#they berate each other so hard but in such a friend way i hate. awful. banned. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jenomark · 3 years

Text

JANUARY

➔Pairing: Doyoung x Reader (Female) | Jaehyun x Reader (Female) ➔Other Members/ Characters: -.- ➔Genre: Plot (ft. smut, romance, angst, fluff etc.) ➔Warnings: Angst ➔Word count: 4,716

➔Summary: You are dating handsome and lovable Jaehyun. You stay at his apartment all of the time, along with his roommate Doyoung. Doyoung has feelings for you, which he doesn’t quite understand. What begins as an innocent crush changes the lives of all three people over the course of seven months.

AUGUST SEPTEMBER OCTOBER NOVEMBER DECEMBER

Jaehyun sat cross-legged in the middle of the floor, leaning back on his arms, his hair a tousled mess, and his eyes red from not sleeping well. Moving never agreed with him. He hated change and how hard it was to settle into newness. He aspired to keep things as they were, which was why he hardly shopped for new shirts or baseball caps. The older and more used things were, the happier they made him feel. He didn’t want to exist in a world where he had to pick out new things to decorate a new apartment with, to pretend like he cared about separate cutting boards, one for meat and the other for vegetables.

Maybe he was just tired of giving a shit altogether.

He sat for a while on the wood floor that was scuffed after having to move his furniture alone. He kicked a lone sheet of bubble wrap with his foot, trying his best just to pop a bubble with his big toe. He blew hot air out of his mouth and looked around, willing his brain not to stir up old memories.

His phone rang and he ignored the call, something he didn’t often do. Jaehyun was a social butterfly. He liked talking to people, and liked the attention at the other end of the call, the way someone could feel excited just by talking to him. He knew the people he loved would be worried about him, and he resented any of those feelings they might have.

“I’m a grown up, for fucks sake.” he had told his mother before he left to pack up his apartment on his own.

His mother didn’t raise an argument, just let her only son go. So, Jaehyun was left alone to pack up his whole life, or what was left of it. By the time he got to the apartment he used to share, more than half of the things were gone. He hadn’t realized how little material possessions he owned, or how easy it was to pack up what he did have.

Jaehyun got to his feet. He knew he had to make a move and look for a new apartment for one person. It really was time to grow up and be the man he always wanted to be. He took one last look around the apartment before he locked it up forever, crossing that threshold and only thinking about you once.

December

“-I cheated on you.” he said. “I cheated on you the night I went to the bar without you.”

He meant it to sting. He wanted to see how the realization would set in, how the relief would slowly be replaced by repulsiveness. Your pretty little face scrunched up with it until you opened your mouth to berate him. More than anything, he wanted you to blame him for ruining the relationship, to use him as an excuse for your own infidelity.

Instead, there was only relief. It made Jaehyun feel disappointed.

“Do I know her?” you asked.

“No.” Jaehyun said. “She was a stranger. That doesn’t matter. It was just one time”

He was lying through his teeth. Not the best liar, Jaehyun was surprised you bought it. You looked understanding, which made him want to hurt you, really hurt you. The fight left him as soon as you admitted defeat. It was easy to love you but harder to unlove you.

“I have something to confess.” you said, sounding as pathetic as you looked.

He didn’t always know that you were cheating with Doyoung. There was a time, in the beginning, he used to laugh behind Doyoung’s back at his little crush on you. It was like a game for Jaehyun to watch his roommate squirm any time you walked into the room. It gave Jaehyun a mental pat on the back to know that he could get someone like you, someone everyone else wanted, someone Jaehyun’s roommate could not get. Looking back on it, it was wrong of him to think like this. Like everyone else, he was still learning how to be a better human being. He thought it would just take time.

Jaehyun had many crushes throughout his life, so he could hardly blame Doyoung for what should have been an innocent crush. You were pretty special. In a lot of ways, Jaehyun wished he hadn’t taken you for granted so much, because there were aspects to the relationship that were so good for him. He felt stupid to lose them. Also, you were beautiful and the sex was some of the best he’d ever had.

He supposed that he became really suspicious the feelings weren’t unrequited around Halloween. Something felt off at the party, and it had nothing to do with his drinking. You glowed whenever you were around Doyoung, much brighter than he himself ever could make you. That was the profound moment, the one where he tried so hard to convince himself that it wasn’t true. He began to blame himself for thinking negatively. The guilt ate away at him, gnawing at him whenever he was alone with his thoughts.

“Should I be scared of this confession?” Jaehyun asked.

There was so much bitterness dripping from his voice, but he was trying his best to remain neutral. Seeing the way your face deflated made him feel sympathetic towards you, something he was learning that adults could do.

You nodded, the tears falling quietly.

“Say it.” Jaehyun said.

You looked at him. He would always remember the way you looked at him, and how he wished things had turned out differently. In your eyes, he could see how certain you were of the future, how sure you were with your own choices.

“I cheated on you, too.” you said.

Jaehyun didn’t react like you wanted him to, which threw everything off. Your expression was accusatory, and he could see that you were wondering if either of you ever loved each other to begin with.

“Do I know him?” he asked.

“You don’t seem surprised.”

Jaehyun shrugged. “What does that say about you?” He squeezed his fists down by his side to calm down. He tried a different approach and added, “We shouldn’t do this outside.”

He started walking towards the car, hoping you would follow, but you didn’t. He walked back to you, reaching out his hand to touch your arm.

“You knew.” you said, the realization dawning on you slowly. “You knew I cheated on you this whole time?”

Jaehyun let his hand fall down by his side. When he spoke, his voice was thick. “Yes, I knew.”

“Did you cheat on me because I cheated on you?”

“Let’s talk about it in the car, please.”

He started walking, but again, you didn’t follow. Frustrated, Jaehyun turned back around. He looked at the windows to make sure no one was watching the show. He didn’t need his mother or his little cousins knowing what a wreck his life could sometimes be. By then, all the steam had left him. He was no longer angry or bitter, just numb.

“Yes, I knew you cheated on me,” he said. “I didn’t cheat on you because you cheated on me. What level of petty do you think I am?”

“How long have you known?” you asked.

“Does it matter?”

You looked terrified and so small. Jaehyun had to resist the urge to scoop you up and hold you in the cold air. He was still an asshole, but he was becoming a sensitive asshole. He thinks that’s the moment where the true change began.

Slowly, you started walking towards him. You both made it back to the car, a place that was starting to feel too heavy for Jaehyun, too boxed in. Closing the car door blocked out all of the air and sound. It was just the two of you, one person silently crying and the other trying his best not to break down with you.

“Why him?” was all Jaehyun said.

It was a question that had been bugging him for a long time. Sure, Doyoung was more emotionally available. He was outwardly intelligent. His charms were many, and he wasn’t bad looking. He kept most of his promises and could have been a good friend in a past life. People never had the wrong idea about Doyoung when they first met him, either, not like they did with Jaehyun. Their opinion of Jaehyun wavered, but Doyoung always brought forth the same reaction. He was the man a mother could like. He was the one you fell in love with, the one who felt right from the start.

Jaehyun could feel the mood in the car turn even more sour. You didn’t know he also knew it was with Doyoung. Maybe you were going to convince him that it was someone unimportant, some random in a bar, just like his story.

“Am I that awful?” Jaehyun asked. “I know I haven’t been here for you a whole lot. Our relationship hasn’t been the best.”

You cried a little harder. “No, you’re not awful.”

“So, why? Why do this to me?”

“I don’t know.”

“Good to know.” Jaehyun said, starting the car.

He drove away in silence, the only sound coming from the hum of the car. He dropped you off in front of his and Doyoung’s apartment. It was getting harder to remain feeling numb. As he sat in the car in front of his apartment, Jaehyun could feel every emotion flooding through his veins. He gripped the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles turned white.

“I’m not coming inside,” he said. “I’ll find somewhere else to stay until both of you are out of my apartment. Take as long as you need.”

You got out of the car and came around to the side where Jaehyun’s window was open. He opened it to the cool night air in order to breathe in the freshness. It just ended up making him feel ice cold, inside and outside.

Jaehyun leaned out of it and said, “By the way, I never really cheated on you. I just said that to make you admit it. Thanks for saying it.”

The numbness returned and followed him around for roughly a month. You and Doyoung moved out within three days, not bothering to stew in feelings of guilt, like he wanted you to. Jaehyun didn't know what to do with himself, after that.

He would walk in and out of Doyoung’s empty room in the apartment, thinking up memories of you two fucking where Doyoung used to keep his bed. It was tortuous and stupid, and it helped no one in the long run, but he couldn’t stop himself from trying to draw emotions out of the pit of his belly.

Not seeing you had made it harder for him to move on. He thought about going to see you at your job, to casually stop by where he knew your group of work friends would be, but there were people in his life who always talked him out of it. He just wanted to feel something, anything at all.

His own work friends suggested he hook up with random strangers, but he never actually had it in him to go out and do it. Building any kind of relationship with someone wasn’t a great idea, even if it made him feel like he was getting some kind of sexual revenge on you. Walking around his half-empty apartment wasn’t the best choice either, but it helped him pass the time.

He didn’t get to tell you, but it was Doyoung that eluded him to the affair. When Jaehyun had asked him to take care of you, he had never seen someone so confident in his ability to do so. There was love in that man's eyes, a love that can only be felt when the person you love loves you right back. A little after that, when Jaehyun really looked at you and saw you, he confirmed that something serious was going on.

In a way, Jaehyun hoped it was just sex. He could take it if you and Doyoung were sneaking off just to fuck each other when he was at work. Adding love into the mix hurt him a little more, made him aware of the things he lacked.

So, back and forth he went like that across the apartment. He did things he wasn’t proud of. He blamed himself and didn’t blame anyone else but you. He cursed your name in the darkness. He took his aggression out on Doyoung, even going so far as to ring up his work and tell them Doyoung was thinking about quitting. It really was petty, which maybe he definitely was being, but it wasn’t anything he couldn't correct himself for. He was trying. He really was.

Jaehyun took the last box from the top of the stairs, carrying it down in his arms like a delicate baby. On the side of the fridge, the only thing he wasn’t taking with him, was a calendar marking the end days in January. He thought of the next tenants moving in, and how they’d throw it out without hesitation. Maybe they’d have a more solid year ahead of them than he felt he did.

He couldn’t believe how fast time was moving, and he willed it to just slow down long enough for him to catch his breath. Soon enough, it would be February, and he’d have been single for nearly two months. The thought of spending his birthday alone made him sick to his stomach.

He walked down the stairs, looking into the box to see an old picture frame belonging to you on top. It was one your dad had taken of you as a child at the zoo. You were in shorts, your knobby knees sticking out, and your missing-toothed smile making him want to smile back. Jaehyun kept it in his room because it reminded him from time to time of you, of how one person can come into his life and change it all.

Jaehyun didn’t just want to throw it out, so he kept it with him until he moved. He didn’t know what to do with it now, but he figured he should probably return it. You’d want that photograph more than he did, but just barely.

After feeling like he wanted the whole world against you, Jaehyun started to refocus his attention on self-care and self-love. Slowly, he began to unpack his own responses to things, how he could choose to act better in every situation, and how the only person holding him back from a better life was him.

He began to feel better, too. It wasn’t going to cure him, but it was worth a start. He couldn’t stop the pessimism from reaching inside of his shirt and clawing at his bare skin, but he could change some things that didn’t serve him.

When he reached the outside, his heart a little raw from seeing your childhood photo, his mother was waiting for him in her car. Sometimes a momma's boy just needed his momma. He placed the box in the backseat and slid into the passenger seat.

“Are you ready?” she asked, patting his knee.

“I am.”

Bars felt comfortable because they were noisy. He would go to one after work, order a drink and sip on it until he felt tired and went home. He wasn’t there to get drunk or to meet new people. Sometimes, he caught up with his work friends. Other times, he sat there alone, chit-chatting to the bartender on duty. He laughed when things were funny. He let his foot tap away against the floor when the music was good.

“Is this seat taken?”

A pretty girl was standing hesitantly in front of the chair next to him. Jaehyun smiled and shook his head no. She sat down beside him, bringing her purse on her lap and looking at him with curiosity.

“I see you here a lot.” she said.

“Ahh,” Jaehyun said. “I think that’s my cue to stop coming every day. I swear, I’m not an alcoholic.”

Her eyes widened, afraid that she had offended him. “I didn’t mean-”

“-I’m kidding.” Jaehyun said. "It's a joke."

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Jaehyun pushed his empty glass away from him and swiveled his chair to face her more. She looked self-conscious with the way she tucked her hair behind her ear. Jaehyun felt too awkward, so he turned his chair back around.

“Are you waiting for someone?” he asked.

“No.” She said, “I came to talk to you because you looked lonely.”

To that, Jaehyun didn’t know what to say. Instead, he ordered another drink and let her talk his ear off. She talked about everything and nothing the whole night. Jaehyun partly listened and partly let his mind wander. She was nice and interesting enough, but he wasn’t ready to start talking to other women in a way that suggested sex or relationships.

He could have used a friend. He would have liked to have found a friend in her, but she made it clear that she wasn’t interested in him in that way when her hand found her way to his thigh. She moved it upward with each word she spoke, her fingertips dangerously close to fondling him.

“This was fun.” Jaehyun said, feeling the buzz of alcohol running through his system. “Unfortunately, I have work early tomorrow and need a full night's rest. See you sometime?”

The girl looked taken aback at the sudden change of events. Jaehyun got up from his chair, said goodnight to her and sauntered out of the door. He hadn’t even realized they didn’t exchange names.

Jaehyun decided to walk home. The night was cold in the way winter was, but manageable. His jacket kept him warm enough, and if his bones chilled, he hardly noticed. He watched people as he walked, watched them happily walking along the sidewalks and dipping into whatever door they fancied. Slowly, he began to smile and feel more at ease, but maybe it was the alcohol making him feel that way. Or maybe it was a sudden feeling that maybe everything could be alright, only if he allowed it.

He woke up and he was drooling. Jaehyun lifted his head from the pillow, looking to his left and right. There was a knocking sound that felt like it was coming from inside of his head. He hadn’t been that tipsy last night, so he knew a hangover was not the cause. He lifted himself up from the bed in his mothers spare bedroom and threw his legs over the side of his bed.

The knocking continued, more feverishly than before. Jaehyun ignored it and picked up his phone to see if he had any missed calls. There were none.

“I’m coming!” Jaehyun yelled when the final knocks were more forceful. He muttered to himself,” Fucking fuck.”

He walked across the room before realizing he was shirtless. He grabbed a dirty t-shirt from the floor and brought it over his head, letting the hem of it meet his sweatpants. In case it was one of his mothers snooty friends, he looked in the mirror and cleaned up his messy hair. He didn’t need anyone judging him for sleeping past noon on a weekend.

“Coming.” Jaehyun called again.

He walked out of the spare bedroom that was just to the left of the living room and ducked down to see if he could recognize the person standing on the porch. Or rather, people. He saw just a flip of hair before he ran behind the door and held his hand to his chest to get his heart to stop beating.

Doyoung’s voice was low and quiet, but Jaehyun could hear everything he said. “We’ll come back later. He's not home.”

Jaehyun didn’t have to hear your voice to know that you were there, too , that the hair he saw belonged to you. It was dyed a darker color, but it was unmistakably you. Yet, hearing the sound of your voice made his toes curl underneath him. He didn’t think seeing you so soon after the breakup would help him.

“He’s home.” you said, your voice somewhat impatient.

It was smart of you to come when his mother was at work. He thought you might have purposely done it this way, to avoid any more awkwardness. After all, Jaehyun’s mother was sure to ride for her son, to take a look at both of them standing on the porch and curse them out. At that imagery, Jaehyun smiled to himself.

“I don’t know.” Doyoung said, his voice nervous. "Should we be bothering him like this? It's too soon."

Jaehyun backed away from the door. He wondered if he had time to run back into the bedroom and get himself more presentable. He wanted you to see what you had been missing out on. He was a handsome guy, definitely one worth giving a second look to. He suddenly wished he had taken that girl at the bar home and fucked her, so that he could talk to you and Doyoung and have her walk out of the bedroom naked, unaware of what was going on. He'd love to see the look on your face then.

No, Jaehyun thought to himself. I should appear wounded. I am wounded.

The unkempt hair and slightly red-rimmed eye look was working in his favor. Before giving it another thought, Jaehyun whipped open the front door to his mothers house and faced them both down. He kept his face stoic, his voice even. “Can I help you?”

It was Doyoung who spoke first, his voice not as sharp as usual. “You have something of hers. She was wondering if she could have it back.”

“Can she speak for herself?” Jaehyun asked.

The whole time Doyoung was speaking, Jaehyun kept his eyes on you. It was a mistake to do so. There was nothing more heartbreaking than to see how well you were surviving. Your skin was glowing and flawless. Your new hair made you look mature in a way that was sure to make everyone notice you. You were dressed in nice clothes that matched Doyoung’s vibe. Jaehyun couldn't stop the jealousy from taking root in his soul.

“She can.” you said, speaking for yourself. “You have my picture and I’d like it back. Do you, by any chance, have it here?”

Jaehyun wasn’t really listening. He was looking into your eyes, daring himself to get lost in them. Maybe it was the fact that you were unattainable now, but it made him want you all over again. It was hard to let you go.

“Are you two dating now?” Jaehyun asked.

All three were silent, even Jaehyun. As soon as he spoke the words, he began to wish they’d stuff themselves back inside of his mouth. Jaehyun tried to recover and said, “That’s none of my business. Of course, I have your photo. I’ll get it.”

In their faces, Jaehyun shut the front door. He felt like he was going to have a heart attack. He clawed at his own neck and willed himself to breathe. He walked through his mom's house and went down to the basement where he was temporarily storing his belongings. Apartment hunting was going decently well, but he found out he could hardly afford more than a pot to piss in by himself. Having his mother support him had been a blessing, but it wasn’t easy.

After rifling through some boxes, he found the photo in question. The first few days he spent with his mother, he kept it on his bedside table. When he realized it was causing him too much pain, he brought it down to the basement with the rest of his things. He never thought you would come back to get it, or to remember it, or to show your face at his mother's house.

When Jaehyun opened the front door back up, you were gone. Doyoung stood, his eyes struggling to make eye contact. Jaehyun opened the screen door wide and handed the photograph in its frame to Doyoung.

“If you’re here to apologize, don’t bother.” Jaehyun said. “I’m over it.”

It was a lie, one too obvious for either to believe. Doyoung’s grace allowed him to let it go, to open his mouth and shut it right away. Jaehyun sat down on one of the porch chairs and motioned for Doyoung to do the same. Jaehyun shot a look in the direction of where you waited in a car, his face not betraying what he was feeling inside.

“I’ve been thinking about what I should say to you,” Jaehyun said. “But I’ve come up with nothing. All of that anger, and it still feels like I’m a fool with no way to defend myself.”

“You’re not a fool.” Doyoung said.

“You make me a fool by saying that.” Jaehyun said. “I’m a fool who was cheated on and too stupid to realize it, even with my suspicions. By my best friend, of all people.”

“Was I your best friend?” Doyoung asked. He sounded surprised, a little annoyed.

Jaehyun didn’t have an answer for that. Before, he would have answered it quickly. Of course you were my best friend. You were my roommate, my punching bag, and my buddy when all else failed. He had let Jaehyun’s lady live there because he was a nice guy, not because he was secretly in love with her. At that thought, Jaehyun chuckled darkly.

“Maybe not.” Jaehyun said. “It seems I never really had either relationship in the first place.”

“You didn’t want me to apologize.”

“No,” Jaehyun said. “It doesn’t do any good. I could apologize for not being the best boyfriend, but it didn’t matter. I could apologize for being a shitty roommate, maybe a friend, but you would still have made your choices.”

Doyoung played with the ring on his finger. He looked down at the frame in his hands, at the sweet girl looking back at him. “I owe you transparency.”

Jaehyun waited a long time for Doyoung to speak again. He was patient and channeling maturity. All he wanted to do, really, was go back inside and go back to sleep. Still, he waited and looked at Doyoung. When Doyoung didn’t speak fast enough, Jaehyun had to speak his mind. If he didn't, it would bother him too much.

“You’re dating her, yes?”

“Yes.” Doyoung said.

“In love?”

“Yes.”

“For a long time?”

“Yes.”

“Do you feel bad about it?”

“About loving her? No.” Doyoung said. “About hurting you? Yes. I did consider us some type of friends.”

“Not the type that doesn’t steal his boy's girlfriend, huh?”

The dig might have hurt Doyoung but Jaehyun couldn’t tell. Doyoung stood up, deciding that he’d had enough of the conversation. Jaehyun followed, rising to his feet in a way that desperately made him want to appear calm and cool.

“I’ll make this quick, since I have to go.” Doyoung said. “I don’t want to lose you in my life, Jaehyun.”

“Fuck you.” Jaehyun said, the words slipping out.

Doyoung’s lips parted. “I deserve that.”

“And her? Does she want to lose me?”

“I can’t speak for her, but no, she doesn’t.”

“Fuck right off.” Jaehyun opened his screen door. “A timeline where my girlfriend cheats on me with my roommate and they come back because they don’t want to lose me? Unbelievable.”

“Believe it.” Doyoung said.” Because it’s true. She won’t admit it, but there is something codependent about you two. About me, as well. Sometimes I feel like life isn’t the same without you in it. Actually, I know it’s not.”

Jaehyun shook his head as Doyoung turned to go. “I didn’t expect this. I wasn't prepared.”

Doyoung threw his hands in the air. “Me neither. I’ve learned not to expect anything anymore. Life is fucked. I'm trying my best to unfuck myself.”

Doyoung walked down the steps and back towards the car. Jaehyun watched him go, pausing way too long before going inside of the house and closing the door behind him.

#doyoung #kim doyoung #nct #nct doyoung #nct jaehyun #jaehyun #jung jaehyun #nct 127 #nct fanfiction #jaehyun fanfic #doyoung fanfic #doyoung smut #jaehyun smut #jaehyun fluff #doyoung fluff

137 notes · View notes

btsinwonderland · 3 years

Text

A Drop of Poison - Ch. 4: An Invitation

A Loki fanfiction!

Previous Chapter --- Next Chapter

Full Chapter List

-----------------------------------------------

“You’re late!” Valkyrie said, stuffing a pancake into her mouth as you approached her table in the Great Hall. “And you look like shit.”

You could feel the papery dryness of your eyes. Each blink felt grating. “I didn’t have a great sleep…” you said, hoping that your face did not give away the perpetual embarrassment you felt every time you thought about what happened the night before.

“Was it the dream again?” Valkyrie said, handing you a plate she filled with hash browns and eggs.

You took it gratefully. “No, I...went to the restricted section of the library last night,” you said, looking down at your plate. An image of Professor Laufeyson’s bare chest flashed before your eyes and you nearly dropped your fork.

“What!” She spoke so loud that several of the people surrounding you and at the other tables glanced at you both.

“Shhh! Don’t be so loud,” you whispered.

“You went without me,” she said, stuffing a mushroom into her mouth.

“It couldn’t wait, but I didn’t even find what I was looking for,” you said.

“And what was that?”

You were about to speak when you saw Professor Laufeyson enter the Great Hall. You nearly choked on your hash browns when he glanced at you. “I have to go,” you said and ran out of the hall.

You did not look back, and you did not stop walking until you realized you were back at the library. Your subconscious seemed to have a sense of humour that you did not find particularly funny. As you stood at the door like a deer in the headlights, someone nearly body checked you to the side as they entered the library.

“Out of the way, mudblood,” he said. His blue hair was striking in the daylight.

“Watch it, Talon,” you said.

He turned to you with a glare, then he smiled coldly and walked on.

