#TW: SELF SLANDER | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

razzle-n-dazzle · 2 months

Note

I just read some of your works and god do you write good better than the actual show I would even say.

I really want to request a Yandere headcannon for mainly Ozzie and Fizzarolli they don’t get enough love as they do, but with a little twist

Whichever you choose I would love either one you pick cause im indecisive.

1: a powerful reader maybe even more stronger than Ozzie being lovers with the two

Or 2: a chubby but physically strong reader that could lift Ozzie with ease as example

If you do see this I hope you consider writing this, you have such a lovely writing style and I would love to see what you cook up

Also call me 🥟-anon if you will cause I hope to request and talk more

ᯓ★ Murder is Okay, Shutting Us Out Isn't. Yandere! Asmodeus & Fizzarolli / Overlord! Reader | Oneshot TW! - READ AT YOUR OWN RISK: romanticizing yandere(s), obsessive behavior, def not proof read (because we die like Adam in this household /j), Vox (/j), boner mention (no sexual content), self harm, yelling, possessive

ᯓ I actually loved both ideas you gave me, so I'm going to mash then both together into one! For that, I'm going to give you all a little crash course into the background for the Reader (you) in this story so things make a little more sense: The reader, though an Overlord, is both physically and magically stronger than Ozzie, though doesn't show it off often. Also, this happened due to their mix of blood; The reader is the child of an an old overlord and a Sin (I'm going for Wrath in this story) and had gained the physical strength from their overlord mother and the magical strength from their Sin father. With this they're able to be known as the Wrathful Overlord, or 'The child and will of Wrath', though Satan doesn't claim them to be his own and has no interest to. Also, no the Reader isn't stronger than other Sins, just Ozzie for this case. Since Ozzie is claimed to be the weakest (or one of the Weaker) Sin that we currently know of, the Reader is matched right around his level. Yet they, much like Alastor, cannot beat other Sins or even Adam, as even with their strengths, are set back by the rather large power difference. So with that out of the way, please enjoy!:

ᯓ You had been living with Ozzie and Fizz for a few months, silently having moved away from your district on the Eastern side of the Pride Ring after their proposal. While it was not uncommon for love to bloom in hell, even with the eternal suffering or the large amount of (usually) taboo topics being put on display down here, you were still not big on having your private life being posted for all of hell to see. Especially those in the Pride Ring, where you were sure Vox would take any chance to slander and drag your name in the mud for having a 'blasphemous' relationship. And really, you didn't feel like cleaning up the blood of another Sinner. Oh no, not because you killed them. Dear, Lucifer god no! Why do that when you had two perfect body guards at your beckon and call?

ᯓ "Honestly, I don't even understand how there can be blasphemy down here. It's hell, God is not watching what we do and I pity him if he did." You would mutter, leaning against the kitchen counter, watching News 666 on your cellphone silently with Fizz; Who had became curious open hearing the news topic and bounded over, wrapping his snake-like arms around your waist twice. He squeezed you a little tight, yet you didn't mind, especially when his head was rested upon your shoulder. You could practically see the growing smirk on his lips before he even spoke, "You know everything we do down here is blasphemes right? That's why we're in Hell, not Heaven. I mean the murder, the sex, the gr-" Though Fizz's little list was caught off short as you hushed him, pressing a quick finger up against his lips.

ᯓ Ozzie was cooking in the background, occasionally taking peaks behind him to make sure you nor Fizz were doing anything stupid; Like trying to cook despite knowing neither of you could do so. It was always a nice gesture until Ozzie has to get the kitchen repaired... again. "And this in, News 666 and it's broadcasting will be disturbed quickly for a message from The fucking V's themselves." Katie Killjoy would crack her neck to the side, seeming oh so annoyed at the interruption. You were too, and Fizz didn't miss the way your face scrunched. "You know Tom, their news isn't even repu-" Katie tried to shout before their segment was cut off, their news source becoming engulfed in The V's logo before the man of the hour, Vox himself, overtook the screen. Him and his snicker, you knew this couldn't be good.

ᯓ Vox never hit the air unless he knew something, unless he wanted something to happen, unless this was his calculated and curated response to something.

ᯓ And the last time that happened, Alastor wiped the floor with him.

ᯓ Fizz drew away from your shoulder a little, his eyes narrowing at your growing irritation before he glanced back towards Ozzie, who already had his arms crossed in confusion. Sure, they've heard about this Vox, mostly from you, but they never expected you to have this much of a detest about him. What happened between you and this TV-head that they didn't manage to dig up? And most importantly, recent or not, did he ever hurt you in anyway. . . or was he planning to?

ᯓ "This just in, news is starting to come up from higher-ups, and close friends, in Wrath Town that their leader, supposed their supposed Overlord, the Child of Wrath, themselves, have gone missing!" Vox stated, trying to carefully keep his voice leveled yet failing miserably; From the twitch in his eye and the wide, plastering grin across his flat face, you could just tell this was another Alastor situation. Yet an Alastor situation that was not pointed directly towards Alastor rather You; Which you had saw coming, maybe even expected it, but fucking Lucifer did you hope you could at least get a good year under your belt before Vox came in to spread 'miss information' all over the Pride Ring. All just to keep his viewers attention on him, just to keep his support. What a loser.

ᯓ You would scoff, trying not to laugh at his obsessive allegations, which were true you guessed, as Fizz and Ozzie silently listened from beside and behind you. While you didn't seem alarmed, or even frightened at the least (as they were sure you would be, seeing as this seemed common for Overlords to not get along) they sure were. Well, not alarmed per say, rather on guard; carefully lingering on the words that Vox was so carelessly spewing to all of those who watched his broadcast. And you noticed how Fizz drew back closer, leaning over your shoulder to glare at your phone, to glare at Vox like Vox might feel his stare, like he was daring Vox to say something else; All the while you couldn't help but laugh, chuckle, giggle, and kind of make fun of Vox as he continued on. His senseless chatter played in the background as you tried to wave off your fiancés' concerns, "Please, guys, don't get worked up over him, he's no threat; More like an annoying bug under everyone's shoe." "One who, from what we hear, likes to stick his non-existent nose in other people's business." Ozzie would comment from the stove, his glare still harsh on the screen even as he flipped over the bacon in the pan. His tone was leaking with annoyance, or maybe irritation and ire is are better words; Either way, you shrugged your shoulders as he continued, "Really, doesn't he have like any other news? that's all basically weightless if it's coming from other people's mouths!" "It's gossip, it keeps his viewer's attention and support up. That's the whole point," You would explain, slightly rolling your eyes at the crazed look Vox gave you. Granted, it was through the screen, but, "I would have thought he would know better than to talk about me, especially since I've shattered his screen more than once." Though Fizz was less amused, "You both give than man way too much credit-" Was the only part of his commentary he could get out, hands on the counter now, before a shout from Vox drew all of your attentions back in.

ᯓ "Oh, ho-ho!" And there was a cackle, one that caused your eyebrows to frown downwards and scrunch your face. One that rang out like an annoying fire alarm and drew a growl from Fizz's throat and a flicker of hellish flame from Ozzie's coat. It's like you all could smell that the shit that Vox was going to spew. "THIS JUST IN," And there was a slam of his hands on the table, "I JUST GOT WORD FROM A TRUSTED SOURCE THAT THE WRATHFUL OVERLORD IS NOT ONLY NOT IN THEIR PITIFUL, SHIT-HOLE OF A TOWN, YET THEY'RE NOT EVEN IN THE PRIDE RING!- Where the fuck are they, you might ask? Well, not fucking here and maybe that's for the better, this place was turning into a shit down with them around." His grin would tease you from behind the screen, and you grew slightly worried that he could see you. That, as his eyes widened and he drew closer to the screen, that he could see right through it. . .

ᯓ "You're in the fucking Lust ring, you absolute SLUT! What the fuck are you doing hanging around an, who's that? An Imp and- And is that Asmodeus himself in the background!" Clack! You would drop your phone like it had burnt you and stumbled backwards, not out of fear, you could never be fearful of someone like Vox, yet out of . . . what would be the word? Ire? Exasperation? Irritation? Preservation? Fizz was quick to lock his arms, just to keep you from stumbling back too far and hitting against the countertops near the stove, potentially burning yourself; As Ozzie stepped up, standing protectively between the phone and the two of you, the flickering of his growing detestation and bubbling anger slowly flickering around his coat, which threatened to burst flames. "This just in, your little Wrathful Overlord, has not only abandoned the Pride Ring yet is sleeping with the Sin of Lust and his weak-dick, limp ass Imp!" Vox's cackle echoed around the room, "That's so fucking sad!- Oh, looks like no one will ever have any sort of reason to be scared of you anymore," And his name spilled out from his lips with venom, poisoning the air with his slithering voice. That was, until his broadcast was cut off, cutting his maniacal laughter short, with a crackle then pop. It seemed like Ozzie had enough of listening to Vox, and seemingly had enough of your phone, as he had slammed his fists into the counter. Effectively ending the broadcast and your phone all in one go.

ᯓ And nothing but silence filled the room, just as you were sure nothing but silence (and soon an eruption of hatred and irreverence) filled the Pride Ring, and Wrath Town.

ᯓ "Fuck. ." Was the words that left with an airy breath.

ᯓ "THAT FUCKER IS SO DEAD!" Was Ozzie's first words; his hair combusting into flames, his irritation and outrage boiling over and finally having struck that match.

ᯓ Maybe it was slight shock overwhelming you, never having expected your engagement to be outrighted for everyone in the Pride Ring to hear, or maybe it was Fizz carelessly (accidentally) spinning you around, but you found yourself exasperation against the kitchen counter; Your eyes still locked on where your cellphone was now intended into the counter. "I've got the rope!" Fizz's voice barely registered in your ears, along with the sounds of his mechanical arms and legs moving to easily wrap himself around Ozzie. "Let's go kill that fucker!- or maybe tie him up and leave him exposed and naked on his own stupid broadcast. Like, really, who does he think he is trying to come for us like that?" Fizz's agreement with Ozzie's irrational solution caused a growl, a very lion-like one, to seep through Ozzie's gritting teeth, "A two timing nobody, that's who he is, and I won't stand for it! He comes for what's mine and I'm going to show him who the FUCK he's dealing with!"

ᯓ You know, maybe you've enabled their behavior a little too much; Sure, you loved the way they grew overprotected about you (and as you were sure they loved when you did the same) yet logically, you knew you had to stop them. When news gets out about Ozzie and Fizz going up to the Pride Ring and killing, or humiliating, an overlord not only will Vox's words be taken as facts, which can cause a whole other set of issues, yet Lucifer might also get involved. Of course, though, your knowledge about how Sins worked together and how they could interfere with each other's rings was limited. Yet, you can only guess a Sin killing an Overlord in another person's ring would just cause some sort of uproar.

ᯓ So when Ozzie, with Fizz coiled around his arm as to not get burnt, were about to leave the kitchen-living room, you had to act fast. Even while a little dazed, a little out of your own body, stilling trying to reel in the information of the situation that just happened, you dashed forward towards them. Or maybe your feet did so because they knew you had to catch them, and it sure felt that way rather than your own doing. It all felt like you were watching through a pair of another's person's eyes as you rushed over, your tail trashing out to stag the Ozzie's heel and trip him (you would have to apologize later). It bought you some time to slid in between him and floor, effectively catching him in your arms. "Yeah, as to hell we're going to go do anything boys! We're," You slammed the door closed, effectively walking away from it, "Staying here!" And that was your final verdict and that was what you were going to do as to make sure you can control this situation as much as possible. While frazzled and your finances' not thinking properly, giving into their own natural urges that some would call taboo (even for hell), this was no time to do that. Ergo, this was no time to be out murdering people!

ᯓ At that time you failed to notice the blush and wide eyes that had sprung to Ozzie's face when you dropped them both onto the couch, as well as the slight boner he had to hide by crossing his legs; Which Fizz defiantly noticed and teased him for with a snicker. Often times, not on purpose, did Fizz and Ozzie forget that out of all three of you, you were the strongest. Physically and magically, as you tended not to flash it off like some demons like to do, instead you flashed where you shined mentally. Though, damn, does it get Ozzie every time you swiftly come in and pick him up like he was weightless, with the same ease he picked up Fizz and you (even after you had told the first few times he didn't have to, later learning that you were conscience about your weight due to your chubbier figure). So it managed to calm Ozzie down, at least a little for the time being. Fizz would follow after, not really looking to murder people by himself - or at least not wanting to or not believing that he could.

ᯓ Calling your name from the couch, yet to no effect, the two would watch as you walked away from them to only circle right back round and leave again; pacing around the room with a constipated look on your face, leaving them confused, and slightly concerned, on the couch. Fizz slinked down to sit on Ozzie's lap, seeing as Ozzie had sat up to make sure you were alright while walking circles around them. Them both noticed quickly the way your tail trashed dangerously, the slight glare you gave to your phone anytime you passed through the kitchen, and the way your left hand clutched and curled in on itself. Fizz was sure your claws were digging into the skin of your palm, where marks from previous punctures of your claws laid fresh. "Hey," Ozzie started, calling out your nickname yet watching it effectively fall onto death ears. Even so, he continued, what's going on?" An invitation to talk to them, an invitation that received the acknowledgement of you hitting the tip of your tail against the floor to ceiling glass. Your own way of letting them know you heard him, yet needed a moment to gather your thoughts. To find something that can fix this situation without it blowing over and becoming bigger than you needed or wanted it to. To find a way to sweep and brush it under the rug. To just- make it like it never, ever fucking happened!

ᯓ Crack!

ᯓ You barely felt it, the smoke of Wrath infesting your very mind and blurring every other sense. Yet, Fizz and Ozzie caught it with ease. They heard the crack of your bone, the saw the way your nails not only had dug into your skin with the increase pressure yet suddenly broke through your palm and to the other side of your hand. Fizz covered his mouth, trying to hold in the gag that threatened to escape from the shock that filled him. Ozzie, wrapping an arm around Fizz to support him up to his chest to comfort him, would stand. . . and he didn't know how else to get your attention but exploding; Calling your name with a tone he rather not use with you. "WHAT?" Yet you would snap back, a green lining the inside of your eyes, right by your pupils. "WHAT CAN BE SO IMPORTANT THAT YOU CANNOT WAIT, OZZIE. I'M TRYING TO-" A tug at your wrist, Fizz, despite not being able to stand the sight if your claws puncturing through your hand, dragged you over to them. He rose your hand up to eye level once you were in front of the two, and he didn't want to make you watch the black blood that flowed down from it, that coated your claws thickly, he knew it was the only way to get you to pay attention. To realize that you hurt yourself in the panic of trying to fix a problem that could best be fixed together. To realize the scowl that was placed upon Ozzie's face at your actions, yet the underlining concern he had. To notice how Fizz was a bit sickened at the fact that you could so easily hurt yourself, and hurt that you wouldn't talk to them and effectively just shut them out again. Even though they have both told you countless times that you could talk them through your thoughts, that they can help you, that they want to help you! Even if you felt like you needed to handle everything that happened by yourself, even if you felt like the world was crushing in they were here! They were always here for you, and they were ready to help as long as you just talked to them.

