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Chapter 2! It's finally out baby! Giovanni is so silly! I can't wait to write more of him! Also his relationship with Libb! THEY ARE SO WHOLESOME!! But Libb needs to have that talk with him when it comes to Valerie.
(Not implying that Valerie is a bad kid! Get that out of ur head alr?)
Anyway hope you guys enjoy the fic!
Okay it's fixed! Good to go now!
#TIBBLINGS FIC CHAPTER 2!#YAY!!!#Kid is next! and what i wanna say is gonna end up spoiling a big chunk of his chapter so ill keep my mouth shut#More is on the way#and i mapped it out as best as i could and uh....#this fic is gonna have a lot more chapters then i originally thought#the muppets#muppet ocs#Libb#Rose&Tibbs❤#Budd#Kid#should i add a second d to his name to keep the ball rolling?#sure!#kidd#dr teeth and the electric mayhem#art#myart#muppet oc
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I Want To See You Smile - Part One
Notes: I decided to write something for the Gorillaz fandom, because I have fallen suddenly back into obsession over the band and needed to get it out of my system. I also would like to add that the fic holds some problematic themes concerning abuse, and that I am both aware of these themes and am working through them carefully. That being said, I hope you all enjoy!
Summary: After a fateful encounter one day, Murdoc finds himself addicted to tickling his bandmate and doesn’t know why. 2D’s adorable reactions certainly aren’t helping.
Murdoc wasn’t sure what was wrong with him. His face was flushed, his head was spinning, his heart was jackhammering wildly in his chest; all this from a chance encounter in the living room.
Maybe he was dying. He would have preferred that, honestly, to whatever the fuck this was.
He had discovered 2D’s body sprawled out lazily on their beaten up couch, gangly limbs thrown haphazard over its surface. In one of Murdoc’s hands was a bottle of something toxic he had just conjured up in the kitchen and in the other a journal in which he had planned to write either lyrics or obscene drawings in—he hadn’t quite decided which. Still, he couldn’t do either with the blue-haired idiot dozing off and claiming all the available seating space.
“Hey,” he said, slanting his eyes down in annoyance. “Dents. Move it.”
2D mumbled something indistinguishable in his sleep, but otherwise didn’t move. Murdoc frowned. He must really be out of it. Still, Murdoc had a mission and he wasn’t about to give up on it now. He leaned down, gripping his sides for a handhold as he attempted to shove him off. As he did, however, 2D shifted and squirmed under his touch, one hand unconsciously coming down to shove his hand away. Murdoc ignored him, readjusting his grip and tugging at his limp form. This time 2D let out a sleepy giggle, swatting at his hands once more.
“Stop,” he muttered incoherently. “It tickles.”
Murdoc’s eyes widened with realization. Ah. So that’s why he’d been acting so weird. He started to move his hands away, when an idea occurred to him—another way to get him to move. He smirked, keeping his hands on hips and squeezing with more purpose this time.
“C’mon 2D,” he teased in a low whisper. “I need to get on this couch.”
2D was moving more now, soft, breathy laughs echoing from his vocal chords, still not fully awake yet. If he was this ticklish asleep, Murdoc couldn’t imagine what he would be like awake. He squeezed again and again, poking and prodding at this one spot on his hips that had 2D spazzing. Finally, 2D’s eyes fluttered open and his frown of confusion quickly turned into a silly grin at the sensations dancing upon his skin.
“M-Muhuds?” he asked, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. “W-Whahat are yohou d-dohoing?”
“Getting you to move.”
“C-Cohouldn’t yohou h-hahave juhuhust ahahasked mehehe?”
“Eh. This was more fun.”
2D groaned sleepily, tired giggles slipping out unwarranted. That one spot on his hips, pursued relentlessly, was quickly becoming unbearable and his hands came down again to shove Murdoc off. Unfortunately, his grip wasn’t strong enough and he held onto Murdoc’s wrists uselessly. “Hehehe, ahaha, muhuhuds!”
“Hmm?”
“Ihihit—” 2D broke off, the tickling spiking suddenly and prompting a squeak from the man. “Ihihit tihihickles!”
“Does it now?” Murdoc teased, scratching his nails against the soft divot of skin contained there. “Well that’s quite an unfortunate situation, isn’t it?”
“Ah! Ohohohokay, ohohokay, I’ll mohohove!” 2D agreed eagerly, shoving desperately at his hands.
“Nah, I think it’s a bit too late for that now.” Murdoc hoisted a leg over him on the couch so he was no effectively straddling the other. “I’m having too much fun to stop now, and I think you need to learn your lesson about listening right away.”
“Buhuhut yohou dihihidn’t ahahask—ahaha, nohohoho, ehehe, stahahap!”
2D fell into quick hysterics as Murdoc began ruthlessly pursuing his hips now, one hand on either side. 2D scrabbled fruitlessly to shove his hands off and when that failed he resorted to frantic squirming and writhing underneath him instead. “Wow, dents,” he muttered with a sarcastic leer. “I didn’t realize you were this sensitive. I’ll have to remember this for the future.”
“Stahaha—ahaha, ehehe, nohoho! Ihihi tihihickles tohohoo muhuhuch!” 2D’s laughter soon became a breathless stream of giggles, interspersed with hiccups here and there as he fought to control his body’s reactions. As Murdoc watched him, a strange flush began to creep its way up his neck and his stomach writhed with unexplained nerves. This was different from all those times he had tormented 2D in the past. This was something new and altogether unnerving, and Murdoc didn’t like it one bit. But even as he was tempted to stop, the sight of 2D begging and laughing under him was too appealing to quit now.
“You know, I distinctly remember Noodle being veeeery ticklish here when she was younger.” Murdoc secured one of his wrists in his hands, dragging it far above his head. “I wonder if it’s the same for you.”
2D’s eyes widened and his struggling increased, giggling apprehensively as Murdoc’s fingers wiggled towards his defenseless pit.
“No, no, please, wait, no mohoHOHOHohore!”
2D shrieked when his fingers finally made contact, tugging frantically at his trapped arm. The other arm did its best to try to fend Murdoc off, but he would simply switch to a different spot until 2D moved to protect there instead; the second he did, however, Murdoc would simply move back to his underarms and the cycle would repeat once more.
Red-faced, writhing and babbling out incoherent pleas, 2D was quite a sight. Murdoc found himself so caught up in it that he hadn’t realized how intense he had gotten until 2D let out a frantic shriek and finally pulled his arm free. The sound snapped Murdoc out of his haze and he quickly rolled off the other, head spinning.
2D curled up on the couch, residual laughter spilling from his lips as he fought to regain some semblance of coherency. He gripped his torso protectively, skin tingling from the overload of sensation. “Hah… ha… ehehe… w-whahat was that?”
Murdoc had no answer, only that he needed to leave for fear of tickle jumping the poor man again. So instead he merely grunted, snatching up his alcohol and journal and stalking out the doorway, trying with everything in him to get the image of 2D in that helpless, strangely appealing state out of his head. 2D watched him go, confusion and leftover bliss swirling over his features.
Murdoc would have been happy to write that moment off as a one-off mess-up, a momentary lapse in judgement, had it not happened again after that. And again. And again. Every time he saw 2D, which was often when the band was squished together as it was, all he could think about was digging his fingers into his sides if only to hear that adorable yelp again.
His excuses were getting weaker as time went on, as well. “Wait, no, please!” 2D pleaded, noticing the fateful smirk on the other’s face as he backed him up against the wall. He had messed up some lyric or another during rehearsal, which at this point was all the justification Murdoc needed. The others looked on in confusion as 2d quickly fell into hysterics, Murdoc pinning him against the wall with his onslaught of tickling.
“Guhuhuys!” 2d cried, giggling wildly as Murdoc poked fingers rapid-fire into his sides. “Hehehelp m-mehehe!”
“Hey Murdoc, don’t you think we should leave him alone now?” Noodle asked hesitantly. “It wasn’t really his fault—we all mess up lyrics from time to time.”
“Lyrics?” Murdoc snapped, before remembering his original reasoning for the attack. “Yeah, well, this way he’ll learn not to do it again.”
Noodle frowned but otherwise did little to help him. It wasn’t until Russel placed a hand on his shoulder that Murdoc finally backed off. “We should probably get back to practice,” he said firmly, a warning note to his voice. Murdoc scoffed, releasing the other and letting 2D crumple to the ground in a trembling ball of nerves.
“Yeah, whatever,” he muttered, sitting back down and picking up the bass. “Let’s just get this damn song over with already.”
For every grievance imaginable, throughout the course of that strange and confusing month, 2D would find himself reduced to a squirming mess of limbs at the hands of none other than Murdoc Niccals—spent too long in the shower, called him a name, wasn’t fast enough when Murdoc asked him to get out of the way, finished the last of the potato crisps. Small, unpreventable things that ultimately Murdoc only cared about because it provided such ample excuse to wreck the other.
Over the course of that month, Murdoc also spent sufficient time trying to figure out the reason for his growing obsession. Each time he thought about it, however, a hot blush crept up his neck and a world of voices screamed at him inwardly what are you doing? He didn’t know. He didn’t know what it meant, nor why it was only tickling 2D in this way that made him feel like this. He hadn’t ever experienced anything like this in the past. Sure, he had teased and poked a couple of the girls and guys he’d dated in the past, but it was always quick, fleeting touches that ended almost instantly—just something to get a reaction. Now though, it was clearly something different. The sight of 2D shrieking and writhing under him made his body react in a way that was altogether different from how you would with your platonic bandmate whom you despised.
One night he got so fed up thinking about it that he decided to give up on sleep and head out to the kitchen to make himself something to take the edge off.
Who should he find but the man of the hour himself, the blue-haired bean pole, standing at the sink and pouring himself a glass of water.
As soon as he noticed Murdoc’s presence behind him 2D startled, quickly shutting off the faucet and edging away from him. “Oh hey, muds,” he greeted, that nervous, finnicky smile already taking over his features. Murdoc jammed his hands in his pockets so he wouldn’t do anything.
“What are you doing up so late?” he grumbled, shoving past him and reaching for the various bottles of liquor littered over their countertop.
“Just getting a glass of water,” he replied cautiously. Murdoc simply grunted in response. Watching him cautiously, 2D continued to slink towards the doorway. He paused at the exit, however, hand on the doorframe. He curled his fingers in hesitation, before quickly whirling around to face the other once more.
“Aren’t you gonna…” 2D started before breaking off his sentence, clearly embarrassed.
Murdoc turned to face him, tossing back a glass of tequila—definitely not midnight appropriate, especially when he had to be up at the crack of dawn tomorrow for rehearsal. “Aren’t I gonna what?”
“You know…” 2D trailed off, blushing, before awkwardly wiggling his fingers a little as a demonstration.
That same, creeping red returned to his face and Murdoc stiffened. Still, he wasn’t about to let the little upstart get the upper hand, so he said, leaning back on the counter with fake confidence, “Why? Do you want me to?”
“No, but, I mean, not entirely—” 2D stopped himself, clearly thrown for a loop. “I just meant that usually you… you know, do that. Are you… not going to anymore?”
For some reason it hadn’t occurred to Murdoc that 2D would pick up on this recurring habit of his. To have it stated so bluntly was certainly a shock to his system. The two stood in that tiny kitchen, an uncomfortable energy in the air as the silence between them increased. Murdoc tongued the inside of his cheek, debating how to phrase his next sentence.
Before he could, 2D spoke up for him. “I don’t… uh, I don’t mind, that is.” He spoke cautiously, waiting for Murdoc to snap at him or throw something. When he did neither, 2d continued, “I prefer it, over the other stuff. Also it’s… it’s sort of fun, in a way.”
Murdoc slowly sat down his liquor bottle, narrowing his eyes at the other. “Are you saying you like it when I tickle you?”
2D shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “Sort of? I mean, it gets sort of intense sometimes, but even that’s, uh—” He pressed his lips together, evidently deciding that whatever he would have said next would only make the situation worse. “I liked it, yeah. Whenever you’re, you know, tickling me, I sort of get the feeling that you like doing it. Which in a way makes it feel like you enjoy spending time with me and that’s… nice.”
Murdoc stared at him. The confession was so brutally honest in a way that only 2D could ever pull off. For some reason, that made him angry. He took a couple steps forward and 2D instinctively scuttled backwards. “Listen. I don’t tickle you because I ‘like spending time with you’, or whatever it is you’re going on about. I was doing it because—” he broke off, sneering at his own verbal incompetence. The real reason, the reason why he couldn’t get the image of 2D laughing, 2D happy, out of his head for weeks on end, floated at the edges of his consciousness. He chose to ignore it, as he did most things that made him uncomfortable. “I did it because I fucking wanted to, alright? And it has nothing to do with you or any kind of bond you think we’ve built. I do what I like, and your job is to shut the fuck up and leave me be, got it?”
2D matched his intense glare, face darkening. Where before there had been fear in his face, now there was only resignation. “Yeah. Got it.”
He snatched his water off the table, nearly fumbling and dropping it. Luckily, he managed to catch it just in time, though not without some leftover embarrassment. His drink retrieved and his smooth exit ruined, he proceeded to stalk moodily out of the kitchen.
The second he was gone Murdoc exhaled shakily, all the fight going out of his limbs. He leaned back against the counter for support, slowly sinking down to the ground. The cold linoleum felt good against his bare skin, and he chose in that moment to forget about all the crumbs and grime most likely littering the floor.
He rubbed his heels against his temples, replaying the conversation over and over again in his head like some kind of broken record player. Which in a way makes it feel like you enjoy spending time with me… It was stupid. Murdoc had never cared about the other man’s opinion before.
So why did those words make him feel like crying?
#tickle fic#gorillaz#murdoc niccals#stuart pot#2D#2doc#fanfiction#fanfic#bands#noodle#russel hobbs#tickling
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And Spring Became the Summer
[Read on AO3]
The very last of my follower fics for the 700 Followers gifts! This one was the bonus for making it to 750 before December, and I’m so glad I’ve FINALLY gotten this done...so I can do it all over again this year 🤣
The last term paper Mitsuhide writes for his undergraduate career he slips into a glossy plastic portfolio-- double-spaced and double-sided, graphs printed in full color-- and turns in personally.
It’s a wide-eyed TA that takes it, seated behind a desk that’s far too big for her. Or well, she’s not wide-eyed at first; instead she’s bent over her work, only glancing up absently to make sure she has it in hand. But a second one turns absence to alarm, eyes fixing to where he grips the plastic, and suddenly he’s all-too aware how easily how just one of his hands could swallow both of hers.
So is she; her eyes pulse wide, and then she’s tracing the line of his arm up and up doggedly, like as long as she just keeps going, she might hit the end of him. When she finally does, he offers her a sheepish smile, shoulders hunched lessen the blow.
She shrinks back, a mousey brown head peeking above an oversized university sweatshirt. So much for that.
“You could have emailed this,” she squeaks, plucking the plastic sleeve from his grip. “I mean, not that you can’t hand it in. It’s just, er...”
“No one does,” another adds, rolling across the floor with a level of curiosity that he’s pretty sure an in-person paper doesn’t warrant. When she measures him with her gaze, she enjoys every inch. “Pretty old fashioned, if you ask me.”
He recognizes both of them; their names had been on the syllabus at the beginning of the semester. He’d found them both on the department website, Amanda wearing the same Clarines sweatshirt she had on today, and Holly’s clearly from some beach vacation, cropped from the shoulders up.
(“Wouldn’t have pegged you for a stalker,” Obi says, hanging upside down from the armchair.
“I’m-- I’m not!” Mitsuhide sputters, heat creeping up his neck. One day, Obi would slip up and say these things in front of someone who mattered, someone with a much more rigid sense of humor than Professor Gazelt, or didn’t know to take every word of his with an ocean of salt like Dean Haruka, and then it would be him that got seated in front of a disciplinary committee. The last thing he needed to do before even finishing law school applications was explain his brother’s poor taste in jokes on the record. “It’s just...”
“That you’re compelled to look at cute girls on the university website?” he offers, so casual. “I could think of hotter majors, if you wanted. Psych seems like it’s the sort of place real tens might hand out, right? Maybe, uh, Education? Kindergarten teachers always are cute--”
“It’s polite,” Mitsuhide grits out, shoulders hunched up by his ears. “You should know everyone on staff in your department, just the way you should know everyone you work with. It’s the proper way to network.”
Obi watches him with wide eyes, like he’s some kind of zoo animal or-- or one of those really bad cooks on TV, the kind who tries to pan fry a chicken whole. “God, you don’t actually do that, do you?”
“It’s the secret to good business.” At least, that’s what his parents always told him.
“You must be...” Obi savors the moment, looking positively euphoric as he says, “Really fucking creepy at the department Christmas party.”)
“No one did,” says the first-- Amanda, graduate summa cum laude from Columbia-- tone aimed to shush. “I’m, uh, happy to take that, though.”
He gives her his most gracious smile. “Thank you.”
“No,” Holly-- Penn State, no honors-- mutters, casting him a speculative glance from the corner of her eyes. Hers go up and up too, but seem to come to a much more amicable conclusion. “Thank you.”
“Stop.” Amanda’s hands flex on the thin plastic; she has soft hands, a callus only on the knuckle of her middle finger, where a pen might rest. Like Shirayuki, only without the thousand nicks and cuts that dot her fingers, battle wounds from wrangling recalcitrant plants.
Her chin pulls up, set in a determined line as she says, “Congratulations on graduating.”
“Ah...” It’s a kind thought, and meant well, but knowing he’s about to spend the next three years earning the degree that counts softens the blow. “Thank you. I hope you have a nice, um, summer?”
“Definitely will be nicer not to grade papers,” Holly offers, immune to Amanda’s shushing. “Do you have pl--?”
“We should get back to grading,” Amanda says, just to the left of too loud. “Have a nice summer.”
Never repeat yourself, Mama always told him, it weakens your position.
You can never be too polite. That’s what Papa would say, when he thanked the cashier for a third time.
Mitsuhide winces; he’s always hated this, being stuck between his parents. It’s clearly time to leave. “Right. Bon été, Amanda.”
“Was that French,” he hears hissed the moment he’s stepped out the door; the same moment another voice says, “Did I tell him my name?”
He should have just emailed it. Mitsuhide can make any number of excuses about the joys of collating and color printing, about face-time and networking, but at the end of the day, he has to call a spade a spade: this has all been an excuse. A thin one too, to keep him out of the house. To put off what he knows need doing.
Mitsuhide steps into the cool air of the foyer, shivering as it catches the sweat that beaded at his hairline on the walk. His courage peaks as he stands there, right next to the shoe mat, grand stair stretching up before him, still in his oxfords--
And immediately effervesces when he catches sight of smooth, bare legs on the coffee table, fuzzy slippers worth more than his phone perched up on the mahogany. This is it, the moment of truth, fight or flight, and he-- he doesn’t know which way to run.
So he doesn’t. He’s drawn there with inexorable motion, a magnet to a lodestone, the hard soles of his shoes clacking against the wood the only thing keeping him grounded. It takes only a few steps before long, tanned legs lead up to sleep shorts; not the clingy kind that curve and cup, but the ones that hang like boxers around the tops of her thighs, rucking up as she moves. After that it’s a hoodie, worn loose and baggy, like it’s supposed to fit someone twice her size, its hood drawn tight against her face. Nothing...sexy, not the way Obi might say, with far too much eyebrows involved. But still, his mouth runs dry, tongue heavy behind his teeth.
How on earth is he going to do this?
“Kiki.” He speaks before he thinks, sinking down on the table. It creaks beneath him, ominous. “I owe you a date.”
“Oh shit.” Obi flops over on the recliner, wide gold eyes peeking over the arm. “Check out the balls on this kid.”
This is a terrible idea. He should have known not to do this in a-- a common room, one where other brothers might be hiding.
“Sorry,” he creaks, levering himself up. “I didn’t realize-- you’re clearly busy--”
“No.” Kiki’s lays her feet right on his thighs, pushing him down with a thump. “You were saying something important.”
He darts a glance to the shadow squirming obnoxiously on soft leather. “But Obi--”
“Obi,” she informs him, as imperious as any C-suite member, “can leave.”
Obi doesn’t so much bark out a laugh as honks it. “Not unless I got time to make popcorn.”
Her head doesn’t move an inch from where she’s got it, chin tilted up to meet his own gaze. Her eyes though, those slide pointedly away, fixed at their corners, radiating malice. Kiki is slow to speak, deliberate when she does, but her eyes-- well, there’s a wealth of words in every look, and right now they’re reading Obi the riot act.
It would have worked better if Obi wasn’t already so used hearing it.
“Ignore him,” Kiki decides, attention snapping back to him. “He’s furniture.”
“Oh, Ms Kiki,” Obi drawls, barreling towards a mistake, “you could sit on me any--”
“You were saying?” she says, every word iron. Obi takes the hint, for once.
“I, uh...well, you paid for a date,” Mitsuhide manages lamely, darting a worried look to where Obi lounges on the chair. “I mean, you paid a lot for a date. And I understand that you may have just wanted to donate to the frat, but if you wanted to--”
“I told you,” Kiki says, dry, toes flexing firmly on his knee. “I expect you to make it worth my while.”
“Ah, y-yeah.” Her saying that while looking at him like she did-- well, his brain had that queued up every time he blinks his eyes. Sometimes it changed venues, and there were some, uh, costume changes at times, but if he shut his eyes right now it’d spool up with perfect fidelity. “I thought it might, um, d-distract you if we tried before finals, but since you’ve finished-- we’ve finished--”
“As of twenty minutes ago,” Obi adds, so helpful.
“--I thought it might be a fun way to relax.” He’s honestly never felt less relaxed in his life just sitting here, contemplating it. Half of it he can chalk up to Obi, curled over the recliner like a gremlin, waiting to wreak his version of chaos the second he can weasel his fingers in, but the other--
Well, it’s hard to ask someone on a date when you know they’ve already got someone in mind for the position. Even if it’s just-- this. As friends.
His heart’s in his throat. At least, that’s what he thinks until Kiki’s mouth curves; then he knows it’s never been in his possession at all, but always utterly hers. “Sounds like fun.”
Tension rushes out of him on a sigh. “Ah, great. I though we might, er, go to Boston? You know,” he hurries to spit out, before any words can fall from her parted lips, “since there’s not much out here we haven’t seen.”
She hesitates. Of course she does. Boston’s practically her hometown, and he’s sitting here, thinking it’ll impress her. Like she hasn’t seen everything that’s worth seeing there twice over and in private. That she hasn’t just told him no outright is a testament to how well Mr Seiran’s raise her, and--
“Let’s make a day of it.”
Mitsuhide startles, nearly tipping off the table’s edge before he glances up, right into her row of perfectly straight teeth. Her mom’s smile, she always told him, but he’s only ever seen it on her. “I-- yes. That’s..good.”
Her lips curl, hiding her teeth. “Let me handle the accommodations.”
“Ah, no.” His head sweeps through big, nervous back-and-forths. “I couldn’t possibly ask you to--”
“You’re not,” Kiki informs him. “I’m telling you. I’ll handle accommodations. You’re seeing to the rest of the weekend, correct?”
“Y-yes.” He tries to fold his arms across his lap, but with her feet right on his thighs, it ends up with his hands covering her ankles. He expects her to move them, but instead her legs still, tendons relaxing under his palms. “That’s the plan, but, really--”
“It’s the least I can do.” She shifts her macbook off the couch’s arm, fingers already flying across the keyboard. “One night?”
“I...” He should decline. He should tell her that if she can drop a whole K on a date with him, he can shell out for one night at a hotel with a higher rating than a Holiday Inn.
But this is Kiki Seiran, heir to Seiran International. She’s not just used to five stars but the penthouse suite. He could book four star cheap on Hotwire, but imagining her in one of those suites, the sheets starched and thread count insufficient--
“Yeah,” he grunts, “one night’s fine.”
“Perfect.” Her teeth snap around the word. “Leave it to me.”
“So,” Obi starts before Mitsuhide’s even hit the last step. “We have a bet going on.”
He grimaces, shifting the duffel over his shoulder. “I’m pretty sure I don’t want to know.”
‘Pretty sure’ turns to ‘certain’ once he catches Obi’s grin. “It’s about whether you’ll get your dick wet.”
“Sorry, not interested.” He heaves the bag beside the front door, brushing off his shorts. “Isn’t it too early for you to be up? I thought you didn’t know about the hours before ten.”
“I had motivation,” Obi assures him, slinking up beside him with a grin a mile wide. “You know, Shiira says that you won’t on the grounds that you’re a gentleman.”