You nearly rolled your eyes straight to the back of your head. Talon, the one person you would not mind using one or two of the unforgivable curses on. Just a bit of the Imperious to make him wet his pants in class, maybe? Nothing too awful. You still remember the way he laughed when he stuffed you and one other student into a Shrinking Shed in a pawnshop in Knockturn Alley. It was only your second year, and you berated yourself for trusting any wizard that said they “had something cool to show you” since that day. The poor boy you were stuck with broke his arm and may have broken the other, lest Professor Heimdall had not come by the shop; by that time the shed was half the size of a fridge. You still hated confined spaces from that day onwards.

He walked towards a blonde Slytherin girl trying to finish her homework at a large table. She looked less than pleased at his interruption. You rolled your eyes and moved on.

Your thoughts drifted back to the previous night as you headed to the back of the library. And just like that, it transported you into a completely different head space. Professor Laufeyson. You thought about his smooth skin and the way the moonlight glinted off the sweat on his body.

Thinking of him like that put you in a sort of daze, where you were so embarrassed you thought you might die but also so intrigued that you could not stop yourself from wondering. You paused where you were and gazed at the restricted section. From there, you could see the table where he had...relations with Professor Sif. You remembered her panting and writhing in pleasure. The entire night you had thought about only one thing. What did that feel like?

You knew how your own fingers felt, and despite how wonderful that was, you had always been curious about something more. Valkyrie had described it to you in visceral detail several times. She had said that if the person knew what they were doing, that it could be amazing. Higher than high. But if the person only cared about themselves, it could be quite awful. From the looks of it, Professor Laufeyson knew what he was doing.

Something about him felt different. Enticing. The way his lean muscles flexed as he gripped the edges of the table and the way his eyes glowed. Heat coursed through you, and the muscles in your stomach tightened. You had not been this bothered in all your life and had a fleeting thought of whether there was a way to quit Potions class. You rubbed your eyes and face. The book. That was what you came here for.

“Are you alright?” A sweet voice said.

You opened your eyes; it was Pom. She was carrying four large textbooks and placed them on a study table between the aisles.

Putting on your most convincing smile, you said, “I’m fine, I was just looking for a book.”

“Oh? What one?” she said, her eyes lit up.

Pom did frequent the library. Perhaps she could be of use. “It’s about cats, common spells for cats.”

She gave you a look.

“No, I’m serious! I just really love cats,” you said. It was not a lie, though you preferred reptiles.

“Well, where is it supposed to be?”

You thought about how to put it. “Well, that’s the thing. I was informed that it would be in one place, but it’s no longer there. And I don’t think anyone checked it out.”

Pom thought about it for a moment. Then her eyes lit up. “Maybe it’s a switcher!”

“Switcher?”

She nodded with an excited smile. “I’ve only ever encountered one of them. But there was once a book that my brother and I were looking for. I heard it was the journal of a student who created their own spells. And I think we found it, but right before Ken could pick it up from the shelf, it faded and disappeared. About two months later, I saw it again, on the other side of the library. I reached for it, but it disappeared. I talked to one of our senior prefects and she told me there’s a rumour about books in the library. Apparently, some of them like to disappear and reappear. Nobody knows how to catch them, but there’s a theory that they’ll come to you if you need them.”

You raised your eyebrows at the thought of disappearing books. Of course the book you needed to find was evading you. “So if I need it badly enough...I might find it?” You said.

Pom nodded with an unsure smile. You thanked her as she picked up her pile of books and wandered off to study.

A bright pink guide on potions stood out as you looked at the shelves. Flora and Fawna for Beginners. You sighed. This was going to be a long day.

So you roamed. You roamed the bookshelves for hours, reading every title, every author name and every little scroll in the cabinets. It was tedious beyond belief and you stopped to rest a few times. After your third hour of wandering the library and receiving strange looks from the students you passed by for the thirtieth time, you sighed and sat right on the floor, in between the Magical Creatures and Astrocentric Religions sections. Your stomach rumbled from hunger and you wondered if it was time to give up yet. So much for your investigation. It felt quite less glamorous when you were at the start of it and all you could muster up was sitting on your bottom with an empty stomach and dry hands.

You looked out the window at the end of the aisle; the day was overcast again. It has been raining non stop this season. You got up, defeated, and ready to find some food. Suddenly, there was a sharp bang on the window and you turned to see what it was. A dark smudge was streaked across the glass and you walked up to it for a closer look. You nearly jumped a foot in the air when another bird flew into the window. It fell and you could not see where it landed, but you wondered if it was dead.

A few more birds banged into the windows, and other students got up from their chairs to see the disturbance. One girl gasped so loudly that the librarian had to come over and calm everyone down. The librarian looked at the windows and grumbled to herself as she went out to inform someone of the mess.

You walked across the aisles to observe the other windows, and each one was streaked with a dark red stain. As you walked by the first year selection of books near the front of the library, you noticed in the corner, on the bottom shelf there was a new title. Something you had not noticed before. The spine was dark red and your eyes widened at the title “Spells for the Common House Cat”.

Nearly diving for the book, you crouched down and grabbed it, thinking it would disappear right before your eyes. But, you held it in your hands and yelled out a “yes!” This earned you a shush from the students who were studying.

You were so elated to read the book once you returned to the common room that you nearly ran into the door as you exited the library. It was already an hour past dinner at the Great Hall; you imagined Valkyrie had stuffed her face full already and probably wondered where you were. You picked up your pace and raced through the halls with meat pies on your mind and the book in your hands. The texture was of a smooth aged leather, with odd scratches along the spine and cover. The writing on the cover was a rushed scrawl with black ink and you flipped through the inside, only to see pages and pages of the same hurried writing. There was one passage that caught your eye:

Informed though we may be of my house we are not warned to eat live snakes. Wish you well my balloon animal friend. Did you know hats wore cow bells on their noses? Bells bells bells! Nasty business wandering through the dry sun. If there is one watered down lion to know, it’s Muriel and her tacky shoes.

You were so perplexed you said aloud, “What the fu-”

A hard body stopped your momentum, and you fell right on your rear onto the floor. The book fell out of your hands and you rubbed your nose where it was bumped. “I’m so sorry, I-” You looked up and your mouth went dry.

Professor Laufeyson was standing above you, with your book in his hand, and his eyebrows slightly raised. You saw the recognition in his gaze as he assessed you and a whisper of a smile appeared on his lips; it disappeared again into his usual stoic expression. You remained on the floor and stared at him for several seconds, as if you were paralyzed.

He reached down and helped you up. “We keep bumping into one another, don’t we, Miss Eves?” He said, throwing you a smile that almost knocked you down again.

“Y-yes, I suppose so.”

He handed you the book, glancing at the title. “Interesting literature, is it for your classes or for pleasure?”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “Just for fun.”

“Ah, and is this a title you found in your evening forays into the library?” He said, leaning close so you could see the flecks of lighter blue in his eyes.

Your heart skipped a beat. He knew. He knew. Oh god. He knew. Your mind made a split second decision.

“I’m not sure what you mean, sir,” you said, gripping the book tightly against your body.

Professor Laufeyson chuckled and leaned against the wall, further away from you. You breathed a little easier. “It seems that a student has been out of bed and has seen things she should not have,” he said, crossing his arms. His eyes looked down at you with a mocking sort of sternness. “It could lead to expulsion…”

You held his hard gaze, not denying anything but not giving in. It seemed he was testing you, checking your resolve. You took a silent breath and looked right back at him. There was no way he could get you into trouble without admitting his own faults. “I wonder what the protocols are for teachers and acceptable behaviour on school grounds?” You said, sticking your chin up and thinking you sounded more like an insolent child than anything else.

He smiled widely. “Ah, very good, Miss Eves! Worry not. If I wanted to expel you I would have had Professor Sif handle it,” he said.

“I haven’t told anyone, and I don’t plan to,” you said. You finally lost your resolve and looked at the floor. Your cheeks heated at the thought of him half naked. “Th-thank you for not letting Professor Sif see me.”

“Miss Eves, it is simply water under the troll bridge. Though, I have a bit of a favour to ask of you,” he said. “Perhaps we can call it even then.”

You glanced up, and he had moved away from the wall and was now standing a couple of inches away from you. “Yes, sir?”

“That envelope you gave me was an invitation to dinner with the Headmistress and Professor Odinson. That’s just where I’m headed now, in fact. And I would love for you to accompany me,” he said, holding out his hand like a gentleman.

You stared at his hand, and then up at him, dumbfounded. “What?”

He smiled and reached over to your shoulder, guiding you to follow him. As you both walked, he said, “To be completely honest with you, I just hate these family reunion dinners. Terribly awkward. It would be a pleasure to have you there.”

“I’d hate to crash a dinner party. I’m sure Headmistress Frigga just wanted a family affair. Plus, I’m not even hungry!” You said, and then your stomach growled most viciously. You looked down at it with a look of betrayal.

“It will be fun, I promise. Rainbow umbrella,” he said.

You realized you were already at the Headmistress’s office as the statue of the gargoyle began to turn. “But sir,” you started, but he smiled at you so disarmingly that you could not find any words to deny his request. He grabbed your hand and led you up the steps and you were sure that this was an awful, terrible idea.

#loki #loki x reader #loki fics #loki (marvel)#loki fanfiction #loki imagine #loki series #mcu loki #loki of asgard #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #loki layfeyson x reader #hogwarts au #thor odinson #valkyrie #Professor Loki #loki moodboard #loki of hogwarts #norse mythology

43 notes · View notes

alicemitch09writes · 3 years

Text

lame

09.

new beginnings are always the hardest part

Despite everything you said – being happy to see your two childhood friends finally acknowledging each other, coming to better terms with their relationship, you didn’t talk to the two for a week though, slightly pissed that they let their damn egos get the best of them.

Really, boys were stupid. So stupid. How stupid? Fucking stupid!

Yet, at the same time, you merely used it as an excuse to really re-evaluate your stance on things.

Honestly, it was nice to have them work through their feelings and finally see each other on equal footing, despite the fact that they had to use their goddamn fists and talk civilly- nope. Childhood friends with serious issues that were slathered by insecurities and bullying could only be mended by fists and screaming. Still, despite having the two finally coming to terms with each other, they still felt so far and out of reach. You had to wonder, where were you in all of that?

Exhaling through your nose, you rested your head against the mop handle, running your forehead through the wood to ground you. “Stupid,” you say to no one in particular. Well, maybe it was more to yourself.

Tiredly making your way through your home, sluggishly pulling the door open, you announced your presence, voice slurring. “I’m home.”

All you wanted to do was bury yourself in bed, take a short nap, or drown in bath-

Something was off.

Immediately, your senses were on high.

First, you caught a familiar scent – two of them, actually. One smelled like sweat and body wash, the other was of burnt sugar. Then, there were the familiar gentle beats. Rushing towards your living room, you all but slammed the door wide open, yellow eyes opening just as wide.

Green and carmine eyes widened at your presence. Staring. You blink. They blinked. You blink again. Izuku raised a tentative hand, smiling weakly. Bakugou just stared with his hands in his pockets.

…

“OLD MAN! What are they doing here!?”

At your outburst, your grandfather comes running towards you whacking you in the head, hard.

The boys winced at that.

Your grandfather eyes you sternly. “Don’t be rude to our guests, foolish girl!”

The two guests just eye you – one worried, with his hands out, the other in awed concern, feeling the pain from the whack.

"You didn't answer my question," you growled, the back of your head still hurting. "WHAT THE FUCK ARE THEY DOING HERE!?"

"Simple: they came to visit."

"AND YOU JUST LET THEM!?"

"They were standing outside the house, it's rude to just leave them there."

"THEN YOU SHOULD'VE! THEY'RE NOT FUCKING STRAYS!"

"They're our guests, foolish girl."

"You should've left them out, then asked for my opinion!"

Beside you, the two boys shifted their eyes going back and forth at your heated exchange with your grandfather.

"Why should I? It's my house."

"Don't I get a say?"

"Do you want me to hit you again?" he raised a hand threateningly, causing you (and the two boys) to wince and take a step back, the back of your head still throbbing. "Ha, thought so." You gave him a sneer, he smirked smugly.

“I’m going to cook now, keep them company!” turning his back, he casually waves off at you three, walking to the kitchen. “Have them greet your parents.”

Sighing, taking a few calming breaths, you glared at the two boys, gesturing then with your head. Without a word, they were on their feet and followed after you.

It’s been a while since Bakugou’s ever been to your house. Izuku comes over a lot, has been over the years. He can't help but feel jealous of how close the two of you are, he felt so left out.

There was an altar by the corner of the living room, where he found you kneeling in front of, lips pressed tightly staring hard at the wooden cabinet long and hard. Eventually, you took hold of the doors and opened, expression softening as you saw the smiling photos of your deceased parents.

“Hi Ma, Pa, looked who came over to visit.”

Quickly getting to his knees behind you, Izuku gestured for Bakugou to do the same, hands pressed together in front of his chest. “Auntie, Uncle, it’s been a while!”

“A-Ah, yeah…” Bakugou says, awkwardly, you had to roll your eyes at that.

“These idiots finally got their act together,” you reported, almost smugly. “still, doesn’t change the fact that they’re the worst knuckleheads in this day and age.”

Some would think that it was a little odd to have your guests come and greet the dead, but this was quite the tradition in your home. Most of your family’s close friends were used to it, Izuku included.

Knowing this, Bakugou felt left out than ever.

For he remembered the day after that day, how his parents spoke in hushed tones when he came home after nearly dying by the hands of a sludge villain and saved by Deku – of all people, the solemn look in their faces after a quick inquiry on the bruise on his jaw, tears alarmingly threatening to spill from his mother’s eyes, his father’s careful expression – “(Name)-chan’s parents, they’re dead.”

It was all too surreal.

You missed out on school for a whole week, grieving. Classmates were murmuring amongst themselves at your absence, having heard of your little altercation and the death of your parents on the same day. Also, students fawned over him for the Sludge Incident, for managing to hold back the villain (when in actuality he was barely breathing had Deku not jumped in) which was honestly the last thing on his mind.

Deku, who was surprisingly left alone, would stare at your chair worriedly, thumbs quick to send a quick text in between classes. He had wanted to ask him about you but held himself back. Pride and guilt held him back. Also, it felt like it wasn’t his place anymore, neither was it his right.

During the funeral, he finally saw you dressed in an all-black kimono his heart clenching at the bags under your eyes, the redness surrounding it, your puffy tear-stained cheeks, the dullness in those once bright (e/c) eyes.

When they arrived, immediately both his parents gave you a big hug, you barely hugged them back, much to their concern. Auntie Inko gave you a hug, as well, when she and Deku arrived. As for him? He kept himself back, hidden, knowing how his presence would only make things worse. And yet, he still came because he was worried about you, so, so, so fucking worried.

You were barely there, receptive or alive. Bakugou hated it, it wasn’t you – you were never much of a crier, always wearing your heart on your sleeve and brimming with life. Now though, it looked as though you were half-alive. He couldn’t blame you really, he can’t imagine losing his parents, of having a part of you die.

While your grandfather attended to guests, receiving condolence money and sympathies, he ensured a distance was kept, knowing you needed time to mourn. Judging from the redness in your eyes, the blankness in your gaze, it would probably take a while.

Looking at you now, seeing the color back in your face, your eyes, the lively (if not, careful hostile) aura emanating off you sets him at ease. Well, almost.

He tried not to linger on the fact that he had a part in utterly destroying a part of you the same way he did Deku, but it bled through as the months went by. All he could do was stare at your parent’s faces, silently offering his heartfelt apologies for all those years he wasted.

"GRANDDAUGHTER! WHILE YOU’RE AT IT, BRING THEM TO THE DOJO!" A yell came from the kitchen, disrupting the peace.

His eyes fell to your form, shoulders slacking. He may not see your face, but he could tell there was a sour expression written all over your face.

Then you sighed, twisting in place to look at the two.

"How about it, boys? Wanna let off some steam?"

The dojo was adjoined to your house - a small traditional dojo that's about ages old, you're not sure but you know but it's been there forever - or so you're told.

A wide space greeted you, polished wooden floors and tatami mats on the ground, calligraphy of 'fortitude', and your family name done by your grandmother hung from the walls along with some ornaments and nondescript paintings that were as old as you (maybe) – everything was in place.

With your grandfather as the head of the family, duly seeing that he lived the family legacy and upheld tradition, he saw fit that the dojo was well-taken care for, that his students weren’t weaklings – family or not, and that the Yoruichi family lived up to its potential and filled with honor (this part, he drilled hard on you when you were younger). In addition, he was the current coach of your school's martial arts club and you were his star pupil, which spelled big favouritism, but nobody complained after sweeping the floor with them on the first day.

Growing up, this place was your safe haven, you could always find peace here, it also held so many good memories that smelled pleasantly of bamboo, faintly of wood, and the faint sounds of a wind chime resounding.

Unable to help yourself, you threw yourself to the ground sideways – an act catching the boys by surprise, Izuku to shrieked, and Bakugou to start - hands planted firmly on the ground, cartwheeling away before doing it again except doing it forward, then sideways, and then your body twisted in mid-air, before landing gracefully on your feet arms raised on both sides.

"(Nickname)!" Izuku called after you, causing you to giggle, especially because your hair was a complete mess now.

"Sorry, couldn't help myself." Patting your hands to the sides, the feel of your skirt made you realize why both boys seemed red in the face. Thankfully, you wore shorts underneath.

With Shinsou busy and final exams in the way, your sparring sessions had been put to a hold. You missed sparring, training – even if it were against Aizawa-san or your grandfather, you loved the thrill of fighting. It was in your blood, after all.

“Really, you shouldn’t be so reckless!” berates your green-haired friend, marching towards you, the blond following close behind.

Looking around, the blond teen took in his surroundings - the aged wooden beams overhead, the cubbies, your grandmother's calligraphy set neatly set in one of the fine cabinets, until his eyes stopped on some pictures. It was the three of you, during your younger days when your grandfather wanted to train all three of you.

Unaware of the way his eyes softened at the picture, he continually looked over and relived the memories – he could almost hear Deku’s crying as he tried to punch hard, him hollering in mad glee, and then you lording over the two because the dojo was ‘your turf’. Carmine eyes traced the smile on your 8-year old face, pulling away to find that you were wearing the same smile. Except, unlike the photo – where the smile was directed at him, Deku was crying in it – your smile was directed towards your green-haired friend who marvelled at the trophies you and some fellow students of the dojo won.

Jealousy was an ugly emotion, but it was always there. He hated it.

As a child, since discovering his quirk, he’d been showered by praise and was the center of everyone’s attention. But for him, the only praise and attention he wanted was from you. However, because he was a shitty kid with an overgrown pride, you barely batted his way and spared him even an ounce of acknowledgment. Honestly, he’s been starved for your attention for so long now.

Only when you had shoved his kindness away in middle school did he realize how badly he’d hurt you, how little of an effort he did to truly reach out to you. He had a handful of ‘friends’, but not really, and you had Izuku – a friendship built on trust and love, he wanted that. But he was too selfish and prideful to do shit about it.

Before he knew it, Bakugou acted on his feelings.

“(Name),” you looked up, (e/c) eyes blinking in question. “let’s spar.”

“Ka-Kacchan-?”

“Sure.” You said with a shrug.

Green eyes blinked at you, then at the blond-haired teen, darting back and forth at the two of you. Were you really doing this now?

“W-Wait a minute! Are we really doing this now?” Izuku tried to reason, seeing at the two of you began to circle each other, him in the middle. “We should just talk, recall the good times! L-Like…Like…um…” the tension between you two, it was unpalpable, raw, and intense. “(N-Nickname)! Remember the first time you showed us a kick split and Kacchan tried to mimic?”

As funny as that memory was, his two friends were too busy circling each other, resembling animals in the wild. Their expressions were blank, but their eyes spoke too much.

(E/c) met carmine. Both unwavering, unyielding, and both hungry.

“(Nickname)? Kacchan? Are you listening to me?”

Readying into a stance, you closed your eyes as you took a deep inhale, opening them when exhaling slowly out your mouth. Bakugou’s fingers were tingling, smoke emitting.

“(Nickname), Kacchan, please there’s no need to-!”

Without a moment of hesitation, Bakugou was lunging forward, the explosion – which was half-powered, Izuku noticed – leaving a cloud of smoke behind that momentarily filled the area.

You didn’t seem the slightest bit bothered by the smoke, one arm quickly raised to guard against his fist, and the other readily grabbing hold of his knee that followed soon after. With all your might, you pushed him off. (In a fit of panic, Izuku cleared the smoke clouds away with a fling of his fingers at 2% power.)

Bakugou threw his fists, to which you easily deflected or swatted aside, keeping the blows away from you. Tossing his hand away, you planted your hands on the ground and swung your legs to hit him low, Bakugou quickly moved out of the way, rather clumsily. For a moment, he swore he saw you smirk, swinging your legs around with ease to swing at him again.

He had realized then that he had no idea how you fought; he was going into this blind. You both (three, counting Deku) may have trained together under the same dojo when you were younger, but that had been years ago! Plus, being a Yoruichi meant that you were proficient in other forms of martial arts. But again, emotions got the best of him. For some reason, despite being caught at a disadvantage, he found himself gleaming.

You were fast – much faster than he had anticipated, and extremely agile. He took note of the fact that your eyes were its usual (e/c) color, despite the fact that it was dark out. All the punches and hits received were all raw strength, honed from years of training under your grandfather. He always knew you were a capable fighter, despite having not used your quirk just yet. Fuck, were you mocking him?!

Seeing the frustration in his eyes, you smirked, grabbing hold of his incoming fist, catching him off guard, to toss him aside. So answer: yes, you were mocking him.

He had no idea how much you had studied his fighting style over the years, becoming familiar with his straightforward tactic – it was so predictable. And after seeing the Sports Festival and the fight with Izuku from yesterday, you easily caught up on how adaptable he was given the situation and had quick reflexes. It made you sick.

Yet at the same time, despite knowing this, both of you seemed rather in tune fighting each other.

Izuku, who had long given up trying to be the peacekeeper, could only watch in awe at the two. The mood between you two was…something, to say the least. And watching you two fight? It felt as though it were a dialogue if that even made sense – a mad disarray of Kacchan lashing out on you, you easily avoiding all his punches and explosion, you were able to catch Kacchan off-guard a lot whenever you changed fighting styles to which he’d manage to counter in his own reckless way. It was a nail biter to watch, yet it was fascinating at the same time. The two of you were in perfect synchronization with each other.

A cloud of smoke filled the air, your eyes narrowed to see through just as a palm cut through, nearly punching your cheek clean. Ducking a swipe of Bakugou's smoking fists, you took hold of his wrists and twisted them inward, Bakugou barely had time to react and the explosions went off his skin.

Angered, he used your closeness in an attempt to headbutt you, but you easily evaded, losing balance in the process. Seeing this, he grabbed hold of your hand, tugging hard to twirl against him, back to his chest. Instantly, he caught hold of your other hand. The position looked as though you were dancing, it was rather intimate.

"What's the matter? Not gonna use your quirk on me?" he taunted in your ear, making you shiver.

"As a matter of fact," throwing your head forward and back, smacking your hair to his face, he releases you - just barely - but it was enough to free you, sweeping him off his feet to pin him to the ground – an elbow to his back and one arm stretched out painfully behind him. "I don't need my quirk to beat you. I'm plenty strong on my own." Releasing your hold, you tilt your head to the side, unable to help the smug look on your face, faint lines of yellow lining your eyes. "Not bad for one 'seemingly quirkless', huh?"

Quirkless. Something in him roiled, especially with the way you said it.

Pushing himself off, making you lose balance, he grabbed hold of your collar and nearly slammed you to the ground, switching positions. “What the fuck is your problem?”

(E/c) eyes gave him a cold hard stare, the corner of your lip slightly twitching. It made his tenuous temper flare.

Tightening his hold, he asked again. “What is your fucking problem?!”

“My fucking problem is you!”

Okay, that threw him off.

Bakugou pulls back, blinking at your response, completely dumbfounded “I thought you were ‘working on being a better friend’? Was that all for show?” His voice was soft, hoarse. It hurt that after all this time, he was still a stranger to you. Yet at the same time, he's rather confused with how lightly you've been handling this.

