#also numbered them so anyone can come and scream about them in my inbox if anyone feels prompted bc i cant get enough of this

[bluewinnerangel]

Faith In The Future: Parallels.

We Love Parallels. <3

So we keep seeing parallels between lines of FITF songs (I'm not gonna bring in any other songs for this, yes I know there are some very clear ones) right, as obvious as the same line reused in another song, but also songs sharing themes to the point some lines are saying the same thing, shared keywords or imagery, etc, and I wanted to attempt to list a bunch. This list is probably going to end up being longer than your attention span (and mine like this took some sittings so I recommend taking your time to digest them all I think it's worth it all this time) but I love it, I love the FITFverse. Obviously I couldn't tell you which of these he put in there on purpose and which of those are also meant to mean anything beyond that they all together create this wonderful body of work that is FITF but I just love looking at it like this, I love how one song can extend and amplify the meaning of another, I love seeing how you can take one thing and flip it on its back and show the another side to it, and how it all morphs and works together, and if somehow magically none of these are on purpose which I doubt then still, it's still showing what he focuses on in songwriting and in life and what he chooses to share with us so however you view this I think it's really fucking awesome.

I'm probably gonna miss a bunch, some might appeal to you, some meh, it's all subjective, that's the beauty of it, blablabla:

Do you see what I see? (SHE'S BEAUTY WE ARE WORLD CLASS) 🤝 Do you see what I see (COMMON PEOPLE)

I hear you through the silence (HEADLINE) 🤝 I can still hear a silence (HOLDING ON TO HEARTACHE)

It’s the way we see ourselves through walls of trees (ALL THIS TIME) 🤝 Finding faces in the trees (SHE'S BEAUTY WE ARE WORLD CLASS)

Sit down with a master plan (SILVER TONGUES) 🤝 Sit down sit down in the space and time (SHE'S BEAUTY WE ARE WORLD CLASS)

But I’m king on a 50 metre road (SILVER TONGUES) 🤝 we're still the kings of the Friday nights (CHANGE)

Silver streets and the neon signs (CHANGE) 🤝 feeling dirty cheap on silver street (SATURDAYS) (🤝Silver tongues)

It’s you and me until the end (THE GREATEST) 🤝 You and me until the end (SILVER TONGUES)

If every star is an eye the sky you’ll see angels fly (ANGELS FLY) 🤝 You should be staring at the sky, the birds just passing by love (HOLDING ON TO HEARTACHE)

Silver tongues (SILVER TONGUES) 🤝 Conversation is currency (SHE'S BEAUTY WE ARE WORLD CLASS)

Said I had a plan for us (THE GREATEST) 🤝 Sit down with a master plan (SILVER TONGUES)

We had to disappear cos nothing gets through here (THE GREATEST) 🤝 cos we faded into darkness (HOLDING ON TO HEARTACHE)

faded into darkness (HOLDING ON TO HEARTACHE) 🤝 Fade into light (SHE'S BEAUTY WE ARE WORLD CLASS)

So come on call me liar yeah you're so quick to judge (THE GREATEST) 🤝 So fast judge in error, you thought you knew me better, so quick to kill forever (HEADLINE)

You let your pride hide all your beauty and your kindness (HEADLINE) 🤝 She is beauty (SHE'S BEAUTY WE ARE WORLD CLASS)

If you need you can call on me, I'll be the friend you need (CHANGE) 🤝 We haven’t seen you yeah we’ve given you your space, pick up the phone cos now it’s time you learnt to say (THAT'S THE WAY LOVE GOES) 🤝 Cos if you’re lonely in Chicago you can call me baby (CHICAGO) 🤝 I’ll knock on your door it’ll save me from calling (ANGELS FLY) (🤝 ->)

I didn’t have to search cos I still know your number (CHICAGO) 🤝 I called you twice but then regretted it and changed my number (HOLDING ON TO HEARTACHE)

Time of our lives, it's easy to see, we were just getting by but we were complete (CHANGE) 🤝 Lately, lately it’s been so easy to see my life completed instead of half way full (PARADISE)

Time of our lives, it's easy to see, we were just getting by but we were complete (CHANGE) 🤝 That was enough for me, you know you had to see it to believe, all the late nights, good times / No deep pockets but big hearts, do you see what I see (COMMON PEOPLE)

You won't be the first or be the last to bleed, every broken heart as far as your eye can see (COPY OF A COPY) 🤝 Not for the first time, not for the last time, we always used to say "Saturdays take the pain away" (SATURDAYS)

They always say is so bad for me, everything I tried makes me feel alive (HIGH IN CALIFORNIA) 🤝 takin' all of my demons, Putting them where I won't see them, cos I just wanna feel alive (OUT OF MY SYSTEM) 🤝 Good and bad and right and wrong are stories made up when we we’re young to scare us, love and hate are in between, depends on your reality to see them, I just wanna stay in the moment the rest of my life (FACE THE MUSIC)

See all these waves and waves of green / smoke some weed outside in the summertime, they always say it's so bad for me (HIGH IN CALIFORNIA) 🤝 Getting high on the amber wave / You said grass was a dirty drug (SILVER TONGUES)

Everything that matters is forgotten (FACE THE MUSIC) 🤝 Nothing really matters, nothing really hurts (ANGELS FLY)

I/you still doubt that what I/you do can get me/you home when it gets cold (ALL THIS TIME) 🤝 Together we’re the greatest, we’ll never be that cold again (THE GREATEST)

Nights like these we’ll remember those songs we wrote only we know (SILVER TONGUES) 🤝 You’ll hear strangers singing you name if you act like you’re one of us (COMMON PEOPLE)

Let’s buy some time (FACE THE MUSIC) 🤝 I’m on my way with some time to borrow (ANGELS FLY)

Look at the horizon, does it make you feel small, put the pain behind you now, you don’t need it anymore (ANGELS FLY) 🤝 So I’m not gonna spend another night of dreaming of what could’ve been, keep your eyes on the horizon, paradise is in your own mind anyway (PARADISE)

someone’s else fantasy is nothing like reality (SAVED BY A STRANGER) 🤝 stories made up when we we’re young to scare us, love and hate are in between, depends on your reality to see them (FACE THE MUSIC) 🤝 Fabricated fairytales bring a new world to life (SHE'S BEAUTY WE ARE WORLD CLASS) 🤝 If you believe that guy is superman (LUCKY AGAIN)

You know the party’s over when you’re standing in an empty space alone (HOLDING ON TO HEARTACHE) 🤝 Back dancing in the dark, back to the very start, finding pieces that can fit, making up for what we missed, I said you know me, alone we’re only just as good as the rest (THE GREATEST)

Together we're the greatest (THE GREATEST) 🤝 It's bigger than me (BIGGER THAN ME)

It's an old curse, dreamers divin' head first, broken beaks and dead birds / every broken heart as far as the eye can see (COPY OF A COPY) 🤝 And time can always heal ya if you let it make its way into your bones / You should be staring at the sky the birds just passing by love / you said I'm holding on to heartache (HOLDING ON TO HEARTACHE)

Blue like the lights surrounding me (HIGH IN CALIFORNIA) 🤝 Surrounded by light (SHE'S BEAUTY WE ARE WORLD CLASS)

It’s written all over your face, say it (WRITTEN ALL OVER YOUR FACE) 🤝 Your face reminded me of a love you cannot hide but don’t need to tell me why (THE GREATEST)

Escaping the inevitable, fade into light (SHE'S BEAUTY WE ARE WORLD CLASS) 🤝 I don't wanna face the music but I still wanna dance with you (FACE THE MUSIC) 🤝 Back dancing in the dark (THE GREATEST)

We’re the greatest, it’s you and me until the end, life for us is never over 🤝 forever we'll let the feeling last (SHE'S BEAUTY WE ARE WORLD CLASS)

It’s hard enough to get you sober, I’ve got no chance if I’m hungover (WRITTEN ALL OVER YOUR FACE) 🤝 You said grass was a dirty drug, you like to preach with vodka in your mug (SILVER TONGUES)

I've woken up from my sleep, it's bigger than me (BIGGER THAN ME) 🤝 I ain’t even woken up yet, not nearly vertical (WRITTEN ALL OVER YOUR FACE) (nasty edition)

Demons, I'm takin' all of my demons, putting them where I won't see them (OUT OF MY SYSTEM) 🤝 You'll see angels fly (ANGELS FLY)

Somebody's got your trainers on (SATURDAYS) 🤝 I bet sometimes you still like to wear my jumper (CHICAGO)

Gotta get it out of my system, gotta get it off of my chest (OUT OF MY SYSTEM) 🤝 We stand up tall and beat our chest, shout some things that we’ll regret (SILVER TONGUES)

Hidden across my face in the crowd I'm counting up the days in a haze (SATURDAYS) 🤝 Let’s buy some time for what we shouldn’t do I don’t wanna face the music but I still wanna dance with you (FACE THE MUSIC)

Hidden across my face in the crowd I'm counting up the days in a haze (SATURDAYS) 🤝 The way you know something, your face reminded me of a love you cannot hide (THE GREATEST)

Are we one or are we two? Are we me or are we you? (SHE'S BEAUTY WE ARE WORLD CLASS) 🤝 Our eyes meet and I can tell that you’re the same as me (ALL THIS TIME).

I am only half of what I think I can be (OUT OF MY SYSTEM) 🤝 Are we one or are we two? (SHE'S BEAUTY WE ARE WORLD CLASS)

But the truth is I still doubt that what I do can get me home when it gets cold (ALL THIS TIME) 🤝 when I get lost I go back to where I started (COMMON PEOPLE)

45. nothing stays the same (CHANGE) 🤝 Until nothing is the same (HIGH IN CALIFORNIA) 🤝 But nobody stays the same (SATURDAYS) (🤝->) 46. Time it came and changed it all (THE GREATEST) 🤝 The wind held us up but we knew that all would change (HOLDING ON TO HEARTACHE)🤝 Some things change (SATURDAYS) (🤝->) 47. somebody told me I would change I was afraid and don't know why (BIGGER THAN ME)🤝I don't know why everything's changed / Everything's changed outside but I feel the same inside (CHANGE) 🤝 Spent my whole life just thinking I had to change (HIGH IN CALIFORNIA) (🤝->) 48. Common people, nothing’s changed (COMMON PEOPLE) 🤝And all the people have changed (CHANGE)🤝Cos yeah I might have changed but everybody does (BIGGER THAN ME)🤝 and I wished that I could tell her that she changed me for the better (SAVED BY A STRANGER)

my inbox is open if you got more asdfsd

#also numbered them so anyone can come and scream about them in my inbox if anyone feels prompted bc i cant get enough of this #faith in the future #lyric analysis #louis tomlinson #i usually dont tag but yeah youre allowed to find this post hi #also i skipped over the word time and im aware because it was overwhelming it was like ... the word love or life or I you me and us skjsk

[thesupreme316]

I have had this stuck with me for a time now, wording this sucked.

So most/all AEW and WWE stars have taunts, iconic finishers, and submissions so I was thinking what if the reader used one of them ( Kenny’s V-trigger, HOOK’s redrum. Things like these) and their reaction to the move/taunt.

You can pick anyone and the number of people

AEW STARS REACT TO: You Doing Their Signature Move/Taunt

Pairings: Samoa Joe x Reader, Kenny Omega x Reader, Hook x Reader, Daniel Garcia x Reader, Dante Martin x Reader

Word Count: 728

Supreme Speaks: hey yall, sorry ive been MIA. School started and I've been student teaching, but also I'm starting to kind of lose motivation for this. but imma keep pushing through because damn it yall deserve it. but my inbox and messages are always open. please remember that you are loved, appreciated, and cherished.

Warnings: none i think. barely proofread this tbh

Taglist: @hookerforhook @hooks-martin @sheinthatfandom @triscillal @wwenhlimagines @kat04ie @batzy-watzy @cassie0sstuff

Backstory:

You are a very private person

You rarely discuss or even reference your friendships (or relationships)

But today?

You were feeling cocky and wanted to put it out on display

So during your match, while you looked at the crowd

And without another second going by….

You did the number one thing that your best friend (or significant other) was famous for

Something that was instantly recognizable 

Making the crowd go wild

And the person you’re referencing grin from ear to ear

Kenny Omega

Get better king

Proud is an understatement

MOTHAFUCKA IS PRIDEFUL

Especially with how he’s out of action rn

He’s happy that that someone is keeping his memory present in the wrestling world

As soon as you hit the V-Trigger

A smile is on his face and his jumping up and down in his seat

Will not have any critiques for you

I think you would be the only person he gives blessing to full on adopt it

Especially after he see how’s the audience reacts to you doing it

Puts up instagram and twitter posts stating how proud and amazed he is of you

Will not hesitant to put those marks and trolls in their place

Hook

The smirk on his face would widened at what he was watching

He was so proud of you doing his submission the Redrum

Wouldn’t run wild or anything but anyone can see that he is so happy that you used his move

He would tease you as you come backstage

“Personally, you could have squeezed harder”

Will post about it with no captions

I find him wanting to do a tag match where both of you can do it at the same time

Get ready for Hook to do your move and or taunt in the next singles match he’s in

Just as a little nod or hint of acknowledgement

But be careful cause he’s competitive and wants to see who can do it better

Dante Martin

REMEMBER THAT SPRINGBOARD MOONSAULT HE USED TO DO ALL THE TIME

Yeah you do it

People were even amazed that you can move like that

Cause you don’t like flying

When he sees it, he immediately geeks out

“DID YOU SEE IT? HUH? THEY’RE AMAZING!”

I think he would spam on his instagram stories with videos of you doing and people’s reactions

The same night he would do your finisher to end the match

Would def tease you about it as if he was not running around screaming OMG

“Tbh, I had more height to my moonsault”

Daniel Garcia

THE DANCE

OMG THE DANCE

He is grinning ear to ear as he hears the crowd grow in cheers and excitement

Cause tbh you saw it as an idiotic move

But it makes him happy to know that he has your blessing

Would make you film a Tik Tok or reel with him while doing it

Tbh I can see him with a t-shirt of you doing it

Will now brag to his friends and ask you to “do the thing” like a proud person

Tbh will get jealous when fans say that you do it better than him

Then he forbids you from doing it

“I can’t have the student surpassing the teacher”

Samoa Joe

Once he sees you do the Muscle Buster once, he smirks but he acts like’s not proud

“Well, that was great for an amateur…”

Gives you tips about how to make it more impactful

Makes you join forces with him (almost think Athena and Billie Starks)

“Now you are ready to be a cold blooded killer…*looks at you skipping down the hall*…after some more sessions”

After you master the Muscle Buster, he makes you practice the Coquina Clutch

Once you master both, he’ll say that you are now ready for the dark side

Hates how you seem to do his finishers more seamlessly

OOOO

DON’T LET HIM SEE YOU DO THE WALK AWAY SPOT

THAT IS STRICTLY OFF LIMITS

#aew #all elite wrestling #aew imagine #all elite wrestling imagines #daniel garcia #daniel garcia x reader #aew hook #aew hook imagine #aew hook x reader #kenny omega imagine #kenny omega x reader #kenny omega #samoa joe #samoa joe imagine #samoa joe x reader #aew dante martin #dante martin imagine #dante martin x reader

[ourflagmeansgayrights]

Hey so idk if you would know this but where did the term canyon in reference to Izzy fans come from? I feel like I just started seeing it like three days ago but everyone seems to already know what it means

lol so disclaimer that this ask has been in my inbox since september 23rd and alsoooo i might not be the best person to ask bc i am belothed by many who consider themselves part of the izzy canyon (which is their right). so if you asked an izzy fan about this you would probably get a different answer. also from what i can tell the term originated on twitter and i don’t go there.

the tl;dr that i heard secondhand from someone who identifies as izzy canyon is that at some point last year (summer or fall-ish i think) a lot of izzy fans were blocking so many people who didn’t like izzy that a lot of them ended up being unaware of general fandom trends and it became a running joke among them that izzy fans were isolated from the rest of the fandom in an "izzy canyon." and then allegedly the term expanded to just mean "if ur not a dick abt ppl liking izzy u can be in the canyon." THAT BEING SAID there are other ppl who had a very different experience with how "the canyon" originated and what kind of fan space it tends to be.

(slightly longer explanation below)

the thing with The Canyon is that to understand its origin and also why some fans have a problem with it, you gotta know two things:

there are annoying puriteen anti types on the internet who think liking certain characters make you a bad person. from what i can tell theyre mostly on twitter and tiktok. these people are annoying but also in my experience they're usually pretty easy to block and ignore.

the popularity of izzy hands is disproportionate to his narrative role in the show, and the popular fanon interpretation of izzy hands casts him not only as a principal character but as a much more sympathetic, righteous character than he is in canon. THIS DOES NOT MEAN I THINK ANYONE IS A BAD PERSON FOR LIKING IZZY. this DOES mean that i think ppl who think ed is izzy's domestic abuser are wrong. and also this is part of an age old fandom trend of fandom favoring a masc white guy who is often a side character and also often an antagonist.

so from what i can tell. in the early days of the ofmd fandom (spring-summer 2022) there was a lot of #1 going around on twitter, screaming about how if you liked izzy hands then you're a racist abuse apologist or something. at one point a throwaway account tweeted a callout for a popular izzy fan and said "we know they live in this area and work for this company, so these are the locations where they might work. everyone should call these numbers and tell their job to fire them. also we're gonna target these izzy fans next" and like, obviously this account was pretty quickly taken down. but it was a pretty scary thing and left a lot of izzy fans pretty paranoid, hence the blocking everyone who didnt like izzy.

(there was also a "izzy hater group chat" twitter account that was literally just a small group of mostly minors posting memes and also abt izzy that got accused of being connected to that whole mess. but afaict those guys have nothing to do with harassment of izzy fans they just dont like izzy)

so the thing is now that all of that has been used to justify shutting down any type of conversation about #2, or writing off anyone who posts meta about izzy that isnt like, "he works so hard and is so unappreciated despite everything he's done for ed" as an "izzy anti." analyzing izzy critically and posting this in the #izzy hands tag on tumblr is likened to genuine harassment.

oh lol and speaking of harrasment: there was also a problem with ppl on tumblr getting anon hate, and izzy fans will tell you that the anon came from an izzy hater who was targeting izzy fans bc the anon messages use "izzy critical rhetoric." however as someone who has posted "izzy critical" metas or whatever, i have actually gotten the same harassing messages accusing me of being an izzy stan and a racist abuse apologist. that's not what a targeted harassment campaign looks like. that's all been less of a problem ever since tumblr made it so you need to be logged in to an account to send anonymous messages.

anyway my stance on all of this:

i don't hate anyone for liking izzy. i am critical of certain comments/behaviors i often see from ppl who identify as izzy fans, but izzy fans are rarely the only ones who have this problem. from what i've seen tho, a lot of it comes from izzy fans.

before i ever saw even a hint of harassment against izzy fans, i saw izzy fans coming onto my posts and to posts by fans of color trying to argue that these posts were contributing to their harassment. from my perspective, it looked a lot like fans of a white character were trying to shut down conversations abt their favorite guy, especially when those conversations were being had by fans of color. i was very skeptical and oftentimes pretty dismissive abt the existence of this harassment.

since then tho ive done a pretty deep dive into the anon harassment on tumblr, and also looked at takes from different perspectives on the whole thing, and my conclusion is that there is harassment of izzy fans, however it is on the same base-level shittiness that most people experience from just... being on the internet. death threats and insults and slurs are literally just part of being on the internet. and yes, it SUCKS and it's wrong and nobody should have to put up with it, but izzy fans are not victims of specific targeted harassment. theyre victims of being on the internet and having to put up with general internet shittiness. and im sympathetic to that up until ppl start using "ive been harassed for being an izzy fan" as an excuse to be incredibly nasty (check out this tumblr acct for examples of what i mean lol). the ofmd fandom is annoying and parts of it are toxic but like, by no means is this the most toxic fandom to ever exist. we're not at "undertale fan giving out cookies with needles in them at a convention" levels just yet.

finally, tangentially related: i am inherently wary of fandom sub-groups that like, name themselves?? in my experience, the more people make being a Type Of Fan part of their identity the more it tends to lead to problems. this goes for fans who label themselves "antis" or "anti-antis" or whatever the fuck. i've personally been called an "izzy anti," an "izzy hater," and an "izzy critical fan" but like, i dont really call myself that?? it just seems weird to me idk. it gets to be very "us vs them" on default with little nuance and ive never found this kind of thing to be like, productive in fandom spaces. but that's just me.

#ask #anon #mine #txt #link #og

[macabrecake]

THAT SENT TOO EARLY SEBIWBW7DB HELLO, CAKE, im invading your inbox to request a smol blurb of re6 Leon and fem! Reader where reader is a rookie and Leon is vv protective of them and when Leon thinks reader is accidentally killed but turns out to be okay, he kisses her or sumn idk im blushingbsjwbwebeu

HAHAHAHA HI LYN and oh shit oh my fucking god u H- You're an amazing writer I've been saying that since I first met you (Eros Trials bby godDAMN) so for you to send me an ask that's also RE6 Leon? AAAAA I'M DEADASS GOING TO PASS AWAY 😭 but I'm gonna try my best so here we go!

In the DSO, Leon is known as one of the best agents who gets his business done with complete professionalism, not without some slight snark on the side of course.

He's also kind of your bodyguard of some sort.

He still has no damn clue how you did it, though. After all, you're just a rookie who happened to take a shine to him. Following him around like a lost puppy that's so young, and bright, and eager to try your best. It's like looking at himself in his rookie years. Ok, sure he'll offer some sagely advice in the hopes you don't turn out like him.

And sure he'll accept your company, it's greatly appreciated on the days when work was slow anyways- maybe he'll wait a little until he knows it's you coming. Listening to the sound of your heels lightly tapping the floor along with your voice softly singing whatever tune is stuck in your head that day. But he never meant to get this attached.

Now it's meeting up for coffee on weekends just to chat about everything and nothing all at once. Now it's him stepping in as your shield when other co-workers try to shake you up just because you're the newbie. Now it's his heart stopping because he just watched your body fall limp.