More like the lady isn’t interested. “I already said I wasn’t--”
“Kai says you will,” he continues blithely, “and you’ll come back on time. Shuuka agrees, except that he thinks you’ll miss check out with all the boning down and won’t make it back until evening.”
“Isn’t this breaking the bylaws?” Mitsuhide grunts, slipping on his sneakers. “Don’t we have something about betting...?”
“For money,” Obi agrees. “Zen still wouldn’t put a bet down though.”
That’s assuring at least. “Of course n--”
“Shiira already took his.” Obi shakes his head. “And we wouldn’t allow him to say the same thing except that he thinks it’s because you’re and idiot.”
Well, that’s a little rich, coming from Zen. Mitsuhide was loath to remind anyone that besides Obi, he is the most experienced, but-- some people should be taking that into account. Even if nothing is going to happen.
“Don’t worry, Big Guy.” Obi claps him on the shoulder, smile somehow drifting towards kindly. “I gave you until Monday.”
“Obi--”
“And Kiki will walk in with a limp.”
“Obi, you know that’s not...” His breath hisses between his teeth. “That’s not what me and Kiki are like.”
“You keep thinking that, Big Guy, but--” he leans in, cupping a hand around his mouth-- “my original bet was gonna be Tuesday. Too bad Kiki had already taken it.”
Mitsuhide stares at him, slack-jawed. “W-what did you just--?”
“I should have known, you’re already here.”
His head jerks up, right to the top of the grand stair, the beginning of a quick glance-- but it’s no use. There’s no possible way he could make his eyes focus anywhere but on Kiki, not when she’s wearing-- when she’s--
“Ooh.” Obi’s mouth curls, matching Kiki’s knowing smirk. “Is that a skirt?”
It is. And not-- not her field hockey kit, mid-thigh with shorts beneath, but and actual skirt, one that floats just above her knees, gauzy and floral. A single flash of leg tells him there’s nothing else beneath. Ah, well, besides the obvious. Mitsuhide swallows hard, mouth dry.
She raises a brow, hand trailing sinuously down the banister beside her. “It is a date, isn’t it?”
Her heels clack when she takes the last step into the foyer, clack because it’s the cork of her wedges that hits the floor first, because-- nom de Dieu-- she’s wearing shoes that tilt her a few inches close to him. Close enough that he could just bend at the neck and--
“Ah,” he coughs, fingers clenching in his shirt. “You might be a little overdressed. At least for this first part.”
Both her brows raise now. “Am I?”
“God,” Obi mutters at his shoulder, head buried in his hands. “You could at least say she looks nice.”
Well, when he’s right, he’s right.
“You look, ah, great though,” Mitsuhide hurries to add. “Beautiful.”
Kiki, to his surprise, beams. “Well, I brought a few outfits. I’ll change at the hotel.”
“Ah, sure.” He scoops up his duffel, holding out a hand for her bag as she passes. “You’re ready to go?”
Her mouth quirks at a corner. “As I’ll ever be.”
He hums, uncertain, suddenly left-footed with her so close. They should leave, but that involves a number a movements he’s suddenly stymied by.
Thankfully, Obi opens the door, practically shoving him onto the porch. “All right kids, be safe now.”
“Obi...”
“Don’t worry,” Kiki drawls, sashaying over the threshold. “I packed plenty of condoms.”
The door cuts off Obi’s laugh, but Mitsuhide can’t escape the pounding of his heart.
“You know,” he sighs, trailing after her, “you’re only encouraging him when you say things like that.”
“Oh that’s too bad,” she hums, floating past. “I was trying to encourage you.”
#mitsukiki#akagami no shirayukihime#snow white with the red hair#The Wide Florida Bay#my fic#ans#THESE ARE FINALLY FINISHED#and this little side jaunt is barely started 🤣#i wanted to do the whole date...then convinced myself half...#and now i just have the lead up#but lbr#it's better this way#since we get more chaos agent Obi#which only makes Obi's sensitive feelings about his OWN date funnier#buddy you bought and paid for the shit you're getting#and NOW you don't want it? no wonder Kiki gives you crap
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Clandestine Meetings - James Rodríguez
Player: James Rodríguez
Word count: 1.280
Prompt: “Hello, can the next swap sunday projects be another part of Illciit Affairs (for you) and a sequel to Mirrorball (for Laura)? ✨” (Request by Anon)
A/N: Another Swap Sunday, another angsty James piece! ✨💗 This story is a sequel to @alltoolewin’s Mad Woman-inspired imagine 🥰 If you’re new here, you should read my Illicit Affairs fic first, though! 💖
His name lights up on my phone screen. Which lights up my pitch black bedroom. James pink heartlet-purple heartlet-sparkly heartlet. Because a single red one would have been inappropriate. I know damn well that my name in his phone isn't even a name. Just my first initial. Not even a full stop after it. A lonesome letter. Because apparently, that's much less suspicious.
James pink heartlet-purple heartlet-sparkly heartlet wants to know whether I'm still awake at this ungodly hour. After not talking to me for two whole weeks. "Yes," I type into the message box. I'm a fucking fool for texting back. I hit send. I hit my head against the wall. I'm in love with a married man who's kicking a ball around for a living. Who possibly can't and won't love anything or anyone that isn't his daughter. I'm a fucking mess. Please, James, get a pair of glasses, another one, a better one. What do you even want from me? I can't drink from a can unless someone's asking the waiter for a straw. I can't ask waiters for straws because I'm goddamn shy. I can't. I just can't. So why can't James find himself someone better?
My phone vibrates twice. Three simple letters. A "W", a "Y" and a "D". And a lonely question mark. I don't know who's teaching him English slang, abbreviations, the cool stuff. I don't even know why he's pretending to be cool. As I said, the man kicks a ball around for a living. That's not cool. That's fucking weird, now that I'm thinking about it.
"Nothing." What would I be doing at three in the morning? I spend my nights staring at my ceiling unless we're having sex. He knows that. "You?" Did I ask out of common courtesy or do I really want to know what's keeping him awake tonight?
He replies right away. "I'm in bed, I just can't fall asleep."
"Try drinking some tea. That helps."
He sends me an emoji, the facepalming one. I have to laugh, I really cannot help it, but I do find it hilarious when grown-ass men unironically use anything more than just a normal smiley or the occasional thumbs up. James pink heartlet-purple heartlet-sparkly heartlet ups the ante then. "You're a pain in the ass, princesa."
"You're a pain in-" I stop in my tracks. In my fucking vagina. I delete what I've written so far, just to type it out again. "You're a pain in general, Jamesito." I find myself giggling into the darkness. "My aches are developing aches because of you." I add the one emoji with the bandaged head, then I hit send.
"Want me to kiss it better?" It should've been "you're a pain in my vagina". Definitely.
"James, you're being silly. It's half past three. Go to sleep."
"Told you I'm fucking restless. Talk to me." Pouty puppy-eyed emoji. Dude, please!
I sigh, putting the phone down for a second. Yeah, sure. All of a sudden, I'm interesting again. Because there isn't anything else to entertain him. Of course. I should've known. "What about?" My text immediately is marked as read, homeboy isn't even closing our chat in-between messages it seems. I should be flattered, but instead, I just feel like there's something weird about this. Like, why don't you talk to your wife? Why aren't you on video call with your daughter? It's barely nine in Medellín, I know that. Of course I know that, I've pinned Colombia's local time to my home screen.
"Can I call you?"
You have a fucking phone in your hand. You certainly can. "No. Come over." I hate myself for putting myself through that. I hope he's got somewhere to be in the morning. I can't help but wish for him to turn me down.
"Now?"
Now... Now it's my turn to send him a facepalming emoji. No. Next Christmas, dummy.
"Okay," he replies after a split second. Okay, I'm coming over? Okay, cool, a stupid little emoji? Okay, fuck off? Okay what? Another second passes. Buzz buzz. "I'll be there in ten."
"Drive safe," my fingers type out. Crash that fucking car. After running me over, of course. End our misery. Please and thank you. I roll out of bed to put on some pants. He can deal with my washed out tee, he's seen worse. My naked body, for example. I stumble into the bathroom to pile on mascara, to take the fluffy, pink scrunchie out of my hair, to wash the thin film of cold sweat off my forehead. I don't know nervousness when it comes to him. There's just... anxiety. Every time we have one of our little fall-outs, my amount of working braincells gets reduced by two.
I sit down on the toilet lid to catch my breath. I'm gonna get dicked down and then discarded. It's okay, I'm used to it. I'm a one-trick-pony. But I'm just so good at that one trick that James keeps on crawling back to me. The pinkish polish on my nails is starting to chip, so I decide to adorn my fingers with a few rings to distract from that. They look cheap, they were cheap, but I consider them cute, so it's alright.
I don't like texting after my autocorrect has dubbed him Hummus not once, not twice, but several times. He doesn't like calling as his stutter tends to get worse on the phone. So this is nice. The real thing is always nice. "I missed you," he rasps with his arms still wrapped around my torso. "I missed you, too," I whisper back. Lies. I spent a long, long time cursing his name, relatively sure that I would never be moaning it again, that we were over and done. "I still haven't said Happy New Year," he states the obvious. We haven't spoken since Christmas. "No," I confirm, shaking my head. It was the worst New Year's Eve of my life. I've seen the pictures Daniela had posted on her Instagram. At least James has had a great time, apparently.
"Sorry. I thought I should leave you alone." Yes. Because that's the easy way out. "But... Happy New Year. I guess."
"Thanks. To you, too." It truly feels like New Year's. Waiting for the big something, just to end up disappointed because the big something turns out to be some underwhelming bullshit. "Better late than never." There's still snow on the streets, so it's alright, I guess.
"Yes."
"You're fucking annoying, James."
"Oh. Why?" And fucking stupid as well.
"Did you really come over to stand around in my hallway and wish me a Happy New Year? What are you? A caroler?"
"You told me to come."
"I'm not used to you doing as you're told." I force a laugh. I'm not used to niceties and such. I'm used to... the bad stuff.
He just shrugs. He's so unbelievably apathetic, I hate it! "You have the place to yourself tonight?"
"No. You're here with me." I know quite well that he was referring to my roommate. Who, in fact, is staying with her boyfriend for the weekend. I know quite well that he only asked because he is the furthest thing from an exhibitionist I could imagine.
"Ah. Yes. True." So damn stupid! I wish I could get up and leave. But I'm already standing and there's no way to escape my own apartment. "Well?" I ask in an awful attempt to make conversation. Well, he's gonna fuck me. He's gonna break my heart once again and I'm gonna like that. We've been there before. And we're gonna be there time and time again.
#soccer imagines#soccer#soccer imagine#football#football imagines#football imagine#james rodriguez#james rodríguez#james rodriguez imagine#james rodríguez imagine#james rodriguez fanfic#mine#my writing#swap sunday#request#requested by anon#everton#fc everton#everton fc#illicit affairs#mad woman#colombia nt#colombia national team#angst
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Hey! I wanted to ask you a fic Reggie x Luke x Alex (not love but with Ruke implied maybe) where the guys are arguing and Reggie feels bad because you know.. the whole family thing. And they feel bad because when they approach him he gasps. I don't know if you feel comfortable writing it but if so thank you 💞
Thanks so much for this request! The guys are so much fun to write, I did add Julie to this though, I hope that was okay. The fic is under the cut, it got too long otherwise, lmao. :D
Enjoy!
~R
Summary: Caught in the middle of a fight between Alex and Luke, Reggie tries to control his emotions, but he’s quickly reminded of the times when his parents fought.
It was like the guys thought Reggie was dumb, or something… which he knew was further from the truth. But lately… There was this tension in the air during their practices recently, like someone pulled a string connecting his friends and it was pulled as taught as possible. The whole week Alex and Luke had been fighting about something, and their argument had finally hit it’s boiling point. Reggie could only smile apologetically at Julie, who sat at the piano with a confused expression on her face. “Look Alex, all I’m saying is if you played the rhythm differently it’ll make the song sound a million times better!” Luke exclaimed when they stopped the song halfway through for the hundredth time. Alex’s face went red with anger, and Reggie sighed. Sliding his bass off his shoulder he rested it on the stand as he prepared to be the mediator between his two friends for the millionth time. They tried to keep the fighting for when he wasn’t in the room, but Reggie could always tell when people were angry. When he was younger he convinced himself it was a superpower, but it was just a side effect from being cast aside as a kid by his parents when they fought. He was only able to watch helplessly as Alex stuck his tongue out at Luke and shouted,
“Maybe you should try to learn how to play the drums then! See how quickly that ends!” Reggie winced at the loud volume. They weren’t just fighting about music now, something bigger was at hand here… and it wasn’t exactly something Luke was ready to talk to Julie about yet. Reggie poofed across the room to sit next to Julie just as Luke angrily threw something at Alex’s kit. Alex rolled his eyes,
“Oh real mature Luke!” Alex retorted as Luke stared playing his music at one of the loudest volume options. Julie winced at the volume, and Reggie couldn’t help but tense at how angry everyone suddenly got. Everything was just so fucking loud, he couldn’t even focus enough to poof out of the garage. Turning to Julie Reggie admitted,
“You should probably go.” Luke and Alex switched from attempting to out-play each other and reverted back to yelling again. Julie shot a concerned look at Luke, whose face was quickly becoming a deep shade of red.
“Are you sure? Maybe I can help,” Julie offered, god bless her soul. None of them deserved her and they all knew it. She was their saving grace, and she’d do anything for them just as they’d do anything for her. Reggie knew Luke wasn’t out to her yet though, to be honest, he wasn’t out to her yet either. If Luke and Alex were fighting about their past relationship she shouldn’t have to find out about the three of them like this. Shaking his head he said,
“We love you Jules, you know that… this is just…” Reggie trailed off, and the two of them ducked to dodge a binder Alex threw across the studio.
“Personal?” Julie guessed as she and Reggie looked back in time to see Alex walk out from behind his drums, pushing at Luke’s chest. Reggie nodded and she sighed, “alright just…” Julie hesitated then put a hand on Reggie’s shoulder, “just let me know if you need anything alright? I know you told me your parents used to fight…” Reggie gave her a small smile then returned her hug, squeezing her waist. “Everything’s going to be okay, yeah?” Julie asked with a shaky laugh, Reggie nodded, unable to bring himself to say anything. With one last concerned look to Luke Julie backed out of the garage, closing the doors behind her. Reggie inhaled, then realized his right hand was starting to shake, a tell tale sign he was about to have a panic attack.
“Fuck,” Reggie said as his stomach twisted. He knocked himself off the piano bench, landing on the floor with a thunk. “Guys!” Reggie called out, trying to get them to stop fighting. He knew they didn’t hate each other, they would never be able to no matter what they said or how hard they tried. He pawed at Alex’s shirt, which was suddenly closer than Reggie remembered it being. Alex shoved Reggie off though, and he found himself back on the floor, stuck between his family arguing with each other just like his parents used to. He fell back on his old plan for survival when he got caught up in an argument, he tried to run. He regretted sending Julie away, she’d probably do a better job of calming Luke down than he did. Reggie took a shaky breath then curled his right hand into a fist, balling his hand usually helped lessen it’s already very shaky shaky-ness.
“Why the fuck do you care if I still hang out with Willie?” Alex yelled over Luke’s voice. Reggie watched from the ground as Luke ran a hand through his now very sweaty hair.
“Because he doesn’t deserve you!” Luke roared back, and Reggie curled his legs into his chest, his pooling tears started to fall down his cheeks. It was just one fight, it wasn't the end of the world. It wasn’t the end of the band, they wouldn’t break up the band over Luke being a petty ex would they? Reggie tried to pull himself to his feet, in a sad attempt at getting between his friends. Alex cackled,
“Oh and you do? What, am I supposed to wait and be your rebound while you’re busy trying to get with Julie?! How do you think Reggie feels huh? You casted us aside the second someone better comes along! Does she even know you’re bisexual yet?!” Luke roared in anger as he pulled back his fist and swung it low. Reggie collapsed as he sprawled across the floor taking the hit meant for Alex, he could feel a bruise starting to form on his cheek.
“Oh shit,” Luke swore as he saw Reggie hit the ground. And just like that the two composed themselves, the tension disappearing. Maybe Reggie should get punched more often… Luke tried to check Reggie’s cheek, but he winced away from his touch. A look of hurt crossed Luke’s face but Reggie didn’t focus on it for too long. “Reg, I’m so sorry,” Luke said as an apology. Alex shoved Luke aside and Reggie let him get close enough to determine he was just bruised, and not concussed. Luke scooted so he was closer to Reggie, and pulled his legs into a criss-crossed position. Their knees were just barely touching. Alex fell to the floor in front of them and exchanged a look with Luke.
“Reggie,” Alex said slowly, like he was afraid of him. “We’re -” Reggie cut them off with a huff,
“ - save it.” He sniffled and wiped the tears falling down his uninjured cheek. “I know…” He took a shaky breath, “I know you guys aren’t angry at me, and I know you aren’t really angry at each other either…” Reggie trailed off and let Luke slowly wrap his arm around Reggie’s shoulders. “I guess it just reminded me of my parents.” Alex fell forward and hugged them both,
“I’m so, so sorry.” He said through his own tears. Luke nodded,
“Me too Reg. We never should have let it get that far. I just… I can’t believe how much the world has changed since we’ve lived in it… how much we’ve changed. You know we love you right?” Luke asked, concern laced in his voice. Reggie nodded as he choked back another round of tears,
“I know, hard to forget if you remind me whenever we see each other.” Alex let out a soft laugh, then ran his hands through Reggie’s hair. Reggie relaxed at the touch and leaned into Luke’s chest, Alex sitting across from them. “We really should probably tell Julie…” Reggie said as he let Luke pull him closer. He closed his eyes as he let Luke run his guitar-calloused fingers through Reggie’s hair. Alex nodded, pressing a soft kiss at the top of Reggie’s head. Reggie hummed appreciatively then pulled him in for a longer, more passionate kiss. When he was done with Alex, he turned around and did Luke the same favor.
“Next time we see her we will,” Luke promised. Just as he said it though, the doors of the garage opened to reveal a very concerned Julie Molina.
“Is everything okay?” Julie asked, walking into the studio without asking for permission. “Did you guys figure it out? Oh my god Reggie! What happened to your face? Do you want ice? Do ghosts even need ice? What about painkillers? I’m pretty sure we still have some Motrin from a few weeks ago when Carlos twisted his ankle.” Reggie glanced at Alex for help. The drummer held up both of his hands to get Julie to stop talking.
“Hold on, too many questions at once. First, Luke punched him… by accident. We were both being petty bitches and needed to get over ourselves. We’re sorry you had to see that.” Luke protested,
“Excuse you Alexander,” he said dropping Alex’s full name. “I am not a petty bitch.” Reggie whacked the back of his head and Luke winced in pain. With a grin Reggie said,
“Yes you are.” He turned to Julie, who at this point, had joined them all on the floor in the middle of the studio. She cupped his cheek, trying to determine if he was okay. Julie frowned when she saw the size of the bruise forming. Reggie stopped her before she could turn to Luke and slap him across the face.
“Hey, I’m fine! Jules, it’s all good, I promise!” Reggie said as Alex caught her arm. Julie seemed to realize he was telling the truth, then she put her arm down.
“What were you guys going to tell me?” Julie asked, curiosity in her voice. Luke hesitated before reaching out for Reggie’s hand, interlocking their fingers. Julie’s right eyebrow rose comically high, and if he wasn’t so stressed Reggie would’ve laughed. Alex cleared his throat and let the pin drop.
“Julie,” Alex said in a way that told Julie he wasn’t joking, “we’re all together.” Julie’s eyes widened,
“Oh… oh… you know, that actually makes a lot of sense.” To their surprise she punched her fist in the air in victory, “Flynn owes me twenty bucks!” She exclaimed.
“Hold on, you bet on us dating each other?” Reggie asked, honestly surprised. Julie nodded as a grin stretched across her face.
“Of course we did. Anyone with half a brain cell can see how good you three are to each other. Wait, what was that whole Willie thing then?” She asked, the question heavy in the air. Luke spoke up,
“So you aren't…” he hesitated and ran a hand through his hair, obviously hesitant. “You’re not angry at us for keeping it a secret?” Luke asked quietly. Julie gave them all an understanding smile,
“Guys, I don’t know how you haven’t figured it out yet. Flynn and I are dating.” Reggie’s jaw dropped to the floor,
“You’re both what?” He asked, about to ask a million more questions. Julie held up a finger to stop him,
“Let’s get at least one thing straight here alright?” She asked, and suddenly Reggie wanted to hide behind Luke. “If one of you hurts each other in any possible way, I will find out, and I will find a way to kill myself a ghost, is that understood?” Reggie, Alex, and Luke all frantically nodded their heads.
“Yeah Jules, we’d never think about hurting each other!” Reggie exclaimed as Julie launched herself at them. Reggie let out a squawk of surprise as Luke and Alex dog-piled on top of them in fits of laughter.
#julie and the phantoms#jatp reggie#jatp alex#luke patterson#julie molina#angst#luke pattersonxreggie#bisexual luke patterson#bisexual reggie#bisexual julie molina#yes#she and Flynn bet on if the boys were dating#fight me
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Regret | Tom Holland x Male!Reader
A/N: Turns out, writing angst is extremely challenging! And no matter how many times you rewrite something. Some things never live up to how you imagine it in the first place.
This has been in the works since forever. And by forever, I mean early 2018. (Early draft was in Dec ‘17) It incorporates around four separate requests for angst. And never lived up to my expectations. It’s just so difficult to write Tom this way. Enough rambling. I present to you, my first and final angst.
----------------------------------------------
“I wasn’t expecting you yet.” You remark, making your way to the kitchen.
“Hmmm…” He hums. “Have you seen (YOUR BEST FRIEND’S NAME) lately?”
“Last week, I think. Why?”
“You don’t remember, or you don’t want to tell me?”
Surprised by his sneer, you turn to him. A grim and dark expression painted on his face. Clenched jaws. Staring at you with a stern expression. Your heart stopped for a second. A lump forming in your throat. You haven’t seen him like this before. “Tom…” Slowly approaching him. “What’s this about?”
Tom didn’t react, he just sat there. Running his hands through his hair. Averting eye contact. You thought you could see a shimmer in his eye.
“We p-promised…” A balled fist strikes the marble. Making you jump. “We wouldn’t keep secrets from each other!” Blood-red eyes connect with yours.
“I don’t, Tom! I don’t! What’s going on…?!”
"You're lying, (Y/N)... I know you are."
“I… I don’t get it, Tom!”
“They found out! The world knows! And you’ve been cheating behind my back like it’s nothing.”
“Wh-... W-What?" You frantically look around for a hint to this sudden outburst of rage. "I don't want to play this game, Tom. Tell me!"
"Well then, have a look!" Tom's finger pushed onto the tablet in front of him. His nostrils flaring. Breathing heavily.
You pick up the tablet from the kitchen counter and quickly swipe through some apps. But honestly, you had no clue what to look for. “What’s there to see? Some news about the Brexit. Nothing more.”
When you look up from your tablet, you notice Tom isn't happy about the remark. "It's everywhere!" He shouts. Pulling the tablet from your hands. Smashing the screen with such ferocity, you're afraid he might just push right through.
“See!” Throwing the tablet back down. "They found out about us (Y/N)!" His voice booms through the apartment. "'They followed us everywhere!" You feel frightened at the sudden outburst of anger Tom displayed. "And now they come up with these pictures?!"
In a calm fashion, you try to get hold of the tablet. Your eyes catch sight of the article on the screen. A humongous picture underneath the title makes your heart skip a beat. "Convince me otherwise, (Y/N)!" Tom keeps yelling. "But for me, it all adds up!"
That was last week. You had picked Tom up. In high definition, the picture showed you and Tom sharing a passionate kiss. No denying it was you and Tom. The smaller inset pictures followed what happened next. Kisses along your neck. Hands slipping under shirts. Teasing each other as you walked inside. It had been days since you had last seen each other. You longed for each other. What a night that was. Your thoughts drifted off for a moment.
But the second later, the pieces of the puzzle fell in place. At the beginning of your relationship with Tom. You promised to keep the affection and such on a low for the outside world. No kissing. No holding hands. Going on tours was a rarity. And if you did, you’d sleep in a different hotel. Just to avoid suspicion. All in all, the façade, the lie, held up for months. Tom wasn't ready to out himself yet. And for a good reason so. You weren't either. As long as you could keep doing your work, and lay low for the press. You were perfectly fine with it. Tom was good at handling the press and media too. But keeping up the lie was tiresome for him as well. But it worked out. Your name barely came up in social media. Admittedly you searched your name once in a while. But no connections to Tom in any way. Until today. The title's fat letters didn't twist any of its meaning.