Unable to look at him any longer, you look away. Those carmine eyes were full of hurt; you didn't like it.

"Let go of me," you tell him, his hand had slackened, allowing you to push him off. And he lets you, feeling defeated as he watches you pick yourself up.

His eyes turn to Deku for help, assurance, assistance, never would he have thought that he'd come to Deku - of all people - for such. Deku just stared, weakly at you, then at him – at a loss.

Before you could walk away, Bakugou grabbed your arm, his grip hard. "No, you're not walking away that easy, (Name)."

Your name sounds so foreign when he says it, you gulp, refusing to look his way. "What the fuck do you want from me?"

He glowers, tugging you back to face him, staring you down. "What I want is for you to stop being so fucking difficult and talk to me!"

You couldn't help scoffing, harshly tugging your arm free. "You? Talk? Wow."

Bakugou had always known you were a petty person, but to be this difficult at the same time? It was really grating his nerves.

"(Nickname)..." Izuku berates in the background, which was silenced by Bakugou.

"CAN YOU FOR ONCE JUST LISTEN TO ME!?"

"K-Kacchan..."

"WHAT DO YOU CALL THIS THEN?"

“I’M FUCKING TRYING TO BE CIVIL, BUT YOU’RE BEING SO FUCKING DIFFICULT!”

“YOU? CIVIL? IF THAT ISN’T THE JOKE OF THE CENTURY!”

(Somewhere in the kitchen, Shihan casually cooks dinner, knowingly oblivious to the explosion, yelling, screaming, going on in his beloved dojo. Casually checks the spice intake on one of his dishes, adding a bit more.)

Bakugou opens his mouth, about to berate on one of your bullshit of an excuse to give him the time to speak only to stop. He realized how much you’d instigate and rile him up, and how much he’d fall for it. This was never-ending, the ceaseless anger between you two, it had to stop. “Why won’t you give me the chance, (Name)?” his voice was brittle, so brittle and soft, from yelling and of hurt.

Vulnerability was something you never expected of him, but you were too proud to even recognize it from him of all people. “Your life is fucking perfect, why the hell do you want to make a mess outta mine!?”

“Perfec- “he nearly spat out the word, hating it. “you think my life is perfect?”

Rolling your eyes, hard, Bakugou swore it was enough to see the insides of your head. “Come on, do I need to list it down? You and your perfect family, your perfect little cozy home, your perfect academic performance, your perfect quirk,” that part just had to be overly emphasized, dramatized, much to his disgust “life just hands you everything perfectly in a neat little bow-“

“My life is anything but perfect! I'm anything but fucking perfect! My life’s not fucking perfect because I don’t have you in it, (Name)!” he angrily yells.

That made you stop. Izuku, too.

And after a few seconds of saying it, as did Bakugou. "Fuck," he muttered, ducking his head, to hide his reddening face, he was reeling at his confession – pent up after being so long overdue.

“…what…?”

Izuku’s hands slapped over his mouth, a small noise coming threatening to come out as he watched the two of you in keen interest. “…K-Kacchan…(N-Nickname)…”

(Now would probably be the worst time to gush, squeal, or scream over this, as though he were watching a rom-com movie, but he couldn’t help it! Izuku had always been the biggest supporter of you two, wanting you both to end up together since you were children.)

After all this time, he liked you, too?

When he looked up, he was surprised to see how red you were – you were, like him, blushing hard. Like that one time you visited to give your ochugen gifts.

Wait.

“Wait.”

“I’m outta here!”

The door slammed shut behind you.

Dinner was an awkward occasion, an extremely awkward one especially because your grandfather had Bakugou sit right next to you.

Your grandfather, painfully knowing that he is, acted oblivious to the tension and casually chatted up the boys - Izuku mostly doing the talking, whilst Bakugou mumbled here and there, you kept your head low avoiding the gaze of anyone in the table.

Just after dinner, you made a beeline for your room, uncaring for your grandfather's wrath - you could deal with that later, you just wanted a moment to yourself after Bakugou's confession.

“My life is anything but perfect! I'm anything but fucking perfect! My life’s not fucking perfect because I don’t have you in it, (Name)!”

Fuck.

His words rang in your ear, all the blood rushing the instant his voice rang in your head.

Fuck.

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.

"Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck," you wailed into your pillow.

With special permission from Aizawa-san, and Izuku's insistency, you found yourself at the prestigious UA once again in time for its culture festival.

To say the place was huge would be an understatement, and that’s saying because you’ve been here a lot whenever Izuku was injured, more than just three USJs, it felt like its own continent! This time though, it was colorful and vibrant than usual.

The school went all out, I see. You thought to yourself, after all the bad shit that happened to them.

You still held Izuku with careful regard, it was always easy to forgive him, but appreciated the gesture that he extended his invitation to you. He wanted you to be there, to experience the joy of a high school culture festival even if you two weren’t school mates anymore. (Also, it was his way of saying sorry.) All things considered; things immediately went back to normal between you two.

(Save for one)

Meeting up with your best friend at the front gate, you were surprised to find him covered in dirt and grass. But before you could even ask, he hurriedly brought you backstage to meet up with his classmates before the show started.

“Everyone this is my childhood friend, Yoruichi (Name)!”

Giggling at his stutter, you shouldered him playfully before bowing at his classmates. “Hi everyone! It’s nice to meet the lot of you!”

A series of ‘oh’ and ‘ah’ came afterwards, soon after, the two of you were bombarded with questions. Tiredly, you turn to your best friend, sharing a look. Man, I miss the days when we were invincible.

“Ah, it was that girl who yelled at him at the hospital!” a tall plain-looking guy pointed at you, to which Iida yelled that it was rude to point. You could only offer an apologetic smile, nudging at your best friend’s shoulder again.

“Eh? I didn’t know Midoriya had another childhood friend!” some guy with flaming red hair and shark teeth said, kindly and in shock.

“More than that, Midoriya’s been keeping this beauty from us!” a small purple-haired boy screeched, angrily turning to your best friend. On instinct, you stepped in front of your friend protectively.

“Wow, I’m offended you don’t talk much about me, Izuku.” You teased, elbowing the green-haired teen. He laughed, scratching his cheek.

“This is so radical, a female childhood friend. Must be nice~” a boy, with a streak of black over his hair that could only remind you of Pikachu, gushed. “But wait, haven’t I seen you at that one café- “

“Dunce face, shut your mouth.” Bakugou suddenly appeared in your line of sight, you immediately turned away before he met your gaze, fighting the blush creeping its way to your cheeks.

“Ne, ne, ne,” a pink-skinned and pink-haired girl gushed, nearly shoving her face into yours. “So, like, is Midoriya your boyfriend?”

In unison, you two stared at each other before bursting into laughter, used to the question for so many years.

“No way,” Izuku says, trying to calm down. “(Nickname)’s like a sister to me!”

“I second that! Izuku’s such a whiny big brother with a big brain.”

“(Nickname), you didn’t have to put it like that…”

Grinning toothily, you playfully ruffled his curly locks, discreetly eyeing a brunette who seemed to sigh in relief.

“Wait a minute, since Yoruichi’s your childhood friend, does that mean that Bakugou’s your childhood friend, too?” a short-haired punk-looking girl asked, a few heads turning to the blond. Said blond stilled, expression a careful blank.

“Yeah, he is.” The reply came easy, nonchalantly. Playfully. “Is. Was. Somewhere in between.” You wiggled your hand in the air for emphasis.

It was a cold response, almost as cold as Todoroki’s ice.

“But that’s enough about me, I heard you guys were putting on a live performance?” the mood easily shifted, two kinds of excitement stirring from the class. “And Izuku, you’re dancing? Since when!?”

“Sadly, we kicked him out.” The pink-haired girl says, arms crossed.

“Deku-kun worked his best!” Ochako defended, cheeks puffing.

“That’s right! That’s right!”

“Ah, Midoriya-chan looks mad?”

“More than that, he’s blushing too.”

Several eyes turned to the green-haired teen, cheeks puffed and an angry flush dusting his cheeks, glaring your way.

“I-I mean, dancing sounds fun. Plus, I’ll have you know that we’ve danced together before, (Nickname)!”

(e/c) eyes narrowed playfully, finger poking at freckled cheeks. “Dance Revolution, Just Dance, and Dance Master don’t count, dumdum. Plus, you suck at those!”

“She’s so brutal!”

“Almost like a female Bakugou.”

“Uwa, it’s kinda rare to see Midoriya like this. He seems more comfortable and less grounded.”

“I see what you’re saying! And he usually shies away from girls!”

“Yoruichi’s got spunk, doesn’t she?”

“Oi, we got to prepare! Come on, now!”

Realizing this, you stepped away from Izuku, wishing him luck. He had told you that he wanted you to meet someone after the show, you could only nod at that.

Meeting carmine eyes, you faltered, body shifting to move, but stopped. Braving a look his way – much to his shock, you offered a small smile. “Break a leg.”

Their show was amazing, spectacular, a showstopper, and you made sure to relay your praises to the class afterwards.

Shortly after the show (and sharing your thoughts about their presentation), you were introduced to Eri, the sweet little girl Izuku told you about during his work-study. The moment you saw her, she immediately won your heart. Oh, and you were introduced to Mirio, a goofy senior who was super friendly and an amazing presence to behold.

Without even knowing, you somehow wounded up with the rest of 1-A joining whatever sorts of fun the cultural festival has to offer. Most of the time, you stuck close with Eri, who'd grown fond of you after your first meeting, sometimes, sticking with the girls (even though your nose would crinkle at girlish topics), or even hung with Bakugou's ragtag of friends (of which, you were surprised to find that he had a clique of his own!).

It was a rather eventful day, and your legs were all tired out from constantly moving around. Still, it was a fun day. Sitting against a railing, you watched as Izuku ran off towards the gate, a paper bag in hand. Smiling at his retreating frame, you leaned back and watched around, eyeing the festivities - or what's left of it, feeling suddenly lonely about it all. This was where Izuku and Bakugou went to school, this was their cultural festival, and you were just an outsider.

“Here,” you blinked as a churro appeared out of nowhere, offered to you. Retracting your hands from your sides, you carefully took the treat in your hands and looked up, meeting carmine - Bakugou.

“Thanks,” you reply, dumbly.

Sitting next to you, Bakugou was strangely quiet, hands buried in his pocket. “What did you think of our performance?” he asked, rather quietly.

“Pretty kickass,” you say honestly, still staring at your treat. "I forgot how well you could play the drums."

The corners of his mouth twitched, but his expression remained a careful, almost wistful blank. His eyes though, they were another story. “I’m glad you came, (Name).”

Scoffing, a smile found its way to your lips, you bump his shoulder with yours. Surprised, he looks up, eyes finding yours, (e/c) warm. “Yeah, me too.”

Something inside him stirs, strangely, comfortingly. He could feel his throat drying just looking at you, just as you bit on your churro - a big crunch, followed by sugar falling off.

“You should consider transferring.”

“Pass, I’ll just take the supplementary lessons Aizawa-san offers.”

"Like they'll do you good."

"Hm,” you swallow, using the back of your hand to wipe the cinnamon sugar off your mouth. “lest you forget I have my shitty old man, and he teaches me plenty."

He mulls at your words as you chew on your churro, enjoying the youthful vibe of the cultural festival. Truth be told, being here actually made you jealous. You never enjoyed the cultural festival at your middle school because everyone did such a mediocre job and could care less about having fun. But this? This was nice. Relaxing, fun even.

"What happened to you?"

Stopping midchew, you let the words sink in - word by word, before finishing the last piece of your churro. Mulling over his question, you leaned your head back to watch the cotton candy-colored skies. "I gave up." You said simply, decidedly, honestly. "You seem to disregard people who care about you."

He swallowed thickly at your words. There were a million things he wanted to say while you were right there, no animosity between the both of you for once, however, he found himself choked up. All the words, questions, they held up in his throat. It felt pretty fucking lame of him.

However, if anything, there was one thing he's been meaning to say to you for a very long time. "(Name)," he starts, he liked the way your name comes out of his mouth, always liked how it's comparably lighter to say compared to a million words that made up language. "I'm sorry."

Startled, you turned to him, really stare at him. Two words, yet they carried so much weight. So much history addressed. So many years of fighting, crying, yelling, and stubbornness. All it took were just two words.

Surrendering, you leaned against his form - feeling his body flinch at the contact, but doesn't move away, eyes falling shut. "I'm sorry, too."

That made him scoff, offended at your apology. "Shut up," As far as history has shown, you have nothing to apologize for.

"No, really listen." you continue, eyes dropping to your fingers. "I'm much to blame for our history. I've been so incredibly petty, cynical even whenever it came to you. Izuku was always so forgiving and he'd try to pass it on to me, but I just tossed it aside, never realizing that in the process I was hurting both of my dearest friends. By neglecting Izuku's wishes, I was neglecting you in the process. I was so selfish."

"I've been selfish, too."

"I know."

"And prideful."

"Oh, I know."

The makings of a smile creep its way to his lips. "And shitty."

You snort. "Oh, believe me, I know." Unknowingly, you laughed easily.

Bakugou watches as you laugh - eyes crinkling, cheeks brightened (with a few specks of cinnamon sugar sticking), your teeth were exposing, a light-hearted laugh escaping your mouth, you looked so pretty like that. He rather liked hearing your laugh.

Finding his elbow, you wrapped your arm around his, leaning ever so closer. Bakugou might've jumped at that, but you couldn't tell, too contented at that moment. "I missed you, fucker."

At your admission, he felt his chest stilling, calming. Before realizing it, the expression on his face lightened, softened, carmine eyes taking in your form against it – had you seen it, it would have done you over.

It was the softest expression he could ever muster.

"I missed you, too-"

"Oi, Bakugou!"

"There you are! We've been looking all over for-"

Kaminari and Kirishima both stopped at the sight of two teens, relishing in each other's presence - quite comfortably, too - which was ruined by their arrival.

Curious, you peeked a look at the two teens.

And then there was Bakugou, who was absolutely furious.

masterlist • ten

#lame #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki fic #bakugou katsuki angst #bakugou katsuki angst fic #bakugou x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha fic #bnha angst #bnha angst fic #mha #mha x reader #mha fic #mha angst #mha angst fic

50 notes · View notes

honestsycrets · 3 years

Text

The Phantom I: Think of Me | Ubbe x Reader x Ivar

❛ pairing | ivar x reader x ubbe

❛ type | multi

❛ summary | you're used to a life with the phantom. his company feels like home.

❛ tags | slight violence, phantom of the opera au, love triangles, original characters.

❛ sy’s notes | this piece has been a long time coming. each chapter will be named according to soundtrack pieces. the introductory scene is probably reminiscent of the movie, i really want to recreate those feelings for me. @alicedopey

The Opera was loud today. Usually, the flutter of shoes downstairs, the rush to change costume, or the giggles from flirtatious girls was typical. Sigurd would lower backdrops as beautiful ballerinas crossed him, dreaming of life not as the keeper of backstage: but as a musician. He loved the dancing girls. You rushed down the stairs to the bottom floor and binding it with soft ribbons passing rich crimson curtains of the stage. Madame Gunnhild reprimanded you for your heavy steps, reminding you that this was not folk music. This was ballet. Powerful, yes. But not unnecessarily loud.

The only loud one was the star whose voice rattled the stage. Her presence incited the glamour of a fat cat. Not that she was plump; perhaps she would be happier, rather than hungrily scrounging and screaming and howling for more and more. Signora Stella was insatiable.

“It’s because someone is coming for tonight’s gala. She wants to make sure he knows who she is. Didn’t you hear?” Adeline whispered. “Bjorn sold the Opera.”

“Is that really true?” The dancers convened on the stage for a final run-through of the opera Hannibal. For which your pink gossamer silk slave piece so appropriately draped off your hips while she stood donned in gold and red, strutting around the stage.

“It’s not FAIR!” Her eye was squarely upon manager Halfdan. His soft eyebrows bundled together as she berated him with her latest complaint. At his side, his brother stood with his hand settled nicely into the taupe pocket of his slacks. You recognized them. Bjorn brought them in the deep quiet of dance rehearsals. Harald especially loved the dancers. He loved to watch them spin along the stage like a top.

“Signora,” Halfdan’s sweet voice consoled. You rushed around her stony body, her beautiful blonde hair wrought in delicate curls. “La mia Stella,” he crooned. There was a softness to the way his dirty blonde hair framed his gentle eyes.

“I am the star, me! Me, me, me!” her foot cracked down on the hardwood floor. She gestured toward your ruddy-haired friend, then you, biting out her complaint. “Not one of these-- these dancing girls can sing like I!”

“We know, Signora.”

“Then who dressed-- them?”

Harald crossed his arms over one another, glancing toward his boots. It could never just be the voice. It was an experience. For a man like Harald, whose artistic expression was about in line with that of a straw doll, it meant costume.

“You will be the focus. We will give you a solo. Just for you!”

“A new song?” she turned, the wheels of her brain suddenly spinning again. She ran her ringed hand down Halfdan’s pressed deep blue suit, drawing her ruby nails up to tap him on the nose. “What kind of song?”

“Think of Me,” said Harald.

“Think of Me!” she squawked. “That is perfect. Perfect for a girl like me! Can you imagine me-- a childhood lover-- in Paris?”

No, you couldn’t. Even Paris was too muted for her taste.

“Well?” she looked toward your group. “Get off my stage. Especially you,” she pointed her finger between Adeline and you. You’re not sure who she’s talking about. “Fat little frog.”

It’s better not to push. You take Adeline in one hand and, with the other, the sheer fabric. The orchestra wretched alive again as the awful vocalizations filled the auditorium, reverberating your ear. Think of Me never sounded worse.

Still, it must be nice, you think, to be an opera star by virtue of birth. Sour with embarrassment but saved by the prospect of dance, you delighted in knowing that Stella would soon leave after her songs were sung to a T. A woosh of air hair threw your hair over your shoulders. It was compounded by her harsh scream and filling the auditorium. You glanced from the floor to the upper stage where, if you looked closely, you might have seen a shadow flitting across the bridge with the aid of the banister.

“Up up up up! Get me OUT FROM UNDER HERE!”

“Sigurd!” Halfdan boomed. “What are you doing up there!?”

“I wasn’t up there.”

Your fingers left your locket when Sigurd hiked up the stairs beside you. His dark trousers were stained with paint, as was his crisp white dress shirt, pulled apart with a pretty blue smear across his chest. You peered over Sigurd to see the black drop clattered over Stella’s back, pressing her chest to the ground and chin quivering in horror.

“So it fell on its own?” Harald accused belligerently.

“I never said that. Signora. The Opera is full of strange magic.” he stood upright, helping her stand on quivering heels, shouting in awful pain. He quirked his head. “Oh, she won’t be able to perform on that.”

She jabs her finger into Harald’s chest, deliberately on his fine silk tie. Then Halfdan, whirling a curse. Stella squealed with renewed vigor. “You see what you’ve done! I hate you! I hate you! And I hate this-- this phantom!”

“Not that again,” Harald rolled his eyes.

The light in her eyes burst, soaring through the surface like an explosion across the surface. How awfully she punched him, shouting about his indignation in not paying the Phantom his salary-- before flitting down the steps on a beating heel. She would be back. Maybe not today, but another. Sigurd dragged the fallen backdrop to the side, inspecting the thick-cut rope and all its seeming imperfections.

“Can we reschedule for next week?” said one.

“We need a new star,” said the other. “Every day is the same.”

Adeline leaned her aquiline nose into your curls, “Do you think it was him?”

An awful warmth flooded your belly. Should you rejoice in a woman’s abuse? No, but at the same time, it meant she would not be here to berate the ballerinas. There was no one there.

“She can sing it for you, Harald.” At that moment, Madame Gunnhild hooked her arms under your arms. Harald turned on his boot to Gunnhild, a sultry smile playing on his lips. “What? Her?”

“No, Madame. Please.” You choked on your own words in the attempt to process what she meant. She wove her spindly fingers in your hand, jerking you toward the middle of the stage. For a moment, your heart seized to beat, blood ran still, and you might have fainted by the curiosity in the brothers’ eyes.

“Shh,” she whispered into your ear. “I know you can sing Think of Me. I’ve heard you sing with him.”

If you ever have a moment, spare a thought for me.

Your stomach leapt with uncertainty in the silence of the room. Outside, gossip ran like a bolt of lightning across the sky. Stella’s replacement was never a position you hoped to have. Not for a day, nor an hour but here you were, dabbing your lips with a pink product after intermission in your father’s old room. His picture sat framed by photos of your family: Thyri, Siggy, and him. Your hand trembled as you seized it. Then, falling away, you looked toward the letter that sat square in front of you.

“You have a letter from the Opera Ghost,” Gunnhild had said. Usually, those words would have inspired anyone with fear. Instead, it filled your belly with fervor, a soft pinkness that dusted over your cheeks soften than any blush you could apply. “Open it when you’re alone.”

You fluttered your eyes, hoping that the excitement in your belly was just a built-up from this corset that restricted your breathing. Breath swelled in your chest. You hooked a letter opener under the blotchy gold seal.

“Bellisima.”

The voice echoed through the room. Your physician Athelstan told you it was nothing: a figment of your imagination that you ought to hush about-- or they would send you away. Your angel was a kiss from God and nothing more. Your chest swelled with a heavy breath, fixing the earrings into your ear. They looked like the very stars that shone on the rooftop of the opera house. The voice filled the room, a soft sing-song that bounced from wall to wall and filled you with something like peace.

“Open it, my sweet.”

“It frightens me,” you murmured.

“Don’t be frightened.”

With a flick of your letter opener, you forced the crisp letter apart. In it, a square of parchment sat nestled between a glimmering gold chain. It was a glorious gold chain and, at the end of it, a singular heart locket. There was a knock at your door just as you inspected the inscription etched into its surface.

“May I come in?”

Whether or not you’d agree, Harald already came in. He was a man of tall stature despite his height. Wherever he carried himself, there was respect. You knew him to be in love with Gunnhild, and though she gave him no attention, you knew his intentions for her.

“Do you want to sit down?” you offered. Harald drew off his taupe jacket to figure with a tucked letter in his black breast coat. He held it out to you. You took it, bracelets jingling and saw that inside was a wealth of currency.

“Oh-- this is…” you murmured. “More than I can accept.”

“You knew the viscount, don’t you?”

The viscount Ragnar, you recall. Your cheeks warmed with his memory—a thin child with honey brown hair and a big heart. Harald kneeled before you, running his hand on top of your fluffy pink ball dress.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“It has been a while,” you gesture to your photo of your father, reminded by the memory of the land you left behind in Scandinavia. “He probably wouldn’t remember me.”

“I’d wager you’re wrong. Put in a good word for us. He’ll be hard-pressed not to notice you,” he pauses. He rolled his finger through your long curl. It slipped away from his finger as he took his bunched-up suit jacket and opened the door. “As beautiful as you look tonight.”

“I-- thank you.”

The door clasps shut. You didn’t need this money, you murmured. But perhaps the children could use bread. Your attention fell to the necklace around your neck. If you turned the gold pendant over and over again between your fingertips, you could calm the racing of your heart. Today, you would be Elissa. Tomorrow, maybe a chorus girl once again. It was your time. The Ubbe from your memory was just that: a memory.

“Sing it again.”

