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strwbyoons · 3 months ago

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NO ONE ELSE

STARRING ... BEST FRIEND'S BROTHER!M. YOONGI X READER

WORD COUNT ... 10.4K

SUMMARY ... yoongi doesn’t know what you want from him, but he knows he wants you.

NOTES/WARNINGS ... slight angst. smut (18+/MDNI). i needed these two to fuck so bad. making them official because they mean the world to me <33 taehyung flirting with reader. jealous!yoongi. basically-lovers-but-not-really to lovers. fingering, p in v sex, protected sex. if i forgot anything let me know.

playlist : still into you (paramore), snooze (sza), kiss me (sixpence none the richer), so american (olivia rodrigo), pink + white (frank ocean), still the one (shania twain), runaway (the corrs), kiss from a rose (seal), are you bored yet? (wallows), here with me (d4vd)

you wake up to the sound of yoongi’s alarm vibrating against the nightstand.

it’s early. too early. the sky outside is still a soft shade of orange, and the only reason you’re even awake is because yoongi, in his infinite wisdom, forgot to turn off his alarm before rolling out of bed to use the bathroom.

and now it’s going off, loud and persistent.

with a groan, you shove your face deeper into his pillow, blindly reaching out to slap at his phone until it stops.

silence. finally.

except, now you’re awake. and now you’re aware. of the lingering warmth beside you, the faint scent of his shampoo clinging to the pillowcase, the way his blanket is still wrapped around you, heavy and comforting.

yoongi’s bed is dangerously comfortable.

it always has been, which is probably why you keep ending up here, despite all the logical reasons why you shouldn’t.

there’s an unspoken understanding between you. whatever this is, whatever you’ve let it become, doesn’t get talked about. doesn’t get labeled. doesn’t change anything outside the walls of his room.

the bathroom door creaks open, and you barely lift your head as yoongi walks back in, hair a mess, hoodie slung loosely over his shoulders, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"your alarm is annoying," you mumble, voice heavy with sleep.

"your face is annoying," he mutters back, dropping onto the bed with zero grace, exhaling sharply when his head hits the pillow beside yours. for a second, neither of you move.

then, yoongi shifts, turning onto his side, gaze flicking over your face like he’s searching for something. he must find it, because his lips twitch, just slightly.

"go back to sleep," he murmurs, tugging the blanket higher over your shoulders.

it should be weird. it should be so weird. but it’s not, so you do.

next time you wake up, yoongi’s side of the bed is cold and empty, and his bedroom door is open.

the house is quiet, save for the faint sound of the tv murmuring from the living room. you stretch, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, before finally dragging yourself out of bed, blanket still wrapped around your shoulders as you shuffle out into the hall.

yoongi’s mom is in the kitchen, flipping through a newspaper with a cup of tea in hand. she looks up when she hears you, barely fazed by the fact that you just crawled out of her son’s bedroom like it’s the most normal thing in the world because, at this point, it is.

“morning, sweetheart,” she hums, setting her mug down.

you blink, still half-asleep. “morning.”

her lips twitch slightly, and then she gives you the look.

the same knowing glance she’s been giving you for months now, the one that says you’re not as sneaky as you think you are but also i’ll let you keep pretending anyway.

heat creeps up the back of your neck, but you don’t acknowledge it, just tug the blanket tighter around yourself and step toward the fridge.

“yoongi up?” you ask, peering inside.

“mm,” she hums. “went out a while ago. said something about needing a new lighter.”

you roll your eyes, grabbing a carton of juice. of course. because god forbid he go a full twenty-four hours without replacing one of the dozen lighters he somehow loses in his own room.

you pour yourself a glass, avoiding his mom’s eyes, but you can feel her looking. assessing. thinking about whether or not she should say whatever’s sitting on the tip of her tongue.

and then, “just make sure you're using protection.”

you nearly choke on your juice. “what?”

she shrugs, oh-so-casual, turning a page in her newspaper. “just making sure.”

you gape at her. yoongi’s mom, the same woman who once scolded you and his sister for sneaking out at sixteen, now just casually suggesting that you and yoongi have been fucking each other in his room—which you've thought about, but in any which case is hardly any of her business.

before you can even think of a response, the front door swings open.

yoongi steps inside, looking obnoxiously unbothered, a fresh pack of cigarettes and a new lighter tucked between his fingers. he glances between you and his mom, brows furrowing slightly at your expression.

“what’s with you?”

you shake your head, gulping down the rest of your juice before setting the glass in the sink. “nothing.”

he narrows his eyes, clearly not believing you, but doesn’t push it. just tosses his lighter onto the counter and leans against it, watching as you continue standing there, blanket still wrapped around your shoulders, looking way too much like you belong here.

his mom, still smirking, picks up her tea again. “you kids hungry?”

yoongi shrugs. “i could eat.”

you exhale sharply, running a hand through your hair. “yeah. me too.”

his mom just hums, standing up and patting your cheek on the way to the stove.

yoongi steps up beside you soon after, close enough that you catch the faint scent of his shampoo, something fruity and familiar. he doesn’t say anything at first, just watches as you rinse out your glass, the weight of his gaze settling over you like a second blanket.

then an arm loops around your waist. it’s lazy, effortless. like it’s second nature to him now, the way he pulls you in, his fingers resting against the curve of your hip, thumb brushing slow, absentminded circles against your shirt.

you freeze, because his mom is still standing by the stove, very much aware and very much watching. yoongi doesn’t seem to care. instead, he dips his head, pressing a kiss to your temple, soft and fleeting, barely there at all.

he lingers for a second longer, like maybe he wants to say something. maybe he’s thinking about it. but then his mom clears her throat.

not pointedly, not in a hey get your hands off that girl kind of way, but in a so are you two finally gonna get your shit together, or? kind of way.

yoongi ignores her completely. just tugs you closer, resting his chin on top of your head, and sighs. “did you finish all the juice?”

“no,” you say, voice barely above a whisper. “there’s more.”

“good,” he murmurs, and that’s it. no teasing, no biting remarks. just this. his voice low and steady, his fingers still tracing idle circles against your side, holding you there like it’s nothing. like it’s everything.

his mom watches for a moment longer, sipping her tea. then, with a shake of her head, she turns back to the stove, muttering something about how she didn’t sign up for this bullshit but is too old to care anymore.

you should pull away. you really, really should. instead, you lean into him just a little more.

yoongi hums against your hair, the sound deep and quiet. “heading to the skate park later,” he murmurs. “gonna meet up with the others.” his fingers tap lightly against your hip, a slow, absent rhythm. “wanna come?”

you’ve been struggling to make friends in his sister’s absence. it’s not like you haven’t been trying. you’ve put yourself out there, made conversation, said yes to plans. but whatever you had going on with yoongi weighed enough guilt on your shoulders to sink you.

because replacing your best friend wouldn’t make you feel any better. wouldn’t fix the fact that she wasn’t here anymore and you had whatever you had going on with her brother.

but then again, if you had other friends, maybe you wouldn’t need to rely on yoongi’s presence so heavily. maybe you wouldn’t be here so much.

you were practically living with the mins at this point, rotating between yoongi’s room and his sister's, burrowing into the space she left behind like a stray cat that refused to be shooed away. as much as you loved being here, you also kind of hated it. hated feeling like a burden, like you were pushing too hard against the edges of a home that wasn’t really yours.

you’d only vanished for dinners with your own family after text after text about how they never see you anymore.

oops.

you shift, exhaling slowly, pressing your fingers into the warmth of yoongi’s hoodie. “who’s going?”

he shrugs against you. “jungkook, tae. maybe joon.”

you think about it. think about how nice it would be to get out of the house for a while. but mostly, you think about how you’re already too tangled up in yoongi’s orbit.

still, you murmur, “okay.”

yoongi doesn’t say anything right away. just tugs you in a little closer, fingers tightening at your hip, and presses another kiss to your forehead. lingering this time, sealing something in place. then, softly, “okay.”

he pulls back first, but only just. his hand stays at your waist, warm and grounding, making sure you don’t change your mind. “eat first,” he murmurs, gaze flicking toward the stove where his mom is flipping eggs. “then shower.”

you blink up at him. “are you calling me dirty?”

his lips twitch. “i’m saying you should shower.”

“sounds fake.”

he huffs, amused but unimpressed. “fine. smell like sleep and my hoodies forever. see if i care.”

you roll your eyes, finally stepping away from him, though you hate the way the absence of his touch feels so immediately wrong. still, you school your features into something appropriately annoyed as you grab a plate from the cabinet.

“can’t believe you’re bullying me first thing in the morning,” you mutter, grabbing a piece of toast.

yoongi snorts, swiping a slice of bacon off the stove before his mom can slap his hand away. “can’t believe you’re still talking.”

his mom groans. “i knew letting you two coexist was a mistake.”

you flash her a grin. “too late now.”

she just shakes her head, turning back to the stove.

yoongi bumps your hip with his before plopping down at the table, stretching his legs out obnoxiously under it. “shower,” he reminds you, mouth half-full of bacon.

you flip him off. he grins.

you roll your eyes, filling your plate with toast and bacon before sliding into the chair across from him. yoongi watches you with that lazy, knowing look, already knowing you’re going to stall as long as possible just to be a menace.

his mom sets a plate down in front of him, shaking her head. “if i hear either of you bickering before i finish my tea, i’m kicking you both out.”

“you love us,” you say, because it’s true.

she sighs, taking a sip. “unfortunately.”

yoongi snickers, stealing another piece of bacon. you don’t miss the way his mom flicks her gaze between the two of you, trying to decide if it’s worth saying anything else. but she just shakes her head again tbefore flipping open the newspaper.

you eat in comfortable silence, nudging at yoongi’s foot under the table just to be annoying. he nudges back. neither of you acknowledge it.

when you finally push your plate away, yoongi lifts a brow. “shower.”

you groan, slumping dramatically against the table. “why do you care so much?”

he chews, swallows, and says, “because you smell like my bed.”

your face heats instantly. “so?”

yoongi shrugs, reaching for his drink. “so people will think i’m obsessed with you or something.”

your heart stumbles over itself, trips and falls flat on its face.

“you are obsessed with me,” you blurt out, pointing at him. “admit it.”

he snorts, taking a sip of his juice. “nah.”

“liar.”

he just shrugs again. “go shower,” he says, pushing back from the table. “we’re leaving in twenty.”

you glare at him, but you still stand up, dragging your feet toward the hallway, making a show of how annoying this whole thing is.

right before you disappear into the bathroom, yoongi calls after you, voice laced with amusement. “don’t use my shampoo.”

you slam the door.

you knew yoongi liked to skate. it's been one of his most defining characteristics since the three of you were kids. along with his habit of being annoying and his penchant to get into trouble.

he'd showed you his collection of skateboards that day on his birthday, explaining how much he'd bought them for, showing you the designs he'd painted onto them himself, and telling you the tricks he'd done on them.

his hair had been blonde then. six months later, it’s a more minty color, faded at the roots. it suits him, you think. even if you’d never tell him that.

the walk to the skate park is quiet. comfortable. the late morning sun filters through the trees, casting warm patches of light onto the pavement, and the air still carries the crispness of early spring.

the path slopes downward, and you hesitate before saying, “i’ve been thinking about applying for an art course.”

“yeah,” yoongi says, kicking a loose rock down the path. “i heard you talking to my sister about it.”

you blink. “you eavesdropped on my call?”

he snorts. “you were in my room.”

fair point.

you nudge him with your elbow, ignoring the way your stomach twists at the idea of him remembering something so small. “so?”

he side-eyes you. “so what?”

you huff. “so, what do you think?”

yoongi rolls his shoulders like it’s obvious. “i think you should do it.”

it’s so simple. so straightforward. like there isn’t even a question in his mind about it.

you chew your lip, staring down at the pavement. “i dunno,” you mumble. “feels kind of stupid.”

yoongi stops walking. you get two more steps ahead before you realize and turn back, watching as he lifts a brow, expression flat.

“what?” you say.

his eyes flick over your face, unimpressed. “what’s stupid about it?”

you shift on your feet. “i don’t know. just... feels kind of late to be figuring out what i wanna do, i guess.”

yoongi stares at you for another long moment. then, without a word, he starts walking again. you fall into step beside him.

“you know namjoon didn’t start writing music until he was almost twenty?” he says eventually.

you frown. “that’s different.”

“not really.”

you glance at him, but he’s still looking ahead, expression unreadable.

“do it,” he says again, voice a little quieter this time. a little less teasing. “stop thinking about it and just do it.”

you exhale slowly, dragging your fingers along the strap of your bag. it’s so easy for him to say. but then again, yoongi has always done whatever he wanted, no matter how much trouble it got him into. maybe you should try it, too.

with that thought, your eyes linger on the side of yoongi’s face.

he’s always been like this. steady, sure of himself in a way that makes you envious. not in a loud, look-at-me way, but in a way that just is. like he’s figured out how to move through life without getting caught up in the little things that keep you stuck in place.

his gaze is focused ahead, brows drawn slightly, thinking about something but not saying what. the sharp line of his jaw softens when he chews at the inside of his cheek, something he does when he’s lost in thought.

you wonder what he’s thinking about. if it’s you, or if you’re just making it about you.

either way, you don’t look away.

maybe he feels your stare, or maybe he just knows, because after another few steps, he turns his head, catching your gaze like he was expecting it.

you don’t get the chance to glance away, to play it off.

his lips twitch slightly, the barest hint of amusement. “what?”

you shake your head, shrugging. “nothing.”

yoongi lifts a brow but doesn’t push. just keeps walking, hands still shoved deep into his pockets, that same small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth like he knows something you don’t.

and maybe he does.

you're familiar with some of yoongi’s friends. not in a close way, but enough that their names and faces aren’t completely foreign.

namjoon’s the oldest of his skater friends, the one who’s always been around in some capacity, showing up at the min’s house just as much as you used to. taehyung is newer, though still familiar. he’s got one of those personalities that makes you feel like you’ve known him forever, even if you’ve only spoken a handful of times.

and then there’s jungkook.

he was a year above you in school, and if that wasn’t enough to cement him in your memory, yoongi’s sister having the fattest crush on him definitely was.

you remember the way she used to sigh dramatically about him, how she’d make you wait outside the gym after basketball practice just to happen to be there when he walked out.

it was embarrassing.

the skate park is already busy when you arrive, full of guys who look like they’ve been here since sunrise, boards tucked under their arms, half-drunk bottles of gatorade left forgotten on the ledges.

yoongi barely glances around before spotting his friends near the bowl, plopping down on a nearby bench.

“you wanna sit and watch?” he asks, looking at you expectantly.

you hesitate, toeing at a crack in the pavement. jungkook, who’s already mid-conversation with taehyung, spots you first.

“oh, shit,” he says, grin spreading. “yoongi actually brought someone?”

taehyung turns too, eyes widening slightly before recognition clicks. “oh, wait. i know you.”

jungkook’s brow furrows, scanning you again. “yeah, you were a grade below me, right?”

you nod. “yeah. and yoongi’s sister used to be obsessed with you.”

jungkook groans immediately, dragging a hand down his face. “please don’t remind me.”

yoongi snickers beside you. “it was painful to watch, man.”

taehyung laughs, draping an arm over jungkook’s shoulder. “so you do have rizz.”

jungkook shoves him off. “shut up.”

you snort, easing onto the bench next to yoongi, feeling the tension in your chest uncoil just a little. maybe this won’t be so bad.

jungkook shakes his head, still grumbling under his breath about why does everyone keep bringing that up, but the conversation moves on quickly. taehyung says something about a new trick he’s been trying to land, and jungkook immediately challenges him to prove it.

yoongi stretches out beside you, one arm draped across the back of the bench, fingers tapping idly against the wood. he doesn’t seem in a rush to get up, which means you’re not in a rush to either.

“so, you actually skate?” you ask, nodding toward where taehyung is already flipping his board into his hands, preparing for his turn.

yoongi scoffs. “do i skate?”

you lift a brow.

he exhales, sitting up straighter. “i’m not just some guy with a collection, you know.”

“i dunno,” you tease, tilting your head. “i’ve never actually seen you do anything.”

yoongi narrows his eyes. “i showed you my boards.”

“yeah, but that’s like—” you wave a hand, “—showing off a bunch of guitars and never playing one.”

yoongi clicks his tongue, shaking his head. then, without a word, he stands, rolling his shoulders as he grabs his board.

“stay here,” he murmurs before stepping toward the bowl.

taehyung and jungkook are already watching as yoongi drops in, casual as ever, carving the curve of the bowl like it’s second nature.

and okay. fine. maybe you underestimated him a little. because yoongi doesn’t just skate. he’s good.

like, really good. smooth and effortless in a way that looks instinctual. you don’t realize you’re staring until jungkook nudges your arm, smirking.

“damn,” he muses, watching yoongi flip his board before landing clean. “you got a crush or something?”

your stomach flips. “shut up.”

jungkook just laughs.

yoongi moves like he’s been doing this forever. he doesn’t hesitate before dropping in again, knees bending smoothly with the curve of the bowl, shifting his weight just right before pushing into his next trick.

your eyes stay locked on him, unable to look away as he kicks his board up into a perfect flip, landing clean, not even the slightest stumble. he’s completely in his element. focused, sharp, like nothing outside of this moment exists.

you exhale, dragging your fingers across the edge of your sleeve.

“you’re staring,” jungkook teases under his breath, leaning close.

you glare, shoving him away. “i’m watching.”

jungkook snorts, clearly unbothered. “sure. whatever helps you sleep at night.”

but you don’t take the bait. not when yoongi lands another trick, smooth and seamless, and something tightens in your chest.

because damn. you never doubted that he could skate, but you didn’t expect this. the precision. the ease. the way he moves.

taehyung whistles low, impressed. “he’s showing off.”

you blink. “what?”

taehyung nods toward yoongi, who’s gearing up for another drop-in, his hoodie pulled up over his head now, mint-colored strands falling into his eyes.

“he wasn’t doing all this last time we were here,” taehyung muses, tilting his head. “probably trying to impress someone.”

you roll your eyes, but your stomach does a weird little flip anyway.

jungkook smirks. “wonder who that could be.”

you elbow him in the ribs.

yoongi lands another clean trick, kicking his board up into his hands before finally stepping off, exhaling through his nose as he pushes his hoodie back.

his eyes scan the park once before landing on you, and—

oh. he’s smirking.

a knowing little thing, subtle but there.

your face heats instantly, and you hate the way jungkook and taehyung both make noises of confirmation at the same time.

yoongi strolls over, board tucked under one arm, sweat gathering at his hairline. he stops in front of you, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“so?” he says, tilting his head. “believe me now?”

you cross your arms, forcing your expression into something unimpressed. “eh,” you hum. “i guess you can skate.”

yoongi huffs, shaking his head like. he leans in slightly, gaze flicking over your face, voice quieter when he murmurs “you were watching pretty hard for someone who just guesses.”

"fuck off," you say with a scoff.

taehyung points a dramatic finger at you, his eyes wide with mock intensity. “my turn!” he announces, loud enough to catch the attention of a few other skaters nearby, “this is for you.”

you blink. “uh—”

before you can even ask what he means, taehyung grabs his board, squares his shoulders, and launches into what you assume is supposed to be an ollie.

except his timing is completely off. his foot misses the pop, his weight shifts too far forward, and then he’s face-planting straight into the pavement.

it happens so fast you barely have time to react. one second he’s in the air, the next he’s sprawled out on the ground, limbs tangled with his board, the dull slap of skin meeting concrete ringing through the air.

there’s a brief, stunned silence, and then jungkook wheezes. yoongi snorts so hard he has to clap a hand over his mouth, and you press your fingers to your lips, trying—and failing—to suppress your laugh.

taehyung groans, lifting his head just enough to glare at the three of you. “y’all suck.”

jungkook clutches his stomach, barely able to get words out. “bro, i can’t breathe—”

yoongi shakes his head, stepping toward you. his arm hooks around your waist, tugging you flush against his chest, your laughter cutting off with a small, surprised inhale.

his voice is lower, teasing but warm, as he murmurs, “that’s what he gets for trying to impress my girl.”

your stomach flips. the words settle heavy in your chest, something warm spreading from your ribs outward, curling into your fingers, making your breath hitch just slightly.

yoongi doesn't let go right away, his hold lingering, fingers flexing slightly at your hip like he’s perfectly comfortable keeping you there.

taehyung, still facedown on the pavement, mutters, “i hate all of you.”

yoongi hums, completely unbothered. “you’ll live.”

the skate park trip lasts another hour before the collective hunger settles in. someone suggests maccas, and there’s no argument. because really, there’s no better way to wrap up an afternoon of skating than cheap burgers and greasy fries, so you all walk.

yoongi’s close beside you, like he always is, hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets, shoulders relaxed. taehyung walks ahead, still rubbing at his scraped-up elbow, while jungkook pushes his board lazily along the sidewalk, rolling it forward with the tip of his shoe.