"Y/N!"

God, why did he have to get so attached?

It was your first mission out in the field. You, Leon, and Helena just landed in China- more like crashed. Where you met up with Agent Sherry Birkin and Jake Muller. You've heard about Sherry before and was already aware of her and Leon's history as survivors of Raccoon City. Jake was new though, would've liked a more proper introduction if not for the sudden appearance of the Ustanok.

The behemoth had downed Helena and would've most definitely killed her if you didn't act fast. Before your brain could scream that this probably wouldn't be a wise choice, you gunned for it. Quickly climbing up it's back you start shooting, stabbing, kicking, anything that would buy her some time. It did work, a little too well. Helena managed to clear off but you weren't so lucky when the Ustanok grabs you and tosses you like you weighed nothing more than a bag of bread.

Your world blurs with the sudden velocity, everything too loud to focus on as the wind rushes past your ears, until your back harshly meets one of the shipping containers with a loud bang. Delivering you a stark contrast of sudden silence and darkness.

It's unclear how long you stayed like that until a deep, frantic voice pierces your unconscious veil. "Come on baby girl, get up..." Your body moves but you can't tell where or from what. "Don't do this to me- please!"

Your eyes flutter open with a groan as your hand comes up to hold your aching head, "Did anyone catch the number on that truck?" You weakly ask. Vision focusing on a familiar pair of deep, fear ridden, gorgeous blue eyes shrouded in shiny golden locks.

It sinks in now how close Leon is to you. You can feel his body heat as he holds your smaller frame snuggly against him. Shielding you once again but so much closer than normal. You're worried he's gonna be mad about your stunt and yell at you so you try to soften the blow with a timid, "I'm sorry."

What you get in response instead, is the agent's shoulders loosening up with a sigh of relief then-

Pure plush warmth and spearmint.

You don't get a chance to register or reciprocate the small, but passionate, kiss Leon lays to your lips before he's pulling away as gently as he gave it to you. Leaving you rather dumbfounded but holy FUCK are you fully awake now.

"Did you just...?" You start, hoping he'll answer for you. What you receive instead is Leon's usual little smirk as he stands up and offers a hand to help you up. "Maybe, but you mind holding that thought until we get out of this?"

You giggle and accept, letting him pull you up to your feet with ease and follow him back into the fray.

Your giddy little smile matching his.

#I'M SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG 😭😭😭 #time management and I don't get along #but I hope you enjoy! <3 #leon kennedy #resident evil #resident evil 6 #re6 leon #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x y/n

[unseelie-robynx]

Soo in the End Of Hope tyrant prince ending.. what does the beaten rebellion do? What are their lives like now?

!!!!!!!!! I am terrible at remembering I have things in my inbox cause I don't get the little number on the letter because tumblr is dumb so I'm sorry this is so late

So there's a few thoughts on that located here, but let's get into it.

WARNING: DARK!! also Brainwashing, Mind control, Objectification, and probably Dehumanization in here. Bad End.

Also, this ended up getting LONG so it's under the cut.

So first off are the spiders. Their fate is pretty straightforward. The Queen, as Red promised, is trapped screaming inside her own head while her body runs around being basically a public use public service robot. Anything she gets told to do, happens. Obviously not like, illegal or harmful things, no one could tell her to attack someone or rob a store (not that they would, why would anyone even think of something so horrible in the Perfect Golden City?) if someone tried she'd just like, shut down until a new order was given. But anything else if fair game. carry groceries? Clean up after someone's dog? jump up and down three times and swear to everyone she meets today that the sky is magenta? Done, done, and done.

Goliath is got as far away from the main palace as possible. He's big and strong, so it's easy to just permanently melt his brain, leave him as a manual worker who's blissfully happy all the time, and ship him off to do hard labor somewhere where Xiaotian never has to see his creepy gross spider self again. (Because while Xiaotian needs to keep the Spider Queen in the pubic eye, a 'Symbol of Triumph and his power to redeem even the worst sinners' A warning of what will happen if he catches anyone else trying to ruin his perfect city. There's a reason the celestials have backed off any tentative plans to stop him. They didn't pay attention in time, and now it's too late. And Syntax and Huntsman are kept close for other reasons, the arachnophobic boy wants to get rid of at least one of them if he can)

Wich brings up Huntsman. He went under the 'needs permission but is permanent' version of the Oblivion Track. The price for them not completely breaking Syntax's brain wide open and leaving him most likely braindead. He had to willingly let Red Son and Xiaotian back into his brain, to turn him back into the perfect little pet wife they'd been working on. And Red delighted in making Huntsman 'train' himself. Not just sit there and let them break him, but actively do it to himself. Eventually, he starts begging for more 'sessions' because the faster he loses himself, the faster it stops.

And Syntax get's to watch. Because he's a hybrid, and technically a forced hybrid, his mind is a mess and the venom in his system isn't helping. He's immune to normal versions of Oblivion, but then so is Xiaotian. He needed a special remix trained to the specific mix of human, yaoguai, and celestial that he's ended up as under the Monkey King's influence. So they knew they could make something that worked on him, it would just be time-consuming. Hence the deal Huntsman made to save Syntax. But until they get that done, his life is awful. He'd kept drugged most of the time, so that he can't try and escape or fight back. He's only ever really awake (where he's chained up, still mostly drugged, and with a constant electric current forced through his body to keep his mechanical limbs from being operable) when he's being forced to watch Huntsman's 'training'. So it ends up being almost a relief when Xiaotian comes in one day to 'test things' and Syntax feels his mind falling away from him.

Syntax also ends up 'wifeafied' as it were. Huntsman fixated on him during his 'training' and it was easier for all parties to just go along with it. Plus, Sandy is a bleeding heart so when he got the story about 'kidnapped and forcibly turned into a spider demon' and how Syntax was also his Wife's friend, he offered to take him in. (Poor Sandy has had his mind messed with to the point he just basically sees the two spiders the same way he does his cats. Like pets and Syntax is the poor stray his sweet Huntsman brought home for him to take care of) So Syntax ends up all victorian era ballgowns, because the design makes it hard to move, and he can tuck those 'unsightly disgusting you hate them, hate that they were forced on you' mechanical limbs under the folds. And the corseting makes it hard for him to breathe, constantly putting pressure on his back and the painful implant buried in his skin. Red holds a grudge.

Then there's DBK. He gets exactly what Red Son promised him. He is reunited with his Wife on Flower Fruit Mountain. And he and Princess Iron Fan then get extremely fine detail Oblivion work done on them, curtosy of Yin and Jin's calabash, which had been repurposed to trap someone in a full immersion of the music and then new memories can be programmed in for the victims subjects to live out thus perfectly replacing their old ones. (Xiaotian wants to get this right he'd screwed up with these two once before, and that was before his darling perfect Wife asked for the most perfect doting adoring Mama and Papa to have loved him growing up before handing him off to his even more perfect and wonderful Huband whom he was always meant to belong to.) Sun Wukong happily takes to the arrangement, and a little bit of Oblivion in his ears has him totally sold on the new history. 500 years sealed away? What are you talking about?

The unnamed human and random demon 'leaders' of the rebellion are, of course, 'rehabilitated'. They're all kinda braindead now, but they're so happy to be free of that horrible Spider Queen and what she was forcing them to do. They're a bit in between a warning and just getting them out of the way and making sure they can't do anything to anyone else. They serve time, of course, for their crimes, but that these days is almost exclusively community service. Out in places where they can be exposed to the thrum of Oblivion all day long, driving the changes in deeper

Most of the average members of the rebellion are grouped up and mass blasted with Oblivion and the story of how they were 'kidnapped' and 'abducted' and forced to serve the Spider Queen in her horrid plans. How none of it was of their own free will and even thinking about that time is painful so it's best to just stop thinking about it altogether and let all those memories fade away. Families are reunited there is a lot of celebrating and everyone sings the Golden Prince's (because he's more than just the Monkey Prince now, he's stepped out from under Sun Wukong's shadow) praises for defeating this last great evil in their perfect home.

And then there's Macaque. Who was both part of the rebellion and not. Their spy and informant, but not active in what was being plotted. Who, most importantly, is Sun Wukongs brother in all but blood. He now wears the Golden Circlet that graced the Monkey King's brow on the Journey. He needs it. He knows he does. His nature is dark and violent and he hates that about himself. He wants to be good. To be good and bright and kind, to be worthy of the love his brother still gives him. And someday he will be. Someday he'll stop slipping up and having those violent episodes, (Please, Wukong please! Just let me go! I won't cause problems, you'll never see me again, please), that force his brother to use it to stop him hurting himself or, worse, someone else. Someday he'll be the perfect brother, someone the Great Sage, Equaling Heaven, would be proud to have by his side.

(Macaque begged Sun Wukong not to let Xiaotian take his mind from him. That if he was going cause everything that was Macaque to be stripped away, to at least let it be by Wukong's own hand. And so the Monkey King promised. He takes exclusive control of Macaque, and his exposure to oblivion. This means he doesn't have Xiaotian's years of expertise to draw on, even if he is getting advice, and the results of that, combined with the celestial monkies all having a level of natural immunity to Oblivion, is that sometimes the programing 'slips' and the old Macaque comes out for a bit. But that's ok. Sun Wukong knows that enlightenment and change are a process. But he's going to be here the entire time, helping his brother just like SWK was once helped himself. He had the tightening sutra memorized before the Journey was even half over after all.)

#lmk #monkie kid #lego monkie kid #Tyrant Prince AU #Oblivion AU #oblivion series #dark #brainwashing #mind control #objectification #dehumanization #bad end

[pa-anonoverflow]

putting everything aside like her being his boss, the unprofessional way they invited paparazzi on that wedding out while they were still filming, cheating together on Jason and the kids who went to set, and all the rest.

what really upsets me is the number of times she leaves her children to come to him. this is something I can make no excuse for in any way. not after a year and a half f this! and I certainly can not in any form make any excuses for Harry, whatever is between them he is MORE than aware o how she leaves her 5 and7-year-old to follow him around and he does not give a fuck!

This alone tells me all about his character or lack of it for that matter! I will say that I hope it is real and that they will be together for years because they are both horrible and I wouldn't wish people like them for anyone. I am always surprised when I read his fans write about how he deserves someone great and lovely, they ask tarot readers for signs of this lover to come into his life! like why is it so hard to understand this dude is under no pressure or force he is horrible himself and he chooses to surround himself with likeminded people! the spell he has done to have them so blind is truly powerful

That is why this angers me instead of just being a laugh. Kids are innocent and we all as a society, as adults, as human beings, should want to protect ANY child. It doesn’t have to be our child to want good things for an innocent kid. I think it’s really sick how people are screaming they’re not his kids! He still has an impact on their life whether they are his or not and to be so flippant about it says something about the fan saying that!

At this point I’m getting a lot of people in my inbox going I don’t get it why is he doing this? For money and attention, that’s why Harry does anything, that’s his job that is part of it, but he is also extremely driven by money and fame. You’re confused because you’re not allowing yourself to admit that he’s not what he markets himself as! The truth is right there, real or fake (DO NOT SEND ME ASKS ABOUT WHAT I THINK IT iS I WILL SCREAM) Harry is a willing participant and that is INFORMING you on what kind of person he is and people do NOT like it. So they’re trying to say it’s confusing or he’s pussy whipped or whatever. If he is sleeping with her (which I don’t get those vibes but no one can say for sure), he doesnt seem pussy whipped or in love, it seems convenient…so the answer is still he is doing it for money and for fame. Look at his stats this year and tell me it hasn’t worked for him! They may not be a beloved couple but they are talked about constantly and that IS how it is working. Harry is promo lazy and he is getting so much buzz from it without doing much.

[write-orflight]

Light the Lamp: Chapter 1

**Gif Not Mine**

Prev -  Next

Pairings: Bucky Barnes X Reader (Friends to Lovers, College/Hockey AU

Rating: M

Words: 2.2K

Warnings:  College kids being college kids, drinking, swearing, talk of sex(No smut yet but will be)

Request: OPEN/CLOSED

Summary:  Love and Hockey were kind of the same, everyone’s just rushing to score. So why couldn’t you?

A.N Summary bad but I literally couldn’t focus on writing anything else until I finished at least the first chapter of this. let me know what you think, Message/reply/inbox to be tagged.

  Chapter 1: 1st Quarter

Hockey wasn’t the sport Bucky wanted to play originally. He wanted to play baseball like his old man but when Steve decided he wanted to take ice skating lessons, he made Bucky tag along so he wouldn’t be the only boy in the class. Soon, they found themselves recruited in the junior rec hockey team and had been playing together ever since. It wasn’t a surprise that when recruitment came around that school’s were trying to pick up both of them. People knew better than to separate Cap from the Winter Soldier. Steve’s nickname was easy to figure out. He had a natural authoritative nature that made him the Captain of almost every team he played on. You never knew why they called Bucky the Winter Soldier until you played against him. Bucky was like an assassin on the ice. While everyone was focused on Steve in Center, Bucky was on left wing scoring the goal before you knew what hit you. So both of them getting recruited to play for the Avengers at Wilmington University wasn’t surprising. 

Meeting you was. 

At first, it was a sort of form of hazing. When they were starting their Freshman year so was the Coach’s daughter. He had asked senior members of the team to ‘keep an eye on her’ and make sure she didn’t get herself into any trouble. The seniors’ thinking that was lame, were more than happy to pass the task off to the two eager freshmen trying to make a name for themselves. So that’s how it started, The two boys walking you to classes and home from the library late at night, much to your demise. 

“I should’ve known my dad was going to do something like this.” You complained when you saw the two boys waiting outside your dorm the first week of classes. “Thanks for coming. But you can tell my dad that I’m not going to be the freak being escorted by hockey jocks everyday.” 

“No can do, Doll.” Bucky says. “We leave you, we’re doing drills the rest of practice.” 

“Doll? What’re you? A 40s newscaster?” You say, with an annoyed expression walking passed the boys who just followed suit behind you. “Ugh, this is such bullshit. He literally begged me to go to Wilmington and promised I’d be able to have a ‘normal college experience’. What about this is fucking normal?”  

“I know it’s less than ideal but hey, we can make the best out of this.” Steve smiles. “I’m Steve, by the way.” He says extending a hand. 

You shake it. You couldn’t blame them for your dad not trusting you. “Y/N. You?” You asked the other boy next to you. 

“Bucky.” He provides. 

“Bucky?” You question. 

“Well, it’s James but my friends call me Bucky.” 

“And that’s what we are? Friends?” You ask. 

“Might as well be, since we’ll be seeing each other a lot this semester.” 

And that’s how your semi-unconventional friendship started. Pretty soon, even though your dad had eased up on the 24-hour watch, per your mom's request, you still found yourself walking and getting coffee with the two in the mornings. Even, found yourself waiting in the rinks watching practices so you could hang out afterwards and that became your life for the next two years. Now the three of you we’re entering your Junior year of college. Steve was right back in his title role of Captain, Bucky was now first string Left Wing and you were… still watching from the bleachers. You didn’t mind though, you grew to love the sport due to it being your dad’s profession. Hell, you were on skates before you could even walk. But you never found yourself on the women’s team, Hockey wasn’t something you really wanted to do. You still supported the girls team though, which is why you found yourself watching their practices too. 

“Hey, Y/N!” Carol said, skating to the end of the rink where you were sitting next to her girlfriend, Maria. A position you often found yourself in, entertaining player’s girlfriends while they practiced. Maria was cool though, at least you knew about the sport. 

“Hey, Marvel.” You called her by her nickname. Thing about Hockey is everyone was called by their nicknames. 

“You going to the Sigma Pi party later?” She asks. 

“Uh, no one told me about it.” You say, awkwardly. 

“I’m telling you now.” Carol says like it's obvious. “You never go out anymore and I refuse to let you become a cat lady before you turn 25. Come over ours at 7, we’ll pregame and head over at 9. What do you say?” 

“Fine, I’ll come.” You say. 

“Great!” Carol says, pumping a fist before signalling her girlfriend to come closer to the rink. You look away as they kiss. Couples made you uneasy, especially hockey couples. You wanted that more than anything, for your guy to skate up to the gate just to sneak a kiss from you. Not that dating anyone from the team was even an option with you dad coaching. The team saw you as a little sister and if anyone was caught even looking at you in any way, their ass was grass by either your dad or Bucky, who’d become protective of you over the years. 

“Marvel, stop flirting with your girlfriend and GET BACK ON THE ICE!” You heard your dad scream. 

“Sorry, Couch!” She called. “Sorry, baby i’ve gotta jet. Y/N, don’t forget. 7 o’clock!” She says before skating off. 

“I won’t!” You call after her. 

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

You can’t help but look at yourself in the mirror awkwardly at the tight Satin dress your roommate, Wanda practically forced you in. You were just going to wear a sweater and jeans, your regular wardrobe but Wanda insisted everyone had seen you in that and what they haven’t seen is you in a dress. Especially, with your new body, you had gotten over the summer working at a sports camp. Who knew running after kids would be such a great form of exercise? 

Wanda also did your makeup, something you didn’t typically wear, giving you a natural glow eye, a layer of mascara, and sticky gloss that made your look ‘dewy’ as Wanda described it. You tried to keep your hair in the bun but Wanda insisted you keep your hair down. Saying it made you look hotter, you shrugged knowing you’d have to take her word for it. 

The two of you made your way to Carol and Maria’s apartment. Carol swung the door open and looked at you in surprise. “Woah, Ice Baby, you clean up nice.” 

“Don’t start, Marvel. And you know how I feel about being called that.” You hated the nickname but since you were the coach’s daughter and you stuck around the rink any chance you got, The seniors had started calling you Ice Baby your freshman year and the nickname unfortunately stuck long after they had gone. 

“Right, sorry, I always forget.” Carol said moving out the way for the two of you to come in. 

The four of you drink and play games until it’s time to head to the party. You’ve got a pretty strong buzz going as you enter the party and you regret the strappy heels Maria made you borrow before leaving. You’re sitting in the corner when someone comes to sit way too close to you. You look up to see Brock Rumlow, or Rum as the team liked to call him. 

“I almost didn’t recognize you, Ice Baby. You look good.” 

“My name is Y/N but thank you.” You say, annoyed. 

He holds his hands up in mock surrender “I forgot you hate that nickname. Let me bring you a drink to make up for it. What you want.” 

“Rum and coke, please.” 

“Oh, so you like Rum?” He says, obvious double entendre hanging off his tongue. 

“The drink? Yes.” 

“You’ll like the man soon enough.” He winks, smirking at the flush that spreads across your cheeks. 

The two of you spend the night like that. He brings you drinks and shamelessly flirts with you as you get drunker and drunker. The two of you even dance for a bit in the sea of grinding bodies. Soon you’re telling him a story and a hand drifts to your leg. You turn and he’s much closer to your face than you thought he was. 

“Wanna get out of here?” He asks. You nod but before you can even stand, Bucky is there towering over Brock.

“You can leave, Brock. But I’m taking Y/N home.” He says. 

Brock rolls his eyes. “Forgot you had a Winter Soldier guard dog. No worries, dude. I’m leaving anyway.” He says, before turning to you. “You’ve got my number, call me if you wanna hang this week.” He says, nodding to Bucky before walking away. 

“Ugh, Bucky. What was that for?” You whine, drunkenly. 

“You’re drunk. I’m taking you home.” Bucky says. “Come on, stand up.” 

You shakingly get up and Buck is there immediately under your arm, his arm around your waist helping you walk out. 

The cold breeze hits you as soon as you step foot out the party and take the long trek home. 

“I think I drank too much.” You point out. 

“You think, kid?” Bucky says. “You’re lucky, I was here meeting Sharon otherwise you would’ve been shit out of luck.” 

“Brock would’ve taken me home.” 

“Brock’s a lowlife. Don’t worry about him, I’ve got you.” 

You sigh. “Sorry for ruining your night with your girlfriend.” 

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll call her when I make sure you get home so if you could pick up the pace.” 

“My feet hurt.” You complain. 

“Yea, I bet. God, when did you start wearing heels, Doll?” 

“I wanted to look good tonight.” You sigh. 

“You always look good.” 

“Fine, I wanted to look hot.” You provide. “For once, I wanted to be the one guys paid attention to at parties.” 

“You can be yourself for that, Y/N.” Bucky says. “You’re a catch.” 

“If I was, someone would’ve fucked me by now.” You drunkenly admit. That makes Bucky double-take. “I mean, think about it? 3 years into my college career, I turn 21 in a couple months and still it's where no man’s gone before down there.” 

“Y/N, are you saying you’re--” 

“A virgin? Yea, Bucky catch up.” You groan at the pain in your feet. Bucky looks and takes sympathy on you. 

“Here take off your shoes.” He says, toeing his off as well and sliding them over to you. 

“You’re just going to walk barefoot?” You ask, putting on the shoes, holding your heels in your hand. 

“Better than you walking barefoot.” He shrugs. 

“Anyway, I decided over the summer that maybe I was putting too much thought into it. I mean almost everyone loses their virginity in high school and it's never good, no one ever says their first time was good. I just thought maybe I should just, you know, get it over with.” You slur. “Which is what I was trying to do until you chased my date away. God, you always do that, Bucky.” 

“I’m not fighting with you while you’re drunk.” Bucky says, trying to get you to drop the subject but you persist. 

“Every time I try to talk to a guy, you butt in--” 

“Maybe I wouldn’t butt in if you picked the right guys for you.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with the guys I pick! You’re just a cockblock.” 

“That’s not true.” 

“Yea what about Charles? He asked me on a date freshman year and took it back not even an hour later. I had to beg Steve to tell me why and it turned out that you threatened him if he even thought about going out with me.” 

“Y/N, you had just turned 18 and X was a 24 year old senior! I didn’t trust how he was just waiting. So yea, I told him to fuck off. And Rum is an asshole who can’t get a girl to sleep with him unless they’re shitfaced. So yea, I told him to fuck off.” Bucky exclaims as the two of you make it up the stairs to your apartment. “Y/N, you’ll find someone right for you and that right person will make your first time special. I just want you to find someone who’ll make you happy.” 