@tephi101 @alicedopey @supernaturalvikingwhore @tootie-fruity @titty-teetee @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla @ethereallysimple @deathbyarabbit @deathbyarabbit @readsalot73 @natalie-rdr @lol-haha-joke @lisinfleur @hissouthernprincess @marvelousse @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol @vikingsmania @wish-i-was-a-mermaid @lif3snotouttogetyou @gruffle1 @cris101071 @gold-dragon-slayer @babypink224221 @wonderwoman292 @naaladareia @beyond-the-ashes @generic-fangirl @chinduda @laketaj24, @peaceisadirtyword, @ly–canthrope @cris101071 @daughterofthenight117 @unassumingviking @ladyofsoa, @inforapound @winchesterwife27 @feyrearcheron44@readsalot73 @squirrelacorngliterfarts @gold-dragon-slayer @medievalfangirl @sallydelys @bluearchersstuff @affectionrabbitt @whatamood13 @notyouraveragegirl17 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @unacceptabletatertots @ivarandersen @stra-vage @tgrrose @cookies186 @learninglemni-blog @theleeshanotlouise @soiproclaim @msmorganforever @destynelseclipsa @soleil-dor @strangunddurm @superwolfchild-fan

#ubbe x reader #ivar x reader #Ivar Ragnarsson x Reader #ubbe ragnarsson x reader #vikings imagines #viking imagine #ubbe x reader x ivar #ivar x reader x ubbe #vikings/reader #ivar/reader #ubbe/reader

66 notes · View notes

dogbearinggifts · 4 years

Note

I saw you mention in an ask that Diego spotted the abuse they underwent first. In what order and how do you think each of the kids came to the realization of what their dad put them through? They all obviously are still reeling from everything years later and it was EXTRA apparent during the light supper.

The light supper did many things, but the one thing it did most of all was show just how deeply he damaged these kids. Here they are in their thirties, meeting with a man who doesn’t know them yet—and even though they’re all completely on edge, guards up, expecting the worst, they’re still blindsided by how low he stoops just to gain a slight edge.

But I digress. Here’s how I think each one of them came to realize Reginald was abusive, and the order in which I think they realized it. This is mostly just speculation on my part, so I could be wrong, but I like to think it’s an educated guess.

Diego: Watching his dad give Luther nothing but praise while he received nothing but criticism fostered a good deal of resentment in him, but I think it also led him to see that something was very wrong much sooner than some of his other siblings. See, the torture they endured seems to have happened behind closed doors—Vanya losing her powers, Klaus being locked in the mausoleum, whatever awful things he did to Allison, Ben and Five in the guise of making them stronger—but the verbal abuse Diego went through happened out in the open. It had to. Reginald wanted to goad Diego into pushing his own limits to beat Luther at a game neither of them could win. To do that, he needed make them both aware that there was a competition, that Luther was winning and Diego was losing, and that all of the other siblings knew the score. Being locked in that dynamic meant Diego was constantly, painfully aware that no one else had to deal with Reginald’s constant nitpicking—but also that no one else was lavished with praise the way Luther was. Even to a sheltered kid who’s allowed few friends outside the family and limited freedom to leave the grounds, that treatment is visibly wrong. Diego might not have been able to call it abuse as a teen, but I think seeing the blatant discrepancies between how he and his siblings were treated—plus his legendary stubbornness—kept him from internalizing it for too long. When Reginald used Ben’s funeral to shame them all, that was probably the moment Diego began seeing him not as a bad parent, but as a monster he needed to escape.

Vanya: Like Diego, she was treated differently from her siblings. Unlike Diego, I do think she internalized it to a degree. We see her taking up the violin in an attempt to impress her dad (“I’m going to be extraordinary”) and her visible dismay when Reginald says “I’m afraid there’s nothing special about you.” Even as an adult, after years on her own, she sends Reginald a copy of her autobiography. It’s possible this was an attempt to get him to see things from her perspective, but it’s equally possible she sent it to him as a means of saying “Look, Dad, I wrote a book. I got it published. It’s on the bestseller list. Be impressed, you asshole.” Part of her wanted to impress him, and part of her believed that if she just tried a little harder, she could do it. Although she recognized that her treatment was unfair sometime in or prior to her teen years (we see her protesting Reginald’s refusal to let her be in the family photo) the part of her that wanted to earn his favor probably kept her from fully embracing the idea that she was not responsible for how she was treated. That said, I do think she’d realized Reginald was the problem by the time she moved out, and she probably began calling him abusive once she either read up on abusive relationships or learned about them from her therapist. Learning that there was a word for what she endured, and that no decent person considers it okay, was probably strangely comforting and empowering all at once.

Klaus and Ben: After Ben’s death, they almost certainly began talking more. Ben would’ve had to witness Klaus’ burgeoning addiction spiral out of control, and he wouldn’t have let it happen in silence. Maybe his resentment festered shortly after his death; maybe it came years later. Whatever the case, I think that when Ben began arguing with Klaus over his drug habit, Klaus pushed back—and eventually, this pushback led to him spilling details of what led him down that road. “He locked me in a fucking mausoleum when I was just a kid” probably stunned Ben into silence for a few hours at least—and also reminded him of the things Reginald forced him to do while he was alive. Maybe they started trading stories to empathize with each other; maybe they traded them to one-up each other. Whatever the case, I think that as they learned they’d both been effectively tortured by their own father, they both began to realize how twisted their childhoods had been—and that they were not to blame for it.

Allison: While her reactions during the light supper prove Reginald terrorized her as much as he did the others, we also know she used her power to get whatever she wanted. Parental abuse is damaging to everyone, no matter who you are; but abuse from a parent you can manipulate is a little easier to endure, and it’s much harder to recognize that something is wrong when you can buy yourself a respite—or at least a few material things to ease the pain. She had an advantage the others didn’t, and I think this advantage kept her in denial, believing Reginald might not be so bad after all, if he gave her all those nice things and didn’t complain, until Ben’s funeral. Watching Reginald use her brother’s death as an opportunity to berate and shame them for something she knows wasn’t their fault makes her angry and hurt enough to stand up to him, despite the derision this earns her. I think that day affected her pretty deeply—maybe even more deeply than her siblings. Ben’s funeral was probably the day she realized there was nothing redeemable in her dad after all and that she had to get away for her own safety. Once she was out on her own, I think she sought out books on bad parents—starting with survivor memoirs, empathizing with the narrators more strongly than she expected, then branching out into self-help. She probably read the signs and checklists over and over, just to make absolutely certain her experiences counted as abuse and she wasn’t just being dramatic and ungrateful.

Five: If he hadn’t gotten stuck in the apocalypse, I think he might have been one of the first to realize Reginald was abusive. But because he spent the majority of his life in a world much harsher than the Academy (which isn't to say the Academy wasn’t harsh, but no one had to eat cockroaches to survive it) his memories probably took on a rosier hue. A place with a solid roof over his head, where he was guaranteed clean clothes, companionship, and never had to wonder where his next meal was coming from—after starving out in the open and talking to a mannequin, Five probably thought more than once that he’d never argue with Reginald again if it only meant a return to those comforts he once took for granted. This longing, mixed with self-loathing over his stupidity at getting stuck, probably led to some self-blame over how Reginald treated him, if his “I was too hard on you” to Reginald during the light supper is any indication. He realized Reginald was abusive at some point (probably after some heated arguments with Dolores) but I think he’s also gotten it into his head that it wasn’t as bad as it seemed at the time—not as bad as growing up in the apocalypse, at any rate.

Luther: Not only did he stay in the Academy well into his twenties, but he put his own safety on the line, nearly died in service to Reginald’s goal—a goal he’d fooled himself into thinking was his own—and when the man who endangered him, mutilated him, and shunned him exiled him to a hunk of rock floating in space, he still blamed himself. While he took a major step forward in the latter half of S1, placing the blame for his pointless Moon mission on Reginald (where it belongs), I think his jump into the sixties caused him to regress a bit. I don’t think he forgot what Reginald did to him, but I do think he assumed that Reginald might be kinder in his younger years. Maybe he thought parenthood made him less patient or—more tragically—that something he and his siblings did turned him into the kind of man who would shame his surviving children at their brother’s funeral. I think he believed that if he could just talk to his dad before all of that happened, he’d be welcomed with surprise and joy, pulled into a hug and asked about all he’d accomplished. While Reginald’s rejection shattered him, I think it also, in a sad and twisted way, freed him. Luther learned, once and for all, that Reginald simply hated children. Reginald’s callousness and outright cruelty wasn’t due to anything he did—it was the result of taking on parenthood out of a sense of obligation, resenting it every step of the way, and lacking the emotional maturity to avoid taking it out on kids whose only crime was dependency on him. The fact Luther didn’t believe it until he heard it from the man himself speaks volumes about the control Reginald still had over him, even after his lies were laid bare.

219 notes · View notes

arcadianstuff · 3 years

Text

School rivals p.t 6

Next chapter is up !! Hope you enjoy

—————————-

To caught up in their own argument, your family didn’t notice you slip away from the living room whilst Toby and Claire were being distracted by the fight unfolding before them.

So quietly, you scampered out of the house, regretting not changing your clothes as you stepped out into the cold morning air. Finally, the sun had begun to rise bathing the world in her glorious golden glow. It made Douxie's eyes gleam as he turned to look up at you with an unexpectedly angry expression, his eyebrows furrowed and eyes gleaming with fury.

Hesitantly, you took a few steps towards him, stopping a metre in front of him. A lone bird swept up to the sky, as the two of you stared at each other on the street. Nobody else was up and about yet, the silence deafening. Desperate to say something or anything you went to speak, only for Douxie to completely lose his shit.

"I can’t believe you. I-I seriously can’t undertand what the fuck you think you were doing ?!" His voice rose in volume, going from a hateful whisper to angry shouts. He struggled to contain his fury any longer. From the moment his eyes had fallen on your returned form, he’d been both overwhelmed with happiness and anger. Part of him wanted to scream at you and the other just wanted to reach out and touch you, to make sure you were real.

"D-douxie.." you began to whisper, reaching out a hand which he only swatted away, the gesture stinging not only physically but mentally. His glare pierced right through to your soul. You’d seen him annoyed before, angry maybe. But never furious. Not like this.

Inside of you, you felt your own patience shortening. Much like a candle being lit a sudden burst of anger came over you.

"You know what ! I saved you and my brother so you could at least be grateful for that ! You selfish piece of shit !" The distance between you closed, as you grabbed the collar of his jacket and practically shoved your face into his. His own hands came up to your shoulders, and the two of you glared at each other with such hatred and emotion it felt like you were on fire.

"Grateful ? Grateful ?" He let out a bitter laugh, the sound causing your blood to boil. How dare he laugh at the fact you sacrificed your life for him ? The absolute prick ! His dark eyes bore into yours as he spat his words out, the venom coating them laid thick.

"You’re so ducking stupid sometimes (Y/n). Always so impulsive and hard headed. Didn’t you think what it would be like for me ? Or for Jim ? Huh ? If you’d died !" His voice tore through the street, the birds in the nearby streets scared into the air at the volume of his shouting. A flock of crows fled to the air, their dark forms contrasting with the soft glow of the pale sky.

"I-I...we would’ve all died. Better it was just me than all three of us ! I’d not regret what I did ! I’m not sorry !" Your faces were centimetres apart as you screamed back, voice cracking as you felt your emotions beginning to drown you.

"It wouldn’t have been better ! I-it W-wouldn’t.." Douxie’s voice was hoarse as he choked out his last words, the screaming having left his throat raw. The tears that had been threatening to burst all night finally started to tumble out of his dark eyes, spilling down his cheeks that were red with anger.

The man finally broke, letting out a soft sob as he collapsed into your arms, the gesture catching you a little by surprise.

"I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t come back...I can’t.." he mumbled into your hair, which was beginning to dampen as his tears stained the locks. You buried your head into his neck. The hug was somehow so right, it didn’t matter that you hated each other, it didn’t matter that he despised you and you loathed him. The hug felt natural.

You couldn’t quite hear his last words, muffled by your shoulder.

"Douxie what did you say ?" You whispered soothingly, anger vanished at the sight of the first test. A part of you was still furious at his reaction, but a greater part of you was singing at the feeling of being in his arms.

"I-I need you here (Y/n). Don’t ever do that again." He spoke with so much sincerity, and pulled away to look straight into your eyes. You found it quite overwhelming.

Hesitating for a second, you didn’t bother to think twice and leant up, cupping his cheek as you placed a soft kiss to it. The gesture was short lived but had a profound effect on him as his cheeks instantly pinked. It was a little salty from the tears but you were too embarrassed to care.

"I promise I won’t Douxie." Your voice was soft, he’d never heard you speak so gently before. The two of you normally argued, berated each other, joked or insulted the other. This was different, not bad just different. He kinda liked it.

For a moment, you two stood there, basked in the morning sunlight as it trickled through the trees and onto the pavement. He reached out tentatively and took your hand, smiling a little as you squeezed his. He’d been dreading asking this next question, because honestly it was just to good to be true that you’d managed to survive. If he asked how, he was afraid the miracle would be ruined. There’d be some horrifying revelation. Or he was secretly afraid he was getting his hopes up, and they’d be shattered. Because he knew of only one wizard with the power to cheat death.

"I need to ask (Y/n)." The sudden shift in atmosphere has you on edge a little, his words serious and cold. "How did you survive ?"

———————————-

"It was weird. One moment I was experiencing the worst pain of my life and the next I awoke in this place...this other world." Your words had everybody on the edge of their seats, as they listened to you. Jim and you had made the gang breakfast, and they were sitting around the dining table as you spoke. You sat at the head of the table with a plate of untouched pancakes in front of you.

Blinky and Aaargh had come back to join you after visiting troll market to make sure that Bellroc and Skrael were checked on. They wanted to be sure the two were dead. There was also the issue of the resurrected gumm-gumms.

Jim was sat closest to you, his eyes widening at your words. No one dared to interrupt, curious and saddened.

"It was quite pretty, everything seemed to glow a little. It was like heaven. Maybe it actually was," you chuckled a little at your words, though a bit bitterly, "This man was there. At the time I didn’t realise it, but I’m pretty sure it was Merlin."

The whole room gasped at that, displeased expression crossing your family’s faces. Toby's usually happy expression faltered masked with the same anger that had twisted Claire’s pretty face. Even the two trolls looked agitated, Aargh in particular. It was only Douxie and Archie who appeared shocked, even a little hopeful.

"Actually he..he had a message for you Douxie." You looked at the boy to your right, who nearly spat his orange juice back into the cup at your words. You would’ve laughed if not for the severity of the situation.

"He wanted me to tell you that he’s proud of you, that he wishes he had more time to watch you grow into the man you are today." As you delivered the wizards message, a crestfallen expression had Douxie fighting back tears, the only reason why he wasn’t crying was because he was surrounded by people. Claire patted her teachers back sympathetically, knowing how much the man mattered to Douxie.

You hated yourself for the next thing you had to say, wishing you wouldn’t have to ruin the atmosphere like this. It hurt to have to burden your family with more bad news.

"That’s not all...he also gave me a warning. There’s something coming, he didn’t say what, just that it was evil and...he seemed afraid." At your words, a chorus of grumbles and gasp echoed in the room.

"Of course he doesn’t give any damn details." Jim grumbled, shaking his head at the cryptic wizard he disabled throughly.

"He did give me one piece of advice. Actually this is what I need to know about. Mum did dad have English heritage ?" Your question had the ginger woman pursing her lips as she thought hard for a second.

"I think so on his mother’s side, why dear ?" You sighed at her confirmation.

"Well apparently, we’re descended from Arthur Pendragon, who’s apparently a real fucking person but I shouldn’t be surprised.” Whereas you were just incredulous at this point the others erupted with a mix excitement and disbelief.

"Dude that’s so cool ! Jimbo you’re royalty !" Toby clapped his friend on the back, his best friend not quite as excited to be related to such an awful king. The man had tried to kill him once for gods sake.

"B-but I couldn’t remove Excalibur ? How can we be related to him ?" Jim didn’t undertand how the sword in the stone wouldn’t budge for him if he was directly related to Arthur. It made no sense, unless...

"No way..."he breathed out watching as a grim smile graced your lips.

"Yep. He’s given me instruction to retrieve the blade. He says we’ll need it to win the war that’s coming.." you sunk back into your chair, looking sadly at the untouched pancakes that were soggy from the syrup.

Only a week ago you’d been a normal girl, ready to move away from cramped home town and explore the world. You had big dreams and hopes, a desire to see everything and experience all the world had to offer. Soccer captain, A* student, part time waitress turned magical being with a great great great great like a hundred more great grandfather who was a king. Fucking spectacular. How had your brother lived these two lives simultaneously and so well ? You had to applaud him for that.

"Well it’s clear, Miss (Y/n), though Merlin can be a tricky character sometimes, he’s clearly warning us and if he believes you should wield the sword then you should." Blinky spoke up, a contemplative expression on his face. There were dark times ahead of them and it had the old troll worried. He only hoped they could prepare themselves in time.

"No !" Out of nowhere Douxie’s voice burst forth, rattling the table as he stood up abruptly from the chair.

Everybody paused to stare at him at his outburst, a mixture of confused and worried expressions in their faces. You in particular looked at him with confusion.

"I mean...it’s not safe. The sword is bad luck. Look at what happens to the last guy who wielded it." Calming down he slumped back down into his seat, hands clenching into fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

He wanted to trust Merlín, he really did and he knew should but seriously ? You’d only known about this world for like a week had been kidnapped, enslaved and then died. Now you were talking about wielding a sword and leading them into war. So yeah he was a little against it.

“Guys, we all know how well...difficult Merlín can be. You know I’m not the biggest fan of him, but if he’s warning us about a war then we need to prepare for it.” To your surprise Jim was the one who came to your defence. Honestly you’d expected him to react similarly to Douxie, refusing to let you go and fight.

It was nice to see your little brother defend you.

“Jim’s right. We’ve done this before and we’ll do it again. Together we can win.” Claire stood next to him, linking hands with him and sharing a smile.

There was a chorus of cheers from the people around you even your mum smiled at you in support. However Douxie still looked conflicted, the tension vivible in his shoulders.

“Come on Casperan. Don’t lose it on me now.” You tried to joke, squeezing his shoulder sympathetically. The man gazed from your hand on his shoulder to your reassuring eyes and felt his resolve falter.

“Okay, just don’t die on me again love.” He placed a hand over the one on his shoulder and felt himself relax at the warmth of your touch.

“Well then Ms. (Y/n) let’s go get Exaclibur !” Blinky chuckled as he spoke, glad to see everyone in a good mood as he spoke. It had been a difficult couple of days but now there looked like there was light at the end of the tunnel.

“Umm sorry to burst your bubble you guys. But you have school in like an hour. And no I can’t send in another note sorry kiddos.” Barbara’s words shattered the excited atmosphere and a chorus of groans left the younger teenagers.

You however smirked at Douxie, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

“You ever been on a motorcycle?”

———————

Tell me if you want a part seven !! Hope you enjoyed

#douxie x reader #trollhunters #douxie #tales of arcadia #toa #hisirdoux casperan x reader #toa hisirdoux #toa wizards

40 notes · View notes

oingo233 · 3 years

Text

ABBA with The Marauders

Summary: Blurbs of what listening to ABBA would be like with the Marauders. Because yes, I’m a firm believer they were little dancing queens.

Authors Note: Pls why did I go so crazy with this, I guess I didn’t realize how badly I needed the Marauders and ABBA content till now, the beast has been awoken. All songs are linked by the way. This little blurb was a wonderful request, which I was so excited to write! So thank you, little anon friend <3

****Dancing Queens!****

- They are very private about their love for Abba. Just because they know they would get teased relentlessly(but secretly I think a lot of the Gryffindors would love ABBA and Hufflepuffs are shameless about ABBA) Also it was a muggle band so the band wasn’t t very common amongst witch/wizards.

- They fell in in love with ABBA because James heard Lily listening to them one day. He spent weeks figuring out what band it could be until Peter recognized the tune, it was ABBA.

- James then did a deep dive into their music to impress Lily and figure her out, but accidently got caught singing atop the bed by Sirius. Sirius stood and stared for a while, mouth agape, but then he broke out into a huge smile, took a picture of the frozen and blushing James, then scrambled onto the bed and sang just as passionately beside him(despite the fact that he could only really mumble the lines)

- When Remus and Peter walked in they shared a long hard look with one another and then burst out laughing. It was all giggles and poking fun at the pair until Peter’s favorite song by them started to play, People Need Love (ironic I know, but tell me I’m wrong).

- He stopped laughing immediately and his face went dead straight. He jumped up onto his own bed and dramatically took ahold of the bed post, swinging from it with one hand, and using the other as a microphone he began to sing. All the other boys watched in shock, until a huge smile formed on all their faces. Remus rolled his eyes before joining in.

- Ever since that day it has been ABBA mania for them.

- When Lily found out, her and Sirius defiantly sang Does Your Mother Know to James. Who was both flustered, turned on, amused and shocked. He thinks about it often with a dumb smile.

- Lily also listened to ABBA with them frequently after that, and her feelings for James only grew harder to ignore (not that she really wanted to ignore them, his singing voice was quite charming after all).

-They totally drunkenly debated about whether Dumbledore and Minnie listen to ABBA and what their favorite song is. (They of course listen to Abba, Dumbledore’s favorite song is Fernando and Minnie likes Money, Money, Money)

- Hello, Dumbledore and Minnie so get a little tipsy in his office and twirl around and dance together singing My love, My life and SOS like dramatic lovers (despite their very platonic friendship)

- For every 17th birthday in the friend group, the birthday person was woken up with the song Dancing Queen and then shoved outside with a blue boa to promptly sleepy dance into the “new life of seductive adulthood, according to ABBA at least”

- Sirius ALWAYS sings the part “You’re a tease and you turn him on. Leave him burning, and then you’re goooonne” while holding the blue boa and dragging it around the birthday persons neck and shoulders before throwing it up in the air and running, screaming the rest of the lyrics with the others.

- Their favorite song to listen to when drunk is Eagle. They proceed to turn it all the way up, and flap their arms while they run in circles and pretend to be eagles. Nothing can convince me that they wouldn’t feel free and spiritual in this song, and are total dorks.

- If a new ABBA album dropped they would all get together to somehow purchase the muggle record. They all have to pinkie promise not to listen to a chord of it until later that night...at the Listening Party (which they throw for every new ABBA albums release).

- They’re giggling all day about it, and chatting about what they think and expectations. After dinner they all race to the boys dorm, Lily included. Their robes trailing behind them because they’re FULL on sprinting and giggling, just so excited. When the arrive they each take their respective time to get ready.

- James emerges in blue bell bottom flare pants, an ABBA shirt tucked into them. Lily emerges in a matching outfit, they bought each other the shirts for Christmas after all. But James’s breath still hitches every time they come out matching.

- Sirius ties his Gryffindor tie around his forehead like a headband, very sexy, and he is wearing blue flare pants as well, no top at all. But he did write ABBA across his chest with black eyeliner (which he found 5th year and started wearing it when he feels extra confident, so sporadically throughout the month. Girl and boys swoon for that man even more whenever he does and he eats it up.)

- Remus emerges in a 70′s denim jacket with ABBA painted on the back, he is also wearing the blue bell bottom pants because Lily bought them each a pair for Christmas and they all wear them every party since (and look awesome!).

- Peter is wearing his pants too, of course, his school shirt tucked in and his robe flipped inside out to reveal sparkly blue fabric.

- James very carefully alines the turntable’s turnarm and the music fills their dorm. They listen to the record 2 times, at least, each party. The 1st is for them to lounge around and close their eyes and take it all in, and to learn some of the lyrics for what comes next. The 2nd time is when the record plays fully and in the silence they all get up and smile at each other, giggling once more. They talk animatedly about what they heard until Sirius struts back over and plays it again.

- This time they all are up and dancing. Everybody is swinging and dancing with everybody. Lyrics screamed at the top of lungs, and the walls vibrating with the sound. They’re jumping on beds, grabbing hairbrushes and singing into them. They dramatically act out songs to one another. Sirius takes guitar solos, James does the drums, Remus pretends to do the piano, and Peter and Lily hold each other and sing dramatically. They become ABBA.

- These parties always end up with everyone sleeping in an exhausted dog pile. Lily always finds her way to James in her sleep and he smiles softly, kissing her forehead. Everyone sleeps with a smile, they’re rock stars in their dreams.

- They are caught often humming ABBA songs in class the next morning.