“so,” jungkook starts, voice full of something already obnoxious, “are you two, like… together or what?”

your reaction is immediate. “no,” you blurt, way too quickly, way too defensively.

yoongi huffs. it’s quiet, barely a breath, but you hear it. so does jungkook.

his brows shoot up, not expecting the level of urgency in your denial. yoongi, for his part, doesn’t say anything, but you feel the way his shoulders tense for a split second. the way his head tilts slightly, side-eyeing you.

you don’t look at him.

jungkook whistles low. “damn. that was fast.”

“right?” taehyung snickers.

your face heats. “because it’s not a thing.”

jungkook hums, unconvinced. “sure.”

taehyung nods. “yeah, totally. absolutely no thing happening here.”

you glare, shoving him as you walk past. yoongi stays quiet.

you don’t glance at him, but you feel his presence beside you, the weight of something tense hanging in the space between you. it doesn’t go away for the rest of the walk.

the mcdonald's is busy when you arrive, buzzing with the usual mix of skateboarders, students, and exhausted parents just trying to survive the afternoon rush.

the four of you shuffle into line, the overhead speaker crackling with some pop song that’s been playing on every radio station for months. jungkook and taehyung are still laughing about something behind you, but you don’t catch it. not when yoongi’s standing beside you, gaze straightforward.

you don’t know why you do it. maybe out of habit. maybe to see if he’ll react. but you nudge his arm, light, just a little bump against his sleeve.

he doesn’t move, doesn’t nudge back. doesn’t even look at you.

your stomach twists, something uncomfortably hot settling behind your ribs. yoongi doesn’t usually ignore you, at least not like this. not in a way that feels so intentional.

still, you don’t say anything.

the line moves forward. when you finally reach the counter, yoongi steps up first, rattling off his usual order without looking at the menu. and then he orders yours, too.

exactly how you like it. down to the make sure there's no pickles.

you blink, caught off guard, but before you can ask, yoongi beats you to it. “i know you don’t have money on you.”

you swallow, shifting on your feet. “oh.”

yoongi doesn’t glance at you. just hands the cashier a crumpled bill from his hoodie pocket.

“thanks,” you mumble, voice quieter than you mean it to be.

yoongi just hums. no teasing. no smug little comment. and that makes your chest ache even more.

you fidget with the hem of your sleeve, shifting closer before tilting your head up, peering up at him through your lashes. “… are you mad at me?”

yoongi exhales sharply through his nose. not annoyed, not exasperated. just something.

he tugs you against him. not rough, just a simple pull, his arm looping around your shoulder. his hoodie smells like faded detergent and cheap cigarette smoke and something unmistakably him.

“i’m not mad,” he murmurs, voice low, steady.

you don’t know what to do with your hands, so you just shove them into your own pockets, fingers curling into the fabric. “… promise?”

yoongi sighs, his grip tightening slightly before his chin rests against the top of your head. “yeah,” he mutters. “promise.”

he presses a kiss to your forehead. a silent reassurance. a quiet see? i’m not mad. “don’t worry about it,” he murmurs, voice low, steady.

and you nod, leaning into him.

the playground is quiet this time of day, mostly empty aside from the four of you and the occasional kid passing by with their parents.

jungkook lounges at the bottom of the slide, food balanced on his knees, absentmindedly sipping his coke. yoongi sits a little further off, at the edge of the sandpit, one leg stretched out, the other bent, balancing his burger in one hand.

you and taehyung are on the swings, feet planted in the sand, your bags resting on your laps. the metal creaks slightly as taehyung shifts, twisting just enough to face you, an amused glint in his eyes.

“yours any good?” he asks, nodding toward your milkshake.

you hum, taking another sip. “mm-hmm.”

he leans in, offering his cup, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “wanna try mine?”

you blink at him. “it’s the same flavor.”

he pauses, then laughs, shaking his head. “yeah, but maybe mine tastes better.”

you frown, taking his drink anyway, sipping through the straw before handing it back. “nope. exactly the same.”

taehyung snorts. “right. obviously.”

you don’t catch the way he watches you for a second longer than necessary, or the way yoongi’s gaze flicks over from where he’s sitting.

your fries are nearly gone when tragedy strikes. you shift a little too much, and what’s left of them topples straight into the sand.

you let out a groan, staring down at them in dismay.

taehyung doesn’t hesitate, nudging his own toward you. “here,” he says, tone light, almost teasing. “you can have some of mine. since i’m so generous.”

you smile, grabbing a handful. “thanks, taehyungie. you’re my favorite.”

taehyung blinks, not expecting that response, then recovers quickly, smirk returning. “oh, am i?”

you nod, popping a fry into your mouth. “mm-hmm.”

“better not let yoongi hear that,” he muses, leaning closer, voice dipping just a little lower. “he might get jealous.”

you glance over at yoongi, who hasn’t reacted at all. still sitting there, picking at the wrapper of his burger, expression unreadable. then you shrug, completely missing the way taehyung’s eyes narrow in amusement.

“he’ll live,” you say, reaching for another fry.

taehyung watches you for a moment, absently sipping his milkshake, before tilting his head. "so, you and yoongi," he starts, casual. too casual. "really not a thing?"

you pause. it’s a split-second hesitation, but it's there, and taehyung doesn’t miss it.

you glance over at yoongi before you can stop yourself, like your body reacts before your brain can catch up. he’s still sitting on the edge of the sandpit, half-focused on peeling the wrapper off his burger, but his jaw is tight, his fingers a little too still.

you swallow, forcing yourself to look back at taehyung.

"no," you say, a little slower this time. "we're not."

taehyung hums, he’s turning it over in his mind.

"so, hypothetically," he muses, stretching out his legs in the sand, "if someone, say, me, wanted to take you out—"

you blink.

"—you wouldn't be off limits or anything, right?"

your lips part slightly, confusion flickering across your face before you shake your head. "uh… no?"

taehyung grins, dragging a fry through his ketchup before popping it into his mouth. "good to know."

you don’t even have time to process that before he shifts again, leaning slightly into your space, his voice dipping just enough to make your ears warm.

he nods toward yoongi, then toward himself, smirking. "technically, you’re with me right now."

you scoff, rolling your eyes. "you wish, taehyung."

"oh, i do," he says smoothly, sipping his milkshake like it's nothing.

you shake your head, tossing a fry at him, and he catches it without missing a beat.

from the edge of the sandpit, yoongi exhales sharply through his nose.

the conversation drifts after that, slipping into something lighter. taehyung teasing jungkook about his tragic attempt at a kickflip earlier, jungkook firing back with a dig about taehyung eating dirt at the skate park.

you listen, half-engaged, but the weight of something still sits in your chest.

yoongi hasn’t said much. hasn’t looked at you much, either.

he finished eating a while ago, now idly toying with the straw in his drink, long fingers tapping a slow, absent rhythm against the plastic cup.

then, after a moment, “we should go.” his voice is even, casual, but something about it makes you straighten a little too quickly.

“yeah,” you say, standing, dusting sand off your jeans. “sounds good.”

taehyung flashes a grin, tilting his head up at you from his swing. “what, leaving me already?”

you roll your eyes. “yeh, i’m done with you losers.”

jungkook snickers from his spot at the slide, but doesn’t comment.

you move to fall in step beside yoongi like you always do, but when you do, he kind of shrugs past you. not harsh, not in an outright dismissive way, but pointed enough that you feel it.

your feet hesitate for a split second before moving again, catching up despite the slight hitch in your chest.

yoongi doesn’t look at you. doesn’t say anything else.

just walks, hands shoved in his hoodie pockets, gaze fixed ahead like there’s nothing to talk about. but you feel it. something in the space between you feels different. feels off.

and you don’t know what to do about it.

the walk home is quiet.

it’s not an awkward silence, not exactly, but it’s not the usual kind either. not the comfortable kind that’s filled with shared looks and nudges and stupid little comments that don’t really mean anything but still feel like something.

this silence is… something else. something heavier.

yoongi walks ahead, hands still shoved into his hoodie pockets, his pace easy, unbothered. you trail behind him, dragging your feet just enough to make yourself feel pathetic.

you don’t want to feel like this. don’t want to care that he’s keeping just a little too much distance between you, or that he hasn’t looked at you once since you left the playground, or that your stomach still twists a little too tightly when you think about the way he brushed past you.

but you do care. you care a lot.

you bite the inside of your cheek, arms crossed as you stare down at the pavement, forcing yourself to keep moving, to pretend like this doesn’t feel like some kind of punishment for something you don’t even understand.

when you finally reach his house, yoongi steps inside first, toeing off his shoes without a word before heading toward his room.

you hesitate at the entrance, shifting your weight between your feet.

technically, you don’t live here. technically, you could just turn around and go home. but you don’t. you never do.

so, with a quiet sigh, you step inside, closing the door behind you.

you linger by the entryway for a second longer than necessary, watching yoongi’s back as he disappears down the hall. he doesn’t look back, doesn’t wait for you.

so you swallow hard, shoulders curling inward, and follow after him anyway.

by the time you make it up to his room, yoongi’s already in the bathroom. the door isn’t closed all the way. just slightly ajar, steam from the sink curling into the dimly lit hallway. you hesitate for a second, fingers grazing the edge of your sleeve, before stepping inside.

he doesn’t acknowledge you at first.

just stands there, leaning over the sink, brushing his teeth with slow, methodical strokes, his hoodie peeled off and discarded somewhere on the floor. his hair is slightly damp at the ends, probably from splashing his face, mint-colored strands curling just slightly.

you grab your own toothbrush from the cup beside the faucet, running it under the water before squeezing out too much toothpaste. yoongi doesn’t glance at you, so you don’t glance at him either.

the silence is thick.

your shoulders brush as you move, barely, a light little thing that normally wouldn’t mean anything. except tonight, it does. tonight, you notice.

tonight, it feels like yoongi not nudging you back in the maccas line. it feels like yoongi shrugging past you instead of waiting.

you stare at your reflection in the mirror, at the way your brows are slightly furrowed, the way your mouth presses into a thin line as you scrub your teeth a little too hard.

this isn’t normal. normally, this is easy.

normally, you’d be bumping into each other, making faces in the mirror, shoving at his arm when he spits toothpaste too aggressively into the sink.

but tonight, he just brushes his teeth, and you do the same, and neither of you say a word.

when you finish brushing, you hesitate. just for a second.

toothbrush still in hand, you glance at yoongi out of the corner of your eye, watching as he rinses his mouth, spits, and swipes his hand across his face. he doesn’t look at you, just flicks off the faucet with a sharp movement and reaches for his towel.

your stomach feels tight. you should say something, but you don’t.

instead, you put your toothbrush back in the cup and turn toward his room, stepping past him without a word.

but before you can take another step, yoongi grabs you by the shoulders. his touch isn’t rough, but it’s firm. fingers pressing into the fabric of your shirt, stopping you cold.

your breath catches, pulse stumbling.

“what do you want from me?”

his voice is low, but there’s something frayed at the edges. something not entirely calm.

you blink, caught completely off guard. “what?”

yoongi exhales sharply through his nose, hands tightening slightly.

“what do you want from me?” he repeats, slower this time.

your heart pounds against your ribs. his face is so close, eyes dark, searching, his jaw clenched like he’s trying to keep his voice even.

“because i—” he swallows hard, fingers flexing against your arms. “i want you. wholly. completely.”

your breath stutters. his grip doesn’t loosen.

“there’s no one else in the world i want more,” he says, voice rough. “but i need to know if i’m wasting my time.”

your throat goes dry, your mind races. the air is thick between you, heavy with something you don’t know how to name, something you don’t know if you can handle.

yoongi’s eyes flick over your face, searching for something, for anything. and you don’t know what to say.

you swallow hard.

yoongi’s fingers twitch against your shoulders, breath warm where it ghosts across your face. he’s so close, too close, looking at you like he’s begging for something—an answer, a reaction, anything.

“what do you see when you look at me?” he asks, voice low, rough around the edges.

your throat feels tight. “yoongi—”

“because when i look at you,” he continues, cutting you off, “i see the girl i kissed in the kitchen on my birthday. the girl i’ve been sharing a bed with for the past six months.”

the words settle heavy in your chest, pressing down, down, down.

“the girl i’m—” he exhales sharply, jaw clenching for a beat before forcing the words out. “the girl i’m hopelessly in love with.”

your breath stutters. his eyes flick over your face, searching, desperate.

he’s shaking now, just slightly. just enough that you feel it, just enough that you know this is costing him something.

“so tell me,” he murmurs, voice quieter now, like he’s scared of what comes next, “what do you see?”

he’s laid himself bare. no more room to dodge, no more room to pretend. it’s your turn.

but your mind is racing, spiraling too fast, trying to catch up.

before you can think, before you can second-guess, before you can talk yourself out of it, you kiss him.

it crashes into him, hands fisting into the fabric of his t-shirt, fingers curling tight like you’re afraid he’ll disappear if you let go.

yoongi freezes. just for a second, just long enough for you to think you’ve fucked up, but then he moves. his hands slide from your shoulders to your waist, gripping, pulling, needing, mouth pressing firm against yours, breath hot and uneven as he exhales into the kiss.

it’s messy and urgent. six months’ worth of unsaid things spilling out all at once.

yoongi makes a noise in the back of his throat, somewhere between frustration and relief, like he’s wanted this for so long he can’t believe it’s finally happening.

and you don’t know why you ever tried to fight it.

yoongi’s hands are firm at your waist, fingers pressing into your sides, his body heat sinking into yours. he lifts you, hands gripping beneath your thighs, shifting you up until you’re perched on the bathroom counter, your knees falling open around him as he steps between them, slotting himself exactly where he belongs.

you gasp against his lips, hands flying to his shoulders to steady yourself, but yoongi just smirks, a slow, teasing thing as he exhales sharply through his nose.

his fingers squeeze at your waist, holding you in place, keeping you trapped against him.

then, voice low, amused, “deja vu?”

your breath catches, stomach flipping. because fuck.

the birthday. the kitchen.

his hands on your thighs, his body between your legs, the first time you let him kiss you like this.

your mouth parts slightly, but nothing comes out. you don’t know what to say, don’t know how to respond to the way he’s looking at you. your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, gripping tight.

yoongi’s smirk softens just a little, but his eyes stay locked on yours, sharp and knowing. “got an excuse to stop this time?” he murmurs, tilting his head.

you shake your head. “no.”

yoongi hums, pleased, his fingers flexing against your skin. “good,” he murmurs, before pulling you into him, mouth crashing back against yours.

yoongi kisses you like he’s starving for it, like he’s been holding back for months, fingers digging into your waist as he tugs you impossibly closer.

his hands move without hesitation. skimming up your sides, brushing beneath your shirt, teasing at the waistband of your shorts, testing how far you’ll let him go.

when you don’t stop him, when you only tighten your grip on his shirt, legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, he exhales sharply against your lips.

“yeah?” he murmurs, voice rough, barely holding back.

you nod, breathless. “yeah.”

that’s all he needs.

his hand slips past the elastic of your shorts, fingers pushing beneath the waistband of your underwear, pressing right there, just enough to make your stomach tighten, heat pooling deep in your core.

you gasp against his mouth, back arching slightly.

yoongi smirks, lips brushing against yours as he rubs slow, deliberate circles over your clit, teasing, barely enough pressure to satisfy.

“you’re already wet,” he murmurs, voice laced with something dark and pleased.

you bite your lip, hips shifting toward his hand, but he just hums, keeping the pace agonizingly slow.

“you like this?” he asks, like he doesn’t already know.

his fingers press down a little harder, circling just right, and you make a quiet, desperate noise. yoongi groans at that, his other hand gripping your thigh, keeping you open for him, his mouth brushing against your jaw.

“thought about this,” he mutters, lips ghosting over your skin, “so many times.”

his fingers move faster now, pressing, rubbing, teasing you to the edge, the heat between your legs burning beneath his touch.

“yoongi—” your voice breaks, head tipping back against the mirror.

his lips press against your throat, his breath heavy. he strokes over your clit again, pressing tight little circles that make your stomach twist, make your thighs tense around his waist, make your breath stutter out in sharp, quiet gasps.

yoongi groans against your skin, low and throaty, his mouth brushing along the curve of your jaw. he slides his fingers lower, pushing your underwear aside and teasing at your entrance, dragging them through your slick before pushing in.

a sharp inhale rips through you, your nails digging into his shoulders, his shirt fisting in your hands.

yoongi groans again, deep this time, his fingers sinking into your cunt nice and slow, stretching you open.

“fuck,” he mutters, mouth pressing against the corner of your lips, his breath hot.

his fingers curl, stroke, press into that soft, sensitive spot inside you, and your whole body tenses, a soft whimper slipping from your throat before you can stop it.

yoongi feels it, feels the way you tighten around his fingers, the way your hips jerk toward him, and groans, his forehead pressing to yours.

“yeah? you like that?” he murmurs, voice dark, rough.

you nod, breathless. “y-yeah.”

he exhales sharply, and his fingers keep moving. slow at first, dragging in and out, teasing you open, before pressing deeper, his thumb slipping up to rub your clit in slow, lazy circles. your thighs tremble around him.

“you always this wet, baby?” yoongi rasps, eyes flicking to yours, heavy-lidded, heated.

you don’t get the chance to answer, because then he’s crooking his fingers, pressing right fucking there, and all you can do is gasp, head falling back against the mirror with a quiet, breathless moan.

yoongi watches you. watches the way your body reacts to him, watches the way your lips part, the way your hands clutch at him, your whole body responding to him like you were made for his touch.

his breath shudders out.

“you’re gonna let me fuck you, aren’t you?” he murmurs, pressing his fingers deeper, harder, coaxing another whimper from your lips. his own brush against yours, not quite a kiss, almost. “tell me,” he breathes. “tell me you want it.”

your whole body reacts before your brain even catches up, hips rolling instinctively into yoongi’s hand, chasing the pleasure he’s pulling from you.

“i—” your breath shudders, voice barely above a whisper. “i want it.”

yoongi curses under his breath, his forehead pressing to yours for half a second before he drives his fingers into you again, pressing hard, and you squeal, the sound high-pitched and desperate. before it can fully escape, yoongi’s hand is covering your mouth, his fingers pressing against your cheek, his own breath coming out shaky.

“fuck,” he groans, voice thick with something dark.

his fingers don’t slow. they move fast and rough, pumping into you, curling deep, his thumb rubbing messy, urgent circles over your clit, dragging you closer and closer to the edge until your whole body is trembling, tightening around him, begging for it.

yoongi groans again, his hand still over your lips, muffling every soft, broken noise spilling from your throat.

“be quiet,” he breathes, voice strained, like he’s losing himself in the way you react to him, the way you feel around his fingers.

you can’t be quiet. not when he’s touching you like this, not when he’s looking at you like this. eyes heavy, jaw clenched, breathing ragged as he drives you closer and closer to the edge.

you whimper into his palm, your hands clutching at his wrist, your whole body tightening as pleasure crashes through you, sending a sharp, blinding wave of heat down your spine.

yoongi groans, watching the way you come undone around his fingers, feeling the way you squeeze down, hips stuttering against his hand.

he doesn’t move his hand from your mouth until the tremors in your thighs start to fade. when he does, he presses his forehead against yours, exhaling sharply, his fingers slipping out of you just as slowly as they slid in.

“we’re not done,” he says, voice low, utterly wrecked.

his breath is still heavy, his forehead pressed to yours, hands sliding back down to your hips, gripping. yoongi grinds against you, his hips rolling forward just enough that you feel him. feel how hard he is through his jeans, the way he presses right up against you.

your breath stutters, fingers tightening in his shirt, and yoongi groans, voice rough, barely holding himself together. “fuck, doll.”

your stomach flips. the name isn’t new. he’s thrown it around before, teasing, casual, just part of the way he speaks. but this is different.

his lips brush over your cheek, jaw, down to your throat, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses between his words. “you feel that?” he murmurs, voice thick, almost shaky.

you nod, swallowing hard, and yoongi hums, dragging his mouth back up to your ear.

“this is what you do to me,” he breathes.

he grinds again. harder this time, pushing against you, making you feel him. letting you know exactly what you’ve done to him, exactly how much he wants you.

his fingers slip beneath the hem of your shirt, grazing the bare skin of your waist, warm and possessive, gripping like he’s making sure you don’t slip away.