“And I just want you to remember for next time that if you want to tell a girl who she can and can’t fuck, you have Sharon for that. Not me.” You said, taking off the shoes as you arrived at your front door. 

“Y/N, wait--” You hear him say but you don’t care, you slam the door in his face regardless. 

Who did Bucky think he was? Sure, he was your best friend but so was Steve and he’s not nearly as protective as Bucky was. You honestly couldn’t tell who was worse at this point, your dad or Bucky. You loved both of them but they had the fatal flaw of forgetting you weren’t a kid. You were a woman, a woman with needs. And one particular need you needed to get rid of.   

So you picked up your phone and called Brock. Bucky couldn’t be right about everything.

Taglist: @buckybarneshairpullingkink @riverofcrestmont @babymango-writes @astralsaf @gabi-socio @hereforalongtime512​

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barns x reader #bucky barns x y/n #bucky barns fanfiction #bucky barns x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x female reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky fanfic #captain america #tfatws

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 151

This chapter has been one that I have been dying to write for a while. I was worried that @baelpenrose would resist the idea, but he very much thought it was hilarious. As always, his input and riffing on this chapter has very much made it better and better.

However, it also made the chapter longer, lol. But there is just no way to trim it down without losing something that makes it all work, so this week is nearly double my normal length... break everyone’s heart, right? ;)

“I don’t like these numbers,” Parvati grumbled - as much as she was capable of grumbling - as she scrolled through the final counts of approval ratings on her and Hannah’s inaugural Food Festival.

The statistics had been dropped into our inboxes that morning, in the static of about a thousand other notifications now that Derek had finished the stress-test. Also included were the results of the last three invasion-prep drills, which I was in the process of scanning over.

“How bad are they?” I asked, half listening for a number. The drills were trending better, which was a good sign that the moves were effective.

Dismissing her display with a gesture of disgust, she sighed. “Seventy-four percent approval rating.”

I arched a brow and glanced over. “Did you adjust for those who did not attend?”

The glare she sent me wasn’t seen so much as felt. “Of course I did. First thing I ran…”

“Are you filtering by the day the comments came in?”

“I -” Bingo. She huffed. “No! These are intended to be ratings for the entirety of the event!”

I started scrolling through my own statistics. “Chart them out by the date the ratings came in, filtering out everyone who didn’t actually attend.”

A pause. “Oh… Oh! It’s showing ninety-three-point-four now!”

“Et voila,” I murmured. Louder, I clarified, “People like to weigh in early, and those who object in general tend to speak first.”

“I see that… how’s it going over there?” she asked, smoothing her braid over her shoulder as she turned to look at me directly.

“We are improving with every drill, marked upticks since the relocations. Arthur should be here in about - “ I glanced at a clock, “Seven minutes to go over next steps.”

Alistair breezed over to swap my empty bulb of cold coffee for a fresh one of water. “The appointment is in fifteen minutes.”

Parvati beat me to the punch.  “He is also compulsively early, meaning…. Six minutes now.”

He rolled his eyes hard enough that I wanted to giggle. “He doesn’t even have the decency to be fashionably late. Appalling.”

Surely enough, Arthur paged at the entrance - out of some sort of manners I accidentally instilled in him - exactly five minutes prior to our scheduled appointment. As he breezed into my office, he managed a half-assed glare at Alistair for abruptly turning away and focusing on my schedule rather than his usual tendency to get a beverage for any newcomers. “Okay, updated data on drills isn’t what I want it to be.”

I laughed. “You’re joking, right? Your team and Michael’s haven’t gotten past deck four by more than three percent in the last seven exercises.”

“Any percent above zero is unacceptable,” he grumbled. I chalked it up to the indignity of being forced to get his own tea from the console.

Almost as though to spite Arthur, Alistair made a point to set a refreshed water bulb in front of everyone except the professor. “There are guards on the other levels for a reason,” he suggested drily.

“And I would rather those guards be idle, thank you,” Arthur threw back in a near-venomous tone.

“Us guards would rather be prepared for any eventuality, which you may do well to plan for in your petty drills.”

I didn’t even try to intervene. Clearly there was some blatantly disagreement between my  admin and my friend, and I was exhausted from trying to make them cooperate.

“If I’m doing my job, you should be so grateful as to be idle,” Arthur drawled.

Alistair scoffed. “As if being left to rest and get fatter than a Christmas goose is a blessing…”

“You’ll live longer!”

“And get lax in my duties, which I will not stand for!”

“Get fat! Get lazy! LIVE! I don’t care! I’m not going to be lax in my duties to allow you the opportunity of getting practice at fighting.” Standing, Arthur buried both hands in his hair, but it looked less like he was running his fingers through it than pulling on it. “Are we really discussing this when we are training to fight in living body condoms?”

“I need to defend the Archives!”

“And Michael and I need to defend everyone! Us doing our job means you don’t need to do yours.”

My neck snapped back at the vehemence in his tone. This wasn’t their normal sparring… they may have never truly gotten along, but even in the beginning it was never so vicious.

To my further alarm, Alistair took a long stride forward and stared down his nose at Arthur. “We both know that she - “ his hand flung out to point at me “is either the luckiest or unluckiest person in existence. You can’t really believe that, in an actual assault on this ship, that she won’t be in danger. Which will place Tyche, the Archives, Derek Okafor, and Samuel Richardson in equal danger. You aren’t an idiot, you know this.” The hand pointing toward me turned, and time seemed to slow down as he stabbed Arthur in the sternum with it, punctuating each of his next words. “Stop lying to yourself.”

“Poke me again, and the finger comes off.”

“I would dearly love to see you try.”

Hannah and Parvati had jumped to their feet when Alistair approached Arthur, but were now slowly moving around to my position, safely behind my desk. Hannah hissed at me through clenched teeth, “You had to tell them to fight it out.”

“I thought they would use a gym, not the damned office,” I hissed back.

Before she could respond, Alistair spoke again. “You aren’t the only one on the Ark who wants to protect everyone. You need to trust us to do our bloody jobs.”

“The last time I trusted anyone else to protect people, I lost fourteen students,” came the ground out response. “I’m not backing down on this.”

“You will, or I will sedate you and strap you to a medical berth for the next four months.” Alistair stepped back and crossed his arms with finality.

A trickle of nerves ran down my spine as I watched Arthur clench his fists and release them. “You think the solution to everything is to tie it up, I swear.”

“Stop changing the topic. I am deadly serious, Farro.”

Arthur turned away from him, waving him off. “Try something else, you would never just sedate me for months on end.” Before we could stop anything, Alistair leapt forward and put Arthur in a headlock, only to be immediately flipped over the other man’s shoulder and onto the table. “Tch. Sloppy. I know you can do better.”

“I thought you wanted me to get fat and lazy,” Alistair grunted as he sucker-punched Arthur in the stomach and rolled for the other side.  Once on his feet, he eyed Arthur carefully as he circled the table. “You stubborn ass, you know I am right.  You are putting everyone in the lower levels at risk by not running preparedness drills with them, because you don’t want to factor in the fact that one of the offensive teams could fail.”

“We don’t have the luxury of failing, so no. If we do our jobs correctly, everyone who matters will be safe at the other end of the Ark.”

They didn’t seem to be at each other’s throats anymore, but the arguing wasn’t getting anywhere. “Guys - “ I tried.

Both men turned and practically screamed at me with their glares to stop talking.  Oookay. I held up my hands in surrender and decided to let them sort it out their way.

Damned if the console wasn’t on the other side of them, though. I couldn’t even get popcorn and a drink.

Alistair blew a harsh breath through his nose. “If you won’t include the lower decks in your drills, I will start sparring with Jokul.”

“He would kill you,” Arthur barked in the most miserable laugh I’ve ever heard.

“God forbid,” Alistair mocked. “If I were gone, who would make your tea in the morning.”

“The same person who picks up the socks that magically appear all over my quarters every day, obviously. Worthington, I’m serious, he could really hurt you. He has really hurt me. And Charly.”

That last part was dismissed with a wave. “Madam Charles the First put the fear of herself into him.”

“And you haven’t. He could kill you by accident, and he’d never forgive himself.”

“Maybe that wouldn’t be the case if you would let me train more!”

Arthur groaned and ran a hand down his face. “You are an adult, we’ve talked about this. Train all you want, with whoever you want - Charly, Sophia, Tyche… hell, train with Evan or Michael, I don’t care. Just, not Jokul.”

When did they talk about this? I wondered. It had to be during a sparring session or something, because it definitely wasn’t in my office during one of our meetings. A glance at Hannah showed she was watching everything unfold like it was the most riveting show she had ever seen, and Parvati’s squint of consideration wasn’t much better.

“As you said, I’m an adult. Perhaps I should take your advice, and train with Charly - “

“See - “

“- and Jokul. She will make sure I don’t get hurt.”

Arthur flung his hands up in frustration. “You are so stubborn, I swear!” Growling, he paced in a circle. “Fine! Train with Charly and Jokul. IN the bivouac suit, though! And I don’t want to hear a word when you end up confined in a med bay yourself.”

Alistair’s smug grin showed just how much he seemed to care. “At least I would be spared of picking up the trail of dishes that seem to follow you around.”

“For the love of - they are my quarters! Mine! And I don’t want to hear about it when your bloody socks are constantly getting lost behind my sofa!”

Oh. Oh no. Nonononononono.

“My socks can go wherever they fucking want to, when I am constantly cleaning your disgusting whiskers out of the sink!”

“You know what would fix you having to clean whiskers out of the sink? I could just stop shaving altogether. How about...that…” Arthur trailed off and very slowly turned toward the three of us behind my desk with a look of dawning horror.

And I tried. I really, really tried not to laugh.  I could feel my face reddening, my chest aching with the effort of holding it in.  

Hannah’s snort was my undoing. As soon as that tiny noise escaped her, all three of us erupted into hysterical, stomach-cramping, tearful laughter.  I felt stabbing in my arm as Parvati dug her nails in, trying desperately not to fall.  Unfortunately for her, Hannah grabbed me at the same time and all three of us toppled to the floor. The sight of Arthur rolling his eyes and crossing his arms only made me escalate from laughing to shrieking in hysterics and relief.

I couldn’t speak for the other two ladies, but I thought the two men were going to end up killing each other… At no point did I think they took the other option when I told them to either fight it out or….

I gasped for breath, trying to get myself under control. Wobbling to my feet with the help of my trusty desk and a couple yanks to free my shirt from Parvati’s desperate clutching, I pointed between them. “This… how long? Can’t believe… didn’t figure it out.”

“Not everyone is as… public… as you, Conor, and Maverick are,” Arthur snarked at me. “You know, private lives should be private and all that?”

“Must be for you,” I confided in Alistair’s direction, where he had turned his back to our fit.  “He’s never not told me when he was dating someone. Or thinking of dating someone. Or potentially interested in seeing if he was interested in dating someone… Best friend privileges and all that.”  While I waited for Alistair to respond, my mind whirled through all the things I had brushed off before but were very obvious in retrospect.

Glancing at Arthur for a hint yielded nothing but a flat stare that all but declared in flashing lights You Aren’t Stupid.

I tilted my head at that, and kept thinking. There had been genuine animosity on Alistair’s side in the beginning, and not a small amount of needling on Arthur’s.  So I knew it wasn’t something that had always been going on. My mind came to a screeching halt, however, when I remembered something - the day Alistair, Tyche, and I decided that, when I vacated my position on the Council, they would vacate roles as well to leave behind a ‘clean slate’. “Four years, holy shit,” I gasped. “Four years!?”

Finally, Alistair moved. His back was still to us, but his arms went limp by his sides, and his head dropped down toward the floor. “It would be unseemly to have the new Councilor of Education in a relationship with the attache to the Councilor for Resources and Engagement. Or formerly in a relationship, should things not end well.”

“And since he won’t be taking his position until we are on Von,” I put together, “You are okay to serve out the rest of my term, just not Hannah’s or Parvati’s.”

“Correct.”

“Huh. That makes sense,” I admitted before hopping up to sit on my desk, the chair being a lost cause on the other side of two women who were still sniffling and giggling on the floor. “I learned a lot today.”

“Uh huh,” Arthur confirmed drily. “And it had better stay in this office.”

“What?” I managed a pretty convincing confused face before pretending to realize what he meant. “Oh! The relationship thing. Yeah, cool, whatever. That’s not what I was talking about, but you’re good.”

“Dare I even ask what you meant?” Alistair ventured, finally turning around so that he could give me a warning look.

“Uh, isn’t it obvious?” I asked, shaking my head and spreading my hands, palms up. When they both just stared at me, I finally broke and grinned. “Dude. You two are freaking slobs.”

The squeaking noises coming from the vicinity of my feet told me that no further work would be getting done for the rest of the day.

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#the miys #found family #humans are weird #science fiction #aliens #apocalypse #humans are space orcs #humans are space fae #earth is space australia #post apocalypse #post post apocalypse #original science fiction #original sci fi #original writing

[fakecrfan]

Since you very nicely offered to write me a fic:

Your prompt is: A story about a background character or characters dealing with life after the TMA apocalypse.

It can be set in the OG TMA universe in the post-post-apocalypse, or it can also be set in a different universe that was affected by the events of MAG 200.

Both OCs and characters established in-show are allowed.

This one aligned so well with my interests that I am actually tempted to open my inbox, briefly, in case anyone else has questions like “what is X bavjground character doing after the apocalypse?” so I can make a series out of it and expand on my post-post-apocalypse headcanons.

For now, you can read your fic here, on over here on AO3

---

Sarah doesn't know where she is.

England, she has to still be in England, she thinks. But it's not an England she recognizes. Not the cobblestone streets of London, and not the moors she used to visit on her vacations. The ground is barren, as though all blades of grass but a few have shriveled up and died. There are no trees, houses, or landmarks for miles--just scorched remnants of where they might have been before.

For a moment, the emptiness of it all is a relief after the hotel. But everything is the same on all sides, and she doesn't know where she is or where to go. She's starting to get hungry, too. She never got hungry in the hotel, nightmarish as it was.

She has to sit down for a moment, take a few deep breaths, and think.

Get food. Find shelter. Survive.

Find Alex.

(God, why had she left her child in a hotel room? Little twelve year old Alex who was still afraid to sleep without a night light. He'd begged her to stay, she should have--)

With that in mind she gets up. Doesn't know what direction to walk in, so she doesn't concern herself with trying to pick one. There's nothing to do but walk, keep her eyes open, and hope.

So she hopes.

---

None of our old maps match the landscape, anymore.

The world these days it's... not like in the before times, as I suppose we're calling it. Despite our hopes, ending the apocalypse wasn’t like everyone waking up from a nightmare. The land is...

It's scrambled, I guess. There are patches of the world that--well. They're not the same, but still have infrastructure intact. Electricity, running water, air conditioning. No scorched earth or rubble in these areas. Just a bunch of traumatized people living in an intact town, or city.

When I talk to them, they tell me it's not the city they remember, though. Everything has been switched around, houses and stores not where they remember them. Their neighbors aren't the neighbors their remember.

Those are the lucky ones. And then there's, well... the outside.

Some places have rubble everywhere, jagged steel ripped apart and waiting for someone to cut themselves on it. Some are frozen over, still waiting for the ice they were frozen over with in the apocalypse to melt. Some are scorched to dust. No phones out there, or anything that lets you connect back with home base.

I'm going out there. We need to map it out. We need to figure out our new world, understand it--and we need to get as many people out of the wastes as possible.

Melanie, Georgie--I’ll see you soon.

---

Sarah does find water. That's something. She's hungry still, so hungry, but she knows that the water is more important.

She wonders if she should stay there. She doesn't know if there will be more watering holes in the future, after all, and she has no way to carry it with her. She decides to keep moving on, and hope for the best.

She starts to see blades of grass poking up, along with some sort of metal crap strewn about the landscape. She looks at them a moment--it seems to be bits of an old carousel? Eventually, a giant sit in their shade, for a while. There she takes a moment to look at the horizon, and goes cold.

She recognizes the tower on the horizon.

A  scaffolded tower with two legs beneath it. A sight she'd last seen on a postcard from her brother. The Eiffel Tower.

Is she in Paris? No, that can't be it. It's just the tower out here in the wastes. There are none of the buildings that would normally surround it. It's almost as though its been ripped out of the city and transported here.

Does Paris even exist anymore? Does London?

If she even finds Alex, will there be a home for them to go back to?

---

I have a theory, Melanie. I think lots of people got transported to different places in the world based on what fear they belonged to. Like, a bunch of lonely people were put in the same place, a bunch of claustrophobic people were put in the same place, and so on. All away from the people they knew.

I’m in one of the suburban safe areas now. No one here knows each other. I talked to them all, and all of them remember living in the same house before, but none of them recognized the houses near them or the people in them. When I went from house to house, everyone had a different native language. I talked to a German guy and a French guy who spoke English, but a lot of them… couldn’t talk to me at all.

There was a woman who--she saw me and she lit up. She grabbed me and started talking a mile a minute in Arabic, I think. But I couldn’t understand her, and she--when I tried to talk back to her in English, her face just. Fell. And then she started to cry.

My dad refused to speak it at home, you know. He-- Actually, never mind. It’s not important. 

She ended up shoving me away.

---

Sarah makes it to the ruins of a forest. 

There’s nothing but stumps left of it, along with litter everywhere. She finds water again, filthy brackish water, and she drinks it anyway because she’s so thirsty. She starts sifting through all of the garbage strewn about for something edible. She finds stale bread crusts crawling with ant and eats them anyway. 

She finds a can of beans, and almost cries. When she can’t find a can opener, she screams instead.

---

The death count has gotten to me, honestly.

I’ve found dead bodies even in the towns and cities. Some looked like heart attacks. Some suicides. People who woke up but couldn’t bear the agony they’d just gone through. That’s still not… the worst of it.

I passed a whole field of dead bodies today.

Hundreds of people, I think, all of them lying dead in the soil. But there were... trails. They had been walking, before they collapsed. All walking in the same direction, to where you can still see London on the horizon.

They were alive. They were trying to get help. And they just... starved, it looks like. The walk was just too long.

How many people are going to die from it all, Melanie? How many already have, out where we can't see them?

I left as many jugs of clean water and rations along the roads as I could. I put up signs pointing to London, saying how many miles out they were, where I had stashed food. I gave them your number, so they know who to call to get to the shelter.

I hope it means the next group that passes by won't die.

I hope there is a next group.

---

Sarah can see what looks like a city in the distance before she collapses. 

She tries to get up, but can’t. She’s been walking for days now, it feels like, only sporadically drinking and almost never eating.  There just isn’t enough energy left in her to stand.

She tries to think about little Alex again, running around in his Batman cape, hoping some kind of love or maternal instinct will kick in and give her the last burst of adrenaline she needs to get up. It doesn’t work. Maybe she doesn’t love her own son anymore, really. Maybe it’s just been fear and guilt driving her this far, and that source has already been wrung dry. 

She manages to crawl a few feet, before she can’t even do that. With nothing else left to do, she starts to cry out. “Help! Water, please!” 

She doesn’t think anyone will hear, or show up. But against all odds, in her dimming vision she sees a figure come into view. Backpacked, clutching a water bottle. 

“Help,” she croaks out again. 

The figure gets closer, and she starts to be able to make out the details of his face. He’s her age, or older, with worry lines carved into his forehead and wide eyes. His nose looks eerily like her brother’s nose, and the shape of his jaw reminds her of her old boyfriend, the one who left her with--

She blinks. Maybe she’s hallucinating, or maybe she’s somehow run into a long lost cousin. But then, the man’s eye’s widen and his mouth opens.

“Mum?”

No, no it can’t…

“A-alex?”

No, Alex was a little round cheeked boy. This is a thirty year old man, at least, taller than her. It hasn’t been that long. It can’t be, it’s not--

“Mum?” He’s doing a frown that looks so, so familiar. This has to be a dream. “Mum, it’s--no.”

He sniffles. He steps forward, and steps back. He paces, uncertain.

“No, no,” she hears him mutter. “It’s all fake, all fake. It’s a trap. That’s what they want, the monsters and the face stealers. No one is real. Don’t give them what they want--’’

“Please.” she begs. 

But she hears him walk away, sniffling, and shortly thereafter everything goes dark. 

---

I have a confession to make, Melanie. I was going to side with Jon, back then. I could have lived with keeping everyone here suffering to prevent more of it. But when he said he was going to kill the whole world, not just leave it--that’s what made me snap. 

I couldn’t let the whole world die. Genocide of the entire human species? Anything but that. Surely passing along the suffering would be better, as long as it didn’t lead to the extinction of whole worlds. But… 

I keep finding more dead bodies.

I went back to that suburb I talked about, to restock on all my food. It was a lonely domain before, I think. I’d thought everyone there would be fine, you know. They didn’t have any deadly sicknesses, or twisted flesh injuries. They had food and water and shelter. But when I went back… more of them had died. 

Lots of suicides. Some of them snapped, and started to self injure.

The German guy I talked to had started to starve. He had a pantry full of food and he just wouldn’t eat it. I tried to get him to eat, to move in with someone else, but he said talking to people “made him sick.” 

I gave up, and left. I had to. There were too many people, and too much to do, so I left him. He’s probably dead now, or going to die soon. Because he can’t find the will to live, and I don’t know how to help someone with that.

The Lonely is probably one of the least directly harmful entities, right? This domain was just a suburb, probably the most comfortable you could get during the apocalypse. And yet the victims are still all dying. 

How much worse is it in places without food and water? In the corruption domains that still probably have deadly diseases spreading? In war zones, in flesh factories?

I think about that nursing home we found. All of the patients who'd died of heart attacks a few minutes after they'd woken up. The ones left alive screaming for help where no one could hear them, for days after the fact. All of the ones that died in their beds before we found them. 

I think about that field of bodies I found the other day. I think about the ruins of that Circus I found, people refusing to talk to me or each other--refusing to help because they didn’t believe it was over and thought everyone else was a mannequin. 

