#like it's ugly horror so it might not be well-received. but i now know FOR SURE theres at least one dude whos gonna Get The Themes.

[crimeronan]

yesterday a guy at irl critique group whose stuff i Really Really Like was critiquing this week's piece, and as part of his critique, he just straight-up said "okay, this is nitpicky and only because i keep writing fantasy stuff about healing myself, but there's a line here about this healing magic making this girl 'whole' and 'as she was meant to be' that reads...... really ableist." & the guy who wrote it was like "oh wow, you're right and that completely blew past me, thanks" & noted it down.

& i was sitting there trying not to visibly perk my ears like a dog like. SORRY TO BE SO SURPRISED I KNOW I'M BEING BIASED AND CONDESCENDING AS HELL. HEY. YOU KNOW THE WORD ABLEISM???

[animebw]

Re: oshi no ko fans,

What'd they do?

Yeah, I guess I should probably give some context to that statement.

So, for those not keeping up with Oshi no Ko, last week's episode featured a plotline where a character on a reality dating show is swarmed with cyberbullying after a minor dust-up, and it escalates so badly that she tries to commit suicide. It's a brutally effective episode that really captures the horror of online abuse, the almost addictive masochism of scrolling through comment after comment calling for your death and dragging your name through the mud. It's easily the best Oshi no Ko has been, and I will stand by that opinion despite how messy things are going to get in the rest of this post.

See, this plotline doesn't just a wholly fictional exploration of online abuse; it has a very direct real life inspiration. Shortly after the manga started publishing, Japanese wrestler Hana Kimura committed suicide following a chain of events very much like this. She was on a reality show, she had a minor altercation with a fellow contender, and she was bombarded with online abuse until she took her own life. It's likely Akasaka already had the general idea for this plotline sketched out before this event, but the connections are so specific that it's pretty clear this real-life event influenced how it played out in the story. And in the anime at least, some of the mean comments the character gets are lifted wholesale from comments Kimura received during her harassment. So clearly, Oshi no Ko is pulling on this real life tragedy to further its themes of darkness in the entertainment industry and how it affects people.

The problem is, Kimura's mom isn't happy about it.

See, apparently no one- nobody working on the manga or the anime- thought to ask Kimura's family if it was okay to use their tragic circumstances as part of their narrative. Nobody bothered to check if it maybe might be a little insensitive to drag out the corpse of a dead girl for an edgy reincarnation revenge idol drama without asking that girl's parents if they were okay with it. So the mom did an interview where she expressed her anger at the whole thing, and how her daughter was essentially being used as "free source material," which, yeah, seriously, how the fuck did nobody check with her before this went to air? I don't care how good your intentions are or how excellent the finished product turned out, you do not use the real words and comments that drove a girl to suicide without getting the go-ahead from her family first. She even mentioned that a friend of hers watched the episode without knowing its content beforehand and it basically triggered all those traumatic memories all over again. It's just really fucking ugly all around.

Now, the whole point of the episode in question is about how terrible online harassment is and how you should never toss mean words around online so thoughtlessly, because you could be hurting people in ways you can't possibly understand. So you'd think that Oshi no Ko fans, being faced with this very understandable anger from someone with more stake in this mess than any of them either well, would take the situation with grace and try to reach an understanding. You'd think they'd try to have the kind of compassion in discussing this difficult subject that Kimura and the character inspired by her never got.

If only.

Now, to be clear, it's not like the entire Oshi no Ko fanbase ganged up on Kimura's mother. Plenty of people took the situation in stride and treated it fairly. But even just on the English speaking side of the internet, I've already seen way too many people becoming exactly the kind of mindless hate mob the show portrayed in that critical episode. And while I can't speak for the Japanese side, people who keep up with Japanese online spaces have confirmed there's harassment going on over there too. People saying she's only doing this for attention (gee it's almost like HER DAUGHTER'S DEATH IS BEING USED WITHOUT HER CONSENT), she shouldn't complain because it's raising awareness about cyberbullying (which totally justifies cyberbullying her in response, naturally), even claiming the arc totally wasn't inspired by Kimura's circumstances and it was just a coincidence the storyline released around the same time. Which is funny, because I distinctly remember when the episode first came out I saw tons of people praising how it took inspiration from Kimura's circumstances and how it was totally speaking to real life events so you had to take it seriously. But now Kimura's mother comes out saying she's upset with how it was handled, and suddenly those same people are going "Uuuuuuh actually it's just a coincidence, if you think it's intentional you're stupid."

I mean, if I didn't know better, I'd say it's almost like they never actually cared about the message. Like they only wanted to use the shiny coat of real-life tragedy to massage their own egos for liking Good(tm), Serious(tm) works of fiction that talk about Real(tm) Issues(tm), only to discard that talking point when it no longer suited their narrative. I might even call them a bunch of worthless cunts who care about protecting themselves from even the mildest emotional discomfort and moral uncertainty more than they give a damn about anyone else's genuine struggles with actual issues far beyond what any of these fuckweasels will ever have to face. Hell, if I was feeling particularly spicy, I might even connect this bullshittery to my criticisms of Oshi no Ko as a whole and point out how despite its thin veneer of deep societal criticism, this show really is the kind of vapid, pandering edge-masquerading-as-depth spectacle that presents just enough illusion of substance for people to feel smart for watching it without actually challenging them to leave their comfort zone of an "edgy" male antihero saving the day and making all the cute girls fall for him, thus attracting the exact same kind of insincere, cowardly fanbase that reacts to the slightest real challenge to their sense of self-righteousness by become the exact kind of monster the story they supposedly adore was trying to warn them against.

But that's probably unfair to all the normal, perfectly well-adjusted Oshi no Ko fans who don't deserve to be lumped in with this vocal minority of losers. So I'll call it a day here. Bottom line, ask before you use a real person's misery for Content(tm), don't be a dick when people criticize the fiction you enjoy, and online harassers can go suck on an exhaust pipe.

[atomicpaintercandy]

SMG4 Cyber World

Chapter 1: The decision

—————————————

Before we start the story I just want to make sure somethings. 

This is a au created by me. This happened in a cyberpunk vibe world.

English isn’t my first language so I might do a lot of mistakes.

I wrote it a long time ago so it probably won’t fit with new episodes.

And it contains the ship SMG34 and more (Gæ)

Tw: Sexual themes, R@pe, Murd3r (prb),  Bad language, Blood, Violence.

So it’s for a mature audience (like 14+)

Good reading everyone!

———————————————————————————————

3rd person pov:

14/04/XX 19:39

 Smg4 and Meggy were on the bridge of DigitalReality, the most famous city in the whole ring.

They seem to have a serious talk about something.

💙-Are you sure you want to join the authorities, Meggy?

🧡-Yes Smg4, this city really needs some people to take cares of all the illegalities who’s here.

💙-But you know like me how dangerous this is to work with the police. 

🧡-I know 4..

💙-And all of our friends do illegal things, are you going to denounce them?

🧡-I don’t know.. I don’t think I will.. I mean, they.. WE aren’t in excess about our “crimes”.

💙-Bob literally burned a Sushi restaurant because his delivery arrived with two minutes late.

🧡-*sigh* Listen 4, I don’t want to enter the debate right now.. Just know that I will not  denounce you except if you exceed the limits.

💙-And what is the limits?

🧡-...

 Meggy staid silent for a few minutes, she didn’t know what was the “limits” she was talking about.

She could never denounce her friends but she couldn’t let them doing horrors. 

She gets interrupted in her mind by the smoke of the cigarette of 4 right in her face.

🧡-ARRRGG 4, I HATE THAT, AND YOU KNOW IT.

💙-Sooo? What’s the “limits”?

🧡-I don’t know 4.. there’s a lot of things I can’t respond you.

💙-I guess..

 Smg4 finish his cigarette and crush it in the ledge of the bride.

💙-Well, I hope we gonna see each other yet, but not during your work hours.

 They shared a laugh and leaved, each one in an opposite direction.

———————————————

14/04/XX 20:03

 Smg4 arrived at his apartment (546 boulevard of endings), this wasn’t a very warm place, rather the opposite actually, there were only 3 pieces, a bath room, a bedroom and the kitchen and the living room was two pieces in one.

There was a big window in the living room showing the ugly streets were 4 lived, the walls weren’t very thick so he could easily hearing the traffic or his neighbor begin her husband to stop hitting her.

Smg4 directly went to his bedroom without eating anything, he throw himself on his bed and took his phone who was on his pocket.

(The phones in this AU are like normal phones but the screen is totally transparent so you can see the screen on both sides).

He saw that he received a message of one of his friends, Saiko.

——————————————————————

            20:05           67%

  🌸Saiko🌸

🩷-So? She still wants to work with the police?

💙-Yea

🩷-WHAT?! ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?! YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO CONVINCE HER TO NOT JOIN THEM

💙-I know..

🩷-DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS?! ITS LIKE SHE SIGNED HER DEATH SENTENCE

💙-I know Saiko

🩷-WHY WE LET YOU CONVINCE HER? YOU SUCK AT IT

💙-Saiko don’t need to blame me even if we had the most convincing arguments possible she would still want to join those MF

🩷-THATS WILL BE YOUR FAULT IF SHE GET KILL

——————————————————————

 Smg4 put his phone away and looks at the stains on his roof.

He knew that Saiko said things she wasn’t thinking but it’s still painful to hear that you are the reason your friend will die, because yeah, Meggy will die, when you get in the “good” side you rarely live long.

He need something to change his mind, so he took his phone and continue the series he was watching (Robot bubblegum ep12 seasons4).

After some times he was slowly drifted to sleep when he gets a message.

——————————————————————

            20:57            23%

              💀SMG3💀

💜-Hi dude you’re awake?

💙-Yup

💜-Can we talk a bit? Im out of series to watch

💙-If you want

💜-Sooo how was the talk with Meggy?

💙-She still wants to join the police side

💜-Shit man.. I’m sorry..

💙-Its cool I couldn’t do anything anyways

💜-Why you couldn’t?

💙-Because she was very determined about being a policewoman and you know how is she when she is determined

💜-Yea it’s true..

 They didn’t sends messages for minutes who seems to be an eternity.

💜-Any name of series I could watch?

💙-Idk if you gonna like

💜-Tell me pls I couldn’t live another night without any show to watch

💙-Well Im watchin a series name “Robot bubblegum”

💜-Isn’t that a kids show?

💙-Noooooooo..?

💜-Smg4 even in message you suck at lying

💙-Shush

💜-Nuh uh

💙->:(

💜-You gonna come to the tuna?

💙-Idk if I want to see Saiko

💜-She’s not goin to kill you dtw I talked to her and she told me that she was feeling really bad about what she said

💙-How do you know she told me smt? I thought you didn’t know what Meggy decided 

💜-Yeah well I ask to Saiko if you responded to her

💙-So why you ask me?

💜-I wanted to talk to you

 Smg4 stay online a moment but didn’t answer anything, after some times, he putted away his phone and finally fell asleep.

            —————

The tuna is the name of the lair where the crew sees each other, it’s the cave of the sushi restaurant Bob burned a year ago, but now it have all the modern comfort, electricity, sofas, a tv and even a billard.

———————————————————————————————

The end of the chap1

Code color:

💙 = Smg4 

💜 = Smg3

🧡 = Meggy

🩷 = Saiko

(Sorry if you’re color blind)

[nightmarefuele]

💚- A memory that makes them feel guilty {{His Highness}}

Guilt?

❝Me?❞ Looking over one shoulder and then the other. Pretending there's a whole mob of goons there at his behest — woe, save your Clown Prince from the horrors of a bleak question !

(Nobody there.)

❝Well. I suh-pose. . . .❞ Looking, now, vaguely despondent; a sigh even goes so far as to tickle the dry bar breeze, if only to pep-up the stale premises. Here's where the real theatrics poke their dead heads. ❝Mayyy-be . . . there wAs this one time. An ice cream truck. . . . One'a those sing-song street-stops, and this one, well, she happened to frequent the neighborhood of my schoolboy days.❞

There's this redhead kid — well, he's a giant over little Joker, a ❛senior superior❜ in all so-ci-etal ❛sense.❜ So Ginger's got that chip on his shoulder he thinks is really just extra muscle, extra bite. Bite like the neighborhood dogs he hits, kicks, slams (big, small, mutts and all) 'cause he fancies himself this scary character. Maybe to pooches and wildlife he is. When he shuffles out half-toppled swirly cones, these real slushy affairs, he gives 'em with ugly side-grins (which work, somehow) at all the pretties and twice-ugly scowls at the littles; the pre-highs, the six years, the sevens, the eights. Behind their backs he calls the eights ❛reverse rates.❜

Ha-ha. (haha..heh.)

So when the little joke shows his face its all funnies and hoo-has (and not even wearing the makeup), the dustbunny of a senior football player with his jammies up in a twist over some-thing the Joker said, because apparently it's a crime to lay it out straight with a person and tell him his mommy's got lousy tongue work. ❛Man-to-man❜ or so they say, 'cause the next time Ginger comes a-rolling out in his diesel-powered milker it's Joker's house in his sights. He shimmies right out of that skinny door and keeps on going 'til he gets up to the . . .

❝. . . you know, house. Address. Place of re-si-dence. Where?❞ The top half of the clown's face inclines all that much higher. Forehead ghost-sheet white as ever — in fact it appears miles fresher than before. Coming from within, the red-and-black flairs glow. No room to picture a king; The Joker's got his spot.

Tricked out in that fine purple coat, good as signature, he looks royal as any of those British mugs.

So, ❝Not important,❞ naturally. Good as law, clown's word goes. ❝Who knows-ah, what kinda mail's been stuffin' up the box. Oh!, hmm,❞ animal's low growling, shark with painted teeth, ❝on thaat note. . . .❞

. . . where little Joker wasn't. See, he might go off to join the proverbial circus, but he was no jester and certainly not for prima-jock courts. By then he was already out with Gingerbread's ❛Nancy,❜ his sweet-sss, his ❛sugar.❜ And did I say our good boy's without his facepaint? I lie-d. 'Cause Nancy says she likes it, likes it a whole lot — and she's all too young for that Big Red anyway, so she doesn't mind (and he doesn't mind, the little joke) walking out on him, good and gone.

So that's when it happens, somehow; because nobody's home, little boy Joker's momma not around, and his father, well. . . . And so Ginger just busts on through, but he's forgotten not all dogs are little, and not all big dogs are mutts and poodles. This one'sa rottwei-ler, a whole tank for a breed, and plenty canon in that slavering maw.

(Did I mention the little joke for-got to feed him his evening chew?)

❝. . . Ended up replacing the poor fish. That ice cream scoop received a-uhh, a postal recommendation. I always did wonder if that's how it feeells — watching that sweet stuff melt.❞

He's looking over at her now, at Beth, and does she know what he's talking about? Unclear, of course, to which he refers: the fee-ling, strictly speaking, or the froyo itself. (Doesn't froyo deserve our empathy?)

A hum pinches at corner-mouth where scar serrates the divide between skin and slick. Pinches. Guilt-yy. Pinchy, gooey . . . thing. Lukewarm jello. Sorta . . . unsettled. Left out.

❝But you, here . . .❞ Makes a little clicking, tongue-and-teeth. King's coat a little less vivid now — darker colors, his curiosity. ❝You got something on yer mind-ah.❞

[anhed-nia]

And now that I've been positive about something that didn't demand it, I'm gonna be MEAN for no reason just to restore balance to the universe. I fucking hate this movie. Never has a tagline been so accurate. TRICK OR TREATS is one of these things that has remained in circulation long enough for me to wonder, like, do people LIKE this, and there's just something good about it that I don't get? Or is it just anomalous that it's still available enough to be on Shudder 40 years after its accursed birth? I'm not just irked that it's "bad", which it is, but because I have no idea what the fucking point of it is supposed to be. What form of pleasure am I supposed to receive from it? This is a movie that's loaded with sluts and blowjob jokes, but it's completely devoid of graphic nudity or violence or even proper swearing. You might point out that it's more of a comedy, as horror-comedies go, but it's also not at all funny. It features a (not scary) escaped homicidal lunatic, but most of that plays out as a long gag about how, if a big ugly dude puts on a frumpy dress and a stuffed bra, absolutely no one can tell the difference and randos will start trying to fuck him immediately. Ha Ha Ha. It's a movie that seems to be aimed at horror buffs, but the "special effects" basically amount to Halloween decorations and cheap prefab magic tricks for children, which gives you that suspicious feeling that the filmmakers actually kind of hate horror movies and think that you can put any stupid thing in front of a genre fan and get their unqualified, brain dead approval.

Also like, maybe this is a personal thing, but I'd say MOST pranks are pretty unfunny, and movies that prominently feature pranksters are almost unbearable. If you're going to anchor your movie to the idea of tricks and pranks, it really better be as outrageous as the setup of TERROR TRAIN (a movie that also isn't very good, but at least there was an idea in there somewhere); you really cannot ask me to pay rapt attention to, for instance, an endless scene of a snot-nosed brat duping his babysitter into thinking there's somebody at the door. Oh wow, the little boy uses a string to pull on the door knocker, oh boy, the babysitter answers the door, oh no, there's no one there. Lather, rinse, repeat. Ha Ha Ha. By the way, why is this frustrated woman running around in like a Joan Collins type of nightgown while she's both managing this unruly child and having to answer the door for trick-or-treaters every ten minutes? Who fucking knows. How much time can we kill by putting the babysitter on the phone with her inconsequential boyfriend so he can report in about his awful-sounding Shakespeare performance? You'll find out if you watch this piece of shit! (FYI the occasional appearance of cult favorite actors only makes you wish you were watching something better)

There's a lot more to be perplexed about behind the scenes, like the fact that the writer-director-etc also shot movies for Orson Welles, and great horror movies like THE TOOLBOX MURDERS (where's the horror in this movie?), and also a huge amount of porn (where's the damn sex appeal in this movie?). I vaguely worry that TRICK OR TREATS was just made as a simple excuse to create a starring role for the filmmaker's young son, which makes it seem innocent and like something I shouldn't spend so much energy bagging on, but it's just so un-fun, and vaguely insulting, that it's hard for me to just turn a blind eye. AND ANOTHER THING I really hate that the title is pluralized. You can DO trick-or-treating, you can BE a trick-or-treater, but there's no such thing as "trick or treats". It reminds me of when I watched NOTTING HILL a couple years ago (*John Waters voice* What was I thinking about?) and among other sticking points, I could not get over Hugh Grant repeatedly saying "whoopsies-daisies". I mean. What the fuck, guy? Why are you, an adult, saying that, but also it's NOT PLURAL. It's just "whoopsy-daisy"; sure, you'll find a few variations in an idiomatic dictionary, but not one that pluralizes both words. "Whoopsies-daisies" isn't even easy to say. How the fuck did you come up with that? I think I've finally drained my poison gland for this morning, so to leave on a bright note, here's my favorite part of NOTTING HILL. Just Hugh Grant's roommate's implausible shirt. I kinda want one.

PS I posted that NOTTING HILL review on Facebook a few years ago, because I thought it was fun and like one of the more publicly acceptable/accessible things I'd written, and indeed, a bunch of people found it pretty funny. But then within a day or so, I had to go to a friend-of-a-friend's birthday party where I was quietly informed that I was nearly dis-invited because it was the adult birthday girl's favorite movie and she just, like, didn't want to see my face after she found out what I had to say. So, never let it be said that my opinions are not powerful and of consequence for others!