ᯓ Fizz and Ozzie, out of everyone and anything, care about you (and granted each other) the most. And to see you physically hurt yourself over someone you told them not to worry about . . . well it stabbed them in the heart and made them ever so more concerned.

ᯓ "I just, I need time. I can figure this out if I'm given enough time." You would try to explain to Ozzie and Fizz as you sat on Ozzie's desk, where Fizz usually sat to replace any problem limbs. Fizz sat beside you, securely holding your right hand in his own and nuzzling up to you; His head resting against yours. Ozzie was in front of you, carefully trying to bring your claws out of the palm of your hand without hurting you, so he could then disinfect the wounds and wrap them up. He would have gotten a doctor, but felt a bit too fired up to let any medical professional touch you when you were so vulnerable. "Honey, get us, we know," Ozzie started, then let out a heavy sigh. "You say that every time something shitty happens in Pride. It's like- your go to thing!" Fizz added on, his tone a bit chirpier than Ozzie's; trying to lighten the mood, bring at least a small tug of a smile onto your face. Ozzie would soon apologize as you let out a hiss, feeling your claw carefully yet strikingly painfully being pulled out from your palm. You squeezed Fizz's hand, he nuzzled his head further against yours. And yet, you still spoke through gritted teeth and hissing, "I just! There never seems to be- FUCK, Ozzie that shit hurts!" "Love, I'm sorry, but I'm trying my best to make it as painless as possible. Yet, it's kind of hard when you managed to stab yourself right between your own bones." Ozzie mumbled, quickly working on the exposed wound, trying to wrap it with a towel just for the time being so he could work on the other three fingers (your thumb didn't puncture through skin, but did leave a good wound on your middle finger). Fizz would let out a nervous bit of laughter, trying to turn the situation away from your pain, just so you wouldn't have to think about it. "Hey, why don't you tell us why. . . you were so against us going to go kill the guy! I mean, I'm sure it would be easier than thinking of a whole counter plan and stabbing yourself through the hand, wounding yourself for someone you-" "Froggie," Ozzie warned, though his tone was still soft, noticing quickly how he began to ramble out of nerves. "I don't think that's helping."

ᯓ Yet you didn't mind much, it kind of did set your brain a little more straight and screwed in properly. So in a way you kind of did need Fizz's nervous rambling right now, "No, no it's fine. I. . . needed that. I just," A frown stretched upon your face, letting out a heavy sigh that was quickly replaced with a painful hiss and quickly followed by another apology from Ozzie. Your face scrunched at the pain, yet softened as you felt Fizz trying to comfort you once more. His hand squeezed your undamaged one, and when you turned your head towards his, he connected your foreheads. The distress that came from your fiancés were slowly becoming more apparent to you; Especially by the way Fizz looked into you, his own eyebrows frowned and scrunched, worry laced around his eyes. You felt the pressure of Ozzie wrapping your newly oxygen exposed wound with the towel, trying to cover it gently yet firmly enough. "I just. . . didn't want them to hurt you." The words left your mouth before you could think about their weight; Even if they were nothing but the truth, all the worry that struck your brain the moment Vox had called you out was all due to your worry that Fizz and Ozzie might get hurt. That they might be caught in some sort of cross fire between Vox and you and you would have to deal with their blood on your hands. That was a thought your couldn't bear to stand.

ᯓ The silence was thick for a good few minutes as you kept your eyes squeezed shut, afraid to open them and face Ozzie and Fizz. You could feel as Fizz leaned in, nuzzling your nose against his in an attempt to comfort you, coax you to open your eyes. But he just saw they way they twitched and you squeezed harder. You could feel as Ozzie paused, his fingers gently grabbing around yours yet not giving it's usual tug. And without looking at them, you felt the nerves build in your stomach at the thought that you might have offended them in some way, or they were disappointed in you for some reason. Yet they weren't. Logically, you knew that they weren't any of those things, yet they worrying thoughts still crept in your mind. "Baby, no. . ." Ozzie's sweet voice would ring through the unwanted chatter in your mind, almost like he could hear or feel what was happening in your tornado of a mind. "No, you don't have to worry about us, we were more worried about you. Trust me." You felt Ozzie's engulfing hand rest against your cheek and Fizz nod against your head, "Oh yeah! Our names have been racked through the mud since the whole Mammon incident. Trust us, we can take a little shit, but-" And Fizz paused, always a little hesitant to speak about these topics, "This is new to you, and we know how important your work is to you." "And Just like Sins, I'm sure an Overlord's power also comes from your reputation among people. And that guy, well, directly went for your reputation," Ozzie mumbled, his thumb rubbing sweetly against your cheek. He couldn't dent it, but he loved how they were a little chubbier than most, making your skin a little more plump and soft. "And for that I would have killed him! But you don't want that, for some reason I still don't understand!- But, we respect that. Just know we're here to help anyway we can." "Yeah just say the word!" Fizz playfully moved his head to nuzzle his nose against your other cheek, effectively earning a smile from you and a few bits of suppressed laughter that dared to bubble out your throat. You weren't sure why it was always ticklish when Fizz nuzzled his nose against your cheek, yet it was. "Okay, Okay!-" A giggle slipped through your lips, "I'm sorry. . . I should have, talked to you guys instead of-" You paused, chewing over your words. Yet, you didn't have to think for long as Fizz cut in, "Pushing us away?" "Hurting yourself?" Ozzie swiftly added after, both with their own sassy yet caring tones as they stared down at you. "Yeah. . . that." You would mumble, with an heat rushing up to your cheeks out of embarrassment. You didn't realize you were actually being that big of a dick to the two most important people in your life. Wow, you really did need that reality check from Fizz earlier.

ᯓ "Well, thank god we love you." Fizz's sarcastic voice trailed out with a cheeky grin spread across his face, showing off his pointed teeth and his ever so adorable cheeky attitude. "Or else this would be such a different story! You might have ended out on the streets, or worse, dead." And even if his words would be less than comforting for anyone else, you couldn't help but smile at them; Shooting your own cheeky glare back, finally gaining the courage to open your eyes again. To bask in your lovers' faces instead of cowering in the darkness, fearing a rejection that was never there to begin with. Something that would have never came. Ozzie took the chance to, while you were laughing and smiling and paying attention to Fizz rather than your own pain, to gently yet swiftly take out your third claw. Instantly, your tail trashed and a hiss escaped your mouth. And while he felt bad, Ozzie couldn't help but shake his head and rather seriously state, "Yeah, but don't ever do this again." "Yeah no, I don't think I can take looking at you stab through your own hand either." Fizz agreed, shaking his head. Either way, he went back to nuzzling you to comfort, trying to distract you from the pain of your hands as Ozzie moved the towel over your third wound. One more to go. You tried to keep in the giggles that threatened to escape due to their words, yet you couldn't help it. With a roll of your eyes and a sarcastic, yet playful, tone, you muttered back to them, "Well, fuck, if I ever get stabbed I'm never coming to either of you!"

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ᯓ★ All posts/fanfictions posted under this blog is owned by @razzle-n-dazzle. Please do not steal, copy, or plagiarize the works! Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated.

[ A/N: Also, thank you so much for this request, it was a joy to write! I can't wait to hear from you again the future! And thank you to everyone for supporting my work, I've gotten so many nice comments in my inbox and I promise I'm trying to get through everyone's requests, or as much of them as possible. There's a good handful of them that request the same thing, so they will be clumped together, just because I don't think I can make enough content to make four separate posts about Adam with a Goth girlfriend or Yandere Lucifer lol! But, thank you all for the support, really, I wouldn't be able to do this all without you :) ]

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bluejay757 · 8 months

Text

TW: mentions of self harm

Lies. Simon out right said he didn't want to be Ice King and that he would have rather died. "But what about what Ice King wanted?"

They're the same fucking person. Ice King is not a separate consciousness or personality, he just doesn't remember being Simon.

Betty was not wrong or selfish she fucking sacrificed herself because of how much she loved Simon. She deserves the world. Simon is not depressed because he lost his ice powers he's depressed because the love of his life is fused with an all powerful demon and he's never gonna see her again, not even in the after life, had she made it out he would have been happy. Would they still feel out of place in the futuristic and magic world? Yes. But atleast they wouldn't be going through it alone.

Simon's predicament was a metaphor for two things. Addiction and dementia. Are you saying you think addicts don't deserve help when they literally beg for it? "You can't force an addict into rehab" you're right you can't, but he wasn't forced he wanted help. Do you think if an addict seeks help they deserve to be told, "no you should just accept who you are now" and be forced to live in their condition for eternity? Wtf. And dementia obviously isn't curable, but if it were everyone with dementia or alzhiemers would want it cured and deserve it. Because no one wants to live like that.

Simon wanted to be himself again he just wanted his wife there with him, he wouldn't have rather stayed the Ice King the only thing he misses is the blissful ignorance that came with it. It's like when you're depressed and you purposefully make yourself numb because numbness is better than sadness, until even that stops working so you turn to SH because you think it's better to feel pain than nothing at all. It is unhealthy and a harm to yourself, Simon doesn't need to go through that again.

"Ice King deserved to be accepted!" He literally was. Everyone had accepted him except for betty, but oh wait she was about to accept him until patience fucked her up and gave her a false sense of hope, it's not her fault Magic Man made her insane. Not to mention everyone else had waaaaay more time to come to terms with Ice King. It took Finn his whole life, and he didn't even know him as Simon, PB took hundreds of years to be on good terms with him, and Marceline, the only other person who knew Simon as his true self took nearly 1,000 years to come to terms with and accept Simon as Ice King. So what makes you think his Fiance, who had gone crazy through no fault of her own, would be able to accept everything that happened just like that? I mean did you ever stop and think how quickly that all happened for her? One morning she's having breakfast with her fiance in like 1999 and then that night she's in the year 3000 fighting a demon to save that same man? She had literal minutes to process all of this, she woke up that day not even knowing that Magic was real.

And one last thing Simon fears death now. He has a will to live unlike before when he wanted to die or kill himself, if that doesn't prove he's better off now idk what does.

I will not stand for Betty slander. She did the right thing. And I'm sick an tired of people saying otherwise.

#adventure time #simon petrikov #ice king #fiona and cake #betty grof #petrigrof #magic betty #as you can tell im very opinionated about this #fionna and cake

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creative-caramel-coffee · 7 months

Note

I think I expressed my self terribly wrong sorry!

So basically reader is sick but maybe the team doesn’t realise and they do things unintentionally that make reader even more sick (like leaving the windows open, telling her to go buy something or I don’t know) until Wanda and Nat have enough and realise that reader is sick and tell the team to stop

-🦜

Stubborn and Sick

Pairings: Wandanat x R

Word count: 1K

Summary: Your sick and stubborn, but you also can’t back down from a challenge. What happens when Tony gets involved?

TW: sickness, fever, almost kinda fainting? (Idk), bread slander, fever induced vertigo, headache etc.

A/n Hehehe bread slander. Grains and seeds sucks so bad. I don’t care if its healthy it tastes like chunky cardboard. White bread and whole meal all the way peeps.

You were stubborn. It was a fact, and everyone knew it. So, when you got sick after falling in a frozen lake on the last mission Wanda and Nat decided to wait until you came to them for help instead of trying everything to convince you to let them help you.

The rest of the team however was more than a little blind when it came to other people's needs, not for lack of trying but more so because they were dense, and not just in terms of muscles.

You stood in the kitchen, the fever you had managed to develop this morning was throwing you for a loop. You were making some toast, hoping you would be able to deal with that at least. Your throat hurt so bad and there was a dull headache settling in for the long run it seemed.

You probably shouldn’t have stayed up all night trying to finish the mission report for fury. But tony had bed you a hundred bucks he would finish his before you did, and you weren’t one to back down from easy money.

You finished buttering the toast and patted the cash in your pocket and smiled to yourself. Turning to put the knife in the sink to clean later the world spun. You staggered a bit and held onto the bench with both hands leaning against it heavily.

“Damn this stupid fever” you muttered. When you vision cleared you deposited the knife and went back to the plate. Picking it up and setting out for your room. Your muscles hurt and your head hurt more. You had barely made it three feet down the hall when you heard a voice from the kitchen.

“Who ate all the bread?” It was Clint so you hightailed it out of there, knowing if he found it was you, he would send you to buy more. And you were pretty sure a trip to the shops would kill you at this point. Alas, fate was not on your side today. Being sick you were clumsy and slow due to the fever. Needless to say, Clint caught you easily. He scowled at the toast you were holding.

“I wanted a sandwich.” He grumbled. At this point tony walked past.

“Whats up Legolas?” Tony chirped probably hyped up on coffee and energy drinks.

“L/n here ate all the bread.” He said still scowling at the toast.

“Then it seemed fair she goes to buy more.” Tony grinned, “I know she has the money for it.” You glared at him.

“Fine.” You growled. So, despite the pounding headache and sore muscles, the fever and growing ache in your knees and back you submitted.

You huffed and nibbled on the toast before leaving it on the desk. As you left the room you shot the delicious toast a mournful longing look. It simple sat and waited.

The shops were awful to say the least. The lights hummed which hurt your head and the brightness hurt your eyes. Parts of you hurt that you didn’t know existed let alone could feel. You slouched and shuffled down the bread aisle. There were so many different types. You grabbed the first one you saw when a sudden wave of vertigo hit, and you stumbled like you had in the kitchen. Leaning against the shelf and closing your eyes.

Yelena was in town and so her and Nat were having a movie night, and as all good movie nights need, they were out getting snacks. So, you can imagine Natasha’s surprise when she saw you looking just about ready to pass out in the bread aisle. She wasted no time rushing to your side and steadying you with her hands on your shoulders.

“Y/n? Y/n!” She said patting you lightly on the cheek. You were very pale and seemed only mildly lucid at best.

Nat took the bread from your hands and shoved it in Yelena’s direction who took it and inspected it.

“Grains and seeds?” She mumbled. “Gross.” She shoved it back on the shelf and picked up a loaf of white bread.

“Y/n/n i need you to open your eyes for me sweetheart.” She said and you mumbled something incoherent.

“What was that love?” Nat asked feeling your forehead with the back of her hand. You were way too hot and defiantly running a high fever.

“I said m sick natty. ‘N i don’ feel good.” You slurred and Natasha looked around to Yelena before realising she had gone to buy the bread for you. She didn’t know why you wanted it but if it was worth almost dying for, she would buy it for you. After all you were dating her sister.

Nat scanned you up and down deciding that this had gone on for too long. In a gentle movement she scooped you into her arms and you tiredly rested your head on her chest eyes still shut and muttering nonsense. Yelena and Nat met at the register and the three of you headed back to the compound. Being an avenger Nat did receive too many odd looks for carrying her very pale and sick looking girlfriend through the shopping centre.

On the way back Yelena done with you in the back on Nat’s lap. She was fanning you with her hands in a fruitless attempt to cool you down. She had dialled Wanda who was going to meet them in your shared room with supplies and a wet cloth for you.

Nat easily carried you out of the car and back to the room. Wanda took your temperature and Yelena went to put the bread in the kitchen slightly thrown off by her sister being so domestic all of a sudden.

Your temperature as expected was far too high and so they went about cooling you down with a cloth and fever reducers. After a bit you were asleep with Wanda and Natasha laid beside you careful not to add too much extra heat to your already furnace-like temperature.