They had seen you with your best friend. Multiple times. For several days. In various places. It's all true. It happened. But they didn't find the purpose of those meetups. No mention of it anywhere.
Your name was all over the article. What started as a simple article with suspicions and rumors turned into filthy lies. Mentions of betrayal. Suspicions of double play with your old friend. Tom wasn’t spared. Horrible stories and rumors were thrown into the world without a second thought. Adding upon Tom's angst for this career. His possible failed relationship with you. Tom was afraid his outing would affect his career. And on that fear, the article builds up on about countless possible doom scenarios. Now aware of what you should search, your fear became a reality. Every website had your name, and Tom spilled out. With a feeling of guilt, you gaze up from your tablet. You could see the corners of Tom's eyes turning watery.
“Tom...” You walk towards him. Grabbing him by his shoulders. “This is not what it looks like. Please listen to me.”
“Back the fuck off!" Breaking your hold on his shoulder. Raising to his feet. Taking a stand very near to you. "This is exactly what it looks like!”
"It’s not! And I know what you're going to say, Tom!" Pointing your finger at him. “But there’s nothing true about a relationship with him.”
“Then tell me! Were you ever going to tell me about him?”
“I’ve have told you before! But… it’s not what it looks like! I told you we grab a bite! Do some shopping. That’s all!”
“If that’s all… Then those pictures probably tell half the truth…”
“They don’t! Don’t you get it!? A hug means nothing…”
"Then explain to me the hidden checkbook…" That comment burnt a hole into your soul. "What is it for?"
“I-… “ Your breath stocks in your throat.
“WHAT IS IT FOR (Y/N)?” He yelled, screaming from the top of his lungs.
“I-… I… can’t say. I’m sorry. But…”
“I was hoping you’d say something else.”
“I would… But I… I can’t…”
“Then… W-We’re done here…” He snickers. “We’re done…” Collapsing onto the bar stool. You see the first tear rolling down his cheek. Just before he wipes it away with the palm of his hand. “Y-You need to go.”
“What’s that going to solve?” Trying to push back the tears welling in your eyes. “I’m not going, Tom. Give me some time.”
“You lied to me…” His voice trembles. “And if I had stayed at the hotel. Nothing of this would have happened!” In a fell sweep, the tablet crashes against the wall opposite of you. Splinters shatter across the floor. “YOU LIED TO ME!”
“No, Tom… It’s not ending like this. We can work this out.”
“I just don’t get it! You put everything on the line for what exactly…?”
“What…? No, I-…”
"Do you have any idea what Marvel will do to my contract?! You ever thought about that? It's all gone to shit. Gone! ALL OF IT! ALL BECAUSE OF YOU!
“D-Don’t you act this out on me. Because if you-“
“Then what (Y/N)?!” The tears were streaming down his face. Screaming right into your face. “You made everything more difficult than it already was. You are the reason it’s all gone to shit! You lied to me. And you were the one to keep secrets from me.”
“Cut the crap, Tom!” You couldn’t hold the tears back. “One thing led to the other. But we fucked up! We made love! In the open. Like fucking human beings! Just give me time to explain!"
“The time is NOW!” Slamming his fist down onto the kitchen counter. “Tell me for fuck sake!”
“NO! Your wrong, Tom! I did my fair share of holding up our lie up as much as you did. I always booked different hotels. Never showed up at the same event as you. Never went to the beach with you. Never went to movies with you. Never went on a dinner with you. Never went on a holiday with you. Never shared the same plane. All to keep suspicions and rumors low. You see… Our love was caged inside this apartment. I didn’t mind. I came to terms with it. Because I love you...”
“Stop trying to fix this, (Y/N)…”
“Zendaya… Who made that lie up? All the sleepovers? Just as a cover-up." From the living room, you hear your ringtone. The news must be spreading like wildfire.
“And in the end… it doesn’t matter. Does it?” He sneers.
“If we knew that from the start-“ Throwing your arms up in a defeated manner.
“-I wouldn’t have gone through with this.” He quips. You could feel your heart shatter in a thousand little pieces. Leaving a gaping hole behind. A vast emptiness. Numbed by the few simple words spat right into your face. Your legs turn to stone. Tom had never hurt you like this before. “From the start, we talked everything through and through. Yet, you lie and hide things from me.”
As if you dazzled by his words, you take steps backward. Shaking your head in denial. You still hear your ringtone buzzing. With heavy legs, you start stumbling towards the sound. "(Y/N)…" He grips your arm firm as you try to move away, holding you in place, making you even angrier than you already were. “I want you to leave…” You slap his arm away and move onward.
Through the tears welling in your eyes, you see a call from your parents. Already having missed tens of others from friends and colleagues. You put the phone on silent. Not wanting to speak to anyone for the next couple of hours.
You just want to get your thoughts in order. Be alone. Process what all had happened. Think long and hard about the future. How everything was going to change. But most of all. Tom. Those words. You keep telling yourself it were mere words in the heat of the moment. But deep down. Your feelings tell you otherwise. Where there’s smoke, there is a fire.
You pace through the hallway towards the front door. But turn into the bedroom instead. Crawling onto the sheets. Tears streaming down your cheek. Tom's words echo through your head. You didn't want to leave. You needed time alone.
“You can pack up later.” He stands in the doorway. Heaving heavily, nostrils flaring. His attention gets shifted to Tess running through his legs. As she jumps onto the bed, crawling into your lap.
“Tess!” Tom calls out. “C’mere! Bad girl.” But Tess doesn’t flinch.
“At least she made the right choice, Tom. I hope you think about yours as well.” Your voice trembling. “You’re wrong… Y-You need time… Think this through...”
“No! I don't! I-...I swear… If you take Tess from me-…“ Rubbing the tears from his eyes. “You…Y-”
“I didn’t take her, T-Tom. It’s her choice…”
“No-no… no…” He mutters with his hands in his hair. Slamming the door shut. You hear loud screams echoing from the living room. Things being shattered and broken. Tess shudders and shakes on your lap at each noise. Silence soon follows after. You can't help it. The tears come back again. As quiet as possible, you sob on the sheets of the bed. Tess licking your fingers. Crawling closer and closer to you.
Everything around you reminded you of Tom. His shorts on the floor. The smelly socks in the corner. The Spider-Man figurine on the shelf. Even the sheets of the bed smelled of his earthy cologne. But there’s always that one thing that made you smile. The frames hanging opposite the bed. In the year you’ve been together, you had started with just one. You framed your favorite picture you shot from Tom. You remember that moment clearly. That was your first weekend together. With the morning sun peeking through the curtains, you woke up with Tom, arms around you, legs intertwined, and cuddled close to you. Through your sleepy eyes, you saw him smiling. At first, you thought he was awake. Kissing him, good morning. Whispering in his ear. But surprisingly, he was deep asleep. Tom just didn't stop smiling. Not even when he slept. It was the damn cutest thing you ever saw. That was your first picture. And he adored it. True love, he admitted in full confidence. Not soon after, you found a new picture on the wall. Tom had framed one from you. And so the wall of pictures grew over time. It was perfect…
You open your eyes to a quiet apartment. You must have cried yourself to sleep. As you gaze on your watch. You hear nothing from the apartment. Tom might as well have left the place. Tess still lies close to you. Sleeping as well, you guess. But as soon as you take your phone. She shoots up. You didn't know your phone could display so many notifications. One after the other came in. Hundreds of missed calls.
Zendaya popped up on your screen. You ponder for a second whether you should take the call. On the one hand, she knew the two of you the best. She played you two on the back of her hand. Always ready with the best advice. On the other, she could be explosive. What if you showed up?
“H-Hey...” Your voice comes out shakenly.
"Finally, (Y/N). God, I was worried. You sound like shit."
“I-…It’s Tom.”
“Little fucker… I figured something was wrong. Tom’s phone is never off.”
“It’s over Z… He-”
“Nope! You’re wrong. If you-“
“Zendaya! It’s over! You hear me!”
“Ooh Noooo, check the internet. You guys are the-” You cut Zendaya off by pressing the call away. You stare at the screen as you feel the tears welling up again. Seconds later, Zendaya was pilling on pictures. One after the other. After the fifteenth picture, curiosity got the best of you. Wiping the tears from your eyes again. You open them up and scroll through. A sense of joy, relief, and happiness started growing. Every tweet and Instagram post was full of praise for your relationship. Pictures surfaced of you and Tom you never knew existed. The posts went on and on. Zendaya called again.
“I-I… I can’t believe this.” You stutter. “This is-…”
"Amazing, isn't it? The original article was deleted half an hour later. Not only the internet loves you. The world adores you as a couple.”
“Yeah… So…Tom! Get your little arse in here!” Zendaya calls out through the phone. You quickly press the call away. You had to tell him. You had to convince him. Trembling legs barely hold your weight and in that terrifying moment. Doubts flood your mind. The realization hits home. And it hits hard. Your legs turn to jelly. With balled fists, you rest against the door. Snickering turns in long sorrowful sobs. The tears stream freely down your face. You can trace them as they fall to the floor. You could not hold it back. Tom left you broken. Shattered. This moment would change everything. You realize it just now. From this moment on, your life could change forever. You had to weigh every word against his. You had hope. You hoped Tom would make this right. Dream, it would turn out alright. Hope that Tom had just spoken his thoughts in an act of madness. That it wasn't the truth. That emotion took the best of him. But fear got the upper hand. Fear of what comes next.
And behind that door was the truth. The truth that could end it all. A reality you rather not face. Because that would rip the one person, you loved most away from you. A truth where you had to say goodbye and go separate ways. You weren't ready for Tom to go. You couldn't let him go. You didn't want him to go. But deep down. You knew it was his call. No matter how many tears you would shed. There was another side to this story, and you wanted to show him.
You shift your weight with one hand against the doorframe. With the other, you grab the handle. The moment was there. You could barely stand on your feet. The hairs on the back of your neck rise as the smell of his cologne teased your nostrils. Again. He had to be close by. A cold sensation pulled on your spine. At the same a knot formed in your stomach. A sickening feeling. You pull open the door with a heavy heart.
Nothing.
You stumble dazed and wary down the hallway. Following the source of the destruction. Spread out in a cone, a spray of shards littered the floor. Sparkling in the wet puddle of water. The bouquet of flowers lying down amidst, almost like it marked a grave. Your gaze gets drawn to the chair, tumbled aside. And the further you tread along the path of destruction, you end up near the source. On the couch, Tom was lying down, wrapped in a blanket. His head down, face covered, and body hunched together. You feel the tears starting to well up in your eyes again. Fighting desperately to hold them back. To steady your breathing and clear your throat. Your trembling fingers struggle to unlock your phone. “T-T-Tom…" You manage to get out. And avert your gaze to the side. Feeling the tears burning in your socket. Wanting to flow so desperately. With the back of your hand, you quickly wipe your eyes clean.
“T-There is another side to this story. And… I want you to see it." You stutter. He doesn't respond as you put your phone near him. No reaction. No movement. "It's the truth, T-Tom." You give your phone a small push. Letting it glide along the cushion, falling against him. “If you don’t…” You hesitate for a moment, whether you should throw an arm around him. Comfort him. Brush his cheek. Kiss his forehead, make him feel loved. “-I’m leaving…”
But you can't… You just stand there. Your mind conflicted. Where you so hurt, you doubt you love him? It's there where you suddenly realize a crossroad in your relationship. You always loved Tom. With all of your heart. But doubt flood your mind. Doubt got the better of you. "I… I'm going to pack if you don't say anything.” You manage to get out. Giving him the benefit of the doubt. You allow him some time. He needs to see it. Somehow you cling to a sparkle of hope. A sign.
Say something…
But he doesn't. Your fate is sealed. The end of the line. You turn around, step by step, walking back towards the bedroom. The feet on your legs weigh you down like bricks. Making every step more and more difficult. Your head spins. Feeling light-headed. With one final look onto Tom's hunched figure, you turn the corner and retreat into the bedroom.
From the bottom drawer, you gather your shirts. Vests. Trousers. All of it. Stuffing it into the case. Your arms shake for a moment. Feeling the tears well up again. In the silence, you hear your phone buzzing in the distance. Minutes go by. Your heart beating against your ribcage. Still clinging to hope. Hoping for something to happen.
But it didn’t.
The silence returns.
You just can't help it. The corner of your eyes water. The tears burning in your socket. With all your rage and anger, you tear the drawer from its railing. Clothes and underwear fly about the floor. You fall to the ground, breaking down in long sobs of endless sorrow. Burrowing your face into a hoodie, in an effort to muffle your cries. It was all so unbelievable.
You don't care about clothes or sheets. The money or the furniture. You don't want any of it. You want him to know the truth. One way or another, you were going to tell him. The rest of it doesn't matter. You try to gather yourself. Hoist yourself onto your trembling legs. You pace towards the door. Wiping your face clean with one of the shirts laying around.
As you pull open the door, you feel the shift of pressure and weight against it, coming your way. But before you take notice of what's happening. Tom's arms close around your neck, pushing you back into the room. Burying his face deep into your neck. You lose your footing, taking a few steps back. And eventually, tumble back onto the bed. He pushes the case of the bed. Throwing everything in a mess. Tom atop you. His sweating shaking body resting on top of you. You try to wrestle yourself free for a couple seconds. Trying to push him off you. Not sure of his intentions. But you hear him snickering in your ear. Turning into sobs. And his sobbing turns into long wails, feeling his heaving chest push against you. The tears seeping into your shirt.
The tension was tangible between the two of you. You didn’t know what to do. For moments you had Tom laying on top of you. Crying out heavily. Your shirt soaking wet from his tears. Not a word came from his lips. Just tears rolling. Right there. And you tried to hold it together. Gather your tears. But seeing Tom like this. You can’t help but cry as well. Feeling broken and hurt.
Minutes go by. Maybe more, before you feel Tom shifting. He positions his hands on your shoulders, slowly hoisting himself upwards. Tom's eyes were blood red. Bright red lines circled the once lively brown pupils. His eye sockets looked dark and gloomy. His hair a mess. Shirt wet and wrinkled. “T-Tom… Please…” You stammer. “I-I… want you t-...”
Tom fiercely connects his lips with yours. Kissing you passionately. “Please, don’t go…” He whispers, breaking the kiss. “P-Please…" Tom’s face hovers close to yours. Resting his forehead against yours. You can see the tears welling in his eyes. “I’m so sorry…”
You feel both his warm wet hands caress your cheeks. Lifting your head slightly from the cushion. Pressing his lips against yours. “I can't go on without you…” He says. "I don't want you to go..." He breaks loose. "I need you…"
You put your hands on his sides, pushing him off you. Putting Tom beside you on the mattress. "Please… (Y/N)!" Tom pleads. You shift to the side of the bed. You lose your gaze in the contents of your case spilled across the floor.
"Tom…" Glancing back over your shoulder. "They say… Where smoke is, there is fire."
"No! I didn't mean a single word I said to you earlier. I swear (Y/N)."
"But, there has to be a splinter of truth in there. Something… Somewhere…" You see him shifting across the bed towards you. “It was never my intention to-" Through the tears welling in your eyes, you reach out for the floor before being pulled back by Tom's arms wrapping around your neck. The knuckles on your hand turn white as you clench as hard as possible on the object. "h-hurt you.” You begin crying again.
Tom's face is buried deep into your neck again. Whispering in your ear.
"I know… I’m sorry (Y/N)…" Repeated kisses are pressed along your neck. "I’ve seen the response.” He smiles. “It’s overwhelming… It’s everything, I didn’t expect. I thought everything was lost. Because we’ve been living like this for a long time, and… I was afraid of so many things… And I panicked. "
He moves from the bed, taking place in front of you. "Please… Give me a chance (Y/N). I'll make it right." Cupping your cheek with one hand. With the pads of his thumb, he wipes away the tears trailing down your cheek.
“Tom…” You snicker. “I want you to know the truth. Because, for a l-…”
You close your eyes. The tears start welling again. They never seem to dry up. Again, your emotions get the better of you.
"Look at me, (Y/N)..." Pressing his lips on yours. "It’s alright. You don’t deserv- “
"I-I’ve been planning things, Tom." You interrupt him, wiping your runny nose clean with the back of your hand. Steadying your breathing. “For us…” Your hands tremble as you bring the small box upwards. "I've been thinking about it for a long... long… time." Tom’s pitiful eyes stare at you. “It was going to be perfect. Orchestrated to the minute. You and me. A memorable moment.” With your thumb, you open the small container. "But I won’t keep it a secret anymore." Holding it in-between you. "This is what I've been hiding from you." The diamond embed in the golden ring twinkled brightly in the light. "This is my secret."
The rest is up to your imagination. 😉
#tom holland x reader#tom holland x male reader#tom holland x male!reader#tom holland imagine#tom holland x y/n#tom holland x you#tom holland reader#tom holland angst#angst#my first and final
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Act 1, Scene 1, part 2
Usual warnings of swearing, violence, trauma references
Loud flashes of lights, sharp pains, screams and cries. It was all too familiar…
Tommy’s ears rang painfully, he sat up and rubbed his pounding head, the explosion was HUGE, he looked around at the room littered with corpses, Bubby and Dr Coomer nowhere to be seen. Tommy got up and brushed off the dirt that had clung to his shirt, he looked down at one of the scientists and kneeled, holding its bloodied head up to ‘look’ at him.
“N-Not so s-smart now, are you?” He shoved the face to the ground and stood up, kicking the corpse and walking down to the hallway to look for a way out. The hallways were covered in blood from those unfortunate to have been hit with the blast, well… unfortunate for them at least. As far as Tommy was concerned, they had it coming to them. But now he had to make sure Benrey was okay, he can’t even consider leaving without knowing where they are. Stepping down the rooms of the facility Tommy began to worry, had Benrey been seriously hurt? Or did some scientists survive and take them?
Tommy started to walk faster, looking around and calling out Benrey’s name, he’d never forgive himself if something happe-Tommy let out a yelp as he tripped on something and hit the ground, he sat up and looked at what sent him to the floor.
“B-Benrey!?” Tommy quickly got to his feet and rushed to Benrey who was laying on the ground, eyes closed.
“Benrey…?” Tommy gently shook them, Benrey squirmed and rubbed their eyes.
“Brooo, tryin’ to chill here.” Benrey groaned, Tommy let out a sigh of relief and picked the alien up into his arms.
“We vibin’ now?” Benrey asked.
“W-w-we’ve got to g-g-get out now.” Tommy replied, Benrey leaned their head against Tommy’s chest. Benrey’s eyes gazed on the destroyed rooms, they saw one with a table, the room numbered 84, they quickly covered their face and buried it into Tommy’s chest. The other looked at Benrey then at the room, Tommy’s breathing quickened as he held Benrey’s head and walked faster, they needed to get away.
“No more of that, right?” Benrey asked, Tommy’s heart sank at hearing the fear in their voice.
“N-No more, w-w-we’re going to be free of it.” He assured, Benrey smiled and hopped down so they could walk themselves.
Benrey paused for a moment when they heard a familiar voice, breaking away from Tommy they walked to the direction of the voice.
“As far as I know this is company policy, as of today!”
It was that Gordon guy, Tommy rolled his eyes and followed after Benrey, not trusting one second of them being left alone with a human.
“Listen, listen, a guard followed me.” Gordon paused as he saw Benrey walking towards them.
“Oh there he is.” Bubby said, Benrey waved and hurried over as Gordon yelled ‘Hey’, that must mean he wants them to come over yes? Tommy not far behind.
“You uh, talkin’ about a passport?” Benrey asked, wanting to join the conversation. Gordon rudely ignored them and kept talking to Bubby.
“Whatever happened, he jumped in there.” Gordon started, immediately pointing at Benrey. Benrey’s eyes widened at being accused so fast. “And then YOU jumped in as well.” Gordon said to Bubby.
“One test, three people, it just go boom, that’s all I know.”
“Did I, did I not tell you to… To not touch that?” Benrey started but was interrupted by Gordon shoving his hands into the other’s chest.
“DID I NOT TELL YOU! TO GET THE FUCK OUT OF THE TEST CHAMB-ACK!” Gordon was thrown back, quickly gasping for air as he felt a pair of hands tightly around his throat, holding him up so that his feet weren’t touching the floor. He looked down and saw Tommy, his eyes filled with rage and bloodlust. Benrey behind Tommy gripping at his shirt, hiding their face in the fabric.
“D-d-do not. EVER. Touch Benrey. L-like that. A-a-again.” Tommy warned with a growl, Gordon nodded fast and he was promptly dropped, leaving him gasping for air. Gordon coughed for a minute and leaned against the wall.
“Dude what the fuck!?” Gordon snapped, Tommy’s eyes just glaring at him.
“I think you better not do that again, bitch.” Bubby pointed out to Gordon as if it wasn’t obvious.
“Was just, just tryin’ to help bro…” Benrey muttered. Tommy held them close as Benrey shook, they gripped onto Tommy’s shirt and hid their face into his chest.
“Y-Y-You b-better apologize, y-you were v-v-very mean.” Tommy said, Gordon rubbed the sore spot on his throat and looked at Benrey. Letting out a sigh he stood up.
“Okay, okay, I’m really stressed out and it makes me, just lash out. I’m sorry, but please listen to me next time.” Gordon said, Tommy rolled his eyes, was it that hard for a proper apology? What can he expect, Gordon’s human. He shouldn’t have expected any better.
“Is, is okay bro...” Benrey muttered, Tommy couldn’t understand how Benrey could just… be okay with this, strange thing, he adored them, but they were strange.
“W-w-we need to get out…” Tommy muttered.
“Yes, I want to get the fuck out of here.” Bubby grumbled.
“Okay, okay, we should head over to a few rooms and see if there’s anywhere we can go, maybe someone will know if we can use the trams.” Gordon said, he started walking, expecting the others to follow. Bubby ended up following and so did Benrey, Tommy sighed and begrudgingly followed suit.
“B-Benny?”
“Hm? Yeah bro?” Benrey slowed down so they could be standing next to Tommy as he spoke.
“A-a-are you okay?”
“Yeah bro, I got you with me!” Benrey pecked Tommy on the cheek and kept walking, Tommy’s face went a little red as he touched the kiss spot, not unusual for Benrey to do so but it still made him blush.
The three arrived at some other room, Tommy couldn’t care less to remember, Gordon went off to talk to some scientists, so he just stalled around to look. The test tubes were broken, that can’t be good, knowing this shithole something ungodly was bound to escape from a place like this, Benrey stood beside him and the two held hands.
“Still don’t like these…”
“I-I know, b-but soon we won’t have to any-anymore.” Tommy looked towards Gordon and saw something creeping up behind him.
“W-Watch out!” He called out, Gordon looked over.
“Tommy? What is it?”
“Watch out t-there’s creatures!” He repeated, a headcrab pounced at Gordon, making him scream out as he punched it away, it made weird alien noises and kept going after whoever was closest. Benrey felt around their guard outfit and smirked when they felt the specific weapon, they pulled out the gun and started firing, quickly firing out a massive explosive ball from their palm to add to the bullets, making the headcrab fucking exploded everywhere while Bubby was running around like a headless chicken who still had the ability to speak. Tommy stared and grinned a little at seeing Benrey wreck the area.
“What the, what are we arming our guards with!? What the fuck was that?!” Gordon shouted,
“Oh my god they’re dead!” Bubby yelled, Benrey calmly walked over to Gordon to answer his question.
“That was uh, that was a passport.”
Gordon stared at them in utter disbelief. Gordon rubbed the sides of his head and went over to calm Bubby down; Tommy went over to Benrey and kissed their cheek.
“N-N-Nice work.” He said, Benrey smiled wide, their eyes twinkling excitedly. The two then saw one of the scientists had survived, Tommy’s eyes narrowed at the unfortunately familiar face.
“W-w-want to handle this o-one?” Tommy asked, Benrey looked over and nodded, lightly hopping on their feet. Tommy felt his lips curl into a small smile as Benrey excitedly went off to the scientist, but his mood was ruined by hearing Gordon’s voice talking to him.
“Tommy, Tommy?” Tommy looked over at him. Gordon’s eyes suddenly widen, Tommy could hear a noise and he just kept a straight face while Gordon was obviously freaking out on the inside.
“What is, what is happening? What the fuck?” Gordon muttered, he then started pointing.
“Tommy, Tommy look behind you.” Tommy took his sweet time, hearing the other man’s cries of pain as Benrey burnt him to a crisp. Only looking when there was nothing, so he could pretend Gordon was just seeing things.