“gonna make you feel so good, doll,” he murmurs, kissing just beneath your ear, smirking against your skin when he feels you shudder.

his hips roll forward again, pressing just right, sending a spark of heat straight through you, and a soft whimper slips past your lips before you can stop it.

yoongi groans at that, his grip tightening. “yeah?” he murmurs, teasing. “like that?”

you nod frantically, breathless.

yoongi smirks, lips grazing yours. “good,” he mutters.

then he kisses you hard, hands gripping your thighs, pulling you even closer as his hips roll into yours again, again, again.

your fingers move down fumble against the waistband of his jeans, your breathing uneven, hands barely able to keep up with the urgency buzzing through your veins.

yoongi feels it. feels your desperation, your need, the way your hands shake slightly as you try to pop the button.

he smirks. "impatient, huh?" his voice is low, teasing, lips brushing over yours as he exhales, the warmth of it sending a shiver straight down your spine.

"take these off," you whimper softly, frustrated, fingers tugging uselessly at the fabric, and yoongi chuckles.

“here, doll,” he murmurs, his own hands coming down to cover yours, moving with an effortless ease, his fingers brushing against yours as he pops the button open, then drags the zipper down, slow and deliberate.

he holds your gaze the entire time, watching the way your eyes flicker, the way your chest rises and falls too fast, too eager.

"there we go," he murmurs, voice thick with something almost fond.

his hands shift, moving to the waistband of your shorts now, his fingers slipping beneath the fabric, grazing warm over your skin.

“lift your hips for me,” he mutters.

you do, without question, and yoongi chuckles at that, his lips curling just slightly, pleased, before he drags your shorts down, letting them drop to the floor.

his gaze dips, his fingers skimming over your bare thighs, and he hums, voice deep, teasing. "much better."

your breath is ragged, your body thrumming with anticipation, but somewhere in the back of your mind you manage to think just clearly enough to gasp out, “wait—do you have a condom?”

yoongi huffs, lips brushing against your jaw as he mutters, “yeah, yeah. hang on.”

then, before you can say anything else, he pulls away, stepping back with a sharp exhale, raking a hand through his messy, mint-tinted hair.

you watch as he disappears into his room, the absence of his warmth making you ache, leaving you cold in a way that has nothing to do with the air against your bare skin.

you hear the faint slide of a drawer opening, the sound of something shifting inside. then the drawer shuts, footsteps padding back toward the bathroom.

yoongi steps inside again, his gaze flicking over you. still perched on the counter, thighs spread, lips parted, chest rising and falling fast.

his tongue swipes over his bottom lip. then, without breaking eye contact, he lifts the foil packet to his mouth and tears it open with his teeth.

your stomach flips.

his eyes are dark, focused, his breath steady as he pulls the condom free. “gonna be good for me, doll?” he murmurs, voice thick, nearly a growl.

you nod, too breathless to speak, and yoongi smirks.

then he steps between your legs again, his hands warm and possessive at your waist, his mouth ghosting over yours as he mutters “good girl.”

yoongi doesn’t rush, doesn’t fumble.

his fingers move smoothly, easily, like he’s done this a million times before, even as his chest is rising a little too fast, his muscles tense beneath his skin.

he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his jeans, tugging them down in one slow, fluid motion, along with his boxers, just far enough to free himself, and your breath catches. he’s hard, aching and heavy, flushed at the tip, standing thick against his stomach.

yoongi exhales sharply, rolling his shoulders back, and then he’s sliding the condom over his cock, his fingers sure and steady, his gaze flicking up to yours through heavy-lidded eyes.

“you watching me, doll?”

your cheeks burn. “no....”

yoongi smirks, the corner of his lips curling, completely unbothered by your blatant lie. “sure you aren’t.”

his voice is amused, teasing, but there’s something darker beneath it. something satisfied at the way your thighs shift, the way your breath hitches when his fingers tighten at your waist.

the condom rolls into place, snug around the base, and yoongi gives himself a slow stroke, groaning under his breath before stepping closer, slotting himself between your legs once more.

his hands grip your thighs, spreading them wider, pulling you to the edge of the counter. his length presses against you, hot, throbbing right against your cunt, and you gasp, hands flying to his shoulders.

yoongi chuckes, but there’s something wrecked in his eyes now, barely holding it together. “still want this?” he murmurs, voice rough, hands squeezing at your skin.

your fingers curl into his shoulders. “yes,” you breathe.

yoongi groans, low and deep in his chest. “good,” he mutters. then he aligns himself and pushes in.

the stretch is intense. your breath stutters, nails digging into his skin as he pushes in slow but insistent, filling you inch by inch.

"fuck," yoongi groans through clenched teeth, his head dropping against your shoulder, his breath hot against your skin.

you whimper, your walls clenching down around him, trying to adjust to the sheer size of him, the way he’s stretching you open, making space inside you that wasn’t there before.

"tight—" yoongi grits out, his hands squeezing your hips, forcing himself to take it slow. his arms tremble slightly as he holds himself still, his chest rising and falling in deep, uneven breaths. "so fucking tight, doll," he murmurs, voice strained, lips brushing against the curve of your neck.

you moan softly, head pressing against the side of his. yoongi shudders against you, his fingers twitching where they grip your thighs, his body tense like he’s barely holding on.

"shit," he exhales, his voice wrecked, his forehead still pressed to your shoulder, breath heavy.

you’re both completely still, bodies locked together, hearts pounding in sync. yoongi grits his teeth, exhaling hard through his nose. then, his lips brush against your ear, voice barely more than a breath. "tell me when, doll."

your fingers tighten in yoongi’s shirt, legs trembling around his waist, your whole body thrumming with need, stretched tight around him but craving more, needing him to move.

you tilt your head back against the mirror, breath coming out in quick, shallow gasps.

"please," you whisper, voice wrecked, barely able to get the word out.

yoongi groans, deep in his chest, his hands tightening at your hips. "yeah?" he rasps, his voice low and gravelly. before you can even nod he snaps his hips forward.

the force of it knocks the breath from your lungs, sends a sharp, blinding spark of pleasure through your spine. yoongi curses under his breath, pushes in deeper before pulling back and slamming into you again and again, fast and hard.

every thrust sharp, his grip bruising, his breath hot against your neck as he groans against your skin, completely losing himself in the way you squeeze around him, the way you take him so perfectly.

"fuck, doll," he grits out, voice shaking, his fingers digging into your hips as he pounds into you. "so fucking good."

your hands scramble for purchase, gripping at his shoulders, his hair, his arms, anything to ground yourself as he drives into you, his pace unrelenting.

"wanted this," he groans, his lips brushing against the corner of your mouth. "wanted you for so fucking long."

your breath hitches, your body tightening around him in response, and yoongi feels it.

"shit," he groans, slamming into you harder, faster, deeper. "say it," he demands, his forehead pressing to yours, his breath ragged. "tell me you wanted this too."

your breath stutters, pleasure coiling so tight in your stomach it’s almost painful.

"i—" your voice breaks, another moan slipping free as he fucks in deep, his cock kissing that sweet spot, his pace just a little too much, just enough to make your thighs shake.

yoongi smirks against your lips. "c’mon, doll."

you clutch at his shoulders, nails scraping down his back, legs tightening around his waist as you finally choke out, "i wanted this."

his body shudders against you, a sharp exhale leaving his lips, his rhythm faltering just slightly before he picks it up again, faster, harder, driving into you like he’s trying to make up for all the months of waiting, of wanting, of not having.

"good girl," he breathes, his hand sliding up your back, pulling you closer and pressing his forehead to yours, his lips hovering just over yours, his breath hot and uneven. "so fucking good for me."

your stomach flips, heat rolling through you like a tidal wave, and you don’t know how much longer you can hold on. yoongi feels it. feels the way your body tenses, the way your legs shake, the way your walls clamp down tight around him.

"you gonna cum for me, doll?" he murmurs, voice dark, teasing, but there’s something almost soft under it, something needy, something that says he wants this just as much as you do.

you nod, breathless, your body already so close. yoongi groans, his pace punishing, his hands holding you exactly where he wants you.

"then be good," he rasps, voice breaking. "cum for me."

your head tilts back, mouth falling open as a sharp, broken moan escapes your lips, and yoongi reacts on instinct. his hand slaps over your mouth again, muffling the sound, his palm hot against your skin.

"shhh, doll," he groans, his forehead dropping against yours, his own breath coming in ragged, uneven pants. "you gotta be quiet."

his words barely register over the sheer pleasure that slams through you, waves of heat rolling through your body as you gush around him. your whole body shakes, thighs trembling, walls fluttering around his cock, the pressure between your legs snapping so hard you see white.

yoongi grits his teeth, his pace stuttering, his hand still firm over your mouth as he groans deep in his chest. "fuck, baby," he rasps, his voice low, wrecked, almost pleading.

his hips don’t relent, driving into you through the aftershocks, his pace growing more erratic, more desperate, chasing his own high as you pulse around him, your body still milking him for everything he has.

"so fucking tight," he mutters, his lips brushing over your damp skin, his breath hot, ragged. "tou're gonna milk me dry, doll. gonna cum so fucking hard—"

his words send another sharp, overwhelming wave of heat through your already-sensitive body, another muffled whimper slipping past your lips against his palm.

yoongi groans, his movements turning sloppy, his body tensing. and then, with a sharp, wrecked moan, he breaks.

yoongi slams into you one last time, his whole body tensing, a deep, wrecked groan spilling from his lips as he cums, hips jerking against yours, fingers digging into your skin. his breath is shaky, uneven, his forehead pressing against yours, his body trembling slightly as he rides out his high.

his hand is still covering your mouth, his palm warm against your flushed skin, muffling the soft, breathless whimpers still slipping past your lips.

it takes a second. a long, heavy moment where the only sounds in the bathroom are your mingled breathing, the faint hum of the overhead light, the distant creak of the house settling.

and then yoongi exhales hard, his body relaxing against yours, his grip loosening as he finally lets his hand drop from your mouth.

your lips are swollen, your chest rising and falling in deep, uneven breaths, your whole body still reeling from the intensity of it all.

yoongi leans in, pressing the softest kiss to the corner of your mouth. so gentle, so tender, reminding you that even after everything, he’s still him. "you okay, doll?"

his fingers brush over your cheek, his touch light and his gaze flicking over your face, checking. making sure you’re here, with him. making sure he didn’t just wreck you beyond repair.

you swallow hard, blinking up at him, your fingers still gripping the fabric of his shirt like you’re afraid to let go. "yeah," you whisper, voice hoarse, spent. "i’m okay."

yoongi hums, his lips twitching just slightly, a hint of something soft beneath the haze of pleasure still clouding his gaze. "good," he murmurs. "‘cause that was—" he exhales sharply, a small, breathy chuckle slipping past his lips, shaking his head like he can’t even find the words.

you laugh, quiet, breathless, your forehead tipping against his. "yeah," you murmur. "it was."

neither of you move right away. neither of you want to.

right now, it’s just you and him, breathing in the same air, existing in the same space, his hands still on your waist, your legs still wrapped around him, his lips still close enough that all it would take is the smallest movement to kiss him again.

and you want to. but before you can, yoongi snickers, shaking his head as he pulls back just enough to look at you, an amused smirk playing at the edges of his lips.

"well," he mutters, voice teasing, "guess we gotta shower now."

you groan, tilting your head back with an exhausted sigh, "can't we relax a bit first?"

but he just grins, leaning in to press another lazy, lingering kiss to your jaw. "c’mon, doll," he hums against your skin, lips curving as his hands squeeze at your hips.

"round two?"

taglist : @rpwprpwprpwprw @haru-jiminn @glossdebut @mimi1097 @angellekookie @yooniivrse @annyeongbitch7 @hemmosfear

#min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you #min yoongi x y/n #min yoongi smut #min yoongi #yoongi x you #yoongi x reader #bts x fem!reader #bts x reader #bts smut #yoongi smut

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falloutbradreviews · 2 months ago

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Folie A Deux Is An Underrated Masterpiece: 17 Years Later

It must have sucked to be almost any band other than Fall Out Boy in 2008. Aside from Fall Out Boy, only a few bands in the emo and pop-punk scene were on top. Those bands would have to be Panic! At The Disco, My Chemical Romance, and maybe Paramore, but in their case, they were fresh off releasing 2007’s Riot. I would say that it was because Paramore only had a couple of albums, but Panic had only released their sophomore album, 2008’s Pretty Odd just a few years after their debut. Paramore hadn’t become the juggernaut that the other three bands already were, but they would soon get there. I think Panic and MCR sold more records than Fall Out Boy, but Fall Out Boy were always my favorite band of the scene, and they were the first band I truly loved from it. I did listen to MCR and Panic sooner, but I didn’t really love those bands as much as I loved Fall Out Boy when I first listened to them back in 2007. Fall Out Boy is a band that probably doesn’t need any introduction, because of how massive they were back 20 years ago (and still are today, partially thanks to nostalgia). That’s why it must have sucked to be any other band but them, because they were on top of the world. These four teenagers from Chicago went from putting out a scrappy debut album, 2023’s Take This To Your Grave, on a little known label at the time called Fueled By Ramen to putting out their mainstream breakthrough From Under The Cork Tree in 2005, as well as signing with Island in the process. The rest is history, because they would go onto sell millions of albums for the next few years until going on hiatus in 2009.

While they would come back again in 2013 with Save Rock & Roll, their “last” album before their hiatus was a contentious one. The band started off making of its time pop-punk on their first couple of albums, but their principle songwriter, composer, and vocalist Patrick Stump had a penchant for pop, R&B, and soul music. His vocals already sounded like they belonged in that vein, but his songwriting became more pop-focused with time. It all coalesced on 2007’s Infinity On High. That’s the album that got me into music, and I’ve talked about that many times, but that record was their first number one album and it catapulted them to mainstream superstars. They were huge by this point, and all eyes were on them for the follow-up. That’s where Folie comes into play, because this record has a contentious history with both their fans and the scene at large. This album went from being severely hated by fans (yet still liked by critics) to becoming a cult classic in their discography over the next decade. I missed my chance to talk about this record a couple of years ago when it turned 15, but I’ve been spending a lot of time with it this week, just because I’m feeling awfully nostalgic for the mid-00s emo, pop-punk, and neon pop-punk scenes that I was heavily involved with at that time. I wanted to talk about this album retrospectively, because this album was a big deal when it came out, but it’s still a big deal today. To understand why that album is such a big deal, it’s best to look at the time period the album came out in, where the band’s head was at that time, and the overall impact the album has made since its release back in 2008.

I just posted a piece on the mid-00s neon scene, and I talked about this album a bit, because of its association with the scene, as well as how influential this album was to a lot of bands in that scene. I only talked briefly about it, but Fall Out Boy were of the world before this album. They had just released Infinity On High, and that album introduced more of a pop and R&B sound to their repertoire, so they were able to rank in more fans that otherwise wouldn’t have heard of them. They were becoming a household name with that record, so the pressure was high for a suitable follow-up. Up until this point, however, the band operated similarly to The Beatles: they had two main songwriters, this time in the form of Patrick Stump and bassist / lyricist Pete Wentz. Patrick would write the songs and Pete would write the lyrics, but both guitarist Joe Trohman and drummer Andy Hurley were becoming burnt out by not being able to contribute anything. This record was a lot more collaborative than their previous few (which is something they would continue more so on later in their career), but this was also their fourth album in five years. The wear and tear on the band was beginning to show, so it makes sense that they would take a hiatus after this one. They needed a break, and I can’t blame them whatsoever for that. Infinity On High marked their change in sound, but it wasn’t drastic enough that fans had an issue with it. The pop-punk was still there, but they had flashes of R&B, soul, pop, and other kinds of music, so it wasn’t as dramatic of a shift as Folie A Deux was.

In retrospect, Folie A Deux isn’t that much of a shift in sound. The band just went fully pop-rock with some power-pop, R&B, and soul elements in their sound this time around, versus being strictly pop-punk. The lead singles of this album are a good indicator of what to expect as a whole, those being “I Don’t Care” and “America’s Suitehearts,” both having huge choruses and witty lyrics that are less autobiographical for Wentz but look at society as a whole. Whether it’s how selfish people can be, or a scathing take on celebrity culture, these songs had the clever and fun one-liners that people expect from them, but they looked outward at the world at large, instead of inward. I think that turned off some fans, because they could relate to their cynical, self-loathing, and introspective lyrics, versus lyrics that talk about the world as a whole. What really turned off people was the sound, because if there’s something that a lot of scene and emo kids didn’t like, it was pop music. Pop music was a dirty word for a lot of kids that enjoyed that music, me included. Even now, a lot of fans that grew up still think pop music is bad. Some of it is, sure, but I’ve grown to enjoy a lot of it, and I don’t immediately disregard a band or artist for moving in that direction. The blatant embrace of pop-rock was something that turned off a lot of fans, and even back then, I couldn’t understand why. Bands like All Time Low, Forever The Sickest Kids, Mayday Parade, The Cab, and Cute Is What We Aim For were blatantly borrowing from pop-rock and power-pop, so why did people that Folie A Deux for doing the same thing? The vitriol that people felt with this album has always baffled me, and it’s baffled me even more so when people retroactively hailed this album as a masterpiece.

I’ve talked about this album quite a bit as well, but Folie A Deux is among my top three Fall Out Boy albums. I loved it back in the day, because it was their catchiest and their most cohesive album, and I still love it today. I’ve grown to enjoy all of Fall Out Boy’s albums in some capacity, but I still have a soft spot for their last two albums before the hiatus. I love their latest album, too, So Much (For) Stardust, and that’s among my top three as well, but that’s neither here nor there. This record has razor sharp hooks that are among their best, but Patrick’s vocals are also among their best as well; people knew that Patrick could sing, and he demonstrated that well on their first few albums, but Infinity On High started to embrace more styles of music that complemented his vocals. Folie A Deux is the album where Patrick’s vocals were really shown off, but the rest of the band was firing on all cylinders as well. This is super catchy, tight, fun, and energetic as all get out. I don’t get why fans hated this album, but it’s funny that it’s considered to be one of their best now. By the point this record came out, however, the band were burnt out by touring and writing. They needed a break, so they took one. I remember when they announced their hiatus, and it was a sad day for the pop-punk scene. They were a band I had just gotten into a couple of years ago, but it was for the best, I think. The band went their separate ways, and they participated in side projects. Most notably, Hurley and Trohman teamed up with Anthrax’s Scott Ian and Every Time I Die’s Keith Buckley for The Damned Things, a pretty cool hard-rock / heavy metal band, and Patrick Stump’s solo music.

It's kind of a shame, too, because Patrick’s solo music picked up where Folie left off. He really went to pop, soul, and funk music, but fans hated that stuff so much, they booed him off stage many times during a solo tour, and Patrick quit music for a few years. The fan backlash against Folie and his solo music was so toxic, awful, and undeserving. I don’t understand why people hated any of that to begin with, but here we are. That’s just how people were, and unfortunately, still are. Folie has gone onto being a cult classic, and for good reason. It’s got a lot of their best material, as well as a killer lineup of guest stars. On “What A Catch, Donnie” alone, there’s The Cab’s Alex DeLeon, The Academy Is’ William Beckett, Gym Class Heroes’ Travie McCoy, Cobra Starship’s Gabe Saporta, Panic! At The Disco’s Brendon Urie, and Elvis Costello, but Lil Wayne also shows up in the record, so it’s a stacked lineup on there. They pulled all the stops out for that record, but for good reason. Say what you will about their post-hiatus material, but Folie A Deux is among their best in their discography. It’s got such a special place in my heart, because of how this album influenced a lot of other bands and albums I listened to at the same time, but it also influenced what I like in terms of catchy hooks and vocalists with a lot of range. If you haven’t listened to this thing in awhile, I’d say give it another listen. It absolutely rules all these years later, and it’s easily among their best.

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mazeofyeni · 11 months ago

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⭕. !!: ° ... YOUTUBE : SKZ-LOG !! ‧ ₊˚

↺ ▪️ ࣪ ˖ ∿ 07.31.24 , skz-log for 2024 stayweek !

OUTFIT FROM VIDEO !

Walking down the streets of Milan, Italy with the rest of the group , evie holds the tiny camera up turning it on.

" walk on this side of the street there's a car ." chan moved her to the side. "today we're in milan ." she said. "we're going ...." turned to chan. "oppa tell them where we're going." she put the camera in his face. "somewhere." she deadpanned at him , he smiled at the girl. "ah, so annoying."

"who's going in what car ?" seungmin called out. "you're in this one." chan pointed to the car he was in. "let's go stay."

she got in the back seat with felix and chan , turning her camera off now that they were in a car with a camera set up.

"evie ." chan handed her a mic to hook up to her shirt. "thank you." she took the small device , hooking it on her shirt like so.

she munched on a sandwich as they took off down the roads of milan. "it's good." she gave the camera a thumbs up. "every single time i'm forced to sit in the middle." changbin then spoke up. "shortest goes in the middle."