You rested and it was simple to say that Nat’s movie night gained an extra two people. Well … one witch and a half dead, half sick and fully asleep avenger.

MASTERLIST

392 notes · View notes

fillinforlater · 1 year

Text

On her bottom (Part 2/2)

Male Reader x Nakamura Kazuha (ft. Miyeon)

Length: 3972 words

Tags: Daddy kink (well, ofc), replacement, sex as service, passionate kissing, loving make out, pussy eating, sweat, praising, subby!idol, self-degradation, burst of rage, hickeys, fondling, ass worship, talk about breeding, slow sex, missionary, anal, anal pronebone, begging for cum, cum on skin, angel!Kazuha

TW: Miyeon is not getting off lightly lol (or is she?), self-degradation

Inspiration: @sooyadelicacies, enough said.

Credit: @sooyadelicacies for co-writing

(A/N: HERE IS PART ONE, hope you enjoy this one as well!)

"Y-yes, Daddy."

You nod unceremoniously and swipe on your phone. A tiny smile pops up on your face for just a moment reading one of the many names. You quickly type out a message and send a pic of Miyeon along with it. It might take a bit until this new person arrives, but you know she will be worth the wait.

"Do you have any food in this place?” you sigh disappointed at Miyeon, “Make yourself useful at least and bring me something. Maybe that can pleasure me unlike you."

A swat at Miyeon's thigh signals to her that she is allowed to move. She is eager to get up, but her still sensitive, twitching pussy reminds her of what you did to her moments ago. Like a wounded soldier, you see her limp away, shame all over her face. She doesn't dare to look at you and only starts wailing when she is out of the room.

In the meantime, you switch from one app to the next and respond to work emails and other messages. Mostly boring proposals, requests, questions, stuff you will have to deal with later. Only a couple catch your eyes. Maybe they are spam, but if they are for real, you might have new idols that will suddenly be a lot more popular in this nation, probably even worldwide. While they smile in commercials at every highway, they are on their knees in your flat sucking your cock like a good girl.

Miyeon stretches out a silver tray with a variety of grapes and delicate pieces of chocolate. Her arms might not shake, but her orbs sure do. She quickly stares down to avoid you, to not show her weakness to take this loss. You're sure she would bawl her eyes right now if she knew who would surely knock on the door soon.

You calmly, without even looking up from your phone, ask Miyeon a question:

"Miyeon, should Daddy feel guilty if you're crying? Are you upset with me?"

"N-no, please, Daddy. I will be better, I promise."

Shallow knocks knock you out of your thoughts and the slander you wanted to throw at Miyeon becomes distant. Instead of spite, excitement fuels your veins.

"Come on in!"

It only took a few moments for an angel to step in front of your very eyes. Dressed in what you assume is her latest stage outfit, jeans and a white top that showed her perfectly sculpted body.

"Zuha, you arrived quickly. Come my angel!" you say as if casting a spell

"Daddy," she cutely says and basically leaps towards you. Miyeon can only dodge in shock and the dread that looms above her head like thunderous clouds becomes almost visible. She might feel a heavy downpour soon, as she eyes the japanese girl sinking into your embrace.

"You are such an Angel, coming straight from your music show to this place," you praise the young woman and pat her head. A rare smile forms on your face; not that you don’t smile, but this one is different. Miyeon surely has never seen it. A smile of… love?

"My angel, I'm sorry I missed your music show" you tell the giggling girl and sink with her onto the mattress. There is no slamming, no quickly getting to a fucking, just gentle loving. The ultimate shock for Miyeon however is the fact that you, Daddy, just apologized. It makes her jaw drop.

"I'm just so happy you called me, Daddy!"

Kazuha's cheeks turn rosy, her smile is wide and bright. It makes you melt into another passionate exchange of saliva with her. Her exposed abs press into you tightly, then shifting slowly over your cock. She smells of sweat, hard-work and pure love. Your fingers entangle themselves with her brown locks and your eyes open just to look at Miyeon's shocked expression.

"You're still sweaty, baby girl,” you whisper to Kazuha, “you really did just arrive after your stage didn't you? You're usually so clean and pure like a seraphim fitting of your group, but you're dirty today for Daddy, aren't you?"

"I couldn't let you wait, Daddy," she says with an adorable smirk. Her expression however shifts when she wraps her arms around your nape, comes very close to your face and also whispers:

"I can be the purest angel you have ever seen. I can also be—"

Instead of finishing her sentence, she steps back and tears down her pale blue jeans sticking to her sweaty legs. The front of her panties are soaked in her juice; its strong, mind-altering odor, one of the greatest smells to ever hit your nose, starts to fill the room and you can't hold yourself back anymore.

You leap and pull away at her panties, diving straight into her pussy with a powerful, needy lick. You inhale. There was no chance you would leave her folds anytime soon. You needed her aroma, her essence, to taste the very heavens.

An outsider might have assumed that your craving to be pleased was suddenly gone, but they would be mistaken. Basking in the gorgeous labia of one of your greatest creations—Kazuha, the perfect angel—is a greater pleasure than anything Miyeon could have offered today. Hearing Kazuha squeak and whine in her adorable voice it's like frosting on a glorious cake. Your angel adds cherries on top when she slowly removes her top with shaky hands to reveal her cute chest jiggling.

"Daddy should spend more time with you, Zuha, I want you to be by my side for a while. Stay with Daddy and serve me in the Master room.”

You owned numerous houses and had an abundance of bedrooms in each home, but the designated Master room was exclusive, special. Only those of your absolute favorites ever saw the inside of that room. There were rumors that the Master room was where more intimate words were exchanged rather than just beastly lust. Whispers even that the Master room was a sign of being a chosen life partner and even mother to Daddy's future children.

"Oh, Daddy, I'd love to spend all the time in the world in your Master room," Kazuha says with her cute giggle and rosy blush on angelic cheeks, "but I'm sure there is a different reason why I'm here. Would you please tell me why or… what you want me to do~?

"H-how?" Miyeon stutters in disbelief as she watches the scene unfold before her.. Although she should fear your reaction to her disobedience, she can't help but be drawn to this fascinating play. It pulls her in like a magnet, like you and Kazuha create the strongest form of gravity with your love making.

You then turn to Miyeon and Kazuha notices her for the first time. It was well understood that your girls don't interact until you give them the okay. You shake your head at the sight of the blonde in disbelief, whose mouth is agape like her brain has stopped functioning.

"You're here because someone has left Daddy disappointed."

"Oh. Daddy, it's okay,” Kazuha soothes you, as if she’d just heard of the most heartbreaking tragedy in the world, “I'll make you feel all better. Anything you wish, any dream of yours, I'm at your service. You can even bree—"

"What?” Miyeon loses it, “How dare you ask Daddy to breed you!"

A cold dark silence then falls into the room that even endangers the light of Kazuha. You give Miyeon a deadly stare. Daggers of ice pierce her weary, distraught eyes. She had interrupted your angel. She had interrupted what she could rightfully ask for. You had told Kazuha awhile back that she was worthy of breeding. She was trying to comfort you in that moment and Miyeon just ruined it too. She had proven herself worthless and dared to speak out of turn. An unforgivable insult.

"That's enough."

Miyeon freezes on the spot. She probably thought she heard you in every imaginable tone before. You had sounded compassionless, angry, hateful, but it had never sounded as menacingly, downright evil as this. Your hands turn to fists that squeeze so tightly, your knuckles might pop out any second. Your knees buckle, but you are not unstable—the ground is. Your anger could cause an earthquake and Miyeon starts to stumble.

"No, Daddy! Please, look at me."

You turn and see Kazuha cool, strong and with a look of concerned sadness on her face. Kazuha holds your hands and gives you a soft empathetic look. Her eyes flutter gently and she presses the palm of her hand on your chest as if to press a button.

"It's okay Daddy. I'm here. Just focus on me. I'm here to make you happy. To make all your disappointment go away. If you want to take your anger out on something, use my body."

No. You couldn't bring yourself to do that. Not punitive and full of rage, not to her. Rough fucking, yes. But punishment, pure white hot anger? Never to Kazuha. She has gone beyond that in your mind after you met her for the first time.

You take a deep breath as Kazuha strokes your hair gently and just continues to look at you softly as if slowly absorbing the emotion and making it disappear. Kazuha leaves a quick, soft kiss on your lips, the kind of kiss that heals all wounds but makes you want more, more, more—everything.

"Zuha…"

It's remarkable how she takes your breath away, how she makes you lose control. The two of you sink into the soft cushions of the old bed. The middle of this room, intentionally old looking, formerly filled with the bad thoughts and disappointment for Miyeon evaporates. You only feel Kazuha's lips on yours, her tongue at yours, her hands entwined in yours.

Kazuha creates one of your favorite melodies, a song that makes you feel like you're in heaven, when you fold one of her legs gently with one hand, while the digits of your second play with her sex. She moans into your mouth. Her eyes become watery. She melts like ice cream in the hot summer, while she herself is hot, outside and inside.

"Fuck, Zuha. I'll put it in now. I'll put it in in the Master room as well, fuck, I want to put it in every day."

"I can do it everyday, Daddy. Whatever you need from me. Always.” Kazuha uses her cute, soft fingers to slowly spread open her pussy, and needily, quietly moans, “Fuck me, Daddy. Make this angel feel your love. Corrupt me with your cock and turn me into your sinful slut, Daddy."

"My angel."

You groan as your crotch slams into hers. Her wet, incredibly tender folds make for an easy entry of your throbbing cock. The entire ordeal has cranked your senses up to eleven and so your mind begins to numb when your entire length is in Kazuha's tight cavern and getting a slick, tight massage by a stunning, slightly whimpering beauty.

"Did I do it too fast?"

"No, Daddy, you just feel so good. I… I want you more, I want to be your fuckdoll angel."

"I'm really exhausted though…"

Kazuha smiles shyly when you begin your first thrust at a snail's pace. She moans under her breath and then whispers:

"You can also use a fuckdoll slowly. As long as you use it, it has a purpose. You're my purpose, Daddy.”

This is different. Miyeon knows and you know that she knows. You don’t have to look at her to know her facial expression. Surely, she dreamed of something like this, but never would it have been realistic to her. It’s far away from using a toy, and much rather a—

Kazuha is the first girl Miyeon has ever seen with you that gets slow, loving sex with no hints at edging or teasing or punishment. In her maybe hundreds of times of having seen or heard you fuck another girl or herself, nothing close to this has occurred.

"I love you Daddy," Kazuha says, trying her best to get it straight out with love and honesty, while her insides get stimulated by your veiny girth.

"I love you too, Zuha."

Kazuha's body is more drug than fuckdoll to you. You can't keep your hands off of her smooth skin, be it her thighs, abs or collarbone. Especially the firmness of her perfectly shaped, perfectly sized, perfectly perfect ass leaves you wanting to touch it forever. Forever might be impossible, even to you, but for at least this session you fondle it over and over again. It makes the angel giggle.

"Daddy, you love my ass?"

"I do, Zuha. Fuck, you make me go crazy."

Two more thrusts, a little faster this time, but not to fast. Just to make her feel how huge you are inside her pink hole. She mewls beside you ear when you nibble on her neck and get ready to place a love mark. Strong suction, the shape of your lips in reddish-purple while your hands dig into Kazuha’s ass like it’s sand hiding a treasure.

"I love how you touch it, Daddy. I want you to praise it more, shower it in your delicious cum, Daddy."

"But I want to fill you up, Zuha, get you ready for breeding."

You look into her orbs, mere inches away. They are scintillating like the night sky with hundreds of shooting stars. Added with her magenta, falsely innocent cheeks on a snow pale face and an unfairly adorable pout, she can make you say or do almost anything.

"Breed me only in your Master room, Daddy. Please, cover my ass today. I love you!"

This back and forth was unprecedented for Miyeon. She had never seen someone so gently push at what you wanted. Such an act was criminal, but you don't mind at all with Kazuha. You wanted to breed her but she asked not to. This went against everything Miyeon was trained to believe. It wasn't all a lie, however. Rather what plays out in front of her is something she has yet to achieve: Kazuha had Daddy's love.

"It's sad that I can't see your face when I cum on your ass though," you say playfully, rubbing your thumbs over her nipples while staying motionless inside her, buried to the hilt, balls touching her butt, "someone should get us a mirror."

As if a ghost hits her face, Miyeon snaps out of her envy, her remorse. She quickly sneaks out of the room in search of one of those large mirrors they had stored somewhere during the shooting.

You sigh but smile at Kazuha as you just relish her touch. She made you forget about all the stupid girls, bratty bitches that never seemed to grasp how to satisfy your needs and go beyond that. Kazuha had it figured out in a couple of days. She makes you believe that she isn't just a natural, but that she is your natural, yours alone—and with every thrust in her clenching cavern, you let her know how much you adore her. Her wish might not be your command, but you will fulfill it nonetheless.

"Zuha, we have a mirror," you say, glancing at Miyeon who hides behind the large, framed object she carried in from outside the room, "Lay on your belly and watch me."

"Thank you so much, Daddy."

She gets in position, giggling in small when your huge cock leaves her pussy for a second. You get behind her but not before throwing Miyeon evidence you did have control of Zuha. You just chose not to use it. Until now.

"Zuha, beg for me. Where does my angel want Daddy's cock?”

Kazuha looks through the mirror straight into your eyes. Her beautiful lips furrow to a pout, while both her hands travel to her hips and then to her ass where she kneads and fondles her flesh. With a needy, whiny mating call, she begs:

"Please, Daddy, please use me to your liking. I love it when you praise me with your hot, hard cock and glaze me with your sticky cream. Please, my Daddy!"

You had seen a few stage performances of her group. Chaewon, Sakura, Yunjin, they all sure loved to shake their asses. This time around, you will shake Kazuha’s too; just in your way, of course. You slowly put the tip near her puckered entrance, moving it in a circular motion, pressing lightly against the skin, flesh and ring. Your precum and her slick juices cover her more and more in glassy liquid.

"Pierce my ass, Daddy! Fill me up and use me as you please. I'll shake it more than in any music video or live stage if you just—oh God!"

Enough teasing. With Kazuha pulling her cheeks apart and relaxing her anal cavity, you easily push inch after inch after inch of yourself into her. Her rear end was always tight and delicate, but if you want to cover her soon, you'd need to go harder than you usually do.

There was another difference between other girls and your angel. You let Kazuha know what was about to happen. Most of the time you would fuck as hard as you wanted without warning. Most of them were just toys to be used after all but not her.

"Baby, if you want Daddy's cum, I'm going to have to get a bit rougher with you than usual, okay? You can turn your head to kiss Daddy anytime you want. I love you.”

You adjust slightly so her feet would be under your balls nestling them into place. She scrunched her toes a little so you'd feel her polish scratch against your sack. After many rounds with Monday today (and the rest of the week) you need all the stimulation to get a load out worthy of covering Kazuha’s huge bottom.

"You don't have to be so kind," she moans out in her most sexy voice yet, "this is my purpose after all."

You take a deep breath. From the corner of your eyes you might have seen Miyeon peeking from behind the mirror, but she is not worth any ounce of your energy. As air leaves your lunges you begin your race for pleasure. You pull out and slam down into Kazuha, just once to see her reaction. When you see her face filled with pleasure and moans only subdued to her biting the sheets, you go again, faster, harder.