[ballorawan740]

SCP Scenarios: When they get scared by the reader (REQUESTED)

Main Masterlist | SCP Scenarios Masterlist | My Works Masterlist | Rules | Request | Socials | My Original Post

Requested by: @_Milla_7849_

SCP 073 (Cain)

I feel like Cain normally wouldn't be scared

Like if you made him watch a horror movie, he might flinch slightly but wouldn't be terrified of it

So when you try to scare him like a prank sort of way, he would flinch a little more than usual but would recover seconds later

Like that one time when he was alone walking down the hallway looking zoned out since he was thinking of something

And you just crept up to him like the sneaky little child you are and jumped onto his back

He did get a load yelp but realised it was you

Luckily for you, Cain didn't give you a lecture like before and actually laughed with you

However, if you were kidnapped or taken hostage or used for an experiment, it would obviously frighten him and he wouldn't forgive himself

So to prevent this, he would keep you within his line of sight at all times

Anyways, as I've mentioned before, Cain would probably also give you a tight hug after your little stunt and unbeknownst to him, the researchers recorded it for a laugh

Cain did give you a lecture but forgave you since you were so young and he couldn't resist those eyes

And the researchers did give you some sweets

SCP 076-2 (Abel)

Now, a warrior like Abel wouldn't be so easily frightened

Especially if it was a child, even more so if it's you since he knows you too well and has personally trained you from the age of 5

Basically, Abel would notice your movement and body language well since you're both stuck together

So you have devices a plan with your scientist friends to try and scare him

And yes, it's working

Because Abel got extremely distracted by Iris

Iris basically got yahooted into this mess and was told to wear a lingerie

Yes, you did scare him by shoving him into Iris

I wouldn't say he got a scare, but more like a surprise

Poor girl she just wanted to sleep

SCP 999 (Tickle Monster) 999 would most likely be scared the easiest out of everyone on this list

Aside from Glass

He's like a close second

Back to 999, you both were just chilling and wandering around the facility aimlessly

Because yall are boring (TBF you're both trapped in this giant mf blop of a building)

Anyways, let's just say that it was Bright and Clef who introduced you to the world of pranks and you guys thought it would be funny to scare our 999 here

Basically, yall decided to play dead and then pretend to turn into zombies with some makeup

Yes, it did work since you've managed to scare the living daylights out of 999

And he was about to have a cardiac arrest (if he even has a biological heart)

And yes, it almost ended in another breach

And 999 did give you a lecture on how to not scare people like that

He does sound like a grandpa though XD

SCP 682 (Hard to Destroy Reptile)

I would say that scaring 682 would be difficult, but I won't since he's already terrified of that rabbit

You, along with the other researchers, thought it'll be fun to pull a prank on 682 in form of a magic trick

It's a classic rabbit in the hat trick and yes, you did pull SCP 524 out of the hat

But, little did your tiny brain know, that rabbit basically eats everything, including itself

So you just watched 524 approaches the already terrified 682 and nibble on his feet

And yes, you and the other researchers laughed hard since he crawled up the wall to get away from the rabbit (I'm now officially adopting 524 as my other pet)

Sadly, 524 didn't stay for long since another doctor needed him for a test with Josie (yes, the cat)

682 basically shouted at you for doing such a thing on him, your dad

But you ignored him anyways since you knew he never meant what he said and he wouldn't be mad at you for long

SCP 049 (Plague Doctor)

Our bird boy here is pretty much neutral when it comes to being scared

Like, he can be quite unfazed by many things, so it's no surprise if you or any other SCPs tried to jump on him

So as part of an experiment, you and your friends had decided that you would try to play dead and see if 049 would be terrified

Well, 049 was somewhat concerned and when you carried on playing dead, he became scared since you weren't so conscious, or so he thought

Since you played dead extremely well for such a young child, he tried to see if he could fix you

And before he could do anything, you jumped up at him like Bonnie from FNAF

Yes, he looked like he jumped out of his skin and was so stunned that he just sat in the corner with his head down for an hour

You all had to check up on him and he said he was 'fine'

He wasn't

049 gave you a lecture about playing dead like that unless there's a dangerous SCP

SCP 035 (Possessive Mask)

Now, since 035 is a mask and is very much a master manipulator and an award-winning actor/actress, you would most likely be able to take on those traits from him

When you were younger, you were eager to learn from 035, who you see as not only your best friend but also an idol, so he taught you everything he could

As you got older, you've gotten better at manipulation and acting, so much so that even 035 couldn't tell if you were just being you from time to time

So one day, you've decided to prank your dad because you were hella bored (like you always are :((( cuz yall never be productive and just sit on your flat bum all day and watch YouTube, Netflix or play games then sleep)

You basically produced a fake body of yourself and wrapped it in a black bag and sent it to 035's cell

Then, you've got one of your researcher buddies to write a note of your passing and that you do love him very much

035 did receive the message and made sure that there was a dead body in the package

He was pretty much convinced that it was you since you were able to disguise the fake body like bone and flesh

Which of course scared him to death because he was about to attack everyone on site

Luckily you got there on time to stop him which freaked him out and yes, you've gotten a lecture about being such a prankster (You got grounded for life but that didn't stop a rebellious child like you)

At least everyone at the facility has gotten a laugh about it for the next 3 months

SCP 105 (Iris)

Pranking Iris wouldn't be hard, but that doesn't mean she's fazed, but not in a sense like 049 who wouldn't get a good scare from some SCPs which could do him harm

Iris is very much a self-aware and open-minded individual who has common sense (unlike you, who don't even move out of your bed or even use your non-existent brain cells)

She's very much like every other person you'll meet on the streets who wouldn't just believe the first thing that she hears since she is very much a rational person

So, if you want to devise a plan to scare her, it'll have to blend in with everything or be quiet out there with realistic effects

You'll have to use your head to think of a good prank to scare her, which you did since you've inherited her intelligence (that's a lie because you don't have any intelligence left in you)

As her child, you have decided to prank her by making her a fake copy of her camera but instead of her being able to control objects within the photo, she would end up destroying it

You gave it to her as a gift and she accepted it with suspicion since you don't normally get her anything and encouraged her to try it (you're such an ungrateful child)

Cain, Dr Glass, Dr Kondraki and a couple of others wanted to see as well, so they stayed and watch

Much to everyone's horror, the illusion camera did exactly how you designed it to and Iris was furious and saddened

Later on, you told her about the prank since you feel bad and she was extremely mad

So instead of grounding or lecturing you, she decided to have revenge

SCP 106 (Old Man)

Now, scaring this old man would be rather interesting because he doesn't seem too fazed by the other, more dangerous and unpredictable, SCPs

But, you can still scare him to a certain degree

I mean, he is an old man after all, so scaring him would be fun

As long as you don't give him a heart attack then it's fine I guess (cuz yall be evil for scaring such an old man)

So, you have decided to scare 106 by giving off little bits of harmless pranks at first so 106 would let his guard down for a moment

Like, giving him a box full of spiders (he's quite disgusted by them just like how he sees your face every time) and popping an air-filled bag (Don't lie, you've all done it and it's hella fun)

Later on, you would gradually move to play with the more dangerous things, such as getting him to look at a picture of 096's face (Probs ugly like yo-)

As time moved on, 106 seemed to be relaxed and expected you to bring him random things and soon realised that there was something off

You didn't show up to him for almost a week and he was ready to get his dad mode on

Luckily, some of the guards caught you with Abel and got 106 involved since they were afraid of causing a massive breach

106 panicked and picked you up, giving you a lecture on how you shouldn't be with other SCPs like Abel

You managed to tell him that you've befriended Abel and he was stunned and gave him the dad glare (you know the one where dads would give to warn others to not hurt their kids right?)

And because it's Abel, he would even make sure to be with you whenever you were with him which made it difficult for you to play with Abel because he might steal you away (Yes I'm looking at you right now kiddo, don't play with Abel)

So in conclusion, if the prank involves you being in a dangerous position, he wouldn't necessarily be scared but would start to panic about your safety

SCP 096 (Shy Guy)

I think 096 would be similar to 106 in a sense but less logical and unfazed

It's more like he would be pretty panicky every time you weren't there with him and his anxiety would act up (like you every time you're preparing for your exams where you didn't even revise)

Like if you were with Safe class SCPs, he would be more relaxed than you being with a Euclid class, but it kinda depends on who it is

If it was Cain then it would be fine, but if you were to be with 173, he would be quite wary at first and would tell you to try and avoid being with that peanut

So if you wanted to scare him, it wouldn't be too hard

All you had to do was to be with another Keter class SCPs and play with them

He would be extremely cautious and terrified if you were with one and knowing this, you've decided that playing with 682 instead of playing with Walter the rabbit (SCP 524 | He's my other pet), you've decided to go up and pet 682

When 096 got a hold on the commission on you being with that lizard, he ran out of his cell, causing a huge containment breach on the way like he's bulletproof, and went yeehaw with 682

All you did was sit there in confusion as they entertained you with some pole dancing

Basically, if you scare 096, he would go from anxious to paranoid to berserk then to we're all going down to hell and back again

Dr Jack bright

This mf right here is unpredictable af

Like in his own body, he would remain unfazed and would even go as far as pranking you back

I mean he still would act all fun and games but since he can possess multiple bodies, the outcome of him being scared would vary which would surprise him too since he wouldn't know

Unless he decided to possess someone he knows well, but he knows better than to do that

Dr Bright would most notably be scared, like everybody else on the list, if you were to put yourself in immediate danger, but since you were just as crazy as your dad, he would most likely go along with it until you deliver your prank

Like, you could be juggling knives while standing on top of 682's head while singing 'Painted Smile' by Madam Macabre (If you haven't heard it, you should, it's amazing)

Also, he would sometimes find you having your back faced towards peanut and still be fine after having your neck being snapped (Yall be like surprise mf)

Anyways, one time Jack had made a promise to you to meet you at a certain place and he was late

So you stormed into his office (like the entitled little nugget you are) and went 'tick-tock mf' to your dad

Well it worked and you showed him your trick with the Keter classes

By causing a containment breach and somehow you managed to bribe the Keter classes to perform with you

Let's just say that just because you've inherited his craziness doesn't mean that you could go as far as doing this prank

Bright was about to drop dead from a heart attack and he banned you from doing such things in the future

Dr Simon Glass

With Simon Glass, you could give him a fright relatively easily

Just because he's a psychologist and can read people rather well, he still would be terrified and paranoid about whatever you were planning on doing

Even if he told you not to

Like that time when you were told to not make toast because you can't cook and you almost burnt the whole facility and Glass stood there and said "I told you so" (he did ask for toast, as in toasted bread, not toasted humans)

Anyways, being the child of Simon Glass meant that you would learn a lot about the human mind and behaviour

He would teach you everything you were curious about and would sometimes ask Diogenes, Light, Kondraki, Cain and Iris to help teach you the things he wouldn't have much knowledge on

And sometimes Clef and Bright would appear and spoil you (not that Glass doesn't, he's just busy and trying to be the best dad he could by being anxious about you being alone in the facility with so many dangerous SCPs)

So this often meant that you, Bright and Clef would pull pranks on each other, usually on Kondraki and Iris

Except for this time, you've decided to pull a prank on your dad, Dr Glass

You've handed him over a realistic model of SCP 058 and he freaked out and called the MTFs

They've checked the model and realised that it was all fake and poor Simon had a heart attack from you

Simon was about to yeet that spider looking thing but it was able to move so he planned to carry you and yeet you both out

He did give you a lecture on doing that stunt and you did shed a few crocodile tears

And yes, Glass gave in and comforted you

He then went to grab Clef and Bright's ears and lectured them about helping you make the prank

Dr Alto Clef

I feel like Clef would be similar to Bright but without the whole process of changing bodies because of some curse

Like Clef wouldn't be all that scared since he's dealt with SCPsbefore and dies an extremely good job at it

So for Clef to be scarred for life, it'll either be an extremely dangerous SCP, he's drunk and/or high, he must care about you a lot and you must've been out of your mind to do something seriously stupid or you're evil enough to piss off a Simon Glass (Or all of the above if you're evil enough)

You would most likely want to take the easier and quicker route out of all the ones mentioned on the list which is to put yourself in an immediate danger

So you had asked Dr Bright for some help and so he did

Moments later, midway through preparing your prank, Clef came to Bright asking if he saw you and he did

However, they heard a familiar scream from down the hallway and they both rushed to your aid and soon realised that it's you

You were about to get eaten by 939 and they had to signal for the MTFs to help (Because you mfs didn't ask me for permission when you wanted to pet 939 D:<)

Clef gave you a big lecture and comforted you after he cooled down

Bright on the other hand wasn't so lucky as Clef wanted to murder him (But in his defence, you didn't tell Bright how dangerous the prank was cuz yall are as stubborn as a rock)

Dr Benjamin Kondraki

Kondraki would be pretty much average when it comes to being scared but with a little more logical since he works with the Foundation

He's that type of dad who would let you go to sleepovers every now and again as long as they weren't of the opposite gender (Unless yall are Bi, Gay, Lesbian, Pan, Alien, Basketball etc then he's screwed)

We support BLM and LGBTQ+ in this community and anyone who says otherwise must leave now

Heck, even our friends here, especially Kondraki, Glass, Bright, 999, Cain, Iris and Josie (SCP 529, my new pet) supports them

Anyways, back to the main plot

Depending on what age you're at and whether you were planning to prank him with the Foundation staff or SCPs will lead to a different outcome

Like if you told him you were dating someone he would've died right there and then

No dating until you're 50

Anyhow, you've decided that it'll be funny to scare your dad with Clef and Bright by getting his Bootyflies to shapeshift into various Keter class SCPs and acting like it

And yes, you somehow managed to persuade the Bootiflies to do just that

And no, Kondraki didn't know about this even though he found it odd that his bootiflies didn't obey him that day

You got Kondraki to sit down in a room with Clef while you and Bright was setting up everything

The bootyflies shifted into the Scarlet King and boy sis Kondraki called the MTFs and was boutta shoot him

Everyone in the room had to get him to stop and that it was just a prank (And by everyone I mean just you, Bright and Clef)

Kondraki did manage to stop and was boutta drag you out for a big girl/boy lecture

Well, he did but not before kicked Bright and Clef in their privates first

Needless to say, nobody wanted to prank Kondraki again (Shush, no you don't, yes I'm looking at you from behind the screen and I know that you'll do it again)

[helliontherapscallion]

Heya. I know that requests are closed and I totally respect if you ignore this because of that. Two hours ago my dog had a seizure and my mom and I are currently in the parking lot of the emergency vet waiting for an update. I’m normally “the rock” for my family (if that makes sense) when shit hits the fan, so I feel like I need to hide my panic so my mom doesn’t worry more. I claimed to need to use the restroom (there’s those portable bathrooms outside) but I’m actually just having a panic attack on a stairway nearby. Most of my friends are asleep or offline right now so I don’t have anyone to help ground me. I know my mom would, but she’s already dealing with enough. Your writing has never failed to calm me down or cheer me up, so I was wondering if you could maybe make headcannons or something about how texts or a quick phone call with the SBI would go and how they would help a teen friend who’s going through this situation.

I don’t want you to feel pressured to do this because of guilt or anything of the sort. I understand that requests are closed, but I thought it was worth shooting my shot. So it’s completely okay if you ignore this.

(A/N): I wrote this as fast as I could, so there might be a few mistakes here and there. I really hope your dog gets better soon and nothing major is wrong with them, I’ll keep you guys in my thoughts. If you wanna talk about it, my DMs are always open love <3

Warnings: mentions of dog seizures, vets, panic attacks

Your pleasant day had gone so wrong so fast 

You had a blast hanging out with your neighbor and childhood friend Techno and his brothers

You spent most of the day at the park hanging out and generally goofing around

That was until you received a phone call from your mother 

She was in a panic telling you to come home, telling you that there was something wrong with your dog

You quickly excused yourself by telling them that your mom wanted you home as soon as possible suddenly and ran home in tears when you were out of their line of sight

When you were running you could feel yourself being filled with dread

Your chest felt tight as you fought off a panic attack, you needed to be strong for your mom

You were her rock

It was only natural to comfort her, she helped you so much with your anxiety and panic attacks even when facing her own troubles and stress

So you did your best to stifle your panic

When you got home, you could hear the loud sobbing of your mother, the faint sound of heavy breathing, and rustling 

The sight in the living room broke your heart

Your beloved pet was on the floor having a violent seizure while your mother was looking on in horror

You quickly took action, moving the stuff around the dog away from it

The only thing you could do was wait it out, so you made quick work of comforting your mother

After the seizure, your dog was looking around confusedly and whining slightly 

He seemed very tired 

Doing some research, you found out that it was best to let the dog rest after such a seizure because it takes a lot of energy out of it

The nearest emergency vet was about ten minutes away so you picked up your dog and escorted your mom to the car

You drove to the vet, your mom was too distraught to drive

The vet immediately took him in and got to work, leaving you and your mom in the car waiting for an update on the pooch

She had calmed down for the most part, but you could still feel the panic brewing in your chest threatening you with a full blown panic attack

You held it off so you could be strong for your mother, but you were spiraling and fast

When it got to the point where you couldn’t hold it back anymore, you quickly excused yourself to the portable bathrooms

You ducked into an abandoned staircase and the panic attack quickly reared its ugly head

Your breaths came out in short hyperventilations, your chest feeling like an elephant was sat on it

You couldn’t breathe

When it got to the point where you were dry heaving, you knew that this one wasn’t one that you could calm yourself down from

You had to call someone

Your mom was immediately out of question, even if she would gladly help you

In your point of view, she had enough to worry about

Your best bet would be to call Techno

You had extreme difficulty finding his contact because your vision was tunneled and blurred and your hands were shaking, but you eventually found it

He and his brothers should still be at the park

You felt guilty for calling, but you knew you needed help and Techno and his brothers were your best bet

“Hey (y/n), uh is everything alright with your mom? You left in a hurry.” Techno saw his twin and Tommy look at him in question. He wove them off.

He was only met with heavy breathing and sobbing from your end, which worried him to no end. He knew damn well about your anxiety and panic attacks, in fact he was the one that encouraged you to open up to your mom about it and ask her for therapy sessions. He’s calmed you down from enough panic attacks to know exactly what to do to help you.

“Hey you’re alright,” he cooed to you in a soft voice, “take deep breaths. Where are you?” His brothers looked at him in alarm. They also knew about your panic attacks as you were basically like another sibling to them. Wilbur grabbed the car keys and the three made a dash towards the family car. 

“Techno…” Your breathless and strained whimper on the other end made his heart break for you. “Where are you?”

When you told him that you were at the nearby emergency vet, he could feel his heart sink. Your dog was growing older and older and his health was declining. That dog was with you two through thick and thin when your family got him in middle school. You were seniors in high school now, so that dog was old for his breed. 

“We’re on our way, just hang on tight buddy. What’re five things you can see?”

After you got through the 5-4-3-2-1 technique, you still were in the midst of an intense panic attack and it worried Techno to no end. Usually you would be calmed down by now. Luckily, they arrived at the vet and quickly found a parking space. 

You could hear running coming towards you and looked up to see the brothers running towards you. Techno kneeled next to you and attempted to give you a smile, “we’re here. Is it okay for me to touch you?” At your nod, he grabbed your hand and put it on his chest. “Breathe with me, okay? Do you think you can do that for me?” You didn’t respond to him. Your hazy eyes darted to his face when he gently called your name and asked you again. You nodded making him smile at you, “good, we’re gonna do the 4-7-8 breathing technique,” he told you softly, “do you remember that? You breathe in through your nose for four seconds, hold it for seven, and exhale slowly through your mouth for eight. I’ll do it with you,” he took in a deep breath through his nose and you tried to follow suit but failed. Your breathing was just too erratic. 

“Tech, I-I can’t. I…”

“Hey you can do this, I know you can. Let’s try again, it takes time to even out breathing.” He said something to his brothers you couldn’t hear and they ran off. “Deep breath in,” he breathed in and you tried to follow him, “hold,” you held in the breath for about two seconds, “and out,” the breath ripped itself from your lungs. “You’re doing so good, I’m proud of you (y/n).”

The breathing continued for a bit with you getting nowhere before you heard the boys return. They had a couple of ice cold water bottles in their hands. Techno let go of your hand and grabbed one of them. He turned to you with an encouraging smile, “okay, we’re gonna try something new. I’m gonna have you touch this, is that alright?”

You reached out with a shaky hand to touch the plastic and jolted slightly at the temperature, a gasp ripping itself from your lungs and your eyes focusing slightly better than before. “I’m gonna run this up and down your arms, focus on the feeling of the temperature and the feeling.” As he ran the bottle down your arms, you could feel your heart rate drop at the temperature and your heated skin cooling down. Your breathing eventually evens itself out leaving you panting and shakily reaching up to wipe at your tears. 

“Are you good now?” You nodded and leaned against the brick wall tiredly. An open water bottle was put into your hands. You drank it and relished in the feeling of the ice cold drink slithering down your throat. It even heightened your senses. 

Wilbur sat on your other side and slung an arm over your shoulders, giving you a side hug. Tommy sat across from you while Techno sat on your other side holding your hand, lazily rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. 

“Do you wanna talk about what caused this?” You nodded and told the three everything that happened today and why you were at an emergency vet. 

After you finished telling them, Wilbur turned to give you a full hug. Your face was against his chest, faintly you noted that he smelled like grass with hints of earth. “He’s gonna be alright. He’s a fighter, do you remember when he ate that bee?” You nodded, remembering that even if he was swollen, his tail was still wagging and he was as happy as he could be. He recovered quickly from that, never once losing his excited and loving personality. You thought about how even in the car he was licking away your mother’s tears and nuzzling into your hand even though he was exhausted. 

“That dog has lived through so much health shit,” Tommy chimed in, “a seizure isn’t gonna take him out anytime soon.” 

They stayed there for a while with you giving you reassurances and reminiscing on stories of him until you felt better 

Eventually you had to go back to the car to wait with your mother, so they left to go to their house

Your dog was returned to you and your mom with the instruction to give him some medicine and come back for further examination

They didn’t find the cause for the seizure, which bothered you but relieved you that he was alright

When you got home, it was late at night and you honestly felt so drained 

The next day, your dog was still slightly tired but he was slowly returning to his playful nature as the day progressed

When you were laying in the grass in the backyard with him reading a book, you saw Techno poke his head over the fence and smile at you. “Hey, how’s (dog name)?”