I think… I think it doesn’t matter that we saved the world. If people can’t find the will to live, ro rebuild, to trust and help each other again… I think we’re going through a mass extinction event anyway. 

---

Sarah’s in a car, she thinks. Not a moving one. She’s propped up against a seat,There’s something plastic pressed to her lips.

“Come on,” says a woman’s deep, level voice. “Come on. I got you. We’re getting to London. All you have to do is drink.”

Sarah opens her eyes. She sees a dark-skinned woman trying to coax her to drink, holding up a water bottle. 

“Just a sip,” the woman says. “Just enough to make it.”

Sarah closes her eyes, and takes a long moment to consider whether she wants to.

#my writing #tma fic #post post apocalypse #cw: suicide mention #cw: familial separation #cw: mass death #Basira Hussain

[kissinginkitchens]

You Bring Me Home—Chapter Five: Like Real People Do

a/n: hellooo and welcome to the next part of ybmh!! i am sooooo excited about this next chapter (and upcoming chapters😏 ). Thank you again for all of your kind words and wonderful feedback! It's always so much fun to hear from you all, so as always, feel free to come chat in my inbox once you've finished this next part. I have a feeling there will be much to discuss👀 Much love, Mel <3

Pairing: Hawai'i!Harry x Original Character

Warnings: swearing, allusions to sexual content, mentions of drowning

Word Count: 5.6k

read parts one, two, three, and four

“I’m not going,” Alani says finally, discarding the outfit in her hands onto a pile on her bed. The clock reads 7:55 pm, only five minutes before she was supposed to be at the studio. She still hadn’t selected an outfit, but her hair and makeup were still relatively intact from her shift at the café.

“You have to!” Pua whines. “You told him you would!”

“Then I’ll tell him I’m sick or something—food poisoning. Period cramps, maybe,”

She begins placing the clothes on hangers to put back in her closet, but her sister reaches for her wrists to stop her.

“You’re just nervous,” Pua says calmly, getting eye level with her older sister. “But you’ll regret it if you don’t go,”

“Go where?” a woman’s voice calls from the door frame. Their mother, Estrella, peeks her head through the cracked door.

“To a party with a cute boy,” Pua explains.

Alani shoots an icy glare at her sister before turning back to her mom. “It’s not a party. I’m working on a piece about a local musician and he’s recording some music tonight and said I could go. You know, to write about it,”

Estrella nods, not convinced. “So why don’t you wanna to go?”

“Because they almost kissed—”

“Pua!”

“Hey, hey,” Estrella cuts in. “Mija, you’re twenty-two years old, I don’t expect you to stay single forever. If you want to go out and see a cute boy, you don’t need to lie about it,”

“But I’m not lying,” Alani defends. “It’s just… complicated, and I’m trying to be professional about it.”

Estrella steps away from the doorframe and envelops her daughter in a hug. “Sometimes, you just have to do what feels right and hope for the best,”

Alani is grateful for the piece of wisdom from her mother, feeling a small weight lifted off her shoulders.

“But if I were you,” her mom continues. “I would wear the black strappy dress with those wedges.”

********

8:10. Harry checks his phone for the third time in one minute, growing more disappointed each time the same three numbers stare back at him, almost mocking. He doesn’t feel any better when the time reads 8:11.

“Can I interest you in a piña colada?” Mitch pipes up, sauntering over with a glass in each hand.

The choice of drink seemed perfect when Harry had suggested it earlier in the day, but he deeply regrets it now. Despite the tightening at the back of his throat, Harry accepts the drink and chooses to nurse it in a different corner of the room. A part of him feels guilty for being such a buzzkill around his friends these days, and he wishes more than anything that he could just enjoy living in this moment with them. Being away from Alani had produced a strange feeling in him similar to the sickness experienced when leaving home on a long vacation; Harry didn’t know exactly how to cure it, but he hoped that lots of alcohol would do the trick.

When the clock reads 8:20, he accepts that she isn’t coming and decides to make the best of a shitty situation. He drains another piña colada and joins his friends who are huddled around various instruments and sound equipment. A few more of Harry’s writer and producer friends had joined the trip temporarily, and he’s grateful, now more than ever, for their presence—it distracts him from the overwhelming emptiness in the pit of his stomach. Jeff hands Harry a microphone and some headphones while Mitch plugs a white electric guitar into the amp. The guitarist begins with some chords that the crew has been messing around with for the past couple of days: an upbeat riff reminiscent of some of Harry’s favorite 70s rock pieces. His head is spinning mildly, but he uses the feeling as inspiration. He pinches his eyes shut and tries to let the lyrics flow, but the only words coming out are “she’s driving me crazy”, so he starts with that. The group also runs with it, adding a few yells and lyrics of their own. The song isn’t coherent in the slightest, filled mostly with laughter and choppy melodies, but it’s the best Harry has felt all night. He traded the piña coladas for a glass of tequila fit snugly in the palm of his hand, and true to Mitch’s word, the giggles emerge. At one point, he shouts the words “I’m havin’ your baby”, which makes zero sense to anyone in the room, including him, but they decide that it sounds cool and keep it going.

“It’s none of your business!” Mitch calls back, voice raised in his best soprano to mimic that of a woman. The shoddy attempt makes Harry laugh even harder and his hand clutches his stomach.

They continue on for what feels like hours, but in reality has only been forty-five minutes. At 9:05, Jeff Azoff heads outside to catch his breath and cool down. As he takes a seat on the steps, a yellow Ford Bronco pulls into the lot and Alani steps out once it's parked. She emerges in a black dress that falls mid thigh and a baby pink leather jacket, making her way nervously up the steps.

“Alani,” Jeff greets warmly with cheeks flushed. “Welcome. Party’s inside.”

She shoots him a grateful smile and reaches for the studio door, slipping inside cautiously. The music had been audible a mile down the road, but it’s even more overwhelming inside. Standing on a small coffee table in the center of the room is Harry with an arm draped around a shorter man wearing a black and white Adidas shirt. His dimples are on full display and his warbled words carry over the speakers to attack her from all sides. She recognizes Mitch hunched over a guitar and Jeff Bhasker spinning in an office chair, but she can’t put names to the other faces lingering around Harry. Alani feels extremely out of place, not knowing where she belongs in all of the chaos—it all seems to her like a living Jackson Pollock painting that she can’t look away from. In the middle of his off-key rendition of Wannabe by the Spice Girls, Harry’s eyes land on Alani and his smile grows ten times wider. He puts one foot in front of the other, completely disregarding the small size of the table, but he catches himself just as Alani lunges forward to help him. This results in their two bodies pressed flush against one another, the coolness of her leather jacket versus the warmth of his intoxication.

“You made it,” he slurs.

Alani takes a small step back and clears her throat. “Yeah. Sorry I’m late,”

“Don’ worry ‘bout it,” Harry shrugs, his eyes lighting up when he remembers something. “There’s piña coladas! In the kitchen,”

The fact that he remembered such a detail from their previous conversations and made an effort to incorporate it into this night makes her cheeks warm.

“Okay, cool. Thanks,”

Harry scans her appearance and his stomach flutters.

“Y’look really pretty,” he offers. Alani can tell that it takes every ounce of effort to do so.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, voice small.

“Wanna get some fresh air?”

“Yes, please.”

The two of them slip out through a side door and into the backyard, stopping just before the pier. Alani doesn’t know how much of these next moments Harry will remember in the morning, which makes her feel a little more confident to share what she’s truly thinking.

“Harry, I—”

“God, you’re so pretty,” he interrupts, running a hand through his hair.

Her cheeks heat up, but she pushes past the feeling. “And you’re drunk,”

“Yeah, true. But you’re still pretty. Always think so,”

Alani searches his eyes, which are sleepy and bloodshot, but there isn’t a trace of insincerity. In this moment, she also feels the overwhelming urge to be honest—about the butterflies in her stomach that only set flight when he’s around, and the way she constantly wonders what his lips would feel like against hers. But there’s an intensity behind Harry’s gaze, despite his intoxicate state, that stops her.

“You’re making this so hard,” Alani laughs lightly, more to herself than him.

“‘M sorry,” he offers. “Don’t mean to,”

She smiles at Harry’s completely innocent reply, not knowing what to do with all of the pent up affection she has for him. A part of her simply wants to scream in his face to stop being so goddamn endearing. Instead, Alani turns on her heel to put some space between them, but stops when she feels a warm hand tug at her fingers.

“Why d’you always do that?” Harry asks, his expression a little more sober.

Alani takes a deep breath. “Do what?”

“Pull away when I get close. Did it in the car that one time. And the other time at the beach,”

There’s a beat of silence where Alani isn’t sure how to respond, but before she does, Harry releases her fingers and takes a step back.

“Wait, that was stupid. ‘M sorry if I did anything—”

“No,” Alani interrupts, taking a step closer. “You haven’t done anything wrong,”

“So why?”

She releases a breath and swallows. “I don’t know,”

It isn’t the answer Harry is looking for, but he accepts it with a slow nod. Suddenly feeling the need to flee, he takes a step onto the railing of the pier and Alani’s heart rate speeds up.

“What’re you doing?”

“S’hard to tell,” he shrugs before letting himself fall into the water below.

“Harry!” she screams, heaving over the edge of the railing to find him. The drop, unbeknownst to her, is only six feet and he’s done it many times before.

After a few seconds, Alani sees him reemerge at the surface, shaking his wet hair out. There’s a small strip of sand along the shore below, so she bolts down the stairs to meet him at the bottom.

“What the fuck?!” She cries, panic welling in the brim of her eyes. “Why did you do that?”

“I don’t know,” he deadpans.

“You could’ve hurt yourself,” Alani croaks, her limbs shaking. “You—you could’ve—”

Harry reaches out to comfort her but she steps back.

“I gotta go,”

“Alani,” he says gently, but she doesn’t respond. “Alani, wait!”

She walks briskly back to the front lot, Harry close behind.

“Alani, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t follow me.” she orders.

Her words are like a dagger through his chest, but he respects her wishes and stops dead in his tracks. Harry stands soaking wet under the moonlight, feeling helpless as he watches Alani disappear into the darkness.

********

She wakes the next morning with puffy eyes and a heavy heart, still wearing the same black dress from the night before. The warm water of a morning bath eases some of the tension in her muscles, but she knows it will take a lot more to soothe the tightness in her chest.

Why do you always do that?

Do what?

Pull away.

Their conversation from the night before lingers like a nasty bruise in Alani’s mind, but she senses a bit of harsh truth in Harry’s words. She did have a bad habit of walking away when things got hard, especially concerning matters of the heart. Her instincts were all flight and no fight, so even if Alani had stayed, she isn’t sure how she would’ve explained her reasons for panicking. How do I gently pepper in the whole almost dying thing? she wonders, a lump forming at the back of her throat. Alani was only eight years-old when she nearly drowned, and though almost fourteen years had passed since then, she still vividly remembers the helplessness of sinking further under the strong tide. On nights after a particularly stressful day, Alani’s sleep is often disturbed by the sensation of her lungs slowly filling with water only to wake up drenched in sweat and clutching the sheets. She had worked hard for several years after the incident to overcome her fear of the ocean, but a part of her still couldn’t shed the debilitating need for caution. After all, it was easier to avoid the water altogether than to wade in blindly and get sucked under. Watching Harry sink into the unknown stirred the same sense of panic that Alani had felt all those years ago and threatened to undo her progress, but she quickly realized that it was the idea of losing him that had sent her into flight mode. She imagines the hollowness she would feel at the sight of waterfalls and the scent of vanilla; piña coladas—the drink and the song—tainted in her memory forever. The thought of Harry's absence was all too much to bear, but it’s how she knew that his presence must mean something. He meant something, and she couldn’t let him go.She ends her bath quickly and sifts through the first pair of clothes she can find. Suddenly none of it mattered: what she wore, how she looked, Rolling Stone—nothing but him. Alani thinks back to her mother’s words: sometimes you just have to do what feels right and hope for the best. All she needed to do was see him and the words would find themselves. The sky is overcast when she steps outside, so she quickly puts the top on Stevie and pulls out into the road, deciding to make one quick pit-stop before setting off to find him.

********

Harry’s head pounds and he feels as if the sun has been set to maximum brightness. His clothes reek of saltwater, his skin feels like sandpaper, and his mouth is the Sahara desert. None of this compares, however, to the sense of impending doom that settles in when the memories of the night before, particularly those of Alani, resurface. I’m so fucked, he groans. Harry doesn’t quite remember every detail, but he remembers enough; he remembers how pretty she looked, and reminding her of it. He feels the temporary warmth of her fingers and the coolness of her jacket pressed against his chest. There’s a bit of fuzziness between the Spice Girls and piña coladas, but then Harry remembers crashing through water and his memory gets clearer. He fucked up. He had upset Alani in some way and although he doesn’t quite know how, he knows that he would spend the rest of his life trying to make up for it. Harry sits up suddenly and the whole room spins, but he makes an effort to stand anyway. Need to see Alani, he thinks with determination, I just need to see Alani.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” Mitch comments from the kitchen table, nursing a cup of coffee.

“What time is it?” Harry croaks.

Mitch takes a sip of coffee and checks his phone. “10:30,”

“And last night was…”

“The party?” Mitch fills in the gaps. “Yeah,”

Harry rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands and takes a seat at the table. “Did...did you see Alani?”

“No. I don’t think anyone did, actually. Did you?”

“Yeah,”

“So… I’m assuming it didn’t go well?”

Harry’s throat tightens and he hopes that she at least got home safely. He can’t bear to think about anything bad happening to her on his watch.

“No,” he confirms with a sigh. “No it didn’t,”

“Are you gonna go talk to her?” Mitch prods.

“Dunno if I should. She was pretty pissed,”

Mitch thinks for a second, taking another sip of coffee. “What would Noah Calhoun do?”

Under normal circumstances, Harry would be very amused by his friend’s reference to The Notebook, but right now he’s too focused on making things right with Alani. He devises a plan of action and stands.

“On a scale of one to ten,” he starts. “How shitty do I look?”

Mitch scans his best friend over, head tilting from side to side as he considers the question. “About a 7.5.”

“Good enough.”

Harry swipes the keys to the Cadillac off the counter and slips his feet into a pair of beat up vans before heading out the door.

********

The restaurant is fairly empty, as far as Alani can tell from the back. The kitchen staff are gathered in the break room for the time being, which allows her to tiptoe around unnoticed as she grabs the necessary ingredients for her peace offering to Harry. She hurries out through the employee entrance as soon as it’s complete and the key is already turning in her car’s lock when she hears a voice over her shoulder, calling her name.

“David?” she responds, turning to face the brawny man leaning against the car that is parked beside hers.

“Hey,” he starts, offering a flash of pearly white teeth. “I know I’m not supposed to be back here, but I just wanted to talk to you,”

Alani swallows, the icy chill of the drink in her hands reminding her of what needs to be done.

“You know, now’s not really a gr—”

“I haven't stopped thinking about you,” David interrupts, taking a step closer. “Since the other day when you stopped by. I mean, I think about you all the time but…” he trails off and Alani waits awkwardly for him to finish his ill-timed confession. David takes another step towards her and rests his forearm against the hood of her car, practically boxing her in with no escape route.

“We were really great together, don’t you think?” he asks, scanning her face with his prying eyes. “I don’t even remember why we broke things off,”

Alani’s brow furrows, her mind failing to come up with a logical explanation for this very sudden and uncomfortable conversation. She hadn’t lied when she told Harry that David wasn’t her ex, but she hadn’t been entirely honest, either. They had started hooking up during her senior year of high school—mostly because he was the star swimmer on their team that all the other girls fawned over, and despite all the attention, he had wanted her. It made her feel momentarily special, though she knew he wasn’t the boyfriend type. “Just a bit of fun” is what they called it, and the arrangement worked out well until Alani’s freshman year of college when she realized that there was an entire world of opportunities waiting beyond the confines of high school. A world that had brought her Harry, who was probably going to leave just as soon as he’d arrived if she didn’t make amends quickly.

“No,” Alani says decisively, nudging his arm away. “We weren’t ‘great’ together, we weren’t even good for each other,”

“Alani-”

“We were really young,” she continues. “And we did what we did, but that’s all in the past-”

“If you would just give me a chance-”

“I didn’t even know what I wanted for myself back then, let alone what I wanted out of a partner. But I do now,”

She doesn’t have to say Harry’s name, but they’re both thinking it. David steps back, arms crossed, and though he had always been somewhat intimidating, he looks small standing before her now.

“It’s because of that British guy, isn’t it?” he asks, despite the feeling that he already knows the answer.

Alani lets out a light laugh but she doesn’t confirm his suspicions. “We have nothing in common, David. We want different things out of life, you’ll see,”

“And he,” David continues, an accusatory tone on the word “he”. “Wants everything you do?”

She thinks for a moment, her heart pounding as she considers what Harry’s response will be to her confession. “I hope so.”

********

Harry had considered going to Alani’s house first, but he wasn’t sure who else would be home and didn’t particularly want his first interaction with her parents to occur whilst hungover. Sitting parked on the back road behind the café, however, he wishes that he had stopped there first to save him the painful sight ahead. Harry recognizes the other man from the restaurant he had taken Alani to the first time they had hung out, a name that started with the letter “D," though probably not the one flashing angrily in his mind. His arm is draped comfortably along the roof of her car, their bodies inches apart in what appears to be a very intimate moment. While he still can’t remember the exact details of his actions that had upset Alani so much, he fits this piece into the puzzle and it becomes much more clear. She has a boyfriend, and no amount of apologies could reconcile this fact, however tempted Harry may be to try. The word “boyfriend” sits uncomfortably in his mind, but it suddenly puts everything else into perspective. It explains why she fled his car so quickly when his wandering eyes had hinted their desire for her kiss—both times. He could have sworn that it would have happened had her phone not interrupted them the second time, but perhaps it had all been a trick of the rose-colored light. The sudden realization makes Harry feel sick, and a bit foolish, so he speeds off before he can be spotted.

He drives aimlessly for a while, mind still racing with the image of the other man’s depraved hands on Alani’s soft skin. The uneasiness boiling in the pit of his stomach is pathetic—he’s well aware—but he can’t stop himself from wondering why not me? It’s a selfish thought, but it eats at him, nonetheless. It should have been me. But the reality is that it wasn’t him, and it never would be. Despite any feelings he’d had that Alani was the one for him, he was not the one for her, and it’s a fact he must learn to live with. If this thought were a rock, he’d turn it over in his fingers until they bled.

********

Alani pulls up to the studio hesitantly and waits a beat before making her way up the stairs. She knocks twice, but there’s no answer, so she presses her ear to the door in search of any sound. Silence. There’s no trace of the cars Harry usually drives when she wanders to the back lot, either, so she figures that he must not be here. Alani racks her brain for other possible locations, but it’s a dead end. She doesn’t know what hotel or house he could be staying at, and her heart begins to race at the idea that he might not even be in Hawaii anymore. For all she knows, he could be on a return flight to L.A. or London, gone forever with the same instructions she had left him: don’t follow me. Alani lifts her phone with trembling fingers and searches Harry’s name, pressing the phone to her ear and praying like she had never prayed before. It rings three times before she’s sent to voicemail. The sound of his voice on the recording brings temporary relief, but it’s gone as soon as the message ends and she is prompted to respond. She clears her throat gently and speaks as if he is at the other end waiting to hear the right words and pick up.

“Hi, it’s Alani,” she starts slowly. “I, uh…. I’m at the studio. I don’t think you’re here though,”

She walks in small circles around the backyard and lets her eyes roam to the pier where it all went wrong. It sends a pang of guilt through her spine, but it fuels her next words.

“Listen, I really wanna talk—about last night. I shouldn’t have left, I know that now. It wasn’t you, it was me, and I know that sounds cliché but it’s true,”

Alani swallows down the emotion bubbling at the back of her throat and wishes that she could just see him, face to face, one last time. There’s so much more she needs to say, but it’s a conversation she doesn’t want to have with his answering machine.

“Please just call me when you get this. I wanna explain everything if you’ll let me.”

She hangs up and nearly throws her phone into the ocean. Though her trauma response wasn’t completely in her control and it isn’t something she should feel guilty about, she wishes she had been able to explain. Alani hadn’t always been comfortable sharing that part of her life, but there was a security in Harry’s presence that made her feel okay to do so. She wanted to share everything with him, the good and the bad, but she needed to find him first.

Only twenty minutes had elapsed at the studio when Alani decides to head out; there was still no word from Harry and she needed to be anywhere else beside the site of their potential last meeting. She drives with no particular place in mind, the windows rolled down to let in the chilly, overcast air. It isn’t until she’s halfway in the opposite direction that she gets the urge to visit one other location. There’s an extremely small chance that Harry will be there, but she goes less in search of him and more for her own personal wallowing.

When Alani pulls up to the lookout where the two of them had spotted the rainbow, there is another car already parked: a pink Cadillac. The sight makes her entire body freeze.

“Harry?” a small voice calls behind him. He almost thinks that he had hallucinated it until he reluctantly turns his head and sees a timid Alani emerging from her car. A million emotions run through his mind at once, starting with confusion and elation and ultimately ending in grief.

“Hey,” he responds, weakly, still leaning against the hood of the Cadillac.

Alani slowly makes her way over, not entirely sure that he’s actually there. Once she gets closer, however, she can smell the faint scent of vanilla and her chest swells.

“I left you a voicemail,” is all she can say.

Harry’s brow furrows as he tries to remember any phone calls, but he suddenly figures that in all of his rush to see her, he had forgotten to grab it from his bed.

“Left my phone at the house,” he offers.

There’s a brief silence where the two of them size each other up, weighing their own motives against what they assume to be the other person’s. Harry speaks first.

“Alani, ‘m really sorry,” he says gently, stepping away from the car and towards her. “I know I fucked up—”

“Harry—”

“But I understand now,” he continues. “I know why you were upset,”

Confusion settles into Alani’s body and she wonders how he could possibly know about her accident. Or if he didn’t know, what else he could be referring to. She doesn’t have to guess for long because Harry continues despite her silence.