“D-did he do that…?” Gordon muttered, Bubby and Tommy just looked at him silently. Gordon cautiously walked over to Benrey.
“Hey uh, what, what happened to them?” he asked, Benrey looked at him then back at the ash rubble.
“Uh, they didn’t have their passport.” Was all they could come up with. Gordon audibly gulped; Tommy chuckled quietly to himself.
“You’re going to want to find that passport Gordon.” Bubby piped in, Gordon nodded fast and gave Benrey’s shoulder a pat.
“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry bud we’re gonna find that passport, yeah.” Benrey looked at the hand on their shoulder and smiled brightly at Gordon, tapping their leg when Gordon let go to talk to Bubby again, Tommy looked over at Benrey who was still grinning. He felt his chest tighten up, it was weird, it was unwanted. He didn’t like this feeling at all, maybe his instincts were warning he should keep Gordon away from Benrey.
Gordon and Bubby started continuing onto the next room.
“Tommy! Other, guard guy! You coming?” Gordon called out.
“Uh, y-yeah.” He replied, walking over with Benrey.
“Hey, Dr Coomer! Wait, wait Coomer move out the way!” Gordon said as he tried to tug Dr Coomer away from the laser.
“Yo bro look at this.” Benrey called out, Tommy looked over and saw Benrey trying to do the limbo with the laser, they winked at Tommy as their head was upside down from bending so low. The laser was so close to zapping Benrey in the belly but luckily Benrey had chosen to take a flatter human’s form, not thin, but flat enough that it missed them. Tommy was what most humans would call thin, but it’s been a while since he’s had a decent meal. Actually, Tommy doesn’t know when he’s ever had a decent meal.
“You call that bendy? I’ll show you fucker.” Bubby went to the beams after Benrey had gotten through and did the same, his skinny nimble body getting under the laser easy, a few joints cracking on the way.
“Niiiice, now you Tomsy!” Benrey said, tapping on their leg. Tommy gulped; his sheer height might prevent him from making it through and being zapped was not something he needed right now. Gordon and Dr Coomer were still busy chatting. Tommy leaned his back backwards and tried walking through, only ending up with his hands on the floor as he kept going.
“Oh yo bro you look like a uh, like a tall crab, Crab Tommy.” Benrey chuckled, Tommy got back up and rubbed his shoulders.
“I-I’d like to n-not do that a-a-again.” He stated, Bubby sitting on a ledge.
“S-s-so you got put w-with Dr Coomer?” Tommy asked, Bubby nodded.
“Yes, he was the only non-idiotic dipshit that didn’t treat me like some grapefruit to be given random surgeries on.” Bubby grumbled while gazing at Dr Coomer.
“Sooooo ya like him?” Benrey asked, making kissy faces. Bubby blushed hard.
“S-shut the fuck!” Bubby said, Tommy watching as Benrey cackled, Tommy didn’t see what was so embarrassing, he and Benrey like each other, they were openly close friends, what was there to be embarrassed by?
“Hmph, c’mon lets GOOOO!” Bubby yelled out to Dr Coomer and Gordon.
“’M gonna, go explore.” Benrey said wandering off.
“D-don’t go too f-far!” Tommy called out, the scientists walking in a group of four down the facility, Gordon looked over to them.
“How… have any of you gone to the surface without the tram? Is it possible by foot?” Gordon asked, Tommy stayed silent.
“I dunno, I was born down here.” Bubby said, Tommy and Dr Coomer nodded. Gordon just looked more confused.
“You were, you were born here?”
“Yes.”
“I, I didn’t know that. I, Black Mesa does Test Tube Babies?”
“This place is oooooooold, Gordon.” Was all Bubby had to say, Gordon sighed and nodded.
“That’s true, definitely older than me, you guys are all older than me combined. Except for Tommy who’s like. Five.”
Tommy shot a look at Gordon, what the fuck did he just say?
“We love our little Tommy.” Bubby taunted, making Tommy’s fists clench and shake, he tries to start walking away to calm down.
“Yeah yeah, we love our little Tommy.” Gordon agreed, Tommy had enough and shoved Gordon to the wall.
“I’M N-N-NOT YOUR L-LITTLE T-T-TOMMY! I’M AN A-ADULT!” Tommy shoved him away and stormed off, shaking in anger. Gordon was frozen in near fear from the sudden shouting, Gordon felt his heart start racing and his body shaking, trying to calm down fast from being yelled at.
“O-Okay.” Gordon squeaked.
“Y-You, t-that’s very r-r-rude! I-I look like an adult.” Tommy mumbled, he looked towards a broken mirror and stepped towards it. Looking at himself, he, he looks like an adult! He’s not a little child, he deserved to be treated as such. Tommy looked at the freckles, was that… something that made him look too young? He hoped not, they were nice to look at. What if that’s all this Gordon, sees him as? A child, Tommy felt their fists ball up, he was not a child, he was not weak or defenceless, not anymore. Pings of pain flickered through his body, what if Gordon just wants to hurt him like everyone else does.
Gordon watched from a distance, a pang of guilt going through his body. As the thought went on he thinks how he really shouldn’t have said that, but he’s unsure if Tommy would even want him going over at that moment. Maybe he can apologize properly later when he’s calmed down.
Tommy lagged behind for a bit, mostly keeping an eye out but also not trusting Gordon or Bubby to stay behind him. That was just opening a chance for either to take advantage of his blindspot. Dr Coomer looked behind him to check that Tommy was still with them, he slowed down for a moment.
“Are you alright Tommy?”
“Hm? Y-Yeah.”
“You seem rather troubled.”
Yeah no shit.
“You know you can talk to me about it.” He continued.
“I-I want to g-g-go.” Tommy pushed past Coomer and kept walking, the old man let out a long sigh and followed without more questions.
Tommy’s mind was racing, he was finally going to get out. Why did it all still feel the same? The feeling of dread, the tug of pains the fear of harm. It was all still plaguing his mind and it wouldn’t go away!
“OWWWWWW!!”
Tommy snapped out of his internal crisis when he heard Benrey scream, he should never have let them go alone! Tommy bolted in the direction of the others and saw Gordon pulling Benrey away from a laser.
“Dude! What the, the fuck man you could’ve died!” Gordon snaps, Benrey holding onto their head from the shock. Tommy rushed over and took Benrey’s hand, checking over the other’s head.
“Holy shit, what kind of helmet is that?!”
“Standard issue, Black Mesa Helmets!” Bubby answers, Benrey shook in Tommy’s arms and Gordon went over to the two.
“Shit man, are you okay?” Gordon asks, though needily muttering under his breath about should he even be caring. That earned him a death glare from Tommy. Can this bitch do anything nice without immediately breaking it?
“I’m still like, fifty percent sure this is all your fault.”
“M-Mr Freeman y-you need t-t-to shut up!”
Benrey gagged a little, then their stomach clenched up. That wasn’t a good sigh, Tommy gulped and stroked their back.
“Uh, are you oka-ohhh gosh he’s spitting out blue.”
Benrey coughed and sung out some sweet voice, the colours changing from blue then fading to purple. Benrey let out a sigh and slumped further into Tommy’s arms.
“Is that normal?” Bubby asked as he backed away.
“What the fuck, I don’t know what that is.” Gordon observed the floating stream of coloured balls.
“I-I can read this!” Tommy piped up.
“You, you can read this?!”
He nodded fast.
“W-when it’s, the purple of an evening… Of a spring evening, t-then it m-m-means they’re okay.” Tommy explains.
“He’s okay, he’s okay…”
Benrey let out another little squeak of sweet voice noise, Tommy couldn’t help but find it adorable, it was like someone booped Benrey on the nose and it honked.
“Okay, thank you Tommy.” Gordon said with a smile, Tommy felt a bubble go into his throat. Did, he just thank him? Properly appreciate something? That was a, strange feeling. Benrey nuzzled Tommy’s chest and moved back, ready to get going again.
“Last one to the elevator is a rotten egg!” Bubby announced, he started speeding through and Coomer excitedly joined.
“What!? Why would we race!?” Gordon watched the two bolt through the lasers.
“Yooo we playin?”
Tommy and Benrey were quick to dash on their feet after, ignoring Gordon’s please to be careful. Bubby announcing that he almost died only to be lectured by Gordon pointing out that he was going through a laser. Tommy and Benrey reached the end relatively unharmed, aside from the initial damage from the laser Benrey copped to the head and a crack in their helmet.
At least that was now out of the way.
-
“Hey bro, look at this.” Benrey beckoned Tommy over, the man walked over and looked through the glass door Benrey was pointing at, there was an elevator stuck. He could hear a few scientists talking as they were stuck inside. Sparks flying out the joints as the elevator was threatening to fall if it had a little… encouragement.
“Right this way.” Benrey said, mostly talking to Tommy but Gordon had heard and went towards the button, not knowing what Tommy and Benrey did.
“Yeah, hopefully we can get closer to the surface this way…”
The button was pressed, that was all that was needed for the machine to break and the elevator gave a harsh hissing sound as it came loose.
“Oh god.”
The elevator came crashing down, the screams of the scientists trapped inside filled the room as they fell to their inevitable death.
“Oh my god!!” Gordon placed his hands on the glass looking down hopelessly, guilt setting into his chest. Behind him Tommy was smirking to himself, another load of unwanted scum erased from his life, Benrey snickering beside him.
“WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU!?” Bubby screamed out, Gordon was visibly panicking and stepped away, his eyes widening at the four now surrounding him. Tommy and Benrey looked at each other then back at Gordon, seeing him stutter and shake under everyone’s gaze.
“I-I, I just…! I didn’t…!”
Gordon’s state only got worse when Coomer and Bubby went on at him for killing those men, Benrey raised an eyebrow. The guy didn’t mean to do it, and neither of them warned him about it.
Benrey went over to Gordon, they took Gordon’s hands and held them.
“Calm, clam down? Want calm down?”
Gordon shook for a bit. He nodded and closed his eyes, Benrey sung some blue balls at him and they faded onto his skin, Gordon’s breathing steadied as he slowly started to calm down. The room was silent for a moment minus Gordon’s shaky breaths. Gordon felt Benrey’s fingers gently combing his ponytail, he focused on the feeling as the sweet voice took effect.
Tommy felt something tugging at his chest, nothing physical, there was no alien in his chest grabbing his heart. But it felt something along those lines, he was unsure what it was. Was it a good feeling? A bad feeling? The way Benrey was showing such care for a human, a human that showed a couple times to give no shits about them. But the way Gordon looked so, vulnerable? It was a look he knew all too well, the way his body was tense, how his eyes were distant and wide but clenched tightly when closed. Tommy’s own heart felt… bad? No, no he didn’t feel bad for this human, he was just bringing up memories that he can relate to. Tommy’s fists clenched a little at watching how close they were being to him.
“Um… t-thanks. Um…?”
“It’s Benrey.” They smiled when Gordon looked up at them.
“Benrey… thanks Benrey.” Gordon’s chest felt tight, he wasn’t expecting the ‘guard’ to… care.
“We should get going.” Tommy said, interrupting their moment.
“Oh, yeah bro!”
“Uh, yeah, we should get going.” Gordon moved the door open and stepped inside, gulping at the drop he stepped aside to let the others go through.
“Let’s make sure we don’t run into any of those, fucking alien things.”
Coomer jumped onto the ladder and headed up. “Well, nothing ventured nothing gained!”
Tommy followed not long after, he got over to the ledge and looked down to see Gordon and Bubby struggling up. Benrey floated up and sat on the ledge with them while Bubby and Gordon struggled to get up.
“Y-You, did a good j-job calming h-him.”
“Learned from the best, bro!”
“B-B-But, why did you? H-he’s always mean to y-you.”
Benrey smacked their lips while thinking. “Well uh, because I wanna, be a big cool, be all, be nice. Maybe he a bit, bit angry, like you.”
Tommy stared at Benrey for a moment. Letting out a sigh, Tommy took Benrey’s hand and they headed towards the door. The two looked around the area for any danger, only to see a surviving guard instead. Benrey gulped and moved closer to Tommy who was already tense, the guard spotted them and backed up.
“Wait a minute, Benrey? How the, fuck why did you of all people survive that? You were inside the explosion!” The guard snapped, gripping his gun and pulling it out.
“H-hey bro.” The alien gulped loudly.
“Why I outta get you back in those cells and make sure the both of you are put back in your plac-AGH!” The guard was flung to the ground as Tommy was suddenly on top, pounding his fist into the guard’s face.
“Whoa, whoa!!” Gordon rushed towards Tommy who was blindlessly beating the guy, Benrey grabbed Gordon’s hand and tugged him away.
“I wouldn’t do that bro!”
“Tommy, we need to stay calm!” Dr Coomer managed to pry Tommy off the guard despite his thrashings, the guard coughed and backed away, nose bleeding and possibly broken.
“Tommy, what the fuck…?” Gordon asked, Tommy pressed his back against the wall, breathing heavy and shaking. Knuckles stained in blood.
“Don’t be mad at him bro-YO look out!” Benrey pulled Gordon down as a headcrab pounced at them.
“Oh shit!” He swung his crowbar and clobbered it to death. With a sigh of relief, he looked over at the guard who was being pulled up by Bubby.
“Get up you lazy bastard.”
“I’m up, I’m up. Hm, what the hell are these things?” The guard asked, pointing towards the headcrab.
“I have no idea what they are.” Gordon admitted, though does anyone know what they are?
Tommy glared up at Gordon, this fucker thinks he has any right to tell him to not beat up that bitch? The guard stayed by Gordon, clearly fearing Tommy.
He should be afraid from the shit he’s done. Tommy didn’t notice that the others had already started heading off, he was stuck in his own head, he just wanted to be alone right now. His skin felt tight, like it was itchy, his vision grew fuzzy and everything was too loud, too bright. Everything was too much.
“Tommy?”
Oh not now.
“Tommy, hey man? Are you coming?”
Please make him go away! Tommy shivered, he couldn’t move, he wanted to hide. Please, please, please go away!
“Um, hello?” Gordon gently put his hand on Tommy’s arm, only for him to violently wrench his arm away and back up.
“G-Get away!” Tommy yelled, he stormed off to the direction of Bubby and Dr Coomer, leaving Gordon confused. He looked to the side and saw Benrey staring at the wall.
“Hey what’s up with Tommy? Is he normally this mad? Hello?”
Benrey shook their head a little and looked at Gordon, eyes a bit distant.
“Wha?”
“… Never mind…”
Benrey gave a shrug and headed with the others, Gordon following in tow.
#TTommy#tested tommy au#tested tommy x benrey#Tested Tommy#tested tommy ch 3#violence tw#tw trauma#caps tw
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Loveless Glasses
What was Valentine's Day, but a way to monetize a holiday primarily based around affection and joy around lovers? Or not. Vivi muses, drumming her fingers against the leather seat. Whatever it was, Vivi didn’t celebrate it. Hell, she didn’t start until a few years ago, and even then it was minimal at best. Minimal being- she bought all the candy she could get February 15th and snack for the rest of the month while listening to podcasts around various whatzahavits and reading strange textbooks in her spare time.
Arthur, on the other hand, was much different. Vivi couldn't wrap her head around that fact. At first, she didn't even notice it, but leading up to it, Arthur was slowly changing out the colors of his outfit into light pinks and reds. Then on the eve of the mediocre holiday, he would use his spare time to make them-... her gifts for the day. Last year he spent the entire week making her a custom leather bound book, going as far as to take a class on book binding, just for that! … Not that she didn't appreciate it, no, she was stunned beyond belief and wanted to do something for him as well. But… this behavior was startling obvious when they spent a majority of their time cramped in the van. She glances over her shoulder, watching Mystery snooze in a ball on one of her spare hoodies, unaware of Arthur’s persistent work. Then again, he may have purposefully started to drown it out. Glancing back over at him, her eyes fall to the many, many cans scattered around him. So unaware and oblivious to her watching him for the upteenth time that week.
Don’t get her wrong, she loves road trips, and she loves catching surprises when they were still in development. Spending time with certain people and having a glorified sleep over over the course of a month, or week. Even better when she is so completely aware as to why they’re so excited about whatever they’re hiding from her. Vivi never let them know that she did. And she loved how their eyes would light up and the joy that went into it. But this?
She didn’t love this. Didn’t love how he stayed up all night working and scouring his computer for nonexistent clues, and now he hardly sleeps more than an hour per night - especially now due to the fact that he’s tinkering with a pair of sunglasses..
Pink, a sharp magenta.
Hesitantly, Vivi brushes her fingers against the wire of her black ones. Those pink ones broke last week, and she was more than happy to forget about them- she didn't even know where she got it, much less why she wore it- and instead being content with these raggedly black ones. They had a charm to them. But no matter what she said, Arthur insisted. Reluctantly she handed them over for him to start blueprinting and getting to work… Said he can add something that allows her to spot more spiritual entities.
Watching this? She wished she simply threw them out. Nonetheless, her focus reverts back to Arthur. To his hunched back and his stained and dirtied vest that Arthur always cared about. He always got fussy over it,
Something is wrong here. It shouldn’t be going this way. It shouldn’t.
The thoughts had been repeating in the back of her head ever since this road trip started. Getting louder and more persistent to the point where Vivi couldn’t ignore it. And despite that, she didn't act on it by Arthurs request.
Crawling over the seats, she hops onto the lower deck She should have put a stop to this a long fucking time ago. Her black rimmed glasses slip from off her nose and clatters to the floor, but Vivi doesn’t notice, even when it cracks and a lense pops from under her foot.
The van shifts and rocks from the sudden weight change, finally popping the little Buble Arthur was trapped in, and his brain flicker with dizziness when he looks back at her. Evident by how his head waved and he gripped the ground.
For some reason, Vivi freezes. Her sleep ridden brain skidding to a stop like a deer in headlights, and it didn’t provide a proper response until Arthurs expression changes. For the first time in what seems like months, the corners of his mouth draw up, and he smiles at her, “Hey Vi.. Happy Valentines da..”
That was enough. Cogs turning in her head and the sound drowns him out because Vivi isn't able to hear him past the rising ring. Built up emotion suppressed so heavily Vivi couldn’t distinguish what it was made of. But the ugly mix of steam powers her body forth, feet so heavy that she was almost stomping. That is until he’s watching her with alarm, staring up at her with an expression of confusion decorating his face.
Over her shoulder, Vivi can hear Mystery yawn. Jump over the cushions, and she can feel like piercing stare drive into her shoulder. If she was any less confused, and tired, she would send the white dog a reassuring smile.
But she wasn’t. In a fashion that was far too dramatic- even for her- she falls to her knees, forehead bouncing and hitting his shoulder.
“Viv’?” He tosses his lap top aside and Vivi resist the urge to spit at it. Instead half focusing on the alarm evident in his eyes. When Vivi doesn’t respond, only sinking in closer, it occurs to him. Arthur grips one of her arms gently and loops his metal one. He knew why. Didn’t need an explanation for her sudden shift in attitude.
Why? She’s tired. Vivi’s really, really fucking tired, hasn’t slept in maybe two days and now the flood gates of thought have opened and allowed her impulsiveness to bleed even more into the box of clarity and action.
It was nothing compared to Arthur, but her head screams and rings and everywhere she looked it was spinning and so blurry and yet falling asleep meant being victim to some panic inducing sleep paralysis or the worry that Arthur would push it too far. The fear and stress was immense.
And every night, Arthur would be there when she tossed and turned. Came to the bark and call from Mystery who often realized when that would occur. Arthur cared, and he loved her. He didn’t need some shitting holiday to express it, and she knew that. He would also give the world to her if given the chance, even if it meant he would die. He was so much better than her in that regard, he actually cares for his friends. He-
Arthur’s lifting her the smallest bit, holding her against his chest with mild difficulty and extreme caution, before plopping her down and rearranging her onto their- her bed. The thought pokes and prods and stabs through her brain, but she couldn’t even come up with a proper reason for feeling this dead. Arthur was suffering, not her!
She knew that. But with it, she only can make out the thrum of something distorted and wrong in her head. Knots and ribbons of wrongness tangled in horrific messes.
Arthur fluffs the pillow under her head and reaches over to snags a folded, knitted blanket adorning primarily yellow and white and- clarity rings through again and Vivi’s mind focus’s on that blanket because she made that for him, why is he- drapes it over her. Gingerly tucking it under her, like a child.
For a single second golden meets bluet, and Arthur gives her his best smile.
Only to try and leap back. Vivi’s arms shot up, fingers tightly lacing behind his back. A yelp gets lodged in his throat as she rips him down against her. Much to his surprise, he’s now laying completely on top of her. Arthur blinks blankly and tries to snag a handle on anything to pull him up until Vivi rolls them both over and he is next to her. A blanket- his blanket- hurriedly being thrown over his side and in that moment he realizes what she's doing, but a bit too late.
Arthur clears his throat, “Vivi-”
“Shut up, I don’t care,” She hisses in response, burying her face against his chest to keep him steady... at least that's one part of the reason, the other part being that she couldn't stand this part of herself and didnt want him to bear witness, “I don't care about this person you’re after. Please, just- fucking stop for one night..” Too late…
Arthur’s body stiffens, the metallic arm is pinned under her side and the other one lowers to hug her. Murmurs something illegible into her hair. “I.. Vivi, I - I have to find him.. F-for you-”
A fit convulses through her and she tightens her hold, she glares harder into his shirt, not caring about the wet drops of tears wetting it now. Instead, “Don’t do it for me then. I would want more than anything in the entire fuckin’ world for you to stop all of this.”
“I can’t-”
Vivi grits her teeth, imaginary steam burning her lungs, “You won't be able to find them if you’re dying, Artie. Wh-what then?” She asks, her voice quivering from frustration- As the ball in her chest fights and jumps to leap out of her chest in the form of sobs and pain and screams instead of the cold determination and sternness she needed. Instead, her shoulders shake and her hug tightens.
Arthur sputters the smallest bit, before his hand is stroking through her hair, maybe having given up on even debating it.
But oh no, that wouldn’t be enough for her, would it?
“Wha- who is this guy..?” Vivi chokes out, already able to recite what Arthur would say next. Her boyfriend. A man with purple hair. Someone so tall you would be able to spot him in every crowd. A man with a smile so sweet and a scent so spicy he’d made your heart melt with just one.
After a few moments of silence, He says his name, and she doesn’t hear it. Nothing from those inaudible syllables makes a difference in her mind besides allowing the floodgates to flow faster and the cogs to turn harder. The results crashing against her eyelids, and soaking through. Running along her face and her body shudders and curls and Arthur doesn't stop holding her.
She's so selfish… Vivi hasn’t ever deserved him… nothing she’s done or will do can truly make up for everything that Arthur has given her and that one thought hurts. It hurts, and cuts and the ache is so strong
“D-did-...” her mouth is moving faster than her thoughts can collect, rampaging through a weakened filter that was too hard to reinforce, one burning question she always forced herself to shove down, no matter what, “did you love him... ?”
With that one question, Arthur’s body stiffens like he was hit by a wall of bricks, shoulders tight and the fingers half buried in her hair halt and nearly grip, “Is that why you keep- why you keep searching…?”
She's such an asshole, why now? Why on his favorite fucking holiday did you decide to have this breakdown?
Silence fills the van. Mind for the laptop’s fan’s blasting and the scratching of Mystery’s nails against the floor as he tries to plug it in the way he always did. Except for Arthurs stilted and shuddering breath and his all too quick heartbeat thumping away at his ribcage. Save for the swirling thoughts that fill her mind and soul and makes each beat of her own feel like earthquakes and lightning striking her arms and legs and bruising her all over.
Silence. That is until Arthur takes a deep breath, and nestles her close, lips pressed to his forehead as he whispers, “I do.. But I love.. I love you too, I love you both…”
They stay there. Until no light is shining in any part of the small space. Until Mystery is snuggling up to her legs and snoring.
Vivi doesn’t let go.
But in the morning, she wakes up to click-clacking and a gift box beside her pillow.
And nothing in her heart.
#mystery skulls animated#msa#mystery skulls fanfic#vithur#vivi yukino#Arthur kingsmen#Angst#hurt and comfort#referenced lewthur#arthur fuckin lOVEs them BOTH okay?#But does vivi know that?#nah#shes just having some bad fuckin days and the Valuentines whatever was there#and she wiped out a glock#Mystery the dog#eage fanfic
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Only Us [2]
Pairing - Mob!Harrison x Mob!Fem!Reader
Word Count - 2,044
Warnings - drinking, swearing
A/N - i have no excuse as to why this is EIGHT MONTHS LATE. im sorry ok, but life got in the way. im not sure when the next chapter is gonna be up but @rupimiller kinda pressured (but mostly motivated) me to write this, so i guess peer pressure is the way to go? ALSO, the name is based on the song Only Us from Dear Evan Hansen, you can listen to it here. it’ll make sense eventually. anyway enjoy!
chapter 1
—
Harrison woke up that fateful afternoon, feeling numb. He was hungover, with a pounding headache, and the unexpected wake up call from Tom had left him slightly disoriented. This was his new normal, though. The drinking, the smoking and the occasional drugs; anything to ward off his actual feelings, to numb the pain. He was simply going through the motions; taking each day at a time, still struggling to come to terms with reality and the consequences brought about by his actions.