Not since she first began her rigorous ballet training did she feel something so rough on her, but just like her performances, it would lead to something of pure glory. After all, what greater glory and purpose was there than getting fucked by Daddy—in her ass no less. All her long hours of idol training, the workouts, the hardship. She didn't stay in perfect shape for the company or for her fans, no, she kept herself in perfect condition for moments like this, for her Daddy.

You read it all from her eyes, the expression she shows when her teeth continue to dig into the white of the sheets, the mattress, until she can't handle her own silence anymore:

"Daddy, I love you!"

You slow down and lean towards her raised head to kiss her intensely. She tries her best to get used to the roughness. After all, she hasn't been here for long. Like a champ, she takes your pounding even through the distracting, difficult kiss. You cup her cheeks and guide her gaze towards the mirror.

"Look at Daddy, look at how happy you are making him. My angel is such a good girl for Daddy."

"I-I'm your butt slut, Daddy."

"You still want me to cum on your ass?"

"Y-yes, Daddy."

"Then I need you to stay this perfectly tight just a little longer."

"Yes, Daddy…hng!"

Kazuha as expected has near perfect control of her body. She tightens every muscle around your cock which drives you wild. You swear to yourself that you need to one day dedicate an entire weekend to mold her secret hole to the shape of your dick, while making her cute face look nothing but blissful.

"Baby, I'm going to go even harder. Fucking hell, I may just cum in your ass."

Now it's Kazuha's turn to feel what it's like to go to heaven. Her face is one of pure devotion and love for you, your power, your cock. Each of your piston-like pumps makes her melt and she looks so marvelously gorgeous. It would feel like betrayal cumming inside her and as you are not a slave to your urges, you make the last second effort to pull out.

Pull out of her tightness, her perfect hole after it's first hard fucking. You immediately burst all over her peach, adding tons of cream to the creamy skin of her bottom. Watching her realize that you did it, fulfilled her wish and made her cum is the greatest pleasure.

You might not be a slave to your urges, but you are one to the physical laws of this world. This last nut was just too much. Your body collapses in happiness and exhaustion. The last thing you hear is Kazuha panting and cooing her gratitude for your load. Then, your eyes become unbearably heavy.

Kazuha lays by your side until she feels her stomach growl. She gets up to go to the kitchen, where Miyeon is cleaning up. Both are hesitant to say something, awkwardness fills the air just like the faint smell of old wooden planks. Finally, the older one musters up the courage to speak.

"Thank you by the way for, for saving me from possible p-punishment."

The angel loses her sweet features for a moment and becomes stern.

"Save you? I did no such thing. I can't stand to see Daddy upset and unsatisfied. My priority, my whole purpose is to make him happy. You somehow managed to fail at all of those tonight and you even had the audacity to bring him to some creaky old home and demand his time."

"I-I am… uh, I'm sorry. I'll t-try to be better," Miyeon stutters, clearly caught off guard by the sudden coldness and looks down at her feet. She feels humiliated that someone so much younger with a lot less experience is at a point which she will probably never reach. All she can do is strive to be like her, to compete, to overtake—

Suddenly Kazuha grabs Miyeon's chin and looks her dead in the eye. With a voice filled with pity, she says:

"You better do, because I won't stop being the best for him."

Miyeon was shocked by how fierce Kazuha had become. When she let’s go of the blonde's face, it’s like Kazuha was able to imprint herself in Miyeon’s eyes forever.

"You know, he calls me his angel. It’s something you would never understand, never cherish. I’ll try everything to be this guardian angel. That means protecting him from bad things and disappointing people.”

Miyeon could swear she sees wings sprout from Kazuha. An archangel, sent by Daddy as if he was their god. She is an extension of his very will and being. Miyeon’s eyes almost pop out as she begins to realize how this game is truly played.

"I trained to be the best,” Kazuha continues, slowly stepping out of the room,” at the best schools abroad. In everything I did, I thought I reached the top but then I met Daddy. He showed me what it truly means to be the best. You should be ashamed of yourself. You weren't ready to satisfy him in the way he deserves.

He deserves the best. You are nothing.”

#kpop smut #female idol smut #girl group smut #kazuha smut #le sserafim smut #male reader smut #male reader insert #miyeon gidle smut #gidle smut

739 notes · View notes

camryn-haitani · 3 months

Note

Hello everything is fine? If requests are still open can I request headcanon (barou, rin and bachira: separate) falling in love with the female reader who also plays football? Thank you in advance.

AH YES OFCCC

all requests are appreciated and this is my first one ever so I thank you a million times<3

BlueLock Boys falling in love with another football player

Rin Itoshi, Barou Shoei, and Bachira Meguru (separate) x football player reader

the title is pretty self explanatory so yeah<3

TW: cursing, sae slander, biting in Rins(not sexually or violently, just in a playing way), alcohol mention in barou's(none is consumed),

all characters are aged up and adults

these are going to be very long bc of the backstory of how y'all meet. so please bear with me. they may be ooc and I apologize. these brackets [ ] are little notes from me, just so y'all know

lowercase intended

Rin Itoshi

Rin got forced to go to a women's football game because Isagi's best friend is on the team (you). Isagi physically dragged rin through security, in the concession stand line, and into their seats. Rin didn't even know who he was rooting for.

"hey dip shit." Rin asked. "what's up man?" he answered, not looking at rin, waiting for you to come out to the field. "who's team are we rooting for exactly?" he said with his monotone voice. "(whatever team you choose). they wear (whatever color) and (whatever color)." Isagi said. Rin only nodded and waited for the game to start.

he got startled when Isagi immediately stood up and started screaming your name when you came out on the field. Rin didn't even bother and only looked up at the jumbotron. you had your resting bitch face that weirdly attracted him to you. not romantically, but you definitely intrigued him. he put his phone down and started paying attention to the game, well he payed attention to you. you were the striker for your team so he was definitely paying attention to you.

Rins eyes were trained on your figure the entire game. he cheered (not as loud as Isagi did) when you scored a goal, he internally celebrated whenever you took back the ball, and he definitely payed attention when you came on the screen.

after the game was over, your team had won so Isagi excitedly dragged Rin to where you and your team was back at the locker room. you gave him access to the locker room since he's your bestie.

"y/n!! congratulations!!!" he let go of Rin and tackled you in a suffocating hug. "omg hi isa." you look over to his friend. "who's this?" you pointed to rin. your eyes widen when you realize something. you pulled Isagi off of you and ran over to rin.

you grab his shoulders and shake him. "oh my god oh my god oh my god. you're rin itoshi! you're literally sae's brother, I know y'all hate each other but holy shit! I'm besties with your brother but I know you're the better brother. and I'm rambling on and on because I'm nervous because I'm literally obsessed with you and your plays on the field. I've studied how you play and I just have to say youre absolutely amazing. this is actually a dream come true. I'm so ha-" you get cut off by Isagi. "oh my god y/n, shut up!" he pulls you away from rin.

"no it's ok, I surprisingly enjoyed that." Rin looks confused. "I'm sorry, when I meet people I look up to, I get super nervous and I can't stop saying what's on my mind. just like I'm doing right now. I'm so so sorry, I've looked up to you since the beginning of my career. and I ju-" "y/n! you're doing it again" Isagi interrupts.

"you... you look up to me?" Rin asks. you nod aggressively. "also sorry for shaking you." you apologize. Rin motions his hands for you to give him your phone. your eyes widen and your mouth drops. you start to mouth words but no sounds come out. you nod before running to get your phone from your bag.

"wow Rin you got yourself a fan." Isagi wraps his arm around rins shoulder. "did you know about this?" he asks. "maybe I did.... maybe I didn't" Isagi looks at rin. "it's also why I wanted to bring you to one of her games. she wasn't kidding about studying your plays. she's stayed up countless nights looking at your strategies and plays. she has pages and pages of her and your plays combined" he says.

Rin feels proud of himself for some reason. you, of all people, are a huge fan of him. he didn't think he was anything special. but when he hears you say those things to him, he felt more confident in himself. he internally smiled to himself.

he sees you run back to him and he pulls out his phone. "holy fuck, wait till I brag to sae about this. I'm sooooo gonna make fun of him for this." you were so nervous you absolutely could not contain your excitement. "uhm brb, imma go run around the field for a few minutes. haha...." you sprint off to the field while Isagi follows after you.

Rin soon follows Isagi after putting your phone in his pocket so it won't get lost. he can faintly hear you yell, "I did it! I win in life!" with your arms up in the air. Rin saw you run up back to him at full speed and he braced for impact. you jumped in his arms while he caught you and held his face in your hands. "you are my inspiration for this career and I'll never be able to thank you enough." you quietly tell him. Rin slightly softens when he hears your words.

you get down and he gives you back your phone. "y/n we have to go but I'll see you later tonight right?" Isagi yells. "yes! I'll make your room." you say back. you see Rin and Isagi leave the locker room and you open your phone to see rins contact

Rin(the obviously better brother✌️)

you smiled and hugged your phone.

time skip

you and Rin have talked a lot since y'all first met. like every day. good morning and good night texts, training texts, 3am texts, and all around everything texts. Isagi teases you both because of it, but neither of y'all care. Rin enjoys your company and you enjoy his, what's so wrong with that?

one thing

he has caught major feelings for you. he even changed your name in his phone to have a heart next to it. and it's the "<3" heart too. he's down bad. he's come to Isagi multiple times asking what you like, don't like, your favorite restaurant, snacks, movies and TV shows, e v e r y t h i n g.

he wanted to make sure he wouldn't upset you by saying the wrong thing or hanging out at a place that you don't like. he constantly pestered Isagi to make sure he wouldn't fuck it up.

Rin wanted to see you again (even though y'all hung out yesterday). surprisingly enough, he's never stayed the night at your house. so you took it into your own hands and texted him.

you: hey rinnie rin rinnnnn

rinnie rinnie :3: yes?

you: I have come to realize that you've never stayed the night at my place. sooooooooooo

rinnie rinnie :3: lemme guess.

rinnie rinnie :3: you want me to stay the night?

you: [LOUDLY CORRECT BUZZER NOISE]

rinnie rinnie :3: I'll be over in 20

you: YAY ILL BE WAITING

you put down your phone and cleaned up a bit, even though Rin said he didn't care if your house is clean or not, he's there for you and not your house.

you called Isagi and told him all the details.

you: "isagiiiiiii I'm so nervous... Rin staying the night tonight."

Isagi: "ok.... and?"

you: "HES NEVER STAYED THE NIGHT BEFORE."

Isagi: "woah there, calm down. I know you're like in love with him in more ways than one, but pookie calm down. just.... be yourself."

you: "wow thanks for that cringe shit. that helps nothing!"

you heard the door bell ring and you get all excited but nervous at the same time.

you: "he's here! I'll tell you what happens when he leaves. bye isaaaa-" you hang up the phone

you throw your phone on the couch and open the door. rin has his backpack on with his stuff. 'hes so cute.' you say to yourself. "am I just gonna stay outside while you stare at me or are you gonna let me in?" he laughs a bit. "oh shit, yeah come in." you move out of the way

he sets his stuff down and plops onto your couch, stomach first. you flop on top of his back. he can easily push you off but chooses not to.

"whatcha wanna watch? or are you hungry? i can door dash?" you spurt out all the options. "I'm ok for now, but thank you. we can watch attack on titan if you want." he suggests. "season 3?" you ask excitingly [this is my favorite season, I watch it all the time :D] "always" he answers. he pushes you off his back and you land in the floor.

before he got to your house, you moved your coffee table and set down a few blankets and pillows. so you sat between his legs on the floor while he's on the couch. you wrap your arms around his legs and pull them closer to you.

"ow! you bitch!" he laughs. you bit his leg. not hard enough to cause damage, but enough to hurt. he pulled his legs up to sit criss cross. you pick yourself up and flop in top of him, going limp. "get off of me, you're not a lap dog." he smiles. "nah it's comfy here." you respond.

he pushes you off yet again and you land on the floor. you place your chin on his legs and look up at him. his gaze at you softens as he stares into your eyes. this bolt of confidence runs through him and he kisses your forehead. he stands up and goes to your kitchen. your mouth wide open as you follow him.

"what was that?!" you ask

"what was what?" he innocently says

"you know damn well what that was."

"oh you mean this?" he turns around and kisses you again but on your lips. his hands on each side of your face and your arms around his neck. "I like this" you say in between kisses. "I'm glad you do." "hey rin?" you pull back. "hm?" "i love you." "i love you too."

Barou Shoei

barou and Raichi coincidentally won tickets to the women's football match this weekend and so they decided to go together cause why not. they get there and wait for the game to start. they introduced all the players and they start the match.

of course your team won cause your teammates are bad bitches. and wow, another coincidence, the tickets included a meet and greet with the team. barou and raichi ask staff members where the meet and greet was because they don't know where the hell to go. they follow the directions and find the others waiting for the team to come out. they stand in the back of the line and wait.

"hey man, uhm I'm actually a huge fan on y/n's so this is actually a big deal for me. so I apologize if I get nervous or freak out..." raichi admits. "nah man youre cool. I don't even know anyone on the team so you can help me. i honestly don't care, I just came to see their strategies." barou stuffs his hands in his pockets and looks around.

your team comes out and sits at the tables for the meeting. the line moves slowly and Raichi gets more jittery and shaky as he gets closer to you. "dude calm down, it's not like youre meeting the president of the United States." barou says. "dude shut up! she's amazing, she's set records, man!" raichi shoots back. barou just rolls his eyes and continues to wait.

they finally get to your table and you flash them a smile. "hi guys, it's nice to meet y'all." you hold out your hand for them to shake. raichi nervously takes your hand and shakes it. barou keeps his hands in his pockets. "aren't you... Barou Shoei?" you point your sharpie at him, "and your Jingo Raichi, correct?" you point your sharpie at Raichi. raichi's eyes widen in shock. "you.... know who we are?!" he yells. "yeah! i remember y'all from BlueLock! y'all were amazing." you compliment. "he's the fangirl here," Barou points to Raichi, "he's been freaking out ever since we got in line. going on and on about how your plays are so cool and your record setting skills." "Barou!!" he slaps his arm. "it's ok, I appreciate it." you look around in case anyone is looking as you lean in. "I'll give both of y'all my number in case y'all have any questions." you wink at them.

you write your number down on an autograph sheet and give each of them one. "dude....." raichi never taking his eyes off of the paper. "hey man, nice job. you got her numberrrrr" Barou teases him. "so did you!" he yells. "come on man, let's go home." barous doesn't want to admit it, but he had a fun time.

time skip

barou gets home and actually debates on whether to texts you. he's got nothing better to do so why not.

you: hey

y/n(that football player): oh hi :)

you: I'm bored

y/n(that football player): I'm actually surprised you texted

you: whys that

y/n(that football player): idk thought you wouldn't text me. I heard you didn't know who I was lol

you: yeah I had no idea until fanboy said something

y/n(that football player): I figured, you didn't seem that intrigued when we met. soooo, since you're bored, whatcha wanna do?

you: ion know that's why I texted you.

y/n(that football player): idea timeeeee. everyday, we have to ask each other one question and the other has to answer.

you: wtv sure

you: favorite food

y/n(that football player): (your favorite food), wby??

you: (whatever you think fits him)

y/n(that football player): oooh cool

y/n(that football player): I have training tomorrow so imma have to go to bed. text you tomorrow, goodnight:p

you: same, goodnight

time skip

the texting went on for months. he's asked you multiple times to help him train and of course you helped him, and Raichi too. sometimes all three of y'all have practice together. raichi has asked you hundreds of questions and you've answered all of them of course.

barou has taken a certain liking to you. he doesn't mind when you text him outta no where or when y'all hang out outside of practice.

y/n❤️: shoeiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii

you: yes y/n?

y/n❤️: whatcha doinnnnnn

you: absolutely nothing, you?

y/n❤️: good, I'm coming over

you: you have no idea where I live dumbass

y/n❤️: then gimme your address >:(

you: fine (address)

y/n❤️: be there in a fewwww

he started panicking. what if his house isn't clean enough? what if you don't like his house? what if his house smells weird? all the questions running through his head while he's picking up the tiniest of clutter around his home. he doesn't know why he's doing it but he's worried about what you think... of.. him...

he drops everything in his arms. "shit" he realizes. "I like.. no, fuck! I'm in love with her. what? no! yes? but how? I mean, I get excited when she texts, I get sad when she loses her games, I feel comfort when we hang out, but that doesn't mean I lover her." he stands still for a few seconds. "fuck" he sighs. "I do love her..." he picks his stuff back up and continues to clean.

after he's done, he hears a car pull up. his heart pounds in his ears and his hands gets shaky. he hears the car turn off and the door slams shut. with ever step he hears, his heart pounds in his head.

he shoots up and opens the door before you have a chance to knock. your hand was halfway up to knock but he opened the door. "hi Shoei!" he moves out of the way to let you in. you set your keys down on the counter and take off your hoodie. you sit nervously in one of the chairs and wait for him to say something.