"you can confidently say that knowing we're the same height." felix laughed next to her. "yah , youngest , youngest sits in the middle." the elder said clearly a bit flustered from the girl.

she sat quietly , listening to them talk back and forth , changbin telling random stories and occasionally shouting to the top of his lungs , she glared at chan through the mirror as she covered her sensitive ears. "you picked me for this personally i feel." he laughed. "have i wronged you in any way oppa?" she said. "ah cute." he just smiled at the girl.

chan put down the roof before driving off , her hair going all over the place. "yah , evie." han laughed as her hair wrapped around her face , they all laughed. "evie? you okay?" chan asked , she smiled. "yeah." she gave him a thumbs up. "i'm okay." felix helped her move her hair from her face , smoothing it to the wrapping a hair that he kept in his wrist around the loose ponytail. "there you go." he swept the fly-aways from her face.

they finally arrived at the dessert place. "if someone asks what we do , just say we're a rock band." han said. "like paramore?" she said humming their song from the band. "just say we're youtubers." jisung said.

they got out of the car , walking into the loud restaurant , her stomach growling at the sight of the desserts , making changbin turn to her , she smiled her face turning red in embarrassment. "i guess that sandwich did nothing." he said she nodded.

"that one." she pointed to the chocolate mousse. "can I have that?" she spoke to the cashier. "and a chocolate creme puff?" she smiled. "thank you so much."

"evie." felix handed her a latte. "your teeth are gonna rot from all this sugar." she took the drink. "yongbok." she said. "your nagging again."

they continued on their way down the streets , the convertible back down as she sipped on her latte , sitting back watching the scenery. "you look at peace." felix said , she nodded. "it would be a perfect picture time if i wasn't scared to move to get my phone."

they finally reached their destination a pretty villa , she pulled out the small camera again. "look at this." she turned the camera. "it's like a movie oh my god." she gasped. "it's so pretty."

she filmed random places as they toured the house. "I'm gonna make a lot of money and move back here in my old age." she said. "it's gonna take a while." lino said. "I'm not worried as long as 3racha keeps making music i will always have employment." she shrugged.

"you make music too." chan said. "yeah , but you three could also buy it for me." the trio turned back to her. "you three are the richest if we do the math." she said. "if you three put your life savings together im almost certain it should be enough to buy me that house." han scoffed , the older two turning away. "you thought really deeply about that didn't you?" she nodded. "that's good , you should always have an imagination."

after finishing the tour of the villa they made their way out to find food. "there is a car coming." hyunjin pulled her out of the way. "don't walk on the side , walk in the front." he maneuvered her through the streets. "i've must've gone back to kindergarten or something." he pinched her cheek. "yah!"

they found a nice pizza spot , but half of them stayed outside , while the other went to order the pizza; she set up her camera to take a few photos. "ah , pretty." she smiled looking at the outcome. "i'll keep a few." she said to herself.

they had some time to spare before the pizzas were ready so they walked down further until they found a gelato place.

she got her gelato , sitting down on the bench eating it. "let me try." hyunjin took a bit from hers. "here." he gave her some of his. "i do not like that." she said scrunching her face up. "it's grape." he said. "i don't like it." she said taking a bite of hers.

she finished her treat on the way back to pick up the pizza , but it would take a little longer , so she just walked back to the villa. "I'm alone right now." she said. "fortunately I'm not lost." she laughed. "it would be scary if I was." she said. "they probably wouldn't even look for me— no chan would , but do I really want to hear the nagging that comes with that." she shook her head. "absolutely not!"

she walked back into the villa , sitting down at the table. "what took you so long?" lino asked. "i waited a while , but it got too hot so i came back alone." she said.

everyone came back eventually and they all sat around to eat pizza. "here." chan handed her a kebab since she really didn't eat pizza. "thank you." she smiled , unraveling the food taking a bite. "good?" she nodded giving a thumbs up. "good."

the conversation of their new dorm arrangements came up. "evie you're moving in with hyunjin and changbin?" she nodded. "not sure when i drew the short straw , but yes i am." she said, both of them turning to her. "yah what does that mean!" they laughed at the loud man. "well no i take that back , hyunjin wakes up before me so that's good and oppa can cook so." she said. "that's all it takes to raise a evie." changbin said. "I need someone to wake me up and cook me food , if I was capable of doing those I could live alone."

"well that and you're paranoid about everything else." seungmin said. "well yeah , so no actually I couldn't live alone."

"does anyone have a fan they remember." changbin said once the topic of fans was brought up. "ah!" she said. "there was a fan from debut days when I was really struggling and she gave me a heat pack and told me everything would be okay , and in that moment everything felt like it had magically switched." she explained. " like she took all the stress away." she nodded. "exactly like that."

they spent the next hour or so just talking to each other , laughing and reminiscing about the last 7 years as a group. "I'm sure it's the same for everyone, but with skz continuing as nine members I didn't hesitate at all."

they all agreed, "how else would we be able to work?" she said. "we can't function without each other." they nodded. "i don't see myself making music if it's not with stray kids , I couldn't do it." she said.

"it would be too hard."

©️MAZEOFYENI

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fbfh · 4 months ago

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Curiosity is a Wonderful Thing - ch. 13

wc: 5.4k

genre: political thriller (ish), slow burn, best friends to lovers

pairing: slowburn ben x reader, mal x ben, homoerotic tension between mal and evie

warnings: mentions of back alley cosmetic procedures, questionable needles (for botox not drugs), detailed descriptions of emotional flashbacks, themes of c-ptsd, mentions of emotional abuse and child neglect, falling into old dynamics, two mentions of p*rging, implied Evie has a mild eating disorder/p*rges off camera, Evie uses needles to give herself liposuction off camera (don't do that), Mal tried to p*rge once (don't do that), Evie has body dysmorphia, mother on daughter body shaming, Evil Queen is very narcissistic and emotionally abusive, toxic and unhealthy body image from a young age from mom, one mention of EQ not caring when Evie got seriously sick once, Maleficent dragged Mal by the hair once, reader is slowly becoming unhinged

this chapter contains some scenes with ED behaviors, emotional abuse, and body dysmorphia. please be careful and don't read if this will trigger you. I love you, stay safe starshine<3

!!LINK TO THE EDITED, ED FREE VERSION WILL BE HERE!!

summary: much like king arthur, you meet with a lady in a lake. Mal, Evie, Jay and Carlos get a "fun surprise" that's more of a slap to the face, Evie gets the worst of it. Mal decides to stress bake. There's a confrontation in the kitchen.

song recs: twisted - aviva, runs in the family - amanda palmer, thick skull - paramore, trigger - hayley williams, mad hatter - melanie martinez

a/n: shout out to my psychiatrist for bumping up my adhd meds!!!! love you kim!!!!!! literally wrote this in one sitting and I could not be happier. also surprised myself w this one a little lol

tags @yesv01 @magcon7280 @hopefullhearts @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sunshineangel-reads @strawberry-cake1 @dustyinkpages @kiara7777 @pain-in-the-ashe

When acquiring a particularly interesting piece of information, especially when it is in one's best interest to keep the source of said information confidential, it isn't uncommon to use the phrase, “a little birdy told me”. Most find this to be nothing more than a twisting turn of phrase, unless that someone would happen to be from Wonderland. Wonderlandians, you see, have quite a way with words - especially those which come from birds. When one has heard a word from birds, that's a sure sign that time is of the essence. It was birds that saved Snow White's life, rushing through the forest to warn the dwarves, as well as many other less popularized accounts of such heroism and quick witted messenging.

All this is to say, if a little birdy tells you something, it’s in your best interest to believe them.

The bird before you in this instance, is a rather frantic little chickadee. She swooped down to find you, losing a few feathers in the process. “Miss Liddell! Miss Liddell!” She cries, fluttering over to you, worked up into quite the tizzy. “Oh dear, Miss Liddell-”

She chirps and sputters, trying to gather her scrambled thoughts.

“What is it?” You ask, brow furrowing as you lean in to listen.

“Oh Miss Liddell, it’s about Ben.”

Those three words caught your attention firmly, like a dodo in the jaws of a bandersnatch.

“What about Ben?” You ask, voice growing lower and more urgent.

“She- she’s down at the lake, you must go see her!”

“See who?” You implore, trying to understand the bits and pieces falling frantically from her beak.

“There’s just no time! Come quickly!”

You scurry across the school grounds for several minutes before plunging into the forest. You pause, calling up to her. “Ms. Chickadee!”

She flutters back over.

“What, what? We have to go!”

You remember suddenly that you can get there much more quickly with a rabbit hole. Once you’ve explained this to her, she nods frantically. After a quick slip into Wonderland, you pop right back out on the shore of the enchanted lake. In your haste, you nearly tumble right into the lake.

“Oh- goodness!” You exclaim, scrambling back onto the shore. Your skirt is damp and muddy, as are your hands. But you pay no mind to that, nor the snags now torn into your stockings. Your breath heaves the chilly evening air as clouds roll in, making the skies seem even darker, and you look around frantically. You’re unsure what you’re even looking for, but you trust the brave Chickadee who delivered your message.

There’s a trilling noise above you, and you look up to find Ms. Chickadee in the flesh - or rather, in the feathers - as she lands on a nearby branch. Her little body heaves as she catches her breath, and she chirps out another trilling note. A moment later, the water of the lake ripples, beginning to rise as a fluid figure emerges.

Your eyes widen as a Naiad takes shape before you. Her hair is curly at the bottom, and carefully braided and wrapped in little sections, like the graceful rivulets of a waterfall as it cascades down her back and shoulders, blending back into the lake where they meet.

“Oh…” you begin, intrigued and curious. You crouch down to speak to her so as not to loom over her intimidatingly. Looming intimidation, you feel, is something that should be used sparingly, and not when one is being gifted with help, or valuable information.

“Hello.”

She looks right back at you with an equal - if not more nervous sort of intrigue. She waves.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” You say, bowing your head and gripping your muddy skirt hem to curtsy as much as you’re able to in your crouched position. “I didn’t know there were any naiads at the Enchanted Lake, or surely our paths would have crossed sooner.”

“There aren’t. Not usually.” She says in a soothing tone as her words flow from her lips. “I’m a bit of a shy duck. I like being somewhere that I won’t be disturbed, where I can keep to myself.”

“Naturally.” You nod, sensing her relax slightly at your understanding. She moves closer, leaning in to speak more freely, lowering her voice into an urgent whisper.

“Well, I can feel it when somebody uses the lake’s magic.” She begins, the water around her rippling more quickly as she begins to get worked up at what she saw. “When Prince Ben and that- that purple fairy were here… something strange happened.”

The realization strikes you that this naiad could know exactly what happened to Ben, what Mal did to him. You lean closer, as does she, seafoam bubbling up around her edges as she stretches out to you.

“It felt like- like mind control.” She says in a babbling whisper. “When Prince Ben submerged himself in the lake, it…”

She shakes her head, staring at nowhere in particular at the memory.

“I’ve never felt anything like it. Not in all my years in the lake. I- there was a moment I feared the lake wouldn’t be able to break it.” She says, voice trembling as her eyes brim with tears. They spill, but she nods her head quickly.

“But it did.”

The relief that strikes you in that moment is positively unmatched by anything else you think you’ve ever felt. Hope finally seems tangible, a solution, a resolution glowing as a pinprick of light in the distance of this suffocatingly dark tunnel of misfortune Mal has carved your way into.

“But then… there was something else.”

Just like that, the flame of hope you were so desperately tending to flickers.

“That purple fairy… she made a wish.” She begins. Dread and relief war within you. “And stranger still-”

She leans in even closer, stretching up to meet you as you stretch down, trying not to fall right into her lake. Cool water mists onto your skin as she speaks in an anxious whisper.

“It was granted.”

Your stomach sinks like an anchor into the wet, wet mud of an unfamiliar shore.

“I can’t say what it is she wished for-”

“Naturally.” You nod, agreeing. It is never the right of another to say what someone else wished for. Speculation is one thing, but knowing is another.

“But…” she hesitates, trying to figure out how to phrase what she’s trying to say. “Her own conflicted heart will be her downfall. It’s very likely that she will break the conditions of her wish all on her own.”

Like the cooling gel of an ‘ello-vera plant after much time spent bathed in moonlight, a tentative sort of relief washes through you, soothing the frayed ends of your nerves. It’s not exactly what you wanted to hear, but like your mother always says, beggars can’t be choosers, and choosers can’t be indecisive. This is a much better piece of information than it could have been, and you nod gratefully as she continues.

“Her wish, despite everything, is only a temporary benefit to her, I suspect. Don’t preoccupy yourself with that over everything else, it cannot possibly last very long at all. When put to the test, she will not be ready to succeed.” She says urgently. “Don’t lose sight of your goal - see the rivers for the ocean.”

Her words seem to sear themselves into your mind and heart. You let out a soft, determined breath.

“I can’t begin to thank you enough for this,” you say in a low, intent voice. “Please, tell me if there’s anything you should need in return.” You promise, standing up.

The naiad nods anxiously, and looks around.

“Good luck!” She says quietly before disappearing back into the depths of the lake, leaving only a swirling current and bouncing ripples in her wake.

Her words echo in your mind as you stand up, not caring one bit for the mud and water on your clothes. See the rivers for the ocean. See the trees for the forest. That’s something you can certainly do.

A video call from your parents when you’re away at boarding school should be a good thing. A chance to douse the flames of homesickness that have no doubt been burning away within you for as long as you’ve been away. But in truth, it depends on who your parents are, and how you feel toward each other. In Mal’s case, the answer to both is bad. Both literally, and figuratively. This callous truth also applies to Evie, Carlos, and Jay, a knowledge and camaraderie they share as they sit anxiously at their desks in the Remedial Goodness classroom on a Saturday.

“Now, as you know,” Fairy Godmother begins, addressing the students with a warm, anticipatory smile. “Sunday is family day here at Auradon Prep. And because your parents can’t be here due to- uh,” she sputters, looking for the most gentle way to say locked up on an island, as if the four of them weren’t raised in the prison built from their parents’ sins.

“Distance,” she decides. “We’ve arranged for a special treat.”

Their stomachs collectively sink as a large screen is rolled out in front of the blackboard, twisting with a sickening feeling. Evie’s breathing immediately picks up, and she finds herself fussing with her hair and nails, tugging at her clothes and trying to apply a little more lip gloss without anyone noticing. She drags a finger under her lower lashline, knowing she gets a little mascara fall out around this time of day.

Carlos places Dude on the ground, his heart breaking for the dog as he nudges him away as gently as he can with his foot until Dude gets the message, scurrying off and watching him sadly. Jay is already shrugging off his tourney hoodie and wiping the smile off his face, waiting with a stoic scowl and crossing his arms defensively in a way that hides the shake in his hands.

“I don’t see anything… nor do I hear-”

The sound of her mother’s voice drains all the blood from Mal’s face in a way that no amount of blush could disguise. She rubs at her lips with the back of her hand, taking off the strawberry flavored lip gloss Evie had managed to persuade her to wear that morning. She’d been so excited about it, too. I couldn’t stop thinking about the whole strawberries thing… you’ll have to tell me if this tastes the same! Her brilliant Evie had managed to find strawberry flavored cosmetics, just because Mal couldn’t stop talking about how delicious they were.

She rubs at her eyes, smudging the light makeup Evie had taught her how to do, feeling a sinking sense of grief as she ruins it. This was the first time she did it by herself - well, the first time Evie only had to hold her hand a little bit - and she makes a mental note to apologize to Evie for ruining their work later. Armed with chapped lips and dark rings smudged around her eyes, she strategically scratches at her scalp, hoping her hair looks damaged and unkempt, just like it always is. Was. Like it should be.

She doesn’t need to look at her friends to know they’re all feeling exactly the same thing. Evie flips over her papers, hiding the A- grade she’d received yesterday and been beaming about ever since. Carlos guiltily rips off a bit of his breakfast bar and tosses it out of view, wordlessly trying to apologize to Dude for shoving him away so suddenly.

Jay shoves his beloved Fighting Knights team hoodie that he’s been wearing with love for days onto the cold floor by his feet, silently praying it doesn’t get covered in mud from his cleats. The soft fleece and vibrant team logos woven together with a sense of camaraderie and belonging are replaced with his signature sink or swim, no team in I scowl, the one he picked up by copying his father’s face when he looked at Jay.

There’s more discoordinant bickering that seems to suck all the goodness out of the room, no matter how remedial it is. Even Fairy Godmother seems tense. Finally, the image of their parents loads more clearly as their end of the video call finishes connecting.

“Evie, it’s mommy!” Comes the condescending sing-song voice of the Evil Queen. Her under eyes are slightly swollen, Evie notices. She definitely got more back alley botox. And another CC of lip fillers, by the looks of it. She’s going to get a nasty rash from using dirty needles, just like she always does. All in the pursuit of beauty, she would tell Evie while making her daughter cover her itching, inflamed skin with expired psoriasis cream.

“Oh, look how beautiful,” Evil Queen coos, and Evie plasters on the same smile her mother made her spend two hours a day practicing. “Just like your mother. She gets it all from me.”

Evil Queen turns between the other parents and Fairy Godmother, speaking to no one in particular as she continues.

“You know, they say having a daughter just sucks all the beauty right out of you. I’m sure they do, in most cases,” she says, looking between Maleficent and Fairy Godmother. “But with me, oh, I just sucked all that beauty right back.”

She lets out a stiff laugh, smiling as much as she can with all those frozen, swollen muscles in her face.

“Evie looks just like me when I was her age. I mean, I didn’t have that little potbelly, and I actually wore lip liner instead of god knows what that is…” She murmurs, glancing at Evie’s mouth. “But, you know what they say, the poison apple doesn’t fall far from the heirloom tree…”

Evil Queen leans closer, looking in the bottom corner of the screen, clearly looking at herself and paying no mind to anything else.

The knots in their stomachs get bigger and bigger, harder to sit with as they watch their parents waste away half their sparse video call time jabbing at Fairy Godmother instead of talking to their children. Mal risks a glance at Evie, only seeing the blue hair she’s fussing with as she looks away from the group. Evie didn’t even get a hello. She was just used to prop up a mirror for her mother to obsess over and preen herself in, just like always.

Fairy Godmother isn’t immune to their nasty ways either, growing increasingly distracted and impatient with their jeers and jabs, totally unaware of the pain on the children's faces behind her. The sky outside dims drastically for a moment as a bank of clouds pass by, blocking out the sun. The world feels dark and cold and small again, suffocating in that moment of chilling darkness.

“Mal…”

She tenses at her mother’s saccharine, deceptively sweet sing-song voice. “When can we see you again?”

Her expression and words are tense, but their true meaning is clear. Have you gotten that damned wand yet?

“Uh- there’s a coronation in two days,” Mal says in a low voice, trying to sound relaxed, looking at her mother’s nose instead of trying to look at her eyes. “So probably after that.”

Maleficent hums, but it sounds more like a growl to Mal.

“Well,” She starts tensely, the disapproval and growing impatience clear, “Let’s see if you can make that sooner.”

Mal flinches at her mother’s tone, looking away from the screen, but Maleficent doesn’t notice. The four parents descend into more arguing, starting to use language that causes Fairy Godmother to shut off the screen abruptly in fear of someone overhearing their profane, cruel words.

The silence that follows is crushingly heavy, bruising their muscles and straining their spines from the sheer weight of it.

“...I am so sorry-”

Fairy Godmother’s words are sincere, which makes them even more difficult to hear. “It’s fine.” Mal says in a quiet voice, not having the energy to be snippy even when cutting her off. “Really.”

“We’re used to it.” Carlos supplies in a hollow voice.

Unable to stand being in this goddamn room any longer, Mal moves to leave. Everyone else quickly follows her, just as desperate to get out, but waiting for her cue. The door slams shut behind them as Mal marches back to their dorms. The air is thick, and their chests feel painfully tight. Invisible hands seem to wrap around their necks, choking them tighter and tighter, pushing harder against their stomachs as more heavy silence envelops them.

Arriving back in Mal and Evie’s dorm, Evie immediately sits down at her vanity, pulling out her tweezers to obsessively remove facial hair that isn’t there. Carlos curls up on the floor in front of Mal’s bed, and Jay stands in front of the closed door, arms crossed. Mal paces, picking at her chipping polish. Jay’s stomach twists as he builds up the courage to speak. His words are quiet - quiet for him, at least - but they still feel loud. He knows they’d feel loud no matter what.

“So… what’s our next move?”

He feels like he shouldn’t even be asking, but he has to. Someone has to. They all need to know what the fuck they’re supposed to do next. Mal slows her pacing, trembling under the crushing weight of guilt and self blame, the hatred of herself for letting herself start to get comfortable, for even considering leaning into this cushy, sugary, strawberry flavored life. Her shoulders are so tense she almost feels lightheaded. She can feel a headache coming on.