You ran your fingers through his fur as he slept peacefully, “he’s doing better. The vet still doesn’t know what’s going on with him, but he’s still himself.”

“We’re having some cookies and lemonade over here, do you wanna come over? (Dog name) can come too.”

“You’re more than welcome, (y/n)!” You could hear Philza’s voice chime out from their backyard. You got up and (dog name) followed you into their backyard slowly. They were sitting at the picnic table that was there since you and Techno were kids. The paint had long since chipped and faded with each year that passed. Tommy loudly cheered while Wilbur and Philza gave you gentle smiles as you walked next to Technoblade. 

You sat next to Techno and a glass of lemonade was placed in front of you. (Dog name) laid at your feet and resumed his nap. You grabbed a cookie and took a bite, humming at the taste of your favorite flavor dancing across your tongue. 

Being with the family was something that always made your worries fade away into nothingness and get replaced by lighthearted and refreshing happiness. You spent most of the day laughing with the family and petting your sleeping dog. Everything was going to be okay with them.

[kiribaku-queen]

The Blood King and his Queen [1]

Pairing: Bakugou x reader

Romance, Angst, Drama

Word count: 2.4K

Summary:  From being a mere servant girl to marrying the scariest prince in existence, your world changed right before your eyes. Exchanging places with the princess, you knew, wasn’t going to be easy. But could you have found love on the way? Or was it never meant to be?

A/N: Hello my loves! And welcome back to another, rather long, series! I had so many inspirations for this piece that I couldn’t wait to share with you all! Be warned, this might be a 20 part series, maybe more maybe less but we’ll see what happens! I hope you fall in love with this story as much as I do!

And shout out to this amazing artist for the art! I am literally BLOWN AWAY by this art! I can’t stop looking at it! It’s so amazingly well drawn. Just... yes, yes, yes! Please support this artist if you ever want art done! Pricey but just look at this art. So worth it! Check out the end of the chapter for the full image without text!

Also!!!! Check out my side blog if you’re curious about what fics I’m reading! You’ll find alot of j u i c y stuff and please support my friends by reading and commenting on their stories as well! Love <3

                                                                                                         [next]

Nothing started your morning off better than the princess screaming her head off first thing in the morning. You, along with other servants, rushed to aid the princess in her time of distress. Although, it was never something to worry about with her. It was always something minor, like her hair was styled incorrectly or she didn’t like the color of clothes her servant picked out. Of course, this time, she was making a fuss that her perfume didn’t smell right.

“Your highness, I promise you, it’s the same one,” one of the servants who aided her in the morning pleaded for her life.

“No! You must have switched it out because it smells nothing like mine!” the princess screeched. The princess was so outraged that she started throwing everything and anything that was around her. Clothes, jewelry, candles, mirrors, anything she could get her hands on, she threw it. You and the other girls that just arrived could only watch in horror as her whole room becomes a mess with her belongings, some broken some completely shattered.

You wanted to say something. But you knew you couldn’t. If you stepped out of line or even talked back to any of the royals, you were surely to be punished severely later. Yet, you wanted to say something so bad. It was on the tip of your tongue. Because you knew the reason why it may smell different to the princess. To help your fellow friend in desperate need, you were going to say it. You pray to the gods that what you were about to say was right.

“Princess, if I may,” you started. The princess stopped what she was doing, midair, to give you the coldest stare you have ever received from her. You gulped. Well, too late to back out now. You bowed down your head respectfully while extending your hand to take the perfume. You don’t know why the princess decided to trust you at that moment, but she did. She nodded her head, allowing one of the servants to retrieve the bottle and place it in the palm of your hands.

“I believe it’s because your clothes already have a different perfume on it.” you explain. You pick up a different piece of clothing, one you knew was clean and free from previous scents, and spritzed the perfume onto it. “Here, does this smell like normal?” you offer the piece of clothing to the princess. For a moment, she stares at it, not believing your words. But she forcibly takes it anyway and smells it. The look of realization hit her harder than when she smashed her mirror against the floor. She spares you a second glance before handing off her perfume to someone and faces away.

“I would like to be left alone,” the princess states. After a synchronized bow from all her servants, you left the princess’s quarters and back to your own. When you were far enough, you let out a big sigh of relief. Man, that was scary. You probably shouldn’t be doing that again any time soon. Your friend hooked arms with you, the unexpected force made you loose your balance.

“Your intuition was spot on, once again,” she stated. You could only roll your eyes.

“I was just trying to help the situation,” you explained.

“Yeah, well if only the princess could use her brain once in a while, then she would have figured it out herself,” your friend puffed out her cheeks in annoyance.

“Well maybe her highness wasn’t feeling herself this morning,” you tried to defend her. But really, there was only so much you could defend her on.

“Oh, please, (y/n). You know that’s how she acts all the time. You act more like a princess than the princess herself,” your friend finally let the cat out of the bag. You quickly slapped her hand and checked your surroundings. Phew, no one of importance was in sight.

“Oh hush now. Don’t say things like that,” you scold her, giving her a stern look.

“What? You know all us girls think that. It doesn’t help that you look almost exactly like her. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought you were the princess instead.”

“Good gracious! Really? How could you say that so loud? What if someone overhears you? Then both you and me could get in trouble,” you warned. You knew your friend couldn’t care less. It was always gossip coming out of these girl’s mouths. That’s how news spreads fast around here. And you didn’t mind the gossip. Actually, you participated in the gossip too. There was a lot of downtime when you weren’t attending to the princess. So what do you do instead? Gossip. But you couldn’t have this type of gossip going around. This was dangerous.

The main girl who caused the princess to get upset, finally left the room. She was visibly traumatized by the whole event. Who wouldn’t be? Dealing with the princess is something else.

You noticed that the girl was bleeding from her finger. She must have gotten it when the princess was throwing glass around the room and it some pieces cut her.

“Come with me,” you gently grabbed her by the arm and led her to a room that was filled with different plants and bottles. The aroma immediately felt welcoming to anyone who stepped in. You went to a part of the room that you knew well and pulled out a bandage.

“This should do the trick,” you say as you finish wrapping her finger up.

“Thank you. How did you…”

“Oh, I learned a few things from the royal doctor. Sort of like an apprentice?” you explained. Being a servant isn’t the only task you knew how to do. On your spare time, you would come to the royal doctor and assist him whenever needed. In return for your volunteer, he taught you everything he knew about medicine. It was still a lot to process, but at least you knew how to do basic first aid.

“Are you even allowed to do that?” the girl asked. You thought for a minute. Was it? It wasn’t stopping you now.

“Well I guess it’s our little secret,” you put your finger to your mouth and gave a small wink.

After properly getting ready, you and the girls rushed to the princess’s side for it was your job to get her ready to be sent of and wedded. And she was not getting wedded off to just any prince. It was the rumored Blood Prince. Ah, yes. You heard much about this Blood Prince. He was the most vicious out of all the princes in the kingdom. Even more so than his eldest brothers. He was rumored to have sharp teeth and eyes that could kill with a single look. He was told to have scars marked all over his body from the battlefield. An ugly being, you imagined. Big, scary, intimidating, ruthless. God, you felt sorry for the princess for marrying such a man. You couldn’t imagine yourself marrying that type of person. Hearing stories about him made your blood run cold and chills down your spine.

You entered the princess’s room where a beautiful, white wedding dress, flowy, magnificent and perfect in all the right ways, was being fitted on the princess. You watched in awe because she looked absolutely fantastical in the dress. What a dream it would to be wear that dress only once in your life. At the same time her dress was being fitted, some servants were doing her hair and putting decorative pins and head pieces on. It was very chaotic in the room, with servants running everywhere, but it was all worth it for the princess to look this way.

You were preparing water for her hands and feet to soak while some of the girls that came with you were deciding which robe that best fits with her wardrobe.

“Your highness looks so lovely,” you commented, gently soaking her hands into warm bowls of water.

“Of course! I have to look my best for a special guest this afternoon,” the princess said in a cheery voice. You tilted your head slightly in confusion. You weren’t aware that the Blood Prince was coming to the palace. You thought the princess was being sent to him instead. You looked up and came into contact with a friend and she was speaking with her eyes.

She doesn’t know. She signaled to you. You frowned.

She doesn’t know?

She does not know.

Your mouth was left slightly ajar. The princess does not know that she is off to be engaged any moment now? This was a dilemma. She thinks a guest is coming. That’s why she’s dressed so much fancier than usual. But when she finds out that she is to be engaged, she’s going to wreck havoc in the palace. Now you really didn’t dare say anything now.

After finding out that very important piece of information, you could see that all the girls in the room knew, besides the princess. The tension in the room was growing increasingly more uncomfortable as time went on. But the princess was so air headed that she couldn’t read the room.

The princess was over the moon with happiness. And it was only because she could wear her fancy and expensive gowns that she can’t wear on the daily. She was skipping down the long corridors, humming a tune to only she knows as you and other servants follow behind her.

“Isn’t this dress beautiful? I feel like I’m in a wedding dress!” the princess exclaimed. You couldn’t help but raise a brow. Well, it’s because the princess is really in a wedding dress. But the princess did look beautiful beyond compare. She almost looked ethereal dancing in front of you like that. As the princess was dancing down the corridor, she passed by one of many large windows that gave a view of the front of the palace. A carriage was waiting to take her away to her fiancé, but she didn’t know that. Or did she?

She stopped in her tracks to take a better look at the carriage outside. A frown laid upon her lips and her eyebrows rightfully furrowed.

“Is that my carriage down there?” she questions. The ladies around you looked at each other, not knowing what to say. But even if they did know what to say, who was going to say it? One of your friends cleared their throat and bowed down to respond to the princess.

“It is, your highness,” she said.

“Whatever for?” a round of gulps could be heard from everyone there.

“For…your trip to your betrothed,” the girl’s voice shook from fear that the princess was going to blow up.

“My betrothed?” the princess repeated.

“Yes, your highness.”

“As in, to marry?”

“Yes, your highness.”

It was quiet. Nothing more came out of the princess’s mouth. And that scared all of you. This was not the normal reaction you were expecting. You expected her highness to rage, cry, scream, yell, destroy everything around her. But no. She was silent, like her tongue was ripped out of her throat.

In one quick movement, the princess turns around and dashes back to her bedroom. And who does she bring along? You! Before you could comprehend anything, the princess had taken you by the hand and now you were running down the corridor with the princess. The other ladies were running after you. When you turned back to look, you even saw a couple of guards running as well. But it was too late for them. The princess got to her room first, slammed the door closed, and barricaded the door with chairs to prevent anyone from coming inside.

“Your highness,” you call, out of breath from the sudden running. The princess didn’t answer you. She started taking off her dress, sending you into complete shock.

“Your highness! What are you doing?” you panicked. She only glared at you while not stopping what she was doing.

“Enough talking. Just take off your clothes,” she ordered you. You bit your lip. You had no idea what was going on but if she demanded it, then you had no choice but to obey. So, you stripped yourself of your filthy clothes and laid them on the floor. While you stood in front of the princess naked, she was getting the remaining of her clothes off. Then, she passed you her dress.

“Quick, put it on,” she said. You hesitated at first. You? Wear something only a princess could wear? But you couldn’t stall any longer. As quickly as you could, you put on the flowy wedding dress while the princess put on your peasant clothes. Banging was coming from the other side of the door, which only made both of you panic even more. If they came in while all this was happening, you would get into so much trouble. As soon as you both got situated in your new outfits, the princess gripped your shoulders so that you were looking her right in the eyes.

“Listen to me closely. You are going to take my place. I’ll be you and you’ll be me until you come back,” she shouted at you in a whisper.

“Your highness?” you began but she shut you up because she wasn’t finished.

“Your mission is to make this prince hate you so much that he calls off this marriage. Then you’ll return and everything will go back to normal,” she continued. It looked like she wanted to say more, but your time together was cut short. The guards had already pushed their way through the door and charging their way towards you. The princess, who was now dressed as you, quickly covered your face with the veil. The veil was thick enough that no one could see your eyes or face.

“Take the princess,” one of the guards ordered. The real princess bowed her head down, faking it until the end. The guards went straight up to you, grabbing you by both of your arms and forcibly escorted you out to the carriage.

And so there you were, on your way to some unknown kingdom, about to marry some man you didn’t even know. All because the princess ordered you to. No matter how much you hated the idea, you couldn’t even voice your opinions to her. You were in no position to do so. Before you left the palace grounds, you looked back, hoping that this was all some sort of sick joke. But the princess was looking down at you from the window, giving you a nod of trust. She trusted you. You had to fulfil her request.

This is how you found yourself in the presence of the most vicious Blood Prince, Bakugou Katsuki.

A/N: Let me know if you want to be put on a tag list! And leave your thoughts below about the first chapter! What did you think so far? How do you think the story is going to go? What did you think about the art? Speaking of art, here is the full image unedited! Are you in love with it just as much as I am?

[strawbearisamu]

for a day like this

timeskip! hanamaki takahiro x gn! reader

summary: a coincidence on a train ride home leads to a confession and kissing in the rain.

note: requested by anon :) here, semi long one guys

cw: light swearing, semi makeout scene

wc: 1.8k 

the sky shrouded by a dense fog, the blue of it completely concealed by a covering of wooly grey clouds. rain continuing to pour from the desolute atmosphere as you heard a disembodied female voice announce the departure of the train. you sighed, train starting to move as you look out your window only to see a strike of lightning, the muffled thundering of the storm only growing louder, reminding you of the impending consequences of today's events.

"miss..miss...excuse me miss?" shaken from your daze, you meet the face of a middle aged woman carrying an infant and a young child, "miss, would you mind switching seats with me? there just isn't enough space for my baby's breastfeeding equipment on the other side." she asked apologetically, "even though i specifically requested it," mumbling the last part under her breath.

you press your lips in to a small smile, grabbing your things as she thanked you in relief, your eyes light up at a familiar shade of strawberry brown, occupying the very seat next to the one you were supposed to replace, "makki?" you couldn’t help the grin as called out from behind.

he whipped his head towards you, eyes widened, mouth slightly agape as he eyed you a few times. as if making sure you weren't a fake, making sure the familiar resonance and tenor of your voice, the one he replays to himself some nights, making sure it wasn't just an auditory hallucination. "y/n."

eyes lighting up with excitement, you speed up towards him, engulfing his sitting form in a warm hug, arms wrapped around his neck as he breaths in your scent.

"missed me huh?" you don't miss the playful glint in his eyes as you finally let him go. "yeah," a beaming grin displacing the forlorn look on your face.

"what were you doing in the city?" you asked, squeezing past him into the window seat as he towered over to the side of the walkway to make room, you see his eyes glaze over for a split second before he says "just a reunion with the boys."

"how are they! you guys were always quite the gang."

"yeah," he paused, slight hesitation lingering in his voice, "they're good i mean, really good."

the thunder crackling, a shot of lightning briefly lighting the gloomy sky as the scenery beyond your cabin window blurred with the speeding train.

"you look awful," he says, words slipping out absentmindedly, his eyes widening in absolute horror as he spluttered an apology, rambling on, "not as in you're ugly but your clothes, your stuff, it just looks a little...disheveled."

you burst into laughter, the first time today, "my bag was stolen today, some guy on a motorbike snatched it and knocked me over, it was crazy! i tried chasing him too!" you recounted the story again, but for the first time today, in humour.

"pfft, sorry not the point, you tried chasing him?" his mouth curving into his signature lazy grin.

"what's your point strawberry head?" narrowing your eyes at him as he raised his hands, pleading innocence. "you okay though?"

"i'll survive, can't say the same for my job, had some really important work documents there, weren't supposed make copies, now they're gone."

"oh..."

"yeah, i'm so pissed but well the jury will be out after the weekend," you sighed, "but anyway should we be talking about how you look just as bad as me, makki?"

a boyish laugh resonates from him, it does something to you, the familiar scratchiness of it inscribed in your mind from long ago. the corner of his eyes crinkled, "shit i guess i do," he said. "mhmm," you hummed, nodded along in laughter.

"the reunion," he cleared his throat, "i mean first off, this is not even close to being as bad as your day," he precautioned.

"just get on with it," you rolled your eyes.

twisting and fiddling the ring on his pinky, "just saw everyone doing really well, what with oikawa and iwaizumi being on olympic teams, even mattsun has a steady career and plan you know? i think i'm second guessing myself? i thought i was living life, having fun, but sometimes everything feels like filler before death.”

you nodded along to him, listening intently. you had always known makki to be more of a free spirit so this was rare.

"we all have those days," you mumble under your breath.

you let a comfortable silence fall between you, rummaging your bag for the slightly squished convenience store sandwich and your earphones.

"it’s tough huh, trying to find our place now.” you said, handing him one side of your earphones.

“yeah, so much easier when you’re two dumbasses goofing around, playing with erasers and tic tac toe during class," he slotted in the bud, and you do the same, as the ambient music filled your ears.

“you and mattsun?" you probed.

“no you, you and me.” for second his playful facade falters. his eyes lingering on yours as you held each other captive, your stare burning through his enigmatic grey eyes, a raw emotional intensity that made it seem like time had slowed down, neither of you finding the courage to make a move in the moment of impenetrable tension.

"i guess the rain is quite fitting for a day like this." you finally dared to look away, taking in the storm weathering just beyond your window, "but somehow i feel a little better now makki. maybe it's your pink hair."

"you do love it," he said, "i feel a little better too," he whispered, and you barely catch it.

—

he took a deep breath in, releasing it in a heavy sigh. “miyagi air right? nothing like it.”

“can’t tell if you’re a free spirit or an old man now.” you stepped off the platform, bags in hand.

"let me walk you tonight. you don’t have an umbrella.”

“neither do you?” you pointed out, handing him one of your bags as the both of you walked towards the exit.

"don't worry, i've got a plan," he winked a cheeky smile playing on his lips.

—

the wind howls, your hair violently blowing into his face, "this was your genius plan makki? run a little faster will you!" you shout over the blaring pour of the rain, incredulous.

"easy for you to say, you're not the one hauling your heavy ass bag." one of your bags slung around his shoulder, arms stretched around the both of you as he holds his jacket up for cover. well, your cover, his exposed side completely drenched.

"we're close," you called out, awkwardly trudging across the puddle ridden road, his warmth emanating from beside you as your heart raced in your chest, though you couldn't decide if that was the rain or makki, more probably both you finally decided.

"we actually made it in one piece." you breathe a sigh of relief as you finally made it under the roof of your home, catching your breath a little as he twisted his rain soaked jacket.

"what are you waiting for? aren't you gonna open it?" he asked.

"okay what?"

"open the door?"

"i don't have the keys, they got stolen remember?" you said dubiously, now working the water out of your clothes as he gave you a baffled look.

"what? how are we gonna get in?

"well i assumed you had the keys?"

"how in the world would in have your keys?"

"in that confe-, letter i gave you? said you were here all the time you might as well have the key and gave you a key?"

"letter? what letter, y/n?"

"wait the letter...you didn't receive it?" the colour in your face drained, you took a sudden notice to his drenched figure.

"you're soaked dumbass." you say in an attempt to quickly move on, unzipping your bag to pull out a fresh t-shirt. he tries to stop you but you don't let him.

"shut up just let me do this makki." you pull on his forearm, tugging him down to meet your eye-level, his face inches from yours as you gently pat his face and neck dry.

"is this just an excuse to kiss me?" the same lazy smirk playing on his face again but his expression morphs into an unreadable one, eyes clouding, "the letter," he whispered looking down at you, his bangs skirting his lashes as you dabbed his cheek with a t-shirt.

"you wish you could kiss me," you joke.

"i do wish," he doesn't.

"was it a confession?" you didn't answer him, "can i kiss you makki?" the burning desire held off long enough as you somehow found the courage to ask.

makki broke into a smile, clumsily taking your hands in his, hurriedly dragging you back into the rain shower. hard rain hitting you, massaging your head, but even as you felt your senses become overwhelmed your attention was still singly engrossed by the man in front of you.

"what are you doing? i just patted you dry!" you reprimanded him, shouting over the pour of the rain, looking up at him, now 6'1, his soft gaze easily slipping past your faux stern one.

"it's more dramatic this way," he whispered, his hand gently caressing your face, thumb running circles on the now flushed apples of your cheek, his eyes becoming clearer to you as you finally begun to understand the liquid grey eyes that held you captive for so long. your heart speeding up again, butterflies fluttering aggressively in your stomach.

you tiptoed a little, eagerly reaching a hand into his now drenched strawberry pink hair that you were always so fixated on. he responded in kind, securing an arm around your waist, hoisting you up, you body colliding into his warmth, lower lip tingling a little as he traced it with his slightly calloused thumb. finally, he cups your jaw, taking your lips in his.

his lips warm, soft, impossibly plush against your own, the soft tickle of your hair on his cheek, your honeyed taste playing on his tongue, the shared warmth between you melding into one, your heartbeat synchronous, in perfect parallel with your harmonised movement. lips slightly parted, he bit your lower lip as you moaned a little.