“I saw you with him—your boyfriend, I mean. Derek?” he explains. “But not in a creepy way I just.. wanted to talk. Bad timing,”

“Wait,” Alani cuts in, her brain finally sorting out the pieces. “You saw me and David..today?”

Harry feels as if the knife in his chest has been twisted further at the mention of the other man’s name, but he nods. An uncontrollable bubble of laughter finds its way up Alani’s throat, and the sound would typically bring butterflies to his stomach, but it only exacerbates the heartache.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Alani clarifies. “He’s delusional. And a huge pain in the ass, but I think he finally got the hint when I turned him down earlier,”

Harry’s ears perk up at the news, but he’s still wary.

“But you two were—”

“Ancient history,” Alani reassures him, taking another step closer. “He might as well be Socrates,”

A faint smile tugs at the corners of Harry’s lips and he feels a wave of relief wash over his body. The news is music to his ears, but he still wants to know what he had done to make her walk away that night.

“So you weren’t upset because you have a boyfriend and I tried to make a move?”

Alani takes a deep breath, knowing that she has avoided saying her piece long enough. Before she can start, though, a rumble of thunder interrupts her thoughts.

“Can we talk in Stevie? I don’t feel like standing in wet socks again,” she asks, which Harry obliges.

The two climb into the truck and settle in, the atmosphere quickly becoming more intimate than Alani had planned. His vanilla cologne has also become more perceptible in the confined space, and there’s a whiff of spearmint, most likely his gum, that briefly draws her attention to his mouth. She snaps her mind back to the conversation at hand and clears her throat.

“I’m sorry,” she begins, reading his eyes carefully. There’s a faint reassurance behind the emerald surface, so she continues. “For everything that happened last night. You did nothing wrong, please know that,”

Harry wishes he could reach out and comfort her, but he gets the feeling that whatever she’s about to say is important so he doesn’t want to dismiss it.

“It’s hard for me, sometimes, to be around the water,” Alani continues despite the prickling feeling in her eyes. “Because when I was eight years old, I almost drowned,”

The revelation hits Harry like a ton of bricks and all at once he understands. He hadn’t even thought twice about jumping into the water that night, so it didn’t occur to him to rule that out as a possible offense. He understands now that he couldn’t have been more mistaken.

“And I know that has nothing to do with you,” Alani explains, her voice wavering ever so slightly. “Except that it terrified me to think about, you know… if you hadn’t been so lucky,”

Her composure quickly cracks, a single tear spilling down her cheek before she wipes it away with the sleeve of her sweater. This time, Harry does reach a hand out and Alani accepts it gratefully; the warmth of his fingers are a welcome contrast to her icy appendages.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” he murmurs as his thumb rubs small circles over the back of her hand.

“But I do,” she sniffles. “Because—”

Alani pauses, unsure of how to finish her thought. Just do what feels right and hope for the best.

“Because I care about you,” she says finally, noticing the way his Adam’s apple bobs at her words.

Harry's jaw tightens at her confession and every muscle in his body longs to bring her close, leaving no inch of space between them, but he lets her lead despite his instincts.

"But it’s also because I care about you that I can’t let this go any further,”

Alani’s words surprise herself just as much as they terrify Harry, but she knows that it’s the right thing to do as soon as it’s done.

“Alani—” Harry starts, all of his worst fears crashing down on him.

“Please, don’t make this harder—”

“Don’t I get a say?” he questions, tightening his grip on her hand, though she still manages to slip away.

Alani runs the free hand through her still damp waves and lets another tear roll down her cheek. “What is there left to say?”

“How about ‘I care about you, too’? How about ‘I want to be with you’?”

“It’s too messy—”

“Everyone has baggage,” Harry defends. “God knows I do, and I would never ask you to carry all of that,”

Alani lets her eyes meet his again; they’re bloodshot and glossy, which sends a pang of guilt and sorrow through her entire body.

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” she reasons, this time thinking not only about her own issues, but about everything—the lies she had told and the ambitions she was still nurturing. She hadn’t given up on her dreams and unless Rolling Stone had suddenly changed their mind about the Joni Mitchell piece, there was only one way she was going to achieve them. Alani hadn’t yet reconciled the fact that she would have to put aside her own feelings for Harry to get what she wanted, but she knew that time would heal the wounds.

“All I want,” he continues. “Is a chance. And I know nothing I do will ever change the past, but two hands make the load lighter. So, please, let me carry some of that with you. Give me a chance,”

As she studies the pleading in his eyes, something stirs deeply inside Alani’s chest. She had started the day thinking only of him, but with selfish intentions. Now, she was trying to do right by him, having realized that she couldn’t have both him and the story that would launch her career. Something would have to give, and Harry deserved more than that. He deserved more than her. Despite all of this awareness, there is something else nagging in the back of her mind that she can’t ignore. Don’t walk away, it screams. If Alani ignored her true feelings for Harry and refused his plea, she would be walking away from someone who believed in her, someone who cared deeply for, and wanted to understand, her. Perhaps the universe truly had brought Harry for a story, but to be a part of hers instead of the one she had been so eager to publish. There would be other chances, just like Dr. Hudson had said, but there would never be anyone else like Harry. So with this in mind, Alani decides to stop walking away and stand still, right in this very moment, with the boy who shined brighter than the sun itself and who had only asked for a chance to make her happy.

“Okay,” she breathes and it’s like the weight of the universe has been lifted from her shoulders.

Harry leans in, their foreheads pressed together gently, and cups her cheek in his hand.

“Can I kiss you?” he whispers.

Alani nods and nudges the tip of his nose with her own. “Please.”

Their lips meet like electrically charged magnets, with a force so natural and strong it sends bolts of electrons through their entire bodies. Harry’s mouth is warm and gentle against hers, and the coolness of his mint gum soothes the searing touch of his kiss. Alani’s fingers glide up his chest and along the sides of his neck, pulling him closer as if he’s the anchor keeping her from floating away into the dark clouds above them. Over and over again, their lips collide fervently, breaths mixing and filling each other’s lungs. Their hands eagerly explore the curves of each other’s faces, the softness of hair, and the occasional heat of exposed skin. Harry is the first to break the kiss, panting lightly as he pulls back to search Alani’s face.

“Y’okay?” he asks.

“Never been better.”

next chapter

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles fic #harry styles x oc #solo harry #one direction #ybmh

[flowered-mp3]

relevé pt. 3 (pirouette) - kim yugyeom

pairing: urban dancer yugyeom + ballet dancer female reader

genre: professional dancer au, enemies to friends to lovers, mild angst

word count: 5.1k+

warnings: cursing, alcohol, suggestive sexual content

summary: after attending a multi-genre dance showcase, you become begrudgingly enraptured with yugyeom, the captain of a rival dance company.

author’s note: finally, part 3 is here! y'all know that this fic is my baby and i really enjoy writing it, i was just juggling with the plot points for a while during hiatus. also if u wanna scream about yugyeom's solo album in my inbox you are welcome because that album... my god... if u saw my *kim yugyeom is hot* breakdown in my text posts u know. anyways, enjoy hehe love y'all

[library] [got7 library] [relevé series]

✧✧✧

It’s lift day.

And you love lift day.

Being carried around in the air is fun, but you had to do quite a bit of convincing for Yugyeom to let you have it in the piece. He was very against it in the beginning; you weren’t sure why, so you had to convince him using two things; a promise that you’d bring an instructor to spot, and an incentive that he could never refuse; dinner on you.

You don’t mind either, considering that Yugyeom brings you snacks and a beverage of your choice before practice without you even asking. Today is no exception as you watch Yugyeom walk into the studio with a latte and your favourite spicy chips in hand, thanking him sheepishly.

“I come bearing gifts,” he says, a shy smile creeping on your lips as he gently places them in your outreached palms. Yugyeom’s kindness truly knows no bounds; a notion that you’ve become very familiar with over the past number of months. Before getting too distracted by Yugyeom and how unbelievably sweet he is to you, your instructor clears his throat.

Your head pops up at the sound, apologizing for your late response.

“Jimin, meet Yugyeom. Yugyeom, meet Jimin,” you direct, waving your hands between your project partner and your colleague in an effort to get them to interact.

Yugyeom reaches out first with wide eyes and a bright smile.

You mean, of course, he does, breathing a sigh of relief when Jimin takes his outreached palm for a handshake, glad that there is an inkling of Jimin possibly getting along with Yugyeom.

It isn’t like Jimin is unfriendly or vindictive in any way. It’s just that among your colleagues, you undoubtedly respect him the most. Jimin is an incredible dancer with vast experiences that you could never even imagine having. He’s been your pas de deux partner for many performances, and his style has influenced you in more ways than one, making his advice incredibly valuable to you. It’s because of this that you try to shake the anxiousness away. You care about his opinion and it makes you nervous to have him assist in the progress of your project.

“So Yugyeom, Y/N brought me here to work on some lifts. She thought that it might be more effective if she had a second hand,” Jimin says, watching you nod in confirmation before continuing, “Y/N, you said that you wanted to put in a fish dive?”

You nod, walking over to Jimin to demonstrate one for Yugyeom.

Beginning with a standard developpe, Jimin’s hands are grasping at yours to balance your movements. Once your body switches to the fouetté, then into the pirouette, Jimin’s palms transition to holding your waist, spinning you four times as your head whips around, spotting yourself in the mirror.

Already, Yugyeom is not about the way that Jimin’s hands are all over you. This is exactly why he didn’t want to do this in the first place; Yugyeom isn’t sure how much he can handle if he (or anyone else, for that matter) lays a hand on you. He tries his best not to look angry, pushing his feelings of all-consuming jealousy and yearning to the back of his consciousness. Yugyeom knows that he has no right to experience such emotions, but he still isn’t able to fully hide the way it manifests in his body language. Thankfully for him, you don’t notice anything amiss due to your preoccupation with the lift that you’re demonstrating.

Distracted by your muscles coiling and tensing, your arms float from first position as your retire extends backward to an arabesque, your expression soft in an attempt to conceal the burning that you’re starting to feel in your feet. Pausing briefly to prepare for the lift, Jimin and you both plie simultaneously before he grabs at your waist, throwing you in the air with an effortlessness and grace that only years of being pas de deux partners could grant.

The lift sequence finishes with the signature dip and the extension of your leg, finally able to relax your muscles and breathe properly.

“Ok. Your turn,” you exhale, crooking your neck to the side as you fully disengage your muscles. Looking at Yugyeom, the description of the expression spread across his face could only be described as utterly terrified.

“What if I drop you?” Yugyeom asks meekly, unsure about his abilities.

“I’ll guide you through it. Plus, you have all this extra surface area to work with,” Jimin reassures, causing you to giggle at his joke, essentially dissing himself for his small stature.

Yugyeom doesn’t say anything but you can just tell that he’s still unconvinced, biting the inside of his cheek as his shoulders slouch slightly. Reaching out to grasp at his hand softly, you attempt to silently reassure him with gentle eyes and a squeeze of his palm. This seems to be sufficient for him, Yugyeom’s head nodding hesitantly.

Standing behind you, Yugyeom attempts to mimic Jimin’s positioning from earlier; your hands in his with your back a couple of inches from his chest. Jimin moves to lift Yugyeom’s arms higher up before touching his shoulders, pushing them down in an effort to relax them.

“Keep your arms tense during the developpe,” Jimin instructs, Yugyeom engaging the muscle in his arm to follow his directions. However, he tenses them a little too much for your liking, his shoulders hunching upwards as he overcompensates.

“Wait. Gyeom, not so much. You still have to move your hands to my waist when I transition to the pirouette,” you advise, humming in approval when Yugyeom heeds your advice.

Warning Yugyeom that you’re about to start the pirouette, his palms leave your hands to grab at your waist slowly, trying his best to ensure that you feel safe before jumping.

“Gyeom, you’re not gonna hurt me,” you reassure, grabbing Yugyeom’s hands that are on your waist and pressing them harder against your body, effectively securing your balance in his hands. In order to prepare for the jump, you direct him to plie at the same time before launching you in the air, then advising him to brace your landing in the same manner.

“Ok, ready?” Jimin prepares, ensuring that you both are prepared before counting you two in, hands out in order to spot the risky lift.

It’s not as smooth as you’re used to; Yugyeom’s fingers accidentally pinching your waist upon catching you, causing the landing to be a bit bumpy and rough. Interestingly, it still feels better than other pas de deux partners that you’ve had in the past; perhaps you can accredit it to the fact that you and Yugyeom have grown to have good chemistry together. As if he can sense your discomfort, his eyes meet yours in the mirror as you wince, immediately expressing remorse with an apologetic caress of your hip.

“Sorry,” he apologizes into your ear, an unintentional shiver running down your spine when you feel his breath against your neck.

Suddenly, you become aware of the proximity between you two, your mind completely disregarding the fact that Jimin is still in the studio, eyes darting between you and Yugyeom awkwardly. The only thing that your mind can focus on is Yugyeom’s firm chest is pressed against your back, his arms encircled around your waist as a consequence of the shaky landing. You’re not even facing each other but you manage to stare at his face through the mirror in front of you, making the moment strangely intimate.

It takes a loud cough from Jimin to make you pry away from his touch, taking in a hitched breath to calm your nerves and racing heart. You fail to catch that Yugyeom is no better; hands clammy as his ears become pink, neck flushing bashfully.

✧✧✧

The Asshole:

Worried about the lift

Like I’ll do it

Just like.

Don’t wanna drop you on stage

You frown at his text. It’s not like him to second-guess himself; that’s usually a you thing. He did great for a beginner during practice a couple of hours ago. Yes, it was a bit rough and lacked the usual level of finesse, but Yugyeom is such an all-rounder. He’s talented and you’re confident that he’ll be able to get it in time for showcase.

Me:

Don’t worry

You did great, I promise

Jimin said you did well

For a beginner lol

Don’t worry about it too much, we still have 3 months left

You’ll get it

Plus, you have me 😊

Your cheeks warm up at what you just sent, biting your bottom lip as you place your phone on the table screen down. You’re nearing dangerous territory and you’re well aware; it touches on flirting with him and it’s a side of yourself that you’ve been entertaining far too many times for your liking.

“I would like to submit a piece for the collaboration project.”

Upon hearing this request, you look up from your phone screen sharply, shocked out of your own thoughts. Everyone was pretty apprehensive about the whole collab thing, so you’re caught off guard by the request. Your eyes meet your roommate, Lisa, her eyes sparkling in excitement with her paperwork in hand.

“It’s pretty late in the game, considering that showcase is in three months. What’s with the change of heart?” you question curiously, unsure of the reason for Lisa’s sudden decision.

“There’s actually a guy on the team that’s a childhood friend. BamBam? I don’t know if you’ve met him,” she answers.

Just hearing his name makes you giggle, reminded of his larger-than-life personality, glitzy oversized watch, and obnoxiously tinted sunglasses that he wore indoors.

“I have met him, actually. He and Gyeom are best friends and roommates. I had no idea that he knows you,” you respond, surprised, guessing that Lisa is probably going to work with him on the project. This is nice, to have someone else on your team experiencing the exact same artistic blocks and achievements that you’re experiencing.

“Gyeom?”

“Yugyeom. It’s a nickname. Sorry, it’s a habit.”

Ignoring the shit-eating grin on Lisa’s face, you grasp at the paperwork in her hands, scanning through the writing to ensure that everything is in order for their piece. Looking through it, you’re excited to see that Lisa will be doing hiphop with him; a welcome surprise; she’s always been so good at it, regardless of being a contemporary dancer at her core.

“This looks good, so I’ll submit it to the showcase director later,” you confirm before immediately resuming your work, eyes trained on your illuminated laptop screen in an instant. You expect Lisa to leave; she’s likely just as busy as you with dance at the moment. Instead, she chooses to plop right on the table beside your work, scattering your pens and highlighters in the process.

Blinking in surprise, your hands leave your laptop in a questioning gesture, eyes looking upward to look at Lisa’s sly grin.

Just by looking at her face, you’re already aware that she’s going to ask for your permission to do something.

“You want something. What is it?” you ask suspiciously, wary of the mischievous expression plastered all over her face. Lisa sighs, pouting.

“I have an idea,” she begins, pausing when your eyes narrow, half interested but half suspicious. You love your best friend but she can have some out-of-pocket ideas sometimes, “I was thinking of hosting a party for Elevate and Pulse next weekend. You know, since we have to work together and stuff,” she suggests, wincing in preparation for her idea to get rejected. You pause initially, opening your mouth to push her idea to the side. Simply put, you do not have the time to plan for a mere party, way too preoccupied with your dance captain duties.

“Just before you reject me, Bam and I will plan for it. It won’t even be at our apartment, it’ll be at a B&B. Just. I don’t know… Think about it? We’ve all been working so hard. We deserve a break! Plus, the teams can get to know each other with food and drinks,” Lisa pauses, “You can spend time with Yugyeom…” she continues in a saccharine sing-song voice, tone suggestive.

As much as you hate to admit it, that last sentence is what makes you rethink the event. You’ve never hung out with Yugyeom outside of work, and you can’t help but want to get to know him on a non-work basis.

It might be a bad idea, though.

You know that you’re physically attracted to Yugyeom; unwillingly so, might you add, and combining that with alcohol may end badly for your months-long, budding friendship with him. Meeting with him so often for the past number of months meant that he’s secured a spot in your circle of friends, whether you like it or not.

In your life, you choose to only become involved with people that have a seat at your table of friendship. Anyone else who doesn’t have a seat is someone that you aren’t personally concerned with. There’s only a select, finite number of spots but…

Yugyeom managed to do away with your rule, choosing instead to bring his own seat to the table.

And that weakens your resolve.

So, you agree.

✧✧✧

“Y/N here?”

Yugyeom doesn’t even have to turn his head around to know that the voice belongs to Jinyoung, one of his closest pains in his ass. He hums to confirm your attendance at the party, but doesn’t want to fully admit that he’s already been staring at you since your arrival from across the house, even before Jinyoung asked him.

“That explains the hair situation.”

Yugyeom rolls his eyes, “Shut up.”

“What? I’m happy for you. Clearly, Y/N is doing you a favor via the improvement on your style choices.”

“We’re not even together,” he spits out, annoyed that Jinyoung is choosing to make fun of him when he isn’t feeling particularly chipper. If anything, BamBam told him to dress up for the party. If he had his way, Yugyeom would just rock up in his standard skinny jean and baggy t-shirt combination.

“Right. Otherwise, you’d be over there with your arm around her, warding off the guy that she’s talking to right now,” Jinyoung states, tapping his shoulder before leaving to grab another drink. Yugyeom is annoyed, all Jinyoung did was increase Yugyeom’s overwhelming feeling of yearning. From afar, it looks like you’re making casual conversation with someone on his crew. It’s a first-year, he remembers, and the first-year is clearly interested. He means, who wouldn’t be?

You showed up wearing a short dress that leaves nothing to the imagination, bare legs and curves of your body exposed. Yugyeom is used to the bare skin exposure, but he isn’t used to the fact that your hair is down. It contrasts the slicked-back high ponytails and neat buns that he’s used to, silky tresses draping gracefully over your collarbones, causing his eyes to focus on the dainty gold choker that rests on the base of your neck.

He just…

Wants to pull at it. To tug at the chain until your face tilts upwards to look at him with those pretty eyes of yours. He wants to press his lips against yours; to wrap his arm around your waist and cradle your cheek in his hand; to kiss you in such a way that you’re left keening and panting against his lips.

And it’s been absolute torture to have so many practices with you over the past number of months, having to hide the way you make him feel. He has to talk to you and touch you in a non-romantic fashion and it simply crushes him with each progressive meeting. Yugyeom wants so badly to stop visiting you for no reason; to stop bringing you tea lattes and spicy chips when you two have practice; to stop going to you for advice when he has choreo block; to stop the urge to simply want to be in your vicinity. He wants to stop but his resolve gets progressively weaker.

He just…

Wants you. In any way that you’re willing to have him.

And this is what urges him to make direct eye contact with you from across the room, his irritation from before washing away when a smile spreads across your face, eyes sparkling.

“She’s pretty, isn’t she?”

“Yeah,” Yugyeom sighs without a second thought, the response so automatic that it takes him a second to process what he just said, “Wait, no. Well, yes… But I mean-“

Yugyeom’s stuttering is interrupted by a giggle beside him, tilting his head towards the source of the unknown voice. Looking slightly down, he sees Jimin next to him, eyes crinkled with a cheeky smirk spread across his face.

“I-“ he stops with an exasperated sigh, pressing his hand to his forehead before slumping his shoulders, “How did you know?”

Hearing that just makes Jimin laugh at his expense, clutching at his stomach before wiping a tear from his eye.

“You’re so obvious, Mr. Wears His Heart On His Sleeve. You’re not even a member of Elevate but I’ve seen you more often than actual members of Elevate! I spent one practice with you and I could just tell when your puppy dog eyes got all angsty when I laid a hand on Y/N,” Jimin states in a matter-of-fact manner, gesturing at you as Yugyeom grimaces in embarrassment.

“She cares about you too. More than she lets on,” Jimin continues, Yugyeom covering his face as he becomes increasingly flustered, “You’d lucky to be with her.”

“Why don’t you ask her out then?” Yugyeom scorns, pouting before chugging the beer in his hand, brows furrowed. Jimin hums in acknowledgment of Yugyeom’s question, but chooses to take a sip out of his drink before answering.

“Not really my type,” Jimin chuckles in amusement.

“Oh? And what’s your type?”

“Dick.”

“Ah. I see,” Yugyeom nods, immediately backing off from his previous attitude.

“She’d be lucky to have you too,” he admits, catching Yugyeom off guard.

“What do you mean?” Yugyeom asks, unsure of Jimin’s reasoning. He barely knows him, and yet he’s able to suddenly assess if Yugyeom is worthy of his close friend and colleague.