There’s a fraction of a moment before she answers. She hates this, hates being the one in charge. She hates being the only thing standing between her friends- between Evie and Jay and Carlos, and abject misery. She hates bearing the weight of holding back everything worse they’re trying to avoid. It’s aging her, she thinks. Or it would be if fairies aged like humans. She’s sure she’d have gray hair, aches in her joints, a tremor when she walks. She hates this feeling, and whenever it comes, she knows how Atlas feels, crushing yourself under the weight of the sky to try and stop the people behind you from suffocating faster.

“We pull our heads out of our asses.”

She tries to sound sharp, intimidating, but it doesn’t quiet land. She sounds afraid.

“We wake the hell up, and we do what we fucking came here to do.”

Her words are like the click of prison shackles, tightening on their wrists and ankles as they march toward a seaside cliff of inevitable doom. That’s not the answer that any of them wanted.

It’s later that night, so late that even Carlos has fallen asleep. Evie was up later than Mal had thought. She was sure she knew what Evie was doing in the bathroom for so long, but didn’t have the heart to try and stop her. What could she even say? My mom is right, but yours is totally lying? Mal slips out of bed and walks quietly into the bathroom.

A box of baking soda sits on the counter, mirrors propped up for a 360 view, rubbing alcohol… Mal’s throat tightens as she inspects the damage. The air smells like rubbing alcohol, and vomit disguised with the smell of fake floral room spray. Daring to look at the sink, she sees it. Smudges of blood, sprinkled with grainy yellow lumps. She swallows thickly.

It’s not the first time Evie’s tried to give herself lipo. She mentioned once when it was late at night and they were both feeling uncharacteristically vulnerable that she’d been four when her mother first showed her how to jab under her skin with a needle and suck out the fat. She’d nearly gone septic in the sixth grade when she forgot to clean the needle properly.

When she was finally well enough to come home from the shitty excuse of a public clinic on the Isle, the only thing her mother did was pinch her waist and stomach and arms. Well, at least some good came out of your carelessness. There’s still quite a ways to go, obviously. It’s a miracle she’s still alive, Mal thinks. It’s a miracle any of them are, much less all of them.

There was one time years and years ago when her mother caught Mal trying to purge like Evie had shown her how to do. Her mother just pulled her up by the hair and dragged her out of the bathroom, raving about how she shouldn’t waste her energy on something as foolish and trivial as that, she should be working on a way to get them off this godforsaken rock. Mal wasn’t sure how an 11 year old could do anything to get them off the Isle, but once she was locked in her room for a time out, once she’d beaten and kicked her threadbare pillows until she wore herself out, she started brainstorming, scribbling down fruitless ideas by the embers of her shame.

She shakes her head, trying to dispel the unpleasant memories. She exits the bathroom and walks over to Evie’s bed. She looks pale. Mal lifts up the blankets, just a little, and nudges up Evie’s shirt. Her stomach has a few bandaids on it, but some of them have fallen off, leaving little red pin pricks in their wake. Her heart sinks slowly, pulling the blankets back up, knowing Evie went to bed dizzy and cold and hungry. She should get Evie something to drink. Maybe some juice or something, maybe one of those sports drinks Jay has after tourney practice.

She grabs her spellbook and sneaks down into the kitchens. She digs around a little, finding a bottle of sugar free apple juice, and a bottle of blue ischyros-ade. There’s a sponsored photo of Hercules on the front, with some dumb slogan and black and white Greecian designs. She flips through her spellbook, knowing she should be practicing more than she has been, and finds a simple transportation spell. She sets the drinks down, focusing as she tries to cast the spell, tracing her hands around the bottles.

“Destination, free of fare, move these- uh, bottles, from here to there.”

The tendrils of smoke that had been building dispel, with the fizzling pop of failed magic. She lets out a frustrated sigh and tries again.

“Destination, free of fare, move these bottles from here to there.”

It almost works this time, there’s more smoke and a building feeling of anticipation, but it still fizzles out at the last moment. She’s about to give up and just march back up to her dorm herself, but she hesitates. She thinks about Evie, seeing her in her mind’s eye. Her heart aches, crying to reach out and hold her, to comfort her best friend, to kiss her and tell her she’s the most beautiful thing in the whole world.

“...Destination, free of fare, bring these bottles from here to there.”

The words flow more freely this time, not feeling as forced. There’s a rush of blood to her head, and when she looks back down… they’re gone. She smirks to herself. Of course the one time she nails a spell is because she’s worried about Evie.

She starts to close her book, but something falls out.

An index card in her scratchy writing, detailing a… cookie recipe. Oh god, Ben. She totally forgot about him. She’s been so preoccupied with keeping an eye on Jay and Carlos, and worrying about Evie that she… forgot Ben existed, if she’s being honest. She doesn’t have a choice. She’s going to have to enable her mother to bring on a new age of darkness and evil, and… Ben is going to think he’s in love with her the whole time.

She thinks that if she were able to feel any worse than she did, she would now. But she’s just… maxed out. She doesn’t have any guilt of self hate or fear left for Ben. But she knows that keeping him under her control is… it’s just a step too far. Mal swallows thickly, then grabs a bag of chocolate chips from the pantry. There’s a recipe on the back for something called s’mores, and another recipe next to that. Trollhouse mini chocolate chip cupcakes.

She fumbles around the kitchen, clumsily throwing open cabinets and rifling through them, dropping ingredients halfheartedly onto the stainless steel countertops. Her mind is a blur as she mixes them together. She doesn’t notice that she forgot to add the cinnamon, or that a few bits of eggshell ended up in the lumpy batter. She just can’t bring herself to care.

Waiting for them to finish baking is the worst part. She shoves everything back in the cupboards even though they’re not in the right place, and she takes a towel and gets it wet, squirting a generous amount of dish soap on it. She wipes down the counter as soap bubbles fill the air, the green viscous liquid dripping off the edge of the counter and splatting on the floor.

The chemical smell of fake apples and soap fill her senses, and she throws the sudsy towel in a basket for towels that need to be laundered. She takes another towel and wipes off the suds, leaving behind a sticky, chemical residue as she throws that one in the hamper too. She’s startled from her dazed attempt at cleaning to keep her hands and mind busy when the little egg timer buzzes.

She pulls out the mini muffin tray and sets it on the counter, nearly burning herself in the process. The acrid scent of scorched chemical dish soap wafts up and mixes with the sweet, fudgy smell of the cupcakes. She looks through the tray at the unfrosted, gooey chocolate baked goods before her, and picks one of them up. She dumps the rest in the trash and drops the tray by the sink.

Stretching up to grab a spoon and can of chocolate frosting, she sees a figure standing there where there hadn’t been just the moment before. She nearly jumps out of her fucking skin, seeing you there looking like you clawed your way out of a grave.

Your striped tights are snagged and torn, you’re smudged with mud and dirt, there’s a twig or something tangled in your hair. Your makeup is smudged too, making you look… almost frightening. Without hesitation, you step forward as the last parts of the tile floor close themselves up behind you. You’re looking at her with a surprising intensity, eyes locked on her like a predator hunting down its prey. She starts to say something, but you don’t care, wasting no time as you ensure she can’t run out the door past you - not that she would, you don’t think. It’s merely a strategic precaution.

“Do you even realize what you’ve done?”

Your voice is lower than usual, sharper and rougher and serious. You speak quickly and sharply, like your tongue itself is a vorpal blade that you’re all too comfortable wielding. Mal tries to answer, but you cut her off before she can.

“Because I find it hard to believe that anyone could be so stupidly foolish.” You spit, taking a step forward.

“I’m sure you’d love to know the outs and ins of what I know, but that is not a pleasure you’ll have the fortune of crossing paths with as of yet.” You say quickly, cutting straight to the point. “If you value the lives and wellbeing of your friends, or more likely, your own self serving preservation, if you don’t crave a miserable lifetime in a dungeon so deep you’ll never hope to see the sun or breath clean air again, if you don’t wish to resign yourself to a life worse than death, worse than even you could imagine…”

You lower your voice further, and when you speak, Mal feels like she’s been stung.

“You will not breathe a word of what you’ve done. Not to anybody.”

Mal’s stomach drops. She swallows thickly, trying not to let you see how thrown off by you she is. You haven’t said what you know, which means you probably know nothing. This is just some cheap attempt to shake her down for information because you’re worried about Ben or something. It’s the only thing that makes sense, but it sounds flimsy even to her.

“Not only is tampering with the free will of others an unforgivable crime,” You continue, even more intense than before. You’re gripping onto your self control with white knuckles, desperately trying not to give into the madness you’re barely restraining.

A cold sweat breaks out across Mal’s skin. Tampering with free will… you do know. Somehow you know what she did, what she did to Ben.

“But you’ve chosen for reasons way beyond my understanding or interest to commit the most egregious act of treason I have ever heard tell of.” You say sharply in a low voice, like the information strategically parting from your lips is only and exclusively for you and her.

“I’m sure you can’t possibly grasp the ramifications of what you’ve done- if you could you would have turned back long before now.” You say, a note of warning in your voice. “But now it is my duty to prevent your infectious actions from metastasizing further than they already have. It breaks my heart that you would damn so many innocent people who have suffered like you have just for-”

A chilling, dry laugh leaves your throat.

“I don’t know why, really. Nor am I bothered to care. Not when there is this much damage to be controlled.”

You take yet another step closer. Not close enough to touch each other, but uncomfortably so.

“You are to keep your head down.” You hiss, “You are to cease any and all further attempts to interfere with the crown, or the mess that you’ve created. And above all else, you are to do nothing to raise any suspicion.”

You’re not threatening her, she realizes. You’re warning her.

“If you intend for even a moment to step a toe out of the parameters which I have given you, I will assure you the consequences will come faster than you could possibly run from them.”

You sound so sure. You’re so quiet and calm, like you’re just… telling her the facts. You’re not trying to scare her with bluster and intimidation tactics - that she could handle. That she’s used to. But this… she’s never seen this from anyone. Realizing how cornered she is, she swallows thickly, looking around and trying to seem nonchalant, desperately looking for any way to deflect your accusations. Your preternaturally in tune perception of the situation.

“Look, you’re crazy if you-”

“Oh. Of course.”

You cut her off with a raw, honest stare. She sees something deep inside you, an unstable glint you’ve never let this far out. It’s like you’re finally loosening reins on a creature you’ve always had well trained and under your command.

“Mad as a fucking hatter.” You say in a joltingly light, casual tone. “The best people are.”

Before she can blink, she’s hit with the smell of dirt. The floor below you cracks, crumbling away into nothing. You drop fearlessly down into the dark maw of the earth, keeping your gaze on her the whole time. In the same breath, the floor closes back up without leaving so much as a trace.

Finally alone again - at least, she thinks so - she grips the counter tightly, hoping the cool metal will soothe her shaking hands. Her heart is pounding, like it’s trying to break out of her chest. Alice is just some person, some random girl who fell down the wrong hole in the ground. You’re her daughter, so you shouldn’t… how the fuck did you do that?!

There are rumors about Wonderland, of course. Whispers about the depths of madness that hide behind whimsy and eccentricity and nonsense. For the first time, Mal understands what those whispers are really talking about.

#curiosity is a wonderful thing #curiosity #descendants #descendants x reader #descendants fanfiction #descendants fic #ben florian #ben florian x reader #daughter of alice!reader #liddell!reader #mal x evie #tw ed implied

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dabisair · 1 year ago

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Dabi x gn!reader

Warnings: talk of death, reader is implied to be in therapy, Dabi is definitely nothing like Dabi, soft Dabi.

A/N: Uhh I guess I just need a hug? That's it, that's your summary too. Reader just needs a hug.

“Tell me why I’m humoring you right now.”

“Because you like me more than you want to admit.”

“Ha ha ha. Very funny, doll.”

“Because I knew you would be awake, and you knew you would answer?”

“Alright, alright,” Dabi sighs, shifting fabric reaching your ear as he moves, “so?”

“So…”

“Th’fuck’re you callin’ me for at two in the morning?”

“I don’t- sorry, I know, I just… I can’t put it into words, I guess.”

“Whatever.”

“I don’t really have a reason to be here, you know?” you pick at your quilt. A panic attack was keeping you awake, and you hoped that talking to someone as apathetic and uncaring as your raven-haired paramore would help, “I don’t have a purpose.”

Dabi scoffs, the sharp sound of a lighter coming to life bringing a small smile to your lips, “not the person you should be talking to about that, doll. I ain’t no help. Call that stupid bird, he’s a hero, he can help.”

“Yeah, that’s why I called you. I’m offended, honestly. You think I’d call him? Ew. Gross. I’ll pass.”

The howl of laughter that escapes Dabi - pure delight and ecstasy at your disapproval in regards to the wing hero - brings a bigger smile to your lips. Calling Dabi, well, that was the right choice. Talking to him was already helping!

“Tell me what else you’d pass on~”

“Oh my god, everything? Whatever comes out of his mouth is just pretty words and prettier lies. I have no interest. There’s little he can do to actually keep my eye.”

“Yeah~? Glad you feel that way - but for what it’s worth, I still think you should have called him, not me.”

“Why, cuz I’m sad and lonely and hate every second I spend alive? Call him so that he can swoop in on his big wings and save me?”

“I mean, sure. Better than talking to a villain about it.”

“Hey,” you wet your lips, shifting on your bed, “you are a villain. You would do it if I asked you to, right?”

“Do what?”

“Kill me.”

His silence carries from where he is, to where you are, a terrible weight that sits on your shoulders. It forces a sigh from your lips, “living is difficult and I don’t like it. I don’t like difficult things. I don’t like working, but I don’t like having nothing to do. I don’t like being awake. I don’t like being alive. If I had a choice in the matter, I would have rather never been here a single second.”

Dabi maintains his silence, but his next breath is one of anger. His heat is palpable despite the distance between you.

“Keep talking like that and I will kill you.”

“Date and time?” you try to joke, a nervous laugh bubbling up your throat.

“You have the fuckin’ gall to ask me to kill you and then be afraid of the prospect?”

“Yeah? That’s the funny thing about it, D - or I guess, the annoying thing about it. I am scared. Maybe when it happens I won’t be, but y’know, I like to think about things.”

“Stop thinking about it, then.”

“I can’t turn it off like that,” you huff, leaning back against the headboard, “I try, promise.”

“If anyone should be thinking like that, it’s me, dumbass.”

“But you have a purpose. You have a drive. You have a reason to be here - what reason do I have? None.”

“You have a life,” he snaps, and you think that maybe he was right. You should have called Hawks, because in your knowledge of Dabi being a villain, you had always thought he would never be bothered by you talking about the things that troubled you the most.

Evidently, you were wrong; you were wrong because his breaths are heavy with anger, and his tone is laced with distress.

“Friends, family, you have that.”

“And they have each other. My friends have other friends. My family has other family. They don’t need me - I’m not needed. My presence it’s not… it’s not needed. I don’t bring anything special or important to anyone around me.”

“You little brat,” he spits; something breaks in the background, and you’re not sure where he is, but you’re immediately worried.

“Don’t do something stupid, D.”

His laugh is incredulous, “me do something stupid? Take a look in the mirror, baby! You don’t want me to do something stupid, then stop talking stupid.”

“... okay. Fine. I see your point. I still don’t want to be here.”

“Because no one needs you?”

“Yeah.”

“I need you.”

You jump in your skin, hearing double. There’s a knock at your window. You stare at him, leaning against the glass, eyes illuminated by the azure flames he has simmering in his chest.

“Uh--”

“That date and time you wanted? Right fucking now,” he gives your window a good whack with flat of his fist. The blow is strong enough to put a few cracks in the glass, “open the fucking window.”

You drop your phone on the nightstand, not as scared as you thought you might be. He’s pocketing his own phone by the time you get to the window and unlatch it to let him in. He backs you right up to your bed, knocking you down onto it with his chest.

His finger is in your face as he leans over you, rage making the skin under his eyes bubble, “I’m not your therapist.”

“Nope, no, no you’re not.”

“But I know when you’re panic-talking.”

“Source needed.”

“Source being how well I fucking know you.”

You reach up to cup his face in your hands, the realization settling in that you actually scared him. Now you feel the tears gathering in your eyes, taking a deep breath to stabilize yourself. It becomes more difficult when he covers one of your hands in his.

“Sorry,” you muster, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

He makes no effort to deny it.

“I just - I just struggle to find a reason to be here - to want to be here. It takes too much effort to be alive.”

“Then let me be your reason - tonight, at least,” he leans back, balancing on his knees as he shucks off his jacket.

You feel infinite amounts better when his weight settles against you, arms wrapping tightly around his neck. Weary eyes slide closed, fingers twisting in the back of his loose shirt.

“Next time, just tell me you need a hug.”

“Okay.”

“You’ll have to make this up to me,” his words are warm, face nuzzling against your neck.

“Okay.”

#dabi x reader #reader x dabi #dabi x you #dabi x y/n #mha #bnha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia

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spliqi · 2 months ago

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lucy and/or sigma for the ask game!!

LENA hello!! <3

lucy maud montgomery - bsd

favorite thing about them: oh god. where do i begin. lucy’s character is one that i admit i didn’t examine too closely at first but i’m so pleased i did because she’s amazing. she’s such a brilliant subversion of so many romantic tropes especially in regards to her relationship with atsushi. the fact that she’s set up to be the conventional damsel in distress and a cut-and-paste version of him, but then throughout their relationship she turns all of that on its head. becoming the hero she needed when atsushi fails to save her, having her development pushed by a male character instead of existing solely to further his, her relationship with kyouka developing as a criticism of love triangles/rivals — instead of fighting with another girl over a guy it’s their mutual care for him that brings them together and keeps them strong. her and atsushi looking after each other in each other’s love languages — she risks her life to save him, an act which is so important to him he feels it’s his life’s purpose, while he is open and vulnerable with her — the one thing she struggles with most. yeah. also her design is gorgeous, one of the best in the series imo

least favorite thing about them: that she doesn’t play more of a central role in the story #tbh

favorite line:

i could write an akulucy thesis abt this

brOTP: lucy & kyouka! also mutuals have converted me into lucy & sigma brainrot

OTP: MONTCOTT ARGHHHH bashes my head into the wall repeatedly. also atsulucy if that giant rant at the beginning didn’t give it away

nOTP: lucy/kyouka. also not particularly fond of lucy/twain for a reason i can’t figure out

random headcanon: that she collects stuffed animals in anne's room and gives them as gifts to people she really likes

unpopular opinion: uhhh that she isn't one-dimensional. and her feelings for atsushi don't take away from her character just because they're a significant part of it. there are many characters in bsd who have heavy ties to another character (many of those ties much stronger than lucy's are) and none of them get the same flak as the female characters seem to

song i associate with them: BECAUSE LOVE GROWSSS WHERE MY ROSEMARY GOESSSS AND NOBODY KNOWSSSS LIKE MEEEE and also aint it fun by paramore <3

favorite picture of them: her early manga droopy eyes can be something so personal 🫶

sigma - bsd

favorite thing about them: his mysterious backstory... i love theorizing about him and what author he could possibly represent. his design is also absolutely stunning and i'm still mourning how much of it was sacrificed by bones studio

least favorite thing about them: his anime adaptation

favorite line: "It might just be a trick, but Dazai paid a price. An immense price. It's part of the casino's style to match the customer's stakes."

brOTP: siglai!

OTP: years of slander and mischaracterization and still nobody has managed to wean me off sigzai. you bozos will have to pry them from my cold dead hands. also kunisig!! also my guilty pleasure sigsskk (yes you read that right. no i didn’t accidentally type an extra s)

nOTP: sigma/teruko

random headcanon: not random at all and in fact very popular hc but sigma ur so transgender.... transmasc sigma = peak. transfem sigma = peak. nonbinary sigma = peak. honestly every trans hc can be reasonably supported by the text and i just love that about him. i love them all

unpopular opinion: he’s not dumb he’s not a baby he knows when he’s being taken advantage of!!! he knows when he’s being manipulated he just goes along with it anyway because he’s that desperate for somewhere to belong !!!!! that’s the whole point!!!! that’s why his relationship with dazai (and atsushi) is so important!! through them he’s learning that home is where the heart is and that it doesn’t have to be conditional or transactional

song i associate with them: skyfall is too obvious of an answer so i'm gonna say split by 88rising & niki 🙏 also coin by iu for the casino vibes. i used to have a sigma playlist but i’ve forgotten every song that was in it so that’s all you’re getting

favorite picture of them: LOL i have so many. he’s so expressive

character ask game

#thank you! <3 #asks

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lavendercharm · 1 year ago

Text

Linger, Chapter 4: Burning Down the House

A/N: I simply had to include both versions of this song - I was raised with Talking Heads but the Paramore version is what I’ve been listening to a lot recently, and what I thought of when naming this chapter.