"you think the neighbours can see us?" you pulled away, holding his cheeks in your hands, still in a slight daze.

"don't know, don't care."

"when did it become a drizzle?" you asked as he shrugged in response, desperate to capture your lips in his again.

and you guys stood there, in the light drizzle of the rain, soft rays of sunlight finally peaking through the glum clouds, making out for the audience of your entire neighbourhood, enjoying the petrichor of the rain. because yeah you were still locked out of your house, yeah you were probably getting fired and yeah he still didn't know shit about what he was gonna do, but everything seemed just a little bit better.

"i guess the rain was quite fitting for a day like this.”

sol's comments: can you tell i have no idea how to write a makeout scene? :")

m.list | each and every reblop is appreciated ☻ (+ free hugs)

[dialovers-translations]

DIABOLIK LOVERS MORE BLOOD Vol.2: Mukami Kou [Track 7+8]

Original title: 堕落した証 & いらいらする

Source: Diabolik Lovers More, Blood Vol. 2: Mukami Kou [CD not owned by me]

Audio: Here

Seiyuu: Kimura Ryouhei

Translator’s note: Oh boy oh boy. I should have kept my mouth shut during the last few tracks because these two tracks had me wriggle around in my seat as my stomach turned upside down. > < Those of you who have been around since last year might recall how I struggled with Shuu’s D-S Kyuuketsu CD because of the ‘bodily gore’ noises when he cuts the MC with a knife and then stirs his fingers around in the open wounds. KOU DOES THE EXACT SAME THING GDI. I had to pause several times because I got nauseous. :’’) Please no more of this Rejet. 

Track 1+2 ll Track 3+4 ll Track 5+6 ll Track 7+8 ll Track 9+10

→  LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!

Track 7: Proof of Corruption

“Well then, where should I bite you next...~? Both your neck and arm are already dyed a bright crimson from your blood. Fufu~ While I’m at it, I guess I should make you even more red...Perhaps that’ll improve your looks a little.”

*Rustle*

[00:25] “Hmー Such slender wrists...Fufu, I could probably twist them with ease. If I were to plunge my fangs in, they might just pierce right through, don’t you think? Come on, show me your hand.”

*Rustle*

“Hm...These marks are still fresh. Hmー They weren’t left behind by me, which means they belong to one of those guys? Heeeh...Now what a lovely decoration you have here. You really are a maso-kitty, aren’t you? I sort of get now that you’re not doing all of this on purpose. Which means...is someone controlling you behind the scenes?”

*Rustle rustle*

[01:18] “Take flowers, for example. They don’t particularly wish to bloom beautifully, do they? However, some larger force in nature is ordering them to do so to lure in birds and insects. So perhaps you were put together by someone with the specific goal to seduce us Vampires? If not, a plain girl such as yourself couldn’t even dream of having someone like me suck you, not even out of pity. Fufufu...~”

*Rustle rustle*

He digs his finger inside your skin.

[01:59] “Ah-aaah...Since the wound hadn’t fully healed yet, my finger sank in the moment I pressed down. Does it hurt? Fufu~ I’m digging my nail into the open wound after all~ I bet it hurts...Then suffer more...Scream...! Nobody will hear you here. This place has been equipped to ensure that they won’t find you.”

*Rustle*

“But...Well...If they did know you were here, I wonder if they would come and get you? These guys who seem to be oh-so obsessed with you, I mean~”

Kou continues to stir up the wound with his nails.

“Are you writhing in pain? Ah-aaah...Your ugly face only became even more hideous. Should I say it has a certain charm to it? I’m incapable of loving you while you look like that though. However...”

*Rustle*

[02:57] “In regards to these wounds, I feel a strange sense of attachment. I wonder why? Perhaps it’s just fun to compete with other Vampires over a prey such as yourself? Hahaha...But in that case, I have to leave behind my own marks as well or it’s no fun, right? ...I’ll leave my mark on top of these wounds, as if to overwrite them. It’ll be perfect proof of how thoroughly corrupted you’ve become.”

*Rustle*

Kou bites you.

*Gulp*

“Mmh...*

*Gulp gulp*

“ーーHah!”

*Gulp*

[03:50] “Mmh...Haah...I can smell them from here...It pisses me off...Hahn...”

*Gulp gulp*

“Hah, haah...It makes me want to just rip up your whole arm with my fangs...”

*Gulp*

“Fufu...This must be the taste of hatred...~ Exactly...I can’t forgive them...Never! That’s whyーー”

*Gulp gulp*

“Haah...Haah...”

*Rustle*

[04:38] “I won’t return you to them. You’re basically mine now. Offer both your body and soul to me...And go mad. Fufu...Damn~ What’s wrong with me? Am I being spurred on by you? Uwaah...This is a first for me. Fufu~ I truly got my hands on a nifty toy. I was just going to have a little taste before handing you over to Ruki...but I might not want to let you go again.”

*Rustle*

[05:22] “Haah...Let me suck more...Your blood is messing with my head...as I find myself wishing you would offer more of that delicious blood pumping through your veins to me and me only.”

*Rustle*

“Oi. I bet you have other marks left behind by them as well, don’t you? Tell me. I’ll make you go through those painful memories again. Come on, hurry up and fess up.”

*Rustle*

[06:00] “Hey? Are you listening? If you space out like that, I’ll do something much, much more painful and rough?”

You muster a response.

“Hm? Your belly? Eeeh~? Now where could they be...~?”

*Rustle rustle*

“Ah, you must be talking about these. Marks spotted~ They really don’t hold back when devouring you, do they?”

He licks the marks.

“Oh, this one smells different. So, tell me. Did you have them bite you from head to toe? Hah! What a slut you are.”

You protest.

[06:46] “Hm? You didn’t wish for any of this to happen? ...Che. Why are you giving me that defiant look? Do I have to repeat myself a million times before your idiotic brain gets it? I was reminded once more the moment I sucked your blood. You’ve been tampered with in some way to lure in Vampires. I wonder who could be behind it...~? Fufu...Somehow that piques my interest...”

*Rustle*

“But for now, I’ll cover you with my marks. So I’ll thrust my fangs inside these wounds as well...”

Kou digs his nails into your skin once more as you flinch.

[07:31] “Aren’t you happy? I’m the one saying these things after all. ..Aaah-aah, such filthy marks. I’ll erase them right away.”

He bites you again.

“Hahn...”

*Gulp gulp*

“Hah...”

*Gulp gulp*

“Haah...Haah...”

*Sluuuuurp*

“Haah...This stench is persistent...It won’t disappear...Ugh, it pisses me off. If I can’t get rid of it with my fangs...It just makes me want to mess you up as a whole...”

*Rustle*

“Haah...Guess I’ll just have to sink them in deeper and deeper...Like thisーー!”

*Gulp gulp*

“Hah...Nnh...”

You cry out.

[08:41] “Ah...It hurts? Look at you gushing blood all over the place. You really have no shame, do you? But you shouldn’t be able to feel the pain, you know? My fangs have already made it so you perceive everything as pleasure. Fufufu...”

*Rustle*

“I can tell you want me, so try and voice it out loud? Beg for me with a cute tone. Come on, hurry...Ask me to make you feel ever better~”

You whimper.

[09:24] “Hmm~~? I can’t hear you...~ You’re going to have to speak a little louder. Also, don’t forget to sound cute, okay?”

You repeat it.

“Fufu...~ Exactly, like that. Just be honest with yourself...Perhaps then I’ll be able to feel a little affection for someone as ugly as yourself.”

You beg again. 

“Mm~ Good. You managed to beg for it cutely, so I’ll love on you in return. ...With these fangs of mine, that is.”

Kou bites you again.

*Gulp gulp gulp*

“Hahn...Mmh...”

*Sluuuuurp*

[10:14] “...Hah...! ...Hm? ...’More’? ...You can crave it more. I kind of like it when people yearn for me. ...I’ll plunge them inside even deeper than before...”

*Gulp gulp*

“Haah, haah...Ugh...Haah...I guess the smell is starting to fade a little?”

You moan.

“Fufu...Seems like you’re feeling rather good as well. Your body has completely given in to the pleasure, it feels as if your blood has become sweeter as well.”

Track 8: Irritation

Kou inspects your body.

*Rustle*

“Where else have they bitten you...? ー Ah, don’t tell me. I’ll try finding it myself this time...~ After the stomach, it has to be...The legs, right~?”

*Rustle*

[00:18] “Yes, I got it right! ...They sure love going for the risqué spots, don’t they? Hah! Right near your crotch (1) ...How lewd. On top of that, you can tell they’ve sucked from here repeatedly...Very dirty! I wonder what kind of expression you made as they sucked from here? Perhaps you didn’t realize it yourself, but they pretty much got a full view of aaaall your embarrassing places.”

You squeak.

“How embarrassing, gosh! ...But I’m sure you love that sorta stuff, don’t you? After all, I can see a glint of anticipation in your eyes. Or am I just imagining things? Is it because I’m the one doing this to you? ...Well, I guess I’ll figure out the answer to my own question once I bite you. Well then...”

*Rustle*

“Where should I leave my mark? ...Right here. I’ve settled on this spot.”

He bites you again.

*Gulp*

[01:28] “Mmh...Hah...Haha! What a lovely view...Fufu...”

*Gulp gulp*

“Seems like it’s making you weak as well...Look at you twist and turn your body like that...What a dirty girl you are.”

*Gulp gulp gulp*

“ ーーHah! We’re still nowhere near done...Let me suck more and more...Hahn...”

*Gulp gulp*

“Hah...Hah...”

*Gulp*

[02:11] “Haah...Fuck...Could this be a trap of some sorts...? Fufu...I feel as if your blood is leading me straight to my own demise...Well, I guess that’s fine. As long as it feels good...whether it’s a trap or whatever, I’m not scared. Perhaps the person who set you up this way predicted this all along? ...Say.”

*Rustle*

[02:44] “I bet they knew that we would try and snatch you away like that. Guess we’re being mocked, huh? That pisses me off. ...You seem to be feigning ignorance but you’re part of the whole scheme, aren’t you? ...If you think this will all pass as long as you just obediently spread your legs, you’re gravely mistaken. I’ll give you something much, much, much more painful, you’d find yourself wishing you’d be dead instead...!”

*Thud*

Your eyes widen in horror.

“Hehe...”

*Gulp gulp*

[03:26] “...Heh. Does it feel good? Lucky you! I think you might be the first human who has gotten the honor to receive this much pleasure from me. Well, under normal circumstances, one bite is plenty to make any human ascend to Heaven, but in your case, the more I have, the more delicious your blood becomes and on top of that...You dare oppose me. It pisses me off. ...Mmh...”

*Gulp*

“...Hm? There’s marks on your thighs as well!”

*Rustle rustle*

[04:06] “I have to engrave my own mark here as well. ...Geez, I wonder what they find so appealing about these stick legs? I can’t relate, but I don’t like the idea of there being marks from someone other than me. ...Mmh..”

*Gulp*

“Nnh...”

*Gulp gulp*

[04:37] “...Hah...Ah...Haah...~ I feel sluggish for some reason...Have I been numbed? In that case, your blood is to blame. ...This is bad...Fufufu~ I just don’t understand how I want to keep an ugly girl such as yourself all to myself...Makes no sense, does it? I feel irritated by it myself but...I also just can’t help it. This strong desire for you keeps on welling up inside of me...What is happening to me? Geez...Honestly, it pisses me off! I’ve never felt this strongly attached to anything or anyone before!?”

*Rustle*

“Hahn...”

*Gulp gulp gulp*

“...ー Hah!”

*Gulp gulp gulp*

“Mmh...Haah, haah...I can’t get enough...Do you want me more? ...So do I.”

*Gulp gulp*

[05:57] “Hah...Yearn for me more and more...You just need to keep your eyes on me. ...You belong to me now. Happy? Of course you are. If you continue to writhe around like that, I’ll give you never-ending pleasure.”

*Rustle*

“Mmh...Haahn...”

*Gulp gulp*

“Mmh...Nnh...”

*Gulp*

“Haah, haah...!”

*Gulp*

[06:37] “Haah...! I can’t...I still haven’t had enough...Hm. I still refuse to give you up. I’ll make you forget about those other guys in no time. I’m obsessing over you, so it only makes sense. ...Unlike those guys, I won’t call you prey either. You’re mine after all. ...Doesn’t that make you happy? I’m a gentleman after all~ I know how to make a girl happy. I’m sure you didn’t like being degraded by having them call you ‘prey’ either, right? Fufu...~”

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー 

Translation notes

(1) 足の付け根 or ‘ashi no tsukene’ is the root/base of the leg where it connects to the hips. 

[willadisastercry]

Lance ignores his asthma and Coran is not willing to be an accomplice pt. 2

It’s a race against the clock as Lance’s lungs worsen and his team scrambles to come up with a remedy before it’s too late. And though this whole mess certainly could’ve been avoided had he been upfront about his situation to begin with, his team will have to save the scolding for when Lance can focus on something other than the pain of trying to force air into his rapidly constricting airways. Altean technology works fast, but what if fast isn’t fast enough?

Part 1 / Part 2

“D’you check these yet?” Hunk asked as he threw open the topmost drawer of the in-wall storage space in Lance’s cabin.

“No, and it’s not in here either... I don’t understand wh—shit!” Keith cursed as he knocked over the trash can beside Lance’s nightstand and began scooping the contents back up.

“I don’t know where it could possibly be if—“

“—found it...” Keith interrupted as he held up the inhaler that had fallen out with the rest of the trash.

“Did you just get that from the... don’t you dare tell me it’s... oh, quiznak!”

“We’ve gotta tell Shiro...”

Keith was scared that Hunk would actually cry with the way his body tensed and his eyes glossed over.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure Coran will know what to do,” Keith offered as he forwent cleaning up the rest of the mess he made for the sake of time.

“Bring that with you, maybe it can help him figure something out,” Hunk said after a second of staring blankly before he turned on his heel and joined Keith in a mad dash back to the training deck.

When they finally made it back they wished they’d never left.

Lance was collapsed onto his forearms with a very distraught Shiro rubbing circles on his back as he struggled to take in heaving breaths. He hadn’t even realized they’d returned until Shiro spoke up.

“Thank god you guys are back, just toss it—”

“It’s empty, this was his last inhaler...” Keith offered for the look of utter despair on Shiro’s face as Hunk sunk down next to them and placed one hand beside Shiro’s on his back and wrapped the other around Lance’s, receiving a weak squeeze in thanks for the small comfort.

“You’re gonna be fine dude... Coran and Allura are going to help, they can fix this. Just keep breathing as deep as you can,” he repeated over and over as Lance’s chest continued to hitch, the wheezes so loud and guttural now as his lungs worsened and his body grew more exhausted.

Understanding washed over Shiro all at once and then he was moving, maneuvering Lance’s struggling body despite the unwillingness of his lax limbs.

He was too exhausted to do much of anything aside from keep his chest rising and follow whatever direction his pliant frame was guided, letting himself be pushed back onto his heels as hands clasped his forearms and settled on his back to keep him from tipping over.

Every muscle in his abdomen was screaming. A similar tension burning up his neck and seeping into the sinews between his shoulder blades that made his head feel way too heavy to sit atop his shoulders. After not even thirty ticks of trying to summon the strength to keep it up he let it hang forward, the hands on him tightening their grips when he did.

He was extremely grateful they couldn’t see his face anymore because tears were beginning to form quicker than they could fall and he was sure he would have been fully sobbing at that point if he’d had any energy to spare.

“We’re meeting everyone at the infirmary then, you guys run ahead and let Coran know,” Shiro ordered as he motioned for Hunk to take hold of Lance while he turned away and crouched.

With some help he rose on shaking legs, Keith rushing to support his other side when his oxygen deprived legs protested the action.

“Woah, we’ve got you... thanks Keith...”

Their hands under his armpits kept him standing long enough to collapse onto Shiro’s back.

He literally only had the energy after that to throw his arms over Shiro’s shoulders and nestle his chin securely in the space between his own bicep and Shiro’s neck before his body sagged against his leader like dead weight.

“Go! I’m right behind you,” he shouted, his voice dark and fearful.

He could feel Lance straining against him as he followed after them, could hear the way his congested airways sputtered each time he tried to breathe.

Shiro made his way with steady urgency, not exactly jogging but not walking either, the anxiety bubbling in his stomach only forcing his legs to pump quicker as Lance got worse.

Keith and Hunk made it to the medbaby in record time though, both boys panting after sputtering to a halt once they made it through the whooshing doors.

The paladins knew today’s workout would be a doozy, but none of them expected to be doing this much running, especially under these circumstances.

Pidge was on the floor sorting through boxes of medicine and supplies carrying on an in-depth conversation regarding the compositional makeup of altean pharmaceuticals with Coran and Allura.

“Hey guys—wait why do you have...?”

“Empty...”

Keith answered a bit breathlessly as he waved the tube of navy and teal plastic in the air before gesturing to toss it to Coran who nodded and raised his hands in anticipation.

“...figured you’d want to take a look at the ingredients or whatever before Shiro got here with him.”

The air in the room seemed to thin as worry descended upon everyone.

“Christ, Lance!” Pidge exclaimed and sat back on her heels.

“Yeah, he’s not doing too hot,” Hunk said as he joined them, stealing the box of tubes and gadgets from Pidge to rifle through it himself.

Coran’s frown somehow deepened and Allura looked increasingly more distraught as he began filling them in.

“What level of dangerous is his breathing at?” Pidge asked hesitantly, like she didn’t want to hear the answer.

“He’s panicking and already really exhausted, so pretty dangerous. It’s one of the worst attacks I think he’s had in a while...”

Allura worried at her lip and kept glancing between the jumble of medical supplies and the medbay doors while she worked absently to ready a bed, the mice smoothing out wrinkles in the sheets and pulling down corners for her.

“Well, it was smart of number four to think of bringing this. I am synthesizing several medicines in likeness but none of them are exactly complete yet—”

“That’s—fuck, that’s not gonna be good enough...”

Everyone stilled at Hunk’s harsh interruption, his hands shaking in loose fists at his sides while he stared fixedly at the boxes of miscellaneous medical equipment in front of him.

“Lance can’t breathe, he can’t just wait for something to finish synthesizing, he might not be breathing at all when it’s done!”

Pidge scooted across the floor and laid her tiny hands on top of Hunk’s trembling ones.

“I think what Hunk means to say is that Lance’s condition is, erm, kinda dire and requires something that works as fast as possible.”

“Hmmm, I see. That is why the blue wilgam bark salve is strictly for prevention... this is indeed a rather tricky—ah, though I suppose I can try to extract and aerosolize whatever might remain of his earth remedy for a temporary solution,” Coran noted as he braved his stern concentration face and began separating the metal canister from the outer plastic to compare the words on it to the words on the bottles of medicine in front of him.

“And we can always place him in a pod for however long it takes to create an accurate remedy... he is truly in the best hands Hunk, do not fret so much,” Allura finished with a tight smile that was warm and assuring all the same.

It was strange how well she could do that, squash so much worry with such a simple act.

Coran hurried over to a station with lots of tools and canisters and turned on several machines that made various clicking and whirring noises.

Keith’s nose wrinkled at the new sounds but he couldn’t find it in him to feel angry about it. Not when they were going to help Lance when was in such bad shape.

“Okay, okay... those are good ideas,” Hunk agreed with a gasp, he hadn’t realized he’d been withholding air as he lost himself in his panic.

“Deep breaths, big guy,” Pidge urged, the weight of her hands bringing him back down from the brink of panic as his mind raced.

“Yeah, don’t forget that you’re the one who can actually breathe,” Keith chided gently with a hesitant hand on Hunk’s shoulder.

“Right... sorry. It’s just that these can get ugly really quick if—“

The doors whooshed open with an unsettling burst of air as Shiro emerged and crossed the room in a matter of seconds, a flurry of concerned exclamations filling the silence in between pauses of commotion that should have been hurried gasps for air.

But weren’t.

There wasn’t time to make sense of the lack of color in Lance’s face or the absence of movement in his chest as Shiro slid him off of his back, human hand trembling as he moved to support his middle and the base of his neck as he lowered his lifeless body onto the bed.

It was a grim enough sight to have even Allura’s mice crying out.

“Lance!”

“Holy fuck...”

Pidge was acting on autopilot as she pinched the altean breathing mask Coran had pulled out over the bridge of his nose and cupped it under his chin to secure the seal, Keith moving in eerie similarity to connect the tubing and flip the right switches on the machine when it became apparent that Hunk wouldn’t be spurred from his horror any time soon.

It wasn’t prepped because they hadn’t realized they’d be needing it so soon.

“No... nonononono—“

They aren’t sure how they heard it through the muddle of commotion and devastating silence but it stopped them all in their tracks, the faintest whisper of air passing his lips.