He sat up at the edge of his bed, resting his head in his hands, waiting for the dizziness to subside. With a sigh, he stood up and made his way to the en suite bathroom. Harrison stood in front of the vanity, taking in his reflection. His eyes were bloodshot, lids still heavy with sleep, and the bags under them could never fully describe how tired he truly felt. His hair was disheveled, sticking out every which way. His eyes fell on his torso, on the scar that ran down his chest, all the way to gunshot wound in the middle of his abdomen. The physical wounds had healed very well over time, the scar almost invisible to the untrained eye but the pain was still there, the memories all too fresh in his mind. Pushing those thoughts to the back of his mind, Harrison entered the shower.
—
This meeting had been in the books for a while now and Harrison had been dreading it ever since. When he first discovered that Tom had reached out to you, he was livid. He could not believe that Tom would undermine his authority and ask a stranger for help. Harrison did not want to admit that they needed the help, especially not from some random girl who’s father just happened to be well respected in the industry. However, he was painfully aware that things needed to change if they wanted to stay on top. Once he got over his initial anger, he did of course realise that this was the only way to climb out of the hole they currently found themselves in. So even though he didn’t agree with Tom’s methods he trusted his judgement and decision, partly because Tom had never failed him but mostly because he was grateful that Tom hadn’t dropped the ball on things, unlike him.
And for those reasons, Harrison got dressed and found himself sitting in the passenger seat of the Porsche as Tom drove them to their destination. As he sat in the car, Harrison noticed a silence that would not be there on any other day. Usually, Tom would put on some music for car journeys as long as the one ahead of them and would talk about some client that was being difficult, but today he was way too occupied in his thoughts to bother with any of that. The pair had been inseparable ever since they met in primary school; they were as thick as thieves and had been with each through the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. They knew each other better than the back of their own hands and trusted each other to a fault. So of course Harrison noticed his tense demeanour instantly - his jaw was clenched and his hands were gripping the steering wheel a bit too tightly. His brows were knotted and even though his eyes were trained on the road ahead, they seemed distant and lost in thought.
“Alright, out with it,” said Harrison, who couldn’t take the silence any more. He’d much rather have Tom talk his ear off than watch him battle his thoughts, alone.
“What d’you mean?” asked Tom, not once taking his eyes off the road.
“Mate, I know you’re worried about this but I can’t have you this distracted when we’re there, so what’s on your mind?”
“This needs to work out. I need it to work out,” Tom sighed, “And yes, I’m incredibly aware that this could very well be an ambush. We’re not armed, have no backup and are meeting a very dangerous stranger in the middle of nowhere. Things could end badly, not that they were great to begin with. I don’t know why I agreed to all her terms and I regret not setting our own but we have no leverage, she’s doing us a huge courtesy by even agreeing to meet us ‘cause we all know that she doesn’t need this. Which just makes me question her intentions further, ‘cause like, she can just wait us out and watch from the sidelines as we fuck ourselves over and then there’s one less family in the mob world. But no, she agreed to hear us out and discuss a possible merger which doesn’t really do her any good, at least nothing that I could think of. And to add to that, we barely have anything on her! I’ve done my research, if I can even call it that, and all I could find is that she’s young and runs the business and has ruffled some feathers here and there. That’s it! There’s nothing else on her, not many people even know that she’s a part of her father’s business. She may as well not exist, that’s how little we actually know about her, and that’s never a good sign.”
Tom let out a deep breath and brought a hand up to his eyes to try and relieve some of his headache. He was rambling and he was stressed and tired and way in over his head. This was new territory for both of them and neither knew what was going to happen in that bar. They were desperate and this was probably their last chance to save face and not burn their business to the ground.
“I trust you, you know that right?” Harrison reassured, “You’ve never made a wrong decision. Hell, you’ve managed to keep my ass out of trouble for such a long time you deserve a goddamn award!”
Tom let out a small laugh, “Yeah, it’s not easy mate.”
Harrison clapped Tom’s shoulder, “I know and I’m sorry that we’re in this situation right now and I know it’s my fault even though you’re never gonna blame me for it. But we’re gonna fix this, alright? One way or another.”
“Yeah.”
Harrison didn’t really know if he was going to accept your offer, he didn’t even know the specifics of the deal that you had discussed with Tom. But he trusted him to make the right decision so he stayed silent while they sat in the rundown bar waiting for you to arrive.
—
Forty-five minutes.
They had been sitting there in that bar for forty-five minutes, drinking and waiting. Tom was still anxious and lost in his thoughts while Harrison was getting more annoyed with every passing second. He’d suggested leaving twenty minutes ago but stayed because he didn’t want to argue with Tom.
“This is ridiculous,” he muttered, getting up from the booth to make his way to the bar to get himself yet another whiskey. The bartender had been eyeing them ever since they walked through the doors, sometimes even eavesdropping in on their conversation from time to time. He handed Harrison his drink, without exchanging any words and watched as he walked back towards the booth before continuing with his work.
Harrison sat down beside Tom, sipping on his drink. He had almost finished his drink when a soft thud caught his attention. His head immediately moved in the direction of sound, eyes straining to see the figures at the door in the dimly lit bar. His eyes were trained on you, as you and a guy entered the bar, following your every move. His eyes travelled across your figure; you were wearing a light blue shirt with some trousers and a pair of heels and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t think you were attractive.
“Mate, she’s hot,” said Tom, his face flushed with relief at your arrival. Harrison gave him a pointed look. “What, you told me to relax?” Harrison rolled his eyes but a soft chuckle fell from his lips.
He watched as you took a seat at the bar, listening to your conversation with the bartender. He tried to get a read on you, as you intentionally made them wait longer, but couldn’t which was new for him. You finally finished your conversation with the bartender, grabbed your drink and joined them at their booth.
“Hello boys,” you said, as you sat across from the two of them, studying them. Tom was sitting up straight, his fingers interlaced in front of him on the table, eager whereas Harrison leant back in his seat, his left arm resting on the backrest of the booth, uninterested.
“Fucking finally.”
“Excuse me?”
“We’ve been waiting for an hour.”
“No, you’ve been waiting for fifty minutes. But I really do apologise for making you wait ten more minutes than I initially planned; you see, something important came up.”
A snort left Tom’s lips that he tried (and failed) to cover up with a cough and Harrison rolled his eyes.
“Anyway, I guess I should properly introduce myself, eh? I’m Y/N Y/L/N. Yes, Y/L/N. Meaning that Y/D/N Y/L/N is my father. And you must be the Osterfield family disappointment, yeah?”
You were trying to rile him up, push his buttons as far as you can, just to see what he would do. You noticed his jaw clenching, tightening the grip on his glass, his eyes never leaving yours as he brought the whiskey to his mouth.
“Thank you for agreeing to meet with us on such short notice, Ms. Y/L/N,” began Tom. “You may have heard that we are in need of some assistance, financially, and the prospect of a deal with you and your dad is very appealing to us. As discussed, we’ve agreed to share the profit and territory with your organisation. In exchange, we’re willing to provide you with any assistance or man power that you may need.”
While Tom was talking, your eyes never left Harrison’s; his icy stare meeting yours. You only looked away when Tom was done rambling.
“It’s Tom, yeah?” You asked rhetorically, finally looking at him, “you can cut the bullshit, Tom. Everyone in the fucking country knows you’re sinking and the sharks are beginning to circle and you’re need me to come in and save you.”
“That’s one way to put it.”
“That is the only way to put it. Let’s be honest, I’m your best, worst option. Everyone else wants you dead, and most of the time I agree with that sentiment. But you could be useful.”
“Oh how so?” asked Harrison mockingly, pushing himself off the backrest and leaning forward. He knew you were going to be cocky given the circumstances, but your know-it-all attitude was beginning to annoy him.
“I don’t know yet.”
“Bullshit.”
“Well, you’re just gonna have to wait to find out.”
“That’s not how it works, love.”
“That’s how it’s gonna work, love.”
You knew of Harrison’s reputation. Cutthroat, unyielding, short tempered. Nothing you hadn’t dealt with before. Yet he annoyed you, which wasn’t something you were expecting.
“So, Tom. How does 80-20 sound?”
“Fuck, no.”
“What, no way. That’s not what we discussed on the phone. We settled on 60-40.”
“Yeah I know, love. But you see, I run the south and you barely have a grip on the north. Your business is failing and honestly, I don’t trust you. So, 80-20.”
“We still have some power.”
“In your fucking dreams, Osterfield. The only reason why you’re not dead yet cause people are still scared of you.”
“And you’re not?”
“I don’t see anything to be intimidated by.”
“Would you go for 70-30, maybe?” tried Tom.
“No we’re not doing fucking 70-30!” said Harrison, “It’s 60-40. That’s it. Take it or leave it.”
“Well, it was nice meeting you, boys. Let’s go Michael.” you said, getting up from the booth. Tom had his head in his hands, Harrison was angry underneath the cold exterior but also worried. Didn’t Tom say that this was their best chance?
“Fuck you, mate.”
chapter 3
tags - @deleteidentity @rupimiller
#only us#harrison osterfield#haz osterfield#mob!au#mob!harrison#mob!haz#mob!reader#harrison x reader#harrison osterfield x reader#harrison osterfield x y/n#harrison osterfield x you#haz osterfield x reader#haz osterfield x y/n#harrison osterfield imagine#harrison osterfield fanfic#harrison osterfield fanfiction#haz osterfield fanfiction#haz osterfield fic
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If you still take requests can you write kiss 30 with bokuroo? 🐱🦉
Ahhh, sorry, so so sorry that this took so long. I started on it a few weeks back and completely forgot about it! But here it is :D
Kuroo groanded when he rolled over. It was going o be a hard day, he knew it already. His head was pulsing and he had the familiar migraine headache placed right behind his eyes. It hurt, the lights hurt him and everything hurt. It was all too much.
He didn't get the attacks often, but enough to make him vary of it and take care if himself the best he could. He had a healthy appetite, he still worked out as much as a university student could do, and got enough sleep.
Which was why he always got so surprised when he got a migraine attack.
It was easier when he lived at home. His father barely had time to cut of work on such short notice, expect for emergines. But his grandmother were always by his side to hug and to hold and to help him to the bathroom when he needed it. He wished they were here with him.
He groanded again and tried to sit up. The first class would sart and one of his prides was the he never missed lectures.
His neck was killing him. One time during a practice volleyball in junior high, he hadn dived for the ball. He collided with another teammate, and and while injure was minimum, his neck had gotten a pretty bad hit, ot even swelled up a little bit. He remembered how he couldn't even turn his neck n the following days. It was like that now, only worse and just lifting his head sent his nerves int haywayer.
He sat up and leant against the wall.
Bokuto was singin in the shower, as usual. Often, that would be the cheery voice he woke up to and he would laugh of his boyfriend. Because Bokuto couldn't really carry a tune. Now, it was ardourus to listen too.
Bokuto wasn't loud in the mornings and not during his showers, despite the low singing, but the smallest of sounds was enough to make him wince and taste bile in the back of his throat. Kuroo fought against yelling- that would only backfire on him anyway.
He lied down again and stared up at the ceiling, zoning completely out. He didn't even hear Bokuto exit the shower and come into the room to change.
“Oi, Tetsu, you should wake up.” Kuroo did hear Bokuto call him. He did, and it hurt. He turned his head towards the source of the sound. His head was unreasonably heavy and it felt like it took quite the amount of energy to meet his lovers eyes. When he did, he could see that a worried look had crossed Bokuto's face.
He hated when he looked like that, and Kuroo hated it more when he was the reason.
“Tetsu...are you feeling bad? Sick?” Bokuto was in his boxers, hair still dripping of water. Kuroo wanted to scold, because that boy would surely wander out in the cold, autumn air before his hair was completely dry and catch the yearly flu. He nodded slowly to him and turned his head back, staring up at the ceiling again. It hurt when he had his eyes open, but at least he wasn't so dizzy then. He felt the bed shift with Bokuto’s weight.
A warm hand pressed down on his forehead. It would be better if it was a cold compress, but the added pressure was heavenly. Kuroo sighed, rough and tired.
“Thanks, Kota.” Kuroo whispered, managing to even use his pet name
Bokuto hummed back to him and moved his hand. “Migraine?” Kuroo nodded back. “I’ll get your medication.” The bed shifted again, and he heard Bokuto make his way back towards the bathroom where they little first aid cabinet was. He used a few seconds to dig out the right medication and Kuroo heard the tap being turned on.
After a couple of minutes after a cold wash cloth was pressed over his forehead. Bokuto excited from room again, but it sounded like he made his way towards their small kitchen. Kuroo sighed into the air and managed to raise a hand to drag the small cloth over his eyes.
“Testu,” Bokuto low voice almost startled him despite hearing him enter the room again. “You should take your medication and drink some water.”
Kuroo felt his body being tugged upwards and he groaned low and deep from his chest. As he got seated upright, the wash cloth fell to his lap. He didn't care, his migraine hurt a lot more when he was sitting and a wave of dizziness made it impossible for him to not sway. Bokuto had to support him.
He opened his eyes and Bokuto was smiling encouragingly at him. The silver haired boy gave him his migraine medication and he popped them into his mouth. A glass of water was brought to his mouth and Kuroo didn't even try to protest that he could do it himself. Because he really didn't feel like he had the energy necessary to hold a small glass of water.
He took a small sip and winched at the cold temperature. It helped, or at least it would help. In a short while hopefully.
He was lied down again, with bokuto's help. The comforter was pulled over him and the washcloth was quickly placed on his forehead again. The room pun when he closed his eyes, but they also hurt a little less. He swallowed hard and pressed down the sickly feeling in his stomach. Hopefully he would just sleep through the day until he was all better again.
Bokuto was sitting next to him, and Kuroo wished that he could spend the day with him. Bokuto always took so good care of him when he had his attacks. He was surprisingly caring and mindful when he wasn't so caught up in his own mind. Kuroo wasn't the one to talk, he could be just as dramatic and rowdy himself, but, Bokuto was there when he needed it the most.
“Hey, I need to get to uni, are you sure you can handle yourself.” Bokuto asked timidly and massaged his tense neck with two fingers. Not to hard, just enough to loosed the tense muscles slightly. Kuroo nodded to him. He prayed that he would just crash for the rest of the day and the next time he woke up, the migrane was reduced to a lingering headache. “I know you probably wont do it, but call or text me if you can. I’ll come home right away. There is a bowl of chips and a bottle of water on your nightstand, try to nibble no it, so you don't get too dehydrated.”
If Kuoo had been in better shape, he would have praised the other boy of how good he had become to handle these hard days. The first time he freaked out and made everything worse. Kuroo didn't say or do anything back. Bokuto would understand.
Bokuto left him, not before he did give him a small kiss on his head.
And he slept. he fell a sleep a little after he heard the front door being locked. His eyes felt swollen and his head was still pushing hard, but he managed to sleep.
He slept until he woke up with a jolt.
Kuroo didn’t know what was the cause, but it felt like the headache hasn't lessen a bit. His eyes burned, kind of like when he was too tired to even keep himself upright. An uncomfortable feeling was pressed against his throat and it was hard to swallow. The room was tilting and his mouth was slowly filling with saliva.
Kuroo groaned as he sat up. He wished Bokuto was here to steady him and help him to the bathroom. He looked the at the glass of water and the snack layed out for him, but it all just made him more squeezy.
He reached for his phone and unlocked it. The screen light burned and he knew it would make everything worse. It was late and he had actually slept for a few hours. Bokuto would be home soon.
Kuroo felt the nausea build up and debated to just wait for the inevitable, but the thought of making a mess on their cheap rug and bed was annoying. An Bokuto had enough to deal with. He didn't need to add any extra work for the both of them since he actually could help it.
He made his way to the bathroom m and crouched down by the toilet. He really hated throwing up and he hated it more when he had a migraine. The light was off, but the daylight did plenty of work brightening up the room. They only had a small window with some light cream color curtains. He really should buy new ones.
Just when he started to heave of the toilet, he heard Bokuto enter their home. Kuroo wished he could great him, or at least state his whereabout, but all that came out of him were a gag and some bile. He hadn't eaten today and the last meal he ate was the dinner he shared with Bokuto yesterday. He actually didn't have anything in his stomach to throw up. Expect for water and bile.
Bokuto knocked on the bathroom door. It was open. He never locked the door when he had migraines. One time, before he moved out, he had passed out in the bathroom and his grandparents didn't have a spare key outside and yeah, havoc burst out in their small home a few years back. And his dad stern yet worried rule was that he should never lock the door again.
Bokto entred, didn't say aging but soon Kuroo felt a big warm hand rub his back. Another cold press was placed at his neck. And spirits,, that neck hurt so much. It was tense and sore and ached every time he tried to turn. It just added to his already arduous headache.
A practically harsh gag almost toppled him over. He grabbed the rim, it hurt.
“Hey, calm down and breath.” Bokuto stressed to him, urgently. Scared that he might faint. That had happened a few times before in Bokuto presence. “I got you.”
Kuroo breathed deeply, ignoring the tears that had gathered in the corner of his eyes. He coughed and tried to not shake so much, but his whole body trembled and he just wanted it to be over.
The cold press was remed and Bokuto wiped his face with a washcloth. He got some mouthwash to get rid of the aftertaste and it did help a little bit. It didn't help in his migina bit it did help on how he was feleign.
Kuroo cured in on himself. He never knew why he got like this every time he got an attack. He just hated how he had to deal with it and how it might even take days before he was to the mend again. It just added stress and those medications didn't work on the worst headaches. All he could do was to cry about it.
“Let's get to bed, so you can sleep.” Bokuto said and Kuroo was guided to sit back down and rest against his boyfriend’s chest. Bokuto wrapped him in his arms, like he did so often. And Kuroo let himself fold into a small ball with his back pressed against bouto chest.
“I’ll help you, Tetsu-cahn, I got you.” Bokuto hummed to him and Kuro breathed out and rested his head back.
A light kiss was pressed to the nape of his neck, and for the first time since the day started, Kuroo felt his migraine lessen up ever so slightly. Just for a moment.
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Building Virgil Hawkins in D&D
I need to distract myself from this X-Men melodrama shit so I’m doing another D&D build. This time how about we try to build one of Dwayne’s McDuffie’s greatest creation, electric nerd from Dakota, who may be known to you as Static or
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First, let us consider the goals of this build. We need to accurately reflect Virgil’s wide array of powers, including electric and magnetic abilities, some sort of healing and resistance to mind control and telepaths and few of Static’s iconic moves. And second, we need to get him his floating disc.
For Abilities, we will be using standard point array (15, 14, 13, 12, 10, 8). As always I follow some of the guidelines from Tulok the Barbarian who inspired the creation of these builds. If you want or your DM tells you to roll or use point buy, go ahead and use this is a guideline. Remember that even numbers are better. We will prioritize Intelligence, Virgil is a textbook superhero with a textbook in each hand. Constitution will follow as de facto one of the most important stats in the game, then Dexterity and Wisdom, our lowest stats being Charisma and Strength. The base should look like this STR: 8 CON: 14 DEX: 13 INT: 15 WIS: 12 CHA: 10
Now for D&D outdated term for species, Race. As a Boom Baby Virgil is a Human of the Variant kind. Variant Human gets +1 to two Ability scores, I suggest rounding up numbers for Intelligence and Dexterity. You also get a bonus skill, choose Acrobatics
Variant Humans also get a feat. We will pick Magic Initiate, letting us grab two Cantrips and one 1st level spell from Cleric spell list - we can cast Cantrips as much as we want but we can cast 1st level spell only once per long lest and only on the lowest level.
Sacred Flame forces a single target to make a Dexterity saving throw or take 1d8 radiant damage - this scales with your total level to 2d8 at 5th, 3d8 at 11th and 4d8 at 17th level - you can easily say it is one of Static’s bolts of electricity since radiant damage is basically light and light is s form of energy.
Speaking of which, our second Cantrip will be Light. Upon touching an object, not larger than 10 feet in any dimension, you make it emanate bright light in a 20-foot radius and dim light in the next 20 feet. It lasts for one hour, until you cast it again or take an action to dismiss it.
For 1st level spell, we will pick Cure Wounds, which allows us to regain 1d8+ your wisdom modifier of hit points. This is one way to give Static his, admittingly minor, healing powers.
For the Background, we will customize one. Pick up two skills - Perception and Athletics. The former is one of the most important skills in the game and the latter is only skill tied to Strength - meaning that if your DM asks to have you roll a Strength save or check you can likely argue it should be Athletics check instead. Take proficiency with Herbalism Kit to make yourself healing potions and a free language of your choice, pick something campaign relevant. And Watcher’s Eye feature from City Watch’s background, which allows you to recognize easier secret hideouts of local law enforcement and criminal organizations.
Now for the Class. While he received his powers through a freak accident, Virgil is known from his creative and intelligent approach to his abilities, he clearly studied them and related physics to do what he can do. As such, we will make him a Wizard. Besides, this is an RPG nerd, I bet you he played enough D&D to know Wizard is Tier 1 class across the editions.
We get proficiencies with daggers, darts, slings, light crossbows and quarterstaffs (which is close to a weapon Static used in one of the incarnations but useless for the build), Intelligence and Wisdom saving throws and two skills, pick Investigation and Arcana, which is closest D&D fantasy setting has to science.
Wizard’s main powers are spells. You get a spellbook to which you copy spells, each new spell copied takes 2 hours and costs 50 gp. Each day during long rest you choose which spells to prepare for next day, equal in number and level to the numbers show in Spell Slots Per Day part of Wizard table plus your Intelligence modifier. They cannot be of a higher level than that of which you have available spell slots. I see it as Virgil having a notebook to which he writes down his new ideas how to use his powers and keeping notes on how they work.
If a spell asks you to make an attack roll it is with your proficiency modifier + your Intelligence modifier. If it asks for a saving throw, the difficulty of the save is those two modifiers plus eight.
First, we learn Cantrips, small spells that Static can cas as many times as he wants. We start with 3 of them and my suggestions are:
Lightning Lure - the target must make a Strength saving throw of be pulled 10 feet towards you and take lightning damage - which scales up with your total level just like Sacred Flame above - if it ends 5 feet or less away from you.
Prestidigitation - just a number of minor utility effects that are fun to have and can easily be portrayed as you using your electric powers to make them happen.
Shocking Grasp - you make a melee attack, with an advantage if the target is wearing metal armor, on a hit you deal 18d lightning damage (see the mentions of scaling above, same deal here) and cannot take reactions until the start of its next turn. Virgil has a different name for it, obviously
We also start having six 1st-level spells in the Spellbook. I’ll list my suggestions and then will list spells for higher levels whenever you get new spell slots for it but remember, you can add any number of spells you come across as long as you have the money for it so if you see something that feels especially Static-like or just good to have, go ahead and get it.
Shield is cast as a reaction to upcoming attack or an enemy casting Magic Missle, it lasts one round and gives you +5 to Armor Class and protects from Magic Missle
Absorb Elements is also a reaction spell letting you gain resistance to upcoming damage of any elemental type, and then deliver 1d6 damage of that type to the first person who hits you. I see it as some of Static’s resistance to other electric powers.
Witch Bolt deals the target 1d12 lightning damage AND you can then stay and concentrate for up to one minute, to make it take another 1d12 damage on each turn as long as you won’t do anything else, target doesn’t move from the area or won’t hide behind a cover, making you lose the sight of it. And it scales if you cast it from a higher spell slot, adding extra d12 for a level.
Feather Fall lets you slow the fall of up to five targets for one minute, if they land in this time they take no damage and land on their feet. Explain it as Virgil using some of his magnetic powers.
Chromatic Orb is another offensive spell, it allows you to make a ranged spell attack for 3d8 (+1d8 for each additonal level of a slot from which you cast it) damage of chosen type. Since this is Static you’ll be likely choosing lightning or thunder or maybe fire (as with any spell dealing fire damage I’ll bring up, just say the target got burned by lightning) as lighting ball, but acid, cold and poison are also available in a pinch.
