at them.

“Hey, are you alright?” The woman asked, her eyebrows furrowed as she placed her hand on Aeon’s shoulder. Aeon wanted to say yes, try to reassure her that he was fine when he so clearly wasn’t. But when his throat closed up even tighter, tears welled in his eyes and his shaking became a lot more obvious.

“Woah, it’s okay, breathe. Why aren’t you with everyone else out back? They’re leaving for the hotel in about five minutes,” The woman said, her eyebrows furrowed as she tried to get Aeon to calm down.

A tear fell from Aeon’s lash line when she told him that. He nodded and turned on his heel, rushing away from her as he went to the back of the venue.

Nobody had told him that there was a rest day after that nights ritual. Nobody had told him that they would be going to a hotel that night instead of getting back on the buses.

Aeon rushed outside, signing in relief when he saw Papa and the rest of his pack standing outside of a van. He wiped his eyes and face of tears, trying to cover up the panic in his scent that he knew was there.

“Ah, there you are,” Copia sighed when Aeon silently walked up next to Rain, huddled in on himself. “We’ve been waiting for you. Where have you been?” Copia asked, his eyes narrowed.

“I didn’t-“ Aeon went to respond, only for Copia to throw his hands up in the air and mumble annoyed Italian to himself as he went to make sure all their bags were ready to go to the hotel.

Another distressed sound left Aeon as he felt a pit form in his stomach. He looked down and pulled the hood of Swiss’ hoodie up over his head, hiding his face from his pack who weren’t paying attention anyway.

Aeon’s shoulders shook as he messed with the end of his sleeves, his body trembling with anxiety as his thoughts continued to spiral.

Look what you did, you made Papa mad. You held everyone up and now they’re all mad at you. You’re cutting off their resting time like a total idiot. How dumb do you have to be to not remember a schedule?

Aeon clambered into the van first as soon as the doors opened, wanting the front row seat closest to the window on the drivers side so nobody would see his tears.

He heard a low growl from Dew, as that was usually the fire ghoul’s spot, the annoyed sound only adding fuel to the dumpster fire that was Aeon’s brain.

He buckled and curled into himself, burying his face in his knees as his thoughts just went further and further down the spiral of self doubt and insecurity.

The next twenty minutes went by in a blur. One moment Aeon was curled up into himself on an uncomfortable seat—the next, Aeon was curled up on an uncomfortable hotel couch as he stared at the wall, tears slowly trailing down his face.

Aeon had fully unglamoured, his tail wrapped tightly around his ankle as his claws dragged along the discolored part of his face around his right eye. Waves and waves of distress rolled off of him as he whimpered every now and then.

They all hate you. You’re just a replacement for someone they all loved. A penny in the crater sized hole in their hearts where the prior quintessence ghoul was.

The better quintessence ghoul.

Aeon sobbed, closing his eyes and burying his face into the hoodie he had stolen from his favorite multi-ghoul.

He wasn’t Swiss’ favorite, though.

Aeon whined and immediately tore off Swiss’ hoodie and sweatpants, chucking the clothes across the hotel room, leaving him in his boxers.

Aeon snuffled and laid back down, curling up into himself even tighter as to fight off the chill of the unreasonably cold hotel room.

He wanted Swiss. Dewdrop, even.

He wanted to be warm. He wanted to be loved. Appreciated by the creatures he had around him everyday. Aeon loved the crowd’s praise, but he wanted his pack now. Even just one of them would suffice.

He wanted to know that they saw how hard he was trying. He wanted to know that they appreciated him for stepping into shoes that were far too big and running the miles anyway.

He just wanted to be seen.

“Stardust..?”

Aeon picked up his head and looked over at the door to his hotel room, his ear twitching as he heard Swiss’ voice.

“Hey… Aeon, you awake? C’mon, your scent changed, I know you hear me..” Swiss said, knocking on the door again.

Aeon looked over at the digital clock that was across the room, taking a moment to remember everything Mountain taught him about reading a clock.

It had been two hours since they got to the hotel.

“Bug? Can you come to the door?” Swiss spoke again, regaining Aeon’s attention.

Aeon scrambled up, not wanting to annoy Swiss even more than he thought he had. Aeon snatched the duvet on his bed and struggled to get it off the mattress due to the unnecessarily tight tucking of the bedding.

As soon as Aeon managed to get the duvet off the bed, he fell to the floor with a yelp due to how suddenly the tension released. The little quint scrambled back up to his feet and wrapped the duvet around his mostly bare body, ignoring the pain in his hip from the fall.

Aeon opened the door and peaked through, his lilac eyes staring up into Swiss’. The multi-ghoul quickly moved closer when he saw Aeon wasn’t glamoured.

And to Aeon’s dismay, that allowed Swiss to see the tear streaks on his face.

“Stardust, what’s wrong?” Swiss frowned, gently cupping Aeon’s cheek with his big hand. Aeon snuffled, choking back a sob as he leaned into Swiss’ hand.

Swiss frowned and crowded Aeon back into his room, closing the hotel door and locking it before he brought Aeon over to his bed and sat him down, pulling the duvet around tighter around the smaller ghoul’s body when he felt how cold it was in the room.

“Talk to me, Tommy, what’s wrong?” Swiss spoke softly, his eyebrows creased with worry as he brushed his thumb over the little quint’s cheekbone. Aeon’s bloodshot eyes hesitantly looked into Swiss’ as he sniffled again, wiping the snot away from his face with his wrist.

It was gross, but Swiss was far too concerned about Aeon’s tears to even notice his actions.

“I… I feel like you don’t like me. Like-“ Aeon sobbed softly and covered his face. “Like you’ve all been lying to me and that you don’t want me here…”

Swiss’ heart shattered.

“Oh, bug…” Swiss whispered as he swept Aeon up into his arms. It was all he could say at the moment, his own devastation rushing through him.

Swiss didn’t know what he or the pack had done to make Aeon feel this way, but he would kick himself for eternity because of it.

“You will always, always be wanted, Stardust. I know that if the others were here, they’d be all over you telling you the exact same thing.” Swiss whispered, holding Aeon close to his chest as the smaller ghoul sobbed out all his sudden and overwhelming emotions.

Swiss let Aeon cry, not once shushing him or trying to get him to stop crying. He didn’t want Aeon to feel like he was being a burden, so Swiss let him cry until he felt better.

“Swiss…?” Aeon whispered after about 10 or so minutes, seemingly shy. Swiss hummed and looked down at Aeon, staring into his lilac eyes with as much love and affection that he could muster. “I… can you get my clothes..? I threw them over there…” Aeon mumbled, pointing across the room.

“Of course, babybat, one second,” Swiss said immediately, gently setting Aeon back on the mattress and pressing a kiss to his forehead before rushing over to where Aeon had pointed.

Swiss picked up the dark gray hoodie and sweatpants, his eyebrows furrowing when he recognized the feel of the fabric.

“Are these mine?” Swiss asked, wondering if they were his favorite set that he had lost. Aeon shrunk into himself and nodded as Swiss walked over. “I took them a few months ago.. I’m sorry..” Aeon apologized, looking sad.

“Don’t be sorry,” Swiss smiled, shaking his head as he gently guided Aeon to unwrap himself of the duvet. Swiss mumbled a quiet: “watch your horns…” as he slipped the hoodie over Aeon’s head, smiling when he saw just how adorable the smaller ghoul looked in his clothes.

“The gray matches your skin better anyway,” Swiss shrugged with a grin, ruffling Aeon’s shaggy black hair and helping him into the sweatpants. Aeon chirruped softly and leaned into Swiss’ touch, a quiet little purr starting up in his chest as Swiss swept him off his feet.

