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klbwriting · 2 years ago

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The Jason Todd Anomaly

Chapter 5: Spill It Hoodie

Pairing: Jason Todd x female!Reader

Fandom: Red Hood, Bat family

Warnings: violence, mentions of blood and getting shot

Summary: Y/N and Jason are getting along. Y/N goes to stop an arms deal, meets another Robin, and things get bloody

Chapter 4, Chapter 3, Chapter 2, Chapter 1

Y/N was shocked how well training and brunch with Jason had gone. He wasn't half bad when he wasn't being a total asshole. And now here she was, on patrol, replaying their conversation in her head. They had talked about Red Hood at brunch some, then moved onto her childhood, mostly just random small talk stuff, where she went to school and what activities she was involved in. He didn't act surprised that she was in sports like most people.

"You're athletic, its obvious in how you box and lift" he said. She had smirked a little at that. He watched her train and that kind of make her feel warm. O fucking stop Y/N, yes Jason Todd, rich son of Bruce Wayne is totally crushing on you. The sarcastic voice in her brain was harsh but accurate. She walked a rooftop in Two-Face's territory, noticing some kind of arms deal going down in a barely lit parking lot. She watched for a few moments, Two-Face's guys obviously, selling weapons to people in all blue, Freeze's guys. At least their stupid costumes made them easy to identify. She silently climbed down the side of the warehouse, sneaking low to the ground behind a nearby junk car. She crouched, listening.

"The order was for 3 cases, we have 3 cases, now give us the money," a man in a phantom of the opera mask said. The man he was selling to growled.

"We agreed to 5 cases, what the fuck happened to the others?" he demanded, voice hoarse. Phantom guy spit on the ground in front of hoarse voice.

"Unforeseen theft by some random freak dressed like a bird," Phantom said. "Take it or leave it, we want the money for one of you freaks attacking." Hoarse voice growled again.

"That can't be good for his voice..." a feminine voice said from next to Y/N. She nearly let out a squeal of surprise. She had been so engrossed in the gangs' conversation she had noticed a young woman dressed as Robin arrive next to her. She smiled at her, waving. Y/N just kind of nodded, moving so she could keep an eye on both the new Robin and the gang members. She saw someone pop open one of the cases and pull out a large gun. This was the moment. She vaulted the car, throwing a couple daggers as she moved. Phantom and Hoarse voice both went down with knives in their necks, and she hurried to attack the other four men, knocking the gun from one of their hands, turning to disarm another, but taking a bullet in her side. She let out a cry but she could still stand so she threw a punch, managing to land it. It was weak but the other Robin had come in by now, dropping the other two attackers. Robin dropped a grenade in each case of weapons, the explosions small but effective in destroying the weapons. Robin wrapped an arm around Y/N and gripped her with more strength then expected. She shot a grappling hook to a nearby roof and hauled the both of them up. She set Y/N down gently, pulling up her shirt to observe the wound.

"Am I dying?" Y/N asked, trying to sound chipper despite the pain finally catching up to her. Robin poked at it a couple times, checking it over.

"You'll live...but you do need a doctor, I'll take you to ours" she said. "Hold onto me." Y/N did as told and Robin helped her navigate into Red Hood territory and taking her to a pretty unremarkable house. Two stories, pretty random in this kind of downtown area. Robin knocked quickly and within seconds the door was flung open and an older man stood there. "Hey Alfred, I made a new friend tonight."

"I see, please bring them into the workroom," the man said. Robin moved into the hallway, nearly pulling Y/N with her. Y/N felt herself losing consciousness. The feeling wasn't new, she had experienced it before when she was mugged. In that situation she had also been saved by a random bystander, showing her that there was still good in this city, they just needed to fight for it. Now this new Robin that she didn't even know about had saved her, gotten her to someone that would help her. She fell asleep thanking any being out there that she was saved.

Alfred looked to Stephanie as the woman in front of him lost consciousness. He quickly administered a pain killer and mild sedative before working to extract the bullet from her side and stitch her up. Stephanie went into the living room, taking off her mask as she collapsed on the chair. She heard a thunk upstairs and knew just by the weight of boots that it was Jason. He wandered into the room a few minutes later, mask off. He looked sweaty. Come to think of it, Stephanie probably looked just as exhausted from her patrol that night.

"Damn, thought that arms deal was a simple assignment," Jason said, sitting down on the couch. Stephanie nodded, sitting up a little and adjusting her pants some for comfort. "You look like shit."

"Thank you, but I saved that new vigilante's life tonight," she said. Jason sat up a little straighter, which piqued her interest. "She's going to be fine, Alfred is taking the bullet out right now."

"She was shot?!" Jason said. This was new, Jason didn't feel this kind of panic, ever, not even when he was shot. He suspected that Y/N was Anomaly and knowing that she was shot, that she was getting stitched up by Alfred had sent him into a spiral almost. He didn't know why he cared so much, he just did, and right now he wasn't going to examine those feelings under a microscope.

"Yes, I mean, she killed the 2 dealers before taking the bullet, which was impressive, seems she operates more like Red Hood than Robin," Stephanie said. Jason smirked a little bit.

"I am a beacon of change," he said, sitting back against the couch again. Alfred entered the room, wiping his hands on a towel.

"The young lady is sleeping now, I will do another exam in the morning to make sure she is free of infection but it looks like she will be alright," he said. Jason nodded, standing up.

"Thank you Alfred," he said. Alfred looked a little startled that it was Jason thanking him and not Stephanie. Stephanie nodded her agreement and Alfred smiled, his eyes sparkling. "What?"

"It is just nice to see you being so polite Master Jason, it has only taken me 20 years to make it happen," he said. Jason scoffed sheepishly, trying to hide his smile. Alfred smiled more and left the room to make them some tea.

"Ok, spill it Hoodie, why you so gaga over that girl in there," Stephanie said. He scowled at her, not wanting to admit that he cared about Y/N. He moved back to the couch, sitting again and fiddling with his helmet to buy time, hoping she would abandon the topic. Instead she stared at him, using the Bruce Wayne method of getting him to talk. Let Jason sit in silence long enough and he would eventually say something.

"I don't know, I think I know who she is, and if I'm right..." he left it there. Stephanie smiled and clapped a little, clearly excited. She was the youngest of all of them, barely a teenager, so she still sometimes acted like a kid. She had jumped a little bit but looked down after a moment, turning to adjust her top. Jason averted his eyes. She was trying out a new chest piece, wanting to feel more feminine, but still be seen as strong. "O, almost forgot, here, Tim wanted you to have this." He reached into the pocket on his cargo pants and tossed a tshirt at her. She opened it and smiled even bigger.

"You guys are the best," she said, turning it around and showing him the 'Best Sister Ever' shirt. Stephanie had been adopted by Bruce just a few months before he vanished so she was always worried she wasn't really part of the 'family'. Jason just shrugged. "You know, its alright to show people you care about them Jason, might help you get that girl in the other room to like you back." He shot her a playful glare. He heard his phone go off and looked at the message. Unknown sender. 'I told her to not get involved. This was a warning. Leave Red Hood in the past.' He kept his face neutral, not wanting to worry Stephanie.

"I'm going," he grumbled, heading back upstairs. He never left through the front door of Alfred's, not wanting to bring attention to the house. Robin's were seen coming and going by the door all the time and Red Hood was not with the Robins. They sometimes helped each other but no one outside of the family could know how close they were, he wasn't willing to risk it. Especially now that someone was threatening them.

#Jason Todd #jason todd x plus size reader #jason todd x reader #jasontoddanomaly #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood x plus size reader

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meilas · 1 year ago

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Socks Reviews POTO Stockholm 2016 Act 1

youtube

Old!Raoul looks dead. He's barely looking up at the auction items. The guy holding the monkey music box is staring directly at the camera and he looks scared. Swedish occasionally sounds close enough to German/English that I am getting confused as to what language I'm watching this in. jfc everything was so quiet and then the music is so loud This is a really nice shot of the chandelier rising. A couple light flashes synchronised with the drums. Honestly this looks so much cooler than when I saw the show on Broadway. Clearly I need to invest in a pair of opera glasses if I'm going to go to see any more shows that come my way because I always end up sitting in the way back.

This Piangi is a tiny king The way the slavemaster snapped the whip right behind the one manager and made him jump XD This Piangi forgot his sword on the ground and had to wave madly for someone to hand it to him. The camera work for this is so steady. Way to go, filmer. Piangi looks so into Carlotta when she's singing Think of Me. King behaviour. The one manager stops the other when he starts clapping early. The fallen backdrop has only been raised partway and there's three guys who keep looking under it and just interacting with each other behind it. Excellent. Raoul is blonde and looks so babey Meg sounds like a teenager. Christine sounds, well, older but not old. And I love how their voices sound together. One is a bell, one is a chime. The phantom is angry here, I actually jumped Oh and we're back to the nasally tone at "I am your angel of music" damn it Joback, you gave me hope and immediately let me down. He does sound better on the bridge. Let's see how is MOTN goes. How tall is Joback? he's barely taller than Christine oh that was an energetic cape removal, and a fairly decent self-caress He certainly is touching himself a lot during MOTN. Like his chest and stomach. And hips. Not. elsewhere. Okay that was a great high note. Why can't he sound like that all the time? Decent sprawl. Glad we could see it. But it looked like Christine had second thoughts about kissing him, rather than noticing anything that might have stuck out about him 😏 Another hip stroke jeez my dude Christine flinching when he starts crawling toward her is great. It's not his face at this point, it's how Weird he's being. OH OH He reaches toward her with his right hand, and exposes his face for several seconds and she just stares at him before slowly looking away. And she looks directly at him again when she returns his mask. This Christine is fantastic. Raoul is so much taller than everyone. lol Meg almost tripped running up to announce the Phantom of the Opera, and that looked like a struggle for her to run offstage No screaming of "the BALLET" here but he did run into a couple of the dancers. Ooooh we got to see an extra cape twirl from the shadow phantom in his last appearance. Usually he just fills up the entire backdrop but this time he swished the cape and then ran off to the left. Witness it here:

Christine's rooftop cape is either white or a very pale shade of blue. Her countess dress is also very pale, and I love it. so much better than the radioactive cupcake tint she wears in other productions. Chrstine sounds great. It's an AIAOY so I guess R/C fans will be happy. Okay that was a very gentle kiss. Very nice. They sound great together! Sad man time! That is a very small angel statue. This guy barely does the minimum. Sadder! More emotion! At least he shouts. Safety harness spotted.

#socks reviews #phantom of the opera #poto #peter joback #Youtube

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mspoodle1 · 7 years ago

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Wip - Cinema (that no sims will visit) Lot

Finished the lobby. So that makes the right side of the lot complete. I know how I want the left side to look but haven’t worked out how it will function. I will probably just build the outside and wait to furnish the inside. I have 2 other retail/business lots that are built but not furnished or have a purpose. Probably ought to get on that. ;) psst. @ninjaofthepurplethings your movie posters are awesome btw.

#ts3 #Mspoodle Builds Stuff #davidmont #more cfe #I was using google maps to figure out how the original theatre looked #I'm basing this on #you can go inside #and in each area #they have this guy dressed as the Phantom of the Opera in each shot #it's a bit creepy

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sgiddings · 2 years ago

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used to love info dumping my jossam headcanons back in the day so i'd thought i'd give y'all a new and improved run down of all the new jossam (and some old + reworked) headcanons i've accumulated over the years (a lot were inspired by my love @evildeadgf & those specific hcs pretty much belong to her but we're a TEAM here so!!) let me share the visions with my fellow jossamers again

sam LOVES to thrift. genuinely anything second-hand she loves, and she loves dragging josh along with her to flee markets or a random hole in the wall quirky and kitschy thrift store they'll find wherever they may be travelling. josh never forgets to take photos of all the weird antiques he finds, like the 19th century porcelain dolls with cracks in their faces and the moment sam sees them she will SHRIEK. get it away from her!

josh finds little post-it notes everywhere around their apartment due to sam. she writes up reminders for josh, like what times he needs to take his meds, or that there's leftovers in the fridge for breakfast (when he gets up though, it's lunch time)

when at work, sam never misses the opportunity to take photos of the furry companions that come in since she works with animals. and josh totally gets the message sam is trying to send every time he gets a new photo of a cute dog, cat or rabbit - sam clearly wants a pet for the two in the future, but josh can hardly take care of himself most times let alone a whole animal, which sam understands, but she won't let up so easily!!! she's gonna send cute cats!!!! and he's totally gonna warm up to it some day

they're both very musically inclined, sam can sing and josh can play the guitar, though not many of his friends actually know it about him - he pretty much only jams out with sam whenever he's up to it. even if he's much more a film guy, he's down to listen to sam lull him with her pretty voice any time of the day

speaking of film - they both love it, though in different ways. sam's not too much of a horror person like josh, and she hates the supernatural genre - literally scares the soul out of her body, she can't handle it alone, but with josh there she's calm enough, and comes to love some of his favourite horrors, and of course josh comes to love all the oldies she grew up with that she shows him even if he'd already seen some of them before in passing. whenever josh talks to her about the particulars of how they took a certain angle or shot sam is totally enthralled, she loves to hear him speak about the things he's passionate about

with sam being half italian and vegan simultaneously, she cooks up a lot of family favourite meals with vegan substitutes and always has josh taste test. they never fail to be delicious. sam is THE best cook, josh washington's seal of approval

they 100% geek out on musical theatre together and have totally dressed up to the nines to see phantom of the opera on broadway at least once or twice

they've both been in love with one another for pretty much half of their lives. when they were preteens their first kisses were each other, sam 11 and josh 12 - it was a quick little nervous and flustered peck but nonetheless, the memory never left both of their minds even as they grew older, and josh was barely a lady's man in his teens to early adulthood, too many people found him unapproachable or 'weird' despite his partying nature (which is a whole can of worms in itself imo! escapism at its finest!) he never had a solid or proper relationship with anyone until he finally got with sam. now sam, she tried to date here and there, but it was weird for her, after years and years of crushing on her best friend's brother, she told herself to get over it, face reality (in which she thought he clearly didn't reciprocate her feelings) and find someone who made her happy and who'd she make happy in return, and that of course, was a bust. josh was her only love, and sam was josh's

josh has a polaroid scrapbook of their adventures together, and sam is absolutely in love with it, when he first showed it to her it literally broke her, she couldn't suppress her tears and nor could she hold herself back from throwing herself into his arms

i really could go on and on and on but ahh!!! i love them so much!! they are my babies!!!!

#jossam #josh x sam #sam giddings #josh washington #until dawn #bathing bird #juliatxt #otp: i was the only one who understood him

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maybe-your-left · 4 years ago

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ASK FRIDAY - CREATE A SCENARIO: roommates trope with Kylo

Due to some last minute room swapping and late registering Reader and Kylo end up in the same dorm but they're mad about it and hate each other (cue intense sexual tension)

Dorm room, Snowed in, evening time like 6

The heater/power has just gone out and Kylo knows a few ways to get warm...only if Readers up for it...

been working on this for FOREVER ANON.

I loved it!

Crushed

TW: NSFW, dirty talk, dom/sub vibes, exhibitionism, kinda fluff, Kylos not that nice and is an entitled man.

Oh yeah, you fuckin’ slut.

Yes-Yes-Yes!

‘M gonna cum all over your fucking tits.

You slapped the wall next to your bed, hard.

“Can you guys keep it down! It’s 1 in the morning!”

Muffled voices came through the paper-thin wall, sounding like bodies moving to the floor. Good, you thought, at least he will get rug burn from the shitty carpet, might keep him from fucking everything that moves.

A hard knock on the wall pulled you from that thought.

“Go read your fucking Bible! I’m trying to get my dick wet!”

“Please!”

“Why don’t you go get fucked!?”

Some giggled came through next, followed by more muffled whispering. You whined loudly, trying to ignore the sounds of him fucking whatever bimbo your dormmate had in his lair. Shoving your face into your pillow, muffling your tears and wails.

You turned on your TV, drowning out the final act of his performance. Fingers poised over your keyboard to file another noise complaint with the RA… not like they ever helped you. The last time they intervened they left with a black eye and broken nose, shrugging for you to sort it out yourselves.

A door slammed shut, you let out a sigh of relief.

At least he wasn’t a cuddler.

You climbed out of bed, tip-toeing to your door to take a peek of whatever slut found her way into his room this evening. The special lady was a new cinderella every fucking week, he didn’t even try to know their names. You heard him admit it once in class to his friends, saying he called them all ‘baby’ so he wouldn’t have to learn.

You peeked out the door, blinking from the harsh fluorescent lighting of your dingy dorm halls. The walls were a screaming white, yellowing from years of shoddy cleaning. You tried to clean your room when you first came to school, but it was too disgusting.

A non-smoking dorm, ha. Everyone smoked, especially your neighbor.

“Shouldn’t you be in bed creeper?”

You jumped at his voice, exhaling harshly through your nose. You steeled your features, caught red-handed looking for his latest prey. Crossing your arms defensively, not that there was anything to hide. You were in your ratty pj’s, they were on sale at Old Navy a few years ago and you never threw them away even though they barely fit anymore.

“If you’re so interested in being a cuck,” he grinned at you, flashing his crooked teeth, “I would love to have you over for an encore, I’m sure you’d love to watch me in action.”

“Buzz off, Ren.”

“Ooo, angry tonight,” he smirked, now stepping out of his door frame. You choked a little at his appearance, no shirt on, basketball shorts barely hanging off his hips. Dangerously low, seriously, if he took one wrong move they would be on the floor. His chest was covered in fresh scratch marks, no doubt from his latest victim, a sheen of sweat glistening under the lights.

Fuck, he was good-looking.

But he was terrible.

“Ahem,” he cleared his throat, daring you to stare back at him.

You gulped, caught again. You were better than that, you were just tired from being kept up since ten with his version of ‘love-making’.

“My eyes are up here cupcake,” he stepped forward. Pushing you back into your doorframe, almost inside your sanctuary. “If you ever decide you want to break your vow of chastity, I’m right next door.”

“Step away from me, Kylo.”

He cocked his brow, “I love when you’re mean, come on. Let’s see if kitty has claws.”

You bared your teeth, fists balling under your underarms, “Not even if you were the last man on Earth.”

He shrugged, backing away from you.

“Deal, bitch.”

You moved to shut your door on him, “Go away.”

“See you in class, bright and early.”

------

When you imagined leaving for college, it was different.

Saying goodbye to your parents, packing your car with whatever small valuables you owned. Determined to make a name for yourself all the way across the country, no friends or family, truly on your own. You imagined everything would be different, the dorm would be filled with new and friendly faces.

RA’s greeting you as you parked outside, giving you a tour and maybe a group lunch with all your floormates. Getting to know each other, maybe even going to some new-student orientation event they planned for the newbies.

Classes were smooth, acing all your major requirements. Professors were kind and ready to help you at any moment, letting your artistic vision flow through your body every morning with your 8 AM yoga class.

But no.

Instead, you registered late.

Your classes all at the worst times, bright and early.

Second rate dorm, COED even… smelly dudes between your single bedroom which would be better defined as a broom closet. Burping and fucking on both sides of you while you tried to study. Your major requirement classes were boring and filled with pretentious art students who thought they were the next Picasso.

Professors didn’t care if you lived or died, only focusing on the bell schedule because they couldn’t control what the freshmen did in their classes.

Your options for clubs were limited, either join a sport or a cult.

And worst of all.

Kylo Ren.

He was your neighbor, signed up late just like you. You actually arrived at the same time, he pushed you down on your ass in the lobby so he could be checked in first. Calling you a clumsy bitch, only for you both to be handed keys to the same floor. Right next to each other, sharing a flimsy wall.

On top of that, he was an art major like you.

And since he registered late, he was in almost every class.

Even yoga!

He took your mat the first day, leaving you in tears in the hallway. He apologized afterward, handing it back to you before storming off to be with his beefy upper-class friends. Any moment he could, Ren would humiliate you. Trying to push your buttons, whistling at you when you had to cross the hallway to the showers. Tripping you when you had your hands full, making fun of you for hanging out with your sparse group of friends.

And when he found out you were annoyed with him making noise, he latched onto it.

One week he decided to recite the entire Phantom of the Opera, just because you mentioned in class that you loved that play.

He did every part, even the musical scores, you could’ve sworn he did it with a megaphone on the wall, just to spite you.

Your parents told you ‘he just likes you, he’s a boy.’

No!

That’s not how people express feelings, at least not healthy people.

Your alarm clock blared on your nightstand, you didn’t sleep so it didn’t bother you. Letting out a heavy sigh of defeat, Ren ruined another night for you, a night you’d never get back. Of precious, precious sleep that you desperately deserved.

Slipping on some plum leggings and a sports bra. No one gave a fuck about your outfit in your early morning class, as long as you went with clothes on. You popped on your headphones, trying to drone out the noise of Ren’s music through the wall. He liked to blast some god-awful music every morning.

Today, it was an old Black Veil Brides album!

You made it out of the dining hall, snatching a muffin for breakfast. Smiling at some guys you knew, waving at your friend Rose as you stormed off to the gym. The cold chill of Winter biting at your nose, it was too cold to not wear a full outfit. But there was no time, with Ren keeping you up all night and classes back to back, you didn’t have time to fuck around with dressing up.

Ren ran in after you, laughing with his friends. Big nose all red from the frost, his hair looked frozen to his scalp, probably showered beforehand. You rolled out your mat, trying to stretch while he bragged about the pussy he got last night. Making a big show of your complaining, saying you were desperate to fuck him based on your whining.

You rolled your eyes when he planted next to you, “Good morning, you ran out in a hurry.”

“I didn’t want to be late,” you sneered, not giving him the time of day, still stretching your back into child's-pose.

“How are we supposed to walk together if you run away from me, cupcake?”

You scoffed, shooting him an icy glare. Despite him grinning at you like the happiest man on Earth, god, you needed to stop giving him a reaction. That would shut him up if you didn’t give him the attention he is clearly lacking from his parental figures.

“Good morning class,” your teacher greeted you calmly, “I hope you’re all doing well. As you all know, this next week is finals week, I’m offering makeup classes to those of you who need to make up some credit hours. We are also hosting some meditation if you need time to relax between classes.”

Next to you, Ren leaned towards your mat, setting his hand right behind your back. You didn’t have to open your eyes to know he was hovering. Ready to devour you like a piece of meat.

“Hey,” he chuckled.

You stayed quiet, pushing back into his arm so he would move. Ren stayed put, purring in your ear, “Did you sleep well?”

“Move off my mat, Ren.”

He smirked down at you, “You seem stressed, do you want me to help by fucking your brains out.”

You shot off your mat, effectively knocking him onto his back. Laughing loudly in a relatively silent room of students trying to center themselves. He grinned from the floor, hands up in the air in defense, “I’m just offering to help you, Jesus!”

“Just,” you pointed in his face, hair falling out of your ponytail. Everyone was staring at you, even your instructor. Shocked you were yelling, you barely spoke in class, at the scariest person in your class.

“Just, leave me alone.”

------

Ren avoided you for the rest of the week, mostly.

Still had his nightly fuck-more subdued though, you had on noise-canceling headphones to try and focus on studying. There were still so many classes to get to, and you wouldn’t be finished until the day before Winter break… you were desperate to get this over with.

You missed your family, the plane ticket itself cost you a whole month of meals.

Of course, you would do fine in your classes, it was just the motivation to get there. Every morning you glared at Ren when he greeted you in yoga, still standing next to you like a menacing shadow.

This morning was no different, only you skipped class to study in the library. Bundled up in your winter coat, long black scarf, hair in a lazy braid, and thermal leggings on. The wind had picked up last night, bringing on an ice storm that wasn’t expected until late next week. You walked on treacherous sidewalks, dodging all the other students who were seeking the warmth of the library.

You settled inside, sprawling your books and laptop on an old desk. Grabbing out a few sketch pads so you could finish up some pieces that were due in a couple hours. Most of your finals in art were ‘unconventional’ which meant the professor wanted to see what you were motivated to work on during the year.

For yours, you had decided to draw the people you saw on campus.

Studying their faces, mannerisms, languages while they were in an organic environment. It was a great piece, and one of your professors was very interested in showcasing it in a show. You were proud, it wasn’t large but it was important for you and you wanted it to be perfect before turning it in.

Your pastels were spread out, fingertips smudged and stained from charcoal, a few lines on your face and brow from forgetting about the streaks. There was this one person you couldn’t finish, it was one of your friends from last week. She was laughing and holding a drink, the expression wide and full of emotion but it was hard for you to capture without her being there.

But you steeled yourself, you weren’t leaving this spot until you finished her.

“You smudged that dude's face,” a low voice rumbled behind you. A finger pointing down at the top left corner, “Stop-don’t touch it.”

You moved to swat the hand away, not wanting some random guy to ruin your piece with their grubby fingers. Recentering yourself, he wasn’t smudged, he was just in the corner so it looked like it wasn’t finished… what did he know, anyway?

“You didn’t draw me?”

Now you stopped, why you didn’t recognize the timbre of his voice was ridiculous.

You let out a long sigh, “Please, don’t touch the canvas, Kylo. It’s not ready, yet.”

The chair that housed your backpack slid out next to you, your things tossed on the ground carelessly before Ren sat. You scooted away from him, he smelled like he just showered. Judging by his wet hair you were probably right… “What are you doing?”

He shrugged, fiddling with one of your notebooks. Flipping through pages carelessly, “I don’t know-you weren’t in yoga so.”

“So,” you gave him a weird look, “You stalked me to the library?”