His very blue lips, go figure.

“He’s breathing, Hunk. Just barely, though...”

Lance’s eyes were open still and staring at nothing as his neck strained for air that was there now but still not accessible with how severely inflamed his lungs had become, the only sounds leaving his lips at all just rapid exhales where he couldn’t expel enough before his aching lungs screamed for more of what the mask was providing

“It doesn’t look like it’s helping...” Hunk all but sobbed as he gripped the base board of the bed so tightly his fingers blanched.

Lance’s eyes bobbed at that, struggling to locate who out of his friends was distressed through the tears welling at their brims.

They were puffy and bloodshot as silent tears spilled in a continuous stream, his eyebrows drawn together with pain and desperation.

“That’s because it’s not,” Shiro deadpanned, his hands working to soothe over Lance’s stuttering chest as his rasping breaths caught in his throat on their way out.

“Wh-how is it not working... it’s oxygen?!”

It was almost pitiful how helpless Keith looked as he stated the very blatant fact, his expression sharp and his tone prickly, like he didn’t know who or what to be mad at.

“His airways,” Pidge started weakly, her voice wavering, “they must be too tight for the air to get through...”

Shiro’s hand gripped Lance’s fiercely. It was ice cold.

The gravity of the situation dawned on his friends like a literal blow then, all eyes turning to Allura.

“Coran... he-he’s working on something, but...”

It wasn’t often that the paladins saw the princess hesitate. Her usual order of proceeding during a crisis was to do something brave or noble first and think about it later, but her impulse instinct was uncharacteristically absent as she stared at Lance’s greying face.

Her hands rose slowly, long fingers uncurling from where they’d been pressed tightly in her palms to reveal a subtle pink glow.

“Princess...”

“I know, Shiro... it’s just—I am scared it might cause him greater discomfort...”

“I don’t think we have time to worry about that, Allura,” Keith noted gravely from the foot of the bed where Lance’s eyes were half focused and darting between him and Hunk.

A status update from Coran made the tension in the room skyrocket further as he estimated another twenty or so dobashes before anything was viable.

It only took one more particularly worrisome sound of distress from Lance for Allura’s hands to descend on his chest with certainty, the pink furls leaving her fingers and settling on his body for not even a second before his back arched off the bed with a strangled gasp.

Allura grimaced as she called upon several energy reserves to ease the vice constricting Lance’s lungs as fast as she could.

A phantom tightness bloomed in her own chest as she visualized the pressure leaving his while she forced each passage back open, the channel she had opened between them by using her powers allowing her to feel the gridlock for herself.

She didn’t let up until Lance was sinking back into the pile of pillows and by then she was so lightheaded that her vision was spotting, but Keith was at her side and gripping her elbow securely before she could even stumble when the strength in her legs wavered.

“I am quite alright, just feeling a bit weak.”

“Are you sure? Why don’t you take a seat for a few anyway?”

Lance couldn’t really make sense of the conversations going on around him while he collected himself after being released from the pulls of Allura’s magic.

“It’ll pass, Keith.”

“Allura...”

Not that he was known for having stellar listening skills, but he was just usually able to follow along with the general flow of things even when otherwise preoccupied.

“Coran you said only eighteen minutes, right?”

The voices of his friends filtered back in slowly though, his skull throbbing still after the horrible pressure had lifted.

“Can you lift his head for a sec so I can secure the strap?”

He hadn’t been coherent of much of anything before, fixing what remained of his energy on the miserable stalemate in his chest.

“It’s only seventeen dobashes and forty three tics now...”

And then the twisted relief of Allura’s magic.

But after that his hearing seemed to flatline, zeroing in on a high pitched hiss that was either static or the oxygen flow of which droned on and dribbled into his present when the tension that had yanked every muscle in his body taught alleviated all at once.

It was so disorientating it almost nauseated him and brought a distinct rush of blood to his eardrums, the oxygen flooding his deprived bloodstream like a dam had broken and left him feeling utterly weightless.

Shiro was the first one to break through the barrier of cotton that muffled his brain.

“Easy, Lance,” he instructed when he didn’t start breathing normally right sway, too stunned by the sudden levity to remember how.

“Take it slow hermano, you’re okay now...”

Everything was still uncomfortably tight and restricted, but air was at least accessible even as his body struggled to acclimate to the change, his heaves greedy and crackling.

“I was able reduce the inflammation for now but there is a substantial amount of fluid that remains in his lungs.”

“Fluid? What like blood?”

“No, Keith, not blood. Phlegm.”

“Oh, gross.”

Lance let out an indignant huff at that and despite the restriction of the mask managed to return the look of disgust the mullet had given him.

“Why is that so bad if it’s just phlegm?”

“Because anything in your lungs besides air is bad, Keith. It’s your lungs!”

“Precisely, Pidge. And it will only keep irritating Lance’s but we cannot risk him progressing back to such a state before Coran has derived his medicine when my powers are not indefatigable.”

“Yep...” Lance winced.

In order to speak he had to battle against the congestion in his chest which made his already wrecked voice sound downright abrasive.

“Shhh, no talking!” Pidge hissed with a warning glare.

But when was Lance ever known to take good advice when it’s given?

“Think... I can feel th’fluid... s’not very—“

He didn’t have to elaborate any more than that to get his point across because the rapping of his own vocal cords against each other had him launching into a harsh fit of coughing that rocked his entire frame. The accumulated cloud of condensation in the mask never allowed to chance to dissipate fully as he hacked.

It sort of felt like he was drowning since he didn’t have the strength to get his arms underneath him while all of the crap that his stupid respiratory system produced to counteract the strain in his lungs only worked to suffocate him and his freshly reduced air passages.

“Shit someone help me get him up, it’ll be easier to breathe if he’s vertical...”

Hunk surged to grab the arm that was closest to him as Shiro slotted his own beneath Lance’s back and hefted him into what only partially passed as a sitting position. But the motion made his head spin and his stomach clench and then Hunk’s hands planted on either of his shaking shoulders to keep him from tilting over as Shiro slid behind him.

The others looked on with horror.

“You’re okay,” Shiro assured as he pulled Lance towards himself.

He was grateful for the solidity of Shiro’s chest, his hold firm enough that Lance didn’t have to work anymore to keep himself up as he slumped into it, but the tears started back up anyway when he continued to actively choke on what felt like nothing despite being upright.

But there wasn’t anything in his throat to actually choke on.

“Just gotta work through it...”

He was starting to get really tired of the exhaustion and malaise that came with being deprived of oxygen for an extended period of time.

“Paladins! Only fourteen—er, minutes remaining.”

“Hear that bud? You’re gonna be okay.”

He did hear but he’s shaking his head in the crook of Shiro’s arm where his head had lolled because he can’t wait that long. He can’t.

“Yeah, you’ll feel better real soon,” Hunk affirmed.

But Lance was verging on a hysteria that he couldn’t summon the strength to express when every muscle that can be strained in his body felt like it most definitely was. And with how acutely his ribcage ached he was also certain he’d displaced a couple of those false ribs made up of just cartilage too.

“Hey, no don’t get upset, you’re gonna be fine!”

He’s never been more exhausted in his life and he can’t communicate that he can’t wait that long because he hasn’t stopped coughing.

His eyes are burning from the amount of crying he’s done so he relies on touch alone when a hand cups his chin and turns it, deducing it must be Allura.

“Lance, can you hear me?”

A shakey jerk seems to be good enough for her.

“I know you aren’t the biggest fan of the healing pods, but I understand that you are in a great deal of distress still and I believe you have endured enough...”

“What are you—oh, yeah! We could totally just put him in stasis like you and Coran were for thousands of years and bring him out when the medicine is ready.”

“Yes, just as Pidge puts it. There is no need to extend the suffering of one of my paladins.”

Shiro set his jaw as he regarded Allura sternly, it didn’t matter what she believed if Lance didn’t agree and he knew how wary he was of returning to the pods after the harrowing experience that landed him in one for the first time.

“Is that something you want to do? It’s alright if you aren’t comf—“

“Please.”

His voice was small, hard even a rasp, but it didn’t need to be loud for Shiro to accept it as his answer.

“Okay...”

Lance checked out after that, allowing himself to save the energy it took to focus on what was happening around him.

So when he started registering Shiro’s voice in his ear he wasn’t exactly sure how both him and the respirator came to be at the foot of a cryochamber but he made a desperate noise at the realization.

“I know, bud. You’re almost there but we need to take the mask off.”

No one missed the fear that flashed across his face before it softened into resignation, or otherwise known as I don’t care, please put me in that stupid thing right now.

Shiro was still holding him and seemed to sense the urgency in it.

“I’m gonna stand up with you...”

It was so surprise when Lance’s knees hardly held any of his own weight before wobbling and giving out as Shiro stood with him still flush against his chest.

He regarded Hunk with a lazy roll through lidded eyes as he tipped his head forward and worked the strap off but held the mask in place.

Distantly aware of the burst of air from the pod opening and a renewed flurry of commotion around him, Lance tried to work with Shiro as he ushered him forward but his legs were too heavy and he couldn’t coordinate his movements well.

Someone else’s hands were on him, bending his knee so they could set one leg down in the pod and send the rest of his body with it. He thinks it might’ve been Keith.

The various sets of hands on him stay even after he’s securely in place, probably scared he would crumple if they did.

They were probably right.

“-nce. Hey, Lance? There you are, this is gonna suck but only for a second. I promise. Ready?”

You would’ve missed the brief hum from his somewhere deep in his sore chest if you weren’t practically inside the pod with him like Shiro seemed to be.

“Okay, now Hunk.”

The crackling heave that erupted from hims mouth was something a dying thing made, but he couldn’t hear himself or the horrible sound he made as consciousness began to swiftly melt away in stages.

First with the initial pressure everywhere after the removal of the mask.

And then pain because holy shit he couldn’t breathe.

But the cold creeped into his bones at light speed and the darkness wasn’t too far behind.

[ggukcangetit]

If The Bra Fits - JJK Fic

Final part of The Unbearable Lightness of Being... Something More series

Part 1 | Part 2 | 

Pairing: Jungkook x reader

Genre: ex-roommate au, f2l, fluff, smut, low-key crack

Rating: 18+

Summary: Jungkook knows you hate it when he pops into your apartment to borrow something, but in the 2 years that you’ve known each other, that hasn’t deterred him much. But one day when he manages to (accidentally) ruin your favorite bra while raiding through your emergency snack supply, he knows that he’s fucked. With only a brand name to help him on his search, Jungkook spends the next 48 hours buying all the bras that look even remotely like the one he ruined. The only problem is - how would he figure out which was the correct size without asking you?

Warnings: a lot of talk of breasts and the trials and tribulations of finding a good bra, oral sex (f receiving), masturbation, kissing, grinding, nipple play

Word count: 3.8k

a/n: thanks a ton to @hesperantha​ for beta-ing this! i was super nervous about writing proper smut >.< anywho, hope y’all enjoy this!

Jungkook knew he was fucked. Worse than when Jimin had walked in on Yoongi doing the do with his girlfriend. Worse than when Taehyung had lost his pet frog in Seokjin’s spice drawer. Worse than-

“Fuck.”

He would probably have to leave the country. Maybe he could move to Canada? Or New Zealand? Anywhere that wasn’t here. Or he could change his name! That might work…

“H-hello?” 

“What the hell, Jungkook? You were supposed to meet me for lunch 40 minutes ago! This is rude and, frankly, inexcusable behavior on your part.” Seokjin’s annoyed voice, talking at 300 words a minute, rang through the phone’s speaker. “And why the hell do you sound like that? Did you walk in on Yoongi and Soya this time? I swear, that guy needs to learn to lock his door. Or maybe just change his locks. I mean this is probably-”

“Seokjin!” Jungkook pinched the bridge of his nose as his friend slowed his word flow. “I’ll be there in 10 and explain everything.”

Hanging up the phone, he surveyed the site of the massacre once more before stuffing the offending object into his backpack and rushing out. True to his word, he was at the hole-in-the-wall dumpling place in 10 minutes, attempting to explain to an irate Seokjin, the reason behind his tardiness. 

“No! You did not do that!” Seokjin yelled, nearly choking on the hot soup dumpling that was hanging - half eaten - from his chopsticks.

Jungkook had, in fact, done that. That being the most cardinal offense his frazzled brain could think of at this point. That being sneaking into your apartment when you were at work, hoping to swipe some of your favorite shrimp puffs, placing his cup of steaming hot mocha on your study table, rummaging through your emergency snack supply but somehow inadvertently knocking over the coffee on the table, and cleaning it up with the nearest article available, which tragically, happened to be your mint green bra. 

“She’s going to kill you. No” - Seokjin picked up a egg cream bun and popped the whole thing into his mouth - “she’s going to whip your ass and then hang you upside down from that metal pole on Hobi’s balcony.”

Jungkook stared at the way the cream bun smoothly travelled down Seokjin’s throat after a couple of chews, and shivered. “What do I do??”

“Why do you have to do anything? She won’t know it was you who spilled coffee on her table and then wiped it with her bra. Unless...” 

Jungkook stared at his fingers guiltily. 

“You took the bra with you, didn’t you?” Seokjin sighed, lightly smacking his friend on the back of the head for good measure. “Well, you could always blame it on Namjoon. That’s what I would do. Heck, that’s what I did when I accidentally broke Hobi’s favorite figurine.”

“I don’t know…”

“You have to commit to something, Jaykay.” Every time Seokjin used his nickname for Jungkook, it meant there was some kind of terrible scheme being cooked up. “Either be a complete little shit and blame it on Namjoon, or just go and own up to y/n. You can’t teeter on the edge like this.”

“I could always just sneak back in and leave her bra where I found it.” Jungkook felt better already. This was it. This was the middle ground he was aspiring towards - the sacred path between Seokjin and Hobi, the Yoongi of all decisions. 

“You might not have to sneak in” - Seokjin held up his smartphone where the group chat was open to a bunch of notifications - “Tae said we’re meeting at y/n’s place for tacos and UNO.”

“Why is Tae so invested in our UNO games? He gets confused every time we play it.” 

“Because” - Seokjin swiped his credit card at the counter and thanked the cashier with a quick wink - “like every good strategist, he plans to improve by observing everyone else’s style of play. He definitely knows how to play by now. He’s just giving us the confused puppy look so that we underestimate him and he can learn all our little tricks. Just you wait - a few more games and that sneaky shit will be handing our asses back to us.”

Jungkook, while mildly interested in Taehyung’s card game antics, was more concerned about returning your bra without arousing any suspicion. The perfect moment presented itself when Seokjin, Namjoon, Yoongi, Taehyung and Hobi were immersed in a game of UNO, while you and Soya were munching on tacos - because let’s face it, food trumps just about everything else. Coming up with a half-convincing bathroom excuse, he snuck off towards your room, hoping to finally rid himself of the mint green burden.

Seconds before he pushed your door open, a snippet of conversation floated towards him and made his heart stop beating.

“I can’t find it anywhere.” You were complaining to Soya about something, loud enough for him to hear. “I must’ve turned my room upside down looking for it.”

Soya didn’t seem too perturbed. “What’s the big deal? It’s just a bra. Yoongi regularly loses my underwear after we have sex in new locations.”

Jungkook chuckled because he could almost see the look of horror on your face at receiving this piece of information. 

“Ignoring that TMI,” you continued. “That’s my favorite bra, Soya! You know how our sizes keep fluctuating - well, this was the first bra I bought after getting measured at a proper place. It literally changed my life. Do you know how fabulous it feels to have your boobs at normal chest level - neither squished up towards your collarbones nor jiggling like that everlasting jello Seokjin keeps buying? I’m tellin-”

Jungkook stopped listening at this point. If he didn’t, there was little chance that he’d be able to think of anything other than that. As it was, the mere sight of you these days, was enough to get blood flowing to certain parts of his body. 

There was clearly only one thing to do.

“You want me to help you do WHAT?” Once again, it was Seokjin who barely managed to stop himself from choking on yet another scrumptious food item on yet another lunch date with Jungkook. 

“I’m going to replace her bra.” The resolute expression on Jungkook’s face crumbled ever so slowly under the scrutiny of Seokjin’s pure, unadulterated skepticism. “It’ll be easy. I-I already know what it looks like, and all the information I need is on the itchy tag she always complains about.”

Seokjin’s thick brow remained masterfully arched. 

“Are you going to help me or not?” Jungkook whined in frustration.

“What do I get in return?”

“Why would you want anything in return? Why can’t you just help me out this time??”

The masterfully arched eyebrow did it’s trick once again.

“Fine. You can borrow all my gaming equipment for a week.”

“A month.”

“No way!”

“Good luck shopping for y/n’s favorite bra.”

“Fine! A month! Now can we get a move on please?”

Thankfully, it wasn’t too difficult to find the particular store that you had bought your favorite bra from. It was a niche boutique on the third floor of the mall, full of politely judgmental staff members and pointedly supercilious patrons, all of whom were highly skeptical of Jungkook’s grey and black hoodie-sweatpants combo. 

“Guess they didn’t really get on board with the whole athleisure concept,” Seokjin whispered, earning a hard elbowing from Jungkook.

The looks of skepticism were further enhanced when Jungkook produced the ruined bra, asking one of the assistants where he could find the same one. Jungkook hadn’t received such a disapproving look since his junior year of college when he had eaten 8 cups of instant ramen on a dare, done a celebratory jig, thrown up all over Yoongi and Hobi’s sofa, and promptly passed out. 

“Er… I, uhm, need something!” The exclamation from Jungkook was received by a few expertly raised eyebrows. One assistant, in particular, narrowed their eyes at him and walked over.

“This is a lingerie store” - they scanned him up and down a couple of times - “sir. If you’re here to buy any lingerie, I’d be happy to assist you.”

Jungkook gulped at the expensive clothes and flawless complexion of the shop assistant. So far, things were not really going according to plan. 

“Ow!” He felt a bony elbow dig into his ribs and glared at Seokjin, who was glancing between him and the assistant so rapidly, Jungkook was surprised he hadn’t gotten dizzy and passed out already.

“Right. Umm, I’m actually looking for this particular one” - he produced the once-pristine, but now covered in ugly brown splotches, bra from his backpack - “in this exact same size. Do you have it?”

If the shop assistant didn’t look particularly eager to be breathing the same air as him before, they now looked like they’d rather choke on month old guacamole than be near him.

“Our products are made for exclusivity. We do not carry the same sizes as the general marketplace. There are 4 basic sizes with 4 variations to each size. And this particular product” - they held the ruined bra delicately between two fingers and examined the tag - “is now only available in 3 particular size variations. You are free to choose whichever one you think is the closest fit.”

Jungkook’s doe eyes widened as he realized the itchy tag that you always complained about, truly had no other purpose but to inconvenience you. His panicked stare fell on Seokjin who had busied himself examining a very interesting leaf on the potted plant near the entrance.

It was up to him now, Jungkook realized. His fate was in his own hands. Walking over to the shelf carrying the mint green bras identical to the one he was holding, he inspected the 3 options carefully. 

“I think I’ll take this one.” Was what he said out loud. Inwardly, however, he was screaming a very different tune.

“HOW THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO DECIDE?? I’VE NEVER BOUGHT A BRA BEFORE! I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT SIZE WOULD BE APPROPRIATE! IT’S NOT LIKE I SPEND ALL MY TIME SCRUTINIZING Y/N’S BREASTS!”

Thankfully, no one was privy to his internal screams except for himself.

“Thank you, sir. That will be $89.99.” Jungkook took out his debit card as the song playing over the system changed to No Tears Left To Cry.

Once out of the store, Seokjin let out a low whistle. “Wow… that was, undoubtedly, one of the most awkward situations I’ve ever been in. And I wasn’t even really in it.”

“At least the toughest part is over.” Jungkook felt like he had been running a 50 mile marathon while simultaneously figuring out the square roots of 5 digit numbers. In short, he was exhausted.

“Depends on what you think of that…” Seokjin pointed at a familiar figure, slowly walking towards them - someone Jungkook hadn’t expected to bump into in any of his worst case scenarios. You.

Confronted with an exceedingly dire situation with a bleak set of options, Jungkook vaulted into the nearest store, his entire being on high alert as it entered survival mode. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been paying attention to where he rushed into because-

“Congratulations! You’re our 100th customer this week! You get a complimentary hair spa and perm!” Five extremely eager faces stared back at him as he realized he had walked into some sort of hair salon. 

Whoever was writing the script for this day was definitely high on something because Jungkook walked out of the salon 3 hours later, slightly traumatized, with a head full of small curls, clutching onto the cursed purchase with every fibre of his being.

Seokjin had left hours ago, dropping a text to Jungkook which read something along the lines of catch ya later sucker - but that was the least of his problems right now.