- One day Remus was having an awful day, he felt bad about himself and was just miserable. In a lame attempt to get away he locked himself in the bathroom, so he can berate himself in peace and not worry about burdening the boys, or that is how he thinks of it anyways.

- But Sirius and James know this. So suddenly Remus hears Chiquitita start to play. The boys start to sing along, first Sirius sings “ Chiquitita, tell me what's wrong. You're enchained by your own sorrow. In your eyes there is no hope for tomorrow “ Then James joins in “ How I hate to see you like this. There is no way you can deny it. I can see that you're oh so sad, so quiet.” They sing the chorus together so loud that Remus has to open the door and tell them to shut up, but he is smiling and stopped crying. He was happy.

- One day Sirius debated whether he should cut his hair like Benny Andersson, everyone begged him not to. “Please, god no!”

- On the last day of school, Sirius Black softly grabbed Minnie’s face and smothered her cheeks in kisses. Behind him, Peter, James, and Remus started to scream then played When I Kissed the Teacher. The whole class was hooting and cheering as they ran away, laughing loud enough for the whole school to hear. Minnie was blushing mad, simply appalled. She gave 4 last detentions that day.

- At James and Lily’s wedding they played I do, I do, I do and they all looked at each other, stopped in time for a moment, before they all rushed to the dance floor and did a beautiful dance number. Many of the guest were stupefied “Looks like they’ve been doing that dance for while.” one said.

Oh they have no idea.

#the marauders #the marauders fanfiction #young marauders #young remus imagine #remus lupin #sirius black #young sirius black #james potter #young james potter #peter pettigrew #lily evans #young lily evans #jily #the marauders headcanon

35 notes · View notes

aomineavenue · 4 years

Photo

You felt awful, to say the least, you wanted so much to celebrate with your team and show how supportive you were, but all you could plaster on was a small fake little smile as you flicker your gaze over to the other side of the court. The sight was almost heartbreaking.

You never really liked attending such events, if you were going, to be honest. You owned such a soft little heart, always sympathizing the fallen team, whether they were the rival or not. It happens to any sports event, actually. Not just volleyball. You were surrounded by hardworking athletes your whole life, always striving their best to achieve the top, and it crushed your heart to see someone’s hard work crashing down. It’s was your top reason to avoid attending sports events.

You couldn’t blame Ennoshita for persuading you. Actually, you would have said yes to anyone, except for Aiko, because let’s be honest, you, in a cheerleader outfit? The thought seemed ridiculous, you barely had an ounce of rhythm in your body.

Your gaze lands on a familiar tall freshman, and your eyes filled nothing but worry. You wanted to reach out, you knew how he had worked hard for the past couple of weeks since you barely saw him and how he had trouble cooperating with anyone else but was it really okay for you to do so, so soon?

“You should go talk to him,” Ennoshita’s voice cuts your trance, and you couldn’t help but feel startled. Spinning around, your eyes widen slightly at the sight of the team before you, offering you an encouraging smile. Of course, as soon as he appeared, you didn’t keep it to yourself about knowing his identity. Plus, it wasn’t as if you knew how he trained or how much he had improved since you last saw him play, so it wasn’t really much help. All you could offer to them was that he was easily rattled and commented that if Tanaka wanted to do so, he could easily get on the player’s nerves.

Of course, though. Tanaka did just that earlier in the game.

“I’m not sure…” you trail off, a frown etching on your lips but before you could protest any further, you were being dragged by the wrists across the court by none other than Tanaka and Nishinoya.

“Just talk to him, silly.” Noya teases with a playful smile, “Your cousin actually looks like he wants to talk to you, too.”

“I—what?” you splutter, your eyes meeting Kentarō’s who looks like his usual terrifying-self. Before you could berate the two who had dragged you, they had fled in fear of the freshmen that stood before you. A sigh escapes your lips, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he sighs, nodding his head solemnly, “As okay as I’ll ever be.”

“Tch,” you start, extending your index finger towards his direction as if you were lecturing your tall cousin, “If you would have dropped your stubborn little attitude, you may have actually did a better job, you know.”

He rolls his eyes at you, “Ah, so you were rooting for me despite being the rival, aye? Which reminds me, what are you doing being a manager? I thought you hated attending events like these, and now you’re more than just the audience, you’re a manager?”

“None of your business,” you retort, crossing your arms across your chest. “Of course I would be rooting for you, I know how hard you’ve been working but that doesn’t mean I would want your team to win over ours.”

His lips curl up to a grin as he brings a hand up to lightly tap your nose, “It’s probably because of a boy, isn’t it? Who’s the unlucky fellow? No, more like, who has bewitched my cousin that got her to do this job? Let me guess, it’s that Ennoshita guy you’ve been going on and on and—”

You cut him off with a punch to the shoulder, scowling playfully at him before a laugh escapes both of your lips. You hadn’t exactly brought up the fact that you became a manager for a volleyball team, but he did know of your former relationship with Ennoshita, so it wasn’t anything to be embarrassed about. This was just how the two of you interacted, and of course, your mere presence had made him slightly better. He knew he could always count on you. The sight of you earlier was a shock for him and vice versa. He didn’t expect you to attend, much less as a manager, and he hadn’t really mentioned joining the team, so of course, you were just as surprised.

Stepping forward, you wrap an arm around his hip for a side hug and leaned your head on his shoulder (or rather arm, because let’s be honest, he’s rather tall) “Hey, I’m proud of you.”

“Yeah, I know—”

“What’s the meaning of this?”

Both attentions flicker to the intruder of the conversation you were both having, your brow arching in curiosity at the sight of Aobajohsai’s Captain, the one you’ve come to know as Oikawa earlier today before the game started, “Sorry?”

Despite your voice, he completely ignores you, which, of course, baffles you as he always seemed to want to capture your attention, but you shrug it off, thinking that maybe the lost had obviously made his rather annoying, yet charming, personality disappear.

“Hey…” you trail off, a small frown evident on your lips as you extract yourself from Kentarō’s side, “That was a great—”

“Mad dog,” he interrupts you, avoiding your gaze at all times, “Let’s go, we’re heading back.” He flickers his gaze over your shoulders and you could visibly see his shoulders tense before spinning around to face the exit, “We don’t associate ourselves with the enemy.”

You blink a couple of times, trying to process what had just happened. As Kentarō bids farewell after mumbling an apology for his Captain’s rude behaviour, you turn around to face your group of friends. Tilting your head slightly, your brows furrow in confusion. Did Oikawa see them approaching? Probably.

Needless to say, for the remainder of the day, you were confused as hell.

Break My Heart | smau!; love and lose.

Pairing: Oikawa Tooru x Reader

Summary: Everyone, well almost everyone, here knows how much of a flirt Aobajohsai High’s Volleyball Captain is, right? He’s got the skills, and most definitely, his looks, and he knows it. Never settling down, so what happens when he meets his match?

Status: ongoing | series masterlist

↩ first goodbye | love and lose | i’m indecisive ↪

funfacts!:

↳ Y/N and Kentarou Kyoutani, they are cousins always joint to the hip despite Y/N being a year older. Their fathers are brothers and they always were present in each other’s lives. They live in the same neighbourhood and went to the same schools until they reached High School. Kentarou actually considered attending Karasuno as well but decided against it because he took the Volleyball teams into consideration.

↳ Y/N always supported Kentarou in anything he did. That’s why he’s pretty much protective of his older cousin, not that people thought of that. His relatives and close family friends always mentioned that he looked older than Y/N, and it wasn’t just because of the height difference.

↳ When the team asked how Y/N knew him, she simply said, “He’s my cousin.” and they almost had a heart attack. Of course, they tried to get more information from their manager in hopes to find a weakness.

↳ When Aobajohsai got into the bus for their ride back home, needless to say, all Oikawa did was hide from Kentarou because apparently, “Nobody talks about my cousin that way.”

↳ For the rest of the bus ride, Kentarou glared at Oikawa and all the Captain could do was cower while his friends teased him to lighten everyone’s mood.

#oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa tooru smau #oikawa tooru imagine #haikyuu smau #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #hq #hq smau #hq x reader #break my heart

85 notes · View notes

decayandfanfics · 3 years

Text

The great book of sayings

PAIRINGS: Tomura Shigaraki x FemReader

SUMMARY: He looks at you, his scarlet eyes fixed on yours, burning a hole through your head, every bit the predator he is, but you are as tough as it gets, so, against your better judgment and any well-founded logic, you answer his silent threat, the animalistic look he gives you with nothing less than a fearless smirk, irises burrowing into his pupils.A clever girl. He thinks, finally labeling you inside his head, cursing himself in the very moment he allows his brain to think of you as more than an asset. He is sure (he knows himself enough to know) he’ll think of this moment many times from now on.A clever pretty girl.

Reader is a typical college student until she gets herself tangled with the league of villains.

WARNINGS: Unhealthy/complicated relationships, violence, Tomura being Tomura, mentions of murder, heroes’ abuse of power, smut later.

A/N: I’m trying so hard to write crusty boy here really in character. At least after AfO is taken. Any misspelled words, english is not my native language so i’m trying Helen. ________________________________________________________

Chapter 9 / Chapter 10

It takes two to Tango.

It’s always like this after using it, but of course a quirk like this would come with some dangerous side effects.

You watch your reflection in the mirror, all dark eyebags and bloodshot eyes. At least the bleeding has finally stopped, but the sink is a bloody mess, and the trash can is full of paper soaking in blood.

It feels awful, really. Physically and emotionally.

You could still feel Dabi’s bones bending under your quirk. His muscles and tendons stiffen like hard rock as the blood stooped its flowing inside of him.

As always, you let the anger get the best of you. It’s your worst defect, and now it will cost you dearly because there is no way the league lets you live after what you’ve done to Dabi. Shigaraki will decay you and that will be all, and if you weren’t as exhausted after all the crying and the bleeding, you would be fucking losing it.

A soft knock in the door forces you to clear your face from the tears before opening, shoving down the nausea at the idea of facing your imminent death.

��can we talk?” Toga asks, her soft face adorned with a little frown.

You let her in and close the door again, sitting over the toilet.

“I’m very sorry for what I did, Himiko-chan.” You sob quietly.

“I know. Hey…hey, don’t cry. I’m not mad.”

“I hurt you, I didn’t think clearly, I was so mad...”

“hey, it’s fine.” She states, her little hand touching your shoulder, trying to calm you. “I mean, when I first came to the league, Tomura, Dabi and I almost killed each other, so…I understand.”

“it’s not the same, Toga. My quirk is…I almost killed Dabi and I didn’t even touched him. I just…I, I’m supposed to help people, try to keep it down, but when I get angry…I’m a monster and now Shigaraki is going to kill me…”

“No, don’t say that. That’s not true.” Her voice is soft when she clutches in front of you. “look at me, hey. Look at me. We are friends. You just got angry. And you didn’t hurt me, and Tomura and Compress are fine. It didn’t hurt. It was weird but didn’t hurt. And Tomura-kun is not going to kill you.”

“really?”

“If Tomura-kun wanted you dead, you would’ve been an hour ago.” She answers, rolling her eyes. “can you tell me about what just happen? What is with your quirk?”

“it’s pretty simple, actually. It is call Torment. Is the ability to manipulate living tissue, tensing nerves, contracting muscle and bending bone. It’s a useless variation of a healing quirk, but I cannot grow new tissue, only manipulate it. I can keep wounds closed, I can relax your nerves, I can break your bones and stop your blood from flowing. I can stop your heart just by moving a finger and torture you by contracting all your muscles and nerves, but it’s dangerous for me. It’s too much effort to control a whole body, less alone four of them. I bleed, and I ache.”

“wow. That’s why you look so terrible.”

“yeah” you laugh cleaning your tears. “I guess I do.”

“how do you feel now?”

“a little better. Still like shit, but I’ll be fine.”

“Compress and I will be going to the store. Do you want something?”

“To the store? With what money?”

“A girl has her ways.” She teases softly “want some sweets?”

“Yes. I need to eat something. It’s…Dabi there?”

“no, he went out. Tomura-kun told him to go chill outside.”

“Okay. I’m going to get out now...”

“don’t be scared. You’ll be fine. Dabi asked for it anyway and…he sometimes can get very nasty with Tomura. He deserved it.”

“Himiko…thank you.”

You gather your courage and step out of the bath, finding your apartment as messy as you left it an hour ago, but this time is empty.

Thank god.

You give yourself to the task of collecting your destroyed laptop and removing the broken table from the view, looking for a way to repair the detached leg, trying to clean and erase any trace of the fight, enjoying your solitude for the first time in more than a week.

“this is going to cost me.” you say to no one, preparing yourself to the idea of buying a new computer as you move to your room. “I don’t have any extra money to-”

“I always knew you were hiding something.”

“FUCK!” You scream letting the pieces of your laptop fall again, covering your face with your hands when you notice Shigaraki’s arm crossed figure leaning against the wall besides your door. “dammit, Shigaraki. You cannot just…appear behind other people’s doors.”

“that’s debatable.” He remarks, an amused grin plastered in his face.

He watches you and something inside of you twist between excited and scared as his eyes scan you head to toe, the gears of his brain turning inside his head.

“What.”

“C’mon. I’m curious about it.”

“I bet you are.” You spit annoyed.

“Careful now. Look where that bickering mouth of yours got you an hour ago.” He warns you entertained.

“Don’t you dare to patronize me.” You warn already tired, a hand rubbing against your temple.

“I’m just asking about that funny little quirk you have. That and the little display of rage, who would have thought!”

You stare at him, weighting your options to no avail.”

“I can manipulate living tissue. Muscle, bone, nerves, blood. That’s all.

“That’s a pretty boring answer to such a memorable show.”

“This is stupid. What did you expect me to do, huh?” you snap.

“What makes you think I expect you to do anything?” He asks cunningly.

“You know what I mean.”

“no, I don’t.” he laughs.

“It’s just…I hate bullys. And he’s been trying his best to get on my nerves since day one and I could…I mean, i…I just…”

“you what.”

“I cannot stay there and let him berate people like it’s not important!” You can feel the verbal vomit gathering inside your throat, if you keep like this, you are going to say something you will regret.

“but it’s not.” He states rolling his eyes. “I didn’t care about what he said. You didn’t have to say anything.”

“but I care!”

"About what he does? or is about wh-"

"it's about what he said of you!"

"It doesn't matter wh-"

"Yes, it does!"

“why d-”

“because I like you!”

The moment those words are out, you smack your palm against your mouth, fully convinced you made a horrible mistake, so honoring your sense of self-preservation and improvisation, you oblige yourself to make some verbal stunt just to get out of this one, because you have a horrible scary feeling about the hungry look he’s giving you.

“I mean, I thought we could get along…all of us. Despite everything, I think highly of you, and I know you are a villain- villains who wants to destroy everything, but I thought we could be…”

“Friends? are you hearing yourself?” He spits; his mouth twitched in a hateful grimace.

Fear shoots through you in less than a second. Suddenly he looks more taller and menacing, as his steps makes you retrieve, until your back hits the wall on the corner of your room.

Yeah, you may not be afraid of Dabi, but Shigaraki Tomura is a completely different story.

“What are you doing.”

“What am I doing?”

“Get away from me.” you bark scared, as your eyes ignite in clear warning. The dark feeling pooling at the pit of your stomach send shivers through your spine, lifting the hairs of your neck in terror.

“Make me.” Shigaraki growls lowly the moment one of his hands trap your chin roughly, his pinky safely curled against his palm, but even like that you can almost feel how close you are from certain death.

He is pissed out of the blue, your brain failing at finding the exact moment shit went down before he decides to finally kill you, yet you don’t get it, all you did was…

Oh…

He winces scanning your face searching for something, and the moment his eyes stops over your lips, you recognize the feeling.

He snarls like a wolf, looming over you, looking like he’s ready to kill you.

Or eat you.

“Are you done playing dumb?” he asks darkly, and you can feel the warm of his breath against your own lips and something far more complex and exciting than plain fear roaring inside your chest, begging you to push forward, begging you to kiss him.

“I said…are you done playing-“

“WE ARE BACK!” You both snap your heads to the door the moment Toga enters, screaming cheerfully while leaving a bag with candy over the counter, and before you know, Shigaraki is at the other side of the room, staring at you like you transfixed, digging his nails deeply in his neck, before storming out of the apartment, leaving you there, rooted in your room, finally remembering how to breathe.

“What’s wrong with him?” Compress asks as he handles you a pack of gummy bears.

You can still feel the warmth of his hand against your face, your lips still tingling with longing.

“I have no idea.” You lie.

Chapter 11

11 notes · View notes

yespleasefandomtrash · 4 years

Note

Catradora fluff request: Adora getting an undercut with her ponytail and asking Catra how it looks

this is so self-indulgent. i love it lmao. thank you for suggesting this prompt! (im on mobile rn so im going to add a line break later. thank you for your patience! xx)

~*~

Catra knew something was going on. She’d walked in on Adora and Glimmer whispering to each other multiple times, but as soon as they saw her they’d snap out of it and act like they hadn’t just been not-so-subtly plotting in a corner. Normally she wouldn’t have thought much of it, chalking it up to Sparkles being weird, but Adora was laying her denial on thick. And her girlfriend, bless her heart, was the worst at acting.

And yet, despite how obvious they were being that they were planning… well, something, they had done a surprisingly good job so far at not revealing what, exactly, those plans were. Which irritated Catra to no end. Why was she excluded?!

“Okay, enough secrecy,” Catra snapped, cornering Adora one day in an annoyingly pastel-colored corridor of Bright Moon, placing her hands against the wall on either side of her girlfriend. “What have you and Sparkles and Arrow Boy been talking about for the past week?” And why am I not a part of it, she added silently.

“Uh…” Adora was avoiding eye contact with her in such an obvious fashion it was almost physically painful to witness. Dammit, Catra hated the two inches in height her girlfriend had on her. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Catra hissed, her tail flicking in frustration, and she had to resist the urge to drag her nails down the wall. Glimmer probably wouldn’t appreciate her defacing the palace with claw marks. “Adora, you are the worst liar.”

“Psh, what, I am not lying! I would never -”

Catra silenced her with a glare. “Fine. Don’t tell me.” Her hands fell down to her sides, her fists clenching and her nails digging into her palms. “See if I care.”

Adora hesitated, something akin to regret flickering in her eyes, but her expression soon morphed to… affection as her gaze shifted away from Catra’s face. She reached out, her hand brushing the edge of her girlfriend’s jaw before gently fingering the ends of Catra’s hair. “It’s longer,” she said quietly. “Are you letting it grow out?”

Catra silently berated herself for blushing at the sudden physical contact. Stupid Adora. Stupid feelings. But she found her hand instinctively moving to rest on top of Adora’s. Her girlfriend was right - her hair was now less than an inch above her shoulders. “Maybe,” she finally muttered. “I don’t - I don’t know what length I like best.”

Adora chuckled, pulling Catra’s hand down to hold it properly. “Not to be a disgusting sap, but I think you look great with any haircut.”

Catra tried to scowl, but she was pretty sure the effect was ruined by how red her face had to be. “Well, that was disgusting. Never say it again.”

Adora burst out laughing, and she tried to pull her girlfriend closer to her. “But Catra, you’re just so cute!”

Catra hissed. “Shut up! I am not cute!” She yanked her hand away and sprinted down the hall, quite literally running away from her feelings. But she didn’t fail to hear Adora’s laughter increase as she started to chase after her.

“Get back here, you cute cat! Ooh, alliteration.”

“No! Leave me alone!”

It wasn’t until later, when they were both lying on the floor of their bedroom panting in exhaustion with tears of joy and laughter streaming down their faces, that Catra realized she was still yet to figure out what Adora was hiding from her.

She turned her head to glance at her girlfriend, who was wiping tears from her eyes, her signature goofy grin wide on her face. Catra felt warmth blossom in her chest - a warmth she was getting more and more used to feeling.

Well… she supposed she could wait for Adora to tell her whatever it was that was going on. She trusted her. And patience was a virtue, after all - one Perfuma was helping her to get better at practicing.

Apparently the universe decided to reward her for her attempts at self-improvement, because Catra found that she did not have to wait long at all for Adora’s… plot to be revealed.

“I don’t want to go to this stupid dinner!” Catra yowled, glaring angrily at a certain queen of Bright Moon. “I am not a princess. I don’t understand why I need to be there!”

Glimmer sighed, crossing her arms over her chest and pinching the bridge of her nose in exasperation. “Perfuma is hosting this celebration, okay? It’s not just a formal dinner, or else I would tell you to stay here if you really didn’t want to go. It’s to denote that it’s been a year since the defeat of Horde Prime. All parties who helped the Rebellion are invited. Including you, whether you like it or not.”

“Well, I don’t like it.”

“I just said that doesn’t matter!”

Catra resisted the urge to smirk. Not teasing Glimmer was almost as hard as not teasing Adora. In other words, she often failed on both accounts.

Glimmer then sighed, uncrossing her arms. “Look, Adora wants you there. You’re right - you don’t have to go. I won’t make you. But Adora is going regardless of whether or not you are, so if you want to put a damper on her evening by staying behind, be my guest.”

“She doesn’t need me to have fun,” Catra snapped.

“I didn’t say she needed you. I said she wants you with her.”

Ugh. Catra hated it when Glimmer was right, which happened more often than she gave the queen credit for. “Fine.” She sent her friend another glare. “But you are not getting anywhere near my hair with that - that thing.”

Glimmer rolled her eyes. “It’s just a brush, but fine.” She shoved it at Catra. “At least do it yourself. Or have Adora do it. Whatever.”

Catra snatched the brush out of her hands, raring to fire back a snarky comment -

“Adora’s ready!” Bow poked his head into the room, his eyes practically glittering in excitement as he beamed at the two. “Not to flex about my abilities, but I think I did a pretty good job.”

Glimmer’s mood changed so fast it was like someone had flipped a switch in her body. “Ooh, yes!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “I’m so excited!” She then teleported out the door.

Catra was frozen in the middle of the room, unsure of whether she should follow or not.

Glimmer seemed to realize this, as she appeared back inside for a split second and simply said, “Stay,” before teleporting back out again.

Catra frowned at the command, irritation causing her to clench her jaw. Why wasn’t she allowed to see Adora? The hell was going on?

Her enhanced hearing picked up on a familiar squeal followed by, “Oh, Adora! It looks so good!”

Catra then heard Adora laugh. “Aw, thanks. But really, credit goes to Bow. I could not have been trusted to do this myself.”

“Adora. Please. You’re making me blush.”

There was a pause. Then she heard Adora quietly add, “Do you think Catra will like it?”

Catra’s eyes widened.

“Well…” There was a teasing lilt to Glimmer’s voice, and Catra could practically envision her familiar smirk. “Why don’t you ask her yourself?”

Catra instinctively took a step back despite that she was still standing in the middle of the room, her gaze dropping to the ground as she heard the creak of a person opening the door. “Hey, Adora.”

There was the sound of footsteps moving closer, and soon golden sandals entered Catra’s peripheral vision.

“You okay?” Adora asked, and although Catra wasn’t looking at her she could still picture the way her girlfriend’s eyebrows furrowed in concern. “If this is about Perfuma’s party, I know Glimmer was putting a lot of pressure on you to come, but if you really don’t want to you absolutely don’t -”

“No, it’s not that,” Catra grumbled, her grip on the brush tightening. “Of course I’m not letting you go without me, dummy.”

“Okay,” Adora said slowly. Catra could practically see the way her girlfriend’s lips pursed in confusion, though she kept her eyes firmly trained on the ground. “Then why won’t you look at me?”

Catra didn’t know how to answer that question.

A deep-rooted, internalized fear of change, she could practically hear Perfuma say. She ignored the voice.

Adora gasped. “Oh my God, I get it. You saw it already and you hated it and you just didn’t want to tell me!” She groaned. “I’m so sorry, Catra, I wanted to talk you about it before it happened but Glimmer and Bow thought it would be more fun to surprise you and -”

“They - you - what? I haven’t seen -” Catra looked up, confused, and her voice vanished in her throat as the pieces finally fell into place. That was what Adora had been planning. “You cut your hair?”