Aeon laughed happily, a grin on his face as Swiss laid him down, his head resting on the pillows. Swiss re-situated the bedding and laid down next to Aeon after flicking off all the lights, nuzzling Aeon’s nose as they settled into the bed together.

“Feeling better…?” Swiss asked softly, brushing his thumb over Aeon’s cheekbone, his eyes taking in Aeon’s appearance in the darkness. Aeon thought for a moment before nodding slightly, only to shake his head.

Swiss frowned, cupping Aeon’s jaw with his big hand.

“Talk to me?”

Aeon sighed a bit before starting to explain.

“You made me feel better than I did.. but I.. I guess I’m still thinking about the others. You can only promise so much, y’know?” Aeon mumbled, sounding sad. Swiss’ frown deepened but Aeon was right.

From the quint’s point of view, Swiss’ words about the others were just as good as the lies his brain was feeding him.

“Do you want me to talk to them? Have them talk to you?” Swiss asked, wanting Aeon to feel at home in the pack. “Can I… um.. can I try to talk to them first?” Aeon asked, sounding nervous.

Swiss’ heart swelled and he nodded immediately.

“Of course you can, Stardust. I’ll let you go about this however you please….” Swiss whispered, kissing Aeon’s forehead between his horns.

Aeon purred and leaned into the kiss, cuddling up closer to Swiss.

“Thank you, Swiss.”

“Anytime, Stardust.”

#aeon ghoul #ghost band #ghost the band #phantom ghoul #the band ghost #swiss ghoul #swiss x aeon #swiss x phantom #I’m sorry i can’t stop writing this kind of aeon angst #i love it so much so i probably won’t stop #also #this isn’t a part of until you find me hiding #just putting it out there #raven’s responses #ravenssilver writes #nameless ghouls #nameless ghouls ficlet

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yeeehwa · 10 months

Text

The Leaders

Pairing: ot8 Ateex x fem!reader

genre: mafia, gang, smut, fluff

w.c: 3.2k

warnings: blood. violence. cursing. slight strangulation. knives. please lmk if I missed anything <3

a/n: this is extremely unedited, but I wanted to post something I've had cookin for a while. title is in progress, as well as the plot, so please take it with a grain of salt. still a huge work in progress! please let me know what you think as feedback is always appreciated!

They’re coming.

The thought excited you more than it should, but they were finally coming. It made you giddy just thinking about it.

A static sounded in your ear as Hajoon, your gangs ‘technology specialist’ as he likes to correct you, spoke. “They’re on the grounds. Get into position.”

You scoffed, knowing full well he heard through the ear piece. “Bold of you to assume I’m not already in it.” You threw the baseball that had been resting on the desk into the air, catching it once gravity decided to intervene.

A cheeky smile formed on your face as he sighed in exasperation. “You do understand that I’m literally watching you throw the baseball around while you have your boots up on the Boss’s desk, throwing said baseball.”

Looking towards where you knew the cameras were placed, you stuck your tongue out.

“Oh, very mature Y/N.”

“Suck a dick Joon.” You pressed a button on the side of your in-ear, cutting the connection to him as you stood up. Slowly, you stretched your arms above your head, flicking the bird to the man you knew was monitoring your every move.

You knew him, and knew he was rolling his eyes at the gesture, but smiling at your image on his screens affectionately.

Rolling your neck and hearing a satisfying crack, you smiled, grabbed a small rope that hung from the beams in the ceiling, and started to climb.

You settled yourself into the comfortable darkness of the shadows in the beams in the ceiling. Tucking your braided hair back into your hood, you pull it up over your head, and adjusted your black neck gaiter over your nose, leaving only your eyes exposed. You pulled the rope up next to you, making sure none of it was hanging.

A smirk came over your face as the doors burst open. Seven men entered the room in pairs, the lone man at the back of the group just sauntering in, eyes flicking around the room in disinterest.

“Yeosang,” one of them whispered. “Where did your contact say it was?”

Contact? Traitor. There was a rat among your crew. You filed away the information to report back to the boss.

It was hard to keep track of all of the men in the room. You thought they’d only send two. HaJoon said there would most likely be two. ‘Shit.”

Wooyoungs head jerked as he heard your quiet curse, following the direction the noise came from. You locked eyes with him, but he didn’t notice. Your full black outfit helping to keep you hidden. His brows furrowed, and he shook his head, telling himself that he had just imagined it.

Yunhos eyes shifted around the room. Something to him felt off. The air was tense, but there was a feeling in his gut that something wasn’t right. “Something doesn’t feel right Hwa.”

A slight nod from the man was all he got in acknowledgement. He felt it too. It was too easy for them to get in. Too easy to navigate, considering how much security their recon had reported strolling the grounds.

“Keep your guard up.” The command from their Captain came through their in-ears. “This is most likely a trap.”

You stood then, smiling when you felt the satisfying stretch of your legs. A wolfish grin came over your face as you decided to make your grand entrance.

Arms stretched out to either side of you, rope grasped tightly in your hand, you slowly let yourself teeter on the edge, before falling. The adrenaline and anticipation of the fall and thought of a potential fight makes your heart jump in excitement.

You landed on the broad shoulders of the tallest one, surprising them all as you wrapped your legs around his neck, locking them, and using the momentum of catching him off guard to fling both of you forward. Putting all of your weight into it, you sent the both of you crashing down. Once you felt the solid floor underneath you, you rolled, using the forward motion to get back on your feet and disappear back into the shadows.

“What the fuck?” Mingi cried as he rushed towards Yunhos form. He laid there, stunned. Not unconscious, but dazed, trying to process the last few seconds. Mingi kneeled next to his best friend, helping him into a sitting position.

The others had their guns out and at the ready, wildly swinging them from side to side, aiming at nothing and everything. Looking for some kind of movement. Waiting for a noise from the assailant. Anything that would give them some kind of hint of what they were up against.

They all calmed down, giving it a second before striking again. Pulling some of your throwing knives from your belt, you silently took aim at the closest figure to you. A sickening squelching sound was heard as you hit your mark, the blade sinking into his arm.

Wooyoung yelped as he felt the stinging pain of the knife in his bicep. He panicked, firing his pistol in the general direction that it had come from. Yells and a cry for him to stop as the rest of them ducked down, trying to avoid the friendly fire. “What’s happening?” Hongjoong radioed in. He heard the commotion, but felt detached that he couldn’t see and assess the situation.

“They have a Ninja!” Wooyoung screeched as San pulled the small knife from his arm, tightening the band that he had around his arm as a makeshift tourniquet.

“An assassin.” Seonghwa shot Wooyoung a look. “They knew we were coming.”

“Get the files and get out.” five pairs of eyes looked at Yeosang, who nodded in return and slipped away.

Choosing to ignore him for now, you eyed the situation in front of you, assessing who to target next. What you should use on him. Your dagger? The whip you keep on your side? A wide smile spread across your face as an idea struck you.

You let yourself make noise. Boots pounding on the hardwood floor as you slowly emerged from the shadows, cocking your head to the side, and held both your arms up in a surrender. Smirking under your mask, you spoke. “Didn’t anyone tell you it’s not fair to bring a gun to a knife fight?” The sounds of bullets being chambered caused you no concern. You enjoyed this game.

“Who are you?” A venomous look in the eyes of Jongho. His hands were free of weapons, but you knew how deadly his fists were. Unlike them, you had done your research.

“Aww Baby Bear. You don’t recognize me?” you pouted at him. “I’m hurt. I remember you.”