“Someone’s hitting on her but you’re over here on the sidelines, just watching and not getting angry. You’re making her become less of a tightly wound stress ball, which definitely benefits me. You gotta good heart, Gyeom,” Jimin elaborates, a smile spreading over Yugyeom’s face when he hears his beloved nickname that you use all the time. He is also surprised, Yugyeom wasn’t even aware that Jimin paid attention to his interactions with you, but is grateful that he has Jimin’s approval.

“You’re also hot. Not sure if you’ve noticed,” he quips, Yugyeom choking and sputtering on his drink as a response.

“I’m sorry?”

“You have his tall and handsome thing going on. Cute face. Nice chest. Good body. Fantastic dancer,” Jimin expands, wholly nonchalant. Yugyeom immediately becomes self-conscious at the sudden flurry of compliments, blushing red and fiddling with the silver rings on his fingers.

“Just… Lemme give you some advice, as her friend and colleague. Y/N is stubborn. I’m sure that you already know that. Once she sets her mind to something, she just sticks with it,” Jimin starts, jogging Yugyeom’s memory of you going back and forth on one specific section of their piece for two hours, “She doesn’t like risk. So that also means that she sticks to stupid ass rules that could make her ultimately unhappy.”

Right. Fuckin’ masochist, Yugyeom remembers.

“You gotta snap her out of it to have a chance because frankly, this little ‘dance’ you guys are doing around each other? She’s gonna hold out for longer than you. And I know that for a fact. Plus, I spent a couple of hours with you two and I can’t stand the way you guys keep eye-fucking each other. Like, get a room.”

“So what the hell am I supposed to do? I never know what she’s thinking,” Yugyeom slumps frustratedly, not feeling particularly positive with the ‘advice’ that Jimin is giving.

“Put all your cards on the table. Let her know that you’re worth the risk because you are, Yugyeom.”

Perhaps, Jimin is onto something.

Perhaps, all Yugyeom really needs is some courage.

✧✧✧

The party is… Definitely more extravagant than you thought that it would be.

Lisa told you to ‘dress up’, but you still feel out of place in your strappy heel and silky forest green minidress combination, even when considering the lavish nature of the surrounding décor.

Yugyeom is here as well, making you feel self-conscious when his eyes meet yours from across the room. Just by glancing at him from a distance, he’s looking especially handsome tonight, donning a sleek, all-black ensemble with his standard silver hoop earrings and chain necklace. His hair is actually styled as well, a rarity that you’re not familiar with; his forehead is exposed as the strands of hair are slicked away from his face. Nodding at him, a characteristically bright smile extends across his lips.

“You ok?” a voice beside you asks, initially making you jump in surprise. It’s the guy that you’ve been talking to for the past 10 minutes, but you’re frankly distracted by Yugyeom the entire time. You kind of feel bad because he’s cute and seems to be interested in you, leaning close with a wide smile on his lips as he requests to have your number.

But you stick by your rule; absolutely no romantic relations with colleagues.

Luckily, Yugyeom becomes your saving grace from the awkward and stunted conversation that you’re plagued with, whisking you away from the poor guy that had no chance to begin with.

“Thanks for the save,” you say sheepishly, your eyes unconsciously softening the minute that you see his face.

“Let’s get you a drink,” he says, extending his hand towards you. The chivalrous gesture catches you off guard, heat beginning to bloom on your cheeks.

Shyly taking his outstretched hand, he continues, “Come on, I’ll introduce you to my crew.”

✧✧✧

You’re finding out that Yugyeom’s friends… Are interesting. 

First, you meet Jinyoung, Mark, Jackson, Youngjae, and Jaebeom, Yugyeom’s seniors. Both Jaebeom and Jinyoung are serious at first, but quips jokes at select moments that always cause laughter to erupt from the people surrounding him, including yourself. Frankly, Jaebeom and Youngjae’s laughs, you’re finding out, are so distinct that you can hear their signature guffaws echo from across the room. Jackson evidently makes himself out as the social butterfly, immediately greeting you with a charismatic smile and enthusiastic handshake. Mark, however, is the complete opposite. He’s so incredibly quiet that you initially failed to realize that he was even in the same group as them.

But all together…. They’re loud.

Very loud.

So much so that they start a full-on dance battle in the middle of the B&B, unprovoked. With neon lights flashing and trap music blaring through the speakers, all the members of the Pulse Crew collectively bust into dance in the center of the room. This is what sparks all of your dancers to join as well, throwing their hands up in the air. You initially had no wish to join in, perfectly content with observing the chaos from the sidelines like a fly on the wall. But Lisa, the angel that she is, yells at you in the middle of grinding into someone’s lap, screaming over the music for you to join in.

As drunk as you are, you still decline, shaking your head and hands sheepishly.

But Yugyeom forces himself out of the crowd to pull you into the chaotic flurry of bodies, guiding you to become the center of attention.

In an instant, you become apprehensive, the blasting music and the multiple eyes disorienting you. Yugyeom seems to sense this though, because he pulls you in and grasps your jaw gently, tilting your head to look into his eyes.

Maybe it’s the alcohol pumping through your body, but his electrifying gaze and tender touch practically makes you burn, fueling courage from within, the proximity to his body lighting your nerves aflame. Even with the overwhelming stimuli surrounding you two, it all seems to fade away in the background when Yugyeom guides your arms to wrap around his neck, a tipsy grin spreading across your face as his fingers trace the satin of your dress before placing his hands on your hips.

No counts.

No set combos.

No costumes.

No choreography.

Just you and him. Moving to the music in the way that makes you feel good, without the pressure of messing up or pissing off your director or catering to some judge that doesn’t care about you.

Everyone else seems to get the same idea as well, screaming and chanting ‘Cap-tains! Cap-tains! Cap-tains!’ from the vicinity of you both.

This makes you smile; you’re glad that your groups are able to connect in a place like this… You never thought that they would get along so well. Everyone is so different, but they still manage to synergize, generating such happy memories that they’ll never forget them, even if they tried.

Just like you and Yugyeom.

✧✧✧

It’s safe to say that the studios were empty the next day, because everyone (excluding himself), to Yugyeom’s knowledge, got drunk as all hell.

Yugyeom was planning to get plastered along with everyone else at the party, but you were just throwing back so many shots and drinks that he immediately restrained himself, his gut telling him that he was probably going to have to get you home by the end of the night. His gut feeling turned out to be right, because he had to drag you into a taxi with an equally wasted Lisa and BamBam, slurring over your words and slumping against his body. You’ve never told Yugyeom that you slip into your mother tongue when drunk, but he most definitely knows now, whether you liked it or not.

Pinching his nose bridge and squeezing his eyelids shut from the morning sun, a sleep-deprived headache decides to make a lovely appearance once the events of the taxi come back to him.

He forced Lisa and BamBam into the middle seats before practically carrying you to join him in the back, throwing his jacket over your shoulders because you said that you felt cold, absolutely refusing to wear your own. It’s safe to say that he felt particularly annoyed at that moment; that is until you leaned against him in the back seat of the car, testing his ability to remain a gentleman as the fullness of your chest pressed up against his arm, emphasizing your cleavage and leaving nothing to the imagination. To make matters even worse for him, you started to murmur drunkenly throughout the entire ride back.

“You’re so talented, Gyeomie,” you had started, looking up at his face before resuming, “Not fair,” you whined, pouting at him. He was baffled in the moment; how could you manage to annoy him but then immediately make him like you again without trying?

“Like your face,” you let out as you slapped his cheek clumsily, effectively causing his eyes to widen and his jaw to drop open. You apparently thought that this was inherently hilarious, “Hm. Cute,” you giggled, Yugyeom’s stomach flipping at the sudden compliments. Cute wasn’t something that he was going for, but he let it pass.

Just because it’s you.

“Like your nose,” you continued, attempting to poke the bridge of it. Unfortunately for Yugyeom, your finger completely missed. You nearly stabbed him in the eye, but he grabbed your wrist before you had a chance to gouge his eyeball out in a drunken stupor.

“Like your mole. That one,” you pointed, gesturing at the mole underneath his eye before moving down to his neck, “And this one,” you pointed again, “And this one…” you trailed off, voice soft as you poked at the mole on his chest, hidden by the dress shirt that he wore that night.

“Mhm. Wanna do things…” you slurred in a hushed whisper, the tone of your voice laced with a level of indecent suggestiveness that had him zoning in on your lips, catching his attention the second that it left your mouth. Never had he ever seen you like this; guard down, touchy, and loose-lipped.  

“But I can’tttttt… Don’t wannaaaaa…” you babbled, shocking Yugyeom out of his trace, making him feel incredibly confused. 

He didn’t know what you were going on about, but he didn’t have a chance to ask because he heard Lisa say that you’ve made it to their place. Fortunately for him, he only had to carry you up to your apartment because Lisa handled her alcohol better than you could that night. Once Lisa opened the apartment for him, she flopped onto the couch while he placed you on your bed, laying you onto your side before searching through the medicine cabinet that he passed for some Advil.

Walking into your kitchen, he filled a large glass of water for you before placing it on your side table along with the painkillers, covering your body with your flat sheet and comforter. You might have been completely plastered but he still believed that you were the prettiest, most beautiful drunk person he’d ever seen, your face pressed into your pillow which caused your lips to pout cutely.

The sound of the fridge running shocks Yugyeom out of the memory. Laying in his bed with his hands thrown over his eyes, his brain hurts just thinking about you and your drunk conversations with him the night before. For someone who seemed to be the quiet, responsible, prim and proper type, you were pretty mouthy when you had alcohol pumping through you. You have to be the most frustrating and confusing woman he’s ever met, to say the least.

But for the first time since meeting you, it seems like your true emotions were revealed to him last night. The way that you looked at him while dancing; arms wrapped around his neck and pupils dilated with the widest smile spread across your face; the dopey, dazed grin you had during the taxi ride, give him the slightest bit of hope that you might give him a chance.

It’s what pushes him to send you a message that will leave you flustered when you wake up.

Me:

You and me. Dinner tomorrow.

Gonna cash in your promise.

✧✧✧

[pt. 2] ⤎ [relevé series] ⤏ [pt. 4]

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[professorsnape394]

The Potions Master’s Apprentice

Chapter Eighteen: Faith 

A/N: This is the Eighteenth part to my fanfiction ‘The Potions Master’s Apprentice (Severus Snape x OC)’. Chapters 1-18 can also be found already uploaded on Wattpad under the same name. Feel free to leave requests in my inbox for anything Snape related you want me to write. Leave a comment below or send me a message if you wish to be added to my tag list.

Pairing: Severus Snape x OC (Dumbledore’s Granddaughter)

Summary: A talented young witch is employed as an apprentice professor at Hogwarts, but who will she be working under? Severus Snape is not best pleased with his new responsibility of taking on an apprentice, however she is relentless to create a friendship between them. Will she be successful? Or might the friendship just go a little two far? With the eyes of her grandfather constantly watching over them, an attempt at a relationship might not be in the cards for Aria Dumbledore and Severus Snape.

Word Count: 4199

Warnings: n/a

Credits to Gif Creator

The rapping of knuckles against the old oak door echoed throughout the potions master's office. Breaking through the thick silence that had engulfed the room, a wave of anxiety washed over Severus Snape.

"Can I not go one day without you bothering me, Miss Dumbledore." Snape complained, trying to hide slight crack of nervousness in his voice.

"Sadly, Severus, it is not your beloved Miss Dumbledore." A thick Bulgarian accent announced.

Admittedly disappointed by the unveiling of his visitor, Severus lowered himself back down into his chair, not willing to make an effort for anyone but his apprentice.

"Why are you here, Igor. You should have learned your lesson by now to leave me alone." He said, rubbing his eyes back into focus and running a hand through his hair lazily.

"I have something you'll want to hear." Karkaroff divulged mysteriously, plopping himself down on the chair across from the professor.

"I do not imagine anything you have to say is of any interest to me."

"Then lucky for you Snape, I won't be the one talking."

Unbothered by the man's deliberate awkwardness, Severus allowed him to ramble on, too exhausted to argue with him.

With a flick of his wand and a small puff off smoke, the space between the two men began to whirl and spin, slowly forming a picture-like image in the air, the scene beginning to unfold. Revealing a staff room full of unusually dressed professors, the focus turned to a small cluster of teachers gathered in the centre of the room. Recognising both Igor Karkaroff and Aria Dumbledore sitting side by side on the old couch, Snape grew suspicious of the man's intentions.

"Why are you showing me this?" Severus asked, unsure of whether he wanted to see what was about to happen.

"Just listen." The Durmstrang headmaster hissed.

~

"How do I feel about Snape?" Aria wondered, the scene enclosing in on her.

"He's... curious. He has the capacity for love and friendship just like the rest of us, yet he chooses to be mean-spirited."

~

"I don't want to hear this." Snape declared, turning his eyes away from the woman.

"You must." Igor demanded.

~

"...he can be mean and arrogant and cruel. And despite it all I try my best to show him kindness, but where does that get me? He calls me out in front of practically the whole school? That was so fucking humiliating, and I'm just supposed to forgive him? I think it's safe to say I'd live a happy life if I were to never see that man again."

~

Severus felt his heart drop in his chest, unable to process what he had just heard. Slowly a sharp ringing in his ears grew louder and louder, deafening him to the scene before him, as well as the reality in which he existed. He refused to believe the woman he cared so much about, the woman who had demanded to be his friend, had lied about everything. Did she truly hate him beneath her annoyingly cheerful demeanour, was it all a façade?

He wanted to insist Karkaroff had fabricated the whole thing, but he knew exactly what spell he had cast, there was no way he could have faked it.

A deep rage grew within the man, an anger he had not felt in a number of decades. Severus Snape prided himself on having a monotone disposition, void of all emotion. But that familiar feeling of being betrayed by someone he trusted brought forward a plethora of pent up emotions, namely anger and frustration.

A wide, devilish grin spread across Karkaroff's face, satisfied by his colleague's reaction.

"You see now what she is truly like, Severus. You see now that she was playing you all along. That girl pretends to be your friend to keep her job, not because she likes you." Igor laughed maliciously. "You and I both know what is coming, and when it does, Dumbledore is prepared to replace you. Even he knows where your true loyalties lie. Do not be fooled into thinking the Dumbledore's are your friends. They use you for their own advantage, but the second you are no longer useful, or you become a threat to them, you'll be taken down by any means necessary."

"You're lying." Snape tried to convince himself, refusing to meet the professors gaze. "You're scared of what he will do to you if he returns. You need an alliance with someone on the inside."

"He has returned, you must feel it just as I do." The ex-deatheater practically screamed.

"I will not be manipulated by you Igor. This changes nothing, the girl was nothing but a distraction."

"We both know that isn't true." He sniggered, attempting once last time to convince Snape. "Do you know what she said to me, the last time I was in this office? She told me she could never be with a man like you, she told me your actions were unforgivable. I can prove that as well if you don't believe me."

"Get out, Igor. Just leave." Severus exhaled, starting to pace slowly behind his desk. He knew Karkaroff was trying to manipulate him, he was not stupid enough to fall for that. But proof does not lie, and the facts remain. Everything he was saying true, there was no denying it.

With a short bow, Igor danced out of the room. Completely satisfied with the havoc he'd reeked. He'd successfully toyed with what little emotions the great dungeon bat had left. And who's to say what can happen when Severus Snape's feelings get hurt?

*

Hoot. Hoot.

The bird bleated as it swooped through the open window.

"Another letter for the pile?" Aria sighed to herself. "Will he ever stop?"

Whoo.

It purred in response.

The witch couldn't help but laugh at the coincidence.

"You know exactly who." She giggled, plucking the envelope from the creatures beak, and throwing it on the ever growing pile.

"I just wish he would give me some time to think, you know?" She asked turning back to the barn owl, only to witness it taking off, disappearing into the distance.

Look at me. I'm talking to a bird. She thought with a roll of her eyes. I need to get some sleep.

Catching a glimpse of herself reflection of the window, Aria decided she needed to freshen herself up with a little pamper time, finishing the day off with a very long and well deserved nap.

Dumping almost a whole bottle of bubble bath into the tub, topping with springs of lavender and dried chamomile, Aria plunged herself deep into the warm water.

Relaxing for approximately 2.5 seconds, the woman flew out of the bath, her naked body sopping with bubbles, dripping puddles of water as she explored her quarters impatiently.

"Why can I never find any of my books when I need them most!" She groaned, shivering from the sudden change in temperature as goose bumps formed all over her arms and legs.

Letting out a single yelp of excitement, Aria grabbed the first book she laid eyes on and dived back into her tub.

"Pride and Prejudice, of course." She mumbled, thinking back to that night Severus visited her quarters.

As she read and her mind wandered, Aria found herself making unconscious comparisons between the infamous, brooding Mr. Darcy, and her stern, yet lovable Potions mentor, Severus Snape. They were both mildly rude and arrogant, determined to never show their true emotions, but deep down it was quite possible that they loved more fiercely than anyone ever could.

Elizabeth Bennet enchanted Darcy mind, body and soul. If only there were someone brave enough to do the same to Professor Snape. Aria thought, as she allowed herself to drift off to sleep in the water.

Hours later a thunderously loud 'Bang' frightened Aria awake.

Although not positively sure of how much later it was, she could be certain a decent sleep was had given the icy temperature of the water.

Aria allowed herself a moment to come to, bracing herself against the cold, her was body aching from the ceramic constraints of the tub.

A series of bangs came this time, chapping very loudly on her chamber door. Who ever it was was clearly extremely impatient, forcing her to hurry herself up.

Wrapping herself in nothing but a white cotton towel, the witch slid her way through her rooms to the door. Clearly she wasn't even awake enough to remember where she was, and that answering her door half naked wasn't exactly professional.

Bang. Bang. BANG.

The knocks reverberated through her body, sending shivers down her spine.

Gingerly she opened the door, revealing a more than pissed off Severus Snape.

"Severus." She yawned. "What's wrong?"

"Don't act dumb with me, girl. I am not falling for this act any longer." He snapped.

"What act, Severus? Why are you here?"

"Just tell me why?" He seethed. "Why did go to so much trouble trying to convince me to be your friend, only to confess to Karkaroff, as well as the rest of the Hogwarts staff, your true feelings. Why couldn't you just leave me alone."

"Severus listen, I think we need to talk about this in private. Please come in."

"So you can try and seduce me again? I don't think so. Jesus, look at the state of you, are you really that desperate to entice me? What's next, showing up to dinner completely naked? You really are just as I thought." The potions master growled, his pitch back eyes looking her up and down.

"Severus stop" Aria begged. "I thought we had moved past all this."

"So did I. But considering you have deemed me as "unforgivable" then there doesn't appear to be much point in trying to redeem myself, does there?"

"But you're only going to make everything worse. Let me explain myself, please."

"There is nothing to explain, I shall be putting in a formal request for the headmaster to employ a separate tutor for your apprenticeship in the morning, so you never have to see me again."

The professor stormed off, just as quickly as he had arrived, achieving exactly what he had come to do; humiliate Aria Dumbledore.

Desperate to apologise for her cruel words, Aria made to follow Severus to his classroom.

Forgetting her attire, or rather lack of, she was soon reminded of it when a crowd of Slytherin students erupted in a fit laughter with its fair share of cat-calls and whistles. Clearly they had emerged from their common room to investigate the noise, but stayed for the show of the two arguing potions professors.

"Nice legs, Miss." One of the older boys called, sending a wink in her direction.

Shit. She mumbled under her breath, rushing back to her quarters to change.

Hair still dripping wet, Aria shoved it into a bun on top of her head and pulled on some shorts and an oversized t-shirt, before hunting down the potions master.

"Severus, open the door." She called, upon initially finding it to be locked.

He didn't even bother to reply.

Fine. She thought. I'll do it myself.

"Alohomora." The lock burst apart, allowing the door to slowly creep open, revealing a dishevelled and distressed professor sitting at his desk.

"Severus, please." She whispered softly, realising he had clearly come down from his short outburst of rage.

"Get out." He commanded, though he didn't make any effort to remove his head from his hands.

"Let's talk about this." The woman pleaded, pulling a chair up next to the man. "Let me explain everything."

Snape stirred from his position the closer she came, until finally he was able to look her in the eye.

"Go on." He droned. His eyes red and blood shot, whether it was from lack of sleep or tears was unclear.

"You know more than anyone that Karkaroff cannot be trusted-"

"Don't try and lie to me, Miss Dumbledore. I saw the whole thing with my own eyes." Snape snapped.

"Will you let me finish. I'm not lying to you, Severus." Aria promised. "I said what I said because I didn't want them to know the truth, Karkaroff especially. I don't know what his problem is but I know he's up to something and it involves you. You really think I'd answer any question he asked me truthfully. You're my friend, Severus, I care about you, and that man is a snake for trying to turn us against each other."

"Why should I believe you. I've barely known you a few months, I've known Igor decades."

"That is precisely why you should believe me. He's not your friend, Severus. If he was he'd be able to see the real you; the man behind the mask." She urged, begging for his trust.

Reaching out her hand to take his, Aria stroked a thumb over the cold and calloused hand of her friend.

"And who might that be?" Severus questioned in return, feeling slightly nervous under her touch, but not enough to want to pull away.

"A man." She stated simply. "Not a beast, as you and many others may presume. A good, and decent man. Perhaps he's a even a little bit scared, of what I'm not entirely sure yet. But I will find out one day, if you'll allow me, that is. Let me be your friend, Severus. Let me see what you hide from everyone else. And I promise, I'll be there for you when it matters most."

Her sweet soft tones encapsulated Severus. He had become so lost in her words and her touch that without realising he found himself falling for her speech wholeheartedly. He even risked settling his remaining hand upon hers, clasping her delicate fist between his palms.

"Well then I suppose an apology is in order. I believe I may have acted rather rash and unprofessional."

"There's really no need. You reacted just as you should have to the things you heard. I would have done the same thing in your circumstance." Aria admitted, removing her hand from his, as she made to stand up. "Though there is one thing you could do to make it up to me." She suggested.

"Dare I even ask?" Severus joked.

"I want to know what Karkaroff's after. Tell me how you know him. Why does he care so much about your life?"

Snape practically laughed in response.