Adora’s face reddened, and her hand moved up to touch the back of her head where her blonde hair had been shaved down in a neat undercut. “Yeah. I wanted to… try something new, I guess?” Her blush deepened, and a mixture of hope and anxiety flickered in her blue eyes. That combined with her girlfriend’s new haircut was enough to completely short-circuit Catra’s brain. “Do you like it?”

Catra knew that if she tried to speak immediately all that would come out was a strangled “ergm”, which was obviously code for she liked the haircut a lot, probably way too much, but she didn’t want the message to get lost in translation. By the time her neurons kicked back into gear, she was pretty sure her face was as red as Adora’s.

She ended up dropping her head onto her girlfriend’s shoulder, mumbling, “It looks… really good.” Her voice was muffled. Not that she was complaining. Why did complimenting Adora always have to feel so embarrassing?

Because you are making yourself vulnerable by expressing affection openly, Perfuma’s voice said again, which Catra continued to ignore.

“Catra, if it’s that bad you can just tell me,” Adora said, amused, wrapping her arms around her girlfriend’s waist. “In all honesty, that would probably hurt Bow’s feelings more than mine.”

Catra lifted her head slightly, though again she adamantly avoided making eye contact with Adora. “No. I said it looks really good.” This was mortifying. “I like it. A lot.”

“Aw, really?” Catra finally looked up to see that Adora was beaming at her, her blue eyes wide with joy and relief. “That makes me so happy.”

Catra’s tail twitched, and she found herself dropping the hairbrush she still held to grab the front of Adora’s dress and pull her into a rough, hasty kiss.

Adora stared at her, speechless, when Catra let go, but shock soon transformed into a mischievous smirk. “Wow. I should have cut my hair ages ago.”

“Ugh!” Catra growled, her face a shade darker than scarlet as she grabbed Adora’s hand and began dragging her out of the room. “Let’s just go already, before Sparkles can yell at us for being late.”

Adora allowed herself to be pulled along, though she was practically snorting with laughter along the way. “I’m serious. If I had known you’d react like that, I would have taken up on Rogelio’s offer to cut my hair at the Fright Zone!”

“Shut up!”

Catra was suddenly spun around, her girlfriend pushing her against the wall of their bedroom. The mischievous smirk was back on Adora’s lips. “Make me.”

Catra gulped.

Looked like they’d be late after all.

~*~

thank you for reading!

206 notes · View notes

witchofrvnswood · 3 years

Text

awwp rant pt. 2: the characters!

oh boy we’re finally back with part 2!

so in part 1, i discussed plot points that i found troubling and nonsensical. this time, i’m talking about the characters and how they each pissed me off <3

note: am only doing the ones i have beef with, everyone else is cool

let’s start with sophie:

sophie

i’ll be honest, i’ve been conflicted on her character in this book for quite some time. but i think i understand my opinion on her in book 2 much better now that i’ve really thought about it.

so this is the book where she’s probably at her most vulnerable (book 3 could be a contender too). she just lost her mind, killed many people, and is trying so hard to prove that she is good and deny everything that she had done the previous year. we also see why she behaves the way she does, with losing her mother at a young age and blaming her father for neglecting them. we understand why she goes so far to obtain love and why she ranks true love above everything else.

but her methods with dealing with this is toxic. she sees agatha as a tool for a happy ending, and it seems to come more out of desperation to belong with someone, then wanting agatha herself, as she easily dropped her for rafal and then tedros in book three. she does whatever she can to ensure agatha chooses her and only her much like tedros does in this book.

she sneaks out and follows agatha, makes agatha believe tedros tried to hurt her, comforted her and claimed she had “warned agatha” but also acted super forgiving as if agatha was the one who was in the wrong for doubting her and when the truth comes out, pins it all on agatha for trying to choose someone besides. her. now, agatha is not completely in the right in this situation, but what sophie does is so manipulative and cunning. without knowing her backstory and sympathizing with her, she would easily be soon as a cruel and toxic person.

her time as filip was very humbling for her and she realized what she did was completely wrong and she begans to sympathize with tedros and realize maybe he isn’t the villain of the story like she painted him to be. of course, this goes a bit far and she finds herself attracted to him.... which..... did not need to happen considering how toxic their relationship was in book 1.

at the end, she chose rafal out of desperation to be loved, showing she still hasn’t changed and ended up staying with him as he supposedly was the only person in the world who still loved her. (wrong very wrong he’s awful but we’ll get to that later-)

tedros

bro. broooooo. when i tell you i wanted to throw the darn book when i read his scenes in the first half of the book-

when dovey was explaining tedros’ actions after sophie and agatha left, i could not believe it, i thought she had to be joking because no way does an individual overreact to THAT point.

he literally wanted to murder sophie as revenge for taking agatha away from him?? what?? is he mentally okay? i understand seeing her as a barrier between them because, yeah, he’s always been insecure cause his dad’s best friend stole his mom away from him so that must’ve hit a nerve, but agatha willingly went with sophie. why does he need to hurt sophie over this? it’s up to agatha who she chooses, not sophie. and she chose him! she told him right to his face that she chose him and he’s still like “no we have to kill sophie first-” sir-

not to mention how generally messed up this message is? tedros claims that you can’t be in a relationship and have friends at the same time. what?? why is this in the book? why is this even a theme? of course you should be able to have friends and have a relationship, when did that suddenly become impossible?

“I let her live last time and she took you! I can’t make the same mistake, Agatha. I can’t lose you again!” (Chapter 12). this is basically tedros trying to cut off agatha’s friendship because he knows she’s close with sophie and is worried she’ll choose her over him and he sees his only solution to this to be killing sophie. honestly, if i were agatha, i would be fucking terrified of him, like when i was reading it i was thinking “run from this relationship please-”

which sucks because i’m a huge tagatha fan but they were undeniably toxic in this book for me.

in the second half though, that’s when i started feeling bad for him because he genuinely thought he got betrayed by agatha too and ugh that killed me bc after her, he had no hope for happiness left and that’s why he turned to revenge, but the moment he freed the teachers, he got locked up, starved, beaten, and tortured which is ??

i wouldn’t wish that on anyone (except aric lawl) and god he did not deserve that i felt so horrible for him. everyone turned against him, the entire school hated him, he fully believed his true love betrayed him, and he got beaten by aric every single night. as much as i despised him before this point, he did not deserve any of that and i’m so glad filip came when he? she? did because yeah it’s tophie all over again (yikes) but he REALLY needed a friend then and i’m so happy he got one.

ONLY TO GET BETRAYED BY HIM AGAIN RIP. sorry that was not needed but ahem

i was so so happy when he realized agatha never lied and ended up going home with her, as much as i hated the ending, i was happy for him and only him, boy’s been through too much.

but overall, i’d say i dislike him as a character in this book but i also felt super bad for him?? book 2 is so complicated y’all i have so many mixed feelings about everyone in this book.

agatha

okay. so. i keep going back and forth between being fucking annoyed at her and feeling bad for her which i feel is an understandable summary of how she is in this book.

her being scared of sophie - i completely understand that. i’d be surprised if she wasn’t. this is a girl who tried to kill her, tore her down, and went batshit crazy just nine months ago and is now suddenly calm but there’s still a bad vibe to her? and she chose her over someone who finally treated her well, finally saw her as an equal, and showed her that she doesn’t have to bear so much burden just to be loved back.

but i honestly felt kind of annoyed at how she automatically, no hesitation wanted to stay with tedros forever and never look back. um. honey. let’s break this down. we’re talking about a boy she has had no contact with for nine months, wasn’t even in a solid relationship with before she left, and said boy probably has beef with her for leaving him in the first place. and she feels completely fine with sneaking into his school and telling him she wants to be with him forever the SAME day she got back.

what??? is??? this???

this is the same agatha who berated sophie for trying to get with tedros the same day she met him without even knowing him well, right? the same agatha who you’d expect to be smart and think through emotional decisions like these, right? did they replace her personality what???

i get the coven pushed her to meet him immediately but this was just so poorly planned out and so tactless i can’t help but judge her sorry hun.

after that she makes herself believe sophie is good and perfect and maybe this is just her lying to herself because she’s mad at herself for choosing tedros but reading about her talking about how sophie is so amazing and perfect and loves her more than anything compared to being ready to bolt at the sight of her was just so fake. can we talk about how fake their friendship in this book? how fake it is in general? i think wbk.

at the end she finds out sophie lied despite the obvious clues (the scim suit (WHY WOULD BEATRIX USE IT), the spirick marks on sophie’s wrist yada yada yada) and she dumps her ass for tedros and decides they’re staying together forever despite barely knowing him as a person not to mention he just tried to kill her um-

(where is the logic in this book please help me i can’t seem to find it-)

the coven

i’ll be honest: they annoyed the HELL out of me in this book. well, specifically anadil and hester. they pressured agatha to choose tedros and go to him on the first day she got back (BAD PLAN) all so they could return to normal,,, which i guess isn’t out of character for them to do anything to get what they want but it really wasn’t their business? or at least they had no right to be as pushy as they were.

not to mention how HORRIBLE they were to dot. oh my god. the way they treated her in this book was disgusting and the lowest point in their friendship. at first i passed it off as them being hurt that dot replaced them and were lashing out because they had no better way to deal with their problems, which is true but also?? let’s not forget they BULLIED dot so bad in their first year and even kicked her out and replaced her with sophie and as far as we know, they never apologized for it. can we really blame dot for wanting new and kinder friends?

but even then they persisted to isolate her from others, shut down her book club which she used to make friends, and ended up forcing herself to gain weight if she wanted to keep their friendship. y’all i don’t even think anyone realizes how toxic the coven can be at times, the books spend a lot of time solidifying their frienship to the point that it ignores how awful it was at first. and not to mention dot is used to this treatment as she’s been physically and emotionally abused by her father, so as much as she dislikes their treatment of her, she still sees them as her friends and she will do anything to keep them.

i’m glad dot has learned to stand up for herself and gave it back to hester in tlea but god was her and anadil’s treatment of her sickiening.

professor dovey

i did not like her scene in the beginning of this book. she was awful to agatha and sophie and kept tossing blame for how the woods changed on them and yelling at agatha for not choosing tedros - um, she had a split second to decide and her friend literally died and came back to life a minute ago, how was she expected to leave her?

i dunno the way she berated them really got on my nerves because they’re just 15 year olds? they didn’t ask for their story to be told or for their personal relationships to affect the entire world? yes, if it had to be pointed towards anyone, it’s them, but instead of comforting them and trying to help them find a way to fix this, she goes all pointing fingers and straight up saying it would be easier if sophie was dead (not gonna lie i had a good giggle when i read this part but if you think about, that’s actually really sickening).

i’ll be honest, i love professor dovey as a character but she just seemed so cruel in book 2 i mean i get she was super frustrated but these children are confused and distraught enough already? she’s their teacher, she’s supposed to look after them but instead she just insulted them and stressed them out.

as for lady lesso, yes she did the same, but that was pretty in character for her. yes, it was wrong of her, but idk it’s something you would expect from her and she’s known to be the type to be tough on her students, while dovey is just not like that at all. and also, dovey was WAY more mean and short-tempered in this mean, i have to say.

evelyn sader

she was... an interesting villain. super cunning super devious i really admired her except for her doing all of this toxic feminism bullshit (which was honestly already bad enough!) for rafal, A MAN. WHAT. how does that make ANY sense?

evelyn: #kam2020 make them boys your slaves we got this in the bag girls

also evelyn: omg rafal senpai notice me uwu i did all of this for you *gestures towards girls annihilating boys*

anyways her death was um... shocking. rip. or maybe not.

aric

do- do i have to go into this one? killing yara, torturing tedros, being misogynistic, honestly pick one, i just don’t have the energy to rip him apart for the thousandth time.

#the school for good and evil #school for good and evil #sge #schoolforgoodandevil #theschoolforgoodandevil #TWO WHOLE DAYS TO TYPE THIS BYE I AM TAKING A LONG LONG NAP #sorry if these were a bit harsh/too salty/made absolutely no sense i was gonna edit it but then i decided to Not because #idk my full unedited feelings are infinitely superior?

39 notes · View notes

tarisilmarwen · 4 years

Note

fav sabezra headcanons???

Oooh, do you want canon compliant ones or do you want me to go full hog with my personal shippy ones?

You know what, it's my blog, Imma do both.

Sabine absolutely was the one who cut Ezra's hair in between S2 and S3. She caught him hacking away at his hair in the middle of a particularly self-hating angst fit (it was getting long enough to tie back and Ezra took one look in the mirror and choked at how much he looked like Kanan) and gently took the scissors away from him and sat him down and fixed the mess he'd made. They don't say much to each other—Sabine makes a snarky comment about, "Well if you're gonna do this, you're gonna do it properly." and Ezra quietly thanks her afterwards—but it seems to clear Ezra's mood for a little bit at least.

(During this nice quiet moment, Sabine has a moment of Realization when she observes how much sharper Ezra's facial features have gotten and wow he looks so much older now and why is this making me feel Some Type Of Way?)

(Sabine absolutely has several moments of horrifying Oh No He's Hot about post-puberty Ezra that she cannot deal with, the poor dear.)

Ezra is actually a fairly decent artist in his own right (as evidenced by Ezra's Rebel Journal) and Sabine bonds with him sometimes by giving him technical pointers and sharing her paints with him.

Sabine is super protective of him.

Sure she teased and bullied him a little bit in the early days when Ezra was new to the Ghost but after getting fond of him and becoming one of his closest friends she just develops this very intense protective instinct over him. If anyone remotely threatens him or talks down about him she is immediately up in their faces ready to fight.

Pre-Fulcrum Kallus learned this the hard way once when she basically lobbed a grenade at his face because one of his shots grazed Ezra across the back.

Among the recruits on Atollon, she develops a bit of a reputation for being likely to break your hand if you hurt Ezra's feelings. Pretty much everyone on the base figured out very quickly that you did not mess with Ezra or you would have a very angry, very hot-tempered, very vicious Mandalorian girl to deal with. (On top of the Lasat, the scary mom friend pilot, the psycho droid, and the Jedi dad-figure.)

Ezra... tries to be protective of her but it's not as effective. Until he starts getting to be really skilled at fighting that is.

It manifests more in that he's willing to deliberately put himself in danger (repeatedly!) to spare her any harm, sometimes literally taking a bullet for her.

Sabine is very much an Anger Born Of Worry kind of person about this and will berate him for his reckless actions because how absolutely dare you, do you know you could have DIED?

Ezra tends to relax a lot more around her, and just feels super comfortable with her. There's a kind of easy-going trust between them that he considers very precious. He has absolute faith in her to have his back, and vice-versa.

They spar together sometimes when they both have a spare minute. Sabine is much better at hand-to-hand of course, but Ezra surprises her sometimes with how much of a brawler he can be. He also knows a lot of fascinating dirty/street fighting techniques.

They both have awful nightmares about the Nightsister incident and would often find each other up in the middle of the night making caf and unable to sleep. They'd talk until morning most of the time, though once they fell asleep shoulder-to-shoulder in the dejarik booth to be found by a very concerned Kanan.

She actually really likes painting helmets for him.

Tristan teased her mercilessly about Ezra while she stayed at Krownest. She had to insist, many times, "It is not like that, Tristan, I don't have any feelings for him, shut up before I dent your face." Tristan doesn't buy it for a second.

Ursa of all people has Suspicions about them, and inserts withering comments occasionally about how improper a husband he would be, much to Sabine's embarrassment.

Alrich, on the other hand, absolutely adores Ezra and makes embarrassing comments in the other direction.

(Really, give me all the Mandalorian court shenanigans with the Wrens not fully approving of Ezra and Ezra having to prove his worth and the depth and sincerity of his feelings for Sabine.)

Sabine cut her hair short as a tribute to Ezra, after he disappeared.

She keeps his lightsaber until she can finally hand it back to him, in person. After many tearful hugs.

(This is also when she basically proposes marriage to him. "I spent the last seven years without you, Ezra. I don't want to spend another day without you by my side.")

Oof, I made myself sad.

#star wars rebels #sabezra #ezra bridger #star wars #askbox #Headcanon #ezra is Geek Boy to Sabine's Stoic Girl and it is precious

107 notes · View notes

evening-starlight · 3 years

Text

Chances {Chapter Fourteen}

This chapter super heavy and long

Master List

T/W: mentions of grooming, domestic abuse, divorce, cursing, sex

Finally Light

Word Count: 2027

This chapter is fucking heavy, guys. There will be talks of grooming, sex, abuse, and overall bad vibes. Please be careful reading, and if it's too much, you can skip this chapter. I will never ever hold that over you if this could be triggering. Take care of yourself first.

I sit with my back to Tom's. We got home a few minutes ago and decided to do a trick Stevie had taught me when I was having trouble opening up. Back to back was supposed to help me feel like I was talking to myself about everything.

This is supposed to be the part where I spill my guts and everything that happened with Jared, but I can't. I know he won't judge. He's shown that over the last few months of us being together. Tom's taken it slow, and he's shown me multiple times I can trust him. But this might break us.

I take a deep breath and start from the very beginning. "I was introduced to Jared at fourteen. I was young and naive, and he was an older, wiser man. He told me the things I wanted to hear. But, as I've said before, it was all innocent for a few years. He'd introduce me to his girlfriends as his little sister for the longest time. He'd help me with my homework and would scare away the bullies.

"He had me sleepover at his house whenever my parents were fighting, which was a lot. It wasn't until sixteen that things started getting weird. I basically lived there from sixteen on. I showered, slept, ate, and hung out there with my friends. It became my home. It was more home than my parents' house.

"Again, it started innocently. I'd be in the shower, and Jared would need something from the bathroom. I used his a lot just because the water pressure was the best. But it was glass. He'd shield his eyes the first few times and then would walk in without bothering.

"Slowly, he'd just stay in there and have chats with me. We'd talk about innocent stuff like school or work. We'd talk about how the band was doing and if we found a record label yet. That's actually where he offered to get me a deal with his record label while I was in the shower. And he did. He made good on that promise. Virgin Records signed us the next month for four records. But I thought it was all normal things friends did for and with each other.

"Jared was a king at making me think I was crazy. He did it all the time that, at one point, I thought I was. He called me dramatic and a girly girl whenever I made a deal about wanting to do something he didn't want me to do. Like, go to prom. I missed out on every high school prom because he didn't want me to go with another boy. Hell, I missed out on graduation because we were on our honeymoon.

"We had a sleepover the night before my eighteenth. He said it was because he wanted to be the first person to wish me a happy birthday when I woke up, but looking back, he really just wanted to be there when I legally turned eighteen to do everything he's dreamt and said he wanted to do to me. He'd say things all the time like, 'the boy who gets to fuck you first is going to be so lucky.' or 'I'm surprised I don't have boys knocking down my door to come in and take you.' I thought that's just what you say to your friends.

"But that night, we went to bed in his bed, and I remember waking up to him going down on me. The clock read twelve o'five. He waited until exactly midnight to start, like those few seconds between the 23rd and 24th would mature my brain. At the time, I thought it was romantic. He waited four long years to do this." I feel the cool tears stream down my face as I remember that traumatic night. The rock in my stomach grows with every sentence I utter, slowly causing my voice to become tight. Like the rock was taking up my airways. "And then he started changing.

"He wasn't my best friend anymore. He was this controlling monster. He slowly drove a wedge between me and everyone I cared about, including Robbie. Granted, Robbie was still reaching out to me every day with stupid memes and horrible jokes. And I saw the band once a week in the studio, but only because Jared would be there with me. He wouldn't let me go in alone. I thought it was romantic.

"I almost broke up the band because they were always so mean to Jared. They would make mean faces and be short. They'd start arguments when I was in the booth and couldn't hear what they were saying. And they tried to kick him out of Robbie's parents' house when we went over to announce our engagement. At the time, it was awful. My friends weren't accepting of my love for Jared. They were the problem." I choke back a sob, replaying all the fights the band and I had about my engagement.

"Soon after our engagement," I continue. "Jared started controlling me even more. He sold my car without asking because 'I have him now' and our driver, why would I ever need to drive myself anywhere? He went through and blocked everyone's number that was a guy and the band except Naomi. She was the only person allowed to text me and strictly band things. I thought this was all normal. I thought this is what you do when you're in love.

"The band came to my wedding, only because I wouldn't talk to Jared until he agreed to have them there. Robbie was actually my bro of honor; he didn't want to be called a maid at the time but now relishes in the term. I wouldn't let up on that either. Jared had drilled it into my head that I was unloveable. That he would be the only man who has ever loved me and will ever love me until I die. Fuck, those were even his vows, 'I have proven I am the only man who can and will ever love you the way you deserve to be treated.'" I sob loudly. Tom reaches back and holds my hand tightly, grounding me slightly.

"That cemented it in my head. Deserve. Deserve to be treated. I deserved to be treated like he was treating me. I had done nothing wrong my entire life, but obviously, if he puts it into our eternal vows, it's true. I was eighteen. I didn't know any better.

"My parents were talking to me more, wanting to be a part of my life. But every time I spoke about something bothering me, I was told to suck it up; that's just what a wife does. Suck it up and suck him off.

"It wasn't until a studio day when Jared was away on a movie set, and Shannon was out of town, that things started coming to light. I was arguing with Robbie about this god-awful melody he came up with. Like to this day, I still think he did it on purpose to start a fight," I say with a light laugh. "And then Robbie slapped me. Like, hard. Red marks and everything. I gave him a fat lip in return, and the first thing out of his mouth was, 'so why do you fight back when I hit you, but you let Jared abuse you like that?'" Tom squeezes my hand as I choke again.

"I was with him another six months before he went from slapping to fists." I swallow harshly. I hate talking about this part. The traumatic events making my hands clammy and shake. "I was black and blue for weeks, and after one vicious fight, he wasn't discrete about where they were placed. So I avoided the public for three weeks, hiding in the house as the bruises and cuts went away.

"I realized I was alone. I was totally alone in this marriage. I didn't have a husband, I had an abuser, and my friends were right. So I called Naomi one day when Jared was gone and had them meet me at her apartment. We came up with the money and the plan to get me out of that relationship. So I moved in with Robbie and Naomi, where Jared couldn't find me, and had my lawyer serve him.

"And then my parents found me. I don't know how, but they showed up at the apartment door and started berating me about how a divorce will mess up my life and how I can't do that because what will it say about them? That their daughter is twenty and divorced like a slut.

"I couldn't believe it. Maybe I was supposed to be unloveable my whole life. Maybe my friends were just big dreamers, and I deserved every punch and awful name thrown at me. Jared flipped his tune on a dime after he was served and got ahold of me.

"He offered me my own place to live, that he'd pay for it as long as I stayed married to him. He'd find the perfect place for me, with a view and everything. He'd buy me a car and let me drive myself to the studio. I felt like I was falling in love again, but I wasn't. I was falling into a false sense of relief.

"His name is on the lease and continues to send gifts, trying to buy my love back.

"It was a messy divorce" I get back on track. "When I moved out of his place and into mine, it became clear what all I was missing. I was missing club nights with the gang, movies, and normal young adult things. I already missed out on my teenagehood. I wasn't going to let him ruin my twenties. So I threatened him that I would leak all the evidence and information I have about him if he doesn't sign the papers. They were in my lawyer's office the next day.

"He didn't let me read the prenup before I signed it. The entire divorce settlement went to my parents. They got to be filthy rich for the rest of their lives like they always wanted to be. Jared sends them thousands every month that should have been sent to me.

"He's threatened to take away my deal, my apartment, and ruin my name every day. Obviously, I still live there and have my deal, but he shows up everywhere all the time. He seeks me out and inserts himself into my life. I've tried everything, but even restraining orders can do so much. And I do fall back into that habit when things are hard. He's easy. I know what to expect from him. I know how to conduct myself to keep him happy. I know him." I pause, thinking over if I missed anything with Jared. "So, that's the sob story of my awful past." I finish. I hear Tom sniffling behind me. "Are you crying?" I ask.