Summary: From the moment you meet her, you can't stand Melissa Schemmenti.

Warnings: Strong Language

----

Your plan begins with Janine Teagues.

You spend the whole drive home positively seething, so caught up in your rage you nearly run a red light and forget to use your signal on three of your turns. You never forget to signal, which makes you even angrier. Even when you’re not caught in her physical orbit, Melissa Schemmenti finds a way to piss you off. You feel like it’s eating you alive, the pressure building until you’re sure you’ll explode.

When you arrive home, you storm inside, slamming your front door. Framed art pieces and photos rattle on the wall. Throwing your bag across your living room, you begin to pace, breathing heavily. Your mind races and your eyes dart around your apartment. The one word bouncing around inside of your skull: Revenge.

The pressure that had been building inside of you begins to lose steam as you realize something crucial: You know almost nothing about Melissa. You know she’s stubborn, loud, arrogant, breathtakingly gorgeous, and impulsive. You know she makes your skin tingle and your heart pound. You know she’s phenomenal at her job and she loves her kids - you’d never dream of doing something that would affect the kids and their learning. You want her to feel as personally attacked and downright fucking inconvenienced as she’s made you. But you don’t know how to hit her where it hurts. How do you get real revenge on someone you don’t even know?

Suddenly, you’re struck with an idea. Pulling your phone out of your pocket, you send a quick text to Ava.

Hey Ava. Could you send me Janine’s number?”

You barely have a moment to think before your phone dings.

Ew, why would I have Janine’s number saved? I guess I can look through my messages to find her.

Her message is punctuated with an eye rolling emoji. You shoot her a quick thank you, and it’s only a few minutes until Ava sends you Janine’s contact info.

You brought this on yourself girl.

If only Ava had a clue - you knew exactly what you were doing. It only takes you a few minutes to draft your message to Janine.

Hey Janine! Ava gave me your number. I was the sub for Miss Schemmenti this afternoon. Speaking of, I had such a great day working with her, I’d like to surprise her with a thank you gift when I leave at the end of the week. Can you tell me a bit about her?

Prior to this morning, you might have felt ashamed at how easily the lie came to you. Turns out your moral compass tends to stray when you have your headlights bashed in.

You scan the message after it’s done, reading it out loud to make sure it sounds believable. You don’t think Janine would be suspicious of anything, but you had to keep things airtight. You couldn’t risk her telling Melissa you’d been asking after her. Satisfied, you hit send, and put your phone down, ringer on. You’d know when someone texted you, but you didn’t expect Janine to write back immediately in the middle of the school day.

You channel your frantic energy into tidying up your kitchen, swapping out your work clothes for a sweatshirt and matching sweatpants, and trying your best to busy yourself in the hopes of shutting off your mind. It didn’t work.

Nearly two hours later, your head whips over to your coffee table as your phone buzzes. You don’t even consider that it could be someone else as you snatch it up. Luckily enough, Janine Teagues greets you at the top of the message as you unlock your phone.

Hey! I didn’t see you at the end of the day today, you must have had to run! Um, I LOVE surprises! They’re basically like secrets, which I love getting but hardly anyone ever tells me their secrets. I don’t know why, I’m a great secret keeper. (You doubted that.) But surprises are so much fun! Melissa is a really private person, but lucky for you, I’ve managed to crack that tough exterior! She probably wouldn’t want me to tell you about her but I will, since it’s for a surprise!

Her message continued on, a practical master’s thesis of a text. It seemed Janine rambled just as much over text as she did in real life.

Eventually you strike gold.

You send Janine a very sincere "thank you" text, telling her she’s given you the perfect idea for a surprise. You promptly turn her texts to Hide Alert . You couldn’t risk Janine’s inevitable follow up messages distracting you. You tied your hair back, sent a mental thank you to Past-You for taking some digital art and marketing classes in college, and put your master plan to get revenge on Melissa Schemmenti into motion.

—----------------------

You ultimately end up asking for help from an old friend. You’d managed to make decent progress on your project, working late into the night. But once you realized your idea was just outside of your skill set, you decided you needed reinforcements. You gave her some excuse about using them for a collage. After all, she didn’t need to know she was participating in the very real crime you were committing. It gave you pause at first, when you realized that your plan hinged on breaking the law. You weighed your options. Was this revenge plot on Melissa really worth it?

After you saw how much replacing smashed headlights could end up being, your fire was reignited.

Your friend had agreed to help you, not a single question asked. Your timeline wasn’t a problem - she’d get you the files you needed well before the end of the week. From there, a barcode, a bit of cardstock and some strategically placed glue, and the key to your plan would be ready to go. As you collapsed into bed, triple checking that your alarm was set for the AM, you couldn’t help the devious smile that played on your lips. Melissa would have no clue what hit her.

Despite having gotten less sleep than you were used to, you woke up strangely energized. Getting up to no good seemed to give you an extra boost - whether it be anticipation for your scheme to fall into place, or pure anxiety. You wouldn’t let yourself think too much about it. You were in it now, and you were determined to see it through.

Having woken up on time this morning, you were able to properly get ready for your day. You showered, dried and styled your hair, and chose your outfit for the day - black straight leg jeans, a light short sleeved teal button up, the top three of which you left unbuttoned, and white sneakers. You added some golden necklaces and a few rings to finish off your outfit for the day. On your way out of the door, you were extra sure to grab your lunch - you wanted to avoid a repeat of yesterday with every fiber of your being.

As you drove to Abbott, the seed of doubt in your stomach began to grow into a pit. Were you seriously going to go back into that classroom? The woman had hurled insults and smashed out your headlights for crying out loud. And although you seethed thinking about it, you took note of the apprehension mixed in with the anger. If she has no qualms about smashing your headlights, who’s to say your face isn’t next? You might have thought the idea of another teacher taking a bat to you was ridiculous before yesterday, but the odds increased drastically in the last twenty-four hours.

You pulled into the parking lot, turned your car off, and took a few deep breaths. You told Ava you’d be back - you weren’t going to ghost this job, and not just because you needed the money. You wanted to keep your word, and you wanted to show Melissa Schemmenti you weren't scared of her. Even if I am, you thought. Steeling yourself, you grabbed your bag and got out of your car, allowing your gaze to linger on your destroyed headlights for only a moment on your way in.

You’d barely stepped inside when you heard Ava say, “Damn, you really came back, huh? I’m not gonna lie, Olive Garden, I didn’t think you’d pull through.” She was standing in the doorway to the administrative offices wearing a flowery blouse and dress pants. Her hair and makeup were just as flawless as they were yesterday. You made a mental note that befriending Ava might not be a bad thing - maybe she could give you some pointers.

“Good to know you believe in me,” you muttered sarcastically in reply. You frowned. “And I’m not dressed like a waiter today. Please don’t call me Olive Garden.” Ava simply rolled her eyes, but you could see the smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.

“Well, you know where to go, Red Lobster. Better not be late again, if you want to see lunch time.” You pressed your lips together, your mouth suddenly dry. The odds you’d beaten Melissa to work were slim, which meant you were walking into a hornet’s nest. Worse, there likely wouldn’t be witnesses if she decided to end you here and now. Still, you’d survived yesterday. It couldn’t get worse than that. Mustering up as much courage as you could manage, you made your way to Melissa’s room on semi-steady legs.

To your surprise and relief, Melissa was nowhere to be seen yet. The door was open, the lights were on, and you took note of Melissa’s things near her desk - so she was here, but the room was vacant. Perhaps she’d needed to make copies or use the restroom - either way, your anxiety grew, alongside something new. You felt… thrilled at the idea of Melissa stumbling upon you in her room. In a way, this gave you an upper hand. There was no doubt in your mind that the woman didn’t expect to see you again. You imagined the shock on her face, the surprise sparking in her eyes as her sculpted brows rose, creating a ripple of delicate lines across her forehead. The enraged blush that would undoubtedly be dusting her cheeks as her mind caught up with what she was seeing. Her leather pants catching the light and clinging tightly to her soft, full thighs…

Your train of thought was swiftly followed by the heat on your cheeks, and you frowned. It didn’t matter that Melissa was downright gorgeous. As far as you were concerned, she was a horrible, hot headed woman with little regard for others. You ignored the voice in your head that contradicted that evidence: the lasagna Janine had given you a clear indication that Melissa cared about people. If you were going to get back at her, you couldn’t acknowledge that she might actually be human.

You quickly made your way to the desk in the back of the room and unpacked your things, staking a claim to your territory. You wanted to look settled and comfortable when she got here, hoping that making yourself at home in her room would add salt to the wound. Soon, though, you were at a loss as to what to do with yourself. It felt a bit silly, just waiting there for her, and you didn’t want to look like you were waiting for her, even though that’s exactly what you were doing. You internally groaned in frustration, your tendency to overthink everything creating problems that weren’t there. In an effort to look nonchalant, you channeled the audacity of a man as you leaned back in your office chair and stretched your legs out under the desk. Bringing your arms up and resting your hands on the back of your head completed the laid back pose and you prayed you didn’t look as dumb as you felt.

You sat like this for an embarrassingly long time. Glancing up at the clock on the wall, you saw it was nearly time for students to start arriving. Just as you began to readjust your position, you heard the telltale sound of a chunky boot heel on linoleum. Your heart was apt to burst out of your chest and you didn’t even know you were holding your breath, too busy trying to look blasé while also not shitting yourself. You were going to throw up.

Your eyes are immediately drawn to her fiery red hair as she walks into the room. You brace yourself for a barrage of insults, but they don’t come. Her face is buried in a stack of papers. A grimace briefly crosses yours before you fix it. She was so focused on whatever she was reading that she hadn’t even seen you yet.

You have to be kidding me, you think.

As she situates herself at her desk, she absentmindedly grabs a pen from the holder and pulls the cap off with her teeth. Your eyes are glued to the cap held between her plush lips, the gloss shining in the fluorescents. You can feel your imagination begging to run wild and it’s only through sheer force of will that you keep it at bay. She continues to write for a few minutes more and your heart pounds as you observe her, though for different reasons than it had been a few minutes before.

She plucks the cap from between her lips and places it back on the pen. As she grabs the stack and lifts it up to align the pages, her eyes lock with yours. It feels as if time is frozen. You’re trapped in emerald pools as she stares back at you, and you feel a stirring in your stomach. You have no clue how long you both sit there like that before something switches in your brain. Slowly, you allow the biggest shit eating grin you can muster to cross your lips. You flash her the biggest, toothiest smile, and say, “Good morning.”

This breaks whatever spell had been cast over the both of you, and you see an infuriated blaze spark in her eyes as she slams her papers down. “What the hell d’ya think you’re doin’?” she growls.

You furrow your brows in mock confusion. “I’m sitting at my desk, silly.”

She grits her teeth. “I thought I told you to fuc-”

You cut her off. “Ava convinced me to stay. She said Abbott is really hurting for subs, and seeing as I’m experienced , she would overlook yesterday’s… incident.”

The attractive flush of rage had worked its way onto Melissa’s face and you fleetingly wondered what else would make her blush like that for you. Her fists were balled and you sat forward in your chair, wanting to be prepared to run in case she charged you. But instead, she bit out a threatening, “We’ll see about that,” and promptly stormed out of the room.

Your breath came out of you in a huge whoosh as you slumped forward, resting your head on the cool wooden surface before you. You were alive. You might not be employed in the next ten minutes, but you weren’t dead. You realized if Melissa got Ava to let you go, you wouldn’t be able to orchestrate your grand revenge plan. But a part of you felt relief at that, too. You were proud of how you hadn’t wilted under the Italian woman’s fiery glare. You’d held your ground, and if you were about to be let go, you’d walk out of Abbott with your head held high.

It was another few minutes before Melissa stalked back into the classroom, and her shoulders were nearly touching her ears they were so tense. She pinned you with a glare so hateful, you thought you might actually catch fire. Then, to your utter disbelief, she said, “If you so much as blink at the wrong time, I’ll have you out on your ass before you can say ciao . Capisce?”

You had to fight hard to keep the grin off of your face, so you simply nodded at her to communicate you understood. But you both knew it - you’d won this round. Yet, as she rounded the corner of her desk, she asked, “By the way, how’s your car?”

The urge to grin fled as your eyes narrowed and your ire sparked. “Why do you ask? Have something you wanna tell me?”

She smirked, and you wanted to wipe it off of her stupid, enchanting, smug face. “Oh, no reason. Been some cars getting vandalized ‘round here, that’s all. I’d keep an eye out.”

You open your mouth to retort, but you're interrupted by a shrill, “Good morning Miss Schemmenti!” from one of the students as she ran into the room. Melissa’s attention was drawn away from you as her teacher persona slipped flawlessly into place.

“Good morning, Kayla!” she replied sweetly. Her smile was positively radiant. You despised it.

You settled into your chair as more students trickled in. A storm of anger and discontent was raging inside of you, but you worked to calm yourself before the school day really began. As you watch the seats fill in the room, you see Melissa approaching you from the corner of your eye. You wait for her to reach you before turning your head and cocking it to the side. You see her tongue press against the inside of her cheek momentarily and you know she’s pissed that she has to be cordial with you in front of the kids.

As she drops some worksheets on your desk for you to pass out, her eyes catch on something. You glance down and see the tupperware containing your lunch sitting in your unzipped bag. Looking back to Melissa, you see the malicious smirk form on her full lips before she speaks.

“Decided you didn’t feel like stealin’ today, huh?”

You clench your teeth together as she turns and walks away from you. You definitely don’t pay any special attention to the way her curvaceous hips swing, her self-satisfied air nearly suffocating you. You close your eyes and take three centering breaths. As you reopen them and begin passing out papers, you repeat a mantra in your head: Just make it to Friday. Melissa Schemmenti will get what’s coming to her.

—----------------------

She chooses to ice you out for the rest of the week, and frankly, you’re not mad about it. It’s better than having barbed remarks constantly thrown your way, and it’s definitely better than getting into another vicious verbal brawl. Or worse, a physical one. However, it also makes your job harder. She practically won’t acknowledge your existence unless she absolutely must, and she doesn’t include you in any of her teaching. You do a fine job answering individual questions during the kids’ work time, and nothing beats the feeling of warm satisfaction when one of them works out a difficult math problem or correctly spells a word they’d struggled with. But you didn’t feel like you were really a part of the classroom; Melissa wouldn’t allow you to be.

You’d decided to brave the teacher’s lounge for lunch on your second day and were glad that you did - although Melissa wasn’t happy with your presence there, Janine more than made up for it. She quickly introduced you to Jacob and Gregory, and timidly introduced you to Barbara, who you realized was close friends with Melissa. Barbara had a kind air about her, and you instantly felt soothed when speaking with her. You couldn’t fathom how she could be friends with the stubborn, explosive, and cruel redhead. For the rest of the week, you ate your lunch in the lounge, sitting with Janine and Jacob, politely greeting Barb and Gregory, and entirely ignoring Melissa. This was noticed by absolutely everyone.

In the evenings at home, you worked diligently to make sure you had what you needed for Melissa’s “surprise”. Your friend had sent the files you needed, and you thanked her profusely, promising to buy her drinks the next time you were both in the same city. She’d done an excellent job. You needed things to be as close to perfect as they could get. Nothing could tip Melissa off or else your plan would fail.

3:00 on Friday rolled around painstakingly slowly. You were a bundle of nerves all day, and you were paranoid Melissa was picking up on your energy. She’d given you scrutinizing glances twice and you’d done your best to ignore them. By the time the whole class had left and it was just the two of you, you felt like you were bursting at the seams. You could feel your heart beating as you reached into a small zippered pocket in your bag. Grabbing the fruits of your labor and pressing them behind your back, you cautiously made your way to Melissa’s desk.

She didn’t acknowledge your presence, keeping her eyes glued to her computer and ignoring you entirely. You pursed your lips and took a deep breath. You needed this to work.

“I’d like to extend an olive branch,” you said, pleased at how steady your voice was.

Without looking up, she curtly responded, “Not interested.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “Big surprise,” you muttered. Her gaze snapped to yours and you felt your stomach drop. Swallowing, you continued, “Look, it’s not like I’m going to ask to be friends or whatever. I know that we… got off on the wrong foot,” which was an understatement. “I just wanted to tell you that I was sorry, and I’d like it if we could at least be cordial.”

She opened her mouth to retort, but you held up a hand to silence her. She recoiled a bit, her brows arching at your nerve, but her surprise at your boldness bought you time to interject. “I didn’t think you’d just take my word for it, so I got you these.”

You brought your other hand from behind your back, and held out two VIP tickets to the Philadelphia Eagles game this coming Sunday.

You heard her teeth clack as her mouth snapped shut, her eyes wide in shock. Her expression quickly turned to one of suspicion as she asked, “How do you know I even like football, huh?”

Your cheeks colored a bit against your will. “I uh… I asked Janine to tell me about you so I could surprise you.” You didn’t like the meekness in your voice. For some reason you were embarrassed, your reasons for doing this notwithstanding.

A look of pure annoyance crossed Melissa’s face as she muttered, “Dammit, Janine.” She gazed at the tickets, almost as if she was wary of them. As she was contemplating, her teeth caught her lower lip and you felt something stir in you. God, how dare she look fucking endearing after everything. In another life, you would have liked to trap that lip between your teeth.

As your mind fought off those thoughts, she gingerly reached out and took the tickets from you. You felt your pulse quicken as she pulled her cat eye glasses off of her head and examined them. A few moments that felt like an age passed, and you thought you might explode from the anticipation.

Suddenly she removed her glasses and set the tickets down on her desk. Looking off to the side, Melissa Schemmenti crossed her arms and looked almost timid . And then, to your utter disbelief, she said words you never thought you’d hear her say to you.

“I uh…guess that’s one helluva olive branch. How could I say no to that?”

You stared back at her, mind blank. She’d just accepted your peace offering. It took you a moment to catch up and you realized your mouth was literally hanging open. You promptly shut it.

“Thanks,” Melissa said, and this time she looked you in the eye. There wasn’t warmth there, but there was a distinct lack of animosity, so she may as well have been beaming at you. As you stared back into her captivating green eyes, you felt the beginning of a new feeling. It dawned on you that you were starting to feel bad.

You had to shut that shit down.

You started, backing away from her desk and nodding in her direction. “Yeah, of course,” you say, quickly turning to grab your bag and get the hell out of dodge. “I gotta run, but, uh… I hope you have fun,” you say, and holding her gaze feels absolutely grueling. “I dunno if I’ll be back next week, so…” you trail off.

She’d turned back to her computer, but she actually glances up at you when she says, “Ashley’s still healin’ from her surgery, so you’ll be off the bench next week too. You, uh… might actually be able to teach these kids somethin’ before she gets back.”

You blink in disbelief. Did she… was that almost a compliment? Was she at least admitting that you were a better aide? For the first time, you think that you might be making a mistake.

Yet, as you stand there, the last week plays out in your mind - the rude treatment, the outright disrespect, the vicious words, and the ruined headlights on your car that you could barely afford to fix. You couldn’t let yourself back down now, and not just because she already had the tickets. You wanted to ruin her week the way she’d ruined yours - you wanted to get her hopes up and then crush them.

You grasp ahold of the rage that had been motivating you. You feel the tenderness in your heart harden to steel as a false smile graces your lips, and as you turn to leave, you reply, “Well, I guess I’ll see you next week. Let me know how the game is.”

And you leave Melissa Schemmenti with two counterfeit VIP Eagle’s tickets.

#melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x reader #this song is burning down the house by talking heads/i've been listening to the paramore cover like nonstop #it's so good #also obsessed with this gif #it was part of what inspired the pen cap in the mouth thing #oral fixation much??#Spotify

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space-girl3 · 9 days ago

Text

Lucissa as lyrics

(Part one)

“I just think about my baby, I’m so full of love I could barely eat.”

-Work Song, Hozier

“I'm the boy that your boy hoped that you would avoid

Don't waste your eyes on jealous guys, fuck that noise

I know better than to call you mine.”

-Let’s Fall in Love for the Night, FINNEAS

“Secrets I have held in my heart

Are harder to hide than I thought

Maybe I just wanna be yours

I wanna be yours, I wanna be yours.”

-I Wanna Be Yours, Arctic Monkeys

“Cause I'm a fool for you

And the things you do.”

-fOoL fOr YoU, Zayn

“When my time comes around

Lay me gently in the cold, dark earth

No grave can hold my body down

I'll crawl home to her.”

-Work Song, Hozier

“Before I see you I pick out some things to say

Don't want to sound foolish and waste my chance away.”

-I Want to Be Your Boyfriend, Hot Freaks

“It's not love, I swear

It might be closer to despair.”

-Despair, leo.

“Don't you see me I

I think I'm falling, I'm falling for you

And don't you need me I

I think I'm falling, I'm falling for you.”