“There’s no reason to go to yoga if I can’t bother you,” he flashed a smile, dropping it slightly when he saw you weren’t playing back with him.

Silence fell over you both, the only noises the heat kicking in around the scuffling of boots and shoes to face the weather again.

“I like your piece,” he gestured to your work, “For drawing, right?”

You nodded stiffly, not enjoying his friendly tone. Like he wasn’t your demon neighbor who made it his job to annoy you and had for the past four months of your life. Ren shifted again, now leaning on the table with his cheek resting on his forearm. Looking at you with wide eyes, you never took the time to look at his face.

He had very large eyes that betrayed his emotions. Swimming with flecks of auburn, gold, and some streaks of green, blinking slowly as he studied your canvas. You looked away from him, trying to ignore the urge to draw them, how his long lashes rivaled your own. How his skin was freckled with beauty marks, creases from frowning lined his forehead and nose. You could even make out his stubble, some pieces he must’ve missed the last time he shaved.

You went back to drawing, no longer focusing on it. Just trying to understand what was happening, your tormentor was a foot away from you. Breathing calmly like a cat laying in a patch of sun. Hunched over the edge, torso too long to rest like a normally proportioned human being, had he always been this big?

“Wanna get coffee before class?”

“Huh?”

You blinked slowly, not registering that he spoke to you.

Ren leaned off, letting out a big yawn and scratching the back of his neck.

Yes, definitely a cat.

“Do you want to get coffee,” he stared blankly, “Before we head to English?”

You looked down at your mess, then back up at him. Shaking your head softly, voice quiet as a mouse, “No-thank you.”

He exhaled harshly, “I’m not gonna burn you with it, it’s just coffee.”

“No, I’m fine,” you said firmer, “I wanna work on this some more.”

Ren stayed still, probably trying to think of a way to get you to agree with him. You had known him long enough to know he doesn’t like people disagreeing with him. Didn’t have to be a college graduate to see that the man had issues with control, hence terrorizing you all semester. You didn’t want to offer him an olive branch, because he was just doing it as a joke. Probably, waiting until you were calm around him to do something cruel.

You went back to drawing, listening to him get up and leave you. Mumbling something under his breath about ‘trying to be nice’ before walking out. You shook off the awkwardness, not willing to break down and let him do something nice for you, just because he didn’t ruin your final piece didn’t mean he wouldn’t do something in the future.

The day was still young.

------

Oddly enough, Ren didn’t bother you that evening.

Not even a door slam!

You almost thought he was dead, but you saw him in the hallway when you were walking to the bathroom. Wrapped in your robe, caddy in hand, he didn’t whistle or try to touch your ass like he normally did. Just a stale smile before closing himself back in his room.

Not to waste the precious quiet, you went to work packing your bags for your trip tomorrow. Deciding to do a quick load of laundry, your hall was almost empty, so no one would be down there while you waited.

Piling up your hamper, you threw your pj's and slippers on. Remembering to grab a blanket and your laptop so you could hang out down there while you waited.

Your friends back home were all excited to see you, ready to hear all about your time away. The boys you met, friends you made, classes, all that. So excited to get home and see your cat, Gremlin, he was all alone without you. Your mom sent you pictures earlier of him curled in your blankets, saying that he knew you were coming home soon.

Maybe next Fall you could get an apartment, you didn’t want to leave him for another year.

A washing machine door slammed shut next to you, causing you to jump from your perch atop your own. Faced with Ren, who was doing his laundry in his pjs, or his version of pjs. Giving you another tight-lipped smile before leaning against the far wall. Yawning loudly before sliding down the wall to sit on the floor.

You ignored him, turning back to your laptop that was playing a crime documentary. Texting some friends to keep your mind from wandering to Ren and why he was in such a mood.

“Are you leaving tomorrow?” Ren called from his wall.

You pretended to not hear him, refocusing on the documentary, there was something very interesting happening and you weren’t about to miss how they found the killer's shoe prints in the mud just because Ren was trying to talk to you.

Then something was thrown at you, and it smelled awful.

“Oh-my-god!”

You shot off the washing machine, throwing down the offending garment. Ren was laughing loudly, “Chill out! It was just an old shirt!”

“How old was it?!”

He smiled at you from the ground, propping an elbow on his kneecap. One leg stretched out on the tile, you tried to regain a sense of calm, he was just messing with you again. Just take some deep breaths… in-out-in

“Are you leaving tomorrow, after our final?”

You let out your deep breath, sitting back on the washer. “Yeah,” you paused your show since mister meanie wanted to have a tea party. “I have to get to the airport right after.”

He hummed, “Same.”

The washer beeped loudly, echoing in the otherwise empty room. Ren watched you hop off, fixing your shorts which definitely rode up too much. Trying to not flash him your underwear as you bent to move your clothes to a dryer. You cursed when a sock fell from your pile, great.

“How come we’ve never fucked?”

Now all your clothes were on the floor.

Along with Ren, who was staring at you like you were an art exhibit.

You dragged your clothes back to the washer. There was no way you were finishing now that they touched the dirty floor, no one cleaned down here and just because it looked clean didn’t mean-

A whistle, “You good over there?”

“Yup.”

“Okay,” you heard him stretch, popping his joints as he lifted off the floor. You could feel his breath on the back of your neck as he closed in. Almost touching you, no escape, “As I was saying, how come you’ve never let me steal your virginity?”

You scoffed, “I am not a virgin.”

Ren pressed into you, pushing you against the washer now. Grinding his hips into your own, you squirmed, trying to dispel every fantasy flooding your brain. Every night you spent listening to him through the wall, imagining just once that it was you. If he weren’t such a monster, you would have gladly laid on your back and let him do whatever he wanted.

“Nothing?”

You took a deep breath, placing both palms on the top of the washer. Biting your lip as you silently pleaded for him to let you go, but also continue. You could smell his cologne from this close, how it complimented him so well. Mixing in with his dark aura, you wanted nothing more than to spin around and…

Soon you were doing just that, but not on your own violation.

Ren had his hands grasping your hips, thumbs slipping under the fabric of your t-shirt to caress your soft skin. Lips capturing your own, you froze in his hold. Unsure of what to do, a part of you wanted to scream and smack him, but the other part loved the smell of his toothpaste.

He relaxed when you relaxed, your lips still awkwardly locked together. Not opening and allowing for more, but not moving away either. You stared at him, startled to see him looking back at you. Pulling back slightly, you watched his face chase yours. Bringing your lips together a few more times, kissing at the seam.

You felt his tongue flick for entry, trying to pry your mouth open so he could explore. When you didn’t move he finally huffed in annoyance, “I know it’s your first kiss, but you’re supposed to open your mouth.”

You groaned, bringing both hands to cradle his cheeks. There was no way he was going to make fun of you, he initiated this so.

Ren made a muffled noise when you pressed your lips back together. Probably of shock and surprise, because, no. This was not your first kiss, not even your fourth or fifth kiss. Working your tongue skillfully into his mouth, you moaned softly at his taste. Just like you imagined… not that you put much stock into this but… it was wonderful.

Bringing your fingers to the nape of his neck, tugging on his dark brown hair. Just like you always wanted to, whenever he walked past you with it tied in a bun you dreamt of tearing through it. Ren returned your affection in kind, his left hand moving to the small of your back. Fingers dancing under the waistband of your pajama bottoms.

You heard him swear when he felt the lace underneath, nestled between your cheeks. Ren slid a hand over the globes of your ass, moving his hips in time with his tongue. Tasting every inch of your mouth, even growling in approval when you sunk your teeth into his bottom lip.

Petting and groping each other against the washing machines, the sound of you swapping spit barely heard over the rumble of your clothes. Ren had gotten sick of grinding against your hip bone, pulling away from you for a moment. Shushing your pathetic whimpers, he hooked the hand not cupping your ass behind your left knee.

Hiking it over his hip, opening your legs up. Allowing him to assault your center with his straining erection, oh you could picture it now. How easy it would be to just let him slip inside you.

Right here, in the laundry room.

*Beep*

You pulled back roughly, barely able to unsuction your lips from Rens' own. A string of spit connecting your kiss-bitten lips, he looked at you with pleading eyes. Grinding himself against you harder, pulling a few soft mewls from your throat.

“I need to switch my clothes,” you croaked.

He nodded, shakily setting your limb back on the floor and backing away. You watched through your own lust-filled state as he trembled. Walking back to his far wall, a hand cupping his cock through his sweats. Your throat clicked as you took in a much-needed breath, doing what you said you would.

Setting them in the dryer, all the more aware of his eyes watching your every move.

Not sparing him a glance when you sat back on the washer.

Turning on your laptop once again to watch your crime documentary.

Ignoring the throbbing between your legs, his deep breaths, and your shaking limbs.

------

The TV’s at the airport all said the same thing, “Record snowfall this winter, right before the holidays! Experts say that we will be lucky to keep power until it passes. Our friends on the west coast are enjoying a white Christmas, while we’re stuck in the North Pole.”

All flights have been grounded until further notice.

Stuck.

You could barely make it back to your dorm without crashing.

Bursting into tears several times when you realized you wouldn’t be home until it was over. Wouldn't be able to safely leave your dorm room until it passed, leaving you utterly alone.

You had emailed your RA letting him know your bad luck, he let the staff know you’d be there so they would have food and water running still.

But other than that, this was your holiday.

You slipped on the walk up to your room, sobbing loudly in the halls as you clutched your luggage. No going home, no seeing your friends or family, no Christmas dinner, no personal shower, no Gremlin to sleep on your face.

Collapsing on your bed, curling yourself in the multitude of pillows and blankets that adorned it. The room had shitty heating, the entire building had shitty heating. The entire month of December you’d been freezing, and no amount of personal heaters could fix this kind of cold.

You drifted off to sleep after crying for a few hours, letting your parents know what was happening. Setting alerts for earlier flights, anything you could do to get home. You were so tired in fact, that you slept through a power outage. Leaving the entire building to shut down, no backup generators.

And no heat.

It wasn’t until you felt yourself being lifted that you woke up to the commotion.

Squirming in the kidnappers' arms, limbs aching from freezing for a time in your bedroom. The window must’ve cracked open because it was much colder than when you arrived. Your attacker didn’t let you go, growling in your ear to be still.

Dragging you out of the building, towards a car you didn’t notice when you pulled in. With the snow swirling all around, it was a miracle they could see their own vehicle. You were thrown in the front seat, followed by your luggage tossed in the back. You stayed still, every time you moved it hurt, hypothermia. Common in the New England storms if you were foolish enough to be outside…

You about passed out when the driver's side door opened, Ren climbed in. Looking just as frozen as you, slamming the door shut and mumbling something as he started his car. You could’ve cried when the engine turned, heat blasting between the both of you.

“Hands,” his teeth chattered, holding his own out. He nodded for you to do the same, grasping your pink fingers between his own and blowing on them. “Power went out,” Ren took a shallow breath, “I was leaving and I saw your car. You were almost frozen to your bed, the window broke.”

“Th-thank you-u-u.”

Ren cringed at your fingers, slowly gaining back their normal color. “I tried to grab everything I could, like your backpack and luggage. But we can’t stay there, we’ll fucking freeze.”

You nodded, tugging your hands away to curl into your chest. Thankful that Ren had enough sense to grab blankets, stuffing them in your lap from the backseat. You thought about grabbing your phone, but you could barely make a fist so it would do you no good.

“My plane g-g-got ground-d-ed.”

Ren shivered, nodding sharply, “Mine too, my mom got me a hotel room not far from here to stay until the storm passes. So, I’m taking us there.”

“Okay.”

You didn’t say anything else, not wanting to distract him from the treacherous roads. Thank god he had a Jeep, or else you would’ve died. You couldn’t see more than ten feet ahead, less than that when you were on the highway out of the city.

Ren kept mumbling things like it’s okay, I’m sorry, I know it's cold, whenever you shivered and took in sharp breaths. You must’ve been out for a while, to get this bad. A quick look at the clock in his car said you’d been asleep for three hours, who knows what would’ve happened if he hadn’t noticed your car…

He helped you out, more carried you, towards the check-in desk. Too worried you would pass out in the car if he left you for too long, the front desk lady was quick and sweet. Making sure to send up extra blankets and pillows to your suite. Ren had you walk up with him, so he wouldn’t have to carry you and the luggage on separate trips.

You clutched his hand like a child, tight enough for his knuckles to turn white. But he was so warm, it’s all you could think about. All you wanted was to be warm, nodding blindly to whatever Ren said to do.

Plug your phone in, check.

Let him talk to your mom, check.

Draw a bath for you, check.

Climb in the bath with you, double-check.

It wasn’t until you were defrosted in the clawfoot tub that you realized you were naked with him.

Rens chest against your back, holding you like his life depended on it. Judging by his shaking, you both were probably suffering from acute hypothermia. You had been silent for so long your voice spooked him a little, “Thank you.”

He hummed into your hair, which was sitting on top of your head in a messy bun. “Are you okay?”

You nodded slowly, “Can we go lay down?”

“Yeah,” Ren hastily got out of the tub, draining it and wrapping you in plush towels. You were still too cold to blush from your nakedness, not how you pictured this going. You imagined you would finally give into him on some drunken party night, barely remembering his reaction to seeing you nude.

But now he had seen you half-frozen, forced to cradle you back to life.

------

You squinted from your cocoon, greeted by a dimly lit room.

One spare lamp on a dingy-looking nightstand, well it wasn’t terrible. It was better than your nightstand in your dorm room… where was your dorm room anyway?

Something vibrated behind you, followed by a heavyweight sprawling against your back.

You held your breath, you were in a hotel.

With a stranger.

“Shit,” you whispered.

Okay, you could wiggle out of here. You took a moment to study the room, there was the lamp from before, and some curtains on a metal rod in the far corner. If you managed to get out without being detected you could knock out the assailant.

“You smell so good.”

More weight settled on you, now you were trapped. This bear was closing in, who knows what happened while you were asleep! All you could remember was falling asleep at your dorm after the upsetting trip to the airport, then being dragged away.

Your fingers burning when you tried to use them, being shoved in a car…

Kylo.

“Kylo?!”

“Mhm.”

You threw your arms up, successfully throwing him off you and the covers. Your limbs screaming at the sudden movement, you were still suffering from the cold. Next to you, curled in a ball, totally catlike, was Ren.

A sleepy smile gracing his lips, hands curled under his cheek, and legs moving towards his chest, Like a child under a blanket. You gasped when you saw he was naked, “Fuck!”

You were too.

“What the fuck, Ren!?”

“Stop yelling,” you watched his hand bat his nose like an animal, “Come back, you were warm.”

You huffed, flailing off the bed in search of your bags.

Memories flooding back to you, he took you here after saving your life.

The bath.

Ugh, bad time to remember your kiss the night before.

Ren sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes and blinking slowly. You flushed red when you looked between his legs, shit. How does he walk around with that? Is that why he has bad posture? You choked on your spit when he spread his legs out.

Sprawling completely on the mattress like he wasn’t in a room with a stranger.

“Snow hasn’t stopped,” Ren yawned, snapping a hand and pointing between his legs, “Come back.”

“I’m not doing anything until you have clothes on.”

He rolled his eyes, now looking you up and down. Focusing on your bare tits, swinging around with your erratic movements. You watched him lick his lips, wagging his eyebrows, “Come on, don’t you want to sit back on the bed?”

You shook your head, crouching down to your bag. Trying to not flash him more of your goods, but that didn’t work. Not with him leaning to the side of the bed to make a show of him peeping on you.

A wolfish grin splitting his face, “You have a nice ass.”

“Can you stop,” you huffed, tugging on some sweats you found.

Ren made a pouting noise when you stood, pushing his bottom lip out while you threaded your arms through a t-shirt. You shivered a little-it was still freezing in the room. Probably from the weather, it sounded like it got worse… hopefully this place would keep power.

You looked back at the bed, Ren was still manspreading. One of his large paws crawling towards his cock, watching you with the same smirk. He let out a soft sigh when he touched himself, eyes momentarily shutting in bliss.

“Do you have to do that with me here?”

He cracked an eye open, “Do you have to be that far away?”

You scoffed, moving to the corner of the room. Shivering since you were near the window, you plopped down in the cheap armchair. Ignoring the sounds of his fist gliding along his cock, you tucked your feet under your body. Humming a tune to ignore the arousal growing between your legs, there was no way you were caving to him.

What kind of man does that with a complete stranger present!?

More importantly, why was it turning you on?

“Come here,” he whistled, you spared a glance at him. Blushing profusely at the sight, his cock was now fully erect. Standing tall and proud, tip flushed almost purple from want. You quickly looked away, trying to swallow down the drool that gathered in your mouth.

What would happen if you gave in?

Not like it would hurt you… he looked so delicious.

“If I come over there, what's gonna happen,” you whispered, determined to stay put.

With a deep breath, the mattress groaned under his weight, probably leaning back to get comfortable. He seemed to love you being there, watching him, or trying not to. Ren made a small non-committal scoff, “Whatever you want to happen, baby.”

“Don’t call me that, you know my name.”

“Meow.”

Your head snapped towards him, met with his grin. “Come on-you really want me to do this by myself?” he waved his cock, fist tight around the base. You rolled your eyes, training your eyes to focus on the least attractive part about him.

You were coming up empty, all you could stare at was his cock.

The prominent vein along the underside thrumming in time with his heartbeat. You could practically feel it along your tongue, rigid and stiff. Slowly, you stood from the chair, met with a soft whine from Ren. Eying your hungrily as you sauntered over, you planted a knee in the mattress.

Between his legs, which were spread obscenely wide, he licked his lips in anticipation.

“If I help you, are you going to be nicer to me?”

He nodded, chest taking in sharp breaths. You slowly leaned back on your heels, stripping your top off, despite him seeing you naked earlier. Surprised when he bit his bottom lip, watching you play with your tits, rolling them in the palm of your hand. Just to make him squirm a bit, “I’ll be nicer, whatever you want.”

“I’m really cold still,” you spoke softly, making sure to lean in close enough to graze his lips with your own before pulling away, “Can you help warm me up?”

“Yes,” Ren's hands shot out, kneading your flesh a few times. Debating to grasp your tits or the small of your waist, like a kid in a candy store. So many options, but you didn’t want to wait. If you were doing this, it would be about you.

“Eat me out.”

He stilled, cocking a brow, “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” you exhaled on his neck, being sure to drag your kitty claws along his chest. Briefly grazing his nipples, savoring the way he gasped. “Eat me out, if you make me cum, I’ll let you fuck me. Like the desperate slut you are.”

Ren scowled for a moment, nudging your face from his neck. Eyes dancing across your face before capturing your lips, moaning softly in your mouth, “I can make you cum so hard you’ll never want another man again.”

You placed a soft kiss, rolling onto your back dramatically. Splaying your legs wide, “If that's true, why do you fuck a different girl every week?”

He growled at you, actually growled.

Hands no longer soft in their quest to memorize your skin, instead Ren pinned your legs hard enough for them to pop. Making you squeal from the stretch, “How fast do you think I can make you cum? Hm?”

Before you could answer, he dove in.

Lips wrapping around your clit and suckling fast, tongue flicking out every few seconds. You were already bucking up to meet him, but his firm hold kept you flush. While his tongue began to lap thick stripes along the seam of your pussy. Briefly hooking the tip into your entrance, both of you moaning when he tasted your wetness.

“Shit-Kylo!”

“Mm,” his voice vibrated against your clit, continuing his assault until you choked on your spit. You buried your fingers in his hair, keeping him in that right spot. “I’m so fucking close,” you cried out, pleading his name over and over and over.

“You know,” he popped off, smacking his lips that were glistening with your cum, “I’d rather you cum on my cock.”

“Wait-”

Ren flipped you onto your chest, yanking your hips into the air. You barely had time to take a breath before he shoved his cock inside you. His breath hitched as he sank to the hilt, you groaned at the stretch. Now this, this you could get used to.

He pulled out slowly, you heard him swear under his breath. Leaving just the tip of his cock inside and ramming his hips into yours. Pulling a loud scream from your lungs, Ren chuckled at that. Pumping his cock at a rough pace, “Shh-you’re going to upset our neighbors.”

You huffed, cheap shot, angling your hips a little so his cock would rub up against your front wall. Moaning when he picked up the pace, skin slapping skin. Ren leaned over your form, planting a hand on the headboard to keep it from knocking. You weakly lifted your head, clenching at the sight of his knuckles turning white.

All you could do was sit and take it, revealing in the bliss you’d denied yourself for four months.

-------

Ren dropped you both off at the airport two days later.

You spent three days together, fucking each other's brains out.

Choking on his cock while he was brushing his teeth, eating you out while you read through your newsfeed. Bouncing on his cock while he fed you breakfast, you didn’t need to change clothes the entire vacation.

But you wanted to go home and were thankful for the storm ending so you could head home. It was a little awkward, Ren wasn’t very excited about the snow stopping. It felt like he was trying to stall you leaving but reluctantly listened to your desire to fly home.

“Got everything?” he mumbled, hitching his backpack over his shoulder. The two of you were waiting in the TSA line, about to part ways to head home. You nodded, giving him a tight smile before stepping up on your own.

Ignoring the feeling of his eyes on the back of your head.

Both of you stood awkwardly after making it through, “Well-my gates over here,” you pointed behind you. Ren hummed in acknowledgment, kicking at the ground instead of looking at you.

“Thanks for letting me crash with you,” you tried again, still nothing.

You groaned, spinning on your heel. Back to being an asshole, you were kicking yourself for thinking he would be nicer. All he wanted was some pussy, and you willingly gave into him when you should’ve remained strong.

Your parents picked you up back at home, lots of tears and laughs were shared. Thankful that you made it home without freezing, your mom was grateful for your friend who saved your life. She wanted to call him and tell him how much she appreciated it but you shrugged it off, he was just being nice. He wasn’t your boyfriend or anything, you left out the part that he was the neighbor you always complained about.

Collapsing on your bed felt surreal like you would wake up and be back in the hotel room at any moment. It was odd not sleeping next to him, you had grown accustomed to his clingy arms. Circling you in the middle of the night when he thought you were dead asleep, smelling your hair before tucking you into his naked chest.

You tossed and turned all night, groaning when you were woken by your siblings to get up the next morning. Barely sleeping a wink, you resolved to take a nap later to try and not spoil your trip back home.

At breakfast, your mom yelled at you from the kitchen.

“Hey hon, someone’s calling you!”

“Just answer it,” you groaned through a mouthful of cereal. Briefly hearing your mother answer in a typical chipper tone, stalling mid-sentence before she yelled again, “It’s someone named Kyle?”

Shit, you shot to the kitchen.

Snatching the phone and escaping to the living room where no one was hiding.

“Kylo?”

Hey, didn’t think you’d answer.

“How’d you get my number?”

Took it while you were napping the other day, I knew you wouldn’t give it to me willingly.

You rolled your eyes, “Alright creeper, what’s up?”

Just wanted to talk or whatever, felt weird not to.

Silence.

Are you gonna let me buy you coffee when we are back?

“You were being serious about that?”

A scoff.

Yeah-or we could just fuck again if that’s all you want from this.

“Coffee sounds good.”

Cool. Cool.

It’s a date.

-------

TAGGING: @finn-ray-nal-beads @onlykyloscenes @candycanes19 @historyandfandoms50 @caelum-phyriina-vermillon @ghoulian13 @mrs-kylo-ren @millenialcatlady @relationshipwithmybed @dancingmicrobes @wayward-rose @contesa-lui-alucard @daydreamsofren @insufferablelust @ohdamnadamm @mariesackler @caillea @safarigirlsp @jalexunderthestars @shesakillerkween @glassythoughts @zimmermansbrat @not-the-teen-witch @jynzandtonic @roanniom @celestiasin @glassbxttless @cornmousequeen @driversmutbucket @blowthatpieceofjunk

#adamdriver #adam driver #kylo ren #anon asked #create a scenerio #modern kylo ren #college kylo ren #roomates trope

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missdawnandherdusk · 4 years ago

Text

A Death Eater and a Dancer

Ballerina!Reader X Draco

Summary: Request: @peachesandpink Ooooh draco malfoy with a professional ballerina or a figure/ice skater who gets pretty famous in the Wizarding world after the war?

A/N: Okay, so I am in no way a professional dancer (hi, writer here) but! I do know the basics of theatre (hello, theatre kid here) so, please enjoy this lovely Phantom of the Opera esque one shot of a very headstrong witch and a very distant trying Malfoy. Also! Say hello to a new form of magic user and some lore! It was fun to experiment with!! Let me know what you think!! Love you guys bunches!!

Five years wandless. That’s what Draco had to endure. He supposed it was better than Azkaban, but without a wand, it was almost as if he had no magic at all. He was never good at wandless magic, and he doubted that there was anyone who was willing to get near him to teach him.

That was four years ago.

Now, he had worked his way up in the performance industry, using his inheritance to fund the arts as a patron—something he had always enjoyed as a child. Maybe it was an unhealthy coping mechanism, clinging to something that made him feel safe and innocent again, but there wasn’t much of another choice that he had. Wandless and magicless, he was trying to keep his head above the water.

And there was something enchanting about his most recent investment: the Saltota. A group of wandless magic users that harnessed magic through dance. Their performances were renowned and revered. Draco remembered their routines from when he was a child as well, always attending the holiday recitals with his parents. Their elegance and majesty always struck a chord in his heart.

____________________________

“Did you hear!?” Rehearsal for tonight’s show had just ended and Meg was all but bursting with excitement. “Draco Malfoy has just invested in our Saltota Faction!”

I looked up from my bag, shock on my face.