Tom turns around and hugs me. "I'm so sorry you had to go through all that, Love. He's a terribly awful man who should be behind bars the rest of his life." I hold onto him tighter. I knew he cared, but enough to cry on my behalf? "If I ever do anything that reminds you of him, please just let me know. I never want you to go through that again. Especially with me." I let myself cry, releasing all the shame, guilt, and horror that's sat in my stomach my whole life.

I felt lighter after that night. Tom has this extraordinary power of making me feel like I was a feather and worthy of love. He's never lost it, and I hope I never do.

Tag List: @queenofallhobos

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddelston imagine #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston fanfiction #i got 99 problems and tom hiddleston could fix everyone of them #jared leto #Jared Leto imagine #jared leto fanfic #jared leto fanfiction #love #romance #chances #fiction #fanfic #fanfiction #original character #og #oc #original content

2 notes · View notes

kisskissbanggang · 4 years

Text

Standby pt. 5 -- The Finale

[30+ Min Read/10.2K Words – Bang Chan x Female Reader – Idol!AU – Half Plot, Half NSFW/Smut – Unresolved Pining, Soul Searching, Confrontation, Regrettable Situations, Rough Encounters, Role Reversal, Epilogue]

You felt cold as you half-heartedly browsed the racks of CDs, and it wasn't just because of the dumping rain outside. This wasn't anywhere near the list of things you wanted to do today, yet here you were. Chris had blandly explained Hyunjae promised to take him to the music store on the way to the studio, that he would only need a ride there since he could more safely get back by himself later that night. However, Hyunjae got called away to one of her hundreds of meetings, and you were reluctantly roped in. It was the only thing he’d said to you since you both came back to Seoul. The car ride had been painfully silent. Chris hadn't even worn headphones. He just stared out the window as you drove.

Chris’ browsing brought him closer down the aisle to you. You’d had enough. It’d been rough trying to navigate this chasm between you and you just wanted to see him put at ease.

“I'm sorry,” you said quietly, not looking up from the display as you browsed.

“You don't have to say that,” Chris replied coolly.

“What do you want me to say?” You prodded. Chris just flipped through CDs.

“I don't want you to say anything.”

A sigh sank heavily from your lips. “I just feel really bad--”

“That's fine,” Chris firmly snapped at you, “It's fine that you feel bad, because stringing me along like you have been doesn't feel very good for me either.”

“Stringing you along?!” You hated this. All of this. You hated Chris being hurt, but most of all you hated how confused you still were about everything. And now Chris would barely even look at you, let alone talk to you.

“Yeah,” Chris nodded enthusiastically, “I took all this time, stupidly thinking we were developing something, really putting myself out there like an idiot just because of what you said on the plane, and--”

You looked up to see what had made Chris stop mid-rant. The cameras were here. He sheepishly bit down his anger and engrossed himself in the CDs. Each plastic case clacking against each other made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end.

It was prudent to always be on the lookout for cameras in public, so you should've still expected them even after there appeared to be none when you arrived. You tried to appear to be intently browsing the racks when an obnoxious voice came behind you.

“Can I see the happy couple?”

Oh god. Not this guy. You noticed Chris’ shoulders tense along with yours. This guy was awful, this balding frog of a man who was outsourced by a couple fansites to take pictures during school days. You both tried your hardest to focus on your shopping. The guy prodded up against you, only backing off when you shot him a glare.

“Awh, trouble in paradise?” The frog man laughed, still snapping pictures.

“Can you leave us alone, please?” You asked begrudgingly.

“What’s the matter?” The guy condescended, “is boyfriend Chan not getting you the CD you wanted?” This time, the awful man pulled on your sleeve, moving you out of the way to get a picture.

“Excuse me!” You sharply interjected, stepping back in his frame, “That was extremely rude of you. Please leave us alone.”

“Just a couple of pictures and I'll be out of your way,” he grumbled, elbowing you back to the side. A small crowd was gathering now, despite the distance they kept. You spied a couple of cell phones being whipped out, and the fire in your chest burned a little hotter.

“I really don’t think so--” you insisted, interrupted as Chris anxiously tugged on the loop of your backpack. Your feet remained planted firmly in place between the two men.

“Come on,” Chris murmured behind you, “walk away. It’s not worth it.”

“It really isn’t.” The photographer chuckled, now grabbing onto your arm.

“Let go,” you stiffly ordered, trying to sound as confident as you hoped you could be.

“Then move,” he challenged.

“You’re hurting me,” you warned.

“All the more reason to let me do my job.”

“Fine,” you replied curtly, gaining all the willpower you could, “you do your job, and I'll do mine.”

That was it. You were done. You weren’t dealing with this today -- or anymore, for that matter. Stepping forward, you stomped onto the photographer’s foot, grabbing his camera and shoving it back into his face until he tripped back onto the floor. Your ears perked at Chris’ sharp gasp and whispered string of curses behind you. You grabbed his hand and moved to step around the man, letting out a startled scream as he grabbed onto the leg of your jeans.

“Cheap move, you little bit--”

Chris stepped forward, getting an arm around you to pull you away. He grabbed ahold of your hand, yanking you back toward the rear exit and away from the assembled onlookers and their cell phones. He slammed open the back door of the store as the photographer got up to his feet and barreled after you. Thankfully the company car was nearby, having chosen to park out of direct view of the street behind the store. You sprinted around and dove into the driver side of the car while Chris scrambled into the passenger seat, your sweating fingers fumbling with the keys as the frog man caught up and attempted to pull the handle. You screamed again, quickly sorting through the keys as Chris reached across you and locked the door. There practically seemed to be three times as many keys as you guessed were necessary. Finally, you got a firm hold of the right key and stabbed it into the ignition. Exhaust spilled out from behind the car as you punched the gas, peeling out of the back parking lot and leaving the photographer in your wake.

“Why did you get involved?!” You asked Chris, still breathing hard in all the adrenaline as you drove.

“Me?! Why did you even start it?!” He shot back at you.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you let out a crazed laugh, “not all of us are insistent on being so congenial and noble at all times.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I'm not someone who’s going to let people walk all over me just so I can look good.”

“You sure are lucky to have that privilege, aren’t you?” Chris slouched down in the passenger seat, flushed from his anger. “I mean, be condescending all you want, but it works. The pictures speak for themselves. Stay can always tell when I'm not having a good time, even when I wish they couldn’t.” You bit your lip, noticing him fiddling with his fingers and clearly preoccupied with something. The car ride was silent after that, up until you pulled up to the studio. Chris wordlessly opened the door and shouldered his bag. The need to say something, anything, was eating at you as he turned to walk inside.

“Chris--”

“What?” He asked bluntly, pausing, his hand still about to swing the passenger door shut. He looked so thoroughly exhausted.

“I'm sorry.”

Chris shrugged. “You couldn't help it.” He looked at you now, really looking at you for the first time in days. Surely, he must've seen how hurt and lost you looked as he shut the door and walked away.

Your drive back to the dorm felt like a dream, like you were sleepwalking until the moment you walked inside and Hyunjae stormed over to you, apparently back from her meeting. She had yelled and berated you, scolding you for being so stubborn and reckless. Hyunjae shoved her phone in your face, flicking through photos and videos of you and Chris and the photographer. It was useless to tell her you were defending yourself. He was right: the pictures spoke for themselves. You knew you had made a dangerous decision, that the prudent thing to do would’ve been to bite your tongue and do nothing.

And then she passed the news along. You were too much trouble right now. You were suspended indefinitely while the company figured out how to get rid of you.

It would take too much of your energy to cry about it. Really, all you could manage to do was catch your bus back to your cold apartment, still sleepwalking as you walked inside. Even though it was your home, it felt so empty. You supposed it was from the lack of people you usually had around, but you knew that in the end, you were just stupid enough to get wrapped up in the wrong good intention.

Days passed and your friends slowly realized you were back home. The beeping on your phone eventually fizzled from a storm to a light rain, occasionally buzzing as someone wondered where you were, if you were free to catch up. All you could do was drift from the couch to the bathtub to the bed, occasionally heading downstairs to the convenience store on the corner when you noticed you were hungry. It was getting to be too much, weighing on you and insisting upon itself. None of the texts that popped up on your phone were Chris, and they wouldn’t be. You had to finally see that. You resolved to answer the next text that came, praying to feel anything but lost and numb for the first time in weeks.

Come out tonight, came the next message, we miss you, dummy. You sighed, begrudgingly thankful it was this and not someone inviting themselves over with ice cream and wine. Still, you fussed over an outfit to wear, even if you were quietly glad to be distracted. You settled on a simple and fun dress with some heels you hadn't worn in forever. You finally took the time to fully clean yourself up, even going so far as to put on some more makeup than your usual. The person in the mirror looked vaguely more put together than you felt, which was just what you needed as you ordered an Uber.

The club was noisy and crowded, which you knew to expect, but it was bearable to have friends there. Everyone was gracious enough to give you two minutes of personal gushing and pecking and prying before the matter on everyone’s minds finally came tumbling out: Chris or, rather, Bang Chan. Were you dating, were you fucking, were you still together? You dragged your friends into a booth before you finally explained all you were willing to be held accountable for: it was complicated, and it wasn’t what it looked like, and it wouldn't be smart to say anything more. Your friends just about murdered you for such an apparent cop-out, but it was true. You couldn’t afford to give anyone the wrong idea, even if that meant telling them virtually nothing. It was dumb to keep things like this secret, but everyone knew that by this point, no amount of backlash could be cancelled out by now. You were obviously something, but saying that out loud — no matter if it was nothing or whatever it was they thought — would be falling off a tightrope.

Everyone was pressing you for more details when your phone rang. No one ever called you. Who would be calling you? You checked, your eyes widening in surprise.

Chris.

You made an excuse to run off to the bathroom, shutting yourself into the last stall and talking low.

“Hello?” You asked, attempting not to get your hopes up.

“I’m in a fucking bind,” came Chris on the other end, distressed and yelling over music in the background. Where was he? “Can you help me?”

“How bad is it?”

“Bad enough for me to be calling you.”

Despite the sting, you understood, snapping back into professional mode. It felt like being launched from underwater and back onto the beach as you grabbed a pad and pen from your purse and took notes. Wherever Chris was, it was only a few blocks away.

Your friends all booed, trying to be understanding despite their frustration at your leaving so soon. You’d been a hermit for a week and suddenly you come out for a night, only to be whisked away once again. The cold air of the street stung as you stepped onto the sidewalk, your heels clicking on the asphalt as you shrugged on your regrettably light jacket. You knew you could walk in the time it would take to wait for a car so you hurried along, dodging passersby and praying it wouldn’t rain.

You were surprised to find yourself standing in front of another nightclub and you made sure you had the right address. Sure enough, this was the place. You were bewildered as you walked through, grumbling as you dug out a couple bills to pay the cover charge and trying to peer through the dim lighting. The cacophony and drunks were just as annoying as the last club you were in. Chris almost never expressed much interest in going to places like this, so what was he doing here? You combed the whole place, even asking a bartender for a “friend” who just happened to match Chris’ description, when you finally heard a commotion behind you.

Sure enough, there was Chris, Jisung, and Changbin, all holding back Hyunjae as she clawed at a bouncer. The boys were obviously trying to lay low with their face masks still on. Changbin had the brim of his baseball cap pulled low on his face, and Jisung had his hoodie pulled up. Somehow, the three of them were having a hard time calming down the small woman.

“I shouldn’t have to leave! Let go of me!” Hyunjae drunkenly screeched, kicking and swinging as the boys tried to keep her contained. She accidently pulled at Chris’ face mask, ripping it off and making Jisung’s hood fall back. Right on cue, the cell phones whipped out and a crowd gathered on the fringes. You stepped forward, and the boys all looked up as they noticed you. Thinking fast, you did the first thing that came to mind: you punched Hyunjae right under the sternum, hard enough to knock the air out of her. The boys quickly grabbed her as she crumpled, slinging her over Chris’s shoulder and Changbin picking up her bag. They followed you out, running out to find the company car while onlookers still followed and tittered behind.

“Car?” You breathlessly asked the boys behind you.

“Around the corner, one block down on the left,” Jisung blurted out as he followed.

And, of course, the photographers, having hidden away in the corners of the club, made their way to the front of the assembled crowd, snapping photos. You fell behind now, trying to get space between them and the boys until they ran up to the car. Jisung yanked Hyunjae’s bag off of Changbin’s arm, digging around until he found the keys and beeped the car open. Hyunjae was loaded into the back, Jisung and Changbin getting in on either side of her as Chris jumped into the front seat. Once they were safely inside, you ran up as quickly as you could in your high heels and fell into the driver's seat. You all fumbled to get the keys into your hand and into the ignition, cursing and yelling as the photographers caught up to you when you finally got the car started. You blasted the horn to disperse the swarming crowd and threw the car in reverse, feeling a bizarre sense of deja vu as you peeled out of the parking lot and onto the street.

“Where are we going?!” Jisung asked from the backseat.

“Hyunjae’s place,” you firmly decided, “we can’t let anyone else see her like this. We’ll get her inside and I’ll get you all a ride while I stay with her.”

“Are you sure?” Changbin asked. You nodded definitively.

“Absolutely. She would do the same.”

You shifted uncomfortably in the driver’s seat as your dress hugged your legs together more than you’d like. You tried to be sneaky as you slid the hem up a few inches, just enough to get more comfortable as you sped along, but you still noticed Chris out of the corner of your eye, absently watching the extra flash of skin. His attention hurt for some reason, having proof that he still was capable of looking at you that way but not wanting to.

“Tell me what happened,” you prodded, getting his attention back. He shrugged with a sigh, broad shoulders softening.

“We were out meeting a producer down the street,” he explained. “Hyunjae-noona’s been acting weird all day, and she said she would wait at the club for us since we were having dinner and would be a while. I thought it was weird at the time, but… I guess I didn't realize what a bad idea it was.”

“It's fine,” you consoled, “your intentions were good. Hyunjae fucked up, not you.”

The boys worked to bring Hyunjae after you as you parked in her building's garage and headed to the elevator. You'd only been here one or two times, but you were still impressed with how humbly nice her place was. You were sure to be quiet as you silently moved down the hallway.

Until you dropped the keys on the front doormat.

Hyunjae roused as you hurried to pick up the keys, instantly getting rowdy again. The boys all jumped to attention, doing their best to shush her again as you got the door open. It was so polite of her to decide now was the time to finally lurch.

“Bathroom, quick,” you directed, Chris following your pointed finger down the hallway. He unloaded Hyunjae off his shoulder and onto the floor besides the toilet and you leapt down beside her, getting her to retch inside. You all took a moment to breathe before Chris surprised you with an offered hand to help you up.

“I think she's got it from here,” he panted with a small smile. You nodded, exhausted, pulling your phone from your purse and dialing for a car. This was a case of calling on a trusted company, and not just a ride share. The two of you walked back down the hallway, catching Jisung and Changbin collapsed on the couch in the small living room. You directed him to the tiny kitchen, letting yourself fall into a chair at the table.

“You look really good, by the way,” Chris remarked, but he wasn't quite looking at you as he finally relaxed into the seat on the other side of the small table.

“So do you,” you replied awkwardly. He really did. He was obviously sleeping and eating and staying active -- he was fine, just like you knew he'd be.

“I'm sorry if I dragged you away from your plans.”

“I was just out with some friends,” you waved him off, “I wasn't having an amazing time anyway.” His eyebrow perked up at the mention of ‘friends’, but what did that mean?

“How have you been? The others have missed you.”

What about you, you wanted to ask, didn't you miss me? You thought against it. “I'm fine,” you shrugged, “I'm looking for new work.”

“What?” Chris did look at you now, surprised and a little hurt.

“Well, yeah,” you shifted uncomfortably in your seat, “I can't stick around and keep causing trouble. Tonight definitely won't help that.”

“Okay then, that's fine,” Chris shrugged, “so you’re looking at other companies?”

“Not exactly,” you admitted.

“Oh. So you’re switching tracks, then? You’d do great in marketing.”

“No, same track… But somewhere else. When I was first getting into trouble when we were abroad… Hyunjae mentioned a friend at a production agency in L.A. I actually have a letter of recommendation I want Hyunjae to sign. I even brought it out to show my friends tonight.”

“What?!”

You reached forward, pressing a finger to Chris’ lips and he smacked it away. “Will you quiet down, please?” You pleaded. He looked at you, aghast as he shook his head. “I’m sure you're even madder at me, from the sound of it,” you frowned. He shook his head again.

“No. I'm mad at myself. I'm mad that I let myself think if I got this behind me, that we could... It’s stupid. This is honestly stupid. I should've never let myself love you. It’s just made everything that much more difficult.”

“What?” You asked, dumbfounded. “You don’t mean that.”

“Don’t tell me how I feel,” Chris reeled, “I’m sorry, but I really am starting to regret falling for you.”

“No, that’s not what I mean. You don’t love me,” you insisted. Chris let out an indignant laugh as he got up.

“I can't believe you,” he scoffed. “Fine. Tell me what to do. I don’t love you. Whatever. I'm getting the guys and waiting downstairs.”

You watched, feeling a bizarre sense of heartache as Chris pushed himself away from the table and stormed off. There was a quiet argument in the living room, and the front door finally swung open and shut. A heavy sigh fell from your gut as you got up. You eventually had to check on Hyunjae; everything had been too quiet. You padded down the hall into her bedroom, sliding open her organized drawers to find her some pajamas. You kicked off your tall shoes before heading back down the hall.

Hyunjae lay in a heap against the wall next to the toilet, cheeks flushed but otherwise looking alright.

“When did you get here?” She slurred tiredly as you worked on getting her dirty blouse off.

“You’re a mess,” you said, feeling almost stronger for saying it out loud. “You caused a lot of fucking trouble tonight. I'm glad it wasn't me for once.”

“I just missed my baby,” she whined, her head lolling back down to her chest as you wrestled a pajama top onto her.

“Ugh,” you wrinkled your nose, “don’t call me that.”

“Not you, stupid,” she scolded. She kicked you off as she searched for her bag. When she couldn’t find it, she slumped back against the wall, lazily gesturing out to the hallway as she shimmied off her jeans. “In my bag… My baby.”

Whatever. You could leave your letter of recommendation in there for her to sign, but you mostly wanted to know what the hell she was talking about. You found the bag sitting on the couch in the living room where Jisung must’ve left it. Carefully, you shifted around the jostled contents until something caught your eye -- an envelope. Another letter? You slipped it open, wondering exactly what you were looking at when inside was just a picture of a little girl.

“See, stupid?” Hyunjae asked from behind you. She was fully dressed in her pajamas, leaning against the doorway to the living room. “My baby.”

“I don’t understand,” you shook your head.

“You wouldn’t,” she laughed meanly. “She’s six years old now. I get a picture of her every year. Look on the back. She likes to ride horses and her favorite color is blue.”

“Why isn’t she with you?” You sat on the couch, looking at the picture of the little girl. Hyunjae collapsed onto the couch beside you.

“Her father knew what was best. He always told me that he would do right by me. We’re not together, and she’s with a family that isn’t stupid like we were. So I guess that’s what was right.”

“Who is--”

“The father? We met when I first became a manager. He was mature and nice and getting divorced. He’s still at JYP.”

You stared, eyes shaking a little as you looked from Hyunjae to the picture and back again. “But who--”

“None of your fucking business,” Hyunjae spat. “He doesn’t get pictures. Just me. I had her by myself, no one else was at the hospital with me. She was my little secret, and now she’s my six-year old little secret.”

“Why stay there, though?” You asked incredulously. “You could work anywhere.”

“I love my job. It’s my whole life. I told him I'd give up the baby if he kept my job. I shouldn't have to leave because I made a mistake.”

You blinked hard at the irony, shaking your head at the absolute audacity of the mental gymnastics at play here. All this time you’d hoped that Hyunjae was acting from a place of platonic admiration, a kind of kinship making her want you to succeed… Not some sort of bitter vendetta against her own mistakes. She ardently believed you couldn't help it just because she couldn’t. That realization burned, but it didn’t manifest as more anger. You pitied Hyunjae, and this didn't feel unlike the moment you’d realized your parents were flawed adults doing their best. Hyunjae interrupted your thinking with her miserable snoring from her end of the couch and, after making sure she was bundled up in a blanket and propped on her side, you found a bucket in her cleaning supplies to set by her. You grabbed a sports drink from her fridge and placed it on the coffee table. To top it off, you dug your letter of recommendation out of your purse, slipping the envelope under the picture of Hyunjae’s six year-old little secret and ultimately helping yourself to the bedroom.

Nights passed and you didn’t hear from anyone. The morning after you bailed out Hyunjae, you’d slipped your shoes back on and caught an Uber home without rousing her. You didn’t hear from Chris or any of the members, you didn’t hear from Hyunjae, and you didn’t hear from any of your friends because while you were bailing out Hyunjae, you bailed out on them, and they assumed you wanted space. And maybe you did. You threw yourself into your schoolwork, almost forgetting in all this madness that graduation was fast approaching. Normally, you’d be looking forward to becoming a full-time manager, but now you had no idea what would become of you. You checked and rechecked and triple-checked all your graduation materials, refusing to mess anything else up. After all these years of hard work, you would at least walk out with the degree you were entitled to, if not for losing your dream job in the process.

Graduation itself was almost a relief. Your family got stuck mid-travel and couldn’t make it, but you were being assured through multiple texts during the ceremony that one of your friends was keeping them in the loop and sending pictures. This was puzzling, considering you were currently sitting with most of your friends. It hurt to not have your family in attendance after all this work, but it was nice to know they were trying. You couldn’t shake the fact, though, that this felt like a post-mortem. After this was some ominous void that looked like it could swallow you whole. Years of careful planning, and now you were jobless and directionless. There was really no telling how difficult it would be to find a job with your current reputation if you didn't have someone vouching for you, and the idea of switching tracks entirely felt like failure.

An elbow in poking into your arm let you know that your existential crisis was almost holding up your row of students. You quietly apologized, quickly getting up and falling into line towards the stage. You still couldn’t focus, lost in how going back to making coffee for bratty teens and huffy professionals would only remind you of how short you cut yourself off. Everything only became more fully realized as you crossed the stage and accepted your diploma. You smiled and waved for the event photographer, but were starkly distracted by something beyond the barrier, towards the back of the grand lawn where the ceremony was being held. A shock of blonde hair and some broad shoulders clad in black caught your eye, only blurred by the distance, but an odd shape that looked eerily like Hyunjae’s giant purse only made you feel even crazier. It would be a bit ridiculous to ghost you and suddenly show up on the fringes of your graduation. Chris, maybe, but absolutely not Hyunjae. Clearly, you had just imagined it, and you shook your head, ready to just head back to your apartment.

No school and no job would end up being a huge learning curve to get used to. Waking up and having nothing was a bizarre feeling, and it made you a bit anxious, feeling even more lost than you already had. You tried going back to the gym. You tried going for walks, even when rain was dumping down outside. You got together your resume and a CV and portfolio materials. Nothing was helping fill this vacuum you’d created. For a couple days you severely considered texting Chris, your finger hovering over the send button but never going through with it. Again, he was fine. He would be fine, and once you moved on with everything, you'd be fine, too.

Another rainy night arrived, this time seemingly out of nowhere, and you were taking firm stock of your cabin fever. What could be changed before you eventually had to move? You could get some plants, you supposed, maybe liven up this oddly cold apartment that didn’t look like anyone of substance actually lived here, when a knock sounded at the door. You tried peering out the front window which looked out at the walkway outside, but whoever was at the door was just out of sight. Carefully, slowly, you cracked open the door and peered out. You gasped.

Chris.