-Fallingforyou, The 1975

“I will not ask you where you came from

I will not ask you, neither should you

Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips

We should just kiss like real people do.”

-Like Real People Do, Hozier

“Our formal attire on the floor, in a pile

In the morning, I will fold it while you get ready for work

I hear you singing in the shower

It's the song I showed you years ago

It's nice to know you listen to it after all this time.”

-Lost Time, Lucy Dacus

“But I hate to think about you with somebody else.”

-Somebody Else, The 1975

“I thought that I was dreamin' when you said you love me.”

-Ivy, Frank Ocean

“40 days and 40 nights

I waited for a girl like you to come and save my life

All the days I waited for you

You know the ones who said I'd never find someone like you.”

-Out of My League, Fitz and The Tantrums

“And up until now I had sworn to myself

That I'm content with loneliness

Because none of it was ever worth the risk

But you are the only exception.”

-The Only Exception, Paramore

“Do you know I could break beneath the weight of the goodness, love, I still carry for you?”

-Unknown/ Nth, Hozier

“She'll be the best you ever had if you let her.”

-Waiting Room, Phoebe Bridgers

“Put your lips next to mine, dear

Won't you kiss me once, baby?

Just a kiss goodnight, maybe

You and I will fall in love.”

-Put Your Head on My Shoulder, Paul Anka

“I love you, baby

And if it's quite alright

I need you, baby

To warm the lonely night.”

-Can’t Take My Eyes Off You, Frankie Valli

“She looks just like a dream

The prettiest girl I've ever seen.”

-Something About You, Eyedress

“Oh, she knows what I think about

And what I think about

One love, two mouths

One love, one house

No shirt, no blouse

Just us.”

-Sweater Weather, The Neighbourhood

“But I crumble completely when you cry.”

-505, Arctic Monkeys

“Your love's got me high, baby girl

I'm addicted and I'm never coming down.”

-Girl of My Dreams, Guti

“I guess you'd say

What can make me feel this way?

My girl, my girl, my girl

Talkin' 'bout my girl, my girl.”

-My Girl, The Temptations

“And if you start to kiss

And the record skips

Flip it over

And sit a little closer.”

-Lovers Rock, TV Girl

“Your skin, oh yeah, your skin and bones

Turn into something beautiful

And you know, you know I love you so

You know I love you so.”

-Yellow, Coldplay

“It's just like seeing her for the first time again.”

-For the First Time, Mac DeMarco

“Romantic lover

There is no other

She is my lover.”

-Romantic Lover, Eyedress

“You're in the wind, I'm in the water

Nobody's son, nobody's daughter.”

-Chemtrails Over the Country Club, Lana Del Rey

“Here we go again

I kinda wanna be more than friends.”

-Animal, Neon Trees

“Heaven help a fool who falls in love.”

-Ophelia, The Lumineers

“Oh you're in my veins

And I cannot get you out

Oh you're all I taste

At night inside of my mouth.”

-In My Veins, Andrew Belle

“Sweet creature, sweet creature

Wherever I go, you bring me home

Sweet creature, sweet creature

When I run out of road, you bring me home.”

-Sweet Creature, Harry Styles

“I'm sorry, sweetie, please, don't go

I always knew that you would know

I know that what I did was wrong

I always thought I'd be more strong.”

-August 10, Julie Doiron

“The look of love, the rush of blood.”

-No.1 Party Anthem, Arctic Monkeys

“Collapse my veins, wearing beautiful shoes

It's not living, if it's not with you.”

-It's Not Living (If It's Not With You), The 1975

“When I was kissin' on my baby

And she put her love down, soft and sweet.”

-Work Song, Hozier

“If the tide takes California

I'm so glad I got to hold ya

And if the sky falls from heaven above

Oh, I know I had the best time falling into love

We've been living on a fault line

And for a while, you were all mine

I've spent a lifetime giving you my heart

I swear that I'll be yours forever

'Til forever falls apart.”

-Till Forever Falls Apart, Ashe and FINNEAS

“Darlin', don't you, stand there watching, won't you

Come and save me from it

Darlin', don't you, join in, you're supposed to

Drag me away from it.”

-Sedated, Hozier

“Nothing's gonna hurt you, baby

As long as you're with me, you'll be just fine

Nothing's gonna hurt you, baby

Nothing's gonna take you from my side.”

-Nothing's gonna hurt you, baby, Cigarettes after sex

“You are here and so am I

Maybe millions of people go by

But they all disappear from view

And I only have eyes for you.”

-I Only Have Eyes for You, The Flamingos

“Finishing eight or nine?

Tell me, what's the perfect time?

I told you I'll be waiting

Hiding from the rainfall

And tell me, what's the joy of giving if you're never pleased?

On my last strength against you

Baby, tell me what you need.”

-Champagne Coast, Blood Orange and Dev Hynes

“And, oh, it's hard to see you, but I wish you were right here

Oh, it's hard to leave you when I get you everywhere

All this time I'm thinking we could never be a pair

Oh, no, I don't need you, but I miss you, come here.”

-Love Me Not, Ravyn Lenae

“What if when he sees me

I like him and he knows it?

What if he opens up a door

And I can't close it?”

-When He Sees Me, Waitress The Musical

“Sometimes I wonder, when you sleep

Are you ever dreaming of me?

Sometimes when I look into your eyes

I pretend you're mine all the damn time.”

-Delicate, Taylor Swift

“Hold you tight, squeeze you right, tell you what I want

Put me in your bedroom and I'll sing a little song

Hold you tight, squeeze you right, give you all I've got

See you in the morning, over coffee, we'll talk, oh.”

-4EVER, Clairo

“Cause in my head (In my head, I do everything right)

When you call (When you call, I'll forgive and not fight)

Because ours are the moments I play in the dark

We were wild and fluorescent

Come home to my heart, uh.”

-Supercut, Lorde

“And I am the idiot with the painted face

In the corner, taking up space

But when he walks in, I am loved, I am loved

Me and my husband

We're doing better

It's always been just him and me, together.”

-Me and My Husband, Mitski

“Your beauty never ever scared me.”

-Mary On A Cross, Ghost

“You and me always forever

We could stay alone together

You and me always forever

Say you'll stay never be separate.”

-Always Forever, Cults

“Cause in my head

It's always been you.”

-Always Been You, Jessie Murph

“My heart is yours

It's you that I hold on to

Yeah, that's what I do.”

-Sparks, Coldplay

“You adored me before

Oh, my good looking boy.”

-Good Looking, Suki Waterhouse

“And it was enchanting to meet you

All I can say is, I was enchanted to meet you.”

-Enchanted, Taylor Swift

“I can't help but love you

Even though I try not to

I can't help but want you

I know that I'd die without you.”

-War Of Hearts, Ruelle

“Baby, if your love is in trouble

When you know, you know

It kinda makes me laugh, runnin' down that path

When you're good as gold

'Cause when you know, you know.”

-Margret, Lana Del Rey

“And when I felt like I was an old cardigan

Under someone's bed

You put me on and said I was your favorite.”

-Cardigan, Taylor Swift

“It's so sweet, knowing that you love me

Though we don't need to say it to each other, sweet

Knowing that I love you, and running my fingers through your hair

It's so sweet”

-Sweet, Cigarettes After Sex

“If you go, I'll stay

You come back, I'll be right here.”

-Say Yes To Heaven, Lana Del Rey

“Cause my love is mine, all mine

My love mine, mine, mine

Nothing in the world belongs to me

But my love, mine, all mine, all mine.”

-My Love Mine All Mine, Mitski

“On again, off again

Love you like oxygen

You don't know what I'd do for you.”

-Habits, Genevieve Stokes

“Dear Lord, when I get to Heaven

Please let me bring my man

When he comes, tell me that you'll let him in

Father, tell me if you can

All that grace, all that body

All that face makes me wanna party

He's my sun, he makes me shine like diamonds

Will you still love me when I'm no longer young and beautiful?

Will you still love me when I got nothing but my aching soul?

I know you will, I know you will, I know that you will.”

-Young and Beautiful, Lana Del Rey

“Don't forget to kiss me or else you'll have to miss me

I guess I'm stuck forever by the glue, oh, and you.”

-Glue Song, beabadoobee

“Uh oh, I'm falling in love

Oh no, I'm falling in love again

Oh, I'm falling in love.”

-Labyrinth, Taylor Swift

“I'm gonna bend 'til I break and

You'll be my favorite mistake

I wish you could hold me here, shakin'

You're the risk, I'm gonna take it.”

-Risk, Gracie Abrams

“I know you want my touch for life

If you love me right, then who knows?

I might let you make me Juno

You know I just might

Let you lock me down tonight

One of me is cute, but two though?

Give it to me, baby

You make me wanna make you fall in love (Oh).”

-Juno, Sabrina Carpenter

“But if I’m all dressed up

They might as well be lookin' at us

And if they call me a slut

You know it might be worth it for once

And if I'm gonna be drunk

I might as well be drunk in love.”

-Slut!, Taylor Swift

“Oh, kiss me beneath the milky twilight

Lead me out on the moonlit floor.”

-Kiss Me, Sixpence None The Richer

“Oh, you kissed me just to kiss me

Not to take me home

It was simple, it was sweetness

It was good to know.”

-We’ll Never Have Sex, Leith Ross

“To that bloodshed, crimson clover

Uh-huh, the worst was over

My hand was the one you reached for

All throughout the Great War

Always remember

Uh-huh, we're burned for better

I vowed I would always be yours

'Cause we survived the Great War.”

-The Great War, Taylor Swift

“Love is a gentle thing

Yours is thicker than a velvet ring.”

-Velvet Ring, Big Thief

“No one tried

To read my eyes

No one but you.”

-No One Noticed, The Marias

“They said the end is comin', everyone's up to somethin'

I find myself runnin' home to your sweet nothings

Outside, they're push and shovin', you're in the kitchen hummin'

All that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothin'.”

-Sweet Nothing, Taylor Swift

“Heartbreak is one thing, my ego's another

I beg you, don't embarrass me, motherfucker, oh

Please, please, please.”

-Please Please Please, Sabrina Carpenter

“Fall in love with you, you

My love

Fall in love with you, you

My love

Fall in love with you, you.”

-Fall in Love With You, Montell Fish

“Were there clues I didn't see?

And isn't it just so pretty to think

All along there was some

Invisible string

Tying you to me?”

-Invisible String, Taylor Swift

“You're coming back

And it's the end of the world

We're starting over

And I love you, darling

And I am done, dear.”

-I Want You, Mitski

“Our secret moments in your crowded room

They got no idea about me and you.”

-Dress, Taylor Swift

“There's nothing you can do

I know that I want this

No one likes to lose

Know that I got this”

-Moves, Suki Waterhouse

“Hey, hey, hey, lover

You don't have to be a star

Hey, hey, hey, lover

I love you just the way you are”

-Hey Lover, The Daughters of Eve

“And all at once, you are the one I have been waiting for

King of my heart, body and soul, ooh whoa.”

-King of My Heart, Taylor Swift

“It still hurts

Watching him fade away”

-Watching Him Fade Away, Mac DelMarco

“I'm in love, I'm alive

I belong to the stars and sky”

-Real Love Baby, Father John Misty

“He's so obsessed with me, and boy I understand

Boy I understand.”

-I Think He Knows, Taylor Swift

“And we talk of how lucky we got

As we watched old lovers we dodged

While the world's falling apart

You make you so easy to love”

-To Love, Suki Waterhouse

“I've got all these demons hiding underneath

Nobody can see them, nobody but me, and you're the reason

The only thing that keeps me from diving off the deep end”

-Demons, Alec Benjamin

“We might just get away with it

The altar is my hips

Even if it's a false god

We'd still worship this love.”

-False God, Taylor Swift

“I'm gonna marry her anyway

(Marry that girl) Marry her anyway

(Marry that girl) Yeah, no matter what you say

(Marry that girl) And we'll be a family”

-Rude, MAGIC!

“You said “Hey”

I said “Hello

How was your day?”

You said “Better now”, with a smile

Oh, what a cliché, but it, to be honest, it made my day”

-Cliché, mxmtoon

“No one's ever had me (had me) not like you

Truth, dare, spin bottles

You know how to ball, I know Aristotle

Brand new, full-throttle

Touch me while your bros play Grand Theft Auto

It's true, swear, scouts honor

You knew what you wanted and boy, you got her

Brand-new, full-throttle

You already know, babe.”

-So High School, Taylor Swift

“Where you go, I go

What you see, I see

I know I'd never be me

Without the security

Of your loving arms

Keeping me from harm

Put your hand in my hand

And we'll stand”

-Skyfall, Adele

“You got that power over me

My, my

Everything I hold dear resides in those eyes

You got that power over me

My, my”

-Power Over Me, Dermont Kennedy

“I want to wear his initial

On a chain 'round my neck, chain 'round my neck

Not because he owns me

But 'cause he really knows me.”

-Call It What You Want, Taylor Swift

“And I found love where it wasn't supposed to be

Right in front of me”

-I Found, Amber Run

“Matilda, you talk of the pain like it's all alright

But I know that you feel like a piece of you's dead inside

You showed me a power that is strong enough to bring sun to the darkest days”

-Matilda, Harry Styles

“What if I told you none of it was accidental

And the first night that you saw me, nothing was gonna stop me?

I laid the groundwork and then, just like clockwork

The dominoes cascaded in a line

What if I told you I'm a mastermind?

And now you're mine”

-Mastermind, Taylor Swift

“We'll be a fine line

We'll be a fine line

We'll be alright (alright, alright, alright)”

-Fine Line, Harry Styles

“I used to hear a simple song

That was until you came along

Now in it's place is something new

I hear it when I look at you”

-I Hear A Symphony, Cory Fry

“You're so gorgeous

I can't say anything to your face

'Cause look at your face (gorgeous)

And I'm so furious

At you for making me feel this way

But what can I say?

You're gorgeous”

-Gorgeous, Taylor Swift

“And I don't wanna talk about anything

I don't wanna talk about anything

I wanna kiss, kiss your eyes again

Wanna witness your eyes looking”

-anything, Adrianne Lenker

“I wanna better body, I want better skin

I wanna be perfect like all your other friends

You look so pretty, pretty like the wind

Every time you touch me, I feel adrenaline”

-Black Friday, Tom Odell

“Say you'll remember me

Standing in a nice dress

Staring at the sunset, babe

Red lips and rosy cheeks”

-Wildest Dreams, Taylor Swift

“He knelt to the ground and pulled out a ring

And said, "Marry me, Juliet

You'll never have to be alone

I love you and that's all I really know”

-Love Story, Taylor Swift

“And anyone who ever had a heart

Or sang a lonesome song

Would sell their little souls

Just to make it with the blonde”

-The Blonde, TV Girl

“Since you've gone I've been lost without a trace

I dream at night, I can only see your face

I look around but it's you I can't replace

I feel so cold and I long for your embrace

I keep cryin', "Baby, baby, please"

-Every Breath You Take, The Police

“It's you and me, there's nothing like this

Miss Americana and The Heartbreak Prince (okay)

We're so sad, we paint the town blue

Voted most likely to run away with you”

-Miss Americana & the Heartbreak Prince, Taylor Swift

“Not a lot, just forever

Intertwined, sewn together

Like the rock bears the weather

Not a lot, just forever”

-not a lot, just forever, Adrianne Lenker

“And I'm sick for you, baby

And it's never gonna go away

And I'm sick for you, baby

And it's never gonna go away

And I'm sick for you, baby

And it's never gonna go away

And I'm sick for you, baby

And it's never gonna go away”

-Break, Alex G

“And then you say

I want you for worse or for better

I would wait for ever and ever

Broke your heart, I'll put it back together

I would wait for ever and ever”

-How you get the girl, Taylor Swift

“And who really cares about a little rust

If Maddie Klein's got herself a little boy she can trust?”

-Loving Machine, TV Girl

“Baby, I'm yours (Baby, I'm yours)

And I'll be yours until the stars fall from the sky

Yours until the rivers all run dry

In other words, until I die”

-Baby I’m Yours, Barbra Lewis

“You got that long hair, slicked back, white t-shirt

And I got that good girl faith and a tight little skirt

And when we go crashing down, we come back every time

'Cause we never go out of style

We never go out of style”

-Style, Taylor Swift

“One final time

And marries the sea

Imagine being loved by me”

-Talk, Hozier

“One for the money and two for the show

I love you, honey, I'm ready, I'm ready to go

How did you get that way, I don't know

You're screwed up and brilliant, look like a million dollar man”

-Million Dollar Man, Lana Del Rey

“No, I'm not coming to my senses

I know he's crazy but he's the one I want”

-But Daddy I Love Him, Taylor Swift

“Darlin', darlin', darlin'

I fall to pieces when I'm with you, I fall to pieces”

-Cherry, Lana Del Rey

“I'm starvin', darlin', let me put my lips to somethin'

Let me wrap my teeth around the world”

-Eat Your Young, Hozier

“Now, pretty baby, I'm runnin' back home to you

Frеsh out the slammer, I know who my first call will be to”

-Fresh Out the Slammer, Taylor Swift

“Would you fall in love with me again

If you knew all I've done?

The things I cannot change

Would you love me all the same?

I know that you've been waiting, waiting for love”

-Would You Fall In Love With Me Again, Epic the Musical

“I will fall in love with you over and over again

I don't care how, where, or when

No matter how long it's been, you're mine

Don't tell me you're not the same person

You're always my husband and I've been waiting, waiting”

-Would You Fall In Love With Me Again, Epic the Musical

"You're not Dylan Thomas, I'm not Patti Smith

This ain't the Chelsea Hotel, we're modern idiots"

And who's gonna hold you like me?

(Who's gonna hold you? Who's gonna hold you?)”

-The Tortured Poets Department, Taylor Swift

“There's things I wanna say to you

But I'll just let you live

Like if you hold me without hurting me

You'll be the first who ever did”

-Cinnamon Girl, Lana Del Rey

“You have me floatin' like a feather on the sea

While you're as heavy as the world

That you hold your hands beneath

Once I had wondered what was holdin' up the ground

But I can see that all along, love, it was you all the way down”

-I, Carrion (Icarian), Hozier

“Tell me that you're still mine

Tell me that we'll be just fine

Even when I lose my mind

I need to say

Tell me that it's not my fault

Tell me that I'm all you want

Even when I break your heart”

-Afterglow, Taylor Swift

“It's a love story for the new age, for the sixth page

We're on a quick, sick rampage

Winin' and dinin', drinkin' and drivin'

Excessive buyin', overdose and dyin'

On our drugs, and our love, and our dreams, and our rage

Blurrin' the lines between real and the fake

Dark and lonely, I need somebody to hold me

He will do very well, I can tell, I can tell

Keep me safe in his bell tower hotel”

-National Anthem, Lana Del Rey

“Cross my heart, hope to die

To my lover, I'd never lie

He said, "Be true", I swear I'll try

In the end, it's him and I

He's out his head, I'm out my mind

We got that love, the crazy kind

I am his, and he is mine

In the end, it's him and I, him and I”

-Him & I, Halsey, G-Eazy

“And God knows, I'm not dying but I bleed now

And God knows, it's the only way to heal now”

-My Blood, Ellie Goulding

“Every time I close my eyes, it's like a dark paradise

No one compares to you

I'm scared that you won't be waiting on the other side”

-Dark Paradise, Lana Del Rey

“Don't you give me up, please, don't give up

Honey, I belong with you, and only you, baby

Only you, my girl, only you, babe (you)

Only you, darling, only you, babe (you)

Only you, my girl, only you, babe (you)

Only you, darling, only you”

-Dark Red, Steve Lacy

“As long as I'm with you

I've got a smile on my face

Save your tears, it'll be okay

All I know is you're here with me”

-Here With Me, d4vd

“But if you send for me, you know I'll come

And if you call for me, you know I'll run

I'll run to you, I'll run to you

I'll run, run, run

I'll come to you, I'll come to you

I'll come, come, come

Oh-oh oh, oh-oh oh”

-Old Money, Lana Del Rey

“Touch me, yeah

I want you to touch me there

Make me feel like I am breathing

Feel like I am human”

-A Little Death, The Neighborhood

“If the world was ending, I'd wanna be next to you

If the party was over and our time on Earth was through

I'd wanna hold you just for a while and die with a smile

If the world was ending, I'd wanna be next to you”

-Die With A Smile, Lady Gaga, Bruno Mars

“English sun, she has come

To kiss my face and tell me I'm that chosen one

A generation soaked in grief

We're drying out and hanging on by the skin of our teeth”

-Daffodil, Florence & The Machine

“I can see you waitin' down the hall from me

And I could see you up against the wall with me

And what would you do, baby, if you only knew? Oh

And I could see you throw your jacket on the floor

I could see you make me want you even more

What would you do, baby, if you only knew?