"We may be friends now, Miss Dumbledore, but I'm afraid that information is rather personal. And I am not convinced we are quite at that stage in our friendship, just yet."

"I respect that." She shrugged, knowing he wasn't about to give in that easily. "I suppose that just means we'll have to get to know each other a bit more." She smiled almost ear to ear at the prospect.

*

"What do you have planned for your lesson today, Professor Dumbledore?" Severus queried, finally using the woman's rightful professional title.

"Ooooh 'Professor' now, am I?" She smirked, sashaying in front of her co-worker, balancing a handful of potion ingredients in her arms.

"I suppose that is your given title after all, I might as well start using it."

"Hmmm I'm not sure. I think it make's me sound too much like my grandfather. I'm not sure I could pull of the beard quite as well, what do you think?" She giggled, holding her long hair in front of her chin, imitating the old wizard playfully before clumsily dropping another dozen bottles on the table.

Severus tried his hardest to conceal his smile, busying himself with paper work, but however hard he tried he could not hide it from Aria. Every so often she managed to catch him off guard, with a silly joke, or a quick witted comment, in those rare times he allowed himself a glimmer of emotion she always managed to notice. Most of the time Severus found himself smiling at the woman for no reason other than she was simply smiling too.

Finally turning her attention away from the potions master, Aria finished setting up her table full of small bottles and vials.

"We're going to play a game." She announced cheerfully spinning on her heel.

"A game?" Severus asked, unable to stop himself turning his nose up at her idea.

"Yes. It's like a test, but more fun." She persuaded, sensing his judgement.

"And what, might I ask, is wrong with a traditional test."  He queried bitterly.

"The students need motivation, Severus. The word 'test' makes people nervous. With nervousness comes panic, and with panic comes mistakes. Fear is not an accurate motivator, however competition is. The students will be less inclined to make mistakes, if they are rewarded for their efforts." The apprentice hypothesised.

"And this reward is?"

"I haven't decided yet."

Severus fought the urge to roll his eyes, but allowed her to do her thing uninterrupted.

Since their little 'heart to heart' that night in Snape's office the two professors were finding working with each other a lot more amiable. Severus had given Aria a little more free reign with her portion of the lessons, which in turn, allowed her to respect Severus' strict theoretical practices without causing too many interruptions. The pair had almost started to enjoy working together.

Student by student the class trickled in, each of them intrigued by the new set up of the class room.

"Everyone please take your seats, do not touch the table at the front of the room, class will begin momentarily." Miss Dumbledore announced.

A moment of panic set in as Aria scrambled around Snape's desk, looking for her list of possible potions. This may not have been her first time teaching solo, but it was, however, her opportunity to prove her practices are successful in front of her mentor, Severus Snape. The man in question could see the fear in her eyes, and that she was desperate to impress.

"Here." He mouthed, handing her the piece of parchment. "Relax."

Brushing fingers, as she took the parchment from him, Aria grinned.

"Thank you." She whispered, once again turning to face the class, now with a little more confidence.

"Now today, as you may have guessed, we are going to do something a little different. Professor Snape and I have chosen to take this opportunity to allow you, our promising young N.E.W.Ts students, to show off your skill set to the best of your ability's. On this table in front of me you will find a select variety of potions ingredients that correspond to a number of potions all very much within your capability, your task is to complete one of these potions within the allotted time, at the end of which, a winner will be selected by us."

"What do we win then, professor?" One eager student asked.

"A potion of their choice." She declared, impulsively.

A murmer of chatter instantly broke out among the class, intrigued at the prospect of winning such a thing.

"That all sounds very exciting, Miss Dumbledore." Snape cut in, unwilling to take a backseat quite so easily. "However, sadly as an apprentice professor you are not permitted to take anything from my stores to use so frivolously. The prize will have to be decided at a later time."

Unsurprisingly the students weren't too pleased with Snape's intervention causing for a series of disappointed groans and heckles.

"Then I shall make it myself." Aria concluded.

Another bout of cheers erupted.

"Collect your ingredients, light up your cauldrons, your time starts now!"

Immediately the students jumped from their seats, swarming the table to get what they needed. The professors moved away from the crowd, giving the class a moment to get started.

"Miss Dumbledore, this is not a wise decision." Severus spoke in hushed tones. "I understand entirely the prize of a potion chosen by you, but to give them a choice could be extremely dangerous, think of the chaos that will ensue."

"How about you have a little faith in them for once. Trust that they will make the right decision."

Looking down on the woman, Severus couldn't help but trust she would be right.

"I have faith in you. Not in them." He made clear.

Severus made to walk away, leaving Aria to relish in her small victory, until he was suddenly pulled back by the young woman's hand in his. Not saying a word, Aria Dumbledore gave him an appreciative squeeze, before releasing him back to his desk.

The first hour of the classes passed by effortlessly, the students worked quietly and Severus found no reason to complain. All in all, Aria was quite pleased with how her lesson was going.

That was until...

"Oh shiiiiit."

"Language Mr. Lawrence." Severus warned, briefly looking up from his marking.

"Right, sorry sir. But what the fuck am I supposed to do when this thing starts bubbling like crazy." He freaked out, completely ignoring the potions master's warning.

"What?" Aria gasped, only just becoming aware of the situation.

"Yeah like this thing looks likes 'bout to blow, to be honest with you." The seventh year Hufflepuff boy informed nonchalantly.

"Step away from that cauldron students, quickly!" Aria ordered, ushering them to the sides of the classroom.  "You were attempting a wit-sharpening potion, is that correct?"

"Yup."

"I'm afraid there's no saving it now, Mr. Lawrence, the best we can hope for is that it does not turn to acid and burn through bench."

"Out of my way." Severus huffed impatiently, forcing his way through the crowd of students that had formed around the cauldron.

"Pass me that root of ginger" Snape demanded, positioning himself in front of the ever growing cauldron of bubbling green liquid. Aria obeyed hastily, as the professor performed what she could only describe as a miracle on this horrifying concoction. "Some more newt spleens." He requested, holding out a hand expectantly, while the other gripped onto his wand, casting an enchantment over the potion.

The potions master continued adding a bit of this and a dash of that to the potion, all ingredients Aria Dumbledore would never have considered to associate with this particular brew. Jars of herbs, spices and animal parts were passed through the classroom in order to reach Professor Snape who continuously stirred the potion, muttering all sorts of charms and spells.

However skilled Aria had assumed she was at the art of potion making, it was made clear to her that she was no match for Severus' skills, brewing potions was second nature to him now. Within minutes he had achieved what Aria Dumbledore had deemed impossible, and thus the potion was brought back to it's natural state.

"Severus..." The apprentice gawped. "That was amazing."

"That was nothing." He replied curtly, removing himself from the scene. "Everybody back to work, this is not an excuse to slack off."

Still in awe at the pure artistry she had witnessed, Aria trotted sheepishly back to the front of the class.

Blissfully unaware of the pure talent they had just seen, the students continued on with their work. The Hufflepuff boy did not even have the decency to thank his professor for salvaging the mess he called a potion, let alone be grateful he never received a detention, or deduction of house points.

"What are you staring at, Miss Dumbledore, is there no better way you can spend your time?"

"I'm sorry Severus, but that display was just... brilliant." She beamed.

"Like I said, it was nothing. It comes with the job, I refuse to have any of those delinquents burn through my entire store cupboard because they cannot brew a simple potion, a year below their level no less."

"Well, at least we know who definitely won't be winning anyway." Aria giggled.

"The most we can hope for from that boy is that he manages to finish his potion, god knows he'll need it."

Playfully slapping Snape on the arm for his cheek, the witch perched herself on the edge of the professor's desk, attempting a quick sketch on a scrap piece of parchment, while the students begun to finish off their potions.

"Professor Snape, the winner?" Aria asked, turning to her colleague for a verdict once all of the potions had been completed.

"You want me to choose?" Severus replied, skeptical of her offer.

"Of course. I don't think it would be fair of me to do it, considering I've been giving all of them tips this lesson."

"Very well." He droned, stepping forth to analyse the contents of the cauldrons.

"This one." He announced, pointing a single finger to the cauldron of a young Slytherin witch. "Given that it was the only potion brewed to complete perfection, there is no other possible candidate. I suggest the rest of you get studying before your N.E.W.T's exams, at the rate you lot are going, none of you besides Miss Johnstone here is likely to pass." Snape scolded.

"Well then, congratulations Miss Johnstone, you are the winner of a potion of your choice. See me after lessons tomorrow and let me know your decision."

The girl practically beamed with pride, expecting nothing less than first place.

"Class dismissed."

Taglist:

@ayamenimthiriel @lizlil

#severus snape #severus snape fanfiction #severus snape one shot #Severus Snape smut #severus snape imagine #severus snape x reader #severus snape x y/n #severus snape x oc #severus snape fluff #severus snape angst #severus x reader #severus x y/n #severus x oc #professor snape #snape x oc #snape x reader #snape x y/n #alan rickman #Harry Potter #harry potter and the goblet of fire #harry potter fanfiction #dumbledores granddaughter #dumbledore #potions master #potions masters apprentice

[digitalworldbound]

one step forward

Pairing: Ken x Miyako

Summary: “I can’t talk to cute people, okay? I don’t know how to flirt!” (#30 on the prompt list) Requested by @digichijouji02

Author’s Note: I’ve never written a “song-fic”, but I love Olivia Rodrigo’s album AND Kenyako, so this?? was the result. (this is unedited and kind of abrupt)

Called you on the phone today

Just to ask you how you were

All I did was speak normally

Somehow I still struck a nerve

Daisuke had given her Ken’s number as a preemptive measure. “Even if he isn’t apart of our team right now, I’m sure the others will come around soon.”

His oppressive optimism was almost worse than Takeru’s. Iori had made his stance clear on the situation, and Miyako could feel the guilt bubble up in her stomach as she punched the digits into her house phone. Nerves settled into her hands, her fingers desperately rearranging her hair in an effort to feel in control.

Three short rings later, the line picked up. His breath ghosted over the receiver. Miyako’s carefully planned greeting died on her lips. “Ah, is this Ken?” It was a stupid question – how else would she have his number if she didn’t know who he was? She pushed the phone closer to her ear, straining to discover any sound through the cloud of white static. Nothing.

Her heart pounded in her chest. In all of the reactions she prepared herself for, Miyako hadn’t expected silence. She wanted him to be angry; he had every right to be. She wanted him to yell at her or cry or scream. Screaming would be more bearable than the static he was giving her now.

“How have you been? You know, since…everything?” The sharp intake of breath short-circuited her brain. Ken had just watched his partner dissolve in front of his eyes, and she had the audacity to ask how he was holding up? A flush of shame crawled up her neck. She prayed for the ground to open up and swallow her.

The receiver clicked. Miyako hated the way the dial tone mocked her.

You got me messed up in the head, boy Never doubted myself so much Like, am I pretty? Am I fun, boy? I hate that I give you power over that kind of stuff

Winter air nipped at her exposed cheeks. It had taken her a while to find his apartment; her toes felt like ice in her boots. He hadn’t really spoken to her since the phone call, only acknowledging her when the situation called for it. Nevertheless, he had invited them all over for a Christmas party, and who was Miyako to say no?

His mother opened the door, the smell of freshly baked gingersnaps escaping into the night. “Come in, dear. You must be Miyako! My Ken has told me a lot about you.” The woman ushered Miyako towards a bedroom door before her shock could register. What is there to tell? The only time I’ve talked to him was to slap him in the face.

Ken’s mother knocked lightly on the door, announcing Miyako’s arrival. For some reason, she could feel her cheeks burn when Ken gestured her further into his bedroom. “You look nice, Miyako.” His voice was barely a whisper, the boisterous arguing of Takeru and Daisuke nearly drowning him out.

Self-consciously, she caught her reflection in the glass of a clock on the wall. It had been a harsh winter, the snow getting the best of any potential customers to her family’s convenience store. Her sister’s skirt was too short for Miyako’s long legs, so she layered her old ballet tights underneath. They did little to fend off the cold, but it preserved what little dignity she had around her friends. The attempts at curling her hair were futile. Snowflakes clung to the curls, the strands now hanging limply around her face. She grumbled a bit under her breath, racking her brain for the reasoning behind Ken’s blatant lie.

A card game was in full swing by the time Miyako wedged herself between Iori and Takeru. They both smiled at her before turning back to the issue at hand: Daisuke was cheating.

“Just because I have natural talent doesn’t mean that you can be jealous, Takeru.”

“I don’t think it takes natural talent to look at Hikari’s cards.” The blond deadpanned. Iori sighed and exchanged a look with Ken. They, unlike Takeru and Daisuke, seemed to have formed a companiable silence in the midst of the chaos.

Daisuke’s bickering rattled her brain. With Ken’s unsolicited compliment and the constant arguing, Miyako was already at her wit’s end. “Can you both just shut up and stop trying to mark your territory like untrained puppies?”

Her voice echoed off of Ken’s bare walls. Their Digimon temporarily stopped their feast to look at her curiously. Poromon bounced into her lap, snuggling into her chest. Five pairs of wide yes regarded her with surprise, and Miyako could feel herself grow uncomfortably warm. A giggle burst from Ken’s lips, his cheeks rosy. She had never heard him laugh before.

Soon, they were all laughing. Cards were strewn about as they rolled on the floor, laughing harder when they realized they couldn’t stop.

As the party wrapped up, Miyako was the last to leave. Poromon and Minomon snuggled together underneath a blanket while Ken talked. Her cheeks warmed under the attention, but Ken either didn’t notice or was too kind to mention it. The hands on the clock ticked forwards until his mother startled them with a knock. “Miyako, it’s getting late. I wouldn’t want your parents to worry.” Her eyes were soft and full of kindness; Ken had inherited her smile.

“Of course! I apologize for staying so late. Thank you for allowing me to come over.” She stood and bowed clumsily. Her family valued no such formalities, but if anyone deserved them, it was Ken’s mother.

Ken walked her to his threshold, a hand nervously resting on her back. Despite being underdressed, he stepped out into the chilly night air behind her. A smile played on his lips, causing a swarm of butterflies to erupt in Miyako’s stomach.

“I wasn’t joking, you know?” His eyes looked out onto the horizon. Miyako raised an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?” The cold had already wormed its way through her tights; she was ready to get home.

His dark blue eyes met hers. “You do look nice tonight.” For someone so shy, so quiet, Ken said it with a conviction that made Miyako’s cheeks color.

Her hands were sweaty, her heart was so loud. Maybe I’m getting sick.

Ken’s eyes were so earnest, so full, waiting her response. The ball was in her court, and she was fumbling. “Ah, um, Ken, I don’t know what to say.” His shoulders drooped, eyes tearing away from hers before fixating on some imaginary point in the distance.

“You don’t have to say anything. Goodnight, Miyako.”

He didn’t have a chance to turn the doorknob before the older girl began to panic. She grabbed his wrist, pulling his backwards.

“No! Ken, that’s not what I meant! I mean, at first I had no idea, and then Daisuke was being all, well, Daisuke. But then the cards were all a mess and this isn’t even my skirt, and I had no-“

Ken’s lips twitched upwards, his eyes empty. “Miyako, you don’t have to make me feel better.” He glances at his watch, “It’s getting late, you should be on your way home.”

“No.” Her hand tightened around his wrist. Ken looked so small and confused that Miyako’s heart gave a painful lurch. Ken couldn’t leave until she said her piece.

The air burned her throat; she was sure that he could feel her fingers tremble against his skin. “I’m trying to say thank you. It’s just that I can’t talk to cute people, okay? I’ve never been in this situation before, and I have no idea what I’m supposed to do.”

Silence, then “You think I’m cute?”

'Cause it's always one step forward and three steps back I'm the love of your life until I make you mad It's always one step forward and three steps back Do you love me, want me, hate me? Boy, I don't understand No, I don't understand

It must have been something in the eggnog, she thought. That’s the only explanation. It was the fourth of January. Her D-Terminal had remained silent since the defeat MaloMyotismon, Ken ignoring her messages with a practiced ease. It was hard to not take it personal. She knew that they all needed the space and time to grieve, but Ken hated to be alone. Miyako had been so sure that they were finally getting somewhere, finally becoming friends. Her inbox was empty.

The shrine was also uncharacteristically empty, her family making up the majority of the crowd. Her family had also remained silent. Ultimately, they were glad she was safe. Her siblings were miffed that their little sister had been trapezing between worlds while they focused on their math homework but were incredibly proud of the way she handled herself. Her parents hadn’t looked in her eyes since.

She had tried to message her friends about it, but not even Iori would respond. Lost in thought, her brother shoved her forward when it was her turn to pray. Muscle memory was the only reason she was capable of tossing in her coins and clapping.

Prayer seemed superficial in the face of the battle they had fought. Prayer hadn’t saved the children from their Dark Seeds or made the fight any easier to win. Still, her head bowed in thanks. At least her friends had been spared.

She prayed for strength, to face whatever came next. She prayed for the wellbeing of her family, and her partner. She prayed for her friends; she prayed for Ken.

Her D-Terminal beeped.

#kenyako #ken ichijouji #miyako inoue

[meltwonu]

Prompts #19 #8 #2 together with dom!seungcheol i still miss him 🥺

2. “I’ve never wanted anyone to fuck me this badly.”

8. “Like what you see?”

19. “Take off your clothes.”

note; camgirl!reader, squirting, dirty talk u know it!! ahaaaaa altho this is for cheol, theres a bit of all the members in this i mean its a camshow kdjfhksjh also it took me 30 min to come up with usernames for everyone 😔also the format of this is long and i got too into this so the rest is under the cut! Thank you for requesting!! Enjoy!! 💕

PLAY MY DRABBLE GAME HERE | ASK | MASTERLIST

__________________________________________________

“Hmm, dom.cheol just wrote ‘Take off your clothes’, we’ll get to that soon! Just a few more donations and we can start the show!” The lace babydoll doesn’t do much to hide your figure from the camera but Seungcheol is impatient, his eyes flitting across his computer screen as he watches you.

kitty_junjun: aww, baby let us see you already!!

therealchan99: can I get a private show? :‘)

angelhan: if anyone’s getting a free show, wouldn’t it be dom.cheol?

Seungcheol smirks from behind his screen, licking his lips as he reads the comments on your stream. Your camgirl username was ‘cherry_clouds’ although that had nothing to do with your real name. You were his favorite camgirl and Seungcheol was a constant viewer; always active in the chat and always generous with his donations. He donated money, toys, and clothes whenever he could and you were extremely appreciative for him.

“dom.cheol getting a free show? Maybe… hehe, oh! We just hit the minimum for the show, guess we can start now!” You flash the cam a sweet smile, fingers playing with the lace of the sheer babydoll. “Like what you see? This cute little number was donated to me by dom.cheol! Thank you so much!”

dom.cheol: you’re welcome sweetheart, now why don’t you give us what we’re waiting for?

“Hmm, okay~ I think you’ve all waited long enough… and if I’m being honest… there was another gift in the package dom.cheol sent…” You push your keyboard away from you on the bed as you lean back, spreading your legs so that the camera can get a clear shot of your wet panties. “These vibrating panties were on this whole time since I started, I’m so wet and so sensitive, I could cum already~” Your voice is airy, sweet sighs escaping you as you reach for the remote tucked under a nearby pillow.

universe_WZ: fuck, look at that. You’re already soaking

alphagyu97: please tell me you’re selling those panties afterwards??

dom.cheol: turn up the vibration level baby, I know you can take it.

You obey, setting it to the highest level before you cry out, grinding down into the bed sheets underneath you.

dom.cheol: cum for me.

Seungcheol watches you come apart, legs snapping shut as you cum from the intense vibrations. The sound of coins clinking sounds off in the background as you catch your breath, sliding the soaked fabric down your legs. You take your time with removing your lace babydoll, giving your viewers a show as you toss it off to the side. Seungcheol palms himself through his sweats as he leans back in his computer chair, eyes fixated on your body.

“I have two~ more toys to play with… ‘m really sorry guys, I have a short show tonight! I have some business to take care of afterwards, hope that’s okay?” You pout at your camera, fingers twirling around a lock of hair.

artist8hao: don’t worry about it, doll! We’re happy to see you any chance we get!

tangerine_kwan: agreed! Don’t apologize!!!

chwenon: wait i’m with alphagyu97 are you selling those panties???

hoshi_tiger_xx: actually yea, thirded? Are u sellin those?

Seungcheol can’t help but eye roll at the comments. Sometimes he wishes it was really just you and him, but he also knew there were boundaries. You never offered private shows and you never sold any of your used panties, as much as your viewers seemed to want them. But he watches you pull out your favorite dildo and your hitachi, both also gifts from him, as you set them down in front of you.

“In my last show, I think it was sleepy_wonu who asked if I could, um, try squirting if I had the chance so I figured I would try since it’s a short show today! I wanna treat you all~”

sleepy_wonu: holy shit she just menbtioned me skjkh move over dom.cheol!!!

xcaliburDK: yikes don’t get too cocky there buckaroo

gentleman_josh95: wait did u say squirt

“Yes! I wanna try it tonight… Think I can? My body is already sensitive from cumming once~”

Seungcheol slides a hand past the band of his sweats and underwear, wrapping his fingers around his hard cock. He shimmies the fabric down, freeing his cock from its confines as he pumps himself. Reaching over, he uses his free hand to type a quick reply.

dom.cheol: lets see that pretty little pussy get wet, baby.

Giggling, you grab a bottle of lube off camera, plopping back down onto your bed. “Ok~ let’s get started~!”

universe_WZ has donated $100

angelhan has donated $50

dom.cheol has donated $450

“Thank you~ Hmm, ah, I’m still so wet… do you think I can take two fingers already?”

alphagyu97: yes god yes yes

kitty_junjun: bet you could take 3 with how wet u r ;)

Pouring a little bit of lube on your fingertips, you start with one finger, pumping the digit until you realize it’s not enough, quickly adding another finger into your tight hole. “A-ah, mmh, feels so good, I want more~” You whine, grinding into your own palm as you reach for the dildo. You continue to finger yourself, adding a third digit as you pop the lid on the lube, squirting some onto the dildo as you warm it up with your free hand.