“Malfoy?” A small smile lingered as I remembered a boy from my first year in Hogwarts, before I had transferred to a Parisian school to pursue the path of the Saltota like my mother before me.

“Only the most eligible bachelor in the Wizarding and Muggle world,” Meg sighed, leaning against the lockers. I rolled my eyes at her antics.

I knew the stories, and the papers, and the tabloids, and the rumors, but despite it all whenever I thought about Draco, I still saw the Slytherin protegee who I shared my classes and House with. Not the Ex-Death Eater who was apparently the most eligible bachelor in the Wizarding World.

“Do you think he’ll remember you?” Meg asked eagerly.

“It’s been years Meg,” I scoffed. “He probably doesn’t even remember my name,” It was a sobering thought. “He probably wouldn’t care even if he did.”

“He might care,” She pointed out.

“And you think what? I’m just going to go up to him, say ‘hey, remember me? We went to school for one year together and now you’re the most datable bloke in the world and I’m a dancer, want to go out with me and maybe convince me to give up my life’s work for love?’” I gave her a flat look.

“You sell yourself short, Y/n,” Meg sighed. “You know that you’re the best of this Faction. If he’s the most eligible bachelor, you’re the most sought bachelorette. And who said you would have to give up dance?”

“Men like Malfoy are all the same,” I scoffed. “All they care about is their own careers and can’t bear the thought of their lady outshining them, so I think I’ll pass.”

“I think you’re wrong,” Meg muttered, lacing up her pointe shoes.

I rolled my eyes again and shook my head. There were more important things to worry about. Like the recital tonight. Not some ridiculous fantasy of love. Fairytales didn’t exist and they didn’t happen in the real world. They were stories to dance to, that was it. Tonight, was no different as the production of The Tale of The Three Brothers was being held.

An air of stress and excitement rested on my shoulders as I had the role of representing Death throughout the show. It was considered one of the hardest characters to perfect in Saltota Magic. But it didn’t matter much when the music began to play. Then I could get lost in it and the stress and pressure faded around me as I fell into the melody. It was the only reason that I stayed with dancing through the years. I never cared about the status or the money or the schools. Instead, the melody and the way that for once my body knew what to do, lending itself completely to magic.

It was opening night and anxiety and adrenaline was coursing through my veins as I did the final touches on my hair and makeup, making sure that everything was in its correct place. Magic sparked along my skin as I went through a few final stretches and warm-ups.

The curtain parted like red waves, and the bright lights hit me as the audience applauded. With one deep breath, the music began, and I was Death, and this was my story.

___________________________

Draco had always loved the theater and he had always loved the production of the Three Brothers. Sitting alone in his reserved theater box, he was quickly enamored by the one who portrayed Death. The name on the playbill struck him familiar... but he couldn’t quite place the name.

With careful eyes, he watched you throughout the performance, enraptured by how the magic flowed from your fingertips, your skin. How it radiated in the very air around you, bending to your will as you flitted across the stage with grace and poise that had his heart stammering.

Asking around after the performance, he learned a lot about you. The Governess of this Saltota Faction—a strict woman who without a second glance could be mistaken for McGonagall— spoke highly of you. Though there was a teasing note in her tone as she suggested perhaps, he remembered you from the single year of schooling you shared with another before you attended her school in Paris. It left him wondering if she was kin to McGonagall after all.

Yet, a smile brushed his lips. That’s why your name stuck his memory. You had been a Slytherin with him in first year. Draco tended not to dwell on his memories of Hogwarts, but the small sliver of first year was not the most unbearable thing to reminisce upon.

“May I remind you, Mr. Malfoy, that my apprentices are not to be ogled at. Miss Y/n does not have time for... distractions.”

“Of course,” Draco remained composed. “I was merely curious,” Your Governess didn’t seem convinced.

Even still, Draco had flowers sent to your dressing room, with only his name attached to the bouquet—that was slightly ostentatious. He wondered if you remembered him. Then he wondered if you wanted to. The thought dampened his mood as his past came to haunt his mind, dragging him back down until his face was barely above the murky water that threatened to drag him under every waking moment.

______________________________

“I told you!” Meg screeched, taking the flowers from my hands. “I told you that he would remember you! Oh, my stars!” She acted as if Draco had sent her the flowers and not me.

My fingers brushed over the parchment that held his name. Sighing, I vanished it.

“Meg, I told you. I don’t have time for this! Some silly romance...” I huffed and spelled away my makeup with a flutter of my fingers.

Though the rest of my Faction was crowded around me, hemming and hawing at the note and the flowers and the idea of any one of us being courted by Draco Malfoy, my thoughts were far from their senseless gossip. A dark part of my mind toyed with the thought that he was doing it to use me. It was no secret that Malfoy was sentenced to be wandless and thus created his interest with the Arts. The way of the Saltota offered an alternative to that. I had a wand, yes. But it was rarely used anymore.

I didn’t need it to use magic. It was the true way of the Saltota. To offer and use my body as a vessel for the magic that existed all around. It was why the Saltota Ultas were so revered. They were one with magic, with nothing holding them back at all. And nothing, for me, meant no Draco Malfoy coming in to become something.

It didn’t stop the flowers, however. After a while, I expected them. And it was a waste to throw them away or watch them die. So maybe I used a simple Curator Spell and kept them alive in my flat. And maybe against my better judgement I let Meg convince me to meet him one night after the last performance of the season.

“Malfoy?” I called softly, making my way into the Opera House foyer, brushing by other suitors.

He turned, and I was caught at an impasse. He was strikingly beautiful, his features sharp and defined. Though they were reminiscent of his father, there was still the softness there of his mother... and something that was completely his own in the mystery of his grey eyes.

“Miss Y/n,” He dipped his head politely. “May I say you danced beautifully tonight, as always,”

“Thank you,” My voice was barely audible above the noise of the excitement around us, but it didn’t hide the slight blush on my cheeks.

Everything that I had planned to say to him, every accusation, and every question fell from my lips as we studied each other in some sort of silent standoff.

“Would you care to go somewhere quieter?” An amused smirk reached his lips as his eyes darted to the bustle around us. “Or... perhaps not. I wouldn’t want to be a distraction,” There was a malice note on his last worn as his eyes tightened, the smile disappearing.

“I suppose I do owe you for all of the flowers,” A smile toyed at my lips. “I believe I can afford an outing. With an old classmate,” I drawled the word.

“As you wish,” He offered his arm, and I took it.

We ended up at a small café in the quiet night of Paris, far from the thrill of the Opera House. Draco was nothing, if not a gentleman. And maybe I could see why he was considered the most suitable bachelor in the Wizarding World. If I wasn’t careful my nothing might be something. I had left the hope of love and romance a long time ago. I had to.

“How long did it take you to remember me?” He asked softly, drawing me from my thoughts.

“I could ask the same question,” Leaning my elbows on the table and resting my chin on my hands, I raised an eyebrow at him. “I never forgot you, Draco,” The words were soft.

“You didn’t?” He seemed genuinely surprised. “I would think since... and well,”

I gnawed on my lip, my thoughts following his. The war. And the Dark Lord. It was the one thing that had me so close to the edge of giving up being a Saltota. We weren’t allowed to interfere with the war at all. It wasn’t our place; I had been told time and time again.

“One hardly can ignore the most eligible bloke in the Wizarding World,” I teased softly. “Especially when he sends you the most ridiculous flowers every night. I must say, you have the other girls in my Faction enamored and jealous.”

The smile I had been trying for quirked on his thin lips.

“And what of you? What do you think?” Draco raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t know,” I answered truthfully. “I’ve never had a suitor that I entertained before, and I’m not quite sure with you either, no offense,”

“Your Governess mentioned something about that.” He leaned back in his chair, a calm expression on his face that I could see right through— he was defensive.

I gave a solemn nod. A silence lingered between us for a moment. I broke it.

“So, you’re obviously invested into the Arts, tell me what have you seen? Any of the Muggle greats?”

“Muggle?” He almost laughed. “Why would I go to see a muggle performance?”

I gaped at him.

“Are you kidding me?” I was baffled. “What do mean you haven’t seen any of them? Theatre is theatre, Draco.”

“But it’s muggle,”

I rolled my eyes. “You know nothing, do you?” It was a soft accusation. “The Saltota use dance as a way to harness magic, you know that much I assume. But our traditions are not just for magic users. There are those born magicless who still pursue the art of our dance. It is not about who can use magic, but those willing to keep the tradition alive.”

“You mean to tell me that Muggles use Saltota dances?” He seemed almost enraged.

Sighing, I began again. “I recognize that it might be hard for you to understand, but the way I learned magic was not just how to use it, but to also appreciate all it has given. The secrets we carry are not ours to keep, rather for magic to choose.”

“You act like magic is a sentient being,”

“Well, isn’t it?” I smiled softly. “Tell me, when you first got your wand, you felt it. The hum that sparked on your fingertips. Or, forgive me, the burn of the mark on your arm. Magic is as much alive as you and I are,”

His grey eyes narrowed, his face falling into a scrutinizing gaze. I could see the flecks of anger in his eyes and the conflict that resided behind. It was another silent standoff, but I wasn’t backing down. Magic was sacred and not for man—not even the Draco Malfoy—to control.

“I see,” He was all but seething before me. “You obviously know more than I ever possibly could,” The words were sharp and biting, his fists clenched.

“Draco,” My stubborn flare faltered under his harsh tone. “I... I apologize, I never meant to imply—”

“I think your intentions were quite clear,” He hissed.

“It was still rude of me to...” My eyes dropped to the table as I took a sharp breath in. “Thank you for the tea. And the flowers. Goodnight,”

Wordlessly I stood and left. One glance back and my eyes met grey storms of emotions.

“I don’t have time for distractions,” I whispered to myself, hurrying down the lane. “...and I do not fancy Draco Malfoy.”

Only one of them was truth.

___________________________

Draco watched you leave, regretting letting his pride get in the way of speaking to you like a rational human being. What did you know of his past anyways? You would never understand the weight on his shoulders of the Dark Mark that resided on his arm, or his dark past that shadowed him every waking moment. All of this because he couldn’t entertain the idea that muggles tread on your art form.

What did muggles know of magic anyway? They were ignorant.

But you had insisted otherwise. The theatre. Muggle theatre. Though his love for the Arts ran deep, he never considered looking into its muggle counterpart. A consequence of his parents, he supposed.

Staring at the ceiling late that night, you weaved into all of Draco’s thoughts, with or without permission. Draco groaned and dismayed that he was actually doing what he set out for. It took a few tries but eventually a familiar voice answered the other end of the line.

“Minister of Magic, Granger speaking,”

“Hermione, I need a favor,”

As soon as Hermione graciously filled him in on Muggle theatre, Draco easily secured two tickets to the next performance occurring at an Opera House not unlike of his own patronage. Now he only hoped that you would still talk to him.

“Miss Y/l/n?”

Your eyes flash to his as you stand, the other girls from your Faction all observing you as he pulled you away from your practice.

“Malfoy,” You were cautious and reserved. “Is something the matter? Something that you find unsatisfactory with my dancers?” Your face remained collected, but there was a mischievous look in your eyes.

You were toying with him. Testing him. He shook his head solemnly and ushered you to a foyer away from the rest of your Faction. You eyed him, questioning.

“On the contrary,” He played along with a smile that would have any other girl—or bloke— swooning after him, but not you. The same curious look remained upon your face. “I was wondering if you would like to accompany me to the theatre this evening. The Palais Garnier is hosting The Phantom of the Opera and I thought maybe you would care to join me?”

Shock flitted across your features as your collected demeanor fell flat. Your eyes narrowed at him as you began to say something but paused in the midst. Regaining your composure, you began again.

“This wouldn’t happen to be a date, now would it Mr. Malfoy?” A smirk rose on your lips.

“Please, Mr. Malfoy is my father,” Draco stressed, not enjoying the formality on your lips. “And this is simply an outing between old classmates,” He chose your words from the night that seemed lifetimes away.

“I see,” You tilted your chin back slightly, “I’d be honored to accompany you, Malfoy,” You dipped into a graceful curtsy.

That night he arrived at the studio and chauffeured you to the Muggle Opera House. You were simply stunning in your muggle attire, not doubt looking as if you were an aristocrat in their society as well. There was an air of prowess about you as you held yourself high beside him.

Though it was difficult for him to be among so many muggles, you had no issue with it. And perhaps, if he wanted to admit it to himself these particular muggles weren’t awful and barbaric. It seemed as if even a few recognized you, asking for photos or a signature. You gave them gracefully, not fretting about the intrusion on privacy.

In his private box, near and above the stage, you two settled. There was excitement in your features as he could feel the buzz of magic dance across your skin. As the curtains raised and the orchestra started it’s overture, the smile on your face grew. He nudged your shoulder gently, nodding to your hands, where they had begun to summon a lighting charm he assumed. Your face went slightly pink as you pressed your hands firmly into your lap, quite sheepish.

He found it endearing, to a point, that theatre, even if it wasn’t your own, could elicit this response from you. Then, he understood why you were so elated by the show before you. It captured his attention, and though it held no inkling of true magic, it was far from being magicless. It was at the intermission that he found himself wanting the show to continue without pause.

“I believe I owe you an apology,” Draco murmured softly as he led you to the foyer where cocktails and hors d'oeuvres were served. “You were absolutely right,”

“Is that so?” You sipped on a tall glass of champagne, the rouge of your lips staining the crystal glass, a mischievous smile on your lips.

“You know, not everyone can get me to admit that I was wrong,” Draco drawled.

“Is that supposed to make me feel special?” Your teasing tone had strengthened. “That the great Draco Malfoy has admitted to me that he was wrong,”

“It should,”

A laugh fell from your lips, a beautiful sound.

The play ended all too quickly, and soon he was standing beside you, outside your flat building in the upper part of town.

“Thank you for tonight,” You smiled softly. “I had a wonderful time,”

________________________________

I leaned against my closed and locked flat door, not able to rid my face of the smile that resided there. It was almost too easy to be with Draco and the company he offered. A perfect mix of elegance and mischief. Then came the sobering thought:

“I do not fancy Draco Malfoy,” I reminded myself.

But don’t you? My psyche whispered back.

I didn’t want to answer her.

Rising with the sun, not much planned for the day now that it was my off season—meaning I had at least my early mornings to myself—I started a pot of tea and picked up the Daily Prophet that was nearly destroyed by my anger as I read the front page headline:

Ex-Death Eater Caught with Esteemed Saltota Dancer in The Muggle Theater: Moving on or Malicious Motive?

There was a photo of Draco and I together in the Opera House, last night, looking quite cozy with one another, laughing. The picture moved, as I expected it too, and I almost forget why I was so upset, because the photo held the golden feeling from last night as I gazed upon it. I didn’t linger long however because there was an incoming call from the front desk—Draco Malfoy was requesting to come up.

Quickly throwing on a house coat, I opened the door, seeing a very anxious looking Draco at my doorstep.

“Good morning,” I tested, letting him in.

“I am so sorry, you have to believe me,” He paced the floor, not giving me a second glance.

“Uh, alright,” I closed the door, locking it. “Sorry for what exactly?”

“The article. I’m having my people take care of it. I knew this was—” He didn’t finish the thought.

“Take care of it?” I asked with a careful step towards him.

“The photos. The newspapers.” He snapped as if it were obvious.

“No, I get that, but why?” My hand reached out, resting on his shoulder. He stiffened and jerked out of my grasp.

“Why?” Draco hissed. “Because you shouldn’t be with me! Because I could have just ruined your entire career! This was stupid and selfish and reckless of me,”

“Draco,” My eyebrows furrowed as I took another step toward him and placed my hand on his shoulder again. He didn’t shrug me off this time. “Are you ashamed of me? Of last night?” It was the one thought on my mind.

“No,” His answer came quickly. “No, of course not. We went out. We enjoyed each other’s company. It was a fine night,”

“Then why are you so upset?” My eyes met his unsteady grey ones. “Draco, it’s sweet that you’re worried about me. But I can handle some press. Drama tabloids and what not. It comes with the job,” I paused a moment, “And if it were to be anyone, I’m glad it was you,”

He went quiet, his hands balling into fists at his side. “Did you read the article?” His tone iced his words.

“Not yet, no. You called up before I had the chance,” Another moment, another thought. “And I really couldn’t care less about that it says. It’s gossip. And I won’t apologize or worry myself over a wonderful night spent with a friend,”

“Friend?”

“Well, I mean, unless you’d like to strictly stay as old classmates,” It was a teasing tone that seemed to alleviate some of his tension.

“No, I quite like friends,” There was a smile on his face for the first time that morning.

Draco stayed in my flat for a few hours, having breakfast and tea with me. Overlooking the city on my balcony it was almost too easy to be with him and that golden feeling was back in my chest. We talked about nothing and everything, avoiding heavier topics that didn’t seem to fit in with the rising sun.

And despite my dismissal of the gossip column in the paper, Draco and I both agreed that maybe it would be better if we laid low for a while, keeping out of the public eye. Which meant our morning teas in my flat became a sort of normal as we avoided the busy streets below. He would then leave, off to meetings and who knows what else as I kept up my dancing regime with my Faction.

There was something to be said of my Faction. Since the first article and the few that followed, they all seemed to eye me warily, knowing the contents that I didn’t bother myself with. Meg was begging me for details, but I simply shook my head, informed her and the rest of my dancers that we were merely friends, colleagues. None of what the papers said was true.

“But he is, was a Death Eater,” Kelsey insisted one night after practice. “Aren’t you the least bit worried that he might hurt you? Or try to use you? He is wandless after all. And I hear he’s pretty cozy with you,”

“I wasn’t aware that it was my secret to keep,” My eyes narrowed. “You know as well as I, that magic is not ours to withhold from those who ask,”

“But he’s using you!”

“And so, what if he is!” I shouted. “That would not change who I am nor what I strive for! Now I am to hear none of this talk any longer! It is not our place to withhold the magic of the stars and it is certainly not your place to tell me what to do with my life!”

All of the girls were staring at me as I breathed deeply, storming out of the studio and into the crisp air of the night. There was a certain edge to this night, however, and I could feel it as the Dark Magic grazed my skin. My eyes darted around the well-lit street and to a darkened alley: the source of my unease. A dementor. In the city.

“Can’t I have just one night!?” I huffed, rushing towards the alley, set to alleviate the Dark Magic and restore balance to the energy and magic around me.

Then my heart dropped.

The dementor had a target. Wandless and defenseless, Draco back against the alley wall, looking terrified and hopeless. Ditching my bag, I closed my eyes and focused on the Light Magic passing through my limbs as I threw my body into precise fouettés, feeling an equilibrium restore around me. Settling into first position, I opened my eyes to see that Draco’s had closed.

Dropping to his side, my shaking hands fluttered over his chest, brushing his hair from his face.

“Draco!? Draco can you hear me!?” Cradling his face, a new sort of anxiety grew in my chest. “Draco, please, please wake up.”

As if he heard me, his grey eyes opened barely, a sad cough escaping his lips. I aided him in sitting up as he continued to hack and cough, red spots splashing against the back of his hand.

“Okay, we need to get you to St. Mungo’s,” I decided, standing myself before helping him up.

“I’m fine,” He rasped, waving me off.

“You’re coughing up blood, Draco,” My voice was surprisingly calm for the current conversation. “I’m taking you to a Healer,”

“No,” He protested, stumbling. “P-people will talk,”

“Let them!” I snapped, still frustrated from my spat with Kelsey. “I’m not going to let you die because some reporter might snap a stupid photo!” Slinging his arm over my shoulder, I calmed enough to Apparate with him into the lobby of the hospital, where Draco collapsed.

Healers rushed in around me, taking Draco off of my hands. They asked too many questions and I barely got out the words “dementor,” and “blood.” Another started to pull me in the opposite direction of him, but I refused.

“Ma’am only family is allowed back with him,” The receptionist stammered under my fierce glare.

“Hell with that! I am his family! Now let me back with him!”

The small girl squeaked and let me go as I rushed off after the Healers that carried Draco up to the fourth floor. The anxiety in my chest grew as this was a graver situation that I originally thought if he was being taken to the fourth floor.

“Ma’am?” An adjacent Healer caught my attention. “Can you please tell me the events of what happened?”

“He got attacked by a bloody dementor! What is with you people?! I thought your government was supposed to control those things!?”

“Uh, y-yes ma’am,” The Healer stammered. “But what happened to the dementor? Was a spell cast?”

“Oh, you wizards!” I cursed.

“Ma’am I understand that you’re upset, but please—”

“No, you listen here,” I grabbed the Healer’s robes and drew him close, snarling in his face. “A wandless, defenseless wizard under your government was just attacked by a dementor, who could have killed him, and you’re asking me about what spell I used? Me!? Do you know who I am!?”

“Miss Y/l/n,” A faintly known voice called from behind me. “If you’d please let go of Mr. Thomas,”

I released my hold on the Healer and turned, face to face with the Minister of Magic herself.

“You,” I spat. “You know, we really do make an effort to let you run magic the way you wish but this,” I gestured aggressively towards the room where Draco was being treated. “This draws a line Granger,”

“I understand that,” Deep brown eyes held caution. “And the dementor was not one under my jurisdiction,”

The air sparked around me, charged with dangerous magic.

“You mean to tell me that you have left him wandless, and alone, with Voldemort’s followers still out there!? Are you absolutely daft!?”

Granger held her composure as I spat the words at her. The Healer emerging from Draco’s room broke our tension as my anger morphed into fear and worry at the Healer’s verdict.

“He will be fine. We managed to assuage the Dark Magic in his lungs, and he’ll be clear for release tomorrow morning,” The Healer’s eyes flickered between Granger and I, no doubt aware of the standoff occurring between us. “He is asking for you Miss Y/n,”

I nodded and took a deep breath, not giving the Minister a second glance as I stormed into Draco’s room. His eyes were barely opened as a smile played at his lips.

“My stars, Draco,” I collapsed in the seat beside his hospital bed. “What were you thinking!?”

“I’m fine, thanks,” His teasing manor left a smile on my face as his hand covered my shaking ones that gripped the edge of the cot.

“What were you even doing out alone like that?” I asked weakly. “You scared me to death, Draco,”

“I... I wanted to come and see you. I thought maybe tonight was a good night to... stop laying low,” His cheeks tinged red as he stammered the confession.

A hopeless chuckle left my lips as I rested my forehead on our intertwined hands.

“And did you really just call Hermione, the Minister of Magic, daft?”

“Yes?” I looked up meekly. “You could have died, Draco,”

“But I didn’t,”

“Oh, because that makes me feel so much better,” I scoffed.

“How... how did you even do that? I’ve never seen anyone actually kill a dementor before,” His voice held melancholy and regret.

“I didn’t kill it,” I defended. “Not really...” I paused, pursing my lips, debating how much I wanted to go into what I had done, and how conscious Draco would be to understand any of it. He waited expectantly. “I balanced the energy. Dementors consist of heavy Dark Magic, so by channeling pure Light Magic, an equilibrium is found. No more dementor,”

When he didn’t offer a response, my gaze followed up to his face. His eyes had closed again and steady breaths exhales from his parted lips. I found myself smiling and reaching out to brush the hair hanging in his face.

“You care for him,”

I jumped up, spinning, ready for a fight.

“It’s alright, I’m not going to hurt you,” Granger smiled. “It’s just nice to see that he has someone looking out for him,”

“Why would you care?” I asked softly, my fingers brushing against his hand.

“You know, when I became Minister, I offered to end his wandless sentence. But he refused. He wouldn’t tell me the reason.”

A smile played at my lips as a sigh soon escaped them.

“He has a habit of that,” My words were small and soft. “Always thinks the worst of himself... like he deserves all of the awful things that happen to him. No doubt he thinks he deserves this dementor attack,” My eyes found Granger’s again. “I’m sorry, for what I said. I...”

“You were scared. I understand that. No hard feelings,” She offered her hand. “Hermione Granger,”

“Y/n,” I shook her hand.

______________________________

Draco opened his eyes again, feeling like he was submerged under water, gasping for air. Even with his eyes open, there was a weight on him. Blinking to clear the fuzziness from his sight he realized that there actually was a weight on him.

Your hands were intertwined with his, as your head was tipped back. Soft snores left your lips as you slept in the chair beside his bed. He would have liked to be alone in the room with you, but instead, his eyes fell upon an exhausted Hermione.

“Didn’t know that a dementor attack warranted a visit from the Minister herself,” He mused softly, not to wake you.

“You act like I don’t feel awful about this,” She muttered, rubbing her face. “And I’m not here as the Minister, not anymore at least. I’m here as a friend,”

“Draco Malfoy doesn’t have friends,” His tone was flat.

“You seem to have at least one,” Hermione smirked nodding to you. “You should have seen her; she was absolutely livid. Reminded me a bit of you when you lose your temper actually. Terrified the poor receptionist and a few Healers,”

Draco chuckled at the thought, before his laugh turned into a coughing fit, drawing you from your slumber. Immediately you were on your feet, tensed and ready for a fight.

“I’ll just leave you two alone,” Hermione smiled at him kindly. “And make sure the papers have the right story,”

You both groaned at that thought as you slumped back into the chair, rubbing your sore neck.

“Why can’t they just leave us alone?” You whined, a pout forming at your lips.

“It’s a part of the job,” Draco mused, joking lightly.

“This... this isn’t a part of the job,” You muttered. “Press, dating rumors, maybe something scandalous, but not this. This danger...” You shook your head, scrubbing your eyes. “When had it ever come to this?”

“It always comes to this,” Draco’s voice was tight. “It always has. Sometimes I wonder when enough will be enough...”