He was soaked, having apparently been caught in the sudden downpour. You both stood on either side of the threshold and warily regarding each other. Chris moved first, unable to keep still any longer and he stepped through your doorway, taking your face in his hands and kissing you back into your apartment. Your hands covered his, unsure if you wanted to tear them off of you or hold on tight. You did, however, finally let logic rule for a moment. Your hands drifted down to his chest, his drenched shirt under his open jacket clammy on your fingers as you gently pushed him back.

“What are you doing here?” You asked him, unsure if you were speaking quietly or if your heart was just beating too loudly in your ears.

“It’s okay,” he panted, “I’m supposed to be out with a friend right now.”

“No, Chris,” you shook your head, “why are you here?”

“I…” He paused, biting at his lip as he thought. Were those raindrops on his cheeks? “I heard Hyunjae on the phone earlier. She was talking to her friend in L.A., and I realized you’re really leaving and I might never see you again, and…” He paused again, a little more choked up and frazzled now.

You took his hand, softly massaging his fingers in your grip. “Chris, Hyunjae isn’t going to just ship me off to L.A. She’s too bitter for that. I don’t know what you heard earlier, but you didn’t have to come here--”

“No,” Chris insisted, “Don't condescend to me. I had to come. No matter what, that moment just solidified that I--.”

You shook your head, letting go of Chris’ hand before he held onto you himself. “Don't say it--”

“Oh, don't you start with that again,” he shushed you. “Would you stop and listen to me for once? If you don't let someone in you're going to end up just as miserable as she is.”

“Fine,” you huffed, wrenching your hands out of his, “I can let someone in, but it doesn't have to be you and I don't have to ruin your career in the process.”

“Would you stop being such a martyr?!” Chris reeled. “Stop being so stubborn and let me be the one to do right by you for once. Don't treat me like I'm so precious, alright?! I'm so tired of being your little secret.”

“Secret? People know, Chris.”

“Then why are you still pretending you don't have any sort of real feelings for me?! What you say and what you do practically never line up and it's driving me absolutely insane. You're so insistent that you're the only one making sacrifices here and I've had it.”

You folded your arms, waiting and praying you were masking the fire raging just under your skin. “Fine. You've made sacrifices, too. Did you get that out of your system? Are you finished?”

“Holy shit!” Chris sputtered. “Would you come off it already? I come out here to tell you I fucking love you and you are being the biggest dick about it!”

“Stop saying that!” You sighed heavily. By this point you were both pacing your tiny apartment.

“Stop?! This is the first time I could even try to get you to listen after last time, you nag!”

“If you’re going to be calling me names, maybe you should get the hell out,” you ordered, thrusting a pointed finger at the door.

“Fine!” Chris spat, turning to leave. “Maybe I spoke too soon. You're already plenty like Hyunjae. She must be carting you off because she can’t stand having competition for Most Selfless Asshole.”

That did it. The fire under your skin shot up to your eyes and all you saw was red. You reached past him, grabbing the door handle for him and moving to shove him outside yourself.

“Hey, would--? Would you -- fucking stop it!” Chris struggled against you. He attempted to push you back so he could actually leave, only to be met with your grappling hands every time he tried to create distance. He sighed. “I’m sorry for what I said. I was mad and it was terrible to say. Please calm down?”

“No!” You roared, startling him. You were too heightened by now, bristling with distress from all sorts of directions. Doing the only thing he could think to do, he tackled forward, hoisting you over his shoulder and trying to ignore your yelling and thumping fists on his back as he marched you across the floor to your bed. He unceremoniously tipped you down, letting you bounce onto the mattress before catching your flailing hands in his again and pressing them into the sheets.

“Now can you please calm down?” Chris tried again, and you thrashed in his grip.

“No!” You yelled again. “I can’t believe you would just come here and try to pull this on me.”

“Pull what?” Chris fretted. “I’ve made myself more than clear this entire time. I’ve never played games, or let you believe that I feel one way and act against that.”

“Oh, excuse me for trying to remain professional!” You shouted as you tried to wrestle Chris off of you.

“What in the fuck has been professional about this?!” He asked, bewildered.

“I’m doing my best, alright?!” You shot back, “It’s fucking complicated. You know exactly how I feel and what I'm having to deal with.”

“How would I know how you feel?! You won’t tell me anything! I’m not a fucking mind-reader, and I’m not about to just assume because look where the hell that got me.”

“Well, maybe fucking consider that admitting I love you would feel like creating a giant goddamn detour from what we’re both working for,” you blurted before you could catch the words falling out of your mouth. Your eyes bore into each other, watching, waiting, before he finally had enough and dove into you, his lips back on yours like he was coming home.

“Say it again,” he urged against you.

“Say what again,” you challenged, “I didn’t admit anything.” You wrenched a hand out of his grip and shoved it down between your bodies, pushing past where his rain-soaked shirt was sticking to your stomach where your hoodie had ridden up in your scuffle. He gave a yelp as you tried to clutch tight onto him between his legs. It was a dirty play, but you wanted nothing more than to not have to confront this right now.

“What the fuck?” Chris groaned against your lips as he tried to pull out of your grasp, only succeeding in his foot slipping in your bedsheets and falling back into your hand wrapped around him in a vice. “I hate how much I missed you,” he spat at you, his tongue nonetheless mingling hot with yours at your insistence.

“You can’t just get me to do what you want by strong-arming me,” you fired back, your grip on his cock through his jeans only getting worse as you began to massage his length.

“Don’t distract me,” he panted, but it sounded more like a plea, “and I'm not trying to make you do anything.” Finally, he let out a thorough groan at your rubbing, reacting enough for his grip to falter on your other wrist. You took the opportunity to kick him off the bed and onto the floor before you pounced on him, your soft lounge shorts not doing much to protect you from his rigid length rubbing hard between your legs as you pinned him. His hands scrambled to stop you again as you kept him distracted, rolling your hips on top of his and hating how much you missed him, too.

“It’s so easy for you,” you hissed as you grinded down against him, only letting his restrained moans fuel you more, “you can come here and profess your feelings for me, but I'm the one who’ll get heat for this if we try to make it happen and people know. You’re famous, Chris, and I'm just staff. Or at least I was. No matter what, I'll be some dumb girl, or some monster, who couldn't fucking help it, and either I took advantage of you, or I was too dumb to stop this, but no matter what I'll come out worse than you will. This can be a bump in the road for you but this is already ruining all my hard work.”

Chris finally bucked you off, getting up and grabbing your arm to drag you back to the bed. He easily tossed you back onto the mattress, slapping your hands away as he tried to regain control. It was almost gross, how good fighting like this felt for some reason, but seeing how bad he wanted you only pulled harder on that gut feeling you kept trying to shut up.

“You know, plenty of people think we’re just fine. We’d have support,” he huffed as he pinned your hips to the bed.

“Yeah,” you struggled to pry his fingers off of you, “but any amount of dissent is going to be enough to ensure I never get to do the work I want in this entire goddamn country.”

“Holy shit, you’re so stubborn,” he growled, exclaiming when you tried to shove your knee between the both of you to throw him off again. He kicked your ankles apart, settling between your legs. His jeans were rough against you where his hips met yours.

“Do you hate it?” You challenged him.

“Not at all,” he grinned spitefully, and you realized his smirk matched your own, “in fact, I love it. Because, for some reason, instead of talking like rational people, you're fighting me pretty hard just to not say you don’t love me.”

“Right,” you tripped over your thoughts in an attempt to follow his new tactic, “but you’re the one who kissed me as soon as I opened the door, so who started it?”

“Fine,” his wicked smile grew along with his confidence, “then tell me you don’t.” Chris rolled you both over, holding you up on his lap with both your wrists in one of his hands. “You’re on top. You've had no problem telling me how it is, so tell me you don’t love me and I’ll leave.”

“It’s not that easy,” you stumbled through your words as you tried to tug your wrists out of his hold. As you stilled, you gradually sank into him.

“Why?” He asked as he let you sink further against his chest.

“Because…” You bit at your lip, really thinking of how to go about this. The way he looked up into your eyes made your whole body ignite. His grip on your wrists loosened and you melted against him, your fingers weaving into his hair that was still damp, smelling of rain and sweat as you kissed his brow. “I feel like I’m giving everything up if I say it.”

“It’s not forever,” Chris reassured you as he closed his eyes to accept your lips on his face, “this isn’t a contract. It’s just one day at a time, or a week, or a month, or however long it can be. I want you, even just for a little bit.”

Your lips on his brow traveled down to his cheek, pressing a kiss there as well in a gesture you realized you rarely practiced. Finally, apprehensively, your lips hovered only moments apart from his, hanging in a loaded silence that was threatening to swallow you whole. “Fine,” you carefully announced, “I love you. I'm not sure when exactly it happened, but it did and I've been miserable over you.”

Chris’ grin cracked into a wide smile as he took your face in his hands again. “Oh, babygirl, I’ve been miserable, too,” he laughed as you teasingly swatted him for the name, the actual joy in his voice shooting straight through your heart as he kissed you again. “Say it again.”

“You got one, don’t get greedy,” you jokingly warned, gasping as he rolled you back over in bed. Chris’ hips pressed into yours as his lips traced the line of your cheek down to your neck.

“I’m so greedy for it. Please say it again,” he asked against your skin, his breath tickling you and making you laugh. You finally made the decision to push him up from you and grabbing his jacket and pulling it off of him. He playfully cried out as you rolled him off of you and sat yourself back on his hips, taking it upon yourself to peel his wet shirt off of him, just as it was finally beginning to dry. “See? If you’re going to strip me then I deserve at least one more.”

“Make me,” you triumphantly laughed, letting out a pathetic squeak as he quickly tugged your hoodie off over your head. His eyes slowly roamed over you as his fingers played with the hem of your thin tank top underneath. The moment you moaned at the feel of his hand on your breast, that mischievous grin returned as he pinned you back to the bed once more. He let himself get distracted as you slipped off your tank top, his eyes searching you ravenously. Your hands quickly searched for the button of his jeans as he nuzzled and nipped at your breasts, a gasp jumping from him as you finally released his cock and began massaging his bare length in your hands. “Give up yet?” You coaxed him, jumping as he swiftly pulled off your lounge shorts along with your panties.

“Not at all,” he smirked as he sat back. He kicked off his shoes and jeans and quickly stripped off his briefs before climbing back between your legs, only to be met with your foot pushing him back. You took in the sight of each other, finally fully exposed in the dim light of your tiny apartment. Your eyes pored over his bobbing Adam's apple, down to his heaving chest and following the lines of his abdomen down to his flushed and leaking erection. He looked incredible in this moment, and you let yourself finally feel like he was yours, even for just a little bit. “You’re asking for it,” he laughed, pulling you back to reality, “I’ll make you say it.”

Before you could get another crack in, he leaned down, kissing your knee and ghosting his lips over your skin on his way up to cage you in his arms on the bed. “Fat chance--” you attempted to tease, the words caught in your throat as Chris’ firm cock prodded into your soaked entrance. His lips pressed to yours as he slowly slid inside you. You never realized how much you’d been yearning for this stretch again, to feel him filling you out as he held you.

“Say it,” he breathed, that handsome flush that you’d noticed when he was aroused taking over his body and crawling up his chest to his neck and cheeks. “Say it or you're not getting anymore.”

“No no no,” you laughed desperately, “please, please give it to me.”

“I’m sorry, babygirl,” he smiled, “you're not getting any until you say it.”

“No, please,” you begged as you attempted to roll your hips onto his cock from under him. “Please please please.”

“That's really too bad,” he shrugged, “it would’ve been so good.”

“No no, please,” you pouted, “fuck me, please, I love you, fuck me.”

“There we go,” he groaned instantly as he immediately began thrusting deep into you, “was that so hard? Now try it when I say it.” He kissed you deep again, his hand trailing down to make sure you were spread wide for him as he fucked you. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” you said, breathless, loving the feeling of giving yourself in to this moment. Chris moaned on top of you, the way the walls of your pussy massaged his cock making him almost wince from the pleasure. It was so good, you managed to still push him over onto his back, your hot depths still impaled on his length as you began to ride him. You rolled your hips hard onto his, savoring his moans and repeated affirmations of affection made under his breath as he gripped the sheets. You guided him a bit more forwardly, leading one hand to your clit as you grinded down against his length.

“Since when did you get back on top?” Chris laughed. In this light, you could see how blown out his pupils were, how drunk on you he was that he could barely keep up. “I think I should get to be on top at least once in our lives, don’t you?”

He pushed you back over, taking a moment to tease your nipples with his tongue before he pulled out of you, smiling devilishly at your whines before he moved further down the bed. His tongue nudged in between your legs and your fingers were instantly in his hair, your back arching as he expertly laved at you.

“Remember the first time I made you cum?” Chris smiled, picking his head up from your pussy and pumping into you with his fingers. You nodded timidly, watching and waiting to see what he was up to as his thumb drew firm circles on your clit. “I don’t think I've gotten to cum with you once since that first night backstage, but ever since I got you to cum I've thought about doing this.”

“Doing what?” You asked. This feeling of giving up control to him was keeping you alert, the vulnerability making you feel like you were spread open for him in more ways than one. He licked deep between your legs once more before coming up for air again, his chin slick with you.

“I thought you’d remember,” he teasingly pouted, “that first day I made you cum on my tongue, I said that even after you were done, we weren't finished until I did.” Before you could question him, he held tight onto your thighs, keeping you open so he could lick and nibble at your sensitive clit as he pumped his fingers back inside you. Your head pushed back into the pillow, your eyes squeezed shut from trying not to moan too loud as Chris worked you over. All you could do was squeal and curse under your breath, completely at his mercy as his tongue pushed you dangerously closer towards your orgasm.

“Chris, slow down,” you meagerly begged.

“I got you, don’t worry,” he soothed, “I love you. You’re going to cum, and I’ve missed it so much. Now say it again.”

And you did. “I love you.” It began as a hushed whisper, then progressed to desperate whines and moans. He had such an affectionate power over you that you would do anything he said. Finally, just like he said would happen, he held you down and licked you through it as you couldn’t hold back your near-scream, your thighs clenching as your orgasm rocked through your body. And, just like he said he would, he didn’t stop. Chris kept licking and fingering your spasming pussy and you could almost feel his proud smile against you until he finally relented.

You gasped for breath as Chris climbed back on top of you, his thick length almost intimidating now as he pushed up against you. He pet your hair, caressing your flushed face as you took an agonizing time to come down. “You’re being so open with me,” he marveled quietly.

You nodded shallowly, still attempting to catch your breath. “Of course,” you breathed, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he grinned, almost as if he still didn’t believe this was happening. In a way, neither did you, until his rigid cock slid back into your aching pussy. You cried out, your hands clutching onto his arms as you were heavily overstimulated. “I got you,” he reassured you again, kissing your face as he fucked you into the mattress, “it’s so good.” He sighed into the crook of your neck, his hips rolling deep into yours.

“It’s too much,” you whined desperately.

“No no no, baby, you’re taking it so well,” he soothed, gently rolling you both over so you were perched on his hips once again. From this angle he was somehow even deeper inside you, filling out every inch of you that you didn’t even realize could be. “There,” he soothed, still easily bouncing you on his cock, “you have more control now.”

And, somehow, that move and remark put together made the overstimulation go from near-pain to near-bliss. In fact, in a bizarrely rare turn of events, you felt another orgasm mounting. Chris’ eyes lit up as you thrust along with him. “How close are you?” You asked, your nails beginning to dig into the lines of his chest as your momentum built.

“Soon, baby, soon,” he struggled, moaning and squeezing his eyes shut as he clutched tight onto your hips, “you’re going to make me cum so hard.”

“Good,” you desperately panted, “me, too.”

Chris’ eyes snapped open, “You’re what?”

“I’m going to cum again,” you whined, trying to match his faster rhythm.

“Holy shit, I love you,” he smiled, “cum with me.”

You both settled into this faster rhythm, trying to keep up with each other as you both neared your peaks. Chris slowed just the smallest bit, his breath hitching and steadying again as he tried to make sure you would cum together. He listened close for the changes in your sighs and moans, the twinges of your fingers on his skin giving him hints of when you were getting closer. You gasped as he pulled you down to wrap his arms around you, his lips finding yours as you both grew even nearer.

“Now,” he breathed against you as he felt your walls clench around him, “cum with me now, I’m gonna--!” Chris threw his head back in the pillow, letting out a deep groan as he thrust his orgasm up inside you and savoring your impassioned moans as you came along with him. He held you tight to him, his hands running up your back and into your hair to caress your face as he kissed you through his peak, breathless as his cum flowed into you.

The air of your tiny apartment was electric as you laid together in your bed, tangled in each other, as well as the bedsheets and your discarded clothes. You rolled off him and laid at his side, keeping a hand pressed to his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. Wordlessly, he turned to face you, closing his eyes and grabbing for one of your shuffled blankets. He pulled it up over you both before taking your hand, pulling you to his chest as you both recovered.

And you woke up like that. It really was that easy. The two of you had fallen asleep basking in this liberating glow of letting yourselves have what you both wanted, and now you were waking up to the sun already streaming in through the blinds. Your apartment suddenly felt homier, almost like when you first moved in. You looked over Chris’ face, still just as close to yours as when he drifted off to sleep, studying to see how asleep he truly was. Skipping the sweetness, you pinched his nose.

“No,” he shook his head as he pulled you closer, “I'm sleeping.”

“You’re awake,” you smiled as you grabbed your phone off the bedside, ��and I'm ordering breakfast.”

“Oh thank god,” he murmured as he willed you to fall back asleep in his arms.

“Was last night good?” You softly asked, unable to fight off the smile on your face as your eyes were still waking up. Chris turned his head more into the pillow in an attempt to stay asleep as long as possible. He lazily nodded.

“So good. About time, too,” he grumbled with the faintest ghost of a laugh.

“I never asked,” you said quietly, stroking his hair as you breathed him in, “how did you find my apartment?”

“Hyunjae wanted to talk to you about the job thing but she’s too proud to not fight with herself about it. I convinced her that it was her idea to try and find you at your graduation, and when she chickened out of that, she sat parked in the company car in front of your building for like… I want to say twenty minutes. I almost dragged her up here myself.”

“She wanted to talk?”

“She did,” Chris nodded, finally giving in and opening his eyes. He sat up in your bed and stretched as he rested his head back against the wall. “I don’t know what to tell you. She really was talking to her friend in L.A. last night.”

You dragged each other out of bed, at least enough to each put on at least some form of clothing as you prepared some coffee. He watched intently as you slipped on your bathrobe, but he got distracted by all the parts of your apartment you never really considered before -- the framed pictures, the books, the way you organized your desk. Suddenly, his attention in you and your space made you take a second to remember how lost you'd been feeling lately, if maybe it was just a symptom of something less sinister than mediocrity.

“What now, you think?” Chris finally asked you. You set a cup of coffee in his hands, trying to focus on this moment so you’d always remember it: Chris, in only his underwear, hair a mess and drinking a cup of coffee while bundled up in your bed.

“It depends,” you ruminated, “how long can you last?”

“Me? As long as you want, I guess,” he half-shrugged, “as long as we want, really. I just want you to be happy. I'll be happy knowing you’re happy.”

You held back as you considered all the factors at hand, not wanting to let yourself get distracted by getting nearer to him right now. “What if… What if L.A. makes me happy, but you do, too?”

“Then pick L.A… and me, too, if you’d like. You don’t have to stick with one thing -- or two things -- forever. I'll be happy even having you for a little bit, remember?”

“It won’t be easy,” you warned.

“Has any of this been easy?” He laughed and you had to agree. You nodded, finally giving yourself permission to draw closer and get swept up in him again when the buzzer on your door sounded.

“Hyunjae!” Chris scrambled, setting his cup of coffee on your bedside and lunging for his jeans, “Holy shit, she probably tore the city apart looking for me.”

“Not Hyunjae. Food,” you gently reminded him, and he let out a gigantic sigh before collapsing back on your bed. You opened the door.

Hyunjae.

“Unnie,” you dumbly greeted, and you heard Chris thunk onto the floor behind you as he frantically reached for his jeans again.

“Little sister,” she awkwardly greeted in return, “I don’t suppose you’ve seen Bang Chan.”

“Noona,” Chris nodded in her direction from behind you, still shirtless and horrified as he made a measly excuse to use your bathroom.

You straightened up as Hyunjae looked you up and down, as well as Chris as he scampered out of her line of vision. This was your home, and you felt like you were on a little better footing against Hyunjae after that night at her apartment. “I guess I couldn’t help it,” you smiled demurely.

“I’m sorry--” Hyunjae blurted. She tried again. “I’m sorry, little sister… I realized I’ve been too hard on you. As a supervisor, as a mentor… And maybe even as a friend. I was unfair to you. I'm not very good at this, so…” She slipped an envelope from her purse and into your hands. “You write well, but we already know that, and I made some grammatical revisions, and we both already know that as well. This is just a copy, of course. I already sent the original to a friend in L.A. who’s looking forward to hearing from you.”

“I know,” you replied confidently, excitement brimming under the surface, especially as Hyunjae uncharacteristically had a hard time maintaining eye contact with you.

“I'm proud of you, little sister,” she finally said, and she nearly took a step back as you gently took her hand in yours.

“Thank you, unnie. I appreciate that.”

Chris cautiously exited your bathroom, fully dressed in last night’s clothes. He looked back and forth between you and Hyunjae, trying to decipher how civil things were at the moment. “I’ll -- should we…? I could --”

“You'll call me,” you smiled reassuringly as you smoothed out his rumpled shirt, “and I'm going to make a phone call of my own, and in a few days you're going to help me pack, and a few nights after that you're going to take me out before I leave.”

“Yes,” Chris beamed at you, “that. All that.”

Hyunjae modestly looked away and began heading back downstairs as you insisted on kissing Chris goodbye, and you waved him off, feeling a weight lifting off your shoulders to a point that you could swear you were floating. You were capable, and for the first time, you believed it.

Standby: An Epilogue

All these credentials, and you were suddenly a glorified intern. You fumed at whichever idiot’s bright idea it was to transform all your production assistants into liaison staff for groups and their management teams for an event like this. Nevermind that only a fraction of your team were bilingual, but only a smaller fraction were bilingual in a way that actually mattered in an event like this. That meant hiring translators, and that meant hiring temp teamsters to serve in place of your production staff, and that meant no one was prepping green rooms. Your actual staff was out fetching coffee and finding emergency hair products, so you were left grabbing groups for standby for various events of the day. You were walk/jogging to your next green room when your phone buzzed with a text.

>>It was an absolute disaster at the hotel this morning, hope you’re having better luck out there.

You smiled at Chris’ text, despite the stress coursing through you. Making it work like this had been hard for the past year, but predicting that and doing your best to roll with it had been helpful.

>Disaster out here, too. Can’t we just skip to tonight?

>>Sorry, babygirl, I know you're just dying without me.

>Stop that. I'm just looking out for you and your blue balls.

You allowed yourself a relieved giggle at your text exchange before your earpiece crackled.

“Green Room 4 for standby, banquet hall B.”

You clicked the chirp on your receiver twice, letting the channel know you were on your way.

“Already got Room 4,” someone else came through. You paused in the service hallway you were currently occupying.

“Partial 4,” a different director corrected. You clicked the chirp twice again, jogging down the hall in your regrettably inappropriate skirt and heels for this type of work before you rapped at the green room door. When no answer came, you flipped through your keys for the green room skeleton key and got the door open, gasping and quickly clapping a hand over your eyes before meekly apologizing as you turned back to face the hallway.

“Sorry!” You called over your shoulder, “Final call for standby.”

A surprised chuckle came from behind you, instantly melting your heart before you even turned around. There was Chris, his face an incriminating shade of red where he sat at the vanity. “Babygirl,” Chris let out a relieved laugh with a smile, “I’m in a bind. Can you help me?”

#skzsmutnet #stray kids smut #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids #bang chan #bang chan smut #bang chan fanfiction #bang chan breakdown #honestly you don't know how much writing this has meant to me like I am SO happy I've done this and if you've enjoyed it that's even better

237 notes · View notes