"uhm are you hungry?... or thirsty?" he asks. "water please." you respond. his body softens when he hears her voice. he walks to the kitchen and gets her drink. he hears her phone ring and looks at her. "oh it's Raichi. I'm gonna take this." you point to your phone. "you can go upstairs or the other room if you want." he tells her. you (unknowingly) walk to his room and answer the call. he finishes getting your drink and sets it on the counter.

he sits on the couch and waits for you to be done. 'ah shit I forgot to get the charger Nagi let me borrow. I'll set it on the table so I can give it to him tomorrow.' he says to himself. he walks to his room and opens the door.

"yes Raichi I know. I'm just so nervous around him..." you speak while your back is turned to him. "i just... I don't know if he feels the same way. he's so.. handsome and caring and sweet. i love everything about him, jin. i love him. and I'll say it a million times. I'm in love with bar...ou" you turn around to face him, jaw slacked open. "uhh.. I'm sorry. I'll go if you want me to. i understand if you feel uncomfortable around me now and-" "shut the fuck up." he walks over to where you stand and kisses you. you don't know how to react, you're frozen. 'is this happening? am I drunk? no, I can't be, I've had zero alcohol." you think to yourself.

"no stupid this isn't a dream. i love you too, stupid" he says, pulling you in for another kiss.

Bachira Meguru

back in bachira's BlueLock days, you were their supervisor. you know, monitoring their health, how they're doing, how they're performing, all that. you don't know how but you became particularly close with bachira without even noticing. you would make up stuff just to see team z play, or slip out of a meeting to watch him practice. he never showed off in front of you because who cares what others think of him. bachira taught you how to play the game and dribble just like him too. but once BlueLock was over, y'all lost contact.

over the years, he continued football. he constantly watches games, specifically (the team you play for). he went to their home games, he collected their merch, he even bought collectable cards, but there's one card he takes every where in his wallet. and it's your card. he thought she was so cool with her tricks, plays and strats [he forgot who you were].

bachira, of course, bought tickets for your next home game. so when the time came, he packed what he needed and set off to the stadium.

bachira always buys the expensive tickets too. he got that money money. so when he hears that y'all were having a meet and greet after the game, he just had to buy them.

bachira sat in his seat and waited for the game.

lil time skip to the middle of the game

he was watching you ever so closely and he remembers this thought every time he watches your games.

'her dribbling looks so familiar.'

time skip

the game was over and he was so excited since y'all won. he quickly ran out of his seat and head to where the meet was.

bachira groaned when he saw the big ass line, but it was all worth it to me you. he steps excitedly when he takes a few steps closer in the line, not being able to contain his excitement. you're his inspiration for continuing his football career.

finally, it was bachira's turn. you flash him your warmest smile, "hi, I'm y/n." you held out your hand. he immediately shook your hand.

your eyes widen as you immediately stood up and put your hands in the table, making your teammates stare at you and Bachira startled. you leaned in closer to his face, inches from his. bachira got flustered by this and his cheeks turning a bright pink. you're eyes widen even more in realization.

"oh my god!! bachira!!" you yell, hopping over the table and smother him in a hug. he immediately returns it but he's confused as to why and how you know his name. "it's me! y/n, from BlueLock! i was y'all's supervisor. megs, you inspired me to take in football and go into a professional career." you hold his face.

it takes him a lil bit to place you in the correct spot in his memory but he figures it out. "holy shit! y/n hi!" he hugs you. you wrap your arms around him, tightening every second.

you sit back down and sign whatever he wants you to sign. you secretly slide him your number, not wanting the other fans to see and you go back to signing autographs and taking pictures.

time skip

[I apologize for all the time skips :(]

he almost immediately texts you once he got home.

you: HI Y/N

the best football player💪: HELLO BACHIRA

you: DID YOU GET HOME SAFE?

the best football player💪: YES I DID THANK YOU

those kinds of texts went on for a good while. you both enjoyed them and always though about each other. you offered for him to come practice at your teams field when no one was there so he can practice with you and he can teach you more stuff he's learned since BlueLock.

these practices went on for a long while. sometimes until 2:00 am or later. but neither one of you cared, y'all were having fun and thats all that mattered to you.

bachira always loved these practices. it's a chance to get closer to you. his stomach would always erupt in butterflies when you invited him to practice and he never knew why. he always got that lovesick puppy look in his eyes when you show him a trick you learned. and again, he never knew why he would feel like that, but it was only with you

a few months have pasted since you've reunited with bachira and you've loved it. it was around 1:40 am and you invited bachira to yet another field practice, just y'all two. he was dribbling up the field while you were trying to steal the ball back. he ran upfield and you got closer. he tried to fake you out but you accidentally tripped him. he landed in his back and you fell but caught yourself with your arms. palms all grassy, knees hurting from the fall, bachira's ass hurt when he fell, but none of that mattered to y'all because you were staring into each other's eyes. not wanting to look away, you picked yourself up.

"I think we're good for today. I'll get our stuff..." you turned away. bachira just laid there staring. he didn't want you to get up, or leave. he heard your footsteps and that knocked him out of his trance.

you were about to walk off the field when you heard quick and fast footsteps. "y/n!" he yelled running up from behind you. "bachi-!" his lips crashed onto yours. you dropped all your stuff just to wrap your arms around his neck.

"I didn't know you felt the same way megs." you smiled against his lips. "I'm glad I showed you then."

"I love you, y/n"

"I love you too, megs"

#x reader #blue lock #bluelock x reader #bluelock x you #bachira meguru #bachira x reader #rin itoshi #rin itoshi x reader #shoei barou x reader #shoei barou #barou shouei #barou x reader

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montygatorshusband · 3 months

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My predictions for the secrets of the DRDT Cast!~

While I’m definitely not smart enough to figure this murder out, I think I may be qualified in figuring the current second biggest mystery of Chapter 2, the rest of the characters secrets!

While a majority of the classes secrets have been revealed, I think I have a good idea on the rest! I’ll try to explain the best I can, but this is kind of a more casual theory than a super in-depth one like most of the ones I see.

Tw: Su!c!de, Self h@/rm, Implied Eating Disorder in Ace’s section, Spoilers for Danganronpa Despair Time

Confirmed Secrets

These are the secrets that are correct and have been confirmed.

Xander - “How could I even select what secret to be your motive? Just about everything you’ve done in your life is worth killing for. The killing game is your fault.”

Nico - “No one accepted you because of your identity. You were constantly mocked by your family, your peers, and everyone else.”

Arei - “Blackmail, rumors, lying, stealing, slander. You did everything you could to ruin your sisters’ lives.”

Rose - “You took on your talent to earn money for your family. But you’ve since put them in a lifetime of debt.”

J - “You hide your name and birthright to pretend that you aren’t the daughter of Mariabella Rosales.”

Charles - “Your older brother died, but you don’t remember him at all.”

Eden - “Ever since you kissed her, you were afraid your sexuality would ruin your friendships.”

Arturo - “Your younger sister killed herself because of you. You should have never left.”

Whit - “Your mother is dead. You always omit that truth.”

Ace - “Your body is falling apart, but you still refuse to eat.”

David - “You exist to manipulate others. Everyone else exits to be taken advantage of.”

Now we move on to the characters whose secrets have not been revealed, and so everything from here on out is pure speculation. I’ll try to explain my reasoning, even if it is sometimes rather flimsy.

Characters who’s secrets have NOT been revealed: Teruko, Hu, Veronika, Min, and Levi

So! Let the speculation begin!

“You always treated the competition with ruthlessness, but poisoning them to win was a bit too far, wasn’t it?”

I think this secret belongs to Min. If I’m not mistaken, in her extra episode between Ch. 1 and 2, we learn that the competition to become the Ultimate Student is incredibly difficult. While Min is smart, that alone doesn’t guarantee that she’ll win the title. So, I believe that Min poisoned one, if not multiple of her peers to become the Ultimate Student. We’ve already seen her dark side through her murder of Xander, so is it that far of a stretch? I also think the word competition is important, as the only other character who’d really have “Competition” is Levi, as the fashion industry is incredibly cut throat, but that aside, the evidence is almost nonexistent (At least from what I remember).

“You only took on your talent to distract from your incessant need to harm yourself for fun.”

I think this secret belongs to Veronika. We already know that she treats this killing game as, well, a game. She doesn’t take any situation seriously, and seems a lot like Junko, where she finds everything boring within seconds. Therefore, she started harming herself. However, as the Ultimate Horror Fanatic, I think it truly fits her personality of getting bored easily. Good horror finds a way to surprise you no matter if you know the tropes or not, and surprises = no boredom. It’s an almost comedic reasoning, but it truly fits her in my opinion.

“You were quite the hopeless child. Dying once wasn’t enough, so you attempted three times.”

I think this is Hu. I know this secret being Hu’s is a popular theory, although admittedly I don’t follow many DRDT theories so I’m not exactly sure why, so my reasoning may or may not overlap.

Hu states in the trial that if she can’t protect people, be that motherly role that she makes herself out to be, she won’t be useful anymore. I think she knows how it feels and wants to give everyone else comfort and support, which is why she gets on to Arei and Ace for their cruelty. It also fits with David stating that “[Hu] may not be the strong, noble person she makes herself out to be,” as, speaking from experience, those thoughts definitely makes the victim feel as though they are weak.

“You’re a murderer, and you hold no remorse.”

Teruko. I think this is Teruko. She is a pretty remorseless person in general, straight up pushing Min off of her as she pleads and begs for forgiveness moments before being excecuted. And no, that’s not the murder I’m talking about. I think the victim is the mystery girl Teruko’s been dreaming about. I don’t have real evidence, but this is definitely a gut feeling.

“You’re constantly blaming yourself for the death of your parents and siblings. It doesn’t matter that it’s not your fault, just that you didn’t go with them.”

This leaves Levi. Levi talks about being a better person a lot, and blaming himself may be the reason he feels like he has to. And with his slight outlashes at Ace during trials, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was a trauma response.

So! That’s my thoughts, I hope you guys enjoyed my rambles! Again, if anything said contradicts canon, just know I didn’t fact check all of this, especially Levi’s section… I do think I remember him talking about family with Eden and it not being a sore subject, but hey. I’m actually pretty confident with the rest, especially Hu and Min.

So, yeah! I think that’s about it. Bye!~

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sriracharocks · 10 months

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Rewrite the Stars (Tom Riddle x Reader Songfic)

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Summary: In a world where darkness looms and fate draws its tangled threads, two souls find solace in a forbidden connection. Word count: 3.5k+ TW: None

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Tom strays into the great music hall after classes end. The corridors lie deserted, devoid of life. While some students bury their noses in books in the library, consumed by their impending exams, others seek solace in their common rooms, surrounded by familiar faces, completely lost in their worlds, and separated from reality by their little bubbles of self-perspective.

It's a fine winter day. The entire Hogwarts grounds are covered with snow, littered with footsteps all over from all the students having sauntered back and forth from class, Hogsmeade, or whatever it is that bored, tired teenagers can engage in.

They entertain themselves, or at least attempt to, by humouring themselves with the usual obnoxious, mindless, and frankly speaking, fruitless chatter of mundanities of ordinary, quotidian endeavours of life no one is interested in knowing or hearing about; or gossip about people resembling slander more than they do constructive criticism. This is the perfect time for rumour mills to churn – spouting out, most often, outrageous lies, or rarely spreading considerably exaggerated versions of the truth; always on the lookout for their next victim to talk about for the rest of the night, or seldom, the rest of the week.

The music hall is enveloped in haunting darkness, dimly illuminated by the rays of moonlight shining through the towering stained glass windows, casting a kaleidoscope of colours upon the polished floors and the ancient stone walls. The soft glow dances with the dust particles in the air, resulting in an enchanting interplay of light and shadow. The acoustics of the hall make it so that the tiniest drop of a pin can be heard echoing throughout the space, its sound bouncing off the walls and resonating in every corner of the room, effectively creating an ethereal atmosphere that engages all five senses.

Footsteps approach the door of the music hall. "Y/N, you've come," a smooth, honeyed baritone voice reverberates in the large hall, as the looming figure in robes of black, green and silver turns to take a better look at the intruder.

"I have, Tom. What brings you here?" I reply, curious as to why he's here, especially at such an hour when everybody is off minding their own business in their respective common rooms.

"The same reason why you're here, Y/N," Tom murmurs, his voice smooth and velvety, echoing in the vast music hall. "To find solace in silence amidst this tumultuous world. The incessant cacophony outside is making me lose my mind. It’s too overwhelming to my senses."

"Maybe you are. But I have my own reasons to come here," I reply, without missing a beat. Speaking to Tom was akin to breathing, an instinctive rhythm that flowed effortlessly between us. Our shared history and unspoken understanding had woven a bond that transcended words, making every conversation a comforting embrace in which our souls found solace.

"I'm here not to enjoy the silence..." I begin, my voice holding an eerily quiet timbre and an unusually soft quality, almost ominous. "...but to make a confession."

Tom's ears immediately perk up in attention, picking up every following syllable that leaves my lips, like a child learning to speak like their parents, hyper-aware of every hand gesture, every lip movement, and every body language cue exhibited during a conversation.

I continue, "You know I'm quite straightforward in general so I decided to get something off my chest, it seems... as if..."