“Don’t... don’t talk like that,” You grimaced, taking his hand into yours, pressing it to your lips, a warm feeling that Draco marveled at. “You aren’t... you don’t deserve this. No one deserves this,”

“Y/n—”

“No,” You cut him off defiantly. “Don’t give me your Death Eater bullshit. I won’t hear it. You don’t want to believe in yourself? That you might be good? That you are good? Fine. But it won’t stop me.”

Draco didn’t know how to respond to your words. They contrasted everything inside of him. He wasn’t good. He could never be good. He could never be redeemed. Wasn’t that the point of him trying so hard? Because he knew he could never reach a pure status again. His name would never be cleared and now he was starting to drag you down with him.

“Shouldn’t you be at rehearsal?” The words fell from his lips with an air of melancholy.

Your face twisted into confusion, then shock, then anger. You stood abruptly, his hand falling back to his side.

“Do you even listen to me when I talk to you!?” You huffed, storming out of the small room. He thought he saw tears in your eyes.

About an hour later he was released from the hospital and told to stay home and take it easy for the next few days and to come straight back if something went wrong. Brushing off the worried nurses, be walked down the street, finally finding solace in his own flat. His own space.

What he couldn’t escape however was the sharpness and hurt behind your words nor the headlines that littered the papers the next day despite Hermione’s promise to sort them out.

Dementor attacks Ex-Death Eater: Ministry Slip-Up or Rising Fear?

Saltota Dancer Rescues Ex-Death Eater from His Earned Fate

Enraged Saltota Defends Ex-Death Eater: Love or Lunacy?

His eyes paused on that last headline. It didn’t seem as harsh as the rest, in fact, as he skimmed the article, it had a rather positive undertone:

“The Saltota, known for their captivating dance and bizarre magic nature, have never before interfered with the affairs of the Wizards under the Ministry of Magic. Staying out of the war against the Dark Lord, many Wizards believed the Saltota to have sympathies for The Dark Lord, yet a recent incident suggests differently. Y/n Y/l/n, a Saltota Maxima, was seen to have killed a dementor in favor of rescuing Ex-Death Eater, Draco Malfoy. Though her methods of killing the dementor have not been released, it is known that Y/l/n transported Malfoy to St. Mungo’s where she vividly demanded that he be taken care of. When speaking to the receptionist on shift at the time, they reveal that ‘She was terrifying. You could feel the magic like an aura around her as she fought for Malfoy... If she hadn’t been there, speaking on his behalf, I don’t believe that our Healers would have given Malfoy the attention he needed before his injuries became fatal.’ It is known that these two were caught in a Muggle Theatre looking quite cozy with another not a few months ago. It seems their relationship hasn’t stopped there. Is this Saltota Malfoy’s new lover? Or perhaps something more? More on the event on page 37.”

________________________________

“Lover,” I scoffed. “Yeah, sure.”

I tossed the paper aside and stared up at the stars that spread out over the Parisian skyline before me. My limbs were still sore from rehearsal not hours before as Meg kept me company.

“You don’t want to talk to him?” She offered me a cup of tea. “I know we haven’t been the most supportive, but we’re worried about you Y/n,”

“There’s nothing to worry about.” I snapped then sighed. “I just don’t know what I did wrong...” Tears threatened to well in my eyes as I shoved my emotions down for what seemed like the hundredth time.

“You didn’t do anything wrong sweetheart,” Meg wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “Maybe he’ll come around... maybe he won’t. It doesn’t change who you are,”

I smiled and wiped my eyes.

“Thanks Meg,” Looking down I stared at the warm tea. “Maybe it was my fault. I let him become a distraction...”

“No, you let him to your heart. I know you Y/n. I’ve grown up with you. I knew it would always take someone special to get through to you, and well, I think Draco has.” Her comforting words were bordering patronizing.

“I think he has too,”

“Make no mistake, you’re not the only one whose heart has been captured,”

This wasn’t the voice of my best friend, instead a friend... an old classmate... a lover... maybe something more...

“Draco,” I stood, almost spilling my tea. “I... how... how did you get in?”

“Your receptionist let me up and Meg passed me on her way out.” The explanation was simple enough.

“Oh,” My gaze dropped as I set down my mug. Taking a deep breath, I looked up at him. “What are you doing here Draco?” It was a bit harsher than I meant it to be.

“I came to apologize. And to thank you.”

I raised an eyebrow at him.

“You did save my life. I believe I should thank you for that.” A smile played at his lips before it dropped. “And I’m also sorry. I thought I was protecting you from everything that I go through... but it seems that still, my own self-doubt and loathing got in the way of seeing what was in front of me... that you were in front of me. I know I let you down and I am so sorry for that... but you’ve brought me closer to who I really am, more than anyone else ever has...” He took a hesitant step closer. “There was no excuse for what I did to you, and I hope you can forgive me,”

I nodded, closing the space between us, my hand reaching for his. They were warm in mine, nothing like the cold feeling they held when Draco was unconscious at the hospital.

“And I hope that maybe... I could be a bit more than a distraction?” His hand parted from mine as his lithe fingers tilted my chin back, calm grey eyes greeting mine. “And maybe I could show the world what you really mean to me?”

His lips pressed against mine. Careful and hesitant. And until my free hand curled around the back of his neck and pulled him closer, did he lose his nervousness. And under the stars, Draco Malfoy became not just my something... but my everything.

And we became the most coveted and prestige couple in the entire Wizarding and Muggle world.

A Death Eater and a Dancer.

Tags: @coffee-addicti @msmcsmutt @ravn-87 @artemismohr18 @whygz @crazywritingbug @fuzzy-panda @bitemebro522 @zombiesnips-blog @savingdraco@welcometomyworldwithoutrules @akari180 @slytherin-emerald@memalfoy-spidey @queenfeatherwings @fanficflaneuse @go-whovian-universe @spicyshenanigans @darling-im-not-okay-i-promise @dietkiwi @katsukink @takemetothekingdom @strangerr-things @tmnt-queen @hxneybgb @justsomerandomgur@belcvayelena @moviesbooksandfandoms @howdycharlie@xtrashmouthxtozierx @cocochanelthepupper @ninacotte@braelynn-j @jiggllyy @honeymarvel @darcypottah@atomicpunkrock @thiccheerioss @lottie289 @boredashaeck@beautiful-pegasus @tceedlmao @deadlynyghtshayde@iconjuresnapeingrandmaclothes @anonymous034 @bi-andready-tocry @lunna-does-real-doodle @dragonsandbread @okaydraco@the-queen-of-hell-things @cmxreader @alienmotel @oh-itsnothing @sunflowerxsadnessw @fattycooter@angelotakunerd08 @thisisahugemistake @fanficsigottaread@gweaslvy @strawberriesonsummer @gaysludge @cleopatera@ray-of-sunrise @artist-bby @shadowsingeraxolotl @peters-legos@quillsareforwriting @ghostlytoadalmondhairdo @wollymalfoy@lilpieceoftoast @paper-cats @floweryjh @sdicapriox @slothgirl22@peachesandpinks @monimillion @hufflautia @livize75 @annie-mcl@riathearora @live-like-luna @justathoughtfulangel @coconutdawn@skteaiy @wannabeskinny-thinspo @naughtygranger @queenofmankind @dragonsandbread @abundantxadorations @moony-artnstuff @myforeveryoungblog @and-then-a-girl-with-luv @1-800-luvsick @pandas-rice-field @strawberriesonsummer @jjustsomerandomgirl @mrvlfangirl3190 @loverbbgirlsblog @in-slytherin-we-trust @emmaa-t @introvertedrae @infinity1o1 @stoleurmomsvan @echpr @sunkissed-hufflepuff

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nerdyfangirl67 · 4 years ago

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Requests Masterlist

NCIS -

Gibbs:

Studying You

(Female reader) “Could you please write an imagine where reader is Gibbs’s best friend from childhood, knew his mom, was there for him when she killed her self but au where there’s no Shannon and kelly and they get married and reader names their daughter Ann after Gibbs’s mom”

My Mark

(Gender-neutral reader) “If requests are in fact still open, could you pretty please do something about the reader giving Gibbs’ hickeys just to mess with him?”

Please Don’t Leave

(Gibbs x little girl (fatherly relationship), very slight reference to a McGee x fem!reader relationship) Gibbs discovers a little girl at a crime scene who is deaf, and upon learning more of her backstory, he begins to bond with her. The guardians she was staying with were killed in a break and enter, both her actual parents were killed while deployed.

I Won’t Leave

(Gibbs x little girl (fatherly relationship), McGee x fem!reader relationship, Mother!reader) This is a continuation of the storyline from the fic Please Don’t Leave, with a time skip.

Forget About Me

McGee x fem!reader/mom!reader, Gibbs x reader (platonic/fatherly relationship) “I was thinking that McGee and reader find out their expecting a baby, and Anastasia finds out and runs away, because she’s scared that Tim and reader won’t want her anymore, and Anastasia gets lost and is all alone, and Tim is in full panic mode, and Gibbs won’t rest until he finds Anastasia, and Gibbs finds her, but she refuses to go home, and clings to Gibbs”

Rare Jewel

(Female reader) “Can I please request a Gibbs x plus size reader? Maybe they have to go undercover to a gala or smth together and the reader walks out in this figure hugging dress feeling and looking FLY AS F**K and Gibbs is like hot damn. You get where I’m going?”

I’m Here

(Female reader) Request using the prompt - “Don’t be scared. I’m right here.”

What Family is For

(Female reader) “Could you do a Gibbs x Reader were the female reader gets beaten up by a group of boys (broken ribs, bruises, blood…) and just manages to stumble into Gibbs’ house were he will take care of her? A little kind of father-daughter relationsship but workwise. Just him getting very protective, comforting her and patching and cleaning her.”

The Peace Out Here

(Female reader)

“Hey you! I really liked your Tony x Reader one were he comforts her bc she found out she’s pregnant from rape? I was wondering how Gibbs would react to the same?”

McGee:

With a Little Help From the Team

(Female reader) “Hello! I saw your post from this morning saying you didn’t have any requests for ncis at the moment and I wanted to make a request. If for some reason you don’t want to write it that’s okay but here’s my prompt,(Idk what to call it) The reader and McGee have been dating for years and McGee has to tell the whole team (Tony, McGee, Bishop, Gibbs. That team please!) including her dad (Gibbs, cause why not?) when he wants to propose. You can decide on if they say yes or no but I hope you’ll write it. Sorry if I’m overwhelming you I just wanted to make a request”

NCIS team:

Helping Hands

(Gender-neutral reader) “Could you do a one shot with NCIS where reader has a panic attack and the team comforts the reader and they validate the reader’s emotions? I just really need something like that”

CRIMINAL MINDS -

Aaron Hotchner:

Dream Come True

(Female reader) “Hi sweetie!! I saw that you’re taking requests for reader inserts? I could I request one of either Hotch or Morgan where they have a dream about having a daughter with the reader. (The reader and him aren’t dating or seeing each other at all) but he really wants this dream to come true. Thank you in advance!”

In Your Corner

(Female reader) “can you make an aaron x fem reader where reader has an e.d?”

Spencer Reid:

The Way She Walks

(Female reader) “Can you write something for Spencer (or whoever) where you are Hotch’s assistant. One day you are bringing Hotch coffee and Reid is staring at you and Derek tells Reid not to stare cause it will freak you out. Thank you so much!!!”

The Way She Loves

(Female reader - sequel to The Way She Walks) “Helloo😌😌 could you do a follow up to “the way she walks”? I loved it😩💗”

PHANTOM OF THE OPERA -

Phantom:

The Raging Fire Within

(Female reader) “Hi! Could you write a modern au fic with Erik Destler where they’re in a relationship but hes still an awkward muffin and decides hes not having it any longer and tries to flirt with her using (sexual) innuendos but hes still a muffin and she loves it? Thank you so much!!!! (I hope it makes sense)”

An Angel to Me

(Gender-neutral reader) “Erik’s s/o being an artist who loves to draw him but does it in secret in fear of upsetting him but Erik finds one specific drawing. The drawing is a charcoal drawing of him with angel wings (shirtless or not, either one works) and the drawing is of how his s/o sees him. In the drawing he’s radiating like an angel and he’s beautiful despite his scars and that’s when he realizes how much his s/o loves him and that he is worthy of her love (or something like that) and he starts crying. When his s/o comes back, she find him curled up in a corner crying clutching the drawing to him. When he sees her, he tells her how much he loves her and needs her (even tho she already knows) and they end up going through all her drawings of him together”

When You Are Hurting

(Female reader) “hi love! ❤️ i was wondering if i could request an erik x reader? just a hurt/comfort with some soft Erik, maybe set in poto?? maybe one where the reader is having a tough day?? please take your time!!! i know you’ve got a busy schedule :)”

A Modern Lady

(Female reader) “Hello! Can I please request a fic or HCs where erik is in a relationship with the reader but shes really modern and vulgar for someone living in the 19th century and keeps making him blush? But he really loves it?“

Together

(Female reader) “Can I make a Phantom x reader where the reader is the phantom’s wife or somethin’ and the Phantom wakes up from a bad nightmare but she is there to comfort him”

Dark Until I Met You

(Female reader) “Hello, I just want to say first of all that I adore your writing! I haven’t been able to find a story with this particular idea, so I thought I’d make a request. It’s completely your choice whether you want to write a fic of headcanons, but what do you think Erik’s relationship with a blind reader would be like?”

Just a Touch

(Female reader) “Hello! This is my first time requesting, so I’m not quite sure how things work. I was wondering if I could get a Phantom of the Opera x female reader, where he’s touch-starved and they’re just cuddling together. Thank you!”

So Much More

(Female Reader)

Prompt - “You didn’t deserve that…you deserved so much better.”

Promise I Make to You

(Gender neutral reader)

“As I've myself struggled with sh (I am 1 month clean, lemme just flex a lil bit) I've just had this scenario in my head where Erik in a way or another sees the readers sh scars/cuts for the first time and it's just pure fluff with a hint of angst. Also this is my first request ever, I've just fallen in love with the way you portray our not so local (unless u live in france) sewer man. Um ye <3 I shall go to sleep now”

Dancing in the Rain

(Gender neutral reader)

“Can u do poto Erik x reader with a reader who loves walking in the rain, even tho they get absolutely soaked Bc they don’t use an umbrella… so their hair is just absolutely drenched but reader doesn’t give a damn”

One Love, One Lifetime

(Gender neutral reader)

“Could I get a phantom of the opera x reader where the reader is the soulmate of his. The reader has a line of one of his songs. Maybe music of the night? The 2004 version of phantom of the opera. Do you do smut? If not that's fine. It can be fluff too.”

Meg Giry x Phantom:

Leading Woman

(Meg Giry x Phantom) Meg being willing to do whatever the Phantom suggests, even though his attention is on Christine. Finally, Meg has had enough and decided to meet the Phantom on his turf. Although he is upset at the disrespect and blatant neglect of his privacy, he is impressed by her lack of fear towards him and her gumption. Meg makes a case for herself, and the Phantom finally sees Meg for who she is, a leading woman.

Christine Daae:

You Can

(Female reader implied but could be read as gender neutral) Prompt - “I know you can.”

SUPERNATURAL -

Winchester Brothers:

It’s in the Eyes

(Winchester brothers x gn!reader) “… At the moment I’m sort of dating a guy who was broken up with fairly recently and he’s not sure of his feelings (I think he’s really just scared to open up again). Anyway I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind could you write a happy ending/fluff for us with one of the criminal minds/spn guys?”

Dean Winchester:

Something Good

(Gender neutral reader) “Something Good” from the musical The Sound of Music as inspiration for the fic

Care for You

(Female reader) “Hello !!! Can I have Dean Winchester x reader? Reader has been so caught up in her work that they forget to eat. They get extremely lightheaded and stumble a little. Dean steadies them and he is worried when he finds out they forgot to eat. While he is making food they faint and land (luckily) on the couch. When he’s done, he comes back,at first he thinks that they’re just laying down but he kinda freaks out when he realizes that reader is unconscious. ( I forget to eat sometimes) THANK YOU🥺💚”

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lady-star-strings · 4 years ago

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DNF/Georgebur PotO & LND AU

Okay, to begin with, thank you so so much for giving me the chance to blab about this @dtvibez because I’ve always wanted to work with this AU, but I’ve just never had the characters to do it with and my musical nerd heart is thriving right now. Alright, anywhodilydo, geek-out over, let’s get into it - just a warning kiddos, this is gonna be a long one so strap in and hold on...

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Roles

To start off, let’s address the roles here for how I believe these plots would fit best with the characters involved - it’s purely up to individual interpretation, but these are my thoughts as an in-depth lover of these musicals.

Obviously, our dear George is the leading lady Christine Daae in this story, that was pretty much a given - let’s just be honest here guys, he’s the simp-bait through and through and if that wasn’t Christine, I don’t know what was. Meg - Christine’s friend - and her mother Madame Giry I’m going to combine and make Fundy for reasons I shall disclose later in this post, and Sapnap will have a role to discuss later down the line too, just lemme get there. Now as for the love interests, I can easily say that Eric/The Phantom is Dream and Raoul is Wilbur in this situation. Some of you might be questioning why it wouldn’t be switched because Raoul was her childhood friend and Eric was a gifted musician, but I have answers for you ahead on that, don’t you worry~ ;)

Phantom of the Opera Arc

After studying under Dream - or the Nightmare of the Opera as people prefer to call him - for years to be the star singer he was always destined to be, George is finally granted the chance to do so when some strings are pulled behind the scenes to give him a leading role in an opera. There isn’t anything George wouldn’t do for his Angel of Music after giving him such a chance at success, and Dream is practically preening with pride over how astounding his Georgie has turned out to be. Before Dream can whisk George away in triumph, however, his childhood friend Wilbur shows up out of the blue to shower him in praise and remind him of the puppy love they shared as children before George moved to the opera house. George is smitten with nostalgia, to say the least - it’s nice to put a face to the affection for once.

Needless to say, Dream is hardly pleased with this turn of events and actively tries to keep George not only away from Wilbur, but also to himself because George is quite literally all he has in the world - not even his music can compare to how much George means to him. Of course, the way he goes about this is hardly morally right and only serves to drive George further and further away from him and into Wilbur’s arms as a safe haven from all of the horrors. In the end, though, even after so much heartbreak and all the terrible things Dream’s done to keep him hostage as his muse and love, George finds it in his heart to forgive him for being how the world made him to be and genuinely offers to give up his freedom if it means he won’t be alone in that darkness anymore and Wilbur won’t die.

As expected, Dream realizes he really can’t do that George when it comes down to it - he simply loves him too much to force him to stay if it means he’d wind up hating him for it in the end. He’d rather let him be free and live the life he’s been dreaming of with Wilbur than have him stay and live the rest of his life resenting him. Even so, George is surprisingly hesitant to leave and can only offer to return the wedding ring Dream gifted him as a final goodbye and a silent show of his remaining love for him before he let’s him go in return and goes off with Wilbur. Following that night, Dream disappears from the opera house altogether, never to be heard from again...

Love Never Dies Arc - *SPOILERS*

...Or so the story goes in Paris 10 years ago. Little did anyone know, Fundy actually helped Dream steal away from the opera house when the mobs came searching for him and was unyieldingly by his side as they made their way to America for a fresh start. Once there, Dream - with a little seedy behind-the-scenes help from Fundy - founded a successful side show on Coney Island where he and others like him such as Sapnap and Punz - Miss Fleck and Dr. Gangle - are able to live freely and are treated with respect for their unique traits. Fundy has actually taken to training under Dream to be a successful singer in his own right with a well-known show in the attraction, his only goal to gain Dream’s favor and hopefully prove he’s able to replace George in his life. Dream unsurprisingly has no interest in anything of the sort and still actively mourns the loss of his muse - not even his music brings him joy anymore because it only reminds him of what could’ve been, and Fundy will never be his Georgie despite how much he insists otherwise.

But Dream is a clever thing, and he winds up securing a contract for George - who is now married to Wilbur and is raising a 10-year-old son with him - to come perform at the side show for one last performance. George takes the contract with little to no thought as to the odd pseudonym on the paperwork because Wilbur has lost himself to gambling and alcohol over the years, and they’re desperate for money to survive. At first, George is irate and somewhat heartbroken to learn that Dream’s been alive after all these years, especially after how their lives have turned out following the one night of passion they shared before he disappeared. He admits he still loved Dream when he left and would’ve gone with him, but because he thought they couldn’t be happy and left without him, that ship has long since sailed. They both wish things could have been different, but also accept that what happened happened and all they can do now is move forward with the choices they’ve made.

Much to everyone’s immense shock, though, George’s son is actually Dream’s and not Wilbur’s - a fact which Dream deduces on his own after connecting the dots between his age and musical prowess. Unfortunately, the child is terrified of Dream’s true face just as George once was and after getting the truth confirmed about the child’s real parentage, he begs for him to never know. George ultimately blames himself for what’s happened, and although he can’t take back not telling Dream of their child and the fear said child feels toward him, he swears to perform for him one last time to make up for it before they return to Paris to avoid hurting him further. Meanwhile, Dream vows everything he’s worth in the world to be the child’s once he’s gone even if he can’t be his father, and Fundy isn’t happy to hear that in the slightest because he will have nothing after all the sacrifice he’s made for Dream. All of the sleazy deals and late nights in his dressing room plying people for Dream’s success, and he will get nothing - his mind is just too fragile to face that reality at this point without doing something rash.

Naturally, Wilbur has no clue about any of this at first and makes a drunken deal with Dream regarding George - if George sings for him, he and the child will stay with Dream and Wilbur will leave. If George doesn’t sing, he and the child will leave with Wilbur with all of their debts wiped away as not to burden their family further with his problems. Wilbur then proceeds to try his best to convince George to stay with him by using nostalgia yet again since he now knows who the child belongs to as well, but in the end, George realizes that although he may have loved Wilbur at one time, his love for Dream transcends all that and has never once wavered despite everything they’ve been through. Throughout everything, Dream has always been there waiting for him and wants nothing more than for George and their child to have the life they deserve - Wilbur lost all of that a long time ago. George makes his choice, and Wilbur leaves as promised with the acceptance that he while no longer makes George happy, Dream does and he’ll take care of him - but the child, however, leaves with a distraught Fundy seeking to “right his problems.”

They manage to catch up to Fundy in time to avoid disaster, but not completely as he still views George as the reason he could never be happy with Dream and winds up fatally shooting him in the midst of a mental breakdown. Dream can do nothing but hold George - the man he loved and was finally loved by in return - as it’s revealed to the child who his real father is, only for him to flee the scene in horror of the truth. For once, Dream is at a loss for what to do because there isn’t any more time for them to have their happy ending and he hasn’t any idea what to do about their child without George. In his dying moments, George soothingly reminds him of one simple fact: Love never dies, and the best thing he can do is just live and give everything he can for both himself and the child now as all they have is each other. With a final kiss, George slips away and a sobbing Dream is left cradling his body when the child and Wilbur - who he ran to find to help George after he was shot - arrive on the scene.

Dream isn’t cruel. He understands how Wilbur must feel in the same situation, so he allows him to mourn the loss of George in his own way with the child as he contemplates whether or not he can continue on. While he debates what to do with himself, the child slowly comes to him unafraid and willing to face the man he now knows to be his father in a new light. In his eyes, Dream can see George, and that’s more than enough for him to stay just a little longer in the world.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sorry if that’s a lot to process and read through, but it was a lot to get out and I wanted to be crystal clear on things as not to confuse people. This is for the most part just hitting the main plot points of the musicals, however, tweaking and adjustments and further deep-dive analyses can be done now that I’ve gotten the main idea out of the way. I definitely don’t want to stick too strictly to it myself and want to tailor it more to the SMP events and characters, but I’ll save that for later since it’s already super late and I should be writing my fic instead.