It was nearly midnight when he finally entered his apartment after managing to sneak in the new bra into your apartment. Thankfully, you lived two floors above him, so the trek back to his place wasn’t too long. The stress from the past couple of days was finally catching up to him and Jungkook would give anything for a nice long massage and a bowl of steaming hot ramen. 

Unfortunately, all that he had at home was a few leftover containers Taehyung had left behind on his last visit a couple of days ago. There was also bread, eggs, and milk, but he didn’t feel up to making anything at this point. So dinner ended up being heated, two-day old dumplings. 

Just as he was about to head to sleep, a loud pounding started on his front door. It was well past midnight at this point and Jungkook wondered if he should be carrying some sort of weapon with him while answering the door.

There really wasn’t any need for worry because on the other side of the door stood a very angry, very disgruntled, very flimsily dressed-

“Y/n?! What’re you doing here?” 

“You!” Jungkook stepped back as you poked him in the chest. “What the heck is your problem?” Many more pokes followed, which Jungkook barely registered but which left your index finger increasingly bruised. 

“I- uh, I guess you found the parcel I left for you.” He scratched the back of his head, looking everywhere but at you.

“I CANNOT believe you!” You were fuming and Jungkook was contemplating calling someone for backup. Maybe Namjoon? Or Yoongi? Mayb- “First, you ruin my favorite bra! What were you doing in my apartment anyway? Trying to steal more stuff from my emergency snack supply?! Why can’t you just buy your own s-”

You definitely had a point about the snack stealing. But Jungkook couldn’t stop himself from going over and taking something that would undoubtedly attract your attention, because the last time that had happened, you both had ended up making out aggressively against the wall. 

“-and not just that!” You were clearly not done with being mad at him. “You go ahead and try to replace my favorite bra? With this???” You held up Jungkook’s purchase from earlier during the day.

“What’s wrong with this? It’s the same one, isn’t it? I went to the shop to make sure it was the same.” He didn’t really understand why this particular fact was making you so upset.

“You think this is the same?” You were standing very close to him and Jungkook gulped as he caught a whiff of your lavender body lotion.

“Yes?”

“You think my boobs are this small?? After the way you basically kneaded them with your hands last time??” 

Jungkook’s eyes widened, his face growing hotter with every word you were speaking.

“Why the fuck do you look like that?” you muttered, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“L-like what?” His voice came out sort of strangled as he tried to make sense of the situation.

“Like you’ve been caught eating the last cookie.”

Jungkook didn’t know how to respond to this. He was very aware of the fact that you were wearing a flimsy grey t-shirt and very old, very small, sleeping shorts. He gulped and wondered if this was some kind of dream that he’d suddenly wake up from.

“I’ve been waiting for you to make a move since you stuck your tongue down my throat last time. But nope! Nothing.” Now he knew that there was something wrong. This didn’t seem like the rational next line in a dialogue between real people who had just been in a, slightly one-sided, fight. “So, are you gonna kiss me or not?”

“W-what?” His voice was barely louder than a whisper at this point and you scoffed loudly before fisting your hands in his t-shirt and crashing your lips to his.

It took him a few seconds to get his bearings, but Jungkook was soon responding with impressive enthusiasm. His lips glided over yours with a desperation borne out of nearly two years of attraction and chemistry. He groaned in pleasure as your hands travelled into his hair, your fingers running through his freshly done curls. His hands travelled down your back before cupping your butt-cheeks and squeezing them until you moaned into his mouth. The feel of your body against his was enough to make him slowly lose his mind - but your tongue swiping into his mouth brought out a strangled noise from deep inside him. This was so much better than the first time you had both made out - there was more experience and knowledge of each other, and you seemed much more determined than the last time.

“Tell me what you want,” Jungkook’s voice came out huskier than you had ever heard, sending a surge of electricity to your core. “Tell me what makes you feel good, y/n.”

His voice was sultry and his body rock-hard at the perfect places - his breath falling in harsh pants as he recovered from the intensity of the kisses. But his eyes held the soft sincerity you had grown to lov-

“Against the wall,” you breathed, your face flushing as you verbalised your request. “And then on your bed.” You took one of his hands and placed it on your breast, firm with arousal, and guided his other hand to the waistband of your shorts. 

A beautiful pink blush dusted his cheeks as he captured your lips once again. He had you against the wall in seconds, his lips leaving a trail of devastation from your lips to your throat to your breasts. You moaned loudly as you felt his fingers rub against your clothed core while his tongue flicked over your nipples at a deliciously slow pace. 

“Gguk…” God he loved to hear that name coming from your lips. He loved it even more now that it was in the midst of him pleasuring you to the best of his ability. 

“Bed. I can’t… stand...” You managed to say. He obliged, placing his hands below your knees and scooping you up with ease, all while his lips kept pressing soft kisses to yours. 

Once on the bed, you removed your t-shirt and shorts, instructing him to do the same. Jungkook stared at your bare body for a moment, his eyes glazed with lust before he stripped himself of his clothes and continued kissing every part of your body he could find. 

Your insides were coiling, the heat growing at your core as you watched Jungkook’s magnificent, completely naked, body move over yours. Your hands itched to run over his abs but your eyes were fixed on his throbbing dick, your core growing wetter by the moment. 

“Can I?” Jungkook’s hoarse voice broke you out of your dilemma, his face hovering over your thighs. “Only if you want it, y/n.” You were pretty sure his soft, caring words would be enough for your undoing, but you nodded your head anyway.

The first swipe of his tongue against your core had you arching yourself off the mattress, your legs kicking up involuntarily. This was definitely where his gym prowess came in handy, as he held your thighs down with enough force for the feeling to be unbelievably pleasurable. Your hands found themselves in his curls once more, as his mouth alternated between dropping feather light kisses on your core and swiping along the wetness with a swipe of his tongue. 

“I-I’m not…” You didn’t have to complete the sentence as stars exploded in your vision, the high hitting you with more force than you had ever experienced. 

Something inside you tightened as you watched Jungkook emerge from between your thighs, his curls sweaty, and his mouth slick with your arousal. He smiled at you, dropping a light kiss on your lips, even as his dick stood red hot and angry with arousal.

“Can I help?” You asked, although your voice was hardly above a whisper, the tiredness seeping in, as you came down from the orgasm.

“Next time?” His voice was soft as he gave himself a few strong pumps before spilling onto his stomach. 

He grinned at you sheepishly. “I’m also kind of exhausted today.” Getting up quickly, he went into the bathroom and cleaned himself off, before coming back with a wet towel for you as well. 

You smiled shyly as you took the towel from him, wiping between your thighs quickly. 

Jungkook was beside you in a few moments, cuddling you from behind as sleep slowly overtook you both.

“Jungkook!” 

You cracked your eyes open slowly, wondering why someone was yelling at the crack of dawn. You were still pretty much wrapped up in Jungkook, both your legs entangled as your head rested on his chest while he snored softly.

“JUNGKOOK!”

A second, much louder, yell, woke Jungkook up as well. His eyes widening in alarm as he realised what was going on.

“It’s Tae! What’s he doing here?!” He whispered, his voice still thick with sleep.

“Umm what?” You were panicking now. As much as you had been wanting things with Jungkook to pick up, you did not want Taehyung to find you both wonderfully naked after a night of wonderfulness. “He cannot see us like this! Not yet! I refuse to let this be how everyone finds out about us!”

“Jungkook, I’m coming in!”

Jungkook quickly pushed you below the covers, fluffing it up sufficiently to hide the fact that you were under it. He barely managed to close his eyes before Taehyung walked in, much too sprightly for this early in the morning.

“Aww!” His deep voice sounded through the room. “Jungkookie, are you still sleeping?”

Much to his horror, Taehyung made his way over to the bed, his long fingers smooshing Jungkook’s cheeks together as the poor boy tried to feign sleep.

“Did you sleep late last night?”

“Mph.”

“Jungkookie’s still sleepy? Aww!” The cheek smooshing continued, and Jungkook wondered how much longer you could stay hidden without Taehyung’s perceptiveness deducing that you were there.

“Hmmmm.” Jungkook managed to grunt out, tossing over to trap you underneath him.

“Okay, go back to sleep.” With one last cheek smoosh, Taehyung got up and left the room.

“Thank god!” Jungkook whispered in relief, pulling the covers off your face.

“I’m so glad he didn’t figure out I was here,” you sighed in relief. 

Jungkook grinned at you, his bunny teeth poking out adorably as he pulled you closer to him. You giggled, reaching up to place small kisses on each of his moles - there were 5 according to your last examination. 

“The curls are cute,” you said between kisses, running your fingers through his hair. He sighed contentedly, resting his forehead on yours. If it were up to him, he’d stay here forever.

“Oh and y/n-” You both stiffened as you heard Taehyung’s voice from the living room. Apparently, he hadn’t left yet. “-thanks a lot! Seokjin now owes me 50 bucks!”

please reblog this post if you enjoyed reading the story! thank you 😊 

[morganaspendragonss]

Ahh! I’m so excited to see your requests open, I love your stuff!

I’m struggling with how to word this, but can I request Carlos getting injured and then trying to refuse pain meds upon discharge from the hospital- *not* because he doesn’t trust TK... but maybe more of like, an internal struggle? Like, obviously, he knows the pills can be addictive and he’s seen TK’s personal struggle and that scares him-because he knows it (addiction) can happen to anyone.

But also, bonus if TK’s feelers get a little hurt thinking Carlos doesn’t trust him 🥺🥺

(Please and thank you)

holly's august extravaganza day 5: truth is heavier than fiction

thank you for the prompt! hope you enjoy!

ao3 | 2.3k | miscommunication, referenced drug addiction and overdose (not tk), hurt/comfort

Carlos pauses with his hand on the doorknob, taking a moment to prepare himself before going inside. TK’s shift finished an hour ago and he’d texted to let Carlos know he was home, which means Carlos is going to be walking right into a conversation he’d rather avoid.

Not that he’d have much choice either way; he might be able to cover his cracked and bruised ribs for a little while, but the arm in a sling will tell on him as soon as the door opens. Carlos doesn’t want to hide his injuries—they’ve had enough conversations in reverse on that theme to make him a hypocrite if he did—but he may have made some choices that he doesn’t particularly want to go into right now. Not while he’s tired and aching and just wants to cuddle with his boyfriend.

He blows out a breath, then opens the door, bracing himself for TK’s reaction.

“Hey— Shit!”

Carlos grimaces as TK rushes over, worry written all over his features. He fusses over him, hands hovering as though afraid Carlos will shatter at his touch, and his brow is pinched in concern as he examines him—not talking, and certainly not giving Carlos the kisses he’s become accustomed to receiving upon returning home.

“Hello to you too,” he comments dryly, lifting a brow. TK scowls at him, but he does take a step back, folding his arms.

“Hi,” he says shortly. “What the hell happened? Why didn’t you call me?”

A flash of guilt runs through him at that; were the roles reversed, Carlos knows he’d be thinking the same thing. “I’m sorry for not telling you. It happened while you were still on shift and by the time I got out of the hospital, Mitchell had brought my car over from the precinct. She drove me home. I figured it would be easier to tell you in person.”

TK is clearly still not happy about it, but he does soften a little—emphasis on little. “Which brings us back to my first question: what the hell happened?”

Carlos winces. “Promise not to laugh?” he tries, aiming for a moment of levity. It falls flat, TK just tapping his foot, and he sighs. “Suspect chase gone wrong. I, uh, I tripped and fell down a staircase. I’m okay, though, I swear. They reset my shoulder at the ER and I’ve just got to take it easy for a few days.”

“And you’re sure that’s it?” TK asks skeptically. “Babe, I can tell you’re in pain, more than a dislocated shoulder would cause.”

“I might be a little bruised too.”

“How much is ‘a little’?”

“Not much.” Carlos steps forward, raising his good arm to TK’s face and ignoring the way his ribs protest the motion. “I’m okay, I promise. Can we please sit down though? I’m hurt and want hugs.”

“Oh, so you’re only hurting when you want something? I see how it is.” TK rolls his eyes, but it’s accompanied by a fond grin and he wraps his arms around Carlos, helping him to the couch. When they’re settled, TK taking more care than Carlos deems necessary but which he appreciates all the same, he drops a kiss on the top of his head, rubbing his thumb back and forth along Carlos’s arm. “I’m still annoyed at you,” he mumbles. “But I’m glad you’re okay.”

Carlos hums in agreement, tilting his head up in an obvious request for a kiss. TK acquiesces, kissing him softly, and it’s almost enough for him to forget the throbbing in his ribs.

But not quite; Carlos can’t suppress a wince when he resettles himself in TK’s lap, which immediately has his boyfriend on alert.

“Carlos?”

“I’m okay,” he grits out, breathing through his nose. “Just moved wrong.”

TK isn’t having it. “Did the hospital give you any meds? They must have done—I’ll fetch them for you.” His hands wrap around Carlos’s upper arms as if to move him, but Carlos reaches up to cover them.

“They didn’t give me anything,” he says, a half-truth at best, but TK doesn’t need to know that. “They said I’ll be fine on ibuprofen and a heat pack if it gets bad.”

TK purses his lips in obvious doubt, but he seems to take Carlos’s word for it. Which only serves to intensify the guilt, really; Carlos knows that every moment he doesn’t admit to the truth will only make things worse later, but he still can’t find it in him to get it out.

“At least let me get you those,” TK says, practically pleading. “It’ll make me feel better and, in my professional capacity as your sexy paramedic boyfriend, I say it’ll definitely make you feel better.”

Carlos laughs, then nods reluctantly. He grits his teeth to keep from crying out as TK carefully moves him to the other end of the couch, flashing him what he hopes is a reassuring smile. TK shakes his head, sighing, but doesn’t comment further, and leaves to fetch the ibuprofen and heat pack.

He’s on borrowed time; Carlos knows it. His body is going to betray him sooner or later whether he likes it or not, but, for now, he just wants to enjoy this moment of calm before the inevitable storm hits.

*

It happens as they’re getting ready for bed.

TK insists on helping him undress, and Carlos isn’t fool enough to try to refuse—he needs the help, so all he can do is wait as his shirt is slid off his body and the true extent of his injuries is revealed.

TK freezes, fingertips brushing the edges of the deep purple bruising covering Carlos’s entire chest and left side. “Carlos…” he breathes, horror and confusion mixing in his eyes. “What… You said you were okay.”

“I am—”

“No.” TK shakes his head, a sudden hardness to his expression. “This”—he waves at Carlos’s chest—“is not okay. This is the kind of bruising that comes with cracked or broken ribs. I should be dragging you to the hospital right now, but considering you’ve already been there and they didn’t give you anything, I—”

He cuts himself off, his eyes narrowing, and this—this is the moment Carlos has been dreading.

“Carlos,” he says slowly, “what aren’t you telling me? You and I both know this is more than an ‘ibuprofen and heat pack’ situation, and the hospital would know that too. Why don’t you have something for the pain?”

Carlos swallows, burning under the weight of TK’s gaze. He shifts and drops his eyes to the floor, not wanting to see the betrayal TK will feel at the truth. “They offered me some meds,” he admits quietly. “I said no.”

“Why would you— Oh.” TK takes a step back, hands falling to his sides. Carlos reaches out, but TK keeps moving away, shaking his head. “Don’t. I get it.”

“TK, no—”

“It’s fine, alright?” TK interrupts, though his face and tone say it’s absolutely not fine. “I—I really thought we were in a better place than that, but I guess I was wrong. I don’t blame you; if I were in your place, I wouldn’t trust me either.”

“I do trust you,” Carlos pleads, desperate for TK to understand. He hates the thought of the night ending on such a sour note, but he doesn’t appear to have a choice in the matter, as TK is backing up until he’s hovering in the doorway.

“Save it,” he says, suddenly sounding incredibly exhausted. “You don’t— I don’t need you to explain yourself. I just… I think I need some time. I’ll be on the couch; yell if you need me. Or text, or whatever. Just don’t hurt yourself, okay? If you still can’t trust me tomorrow then we can figure something out to help, but you really should take the meds.”

He lingers a moment longer, mouth open as if to say more, but he must decide against it as his jaw snaps shut and he nods to himself, turning and trudging downstairs. Carlos’s heart sinks as he watches him go, the guilt returning in full force. He doesn’t know how to explain to TK that it’s not about trust, but about an old, old fear, which has only recently begun to rear its ugly head again.

He desperately wants to go down to TK now, to explain himself and make him see— But that wouldn’t do any good. TK won’t listen to him in this state, and Carlos won’t be able to find the right words, and it’ll all end up being such a fucking mess.

So Carlos turns away from the door and climbs alone into bed, knowing he won’t be sleeping for more reasons than just his injuries.

*

“I should have talked to you sooner.”

TK turns at the sound of Carlos’s voice, his bloodshot eyes indicating he’d slept about as well as Carlos had last night. His face seems to soften at the sight of him—and what a sight he must make, exhausted and hunched over in pain—but it turns guarded again just as quickly, even as he gets up and helps Carlos to sit.

“You should have,” he agrees, settling himself apart from Carlos. The distance stings, but at least they’re in the same room this time; at least they have a chance to talk and fix things. “Why didn’t you?”

“I was scared.”

“Of how I would react?” TK nods. “Looks like I proved you right.”

Without thinking, Carlos reaches out and places his hand on TK’s knee, squeezing gently. “Ty— TK, no, that’s not it at all. I was scared, but not in the way you’re thinking.”

“Well then, what is it, Carlos?” TK cries, finally meeting his eyes. “Help me to understand, please.”

Carlos exhales shakily, feeling TK’s gaze on him even after he turns his own down to his hands. He absent-mindedly rubs the material of his sweats between his finger and thumb while he thinks, taking a few moments to gather his thoughts.

“Cops—we see drugs on the street all the time,” he starts slowly, biting at his lip. “I guess I’ve always been a bit uneasy about it, but two weeks ago we got called out to this building. That place is sort of infamous at the station, we’re there every other week or so, but things were different this time. It was… It was someone I knew, TK. Or, well. He’d been a detective when I was a rookie and pretty much everyone looked up to him, me included. Guy had a successful career, a wife, a baby on the way, and then one day he just…disappeared. Handed in his notice, walked away; we never saw or heard from him again.”

“Until the call,” TK breathes into the pause.

“Until the call,” Carlos confirms. “Seeing him like that, this person I’d admired so much, made me realise that this stuff can happen to anyone. It could happen to me, TK; it could.”

“Carlos…”

“And then I look at you.” Carlos takes a deep breath, looking TK dead in the eye. His boyfriend’s back has gone ramrod straight and his expression has frozen, as if bracing himself for Carlos’s next words. “I look at you and I see how strong you are, and it makes me wonder if I could ever be that strong. The fact that I don’t know the answer to that scares the shit out of me.”

TK is silent for a long time, his eyes roaming Carlos’s face in a way that makes him feel oddly bare. Then he sighs and shuffles closer, tangling his fingers in Carlos’s curls. “You are strong, Carlos. You could be strong if it ever happened to you—which it won’t, I swear to god it won’t—and you’re more than proving that right now.

“But—Carlos, listen to me—you don’t have to be. After the kidnapping, I would have given anything to take some real painkillers. Part of it was my addiction, yes, but honestly? I just wanted the pain to stop.”

Carlos winces sympathetically; he’d borne witness to TK’s long recovery, had held him and dried his tears when the pain became too much. He’d wished he could do something to help, but the only thing that would really, truly help was pain meds, and TK couldn’t take those.

“I was weak,” TK continues softly, “and it ruined my life. I don’t want that for you. I’m not going to force the issue—if you really want to keep going like this, then I’ll help and support you—but would you at least consider it, please?”

TK’s looking at him with those pleading eyes Carlos is yet to be able to refuse, but they’re not necessary. He nods slowly, smiling at the relieved look that spreads across TK’s face. “Thank you, Ty.”

“Thank you,” TK corrects, squeezing Carlos’s good hand and kissing him. “I’m sorry for going crazy on you.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not. I know you’re not like that. I just… Well, you wouldn’t have been the first to do something like that.” He laughs wryly. “My dad locked even the ibuprofen away for over a year after my first overdose and I don’t think any of my exes ever fully trusted me.”

Carlos frowns at that, but TK just rolls his eyes and laughs again.

“It was ages ago, babe,” he says. “Plus, my dad was right to do what he did. Finding out your son has been lying his ass off for years and almost killing himself for a high is hardly a solid basis for trust.”

Carlos hums; it’s not like he can argue that. They lapse into a comfortable silence, all the tension from last night gone, but there’s still something niggling at Carlos. He taps on the back of TK’s hand, keeping his eyes facing down. “TK?”

“Yeah?”

“If… If I ever…”

“I’ll catch you,” TK promises without hesitation. He kisses Carlos’s head, and something inside him finally settles. “I always will.”