"As if what, Y/N?" Tom grows impatient, unable to wait any longer, and extremely irritated by the amount of suspense that is building up at the moment as a result of my leaving him with an unnecessary cliffhanger.

"As if I've developed feelings... For you. And I'm not the only one, Tom. I know."

"You know nothing, you naive, foolish girl."

By now, Tom’s mind is overcome with unresolved and mixed feelings about the matter. Connecting to someone on an emotional level was exhausting and fruitless to someone like him, who thrived on surface-level attachments, inspiring loyalty from his followers and fear from his enemies.

But love? Love was a foreign emotion to him, an unnecessary obstacle on his path to power, to fulfilling his true purpose and to usher in a new reign in Wizarding Britain, one that would purge every nook and cranny of the magical community of non-magical, useless Muggles that dared to defile the magical community’s purity and sanctity with their ignorance, inferior blood, and foolish idiosyncrasies.

What good did loving his disgusting Muggle of a father do to his mother, Merope? She had loved him, yet he never reciprocated those feelings. How long could she have given him Amortentia in an effort to make him love her? She had to stop sooner or later - and once she did, the result was tragic.

His father left her immediately as the effects of Amortentia wore off, without even stopping to care that she was pregnant with his son. Hence his lonely, weak, and pathetic witch of a mother died at the footsteps of an orphanage while giving birth to him.

Even at the orphanage, Tom was treated like an outlier, an abomination. He was called a freak. No one befriended him or showed him a modicum of love or affection. Of course, he wouldn’t mention how he hung the limp corpse of Billy Stubb’s rabbit from the rafters in an effort to get his revenge for bullying him, or how he took Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop to a cave near the beach, and they were never the same since. To any sane person, it was clear - Tom had psychopathic tendencies, and hence it was quite difficult to garner affection or love for him in one’s heart.

In the world he lived in, Muggleborns, Squibs, and quite hypocritically, even half-bloods, though he was himself one, were nothing less than the scum under a pureblood’s shoes. Tom had no plans to change the status quo; he was smart enough to know that if he could puppeteer the purebloods into doing his bidding, the reins of the wizarding world would be in his hands. And hence, he had wasted no time in raising a loyal group of his own, comprising the heirs of Britain’s pureblood elite, christened ‘the Knights of Walpurgis,’ who would later in life, become the infamous Death Eaters.

Tom couldn’t possibly let his emotions get the best of him now, could he? He has worked too hard and invested quite a lot of his time and energy into his cause to back out now for the sake of emotions, feelings, and something as revolting to him as the ridiculous notion of ‘loving’ someone. No, he is above such mundanities as emotions - far too powerful, important, and busy to willingly experience what was to him a blissful mirage in life’s figurative desert.

But I wasn't one to let anyone have the last word, not even if it was Tom Riddle. So with confidence, I proceed to walk towards him, one step at a time, making him back up against the wall at the same pace. Tom is neither scared nor intimidated in the slightest – though he was being backed up against the wall, his sharp, piercing, calculative gaze remained unwavering and steady.

My steps are slow and deliberate, my heartbeat accelerating to almost a mile a minute with each ticking second. Every footfall has its echo reverberating in the music hall, its own audible manifestation of its underlying physical and emotional weight. My heart is filled with nervous anticipation of what’s to come after I take the last step toward him. Our senses of time and distance become overwhelmingly distorted as the gears in our brains whir as fast as possible to process the intensity of the moment we are currently experiencing.

Should I tell him, or should I not? The whirlwind of emotions bottled up inside of me craved for a release, for fearless expression, unable to stay confined within the walls of my mind which I built up over months of denial and suppression. Spending a substantial amount of time with him in and outside of classes for so many months had led to the emergence of feelings that I had never known would develop for such a cold and detached personality like him.

Memories of reading in the library, studying in the Slytherin common room, playing chess, singing duets in the music hall, and many more flash in my mind as I contemplate whether to express what I feel or stay mum. But I finally gathered the courage to tell him the truth.

"You can't deny this feeling we share, Tom. No matter how much you try," I speak, undeterred by his nonchalant attitude and curt responses. A sense of relief washes over me as I finally feel the weight of my forbidden passion for him being lifted off of my shoulders.

My gaze locks onto his, searching his chocolate brown orbs for any flicker of understanding or emotion, scanning every twitch and movement of his facial muscles and lips, looking for the faintest sign of a reaction.

After a few seconds of contemplative silence, he speaks.

"Love is a weakness. Emotions are for the ones who do not rationalise. They cloud judgement, reduce our inhibitions and make us act on impulse," Tom replies, his voice as cold as ice. "Even if I do have any emotional connection with you, it doesn't matter in the end. We, us... It cannot happen, Y/N."

"But why not? Because for once, you manage to fall in love, to care for someone deeply? Is that what you're afraid of?" I shout, extremely frustrated by his unwillingness to open up, even to his best friend. Or am I the only one who thinks of him as my best friend? What if he never considered us more than acquaintances? No, that can’t be; he always treats me differently from his followers. We have a special, unreplicable - and possibly, inexplicable - bond.

Tom, equally frustrated by the confrontation, feels his pride wounded by the audacity of someone daring to question him, especially a mere girl he had spent only some time with. The thought of falling for someone sends a shiver down his spine, challenging his carefully constructed persona. With a roar, he responds, "Yes, because if I fall for you, what does that make me? Human. A pathetic, repulsive, weak mortal with disgusting emotions," stressing 'mortal', 'human', and 'disgusting' as if he's using the crassest of curse words. Love was an incurable malady to him, one that he did not wish to concern himself with.

"Besides, if we take this too far and give in to our feelings, you'll only get hurt in the end! You know what I am, and you know what my goals are. I will not let something as trivial and pointless as emotions and love dictate my life. A monster, you called me, that day we argued? Your gut was right, Y/N; people like me, we're meant to be hated, and feared. Not loved!" He shouts back, his normally composed and calculating demeanour cracking with each second that passes between us.

"You know what, I'm not going to have this conversation with you right now. I'm leaving Hogwarts tomorrow morning,” I reply frustratedly with a tone of finality. The in-built tension within me threatens to consume me whole, make me lose all sense of rationality, and say or do something that I might regret in the future.

"You're what?"

"...Yes."

"Don't leave."

"I can't do anything about it, Tom. It's done. I'll be going off to my homeland soon, and you know how my parents are; they never take no for an answer. I suppose that's where I get my stubbornness from; the apple doesn't fall far from the tree after all."

Tom knew what I was saying was right - he had experienced it firsthand when he visited our home once. He had witnessed himself how convincing them was a Herculean task, even for me, their own daughter. Of course, he had tried his hand at persuading them for doing us little favours like letting us go to Hogsmeade and succeeded, but not without difficulty. If a shrewd manipulator like Tom had to work hard to cajole them, he was sure that I would most likely fail at convincing them to let me stay at Hogwarts instead of transferring me to Ilvermorny or maybe even Beauxbatons.

"Fine," Tom says as he walks away with a stoic expression.

"Wait! Last duet? Please?" I offer.

"You mean, like old times?" Tom asks, contemplating if he should say yes or reject my advances and go study. But a feeling inside, a strange feeling indeed, to the likes of someone as ruthless, unemotional, and cold as him, beckons him to accept, say yes, and cherish what seems to be a potential final memory to make together.

"Okay," he reluctantly agrees. "Better make it count."

The warmth of our breaths intermingles, a tangible presence that deepens our connection, even as the world around us seems to fade into a distant echo. The grand piano comes to life as I bewitch its keys to play. Each note is like a gentle caress against the walls, carried by the acoustics that enhance its timbre and tone. The music wraps around us, creating an intimate cocoon of sound, while the scent of aged wood and polished brass mingle with the anticipation in the air. I start:

"You know I want you,” I sing, my voice filled with longing. “It's not a secret I try to hide. I know you want me, so don't keep sayin' our hands are tied.”

Tom’s gaze meets mine and I continue, “You claim it's not in the cards, and fate is pullin' you miles away, and out of reach from me; but you're here in my heart, so who can stop me if I decide that you're my destiny?"

As our fingers entwine, I softly sing the following lines:

"What if we rewrite the stars?

Say you were made to be mine?

Nothing could keep us apart

You'd be the one I was meant to find

It's up to you, and it's up to me

No one can say what we get to be

So why don't we rewrite the stars?

Maybe the world could be ours

Tonight.”

I attempt to unlace our fingers, but Tom holds on tight, taking over the song:

"You think it's easy? You think I don't wanna run to you?” He sings, his voice filled with uncharacteristic yearning and melancholy. “But there are mountains, and there are doors that we can't walk through. I know you're wondering why, because we're able to be just you and me, within these walls, but when we go outside, you're gonna wake up and see that it was hopeless after all!"

Tom takes my hand and gracefully twirls me across the floor as he continues, as if expressing the challenges we face:

"No one can rewrite the stars

How can you say you'll be mine?

Everything keeps us apart

And I'm not the one you were meant to find

It's not up to you

It's not up to me

When everyone tells us what we can be

How can we rewrite the stars?

Say that the world can be ours

Tonight."

As the music swells, we soar and spin across the room in circles, our voices blending seamlessly:

"All I want is to fly with you

All I want is to fall with you

So just give me all of you

It feels impossible

It's not impossible

Is it impossible?

Say that it's possible!"

In perfect synchrony, we continue our dance as we sing with a sense of endless hope and determination:

"How do we rewrite the stars?

Say you were made to be mine?

Nothing can keep us apart

'Cause you are the one I was meant to find

It's up to you

And it's up to me

No one can say what we get to be

And why don't we rewrite the stars?

Changing the world to be ours.”

As the song reaches its crescendo, Tom gently holds my chin, causing my cheeks to flush a deep crimson. I shyly meet his gaze before he finishes the final verse:

"You know I want you

It's not a secret I try to hide

But I can't have you

We're bound to break and my hands are tied."

A playful smirk dances across Tom's face, unaware that I can see his blush rising. We stand there, caught in a moment that feels both destined and fleeting, our hearts racing to the ghost of the rhythm of the music that filled the air mere moments ago.

“Children born under the influence of Amortentia have no capacity to love,” he had discovered while reading a Potions textbook in the Hogwarts library a few months ago. “As such, they can never feel or express love in their lives.”

But then, what is this peculiar feeling that blossoms inside of him, twisting and turning his stomach into knots, pulsating through his veins, and forcing his breathing to become shallow and laboured? What is this sense of attraction that he is currently experiencing, one that overwhelms him with joy, hope, and happiness? Is this the ‘love’ that famed poets wrote artistic sonnets about, the ‘love’ that caused the famous Trojan War, the ‘love’ that compels people to sacrifice themselves for another in the face of danger?

All he knows is that at this moment, just for a millisecond, he wants to let go and see what it’s like to love and be loved. Tom treats this not as a revelation of a potential softer side to him, but as a new experience. In reality, he’s deluding himself to be vulnerable so that the part of him that yearns for human touch, for love and affection - which, according to the Potions textbook he had read, is an exceedingly rare anomaly - can know what romance is like, if only for a transient moment.

We end up too close to one another, the increasing proximity igniting sparks of passion we never knew we harboured deep within our hearts. Tom looks down at my soft lips and silently asks for permission. I nod, and he makes the move.

Our lips meet in a desperate union, a collision of longing and desire that ignites a fervent electricity between us. As our bodies meld together, our fingers delicately weave through strands of hair, pulling each other closer in a passionate embrace, cherishing every touch and caress as if time itself were slipping away. At that moment, the world fades into insignificance, leaving only the intensity of our connection pulsating between us.

Tom experiences a raging inferno of emotions during the kiss: primal passion, love, hope, lust, longing, and a desire to never let go. His entire being is lit ablaze by the flames of his fervour. As Oscar Wilde had once said, a burnt child loves the fire - and Tom strangely wishes for nothing more except to be burnt over and over again by the fire of emotions that had been ignited in his heart by something as simple as a kiss. It was abundantly clear that to him, this was an epiphany - that no matter how much he denies the existence of his emotions and chokes them to death, they will always be there within him: latent, hidden, and buried deep inside the crevices of his dark, broken soul. That despite being born under the influence of Amortentia, he could love.

I reluctantly pull back, fireworks erupting in my heart as I do so, my mind and body buzzing with the aftermath of the newfound high I experienced during the kiss. Tom's gaze softens as he locks his eyes onto my own, his intent clear: to imprint every minor detail of my body and personality into his memory, a treasured keepsake to be cherished in the years that lie ahead until our paths cross once more.

"Bye Y/N," Tom murmurs with a heavy heart. Deep inside, he is unable to accept that the magical moment we shared was over. To mask the pain, he regains his distant and cold disposition momentarily.

"We'll meet again, Tom. This isn't goodbye; this is a 'see you later'," I say, a bittersweet smile gracing my lips.

He opens his mouth again on instinct, as if to say something, but falls short of words. His feelings of vulnerability and sadness peek through the cracks of his calculative persona. Finally, he musters a response:

"Fine, see you again, Y/N," he replies with a genuine smile for the first time in his entire life, even though he felt as if someone had ripped out his heart from his chest and torn it into shreds.

I walk away with tears in my eyes, ready to face whatever adversity that lies on my path ahead. The future is uncertain, and the fate of our connection hangs in the balance. As I turn to steal one last glance, Tom stands there, his posture strong but his eyes betraying a sense of longing and conflicted emotions.

We share a momentary connection, an unspoken understanding that our paths may intertwine again, or perhaps diverge forever. I thought my love for him would be enough for him to stop – enough for him to listen to reason, even in my absence – but we all know what happened during the course of history.

Or do we?

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heich0e · 1 year

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midnights, menthols, maybes - akaashi keiji/f!reader (1.9k, mostly SFW) tags: platonic FWBs, implications of deep but ambiguous affection, post-coital conversations, akaashi smoking cigarettes, general overtone of those weird growing pains of early adulthood where you're still trying to figure it all out, talk of the future (marriage, parenthood), tw: keiji is kind of slutting reader out to his friends (or the other way around! all in good fun), based on this post and amy's (@saetyrn9) tags.

Keiji has a strict, self-imposed 'no smoking' rule in his apartment.

He doesn't want his little space to yellow with nicotine; his furniture, his books, the walls. He also doesn't like the way smoke clings to any soft surface or fabric, the smell turning sour and stale and impossible to remove over time. And he always says that when–not if–he quits, it'll be easier if he's not used to smoking inside anyway so it won't be an ever-present temptation he has to fight.

But there are two exceptions that he makes to this policy, rule-abiding though he may be. The first exception is reserved for when it's raining outside with an accompanying north wind, which means the raindrops will blow under the cover of his balcony, soak into his house slippers, and he might end up catching a cold. The second is saved for midnights spent with you, recuperating from having gone a few rounds, where just mustering the strength to crawl to the end of his bed and crack open the window is a miraculous feat in and of itself.

A plume of smoke curls from Keiji's lips on a long, almost rapturous exhale, his entire body slackening like he’s cumming for the fourth time tonight. You'd already seen (and felt) the tension bleed from him much earlier in the evening as he fucked you down into his mattress–following your usual routine of drinking your weight in whatever liquor was readily available and slandering your respective employers for a couple of hours–but now he’s really, totally at peace.