Happy writing kiddos, thank you for letting me indulge myself with this concept and I hope you enjoyed it~ <3

#don't sleep won't sleep #sleep is for the living #poto & lnd AU #dreamnotfound #georgebur #phantom of the opera #love never dies #dream #dreamwastaken #georgenotfound #wilbur soot #fundylive #fundywastaken #sapnap #punz #you don't know how happy i am to finally mess with more musical junk #this is honestly one of my favorite ideas surrounding them

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cali-holland · 4 years ago

Text

The Phantom of the Opera- Harrison Osterfield One Shot

Pairing: Harrison Osterfield X Reader

Prompt: When Harrison signs up for the musical The Phantom of the Opera to impress a girl from class, he doesn’t realize he’s been chasing the wrong Christine. (College AU)

Word Count: 2100

Main songs: Think of Me - The Phantom of the Opera - All I Ask of You

Warnings: swearing probably

A/N: tom was not billy elliott in this lmao also might have overhyped this one hahahaha my bad

Masterlist Harrison Osterfield Masterlist

*Gif is not mine*

~~~

“The Phantom of the Opera?” Tom looked at his friend with his eyes wide in surprise and disbelief.

“Yep.” Harrison nodded. A nervous smile on his face found its way onto his face as the two of them walked into the student union to grab some coffee before their shared music appreciation class.

“This isn’t High School Musical. This is a legit musical, one that even has opera in the name.”

“Look, it’s extra credit to just audition, and, if I get the role, I’ll be acting opposite of Vicky.” He reasoned. Vicky was the T.A. in his music appreciation class, the girl that he was currently fawning over, and the girl who was most likely to get the role of Christine. The discussion paused as they ordered their drinks, and stepped to the side, “Can you audition with me?”

“Hell no. No extra credit is worth performing in a musical.” Tom shook his head, scrunching up his nose in disgust at the thought of auditioning.

“Whatever. I’m still auditioning.” Harrison said.

“Hey, Harrison, Tom.” You smiled, coming to stand by Harrison as you waited for your own drink. You were the other T.A. for said music appreciation class, being a music major yourself. “Are you auditioning for The Phantom of the Opera?”

“Yeah, might as well for the extra credit.” Harrison replied, neglecting to add the Vicky excuse.

“Which part?”

“Uh, the phantom?” He shrugged, and you let out a small laugh.

“You’d be better as Raoul.” You told him, making him look at you confused. “I mean, I know the director’s looking for a tenor with a wide range for the role of the phantom. You’d probably be better off trying for the part of Raoul.”

“You haven’t even heard me sing, and I feel like you’re already insulting my voice.” He joked.

“I’m just saying,” You laughed, “Raoul’s role is easier on your vocal chords, especially since you’re not classically trained. I can help you with your vocals, if you want.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Are you and Vicky auditioning?” He asked. Tom elbowed him lightly as a way to tell him he wasn’t being smooth about asking about Vicky.

“She’s auditioning for the role of Christine. I probably won’t audition.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t like singing in front of others.” Before Harrison could reply, your name got called and you went to get your drink. “I’ll see you guys in class.” You smiled before leaving.

“Are you sure Vicky’s the T.A. you like?” Tom teased.

“What the hell are you on about?” Harrison questioned.

“I’m just saying, you and Y/N talk a lot more than you and Vicky. Are you sure Vicky even knows you exist?”

“Vicky knows I exist.” He defended himself, “Y/N’s just a friend.”

That weekend, Harrison met you at one of your college’s piano practice rooms to help him with learning lines and practice singing for the audition. For wanting to do it simply for extra credit, you were surprised he was taking it so seriously. You suspected there was another underlying reason, but you also didn’t know Harrison well enough to try to push it.

“I’m doing it wrong, aren’t I?” Harrison asked with a defeated sigh.

“You’re missing the emotion. This is the first time Raoul is seeing his childhood love. Christine’s is captivating the entire opera with her voice, so you need to sound captivated, awestruck.” You encouraged, beginning to play the notes to “Think of Me” again on the piano. You knew exactly which piece the director would have all the Raoul auditions sing, and so you focused on helping him sing the part. Harrison could act well, but it was the combination of acting and singing that he struggled with. You said, teasingly, “This time, with passion”

“Can it be? Can it be Christine?” Harrison sang, but this time with a sense of awe in his voice. He stood beside the piano, reading off the music sheet. Loudly and passionately, he exclaimed, “Bravo!” before continuing his lines “Long ago, it seems so long ago,”

“Hold it!” You reminded him, knowing he’d try to cut the next line short like he’d been doing.

“How young and innocent we were, she may not remember me, but I remember her,” He finished the part, almost out of breath.

“Okay, so you need to get the breathing down.” You laughed.

“You try singing the same lines over and over again. It’s hard.”

“If you want the role, you’ll have to sing the same parts over and over again.”

“You sing then.” He said, and you started to play the piano again.

“I don’t sing in front of other people.”

“Come on, music major.” Harrison nudged you teasingly. “I’m not even trained and I’ve been singing.”

“Fine, I’ll sing, but just so you can practice coming in at the right part.” You caved. Harrison smiled as you started to sing. “Recall those days, look back on all those times, think of the things we’ll never do, there will never be a day when I won’t think of you,” You nodded over to him, signaling for him to start his part.

He sang through his part with the right emotion again. He smiled, encouragingly at you to have you finish Christine’s part.

“Flowers fade, the fruits of summer fade, they have their season so do we, but please promise me that sometimes, you will think-” You stopped prematurely.

“Why’d you stop?” Harrison asked, “You were really good.”

“Thanks. I haven’t warmed up at all. That’s not an easy note to hit.” You replied, taking a sip from the water you had placed on your piano bench beside you.

“Why don’t you audition? Your voice is incredible, and I’m not even a music person.” He insisted with a small laugh.

“Vicky’s operatically trained, and I mean I took vocal lessons so I’m trained enough to sing some arias, but nothing crazy.”

“I think you’d make a good Christine. I’m auditioning, and you just had to sit through an hour of me singing like shit, so I’d say you got a chance.”

“You’re not bad. You just need practice.” You reassured him, looking at your phone to check the time. You had reserved the room for an hour and your time was already up, “We should go before someone comes to kick us out. The audition’s tomorrow, are you ready?”

“I guess we’ll find out tomorrow.”

~~~

“I swear to god, if you get this role, I’ll do your music homework for the rest of the semester.” Tom said as he walked the halls of the music building with Harrison.

“I sounded like shit yesterday, so,” Harrison trailed off. He halted his steps as he heard a familiar voice coming from a practice room. He peered through the window to see you playing the piano, and singing another piece from the musical.

“Your spirit and my voice in one combined, the phantom of the opera is there inside my mind, is there the phantom of the opera,” You closed your eyes, vocalizing the high notes of Christine’s part.

“Holy shit.” Harrison breathed out, taken back from the intensity of the notes.

“Y/N can sing like that and you’re still into Vicky?” Tom asked in disbelief. You stopped singing to drink some water. The two boys quickly jumped away from the door.

“Right, the audition.” The blonde remembered, returning his anxious journey to the musical auditions.

Harrison didn’t see you again until the next day in class, when you pulled him aside to talk about the musical.

“How’d the audition go?” You asked with an eager smile.

“I think it went well.” Harrison replied, “I heard you in the practice room. You can sing, really sing those high notes.”

“It was nothing.” Your cheeks heated up. His words made your heart do flips.

“No, I’m serious. You should’ve auditioned.”

“That’s what I wanted to tell you. I did.” You said, “I auditioned for Christine.”

“I’m sure you got it.”

“Actually,” You paused and he raised his eyebrows as a way to tell you to continue, “I’m Vicky’s understudy.”

“The roles are out?” He asked, immediately forgetting about your own role.

“Not officially. I’m not supposed to tell you, but you got the role!” You smiled, hugging him in excitement.

“I’m- I’m Raoul?” Harrison looked at you with a smile of disbelief. He thought it was impossible for him to get the role.

“Yeah, you did! Congratulations!”

“Wow, I’m going to be in a musical.”

“You’ll be a lead in a musical.” You emphasized. You checked the clock and saw it was time for class to begin, “C’mon, lecture’s starting.”

You watched from your spot at the front of the music room as Harrison whispered something to Tom, who let out a small groan. Based on the smile Harrison threw your way, you knew it had to do with his role.

~~~

Over the course of the next few weeks, you and Harrison grew closer as you helped him prepare for the role of Raoul. Of course, during rehearsals, he’d work with Vicky, but he still turned to you for practice outside of rehearsals. With each practice, you found yourself falling harder for the blue eyed boy, which only made it harder during rehearsals when you’d have to watch him and Vicky act as Raoul and Christine.

“One week until we open. How ya feeling?” You asked Harrison, once he’d emerged from the wardrobe department. With opening night only being seven days away, practice was daily and rehearsals had changed to dress rehearsals. You had to admit he made a dashing Raoul.

“Nervous.” He replied, adjusting the collar of his suit.

“You’re going to be great.” You reassured him.

“Y/N!” The director called out to you, drawing your attention away from Harrison.

“Yes?”

“You’re on. Vicky’s ill.” He announced. You hurried off to the costume department, getting into Christine’s dress.

With the rush of Vicky’s absence, you and Harrison didn’t have time to talk before the rehearsal started. Despite the first act of the play leading up to Christine and Raoul’s musical number, you were too focused on going through the lines to really think of “All I Ask of You”. It wasn’t until you stood on the rooftop set that you realized the magnitude of the situation- you were Christine now and Harrison was Raoul. The soft violins began, striking up the romantic piece.

“No more talk of darkness, forget these wide-eyed fears. I’m here, nothing can harm you, my words will warm and calm you,” He started to sing, gently placing his hands on your bare shoulders as you both looked out into the audience. You turned to him, losing yourself in his warm blue eyes, “Let me be your freedom, let daylight dry your tears. I’m here, with you, beside you, to guard you and to guide you.”

“Say you love me every waking moment, turn my head with talk of summertime. Say you need me with you now and always,” You sang back. He rested a hand on your cheek, keeping your face intimately close to his, just as scripted. “Promise me that what you say is true, that’s all I ask of you.”

“Let me be your shelter, let me be your light. You’re safe, no one will find you, your fears are far behind you.” He continued the next verse as he hugged you gently before leading you in the choreographed walk around the rooftop.

“All I want is freedom, a world with no more night, and you, always beside me to hold me and to hide me.” You sang, the two of you coming to a pause in the center of the stage.”

“Then say you’ll share with me, one love, one lifetime. Let me lead you from your solitude, say you need me with you, here beside you, anywhere you go, let me go too. Christine, that’s all I ask of you” Harrison pulled you into his loving embrace, your back pressed against his chest, swaying the two of you slightly to the music.

“Say you’ll share with me one love, one lifetime. Say the word and I will follow you.”

“Share each day with me, each night, each morning.” You sang together in harmony as you moved to stand in front of him.

“Say you love me,” Your voice trembled slightly as you registered how close you were to Harrison, captivated in his embrace.

“You know I do,” His voice came back, full of passionate emotion.

“Love me, that’s all I ask of you,” The two of you sang. As the music grew louder and more dramatic, Harrison pulled you in for a passionate kiss, taking you by surprise. He and Vicky had been rehearsing without the kiss; this was a change. He picked you up and spun you, his lips still on yours. He set you down and you pulled away from the kiss.

“Anywhere you go, let me go too,” You both sang out, holding out the notes, before softening. “Love me, that’s all I ask of you.”

Before you could help yourself, you kissed Harrison one last time. Hand-in-hand, you two exited the stage, leaving the set for the phantom’s reprise. You watched the scene from the side of the stage, not realizing you still held Harrison’s hand. The director nodded over to you and Harrison, signaling your part of the reprise.

“Say you’ll share with me one love, one lifetime. Say the word and I will follow you. Share each day with me, each night, each morning.” The two of you sang, off-stage.

“You will curse the day you did not do, all that the phantom asked of you!” The phantom finished the song , with the theme replaying loudly over the speakers.

“That was fantastic! Intermission before the next act!” The director called out, clapping proudly. It was then you realized you were still holding Harrison’s hand, and you dropped it quickly, hurrying off to change, not particularly wanting to bring up the kiss with Harrison (though you were both guilty of kissing the other unexpectedly).

As you changed into Christine’s pink masquerade gown, you found yourself thinking through your last scene. You really liked Harrison, he had caught your eye the first time you’d seen him in class, but now, you were tangled between the blurred lines of fiction and reality. Did he actually want to kiss you, or was that just him acting as Raoul, caught up in the romance of the song?

A few minutes before the second act was set to begin, you were dressed and waiting anxiously near the side of the stage, mentally running through your lines again. You knew this next act focused on Raoul protecting Christine from the phantom, and the romance between Christine and Raoul was intensified as they were now engaged in the musical. You had barely made it through the last act, keeping your feelings for Harrison together, but this next act would just make it all the more difficult.

“You’ll be fine.” Harrison’s voice made you jump in surprise as he appeared beside you. His blond extensions were smoothed back to a small ponytail, and he wore Raoul’s blue masquerade suit, accentuating his eyes perfectly. “You sounded amazing in the last act, don’t stress yourself over this one.”

“Thanks. You were pretty great, too.” You smiled softly. There was an odd tension in the air; you knew how you felt, but you didn’t quite yet know what he thought of you- or if that damn kiss was intentional. He looked as if he was about to say something, but you spoke up first, letting your nerves get the better of you, “Look, Harrison, that kiss-”

“I meant it,” was all he could say before the masquerade music began, signaling the start of the second act. He gave you a nervous smile before he rushed off to his stage position. The chorus started to sing, and you couldn’t do anything to stop the rehearsal. You and Harrison went through the movements of Christine and Raoul, through the masquerade, the graveyard, all of the scenes.

When the rehearsal finally finished, you were grateful. It was hard enough to remember lines as it is, but even harder with Harrison’s words racing through your mind. The curtain had barely closed before you pulled Harrison in for a passionate kiss, cupping his cheeks softly. He smiled into the kiss, wrapping his arms around your waist. After a moment, you pulled away breathlessly.

“I’m so glad you convinced me to be Raoul.” Harrison laughed, kissing you again.

When opening night came, you surprisingly didn’t feel overwhelmingly nervous with Harrison playing your Raoul. He was so happy that he had tried out for the musical. “All I Ask of You” was by far the easiest scene for him to perform.

~~~

Tag List: @viagracex @theamazingtomholland @violette-hollxnd @heyitsshrez

Harrison Tag List: @tomkindholland @calhtlland

#harrison osterfield #harrison osterfield x you #harrison osterfield imagine #harrison osterfield x reader #harrison osterfield one shot #harrison osterfield x y/n #harrison osterfield fic

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jimlingss · 5 years ago

Text

The Colour of Our Voices [15]

Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16

➜ Words: 4k

➜ Genres: 98% Fluff, 2% Angst, Slice of Life, Broadway!AU

➜ Summary: He wasn’t supposed to hear. He wasn't supposed to know. But the instant Jimin came into your life and pulled the curtains back, you couldn't hide backstage anymore. You were no longer merely a phantom of the opera.

cr.

Every relationship has its own set of difficulties, its ups and downs. It’s just painful that you can’t be together when you want to. You never knew there’d come a point where your goals, dreams, and ambitions would contend with your relationship. It seems like it’s either one or the other and you don’t know if you can pick — if he would choose what you would. You hope that with time, it’ll pass. You try not to show how hurt you are over the missed date night incident even though it makes you overwhelmingly sad. But you can laugh at it a little when you’re faced with a different kind of reaction instead of sadness — rage. “He fucking forgot?!” Yeonjeon is hysterical and her disgust is practically tangible. “Oh my god. I’m going to kill him.” She gets up, but you pull her arm down with a laugh. Jimin’s at work. She probably wouldn’t know where to look for him even if she tried. “Hey, don’t kill him, I still love him.” “Yeah, and it’s a mistake,” the actress says right out and rolls her eyes. “God, I can’t believe I had a crush on that motherfucker. All men are pigs, aren’t they? What an asshole!” “It was an accident.” You shrug. “Uh-huh. Pathetic is what it is.” “He’s been really tired lately.” “Umm, don’t defend him in my house.” She’s personally offended and is still fuming. “He can’t even remember a date. Does he have one brain cell?” “No. He has at least two,” you giggle. Yeonjeon shakes her head, but softens. Suddenly, she puts her hands on your shoulders, making you look at her. “Listen, Y/N. Just dump Jimin.” Immediately, you burst out laughing. “I love him too much to dump him.” “Well, fame changes people,” she states coldly. “He probably thinks he’s some kind of big shot now because he’s has some stupid role in a movie.” You smile at her sheepishly. It doesn’t seem like fame changed him. More like fame changed his life. It changed yours too — if you could even call it fame. “Anyways, enough about that jerk—” “Yeonjeon,” you warn her with a pout. He’s your boyfriend after all so you’ll defend him till the end. “—how’s your own projects going so far?” “They’re going fine. Rapunzel doesn’t have that many lines and she doesn’t actually sing any lyrics, but in the scenes that she is in, they’re pretty important. I’m having fun. Plus the people there are really nice to work with too.” “You know what?” She snaps her fingers. “Now that I think about it. Rapunzel fits you perfectly.” You laugh at her and she eyes you. “What? It just does.” Someone else had told you that — a boy that you miss dearly.

Jimin’s been having a recurring nightmare recently — one where he’s a four year old again and he’s stacking blocks as high as he can. It doesn’t sound so bad, but always when he has the last block in his hand and goes to top off the tower, he can see it teeter. He knows what’s about to happen, He can see it right in front of him. But no matter what he does, how carefully he deals with the blocks, he can’t stop it from tumbling down. The worst part is knowing the inevitable, but being unable to stop it. To see the collapse before it happens. “Going home already, Park?” The corner of Jungkook’s mouth curls, eyes flickering down to how Jimin’s gathering his belongings. His bag and coat are slung over his arms as if he’s being chased by debt collectors and needs to run out as soon as possible. “Why so soon?” Chanyeol throws his arm around the younger’s shoulder, pulling him in. “I thought we were gonna go out for drinks again tonight.” “I’m good.” Jimin slyly and discreetly moves the actor’s arm off of him. “I think I’m gonna head home early. I’m pretty tired.” “Oh come on. Don’t be a downer. We even have our day off tomorrow. We should celebrate, don’t you think?” Chanyeol grins and looks across the set. “Hey, Director! You want to come with us again?” Yoongi, the camera director looks up from what he’s doing and shrugs. “Sure.” “See? Even Min’s coming. What are you waiting for?” It’s not rare to drink with the other cast members after a long day of filming. Usually outings can range from three to four people to every person on the set. They’re a good bunch but he wishes there weren't so many eyes on him right now. “What else would you be doing at home?” “He’s whipped for some girl at home, that’s why,” Jungkook says with a laugh. “Let him go if he really doesn’t want to come.” “That so?” Chanyeol raises his brows. “You can invite her.” “No, she works fairly early. She’s probably asleep right now.” “Then what are you going home for? Come on,” he insists, and Jimin succumbs to the pressure. // They’re huddled in a private room at the back of the fancy nightclub. It’s exclusive, sofas softer than expected, the back light of the walls creating a sensual ambiance and everything he drinks feels expensive. Jimin guesses this is what fame and fortune buys you. One of the girls working at the nightclub comes over with a tray of drinks, gorgeous with her dress that’s too small and too short, and her cleavage practically spilling out. Chanyeol whistles, tipping her with a pretty bill which she smiles to, and the actor notices the way Jimin diverts his eyes. “This girl of yours must be one hell of a woman,” he comments out of the blue and has Jimin’s eyes widening. “Me?” “Yeah, you, Park. Who else would I be talking about?” The handsome actor laughs boisterously, perhaps having taken one too many drinks. “Apparently they’re neighbours,” Jungkook pipes up, remembering the story Jimin told a few weeks ago. “Oof, brutal.” Chanyeol shakes his head. “If you guys break up, you’re gonna have to definitely move.” “We’re not going to break up,” Jimin instinctively states. It’s almost defensive in a way and he hopes they don’t notice the nervous tick in his fingers. There’s an exchange of expressions around the table. “You’re going to get married to her then?” “I don’t know. Maybe. Probably.” “Ooh, he is whipped,” Chanyeol sing-songs, but it also sounds sharp. Jungkook frowns. “You really want to tie yourself down so soon? I mean, it’s not a bad thing.” “It is a bad thing,” the other actor corrects, “Jimin’s young and good looking. You shouldn’t tie yourself down so early. You haven’t even begun to experience what kind of girls are out there….” Jimin doesn’t say anything. He takes the shot that’s in front of him. It’s bitter in his mouth, disgusting, but he ignores the actual taste to chase after the free feeling it gives him instead. “You’re cute — girls like that sort of thing. Trust me, you’ll be missing out if you tie yourself down now, Park. You have the rest of your life to be serious,” Chanyeol continues before his eyes flicker to the person across from him. “Right, Min?” Yoongi sighs and Chanyeol laughs, explaining, “He’s divorced. His ex-wife’s some critic who runs her own blog. They had to reach a huge settlement and it took two years in court, but get this, she didn’t change her last name back. She kept Min just to fuck with him.” “That’s enough,” Yoongi pipes up, cat-like eyes narrowed in on his drink. He throws it back and exhales afterwards. “I don’t want to talk about it.” The actor smiles, gripping his glass. “I got married to my high school sweetheart, and it’s an absolute nightmare.” Chanyeol grins and shakes his head, lighthearted in the way he talks and it makes Jimin’s own mouth quirk. “She’s bat shit insane.” Jungkook grins. “Didn’t she key your car?” “Broke my windshield too with a fucking brick.” Jimin blinks hard, unable to believe it. “Christ.” “They’re not crazy at the start, trust me. Everything’s always nice at the beginning — everyone’s in love, doesn’t matter that they like to call up their ex, that they want to forgo condoms and skip their birth control….” Jungkook snickers at Chanyeol’s woes and even Yoongi is amused. “I was an idiot, to say the least,” he sighs. “Not that I didn’t have my own problems, but I rushed into it way too quickly. What can you do, right? It would be bearable if not for the nagging.” “This is why I don’t do relationships,” Jungkook comments with his lips tightly drawn in a line. “Smart man.” He lifts his glass and they clink their drinks together. Jimin’s persuaded to take another shot. “Don’t you ever feel held down by her?” Chanyeol asks, smacking his lips. “Doesn’t she nag or anything?” “I wouldn’t say that….” Jimin considers it and his intoxication makes the words slip out recklessly. “She asks where I’m going. She texts me to ask when I’m coming home. She complains when I’m out late...sometimes.” The brunette shrugs. “She just worries about me.” “Sounds like a burden to me,” Chanyeol remarks. Suddenly Yoongi’s silence is broken. His eyes perceive more than they let on. “Does she ever make you feel bad for doing what you want?” “That’s a good point.” Jungkook nods and leans over to look at the brunette, propping his elbow on the table, chin in his hand. “You shouldn’t feel bad about doing what you want.” Jimin remains quiet. He drinks. It’s silent for a while, unsettlingly so and as each person waits for him to answer, Jimin never speaks. He never lifts his eyes away from the table. Chanyeol ends up clearing his throat. “What’s with this somber mood? Let’s change the subject! Come on, I’m getting too sober to be around you ugly motherfuckers. Shots, people!” They clink glasses together, laughing and moving on from the heavy topic of conversation. But they’re unknowing to just how it resonates with Jimin more than it should. He wants to be here — but you make him feel like he should be at home instead. He wants to perform, on screen or on Broadway — but you make him feel bad for being so busy. He loves you, but he feels guilty for your conflicting schedules, for not seeing you enough, even though this is all he’s been dreaming of, this is what he wanted… Jimin drinks and swallows past the thick lump forming in his throat. // The slamming door shakes you from your slumber. You turn around in your sheets, listening to the oncoming stomping footsteps, an irregular pattern instead of a consistent beat as if someone’s stumbling. The bedroom door creaks open and then Jimin dives into the sheets. He opens his arms and falls to his front, his arm hitting your shoulder. “What are you doing?” You rub your eyes and with a sigh, you sit up. You reach over to flicker the bedside lamp on. “Did you drink?” You can smell the alcohol radiating off of him, and it’s stronger than ever before. It’s surprising considering he’s usually a responsible drinker who always knows how to pace himself. One side of Jimin’s face is squished into the sheets, the other facing you. One of his eyes open. The pair of you stare at each other. “I love you.” The words slur and he exhales. “But goddamn ‘s hard sometimes.” You sigh again, getting up to take off his shoes as he lays there. You peel off his socks too, throwing them onto the ground for him to deal with it himself in the morning. “You didn’t even take off your jacket.” At least it’s his day off tomorrow, so he can get plenty of rest and recover — it doesn’t look like he’ll have a pleasant time in the morning. Unfortunately, the case is not the same for you. You have to wake up in three hours, so you’re not impressed to say the least. You climb over top of him, taking off his coat. Jimin’s arms are limp like noodles and he turns his head to stare straight at you. “‘Hy do you make me feel bad…’bout doing what I want, huh?” “What are you talking about, Jimin?” You go to unbutton his stained dress shirt reeking of spilled alcohol, but he abruptly shoves his hands off of him. “‘Could get so many girls….” “You could get so many girls?” Your eyebrow cocks. “Do you want to get girls?” “Dunno.” “Alright, Casanova.” You smile. “Let’s get you changed and to bed, ‘kay?” As you’re unbuttoning his shirt, peaceful silence settles around. Jimin savours the warmth of your hands on his skin, gazing at how your eyes are concentrated but still sleepy, how messy your hair is from twisting in the bed sheets and turning against the pillow. Your edges are soft in the yellow, dim light of the lamp. You’re practically glowing. “’re gonna break up, aren’t we?” The reaction is immediate. Your hands halt. Your lips fall. Your blood runs cold. “What?” “We’re gonna break up,” Jimin says it like he’s announcing it, like he’s decided himself. Your bottom lips tremble, hands quivering, and you quickly get off of him to collect yourself. You want to brush it off that he’s intoxicated, that doesn’t know what he’s saying. But drunk words are sober thoughts. “What are you saying?” “Do you know who I am?” His tongue slurs heavily, syllables melted together, and the man sits up slowly, swaying from side to side. “Who are you?” Your voice cracks against your will, eyes glossy and looking into his. “Cute — ‘Andsome — young — Park J-Jimin…..” He giggles with a finger in the air and he points at you. “‘M missing out by being with you, did ya know that? ‘Nd why do you make me feel guilty for doing what I want, huh? I wanna to go out and party and drink and meet girls and perform, but I gotta go home to you….sucks, man.” “It sucks, huh?” You swallow hard, fist curling tight into the sheets. “So you want to break up with me?” “’Ts gonna end anyways. Look at us.” Jimin falls onto his back again, cozying up in the sheets. “Don’t even see each other anymore.” “So this is it?” You ask again and again, not knowing where this is coming from, unable to believe that it’s happening. “Where else it gonna go?” You’re silent. You remove yourself from him, bringing your shaking hands into your lap. He lays there like a dead body, but he doesn’t fall asleep just yet despite the temptation being so strong. “What happened to the Jimin I first met?” you ask quietly, a mere whisper leaving your parted lips. You don’t know who this arrogant asshole is — a stranger has entered your home. “’S not here no more,” he mumbles, “Fame changed me. ’M not some sad dude pinning after you anymore.” “Go to bed, Jimin,” you spit out the command harsher than you thought was possible. It goes silent and you watch him sprawl in your bed, limbs spread freely and his chest rising and falling as he snores. You reach over to turn off the lamp and grab your pillow, shoving his head off of it. You wipe your eyes with the back of your hand and try to sleep out on the couch for the remaining hours. But it’s hard when you’re so restless. // The sunlight pierces through the window and into his eyes. He groans, shaken awake and brought to consciousness and to his head throbbing. His head aches and he feels sickly, the world swirling around him. Jimin gets up and stumbles to the bathroom to relieve his bladder. He tries to wash his face afterwards and brush his teeth. When he leaves, he holds onto the door frame to brace himself and he hears noisy clanging in the kitchen that makes him wince. He staggers out, shocked to see you. “What are you doing here?” Jimin’s voice cracks and he moves to get water to quench his painful thirst. Your back stays turned to him. “It’s one in the afternoon,” you state rather coldly, mumbling from the corner of your mouth. “I asked to come home early. I remembered I’m allowed to do that.” He raises a brow and finishes drinking an entire bottle. “Are you still mad at me for forgetting our date night?” It goes quiet. You don’t spare him a glance, simply putting the dishes away. The loud clanging has him flinching. “I already said I’m sorry,” he reasons, “I got you flowers!” You don’t know what he’s talking about and you don’t care to learn. “Y/N.” You came home to talk to him but now that he’s here, you know that you’ll regret what wants to come out. “Y/N.” “Y/N,” Jimin repeats for the third time. He approaches and secures his hands on your shoulders, forcibly turning you around to face him. “Are you ignoring me?” “Don’t touch me.” You shove his hands off of you, stepping back. His eyes frantically search your hurt expression and he’s utterly confused. “Please. Just don’t.” “W-What’s wrong?” “You don’t remember anything about last night?” you ask him, loudly, enough to strain your own voice. Jimin winces again. “Can you not shout at me? I have a headache.” “You said….you wanted to break up with me,” you whisper, unable to believe it yourself. When you say it with your own mouth, it stings and you want to burst out crying. Jimin watches the way your expression crumples and he pales. It slowly comes back to him in waves, vague but he begins to remember bits and pieces, enough to know what he’s done. “Hey.” Jimin reaches out, stepping closer. But he retracts his hand. “I’m sorry.” “You always are.” Maybe it shouldn’t be a big deal. He was drunk, inebriated, not in full control of his words — but to know he was even thinking about it, to know that he’s lined up the reasons for his dissatisfaction with your relationship, to hear it be said aloud, hurts. “I’m sorry. I really am.” He searches the floor and musters the courage to lift his eyes. “You don’t believe me?” “It’s not that I don’t believe you aren’t sorry,” you murmur, “I just think you’re sorry that I know what you think now.” “Oh come on, babe. Y/N.” Jimin follows you to the living room. “I didn’t mean it.” “Really?” You stop on your heel. You hate this — hate being upset and angry, hate feeling at a loss, hate spiraling out of control. “Not the part where you think I’m basically a huge burden to you now? Not the part where you want to get girls and go to parties and how I make you feel bad about doing the things you want? Not the part where you’re no longer pathetic enough to love me? Or what was it that you said, oh yeah, you’re not some sad guy pinning after me anymore.” “I was drunk.” “Were you? Or were they your sober thoughts?” He sighs in frustration. Your loud voice is worsening his headache. And this isn’t what he wanted to do first thing he woke up — he doesn’t want to argue with you. But he doesn��t know how to make it stop. “I think that it’s unfair you’re using this against me when I was wasted.” “You told me that we should break up because we don’t even see each other anymore. Because what else was supposed to happen to us,” you softly whisper, crossing your arms, holding yourself. Now that he can answer clearly, now he’s not drunk anymore, there are no excuses. “So what is that you want from us, Jimin? Do I really make you feel guilty for doing the things you want to do? Is that how you feel about me now?” “No, that’s not it. I’m...I’m sorry.” “You’re selfish,” you say, spitefully. “That’s what you are. Always have been.” Jimin scoffs outright. “Selfish?” “All you think about is yourself. What you want. What you don’t have. What you’re missing out on. You’re supposed to think about the other person in a relationship. We’re supposed to sacrifice, compromise — and you’re not willing to do that. You don’t think about me for a second, Jimin.” “Are you kidding me? I am trying my best! Everything I do is for us and our future together—” “Really? I thought we didn’t have a future in your plans.” He ignores your low jab. “I took care of you when you hated me. How’s that sacrifice for you?” “Well nobody asked! Did they?” “I love you!” Jimin shouts at the top of his lungs, making his throat dry again. “I’ve loved you longer than you loved me. Even when you were jealous of me, when you hated me, I loved you. And I still love you!” “Then why did you tell me that I make you feel bad for doing what you want?!” you’re sobbing as the last word comes out, holding your face in your hands. Guilt swallows him whole. “Because it does. I feel bad that I don’t get enough to spend enough time with you. I feel bad that we’re always waiting for the other person to come home. I feel bad about going out with the cast when I should be having fun and for taking on roles when I know it’ll be time consuming even though that’s been my dream.” You’re sobbing, shaking your head. “W-What do you want me to do?” “I don’t know.” He can’t find a solution, and he’s most certainly not going to make you give up your dream. Jimin’s not going to ask or make you do anything. Everything caused by ill timing. Caused by stress. What’s the point of being in a relationship when you can’t even see each other? It always seems like you have to choose each other or choose your ambitions. Jimin wants to say boldly that he’ll figure it out with you — that he’ll find a way to do both. He wants to hug you, to embrace you, let you cry into his shoulder as he makes more meaningless apologies. He wants to say that with time, it’ll pass, that your schedules will clear up, that the pair of you will overcome this obstacle. But he can’t bring himself to say it or to step forward. “Maybe we should take a break.” You’re taken aback. A break? So he can do whatever he wants and thinks he can still have you? “What’s that supposed to mean?” “I don’t know,” Jimin admits. “I think we just need some time away from each other to figure this out.” Without the obligation of having to see you, of having to maintain this relationship, the guilt would disappear. Maybe neither of you would have to feel so bad about yourselves. But you persist in your questions. “Figure what out? Us?” Jimin’s frustrated at why you don’t understand. “Well if you don’t like it, then maybe we should just cleanly break it off with one another. If that makes more sense to you.” “Fine,” you hiss out of unadulterated spite. His eyes widening, mouth dropping open. He’s shocked at your quick answer. Jimin’s rendered speechless, breathless. “F-Fine then…” “Get out of my apartment, Jimin.” You sniffle with your chest heaving. He can’t believe it’s happening. Everything in his mind screams for him to stop, but his body moves on its own. Then the door slams shut.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #bts jimin fanfic #bts jimin fluff #bts jimin #jimin reader insert #jimin scenario #jimin fanfic