Mage Armor increases your armor class to 13 + your Dexterity modifier, which may go a long way since you do not wear armor. Write it off as Static wrapping his body in a protective magnetic forcefield. Also, it stacks with Shield since it changes how your AC functions and Shield is a bonus to your AC, just saying for incoming conflict with the DM.
EXTRA: Tenser's Floating Disk lets you create a disc that can follow you and carry up to 500 pounds of weight but you cannot ride it as it has no power to move on its own. It is a poor substitute for Static’s disc but if you have a generous DM you might talk about it and work something out, maybe agree to combine it with your flying spells. If not, ignore this bullet point
Finally, you get Arcane Recovery, allowing you to regain some of your expended spell slots every short rest. These spell slots cannot be of level higher than 6th and their combined level cannot be higher than half of your wizard level rounded up.
On 2nd level Wizard gets to choose Arcane Tradition and we’ll pick School of Theurgy. it allows us to choose one of the Cleric domains and gain a limited number of benefits from it. We will explain it as Virgil trying to study nature of his powers from all angles, both Arcane and the Divine since we’re treating magic as replacement science for this build. We will choose Tempest Domain. From now on you whenever you can advance in levels you can replace one of the spells in your spellbook with Cleric Domain spell of a level you have spell slots for. If one of the spells I suggested isn’t working out for you or you picked a spare spell to replace (or just stumbled across it because it is also a Wizard spell), grab Thunderwave - it forces every creature in 15-feet radius from you to make a Constitution saving throw or take 2d8 thunder damage and be pushed 10 feet away from you.
You also get Channel Arcana, allowing you to copy effects of Cleric Channel Divinity feature, you can do it once per short or long rest (twice from 6th level and three times from 18th) and choose one of two options. Destructive Wrath lets you not roll damage on a spell dealing lightning or thunder damage - you just declare it deals maximum damage. Divine Arcana lets you add +2 to an attack roll or saving throw difficulty of a next spell you cast if it requires one.
The third option is Turn Undead, which basically frightens undead creatures that see you - everyone must make a Wisdom saving throw at your spell save difficulty or be turned for 1 minute or until it takes damage. It forces them to spend its turn moving away from you, makes them unable to willingly move closer than 30 feet towards you and is prevented all actions or reactions other than dash to get out of what doesn’t let it move or dodge if it cannot move. I guess we all know now why Static wasn’t in Blackest Night as he would make Nekron and all Black Lanterns run back where they came from.
And 3rd level you get 2 2nd level spell slots so I think it’s time we get you your Static Cling. We will need two spells for it. Spider Climb is a concentration spell that allows you to walk on walls up for one hour. Hold Person forces a Wisdom Saving throw to a forced target, making it paralyzed as long as you maintain concentration, up to one minute, with additional saving throws at the end of each of its turns. If cast from a higher-level spell slot it can affect an extra target for each level.
On 4th level, you get an ability score improvement, boost your Intelligence. For your next 3rd level spell pick Levitate, it lets you make yourself or another target float in the air and control on what height it is. Living creatures can move with speed as if they were climbing. If your DM is generous, convince them to let you combine it into one spell with Tenser’s Floating Disc. If not, cas it at a metal disc tied to your feet and move with your other leg like a skateboard or just try other tricks to get that effect, something may get past the DM.
You also learn a new Cantrip, Booming Blade lets you make a weapon melee attack. On a hit, the target is coated energy until your next turn and if it willingly moves, it will take 1d8 Thunder Damage, scaling to 2d8 once you reach 5th level, 3d8 on 11th and 4d8 on 17th, from 5th level the attack itself also deals extra 1d8 lightning damage and an additional 1d8 from levels 11th and 17th
5th level Wizard learns two 3rd level spells and you get a 3rd one on 6th level.
Protection from Energy grants you or someone else up to 1 hour of resistance to the chosen type of damage and lighting and thunder are both on the list of options
Lightning Bolt lets you deal to each creatures in 100 feet long and 5 feet wide line 8d6 lightning damage (+1d6 for each additional level from which you cast the spell) and a half on a Dexterity saving throw.
Fly lets you give a target a flying speed of 60 feet for the duration but it is a concentration spell so be careful. Also, unlike Levitate if you are still in the air when it ends you fall on your face.
On 6th level, you also get your Arcane Tradition Feature. Arcane Acolyte lets you grab Tempest Cleric’s Wrath of the Storm, which you can use as a reaction when hit by a melee attack from a creature you can see to deal 2d8 lightning or thunder damage to it or half on a successful Dexterity saving throw.
On 7th and 8th Level you gain 1 4th level spell each.
Elemental Bane lets you remove resistance from a target that fails its constitution save and take additional 2d6 damage each time it is dealt damage of chosen type. It is sadly concentration so you may need to cooperate with someone else on it. Consider it for a Black Lightning team-up.
Storm Sphere creates a 20-foot radius sphere of whirring air that forces creatures inside to make a Strength saving throw or take 2d6 bludgeoning damage, turns area inside into difficult terrain and allows you to, while maintaining concentration on it, on each turn take a bonus action to make a ranged spell attack with an advantage against a target inside for 4d6 lightning damage.
On 8th level, you get an ability score improvement, but we will take a feat. Elemental Adept lets you ignore resistance to lightning damage and whenever you roll damage for them, you treat any 1 on the dice as a 2.
9th Level Wizard gets 5th level spells
We will grab one from Tempest Domain - Call Lightning. It works only outside and creates storm clouds above you in 60-foot radius, then choose a spot and made it hit by lightning, dealing 3d10 lightning damage to all creatures within 5 feet from that point, half on a successful DEX save. You can maintain concentration up to 10 minutes to make this continue and make another lighting strike on each of your turns. It deals extra 1d10 damage when cast from a higher level and an extra 1d10 if there was already stormy weather when you cast it. I’m sure there is a scientific explanation on Virgil suddenly stepping on Storm’s territory but I sucked at physics.
We also get an extra 4th Level Spell. Fire Shield surrounds your body in thin flames for 10 minutes, no concentration, that provide you light and either a) resistance to cold damage and 2d8 fire damage to a creature that hit you or b) resistance to fire damage and 2d8 cold damage. Explain it as Virgil using electricity and it burning whoever touched him.
10th Level wizard gets a new Cantrip and a new 5th Level Spell
Our Cantrip will be Mage Hand, it creates an invisible hand that can do minor things for you up to 30 feet away. It cannot attack or activate magic items or carry more than 10 pounds but it is a good way to show Virgil’s magnetic powers performing minor tasks.
Our 5th Level Spell is gonna be Wall of Force, it summons a, maintained by concentration up to 10 minutes, invisible wall through which nothing can pass, be it enemies, projectiles, spells or even ghosts (no, seriously) and it cannot be dispelled by Dispel Magic. The only way to destroy it is a Disintegrate spell.
On 10th level we get a new Arcane Tradition feature and School of Theurgy grants us Thunderous Strike from a Tempest Domain. Thunderous strike lets you push a Large or smaller creature up to 10 feet away from you whenever you deal it thunder or lightning damage.
11th Level Wizard opens for us 6th Level Spells. Chain Lighting hits a single target and then up to 3 other targets (+1 extra if you cast it from higher levels) within 30 feet from it and deals them 10d8 Lightning Damage, half on a successful Dexterity saving throw.
12th level wizard gets an Ability Score Improvement, cap your Intelligence as your most important stat.
13th Level Wizard gets 7th Level Spells. Forcecage traps creatures within 20 feet radius inside an invisible force-field that they cannot leave through nonmagical means, can’t be dispelled by Dispel Magic and traps even ghosts. It lasts up to 1 hour. Attempts at teleporting out of it are successful on Charisma saving throw so it’s a good thing we just maxed out our Save Difficulty.
14th Level gives us our last School of Theurgy Arcane Feature, Tempest Cleric’s Stormborn. You now have a flying speed equal your walking speed as long as you’re outside. Honestly, at this point, you can forgo other flying means and grab a disc and just say you use it to surf in the air, DM should understand.
15th Level means 8th Level Spells. Mind Blank for 24 hours, no concentration needed, gives immunity to psychic damage, sensing emotions, reading thoughts, frightened and charmed conditions through magical means and divination spells, even up to including freaking Wish. Cast one on you each morning to never fear you may get kidnapped and exposed to Anti-Life Equation
16th Level Wizard gets Ability Score Improvement, I suggest adding +2 to Constitution - many of your spells are concentration so you don’t want to blow that check and extra hit points (and remember, upgrading your Constitution grants you extra his points retroactively as well).
17th Level allows us to pick a 9th level spell. We will reach our last gift from Tempest Cleric - Destructive Wave. This spell deals every creature within a 30-foot radius from you 5d6 thunder damage and 5d6 radiant or necrotic damage or half of it on successful Dexterity saving throw. Amusingly enough it is a paladin spell that Cleric only gets as a bonus from Tempest Domain and we got it on a Wizard due to School of Theurgy. No one can say Virgil hasn’t studied his powers thoughtfully.
18th level grants us Spell Mastery, allowing us to pick a single 1st level spell and a single 2nd level spell. From now on when Virgil has them prepared he can cast them as Cantrips, as many times as he wants without spending a spell slot, but only at their lowest level, higher ones still require a spent spell slot. Don’t worry about your picks, if they don’t work changing them costs you only 8 hours of study.
We also get a 5th level spell slot and my recommendation is Hold Monster - it basically works like Hold Person but is not limited in who can it be used against. See it as Virgil improving his Static Cling power.
19th Level Wizard gets the last Ability Score Improvement but we will once again take a feat. Even better we will take the same feat as before - Elemental Adept, now granting its bonuses to another type of damage we’re dealing, thunder.
We get a new spell slot for 6th level spells. Globe of Invulnerability surrounds you with a 10-foot radius force field that can be upheld with Concentration up to 1 minute. No 5th level spell cast outside the globe can affect the area within it and vice-versa and this effect blocks one additional level of spells for each level of spell slot above 6th that you cast it from.
20th Level Wizard allows us to choose 3 3rd-level spells as Signature Spells. It basically works like Spell Mastery described above plus these spells are always prepared and do not count against our limit of spells prepared. They don’t even have to be spells we were discussing here, as that level has some fan-favorite utility spells like Counterspell, Dispel Magic or Haste.
We also get a new 7th level spell slot. Reverse Gravity causes everyone in a 50-foot radius to fly upwards for 100 feet and if they hit something on their way they take damage as if they feel on the ground from above.
And so we have it, Static as a 20th level Wizard. How playable it is? I mean, it’s a 20th level wizard, so a very much. You have several means to fly, can dish out a lot of damage and overcome resistance and have enough means to protect yourself and control the battlefield. On the downside you’re squishy and if Power Word: Kill won’t get you instantly, one or two hits should likely bring you down within the range. We didn’t cap Constitution which is means concentration is not as good as it should be, lack of armor and low Dexterity means we’re easy to hit and forces us to rely on all these protective spells and stay away from the first line. Finally, even with Elemental Adept Lightning and Thunder are things a lot of enemies will be resistant or even immune to. But unlike his comic book, D&D is a team effort so join forces with someone more durable, who can take a hit. And in a pinch remember you can pick up more spells than the ones I listed. Say what you want about him, but Static has shown he can think on his feet.
You have any suggestions or criticism about the build? Be sure to share them, And check out my previous Cassandra Cain and Nico Minoru builds.
- Admin
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Still Human Chapter 10
(A/N: IT’S FINALLY DONE!!! HOLY SHIT I’M SO tired it’s 11 PM someone help me Also-I really, really, really need a beta reader, you guys. I’m looking over old chapters and they have small mistakes that I’m just now fixing. If anyone is interested, PM me) THIS CHAPER HAS TRIGGERS! It has a meltdown description and a death threat. Please don’t read it if either of those disturb you! Tag list: @tinkslittlebelle, @bunny222, @wewuzraw, @narali2003 (Want to be added to the tag list? Send me an ask, I’d be glad to add you!)
If Virgil made a list of things he didn’t like, Christmas would probably top it. It was during a bloody cold and miserable month, was too cutesy for his taste and promoted lies for kids 1 to 13. Mall Santas that smelled of old beer faked jolliness for screaming, snot nosed, entitled little brats who were spoiled beyond belief, sprouting their ridiculously long lists to utter strangers. People sent into debt due to having to buy presents for “friends” and other people they won’t have to talk to again until the next boozefest they call New Year’s Day. It did bring a small break from classes, however. Most likely the best plus Virgil could think of. Spending hours on end lost in the world of music and graphite was the best therapy he could hope to have. Unfortunately for him, Lily loved the Christmas season. And-being so determined to make sure her friend had a social life-made it her mission to get Virgil invited to every up-coming Christmas party she could think of.
“VIRGIIIIIIIIIL~!” Lily yelled out, slamming the door of Virgil’s dorm open. The younger male flinched hard enough to fall of the bed as the blond woman came in. She leaned over him and chuckled at his predicament. “Did I scare ya?” “No, I always expect you to come screaming through my door,” Virgil snarled. Lily laughed again. Virgil swatted her hand away when she offered to help him up. “Tell me, Virgie,” Lily said in a fake innocent voice. “Do you have anything to wear to a party?” “Bitch my closet only has stuff in black,” Virgil shot back. “And anyway, why would you even ask that? You know I don’t like going out.” “But Viiiirgiiiie…” Lily whined. “If you keep this up, you won’t have any friends after you graduate! Don’t you want people to remember you?” “The less people remember me, the better.” Lily fell silent, no doubt hearing the undercurrent of hurt in Virgil’s voice. She dropped the topic and went to his closet, yanking it open. “Uh-you lied, bitch. There’s more than just black here.” Virgil raised his head slightly when she turned around, holding out the sleeve of a purple long-sleeved shirt. His argument died in his throat before he even opened his mouth. The blonde female turned back to her friend’s closet, pulling out every bit of coloured fabric she could find. Some of them were hoodies, some of them were shirts, she found some skirts, a pair of leggings and three scarves. “Only stuff in black”, indeed. “Virgil, come here,” she ordered, sprawling the stuff onto the dorm’s unused bed. “I need your help for this.” “I just said, Lily—” Virgil started to argue, but Lily cut him off by grabbing his wrist and dragging him over. “There’s more than just black here,” she knowingly countered the incoming remark. “And it won’t kill you to go to a few parties!” “What if I get roofied?” Virgil asked in a small voice. Lily’s hand struck the back of his head, making him yelp. “Jesus, Virgil,” she said, exasperated. “No one’s going to roofie your drink!” “Really.” Virgil crossed his arms as the friends faced each other. “So you can tell me for CERTAIN that I’m not going to get drugged out of my mind and kidnapped?” There was a tense silence. Lily sighed and threw one of Virgil’s skirts at him. “Put this on.” “Over my dead body.” “Put it on, Virgil!” Lily dug her head back into the closet. Virgil rolled his eyes and moved behind the spare bed to obey.
An hour later, Virgil stood hugging himself against the cold in front of a mansion, the wind blowing the snow around and stinging his stockinged legs. Lily once again didn’t mind the weather—but then she was in a heavy coat and well defended against the cold as Hell onslaught. Virgil only had a flimsy windbreaker over his sweater to help him. “Come on, Virgil!” Lily interrupted him from mentally writing his will, waving him to come to the door. “It’s not that cold!” “B-B-Bitch, you’re w-wearing a th-th-thick c-coat,” Virgil snarled, his teeth chattering. “I d-d-don’t want t-t-to he-hear it.” “Well then wear a coat next time, silly!” Lily walked over and pulled Virgil against her side, sharing her warmth. Virgil relaxed his hug on himself slightly and mumbled a “thanks”. Lily lead Virgil and one of her friends—Virgil never got her name and couldn’t be bothered to at that point—inside the house, nodding to the person who held the door open for them. The music inside throbbed at his head, already triggering a headache. You’d think they played Christmas music at a Christmas party. Not in this college, apparently. “Come on, Virge!” Lily dragged him to a group of people barely illuminated by deep red lights. Virgil forced a smile as Lily introduced him to them. “Caroline, Susan, Jasmine, this is Virgil!” Lily said. “Virgil, my best friends Carrie, Suzy and Jazzie.” “Um…Hello…” Virgil awkwardly held his hand out for them to shake. Caroline’s lip curled in a disgusted way. “Why is he wearing a skirt?” “Why are you wearing a tux?” Lily shot back. “This is different! If a woman wears a tux, she’s breaking a mold. If a guy does…” Caroline trailed off, wilting under Lily and Jasmine’s glares. “No, continue,” Lily said, her voice dripping with fake sweetness. “I want to hear you finish that sentence.” “Nevermind…” Caroline took a drink from her red cup. Lily winked at Virgil, who gave her a grateful smile. Virgil listened half-heartedly as Jasmine launched into an explanation of how “feminine” she felt. Odd thing to say. Caroline oddly didn’t make any snide remarks about it, but she rolled her eyes every time Virgil tried contributing to the conversation. Eventually the girl moved to stand beside Lily and wound up pushing him out of the group. Virgil bit his lip. He knew he should stand up for himself, but he also really didn’t want to hang out with a group of girls all night like a loser. Hell, he didn’t want to be here in the first friggn’ place. He slowly moved away, heading to a table with a bunch of red cups on it. If he acted like he belonged here, maybe nobody would bug him and he’d be able to think of a game plan.
“Okay, cool it, Roman. You’re being ridiculous. Nobody’s staring at you.” Roman took a deep breath, trying to shove any nervousness away. He can do this! He stuck his hands in his hoodie pocket and stepped further into the house. The music blaring in his ears and muffled human speech didn’t really help his internal chill factor. He resisted the urge to play with his hoodie’s sleeves (he knew what that would lead to) and instead elected to walk around the house. His mind went back to the argument he’d had with his mother the night before. She’d been really upset about something he’d been doing—his “stupid stimming”, she’d said—and was upset that he couldn’t act normal for 5 seconds. “Just don’t act like yourself for ONE MINUTE! Just ONE! MINUTE!! IS THAT SO MUCH TO ASK?! You’re an adult, not a child, now ACT LIKE ONE!” Nope. Nopenopenope. Bad memories. Bad memories won’t help any if they cause him to lose his cool. Roman buried his hands deeper into his hoodie, biting his lower lip. The sounds were really closing in now. ‘I can do this. I have to do this. I can be an adult, prove it to her!’ His feet refused to move. He was rooted to the spot, like a tree. People around him seemed unaware, just brushing past him like he was just a decoration. Someone accidentally touched him at one point and he flinched, moving away and backing into someone. He jolted away from them and bumped into another person. “Hey?!” They protested. “You spilled my drink! Watch where you’re going!” “I-I’m sorry—” Roman moved away from them, flinching when someone grabbed his shoulders. “Calm down, dude,” a voice said. “What drugs are you on?” “Don’t touch me!” Roman jerked away. The man that had grabbed him held his hands up in a calming gesture. “Easy, dude. It’s scary when you’re tripping balls. Come with me, I’ll take you home.” ‘I don’t need to go home!!’ Roman yelled at him mentally. ‘I need to prove something to mom!! I need to last for a little bit longer!!!’ He backed away from the well-meaning hands and suddenly found himself on the floor. The guy tried to reach out to help him up but Roman couldn’t hear his voice over the ringing in his ears. He gripped at his hair to stop himself from flapping his hands, to no avail. Everything was too much, he couldn’t see straight, and even humming loudly didn’t do anything to help. It felt like his chest was crushing his lungs and making it hard to breathe. Was he yelling? He couldn’t tell. Someone suddenly knelt in front of him. Roman focused long enough for him to make out the face of his friend Virgil. He couldn’t hear what he was saying, it’s too much! Virgil took Roman’s hands off his head gently, holding them. He instantly let go when Roman started to flap them. The presence of a friend and finally allowing himself to stim made the ringing in his ears subside enough for him to hear Virgil. “Take it easy, redhead,” he was saying. “Listen to me, not the voices in your head. Breathe with me. Inhale for seven seconds, hold for eight, exhale for four. There we go, that’s much better.” Roman didn’t feel much better. The ringing was starting again and he was getting a headache. Virgil coaxed him to stand and took his hand. Roman gripped it tightly as his purple-haired friend led him away from the noise and the people, away from the music and the heavy feeling. He found himself sitting on the couch, Virgil staying beside him and now playing on his phone. The ringing in his ears and overwhelmed feeling subsided and left him feeling like an utter fool. Mom was right—he can’t handle this kind of scene. He’s not a collage kid. He’s too needy. Virgil looked up from his phone when Roman sighed. “You feel okay?” He asked. Roman nodded. Virgil gave him a disbelieving look and sat up straighter, putting his phone away. “You don’t look like it,” he said. “You looked like you were about to lose it back there.” Roman blushed, rubbing the back of his neck and flapping his other hand slightly. “It’s nothing…” A silence fell between them. “You can’t stand crowds either, hm.” Roman looked up at Virgil again. “You…?” “High anxiety.” Virgil sat back, leaning his head back against the couch and closed his eyes. “I got dragged here against my will.” Roman giggled, trying to hide it in his hand. “Like a damsel in distress?” He asked. Virgil opened one eye to give him a death glare. “Any comment about girls and skirts and I’ll slit your throat.” Roman giggled again. Virgil shut his eye, smiling vaguely. They sat for a bit in comfortable silence, Virgil pretending to sleep and Roman looking around the room. Eventually Virgil opened his eyes again and turned his head to Roman. “Why’re you here?” Roman’s shoulders slumped. “I’m proving something to mom.” “What, that you have anxiety?” “No!” Roman crossed his arms. “That people with Autism can still be adults.” Virgil raised one eyebrow. “I don’t follow.” “My mom and I got into a fight the night before. She wants me to act more normal.” That seemed to get Virgil’s attention, seeing as how he sat up and watched him with wide eyes. Roman continued undeterred. “She complained that I don’t think like an adult and that I can’t even be normal for five seconds.” “I’m sorry—back up.” Virgil waved one of his hands to stop Roman. “She wants you to be what?” “Normal. Without Autism.” Roman shrugged. “I try to tell her that this is my normal, but I guess it’s not enough. She does love me though!” He finished quickly when a dark look crossed Virgil’s face. Virgil started to say something when his phone buzzed. He looked at it for a few moments before throwing it to the floor and burying his face in his hands. “Fuuuck, I don’t want to go back…” Roman tilted his head to the side. He suddenly had an idea. He nudged Virgil’s shoulder and couldn’t help but smile when his friend only moved a finger to look at him. “What if we treat this as an escape?” Roman suggested. “We can run up here if we need to get away again.” Virgil paused to think. Eventually he leaned down to grab his phone and stood up to face Roman again. “Deal. Do you want to stay together?” Roman’s eyes lit up. He grinned and nodded rapidly. Virgil rolled his eyes and grabbed his hand, almost yanking him off his feet as he headed back down to the noise of the party.
Roman and Virgil wound up hiding in the room three more times. Roman had more fun one-on-one with him than he thought he ever would with a house full of random people. Virgil also found himself enjoying the bombastic redhead’s company…Not that he was going to say it out loud. Their fun was soon spoiled by the fact that Roman’s mom had come to pick him up. They were now standing on the sidewalk waiting for her to find a parking spot, Virgil hugging himself and shivering with Roman watching him in worry and trying to work up some courage. He eventually found his voice on the woman’s third lap around the block. “Virgil? I wanted to ask you something…” Virgil looked up at him. Roman struggled to keep his cool (in a better way this time). Why must this man insist on wearing eyeliner, it made his eyes look so big it was so CUTE- “What?” Virgil asked. Roman shook himself out of his enraptured state. “I was wondering…If…” “If you ask me for a kiss I’ll slap you.” Roman couldn’t help laughing at his friend’s bluntness. “No! No! That’s not it at all!” “Then what is it?” “Do you want to hang out this weekend?” There! He said it! Virgil was quiet in thought. He then shrugged. “Sure. I don’t think I have any plans on for that day.” “Really?!” Roman bounced up and down slightly. “That’s great! Thank you so—” His mom cut him off by blaring her car horn. Apparently she’d finally found a parking space…Right across the road. Who’d have thought. “I’d better go inside before I freeze to death,” Virgil said. “O-Okay. Bye Virgil!” Roman waved at his friend as he left. “Text me if you need someone to talk to!” “Who was that?” Roman’s mom asked when he got into the car and started brushing snow off himself. He looked out the window and saw Virgil watching him for a moment before his blonde friend came out and dragged him inside. He smiled to himself. “So I won the bet. That’s my new friend…”
#Still Human AU#Redhead Writes#Sanders Sides#autism au#Roman Sanders#Virgil Sanders#meltdowns#death threats
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A Song For You
✬ Request📥: Hi! If your requests are open, could you write a fluffy scenario with Woozi and his crush? I'd love just about anything with him, thank you!💜
✬ Pairing🍐: crush!woozi x crush!reader
�� Genre📚: Fluff
✬ Summary📖: he already had a confession song for you under construction, but overhearing two members talk about your crush on him, only gave him more motivation to get the song as close to perfect as humanly possible. Because that is what you are to him- perfect.