You watch him lift the mentholated cigarette up to his lips again, and you watch the inhale. The lit end burns bright in the dark room, stark against the shadows. The only other source of brightness is the distant city light against his profile as he sits next to his open window, backlit by the late night glow.

He has no glasses on—the frames discarded on the bedside table next to you, perched over the open drawer with a string of unused condoms still left hanging out from the side. His hair is tousled, dark and unruly. His lips are still a little swollen, their silhouette slightly fuller than usual as they wrap around the filter of the cigarette and take another drag.

He’s so pretty.

“Hey… ‘ji?” you mumur, soft enough to preserve the stillness blanketing the stretch of bed between you.

Keiji tilts his face in your direction, peeking at you from the corner of his eye with his cigarette still held between his lips.

He says nothing, but you know he’s listening.

“Would you ever wanna be my boyfriend?”

You're not quite sure where the question even comes from, and clearly neither is he as he plucks the menthol from his lips in mild surprise. He laughs quietly, a half-rasp, and smoke slips out in an inelegant little puff when he coughs a bit.

“No.” His response is quick, honest, and sure.

You can't help but pout.

“That’s kinda mean," you mutter, your fingers twisting into the comforter that rests over you, preserving your body heat as the night breeze rushes in through the open window. Every so often the wind carries Keiji's cigarette smoke closer to you before it has the chance to draw it out, but you don't quite mind it. It's familiar to you after all this time. Comforting, almost.

Keiji flicks a bit of ash from the end of the cigarette into the ashtray he has resting on the windowsill.

“You deserve a better boyfriend than me, don’t you think?”

You hear a far-off siren blaring somewhere in the city outside as you consider his question.

“No,” you echo his earlier reply, but where his tone had been so resolute your own is offended on his behalf.

Time and sex has dried you out, and you're more sober now than you'd once been, even though the empty beer cans the two of you drained as still littering his living room table. You push yourself up off the pillows at the head of the bed and crawl down towards the dark haired man on your hands and knees. You're still a little shaky, a little weak, and Keiji watches your every move raptly as you approach. You pause just beside him at the end of the bed, blinking up at him expectantly. He lifts the cigarette to your waiting mouth so you can take a little puff, watching your lips as they just barely wrap around the end. You feel the pleasant buzz of nicotine in your veins as the prickling, minty smoke hits your lungs, then the light head rush that accompanies it once you breathe it all out again.

Keiji pulls the cigarette away and you flop down on your tummy next to him, rolling onto your side so you can peer up at his face. He reaches over to the sill and deftly flicks the ash away once more, and then takes another long drag.

“Why do you think I set you up with so many of my friends?”

This time it's his question that takes you by surprise, the words hanging in the air like the smoke he breathes out.

“Because you’re gossip hungry, and wanna know how they fuck.”

Keiji smiles wryly above you, stamping out the cigarette.

“Yeah, true," he admits as he shimmies his bedroom window most-of-the-way shut, leaving just a crack to help the lingering traces of smoke clear. He turns to face you, one hand pressing down into the mattress beside your head as he dips towards you. He takes your jaw in his gentle hand, a thumb on your chin as he tips your face up to look at him. “But it’s also because I want you to find a boyfriend who at least has sheets on his bed.”

Keiji's bedding, at present, consists only of a comforter over a mattress cover. You know there's a brand new package of sheets in the corner of his bedroom, because you'd spotted them when you'd stolen a sweatshirt from his dresser not long prior, but when you asked him about them, he admitted that he hasn’t had the chance to open and wash them yet. Part of you wondered when he got them, how long they've gone unopened, and how long he’s been sleeping like this.

He'd been considerate enough to put down a towel before the two of you had toppled into bed, in any case, so at least you weren’t sleeping on a wet mattress.

But now the towel is in the hamper, and his old high school volleyball sweatshirt is wrapped around your shoulders, and the last few lingering wisps of cigarette smoke are slipping through the crack in the window out into the night.

“Some of the guys you’ve set me up with have way bigger issues than a lack of sheets,” you counter his point, your features scrunching.

He pinches your nose affectionately.

“Those ones are mostly just my curiosity getting the best of me.”

“At my expense,” you retort nasally.

Keiji urges you back up off the mattress and to the top of the bed again, crawling up along with you. He pulls the comforter up to your chins as you both snuggle down on your respective sides of the bed that isn’t quite meant to fit two people comfortably, but that you somehow never feel cramped in.

You curl up on your side facing him and he does the same, his hands tucked under his pillow beneath his cheek. You and Keiji aren't really cuddlers, and never have been. It always feels more like a sleepover than a hookup at this point in the night.

Keiji’s eyelids are heavy as he lays beside you, but he's still watching your face between blinks.

“Lets make a deal,” he says–his voice deep and flat and familiar.

“‘Kay.”

“How about at forty, if neither of us have gotten our lives together yet and you’ve finally fucked your way through every man in my contact list, we get married?”

You want to laugh, but somehow you don't.

“Isn’t forty a bit late?”

“I figure it gives us a fair shot. I have a lot of contacts, you know.”

That makes you snort.

It's quiet for a moment. Blinks instead of words passing between you.

“What about kids?" you finally reply. "How about 35, instead? Biological clocks and all that.”

“You wanna have my kids?” Keiji's eyes look slightly more curious now, a little more lively under his heavy lids, but his tone doesn’t really change. Ever the same.

You hum.

“I don’t think it’d be so bad,"–you shrug as much as you can laying down–“not sure I'd be very good at it though.”

“Well, dual income with no kids could be kinda nice.”

“Yeah,” you agree thoughtfully. “We can fuck whenever we want and go on expensive vacations.”

“That would require taking time off work,” Keiji reminds you—a feat which neither of you are particularly good at, at least not now in your late-20s when sometimes just finding 20 minutes in the run of a day to eat a meal feels like time you don't have.

You breathe out something that's not quite a huff nor a sigh, and yet somehow both at the same time.

“Alright, what about 38? Any earlier than that and we’re just setting ourselves up to fail,” Keiji offers up a compromise, wiggling one hand out from under his pillow to brush an errant piece of hair back from your face. "Still a few years for a baby to happen if it happens, and otherwise it’ll just be us and our vacations.”

“38...” you repeat his proposition, mulling it over.

Time keeps ticking.

A few more blinks.

“So, will you maybe marry me?”

“Sure,” you agree, as easy as anything. You mean it too, you think; there are far worse fates than spending the rest of your days with Keiji at your side. Laughing the way you only seem to when you’re together. Fucking the same way you always have. Maybe popping out a few neurotic, deceptively placid-faced babies if the universe has a sense of humour. Growing old falling asleep just like this, face to face.

You know him. He knows you.

Keiji reaches up into the space between your faces, and sticks out his pinkie.

You reach up and loop yours through.

You're both on the periphery of sleep now, the time between blinks growing longer and longer until soon your eyes are closed.

Keiji hums a little: a question.

You hum back to tell him you're still awake.

“Did I mention that Bokuto-san said the National Team’s trainer is single again?”

“Iwaizumi-san?” you murmur curiously.

Keiji hums again, deep and low.

You crack one eye open, but Keiji’s are still closed and his expression is serene across from you.

You smile a little, and you might roll your eyes if they weren’t already closing again.

“Get me his number.”

“Get me a story.”

“Maybe.”

#akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi keiji x you #akaashi x reader #akaashi x you #akaashi keiji #hq drabble #hq writing #writing

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fionarara · 1 year

Text

+ hipster ! kenma .

+ tw : one mention of a drug, cigarettes, slight cat slander, please this is a joke

+ hipster ! kenma . owns a hairless sphynx cat, because cutesy cats with fluffy fur are for plebs + hipster ! kenma . who shows up to a kickback party at kuroo’s place and upon discovering that the fridge is only stocked full of ultra-generic basic beer brands, decides he would rather drink the warm belgium-imported craft beer which has not yet been cooled, because dude would never be caught holding a shitty bud light in hand or drinking a white claw + hipster ! kenma . “knows the DJ” when you walk into this music venue with him, but in actuality, they only had a singular random encounter on the street during one of kenma's smoke breaks from his part-time job at a local arcade bar: this DJ guy just happened to be strolling by when he casually asked kenma if he could bum a cig off of him and come in real quick just to use the bathroom

+ hipster ! kenma . says, not only is it too expensive to touch up the roots of your hair so often with bleach, but it’s also way too high maintenance, and according to hipster kenma, high-maintenance = highly manufactured, super lame. clearly, presenting with two-toned slightly unkempt hair with a heroin-chic grunge look is some sort of torch one can hold about their own authentic individuality against the status quo...and how one is too cool to give a fuck, yeah + hipster ! kenma . who only rolls his own cigarettes, being the loose tobacco aficionado he is, and uses Bali Shag brand–exclusively. shows you how to roll it just right into a small narrowed cone shape that’s precise and comfortable enough to rest between your pretty fingers, demonstrating how to twist the tip’s end of the handmade cig in the most exquisitely cool way so that when you flame it up, it'll flash with a dazzling little light show right before you take a puff and inhaaale + hipster ! kenma . shows you his entire collection of vintage 8-bit video games, his faves are the few that are most rare and special edition versions where only a handful in the world were made (500 copies worldwide to be exact) + hipster ! kenma . will often wear high quality acetate-plastic glasses with thick-rimmed frames – non-prescription. boy has 20/20 vision and, more often than not, has his bicolored strands of hair hanging over his eyes, barely able to see from his own peripheral vision, so can someone please explain why the guy has thirteen different varying-style pairs of them? + hipster ! kenma . who is, duh, a self-proclaimed male feminist. he even has a cat onesie for his hairless sphynx kitty made of organic cotton with the words 'The Future is Female' printed on it. he makes sure to put the garment on his penisy-looking cat before going out on any first date in case he happens to score that night by getting to bring the date home

+ hipster ! kenma . buys and then wears a thrifted 90s D.A.R.E. T-shirt three days in a row, but later that weekend does cocaine off the cover of a vinyl record by The Stokes at this hole-in-the-wall dive bar while attending Yamamoto’s birthday party

+ hipster ! kenma . hates every mainstream video game, yet you’ll still catch him playing Pokémon GO on the DL when he thinks no one is looking because the nostalgia can’t be beat no matter how much his little alt-heart tries, plus deep down he refuses to quit until he’s at least caught the shiny versions of Jolteon and Umbreon

+ hipster ! kenma . has a nose piercing, with a vintage sterling-silver stud that comes with a whole intricate story and history behind it that he purchased at this obscure pawn shop out in the arts district of a super hip neighborhood he heard about + hipster ! kenma . whose newest pair of skinny jeans are so tight on him, they’ve begun to chafe the delicate skin of his thighs and a small rash developed as a result (despite hinata repeatedly mentioning they were probably a bit too snug), so he takes himself in for a yearly doctor’s visit for a simple topical cream prescription fix when his physician informs him they’d detected some curious results of a lower sperm count, asking kenma if for any reason he’d been doing anything as of late that would impact his testicles…oopsie

+ hipster ! kenma . whose favorite beanie is definitely in need of a wash soon, however he can’t just go ruining the ethically-sourced organic cashmere it's made of and risk ruining this special material + hipster ! kenma . would grow a “dope stubble beard” – if only he could, but alas – (and he would use the word, alas, whenever sharing this dilemma with anyone) alas, he—cannot. “...damn my damned genetics...”

+ hipster ! kenma . has not been to see or support a nekoma game as an alumni ever since he seriously started working (–biking to work, by the way, because ‘excess fossil fuels are whack’) in the tech world at this startup company of some trendy new game app…since being associated with any jock conduct anymore is the antithesis of his counter-culture lifestyle now

+ hipster ! kenma . believes heavily in the issue of gentrification in the new neighborhood he just relocated to, without realizing he is part of the problem + hipster ! kenma. has a snide opinion about eeeeverything …

+ hipster ! kenma . part 2 . ⇢ + link2masterlist . ⇢

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yaatrickyassification · 1 year

Text

I summon these demons!

Synopsis: Instead of throwing out spells left and right, isn't it much more fun and cool to have a demon do it instead?

[ Venti, Zhongli x Fem! Reader ]

TW: Demons, rituals, swear words, suggestive themes, some bits of Dottore slander, Childe almost dying, repetition of words because I have a small vocabulary.

Word Count: 4,093k

You’ve always had a love for the mystical and fantasy side of the world, even though most of your peers, even your parents (you have wanted them to be more supportive of your dream.) Have constantly tried to dissuade your stubborn self (because you can’t summon spells like everyone even though you have a lot of mana that no one had ever seen in history). Though you didn’t pay any mind to the subsequent jeers and teasing of your classmates and from society, you were strong and they weren’t.

And you were going to show them what [y/n] [l/n] is made of, but you didn’t take into account getting an equally baffling and weird… friendship? Fischl who was peacefully eating her noodles made especially by her mother, finally opened her mouth to speak her bullshit: “My friend, my sworn sister, my most powerful magician in the kingdom of crows, I have heard your prayers of wanting to summon a fearful entity? Beyond without a shadow of a doubt that I have not doubted you for even a second.”

“Amy.” You exasperated and sighed at your friend’s antics, in the corner of your eyes you can see the mean wizards and the popular stuck-up rich princesses and princes pointing fingers at your friend’s grand bizarre show of her… words.

“And who might Amy be?” She elegantly or tried to be elegant tilted her head to the side but was stopped as Mona came by to your table with a disgusting bowl of salad with no meat, berries, or nuts, in sight. Both you and Fischl’s eyes widened at the pitiful sight and looked back towards Mona who sheepishly sent out a smile. She's broke, isn't she?

“Are you going full-on vegan?” You blanch.

Mona huffs and forcefully elbowed Fischl onto the side, Fischl let out a painful moan before sitting up straight and sending a glare to Mona, “oh my dear astrologist, how can you be so painfully rude to your Prinzessin?” Mona scowled and finally, Fischl relents to her fearsome gaze and scoots away from Mona’s vicinity as a touch can painfully set aflame her porcelain skin. Seeing Fischl huddled up closer to your side she finally sits on the wooden bench.

“So, what is it that I’ve heard about you trying to summon demons?” You glowered at the blonde girl beside you who was trying so hard to avert her gaze anywhere just so that she can’t face the frightening light in your eyes. “And where did you hear that from?” You inquired from the astrologist in front of you.

The astrologist huffs and rolled her eyes to the side as she painfully stared daggers at the whole crowd that never bothered to hide their sharp-seethe swords nor the mocking stares glaring down your figure, “unfortunately, your fame precedes your expectation [y/n].” Mona looks at you with pity.

“Oh god. What is it now?” Fischl who has been quiet whistles and starts to furiously type away at her phone, finding what she was looking for, she abruptly shoves the phone into your hands. You sent a frown her way as she let out a hump and turned to the other side and focused on her meal, which smells deliciously scrumptious, you can also see Mona trying to get a few bites out of the meal which Fischl effectively deflected her advances towards her food.

“A magicless student inside of the esteemed Teyvat academy of magicians and scholars is repetitively seen trying to summon demons?” You huff and throw the phone onto the table with a loud sound effectively making Fischl and Mona stop their antics. “Seriously, students these days can’t just mind their own business. And magicless? I won’t go so far as to call myself magicless; I have thrice the amount of mana the entire school population has! I— I just can’t do spells, which I don’t know why. And why do they make it sound like demons are bad? Demons are also accepted here.” You stop with your rants and turn to face Mona and Fischl, fire was seen in your eyes.