“Y…Y/N?” Yunho addressed you, one arm slung around Mingi’s shoulder as he fully lifted him off the ground.

“It’s Mist. But close enough.” You shrugged.

Tension hung in the air as they processed. Mist. The assassin known all over the underground, ruthless, deadly. San glanced down at the throwing knife he pulled out of Wooyoung, seeing your cursive M on the handle. The calling card you left at every kill.

Seonghwas eyes scanned you up and down. He was the only one whose expression never changed once they realized it was you. His eyes were cold, and calculated. “You’re not my Y/N.”

HaJoon then decided to interrupt. “Girl, what the hell are you doing?”

Rolling your eyes you let out an exasperated sigh. “Joon, I'm having fun.” you whined out at him.

“Boss is gonna kill you if you keep going. Take them out and grab the files. Order from the Boss.” a disconnecting sound came and you rolled your eyes again.

“Well.” You sounded disappointed. “I’d hate to ruin such a pretty face.” you shrugged. “All well.” Your fingers quickly tapped a button you had rigged on your palms, and more of your throwing knives shot into the air. Catching them, you didn’t hesitate to immediately throw them at Seonghwa.

He dodged, pulling his pistol from its holster and aimed towards you. He lost sight as you jumped back into the shadows.

“Get out of there.” Hongjoong command. His self control strung tight as he heard your voice. It had snapped when you confirmed it was, in fact, you. His frustration came out in a growl, and he pulled his only way to communicate with the others out of his ear, smashing it. Anger for what you had become. Sadness that he couldn’t stop it. Emotions squeezed his heart as he swept all of the plans, his desk lamp, and a replica of his favorite ship, onto the floor, shattering on impact. Another frustrated noise left him as he sat in his pile of destruction.

“Captain?” Mingi had kept repeating.

“You heard him. We have to go.” Seonghwa quickly started taking steps back, eyes and gun never leaving the spot where you disappeared. A flash of silver came for him out of his peripheral, and he moved, but not soon enough. The sharpened edge caught his cheek, leaving a shallow cut.

“Hwa, without the files?” Wooyoung darted to take a step towards the darkness. A rope shot out from the darkness, lassoing itself around Wooyoungs neck, pulling him into you.

“Hey there gorgeous,” you kissed his cheek as you tightened the rope around his neck. “No hard feelings.”

His fingered clawed at your hands, trying to make you loosen your grip on it, as something slammed into you, throwing you to the floor.

“Ah. Yeosang. I was wondering when you were gonna show up. My sweet little Doberman to the rescue.” You stood up, dusted yourself off, and motioned for Yeosang to come at you. He stood there, just staring at you.

“Are you gonna make the first move? Or are you too much of a pussy?” You batted your lashes at him. “Sweet baby Yeosang. Who couldn’t hurt a fly. Just like I re- oof!” the wind was knocked out of you as he rushed you, his shoulder making contact with your chest and knocking you flat on your back.

You laughed. Even though he didn’t say anything, you knew you got under his skin. You coughed, groaning as you caught your breath, but still, you couldn’t help but rile him up even more. You tutted your tongue towards him and rolled to your side, spitting out a bit of blood. “I see I hit a nerve there.”

He scoffed at you, and looked over his shoulder quickly, making sure the others were getting out. He saw them all quickly rushing out, Wooyoung being supported by San as he sputtered and coughed. Angry red marks were seen all around his neck, thanks to you and your rope. Yeosangs vision turned red as he saw the marks, and saw how you just laughed and taunted him.

He stalked towards you, hand coming down to grasp your throat, grip tight. He picked you up and slammed you into the wall. You winced a bit as the back of your head made contact with the wall.

“Oh kinky. It’s always the quiet ones that are the freaks.” Gasping for breath and dizzy from the impact of your head, you still were able to get a quip out, which made the hand around your throat tighten, and his other hand made its way to your hair, pushing your head roughly back into the wall.

He looked down at you, as you started at him, slightly dazed from both hits to your head. He smirked. “Not so big and strong now, are you Y/N-nnie?” His grip tightened even more. “Can’t hide in the shadows anymore.”

He felt your hands weaken its grasp on his own, before falling limp at your side. Your body slumped as you slipped into unconsciousness.

The hold on your throat was released, your unconscious body falling unceremoniously to the floor. Yeosang turned his back on you, bag slung over his shoulder. He didn’t look back.

“Did you kill her?” Yunho questioned; his only acknowledgement of Yeosang regrouping with them. A small shake of his head, and a sigh of relief came from him and a few others.

“Did you get them?”

Yeosang unzipped his bag, showcasing its contents to the others. In it, they saw a pile of papers, folders, and even a miniature of an old pirate ship. Hongjoong will be happy.

A heated discussion broke out between San and Wooyoung, drawing the attention of the others. “We have to go back,” San finally announced.

“We can’t.” the monotone Seonghwas voice

“Y/N is there!”

“Y/N picked her side. There’s nothing we can do about it. We got what we were after.” The door slammed as the car took off, taking them away from you and back to their Captain.

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septnanis · 3 months

Text

places to hide / soriku

“Hey,” Terra says, a tall shadow in the doorway.

Riku looks up at him and smiles. He likes Terra. Not just because they shared a moment so poignant that it shaped Riku’s future, but because Terra is a kind, steady presence in his life.

“You okay?” Terra asks.

But most of all, Riku feels like he can let his guard down. He nods, his throat feeling thick with emotion he can’t quite place.

“Yeah,” Riku says.

“Sora was worried about you,” Terra says. “May I?” He gestures to the overturned crate across from the one Riku is sitting on. “He said this is your favorite hiding spot.”

Riku nods and Terra sits down, the door shutting slowly behind him. Once it closes, only the light from underneath cuts through the darkness. It’s enough that they see each other.

“Are you?” Terra asks.

“Huh?” Riku replies.

“Hiding from something?” Terra moves a bit so he’s more comfortable.

From everything, Riku wants to say. From expectations, from my innate drive to keep going and going, a dozen other things and some he would never dare say out loud.

“I asked Sora why he didn’t look for you,” Terra says. “He seems to think you might be mad at him. Another year wasted on me, he said. Did you and Sora argue?”

Riku shakes his head. “No, I just…” he says. “I may have been avoiding him a little.”

Terra lets the words settle in the room for a while. It floats in the air like dust motes, catching whatever light is left in the room.

“I like sitting in dark places, too,” Terra says. “You’d think after years of being trapped in darkness I’d hate it. But it feels… comforting.” He runs his hands over the top of his legs. “Guess I learned to love my chains.”

“I felt like a monster,” Riku says. “Or a Heartless. But now it just feels nice… kinda quiet and almost peaceful. It makes stepping into the light feel even better.”

“Perfect balance,” Terra says. “You’re a wiser man than anyone who ever tried to teach me anything, Riku.”

Riku shifts and smiles. “Except for Aqua and Ven,” he says.

Terra nods. “They’re always my exception to everything,” he says in a fond tone.

Another silence falls.

When Terra chooses to speak again he does so carefully. “I know how you feel,” he says. “About yourself. And Sora.”

Riku’s demeanor changes, his back slightly straighter.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Terra says. “Or admit anything. I’m not going to push you to do anything. But I know you haven’t stood still for a moment since you left your home. I know despite how strong you are and how brave you’ve been, that you’re tired.”

Terra looks away from him, when Riku puts a hand on his own face. “I know you’re frustrated, and that maybe you think you don’t deserve to want the things you do.”

“I just want you to know that you deserve good things,” he says. “You deserve to be a happy young man in the prime of his life. Don’t give up on that.”