Within the first month of working on the song he had the music and lyrics done, and the second month he asked you to accompany him while he made this song for fun, of course, you agreed as a result of your crush on Jihoon, and the want to learn a little more about music from someone as talented as him. You were oblivious to his plan and that the lyrics he was showing you were just placeholders for the day he would finally confess to you.
✬ Em🖤
Sitting in his studio you watched his concentrated face as he worked. The song he was working on was for his own pleasure, it had nothing to do with Seventeen or showing it to the other producers and the worry of getting rejected.
"Hey, listen to this for me," he placed his headphones onto your head without giving you a chance to reply.
During the whole process you were there to help him and hear how the song evolved, but now it seemed like nothing could top it anymore.
"Gosh, Ji!! How are you so good at what you do?!"
A light blush coated his cheeks, "that's the song without the vocals inserted." His eyes lit up, "Do you want to do the background vocals for me?"
You visibly deflated, "please Y/N," he pouts, you were one of the few people who ever got to see Jihoon act even remotely cute.
"Alright, alright what do I do?" He took your hand in his and led you to the recording booth.
"I'm going to quickly put on the vocals so you can hear it and I'll tell you were to sing."
"Yeah yeah just hurry."
J I H O O N
He went over to his computer and made sure to insert the lyrics that didn't give away his feelings for you, that was for tomorrow.
It still made his heart race, you had sat next to him for weeks listening to the song meant for you; the song where your opinion very much mattered to him. Perfection may not exist, but he would get this song as close as humanly possible.
He was working on this song with all of his efforts when in passing he overheard two of his members talking about your crush on him, this only motivated him to make the song even more amazing, after all, it was for you.
Adding the faux vocals to the music, he picked up a paper that had the faux lyrics printed off. He read the paper over and over to make sure it wasn’t wrong and his plan wasn’t ruined.
"These are the lyrics," he watched as you read over them, your reactions leading to a swell in his heart.
Once you finished your smile made him melt, "how are you so good at all of this? I'm kind of jealous, I love music but I know absolutely nothing."
"Says the one who can play a few instruments, has a good voice, can somewhat produce songs, and has a good ear for music."
A light pink hue spread over your face, "alright let's get this over with."
Smiling he closed the booth door, the paper had denoted where he wants you to add the vocals.
He loved seeing your concentrated face from outside of the booth, he thought you were beautiful from all distances and angles.
To him, you were perfect, in every sense of the word.
Your voice truly was music to his ears, he was honored to say he coached your voice to get you to where you wanted; it was easy since you already had a good base for him to work with.
"Oops," you laughed, "can I redo that last one?"
With a smile, he nods and told you to try a different approach, you gave a thumbs up.
He can't believe how cute you are, no he could... He's just incapable of handling it.
Within an hour you both were done and sat together at the computer to listen to the track together.
He pulls you into a tight hug, "are you coming back tomorrow for the final reveal?"
The look you gave him his smile grow, "Ji you think that I'll be here for the entire process, but on the final day I won't show up?"
"I'm just asking, what if you had plans?"
"I made sure that until this was done I had absolutely nothing else to do."
He tried to hold back his smile by turning away from you and pretending to press a few buttons.
"Plus, I like hanging out with you, so being here while you made this amazing song and even allowing me to do some vocals was really an honor."
His heart was about to burst and he was incredibly close to spilling his feelings, but he didn't work on that song hours upon hours with you for nothing.
"The feeling is reciprocated, Y/N," he had to be short with you otherwise all of this would have been for nothing, but he wasn't a stranger to short responses when someone becomes mushy around him.
Suddenly, it seemed like a light bulb had gone off in your mind, "and tomorrow I- uh have to tell you something."
Alarms went off in his mind, it was obvious you were going to confess, he had to confess first.
"I'll tell you after we listen to the song."
He felt better instantly, "I can't wait to hear what it is." He didn’t have to worry about trying to confess first, he is going to confess first.
"Should we go out there and see what everyone else is doing?"
He nods, saves all his work and stretches, "Yeah we've been here all day and it's time for a break."
N E X T D A Y
Y O U
It was the following morning and you felt nervous the night before and this following morning, you could tell Jihoon had an idea about what you wanted to say to him.
You hoped it was just your nervous mind playing tricks. You got ready to head over to Jihoon's studio. He made you stay in a guest room, not only to avoid getting caught by absolutely anyone but so you wouldn't have to travel back and forth every day very early in the morning and go home late into the night, you appreciate it.
Balling your fist to lightly knock on the door, you were ready to hear the song and confess to him, you didn't care about him saying yes or no since all you cared about is shooting your shot even if that meant not scoring.
The door opened to a sleepy, but ready, Jihoon, "good morning."
"Did you even sleep?" Stepping into the studio nothing seemed out of place.
"Somewhat, but I got a stroke of genius for the lyrics and have been here all night."
You roll your eyes, "You always have a 'stroke of genius', aren't those supposed to be rare?"
"Shut up," he laughs. "I need you to do few more vocals, is that ok?"
"Whatever it takes to keep the song good."
He smiles, "alright go into the booth and I'll play it for you before we get started."
Pulling him into a sudden hug you couldn't help your squeal of excitement, "I'm so excited!!" His hold on you is almost comforting that this will go well, that you'll be able to confess to him; even when the two things had nothing to do with the other... at least that’s what you wanted yourself to believe.
"Alright let's do this," he claps his hands and moves towards his computer as you move towards the booth. "Ready?" He asks and you confirm with a nod.
The song began playing and so far it was the same, for some reason you expected a completely new song since there have been plenty of times where Jihoon pulls a 180 on a song. Then came in Jihoon's soft, beautiful voice. The lyrics were beautiful and then you heard your name, it was very difficult to keep the same face after realizing that this was his confession to you, in a song.
Ji was good with lyrics- no he was absolutely amazing with lyrics, but this was on another level of beautiful. The song ends with him mentioning the things he likes about you and as quickly as it starts, it’s over.
Your body felt frozen in place, your mouth hung agape as your eyes were trained to the ground.
He likes you back? He likes you back!
Is this real life?
It wasn't until Ji laughed that you realized you asked that question out loud, "yes, Y/N, this is real and yes I like you. I wanted to confess first, yesterday you made it obvious that you were."
Confused you tilt your head to one side, "wait, you knew?"
Blushing he nods, "two members that shall not be named were talking about it while I walked past the room and ever since then I've been working on this song for you."
At this moment your brain felt like it was dead, "I wouldn't be able to top this level of work ever in my life."
"It doesn't matter to me." His face was serious, "you were by my side every day for a whole month, wouldn't eat unless I was eating, wouldn't take a break unless I was taking one, and wouldn't sleep unless I too was sleeping, Y/N I wouldn't need a confession when your actions spoke to my heart more."
Hanging the headphones back on the microphone you ran over to Ji, "so you did sleep you liar," your voice was muffled against his body and your arms, which not only wrapped around his neck, also covered your face.
"It was part of my plan." He hums a laugh.
You never felt happier than at this moment.
"Y/N?"
"Jihoon?" He laughs at this, probably expecting a 'what'.
"Do you accept my confession?"
"After all that you still want a yes or no?"
He nods.
"Jihoon, I accept your confession."
The grin that overtook his lips was the best thing in the entire world. There was nothing else you needed whenever you saw him smile.
"I'm so happy I could fly."
"Guess it was your nervous gas."
He laughs and sends a wink your way, "Guess I'll write another song for you instead."
You shrug, "wouldn't have you any other way."
He kisses your forehead and blushing he nervously scratches the back of his neck, “I hope it was perfect, the song I mean, I really put my all into it. I worked on it alone for one month, which was the confession part of the song, but what I showed you yesterday was what you helped me with.”
Your eyes almost flew out of their sockets, “two months? You really are something else.”
“For you, I would do a lot.”
He pulls you in for another hug, swaying you side to side.
“Thank you, for thinking I’m worth two months of relentless work. I’ve seen one month of work and I can’t believe you’ve done two. And yes, the song was more than perfect, if anything it was more than perfect, whatever the word for it may be.”
His eyes and lips only showed fondness, “I would make you so many songs if it meant having you next to me and keeping you happy.”
#seventeen woozi#woozi imagines#woozi fluff#woozi fanfic#seventeen scenarios#seventeen imagines#seventeen fluff#seventeen fanfic#seventeen confession#seventeen boyfriend#seventeen romance#seventeen request#세븐틴 우지#세븐틴#a song for you
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My Toy Collection
Hello, welcome to a very long, image-heavy post about me showing off some of the toys I’ve acquired over the years.
(Forgive me if the images are too big D:)
So, let’s begin with my Monsuno toys :)
(For the uninitiated, Monsuno was a cartoon that aired back in 2012-13, following this 13 year old boy as he tried to find his missing dad. Said dad was a researcher working on secret government experiments that created monsters from green glowing alien essence (the titular Monsunos). It’s close to my heart)
This is Rouge, my fake fusion Shadowhornet toy (with their core that they pop out of when it’s struck). They are my icon for this blog. I know this is a fake because the wings are completely red (when they should have some black on them).
And this is Meteorit, my Backslash toy. He’s real and cost me close to $60 AUD to import from Romania. His name is meteorite in Romanian (Monsunos are associated with some mineral and Backslash’s mineral, officially, is meteorite).
That blue thing in the background is a worm on the string btw
The Monsunos also come with cards. You’re meant to battle with them, activating abilities through cards I think (I’ve never played it). These are ones that came with Meteorit:
Pretty neat huh? Every Monsuno comes with some ‘character’ card (left) that shows the creature’s strength, with a small description. The others are attacks the Monsuno can do. In the show, Cursed Spiral is so cool to watch (midair corkscrew from Meteor Mutt)
Anyway, this is the card that came with Rouge:
You may notice that the beast on the back of the card looks nothing like Rouge. That’s because the creature on the back is Backslash 2.0, a fusion Monsuno that appeared only in the Season 1 finale of the show. It is a mix of two Monsunos: Backslash and Shadowhornet. If you have the two fusion versions of the Monsuno toys you can connect them together to create the fusion.
Backslash 2.0 is my favourite Monsuno. It’s a combination of two things I really like: Meteor Mutt and Bat-winged Centipede
Now, onto my Yugioh cards (another show with a tie-in toy line)
I used to have a full deck and play against my sister. This is all I have left now unfortunately. That Dark Magician card isn’t even the one I had originally. A friend gave to me after I told him I lost mine. It still is my favourite card. Greaceful Dice is a close second
I loved the TV show when I was younger and grew up with it. I still enjoy seeing fanworks related to it today
Speaking of my childhood, let me show you my Bakugan
(Bakugan is yet another cartoon that had it’s own toy line. It aired between 2007-2008 (wow!) and followed this group of kids who find these mysterious balls and cards falling from the sky and make a game based on it. They find out that these balls are actually aliens from another dimension who reveal their true forms during battle. If memory serves me correctly (it’s been a while), the two dimensions are colliding and must be saved (that or the Bakugan dimension was crumbling for some reason). I absolutely adored this show when I was younger!)
They toys are magnetic and pop from their balls when they land on a magnetic card. I have several, some from the second wave of toys, some fake and one from the first wave. (As an aside, the colours indicate the Bakugan’s element, there’s 6 in total)
These are the bootleg Bakugan. On the left is a raven man who’s missing his legs. The right is an enthusiastic frog who doesn’t like to stay in their ball. I like to think the frog carries the raven on their back, traveling as a team
This one’s a warrior, a knight (if memory serves me right). This is a second wave Bakugan, having a chasm on its back that allows you to attack some weaponry
These are two of my dragons. On the left is a prism dragon (I always thought it was another raven person). On the right is Terra, a dragon from the first wave. I bought Terra because my favourite character from the show was Drago, a fire version of Terra (I sincerely apologise to the Bakugan nerds who find this post. I can’t remember the element names D:)
Finally, we have two more second wave Bakugan. The one on the left is a dragon dude. The right is a winged, long-haired sword wielder (they’re also my strongest Bakugan).
Now, for the cards. These are the weird ones I got with the bootlegs:
They’re all magnetic. These are the real ones:
The River Valley card is the one I got with Terra. The creature on it, I remember, appeared late in the series (of the first season) and it was a water/air elemental. It was shocking to the protagonists because Bakugan only have one element associated with them. I think all the creatures that you see appear in the show at some point.
There are also non-magnetic cards that you activate during battle
Now, for something more well known: Pokemon
To say I have a few cards would be an understatement
Majority of them are fake. I won’t show them all, just some highlights
Two of these look cool while one is well loved :)
These ones have cute artwork. The Driftloon one looks like it’d fit into a children’s book. The bottom two are shiny, for some reason
When you’re right half of the time
Lation instead of Latios and calling Deoxys’defense forme its attack forme
I like Gen 4, clearly. These some of my legendaries. Note the two Dialga X cards that aren’t identical
G A L A C T I C
With weird energies. That Palkia is actually one of my favourite Pokemon cards (I like Cyrus and I have Pokemon Pearl)
Now, these two cards I got from a friend while on the school bus. I think these are the only real Pokemon cards I have. Maybe. I don’t know. Either way, they look cool!
This card below is something I found in the sorting room of the op shop I volunteer at. It’s holographic (sorry for the gif quality :/)
This is the back of it. Te description says:
This terrifying Pokemon may be a Bug-type, but it seems to have as much in common with the dinosaurs.
Its razor-edged wings make its Slash technique a killer. Add to that ninjalike speed and sharpness and the enemy is down for the count! This is one Pokemon to avoid if you’re a beginning trainer.
To think, I’m taller than it
Moving on, we have (left to right) GL the Arceus, an Oshawatt dangler I got from a cheap capsule dispenser and Phoebs the Manaphy. GL and Phoebs were gifts :)
This is a Meowth next to a tardigrade (water bear, moss piglet). The Meowth was originally my sister’s. She gave it to me when she moved out. The tardigrade I got from Scienceworks (which is what I can only describe as an interactive science museum). Water bears are a microscopic organism that inhabits moss. They can roll up into a ball (called a tun) and can survive extremes that would otherwise kill (extreme colds, pressures and even the vacuum of space). But, they can’t stay rolled up forever.
On the subject of soft toys, I have some Beanie Kids
Left to right, you have T-Bone the dog, Munchies the Guniea Pig, Cecilia the Snake and Blueberry the not furry. T-Bone, Munchies and Blueberry I got at the same time. Meanwhile, I found Cecilia at the op shop and I had to have her (she’s a naga bear). They’re all very fluffy and cute :3
Munchies in the middle is questioning his life choices
Now, to the toys I’ve had the longest: the Transformers
Not to sound like a boomer, but back in my day (*shakes cane in air*), Transformers had multiple steps to transform, not single fluid movements that you find in current toys. I even remember that they came with step-by-step instructions.
Left to right, you have Divebomb (local eagle screaming at ground), Demolisher (the reason I know that word) and Cruellock (my first and favourite). These are part of the Energon series of Transformers, which allowed you to attach a stud to some part of them (Demolisher is the one wearing it)
This is them transformed. Divebomb is the most fiddly to work with because those hands keep falling off (and you expect him to hold his boomerang?) Demolisher comes with missiles that be fired from his truck tray. Cruellock originally had a sword and a second piece to his tail. I lost both of those at school long ago. I was rough with him (but I wasn’t any older than 7 years)
Finally, I leave you with the image of the worm on a string I seemed to have acquired.
Well, thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed this! :D
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ABCs of Death
I THINK this is the longest one out of all of them, but I’m not 100% sure. this one took a while to write bc i kept wanting to add more and more lmaoooo
also as they might be giants say: can’t shake the devil’s hand and say you’re only kidding
D contains: BLOOD, GORE, BODY HORROR, GENERAL HORROR, and DEATH
CHARACTER(S) THAT DIE IN THIS FIC: mike
A/B/C/D/E/F/G
D is for Demon
“This is a horrible idea. Why am I letting you convince me to do this?” Mike said, his voice wavering.
“Would you shut the hell up already? We’ve been standing here for, like, five minutes because you’re too much of a baby to go inside!” Lucas said. His head was already beginning to ache from Mike’s non-stop, panicked rambling. Mike opened his mouth to say something, then snapped it closed again.
Mike looked up at the building in front of them one more time, anxiety filling his guts like worms, squirming and writhing around and making him feel like he was going to puke. The building was massive, an old victorian-style brick house, with ornate features and decorative trim seeming to cover every surface of its exterior. It was beautiful, but its beauty was marred by the thick black layer of soot caked onto the bricks and the shattered windows. The lawn was overgrowing and the house gave off an energy that Mike could only describe as evil.
He really didn’t want to go inside.
“I-I’m just saying, I really don’t think this is safe, plus I’m- I’m getting this vibe, you- you know?” Mike rambled as they walked inside, looking around frantically.
“Listen. If there is something in here, you’re only attracting it to us by talking so much. Even then, this house has been like this for years, there’s no way anybody is still living here.” Lucas said, glancing over at Mike. The other man was tucked into himself, clutching his flashlight like it was his lifeline, his eyes wide and terrified. He nodded weakly at Lucas’ words, and his posture relaxed slightly.
“Y-yeah. Probably not. Why’d- Why did you even want to come in here?” Mike asked, beginning to peer into the other rooms from the foyer. Lucas could see him shaking.
“I just wanted to check it out. I’d heard a lot about this house, mainly that nobody knows what started the fire that burned it down, and nobody’s even tried to visit it since it did burn down.”
While it wasn’t a lie, it wasn’t quite the truth, either. There were mysterious circumstances surrounding the building, but the real reason Lucas wanted to visit was because he’d heard stories of people seeing a kid living in the house, and those who saw him said they had felt a sense of evil coming off of him, like he was some evil spirit or demon or something. Lucas wanted to see if the kid was real, so he brought Mike to the house with him. He thought his friend would be a little more open to the idea than he was.
“Great. It’s great. That’s great!” Mike muttered, wandering through the rooms, shining his flashlight on old furniture that was blackened and melted. The wind whistled through the cracked windows, giving an eerie kind of soundtrack as they wandered through the rooms.
The floor level of the house was empty other than burned and blackened furniture, so they met at the base of the stairs, staring up at the landing on the second floor.
“After you, sir.” Mike said, gesturing up the stairs. Lucas rolled his eyes, cautiously taking a step onto the lowest stair, pressing his weight on it to make sure it wouldn’t break. Slowly, he ascended the stairs, wincing every time they creaked or crackled underneath him.
About halfway up, he heard something scurry across the floorboards on the second floor. Whatever it was, it was too big to be a rat, but too small to be a person of their age. A ball of anxiety began to form in Lucas’ stomach. Did he really want to do this?
“What was that?” Mike’s voice came from behind him, high and shaking.
“I- I don’t know. Probably a raccoon. Didn’t sound big enough to be a person.” Lucas said. He continued to make his way upstairs, peering down the hallway once he had reached the top, able to see movement near one of the rooms at the end of the hall. Sucking in a breath, Lucas shone his flashlight on the thing, bracing himself. The moment the light passed over it, it panicked, bolting in their direction. Lucas shrieked, expecting to get his face ripped off by some vengeful demon child.
A raccoon bolted past him and Mike on the stairs, scurrying down the stairs and running out of sight down on the first floor. Lucas laughed airily, looking at a confused and panicked Mike.
“Jesus, man, don’t scare me like that!” He hissed, climbing up next to Lucas on the second floor.
“Sorry, I just- I thought it was.. Something else.” Lucas said, making his way down the second floor hallway and shining his light into the rooms.
“Did you expect something else to be living here?” Mike asked from the opposite end of the hall, his flashlight pointed cautiously into a closet.
“N-no. Not really.” Lucas lied, biting his lip. He pushed the last door on his end of the hallway open, taking a step back as he shone his light over everything.
It was a child’s room, seemingly untouched by the fire that had ravaged the rest of the building. There was an old rocking chair in the corner, and a tiny bed that was fit for a child of barely ten years old. There were stuffed animals of all shapes and sizes scattered about the room, and, worst of all, there was a tiny child jammed behind the bed, clutching a ratty old toy lion to his chest. His eyes were dark and wild and he appeared to have been living there for a while. Lucas opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again.
“Mike? Can you come down here?” He said, keeping his eyes locked on the kid. At the sound of Lucas’ voice, he winced, pressing himself further into the wall.
Mike appeared at Lucas’ side, looking into the room with the eyes of someone who doesn’t want to watch a horror movie but can’t look away. His face paled at the sight of the child.
“Is- is that a kid?” He asked, stepping into the room.
“Mike, wait-!” Lucas tried to grab Mike’s shirt, but before he could pull Mike away, the light in the ceiling of the room flickered to life. The boy hidden behind the bed shuffled closer to him, his eyes wary and scared.
“Lucas, it’s just a kid! He can’t do anything.” Mike said, grinning lopsidedly at Lucas.
Lucas swallowed thickly, watching as Mike inched closer to the child on the floor, crouching low to appear less threatening. The boy watched him closely, dark eyes narrowed in fear. Mike held out one of his hands.
“Hey, hey. You’re okay. Do you wanna come with us? We won’t hurt you.” Mike murmured. The boy looked at his hand with distrust for a moment. Lucas licked his lips. He wasn’t sure if he should say anything or not. The kid looked normal, but his room was entirely clean, and nothing in it (except maybe the stuffed lion in his grip) had any soot or signs of fire whatsoever. Mike moved a bit closer, and Lucas saw the boy shift his weight almost imperceptibly.
“Mike, be careful-” He started. Mike looked at him with confusion for a moment, before the boy placed his tiny hand in the center of Mike’s palm.
The moment they came into contact with each other, Mike felt a wash of goosebumps flood through his whole body. It felt as if static electricity had run through him like a circuit, standing every one of his hairs on end.
Then came the pain. Sharp, burning pain exploded through him like somebody was sticking needles into every one of his pores, followed by an almost unbearable heat. Images flashed in his mind, too fast to see, but he could feel them. Each one sent a high buzz through his nerves, striking his fight or flight reflex like a tuning fork.
Scrambling back from the boy, Mike screamed, kicking his legs fruitlessly as he tried to get away. He could see the kid grinning at him, and suddenly he heard it. The boy’s voice, soft and high and perfectly clear (he wasn’t moving his mouth how could mike hear it he wasn’t speaking his lips weren’t moving).
Hello, Michael. It’s nice to meet you. My name’s Will. The boy said in Mike’s head, and he screamed again, scrambling to his feet. Tears were streaming down his face and he turned to Lucas, who was staring at him with wide eyes.
“Where did he go?” Lucas asked, his voice shaking. Mike whipped around, but the boy- Will, his name was Will -was still there. Mike pointed with a shaking hand at Will, looking back at Lucas’ confused expression. The boy was grinning at Mike with a smile that reminded him of the cheshire cat, wide and full of too many pointed teeth.
“H-he’s right th-there, c- can’t you see him?” Mike asked desperately. He heard Will shift behind him, and he whirled around again. Will was behind him, one tiny hand outstretched for Mike to take.
“No. H-he disappeared when you- you touched him.” Lucas said. Mike felt a cold dread slide down his throat. He looked to Will, who was waiting for Mike to take his hand, looking so tiny and innocent with the toy lion in his arms. He frowned, an impatient expression flickering across his face.
“H-h-he’s right there, he- he- spoke to m-me, I- I heard him L-Lucas, I heard h-him.” Mike sobbed, terrified of the tiny creature behind him. He felt Lucas’ hands on his face, cool against his hot, blotchy skin.
“H-hey, Mike, it’s- it’s okay. You’ll b-be okay. Let’s- let’s go home, okay?” Lucas said. Mike nodded, tears streaming down his face. He turned to look at Will again, but Lucas pulled his head back.
“Don’t look at him! It’ll only make it worse. Look at me, Mike. Look at me.” Lucas said, gently leading Mike out of the room. He kept Mike facing forwards, pulling him along.
A tiny hand gripped Mike’s fingers.
He screamed, jolting away from Lucas and turning to face the creature that was attached to him. Will was grinning at him, his hand still wrapped around Mike’s fingers. His eyes were a dark red color. A whimper escaped through Mike’s teeth.
“Please, w-what do you want?” Mike asked, his lip quivering.