[blitzturtles]

Title: Get What You Need (Ao3)

Rating: Teen and Up

Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Vento Aureo

Pairing(s): GioMis or Giorno & Mista (Platonic or Pre-Relationship)

Summary: “All of them,” Giorno breathes the words in a near rush of panic. His stomach turns at merely hearing the list. His resolve crumbles in an instant, and it’s only worsened when he makes the mistake of looking down at his hands, clasped together in his lap. He picks idly at the cuticle of one thumb with the nail of the other in a desperate attempt to keep himself calm. The more worked up he gets, the worse the cramps are, and they’re already rolling through him too often to be ignored.

Notes: Trigger Warnings: Dysphoria; Gio experiences quite a bit of it, and it's not very nice.

Guess who had a period from hell.

Trigger Warnings: Gender dysphoria! Giorno struggles with it quite a bit throughout the fic.

1. Bucci's also trans, 2. Polnareff is alive (so is everyone else for that matter.), and 3. Bruno being trans is not a secret/Mista isn't actually outing him here.

-

“I would like to rearrange a few meetings,” Giorno says, choosing his words carefully, so he can gauge Polnareff’s reaction.

Without missing a beat, Polnareff answers, “Of course. Which were you interested in moving? There’s the two after lunch, the one with Dura at three, and Abba-”

“All of them,” Giorno breathes the words in a near rush of panic. His stomach turns at merely hearing the list. His resolve crumbles in an instant, and it’s only worsened when he makes the mistake of looking down at his hands, clasped together in his lap. He picks idly at the cuticle of one thumb with the nail of the other in a desperate attempt to keep himself calm. The more worked up he gets, the worse the cramps are, and they’re already rolling through him too often to be ignored.

Polnareff looks momentarily surprised, but he schools his expression quickly and reaches underneath his chair to where he keeps a notebook safely tucked away. He pulls his pen from the spiral binding and looks to Giorno with sheer determination.

“Any-- preferences? On when I reschedule these to?”

“Two or three days from now at the earliest,” Giorno knows it’s risky. A bad idea at best and a great way to destroy several very fragile relationships at worst, but he’s reaching a breaking point. His eyes are already burning, and he can’t ignore the hopeless feeling gripping him any more than he can ignore the way blood continues to fill the pad he’s wearing. He’s too hyper-aware of both, and there’s nothing worse than showing weakness in front of a pack of dogs, most of whom were raised by the streets in some form or fashion. With the exception, of course, of the nepotistic sort, though Giorno doesn’t generally think much of them. They’re certainly not the threat that the others can be when left unchecked.

Polnareff, to his credit, only nods and makes a note of the request. He pauses a moment, clearly chewing something over in his mind, and it’s likely only their close relationship that allows him to ask, “Are you alright?”

“I’ll be fine,” which is a non-answer, but it’s the best Polnareff is getting from him when he feels like this: weak, vulnerable. Disgusting. Wrong. If he could tear the skin off his body, he would.

Polnareff nods again. There’s a lingering look in his good eye that Giorno thinks might be concern. Possibly displeasure at being blatantly left in the dark when it’s Polnareff’s job to be as informed as possible, though the man says nothing of it and simply wishes Giorno well before departing from the office altogether. He uses Chariot to open the door for him and wheels away without any actual protest.

It’s all Giorno can do to hold his breath until the moment the door clicks shut, and he deflates immediately over the edge of his desk. He slumps forward on the wood and tries hard to bite back the quiet, senseless sobs that bubble up in his chest. It’s ridiculous. The whole thing is ridiculous. He should be able to handle this, even if it has been awhile. He can’t fall apart the moment his period decides to rear its ugly head as one of the worst reminders of what he isn’t. What he fails to be. Yet here he is, crying over his desk like a child, though his sobs are silent. Even now, years later, he hasn’t shaken that habit.

______

Mista startles out of his light doze thanks to a text. He flails about uselessly, arms smacking into the side door of the car before he remembers where he is (and who he’s with, if the short-tempered, “Watch it!”, is anything to go by). It takes him another moment to figure out where he left his phone, and it’s only because of Five that he finds it at all.

“Thanks, buddy,” he says as he pulls the screen up for the last message he received. He blinks in surprise at the body of the first text.

Meetings are canceled.

Under any other circumstance, Mista would be hooping and hollering in delight. Meetings being canceled means that Mista doesn’t have to stand around pointlessly for hours while some morons try to talk circles around Giorno of all people, but there’s a gnawing worry that grows in his gut. Giorno doesn’t cancel meetings unless he’s physically unable to be there. Usually when a mission has carried over and kept them from home for too long. The next text does little to quail his anxiety.

You should check in on him anyway.

Mista doesn’t need to be told who ‘him’ is, and he doesn’t need to be told twice. He’s already planning on it once they get back to the mansion.

______

Giorno extracts himself from his desk after a few more minutes of self-pity. There’s only so much of it he can stand at any given time. More importantly, he doesn’t want anyone to happen by before he has a chance to compose himself, which is exactly what he does. He pulls a small mirror from his desk and grimaces at the red, puffy eyes that look back at him.

He’s part way through fixing his hair when another cramp hits. Sharp and agonizing with the way it pierces through his middle and spreads outwards, toward his hips. He doubles over with his arms hugging around his middle. It’s instinct more than anything. God knows it doesn’t help alleviate the pain any.

It takes him a solid sixty seconds before he can work up the courage to unravel. He half expects the next wave to roll through him the moment he does, but there’s a blessed lack of follow up. For the time being. He doesn’t expect that to last. It never does.

His chest aches with the effort that it takes to keep his breathing even. The binder isn’t helping, but he’s not about to try to wiggle out of it in his office. His only option is to get himself up and back to his bedroom, but that sounds like a momentous task on it’s own. Somehow he has to get there without being brought to his knees by cramps or hit with another wave of despair or-- well, being perceived at all. One look at his face will give him away. Maybe they won’t know why, but they’ll know that something is wrong, and that’s bad enough.

He finally manages to get his hair to a presentable level again when someone knocks on the door to his office, and his heart drops down to his stomach. He glances back at the mirror one more time before shoving it in his desk. His eyes are definitely still puffy, though some of the redness has dissipated.

“Giorno?” Mista asks, poking the door open slightly when Giorno doesn’t immediately respond. It’s only then that Giorno realizes that his voice is caught in his throat, and he gets a second, far more concerned call of his name for his hesitance.

“I’m fine,” he says quickly. Too quickly. Mista might not read people as well as Bucciarati, but he’s still acutely aware of certain details (the ones that matter! Mista’s voice echoes in his head.)

“Uh,” Mista starts, a little lamely, but he quickly shakes off any reserves he has about being direct if his next words are anything to go by, “No offense, but you look like shit, so I’m pretty sure you’re not. Actually.”

Giorno falters slightly. He should have texted Mista after Polnareff left. Should have explained the situation in the vaguest possible terms. And definitely should have come up with an excuse. But he had done none of those things, and now he’s stuck with the repercussions of his own actions. Or inactions.

“It’s not important,” he tries. Pathetic as it is.

“You canceled all your meetings for today,” and Giorno supposes he set himself up for that. He hasn’t come up with an excuse yet, especially not one that adequately explains away his behavior.

Silence stretches between them. Giorno for lack of an answer, and Mista because he seems to expect Giorno to cave. To the Don’s great horror, he does just that.

“It really isn’t that big of a deal. I’m just--” only, before he can finish speaking, another cramp grabs hold and twists mercilessly until he’s gasping and leaning forward with both hands clenching at the edge of his desk. He closes his eyes, as if to shut out the pain, or possibly the reality of the situation as it registers in the back of his mind.

“Giorno!” Mista calls, loud and panicked. He lunges forward to close the gap between them, though he hesitates once he’s within touching distance. “Giorno?”

“I’m fine, just-- cramps,” Giorno confesses, grinding his teeth together as the next one rips through him. Equally as painful as the last and as impossible to ignore. He feels his cheeks burn the way his eyes are once again, and all he wants is to crawl under his desk and hide away from the world. It’s not often that he wishes he could be nobody again, but now is certainly one of those times.

“Cramps?” Mista asks with confusion evident in his voice, but then his eyes go wide. He scans Giorno over, as if that might give him the affirmative he needs. “Like Bucci’s?”

Giorno doesn’t actually know what that means, but he nods anyway. Close enough, and it means he doesn’t have to explain anything else.

“Okay, okay, shit--!” Mista sounds a bit more panicked now. More like how Giorno feels being flayed open like this in front of one of the people he actually cares about. Whose opinion actually means something to him. “God, he hasn’t had them in so long. Fuck, uh? Heat. Oh, and we should probably get you into something more comfortable. Have you taken anything?”

What?

Giorno’s mind skips and stutters into a complete stall. He’s not sure what Bucciarati has to do with anything, but he’s suddenly sure that the answer is more closely linked than he had originally thought.

“Gio?”

“Yes,” Giorno grinds out, because he did, though he’s nearing the end of the four hour period before he can take the next dose, and he’s tempted to swallow as much as he can fit into his fist. The damage is something he can deal with later. With his Stand, but he knows it won’t help. The efficacy of such medication is limited, but it hurts. It hurts, and he’s just outed himself to one of his closest friends with no warning. No preparation. Anxiety works its way up his throat, and he thinks, for a moment, that he might be sick.

“C’mon, let’s get you out of here,” Mista says, bringing Giorno back out of his thoughts and back into reality. He tugs gently at Giorno’s upper arm.

Giorno lets himself be pulled up to his feet with a sort of numbness spreading through him. For all the panic that’s coursing through his veins, there is one, lucid thought: Mista isn’t upset. He’s taken the news and simply rolled with it like it means nothing. Like it doesn’t change anything, and Giorno doesn’t know how to handle that, so he just lets himself be pulled along. Out from behind his desk and toward the office entrance.

From there it’s a long, impossible trek to Giorno’s bedroom. One that requires breaks for the cramps that won’t let him off so easily. For a moment, he wishes it were a bullet tearing apart his insides. That, at least, he could do something about, but cramps are something else entirely. Using GE won’t get him anywhere. In fact, he’s pretty sure it’s made it worse in the past, when he’s tried out of pure desperation.

“I’m going to go grab a heating pad,” Mista starts once they reach Giorno’s bedroom, “You should get changed into something less-- tight. Got any stretchy pants?”

“My pajamas,” Giorno answers, more because it seems expected of him than because he’s actually paying attention.

“Perfect! I’ll be back in a minute.”

Giorno’s left standing there, a bit lost for what to do with himself, but the next shock of pain comes and fresh tears burn at the corners of his eyes, reminding him of the fact that he really doesn’t want to be in the middle of the hall, visibly crying for all to see. There’s a logical part of him that knows he wouldn’t be judged for it, but there’s a much louder part that reminds him that crying has never gotten him anywhere in life other than alone and miserable.

He turns the knob on his door and pushes it open after the agony subsides enough to allow him to move again. The first thing he does upon entering his room is seek out the pill bottle from earlier. A few minutes won’t make a difference, and he’s rapidly approaching the end of his rope. He can’t handle the pain on top of everything else.

Changing is a whole other problem. One that he hadn’t thought of as a problem until he’s standing there with his sleep clothes in hand and staring down at himself, realizing he’ll have to undress in order to redress (and is it really worth the effort? Worth seeing himself and his hips and his chest and--).

He peels out of his suit despite himself. He doesn’t want Mista to come back and push the subject. Then there’s the risk that Mista might not leave, which means Giorno will have to deal with an audience on top of having to suffer through his own self-hatred.

The binder stays on. Regardless of how uncomfortable and hot and painful he already is. He can’t handle the idea of taking it off right now, so he suffers for the little bit of mental peace that it brings him. The flattened chest makes up for the curve of his hips, though he finds himself flattening his hands over his waist anyway. Unable to stop himself from picking at every flaw when he’s already hormonal and all around having one of the worst days he’s had in awhile.

The knock at his door startles him into action, and he finishes getting dressed with a quick, “Hold on!”

A moment later has him opening the door to Mista’s grinning face.

“Found it,” Mista says as he holds up the box with a product image on it. Giorno doesn’t get a chance to observe more than the fact that it’s maroon before Mista drops it back down to his side and nods toward Giorno’s room.

Giorno steps out of the way to allow his (technically uninvited) guest in. Mista’s rambling on about something. Giorno isn’t sure what, though he catches ‘Bucciarati’ and ‘Trish’ in there somewhere, and there’s something about Abbacchio being unhelpful and half a dozen other things that fall on deaf ears.

“Oh, and you got changed, good,” Mista finishes with another one of his goofy smiles. The corners of his eyes pull oddly, giving away something else that he’s trying to hide under all the babbling and warmth. Worry persists, despite knowing the truth. Giorno can’t understand why. Cramps aren’t that big of a deal; even if he’s made them out to be in his own head.

“Yeah, it’s helping a little, thanks,” Giorno says when Mista looks at him with some sort of expectation in his eyes. Giorno’s usually better at reading people than this, but he feels like he’s moving in water. Too slow and with too much drag. He can’t keep up with the world around him, and it’s all overwhelming pressure and not enough time. Time to process, time to breathe. He loops back around to the fact that he came out to someone on the Team no more than ten minutes ago, yet Mista is unflinching and unconcerned. He hasn’t brought it back up, since he learned about it, in fact. Hell, he’s acting like all of this is completely normal, despite Giorno being almost completely certain that Mista is cis.

“Earth to Giorno,” Mista calls, voice soft with that same worry now seeping into his tone.

“Sorry,” Giorno says quickly, “I was--”

“Off in lala land?”

“Something like that,” though he thinks that sounds substantially more pleasant than all the thoughts racing through his mind.

Mista watches him for a long, uncomfortable moment. It’s times like these where Giorno gets reminded of just how much Mista likes to play dumb, when he’s anything but. He might not have the book smarts that Fugo has, but Mista is brilliant in so many other ways. Ways that are working against Giorno right now.

“You know, if you want to talk about it…”

“I-” Giorno cuts off and groans. He quickly takes a seat on the edge of his bed and sticks his head down between his knees, folding himself in half in an attempt to apply enough pressure to alleviate some of the pain.

“Oh, shit, here,” Mista moves to find an outlet and digs out the heating pad from its box. He hooks it up quickly and hands it to Giorno. The fabric of its exterior is surprisingly soft in Giorno’s hands, and he’s quick to tuck it between his abdomen and his thighs.

“Thank you,” he breathes out after several seconds pass and heat finally starts to spread across the pad.

“No problem,” Mista says quietly. More subdued than he typically is. He moves to sit on the bed beside Giorno and places a hesitant hand on his back, where he rubs gentle circles until he can feel some of the tension ease out of his Don’s muscles.

It’s quiet for a long while. Giorno basks in the relief the pad and pain killers offer. It’s the first time in over an hour that he’s been able to simply breathe through the worst of the cramps each time they hit. Though his chest continues to ache, the change is nonetheless a welcomed one. The sensation of heat spreading across his abdomen is enough of a distraction to keep him out of his own head. For a short while, at least.

“Earlier, you said something about Bucciarati,” Giorno starts, nervous and unsure of how to broach the topic.

“Oh yeah, Bucci used to get cramps real bad, too,” Mista says without hesitation. Without any hint whatsoever that he finds what he’s said to be unusual.

“Is he--?”

“Oh, shit,” Mista’s hand stills on his back, and Giorno gnaws suddenly at his lip, afraid he’s somehow messed with something he shouldn’t have. “Uh, technically that’s probably not my place to say? But he’s not exactly hiding it, Gio. He’s got scars and everything.”

Scars? Oh.

Oh.

Giorno feels his face flush, this time out of a different sort of embarrassment. Sure, he had seen the scars before, but they were light. Old and well healed, probably through the help of Sticky Fingers, and it’s not as though Bucciarati isn’t covered in dozens of others. Most of them silver from age, but there all the same. It had never once occurred to Giorno that the two on his chest, which peek out just a bit underneath the classic lingerie that Bucciarati always wears, are anything purposeful.

“I didn’t realize,” Giorno admits after a moment, when that little fact is probably very obvious and unnecessarily verbalized, but he doesn’t know what else to say to fill the silence. His own head is much louder. Full of racing thoughts and flashes of memories.

“Maybe you should talk to him about it sometime?” Particularly in moments like these; Mista spares his emotions by keeping that part to himself, but Giorno’s thinking it all the same.

To imagine that he’s been doing all of this in silence since meeting Bucciarati and his Team. To think that he could be so dense as to dismiss the signs that he isn’t alone. He only wishes he had realized sooner, even if he isn’t sure what it would have changed. He’s not sure he could have broached the subject then. He’s not sure he could do it now. Mista only found out because of circumstance.

Still. There’s someone just like him, and they live under the same roof. “I should,” he agrees, because he really should, hang-ups aside.

“Hey, you wanna try laying out? ‘Cause, no offense, man, but that looks super uncomfortable.” Mista asks after a beat of silence. He’s never one to let it go on for too long, and he’s rarely deterred by any uncomfortableness that might be lingering.

Giorno nods his head after a moment and slowly sits up. He moves his hands to hold the heating pad against his abdomen and breathes a small sigh of relief when the pain doesn’t immediately crowd in on him again. He carefully stretches himself out across the bed, despite how painfully aware of Mista’s presence he is. It’s weird to be laying out, so physically vulnerable, and it makes him acutely aware of all the things he wishes he could forget. (Is the outline of his binder visible? What about the shape of his hips? Does lying down like this make it that much more obvious how slight Giorno is?)

Once he’s lying back fully, he lets go of the pad, allowing it to rest on top of him on its own. The next wave of pain is far more manageable than the last several have been, and he merely winces in response.

“Those must suck, huh?”

“You have no idea.”

“I really don’t,” Mista agrees, “Though Trish and Bucci make it out to be pretty shitty, so.”

“I think I prefer being stabbed.”

Mista winces at the thought, “For what it’s worth, I’d rather you weren’t.”

Giorno lets out a startled laugh, but he gets Mista’s point. He kind of wishes his bodyguard weren’t so prone to being shot with multiple bullets on a regular basis. Unfortunately for both of them, they can’t always get what they want.

The quiet that settles over them this time is much more peaceful. Giorno closes his eyes and relaxes into the mattress. It’s the best he’s felt all day. Physically, anyway. There’s plenty for him to work through otherwise, but he doesn’t want to think about that right now. Instead, he focuses on the lessening cramps until they’ve all but died off entirely. Exhaustion takes hold of him then. It’s still far too early in the day to sleep, but a nap is beginning to sound like a good idea.

Before he can think about drifting off fully, he cracks his eyes open to peek at Mista, “Thank you.”

Mista beams at him from where he’s gone and laid out next to Giorno, “Anytime, GioGio. Anytime.”

[cryingoverafictionalcharacter]

Red Hair Dye

Request: hello! if you’re taking prompts could you please do 1 + 10 from the angst list (with a happy ending preferably!) for fred with a slytherin!reader? thank you i love your writing even tho i just found your blog! <3  (@greyspilot​)

1. “I hate that I love you”

10.  “I can’t do this anymore”

Prompt: Fred and Y/N could not be more different. Fred loves to cause trouble, Y/N is more reserved. Fred is loud and extroverted, Y/N likes to keep to themselves. Fred is a Gryffindor, Y/N is a Slytherin.  They’re complete opposites, it would only make sense that they wouldn’t like each other, that is until a certain moment makes them question everything. 

Warnings: ANGST!!! with fluff at the end lol. Injury to reader bc we love a care taking moment, swearing, Fred being a dumbass, reader being a dumbass, Enemies to lovers type beat, gender neutral reader, Umbridge existing, I think that’s it. 

You gritted your teeth as you stared straight ahead, doing everything you could to focus on the words scribbled on the board instead of the endless chattering coming from behind you. Transfiguration was by far your least favorite class, the lessons were boring, the homework was extensive, but above all else, Fred Weasley sat directly behind you, meaning you were now on the receiving end of any jokes or pranks he may try and pull to relieve his own boredom.

You and Fred were, to put it lightly, mortal enemies. It wasn’t always like that though, from first to fourht year you were pretty close, making jokes and having fun together along with George and Ron, but then in fourth year, he had tried to pull a prank on you. He was meant to switch all your Slytherin robes for Gryffindor ones, which would have been annoying but forgivable, but he decided to take an extra step, and dye your hair a sickeningly color of red. Not maroon, not pink, no, he went with a bright, stop sign, ripe tomato red. Some of your house mates had already started making fun of you for your half blood status, but after the incident, many of them had alienated you completely, leaving you with almost no friends the entire semester. 

You decided then and there that you hated Fred Weasleys guts, even when he offered to help you in class, or notice when you were having a bad day and leave you alone, or smile in a way that gave you butterflies.

You continued to focus on the board, ignoring the red head who was currently trying to get your attention.

“Hey, Y/N.... Y/N” Fred whisper yelled, saying your name a bit louder with each attempt. You continued to ignore him, scribbling notes from time to time until you felt something hit the back of your head. 

Fred must have noticed how your body stiffened, because you heard him let out a quiet laugh along with his friends, but still, you continued to look forward. 