Riku inhales sharply, leans back and nods. “I didn’t waste anything,” he says. “Not for him.”

Terra places his hand on Riku’s shoulder and stands. “Tell him that, when you’re ready,” he says. “I think his answer might surprise you.”

Riku looks up at him and looks every bit the young man he is. When he nods again, Terra puts his hand on the door.

“It’s a good hiding spot,” Terra says. “Mind if I borrow it sometimes?”

Riku laughs, a little emotion stuck in the sound. “Sure,” he says. “I don’t mind.”

—-

“Sorry,” Riku says, weeks later. “If you thought I was avoiding you.”

Sora shrugs against his side. He sat down beside Riku when Riku invited him in without asking. Real light doesn’t ask permission, real darkness never pushes back. Perfect balance.

“That’s okay,” Sora says. “My foot’s in a bucket.”

“Your foot is a bucket,” Riku shoots back. It takes a beat, but they both snigger.

The silence between them is so different than the one between Riku and Terra. It’s lighter, and there’s electricity.

“I know sometimes you need some space,” Sora says. “You’ve always been like that. I don’t mind!”

Riku imagines how he couldn’t have fallen for Sora. It seems so impossible.

“You can tell me,” Sora says. “Even if it’s just a ‘I want to be alone now!’ thing. And if I ever do anything, you can tell me. You don’t owe me anything.”

Riku looks at him. His blue eyes, his spiky hair, his eyebrows, one just a little higher than the other. The way his mouth always looks like it wants to smile.

“And you could never be a waste of time,” Riku says. There’s a moment and then relief seems to wash over Sora’s face.

“It’s a good hiding spot,” Sora says, an echo of Terra that makes Riku smile.

When Sora lays his head just ever so slightly on Riku’s shoulder and lays the back of his hand against Riku’s leg. An open invitation to something he’s wanted for as long as he can remember.

Just because Riku reached out a little.

“It really is,” Riku says, lays his head ever so gently on Sora’s.

He reaches his own hand out, farther than he’s ever dared.

In the darkness, he’s no longer afraid.

#soriku #kh fic #kh riku #kh sora #soriku fic

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corporatefrog · 1 year

Text

꒦‧₊ ꒷ HEADCANNONS: Kenny, Kyle, Stan, and Butters saving you as superheroes/villains when you're in danger! ✧.*

✧.* tags: college au, superhero au ✧.* Characters: kenny mccormick, kyle broflovski, stan marsh, butters scotch a/n: another amazing anon request! i always love the suggestions and they lead to such fun scenarios (and ways to zone out during class lol)

masterlist

Kenny/Mysterion:

Literally the scene from the beginning of Megamind where they’re in the observatory

Except he bursts in and saves you

You were just trying to get footage of mysterion’s press conference then suddenly you’re tied up in the storage unit- sorry, the LAIR OF CHAOS

(he gets sad when you don’t call it that)

“Ah mysterion! It is I, your greatest foe-”

“I wouldn’t say greatest”

“Professor chaos- wait what?”

“I’m just saying I've literally fought cthulhu. He’s probably the greatest”

“Well, Cthulhu was an eldritch horror ! He doesn't count!”

“Yes he does”

“No he doesn't!”

“Yes he does!”

“No he doesn't-”

“Guys I really got to piss, can we speed this up?”

Mysterion shows up a few minutes later but you don’t get ‘rescued’ for another 30 minutes because him and chaos kept arguing

He walks you home and says he’ll always be there to save you

But you know the same thing is going to happen next week

Kyle/Human Kite

You were at the park with kyle to visit the pet adoption fair being held by the south park animal shelter

But Professor Chaos had other plans.

Suddenly all of the animals were let out of their pens and were running through the park

It was the most adorable stampede to ever exist

You turned to tell ky that you guys had to help but he was gone?

The text he sent: “allergic to cats. Sorry.”

BRO WHAT??

You get absolutely DOG PILED

By actual dogs.

Chaos is evilly laughing while blowing a dog whistle while General Disarray points laser pointers at people’s feet

You were ready to give into your death by puppy

But you’re pulled out from the dog heap by human kite!

He flies??? Over to chaos and slaps the dog whistle out of his hands and starts lecturing him

You almost feel bad for the guy

But then again, there are cats running up trees and dogs running into the street so animal safety comes first

You help them take care of the animals

(and definitely end up adopting a furry friend :) )

Stan/Toolshed

Professor chaos has stuck you in a small cell surrounded by glass with a 2 hour timer ticking down towards an unknown demise

Usually it wouldn’t have been an issue for tool to grab a sledge hammer and take care of it

But the cell was made of impact proof glass

That didn’t stop Toolshed from trying to break through the glass for 30 minutes while professor chaos monologues from a tv screen in the corner

“HAHHAA! I bet you’re wondering how I managed to trap-”

WOMP

“You won’t be breaking through that glass anytime-”

WOMP

“H-Hey! Let me at least get through my-”

WOMP

“WELL GOSH DARN IT LET ME DO MY SPEECH FIRST!”

And the only way to unlock it was to complete an escape room and find a key

But professor chaos seems to have forgotten that stan loves complex board games

And what is an escape room if not a complex solo board game?

“You need to use the cipher from the map to decode the encyclopedia for the safe code!”

“Oh yeah, I’ll definitely do that. If I were an idiot.”

“Okay now you’re just being mean”

“It’s obvious that the map cipher is used for the chess board to give you the steps for the dance dance revolution machine!”

“...yeah totally. I definitely knew that’s how it works.”

He has you out in like 5 minutes

And you make a mental note to never play Settlers of Katan with him.

Butters/Professor Chaos

The freedom pals kidnapped you to try and get information out of you since you act as tech help for chaos

Well it was really just the coon

“I thought that kidnapping was a villain thing”

“Yeah because when a superhero does it, it’s taking a villain into custody”

“I really don’t see the logic there”

“WELL YOU DONT HAVE TO SO SHUT UP”

“I thought you wanted me to talk?”

“AHHHHH”

Really you were just giving cartman shit for a few hours

Until the basement suddenly fills with smoke!

Professor Chaos threw smoke bombs into a small enclosed basement (not a good idea-)

You both barely manage to get out while coughing through the smoke

But you do it!!

Yippie!!

Chaos insists on getting you ice cream as an apology for getting wrapped up in everything

“I mean, if I had to deal with that dickwad everyday, I’d want to cause chaos to piss him off too. I only was there for an hour and i never want to see him smile again”

You just became the coolest person ever to him

#professor chaos superiority always #south park headcanons #south park x reader #south park #corporatefrog #kenny mccormick #kyle broflovski #stan marsh #butters stotch

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secretswiftymarvelfan · 1 year

Text

As Long As You’re Mine - Mob!Steve Rogers x Reader (Part 2)

A/N: Surprise! I’ll let you in on a little secret... I already had this written before I posted the first part! I just wanted to see how it would go down first and boy did you guys like it! So I hope this follow up satisfies your need!

Read Part 1 here!

Summary: Following your engagement to Drysdale there’s one last twist in the tale

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: Mob Elements! Language! Mention of Arranged Marriage! Fluff!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Masterlist

It had been a month since you learnt of your engagement to Drysdale. Every night you savoured every moment you had left with Steve. Clinging onto him whenever you could, praying and begging this was all a nightmare that one day you’d wake from.

But right now you were waking up alone. Steve had returned to Brooklyn a week ago, said there was a family emergency he had to deal with. He promised to be back as soon as he could, that every night he’d fall asleep thinking of you.