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n1ght5h4d3-24 · 4 years ago

Text

A Powerful Duo: Chapter 1

We Only See Each Other at Weddings and Funerals

On the twelfth hour of the first day of October 1989, forty-three women around the world gave birth. This was unusual only in the fact that none of these women had been pregnant when the day first began. Sir Reginald Hargreeves, eccentric billionaire and adventurer, resolved to locate and adopt as many of the children as possible.

He got eight of them.

A young woman, in her early thirties, walked across a stage carrying a violin case. She made her way to the center of the stage where a stool sat and placed the instrument case down onto it. She then took a moment to open the case to pull out said instrument before tucking the violin under her chin. She took a deep breath before picking up her bow and begun to play, Phantom of the Opera.

Elsewhere, an alarm clock began to blare at twenty-three, twenty-eight…eleven twenty-eight p.m. A hand hit the clock, silencing it before groaning and getting out of bed. The person that was in the bed, took a moment to scratch an itch before leaving his bedroom, tiredly walking down a narrow hallway and bumping his head, causing him to groan again. He flipped two switches on a machine as he passed by it before checking on his little potted plant, watering it. Then, he took a moment to put on his space suit before exiting the space station he resided in, with a plastic bag in his hand.

Number One: Luther

Luther made his way across the moon to a pod filled to the brim with bags with some resting on the ground beside it. He placed the bag in his hand in the pile of bags that were on the ground.

(The violinist begins to speed up her playing a little)

A man with a bandana covering the lower half of his face shoves another guy into a wall, knocking over a lamp and causing a picture to become crooked before the masked guy brought the other guy to his bound family.

"Show me where the safe is or your family is dead!" the robber threatens the man.

The robber's partner shone his flashlight on the three family members and placed his hand on the grandmother's shoulder. The three bounded family members screamed in fear but, it was muffled due to the duct tape over their mouths.

"Where's the safe?" the robber asked again, leading the father into another room.

"Just leave us alone!" he pleads.

Another robber follows his partner into the other room with the father, a shadowed figured stood outside the now unguarded window. He made his way into the building, taking out one guy by snapping his neck before appearing from out behind a wall. He had a domino mask on and was dressed in black leather with a knife sheath across his chest.

Number Two: Diego

Diego began to attack the robbers, there were at least five of them.

"Who is this guy?" one managed to ask before he was knocked unconscious.

Diego continued to fight off the other robbers, sending a knife at one of them that ended with their hand impaled to the wall. Diego then broke another guys' arm before sending him into the wall, his face hitting a family portrait before he crashed to he ground.

(The violin music continues to speed up)

A multitude of cameras are flashing at a red carpet event as a woman of color in a maroon dress makes her way across the carpet. She's temporarily stopped as someone whispers into her ear before she continues walking to stand in front of the set-up backdrop.

Number Three: Allison

The paparazzi talks over themselves as they take rapid fired shots of Allison who gives them a smile. She pauses in front of the back drop and strikes a pose, going with resting her right hand on her hip before switching hands.

(The violinist then switches songs, beginning to play Angel of Music)

A man dressed in all black slides out of the top bunk and sighs.

Number Four: Klaus

"Hey, you…stay strong. I believe in you." he tells an older man that was resting on the top bunk of another bed in the room he was in as he made his way out.

"You, not so much." he tells another person in passing, this guy was on the lower bunk.

He chuckles as he walks out of the room.

"Bye Klaus," a man says.

Klaus raises his right hand, which had the word Hello tattooed on it, to the man standing behind a counter. The man places down a small Ziploc bag onto the counter that Klaus grabs and shoves into his pocket.

"We'll see you soon, Klaus," the man behind the counter says before flicking a sobriety coin at him which he was quick to catch.

"Stay sober." the man reminds him as Klaus walks out of the rehabilitation center.

(The violinist continues with her solo)

Luther makes his way across the moon to watch as the sun peeks out from behind the Earth, when a radio beeps.

"Incoming transmission," the automated voice states.

He flips open a flap to read the transmission. He can't believe what he's read, the information sending him into slight shock before his attention returns back to Earth.

Diego picks up his bloody knife off the ground.

(The song switches to Think of Me)

He goes to walk out of the house when he hears fanfare coming from the tv. Diego peers around the wall before walking into the living room, curious.

"We're going now live to a breaking story." a newscast man said on the tv.

Diego couldn't believe what he was seeing.

"One more!" a man shouts.

"Allison, here!" another man shouts.

Cameras continue to flash at Allison but, one guy stops as someone talks to him. More photographers call out Allison's name to get her to look in their direction.

"Allison! Have you heard the news? When was the last time you saw your father?" the one photographer asked.

Allison's expression changed then at the mention of her father.

"Have you heard from your brothers or sisters?" one woman asks.

A woman walks up to Allison on the carpet, talking indistinctively to her before leading her off the carpet.

"Allison, will you wear Valentino to the funeral?" a woman asks.

A police car drives by causing Klaus to look behind him for a moment before carrying on down the alleyway. He greets a hooded man, discretely trading off the sobriety coin for drugs before he exits the alley. Sirens begin to wail.

(A rock version of The Music of the Night begins to play)

Klaus sits up with a gasp, an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth. He was in the back of an ambulance and had just been revived. He takes the mask off before beginning to laugh, shaking his head wildly before letting out a groan and falling back onto a cabinet behind him. He high fives the EMT, letting out a whoop before a news fanfare from the small tv in the back of the truck played. He turns his attention to the screen, wondering what was being reported.

"Moments ago, police reported the death of the most eccentric and reclusive billionaire." the news reporter stated.

The violinist begins to finish up her solo, the lights in the theater coming on. It was empty, save for one chair in the front. In the chair sat a girl that looked identical to the violinist on the stage, she was just dressed differently. She enjoyed the performance her twin put on for her.

Number Seven and Number Eight: Vanya and Ivanna

Vanya packed up her violin and hopped off the stage, walking up to her sister. Ivanna gave her sister a smile before wrapping her arm around her sister's shoulders as they walked out of the Icarus theater. The twins stuck close together as they walked down the sidewalk, past bustling people. They walked by a tv store when Vanya stopped. Ivanna looked at her twin sister in confusion before turning to look at the tv screens, watching the news that was being shown.

"Dad…" Vanya said, trailing off.

The two of them got lost in thought for a moment as the picture being displayed switched from a picture of Reginald to a picture of the young Umbrella Academy kids except for the two of them.

"Come on, let's go home." Ivanna says.

The two of them turn away from the tv before continuing on down the sidewalk until they stopped and signaled for a cab. When one stopped, the twins climbed into the backseat and Vanya gave the driver the address to the Umbrella Academy mansion. The twins stared out of their windows as they attempted to process what had happened while also remembering the past, remembering Five's disappearance and Ben's death. When the taxi stops, Vanya pulls open the sliding door of the vehicle before stepping out, Ivanna exiting right behind her. The two of them stared up at their old home before walking across the street and up the front stairs before they each opened a door before walking into their old home. They looked around the foyer upon entering, not surprised to see that nothing had changed.

"Hi mom," Ivanna greets once she saw their mother sitting in the living room.

But, their mother never gave any sign that she heard them come in.

"Mom?" Vanya called out in confusion.

The twins could hear someone's footsteps walking down the large case of stairs.

"Vanya? Ivanna?" a familiar voice asks.

The twins turned to the steps to see their sister approaching them.

"You guys are actually here," she says as if she couldn't believe it.

"Hi Allison," they greeted.

"Hello sisters." Allison returned the greeting, approaching them.

She stopped before the twins and they were uncertain about what was going to happen next. But then Allison embraced the both of them in a hug. Footsteps approached their direction.

"Ah, what are they doing here? You don't belong here, not after what you did and neither do you, you're probably the one who convinced her to write the book in the first place." It was Diego who had walked in.

The three sisters separated from their hug and the twins looked down in guilt.

"You're seriously going to do this today?" Allison asked him.

"Way to dress for the occasion, by the way." she adds.

"At least I'm wearing black," Diego responds as he headed up the stairs.

"You know what? I-we…maybe he's right." Ivanna says.

"And we shouldn't…" Vanya adds.

"Forget about him, I'm glad you're both here." Allison tells them.

The twins give Allison small smiles each. The three of them stood there for a moment before going their separate ways. The twins walked into the living room and Allison headed upstairs. Ivanna paused to stare up at the portrait of their missing brother, Five, while Vanya walked over to the bookshelf. She searched the shelves for a moment before grabbing a familiar book.

Extra Ordinary: Our Lives as Number Seven and Number Eight. Written by: Vanya Hargreeves

Vanya flipped the book over to the back to read her little autobiography that was there before turning it back over and opening the cover. She flipped the first page to get to the blank page where the note she left their father.

Dad,

Figured, why not.

"Welcome home Ms. Vanya. And you as well Ms. Ivanna." a male voice spoke up as he walked into the room.

Vanya looked up from her book and Ivanna turned her head to look at the Chimpanzee that had walked into the room.

"Pogo, so good to see you." Vanya tells him, giving him a hug.

"Ah yes, your autobiography." Pogo says, referencing the book.

"Do you know um…did he ever read it?" Vanya asks.

"Hmm…not that I'm aware of." Pogo tells her.

"How long has it been since Five disappeared?" Ivanna piped up.

Vanya and Pogo walked over to where Ivanna stood and looked up at the portrait of the missing boy.

"It's been sixteen years, four months and fourteen days." Pogo answered.

The twins gave the chimpanzee a look of surprise, not expecting an exact answer.

"Your father insisted I keep track." he tells them.

"You wanna know something stupid? I always used to leave the lights on for him. I was scared that he would come back, it would be late, and the house would be dark and he wouldn't be able to find us, so he'd leave again. So, every night I'd make a little snack and make sure all the lights were on." Vanya says, remembering the fond memory.

"Oh, I remember your snacks. I'm pretty sure I stepped in half of those peanut butter and marshmallow sandwiches." Pogo recalls.

Pogo then sighed, "Your father always believed that Number Five was still out there somewhere. He never lost hope." he tells them.

"And look at where that got him." Ivanna said.

Pogo gave a slight nod of his head before he walked out of the room. The twins took a seat on the couch and eventually the rest of their siblings joined them.

"Um…" Luther starts.

Klaus pours himself a drink at the bar in the back.

"I guess we should get this started. So, I figured we could have sort of a memorial service in the courtyard at sundown. Say a few words, just at Dad's favorite spot." Luther continued.

"Dad had a favorite spot?" Allison asked him.

"You know, under the oak tree. We used to sit out there all the time. None of you ever did that?" Luther asked them.

Klaus rounded the side of the couch, "Will there be refreshments? Tea? Scones? Cucumber sandwiches are always a winner." he says, standing beside Ivanna who was seated on the couch.

"What? No. And put that out. Dad didn't allow smoking in here." Luther chastises him.

"Is that my skirt?" Allison asks Klaus, noticing what he was wearing.

"What? Oh, yeah, this. I found it in your room. It's a little dated, I know, but it's very breathey on the bits." Klaus tells her, gesturing to his pelvis at the last part.

Allison made a face of disgust at what Klaus had suggested and Ivanna let out a chuckle at her brother's antics.

"Listen up. There are still some important things that we need to discuss, alright?" Luther says.

"Like what?" Diego asks in confusion.

"Like the way he died." Luther says as if it was obvious.

"And here we go." Diego says with a roll of his eyes.

The twins shared a look before looking back at their brother and Klaus plopped down on the couch beside Ivanna.

"I don't understand. I thought they said it was a heart attack." Vanya said.

"Yeah, according to the coroner." Luther says.

"Well, wouldn't they know?" Ivanna asked in partial confusion.

"Theoretically." Luther said.

"Theoretically?" Allison asked in disbelief, not believing her brother would doubt the professionals.

"I'm just saying, at the very least, that something happened. The last time I spoke to dad, he sounded strange." Luther says.

"Oh, quelle surprise!" Klaus said with his mouth full of his drink.

"Strange how?" Allison asks.

"He sounded on edge. Told me I should be careful who to trust." Luther tells her.

"Luther, he was a paranoid, bitter old man who was starting to lose what was left of his marbles." Diego says as he got out of his seat and approached his brother.

"No. He must've known something was going to happen." Luther argued.

He then turned his attention to Klaus, "Look, I know you don't like to do it but, I need you to talk to dad." he tells him.

Allison scoffed.

"I can't just call on dad in the afterlife and be like, "Dad, could you just…stop playing tennis with Hitler for a moment and take a quick call?"" Klaus says.

"Since when? That's your thing." Luther reminded him.

"I'm not in…the right frame of mind." Klaus says.

"You're high?" Allison asked him.

"Yeah! Yeah!" he says with a laugh.

"I mean, how are you not, listening to all this nonsense?" he questioned.

"Well, sober up. This is important." Luther tells him.

Klaus sighs.

"Then there's the issue of the missing monocle." Luther continued on.

"Who gives a shit about a stupid monocle?" Diego asked.

"Exactly. Its worthless. So whoever took it, I think it was personal. Someone close to him. Someone with a grudge." Luther says.

"Where are you going with this?" Klaus asked him in suspicion.

"Oh, isn't it obvious, Klaus? He thinks one of us killed dad." Diego tells him.

Klaus looks at Luther when he didn't protest the claim.

"You do?" He asked in disbelief.

"How could you think that?" The twins asked at the same time.

"Great job, Luther. Way to lead." Diego tells him with sarcasm in his tone, walking past him.

"That's not what I'm saying." Luther says.

"You're crazy, man. You're crazy. Crazy." Klaus says as he gets up from the couch.

He puts out his cigarette in the ashtray on the table beside the couch and the twins stood up from the couch too.

"I'm not finished." Luther states.

"Sorry, I'm just gonna go murder mom. Be right back." Klaus says sarcastically as he walked out the living room.

The twins followed him out and then went separate ways. Ivanna went upstairs and down the hall to her old room that she shared with her twin sister. It still looked the same as when they left it. She had begun to go through her old things that remained in the room, her old uniform in the closet when Tiffany's I Think We're Alone Now began playing from Luther's room. She closed the door to the closet and moved to go through Vanya's sheet music before allowing the melody of the song to move her, dancing in the room. She was enjoying herself when thunder rumbled and the music suddenly stopped. Ivanna stopped dancing when things began to break and some metal objects flew from where they sat to stick to an opposing wall. She left the room and dashed downstairs to join her siblings in the kitchen before walking out into the backyard with her siblings.

"What is it?" Vanya asked, looking up at the sky.

There was some kind of weird disturbance in the sky.

"Don't get too close!" Allison warns, pulling her twin sisters back by their arms.

"Yeah, no shit." Diego says.

"Looks like some kind of temporal anomaly. Either that or a miniature black hole. One of the two." Luther says.

"Pretty big difference there, Paul Bunyan." Diego tells him.

"Out of the way!" Klaus shouts as he shoved his way between his siblings.

"What are you-?" Luther began to question.

Klaus was carrying a fire extinguisher in his hands. He attempted to use it to extinguish the anomaly before he threw it at it, which made it disappear.

"What is that going to do?" Allison asked him.

"I don't know. Do you have a better idea?" Klaus asks her.

Some electricity crackled from the anomaly.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Everyone get behind me," Luther said, stretching his arms out in an attempt to shield his siblings.

"Yeah, get behind us." Diego says, pushing Klaus back.

"I vote for running, c'mon!" Klaus says.

Vanya held onto her sister's hand, looking at Ivanna with fear in her eyes but, they remained. She turned back to the blue anomaly in the sky and watched as some old guy seemingly became younger before he fell to the ground and the anomaly vanished. The six Hargreeves siblings approached the child on the ground and were surprised when he stood up.

"Does anyone else see little Number Five, or is that just me?" Klaus asks.

Five looks down at himself, taking in his own appearance.

"Shit." he says to himself.

The rest of the siblings stared at him in shock before they followed him back inside when he made his way past them. Five grabbed a butter knife and a cutting board that he sat down on the table in the kitchen.

“What’s the date? The exact date,” he asks, going to grab the remaining bread in its bag.

“The twenty-fourth.” Vanya answered him.

“Of what?” Five asked.

“March.” Ivanna tells him.

Five took a moment to look at his twin sisters, he would never admit it aloud but, he missed them.

“Good.” he says, setting the bag of bread down on the cutting board.

“So, are we going to talk about what just happened?” Luther asks him.

Five ignored his brother, pulling out two slices of bread and setting it down on the wooden cutting board. Klaus and Allison shared a look and Ivanna stared at her returned brother who looked the same as when he disappeared.

“It’s been seventeen years.” Luther says, getting up from the table.

Five scoffs, “Its been a lot longer than that.” he says before teleporting behind Luther.

“I haven’t missed that.” Luther said to himself.

“Where’d you go?” Diego asks.

Five picked up a bag of mini marshmallows of the shelf, “The future,” he answers before teleporting back over to the end of the table where he was going to make a sandwich.

“It’s shit, by the way.” he adds.

“Called it.” Klaus says.

“I should’ve listened to the old man.” Five started, walking over to the fridge.

“You know, jumping through space is one thing…” he trailed off, grabbing the jar of peanut butter and walking back over to the cutting board.

“Jumping through time is a toss of the dice.” he finished.

He unscrewed the peanut butter jar before setting it down and then he looked up at Klaus.

“Nice dress.” he tells him.

“Oh, well, danke.” Klaus says.

“Wait, how did you get back?” Vanya asks.

“In the end, I had to project my consciousness forward into a suspended quantum state version of myself that exists across every possible instance of time.” Five explained.

The five Hargreeves siblings shared a look of confusion with each other except for Ivanna who had spent some time doing research on the likes of time traveling and other things when Five had vanished.

“That makes no sense,” Diego said.

“Well it would if you were smarter,” Five remarks as he began to make his sandwich.

Diego immediately stands up but, Luther puts an arm out to stop him.

“How long were you there?” Luther asked.

“Forty-five years. Give or take.” Five answers.

Luther and Diego both sit back down in shock of the revelation.

“So what are you saying? That you’re fifty-eight?” Luther asks.

“No, my consciousness is fifty-eight. Apparently, my body is now thirteen again.” Five tells him.

“Wait, how does that even work?” Vanya asked in confusion.

“Delores kept saying the equations were off. Eh.” Five says before taking a bite out of his peanut butter and marshmallow sandwich.

He turned back around to face his family, “Bet she’s laughing now.” he says to himself.

“Delores?” Ivanna asked in confusion.

Five hummed in thoughtfulness before picking up the newspaper on the table with the article in the front talking about the death of Reginald Hargreeves.

“Guess I missed the funeral.” he says.

“How’d you know about that?” Luther asks.

Five makes a face at Luther, “What part of the future do you not understand?” he asked him.

“Heart failure, huh?” he then asks.