That I can see you, oh, I can see you”

-I Can See You, Taylor Swift

“I've got time, I've got love

Got confidence you'll rise above

Give me a minute to hold my girl”

-Hold My Girl, George Ezra

“I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings

Uh huh, that's right

Darling, you're the one I want, and

I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this”

-Paper Rings, Taylor Swift

“But I miss screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain

And it's 2 a.m. and I'm cursing your name

So in love that you act insane

And that's the way I loved you

Breaking down and coming undone

It's a roller coaster kind of rush

And I never knew I could feel that much

And that's the way I loved you”

-The Way I Loved You, Taylor Swift

“And I can still see it all (in my mind)

All of you, all of me (intertwined)

I once believed love would be (black and white)

But it's golden (golden)”

-Daylight, Taylor Swift

“Ladies and gentlemen, will you please stand?

With every guitar string scar on my hand

I take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover

My heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue

All's well that ends well to end up with you

Swear to be overdramatic and true to my lover”

-Lover, Taylor Swift

“Oh, God, it's just not fair of him

To make me feel this much

I'd go anywhere he goes

And he says I'm so American

Oh, God, I'm gonna marry him

If he keeps this shit up

I might just be in lo-lo-, lo-lo-, lo-lo-, lo-lo-lo-lo-love”

-So American, Olivia Rodrigo

“But I bet we'd have really good bed chem

How you pick me up, pull 'em down, turn me 'round

Oh, it just makes sense

How you talk so sweet when you're doing bad things

That's bed chem

How you're looking at me, yeah, I know what that means

And I'm obsessed”

-Bed Chem, Sabrina Carpenter

“Oh, I hope you know I will carry you home

Whether it's tonight or 55 years down the road

Oh, I know there's so many ways that this could go

Don't want you to wonder, darling, I need you to know

In this and every life

I choose us every time (whoa)

Oh-oh, oh, oh, oh

Oh, oh, oh”

-Carry You Home, Alex Warren

“Your lips, my lips

Apocalypse

Your lips, my lips

Apocalypse”

-Apocalypse, Cigarettes After Sex

@sonics-atelier @the-fuck-did-u-say

#mauraders #mauraders era #narcissa black #narcissa malfoy #lucius malfoy #lucissa

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crown-of-roses-thsc · 3 months ago

Text

Been in my drafts for like a year so you guys can have this post

It’s probably unfinished I’m not proofreading it

No?!

WELL, TOO BAD! If you are, well, I have listed below my “mood songs” for each character. (Think, like, one of those character specific Spotify / YT playlists.) This is self indulgent haha

Ellie Rose

BAND / ARTIST: Paramore / Penelope Scott

-Ain’t It Fun (Paramore)

-American Healthcare (Penelope Scott)

-Beautiful (Heathers)

-Drift Away (Steven Universe)

-High Hopes (Panic! at the Disco)

-Interlude: I’m Not Angry Anymore (Paramore)

-Just Like You (Three Days Grace)

-Rät (Penelope Scott)

-Respectless (Hazbin Hotel)

-Runs in the Family (Amanda Palmer)

-Still Into You (Paramore)

-These Boots Are Made for Walking (Nancy Sinatra)

-Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing (Set it Off)

-The Zombie Song (Stephanie Mabey)

Reginald Copperbottom

-Fine, Great (Modern Baseball)

-Goodbye (Bo Burnham)

-Let’s Get This Over With (They Might Be Giants)

-No Children (The Mountain Goats)

-Love Love Love (The Mountain Goats)

“Lefty”

BAND / ARTIST: Morissey / The Smiths

-Amen (Amber Run)

-The DJ Is Crying For Help (AJR)

-E1 - Back There Benjamin (Everywhere At The End of Time)

-Epoch (The Living Tombstone)

-Fading Kitten Syndrome (Roar)

-Family Of Me (Ben Folds)

-First of the Gang to Die (Morrissey)

-Freeze Your Brain (Heathers)

-Going Crazy (Lonesome Wyatt and the Holy Spooks)

-Happy (Liam Lynch)

-Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now (The Smiths)

-Just Take My Wallet (Jack Stauber’s Micropop)

-A Sadness Runs Through Him (The Hoosiers)

-Save Me (Male Version) (Tryhardninja)

-You Always Hurt The One You Love (The Mills Brothers)

Sven Svensson

BAND / ARTIST: AJJ

-Are You Satisfied? (Marina and the Diamonds)

-Farmer Refuted (Hamilton)

-Fruiting Bodies (Riproducer)

-Go to the Light (Murder By Death)

-I Got No Time (The Living Tombstone)

-Poison (Hazbin Hotel)

Terrence Suave

-Blood // Water (grandson)

-Christmas Kids (Roar)

-A Little Bit Mine (Will Wood and the Tapeworms)

-I’m Gonna Win (Rob Cantor)

-I’m So Sorry (Imagine Dragons)

-Kiss Me You Animal (Burn The Ballroom)

-Mama (My Chemical Romance)

-Terrible Things (Axie)

Carol Cross

BAND / ARTIST: Mitski

-Brand New City (Mitski)

-Candy Store (Heathers)

-Daddy (AJJ)

-Dollhouse (Melanie Martinez)

-The Family Jewels (Marina and the Diamonds)

-Hansel (Sodikken)

-I’ve Had Enough (Melina KB)

-Me and My Husband (Mitski)

-Oh No! (Marina and the Diamonds)

-People I Don’t Like (UPSHAL)

Randy Radman

BAND / ARTIST: Mother Mother / Lemon Demon

-Arms Tonite (Mother Mother)

-Big Cat (A Killer Party)

-There’s Something Happening (Jack Stauber)

-Hayloft (Mother Mother)

-Livin’ in the Sunlight (Tiny Tim)

-Mirror Man (Jack Stauber)

-Modify (Lemon Demon)

-Phantom (NateWantsToBattle)

-Soft Fuzzy Man (Lemon Demon)

-Stick It To The Man (School of Rock)

-Turn the Lights Off (Tally Hall)

-Wouldn’t You Like (EPIC: The Musical)

-Wrecking Ball (Mother Mother)

Burt Curtis

BAND / ARTIST: Jack Stauber

-Angel (Jack Stauber)

-Body Terror Song (AJJ)

-Cupid (Jack Stauber)

-Easy (waveform*)

-Elsa’s Song (The Amazing Devil)

-Hep (Pink Guy)

-Humpty Dumpty (AJR)

-It’s Alright (Mother Mother)

-Panic Room (Au/Ra)

-Truce (twenty one pilots)

#henry stickmin crown of roses

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fandom-imagines-stories · 2 years ago

Text

Resurrection

Aramis x Reader

Words: 2968

Part One

Summary: With the shocking reveal made only to Athos, the musketeer struggles to keep the reader's survival a secret from his grieving companions. Her motivations for keeping Aramis away become more complicated than Athos initially thought. Aramis and the others hunt Visage.

Notes: Surprise surprise another one of my imagines had to be split up because I cannot write short form to save my life. I hope you guys enjoy!

More Musketeers imagines: HERE

The fine lines of the weapons matched only the motions of the swords themselves. You squinted against the warm, summer sun beaming down on the courtyard while the flurry of men before you laughed and clattered away with their practice.

Porthos lunged with his sword and Aramis expertly ducked out of the way. Your lover caught your eye and winked at you, flourishing his hand with victory. You set down your charcoal to applaud, but Porthos was quicker, landing a punch to his stomach when he wasn’t looking. Only half-strength, of course, but you could hear Aramis’s surprised grunt nonetheless.

“You’re proving to be quite the distraction you know,” a voice playfully scolded. Athos sat beside you with a brow raised in a teasing arch as he examined your work.

“All the better then,” you replied, finishing a sweep of motion on the page. “He should learn to not allow his mind to be taken from the fight, correct?”

Athos chuckled. “Right you are. In fact, Aramis should be thanking you. It’s an excellent learning opportunity.”

“You just enjoy seeing him lose.”

“Well,” he smirked, “only every once in a while.”

A giggle escaped your lips, making him laugh as well. “You’re terrible.”

“You’re the one sitting here with your sketches and your pretty smile, batting your eyelashes at him while he’s trying to focus,” Athos laughed.

“What are you two talking about?” Aramis called, holding his hand on his newly sore middle.

“Nothing, darling!” You waved.

He shrugged and resumed the practice, taking on D’Artagnan now.

“That’s very good,” Athos said, looking over your parchment. “The swords almost swing right off the page.”

“Well thank you, monsieur. That’s very kind.” You grimaced, watching Aramis take yet another blow from the youngest of them. “Are you sure this is all just for fun?”

“Oh yes. You have nothing to worry about, mademoiselle. He just needs help… concentrating.” His eyes followed yours, trying to hide his amusement. “I assure you, we shall return your paramore in one piece.”

“Perhaps I should go.”

“No no.” He held back a laugh. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Athos arrived at Pinon with a swimming mind and a cautious heart. He dismounted and handed his horse to the stablemen of the inn Y/N had written on the back of her letter. Allegedly. He’d already thought of the multitude of punishments for whoever plotted this if it all turned out to be a ploy.

The musketeer surveyed his surroundings and swallowed his discomfort. Memories flooded his thoughts, but he pushed them back. This wasn’t about him. This was for Y/N.

He pushed open the door. The small group inside all turned their heads. Athos scowled and didn’t say a word.

“Can I help you, monsieur?” A woman wiping her hands on a rag asked.

“I was sent a letter from a young woman,” he spoke slowly, his suspicion clear in his voice. “She told me to come here.”

The woman’s eyes grew wide, realizing who he was, and a dark glare overtook her features.

“This way, Comte,” she seethed.

He opened his mouth to object to the title, but she was already leading him up a set of stairs. Athos took a deep breath and reminded himself why he was there. A level head was required, especially with the three reckless mourners he left in Paris. He feared the only way to save Aramis from himself was a miracle.

If this was all a ruse…

“She asked for you, sir, because she trusted you to have done what she asked,” the young woman said. Her tone still held nothing but contempt for him. While he did not blame her, he knew no amount of frustration could make him even think of returning. She put a hand on the door and stayed there. “I have not been so hopeful,” she snapped. “This woman is in no condition to be caught up in any more musketeer problems. If you’ve done anything to upset her-”

“If you are stalling because of a lie, I promise, you will pay dearly for it,” he growled. His patience- and his hope- were waning thin.

Just then, the door swung open, pushed by a gloved hand, and every doubt was banished from his mind. Athos beheld you with a sigh of relief that was cut off by a sharp inhale of shock. The marks on your face had started to heal but were still very prominent. You crossed your arms so that your hands were hidden from him. To him, the worst of it was in your eyes. The brightness he’d once known, the fire and passion he’d always admired about you, had gone, replaced by a darkness he wouldn't wish upon his worst enemy.

He said a silent prayer that Aramis and the others found Visage soon, despite the dangers.

And made it hurt.

Aramis moved like a predator on the hunt, with a fury in his step that the other two almost struggled to keep up with. While they hadn’t the faintest idea where to start, Aramis led them toward Y/N’s old apartments, paid for by Madame de Visage before she died. Both had seen the humble, but comfortable establishment before. Now, it loomed over them like the shadow of death.

Whatever darkness they felt, however, didn’t seem to deter Aramis in the slightest. Instead of going to the door, he went to the side of the apartments where a younger man tended the small stable where Y/N’s horse awaited an owner who would never return.

Before the other two could stop him, Aramis took the young man by the scruff of his neck and threw him against the wall.

“You!” He boomed, arm at the other’s throat.

The young man gulped and a wave of terrified realization washed across his features. Porthos and D’Artagnan exchanged a glance but did not move to stop the interaction.

Aramis leaned, lowering his voice to a low, threatening hiss. “You lied to me. You told me that the woman you worked for- a woman who’d been nothing but kind and generous to you- had left to marry a man she hated. Why?”

“I-I don’t know anything-” The man stammered.

Aramis shoved away from him, took out his pistol, and fired. The brick beside the stableboy’s head burst in a cloud of stone dust. The young man screamed, ducking away from the blast. Aramis rushed him again, pinning him back.

“Tell me!” He demanded.

“Please, I-I don’t…”

Aramis fired again, this time at the ground by the man’s foot, close enough to graze the side of his boot. Tears flowed down the man’s face in terror.

“Aramis,” D’Artagnan said, stepping forward. “Maybe he doesn’t know anything.”

“He told me she left me,” Aramis growled. “He told me that Y/N had married Visage and wanted nothing more to do with Paris. He failed to mention that Visage killed her, but he knew. He’s working with the bastard and I want to know. Where. Is. Visage!”

The young man stared at him, wide-eyed and sniveling. He wiped his dripping nose on the back of his hand.

“I didn’t know he was going to kill her. I swear. He told me just to make sure she didn’t leave the room and to not let anyone in until he got there, and if you came looking to tell you she was gone. I didn’t know. I swear! I’ll help you, I promise. Just please. Please don’t kill me,” he sobbed.

Aramis froze and felt as if the man had stabbed him through the heart.

“She was alive?” He gasped. “She was there?”

“Y-yes, but Master Visage told me you were the one going to kill her. I thought I was protecting her, I swear, I would never do anything to hurt Mademoiselle Y/L/N.”

Aramis couldn’t hear him. He just stumbled back, clutching a wound to his chest that didn’t exist.

“If I hadn’t been so quick to believe…” He muttered. “If I had only looked and persisted and tried…”

Porthos reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Aramis-”

Aramis’s eyes snapped up, full of tears. “I could have saved her?”

These words sunk into the group like fangs into flesh. Aramis’s broken stare settled on the ground while Porthos and D’Artagnan paced behind him, keeping careful watch in case he reached for his weapon again.

“I-I might know where you can look for him,” the man whispered, drawing all of their attention. He gulped. “I may not know where he is, but I know where he talked of going with…”

“Spit it out then,” Porthos barked.

“He said something about finding the man Mademoiselle Y/L/N was, um, seeing-” His eyes flashed fearfully to Aramis. “And camping outside of the city for a few days while they searched for him to keep a low profile.”

“He could still be anywhere.” D’Artagnan kicked at the dirt.

“I’m sorry, that’s all I know. He said he would not rest until the musketeer died a slow and shameful death.” The man trembled as Aramis stepped toward him again. He loomed over the younger man, planting a fist against the wall.

“Then let him find me,” he seethed. “Let the coward come crawling and he’ll get what he wants.”

He turned on his heel and, as swiftly as he came, hurried off into the street with his worried companions running after him.

You were frozen, despite the rush of relief in your chest, and found yourself leaning against the bedpost for support. The pair of piercing blue eyes across the room stared into yours in shock. You’d welcomed him into the room with a silent nod and the two of you had stood like this for what felt like an hour. Eventually, you both worked up the courage to speak, words tumbling over the other’s.

“Athos-” You started, cut off by his stunned exhale.

“You’re alive.”

You stood for a moment longer, feeling the nerves in your limbs replaced by elation.

With the tension between you ceased you hurried to close the space between you, throwing your arms around the reserved musketeer. Athos held you cautiously, afraid that if he moved, you’d disappear.

“Oh, Athos, I can’t begin to tell you how nice it is to see a familiar face,” you cried against his chest.

When you pulled back, your face, though bruised, brought joy to his heart. You may have been a broken image compared to how he once knew you, but you were alive. You were here. Putting his own relief aside, he thought of Aramis. His friend’s suffering did not have to continue. Athos knew that, once Aramis saw you and held you in his arms, he would be whole again.

As if reading his mind, you stiffened in his embrace. “You came alone, didn’t you? The others, they don’t… he doesn’t know?”

“Though I can’t understand your insistence on keeping Aramis away,” Athos sighed, “I didn’t tell anyone of your letter. He, Porthos, and D’Artagnan are likely still hunting down Visage as we speak.”

“You didn’t try to stop him?” You gasped. “Visage has countless men at his disposal and all of his mother’s fortune, not to mention he’s the foulest creature I’ve ever met.”

“Which is exactly why it would be pointless trying to talk Aramis out of it. We hardly convinced him to let us go along as it is. Visage has already tried to kill him once- an ambush at the edge of the city- and fled when we arrived. I’m hoping his cowardice will not wear off before we return and we can have the upper hand.”

You stepped away, beginning a restless pace back and forth across the room. Your fingers fiddled with the gloves on your hands, a habit you’d swiftly developed since putting them on.

“Athos, I’m not sure that I can… that I’m ready to…” You trailed off, eyes trained out of the window at the graying sky.

Athos tried to hide his shock. “You don’t want to go back?”

Your head lowered. He observed scratches on the back of your neck from when you’d been pinned against the tree. He also noticed your attention to your hands and how they trembled.

“What about Aramis?” Athos asked. “If you had any idea what this has done to him-”

“And I would do anything in my power to save him from that pain, I would,” you cried.

“But you can!” He stepped toward you, allowing his frustration to get the better of him.

You stepped away, shoulders hunched and face contorted with a flash of fear. It was only for a moment, but it was enough for the guilt to hit him.

Athos sighed, composing himself. “If he could only see that you’re safe…”

“But I’m not safe, am I?” You crossed your arms, more protective than defiant. “I may have survived, but I’m not safe. Not from what he’s done to me.”

He nodded, letting an understanding silence fall between you, and held out his hands to take yours.

You gulped, slowly removing your gloves one finger at a time.

Though more healed now, the flesh of the back of your hands was still scabbed over and a dark, bruised color. Two of your fingers had reset slightly crooked. To anyone else, it wouldn’t have been noticeable, but for you, it felt monstrous. As if Visage had taken your body, the very tools of your heart, and turned them into something ugly and wrong.

Athos placed your hand between his, holding it just tightly enough for you to feel the emphasis of his words.

“He will pay for what he’s done,” he said. “And we will never let anything happen to you. I promise you that.”

He again pulled you into his arms. When you parted this time, you sat on the edge of the bed, pulling your sketchbook into your lap. You gazed down at the image of Aramis, with his dark eyes and loving smile.

“Things used to be so simple,” you sighed.

“I’m afraid it’s never simple,” Athos chuckled. “Especially when it comes to loving a musketeer.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Speaking of Aramis…”

You ran the tip of your finger over the paper and set the book aside with an exhale. “He’s going to do something stupid, isn’t he?”

“I imagine so.”

Putting your gloves back on, you grabbed the pistol you’d gotten from Jeanne. You held it with a fire in your eyes that Athos knew would find its mark.

“Then we’d better go help him.”

“He will be here soon,” you whined, burying your face in the crook of your lover’s neck. You wanted nothing more than to stay tucked in his arms for forever, but your patron had insisted that you meet her only surviving family.

Aramis chuckled, pushing you back to kiss your forehead. The two of you were tucked in a corner of the library in Madam de Visage’s Paris estate. You thought that the lighting here would be perfect for a painting you were working on. Aramis had gladly joined to have a break from training.

“I’m sure it will be fine. You’re fond of Madame de Visage, aren’t you? Surely her child can’t be too dreadful.”

“But he isn’t a child. He’s a rich young man who is looking for a wife.” You raised a brow. “And his mother has made more than enough hints as to whom she’d like to see him marry.”

“Ah, and you think, because she has been such a good patroness to you, she expects you to return the favor?” He moved around the back of you, wrapping his arms around your waist while he watched you paint. “You could just tell her about us.”

“Excellent idea,” you snorted. “Delphine, I’ve put that apartment you rent for me to good use for frequent rendezvouses with a musketeer. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled.”

“You make it sound so unromantic,” Aramis pouted, his mustache tickling the skin of your neck as he trailed kisses from the nape of your neck to your shoulder. “Just play nice with the son, make it clear you aren’t interested in marrying him, and I’m sure things will return to normal.”

You set your brush aside, unable to focus on the painting with your growing nerves. “That’s easy for you to say. Your entire existence doesn’t depend on someone else.” You took a seat on the chaise, letting your head fall into your hands. “Every day, I worry that she’ll bore of me, that she’ll find I’m not as talented as she once thought, and that she’ll decide to stop providing me with the life that I have. And then another part of me realizes how ridiculous I sound. I’m a poor painter living like a duchess. What right have I to complain?”

What right have I to deny her son? You thought, but couldn’t bring yourself to say.

“Oh, darling,” Aramis sighed, draping an arm over your shoulders and pulling you to his chest. “Regardless of what Madame de Visage feels, you are without a doubt the most talented artist in Paris. And you will always have a place, even if it means I have to use months of my commission to ensure it.”

You nestled closer to him. “That’s very sweet of you, but I have bought your dinner more times than I can count, my love. I don’t think we would fare well on our own.”

He opened his mouth in mock offense and you laughed, pulling his lips to yours. He had one thing right. You’d always have a place in his heart and he in yours as long as you both lived.

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