You were just walking towards the sunroom when Romero stepped into your path “your brother needs to speak to you immediately” he states.

You let out a long sigh “sure whatever” you muttered turning in the opposite direction back towards your brother’s office.

As you walked inside you could see how tense your brother was as he braced himself against the desk. You didn’t say anything, just sat down and waited for whatever he had to say.

“Drysdale and the rest of the Thombeys are dead, the entire family has collapsed” Bryce finally states his fists clenching in anger.

“What?” You mutter in disbelief.

“They’re gone, completely crumbled over some stupid inheritance” Bryce scoffs “Drysdale got word that he was getting written out, so decided to kill Harlan before the will got changed, it all imploded from there, family turned against each other until they were all dead”

“Whoa” you muttered in disbelief, you always knew Drysdale would cause the Thrombey empire to fall but you didn’t expect this.

“Yep, so looks like you get your wish after all, you don’t have to marry him” Bryce states in frustration.

“My wish was to choose who I got to marry not have it decided for me!” You snap.

“Well, you might not have any choice now! The options are dwindling and you might be stuck with Hansen!” Bryce roars.

“Don’t you even dare” you growl launching from your chair in anger.

“Boss,” Romero says interrupting the two of you.

“What?” Bryce snaps.

“There’s someone here to see you” Romero answers.

“Send them away, I don’t have time to deal with anyone, I’ve got to fix this bullshit” Bryce states gesturing at you.

“She says she’s a representative of the New York syndicate” Romero pushes.

Both you and Bryce freeze, you’d heard a lot about the syndicate from Steve. And by the look on Bryce’s face, you gathered your father told him a lot too.

“Send her in, Y/N go back to your room I’ll deal with you later” Bryce orders.

“She wants to speak with Y/N too” Romero adds.

You and Bryce exchange a glance and before he had a chance to argue you gave your order “send her in”

Bryce glares at you but his attention soon shifts when the redhead walked in. Her hips swayed as she went, exuding confidence that made it feel like she owned the place. You watched as she first surveyed Bryce before looking at you a smirk growing on her face as if she already knew all your dirty little secrets.

“Bryce Langley,” Bryce says holding out his hand.

“Natalie Rushman but just call me Nat” Nat smiles shaking his hand “let's cut straight to the chase, I’m here on behalf of the New York syndicate boss, who has decided to offer you a deal,” Nat says pulling out a file and placing it on the desk.

“Why?” You question as Bryce picks up the file and sits down.

“I’ve learnt its best not to question my Boss’ motives,” Nat says, despite the clear warning her tone was amused.

Concerned that your brother was about to walk into a trap you walked around the desk and started reading the contract of the deal over his shoulder. It was a trade deal, one that would allow your brother access to the New York harbours. There were a lot of restrictions and contingencies that ensure the New York syndicate remained on top but it was still a good deal. One that all the Boston families would kill for.

“This is a very generous offer” Bryce hums.

“What does he want in return” you question, a deal this big would come with a heavy price tag and you needed to know all the details before agreeing.

Nat smirks as she looks over at you “the only thing he wants, is you as his bride” she answers and your blood ran cold.

You had only just been freed of one arranged marriage, and barely half an hour later another was being discussed.

Nat must have read the horror on your face “and let me just warn you when my boss wants something, he’ll stop at nothing to get it. His enemies learnt that the hard way” she warned.

“Bryce please” you begged.

“You’ve got yourself a deal” Bryce agrees completely ignoring you, grabbing a pen and signing your life away before you could stop him.

“What the hell Bryce,” you say your voice cracking.

“This will be good for you Y/N, would you rather marry Hansen?” Bryce points out.

You scoff shaking your head at him as you fought back your tears “when do I have to leave?” You whisper turning to Nat.

You were shocked to see a hint of sympathy in her eyes as if she wasn’t the one who just condemned you “we have a private jet chartered for lunchtime, my boss wants you in New York before the end of the day”

“This is ridiculous” you mutter under your breath.

“Go relax Y/N, I’ll have someone pack your belongings,” Bryce says gently.

“No I’d rather do it, at least the essentials, they can do the rest,” you say shaking your head, only you knew where all the secret sketches you and Steve did were hidden.

“I’ll be back at 12 to take you to the airfield” Nat nods before turning away and walking out of the office.

Once she was gone you turned to face Bryce “you’re a monster” you whispered “you can lie to yourself about it but you’re exactly like him” you saw the flicker of hurt in his eyes as you turned and walked out of that office for the last time.

As the town car drove through the city you wished you could enjoy the view but you couldn’t. It has been a dream of yours to live in New York, you should be happy right now. But the reason you were here was the worst possible reason.

You were about to marry a complete stranger, you knew nothing about him, and he could be a monster worse than your father. What hurt the most was that your time with Steve had come to an abrupt end. He’d return to find you long gone and there was no chance your new husband would let you hire him.

You were surprised when the car drove out of the city and upstate. You were even more surprised when the car pulled outside a large house. You’d expected him to live in one of those large penthouses in the city. Not a house in the suburbs.

“Let's go,” Nat says climbing out of the car, and waiting for you to follow suit.

You followed after her as she led you into the house, you looked around in amazement at how understated it all was. It didn’t look like a mob leader's house at all.

“This will be your room for the time being,” Nat says opening a door for you.

Stepping inside you were surprised at how much you liked the decor. You were expecting to hate every single thing about this place, but you were struggling. The house had the views like your old home had but was close enough to the city that you could still enjoy the life of it all. You thought everything would be garish and horrid but it was understated and cosy.

“Dinner is at 7, enough time to freshen up and relax,” Nat says before walking out and leaving you all alone.

You took a deep breath as you looked around the room. Taking everything in, you tried to find something you hated but you couldn’t. There was even a folded-up easel in the corner. Running your hand down your face, taking another deep breath before deciding to have a shower to freshen up.

At 7 pm you made your way downstairs and towards the dining room. Once again you were expecting something grand where your soon-to-be husband would be miles away but it was once again understated. It was A table that would seat 8 people maybe 10 at a push, and the places set weren’t at opposite ends, one was at the head of the table the other sat right next to it.

You turned when you heard the door open behind and you saw your soon-to-be husband for the first time. He was tall and muscular, clean-shaven and had short blonde hair. Your breath caught when you saw his eyes, his piercing blue eyes that somehow held warmth in them. You realised with a start that you recognised him, but it couldn’t be him.

“Hello, sweetheart” he smiles walking over to you.

“Ste-Steve?” You mutter in disbelief.

Steve smiles warmly down at you as he comes to a stop right in front of you, his hand reaching up to cup your cheek “I’ve missed you so much sweetheart” he whispers softly.

“I-I’m so confused” you mutter shaking your head.

Steve gives you a warm lopsided smile “I know I’m sorry for all the cloak and daggers, but I promised I’d set you free”

“You’re the boss of the New York syndicate” you state in disbelief, Steve hums in confirmation “but what were you doing being my bodyguard”

Steve lets out a long sigh his hand slipping into yours “I’ll be completely honest, because I don’t want there to be anything between us, not anymore” Steve says shaking his head “I was there because I was trying to find weak points, your father had been poking around too much and I needed to take your brother out before any secrets got out” Steve explains your jaw dropping in shock “but I never expected to fall in love with you, so when I discovered your brother knew nothing I switched targets”

“You took out Drysdale and his entire family…. Why?” You question.

“For you, to free you from that marriage” Steve answered squeezing your hand gently.

“But the contract” you mutter shaking your head.