“Yeah,” Diego said.

“No,” Luther says immediately after.

“Hmm. Nice to see nothing’s changed.” Five says before going to leave the kitchen.

“Uh, that’s it? That’s all you have to say?” Allison calls after him.

“What else is there to say? Circle of life.” Five responded before walking out of the kitchen.

“Well…that was interesting.” Luther says.

The six siblings all got up from the table and parted ways again. The twins headed to the living room where they found Five, staring up at his portrait over the fireplace.

“Nice to know dad didn’t forget me.” he said, turning to the twins.

“Read your book, by the way. Found it in a library that was still standing.” he tells Vanya.

He walks around his twin sisters, taking in the grandness of the living room before turning back to them again.

“I thought it was pretty good, all things considered.” he tells her.

“Yeah, definitely ballsy, giving up the family secrets. I’m sure it wasn’t that hard to do when you had a good motivator by your side. I’m sure that went over well.” he continued.

“They hate us.” Vanya told him.

“Oh, there are worse things that can happen.” Five says.

“You mean, like what happened to Ben?” Ivanna asked him.

“Was it bad?” Five asks.

The twins only nodded their heads at the same time in silence, hating to remember that day. Five felt a bit guilty for having to bring up that bad memory for his siblings. The three of them eventually joined the rest of the siblings, as well as Grace and Pogo, to head back into the courtyard, everyone, but Luther and Diego, opened an umbrella to shield themselves from the rain.

“Did something happen?” Grace asks.

The siblings all looked to their mother, confused by her question.

“Dad died, remember?” Allison said.

“Oh. Yes, of course.” Grace then said sadly.

“Is mom okay?” Allison asked Diego.

“Yeah, yeah. She’s fine. She just needs to rest. You know, recharge.” Diego tells her.

Pogo took his place on the left side of Vanya, Ivanna standing on her right.

“Whenever you’re ready, dear boy.” he tells Luther.

Luther nodded his head before opening the urn that contained Reginald’s ashes. He poured it out and they all watched as it just fell to the ground in a pile.

“Probably would’ve been better with some wind.” Luther says.

“Does anyone wish to speak?” Pogo asks.

Nobody said anything, its not really like any of them had anything nice to say about the man except for Luther probably, who always tried to see the good in their father. But, he didn’t want to say anything.

“Very well. In all regards, Sir Reginald Hargreeves made me what I am today. For that alone, I shall forever be in his debt. He was my master…and my friend, and I shall miss him very much. He leaves behind a complicated legacy…” Pogo spoke.

“He was a monster.” Diego interrupted him.

Klaus laughs at his brother’s input.

“He was a bad person and a worse father. The world’s better off without him.” Diego continued.

“Diego,” Allison called his name in an attempt to chastise him.

“My name is Number Two. You know why? Because our father couldn’t be bothered to give us actual names. He had mom do it.” Diego says.

“Would anyone like something to eat?” Grace spoke up.

“No, it’s okay mom.” Vanya tells her.

“Oh okay.” Grace says.

“Look, you want to pay your respects? Go ahead. But at least be honest about the kind of man he was.” Diego says, stepping out of the line his siblings had formed and turned to look at all of them.

“You should stop talking now.” Luther tells him.

Diego turned around to face him, “You know, you of all people should be on my side here, Number One.” he says to him.

“I’m warning you.” Luther states.

“After everything he did to you? He had to ship you a million miles away.” Diego reminds him.

“Diego, stop talking.” Luther said firmly.

“That’s how much he couldn’t stand the sight of you!” Diego tells him.

The two of them began fighting, swinging punches at the other. Vanya pulls Grace back and Ivanna follows her.

“Boys, stop this at once!” Pogo commanded.

Klaus put his arm out and pushed Five back, only for the younger boy to slap his arm away. Luther managed to land a punch on one of Diego’s arms.

“Come on, big boy!” Diego taunted.

He dodged Luther’s swing and punched him in the stomach before repeatedly hit Luther’s back when he was bent over.

“Stop it!” Vanya called out.

“Hit him. Hit him.” Klaus cheered them on.

Diego and Luther continued to fight each other. They landed punches every now and then before Luther threw Diego to the ground. Diego immediately got up and went to swing at Luther who had caught his arm.

“Get off me!” Diego says, managing to pry his arm out of Luther’s grip by dodging when Luther attempted to bring his free hand down on his outstretched arm.

They continued to fight, panting from the energy they were using.

“We don’t have time for this.” Five says before walking away, to head back inside.

“Come here, big boy!” Diego taunts again.

He stood in front of Ben’s statue and Ivanna knew that wouldn’t end well. Luther let out a shout before going to swing at Diego, who dodged his punch. Luther’s fist was heading right for the statue when Ivanna stepped in the middle, attempting to block the attack and save Ben’s memorial. The force of the punch sent the girl to the ground, rendering her unconscious.

“Ivanna!” Vanya said in alarm as she dropped her umbrella and raced over to her twin sister, kneeling beside her unconscious form.

Luther looked down at his twin sisters, surprised that Ivanna had stepped in front of him when he swung before he turned to Diego. He began to approach his brother when Diego pulled out one of his knives.

“Diego, no!” Vanya yelled.

Ignoring her, Diego threw his knife at Luther, which he redirected to cut his arm through the coat he was wearing. Luther let out a gasp before quickly covering the wound, he was panting as he made his way inside. Allison helped Vanya get her twin sister off the ground before making their way inside too.

“You never know when to stop, do you?” Vanya asked Diego.

“You got enough material for your sequel yet?” Diego asks her.

“He was my father too.” Vanya reminds him.

She walked away with Allison as the two of them supported Ivanna’s unconscious weight together and back into the house. Allison helped Vanya get their sister on the couch before she left the two of them. Vanya waited by her twin’s side until she regained consciousness.

“Ugh…what happened? I feel like I got hit by a truck.” Ivanna said when she finally came to.

“I suppose you did in a way. What were you thinking? Getting in front of Luther like that? He could have seriously injured you.” Vanya tells her.

“I couldn’t let him smash Ben’s statue. Even if it is a poor resemblance of him.” Ivanna says.

Vanya helps her twin sister get up off the couch, “Well come on then. I called us a taxi. It’s time for us to return to our apartment.” she tells her.

The twins walk out of the living room and go to stand in the foyer as they waited for the taxi to arrive. Vanya popped one of her pills into her mouth and Ivanna tugged up the ends of her gloves. Footsteps approached them from behind and they turned around to face Pogo.

“Don’t waste your time. Diego’s right, we shouldn’t have come.” Vanya tells him.

“This is your home and always will be. Should I get you both a taxi?” Pogo reminds them before asking his question.

“I already called one, but thanks.” Vanya tells them.

A horn honks from outside.

“I guess that’s us.” Ivanna says.

“Uh…I hope you know your father loved the both of you very much. In his own way.” Pogo tells them.

“Yeah, well, that’s kind of the problem, isn’t it?” Vanya asked.

“Take care of yourself,” Ivanna tells Pogo as she turns to head out the door.

“You as well Miss Ivanna, and you too Miss Vanya.” Pogo calls out.

Vanya turned and followed her sister out of the house and into the taxi. Ivanna gave the directions to their apartment complex and the taxi set off. Once they arrived at the complex, the twins split the fare and paid the driver before exiting the vehicle and headed inside. The two of them headed up the stairs and through a door that opened up to a hallway. Their apartment was the first door on the right. Vanya pulled out the keys and unlocked the door before pushing it open. She goes to flick on the lights when the lamp was turned on.

“Jesus!” Vanya exclaimed in surprise.

Ivanna pushed past her twin to see Five sitting in one of their chairs.

“You should have locks on your windows.” Five says.

“We live on the second floor.” Vanya points out, setting the keys down.

“Rapists can climb,” Five comments off-handedly.

“You are so weird,” Vanya tells him, turning to shut the door behind her.

The twins move to take a seat on their couch, across from Five.

“Is that blood?” Ivanna asks, seeing a red smudge on the white collar of the shirt Five was wearing.

“It’s nothing.” he says dismissively.

“Why are you here?” Vanya asks him.

Five let out a sigh, “Because, I’ve decided that you are the only ones that I can trust.” he says.

“Why us?” Ivanna asks.

“Because you’re ordinary.” he answered.

The twins said nothing, hating to be reminded that they weren’t like their other siblings. Five felt a pang of guilt at the looks on their faces.

“Because you’ll listen.” he tells them.

“Okay,” Vanya said.

Ivanna got up from her place on the couch and walked into the bathroom. She opened up the medicine cabinet and grabbed gauze, medical tape and hydrogen peroxide. She returned to the living room and sat on the opposite side of Vanya, closer to Five. Said boy pulled up his right sleeve of the blazer to reveal a piece of bloody gauze and blood on his skin surrounding the bandage. Five removed the bloodied gauze and Ivanna wet a clean one with some hydrogen peroxide before carefully dabbing the wound.

“When I jumped forward and got stuck in the future, do you know what I found?” he asks them.

“No,” Ivanna answered.

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing. As far as I could tell, I was the last person left alive. I never figured out, what killed the human race but,…I did find something else. The date it happens. The world ends in eight days and I have no idea how to stop it.” Five tells them.

“I’ll put on a pot of coffee.” Vanya says, getting up from the couch.

Ivanna continued to clean up Five’s wound before getting another piece of gauze and placing it over the wound before using the medical tape to keep the gauze down. Five then pulled the sleeve of the blazer back down and looked at his sister with gratefulness in his eyes.

#the umbrella academy imagines #luther hargreeves #diego hargreeves #allison hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #five hargreeves #ben hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #ivanna hargreeves #vanya hargreeves imagines #the umbrella academy imagine #the umbrella academy fanfiction #tua imagines

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astoryinred · 3 years ago

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1, 3, and 15 for the fanfic writer's ask?

If you had to create a soundtrack for your story, what songs would you choose? Why?

- I have a playlist for the main pair: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2mViEpE7YXcVaKlXp0LrG1?si=c7483df8e2834ee9 and a sultrier version: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1E1eArIuupb9BFncU7A9yy?si=87c53fa59cae4def

I’m trying to well, keep it classier here. The songs have been used in other AMVs on youtube, or they just come from a place I recall. A place of idealistic yet rugged relationships. Where love somehow still makes it despite all the crap. Where it isnt love at first sight but love worthwhile.

If you had to direct a scene from your fic, what would you choose? Why? What would it look like? What techniques would you use to convey certain emotions? What would the set look like?

- One scene comes to mind which is Enjolras and Eponine meeting again in Venice. It’s such a colorful scene that I imagine being like ballroom scenes from Cinderella or even Phantom of the Opera, but that all fades out when the two finally see each other. I would have the camera/ viewpoint follow Eponine first as she makes her way up the stairs to the ballroom entrance. Everyone is vividly dressed but she is the only one in emerald green, and the only lady without a feather headdress or anything outlandish in her tresses. We see what she sees when she enters via the grand stairway, which is a sea of color and people milling about. Then we see her spot in the crowd Enjolras, who is wearing a specific shade of red and does not have his hat on. As she goes down the stairs to meet him, we then go to his point of view: his incredulous face as if he is not sure it is her there, then recognition as she pauses and he basically just drinks in the sight of her. The bright colors blur at this point, for she is all he sees or notices at that moment as they meet halfway. For a moment they look at each other as the ballroom seems to go still, and there is that beat of silence before she says, “I believe you weren’t expecting me.” Then we focus on his reply as he kisses her palm and zero in on their hands intertwined and Eponine’s smile as they continue to converse. Then the rest of the ballroom comes alive with people shocked at this interlude or shocked that they know each other.

Pick a previous relationship (or multiple) of your character’s. Explain how that/those impact the way they navigate their way through relationships now.

- I’d love to discuss Eponine and Marius’ relationship, or rather lack thereof. A lot of writers characterize Eponine as using Marius for a stand-in for the life she wants: safety, prosperity, romance, and glamor. This is very valid, but I think it’s more than that. Marius is a well meaning guy, but there is much he does not see about other people unless it is pointed out to him. In canon he consistently fails to see Eponine beyond the rags and dirt, or beyond being her father’s daughter. He fails to see her as more than a means to getting Cosette’s address. On the other hand, Eponine wants what Marius has (the wealth and the safety) but she also wants to be seen for what she is beyond her social station: a young woman who is clever, resourceful, with a capacity for learning, and worthy of being loved. Marius never quite sees this, even till when Eponine is shot at the barricade.

In this story they and their friends both live, and Eponine suffers through the humilation of being rebuffed by Marius rather coldly (even when Cosette and Valjean show her pity and compassion). She realizes that he will never truly see her as anything more than a shadow, or at best as a friend of friends. This does improve in later years, but for Eponine at 17 this is devastating. After coming to terms with Marius’ impending marriage to Cosette, Eponine has a subtle but noticeable shift of mind. Apart from striving to better herself and her brothers, she starts fighting in her own ways for visibility.

This is one reason she ends up rejecting Theodule, who merely wants to see her in a role he has expected her to fill. This is what helps draws her to Enjolras, who also grows and changes as he learns to see her as more than just the neighbor girl. What seals the deal for her is that she recognizes that he does not expect her to fulfill a specified role or even an ideal. He sees her in her everyday plainness: tangled hair, old clothes and mangled hand as she makes coffee at breakfast, and does not shy away from the sight. He sees her coming into her own as a writer and a leader, and does not feel his ego being bruised. Eventually this also allow her to see him as he is and not as an idol, but as a man in love with ideals and their country, and a person who loves deeply and has the courage to act on it.

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saladejin · 5 years ago

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Les Amoureux | Jungkook

Jungkook x Reader | theatre!au, musicals & singing | Fluff and crack, heavy use of musical theatre references

Summary: Your favourite backstage buddy tries his best to crack down on why you’re so attracted to stage actors, but he knows you’ve only got eyes for him in the end.

Warnings: None, having knowledge of some well-known musicals will make this more enjoyable though

Word Count: 2.3k (basically a drabble)

! ! ! READ BEFORE CONTINUING ! ! ! This one-shot has some references to a couple of musicals, and if you're not familiar with these then I'm afraid it might go over your head in some parts. The references are from the shows 'Phantom of the Opera' and 'Les Misérables', and I will leave a note at the end of which songs are included if you wish to listen for yourself. Otherwise, it probably won't make sense and won't be as enjoyable :/ I strongly urge you to listen to this song during the last part of the one-shot, or at least listen beforehand to grasp the dynamics and line exchanges: A Heart Full of Love (I fast-forwarded for you) *Request from my Ao3 series ‘Movie Night’.

“What is it about stage actors that you find so attractive?”

You lifted your head from where you were sewing up a hole in a costume, the frilly pink material bunching up around your hands until you could barely see where the needle was going. Your fellow crew member, Jeon Jungkook, had heaved himself up to sit on one of the nearby desks. Clearly, the poor boy was bored out of his mind.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” You smirked, eyeing him in a teasing manner while finishing off the costume repair swiftly.

The late-night musical you guys were helping backstage for had already begun twenty minutes prior, and after having nothing to do for another three songs, you had both ventured down towards the change rooms to get some work done in the meantime. Well, to be fair it was more like you had sought out the jobs while Jungkook just wanted to pass time in the company of his closest theatre friend.

“Surely you’re not blinded by those flashy costumes,” The dark-haired man scrunched his nose up in a playful cringe.

“Think harder, Jeon,” You chuckled at his antics, noticing the way he bounced his leg up and down while he thought. The energetic boy was dressed in all black just as you were, since it was a requirement of all crew members in order to remain unseen by the audience if they needed to be on stage at any point.

You couldn’t help your eyes from wandering along his impressive physique, all pressed up in a black high-necked skivvy and tight black jeans.

“Us crew guys work out just as much as those pretty boys do, probably even more. Plus, I hear the stylists complaining about the hair they have to deal with every night,” Jungkook continued to try and sway your mind, obviously getting a kick out of picking your brain and earning your mild reactions of laughter and amusement in return.

“You think your hair is much better?” You let out a single breath of bewilderment and tried to keep your widening smile at bay. He was too cute in the way his eyes widened and brows furrowed with mock offense, the man reaching a hand up to ruffle his soft looking brown tresses.

“What’s wrong with – hey I’m not done!”

You bit your lip to hold back an amused grin, proceeding to leave the room and make your way down the stairs to return the pink dress to the costume area. The sound of Jungkook’s clunky footsteps let you know he was following closely behind to continue his investigation.

“Oh, I get it.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, it’s the popularity. Being out in the spotlight. The fame and attention that comes with it,” He said in a matter-of-factly tone, and you could hear the playful bunny smile interwoven through his voice as he spoke.

“Is it? And how shallow do you think I am, Jeon?” You quipped, trying to ignore his warm breath brushing the back of your neck once you stopped to pull open the door. The light-hearted and joking attitude he adopted was so radiant, and you swore you would never get enough of his overwhelming charm and charisma.

You turned around after putting the dress down, lifting one finger to point and rest against the skin of your throat so he would catch the hint. Almost instantly, his head was thrown back as the epiphany struck, and a loud ‘ah!’ tumbled from his lips.

“Of course it’s the voice. God, I should’ve seen that from a mile away!” He groaned and met your eyes with his own sparkling coffee-brown ones. You could bet your last dollar that the cheeky guy already knew you had a thing for the stage actors with their beautiful voices and their strong dramatic acting, but he really did love to string you along and push all of your buttons.

“Get me a man who can sing his way to my heart,” You teased once more, knowing that he would instantly be thinking of what to do with this new information. You left him standing in the smaller costume room in his weird daze, wondering what else you could fix up before returning side stage to assist with the ongoing show.

A loud clutter sounded from the room you just left, and you felt a small stab of anxiety that someone would come down here and catch the two of you messing around (even though you were doing your best to be helpful at least), but you only exhaled in relief as Jungkook swept out of the small doorway with a flamboyance even your precious stage actors couldn’t rival.

You rolled your eyes at the goofball of a man in front of you.

“Not doing anything for you?” Jungkook hummed curiously, even though he knew exactly how little his little skit was ‘doing’ for you. Slowly, he peeled the extravagant Indian styled headdress from his dusty brown locks and eyed you with a newfound glint of amusement in his brightening doe eyes.

“Or….” He hummed lowly, eyeing you with a pointed gaze and a cheery lilt to his tone. “It’s not the voice, but rather the song.”

“What?” You felt your brows knit together in confusion.

“Show tunes, there’s not a woman in this world that could resist ‘em,” he continued, not phased in the slightest. You couldn’t help but let a warm feeling of fondness wash over you as he began singing softly. Though you appreciated any decent male vocalist, his voice in particular was your ultimate weakness in the end.

“Night time sharpens; heightens each sensation.”

“Jeon don’t you dare,” You grunted, knowing exactly where this was going. In the midst of the ongoing show upon the stage upstairs, the two of you were quite alone down in the change room area. While the sounds of thumping feet and cascading music echoed from above, you both only fixed your attention on one another.

Jungkook’s eyes gleamed as he left the first line of ‘Music of the Night’ hang in the air precariously, only moving to hide himself behind a rack of costumes a second later. From your seat on one of the makeup artist’s benchtop, you could just catch a tiny glimpse of a shaggy tuft of hair sticking up from behind the line of cloaks.

“You’re so lucky nobody’s-”

You cut yourself off as he rounded the edge of the rack from the other side, now wrapped in a dark midnight black cloak and lifting it to hide half his face. Just like the Phantom of the Opera himself.

“Silently the senses, abandon their defences!”

“Pfft… you’re such a dork,” You cackled and almost went toppling off the benchtop. He lifted one corner of his lips into a smirk and you felt your heart constrict at the sight. He was so charming, yet so silly. You didn’t know whether you wanted to smack him or kiss him right there in the room shrouded in shadow.

Wanting to humour him and his playful antics, you launched yourself off the bench and snatched a curly black wig from a nearby polystyrene head. You didn’t have a white dress, but you were sure he’d catch on.

“Angel of Music…Guide and guardian,” You sang through the various giggles falling from your lips. Your voice, though not terrible, could never match his stunning rendition of the two songs.

“Grant to me your glory~”

His eyes lit up at your eagerness, and he only got into character further by sidling up to you and stroking a delicate hand down the side of your face. The very picture of Christine and the Phantom themselves, you might say. With a dark glint in his eye, Jungkook looked like he was ready to sweep you off your feet, but the next sentence that graced your ears wasn’t what you were expecting to hear.

“Hmm, I don’t know… the words~”

With that you broke your façade and fell into his side, unable to hold back the laugh bubbling in your chest. “Here you are trying to woo me with show tunes, but you don’t know any!”

“Hey!” He gasped and retorted in protest, “I know plenty, thank you very much.”

“Where are they then?” You placed your hands on your hips with one eyebrow raised, knowing just how stupid you looked with the curly wig perched on your head, judging by the way the man in front of you was trying to stifle his shit-eating grin. He was looking rather funny himself with that massive black cloak hiding his entire body, enough so that only his head was poking out the top cutely.

“Um, hold on…”

You pursed your lips in amusement as he rushed away towards another costume rack. Not even wanting to know what he was doing, you stepped away and placed the scratchy wig back in its place.

“Master of the house, doling out the charm; ready with a handshake and an open palm!”

You whirled around to catch your hopeless counterpart as he threw a stained rag over one shoulder and started stumbling around as if in a drunken stupor. You couldn’t contain your peals of laughter at this point, it was all so hilarious and dumb that the show upstairs was all but forgotten. Jungkook found your amusement contagious and broke character almost immediately, watching you affectionately as he leaned against the wall for support.

“You know,” You sighed after coming down from your high, “Pretty much every song in that musical is depressing as fuck.”

The man smirked and made sure to leave the rag folded nicely on the nearest makeup bench, shaking his head roughly to try and get rid of any excess dust from the headdress he wore in the very beginning.

“Yeah, well ‘Les Misérables’ literally translates to ‘the miserable ones’. What can you expect? Help me out here,” He whined, faking an adorable pout while you once again suppressed your foolish smiling.

“I said pretty much every song, not all of them,” You cleared your throat. “You forget how many themes of love and romance are in there, Kookie.”

His eyes brightened at the sound of the nickname. It was rare for you to slip like this, as calling him by his last name or just ‘Jungkook’ was what stuck when you guys were hard at work at the theatre. Outside of that world, your walls would come down slightly and you’d grant him many nicknames and cute terms of friendly endearment. This time, however, your heart had somewhat betrayed you.

“Right,” He smiled softly, tearing his eyes away from you to sweep his hair off his forehead in a rush to clean up his messy act. To you, the movement was unfairly attractive, as it granted a great view of his arms and biceps through the long black sleeves of his shirt. All of a sudden, sweet dulcet melodies in the form of his voice graced your ears.

“A heart full of love…. A heart full of song.”

You almost melted on the spot at the way he sang the beautiful lines, wondering for a split second if they held any deeper meaning from the way his eyes had locked onto you so intensely. He was always like this, gaining such a gentle maturity when you least expected it. You eagerly returned his offer to duet, pushing yourself off the wall to meet him in the centre of the room.

“A heart full of love,” You laughed airily through the line. “No fear. No regret…”

“My name is Je-on Jungkookie,” He sang in a terrible French accent, almost breaking it with a chuckle when you laughed at his sneaky lyric change. It should’ve been ‘Marius Pontmercy’, a principal character from the show, but you let it slide and played along by switching your own line.

“And mine’s (Y/n).”

“(Y/n), I don’t know what to say,” Jungkook continued without fault, taking up your hands in his and giving you a slow spin around the empty space. You wanted to lose yourself in the feeling of his warm embrace and dainty fingers threading through your own.

“Then make no sound,” You almost whispered.

“I am lost,” He sang quietly, pulling you in close.

“I am found,” You leaned forward, feeling his warm breath brush your parted lips ever so slightly. If you both only had the soothing orchestra surrounding you as the scene played out, it would have been undeniably perfect; a tender moment caught in time.

“Do I dream?” He breathed after a few seconds had gone by, almost as if forgetting himself within the song. Your faces were inches apart, and you would’ve forgiven him for skipping an entire verse if he would only close the space between you, a gap you so often wanted gone the more time you spent together like this.

His gentle hands swept your loose strands of hair behind your ear as his doe eyes fluttered shut, leaning closer and closer.

You were ready to finally let him have his way with you, the taste of those pretty lips which were so often stretched into a smile around his adorable bunny-like teeth were right there, but the sound of loud trumpets and thundering footsteps echoing from above pulled you away from his minty scent.

That sounds like…

“Shit, we missed our cue!”

His eyes blew wide and your breath hitched in panic.

Then you were flying up the stairs like there was no tomorrow. Your breathless stream of apologies to the poor people that had to fill in for you seemed to never end, and you felt the guilt eating you up from the inside as you and your pesky crewmate stood rigidly side by side next to the stage manager’s desk.

“Am I irresistible yet?” Jungkook murmured while letting his elbow nudge your arm. It was hard to see due to dark lighting, but you could easily make out the man’s knowing smirk and the gleam in his impish gaze.

“Take my cleaning duty for the week, Jeon, and I’ll think about it.”

Songs included (I fast-forwarded to the timestamps for you guys):

Phantom of the Opera: 'Music of the Night' - Jungkook sings the first line/s 'The Mirror (Angel of Music)' - You sing this Les Misérables: 'Master of the House' - Jungkook sings this line 'A Heart Full of Love' - linked in the beginning notes -------------------------------------------------------------------- A/N- Hope this was somewhat okay. I love musicals so it kind of ran away from me, and I know that not many people probably share this love or knowledge of them. I'm so sorry T-T Copyright © 2020 by salade. All rights reserved

#jeon jungkook #jungkook #BTS jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook crack #musicals #one-shot #phantom of the opera #les miserables #reader insert #this is so cringeworthy i'm sorry #i truly am #this happened out of nowhere #please dont judge me #lol

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ladyanaconda · 4 years ago

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Irken of the Opera

After those doodles I made, i couldn’t help myself. I HAD to make this!