You felt another ball of paper hit you in the back of the head, followed by more snickering. You balled your hands into fists, hoping the professor would excuse the class before you lost your patients and gave Fred the well deserved smack you had been itching to give since third year.

“Do you have an answer for us Y/N?” The professor suddenly asked, making you snap out of your haze.

“What?” You asked, clueless of what the Professor had asked, causing a few laughs to pass through the class.

“That’s what I thought you might say, maybe if you were to pay as much attention to this class as you do your own thoughts, your grade wouldn’t be doing so poorly.” The teacher responded, making your face heat up as you slumped down in your seat.

Your mind filled with thoughts all contradicting each other. 

“Class dismissed, please read chapters-” You couldn’t hear the rest of the professors instructions, as soon as you were excused you grabbed your things and left, fumbling to put your things into your bag as you rushed out of the class.

“Y/N, wait up!” Fred called, catching up to you quite quickly. Damn those long legs.

You didn’t answer, picking up your pace to hopefully reach your last class before Fred could catch up to you, but of course, he wasn’t about to suddenly stop pestering you now.

“Y/N, I-” Fred tried to say, grabbing your arm to stop.

You ripped your arm out of his grasp, turning to face him.

“What’s your problem?” You asked bluntly, causing a few heads to turn in your direction, but next class was about to start, and the hallways were already quite empty.

“I- I don’t have a problem” Fred said, struggling to find the words as he was quite surprised by your reaction. Sure he had bugged you in the past, but you had never gotten this mad.

“Well, you obviously fucking do Fred. Ever since fourth year you’ve been doing everything you could to make my life harder. It was funny when it was a little joke here and there, but dying my hair? Making me lose friends? Embarrassing me in class? I don’t know if you know this but it’s not fucking funny Fred! What did I do to make you hate me so much? We used to be friends!” You ranted, watching as Fred’s eyes grew with both shock and fear as your voice continued to get louder.

“I don’t-” Fred tried to interject, but it only made you angrier.

“You don’t what Fred, you don’t what?!” You shouted, only coming down from your anger when you heard someone lightly clear their throat behind you.

Your eyes, which were once locked on Fred’s with anger, filled with dread as you slowly turned to see none other than the pink clad devil herself. 

“I believe you should both be in class, yes?” She asked, the fake politeness in her voice causing a sick feeling to wash over you.

“I’m sorry professor, I was just-” Fred started, but Umbridge lifted her hand to stop him.

“Weasley, please get to your next class. Y/N, follow me” She said, the smile never leaving her face as she turned to walk back to her office, you following behind, looking back to see Fred, a worried expression on his face.

By the time you had reached Umbridge's office, you were practically shaking. You had heard horror stories of people who went into her office to be punished, coming out with bloody words scribbled across their hands.

You sat in the chair across from her desk, looking around the ugly pink room for a moment before a quill and piece of paper were suddenly placed in front of you. 

“You will write, ‘I will not shout during class’ one hundred times” She said, taking a seat across from you, eyeing you like a snake about to strike at a mouse.

“Professor Umbridge, I didn’t-” You started, trying to defend yourself.

“You most certainly did, I could hear you all the way across campus, two hundred times” She said, making you clench your fists.

“What?! I just wanted to-”

“‘I will not shout during class’ two hundred times, and ‘I will not question my professors’ three hundred times” She said, her sickly sweet tone never changing. 

Your heart sank to your stomach, already feeling sick. You decided not to try and fight it anymore, knowing you would only end up more hurt, so, you picked up the quill and began writing, already beginning to feel a slight sting in your left hand.

By the time you had finished writing it was nearly dark. With any other quill the task would have taken no more than thirty minutes, but with the pain in your hand worsening as you continued to dig into your skin, it had taken hours.

You wrote the last sentence, almost throwing the pen down as you took deep breaths, trying not to let the pain get to you in front of her. You grabbed the paper with your injured hand, offering it to Umbridge who took it with a smile, looking over the small blood spot that had landed in the corner.

“You are excused” She said with a flick of her hand, allowing you to slowly stand and walk out of her office, closing the door behind you. 

You walked into the hallway in a daze, your head feeling foggy from the emotional exhaustion you were feeling. You were so distracted that you didn’t notice Fred waiting for you until he was standing directly in front of you, quickly shaking you from your sleep like state.

“What do you want?” You asked, your voice shaking a bit, trying to hide your face by staring at the floor “If you’re here to make fun of me or something...I don’t know what I did to make you hate me but I’m sorry I just can’t- I can’t do this anymore”

You felt a pair of hands gently hold the sides of your face, making you look up to meet Fred’s eyes which were now filled with sadness as he wiped a single tear rolling down your face.

“I don’t hate you. I never hated you”

He pulled you closer to him, enveloping you in a hug and the dam burst, tears freely flowing down your face as you sobbed into his chest. You were crying from the pain in your hand, but also the pain you felt in your heart. You didn’t know why he didn’t like you, why he did all those things to make your life so hard, why despite everything he did you still found yourself looking back to that boy you had been friends with for so long.

You let him lead you back to the Gryffindor common room, setting you down on one of the many couches before he ran off to grab a few things, returning with a first aid kit and some water.

He took a seat next to you, putting out his hand towards you, which you carefully put your injured hand in. He pulled back the sleeve of your robes, exposing the wound which you had yet to fully see yourself. 

“I had to use the quill too, though it wasn’t this many words” He said, breaking the long silence between you.

“Yeah, well I guess she just likes me more than you” you said with a short laugh, making Fred smile a bit as well.

“I don’t think that woman likes anything, not even Filtch” He said, the two of you laughing this time. “This might sting a little” He said, soaking a cotton ball in alcohol but not bringing it to your skin just yet, looking at you for permission.

You nodded, your breath hitching as the cotton came in contact with your hand, a stinging sensation running all the way up your arm. You screwed your eyes shut and grabbed onto the first thing your free hand found, which happened to be Fred’s knee.

“I know, I know I’m sorry” Fred apologized, quickly pulling away the alcohol.

You took a breath and opened your eyes to meet Fred’s, watching as he brought your injured hand closer to his face, lightly blowing on the skin to relive the stinging sensation, never breaking eye contact.

You felt your face heat up at you realized how close you have gotten, your hand still gripping his knee, a bit more tightly than you would have liked, and your hand gently being held by both of his, his face only inches from yours.

“Like what you see Y/N?” Fred asked with a smirk, snapping you out of your thoughts, and quickly reminding you of what got you into this situation in the first place. You pulled your hand out of his, turning away and grabbing a roll of gauze to wrap your hand yourself, not answering his question.

“I was just joking” Fred defended, trying to grab your hand back but you pulled it away.

“Yeah, sorry I didn’t realize that was all a joke to you, my bad for thinking you could actually go two seconds without making fun of me”  You tried wrapping your hand, but the movement stung and you winced, dropping the roll of gauze.

"I'm not making fun of you” Fred defended, picking the gauze off the floor and reaching to wrap it but you pulled back.

“Stop, I can do it myself” You said, grabbing for the roll but he kept it out of your grasp.

“Sure, because you did so well the first time” Fred shot back, making you narrow your eyes at him.

“Stop being a dick!” You shouted, your voices having progressively gotten louder during the argument.

“Then stop being so stubborn and listen to me!” He shouted back “God, you can be so fucking stubborn its unbearable. I hate that I love you sometimes”

His statement shocked you into stillness, trying to process his words as Fred continued his grumbling. He brought your hand closer to him and started wrapping it.

“You love me?” You asked, causing him to stop his movements entirely as he suddenly realized what he said. 

“I mean I- well yeah but I didn’t want you to - I do but” Fred rambled as he tried to find the right words to say, only stopping when you brought your uninjured hand to his face and closed the space between you, pressing your lips to his.

Fred let out a surprised sound, but was quick to respond, moving his hand to the back of your neck as he pulled you closer to him, deepening the kiss.

“Wait, what just happened?” Fred asked as he suddenly pulled away, making you laugh.

“I love you too stupid, even if you dyed my hair red” You responded, making him give you a worried grin.

“About that... I didn’t dye your hair red” He said

“What do you mean?” You asked

“Well, the switching robes part was me, but the hair dye was Lee” He said, causing your lower jaw to practically hit the floor.

“I’ve been blaming you, thinking you were out to sabotage me and ruin my social life for years, and it was Lee?”

“Yeah, he felt really bad about it, but when we went to apologize you were already pretty set on blaming me so I just never said anything”

You felt your face heat up with embarrassment as you realized how childish the situation was. You had been crushing of Fred for years, and the only thing keeping you from getting together was a prank he didn’t even do. 

“I feel so stupid” You said, covering your face with your hands, which Fred gently pulled away, making you look at him.

“Don’t, I was the one who was stupid and tried to get your attention by teasing you instead of just telling you how I felt” Fred said.

“You’re right, that was stupid” You said, laughing as an offended expression crossed Fred's face. “But that, uh... moment earlier. You weren’t making fun of me?”

“No, I wasn’t, that was real” He said sincerely, making you smile before pressing your lips back to his.

His hands moved to your waist as you climbed on top of him, straddling him as you deepened the kiss. Fred began moving his hands up your sides, and had just dipped under your shirt when you pulled away.

“Heeey” Fred complained as you broke away.

“I’ll be right back, I just need to do something before I forget” You said sweetly, pressing a quick peck to his lips before walking away.

Fred watched you, confused but content as you quietly made your way up the stairs of the boys dormitory, not knowing what you were up to until he heard the dormitory door bang open.

“LEE JORDAN, YOU FUCKER!” You yelled, causing Fred to jump up from his spot on the couch and sprint of the stairs, the sound of Lees screams echoing through the common room.

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

A/N: Hey!!! I hope you liked it, I had a little trouble trying to get a good plot but I think it worked out ok. Also I was literally sweating when Fred blew on your hand SO SOFT YET ERROTIC?!?! Anyway, feel free to leave any feedback you may have, thank you for the request!

[chaseatinydream]

sly san who sacrifices (i) || c.s (atz)

➳ pairing: reader x choi san (ateez)

➳ word count: 2396

➳ genre: badboy au; fluff; angst

➳ synopsis: to the school, he may be a bad boy, the worst of the worst, but to you, he’s choi san, father of three cats, your best friend and ultimately, the boy you love.

>>>

San has often been called ‘catlike’.

It’s no surprise, given his near obsession with picking up strays from roadsides and giving them a home in his family’s third mansion, where he lives, and his behaviour does remind you of a cat’s. There’s something distinctively feline about him, from those uncannily sharp eyes to his whimsical, distinctly teasing personality. Some find it off putting, citing him as arrogant and aloof, but you know him better than that.

He’s your best friend, after all.

Honestly, you’re not very sure how the two of you became friends. It’d started this way on the first day of term with him seated at your side. Within the first three minutes you had known each other, he’d ripped off his tie, called it ugly and flung it across the room, all while ranting to you that the colour scheme was an abomination and how the school should have at least hired a competent designer to do their uniform.

You had merely stared at him in wide eyed shock and nodded along with everything he’d said.

And that… was how it’d just happened.

You like to think that you understand him, but it seems a humanly impossible task. Choi San toes the line between sweet as cotton candy and cold as ice like a professional tightrope walker, a double faced enigma that you can never predict. One second, he’s cradling a baby bird in his hands, cooing about how cute it is to you, and the next moment, he’s in a fist fight with another student, your hands pulling on his sleeve as you desperately beg him to stop with tears in your eyes.

Sometimes, you don’t know why San is your friend. All the rest of his gang – ATEEZ, as they call themselves – are what one would label as bad boys, terrible influences, a stain on your school’s otherwise pristine reputation. The two of you are polar opposites, you’re everything he’s not and he’s everything you would have steered clear of.

But here you are, in this strange, peculiar situation, with Choi San still seated at your side two years after your first meeting, his head resting against your shoulder as he dozes off in class.

You jab his side with a pen.

“Psst, San.”

Your best friend cracks open one eye lazily, feet propped up on the table. He’s wearing slippers today, you groan mentally, together with school issue pants and one of his self-designed shirts. Not the typical bad boy image he usually goes for, but then again you know that San had been out clubbing in town till the wee hours of morning, so it explains his state of casual dress. Still, if he was just going to sleep the whole lesson away, he should have just stayed at home!

“Wassgoinon?” San mumbles sleepily into your shoulder and you puff out your cheeks in exasperation, ready to lecture him on how he should be paying attention to the teacher instead of sleeping his life away like an actual cat.

But then one look at how peaceful and serene he looks with his eyes closed has something melting inside and you momentarily falter, chewing on your bottom lip as you struggle to chide him.

Stupid pretty face. Stupid jawline. Stupid dimples.

“If you were just going to sleep you should have just stayed home, you know?” You mutter, running your fingers through the red streaks in his hair that he just refuses to get rid of. He mumbles absentmindedly under his breath, curling into your side like a large cat and your breath hitches in your throat.

You turn to study him a little more intently. He looks tired, with purplish-black bags under his eyes that remind you of bruises, his flawless skin a little more sallow than usual. Frowning, you press a hand to his forehead… and yelp when you realise how feverish he is.

“San, you’re sick!” You whisper worriedly to him as you sit up a little straighter, hand touching his neck, where his leather choker lies. Yup, he’s burning up, alright. Concern shoots through you and you immediately speak your mind. “You should go home.”

But he merely bats your hand away, grumbling incoherently under his breath as he shifts into a more comfortable position against you. “But I wanna stay in school…”

Your eyes widen in horror at the words that have just left his mouth. The fever must have fried his brain, turned it into a smoking pile of mush, because San never wants to stay in school. Truly on the verge of panicking now, you turn towards the teacher at the front of the classroom and raise a hand desperately, trying to grab her attention.

When she does turn to look at you, you gesture at the pouting boy next to you.

“Professor, can San go home first? He’s sick.”

Your best friend doesn’t have the best reputation with the professors, in fact, most of them are scared stiff by him. San is a wild card, you’re never sure what hand he might play when dealing with him, so you can’t really blame the teachers for being terrified of him, but you can’t leave him be like this in class.

The class abruptly falls silent, tension settling over the room like a thick, unbearable smog.

The teacher glances over at the pair of you, looking nervous when her eyes flit over San. “Well, of course Mr Choi can leave-”

“I don’t want to go.” San growls from next to you, starting to rise from his seat with darkening eyes. The teacher actually shrinks back in fear, colour draining from her face at the potential ticking time bomb on her hands. Instead, you smack your best friend over the head, the charms on your bracelet jingling as you scold him for his bratty behavior.

“San, you’re sick! You need to go home and rest!” You chide, but San merely gives you the best puppy dog eyes he can, a complete opposite of the terrifying glare he’d been projecting earlier.

“I’ll go home if you come with me.” He whines like a petulant puppy, tugging at your sleeve and you groan in exasperation, jerking your head in the teacher’s direction.

“San-ah, lessons are still ongoing! You know I can’t just leave class like that-”

“You can leave too! Please!” The teacher near begs and you scowl at San, who quickly paints the gaze of an innocent angel over the smug, victorious grin on his face. Scowling, you shove your books into your bag before you reach over and grab him hard by the ear, yanking him out of the classroom as he yelps in pain behind you.

“Ow… ow ow ow!” San squawks as you haul him out of the building to the main gate, whipping out your phone with your other hand and speed dialing San’s chauffeur. Honestly, you love San, but sometimes he’s just... ugh.

Ring, ring, ring.

“Good morning, Young Miss. What has Master San done this time?” The dry, monotonous voice of San’s chauffeur and personal assistant comes over the phone and you snort at his opening gambit, both of you all too used to San’s shenanigans.

San flails and struggles against your vice grip on his ear and for a moment you’re afraid that you might actually tear the piercing out of his flesh, so you let him go and he stumbles to the ground dramatically, groaning as he cradles the abused appendage with both hands.

“Surprisingly, nothing. He’s just sick today.” You tell Claude honestly and you can practically hear the stoic man’s eyebrows rise from over the phone.

“He has not? Please, wait for a moment while I check Young Master’s room for him. The one at your side now cannot be the real Master San-”

“You know I can hear the two of you, right?” The topic of your conversation slings an arm over your shoulder, pressing his face into the crook of your neck. You shiver at the feeling of his warm breath against the juncture of your shoulder and raise a hand to smack him in the face, but he dodges to the side with ease. “And Claude! I’m supposed to be your master, you know? Could you stop talking about me like a mutt that keeps pissing on the carpet?”

The man draws in a deep breath to counter. “Well, Young Master, perhaps I would have reason to if you behaved more like a young master instead of a dog-”

You shove San away from you and press the phone to your ear once more. “Anyway, Claude, could you please pick up San from school? He’s at the main gate now.”

There’s the purr of the engine over the call, sleek and velvety as you hear the car pull out of the driveway. “Anything for you, young miss. Please keep Master San under containment until I reach the venue.”

San grabs the phone from you in fury and shrieks into the receiver, voice reminiscent of a dying cat. “Stop talking about me like that! And I’m your master, not her, you know-”

The call hangs up abruptly.

You dissolve into fits of laughter at the look of stunned shock on San’s face and pluck the phone from his hands, while he merely continues staring blankly into the space where the mobile device once was. Bopping him once on the nose to snap him out of his daze, you grin smugly at him and wave the phone in your palm. “I told you that Claude likes me more than he likes you. Honestly, sometimes we have tea chats over the nonsense you get up to.”

Your best friend sputters incoherently.

“Preposterous! Unbelievable! Unacceptable!” San’s face is red with disbelief, almost the same hue of crimson as the coat he wears. Giggles nearly spill forth from you at the comical look on his features as you fight to keep your laughter in your chest, admiring the way his flush makes his cheeks like blossoming roses. “I’m going to fire that traitorous little bastar-”

He breaks off into a coughing fit.

“San!” You yelp in horror, dropping all pretense and rushing to his side to support him. Your arms wind around his shoulders and pull him close to you as he bends over still coughing, waving you off with a raspy ‘I’m fine, I’m fine– ’.

“You shouldn’t lie, Young Master.”

Whirling around in surprise, you see Claude standing there, sleek black limousine behind him, posture perfect like a statue, not a thread on his impeccable suit out of place. San had designed it for him with his very own hands, from the sketching of the outfit to the selection of the material, explaining to you every bit about how all these would come together eventually to form a suit perfect for Claude’s thirty seventh birthday gift.

You had strongly vetoed San’s idea of making the suit canary yellow, but that had been one of the experiences that had really bonded the two of you together. You remember staying over at his house till the wee hours of the morning, curled up in his bed with Darong as you watched him work the sewing machine through sleepy, half lidded eyes. When you did fall asleep, you would often wake up a few moments later to see San on the floor of his room, head tilted against the bed in a manner that must surely not have been comfortable, his long fingers wrapped loosely around your wrist and Puchi in his lap as he snoozed away before you.

Innocent and vulnerable.

Your heart softens at the memory.

“What? How did you get here so fast? I swear you’re like… Usain Bolt in disguise or something.” San grumbles as he tosses his backpack with the force he can muster at the chauffeur, the older man catching it easily with the same, unruffled, serene smile on his face.

“Usain Bolt is a respectable Olympic Sprinter, I merely have a very expensive car provided to me by your father. Also, I did tell you this morning that you were sick and needed to stay at home today, but you refused to listen to me and walked all the way here on your own.” Claude answers as he holds open the door to the backseat. San’s face turns even redder at being exposed and your eyes widen in shock.

“San, you walked all the way here this morning? It was pouring buckets!” You exclaim angrily, now thoroughly furious and also confused by why San was so determined to come to school today. There was nothing especially exciting or interesting going on in school, so San’s behavior was completely counter intuitive. “You’re sick and you don’t carry an umbrella! So that’s why you were so wet this morning! Stay at home next time, you dummy!”

Instead of defending himself, something in San’s eyes soften at your little outburst, the dimples in his cheeks appearing as he gazes at you. “Cute.” He hums under his breath and you recoil a little in confusion, a frown pulling at your lips. San has been doing strange stuff like this recently, dancing hot and cold around you, saying strange things. You chalk this one up to his fever – it must have really fried his brain – and turn your head away to hide your flush.

“I’m just worried, okay?” You mumble, a little embarrassed by his words but you push them out of your mind, forcibly shoving San into the backseat of his car. He nearly trips, stumbles a little, and falls into the leather seat with a yelp. “There! Now, I’m heading back to class–”

His fingers close around your wrist and tug you in after him.

“Choi San!” You shriek in indignation but San merely chuckles tiredly, sagging against your side with his head resting on your shoulder, eyes already sliding shut. You’re about to push him off, but you falter when he sighs gently, his warm breath fanning over your collarbone.

You nearly shiver at the feeling, but keep a hold of yourself.

As Claude closes the door after you and slides into driver’s seat to begin the drive back home, he glances at the interior driver’s mirror to see the peaceful expression on his young master’s face.

He smiles knowingly to himself.