“Was only to get you here and away from your brother, you aren’t trapped here, you don’t have to marry me if you don’t want to, you could leave and do whatever you want to do” Steve explains.

You were speechless, you couldn’t believe what Steve had done for you. What he’d save you from. You hadn’t even realised you were crying until Steve cupped your cheeks and began to wipe away your tears “please don’t cry, I’m sorry I wanted to tell you everything but I couldn’t risk it” he pleaded.

“Thank you” you cried launching yourself into his arms and hugging him tightly.

You felt Steve breathe out a long sigh of relief, hugging you back with equal vigour and kissing the top of your head.

“I still can’t believe you’re the head of the New York syndicate,” you say still in shock “who else knows?”

“Only a select few, Nat who you’ve already met, my best friend Bucky, and the rest of the Avengers” Steve answered brushing some hair out of your face, his fingers brushing against your cheek.

You snort with laughter “the Avengers?”

“Tony, another member of the inner circle coined it,” Steve said with a bashful smile.

You couldn’t help but chuckle “it's a good name,” you say reaching up to finally kiss him “I do have to admit this all wasn’t what I was expecting”

“I know, having no one knows who I truly am means I get to live an ordinary life outside of work” Steve explains “it means so do you, you can do what you want when you want”

“This is amazing Steve, all of this” you confess shaking your head in disbelief.

“It's all yours sweetheart, if you want it it’s yours” Steve promises.

“I want it, I want it all, I want you, I want everything” you smile up at him.

Steve beams down at you “I love you so so much”

“I love you too Steve” you grin your hands running up into his hair as he kissed you deeply “but do you mind growing the beard back?”

Steve barks out a loud laugh “anything for you sweetheart, anything for you”

Sharing is caring so please reblog if you enjoyed this and maybe even leave a comment to make my day!

Masterlist

I don’t have a taglist so follow @secretswiftymarvelfanlibrary and turn on post notifications to be kept up to date!

#NiamhWrites #mob!steve rogers #mob au #Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #Chris Evans

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lasunsettia · 1 year

Text

para ti papá | miguel o'hara

miguel o'hara & g/n reader (platonic but there's love in everything amirite)

4.2k words

miguel hates wasting time. you hate seeing people pretend to act tough. miscommunication, trauma bonding, and a movie night(?) ensue.

this will be a two parter, so enjoy the first bit of (belated) father's day hurt/comfort... aka the hurt

also available on ao3

“hey! you took all the frosting!”

“you did smush the cupcake on my nose, cariño.”

swipe.

“dad, what’s a hickey? and why does uncle gabriel say you have to keep covering them up?”

“… i’ll tell you when you’re older.”

swipe.

“if spider-man can stay up past 10 pm, why can’t i?”

“mija, he’s way older and has a whole nueva york to defend. you still need me to tie your shoes. and you call pigeons street chickens.”

“okay i’m returning your father’s day gift.”

“wait what-”

swipe.

“i love you dad. even if you stink sometimes.”

“hey now, i don’t smell that bad.”

“you sure?”

“… pass. but… i love you too.”

finishing with loud giggles, the final video ends. silence gradually fills the room, the echoes of long-lost laughter fading out. the thrum of miguel’s workstation shifts into white noise.

a fragment of the life miguel had with his daughter, gabriella, lingers on the expanded screen in front of him. the gabi on the screen stays stuck in miguel’s lap, trapped by his arms as he leans down to tickle her. a mischievous grin flashes on that miguel’s face.

but as the screen and that reality flickers away, miguel shuts his eyes. he hangs his head low, letting out a deep sigh. jessica and peter and the others have asked him countless times why he keeps doing this. going over memories of a life that was never his to begin with.

over. and over. and over.

it’s equal parts selfish and self-denying. that world may not have been his. but he still mourns what bits of it he could experience. the joy. the love and safety he could provide. having a genuine reason to smile….

at the same time, he resents himself for the lives he’s destroyed. a whole dimension, gone. all because of his blind longing.

he’s lost too much, inflicted too much pain and destruction, to not remind himself of what he’s fighting for. what the whole spider society is trying to achieve.

“earth to miguel. reality check coming in.”

miguel glances to the side as lyla appears above him, glitching between sitting with her legs crossed and standing with her hands on her hips. he furrows his brow at her sly expression. the heels of his palms dig even deeper into the workstation desk.

“yeah yeah, i’m listening,” miguel exhales. he leans back, swiping away a lingering hologram screen and looking across the surveillance setup. “is there something i should be seeing or…?”

lyla reappears beside the screens. “well, there’s an anomaly on earth-2444. some goons from spider-man noir’s world got sucked up during a botched bank heist.” the surveillance screens flash images and video clips of said anomalies breaking into a banquet hall, holding some attendees hostage and engaging in a standoff with security and police. “made a dinner party a heck of a lot more interesting, buuut technically those people may still be in danger.”

miguel raises an eyebrow. “and noir’s not handling the case himself… why?” the cynical, black and white-dressed vigilante usually loved any excuse to hand troublemakers’ asses to them. especially those from his dimension. it seemed weird to miguel that noir wasn't eagerly rushing to save the day.

“he’s on an in-world crime bust.” lyla points to one of the screens. a brief montage of noir in a standoff flashes and quickly slows to a still photo.

“okay, then alert the local spider-man. this is a one, maybe two-person job. they can handle it and ask for someone on standby if need be.”

“they’re also busy.”

"well then we’ll send someone else.”

miguel grows more irritated by the moment. why is lyla making this more difficult than it has to be?

“there’s no one else to send, miguel.” the videos on the surveillance screens freeze, highlighting the ongoing dimensional deviation that needs addressing.

“en serio, lyla, you’re telling me there’s no one we can dispatch for this?”

“no, miguel.” lyla’s blunt, almost annoyed-sounding response claps back at miguel’s exasperation. she counts off on her fingers as she continues, growing to a human size in front of him. “everyone else we have is sick, on patrol, or on break for today.”

except you.

lyla doesn’t say it, but miguel can feel it in her tone.

he swallows a groan, resting his hands on his hips. it’s a simple job, really. take down a few anomalies. send them back home or toss them in a laser cage overnight. and then get back to trying not to burst a damn blood vessel over preserving the delicate balance of the multiverse.

still, there’s something that tugs him back a bit. makes his body more sore than usual, even though he took his last injection a few days ago. something calls for him to stay put. review the surveillance footage to see if there’s something bigger he can tackle.

or if there’s another video of gabi he can not so subtly revisit and ease his lingering emotional ache with.

“lyla….” miguel cringes a bit at how tired his voice sounds. “i–”

“hold up boss. i got some new info.”

lyla interrupts miguel with a status update. two of the surveillance screens depict a spider on the move, another screen flashing their background notes and mission statistics. “we got a familiar face on the way, but from the looks of things, they may need an assist…”

the meaning behind lyla’s words hits miguel almost immediately. that unmistakable get up and the record of their recent mistakes and mishaps catches his attention.

and so does a roster of the stupid nicknames this spider has referred to miguel by for the last year. lyla’s been keeping a secret record, apparently.

ese pinche pendejo.

the irritation radiates tenfold off miguel as he presses a button on the workstation, initiating its descent. he impatiently taps at his watch while the workstation takes its time. regardless of how shitty he feels today, he’s not going to let this dumbass screw up handling some small antagonists yet again.

“patch me through to them,” miguel demands. “now.”

lyla sighs, glitching to miguel’s shoulder in miniature form. “thought you might say that,” she deadpans.

miguel turns, jumping down the remaining distance between the platform and the floor. he can’t waste any time. he doesn’t want to.

he presses the big yellow dot representing earth-2444 on the watch interface. a burst of blue-hued rays illuminate the entryway to the room before forming the glowing, golden hexagonal portal entrance.