Just so you know, though, this won’t be like my other fics following a linear plot. I’ll just be posting one-shots without any particular as they come without chronological order.

Enjoy!

-IZ-

Tenn poured her heart into her voice as she sang. Her song’s melodic tones echoed throughout the auditorium, captivating her audience. The glitter and satins in her dress’s lavender fabric almost seemed to glow under the white spotlight. Her hands delicately moved along with her singing in perfect synchrony, conveying more emotion into her performance.

As the music reached an inevitable crescendo, Tenn knew the cue that the performance was near the end and followed it with her voice until it culminated with a powerful note.

Tenn returned to the real world just in time to see her public clap their hands loudly and get to their feet in a standing ovation, all of them cheering as roses and exotic flowers landed at her feet. Tenn delicately lifted the gown of her dress and curtsied in gratitude before she elegantly made her way backstage, still hearing the echoes of her adoring public.

It didn't end there, though. All around her, the dancers, chorus girls and workers clapped their hands. Tenn strode through the corridor and towards her dressing room, proudly glancing at her carved name in the door before stepping inside and closing it behind her.

Tenn’s dressing room was spacious and fancy, and as always, it was filled to the brin with flower bouquets, chocolates and many other lavish gifts from secret admirers. While Tenn accepted the gifts out of courtesy, she refused any advances anyone made.

She had no time for silly romance, not now when her career is at its peak.

With a relieved huff, Tenn quickly removed the layers of makeup and changed into a more simple dress to relax. She loves to sing, but finds all the costume wearing and dressing up far too stressful. Letting herself fall into the couch, Tenn closed her eyes for a few moments to clear her head.

Bravo! You did spectacularly, my dear Tenn!

Tenn didn’t open her eyes. She merely smiled a bit as her unseen, maybe imaginary mentor praised her, just like after every performance. While she remembered her father’s tales of the Angel of Music quite fondly, she was far too old to believe in fairy tales.

”Miss Sakhak?” Tenn raised her lekku. That voice wasn't an hallucination.

”Come in.” Tenn said, not moving from her spot even after the door opened and a tall Irken with crimson eyes stepped inside.

”Exhausted?” he asked.

”What makes you think that? The fact that I am trying to nap?”

”No offense, but you are quite predictable.”

”What do you want, Red?” Tenn asked impatiently.

”I wanted to congratulate you on tonight’s performance. You blew them all away, as always!” Red said, smiling a bit. ”I don't know who your tutor is, but he certainly did a good job!”

Tenn sighed. She wasn't sure of who had provided her with singing lessons; all she remembered was an Irken dressed in a black cape in her dreams, but a figment of her imagination doesn’t exactly count.

“Whoever he is, he is a great teacher.” she said simply. Red gave her an odd look, but said nothing on the matter.

“Anyhow, if you need a break, Spork is willing to give you a free night tomorrow. Tak could perform the lead in Mausk.”

“She’s back? Last time I heard, she threw another fit and left after a sandbag fell on top of her head.”

Red shrugged. “You know Tak, she hates when the spotlight is on top of anyone that isn’t her.”

Tenn chuckled. Tak is perhaps the only person she considered a worthy rival, but all her talent is wasted in her self-serving attitude and smeetish tantrums when things didn’t go her way. But in a way, Tenn was grateful; if it weren’t for her fits, she wouldn’t have had the lead in tonight’s performance.

“Okay, then. I could use the free time for myself.” Red nodded.

“Very well, then. I shall inform Spork in a while. Meanwhile, you’re free to go home for the day. You deserve it.”

Thanking Red again as he left her dressing room, Tenn shifted on her couch. She’d go home, alright, but first she’d take a small nap. She wouldn't like to fall asleep on the wheel. Better late than never, after all. Besides, it’s not like there was anybody waiting for her back home, anyway.

-IZ-

Once he delivered instructions and sent most of the dancers and workers home for the day, Red went to his usual spot in the rafters and lit up a small cigarette. It’s supposed to be forbidden, but everyone’s gone home, so it’s not like he’s bothering anyone right now.

Besides, it’s not like Spork was roaming around like security; he’d rather lock himself inside his office and not come out.

His lekku twitched when the metal planks behind him creaked. “You’re losing your edge, Pur.”

The shadow behind him chuckled.

“Ah, Red. You heard me because I wanted you to. Otherwise I’d already be next to you before you even blinked.”

Red looked back at his companion. A tall Irken of his stature clad in a black vest and cloak; one might think he was his twin, except his eyes were a shade of purple instead of bright crimson. The defining feature, however, was the white half-mask his companion wore at all times, concealing the right side of his face from view.

He’s got many names: The Phantom, Opera Ghost, murderer, Angel of Music, but Red knew his real name.

Purple.

“How’s Miyuki?”

“She’s coming back to work next week.” Red smiled a bit. “We had a little girl. Her name is Ilk.”

“One of these days, you should bring her. I’d like to meet her.”

“I will if you can spend the whole week without throwing the chandelier on top of the audience.”

“Hey, you should thank me for that! Thanks to that incident, Spork gave you your job back!” Purple countered. “Besides, the only person who got hurt was the guy who was supposed to replace you.”

Red sighed. He kind of felt bad for that poor fella; it wasn’t his fault. Spork had gone against Purple’s will and fired Red, and Purple retaliated by frightening his replacement in an exaggerated manner. The guy didn’t die, but he quit as soon as he could speak again.

Red didn’t hate Spork perse, but he’s been coveting his manager status for a good while now. Spork wasn’t fit for the job: he merely shouted orders without fully understanding them, all he cared about is to fill in his pockets. All the workers and performers feared him, but didn’t truly respect him.

Red’s the one that takes charge and makes sure everything runs smoothly for each performance. He’s the one everybody looks up to for guidance when there’s a crisis or a clash between stars.

“Miss Sakhak did a spectacular job tonight, didn’t she?” Purple said, tenderly caressing the petals of a blue rose. “She sings like a chorus of songuans from the Imperial Palace.”

“Indeed. Not even Tak can hold a candle to her.”

“That’s because I’m a great teacher!” Purple chimed. Red frowned.

“I thought we had talked about spying on people.”

“Come on, nobody knows about that. Besides, you know there’s only one person I’m interested in.” Purple looked down at the rose.

“Indeed. Anyhow, do you have any notes this time?”

Purple looked inside his pocket and took out a black envelope, which he placed in Red’s open hand. “Make sure that he reads it tonight.”

“Don’t worry, he’s learned to take any notes from you seriously.”

“Is Miss Sakhak in her dressing room?”

Red turned to his companion. “...What are you going to do?”

Purple sighed and ran his hand over his head. “I think it’s time I actually introduce myself, Red. I’m taking her down to my lair.”

“Pur, are you sure you don’t want to just ask her out like normal people do? I mean, I’m not sure she’ll take it kindly that you just whisk her off underground and hold her there against her will.”

“It’ll only be for a few days until she gets to know me better.”

“She can do that on an actual date.”

Purple tensed up, averting his gaze. “Right, and where do you suggest I take her? I mean, it’s not like I know my way around the city, and besides people would stare at my face…”

“Pur, I still believe you’re being a bit too drastic. How do you think she’s going to react if you take her underground against her will?”

“I got it covered.” Purple said.

Red had the feeling that he was lying, but shrugged it off.

“Just a favor. At the very least make it look like she left home, otherwise Spork is going to have my head.”

Purple tipped his hat and disappeared into the shadows, his long cape flowing behind him.

Red sighed. Why do I have the feeling I’m going to regret this?

-IZ-

Tenn wasn’t sure of how much time she slept. When she woke up again, there was a long silence outside. Everyone must have gone home, even Red. Tenn looked up at her electric clock, which marked 01:19. Yup, it was very late. She better go home.

As she grabbed her coat and headed for the door, she heard something.

Tenn….

The irkenette looked around. Who said that? She warily reached out for the knob, but found her door locked.

“What in Irk?” Tenn battled with the door's handle, trying to force it open.

Don’t be frightened, my angel. I won’t hurt you. Come to me…

At some point, Tenn lost motion of her surroundings. The voice’s mysterious charm was captivating and familiar, calling her towards the mirror like a siren song she couldn’t resist, as hard as she tried.

I am your angel of music. Come to me, angel of music.

The lights in her dressing room suddenly became dimmer and the atmosphere turned colner. Tenn shivered at the sudden drop in temperature and rubbed her forearms.

She soon found the reason why: she wasn’t in her dressing room, but she wasn’t in the corridor either. Instead, Tenn found herself in a dark, dimly illuminated corridor. Tenn sneezed at the strong smell of musk and humidity.

And in front of her was a tall Irken clad in a black cape. She couldn’t see him clearly, except for the violet eyes glowing in the darkness

“Who are you?” She asked warily.

“As you can see, I’m no ghost or spirit.” the Irken said in a gentle voice, taking a step closer. “I am-”

“Stay away!” Tenn yelled, stepping back.

“Hey, calm down, I’m just-”

Ignoring him, Tenn tried to go back the way she came, but the secret door had closed shut. She pounded on the door with all the strength she could muster. “Somebody!”

“Tenn-!”

“HELP! REDDOK, TAK, ANYONE!”

Tenn panicked when she felt the stranger place a piece of cloth over her mouth. Desperate, she nailed at his arm, but soon her strength faded away as she saw black holes in her vision.

The last thing she saw before slipping into unconsciousness was a white mask and those violet eyes looking down at her.

#invader zim #invader zim fanfiction #almighty tallest #almighty tallest red #almighty tallest purple #invader tenn #iz tenn #The Phantom of the Opera #phantom purple #phantom of the opera crossover #PurpleAndInvaderTennRomance #PurplexTenn #romance #humor #one-shot #iz au #invader zim au

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fandom-imagines-stories · 5 years ago

Text

Halloween Heist

Peter Parker x Reader

Words: 3229

Summary: You use your sleuthing skills to track a string of robberies in your neighborhood. Enlisting in the help of your boyfriend- and secret superhero- Peter Parker, the two of you discover a plot to attack a charity ball full of New York’s richest on Halloween night.

Notes: I am so so so sorry that this is so late. I really wanted to get this out on Halloween, but a lot was going on in my life and I just couldn’t write. I’m really hoping to get some Christmas imagines out to make up for it! (P.S., I couldn’t find if Pepper change her name to Stark, but I went ahead and put that in)

You anxiously watched the clock, the seconds ticking by painfully slow as your teacher droned on. You sprung up before the bell even had time to ring and bolted out the door. The halls filled with students eager to go home for the weekend- more so than most. Tomorrow was Halloween.

“Woah, where’s the fire?” A voice behind you asked with amusement, fingers lacing through yours. You pulled your phone out of your pocket and showed him the article you were reading.

“There was another robbery this afternoon. This one was at the jewelry store down the block from my dad’s apartment.” You pulled him down the hall, weaving in between students and making your way towards the door. “They’ve escalated their targets.”

“What’s your favorite scary movie?” A voice whispered from behind the two of you. He was holding his arm over your head and made a stabbing motion. The boy took off the mask and grinned.

“Hey man.” Peter greeted nervously. Robbie gave Peter a dirty look before turning a creepy stalker smile on you. “I heard that you’ve been looking into those missing backpack cases with the security team-”

“I really can’t talk now, Robbie. I’ll see you on Monday.” You waved him off and Peter wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

“He gives me the creeps.” Peter shuttered. You shrugged.

“He’s harmless.” Robbie was one of the kids that grew up during the Blip. He’d always had a crush on you when he was a kid, but now he was your age and he wouldn’t leave you alone, even though he knew you and Peter were together. You weren’t worried about him, though. You had bigger fish to fry.

You took the subway back to your neighborhood. You loved the rattling cars and the silent agreement between occupants not to make eye contact. Peter thought it was too crowded, but it was your favorite time to observe the people around you. From the man drumming on the railing to the woman hiding a cat in her sweatshirt, you found every person fascinating.

Once your feet once again hit the pavement, you quickly found the scene of the crime. The front window was shattered and cases of jewelry had been ransacked. You took a step closer, but the hand holding yours pulled you back.

“Y/N, I really think you should leave this kind of thing to me.” Peter suggested. It’s not that he thought you weren’t capable of taking care of yourself, but after everything he’d been through that year… to say he worried was an understatement.

“I’ve been tracking these guys for months, Peter. Once we find them, you can kick their asses with those spidey powers, deal?” You gave him a quick kiss before sneaking across the street to get a better look. If your suspicions were correct, they would have left their calling card in the center of the store. With no officers in sight, you climbed through the window, your eyes scanning the ground for the little white note.

“What are you doing? Someone could see us!” Peter exclaimed.

“Shhhh.” You hissed, finally spotting the paper. You pulled a glove out of your backpack and picked it up.

“Why do you even have those?”

“Peter.” You shot him a look and he remained quiet while you read the note. “Oh my God.” Each time they left a calling card, they left some kind of hint of where their next hit was going to be, but it was never enough for the local police to figure it out before it happened. But looking at the photograph, information clicked inside your brain, giving you every clue. The police wouldn’t have made the connection, but they’d made the note for you, waiting for you to come and find them.

“What is it?” Peter asked, trying to look over your shoulder and keep an eye on the door.

“It’s me.” You lifted up the photograph of you standing in front of a large ballroom, dressed in a princess gown your mother had made you wear for Halloween when you were eight. “I know where they’ll be next.”

The annual Halloween Gala was hosted and attended by New York’s elite. This year was particularly important since it was being held in honor of the late Tony Stark. Peter had even been invited by Pepper as a special guest. You knew how important it was to him.

“Have these guys killed anyone?” Peter asked anxiously, although he knew the answer. He just didn’t want to hear it.

“Not at their latest job.” You answered, running a hand down your face. “But their second robbery, the one at the bank in Manhattan, they killed one of the tellers.” Peter passed back and forth across your room, the base of all your sleuthing.

“I have to stop them.” His stammered. Whenever he started to freak out, his voice was slightly higher than usual. “Mrs. Stark is going to be there and I can’t let anything happen to her-”

“Okay, first of all, I’m pretty sure that Rescue is going to be just fine,” You gave him a reassuring smile and stood in front of him to make him stop moving, “And secondly, we’re going to stop them.” He made a face.

“You aren’t coming. It’s too dangerous.” You raised your eyebrows.

“You’re kidding, right?” You scoffed. “I’m so not missing this. You were taking me as a plus one anyway.” He shook his head.

“They used your picture as the clue. They obviously have you as a target.”

“Which is exactly why I need to be there.” You argued. You were not about to let him go all lone hero on you now. “I’m going and not even Spider-Man is going to stop me.” He gave you the look with his big brown eyes, sad and soft. You shouldn’t have snapped at him. “Peter…” You sighed, putting a hand on his arm when he moved to leave. “I’m sorry. I just can’t let this go until those guys are put away.” After a moment, he put his hand on top of yours, pulling it up to his lips.

“I know.” He held your hand against his cheek and neither of you said anything for a while. You’d both been through a lot since you came back from wherever the hell you went for five years, Peter especially. Maybe busting things bastards was just a way of reminding yourself that you were back. That you wouldn’t be snapped away again.

“Why don’t we watch a movie?” You suggested. “Since we’ll be spending Halloween drinking mocktails and catching bad guys.” He shot you a look. “What?”

“You always want to watch scary movies though,” He whined.

“It’s Halloween, dummy.” You giggled. “Of course we’re watching a scary movie.” You reached for your movie shelf, your hand wavering over a few of your horror favorites like Halloween and Scream. Peter pulled you back.

“Why can’t we watch a fun Halloween movie? Like Hocus Pocus?”

“Because we’ve already watched it five times this month.” You laughed, putting Nightmare on Elm Street in the DVD player. “Don’t worry,” You grinned, “I’ll protect you.” You pulled his lips to yours and turned off the lights. Neither of you paid much attention to the movie anyway.

The extravagant white dress billowed around you as you got out of the car. Once Pepper knew that you were coming with Peter, she helped you pick your costumes and she insisted on paying for them. Since it was a formal event, you decided on Christine and The Phantom from your favorite musical The Phantom of the Opera. Pepper didn’t realize that you would be pursuing a group of ruthless bank robbers in a $3,000 dollar ball gown. Peter stood in the hotel lobby, his pearly white mask glistening in the light of the chandelier. He was wearing a tux with a long black cape, concealing his Spider-Man suit underneath.

“Wow.” He said breathlessly, eyes wide as they traveled over the shimmering fabric. “You look… wow.” You couldn’t help but smile and you kissed the cheek that wasn’t covered by the mask. You laced your arm through his and a pair of hotel employees dressed as knights opened the doors to the ballroom.

It was like a scene from a movie. There were red banners lining the walls and meticulously detailed carved pumpkins placed on every step of the long, dramatic staircase. Costumes ranged from Medusa to King Arthur. Somewhere in the bustle of people whose shoes cost more than your whole apartment stood a familiar face framed with strawberry blond hair. Pepper’s dress was a backless, silky blue gown.

“You two look incredible.” She beamed, pulling you into a hug.

“So do you.” You replied, trying to keep your jaw from dropping.

“Oh this?” Her lips tugged up into a small smile. “I found it in an old box… I’m surprised it still fits.” There was a look in her eye that told you more than she could have said.

“You look really really great, Mrs. Stark.” Peter chimed in. She put a hand on his arm.

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Pepper?” The band had already begun to play some classic Halloween tunes, but there was still no sign of the robbers.

“We look pretty suspicious just standing here.” Peter observed and spun you outwards, causing you to laugh. “We might as well dance.” The band started to play “I Put a Spell On You” and the two of you jived along, laughing at each other’s strange dancing techniques. You almost forgot why you were there.

A sharp cracking sound sent Peter’s body rigid. You look up to see the chandelier crashing down towards you, shards of glass reflecting your screaming face as Peter grabbed you, ducking out of the way just in time. The entire crowd froze, gasps and screams filling the air. All other light sources dimmed and a projection appeared on the far wall.

“Now that we have your attention,” A voice boomed. A man appeared on the projection. His face was hidden with a cheap, plastic Iron Man mask. You saw Peter’s expression harden. Through the dark, you could see Pepper clutch the metallic necklace around her neck. “I would like to welcome you all to the first-ever Halloween auction. All the proceeds will be going to, well, me.” The crowd made a break for the doors, but everyone was locked with a blinking device. “Trying to leave would not end well for any of us.” The masked man laughed.

“What do you want?” Some frightened woman yelled.

“I want her.” His voice dropped to a growl. A look of confusion went around the room. No one knew what he meant but you and Peter. He grabbed your hand. “All of this is for you.”

“What is he talking about?” Peter whispered. You had no idea.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” The camera shifted, revealing two of the other thieves, both wearing the same plastic masks. They stepped to the side and Pepper let out a cry.

“Morgan!” She shrieked, pushing her way to the front of the room. The little girl sat in a metal chair, handcuffs cuffing her ankle to one of the bars. You and Peter frantically raced to join Pepper at the front. “Leave her alone!”

“A single door has been left open. Only she will go through it. If anyone else tries to leave, we’ll level the building.” The projection shut of and the room went into a panic. Everyone was trying to figure out what he meant. Others called the police. But you knew that Morgan would be dead before they got here if you didn’t do something. You stepped forward, but you didn't get very far.

"What are you doing?" Peter hissed, keeping your hand locked in his.

"It's Morgan." You said, your determination overshadowed by your fear. Pepper shook her head, but you knew she would do anything for her daughter. You slowly slipped your hand out of Peter’s and pushed through the open door.

The hallway was dark except for a red light placed beside the elevator. Old Halloween decorations littered your path, from broken plastic skeletons to styrofoam gravestones. You pushed the button on the elevator and tried not to scream when a bloody mask mounted on the wall greeted you. This time it was Spider-Man.

“Come to the roof.” The same morphed voice boomed through the elevator speakers. You shakily pressed the button. You felt ridiculous, standing there in that gigantic dress as the elevator took you up to meet your fate. The floor numbers ticked by above your head until they reached the roof.

It was one of those hotels that had a pool overlooking the city and the water glistened in the moonlight.

“Y/N?” A small voice called out to you from across the pool.

“Morgan.” You stepped out of the elevator and heard the click. You kept your head down as a bucket poured the warm red liquid splattered over you. Morgan started to cry.

“What’s your favorite scary movie?” The whisper was too close to your face and you jumped away. You tried to keep a tough face and faked a confident smirk.

“You’re mixing your references. The blood pouring is from Carrie.” Just looking at Iron Man’s face made your heart rate pick up. “I have to applaud your execution though.”

“All of this has been for you.” He shrugged, the voice changer in his mask turning off. You knew that voice. What’s your favorite scary movie?

You stumbled back, trying to put as much distance between you and him as possible while trying to get closer to Morgan.

“Robbie?”

“I gave you quite the story to chase, didn’t I?” His eyes were wide with a wild excitement that terrified. “All I had to do was pay a couple of thugs to help me rob a few places and I had you chasing after me.”

“All of those robberies, that person you killed…” You gulped, “That was for me?” He nodded and laughed, and your heart raced even more. You had to keep your mind focused. You had to get Morgan out of there. “W-why did you take her?”

“I had to make sure that you would come alone… Spider-man.” He had a giant grin on his face, as if he had won a prize. This took you back.

“What?”

“Don’t play dumb, Y/N. I know your secret.” He grabbed a piece of fabric from his pocket. “I found this in your bag a couple of months ago.” It was a torn piece of Peter’s suit that you had from when he came to your apartment after a fight with a couple of street thugs. He was okay, but his suit had been cut in a few places. How could you have been so stupid as to leave it in your backpack?

The pig’s blood was starting to irritate your skin and Morgan was getting more restless. You needed to keep him away from her.

“Alright, so you know.” You stood up straighter, trying to seem convincing while you kept him on the opposite side of Morgan. “Why go through all of this?”

“Because we could make the ultimate team!” He exclaimed as if it was obvious. “And you would finally ditch that creep Peter Parker and be with someone of your own standard.”

“So you decided to start robbing banks and jewelry stores? And kidnap Tony Stark’s daughter?” You scoffed.

“It was the only way to get you here tonight.” He shrugged with an eerily happy sigh. “And now we can say that we caught the bad guys together. That they had you on the ropes, but a new hero, The Night Owl appeared just in time.” He spoke as if he were reading a comic book.

“Not gonna lie, Night Owl is a terrible superhero name.” A voice said from above you. Robbie looked up just as the real Spider-Man’s foot nailed him in the face. Robbie barely had time to recover before he pushed him back into the pool. Peter turned to you. “Are you okay?” He held out his hand and you tried to wipe the blood off your hands before you took it.

“How did you get out?” You wondered as the two of you rushed over to Morgan.

“Happy showed up with the bomb squad.” He explained, his voice turning soft as he spoke to Morgan. “Did the bad guys hurt you?” He asked, snapping off the handcuffs. She jumped into his arms.

“I’m okay.” She answered. He picked her up, but when you turned around, a group of three more men in masks stood in front of you, a furious, and wet, Robbie standing with them.

“You don’t get to ruin my plans yet!” He shrieked.

“There’s nowhere to go, Robbie.” Peter warned. “The cops are on their way up now.” He held Morgan close, keeping her head down.

“I was so convinced that it was you, Y/N.” Robbie seemed to pretend that Spider-Man wasn’t there. “But that doesn’t matter. All we have to do is get rid of the real one.” The three men started to move towards you and Robbie pulled out a gun. If he missed Peter, he would hit Morgan.

“Stop it.” You ordered, putting yourself in front of her. “You can’t be a hero after being a villain Robbie.”

“Every hero is someone else’s villain, Y/N.” He shrugged. The three thugs drew nearer and Peter gently set Morgan down behind him, preparing to fight. They attacked all at once, one taking your arms and shoving you back and the other two going after Peter. As you stumbled back, your foot caught on your dress. In a whirlwind of red stained fabric, you toppled over the edge of the roof.

“Y/N!” Peter shouted, trying to fight off the two men to get to you, but it was too late. Morgan started to cry again.

“You’ve ruined everything!” Robbie shouted. “Grab the girl! We can still make something of this disaster.” But as one of the men reached for Morgan, the whooshing sound of propulsors cause him to freeze.

“Don’t. Touch. My. Daughter.” Rescue soared up to the roof, her mask lifting to show Pepper’s seething face. In her metal-clad arms, was you.

“Hell man, I’m not dealing with two superheroes.” The man exclaimed, scurrying off, quickly followed by the other two. Pepper landed, putting you back on your feet and took her daughter into her safe arms.

“Oh my god.” Peter swept you up as quickly as you’d been put down. “I thought- when you- I didn’t… don’t ever go into scary doorways alone ever again.”

“Wait a second,” Robbie muttered. “You’re cheating on Peter with Spider-man?” The police burst through the doors before he could make any further revelations. He called out for you as they dragged him away, but you kept your face buried in Peter’s chest, your stomach still doing somersaults from the fall. He lifted up your chin to look at him, taking off his mask once the coast was clear.

“Hey,” His voice was calming and his smile turned to boyish excitement. “Let’s go get some candy.”

#halloween in november #spiderman #marvel imagines #peter parker x reader #tom holland #pepper potts #morgan stark #better late than never i guess

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