“I really can’t wait anymore, I wanna be fucked so badly~”

Seungcheol pumps his cock, precum leaking from the tip as he watches you remove your fingers and instead position yourself over the dildo. You sink down onto it, eyes rolling to the back of your head as the dildo bottoms out inside of you. You start to bounce on it, fucking yourself onto it as Seungcheol tries to stave off from cumming too soon.

“A-ah, d’you wanna k-know, hah, a secret?”

therealchan99: oh god yes

xcaliburDK: yessssssss

“Mmh, sometimes wh–when I’m fuckin’ myself on this dildo, I imagine it’s dom.cheol’s cock filling me up. It’s so big, but I bet he’s so much bigger~ He could probably make me cum just from sitting on his cock~ Ah, and then he’d probably fill me up with his cum and I’d be so full of it~ I’d make him watch all the cum spill down my legs and then let him scoop it up and fuck it back into me~ Mmh, I’ve never wanted someone to fuck me this badly~”

sleepy_wonu: b r u h 

hoshi_tiger_xx: yoooooooo

chwenon: imma pretend u said my name instead

If Seungcheol wasn’t already heated before, he could feel his blood turn into lava as he fucks up into his hand; your words spurring him on. He can feel himself getting closer and closer to his orgasm as you continue to fuck yourself on the dildo, a free hand reaching for the hitachi next to you.

dom.cheol has donated $600

dom.cheol: fuck, sweetheart, let’s see it, fuckin wet this cock for me like a good girl

You turn on your hitachi, settling it to the highest setting before placing it against your clit. You let out a small scream, opting to grind down onto the dildo instead as you cum hard. The sound of rapid fire donations hits your ears but you don’t let up, keeping the hitachi against your clit as you maneuver yourself onto your back, giving the camera a clear shot of your filled pussy. Your legs threaten to clamp shut but you fight the urge, using a hand to pump the dildo in and out as your other hand presses the hitachi harder into your clit.

“I’m gon–gonna cum again fuck, fuck..!!”

Seungcheol jerks his cock faster, wanting to cum at the same time as you. He moves his hands in time with you fucking the dildo into yourself as he cums, biting his lip hard to hold in his noises. On screen, you cum right after he does, back arching off the bed as the dildo is forced out of you, clear liquid spraying and wetting the bed sheets underneath you. Your grip on the hitachi loosens but you keep it to your clit until the overstimulation starts to bite, small whines and cries leaving you as you turn it off and catch your breath.

tangerine_kwan: i think i have died

artist8hao: i…please tell me we can pay for this content to be reuploaded

gentleman_josh95: seconded, please god that was so hot

You lay there for a moment, letting the sound of donations keep going for a minute or two before you attempt to sit up. Seungcheol, alone in his room, sits with his hand still firmly around his cock, streaks of cum already drying on his shirt.

“Mmm, I’m so sleepy you guys~ That really wiped me out… How did I do? I’m soaked now~”

universe_WZ: i would d word for u

artist8hao: i literally came when you did and I’m already ready for a second round

chwenon: me too, fuck

dom.cheol: I think you killed me, sweetheart.

You let out a tired giggle, slumping forward into the camera. “Aww, ‘m sorry~ I Just wanted to show my appreciation~ And again I’m sorry that I had to have such a short show! I wanted to make it worth it, y’kno?” You read a few more comments, thanking your viewers for supporting your show as always.

“Okay~ I think I gotta go now everyone! I gotta go clean up! Thank you again for watching! Love ya!”

Seungcheol watches as you blow a kiss to the camera, waving once more before the stream cuts off. He sighs out of tiredness, sending one last donation of $500 before he exits your page for the night. Checking his account, he notices a tiny ‘1’ over the messages logo, brow quirking in curiosity. He clicks on it, heart racing when he sees the singular ‘cherry_clouds would like to send you a message!’ in his inbox.

Seungcheol feels the air leave his lungs as he reads your message, quickly pulling up a reply window as his eyes flit over the message for the 3rd time.

“Hi dom.cheol!

I just wanted to thank you for your constant support for me~ I’d be nowhere without you~! I’ve been thinking it over and I know I don’t really do private shows or anything… but I would really be interested in doing one for you, free of charge for my biggest supporter! If you’re interested, I’d love to hear back from you! I’m free right now actually, maybe we can even cam and get to know each other better? ;) Hope to hear from you soon! xx cherry_clouds”

#seungcheol smut #scoups smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #svt scenarios #svt imagines #seventeen imagines #scoups imagines #scoups scenarios #scoups #seungcheol #cherrybomb!cheol

[collisiondiscourse]

i have decided i am now going to blow up your inbox bc i csn i’m sorry codi focnnf

b u t!! anyway i’m going to rambling abt my new dad for all au [whixh was the au i sent you that ask abt]

alrighty so all might is now midoriya’s dad. that’s a thing. i like to think that inko and toshinori were high school sweethearts who broke up after graduation but met again when all might was called to recuse some hostages and inko was one of them!! anywho all might recuses her, they go on a coffee date, realize they’re still in love and start again

they get married and have izuku, who keeps inko’s maiden name [midoriya is now inko’s maiden name bc i do what i want]. he’s the cutest baby who has inko’s green hair, but has one blue and one green eye! [these are /important/] inko and all might talk abt maybe giving izuku all for one when he’s older, but they decide against it bc they don’t know if he’ll have a quirk or not

spoiler!! bitch baby has a quirk!! he gets a quirk that’s so much different than inko’s quirk and !!! ahhh!!! the basic explanation is that all might’s all of one genes mixed and then “corrupt” inko’s like 3 generation quirk-having genes or smth and izu has a very, very complex quirk now. it’s called astron, and astron allows him to fucking astral project into the center of the university and shit chxnc

astron works two different ways: using his blue eye he can project other people into his own personal astral plane and do whatever he wants. while the person’s physical body is still where it was, their mind is in the astral plane. if he uses his green eye, he can project himself to his astral plane and fuck around without consequences!!

[there’s an untold third ability of astron using both of his eyes, but izuku tried doing that when he first got his quirk and immediately fell into a coma for like a month? it was bad and his mind couldn’t handle the stress and dipped lol]

ANYWAY, izuku grows up with a bomb ass quirk and still has his kacchan with him thru his childhood so things are a lot different than canon? the wonder duo are little shitheads together and i love them, they wreck havoc and i love them

i have more ideas for this story but this is all i have for now, codi this is so long i’m sorry i’m blowing up ur inbox 🥺😭

me opening my askbox and seeing the length of this au: holy shit

me reading the actual whole au: HOLY SHIT

AJ I LOVE THIS HIGHKEY!!! I LOVE THE IDEA OF OP DEKU W A FUCKED UP QUIRK JUST TERRIFYING EVERYONE HE COMES ACROSS!!!! heterochromia is SO so good as a character design element and i LOVE THE WAY THIS IS IMPLEMENTED YELLS. I WANNA DRAW THIS SO BAD!!! THIS LOOKS SO COOL

(serious writing/plot below - blood and vomit mention)

oh god and now im imagining deku like. being this extremely feral and annoying lil shit whos extremely powerful and now bakugous got someone on his level so hes a lot more humble as hes growing up but also him and deku are the?? BESTEST OF FRIENDS. and i imagine when bakugou is being a little shit deku just. astral projects him out of his body for a while and apologizes to whoever kacchan yelled at LMFAO---bakugou comes back to his body and is all like “....fucks sake stop doing that”

AND THEN omfgkjfds imagine morally grey deku who does whatever he can to win?? he knew he wouldnt get into UAs hero course fair and square (all might offered him a recommendation but he declined because he wanted to get there on his own with kacchan) because robots didnt have souls he could astral project so he practices his quirks limits like YEARS prior and he tells bakugou about it but never rlly shows him but on the day of the entrance exam?

he shows up. everything goes as normal and he finishes the written exams and then moves on to the practical exam (still seperated from kacchan like in canon) and like. Every one goes dashing forward and deku doesnt really try to beat anyone. He waits until theyre all in the center engaging with robots when he walks to the center of the room.

and he sees the zero pointer in the distance.

“THE ZERO-POINTER’S HERE!” He yells and points at the gigantic mech heading their way. All at once everyone’s heads whip up to catch sight of the robot, enraptured by its sheer size and power. 

As they all look to one direction, Deku makes eye contact with them and smiles.

All at once, every single participant in the area goes limp. Astron throws their souls into the astral plane with little fanfare and everyone watches in awe and annoyance as their bodies uselessly crumple to the ground from the outside. The green-haired boy is suddenly given free reigns of the arena and they seethe as one by one he deactivates or disables robots that were once under their purview.

(What some of the smarter ones notice however, is the way he seems to be leaving some stray 3 pointers untouched... almost as if he was doing the calculations in his head as he goes... on how to ensure the number one spot while others can still score points...?)

One by one however, they start struggling and reaching to reconnect with their bodies. Their gleaming bright souls bob up and down with frenzied energy and Deku feels it. He feels it like itches on his skin and goosebumps that turn into hills that dance up and down his back. He feels it like he feels his limit reaching.

Its still around 10 minutes though before he actually loses control and everyone comes back to their bodies. His quirk times out and almost like its angry, the astral plane takes his body in exchange for the dozens he kept in there. He gets sucked through and passes out while everyone else runs and destroys the remaining bots. It doesn’t matter though, because he knows he’s racked up enough points to stay on top. He lets himself rest and observes the blue-haired tall guy with engines who contemplates carrying Deku’s body to safety.

Until, he sees her.

Just under some rubble and very close to getting crushed by the Zero-Pointer’s foot, Deku spots a brown-haired young girl that he recalls has some kind of floating quirk. He sees as everyone runs past her, prioritizing their own safety instead of hers.

He makes a decision.

Quickly--recklessly, a familiar gruff voice says in his ear--he forces himself back into his body and looks around. He runs to the girl and attempts to dig her out from the rubble before she gets crushed. The robot comes ever closer.

Using the little strength and flexibility he’s learnt from years of sparring with Kacchan, Deku abandons her in favor of climbing up the broken concrete and metal to meet the robot’s visor. He knows he won’t save her by digging her out of there, but by god is he gonna let her get injured without a fight. These robots weren’t designed to kill, but they were designed to destroy.

Focus. Focus and listen to what’s around you, Izu-kun.

The world around him reduces to tunnel-vision and suddenly Deku is face to face with the Zero-Pointer. It stops, as if calculating how to discard of Deku without hurting him severely with its own strength.

Everything has life in it. You only need to focus and look for it.

Izuku Midoriya looks at the robot.

In a whirlwind of blue and green, he reaches inside of himself and searches for life. Cold steel and hard-wired code meet his gaze and he plunges even deeper. 

Focus.

Then all at once, everything in his visions snaps into sudden clarity, like he’s never seen before. He feels everything. Sees Everything. Smells, tastes, hears--and he hears how the metal beneath him bends and groans. He feels how it winces and shudders. He sees it as it opens its maw and its visor bends in a facsimile of eyes, pleading him as if asking how?

The robot beneath him comes to life and stumbles back.

Quickly, he scrambles to the nearest ledge which happens to be a broken support beam. Distantly, he thinks he feels his arm being sliced open on the edge of it and the warmth of blood streaming down his side as he nearly falls. 

“HEY! YOU WITH THE ENGINES!” He hoarsely screams to the still remaining, slack-jawed contestants. “I CAN’T KEEP THE ZERO POINTER DOWN FOR LONG! GO HELP THE GIRL AND TAKE HER TO SAFETY NOW!”

With a sudden burst of energy, the fellow participants start taking others out from the rubble while the blue-haired boy helps the brunette he was protecting earlier. As he watches them clear the rubble to drag her out, he feels a pang.

Who am I? a lost voice calls out. It’s raspy and almost-robotic sounding and only he can hear it. Where am I? What am I?

And Deku’s vision flickers.

In and out, he sees flashes through eyes that aren’t his. He hears voices that are simultaneously faraway and way too close for comfort. The world tugs at the sides of his perspective and a strain is pulling at the back of his head tearing his brain to shreds. He doesn’t know what he’s focusing or straining on, except that its working and keeping the zero-pointer down.

He grits his teeth. “Hurry the hell up! i can’t do this any longer--”

Bursts of pain appear behind his mismatched eyes and he wants to scream so bad and if he were looking any clearer he’d see the way that the zero-pointer thrashes on the ground in time with the pounding on his skull. Bile crawls up the back of his throat and Deku screams.

“SHE’S CLEAR! YOU CAN LET GO NOW, MIDORIYA-SAN.”

Izuku lets go and his vision goes black.

#ASKDZVJFXKS OK THIS TOOK. #A LOT LONGER THAN INTENDED #ok so gthis has plot now and now im thinking of. writing this actually #i love this au so much thank u aj i hOPE YOU DONT MIND THAT I WROTE FOR IT??? im sO SORRY?? #anyway have more of my writing its unedited and garbage\ #asks #yeets your boy #collisioncomrades #bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #deku #izuku midoriya #midoriya izuku #long post #cw long post #long post cw

[perseusannabeth]

Don’t Look (Okay Maybe Just a Little Peek) - Part 3

A/N: So this is based off a prompt I received in my inbox, “dance with me” for Nessian. I decided to write it for day 1 of NaNoWriMo, so I haven’t really proof read this super well. 

Read on ao3

Read on tumblr, part 1, part 2

Word count: 1960

Nesta was in a good mood. She had the day off work, and she was home alone. She had just finished reading a book which had a really cute ending, and it had left her feeling happy and light. She also supposed that Cassian also had something to do with her good mood, as much as she was loathed to admit it to anyone, especially Cassian.  

Things had changed between Cassian and Nesta. It had been just over a week since that disastrous day he had walked in on her in the shower, but somehow miraculously, things had taken a turn for the better. Nesta still couldn't quite believe that Cassian was interested in her, that he had asked her on a date, but then she would catch the way he looked at her from the corner of her eye and realise that no, it was true. She still couldn't quite believe that he was looking like that. It seemed so out of the blue, except, he did flirt with her a lot. She had assumed he was joking but he had just been too scared to ask her on a date. He had said he used to practice in the mirror! 

She didn't want to admit it, but the thought of Cassian practising how to ask her on a date like some sort of love-struck teenager made her laugh. It also made her feel warm and fuzzy, something that Nesta Archeron was not well known for. It was really sweet and cute, which was not a way that she thought she would ever end up describing Cassian. But the more she got to know Cassian, she realised that she didn't really know him at all until she started living with him. She had known Cassian before, obviously, otherwise, she wouldn't have agreed to live with him. But before living with him she had never seen the way he was a morning person, and how he loved to cook, and how he likes soft things so his flat is full of fluffy blankets and soft pillows.  

Thinking about Cassian did give her a warm fuzzy feeling, and she wasn't quite sure what to do about it. It was strange. She had never felt anything like this, certainly not as strong as this. She had never thought she would feel this way, especially after Tomas. She had known, somewhere in the back of her mind that she had some sort of feelings for Cassian, but she had ignored them. Dealing with something like that is too dangerous after Tomas.  

Cassian always seemed to force her out of her comfort zone, and this was no different. She now couldn't ignore her feelings, which was something she was comfortable doing. However, despite the uncomfortable feeling, and the slight anxiety, seeing Cassian so happy about agreeing to go on a date with him seemed to calm the anxiety. The goofy smile on his face was all she needed to think of to calm herself when thinking about her possible feelings towards him.  

But right now, she was thinking about the goofy look on Cassian's dumb face, while listening to the High School Musical 2 soundtrack and cleaning the kitchen. She had a red velvet cake in the oven because after she had finished reading she felt like baking. She was in her pyjamas still, with no bra on because why would she put her boobs in their jail on her day off?  

Nesta couldn't quite help herself as she started singing along with Bet On It, which always pumped her up. Plus, the High School Musical 2 soundtrack was brilliant, and she very rarely got to enjoy it blasting from the speakers because she was always too worried that Cassian would find out and laugh at her. But right now, even the idea of Cassian laughing at her couldn't bring her down.  

She finished filling the dishwasher up as What Time Is It? Came on shuffle, and Nesta couldn't even stop herself from dancing along to it as she cleaned the surfaces. She eventually just gave up even pretending that she was going to carry on cleaning, and dropped the spray and cloth, allowing herself to dance properly.  

She was having so much fun dancing, that she didn't hear the front door open, and she didn't notice Cassian leaning in the doorway of the kitchen, just watching Nesta with a look of awe on his face. Nesta turned around, and let out a little scream, not expecting Cassian to be stood there. She clutched her chest as she tried to calm down her heart rate, and turned the music down.  

"I wasn't expecting you to be home at," she glanced at her phone to check the time, "3 pm. How long have you been stood there?" She asked, almost hesitantly, bracing herself for the rude comments about how she's a child or laughing at her, or the number of other ways Tomas might have reacted. She could feel herself tensing up, as though she was about to receive a blow. With Tomas, she probably would've received a blow. She knew, somewhere in the back of her mind, that Cassian would never do that, but her instincts sometimes took over her body before her mind could talk her out of it.  

Cassian looked at her in that way of his, where she knew he was assessing the situation, what she was doing and how she was acting. She had always hated it, but before, it had made her angry, today, the anger made way for a new feeling. Today, she felt seen, like he could tell what was going on in her brain. It was unnerving, and she felt naked. She hated the way Cassian could just look at her and read her emotions when she tried so hard to keep those walls up.  

"I've not been home that long, don't worry." Cassian paused for a second, and then gave her a soft smile, that Nesta hated because it made her feel all weird and fluttery in her stomach. "I'm glad you've been having fun today. You deserve it."  

Nesta felt her cheeks heat at that. Somehow, his sincere and heartfelt comments always made her blush much easier than his dirty ones did. Maybe it was because he always made the dirty comments and jokes and she had gotten used to it, or maybe it was because she wasn't used to Cassian being so honest with his feelings for her, but she could feel her face heating.  

"Thanks, I've just had a nice day I guess," Nesta said with a shrug, trying to regain her calm and collected demeanour, but she knew she was failing. Thankfully, Cassian didn't comment on it and just smiled at her.  

"What have you been baking?" Cassian asked, his eyes lighting up as he noticed the cake in the oven. He raised his nose into the air, sniffing like a dog trying to figure out what she had put in the oven. 

Nesta raised her eyebrows, trying to look unimpressed. "It's a red velvet cake because I was craving one."  

Cassian's eyes went wide with excitement, as he rubbed his stomach. "Gods, I love red velvet cake," he said, closing his eyes and licking his lips thinking about the cake.  

Nesta couldn't help but track the movement of his tongue on his luscious looking lips. Suddenly she couldn't think properly, she couldn't think of anything but Cassian's lips. Cassian, noticing the silence, opened his eyes, and grinned when he realised where Nesta's gaze had been fixed.  

Before Cassian could open his mouth to say anything stupid that would annoy or embarrass Nesta, she put her music back up. Her Spotify had now started playing You Are The Music In Me. Nesta decided to throw all caution to the wind, and ask, "Dance with me?" 

She looked up at Cassian, trying not to let it show on her face how nervous she now was. Cassian's face went slack, almost exactly like it had when he had seen her in the shower. Nesta started pulling her hand away, but Cassian grabbed onto it and used it to pull her closer. Another soft smile covered his face as he looked down at her as they started swaying.  

"I didn't know you were a High School Musical fan." 

"It's the greatest film of our generation. Also, which kid didn't have a crush on Zac Efron?" 

Cassian let out a booming laugh. "That's valid I suppose, although I was more of a Camp Rock fan myself. I mean, have you seen those Jonas brothers?" 

Nesta froze in his arms,  glaring up at him. "Camp rock was good, but I can't believe you're saying it's better than High School Musical. I'm not sure I can go on a date with someone who thinks like that. Or even live with them. I might have to move out."  

Nesta couldn't help but let out a small laugh as she felt Cassian's grip tighten as she tried to move away. She looked up at his dumb face to see that he was pouting.  

"I'm sorry I have terrible taste in terrible films, please don't leave me for it." 

Nesta was quiet, staring, at his lips again, so big and pouty. Cassian realised once again what her eyes were focused on, and went quiet, his eyes dilating as he took in Nesta, and how close she was to him. Cassian's chest was definitely moving faster than it usually was, and Nesta could tell it wasn't from their terrible attempt at dancing to High School Musical. It sent a thrill down Nesta's spine, the fact that she had this kind of effect on Cassian. She pressed her body against his, still swaying to the music, although Cassian seemed to be just following her lead. She wasn't entirely sure he even knew what he was doing, he seemed too lost looking at Nesta.  

Cassian's breath hitched as Nesta pressed herself against him. He broke his gaze from her lips to look down at their connected bodies, noticing the way her boobs pressed against his chest, her hips pressing dangerously close to his. She knew if she shifted a little, she might even feel the hard outline of his dick, pressing against his trousers, but didn't dare push things that far.  

She tilted her head up, not sure if she wanted to kiss him, but knew she wanted her face closer to him. Cassian was frozen now, his chest wasn't moving at all. She wasn't entirely sure if he was even breathing. 

Perhaps it was a good thing, but she couldn't help but curse internally as the timer went off to let her know the cake needed to come out of the oven. It startled her enough that she quickly pulled back from Cassian, flushing as she did. She tried to distract herself with the cake, but she could feel Cassian's eyes on her.  

"I'll leave you to it," Cassian rasped out. Nesta couldn't help but feel a little proud, knowing that was because of her.  

She turned around and smiled, trying to will the blush on her cheeks to calm down. "Do you want me to call you when the cake is done?" 

"Nah it's fine, I'll have my slice after dinner. I'll cook since you made dessert." He winked, and then quickly scuttled off to his room. 

Nesta bit the inside of her cheek, trying not to smile too much when she noticed the strange way that Cassian walked, and realised that perhaps she had a bigger effect on Cassian than she had ever realised. She decided that she quite enjoyed having that kind of an effect on Cassian. 

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