“You believe me, right?” You pressed.

“We—we do?” You satisfactorily nodded at their hesitant agreement and stood up from your seat, your hands making their way to your bag, as you messily fumbled around the messy dump called your things. You finally found the book you were looking for and brought it out for the whole world to see and slam it down on the table with a loud bang. “And what’s this?” Mona asks as she prods at the book with a weird title: a guide to summoning demons: made by the illustrious Paimon!

“This looks very suspicious,” Fischl utters before snapping out of her stupor and trying to cover up her words with royal terms.

“I’m going to summon demons and I’m going to succeed and after that? I’m going to blast all of those motherfuckers on how overpowered I am.” Fischl and Mona absentmindedly stared at you and Mona scoots closer towards Fischl and so did her, “should we stop her?” Fischl curiously asks, “I… I don’t know.”

“What do you mean ‘I don’t know?’” Fischl snide.

“You do know that my astrology magic doesn’t work on [y/n] right?”

“And?”

Mona facepalms, because why is she stuck with these dorks?

You slam the book down the ground as the cult star thing that you can normally see in movies is laid on the ground, fully drawn with perfect precision. You’re summoning demons, things can go to shit in five seconds and you aren’t taking any chances, you look towards your side to see any things that you might have done wrong or the tools that you needed are not there where you place them.

Ten intermediate mana potions? Check, you might have a ton of mana but you aren’t going to take chances, if you manage to deplete your mana in a fight with a demon (which is impossible) you might find yourself in the afterlife, and you can’t afford that.

Ten high-grade healing potions? Check, to make a demon subservient, you need to beat the shit out of them, in which you don’t know how you will fare. But isn’t life just like that?

A contract? Check.

A binding easy-to-rip spell? Check, just in case you can’t make the demon subservient; it might run a serious ruckus and worse might get you expelled. You don’t want that happening.

“Okay, let’s do this!” You shout and bring forward a knife, the knife pierces your palm as you chant the summoning guide clearly instructed on the book you’ve been following to a tee. A drop of blood fell to the floor, now a stream quickly fills the crevices of the star inside of a circle that you have carved carefully and gently, and finally the star glows a deep red before turning white and it filled the entire room, and you were sure you were getting out of this blind.

A voice was later heard.

Venti:

“Woo! What a nice feeling, now, If I can only have wine together. That would be the cherry on top!” A cheery voice which you didn’t expect from a demon, you expected them to have, and finally, the light subsided and its place was a boy or a girl? You don’t know, do demons even have gender or are they all gender-neutral? You’re going to ask Dottore later.

In its place was a boy (you’re going to assume.) He had braids sprouting out of the side of his hair which is colored in teal, and oh boy, he has wings on his back. Are demons even supposed to have wings? And the clothes, white silk fabrics hang around his shoulders and to his chest like a crop top with white shorts covering his bottom part. And before you can stop yourself, “are you a boy or a girl? Like I mean, what pronouns are you comfortable with? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, and oh! I’m [y/n] [l/n]!” You stood up from the ground and bowed, “please take care of me.”

The demon gapes at your introduction before letting out a peal of laughter, “my, my, awfully polite, aren’t we?” You shrug, “can you afford to be this polite to a demon?” The demon asks you curiously.

You tilted your head to the side before speaking: “As I mean, I’m kind to Dottore.” The demon leans his head to the side at the mention of the name, his slender fingers coming up to his chin in a thinking motion, “Dottore? I haven’t heard of that name in the demon realm.” You gasp in shock as you think back to the face of that despicable man.

“Oh, I see. So, he was human.” Hearing your bated whispers, the demon lets out a laugh as he tries to wipe the tears out of his eyes that fall down the slope of his cheeks, “you’re very funny, it’s been years since a mortal has made me laugh. All those demons were so boring, especially Morax.” The demon stops laughing and faces you with a smile.

“Now what is your name, dear contractor?”

“Uh, [y/n] [l/n]?” You said, the demon in turn nodded his head before raising a finger, “I just want one thing before we proceed to the contract.” He eyes the fridge that was right beside the summoning ritual and you gulp, does he want to eat you? The demon bobs his head up and down and points toward the refrigerator.

“Do you have wine with you?” You slowly nodded your head in confirmation, seeing your action the demon significantly brightens up even more so than before. “I want that.” Baffled, you tilted your head to the side and asked: “you don’t want a fight?” The demon smiles and leans undeniably closer toward your direction, “If you want to, I’ll happily oblige.” You hastily run to the refrigerator as the demon let out a laugh at your actions.

“So, what’s your name?” You hesitantly ask the demon who was busily looking over the contract while also chugging a bottle of wine (this was his third bottle.) “You don’t know?” You nod. “You don’t even know my name? And you summoned me.” He pointed out sharply.

You flinch at his tone, “I like humans like you, so full and rich with mana. And oh, how pure you are. It makes me giddy to have you as my contractor all by myself. You’re only my contractor, right?” You hastily nodded. The demon smiled before letting the contract dissolve into the air and a mark of anemo seared onto the right side of your waist. “You may call me Barbatos, I’m the eighth of the 72nd demons. But you may call me however you like, contractor.” He neared your face as he lightly kissed the supple of your cheek, “Ven—Venti, can I call you that?” Barbatos stopped with his gestures as he smiled and nodded in satisfaction.

Venti’s hand travels down to the side of your body, and finally, his fingers rhythmically thump on the mark hidden underneath the layers of clothing over your waist. “Let’s have a good time together, okay? [y/n]-chan.”

To summon the eight, which is one of the most powerful demons in the 72nd demon realm, surely turns heads. Almost everyone in your school has heard of your accomplished feat and is now gawking and staring at the demon, which basks in the attention he is getting. The green cape on his shoulders fluttered in the wind as his black shoes made a sound on the marbled floor of the academy (you made him change his clothing, because sure as hell is he not strutting up to your school in that outfit.)

In the short weeks, you have known Venti, you have decided that he is a menace.

He’s a bad alarm clock, he will never wake you up if you ever so decided to let him do the job. He will silently and stealthily turn off your alarm clock with his wind and will snuggle up closer to you, got to control that demon urges, right?

And of course, during lectures, he will sit right in front of your desk. And no one corrects him for it, because who has the guts to fight a demon who is a part of the top ten strongest? Like, who? You, of course.

“Venti, please get down. I can’t take down notes if you’re in my way.” You irritably hissed out. Venti whistles and gets down from your desk but instead makes his way to your lap as he cuddles comfortably to your chest, “come on, he’s just spouting bullshit, I can teach you about the history of demons later, I can’t control my urges anymore.” You huff and undeniably pulled the demon closer.

Lunchtime with Venti is hell, literally and figuratively. He wants the wine and he will get it (maybe your kisses too, but you’re not ready for it yet.) Once the cafeteria staff denied him of his wine, he blew up a fit and decided to blow the whole cafeteria away, he almost got you expelled but a little threat from Venti was all it takes to make them take back their expulsion.

Venti loves your attention and since lectures take most of it, he decides to take all of your full love and care during lunchtime. His place is on your lap, he had taken territory of it since the first time you’ve ever summoned him, and all Mona and Fischl can do is stare at the thousand-year-old demon snuggling up to a sleep-deprived university student.

And when school is over? It’s Venti time, you know that demon urges I keep saying? It’s when demons have the sudden urge to spew chaos but it can usually be quelled by their contractor through intimate gestures, that’s why Venti usually stays close to your vicinity never leaving and always so affectionate.

Venti loves wine but he loves your mana more, every night time he will bother you and will persuade you to make him drink your mana again. And you let him do so, which causes you to wake up all tired and groggy tomorrow.

“I love you so much, you’re the freedom that I crave for centuries. Now, let me cherish you until death does us part, and once death comes knocking down on your door. I will bring you with me down to the depths of hell, and no angel can keep you away from me.”

Zhongli:

“Who dares summon the demon of war?” A rough and uneven voice was heard and in the place of the subsequent dimming light stood a tall man with long hair flowing to his back, his arms covered and basking in geo energy in which veins litter his fingers up to his arms. His golden eyes shine in horrid glee as he looks left and right to find the mortal who had dared to summon the demon of war.

War, all humans, angels, demons, and any other species have fear of it. But this demon calls himself the demon of war? The definition of the word, and its embodiment? You let out a shaky breath and suck in a harsh inhale. You don’t know if you’re getting out of this alive, the man who wore a white hooded cape over his hood and the long baggy white pants steps out of the summoning ritual and gazes upon you with confusion.

“You’re the mortal who summoned me?” If it weren’t for the thick tension in the air and the way his eyes glinted over with murderous intent, you would have cussed him out to the ends of Teyvat. But unfortunately, you can’t. “Y—yes?” Curse you for stuttering, this man was intimidating as hell and you stuttered in front of him. Now, you wondered why you didn’t try to summon angels instead.

The demon scoffs and glares at you with anger, “you dare lie to me? But you’re weak. You would need a needless amount of mana to summon me.” You can’t bring it upon yourself to say that you do have a needless amount of mana, The demon eyes you and the surroundings before finally giving in, “no matter, fight me. And I will judge for myself if you truly deserve to have the demon of war under you.” Fuck.

And immediately the demon created hundreds of geo stone spears and the mass of it caused some of your furniture to shred and topple over to the ground. You watch with painful eyes as an expensive tea set from Liyue got shattered on the carpet floor of your apartment, “my—my tea set! Do you not know how expensive that is?!”

The demon looks at the shattered pieces of glass before making it levitate and immediately the sharp piece of glassware went flying towards you at a speed not caught by the human eye, you pray to the gods above you as you manage to dodge the sharp crystal that flew past you.

Strands of hair fall to the ground and you can feel the painful cut from the glass on your cheek, you let out a curse. “You—” At his strangled grasp, you turned towards the demon who was intently staring at your cheek which has blood drawing out of it, the demon look to be starving as his face flush pink and he immediately pounces over to you and you let out a shriek.

Your body made contact with his as his hands made their way to yours and put it on top of your head, effectively locking you in place. You fumbled around the floor as you tried to let his grip on your hand loosen but who were you to win against a demon? The demon leaned closer to your face before getting his tongue out.

And oh my god? Is that a serpent’s tongue? And he licks the blood dripping down to your chin up to the wound where it continuously lets out streams of blood, what the fuck is this sexual tension? You tense in his ministrations and you can feel him let out a satisfied grumble through his chest which is directly in contact with yours. “It’s full of life.”

“Of course, it’s full of life. It's blood!” Maybe you shouldn’t have been too sarcastic to a powerful demon, but the demon looks thrilled at the prospect of you rebelling as he let out a deep laugh, “how interesting, my name is Morax. I’m the 21st demon of the demon realm, and I will have your mana.” Baffled, you stared at Morax with wide eyes.

“Excuse me?” You stared at him with surprise before the surprise turned into anger, like hell no, you are letting some demon manhandle you. “No.” You uttered firmly. Morax who heard you tilted his head to the side. “No?” You nodded your head. Morax sent you a chilling smile as he further prodded at your words. “No?”

Having enough you speak out: “Yes, are you deaf?” Morax who was bewildered stared at you for a few seconds before his stare turned sharp as a metal sword, “and why do you think I will listen to the likes of you?”

“Because consent is sexy.”

“Excuse me?”

“You are excused.” And with all of your might kick him in the groin and he with his guard down managed to let you escape with a pained groan, and without wasting time you ripped the binding spell and a blinding light went straight towards the demon who was unprepared. Morax, who was now bonded, let out fearsome growls and shouts consisting of “Let me go, you mortal!” Like hell, you would.

“First, no I won’t let you go. Second, I don’t want to call you Morax, can I call you Zhongli instead? Third, no way in hell am I making you go to my school dressed like that. Fourth, I would let you drink my mana if you sign the contract with me and ask for my consent, and fifth, my name is [y/n] [l/n] your contractor, not mortal nor human. Understood?”

And the demon can’t help but nod his head in confusion. The contract constricted and formed into rocks as it crumbled and turned to dust in five seconds, with the disappearance of the contract, the mark of geo appeared on your lower back as it glowed and throbs with the energy of geo.

You’ve always wondered how a demon can change in the span of a few weeks, the once unruly Morax now turned into a polite-mannered Zhongli. You would have doubted if Zhongli was the demon of war if he had been this polite in your first meeting.

Zhongli is undeniably a good alarm clock that wakes you up gently and will even cook you breakfast, you always ask him why he cooks breakfast, and Zhongli with his gaze of gold let out a fond sigh at your question and off he rants about his acolytes, Xiao? Was it? Doesn’t know how to cook shit and the only food that he can cook and is an expert at is almond tofu.

And Ganyu? Well, Zhongli said that Ganyu only eats the plants and herbs that they can find in his territory and well, Zhongli isn’t a fan of plants. You knew that from how much he liked the slow-cooked bamboo shoot soup that you cooked for the man or in this case demon.

If you didn’t know any better you would have thought that Xiao and Ganyu were his children with how fondly he talks about them, you asked him once before and he started sputtering (“I—They—are not my children, though If you would like to have one—” You stared with wide eyes at the demon, and he coughs into his fist.)

And when it’s time for class, your professor is in one hell of a ride with Zhongli, every time the professor says something wrong. Zhongli coughs into his fist as he leans closer to you and quietly mutters the right answer, in a voice that your whole class can unfortunately or fortunately can hear, and it has your professor steaming in red fury. You tried to choke down your laughter at how angry your professor looked by the end of the day.

And when it’s lunchtime, Zhongli has your likes and dislikes with food down to a tee, he will spare no mess when it comes to his contractor. He will line up in your stead for the cafeteria food and almost everyone clears out of his way, and if someone doesn’t. Wow, would you look at that, who’s Zhongli? I only know Morax.

Once he tasted the cafeteria food, he would frown so hard you worried for a second before saying that the cafeteria food isn’t good enough for his contractor and will throw it out of the window, all the chef ladies hate you now after that. He will also serve you tea, sometimes Mona and Fischl wonder if you summoned the demon of war and not a servant.

Childe, hearing of you summoning a powerful demon, immediately went up to Zhongli and started to provoke Zhongli, (“are you sure you’re a demon?” “Yes, I am a demon.”) And you’re so proud of Zhongli that he isn’t instantly hurling insults or even stone spears at Childe’s direction, but all of it shattered as soon as Childe decided to insult you to get a reaction out of the demon, and oh boy, God bless Childe by managing to dodge the thousands of stone spears hurling toward his way.

And since Zhongli loves your mana, adores and worships it even. You need to give this man his daily dose of mana or else he will all turn Morax on everyone, and since you need to get all intimate for mana to get transferred, the more intimate the action the more powerful the mana is transferred. And Zhongli, who loves your mouth after your mana, likes to kiss you to get his mana. (Well, if you’d like other means, he’s all ears.)

“How addicting the taste of your lips is, I want it. I want it so bad that I feel I’ll go crazy if I can’t have your lips on mine. If you’ll allow me, contractor, I’ll love and spoil you until you can feel as if you’ll die from it.”

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