“well, they’re not answering but they know you’re on the way,” lyla reports, appearing next to the portal and giving a mini salute.

miguel mutters under his breath, summoning his mask over his head. taking a deep breath, he steps into the shimmering portal, ready to confront the nuisances awaiting him in earth-2444.

and to knock some damn sense into the idiot that hopefully doesn’t screw things up in the next few minutes.

—

“OW! FUCK ME!”

the baking sheet drops with a loud thud from your hand onto the tiny stove. red hot heat and pain flashes across your fingertips. cursing under your breath, you shake your gloved hand, blowing on it in hopes the pain will quickly subside.

whichever spider person gave you the tip for making your suit gloves heat resistant was a damn liar. they’d be hearing your angry complaints later. for now, you nudge the oven closed with your hip and peek over at the empanadas scattered on the baking sheet. the pastries don’t look half bad, gleaming a nice shade of brown. at the very least, the kitchen air smells absolutely heavenly. hints of savory spices, herbs, and the fillings… it's blissful.

hopefully they’re enough for miguel to forgive my ass, you wish internally. deception and some white lies aren’t exactly your favorite tactics to use. but when it comes to making headstrong leaders slash close-ish friends confront their suppressed emotional turmoil, you decide it’ll do the job.

it’s your way of offering that stoic tight ass some support. you’ve known miguel for a little over a year, and you two weren’t super close friends. sometimes he acted more like he wanted to punch you in the jaw than chat with you about your lives or an upcoming mission. but you ended up crossing paths more often than coworkers who tolerate each other generally do. and the way you both gradually got in the habit of calling each other first for an assist signaled some level of trust. even if you were the one to call on him a little more.

after jessica and peter, you were first in line for lyla to contact when miguel needed to strategize. or pull his head out of his ass. or, in rare moments, have someone to talk to and be a normal person. especially after a particularly rough day.

it was during the rare moments of guard-down vulnerability that you caught glimpses of the little things miguel o'hara usually kept under heavy wraps. like his love for homemade food. how he's somehow only seen a grand total of fifty something movies in his lifetime. and the soul-crushing inner turmoil he held onto on a day like father’s day.

which was today. and without a doubt, you knew miguel would try to act tough and soldier on like it was another boring sunday unless someone did something about it.

you double check that the oven’s turned off before moving to grab a cool drink from the fridge. a variety of sodas, teas, and water with brands parodying those of your world greet you. along with some other basic groceries. you make a mental note to thank the spider of earth-2444 for their generosity.

any other thoughts or drink selection is quickly interrupted by a rapidly growing thrumming sound. you notice too late that the sound isn’t coming from the oven or the refrigerator. a loud banging and crashing emerges from down the hallway.

shit… is that–?

the string of growls and curses in spanish coming from the bathroom answers your question. to your mental checklist, you add any toiletry replacements and bathroom repairs miguel might be wracking up.

“mierda, lyla, where the hell did you send me?”

the muffled yell springs you into action. blindly grabbing a pair of drinks from the fridge - one for you and miguel each - you attempt to cool off your hand while speeding over to the couch. the fridge shuts with a click as you sit down and swipe the remote off the tiny table in front of you. the tv’s loud chimes while turning on send your heartbeat shooting up even faster.

“shut up shut up shut up,” you command under your breath. this whole encounter is feeling less like revealing a surprise and more like awaiting your imminent chewing out on behalf of miguel o’hara. speaking of…

the bathroom door bangs open down the hall. an exasperated snarl spills out of miguel’s mouth, his heavy footsteps thudding against the tiny apartment’s hardwood floors. you nervously shuffle through the viewing options on the tv, finding just the one you had in mind and clicking it right before the footsteps slow.

miguel blinks behind his mask. disbelief fills him for a moment, quickly overshadowed by a cloud of anger. here he is, transported into some random, dimly lit apartment rather than the grand, glowing banquet hall currently under threat. he’d just ripped a tangle of shower curtains out of determination to get out sooner. all for the signs to continue to point to lyla having directed him to the wrong place.

or so he thinks. until he sees the very spider person he’d come to make sure wasn’t making the hostage situation worse. kicking back here. watching some fucking movie.

he calls out your name in a lowered, explanation-demanding voice. “what the hell is this?”

the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. it’s obvious from his tone that he’s beyond pissed. still, maybe a little charm can stun him.

you place the drinks on the table and turn towards miguel, resting an arm on the back of the couch. “it’s a movie night, mig,” you reply casually, nodding back towards the tv. “was waiting for you to show up.”

the eyes of miguel's mask narrow as he takes in the scene, his anger simmering beneath the surface. he had expected to find a high-stakes hostage situation. not a seemingly relaxed movie night in progress.

"we've got a serious situation on our hands, and you're here watching… whatever that is?"

you can practically breathe in the tension in the air. “it’s the godfather,” you start in defense, pulling yourself off the couch and slowly walking towards him. “and i already took care of it.” you mirror miguel’s signature hands on hips intimidation pose, stopping just a small distance in front of him.

“oh, really ?” his voice drips with bitter sarcasm. “you single-handedly saved the day while i was tearing shower curtains? without revealing your face to bystanders? or letting the anomalies almost slip into a whole other universe?”

he’s mocking you now. dragging your failures out to try to put you in your place. but little does he know those screw ups don’t phase you like they normally would.

they were intentional, after all. just bait to lure him in, right here, right now.

tugging your mask off, you meet miguel's gaze with unwavering confidence. "and i made it back here in less than 10 minutes,” you respond. “everyone’s got off days, gorgeous. but i really did handle it this time. you can trust me."

miguel scoffs. “you said the same thing about the prowler from earth-4269. then he broke out of his cage and almost tore a hole through your stomach.”

“ugh, don’t remind me,” you shudder. “hobie still hasn’t let me live that one down. or stopped trying to convince me to get a belly button piercing.”

the mix of skepticism and frustration in miguel’s stare doesn’t waver at your joke. instead, a moment of silence save for the tv in the background falls between the two of you.

“lyla.” miguel finally breaks the lull, turning his attention to the ai assistant appearing beside him. lyla offers a little wave, waiting for instructions. “show me what happened,” he demands.

“sure thing,” lyla chirps, immediately projecting a holographic display in front of miguel.

the room fills with a projected recap of your earlier crime-fighting events. your swift and agile movements as you expertly wrangled the anomalies. tossing and tugging them away from hitting, shooting, or otherwise harming the hostages. the attendees expressing their gratitude as you kicked the bad guys into a portal home.

and the unceremonious ending where security and the police chased after you and you swung back here to hide away and breathe. lyla had made sure to cut out all the surprise-related details. including the part where you almost fucked up the empanada recipe with a shit ton of sugar instead of salt.

“what’d i tell you?” you chime in, crossing your arms as the recap ends. “had to make sure there were no distractions for ou- i mean my. my godfather watch party.”

the skepticism seems to have mostly faded from miguel’s masked expression, replaced by agitation. leaning to the side slightly, you release a web towards the kitchen. you grin as you successfully capture and pull back an empanada. “made some snacks too. wanna try one, sweeth– ah shit, it’s still hot.”

lyla chuckles while you juggle the empanada between your hands. miguel, on the other hand, remains unamused.

“if you already covered everything, why didn’t you report that back to lyla?” miguel questions.

you stiffen, gripping the slightly cooler empanada in between your gloves. “well, about that…" you start to say, easing him into your ulterior motives.