I just want to be friends with you, is that so bad? Will’s voice filled Mike’s head. Mike shook his head, ever-so-slightly, and Will’s grin widened.
“Mike? W-what did he say?” Lucas’s voice echoed down the hall, sounding far away.
“He- He wants to be f-friends.” Mike said. He looked down to see if Will’s expression had changed, but the boy was gone. His stuffed lion was lying on the floorboards.
“He’s gone. He’s gone- Lucas- we need to leave-!” Mike shrieked, skittering towards the stairs, away from the plush animal. Lucas joined him, grabbing his wrist to soothe him and trying to calm him down as he led Mike downstairs.
“It’s okay, Mike. You’re okay.” Lucas murmured softly, leading him back to the car and ushering Mike into the passenger’s seat. Mike was shaking violently, muttering things under his breath. Wide paranoid eyes flicked back and forth from the house to the windshield, his breathing raspy and sharp.
Lucas drove Mike back to campus silently, a knot of guilt stuck in his throat and his stomach. Mike was curled in a lanky ball in his chair, wrapped awkwardly around his seatbelt with his feet pressed against the glovebox, his dark eyes staring ahead at nothing. Lucas could hear his breathing, quick and shallow. That was his fault. If he had just told Mike about the demon in the house, none of this would have happened.
He pulled into the parking lot in front of their dorm building, walking around the front of the car and helping Mike out of his seat. He led Mike by the arm up to his dorm (he lived there alone would he be okay what if the demon tried to get him) and let him crawl into bed, too close to catatonic for Lucas’ liking.
“Goodnight, Mike.” Lucas said, turning the light out as he stood in the doorway. He heard Mike shift behind him.
“Can we look him up tomorrow?” his voice came from behind Lucas, soft, tentative. “I want to know about him.”
Lucas turned. Mike was watching him closely, dark eyes narrowed in the dim room.
“Yeah. Yeah, we can.” Lucas said. He turned from Mike and left, allowing Mike to go to sleep. He wasn’t sure he wanted to research Will. He didn’t think he would be able to handle it.
-
“Here it is, Mike.” Lucas said, producing an old newspaper. On the front, there was the headline ‘BYERS’ MANOR GOES UP IN FLAMES; BODIES DISAPPEARED’, in a thick, almost mocking print. The pictures on the front were of the house in flames and of the family that lived inside. Sure enough, Will was pictured on the front of the paper, that same lion toy in his hands. He was grinning at the camera. He looked young, innocent. happy. Mike swallowed thickly. He hadn’t seen Will since the night before, but he’d felt something when he was in bed. Something heavy on his consciousness, like something was living in there.
“‘Says nobody knows what started the fire. ‘There appeared to be no damage to any of the interior workings of the mansion, and there were no stray matches or cigarettes that could have started the blaze.’” Lucas read. He dropped the paper on the table so Mike could look at it, though he wasn’t sure he wanted Mike to see more of the child. He was curled up in his chair similar to how he’d been in the car, all 6-and-a-half feet of him tied up in a lanky knot as he reached over to pull the paper closer to him.
Mike didn’t pick up the paper, instead staring at the picture of Will on the front of it. He looked so innocent and sweet, but memories of the feeling he’d sent through Mike’s body flashed through his mind, forcing him to read the article.
The article said that Will and his family had been living in the manor for generations, and that he’d never really gone outside. Some sources, according to the paper, claimed that he had started the fire somehow, removing the evidence before anyone could find out and locking himself inside. Mike didn’t believe it. Frowning, he glanced at the picture of the burning house again. Flames leapt around the solid brick walls and poured from the windows. Mike felt sick looking at it.
And then it moved. The pictured moved, the flames suddenly springing to life, licking up the sides of the house and flickering back and forth. Mike watched in silent horror as the flames engulfed more and more of the house. The newspaper began to flutter on the table as if air were blowing underneath it. Mike straightened out, his heart beginning to thump in his chest. The paper flapped some more, and Mike realized the picture of Will with his family had changed. Instead of him posing with his mom and brother, grinning happily, he was alone, clutching the lion toy in fear. He looked at Mike (he was looking at mike he was looking at mike he could see him oh god), and began to cry, reaching out for Mike to help him. Mike sat up in his chair, scooting away from the newspaper.
A melted, skeletal hand reached from the image, it’s clawed fingers grasping for something. Mike shrieked, scrambling away from the paper. He knocked his chair over as he stood, pain zinging through where it had hit his calves.
The hand continued to reach blindly for something to grab onto, gripping the edge of the table and pulling itself upwards. An equally scorched arm followed, and then a head. Mike could only watch in silent horror as the melted, twisted corpse of Will Byers crawled from the paper, his face contorted in pain. High, whistling breaths emanated from him every few seconds. He pulled himself forwards onto the table, his skin melted and torn off across his chest and face, exposing the bone and muscle underneath. Mike screamed, tripping over his chair in an attempt to get away from Will’s melted body as it dragged itself closer to him. It pulled itself out of the paper and reached out for Mike, a high scream piercing through his brain. Its fingers found the front of his shirt and it grabbed him, pulling itself closer to him. He pulled at its wrists in an attempt to get it off him, tears beginning to stream down his face.
It opened its mouth, and blood poured out, dripping to the floor and all over Mike’s chest and oh god it was hot he could feel it burning his skin.
Mike sobbed as he tried to push the thing off, its melted fingers scrabbling at him and pulling him back towards the paper.
“Mike!” Lucas’ voice broke through the sound of the burnt corpse’s wails and whistling breath, and suddenly he could feel Lucas’ hands on his shoulders and somebody was helping him stand. There was still blood on his shirt and the corpse was still there, but it fell to the ground. Mike couldn’t take his eyes off of it.
It began to change, its skin smoothing out and becoming clean again, its clothes restoring themselves, and worst of all, two red, curved horns forming on either side of its head, ram-like and wicked looking. Mike’s breathing shallowed as the demon got to his feet, a grin on his face. The lion was in his hands and Mike could feel the heat emanating off of him. Before Mike could speak, Will was gone in a flash of flames and red light, leaving him huffing in the back room of the library, Lucas’ hands on his shoulders.
“Mike, what the hell was that?!” Lucas asked. Mike opened his mouth to speak, but the only thing that came out was a high sob, followed by more and more. He crumpled at Lucas’ feet, images of the melted corpse flickering through his mind.
He could feel hands under his arms tugging him to his feet, trying to stand him up.
“Mike, what happened?” Lucas asked. Mike shook his head, his sobs slowly quieting.
“It- it was him- it was Will- he- he was all burnt and he was screaming- he was screaming and it was so loud and he spit blood all over me and- a-and-” Mike took a breath, but then broke down again, sobbing as he leaned against Lucas.
“Woah, woah, take it easy. You wanna go lay down back in your room?” Lucas asked, trying to get Mike to look at him. Mike sniffled once, straightened himself out, and shook his head.
“N-no, no. I- I’m gonna go study, I h-have an anatomy test t-tomorrow.” Mike said, his voice still wavering. Lucas nodded slowly, releasing Mike’s arms so the taller man could gather his things and leave.
Mike shakily grabbed his bag off of the floor and dragged himself into the main room of the library, slinking to a table in the back corner of the room. SIghing, he shook the image of the burnt corpse out of his head and forced himself to study. He dropped his anatomy textbook on the table with a massive thump, pulling it open lazily and flipping to the page his worksheet was on. He realized he forgot a pencil and swore, leaning down to retrieve one from his bag.
Straightening back out, he pulled his book closer to him to begin studying. He felt something watching him, and he looked up.
The toy lion was on the table.
Mike hissed, pushing the thing away from him and watching it topple off the table to the floor. Narrowing his eyes, he looked for any sign of the demon. Not seeing anything he returned his attention to the book.
About halfway through his studying session, the book began to make noise. It was a deep, quiet gurgling, like the sound of a bathtub draining. Frowning, Mike leaned closer. There was definitely some sound coming from the crease in the center of the book, but nothing visible was happening. Frowning, Mike leaned away from the book again.
A tiny bubble of blood grew from the crease of the book, ballooning outwards until it was the size of a golf ball. Mike watched it silently, a growing sense of dread filling his stomach. The first bubble popped, spraying blood all over the table in tiny droplets.
More bubbles followed that one, each one exploding in little fountains of blood. Mike inhaled sharply as blood began to rise higher and higher from the center of the book, bubbling and gurgling as it soaked into the pages and pooled out onto the table. Mike watched it with growing horror, his windpipe tightening to a pinhole in his throat, making it difficult to breathe. One of the bubbles of blood exploded in fat, hot droplets across Mike’s face and he had to resist the urge to scream. Looking around him, he could tell no one else in the library could see the blood. Panicking, Mike slammed the book closed, ignoring the way the blood felt on his hands, hot and thick and dripping down his arms. He shoved the still-bleeding book in his bag and ran out of the library
The blood began to seep through his bag on the way back to his dorm and Mike could feel it on his legs, spilling into his jeans and burning his skin. He rushed up the stairs and to his dorm, slamming his weight into his door and threw his bag to the floor, ignoring the spray of blood that came up from it.
Will was sitting cross-legged on Mike’s bed, cracking open one reddish-brown eye as Mike moved around. Mike stared at him, rage beginning to boil in his veins.
“What’s your problem, huh? Why do you have to keep fucking with me like this?!” Mike asked. The demon didn’t respond, but his eyes slid open slowly. The lion was back in his hands, and he stroked its mane leisurely.
“So now you’re not gonna give me an answer? You’re just gonna drive me crazy and scare me half to death when all I wanted to do was help you-”
Mike was cut off as the demon on his bed opened his mouth, allowing multiple massive, squirming centipedes to drop to the sheets, scrabbling along Mike’s bed blindly. Mike growled, balling his hands into fists.
“What does that MEAN?!” Mike howled, stamping his foot into the floorboards. The demon shrugged, spitting up one last centipede before closing his eyes again. Mike hissed, surging forward and grabbing Will around the waist, carrying him off of the bed and dropping him on the floor. The demon pawed at him, wailing indignantly.
“Just leave me alone, please.” Mike said, exhausted. Will frowned at him from the floor, but picked himself up and nodded, disappearing with a flicker of flames. Mike sighed, turning back to his bed.
The lion was on his bed, with a note under its plush belly. Pulling the note from under the toy, Mike flipped it open, waiting for it to bleed on him or scream or try to bite him or something.
It was plain paper, with red ink that only had one word on it, in the wiggling, large print of a child:
SORRY
The ink flickered and ran, and then the whole note disappeared in a flash of fire. MIke looked to his bed. The lion was gone as well.
He wouldn’t see Will again until a few days later.
He was walking to one of his lectures, and happened to glance across the quad to see a group of students laughing together next to one of the fountains next to the school. A soft smile came to Mike’s face before he realized he recognized someone in the group.
Will was behind them, his dark eyes focused directly on Mike’s. Even at the distance he was standing at, Mike could feel the heat emanating from the demon’s body. He had some kind of lollipop in his mouth, the stick poking out through his teeth as he grinned at Mike.
He pulled the candy from his mouth and Mike realized it was a human eye impaled on a stick, the iris dark and unseeing. Mike felt like he might puke. Will waved at him, and Mike could hear the demon’s giggling in his head. Jumping, he turned his head forwards and walked on, gripping his bag tighter to his chest.
That night, he returned to his dorm to find the lion on his bed.
His throat tightening to a pinhole, he reached forward and grabbed it, looking for some kind of note or other sign that Will had been there. There was nothing, and Mike frowned, tempted to call out for the demon. His back prickled with the feeling of being watched, and he straightened out.
The floor creaked behind him, and he turned. The last thing he saw was rows and rows of pearly white teeth in a black throat.
Two weeks later, Lucas was called to the police station. They had some questions about Mike, after finding him inexplicably ripped to shreds in his dorm. Lucas made his way to the office they’d told him to meet in, feeling a bubble of fear begin to swell in his stomach. There was an officer waiting for him, looking solemn as lucas entered the room and sat down.
“I’m sorry to interrupt your day, Mr. Sinclair. We just found something curious while we were investigating Mike’s… case, and wanted to know if you knew anything about it?” The man said. Lucas nodded slightly, barely enough to be visible.
“We found this in Mr. Wheeler’s hands at the scene. Have you ever seen it before?” He asked, reaching under the table and setting something on top of it. Lucas nearly puked.
It was a stuffed lion.
#hopefully the death in this one makes sense#if its confusing just ask me n ill explain it lmao#mike wheeler#lucas sinclair#stranger things fanfiction
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figuring things out (chapter 12)
Summary: Prince Daniel of Eithoia has been seeing Lord Philip in private for years, despite his marriage to Princess Isabella. Up until now, it was never an issue for the three to be together. No one anticipated for the Princess to have an urgent announcement, and now anticipated that it would impact Dan and Phil and their countries as much as it did.
Warnings: pregnancy, smut, mentions of violence, swearing, vomiting, kidnapping
Tags: fluff, (horribly written) smut, royalty AU, polyamory, pregnancy
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Twenty-first of February
Steeple Palace, Kings
You would think living with someone would alleviate the need to be near them, but it really doesn’t. Dan thinks maybe he’s just clingy, but that would mean Isabella and Phil are equally as clingy as him. It’s nice, knowing that they want him near them the same way that he does.
But right now, Dan really needs Phil’s cock inside of his ass. “Phil,” he whines, pushing back against Phil.
“Would you wait a minute? I don’t want to hurt you,” his voice is tight, and Dan feels pride in knowing that he caused Phil to unwind like this. Isabella and Julia are off somewhere, Dan’s certain that she left specifically to escape the sexual tension between the boys. They were nearly eye-fucking each other this morning.
Dan’s learned that even if three people are in a relationship together, it can be super awkward to have sexual tension between two people and not the third. Dan doesn’t blame her, though, for leaving. There’s been moments where Isabella looks at Phil so intensely Dan sort of wants to crawl away.
Phil circles Dan’s rim with a lubed finger, pulling Dan back into the moment. He tries to press down against the finger, but Phil just removes it and gives him a disappointed look. “No fucking yourself,” he scolds, which is so much hotter than Dan would’ve thought it would be. The finger returns, this time Phil presses the pad of it against Dan’s entrance and applies a bit of pressure.
The finger slips past the rim and Dan groans at the intrusion. It doesn’t hurt, nor does it feel good, it just surprises him is all. He doesn’t bottom often, but he really should, because Phil is so good at topping. Within seconds, Phil is curling the singular finger upwards and, fuck, there it is. Dan feels his chest tighten in pleasure and bites his lip to keep from moaning out Phil’s name.
They don’t need the whole palace to know what they’re doing.
But Phil pulls his lip down with his thumb as he slowly thrusts in and out with his middle finger. “Wanna hear you,” he explains, breathlessly, “wanna hear you moan.”
Who is Dan to not comply with the prettiest boy in town? That’d just be a sin.
So, he let’s loose, grunting and groaning, crying out when Phil hits his prostate again. “Add another,” he encourages, grinding his hips in mid-air to gain some friction. “Please.”
Phil obliges, slipping another finger into the bottle lube (and ignoring Dan’s mewl of desperation when he pulls out) before slipping both fingers past the rim of Dan’s entrance and picking up his pace again. Phil tries to aim deeper than before, hitting Dan’s prostate head-on instead of from a diagonal. Dan’s surprised he doesn’t cum right then and there, but he holds off because Phil’s slipping in a third finger and, yeah, the stretch hurts like a bitch but it’ll be worth it.
He grinds his hips down again the fingers inside of him, a bit breathless and very horny. Phil pulls his fingers out and Dan lets out a slew of, “Fuck me, please, please, Phil, fuck me—” before Phil begins to bottom out slowly.
He avoids Dan’s prostate at first, trying to just allow Dan’s body to get adjusted to having a cock inside of him, but Dan pushes down at an angle and Phil gets the memo. He adjusts the angle and begins to thrust in and out slowly, the slap of skin-on-skin driving him mad with a hunger for Dan.
Phil bends down and connects their lips, grabbing Dan’s cock in a fist and jerking him off in time with his building thrusts. It isn’t until he gets into a steady rhythm that Dan slaps his hand away, and Phil let’s go. “Don’t want this to end,” Dan grunts, and Phil nods, squeezing his eyes shut. He feels the familiar coil of heat twisting in his stomach, his balls draw closer to his body and bucks into Dan faster, trying to chase the feeling of euphoria.
With one more thrust, he cums inside of Dan, grunting and breathing heavily. Dan follows, fucking himself on Phil’s cock and working through his orgasm. “God, I love you,” Dan murmurs, moving up to kiss Phil and causing Phil to slip out of him.
“I love you, too.”
“Shower?”
Phil laughs, but follows Dan to their bathroom happily as he starts the water.
“Sir, Ms. MacKenna would like to have an audience with you.”
The guard is kind, Dan appreciates that she announces herself before tapping his shoulder as to not startle him. “Of course, just give me a minute,” he marks the page of his book with a bookmark (his mother-in-law had given it to him for Christmas. That was literally all he got), before standing up and stretching. Phil mumbles something beside him and tries to pull him back down but gives up and goes to cuddle Isabella instead.
Dan feels a bit of love swell in his chest as he follows the guard down the steps and to the foyer. A woman is there wearing grey robes—not uncommon, lots of local religious groups where robes during rituals to show symbolism. Underneath her robes is a white floral shirt that barely peeks through at all. She curtsies as soon as her blue eyes lay on Dan.
He bows as well before offering his hand, “Your Highness,” she says, shakily. “I’m Rose MacKenna.”
He nods, taking her silence as a moment to allow him to speak. He assumes she won’t speak unless he tells her to, anyways. “You don’t have to bother with formalities, it’s just ‘Dan’. Here, take a seat,” he gestures to the cushioned chairs beside a small table in the foyer. It’s not usually sat in, but it’s convenient and they won’t have to travel through his house in order to speak. “Why are you here?” He tries to keep his voice level and light in order to seem as unintimidating as possible.
It doesn’t appear to work, she just shakes more. “I—” She steadies herself with a breath. “I was originally part of the rebellion,” Dan focuses on showing no emotion to her words. “They… they would lock me up. I’d go d-days without food or water.” Her thin frame is covered by robes, but Dan is sure that if she changed into casual attire her ribs would show. “I-I need a job, but n-no one will take m-me in. I asked a woman down the street, Louise, and s-she said to come to y-you,” her bottom lip is shaking, and her eyes refuse to meet his.
“Of course, we’ll have the staff vet you to see where they believe you’ll work best.”
“M-may I hug you?” She asks, still shaking.
“Of course,” he opens his arms and wraps her into a short embrace before pulling back. “Now, Emilia will show you the multiple openings we have, and we’ll locate you in some open quarters, okay?”
“Dan, you want to look for the good in everyone, I get it—”
“Izzy, she needs a job,” he whines, “what was I supposed to do?”
“Interview her properly to make sure you don’t kill your family!” She exclaims, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Baby,” he whines softly, trying to put his hands on her hips. She grunts and steps back. “Trust me, baby? Please?”
Phil has tried to butt in, to remind both of them to just follow common sense but neither listened. So, now, he’s scrolling through Twitter on his phone.
Izzy huffs at Dan but pulls him into a hug regardless. “Can we watch Ponyo?” She asks, and Dan nods.
“We never finished watching Howl’s Moving Castle,” Phil points out from their bed. “And someone started watching Criminal Minds without me,” he scowls in Dan’s direction playfully. Dan hops onto their bed, pushing Phil to the side playfully as he adjusts pillows.
“You’re one to talk,” Dan shoots back, “you watched the whole series of B99 without me,” Phil ignores his statement, pulling Dan closer to his chest instead. Izzy takes it as an invitation to sit on the other side of Dan and combs her fingers through her hairs.
They select the movie and curl into each other, watching everything with intense interest. It’s a way to wind down, to watch kid movies until they’re tired and fall asleep.
Isabella has other plans, as the credits roll in, though. She selects a horror movie (it looks like a knock-off of The Blair Witch, but neither of the boys tell her that) from the list and hits play.
Phil’s stomach feels queasy as the movie progresses. He’s good with jump scares and horror generally, but this is suspense. It’s gory and bloody and he hates gore. He gags a bit, internally, as fake guts fly across the screen. “God, I hate this.”
“C’mon! It’s a good movie,” Dan defends. “What’s wrong? Do you want me to hold you?” He says it so sweetly and innocently that Phil just nods and buries his head into the crook of Dan’s neck.
“Thanks,” he mumbles into Dan’s shirt, and Dan says something in response, but Phil can’t really hear it. He focuses on breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth. Izzy’s arm has stretched across Dan to massage his shoulder gently. He gives her two thumbs up to show that he’s feeling a bit better. “Sorry for being a little bitch,” he apologizes, but his head is still buried in Dan’s shoulder and his voice sounds scratchy still.
“It’s fine, baby,” Izzy assures him, “besides, you’re our little bitch.”
Phil gives an unconvincing laugh at that and allows himself to block out the slashing sounds from the television. Instead, he focuses on his breathing and eventually manages to lull himself to sleep.
Dan has woken up in the middle of the night. He looks over to read their clock and see what time it is, but all he sees is darkness. Then, something moves and he’s able to read the clock again: 3:18 a.m. He groans, rolling into Phil’s side.
And then he feels something cold and metallic against his throat.
“Come with me,” a voice urges him and he nods anxiously. Just don’t hurt the babies, he prays, silently.
He gets up, slowly, careful not to wake Isabella. She’s a heavy sleeper, of course, but he’d hate for her to wake up and God knows what this person will do to her then.
She doesn’t move, thankfully. Dan’s able to get out of their bed without too many issues. He follows the hand on his back, careful not to walk into the knife on his throat.
He holds his breath as the move through the palace and towards the gardens. Dan feels his heart sinking as he realizes with certainty that this woman is a guard. The guard he hired this morning. No one else will be guarding the side exit to the gardens, and therefore, she’s able to walk out with him.
And it’s his fault.
He knew better.
He focuses on steadying his breath and keeping his eyes trained ahead. There’s no chance of escape, there never was. He wishes he could go back and smack his former self for letting a stranger into his home.
“Stop in the name of Prince Philip!” A commanding voice calls, and Dan relaxes with the realization that they’re on his team. “Release the weapon from the Prince’s neck!” She does, but not before dragging it along playfully, as if this is fun for her. He feels the knife pierce his skin—a papercut, barely, but he still winces. “Approach the gates,” the guard commands, and she obliges, pulling the back of Dan’s shirt towards the palace. “Drop him.”
She does, Dan knows this because he hits the dirt with a thud.
He wakes up with a headache, lying in the infirmary bed. A nurse is fussing over a particularly nasty bruise forming on his knee, but he shoves her hand away, “What the hell is happening?”
“You’re perfectly healthy, sir, there was a chance of concussion and we had to check to make sure you weren’t severely harmed.”
He nods, sitting up. His head still hurts, and when he brings his hand to the pounding, there’s a massive swelling beside his temple. He groans, reclining again and allowing Phil to give him a frown. “You’re lucky I’m a light sleeper after scary movies,” Phil mutters. “I woke up to cuddle you after a nightmare and you weren’t there. I knew something was wrong.”
Dan’s never been more grateful for Phil’s terror of gore before now. After all, who knows where Dan would be if it weren’t for Phil wanting cuddles. “God, I love you.”
“You’ve told me a few times,” Phil says, cheekily. His joy falls away as he wraps his arms around Dan, and Dan notices Izzy standing behind Phil.
“Don’t you ever,” she slaps him, “do that again.”
He holds his cheek in shock. It doesn’t hurt, but Dan wasn’t expecting that. “I’m sorry,” he says, though he’s not sure what he’s sorry.
“That bitch can die,” she says. Dan nods uncertainly. “Tomorrow.”
He nods, understanding now. She wants the woman to be sentenced. Tomorrow. “Yes, ma’am,” he averts his gaze. There’s no malice behind his words, he’s sincerely terrified of Isabella.
His mother is there, too, but she hasn’t spoken yet. Her lips are pursed and she’s shaking her head at him before leaving without a word.
“Where’s Julia?” He asks, but Phil just rolls his eyes.
“It’s seven a.m., Dan, you set back all of the chores. Julia is working in the kitchens because most of the kitchen maids were trying to help you.”
Dan’s heart hurts a but from that, and he feels so much worse for leaving them. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. Phil’s gaze softens behind his glasses.
“We forgive you, baby. Just… not again, okay?”
Dan nods, and the nurse gives him a ‘okay’ to go back to his chambers.
He collapses back into their bed, catching up on his lost sleep, and curled around his partners.
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