“and how didn’t you pick up on the fact that the coast was already clear, hmm?” miguel interjects. his sharp gaze shifts to lyla hovering above his shoulder. he senses that something isn't adding up, and his instincts are honing in on the bluff.

lyla shrugs. “even gorgeous ai assistants make mistakes sometimes,” she responds nonchalantly. “besides, spidey here didn’t pick up, so i was going off what information i had at the time.”

miguel lets out a dry laugh. mentirosos. los dos. his mask disappears to reveal his piercing red eyes fixed on you. his tongue darts out to lick a particularly sharp canine, intensifying his glare. his expression demands answers.

"so, screwing up missions wasn't good enough for you, was it?" he accuses, his arms crossed. "you just had to move on to wasting my time with non-existent ones."

you can't help but snort at the accusation. "maybe i just really like your attention and oh so friendly company," you remark mockingly, taking a deliberate bite of your empanada.

miguel's eyebrow quirks in confusion and ever-growing irritation. with a mischievous glint in your eyes, you continue, "or maybe, just maybe, i had something else planned the whole time."

the atmosphere in the room crackles with frustration and impatience as miguel’s eyes narrow. he tries to unravel the truth behind your actions. "wanna tell me?" his tone orders you more than asks.

you meet his intense stare head-on, a teasing smirk playing on your lips. "well, miguel, let's just say i wanted to test how you handle unexpected situations. we need to be prepared for anything, right?"

miguel's eyebrows furrow. "wh- testing me?” he shakes his head, baffled by your audacity. “por dios, is this some kind of game to you?"

you take another bite of the empanada, relishing in the flavorful distraction. "kinda,” you answer casually. “and you weren’t gonna take some time off today anyway so… i had to take matters into my own hands."

miguel looks seconds away from either throwing you against the wall or ripping the empanada from your hands. well, at least it gives a sense of how he might respond to what comes next.

“lyla, you can do the thing now,” you say before finishing your snack.

before miguel can ask what thing you’re talking about, a whirring sound comes from his wrist. a series of flashes and glitches flicker across the watch face. his eyes widen in confusion at the display. “what…” he murmurs, tapping at the screen lightly to try to see what’s going on. but his touch only worsens the glitching. he grits his teeth, pressing the seemingly-malfunctioning watch in aggravation.

“don’t worry,” you interject calmly. your reassurance earns you a frustrated glare. “the thing’s not broken… it’s just on–”

“lockdown.” lyla’s voice interrupts from miguel’s and your watches simultaneously. the ai is out of sight and at limited capacity for now, according to your carefully-planned programming. “the affected watches are under multiverse jump restriction for three hours. operation 'reel healing' is underway. happy movie watching, cuties….”

both watches’ screens fade to black, only to be replaced by the word "lockdown" in red and a countdown timer starting to tick away the three hours.

peter and jessica had warned you miguel might not respond well to this. a forced but well-intended work break, meant to give him some time off from stressing over the multiverse…. and to maybe get him to stop beating himself up over his tragic inter-dimensional mistake for one night.

are you interfering with spider society work? sure. will miguel hate your guts for a while? no doubt about it. but you just wanted to be a good friend. and good friends don’t let their friends sulk in their dark lair alone on father’s day.

you’re snapped out of your thoughts when miguel’s frustration finally erupts. without warning, miguel snatches you by the shoulders, claws tearing at your suit as he slams you against the wall. the impact against the wall jolts through your body, causing you to wince in pain.

"is this about the 'reel healing' nickname?" you try to joke through a winded gasp. "because peter and gwen were the ones who-"

miguel's grip on your shoulders tightens. all words clear from your mind, your survival mode subconsciously triggered. his voice is strained as he leans in close, shutting down your attempt to diffuse the situation.

"do you have any idea how this little stunt could backfire?" a clear concern lies in his words, but his rage at your actions seems a lot more obvious. his direct eye contact could burn holes into your head.

some regret gnaws at you, but your stubbornness wins out. “i'm pretty sure it won’t,” you retort. adrenaline courses through your veins.

miguel growls. his canines seem even sharper now that they’re right within bite-your-face-off distance. “we have a job to do–”

“and we’ll get back to it later,” you cut him off, trying not to groan at how miguel’s claws threaten to draw blood. “in case you haven’t noticed, we’re stuck here . we either gotta wait for something to happen or chill the fuck out. and even if hq has something come up, i got some people covering for us.”

the grip on your shoulders loosens ever so slightly. miguel’s glare demands answers.

“there’s a bypass,” you continue, “if things actually do go south. immediate contacts that will override the lockdown. but i got a roster of people on patrol and their backups.” gently placing your hands around miguel’s wrist, you finish. “and jess and peter are in charge while we’re gone. so maybe… lighten up a bit?”

for a brief moment, a quiet only broken by the movie in the background hangs heavy in the room. miguel releases his grip, shaking off your hold on his wrists and stepping back from the wall. his anger shifts to a mix of emotions.

inside his mind, miguel screams at you. lighten up, my ass. you dragged me out here for some… movie? intervention? god, what the fuck is this?

a glimmer of belief and hurt flickers in his still sharp gaze. he can barely look at you, staring anywhere but your face. regret starts to seep back into your thoughts. taking control from the control freak like this was beyond a bad idea. it was a violation of trust. regardless of how much progress you’d made with picking past miguel’s tough guy exterior, his open wounds were off limits.

miguel opens his mouth, and you brace yourself for the incoming insults and backlash. but for whatever reason, nothing comes out. miguel just shakes his head, muttering under his breath and pinching the bridge of his nose.

your hands fall limply to your side. slight fatigue aches in your muscles. today’s mission and orchestrating everything to make this little get together possible is taking its physical and mental toll.

looking towards the screen, you observe a wedding day scene playing out—a rare, relatively blood-free moment in the godfather. although you haven't watched the movie – at least, not recently – your intuition tells you that this is one of the few upbeat scenes. it seems like the perfect opportunity to sit down and immerse yourself in the movie.

from the corner of your eye, you notice that miguel's attention is also drawn to the tv, his expression still clouded with an emotional storm.

"you… wanna sit down?" you suggest cautiously. "enjoy some empanadas and ruthless mafia violence? maybe talk about our days…?"

miguel looks back at you, his frown deepening at the sight of your small, nervous smile. the unspoken turmoil within him seems to wrestle with the idea.

but he chooses to pull away. put up barriers. he lets out a heavy sigh before turning away from you, retracing his steps down the hallway he came from. the distance between you widens in more than just the physical sense.

fatigue weighs even heavier on your shoulders, both physically and emotionally. it squashes your desire to go after him, to admit you stepped way out of line. yet, deep down, you wish he would stay. just to make the apartment feel less stifling than it’s growing to be.

"mig… wait," you call out weakly, the ache in your chest and body mirroring the ache in your voice.

the sound of your voice hangs in the air. miguel ignores it, opening the bathroom door and quickly slipping inside. the door swings shut with a loud click. miguel seals himself away from you and any chance of immediate resolution.

a suffocating sense of disappointment settles over you. how could you have been so stupid?

with a heavy sigh, you make your way towards the couch. the sounds of the movie and the scent of empanadas fill the air, but they fail to mask the pain and loneliness that lingers.

miguel’s left you with the weight of your actions.

and according to your watch, you have two hours, fifty-six minutes, and thirteen seconds to review just how foolish and self-centered you were to think making miguel o'hara watch a movie with you would make his father’s day any less shitty.

#miguel o'hara #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara & reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel x you #spiderman 2099 #atsv miguel #atsv #across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse

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